#they agreed on the poor laws he’d had drafted it looks like? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joeyjoeylee · 3 years

Note

Hey :) can't wait for the final chapter of "both sides of the law"... do you know when do you plan to release it?

( No pressure 😬 )

Hi Anon, this is really nice, thank you! I'm back on my usual bullshit re: angst over word count yada yada yada substantially complete but edit! needed! blah blah, etc. Best case scenario with the holiday weekend I'd say Monday but more realistic scenario (lol) later next week! (Completely pessimistic scenario - I'll tinker with it forever, finger hovering over but never actually pushing the post button.)

In penance for blowing yet another deadline and because I have missed tags for the last couple WIPs tag games - I'm gonna kill two birds with one stone AND also include a snippet (but under a thingie for mild spoilers/sheer ridiculous length).

“Who’d the judge appoint to represent Eddie?” he asked, concentrating on spearing a piece of fish with the end of his chopstick. These little fuckers were so slippery sometimes.

“One of the best litigators in Detroit, even if his practice isn’t primarily criminal,” Gretchen answered, after a pause.

He looked up and made an impatient keep going motion with his chopstick when she paused again. Gretchen actually had the nerve to wince at that as though he was flinging rice all over her pristine oak desk.

She didn’t say anything. Just kept regarding him thoughtfully, in a way he recognized was her trying to figure out the best way to proceed – to try to manage him.

Finally, she closed her eyes for a long moment in resignation, put-upon and martyred, as if this all was just going to be so so very difficult.

“Eugene Katz,” she said at last.

For a second, Rio couldn’t place the name or why Gretchen would say it with such a long-suffering sigh, like she was bracing herself for a reaction from him that was going to be nothing but unreasonable.

Then.

Eugene…Katz?

Katz?

Professor Fucking Katz?

He dropped his chopsticks with a clatter, earning him another wince, and sat back in his seat incredulous.

“You ain’t actually being serious right now, Gretch –” he began, scowling, but she cut him off immediately.

“I know, I know, you had him at school – me too, by the way – and you think he is quote ‘crazy’ unquote, but the fact remains that he’s been litigating almost as long as we’ve been alive. Yes, his practice is predominantly family law but you can’t run a small litigation firm for 30 years without doing your fair share of criminal and personal injury work too.”

He was still shaking his head no. Violently. No. No.

Gretchen narrowed her eyes at him. Then she steepled her fingers together and sat back in her own chair to do battle.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she mocked, pointedly, “I thought we had agreed these kinds of decisions were my department? No?”

Rio ground his teeth. She was right and he hated that.

He’d learned to defer to Gretchen’s expertise and counsel on issues like this. She was the one over at the courthouse every other day, the one who was vice-chair of the Criminal Law section of the Wayne County Bar Association, the one with all the connections with the criminal defense bar, not to mention the prosecutors, the bailiffs, the sheriff’s deputies.

Still, it annoyed the shit out of him to concede to her on this, especially since Gretchen knew exactly how he felt about that lunatic. So even though he already knew he was probably going to end up agreeing, he still made her work for it.

“Yeah?” he lounged back even further in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach, “well, convince me then, Counselor. Lay out your case.”

Gretchen sighed dramatically. Then started to tick off the reasons one by one on her manicured fingers.

“First, it’s not like this is going to difficult for him, the prosecution’s case is mostly circumstantial and it’s just a simple possession charge, a felony, yes, but the most baby felony of felonies,” she held up her index finger for Reason 1, “next, your unreasonable prejudices notwithstanding,” she dropped her index finger and held up her middle finger – Reason 2 – then held it aloft alone for just a beat too long until he snorted, “we wouldn’t be able to find anyone better connected. His ex-law partner from back in the day is Judge Cuccinelli and Judge Berry worked as his associate 20 years ago – they’re both on the bench over there now. And he’s taught at least half the rest of the judges on that court at one time or another, either at school or in continuing legal education classes.”

Rio rolled his eyes. All that all of that proved, in his opinion, was the very sad state of the Wayne County judiciary.

“And Reason 3 – the most important one – juries love him.”

He sighed and shook his head again, but without the heat from before.

“Rio, Eddie’ll be fine, trust me. And it’s not like I’m not going to be involved,” Gretchen’s tone had switched to sweet and conciliatory now that she sensed victory in her grasp, “I’m drafting up a joint defense agreement to be couriered over to his office. We can share thoughts and strategies and still maintain the appearance of separation between our respective clients.”

He knew he’d lost by then but he had to get one last dig in.

“You sure he can handle the workload, Gretch? Ain’t gonna drop dead before we get to trial? He gotta be 100 years old by now.”

It was Gretchen’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Exaggerate much? He can’t be more than 65 or so, and from what I’ve seen in court, still well in possession of all his mental faculties.”

That was a very low bar in his opinion, but he let it go.

Gretchen tilted her head, then leaned forward and put both elbows on her desk.

“Besides,” she said, and it seemed to him that suddenly she was watching him intently, “he won’t be handling it alone. He’s hired a new associate.”

Rio picked his chopsticks and bent back over to concentrate on wrangling his sushi again. He had already exhausted what little interest he’d ever had in talking about Professor Katz.

He expected Gretchen to keep on with her nagging and lecturing and low-key gloating about getting her way.

But there was only silence.

He looked back up to find her watching him still, her chin now resting on one hand.

She looked expectant.

“I bet you’ll never guess who it is,” Gretchen prompted. Her voice sounded a little odd to him. Almost gentle somehow?

Rio shrugged. That was a good bet on her part. It wasn’t like he gave a shit any which way, other than the passing thought of God help the poor little bastard who was going to be working for that lunatic.

Gretchen still didn’t say nothing. Just kept regarding him thoughtfully.

Damn, she could be so dramatic.

“Well, I’m definitely dyin’ of suspense over here now, Gretch,” he told her sarcastically, “so tell me – who?”

She was watching him so carefully, with such laser focus, that the second before she said the name, he knew who it was going to be and he almost, just almost, had time to brace himself before –

“Beth Boland.”

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ficsnships · 3 years

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Y’all I know that I said I was going to post my review of AHW latest episode last Friday, but I’ve been so stressed and tired lately that I didn’t had the energy to do so. But here it is, the review no one really asked for of American Housewife episode 5x09 “The Heist”.

I am really liking Second Breakfast 2.0 squad, Tami and JD bring a different vibe. BUT I still want Doris back! I thought that JD wanted to adopt not getting an egg donor and a surrogate. Loved Tami’s line about his uncle being with a celebrity on his AA meetings, someone who’s name sounded like “Shmel Bibson” 😂. I loved how goofy that whole story arc was. Breaking in the clinic, then getting caught by the cops and Katie’s reflex was to scream to “flush the evidennce” she was a wild teen, wasn’t she? I LOLed when she said that about Martha Stewart and Snoop Dog. Lol, Katie needs better role models.

Taylor hanging with the Joshes was really fun too. That rage room was awesome! I want to go to one, though I’m pretty sure I’ll hurt myself, I am pretty clumsy. What one of the Joshes said about her, that going to the rage room would be healthy for her since she was full with rage. And Katie saying, it’s not rage, it’s hate. LOL. Taylor and Greg’s scenes were great. Walter being super suspicious about their relationship, lol. “SHE’S MY DAUGHTER!” “And you are her daddy!” Lol.

Poor Greg! He never gets a break from his family antics. I thought that the motto Katie suggested was really funny, “Make Westport Greg Again” 🤣. “As someone without integrity it feels like an attack”. I think, this episode, Katie was the most Katie this season. Katie’s photo on the newspaper was hilarious.

One of the two things besides COOLIVER content this episode, was that Anna-Kat finally interacted with Oliver again, I think the last time they were together was on 5x03, when Oliver, Cooper, Franklin and her were eating pizza, and they didn’t even talk to each other they were just in the same scene, lol. So I was so happy that she had amazing scenes with her brother and her future brother in-law. 😜 She’s so proud of her boy being amazing at everything, lol. Franklin is a keeper for sure. The way he described Cooper’s sandwich was so poetic.

And finally what y’all really want, COOLIVER:

They really said, let’s give these suckers the best Cooliver content without making them canon, so they keep watching... lol.

I’ll start with Trevor, he was so unnecessary mean to Cooper, he didn’t need to tell him that he was useless and call him “toothpick legs”. Like, dude, Cooper was the least toothpicked legged dude in tha room, 😂. But, let’s be real, he wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t completely true about Cooper not being... helpful. And I do agree that he could’ve invested in the app, and then he’d have had a say in the app development process. We know Cooper has a great eye for decoration/design so he could’ve helped desing the app graphics or whatever. Writers being lazy. Cooper asking Oliver to “defend his honor” was the most boyfriendish/gay thing he has said to Oliver, and that’s saying something, lol. And Oliver defending him, not fast enought though and also complementing his not-boyfriend and saying he’s essential to their work, lol. I think that he should’ve said something else besides the eyebrow stuff, once Trevor was gone, when he was trying to reassure Cooper, he had already complemented him last a few episodes back about his “impeccable eye for design”.

Cooper looked so sad eating that ice cream. 😢 And did y’all see Oliver’s worried face while looking at his not-boyfriend? It was as if he wanted to protect Cooper from all the pain in the world. Then when Anna-Kat and Franklin were being kinda mean to Cooper, he looked up to see Oliver in the most adorable sad way, he was literally this emoji 🥺,like he was saying “aren’t you gonna say something?” and our boy obviously understood and defended Cooper again. But it was great that the three of them tried to help Cooper find what he’s good at. Oliver was really trying to say something nice about Cooper’s drawing, lol. And then Cooper lashing out on Franklin, and Oliver’s face was like “Now, let’s not be mean Cooper”. Cooper joke’s were so bad they were funny. “I love your observations” what else do you love about Cooper, Oliver 👀? He was being very supportive though. That scene reminded me a little bit of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Oliver being Miriam, supporting his not so funny husband, and Cooper being Joel, wanting to be a comedian but not being goog at it, lol. Oliver trying to cheer up Cooper, telling him that he was more than just his money, telling him that he has tons of qualities and character. And then Cooper asking for a compliment about his looks, lol. “You’re outfit is fire right now” while checking him out, LOL! Who knew Cooper could cook? Loved Cooper’s face when he said “I am a chef”, he was so happy! And that suuuuper gay comment Oliver said, “You are gonna wear the crap out of those black-and-white checkered pants” 👀. JUST DATE AND KISS ALREADY! They love each other so much 😫.

Now let’s be a little critical about the episode:

Is it me, or they’ve made Cooper dumber? Like, he wasn’t that dense before. Maybe is the fact that he’s completely out of his comfort zone, living with the Ottos, no credit cards, no hired help. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but that’s how I feel about his character development this season. Like they give him more background and depth, but at the same time took away some of his brain... I also didn’t completely bought that Cooper could cook, I’m happy they give him a passion or something other than fashion and interior design to be good at, but I think is not really that believable. I’ll go with it however, for my own sake, lol.

Other thing that kinda bothered me was that Oliver said that Cooper accepted him right away when he moved to Wesport, which isn’t completely true. Cooper was an asshole the first time we met him, and wanted to prove that Oliver was laying about his family. And he didn’t really find out about Oliver not being wealthy until I think season 3, when Greg showed him the photos of their actual family vacation to the Amish place. And even then, the conversation never happened on screen. I think it takes away from his development to forget that he wasn’t really that nice at first.

Other than that, I really enjoyed and loved this episode. It was so refreshing. And I LOVED every second of Cooliver scenes, they were so wholesome.

I think that’s it, sorry for taking this long to post about it. I had this draft saved since the episode aired but couldn’t bring myself to finish it. Sorry if there are many grammar mistakes, if I don’t post it as it is, I may never will, lol.

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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For the meet ugly prompts: #27? I feel like it has a lot of potential to be really funny for the OT4 :)

27: we have one night stands with roommates and sneak out of the house at the same time.

I interpreted “sneak out” kinda broadly. This is right on the line between SFW and NSFW: No sex, but it gets hot and heavy at the end.

Duck wakes up under moth-patterned covers, rubs his forehead as he grabs his phone from his pants on the floor. Shit, he didn’t mean to sleep this late, that could make things awkward if the guy from last night wanted him gone.

The bedroom door open and closes and Indrid, his hookup, enters in a yellow and pink bathrobe, holding a silver packet.

“Good morning.”

“Mornin’. Uh, sorry, guess I was real tired.”

“We did do rather a lot last night.” Indrid grins, sitting down on the bed next to him, “here, my roommate is making breakfast sandwiches. I had him make you one. Do not take the pack as a sign you must leave, I just asked him to wrap it in case you were in a hurry.”

“Thanks. I should be gettin goin’, Winnie’s probably missin’ breakfast.”

“One musn’t keep such a noble creature waiting.” Indrid hands him the sandwich. He’d shown the taller man photos of his cat last night both because he dotes on the flufflball and because it got Indrid to scoot closer to him.

“Yeah, she can get in a mood....uh, you seen my underwear?”

Indrid scans the room, red glasses sitting on his forehead and giving Duck a perfect look at his brown eyes.

“Ah, here we are.” He reaches under the small desk covered in art supplies, “my, those got some distance.”

“You were naked, I was in a hurry.” Duck mumbles, making Indrid bark a laugh as he brings him the rest of his clothes.

When he steps out of the bedroom, he spots a tall man with a short, coppery beard standing at the kitchen stove. That must be the roommate, but Duck’s eye is drawn to the man exiting the other bedroom. His short black hair is mussed, there’s a pillowmark beneath his high cheekbone on one side, and his dress shirt is rumpled.

The other man does not seem pleased to be seeing three people in front of him instead of one.

“Oh hey babe, you’re up.” The roommate turns, beaming, “made you breakfast, do you want some coffee? I can put it in a to-go up if, uh, if you need to leave.”

“Yes, thank you. I, um, I should be going.”

The roommate smiles, quickly puts together a sandwich and coffee cup, complete with cream and sugar. The other man sips it and sighs, “you remembered.”

“‘How do you like your coffee’ isn’t just a cheesy line for me, babe. Gotta make sure you enjoy yourself start to finish.”

“Damn, that was smooth” Duck whispers as Indrid walks him to the door.

“Agreed. Though I rather enjoyed your one about pollination last night. By far the most creative response to these I’ve received” he points to the tattooed moth just visible on his shoulder. His wide grin goes shy, “I did really have a wonderful time, Duck.”

“Me too. Lemme, uh, lemme know if you wanna meet up again?”

Indrid nods, waves goodbye as Duck heads off the porch and down onto the sidewalk. He eats as he walks, decides Indrid has good taste in roommates because that one makes a mean breakfast sandwich.

He gets to the bus stop, late September morning still crisp with the coming fall. Pulling out his phone, he discovers it’s dead. He did use it a lot last night, on their date, but only because Indrid was so clearly interested in what he had to show him. Why a guy who does tattoos for a living thinks a fella who’s a nerd for plants is interesting, Duck will never know. He’s just glad he does.

Music out of reach, he sits and listens to the cardinals and kinglets calling in the trees. Someone sits down next to him, aluminum foil reflecting the sun off their hand and into his face.

It’s the guy. The one from Indrid’s apartment.

Should Duck tell him he has a big bruise on his neck? He probably knows, right? Then again, he was in a hurry?

“Hey, uh, don’t mean to be weird or nothin’, but you got a little uh-” He taps his neck and the man whacks his hand over the mark.

“Shit”

“Someone you’re worried’ll notice?”

“What exactly are you implying?” The man glares at him, blues eyes going from charmingly flustered to suspicious in an instant.

“Nothin, just seem real worried for somethin that happens to almost everyone some time or another.”

“I like keeping my private life private. I don’t want random people knowing what I like in bed.” He snaps

“Okay, okay, jeez man, sorry I mentioned it.”

They fall silent as Duck’s bus approaches, and both stand to board it. Just his luck, this is route to the capitol square with the massive farmer’s market, so he and the mister touchy end up squished in next to each other.

Two stops in, the man murmurs, “ I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude. I’m, uh, I don’t usually do things like, well, like hooking up with someone I meet on Grindr.”

Something about the way he says it, like he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble, brushes away Duck’s annoyance.

“No shame in havin a good time with someone. Wait, shit, was it a good time? Did somethin happen?”

“Oh no, nono,” the man hurriedly shakes his head, “it was just what I needed. Barclay is a great guy. I just feel like it was too easy, that getting that lucky on my first try is a sign something will go wrong.” He gives Duck a resigned smile, “in case you havent noticed, I’m an overthinker. Are you, damn it what’s his name, Indrid’s boyfriend?”

“Nah. He comes to draw in the arboretum where I work, we been kinda flirtin the last few weeks, and yesterday I finally said fuck it and asked if he wanted to get a drink later.”

“He’s certainly...distinct looking. In a good way, I mean.”

“Yeah, he is.” Duck smiles, thoughts drifting off to the memory kissing him gently as they finally fell asleep, his face captivating in the dim of the room, “probably see him again. Assumin’ he wants to see me, I guess.”

-------------------------------------

“I am supposed to wait until he arrives home to text him, correct?” Indrid pushes his phone as far away as possible to remove temptation.

“Maybe? I dunno man, all those rules about texting and shit are designed to sell books and bad youtube channels.”

“But I don’t want to come off as possessive or clingy.”

“Believe me bud, I know.” Barclay turns his phone around so Indrid can see the two lines sitting in the “draft” section, “I’ve been writing and re-writing this for five minutes because I want Joseph to know I’d for sure be down to see him again but there’s no pressure.” He sets Indrid’s refilled coffee down on the table. They trade a look, then burst out laughing.

“Fuck, guess we both had a good time last night huh?”

“Very. Duck remains as wonderful as I hoped and I have not enjoyed sex that much since, hmmm, well, since the last time you and I were together.”

“That poor desk.”

“May it rest in peace.” Indrid sips from his mug, “Joseph is quite charming. You have excellent taste in men.”

“That a compliment to him or to you?” Barclay fluffs Indrid’s hair as he passes by him.

“Mostly him.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, little moth.” A kiss on the head this time before Barclay heads to the shower. Indrid gets his sketchbook, turns on some mindless cooking show and settles on the couch.

Eventually Barclay calls from his room, “Indrid? Been about forty-five minutes, bet he’s home by now.”

Indrid springs up, grinning, and grabs his phone.

-------------------------------

Duck was out downtown when the rain started, which is why he’s now hunkered down in the cafe by the capitol in hopes of waiting out the storm. He’s not the only one with this idea, and he’s made sure to make the chair across from him obviously empty in case someone needs a spot.

“Hello again. Do you mind?” It’s the blued-eyed guy again, dressed for work in a suit and dress shoes. Duck hasn’t seen him since that first morning, in spite of going back to Indrid’s place multiple times over the last three weeks.

“Go for it.” Duck scoots his coffee to the side so the man can set his mug down. He pulls out his phone, but can’t quite focus; he keeps wanting to look across the table.

“How are things going with Indrid?”

“Real good--wait, how did you know he an I were still-”

“Barclay’s mentioned you once or twice. And your name is pretty memorable.”

‘It’s a nickname.”

“That makes a bit more sense. Mines on the other end of things; there are a lot of Josephs in the world.” He sips his cinnamon-scented drink, sets it down again, “so, what do you do?”

“I’m a ranger over in the arboretum. You?”

“I work for an organization that checks up on businesses to be sure they’re meeting worker health and safety laws.”

Duck watches the rain out the windows, wondering if Joseph wants to keep talking or is just being polite.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Did Indrid tell you about him and Barclay?”

“Yeah, ‘bout a week ago. He said he was hopin’ he and I could get more serious, but that he wanted me to know the two of them had a sorta, uh, fuckbuddies thing goin’ so I could make an informed choice.”

“That’s more or less where Barclay and I are at. Um, how do you feel about it?”

“I’m okay with it. I ain’t interested in anyone else right now, but when I thought about it, Indrid havin a thing with Barclay ain’t stopped him from bein’ amazin’ to me and I’m fallin’ hard for him. I don’t feel like some kind of side piece or whatever. I just feel like I’m headin for somethin good with a guy who has a casual partner. Did it bug you?”

“No” Joseph shakes his head, “which confuses me. I, um, I have trouble releasing control in much of my life. I assumed it would freak me out to learn I wasn’t the only partner in someone’s life. But when Barclay told me it didn’t really bother me. He even offered to talk to Indrid about being only friends if that was what I needed. It’s been awhile since someone was so quick to think about my wants and feelings when dropping unexpected news on me. Plus, I’ve spent a little time with Indrid when we’ve been over there, and I like him. He clearly cares about Barclay, just like I do, and in some way that makes me happy. Is that weird?”

“Not really an expert on weird. But I think you’re overthinkin’ things again.”

A small laugh, “True. Help me think about something else. Tell me...tell me what your favorite part of work is.”

Duck’s surprised at the interest, but gets glimpse of pleading hope, og someone a little hungrier for connection than he’s letting on, and finds no desire to refuse.

“Prairie restoration, it’s fascinatin….”

-------------------------------

Duck’s not surprised to see Joe’s name come up on screen; the two of them have been hanging out more, both as friends and on double dates with Barclay and Indrid. He’s learned that his friend is a stealth-nerd beneath his professional veneer, that he likes game nights as much as Duck does, and that he makes a certain sound when he cums (that last one he learned on accident; he was snuggled up with an under-the-weather Indrid in the living room when Joe and Barclay got home from a date).

Joe: Are you busy tonight?

Duck: Nope.

Joe: Do you want to go to the “Adult Swim” at the children’s science museum? I got tickets a week ago, but Barclay got called in to work tonight.

Duck: Sure, sounds lie a good time.

Joe: See you at the museum at 7?

Duck replies in the affirmative, goes to pick out something less grubby than his crossfit clothes to wear. Maybe the short-sleeve button up with the whales; Joe mentioned he like it.

His phone buzzes.

Sugar: Busy tonight?

Duck: Yeah, going to the museum with Joe since Barclay has to work.

He realizes how this might sound, begins rapidly typing several explanations or offers to not if Indrid doesn’t want him too, but his boyfriend beats him to it.

Sugar: Oh yes, I remember him mentioning that. Good, I’m glad the tickets won’t go to waste. Have fun, my sweet, please take picture of any interesting bugs for me if there is an entomology section <3

Duck: Will do, sugar.

He signs with a kissy face, gets two black hearts and a kissy face back.

The Adult Swim is wonderful; the museum is artfully lit, there’s snacks everywhere, and even a fancy cocktail included with admission. He and Joe clink glasses, wander through the exhibits, laughing and playing with the interactive exhibits. There are no bugs, but Duck takes pictures of the light exhibit, which feature interesting color patterns he might like for tattoo inspiration.

They’ve just finished fucking around in the paleontology exhibit, and Joe is looking through a viewfinder that shows him how a triceratops saw the world. Duck sneaks up behind him, growls in his ear, “didn’t spot the t-rex in time.”

“If you plan on eating me, we should at least head into the bathroom.” Joe winks as he turns, heading out onto the balcony to look out on the city. Duck knows that if he follows him out there right now, he’ll kiss him.

“Be right out, gonna go grab some more of those mini-pies.”

Joe nods to show he heard him as he pushes open the door. Duck hopes he doesn’t see him take several deep breaths to get his imagination under control before he goes off in search of an edible distraction.

-------------------------------

“Doors open!”

“Oh, hey man, Indrid home yet?”

“No, it’s Thursday the 12th, so the studio is prepping like crazy for tomorrow.”

“Shit, that’s right.”

“Cookie? I just made them.”

“Thanks--holy shit that’s good.”

“Thanks, I’ve been trying to nail the chocolate chip and potatoe chip recipe.”

“Think you might--aw fuck, ‘Drid just texted, he’s gonna be another hour.”

“You can chill here if you want. Uh, I’ve got Super-Smash Bros, if you wanna play.”

“Aw hell yeah.”

-------------------------------------

“Good morning, Joseph.”

“Gahoh, hi Indrid. I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes.”

“There’s no rush. I certainly don’t mind your company. I believe there are left over cinnamon rolls in the fridge, if you would like.”

Joseph gathers a coffee cup and a roll on a plate, sits down on the couch, and finds his pocket buzzing.

“Here” Indrid takes the plate.

“Thank you. Looks like it’s my sister...oh, she got a new dog, do you want..” He stops as Indrid holds out a piece of the cinnamon roll on the fork. Hesitates, then opens his mouth and lets Indrid feed him. He starts showing him pictures as he does, Indrid commenting and laughing and, every so often, murmuring, “good boy” when he takes a bite.

--------------------------------------

“Ohfuck, shit, sorry!” Duck covers his eyes as Indrid quickly closes the front door.

“Nono, fuck, sorry, that’s on us, thought you guys weren’t home until later.” Barclay’s apology is underscored by the sound of a zipper closing.

“It’s quite alright, no harm done, Joseph you look very nice like that, carry on.” Indrid pulls Duck into his room, both of them snickering and blushing as Duck pushes him down onto the bed.

“My my, someone’s wound up.”

“Makes two of us.” Duck grinds down on him, Indrid gasping and grinning as he arches his back.

“Indeed. Now get that handsome face down here. I have some things I wish to do to it.”

---------------------------------

The giant stop motion monster continues rampaging on the screen as Duck loops his arm over Indrid’s shoulder. The first snowstorm of the year has come early, so they opted to switch their double date to a monster movie double feature (curated by Joe) in the apartment. Beneath their shared blanket, Indrid’s hand strokes his belly, skating down to the front of his jeans in teasing bursts.

On the other side of the couch, Barclay has started kissing Joe’s cheek, the blue-eyed man sighing and turning to kiss him back.

This is not a new situation for them. The last few weeks they’ve gotten more comfortable cuddling and making out in the same space as each other. Duck’s not complaining; hearing both Indrid and Joe gasping and sighing near him makes him hotter than a July afternoon.

Indrid bumps his cheek with his nose, and Duck turns for a kiss. He gets one, but he also gets a firmer stroke down his cock, making him moan. Indrid smirks into the kiss, does it again, then a third time, Duck gripping the front of his white tank top with a groan.

“Maybe we, uh, should dip out on the movie.” He murmurs.

“We can” Indrid purrs, kissing him again, “but Joseph seems to be enjoying the show.”

Duck whips his head around; Joe is looking at the two of them as he leans against Barclay’s chest, between his legs, expression moving from desire to surprise to hope over and over again. Barclay, unbothered, continues kissing his neck and murmuring in his ear, the blush on his cheeks rising each time the larger man does so.

“Or perhaps he’s envious?” Indrid cocks his head, “would you like your hand to be here instead of mine, Joseph?”

Joe’s normal eloquence is nowhere to be found, his eyes flicking between the three other men so quickly Duck worries he’ll sprain something.

“I asked you a question, pet.” Indrid sharpens his tone on the last word and Joe whimpers. Duck has zero interest in Indrid ever calling him that name; but hearing it in his lilting, gently demanding tone directed at Joe sends desire zinging through him.

“C’mon, babe, be a good boy and answer.” Barclay nips his boyfriend’s ear.

“Yes. Or, or, more accurately, I’d trade places with either of you. If that’s, would it be, do either of you?” He looks back at Barclay, who smiles tenderly and runs a thumb up his cheek.

“Okay with me if it’s okay with them.”

“Do you want it as well, my sweet?” Indrid tilts up his glasses so he can look Duck in the eye. The affection in those brown eyes makes the T.V, the moon, the stars look dim.

“Hell yeah.”

Indrid crooks his finger and Joe clambers the short distance on the couch to kneel by Duck.

“How shouldMMmmmmm!”

Duck gets a whiff of aftershave as Indrid yanks Joe forward by his shirt, kissing him and squishing Duck between them. The angle is awful but he doesn’t give fuck, buries his face into Joe’s neck, kissing the point where he feels his pulse moving like mothwings, mouthing and nipping at the skin as he slides one hand up the front of his shirt and the other down the back of his pants. When he squeezes his ass Joe squeaks and Indrid breaks the kissing, laughing.

“I didn’t know you had such noises in you, pet. It’s quite endearing.”

“Indrid, Duck, please, I want, I want to, oh fuck it.” He pulls back just enough to not jab his knee into Duck’s belly as he falls on him, kissing him so hard and so long Duck’s chest tightens and his vision narrows. The taller pulls away long enough to breathily moan his name before feasting on his mouth again.

“Yes, he does elicit such feelings, oh, hello.” Indrid giggles, and Duck can just see that Barclay is now on the floor, kneeling before the pale-haired man, kissing the skin exposed by his shirt before rubbing his beard across it, making Indrid laugh harder.

“Can’t let you have all the fun, little moth.” Barclay rumbles

“I can think of many things you can let me haveAH, oh, oh goodness, I forgot how much you like to bite.”

Barclay growls, reminding Duck of something important. He pushes Joe backwards, clambering atop him and pulling his shirt up as he does, stuffing the hem of it between those perfect lips.

“Christ lookit you” he runs his palms up Joe’s body, the man arching and writhing beneath him, “you look like a goddamn fuckin centerfold, you’re so fuckin perfect.”

Joe’s moan is loud even through the shirt, and much needier than before. He grins, crawling onto him , “guess I ain’t the only one who likes praise in bed.”

Joe shakes his head, whining eagerly through the make-shift gag. Duck growls again, attacks his chest with bites, leaving an especially hard one when Indrid grabs his ass without warning.

While Joe clearly enjoys the increase in pain, his responding thrash is sudden enough to send him and Duck rolling off the couch in a jumble. Someone’s foot catches Barclay in the shoulder, knocking him back onto the rug.

“Whoops.” Duck says to the ceiling, laugh bubbling up from his chest and bounding about the room.

“Sorry.” Joe says to the floor, chuckling as he sits up.

“That was very graceful.” Indrid teases from his spot on the couch, only for Barclay to rear up and pull him down on top of him, the thinner man squawking indignantly. As they all disentangle and sit up, Duck looks around their little circle of flushed skin and mussed clothes.

“So, uh, that happened.”

“Indeed.” Indrid scoots next to him, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Is everyone, like, okay that it did? I mean, we seemed okay and said yes and shit but is okay in like a bigger sense?” Barclay holds out his hand and Joe takes it.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Yep.”

“Do we, uh, wanna talk about what this is gonna look like?”

They all nod, and spend the next two hours hashing out the details of their newly forming polycule. Duck and Barclay agree they’d rather be metamours, everyone else will be partners, and that everyone should probably get some sleep before diving into the do’s and don’ts of what they each want from sex.

Barclay and Indrid build a makeshift bed on the floor by the T.V, Joe and Duck on the inside with Barclay and Indrid on the outside.

Duck drifts off to sleep with his head on Joe’s chest and Indrid’s arms around him. He knows they still have things to work out, that there will be hiccups. But for now, he’s happy to lay here, safe and loved, with his boyfriends.

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #agent stern/barclay #sternclay #agent stern/duck newton #Indrid cold/Barclay #meet ugly

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snidgetsafan · 5 years

Text

A Dog by Any Other Name

Rating: T for swearing

Length: 3.2k

Summary: After her boyfriend finds himself arrested, Emma Swan is left with a broken heart, a trashed apartment... and her ex's dog. While she agrees to keep the dog, she draws the line at calling him such a ridiculous name. Killian Jones, her hot British neighbor, wholeheartedly agrees.

On AO3

Notes: Here is my contribution to @cspupstravaganza! Thank you to @profdanglaisstuff and @kmomof4 for organizing this event, and thank you to the lovely ladies on the discord for making this event so much fun!

Thank you as always to @shireness-says for her amazing beta skills, even though her lack of faith in my puns is disturbing. That John Oliver quote is for you, even though I wholeheartedly disagree with it.

Disclaimer: I do think the dog’s name is terrible, and I designed it this way. I in no way think this is a good pun, or even that you should pun when naming a pet.

Enjoy!

Emma sits on her couch, contemplating the mess that her apartment has become.

(Her life also has gone down the drain, but it’s easier to think about her living room.)

She says “her” living room, but yesterday it had been “their” living room – as in hers and Walsh’s, her now former boyfriend. Turns out she’s got a knack for dating losers, because just this morning as she was brushing her hair and Walsh was putting the coffee on, the police had banged on their door to arrest him and search the apartment.

Walsh was accused of smuggling stolen goods and embezzling. Now she understands why he’d insisted on putting the lease in her name only; bastard wanted to cover his tracks.

Emma looks at the plaster and wooden frame scattered over the floor, all that remained of her ornamental mantle; she’d told Walsh that she’d always wanted a chimney when she was a child to hang Christmas stockings from and to spend cold days in front of. He’d surprised her when she had come back from a three-day stakeout with a new addition to their living room. She’d thought it sweet at the time, even if not what she had meant at all, but she now realizes that he’d had it built to hide money inside. Tens of thousands of dollars. That he’d stolen. Sleazy fucking asshole.

Not only does she have to piece her life back together, but she also has to get her living room wall fixed. She won’t rebuild the chimney; it was gaudy and useless. Who builds a chimney with no hearth, anyway? It was a lie, just like her relationship.

Her second biggest problem yips next to her on the couch. Oh, right. She’d forgotten for a moment that her ex had left her with his dog. His dog, not theirs. He’d had it before they met, and Emma had warned Walsh when they’d moved in together that she wouldn’t take over his dog duties.

Plus that dog has the stupidest name she’s ever heard.

Frantic knocking on the door announces the arrival of Mary Margaret, the dog’s barking picking up in volume. David must have told her – did she mention that it was her brother’s squad who had searched her apartment? Bringing in her next perp is going to be all kinds of awkward, now that Lieutenant Fa knows what’s hidden in the back of her underwear drawer.

“Emma!” her sister-in-law and best friend says as she bustles in, gasping when she sees the state of the living room. “Are you alright?”

Emma snorts. Of course she isn’t alright, but for the moment she’s letting her anger overshadow her pain. Much easier this way. “My apartment is in shambles, my brother’s coworkers snooped through my whole life, and I learnt this morning that my boyfriend was a criminal. How do you think I feel?”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” Mary Margaret says, hugging her. “Do you need anything?”

While an extraordinary amount of alcohol is Emma’s first answer, she swallows it back, not wanting to incur her friend’s disapproval. A bark and a little head bumping her leg give the blonde a more appropriate answer. “Yeah, do you have the number of a good shelter? I have to take care of this guy.”

Mary Margaret gasps as if she had just disclosed her plans to kill puppies in front of babies. “What? Why would you do that to your dog? Poor little Nacy, you can’t get rid of him!”

Emma groans at the mention of the dog’s name. Walsh had wanted to be clever when naming his dog and had called him Nacious in the most terrible pun to ever be uttered. Because his dog was a pug, so he was the pug Nacious. Pugnacious. “A ferocious little guy!” Walsh used to say, elbowing Emma as if she were in on the joke.

Turns out Emma had been the butt of the joke all along. Ha. Ha.

“He’s not my dog,” Emma snaps, “he’s Walsh’s, and right now? I want to get rid of every single trace of that idiot from my life. Including his stupid dog.”

“Emma!” This time she’s being scolded. “I know you’re hurting, but you can’t talk this way about Nacious, he is not stupid.”

She knows he’s not stupid. His name is, though.

Mary Margaret’s wheedling as they clean up manages to overcome Emma’s resolve to get rid of Nacious. Her attempts to get Emma to change her mind culminate in Mary Margaret holding the dog up to Emma’s face and looking at her with big round eyes. She will not call them puppy eyes; she has already had enough dog-related puns to last her a lifetime.

Emma draws the line at the name, though. It has to go.

----

Emma had started looking for a contractor as soon as the apartment had been cleared of debris and everything either put back in its place, or in a trashbag if it belonged to Walsh.

(Except the engagement ring. That had been quite the surprise – one that had made her sob for a whole night as Nacious licked her face, whining in worry. The ring she had kept, planning on pawning it off. It would pay for the repairs to her living room, at least.)

She finds one quickly, right in front of her mailbox while coming back from walking Nacious on the following Saturday morning. She’s on the phone with a building company, arguing with them about the price that they want her to pay for an expert to come assess the work that needs to be done. They seem to be under the impression that she isn’t aware making her pay $200 for a simple estimate is way too much. As she ends the call rather angrily, someone clears their throat behind her, making her turn around to come face to face with one of her neighbors. She’s seen him a couple of times in the lift, but apart from noticing how handsome he was, his striking blue eyes and the fact he was British, she didn’t know anything about him, not even his name.

“I’m sorry to have eavesdropped, lass, but I understand you seem to be in need of a contractor?” he asks her, smiling tentatively.

“Why, are you one?” Emma answers quite shortly, annoyed by her phone call and nosy neighbors.

“I’m not, but my brother is,” he says, rummaging in his satchel and fishing out a business card. “He does very good work, and he provides free assessments too,” he finishes mischievously.

Emma takes the card, still wary, even as Nacious tugs on his leash, trying to get closer to the man. Jones Contracting is written in a no-nonsense black on the card, along with a website and contact info. She could give them a try, she guesses. At least if anything goes pear-shaped, she’ll know where his brother lives.

“Thanks,” she tells him, slightly mollified, “I’ll – Nacious!”

The dog had managed to pull enough on his leash to reach the man’s – Jones, she guesses – legs and had started to play with his shoelaces, pulling on them and slobbering over Jones’ shoes. Ferocious little guy, my ass , Emma thinks disdainfully. The only way it would hurt a fly is if it drooled on it too much.

Jones looks down before squatting, reaching to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Hello little lad! In a playful mood, are we?” Then, blinking, he looks up at Emma, “Wait, did you say his name is Nacious? Pugnacious? Really ?”

“Oh, believe me, not my idea. Blame my ex for that, he had the worst sense of humor ever.”

“Clearly, if he called his dog that . What that’s quote again? ‘Wit is the lowest form of humor, and puns are the lowest form of wit’?”.

“And also the ‘worst form of human behavior.’ I watch John Oliver too,” Emma says, smiling slightly. “Although I have to disagree with him, as Walsh sank even lower than bad puns.”

“Ah, yes, and got himself arrested for it,” her neighbor nods as he straightens up. Emma winces. So everyone in the building knows about it. Great, as if she needed to be the subject of gossip on top of everything else.

“Sorry, love, shouldn’t have said it like that. Probably shouldn’t have said it at all, to be honest,” Jones apologizes, scratching behind his ear in embarrassment.

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s not like his arrest was very discreet, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t. But still, thinking Nacious is a good name for a dog is criminal in and of itself.”

“Which is why I’m going to change it. Just need to find something appropriate.”

“Oh, as long as it isn’t Ilist, you should be good. Can’t sink any lower.”

Emma snorts despite herself. Who knew the gorgeous Brit had a sense of humor?

----

And so Emma calls Jones Contractors and talks to a bubbly woman on the phone, then a tall Brit in her apartment who comes to assess (for free) what needs to be done. He introduces himself as Liam Jones, and is very professional, despite a twinkle in his eye that is quite reminiscent of the one in his brother’s gaze. The quote is reasonable and in her budget, so Emma meets Belle, Liam’s wife and co-owner to draft and sign the contract.

Work on her living room starts the next week and advances quickly. Liam is a quick worker, and works cleanly. That is, until he accidentally hits a pipe while tearing out the ruined section of wall. He ends up completely drenched before he manages to stop the leak.

“Sorry lass, do you mind if I call my brother? I can’t continue like this and I’ve got a change of clothes at his flat, it would only take a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Emma agrees, shrugging. “I’ll start mopping while you do that.”

The brother – her neighbor – arrives five minutes later, his arms full and his eyebrow raised.

“Hello lass, heard my brother was making a mess?”

Before Emma can answer, excited yips grow closer as Nacious (or Spencer, as she’s started calling him, but she’s not a fan) bounds to the door, running between Emma and Jones excitedly.

“Good morning to you too Nacious, has your mistress found a new name for you yet?”

“Nacious? I thought his name was Spencer?” Liam says as he comes dripping to the door.

“I’m… trying out new names,” Emma explains, taking Nacious in her arms.

“Good idea, Nacious is really weird for a dog.”

“You don’t understand, brother. What kind of dog is it?”

“A pug – oh you gotta be kidding me. A pun, really?” Liam exclaims, scrunching his nose in distaste.

“It was not my idea,” Emma insists. “It was my ex’s own brand of humor.”

“There’s no humor in that, lass, merely mediocrity. That arse deserves every day of jail he’s gonna get, even if only for that pun.”

Emma agrees, even if she can’t believe that even her contractor knows about her terrible taste in men. Then again, his brother probably had filled him in as to why she needed work done in her apartment. Still.

Liam takes the clothes from Killian and turns without another word towards the bathroom, muttering under his breath about arseholes and punsters and bloody crimes against humanity , leaving Emma and her neighbor standing a little awkwardly in her entryway.

“Well, that’s Liam,” Killian says, shaking his head slightly. “My brother has never managed to master social graces, I’m afraid.”

Emma snorts, before looking behind her and sighing. “Better get back to mopping, I guess.”

Killian curiously looks over her shoulder at the living room, and his eyes widen when he sees the mess of water and soaked towels on the floor.

“That’s quite the mess you’ve got there, Swan,” he grimaces. “Would you like some help?”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it,” Emma says, putting Spencer down to grab the mop. “I’ve got it cov– Na– Spencer, no !”

Her stupid ex’s dog has run through the puddle and is now zipping across the whole apartment, leaving tracks everywhere and – oh no, he’s jumped onto the couch.

A light chuckle sounds behind her. “Are you sure you don’t need help, love?”

Without a word, Emma shoves the mop in Killian’s hands and goes to get her wet dog off the couch, wiping his feet with the last dry towel in her apartment before locking him in her bedroom. When she comes back to her living room, Liam has exited the bathroom and is working on fixing the burst pipe and bantering with Killian, who’s wringing the wet towels on the floor into a bucket before dropping them back on the hardwood. It feels… nice, her living room lively again after weeks of being an empty shell for her memories.

Emma joins them after a few seconds to finish taking care of the puddle and clean the dirty tracks crisscrossing her living space. It seriously looks like a whole football team (and their probably less stupidly-named dog) have traipsed through her apartment after practice. Once it’s done, Killian doesn’t leave. They spend the afternoon trying to teach Spencer his new name as Liam pretends to work, though it seems the dog’s not a fan; Even his favorite treats don’t convince him to respond to their call, though they do prompt Liam’s laughter every time.

The next days pass in the same manner, with Killian and Emma trying to find a name that Nacious will answer to, Nacious spending his time either ignoring them or slobbering between them, and Liam alternating between repairing Emma’s wall and bantering with his brother and Emma. It’s nice, it’s comfortable, it’s warm . Emma also learns new things about Killian: he’s a professor of British history at Boston College and is on break right now, he loves Twain, despises Melville, and lost the fight to name his and his brother’s sailboat the Jolly Roger. It turns out, he is a huge nerd.

Emma is disappointed when Liam finishes at the end of the week, already missing her afternoons with the two Jones brothers – okay, one in particular, and it’s not the one covered in paint. Which is why she’s surprised to hear knocking on her door on Saturday morning, though Nacious’ excitement (or Windham, as they tried to christen him yesterday – Nacious isn’t a fan of British Conservatives, apparently) gives her a clue as to who might be behind the door. Seriously, it had been love at first sight for her dog; she’d be jealous of the attention Killian is getting, if she weren’t so vindictively satisfied that Nacious had never reacted this way to Walsh. There’s justice in the world, apparently.

Opening the door does reveal Killian, who smiles at Emma before greeting her dog, scratching behind his ears until Nacious’ tongue lolls out in bliss. Strangely enough, Killian keeps a hand behind his back.

“Killian! Can I help you?”

“Er, no,” her neighbor says, straightening up. “I just wondered if you’d allow me to give a small gift to Winston?”

Emma blinks, nonplussed. Of all the things she had expected, this was definitely not one of them. She watches as Killian gets a squeaky chicken toy dressed like a pirate from behind his back and holds it out to her. Emma takes it and can’t help but squeeze. Windham/Nacious turns towards the noise immediately, his eyes locking on the source of the noise and his little paws shuffling excitedly on the floor. Emma looks at the chicken, completely blown away. She had mentioned a couple of days ago wanting to replace Nacious’ squeaky toy as a throwaway remark, and they’d been joking about trying pirate names next. The guy had listened to her, and bought a pirate chicken for her dog. He was funny, clever, and handsome to boot.

Also, there was no way tens of thousands of dollars were hidden in that toy.

“Would you like to get coffee sometime?” she blurts out, raising her eyes just in time to see a blush steal across Killian’s face.

“Shouldn’t I be the one doing the asking?” he quips, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, I did it first,” Emma shoots back, smiling slightly. “So?”

“I’d love to, love,” comes Killian’s answer, as he smiles widely at her.

Emma smiles back, feeling giddy. So giddy, in fact, she doesn’t notice Nacious snapping the squeaky toy out of her limp hand and running back into the apartment, squeaks and yips sounding alternately.

----

4 years later

Emma sits on her couch, contemplating the mess that her living room has become. Toys, both for kids and dogs, litter the floor as screams and splashes sound from the bathroom. From the noise alone, Emma guesses she’ll have to take the mop out… again. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

Just as she’s about to get up to start tidying up, someone knocks on the door. She wonders who would come at this hour on a Sunday night. She hopes it isn’t Mrs Johnson from down the hall again; the last time she had lent her neighbor her toaster, it had come back smelling like cabbage, of all things.

It’s not Mrs Johnson, though – it’s Walsh, of all people.

“Hey Em,” he says, smiling so widely it looks more like a grimace. “Long time no see, eh?”

“Yeah, weird how being locked up kills your social life, doesn’t it?” Emma snaps back, already tired with his shit.

“Look, I’m not here to argue, I’m just here to get my things,” Walsh says, finally dropping the smile.

“Your things? Dude, they were either donated to Goodwill or thrown out years ago, did you really think I would keep them for you?”

“I… what?” The asshole actually has the gall to look outraged for a second before he rallies, frowning. “Half of what’s in this apartment is mine, Emma, you know it. I want my share.”

“Actually, no. According to the lease, this apartment is mine, and mine only. Anything else?”

Even after all these years, Emma is deeply satisfied to see Walsh flounder as he stands in the hallway. She can hear a tell-tale squeak and yip coming from behind her. Walsh hears it too.

“Nacious? Is that Nacious? You still have my dog?” He sounds actually hopeful. As if.

“Not your dog anymore, dude.”

“Damn right it is!” Walsh exclaims, raising his voice in anger. “Give me my dog back right now, I paid more than a thousand for him, he’s mine !” he goes on, thumping on the door. “Nacious! Come here, boy!”

And oh, does her dog come. He comes right at Walsh’s ankle, biting it as his former owner yowls in pain, hopping in place and looking at him with a mix of anger and incredulity.

“Westley!” Emma calls, before Walsh can get it into his mind to kick her dog. Westley jiggles to Emma smugly, visibly proud of himself for saving his mistress. Emma picks him up, and look at Walsh, who’s still jumping and swearing in the corridor. The opportunity is too beautiful to pass.

“Quite the ferocious little guy, isn’t he?” she chirps, before saying in a much sterner tone. “Never show your face here, ever again. Next time, I’ll be the one to take care of you.”

And then she slams the door.

“Love, is something the matter?” Killian asks, exiting the bathroom with their giggling daughter in his arms.

Emma smiles, looking at the sight of her husband completely soaked, with suds slowly dissolving in his hair as Westley and their baby girl yammer at each other.

“No babe, everything is absolutely perfect.”

#cs fic #cs ff #ouat fic #cs pupstravaganza #captain swan #snidget writes

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diminuel · 4 years

Text

I wasn’t all that fond of 15x10 while I watched it yesterday. I loved the premise and Garth, but I think it was just a bit too over the top for me. The placement of this episode within the greater context of it being the final episode and following the rather gloomy previous episode just made it feel a bit off. That aside, I just didn’t enjoy watching it all that much even though I could appreciate what we were given.

But I’m giving it another rewatch and another chance! I’d love to hear your thoughts too, whether you agree or disagree with my reactions. :D

It takes hardly any time for us to notice something completely amiss and they don’t even hide it: a classical piece of music accompanying a bloody fight between two monsters. Everyone is going to notice that this isn’t quite right, which then guides over into the next thought: the editing makes or breaks a scene. I think that’s the overall theme I took away from this episode. Metatron said that God posted the first draft and we’ve seen both Becky and Metatron edit God’s writing. The first conclusion we could draw is that God is not “editing” Sam and Dean’s story. But actually that doesn’t make a lot of sense because he couldn’t see Sam and Dean before either and they were fine. It’s maybe that he over-edits it. He throws problems in their ways that are... well, kind of what Becky wanted; the everday issues. Them dealing with laundry all day. This is the stuff we write, ad absurdum. And with monsters.

So the theory I’m going with right now is that Chuck is editing, just differently than before.

One preliminary thought regarding Garth: Were there no consequences to the Grace he had swallowed during AU Michael’s weird monster plan? What happened to that monster plan in general? Michael seems to be very bad at stragegizing.......

Dean’ shopping: The shop is called Berens’ quick trip. Berens is always sending us on a trip, though I think this one was Dabb’s fever dream. *lol* Lots of music for what is basically just showing Dean shopping. We see the guy giving Dean a ticket through the window but Dean’s oblivious, too focused on shopping. (Two six packs of beer. This might either show Dean indulging or Dean stocking up for Cas, not that Cas wants beer usually.)

Dean knows the store attendant by name, so I guess this is a place he goes to often, though I doubt it’s in Lebanon because of the high rises in the background?

What did Dean buy? Some beer, a magazine, some chips, something sweet he’s eating... How did that amount to over 40$? Why did he go buy that? Why not go to a proper store and buy proper food? Just beer and snacks? As someone who has to do her own shopping now this seems inefficient. (And my shopping center is in 5 minutes walking distance. *lol*) Also, I think I’ve seen people mention that the magazine is a cooking or baking magazine?

Also, here’s the first instance we have of Dean’s teeth hurting. Just stop eating the chocolate you silly man.

I have no compassion for Dean whining about getting a ticket. He’s not allowed to park there. Rules apply for you too, Mr. Winchester. I don’t like people who think they can do what they want. *thinks back to young snobby looking BMW driver who parked in the middle of a square in front of a bank and who got a ticket* *Schadenfreude* (That’s the kind of person I am. I like people who think rules don’t apply for them to be punished by the law.)

Sam’s scene in the kitchen: I assume it was Dean who had started cooking and then just walked away to get some more shopping done. This is merely based on my assumption that Sam doesn’t cook. We know that Sam sometimes does kinda stupid things like blowing on paper to make the fire go out... Touching things straight out of the oven and putting his hands on a hot pot are pretty thoughtless. And he’s clumsy apparently.

Also why the heck would he pull the pot from the stove? It wasn’t even boiling over. Just lower the temperature. Have you never been in a kitchen before, dude? And you’re not even cleaning up after yourself?

Dean and Sam discussing their issues: So Sam never trips? Both noticed right away that this was weird. Sam looks so offended. Like “I’m Sam Fucking Winchester, I don’t trip!”?

Also, did Sam say “dinner”? Is it already evening and they’ve just been hit with “normal person-itis” now? I see Sam’s watch but I can’t decipher it right. It it 5:35? What time of the year is it in canon? I was still light outside when Dean was shopping.

In the car on the way to Garth: A look, it’s dark now, which suppors the “they just randomly got hit with normal people problems. The music for this scene is also unusual.

I’m annoyed that Cas is in heaven. Why. Why is he up there? Why does SPN always stash Cas out of the way with random stuff? It would have been nice if there had been a phone call or something with Cas checking in or just a mention that Dean was driving back from dropping Cas off at the angel gate or whatever. It takes so little, makes such an impact for me. This? Sorry. It’s just not enough for me.

Why is the car giving up the ghost? Especially in such a weird way? Isn’t Dean constantly working on the Impala? This is not normal people problems either.

At Garth’s: So Sam and Dean walked like 16km? Couldn’t they have taken public transport OR a taxi like normal people...? Or call road assistance or Garth at least? I don’t know what it’s like in the US but that seems a bit extra, even for Sam and Dean.

Garth and Bess have an old style phone in their house, which is a random remark but it’s a nice deco object.

Garth’s Twins: I don’t quite understand why Garth calls the twins Sam and Castiel. What kind of connection does Garth have to Cas? Why not Sam and Dean? If only one of the brothers, why Sam? He has more of a connection to Dean after all? I don’t get it. Dabb just liking it when people prefer Sam and Dean has to roll his eyes at it? :/

Again with the weird, out of place music when they have a look at Bess’ cousin.

Dean and Garth: The dramatic music when Dean steps into the dentist’s room. *lol* And then his disquieted “you’re very strong” when Garth forced him. I think since Garth treats werewolves who might also have an aversion to the dentist, he’d be used having to use a bit of force *lol* Besides. I really love getting insight into how monsters deal with “normal people problems” because they have them too. It’s a shame that we don’t see more of that side to monsters. We only see those monsters who mess up after all, rarely those who try to blend in.

I might not know much about dentistry but I only had cotton stuffed into my bleeding mouth like that when I got my wisdom teeth out in an operation. Sure, I bleed a bit when I have appointment but not like that??? Just what did Garth do? Replace Dean’s teeth with werewolf teeth? *lol*

Sam and Bess: Dramatic music continues when Bess hands Sam the “cure” drink. It kind of frames the scenes as dangerous and at least it put me slightly on “confused edge” because the music made me think I couldn’t trust Garth and Bess. Sam’s struggles are kinda... over the top. I mean, we’ve seen Dean eat ghost pepper jerky and suffer, but Sam is suffering kinda ridiculously, like he’s been hit by a curse or something (i.e. still like he’s in the middle of a battle against some monster). Ew. Sam wiping his tongue on the arm he’s been sneezing and snotting into. Uff.

The tap dancing: Nice but I don’t really see the point in it >w< I guess normal people have normal funky dreams. And I guess Dean dreams of joyful things like dancing and having FOR ONCE gentle interactions with a lamp instead of always smashing them.

Talking about God and being heroes in a story: I like Garths’ approach to this topic and that he’s much more aware of story structures than the Winchesters seem to be. Why does Dean need a colonoscopy? (Angsty thought: does he have cancer...? Can werewolves smell it? Is that how it’s gonna end? Normal people problem killing Dean? Nope.)

Scene with the cousin: Poor Sam, he looks so upset when his “gentle request and puppy eyes” approach didn’t work. Though I like that it’s Bess who gets the guy to talk (like it’s Garth who gets the job done later on). I really like that monsters have normal people problems too. And it seems like the Winchesters are still very surprised about that.

Sam and Dean “job”: I think they’re being idiots here. Not only do they lack any evidence that the monsters who watch those fights are harming people, so they just kill them because they’re monsters? Also, it seems very unwise for two people alone to take on how many monsters?? No damn research done at all. And on top of that it seems really unwise to go on a case when they don’t know what else “normal people problems” entails while hunting. At least Sam might have been alarmed due to his sudden clumsiness... Just, stupid move on the Winchesters’ part.

Side note: Sam doesn’t seem to be comfortable saying anything at all. He still seems to be shocked by the werewolf’s diss.

Dean continues to be kinda dumb and I don’t exactly get why. They don’t know what they’re walking into, so they definitely need to be prepared and I can think of several examples where he was prepared for anything. And now that he can’t be sure of his “luck” he’s not gonna think twice about it? And him munching his grilled cheese, talking with his mouth full and “playing” with the gun wasn’t super endearing to me. Sorry, I know many found it cute *lol* And who vomits that loudly...? I mean... ew.

I liked that Dean tried to bluff his way out of the situation and maybe it would have worked in another situation...

Dean and Sam in cages: It makes no sense that not being able to pick locks is part of normal people problems because I’m sure they learnt how to pick locks over the years. So this, and their inability to fight later on (another thing they’ve learnt) just makes it clear that Chuck didn’t just remove them from “hero” status, but took away more than just their special skills.

Dean’s entire heartfelt speech doesn’t work either, neither on Sam or Dean, nor on the audience both because of how it’s filmed (no particular clear shot of Dean’s face and Sam constantly looking uncomfortable) and the variation of Dean’s theme.

What’s with Dean’s throat? I don’t understand what he said.

Garth saves the day: Dean’s awed “you are so strong” is cute! Why has he never been in awe of Cas’ strenght? Cas lifted a 1t anvil once and Dean didn’t even look at him amorously for it.

Man, there are a couple things I don’t understand here! Wish I had subtitles because I’ll probably only get what “we’re gotta get out of here blblblbl monstersquad” or “the monster squad bbbüb the good guys” means.

I think they might still be able to fight but whatever “hero” bonus they had was deleted and now it IS almost impossible to just knock out a monster. They did have more trouble in earlier seasons before they could just easily stick an angelblade into every monster and not even break much of a sweat. But the whole fight sequence is just a little bit too ridiculous for me...

Back at Garth’s home: The whole “this Cas keeps looking at me weird” scene is my highlight. I wonder if now that Dean and Cas are no longer locked into their defined roles (though I’m not sure if Chuck has written them with a specific dynamic, since he never seems to make use of Cas) Dean will notice more about Cas too ;D Though of course Dean does notice the way Cas looks at him (”the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid” as a classic example). But still, maybe something to think about. Since a story does come with particular characters dynamics between heros and their supporting characters.

Dean saying that he could be an awesome dancer if he wanted to be is nice. The only thing he lacks is a partner to dance with. Though... He doesn’t lack a partner since he has Cas back now. He just needs to make the first move ;3

Baby clearly doesn’t want to go to Alaska. *lol*

Okay, that was a long post again, not structured at all, not edited, and it still took me multiple days to rewatch and type this up! Haha

#Supernatural #spoilers #15x10 spoilers

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

The latest draft chapter for Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain

The infirmary wasn’t a fun place at the best of times. Keith’s instincts left his husband cranky and brooding, sitting in the corner of the room Lance was now occupying for the next few nights. Krolia was sitting in the visitors chair beside his bed, because unlike Keith, she could keep her temper. Poking had turned to prodding, prodding had turned to scans, scans had turned to an IV and a monitor strapped across his stomach. That led to Veronica interrupting their “family” moment, his sister now sitting on the end of his bed as she talked to their mother, angry that Kosmo had stolen the prime position. Kosmo listened to no one. He was his own wolf. He was his own wolf that was laying up along his side with his head on Lance’s shoulder. Veronica had tried scolding him, telling Lance to scold him, “ordering” Keith to evict him off the bed because it couldn’t possibly be good for him or the twins... She’d even tried sitting on the edge of the bed and forcing him off, nothing had worked. Lance was secretly glad it hadn’t. He’d missed his dopey wolf, and from the look of it, Kosmo had missed him too. “Lance, Mami wants to talk to you” Rising from her chair Krolia held her hand out for Veronica’s comms. Lance wasn’t able to move due to Kosmo, not that he wanted to move “Krolia, the call is for Lance” “I don’t see you moving to pass him your comms” It was as if two vipers were poised to attack each other. The look in their eyes sent a shiver down his spine. Veronica and Krolia were both strong willed women, that scared him in near equal parts. Narrowing her eyes at Kosmo, he cuddled his baby boy closer, knowing he was about to the object of her anger “How can I with that wolf there?” “Gracious. Here I thought both sides of the bed were accessible. Kosmo, you seemed to have grown larger than you appear” “I’m his brother” “Kosmo’s? I thought you were Lance’s older sister” As the invisible sparks flew, Lance kind of wished he was sulking in the corner with Keith. Veronica was scary enough without being provoked. Krolia had thoroughly burned his sister, cruelly if he was asked. Though, it was only cruel because he couldn’t laugh. His mother-in-law sounded as if she’d been part of the family for decades. “Veronica! Pass the comms to Krolia! I can’t see anything!” “You wanted to talk to Lance” “And I still do. Now pass the comm to Krolia. I know she’s grown up enough not be upset over a wolf” Ooooh. His mother was in fine form too. Veronica very nearly snapped her comms as she set her jaw and handed the device to Krolia with a cool glare. Ignoring her, Krolia smiled brightly as she settled back down. From where he was propped up, he could see his mother’s anxious face “Krolia! Dear, how is he?” “We’ve settled him in the infirmary for now. Minor hiccup with morning sickness. We’re going to run a series of allergy tests as he’s having trouble keeping things down. Simply precautionary. The twins are being monitored, but things are much as they were when we spoke. Only, he’s awake now” “Thank goodness. I’ve been wondering if I should come. But what can one dottering old lady do” “Now, now, Miriam. You look amazing. Five children and that figure...” His mother giggled. Honest to God, giggled. What the quiznak was going on here? “Krolia, we both know a few things are below the belt by now” “I refuse to believe it. I’ll pass you over to Lance now” “Thank you. I’m sorry about Veronica. Lord only knows where she gets her stubbornness from” From his Mami. Veronica’s stubbornness was one hundred per cent from their Mami “It’s perfectly fine, Miriam. Young pups have their moment” Veronica had no idea she’d just been called a baby. Lance sucking in his lips at the insult. Krolia knew he was struggling, so she threw in a wink. Laughter bubbled up as he took Veronica’s comms from Krolia. Personally, he didn’t think he needed all this fuss over morning sickness, but there was no stopping Krolia. Tilting the comms to his face, his mother set her face in “mum mode” “What did you do this time?” “Hi, Mami. I’m ok. Twins are great. Keith says hi” “Lance. You’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be picking fights” Nope. She was pissed. Her expression didn’t change the slightest “Mami, I wasn’t picking a fight. I was defending myself” “I’ve read. I’ve had Marco calling daily for updates. Your team wanted to storm Daibazaal and take you away from there. I bet you haven’t called poor Daehra, have you? Do they know who’s responsible yet?” “No, Mami. It’s complicated. I’ve been sleeping off the pod, and now Krolia is channeling you. The cast’s off my leg, knee all healed up” “And what if you didn’t have access to the pod? What if you were stuck healing the normal way? Did our Keith have his foot looked at? Don’t tell me you’ve both been neglecting your health” Lance rolled his eyes, swapping to Spanish simply because Keith didn’t know Spanish “Mami, he’s fine. Daehra fixed it right up. I’m ok too. Krolia suggested that I might have developed an allergy. I didn’t know that was a thing. I’m good. I’ve been out to talk to my therapist. I’m safe with Keith and Kosmo. I know you’re going to tell me to go back home, but I’m fine. Had a scan about half an hour ago, both twins still intact” “You need to be careful. Your health has been so fragile. I really do wish you’d consider coming back home. I worry for you, and for Keith” “I can’t Mami. The coalition is sending us on a publicity tour... I may have upset them” “Did they do this? Did they hurt you and my grand-babies? Do I need to talk to them? How many people have you upset?” Lance let out a sigh “Mami, if I started listing everyone who wanted me dead... it’s better you don’t think about that. I have some new twin scans to send you, or Krolia can of you message her. And tell Marco to call me if he wants to talk to me. I didn’t have a chance to call Daehra. The second Keith saw I was awake, it’s been one thing after another. They’ve put me on an anti-nausea thing...” Against his wishes. Keith didn’t even try to back him up. He was too busy being mad and glaring at all the medical staff “... Besides, they want me to stay here because of the pods” “Why must you get into so much trouble?” “I wasn’t getting into trouble when I was at the outpost” “Don’t give me that, Lance. The only thing that’s changed is that you cannot get away with things” “Hey! I’ve been on my best behaviour” “Says the man who hid from his mother that he could fall pregnant” “Of course I hide things from you. I don’t want you to worry any more than you have to” “Do not take that tone with me, Mijo. I am well aware I would probably faint on the spot if I knew half of what you did” “I was attacked going to the bathroom” “Why were you going to the bathroom alone?” “Because after 23ish years of existence, I know how to pee alone” “Why wasn’t Keith with you?” “Because he doesn’t need to hold my hand” “Obviously he does” “He was supposed to be getting his humanitarian award. He was on stage with Krolia. Mami, I want you to be careful. If this is related to Kre’el, they could go after you” “Do you believe it’s related?” Lance paused. No. He honestly didn’t... not that he knew exactly who was “I can’t say and that worries me” “We’ll be safe, Mijo. You stay safe. My heart couldn’t take it if I lost you” “Mami, I’m being safe... I am. This is all Krolia overreacting” “Krolia doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who’d overreact. If you need me to come, I will” “No. No, Mami. It was a fight that got out of hand. And you know how I feel about the coalition” His mother sighed deeply. He may or may not have yelled at her more than once that he wanted nothing to do with them, and that they could shove their job offers where God’s light didn’t shine... “Mijo, if you’re not comfortable with this, then step back. You don’t have to turn yourself into a public spectacle” “I do, Mami. People need something to believe in. Allura gave her life for peace, and they’ve brought stability, even if I don’t agree with their methods. If they’re lost, then someone else is going to step up. I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing it for Keith and his dream of the Galra no longer being feared and hated. I’m doing this for our children. I’m so sick of it all, Mami. I didn’t go looking for this fight. I’m tired of my name being used to spread all these lies. I’m the useless and disgraced Paladin, and I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in it... we had a good run. 5 phoebs before it all went downhill” “Oh, Mijo. Is Keith there? Can I talk to him?” “If you’re going to dob me into him, I’d rather not. He’s been having a mental breakdown since everything happened. Everyone’s fussing way too much, and he’s not ok” “Someone has to fuss. Now put him on for me” Lance sighed to himself “Make the pregnant person do all the hard work...” “I am and I will. You brought this upon yourself” “Thanks, Mami. Nice to know you love me” “I do. We do. We all do” Lance raised an eyebrow “I would bet you GAC that Rachel isn’t rushing to tell me she loves me” His mother’s expression changed at his sister name. Rachel must now know he was pregnant and not pleased at all over the news “Rachel will when she’s calmed down. Now pass me over to Keith” “Keith, Mami wants to talk to you” Holding out the comms, Keith eyed it as if it was something toxic, mouthing at him “why me?”. At least, that’s what Lance thought he was mouthing. Waving the comms, his husband remained seated until Lance glared at him. Dragging himself up, Keith snatched the comms from him, stalking through the infirmary room then out the door “He does realise that’s my comms, doesn’t he?” Lance shrugged. Mami was a woman on a mission “It’s Mami. Do you want to tell her that she can’t talk to her favourite son?” “You’re the “prodigal son”. As long as you’re safe and well, it doesn’t matter how much you worry everyone around you” “And you’re acting like a bitch. I don’t know why we keep having this fight, V. I’m your brother. You know I didn’t pick this fight. You’re so much like Marco that it’s laughable. You both lash out when you’re worried, only making both of us feel shit. Yeah, I lied to you. I kept things from you. But that’s because I’m sick of being treated as anything other than normal. I get that I’m a freak, but you’re my big sister. I always knew you had my back. I’ve ruined and disappointed our family enough. I don’t even know why any of this happened. I don’t want to be in the news for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to live at my outpost and be left alone. Somewhere you screwed up little brother wouldn’t cause you any more embarrassment” Veronica pushes her glasses back up her nose “It’s not that! We were so close and you hid it from me. I thought you trusted me. I want you to come to me... I don’t want any of this for you either. But I don’t understand... I could have been there with you. I would have been there with you” “For which bit? There’s a lot that’s happened. I don’t want to always be calling when things have gone wrong. I can handle things when I’m alone, V. It’s when other people are involved that it becomes complicated” The machine behind him let out a series of beeps, both he and Veronica looking to Krolia for an explanation “Your blood pressure just rose. I think it’s best you both admit that you’ve each stuffed up, but that you each love each other and call it a day. Both of you should know better, you’re acting like a pair of pups” Lance ducked his head, Veronica was wearing an expression as if she’d been sucking on a lemon “Sorry, Mumma K. V, you should go. I’m ok. I’m hooked up to these machines, and all I’m gonna be doing is eating and drinking to see what I can keep down” He hadn’t kept down the ginger tea. The scent had made him more nauseous, the taste was like drinking battery acid, or how he imagined it would taste. Following up with food, the spread of bread, soup and fruit... He’d managed a little of the bread, the soup tasted wrong and the consistency of the fruit was hard and chewy. His gums started bleeding thanks to the fruit, Keith started panicking over the blood. Lance ended up choking on some space version of a pineapple chunk as Keith tried to fuss and baby him while he coughed painfully from the feeling of the fruit, Krolia saved him from his panicking husband and now they were here. There was some kind of condition that wasn’t simple morning sickness, Krolia was worried he had it, but Daehra hadn’t diagnosed him so he doubted that he did. Krolia trusted Daibazaal’s medics, Lance didn’t. Nonetheless, he was sure it was on the test list... A completely useless test list. He’d been in a pod. There wasn’t a whole lot that could possibly be wrong with him. A little nausea wasn’t going to kill him, all this was providing to be was a major stressor for Keith, which in turn was raising his own stress levels, because he feared for his husband “Krolia, can you tell Keith we need to talk. He might be hiding outside” “I expect he’s still talking to Miriam, but I will notify him. You get some rest. I’ll be back later and you better believe I’ll know if you haven’t” “I’m behaving. V, you can head off too. I’m fine. This is one huge overreaction” Veronica shot him a glare “Your health is nothing to be joked about. You need to be careful. And don’t think I’m not still upset over your seizures, let alone your pregnancy. You have far too many secrets and I’m going to get to the bottom of it all” “If keeping my secrets means having you hate me for the rest of my life, then I know what I’m choosing. I love you, V, but it’s better this way” “And you’re my brother. You’ve got to stop ending up here” “I know. Now go. Go make the most of your time with Acxa. We’re all about to get a whole lot busier” Veronica climbed off the end of the bed, she seemed as if she was going to hug him, but was disused by Kosmo’s hulking mass. Within a few ticks, both she and Krolia were gone and Lance finally had 5 ticks to himself to think. * Standing in the corridor beside Lance’s room, Keith had his back against the smooth grey stone as he stared down at Veronica’s comms. Miriam was worried about him. Mami was so worried about both of them that she’d asked Keith to bring Lance home to Cuba if he wasn’t coping, or if Keith felt he was no longer able to care for Lance. Anger bled into frustration, that bled into self annoyance. He was trying his best... but he was exhausted. His instincts were being stupid, and that apology he owed Lance seemed to be stuck in his throat. Lance suspected Krystaal of being behind everything that happened, leaving him quiznakking pissed that his husband could be so petty and jealous... the same feelings that Shiro and Lance’s new found closeness had spurred within him. He might be mad, but it was himself that he was mad at... and maybe a bit with Mami. Lance should have been safe to go to the bathroom alone. He should have been there to make sure he was. Not stuck on some stage he didn’t want to be on. They’d been spending so much time together, but... he didn’t know what he kept doing wrong. Lance was very clearly mad at him when they were back in their room... and Keith wasn’t sure why. His husband had finally woken after sleeping off the pod’s affects. He hadn’t said anything “wrong” that he could think of. The feelings in his heart were a kin to standing by the door to the principals office, only this time he had no idea what he’d done wrong. He hadn’t gotten into a fight. He hadn’t stolen anything, or acted out. He couldn’t help it that he didn’t understand... He was trying his best. Ignoring the slight grating noise that accompanied the door to Lance’s room sliding open, Keith could tell from the scents alone that it was Veronica and Krolia. Holding out Veronica’s comms, the device was taken from his hand. His sister-in-law not saying anything as she took it and left. Placing her hand on his hair, Krolia ruffled it lightly “You know he’s ok. He’s only here because of the allergy test, and the risk of that drug, impacting the twins. He said he wants to talk to you” About what? He didn’t want to talk if it only led to another fight... His instincts were exhausting. Keith wasn’t sure they wouldn’t flare. He’d screwed up royally by taking Lance from the infirmary in the first place... He wouldn’t be back in the infirmary only vargas after waking if he hadn’t been so hot headed “Maybe I should let him sleep?” “Get in there and talk to your husband already” Dragging his feet, Keith fought against his instincts as he headed back into the infirmary room. Lance was still cuddled into Kosmo, Kosmo’s tail thumping as he scratched under his chin “Mum said you wanted to talk?” Lance nodded, stopping his scratches as he did. Huffing as it was the end of the world, Kosmo slumped down like he knew that scratches had to come to end so his two humans could talk “Yeah. You going to hide in the corner again? It looks like a nice corner” Keith glanced to the corner he’d been “hiding” in, it was a pretty nice corner... “Babe, come on. I’m joking. Here, Kosmo’s claimed this side but I’ve got space up here and I thought we could talk” His instincts said “Yes!”, his feet however said “no”. The best he could manage was an awkward shuffling of his feet. Lance biting his lip before he shook his head, forcing a fake smile to his lips. Fuck... if that wasn’t a kick in the heart. He hated that smile with all the power of the burning sun... or suns... every single sun they’d ever passed “It’s ok. I thought we should talk, but if you want to go then that’s okay. I’m going to be here a few days, so whenever’s fine” “I fucked up. I couldn’t handle you being in here. I took you back to our room and now we’re back here, because I fucked up. I didn’t listen to you. I laughed in your face when you got that letter and I didn’t listen. You were seriously shaken, and I thought it was one of your nightmares. You were scared and I shot you down. Every time I shot you down. You said this was a possibility, and I should have listened. No wonder you went and talked to Shiro. It’s my fault that you ended up in here. Mami’s probably right. I told her I’d protect you, and instead you’re back here again because I thought I was doing the right thing taking you back to our room. I didn’t want you in here with other people. What if you’d lost the twins. That would have been my fault. You could have been killed, and I was up on that stage. Fuck, Lance, I don’t know what to do. Your health’s all over the place. Someone wants to hurt you. You’re pregnant and I keep losing my temper. I’ve got no idea what to do. We’ve got to go on this tour. You’re pregnant. We’ve got twins on the way. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You have no idea how much blood there was. I don’t even understand how you’re still pregnant. I don’t understand any of this pregnancy things. How do you suddenly have allergies? Have you always had allergies? Do the twins have allergies?” The more Keith spoke, the faster the words came out. He was deaf to most of it, speaking out of fear. Word vomiting out of fear. Word after word turning into a jumble as messy and tangled as his emotions. He had no idea what was up, or what was down. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as he stumbled as if drunk, taking one step back and one to the side, he threw up, then promptly fainted on the spot. Scaring the absolute quiznak out of Lance as he did. * When Keith came too, he was seated in Lance’s lap. His face against his husband’s neck as Lance’s fingertips massaged his scalp. Wrinkling his face, his mouth tasted revolting. He didn’t remember how he’d ended up on the hard floor, but Lance was hushing him softly. Kissing his temple, Lance sighed softly against him “Hello, sleepy. Nice to have you back in the land of the conscious” “What happened?” “You pulled a “me”. Had a spectacular panic attack, then fainted. Krolia wasn’t too far away, Kosmo rounded her up. And we’ve been sitting here on the bed like this for the last varga or so” Keith groaned. He didn’t remember panicking... He didn’t really remember much after Lance smiled so horribly... they were on the bed? Then why was it so quiznakking hard? “Why does my mouth feel gross?” “You threw up. How do you feel? Are you tired? I didn’t want to move you until you woke up. Krolia left you to me, not that I mind” For his pregnant husband to have been sitting there for the last varga... it made him feel shitty... “You should have just sat me in the corner” “Nah. I wasn’t sure this would work, but it’s what you do for me, so I thought it’d help keep you grounded when you woke” Lance’s fingertips felt amazing against his head. Keith couldn’t deny his head didn’t feel weird... kind of empty, as if he was mentally drained and definitely disorientated “Thanks...” Nuzzling into his husband’s neck, Keith sighed softly. Kissing his temple again, Lance nuzzled him back “Pidge will be back soon, do you want to stay in my lap or lay beside me?” “Pidge?” “She came by while you were sleeping. Screamed and everything” “She screamed?” “She thought you were... straddling my lap for another reason” “Pidge thought you were...” “Yep” “Ugh. In the infirmary?” “Yep. Pretty much. She calmed down when she realised you weren’t actually moving and still had pants on. I told her you fell asleep. You’re probably exhausted from not just your attack, but looking after me too” “I’m fine” Lance laughed softly, though it wasn’t in humour “Babe, you’re not fine. I said we need to talk, and you panicked. It can wait though. It’s a crappy feeling when you’re coming out of an attack and you’re being made to think” “‘m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you” “It wasn’t your job to. Your job was to be on stage, not to worry about me. If anyone should be worrying, it’s me about you. Panic attacks are awful. I think it’d do you some good to talk to To’ral” “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to scare you” “You’re scared. I know you’re scared. You’re trapped in your head thinking things over and over. I do it too. Take a few deep breaths, and stay here. You saw the scans. The pod fixed the damage right up. Your pups are still safe and healthy, being monitored until the drug is out my system. You need to let yourself rest” “I’m still sorry” He was. He truly was sorry he’d ignored the signs out of a desperate need to believe that Kre’el was firmly behind them. He was truly sorry that Lance had been attacked. He was sorry that he’d taken his husband from the infirmary too soon, endangering Lance’s life, and that of their twins “It’s ok. It’s ok and I’m here. I’ve got you, Keith. I’ve got you” Keith remained curled into his husband until Pidge returned... with Hunk. Hunk seemed flustered, hanging in the background as Keith moved carefully from Lance’s lap to lay at his side. His arm wrapped around his husband with his head resting on his shoulder so he could see Pidge. Armed with her holopad, the previous green Paladin went to work tapping on the screen while Hunk moved to take the seat in the corner, his movies clumsy with nerves. The space felt awkward to him. Their friends felt like intruders. Lance’s stomach was wired up, evident from the wires snaked out from under his semi-risen gown. The blankets in his lap and his sweats giving him at least some level of modesty. “Keith, I can feel you glaring” Hugging him tighter, Lance snorted at Pidge’s comment. Keith felt stupid as quiznak as he hid behind his pregnant husband, but it wasn’t his fault he hardly felt like socialising “It’s kind of his thing, remember. Dark. Broody. Emo... You know, he hasn’t changed that much in the last decade. Did Krolia fill you in on my theory?” “For a dumbarse, you’re pretty smart. She sent me the data from the thermal cameras, and you were right. There was a second person at the scene. They cloaked themselves against the scanners, but they still left residual heat signatures on the door edge where they touched it. We weren’t looking for it, because of how your attacker moved, and the fact he was drugged before the attack. When he showed up shot in the head, that should have raised more red-flags, but I was busy worrying about your idiot arse. How did you end up back here?” “Allergies” Pidge wrinkled her nose “Thanks to a certain someone, I’ve been reading up on pregnancy. I didn’t even know you could develop allergies while pregnant. Have they told you what yet?” “What I’m allergic to? No. It’s a theory Krolia is forcing me to pursue in this stylish room. I have to say, I’m sick of hospitals” “I’m sick of you being in them. How are my minions? Still baking?” “Yep. Pod healed them right up. The minion carrier is also alright” “Excellent. I can’t have an army of minions without said minions. I still can’t believe you’re pregnant” “Surprise?” Pidge laughed as she continued to tap on her screen. Keith felt his instincts rile at Pidge’s teasing, nuzzling harder into Lance as he tried to squash them back down “I still have questions, but seeing you got your arse handed to you, I’ll play nice for now” “Nawww. Were you worried?” “Pffft. No. But if you do it again, you won’t have some secret gang after you” “Understood, Pigeon. What other news have you got for me? I’m so out of the loop that the loops falling asleep on me” Wrinkling her nose, Pidge shook her head “I don’t need to know whom does what bit to whom” “Coming from the woman who thought Keith and I were having sex here. Trust me...” Pidge covered her ears, Lance shutting up immediately “I said I’m sorry! You two already made babies so we know you can’t keep it in your pants” “You don’t have to take your pants off...” “I think I liked it better when you were in the pod!” Growling at Pidge, Lance jabbed him in the ribs. Keith didn’t appreciate the gesture. He knew Lance was no where near as comfortable with Pidge being there as he was acting. He knew that Hunk’s presence wasn’t welcomed either, and that his husband was simply playing the bigger man by not raising a fuss or making a scene. Technically he had no reason to be mad at the pair, especially when he hoped Lance would reconnect with them, but that didn’t mean they needed to do it while Lance was confined to the infirmary wing of the palace “Ignore him, Pidge. It’s a Galra thing. Are you coming on tour with us?” “Nope. New students are coming into the garrison for the start of the second semester. I’m not having one of them risk my experiments” “Gotta defend that lab of yours” “Yep. They forced me to take on a second assistant. They were useless. I mean, worse than you with the “techno-babble”. If it’s in my lab, that means you don’t touch it. Even if I let you touch it, it’s not alright. Let alone when they get it into their heads they have to clean my lab. Can’t a girl leave parts around without someone deciding that maybe “the floor should be cleared of all trip hazards”. Iverson suggested teaching, but how do you train monkeys who’s only enjoyment in life is ruining mine?” “Sucks to be you. You could branch out on your own” “Try telling my mother that. Hunk and Shay are going. Though from the sound of it, it’s mostly going to be Keith’s team, you guys, Krolia, Shiro and Curtis that actually visit wherever the coalitions decided. Sucks to be you” “Touché, gremlin. Think of all that tech we’re gonna see without you” “It hurts, but if it means not seeing you two being gross than I’ll survive” “You’re just jealous” Rolling her eyes, Pidge climbed out the of the visitors chair “No offence Keith, but Lance you’re the only person in the universe who’d marry him. You can keep him. And because I’m a great friend, I sent you the thermal recordings and related data. If you ever pull something like that again, I’m going to kick your arse myself” “Awwww, I knew you cared about me. Thanks for this, Pidge. It’d be nice to know who’s after me this time and why. At least space pirates have the decency to attack me for a reason” “Don’t think I won’t turn into one if you get hurt again” “That genuinely scares me” “I’ll come back and visit you again when Keith isn’t giving me death stares” “Ignore him. That’s what I do” Pidge laughed, behind him there was a scraping as Hunk climbed to his feet. Walking over to Pidge, he was nervously wringing his hands, his eyes flicking towards them before he opened his mouth and closed it, then following Pidge when she gave a wave and headed out. When the door closed behind them, Lance let out a sigh. The rigidity in his limbs loosening as he half rolled towards him. Tilting his head up, Keith stole a soft kiss from his husband, Lance closing his eyes as he tried to wrap his arms around him. Shifting to accomodate Lance’s stomach, they wound up nuzzling into each other’s cheeks, Lance’s voice a whisper “You ok, babe?” “I should be asking you that” “I’m getting there. I’m more worried about you right now” “I’m ok. Sorry about my instincts...” “I could smell your anger. I know you want to protect me, but we’re going to need to work this anger out” “I know... I’m sorry for making you so uncomfortable” “By knocking me up, or with your “cranky pants” scent?” “Either. Either. Both... I don’t know what I’m doing anymore” Choking softly on the emotions welling, Keith closed his eyes. This panic attack business really quiznakking sucked. He didn’t prefer Lance to be the one having the attack, but I felt out of his depths to handle his own. Kissing his cheek, Lance’s right hand found his left, interlacing their fingers together lightly “I don’t know what I’m doing either... I’m sorry for falling pregnant...” “Don’t... don’t apologise and don’t blame yourself. At the moment, these twins... they’re our future. I don’t want to keep fucking up” “We both fuck up semi-regularly. It’s kind of our thing. Technically we didn’t even know we were married” “But when I fuck up... you end up hurt. I’m so sick of you being hurt. I’m so sick of it. I’m sick of you crying. I’m sick of making you cry” “Shhh... You’re going to push yourself into another attack” Keith didn’t care if he did. He didn’t remember what he’d said to Lance, only that Lance was handling things too well which had to mean something else was on his mind so he was attempting to distract himself “Why can’t I get it right with you?” “That’s enough, babe” Lance’s voice was gentle yet firm, Keith wasn’t about to have him have the last word. He was too emotionally drained, speaking freely much like Lance did when he was tired “It’s... it’s all so complicated. When everyone’s around, they’re always there. I like it better when they aren’t” “It’s still hard to be around them... Hunk didn’t say a word. He’s probably revolted still... they’re supposed to be our friends. We have to try...” “I’m too tired to try” Keith was too tired to do much of anything. All he wanted was a world of their own. Where he could live up to his personal promise to protect his husband, no matter when or from whom... even the times he’d protected Lance from himself didn’t way on him the way this attack had “You don’t get to give up. It’s been a quiznakkingly awful return, but we’re ok. We’ll do this stupid tour. Then I want to go home. This exhaustion. I feel it all the time. The constant judging. The constant wondering if you’re doing the right thing. If you’ve said something stupid. Done the wrong thing. Wondering how messed up your head is. If they can see how scared and messed up you are about being around them” “Then why are you still here?” Lance’s sigh bordered on a groan “Because our marriage was falling apart. I was falling apart. I wanted to make it work with you, because for some unknown fucking reason I still love you. But if you ever, ever, treat me like you did, accusing me of cheating, making me feel like a whore, making me feel like a dirty disgusting vile thing for being too upset to tell you I needed to go see my therapist, I’m going to leave. I am going to leave and I won’t be coming back. I don’t blame you for taking me back to your room. The fact I’m here again isn’t your fault. I’m here because allergies are apparently a thing, like I told Pidge. I’m here because I’m a fucked up junkie and someone knows. They shot me up and it could still hurt our twins. That’s why I’m here. Now just shut up already and give me cuddles because you’re exhausted and I’m done with everyone that’s not you or Kosmo... or Krolia. Mumma K can stay. Shiro’s alright, so is Curtis. Everyone else, I’m done. The way people carry on, it’s like they’ve never met a pregnant person before. I’m so fucking done” Lance’s words were hardly comforting or soothing, something that didn’t match the intimacy of their position. His husband’s anger seemed to catch in his nose, and the way his voice didn’t waver was enough to tell Keith that Lance meant every word of it. It also told him it was better to “shut up” now, and let his husband’s anger fade rather than pushing or stepping on some unknown mine that would send them into another fight. The fact that Lance was threatening to leave tugged heavily on his heart. Maybe if he’d remained silent, his husband wouldn’t have snapped like this... although, he also supposed that Lance had reached the end of his emotional rope long before the incident and was finally putting his needs first instead of going along with everyone else’s plans and desires... but then again, Lance had asked about the planned coalition tour... so maybe that was what had set him off this time? Caused him to snap, because Pidge had laughed at the issue? His mind was no better than food goop in his head. Everything felt all blended together... too blended together for him to hope to part. Kissing his husband and telling him how much he loved him would simply be an insult if he was to do it now... but he didn’t know how to do any of this, or how things would proceed. Scrunching his eyes against the unwanted tears emotional exhaustion had caused, he clung to Lance for dear life, because, right now, what else could he do?

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popatochisssp · 5 years

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Are any of the skeletons into D&D? What classes do you think they'd play? Do any prefer DM-ing to being a player?

Believe it or not, I am prepared for this ask! >:D

…but please forgive any inaccuracies of actual D&D gameplay because I personally have only done two or three sessions because our group was too rowdy and meandering for a DM who couldn’t corral us properly and after awhile we started playing Hearts instead to keep from stressing him out.

So! I definitely don’t feel like D&D would’ve been a thing Underground for anybody, so I’m going to answer this from a lens of somebody looping them into it on the surface and them giving it a try for the first time!

Sans (Undertale): Wizard; any DM’s worst nightmare, all his dice rolls are suspiciously perfect and he always seems to know all the campaign’s carefully hidden secrets but nobody can effectively call him on his cheating. He just keeps saying “a wizard did it,” and everybody in the party has absolutely wanted to kill him at least once. Probably does something to get himself banned, sooner or later, and then he’ll just lurk around eating snacks and being the peanut gallery. He is also preemptively banned from DM-ing, everybody just knows, instinctively, what a shit-show it would be.

Papyrus (Undertale): Paladin; a model player, he follows the rules and sticks to the objective, happy to collaborate with his party members in whatever way they need him to. He goes absolutely hog wild for any battles he gets into, though, and loves describing his heroic action scenes in vibrant detail–to the point that his party members learn the best time for a bathroom break is when he’s waxing poetic about the sing of sword against sword and they can be gone for a few minutes without missing anything important. He’d be a good DM and would probably enjoy running challenging campaigns for his friends, but he personally prefers playing over DM-ing. It’s more exciting being in the thick of it!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Fighter; also a pretty good guy to play with, he’s as skilled as Sans Classic at picking up little hints and tells about secrets and important things, but he also has enough respect for the game and the DM not to spoil everything or purposefully go against the grain. He’s a DM’s dream because he’ll subtly keep the party on track and if there’s any hints the DM is giving off about what they hope the party will do next, Sky may try to play into it so the story runs the way it’s supposed to. He likes the game in small doses, but he’d never DM himself or pick it up as a main hobby, he’s not great at sitting still for long periods and prefers to do more active stuff.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Bard; he’s every terrible stereotype about his class that you’ve ever heard. If it’s sentient, he will try to roll to seduce it, plus a million other silly things that get him and his party into trouble. He thrives on the looks of exasperation, amusement, and sometimes horror that it gets him. The only hope a DM has of reining in his cavorting nonsense a little is by having a compelling storyline– if they can get him invested in where the story’s going, he’ll more or less play by the rules if only so he can find out what’s going to happen next. One thing… he is very stubborn in some cases and is absolutely the type to argue with the DM over things that don’t make sense to him. “what do you mean, he still died? i gave him a bandage, no, he should’ve lived, you’re just killing off some poor npc arbitrarily, that’s dumb.” He might be a pretty decent DM himself, but he’s also probably not passionate enough to run a campaign for more than two or three sessions before getting some combination of bored or frustrated and not wanting to do it anymore.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Rogue; absolutely a dark horse, he is a surprisingly good player and takes it more seriously than you might guess. He won’t go full-on roleplay, but he’ll play the campaign straight aside from picking a pocket or two, stealing random shit here and there and generally be a good asset to his party. Mentally, he treats it the same as a video game: do whatever side-quests are necessary and minimize fucking around in order to complete the objective. As serious as his character may be, though, he himself will be cracking a lot of jokes during sessions, usually making fun of somebody for being a dumbass or failing a roll, and he doesn’t have a lot of respect for the DM. He’ll treat their word as law and all, but there will be a lot of grumbling if he doesn’t agree, plus plenty of eye-light-rolling and passive-aggressive sighing. Would never DM for himself, that’s way too much work for something this nerdy.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Ranger; takes it pretty seriously, too, but depending on how all-in the rest of the party is…maybe too seriously? He’ll definitely do the full-on roleplay thing and have a whole intricate backstory made up for his character that will probably never come up, but he needed it! For his motivation! He’s easily frustrated by bad rolls and things not going the way he wanted, but he’s more bark than bite so once he yells a little about the injustice of it all and gets it out of his system, he’ll settle down and just get back to the game. He’ll get pretty peeved at players who don’t take it even a little bit seriously, though, or ones who do things that don’t fit with what their character would actually do– what’s the point of even playing this game if you’re not going to play it?! He would never actually want to DM because uncooperative players trying to derail his elaborate campaign would really piss him off and he knows it, plus he wouldn’t be able to roleplay and that’s his favorite part.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Warlock; he’s not a great pick for this, honestly, even though he’ll definitely give it his all. He’s very tactical and a great asset to his party in that sense as he’ll always know who needs to have what and the best strategies to use to achieve the objective, personalized from player to player. The only downside is that he’s very impatient and very much of a control freak: he wants to be in charge of the party so they can accomplish this quickly, and any world-building, flower-sniffing, or meandering is going to really tick him off. He sees the campaign as a task that he needs to get done and if he perceives his party to be dragging their heels, they become obstacles in his mind and he’ll start asking the DM if he can just split off on his own. If the Great All Powerful Evil kills him, that’d be fine, the other players can just lower his character’s casket in the ground so they can let him down one last time! You can see how he’d be not too fun to play with if you’re just in it for a good time. He’d make a decent DM with a cooperative group of players, but if there are any trolls in the bunch that won’t play the game right, he’ll definitely get pissy and if it goes on long or far enough, he’s not above a good old-fashioned rage quit. Creative stuff is just…not his thing.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Sorcerer; the first couple of sessions are going to be very awkward. He’s a little nervous in groups and very concerned about doing a Wrong Thing that will make somebody mad at him, so he stays pretty quiet and a common phrase out of him is, “i dunno, what should i do?” But as long as he’s with a good group of players who are willing to help him out and don’t get shouty over little stuff, he’ll get a bit more comfortable and start doing stuff on his own–though he’ll still double-check a lot with whoever seems to be the leader of the party and will be pretty conscious of places he could conceivably be stepping on someone’s toes so he can avoid them altogether. He could very easily come to like the game and if it’s an inspiring enough campaign with characters he likes, he may be a sweetheart and draw some peoples’ characters for them or stuff for the DM to use. Would not DM himself, though, that’s way too much pressure.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Druid; he’ll try but this kinda game is just really not for him. He forgets a ton of stuff between sessions–especially if they’re far apart, and they usually are because schedules suck–and he has to spend more time asking questions about what the hell happened last time or those other times than he spends actually playing. If the DM’s accommodating or he has a buddy in the party who can give him a recap of all the relevant stuff as it comes back around, he might do…okay? But he’s not really going to be having fun, it’s mostly just him alternating between being confused and then frustrated at himself for being confused. He’d definitely pass on DM-ing for the same reason, little details are important in a campaign and if he can’t remember them, it won’t be as good for everyone else. Probably best if he sits this particular hobby out.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Monk; he loves it just about as much as Papyrus Classic does! The only difference is that he tries to avoid battles where he can: his view of conflict isn’t quite as romanticized as it used to be and he thinks of it more as a necessary evil. That said, when there is a fight, he won’t hold back (dice rolls permitting), especially if his inaction might mean something bad for his fellow players! He’s very empathic as a player himself, so if there’s a befriendable enemy or something a party member needs that he can help with, he’s all over it–and if ever a dramatic sacrifice is necessary, he’ll be the one to heroically fall on the sword. Overall a great guy to play with, not the least because he usually takes it upon himself to bring snacks for everybody like a mom. Would like to DM someday, but needs awhile to build up the confidence, and that’s fine! It just means that when he’s ready for it, he’ll have had plenty of time to draft up a killer campaign that his players will love.

#anonymous #headcanons #undertale #sans #papyrus #underswap #us!sans #us!papyrus #underfell #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #swapfell/fellswap #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus

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trash0lympus · 5 years

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I Knew You When 1a - Malec fic

So this is just a very early draft of the first scene of the first chapter, but I've made some progress and I wanted to share! Magnus isn't going to appear for quite a while, I'm sorry.

Title: I Knew You When

Pairing: Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane

Warnings: Some swearing, puberty, light homophobia

Summary: Alec is starting his senior year in less than a month and if he can't find a way to deal with this insomnia he's never going to make it through the year.

Or: The one where Alec and Magnus have the same therapist, meet in the waiting room, and kind of stalk each other for a while.

ONE - Somnambulate

August, 2007

Alec can't sleep. It's nothing unusual, to have his thoughts swirling around in a sickening downward spiral of anxieties. It's the same invasive thoughts he spends his days distracting himself from, only to have them assault him in the safety of his bed.

He rolls over for the hundredth time and punches his pillow in hopes of getting out some of his anger about still being awake at 3:05am, a good four hours after he'd laid down for the night.

It's always the same, a veritable hurricane/tsunami/? On the variation of the theme not good enough/repulsive/worthless/no one would miss you if you weren't around.

Alec punches his pillow again, then throws his face into it and lets out a small scream of frustration. He doesn't have to worry about anyone overhearing, since Izzy and Max sleep like the dead, and his parents' master suite is at the opposite end of the apartment. He drags in a deep breath, meant to calm the frantic staccato his heart is playing in his chest, and keeps his eyes closed while he lets the sounds of New York drifting through his window wrap him in familiarity.

His senior year is starting in less than a month, and Alec is already starting to feel like the might crack under the pressure, his father's voice echoing in his head as a steady beat, 'this is the most important year of your life, Alec. Getting into law school is your only priority. You'll be a Yale man, just like your father'. Or, even worse, his mother: 'Columbia is an amazing school Alec, I spent the best years of my life there, you could be something great if you'd simply apply yourself'.

He needs to deal with this, or he's going to finish his senior year in tatters, his former face cut away to spite his former nose. And as impressive as that college entrance essay might be, he's not sure there's any special admission allowances for partial humans.

Alec snorts at the delirious image his brain conjures at the thought, and then presses his face as deeply into his pillow as possible and groans.

He's going to have to tell his mother. Dad would never understand, his world consisting only of the endless parade of 'get up, go to work, eat dinner, sleep, get up, go to work' - a monotonous, nauseatingly infinite loop of responsibility that Alec can't even conceive of. No, it will have to be mom. Alec can tell her that he isn't sleeping, and he won't have to explain to her the true depth of what's keeping him up most nights, and with how busy she's been since formally accepting a teaching position at Columbia last month, she probably won't care enough to ask any follow-up questions.

With a defeated sigh Alec sits up in his bed and throws off the sheets, knowing that he'll never be able to relax enough to fall asleep now that he's started this train of thought. He needs to make a plan of what to tell Maryse in the morning. Maybe if stayed up the rest of the night it might help his case? If he looks as exhausted as he truly feels the she couldn't possibly say no to his request for some kind of sleeping pills, or really anything. Alec would be willing to try hypnotic suggestion at this point. He's always been a bit of a night owl, too caught up in his own thoughts to shut down when everyone else seemed to, but it's one thing to be getting less sleep than everyone else, and quite another to be getting none. He only hopes his mother doesn't dismiss his concerns as his usual problems dropping into sleep, that she simply makes a call to their family doctor and continues not to look too closely at him.

Robert and Mayrse Lightwood are by no means neglectful parents, but in the last few years they have certainly begun to shift some of their parental burdens onto Alec himself. Robert finally made partner at his firm when Alec was 14, and a few years later Mayrse had offered a position as guest lecturer at Columbia Law, her alma mater. Just last week a formal offer had been made to her to join the faculty in a permanent position, and while Alec had never seen his mother happier, she had been so busy she was barely home at all anymore. With Max being just nine-years-old, and Izzy still 15, that meant Alec was in charge of making sure they stayed out of trouble, went to school on time, and completed their school work. His senior year came with both a blessing, and a curse, however. His parents had made two announcements during a rare family dinner last night: firstly, they had decided that Max was now old enough to start spending the weekdays living in the dorms at his boarding school; secondly, Jace would be moving in with them for the school year.

Jace is Alec's best friend - well, his only friend really. It's too pathetic to even consider Izzy as his friend, seeing as she's a sophomore, not to mention his little sister. But Jace, a year younger, and the golden boy of their school, has been by his side since their first meeting when Alec was 11. Jace had just been adopted by the Waylands. He was quiet, but not sullen, and Alec remembers the strange way that his eyes seemed drawn to Alec just as Alec couldn't keep his own from seeking out Jace. They would spend that first meeting sitting in silence in Robert's study, Alec pretending to read and Jace staring at him while making a poor mimicry of investigating the knick-knacks and awards on his father's bookshelves. It was at school that first week Jace had been transferred in that Jace had come up to him in the yard at recess. Alec had been sitting under a tree, trying to enjoy the last of the weakening September sunshine with his latest book in hand when a shadow had loomed over him and blocked his light. It was Jace.

"You don't have any friends," he has said. Not accusingly, just flat, like he was reciting a fact. Two time two is four, two times three is six, Alec Lightwood doesn't have any friends.

Alec had scowled, but responded simply with "no," and sent a challenging glare at Jace.

It had the opposite effect than he'd anticipated, and he was momentarily baffled when Jace just huffed out a small breathy chuckle.

"Okay," was all Jace had said, and all but threw himself onto the ground beside Alec. "You can be mine then".

And that had been it. Jace would show up next to him at every recess, sought him out at lunch and ate beside him. After a few weeks Alec had snapped and asked him why.

Jace had shrugged and said, "your eyes. You don't tell lies, but your eyes say what your voice doesn't".

It's been nearly eight years since then, and Alec still isn't really sure what Jace meant, but he's never been comfortable examining the reasons why a ten-year-old Jace had already known to read people so well. He was the first person to see Alec, and if he was going to be living with them for the next year Alec didn't know how he was going to keep everything together, to keep his secrets locked away where Jace couldn't read them in his eyes, couldn't see it written all over his face.

Alec figured it out for real at 13, during one of the countless sleepovers when they're wrestling like they always do, but this time Alec really enjoys it. He goes so quickly from tussling on the floor with Jace to running through the bathroom door and locking it behind him. He's terrified that Jace felt it and he's willing himself not to panic. He's had the talk by now, even had a sex-ed class at school, and he tells himself that it was just hormones. It doesn't mean anything, it has nothing to do with Jace, he just got too excited, a little over-stimulated. Almost convinces himself it's true until he has the dream. It was all Jace's flashing eyes, his smile and his chest and his arms around Alec and when he woke up his pajamas and sheets were ruined. He had stuffed them into the garbage chute before anyone woke up. From then on when Jace stayed over they didn't share a bed.

He starts to base most of his decisions on a creeping paranoia of being discovered. He knows, without a doubt, that his parents would not like this, and while he can't put his finger on what it is about him that's different, he knows that it's wrong.

He starts trying to pay attention to the girls in his grade, and panics when he realises that he should have already noticed them. Jace is a year younger than he is and he's been talking about girls for ages.

That was the year before high school. When he started ninth grade he planned to keep flying under the radar, but his parents insisted he needed to participate in extracurriculars for his college applications. He tried to argue that he could volunteer in the library, take extra AP courses, or get summer internships, and while they agreed he should still do all those things they believed a sport would create a more well rounded application. It was the first time they had implied he wasn't quite enough on his own. He'd chosen archery only because the club was small, and he thought that at least it would be easier to hide away in a corner of the locker room inconspicuously while they changed, to lag behind and shower last.

Alec dragged his hands roughly over his face, feeling exhaustion clawing at his body while his mind churned, considering and discarding ways he might bring up the topic with his mother in the morning. His bare feet hit the hardwood floor of his bedroom and he decided a hot shower might be the thing to clear his head, or at least pass some time while he waiting for his family to wake up. There was nothing to do until then but wait.

#malec fic #malec #the mortal instruments #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #roadsidefury writes

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hannahhostofheaven · 6 years

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Angels in Colonial America

This is a new fic based off of an RP I’m doing with @spooky-racoons. It gets pretty steamy and a little smutty at the end, just to warn you, and this is just chapter one, and it’s a bit of a rough draft. If anyone is interested, I love Hanstiel and I love time travel and I have a lot more time travel verses to play with if you are interested in RPing with me or even collaborating on a fan fiction with me. Anyway, I hope everyone likes it:

Chapter One

Castiel gazed out at the ocean as he walked the long road towards town. Three tall galleons hung in the harbor bearing British flags. More soldiers. They were arriving every day now. It seemed the redcoats were all that filled the streets sometimes. These were certainly trying times in Massachusetts colony.

“Damn, I hate this place,” Dean complained as he and Sam walked with them. “If we ever get back to our own time, I promise to never complain about the bunker again.”

Getting back to their own time seemed unlikely at this point. They’d been living in this 18th century world for a few months now. Castiel could smell the change in the season since they first arrived. It had barely been summer when he, Dean, Sam, Jo, Eileen, and Hannah first arrived in this time period and now the cool, crisp breeze in the air told him that autumn had arrived.

“It’s not so bad,” Sam said. “You know except for the slavery and the lack of rights for women. Its kind of beautiful here. There’s lots of wilderness and the slow pace of life.”

“And the diseases, and working in the mines, and the stupid hats, and having to grow your own food,” Dean continued to list out all the things he didn’t like about the 18th century. “Oh and we still have to be hunters!”

Castiel was only half listening to the Winchesters. He was anticipating getting home to the old barn that they had called a home since arriving in this time period. It was a large but drafty two story barn that the landowner had rented to them in exchange for their service in working in the fields and in the mine.

When they arrived home finally, Castiel could smell the aroma of onion stew cooking on the stove. The Winchesters stopped their bickering once they caught the smell. The three of them let themselves in the back door.

“Hannah?” Castiel found the dark haired angel sitting in front of the fireplace while Jo and Eileen argued about the stew.

The makeshift house was barely a shack. One large open space houses the kitchen, the fireplace, a small table, and a small scattering of chairs. A few rugs covered the creaky wooden flooring. Upstairs, there were three tiny utility rooms which had been made into bedrooms.

“The farmer’s wife permitted us to take a few onions for dinner,” Hannah said as Castiel sat down next to her. She looked very pretty even in her plain cotton dress and white apron. Her dark hair was wavy as it fell past her shoulders, dancing about her face as she moved her head. Her large blue eyes seemed to darken with her mood. “She wasn’t very happy about it but Jo explained the validity of not allowing us to starve to death.”

“How considerate of her,” Castiel commented sarcastically. The landowners who owned the barn were not kind. They had only agreed to allow the Winchesters to live there if they worked in the mines and if Jo, Eileen, and Hannah agreed to be servants to some of the wealthy women in town.

“How was the orphanage?” Castiel asked as the Winchesters, Jo, and Eileen mulled about behind them. Castiel and Hannah didn’t need to eat quite yet. Castiel knew it would only be a matter of time before their grace drained away and they were required to eat and sleep like everyone else, but for now, they were still angels and their main priority was to take care of the Winchesters. Castiel had worried about how skinny Dean and Sam had become lately as food and currency was scarce and the greedy landowners seemed unwilling to share much.

“Mrs. Metford is a cruel, stern woman,” Hannah said as she spoke about the all girl’s orphanage where she had been hired as a cook. “The girls spend their days doing chores and preparing for the day that they are old enough to find husbands. If they make the smallest mistake, she hits them with a stick.”

“This was a troubled time in human history,” Castiel replied. “Full of war, disease, injustice, and prejudice. The wealthy control and dictate the laws and the poor are at the mercy of everyone else.”

“I’ve gotten close to the children in the orphanage,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “Especially Mary, one of the younger girls. She helps me cook the meals.”

Castiel smiled at that. He was glad Hannah wasn’t too miserable here. With both of their grace fading, it would be harder and harder for them to get back to their own time and it was likely they would live here forever, much to Dean’s chagrin.

“It will get better, Hannah,” Castiel encouraged before taking her hand. “Come,” he offered. “Watch the sunset with me?” Hannah nodded and took his hand and the two went upstairs, leaving the four humans to finish their dinner.

Castiel and Hannah had taken the room with the largest window because it was drafty and the humans would have a harder time with it. Castiel worried it would be a problem when their grace was gone, but for now, it provided them with a scenic view of the thick forests of New England.

The room was very tiny, barely enough room for their straw filled mattress sitting directly under the bed. Castiel settled down on it and faced the window, waiting for Hannah to join him. She laid down against, her head against his chest as they watched the fading glow of the sunset over the top of the trees.

“This may be a troubled time,” Castiel said after a while. “But in this era there are still many places that humans have not yet spread. The world is largely unexplored. If we must live here, it would be quite easy to disappear.”

“I don’t like fences, Castiel,” Hannah murmured. “There were a lot of fences and walls and barriers in the 21st century. They blocked the natural world, caused disruptions, and do not allow people or animals to pass about freely. It makes no sense.”

“I know you have had a hard time living on Earth in general,” Castiel replied calmly as he held her tight. “But I think you’ve managed to learn to more important aspects of humanity.”

Hannah lifted her head, propping herself on her side to look at him. “What aspects are those?” she asked curiously.

To that, Castiel only responded by leaning forward to kiss her gently on the lips. “That’s one of them,” he said, gazing at her face in the warm glow of the fading sun. Hannah smiled leaning in close to kiss him again.

Castiel began to feel the sweet sensuality building inside of him as he deepened the kiss, closing his eyes to savor the moment. He gripped her cheek, brushing her soft skin as he kissed.

The angel let himself venture a little lower, kissing the side of her lip, then her chin, and moving down to her neck where he kissed, pulling at the skin a little. Hannah responded by letting out a soft sigh and falling back onto her back, pulling him over her. He pulled back to gaze down at her, meeting her eyes. Her eyes darkened and glistened, subtly betraying her desire.

Castiel moved in for more kisses, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her chin, and then, meeting her lips in a deeply sensual open mouth kiss. The kind of kiss that sparked the heat between them, that was sure to evolve into something more.

His hands probed down to the back of her dress, feebly but urgently pulling at the fastenings while he kissed her face and neck. After a moment, his efforts were rewarded when her dress suddenly gave way. Castiel sat up to pull the garment off of his lover’s body and toss it to the ground.

He admired her now naked body, glad there was still a little sunlight left coming in through the window to highlight the delicate curves and shapes of her body. He never really got tired of looking at her.

“You are only looking,” Hannah’s voice cut through Castiel’s thoughts and he smiled, realizing he’d gotten lost in his admiration of her. He smirked, eyes flicking up to hers.

“Sorry,” he said. “I like what I see.” He touched both palms to the skin of her lower torso, slowly moving upwards, rubbing deep for a sensual front massage. His effort enlisted a soft inhale of breath as her body trembled underneath his hands. He knelt over her, kissing the softness of her breasts.

She squirmed underneath him as he kissed and caressed every inch of her body before digging his hands underneath her to hoist her into a sitting position against him. She settled onto his lap as he propped himself against the wall, letting her hands slip under his tunic. He lifted his arms as she pulled off his shirt and immediately went for his pants, working them off of him.

Castiel buried his hand in the thick hair of Hannah’s head as he gripped the back of her head and put his other hand on her hip. Their lips met again, forcefully, greedily as she braced herself against his chest then slowly lowered herself into him with a soft breathy moan.

The way she moved, slowly at first, made him grunt and the heat between them. He gripped her hips with both of his hands while eagerly receiving her deep, sensual kisses while she moved up and down on top of him, her movements picking up speed as her breathing quickened.

She whimpered, gasping hard at the pleasure building in her body as he suddenly shifted, causing her to topple off of him. She lay there on her back as he crawled over her, slowly pressing himself deep into her, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he moved in deep, smiling a little at the gasp she uttered as she squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back against him.

He felt her fingers dig into his back, clawing down the length of his back as he moved teasingly slow at first, causing her to moan. “Please…” she begged breathily, biting her lip in ecstasy.

He gripped her torso, rubbing it and caressing it as he quickened the pace. “Oh…” she muttered, over and over again, and then. “Oh! Oh!” her sudden cries as she suddenly clenched around him made him chuckle as he watched her face in anticipation as she gave in to her release. He let himself do so soon after, grunting as he crumpled down onto her, bracing his face against his shoulder and holding her tight as the release of pleasure nearly took his breath away.

A few more jolts of pleasure and he rolled off of her, gathering her tight into his arms and hugging her close. She panted and heaved against him, face buried in his chest as he held onto her, not daring to let go, kissing the top of her head lovingly.

“Castiel…” she breathed into his chest as she lay there, motionless, before lifting her head to look down at him.

“Mmm?” he hummed, smiling at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Don’t ever…” Castiel pressed a finger to her lips.

“Shh,” he said, knowing what she meant to say. “Just make sure you do the same.” She smiled, laying her head back down on his forehead, the two of them content to lay in one another’s arms for the rest of the night.

#Hanstiel #Castiel #Hannah #Castiel/Hannah #Hannah/Castiel

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guttersvillemayor · 3 years

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A Way Less Sad Happy Ending

[Saying goodbye to Pedro left me feeling like I never wanted to get out of bed, but as usual, life had different plans for me and even if I wanted to do that, I couldn’t. Despite having just been for an ultrasound the day Pedro randomly showed up in Fairhope, the following Monday I got a call from my doctor that she wanted me to come back in. I tried not to worry and convinced myself that it was normal for her to want me to come back and talk about the ultrasound. She hadn’t been there when it happened due to another patient going into labor that day. However, I never could have expected the reason why she really wanted me to come in. Then again, considering the father, I shouldn't have been surprised. It seemed she noticed something off about my results and wanted to do it again herself to confirm as suspicious she had. And that suspicion was that I didn’t just have one bun in the oven but two. Twins! Another reason I shouldn’t have been surprised by this news is that twins slightly ran in my family with my elder brothers being twins, not to mention my father and my aunt being twins as well. Still I felt bowled over when she announced the discovery of my second Sweat Pea. It also meant that I couldn’t run from my family any more. Now more than ever I would need their help.

With the help of Dahlia and Reba, a family meeting was called back in New Orleans and with enough anxiety to make me feel like I was never going to keep anything down even if I wasn’t pregnant, I told my family that not only was I pregnant by a man who would no longer be in my life but that it was twins. It was clear that my amazing sisters softened the ground with some of my older brothers and thankfully Jude and Jesse weren’t likely to judge me as my younger brothers. However, the look on my parents’ faces made me feel like a disappointment and the hurt and shock on Jonah and Wendy’s face only made me feel even more shitty. The few weeks after that were definitely rough and I was very thankful to have Dahlia and Jasper offer me their spare bedroom while I tried to work things out with my parents at least. My friendship with Wendy had definitely been changed for good. The part of me that was so close to her as a child mourned that loss, but the adult in me realized that it was never going to be the same once she was with Jonah and it was only going to further cause problems when she became my sister-in-law if we didn’t acknowledge that the relationship between us had irrevocably shifted. Once I felt on a better footing with my family, I wanted to return to the beach house for some solitude and prepare for the huge change my life was taking.

However, my family rightly worried about me being so far away on my own while pregnant with twins. It wasn’t until Jesse came and told me that he had worked it out with his boss at the piano bar and landlord to take some time off and temporarily move with me to Point Clear, that I was able to go back to my haven on the water. Of course, different members of the family would pop in and out to visit me and spend time in the house that was meant for family vacations as the spring and summer months passed. There would be days that I would wake up marvelling in the two lives growing inside of me, at what our lives would be together, at the feeling of having something of peace and home that I’d been searching for all this time. And then there were other days when I felt like I couldn’t leave my bed, where I was drowning in my tears, when JD had to call Dahlia and/or Reba or even my mother to Alabama to help me. It was in these darkest moments when I missed Pedro and contemplated ruining everything that I had sacrificed and his own life by telling him about our children. Never more so than after ultrasounds when I would see them or hear their heartbeats or the first day I felt them flutter in my belly. The sobs overwhelming me and crushing me, not to mention probably scaring the shit out of poor JD. It was these low moments that made me realize I needed to agree with my parents’ request to move back to their home in New Orleans as it got closer to my due date. The fear that I would fail my children allowed me to get over the embarrassment and wounded pride of needing to ask my parents for help.

The decision definitely was the right one as we were able to figure out a situation that worked for all of us before I started nesting. It was decided that the bottom floor of their home would become my de facto home with my own privacy from the second floor which would be theirs. Yet, the closeness would allow them to help me take care of my precious twins when they came. Who knew how long this arrangement would work out for me, my parents and the twins… but for the moment, I had a plan and a path forward. Throughout the pregnancy, I spent my time working on a photography book covering my travels, although I wished I had been able to cover the eastern half of the country, I considered this book almost a love note to my little Sweet Peas and the journey I had gone through with their father to get to the point of having them in my life. So it made sense somehow that in the middle of the night after having sent my rough draft to a publisher, I awoke with some serious back pain and did my best to get out of bed before giving up and calling out to Jesse in the family room, hoping he’d spent the night on the couch like he’d mentioned earlier. Used to needing my help at random times, my youngest brother walked in clearly still half-asleep and disheveled but more than willing to give me a hand even after having spent the day doing stuff around the house for me.

It’s not until he hears me give a slight cry out that he seems to truly wake up. His hand reach out for the walkie-talkie next to my bed that has been utilized for communication between me and my parents when I moved in. “Um, Mom, I think something is wrong with EJ. She’s clearly in pain.” My words frustrated and pained as I grumble.] When am I not in pain these days thanks to me being the size of a motherfucking hippo. [As if having heard the commotion in my room, Dahlia and Jasper appear in the doorway and it must be the confusion on my face that prompts my eldest brother to answer my unasked question. “We were here late talking with Mom and Dad and just decided to spend the night here with the kids.” Before I can think of anything to say, another horrible pain grips me and Dahlia reaches out for my hand to help me breathe through them. The look between her and Jasper has me fearing that this is more than just the Braxton-Hicks I’d experienced a few times. And I’m not the only one who picks up on the silent communication as my younger brother gives a slight laugh, which I’ll admit pissed me off more than it normally would. “Hey, what are the odds of you having your twins on Friday the 13th?” Realizing what Jesse meant, my eyes go wide and I turn to Dahlia almost in a panic.] You don’t think my bad luck is going to get passed to the twins, do you?

[Jasper is unable to stop himself from snort-laughing, despite the glare Dahlia sends his way before turning her gaze to me attempting to calm me down. “No, Ems. First off, I don’t think you have bad luck as you’ve been blessed with two little ones so if anything you have amazing luck. But the only thing you’ll be passing on to those twins are some beautiful genes and maybe some questionable Mosby habits.” This gets me to chuckle a little bit before I have to bite back a groan from another contraction. My parents now joining the party as I can feel my mother’s warm hand rubbing my aching back. “Hey baby, it sounds like you’re having an eventful night.”] Yeah, I thought why wait for the sun when it’s much more fun to have a late-night rave. What time is it anyway? [I’d been starting to fall asleep at random times and earlier than I’d ever imagined possible before getting pregnant. “You crashed some time around 9, I think. You did keep waking up throughout the night...” My younger brother starts to explain as my father politely escorts him out of my room to give me some space with Dahlia and my mom. “It’s just a little after 5 as Jasper and I fell asleep about 1 or so ourselves.” I groan this time not from a contraction but from guilt at keeping them from their rest. Dahlia’s lips quirk and I know she’s trying to keep from laughing at me.

“It’s okay, Ems. I wouldn’t be able to sleep through this nor would I want to. Jasper will no doubt go lay down with the kids if not Jesse. Now why don’t we change you into some different clothes before heading for the hospital.” Her gaze flickering between me and my mother as if not wanting to take control from either of us but knowing how much I’ve depended on her throughout this pregnancy. If we hadn’t been like sisters before this, we sure as hell were now.] That might be a good idea as I’m pretty sure I just peed myself. [The words are said with a mirthless chuckle which invites a chuckle from both my mother and Dahlia. “Oh sweetie, that’s probably just your water breaking.” I glance towards my mother hopeful because I didn’t like the idea that I couldn’t control my bladder no matter how much people wouldn’t hold it against me cause I was in labor. “We’ve got the car and go-bag on standby when you ladies are ready to go.” My father’s voice comes floating through the door and I hear my mother reply back to him that we’d be out soon while Dahlia helps me out of my pajamas. I won’t lie that I took the opportunity to wear a lot of sweats and baggy clothes when it came to my maternity wardrobe, but I’d never been more glad for that decision than while trying to dress while in the middle of contractions.

It takes a little bit, but eventually we join my dad and Jasper in the family room and we all seem to look around at one another before I release a bit of a mix between a sigh and a chuckle.] Alrighty folks, we better get this show on the road before I have these kids right here. [“Yeah, I’d rather not see that, EJ.” Jesse quips as he walks over to me from the second bedroom door. His arms attempt to come around me in a loose hug as he whispers. “I’ll see you and those kiddos in a few hours. Don’t do anything crazy until then, okay?” A few tears fall from my eyes and I give him a tired smile.] Will do, broham. Give our niece and nephew a good morning kiss from me and their soon-to-be-cousins, please. [He nods and walks off to the bedroom with Jasper, no doubt being given instructions about what to do if he or Dahlia are needed. Somehow we are both quick and yet slow to get out into the vehicles. My dad and Jasper in the front seats while Dahlia and my mom sit in the back with me. Thankfully the drive to the hospital isn’t that long or I’d have started to feel claustrophobic on top of being in pain from the sheer fact that a woman pregnant with twins shouldn’t be squeezed between two other women in a compact SUV.

I want to say that I remember a lot more from my labor, but honestly beyond the pain and sudden fear of being a horrible mother and once more feeling the overwhelming sadness and guilt over Pedro not being there for the birth of his children, I don’t remember much. Of course, Dahlia and my mom were there with me through it all until at last I heard the cries of my children entering this world. The emotion almost knocking the breath out of me more so than the continued contractions. In the end, I was present with my beloved Sweet Peas. A boy and a girl. The fraternal twins resting on my chest as my family was finally able to join me back in my hospital room. “Took you long enough, sis.” The smile on JD’s face belying his words. We'd last seen each other more than 24 hours ago. Visitation keeping everybody by my parents away through the night after I’d finished delivering the twins.] Good morning to you too, Uncle Jesse. [He reaches out for my son and brushes a soft finger over his cheek. “You did good, Emma.” Before he can say anything else, the rest of my brothers arrive trying not to be too loud and wake the sleeping babies.] Looks like the gang’s all here. [I chuckle softly and watch as Jasper and Dahlia help their children, Abigail and Arthur sit on their laps close enough to see the babies without disturbing them or me on the bed. Arthur making a comment about how small his cousins are which has his mother chuckling and explaining that he was that small once himself.] Would you like to meet them, Artie? [His head bobbing enthusiastically as I pull back the caps so he can better see the twins from his seat.]

This lovely lady here is Gemma Aster and she was born at 11:11pm, and this gorgeous guy is Solomon Pedro. He’s a little younger than his big sister coming out at 11:30 on the dot. [“Pedro?” Reba glances over to share a look with Dahlia, who clearly didn’t mean to ask that question out loud. All this time I hadn’t shared who the twin’s father was with my family out of respect for both his life choice and because the pain had always felt so fresh just under the surface. But I knew when I was thinking up baby names that I wanted my children to have something of their father. The question intrigues the rest of my family and I simply nod my head as I brush a soft finger over Sol’s baby hair. My eyes never leaving his angelic face.] Yes, Pedro for his father. [The adults in the room seem to take a moment to process this new piece of information while Abbie and Artie are more interested in seeing more of their cousins. “When will they be able to play, Aunt Emma?” “They are still babies, Artie!” Before this can delve into an argument between the two siblings, Dahlia quickly leads them both away from my bedside with a playful roll of her eyes my way, a smile, and a motion of her head towards my family.]

Would anyone like to hold them? [And just like that, my words seem to bring them back to the present and spur them into action as my brothers almost fight over one another about who gets to hold the twins first. The sight of my family, who I’d worried about accepting my pregnancy at the beginning of the year, falling over themselves to spoil my children with their love causes me to start crying and it takes both my parents hugging me from either side to help me calm down enough to enjoy watching my brothers get to know their new niece and nephew. I didn’t know what else the future had in store for us, but I knew as long as I had Gemma and Sol by my side along with my family, things would be okay because my children were my life, my heart and my home.]

#AWayLessSadHappyEnding #EJMosbySL #EJ-Mosby

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ladynorbert · 6 years

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Wintersend 2017 - The Courtship of Queen Anora

This is for @cherith! I am your Secret Santa and I owe you a thousand apologies - it’s a wee bit late. My followers know that this has been an incredibly difficult holiday season for me, with family members in and out of the hospital and me averaging about five hours of sleep per night, but I didn’t forget you and your love for Teagan/Anora.

This really reads more like the first chapter of a longer work than a stand-alone story, and it’s quite possible that I will actually turn it into a longer story at some point because I ended up enjoying it more than I expected. I hope you love it! Happy Wintersend!

The Queen, it was understood, would have to marry.

Anora was a widow, of course. That was well understood. It was also understood that her marriage to Cailan had been childless. With his death, there remained only one known heir to the Theirin line of kings... and now Alistair, too, was gone. He had consented to a betrothal with Anora, but his love for the Hero of Ferelden would not be denied, and he had thrown himself at the Archdemon as it languished on the roof of Fort Drakon. Just like four other Grey Wardens before him, the last Prince of Ferelden had sacrificed himself for the continued survival of all of Thedas.

So the throne remained Anora's. She presided over Alistair's memorial with integrity, and a bit of pomp; she was good at pomp, always had been even as a girl, something Teagan found amusing in her. She spoke with unusual warmth of her late brother-in-law, noting that his feckless nature and boyish sense of humor did nothing to diminish his true raw courage, nor his patriotism.

The Hero of Ferelden remained in Denerim only long enough to witness the proceedings and bid farewell to the rest of her companions. Having cut down Anora's father following their duel at the Landsmeet, having reluctantly encouraged the betrothal between Alistair and Anora, and having absolutely no desire to remain anywhere near the site of his death, she had leaped at the chance to lead the funeral cortege. She would escort Alistair's body to Weisshaupt, to the Grey Warden stronghold where his four predecessors lay in honored repose; a similar vault was already being constructed to house the martyr of the Fifth Blight. Where she would go from there, Teagan could only guess. By rights she was Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and she was a creature of duty, so he thought it likely that she would quietly return and take up the mantle.

Whatever her future held, Teagan wished her well. But he had other matters to attend. The Queen must marry; she must give Ferelden an heir, begin a new line of monarchs to replace the lost Theirins. Anora, like the Hero of Ferelden, was a creature of duty, and she would do what was required of her to keep herself enthroned.

It was selecting a husband that was going to be the hard part.

Despite his once having urged their nephew to put aside Anora and accept the overtures of the Empress of Orlais, Eamon shifted carefully into the advisory position left empty by Loghain's death. Teagan wasn't quite sure what to make of that, in truth, but he knew Anora was cagey enough not to simply take Eamon's word for everything. She didn't entirely trust the Arl, and Teagan couldn't altogether blame her. He watched the discussion between Queen and Chancellor with quiet amusement.

"We must find you a husband," Eamon said. "Any formal period of mourning has long since passed; no one would think it improper."

"Ferelden has its Queen," she replied. "I will not hide in the wings and whisper to another King as I did with Cailan. I was Ferelden's true ruler throughout his reign, even he would have admitted that."

"I'm not arguing the point, Anora. But you need a consort."

She snorted delicately. "I want a pretty one," she said, and her voice was only a little sour as she added, "But not so pretty that Empress Celene thinks she might want to steal him."

Eamon had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable. "Of course."

"I want someone who will be at least close to my intellectual equal," she continued, as though ticking off a checklist she'd been compiling for some time. Perhaps she was. "Siring my heir is all well and good, but I desire a companion. A proper one. Someone I like and respect and can enjoy in my leisure hours, such as they are."

"I assume that this eliminates at least a portion of the list of candidates I've drafted." Eamon's own tone was a little dry.

"Doubtless. Show me the list." It was the most undemanding demand Teagan had ever heard, and he concealed a smile as Eamon surrendered the parchment. Anora's sky blue eyes flitted over the names one by one; he could almost see her mentally crossing them off.

"No," she said. "No and no and no. None of these will do. You forget, Eamon, I know these people. I watched them alternately grovel before and snarl behind my husband, and my father-in-law before that."

"What of the new Teyrn Cousland, then?" Eamon protested. "You cannot tar him with that brush; the Couslands have ever been loyal to Ferelden's monarch."

"True. And if things were different, I would consider it," she replied. "But he suffers the same circumstance as poor Alistair did - the only remaining member of a once mighty lineage. Highever needs him where he is, and frankly, so do I."

"You're making this difficult."

"And with good reason."

"You do realize that you've essentially narrowed the list down to nothing? If you cannot bring yourself to ally with one of your own vassals, Anora, we'll have to look into a foreign match, and you know the people will not be exactly favorable."

Anora toyed with a corner of the document, curling it between her thumb and forefinger. "You've been very quiet, Teagan," she noted.

"What would Your Majesty have me say?" he inquired, his tone gentle. "I'm only here as an impartial witness, after all."

"Are you?" she mused absently.

Eamon glanced from one to the other, and Teagan realized with a jolt that he could all but see the wheels turning in his brother's head. "What about Teagan, then, Anora?" he asked.

She blinked. "Are you quite serious, Eamon?"

"It's not an unflattering match. Teagan is several years my junior, after all, and he always was the better-looking of the two of us." Eamon chuckled. "He has a tenuous claim by marriage, being Queen Rowan's brother, and whatever misgivings you've ever had about my fidelity, you've never had them for him."

"True. He would look the part of Prince-Consort," she allowed, "and I find no fault in him as a potential companion."

"Now wait a moment," Teagan objected. "Do I get a say in this?"

"Not really." Anora smiled, however. "Do you dislike the idea?"

"It's not that, my Queen. It's just not... not how I ever intended to get married," he concluded lamely.

"There are worse things," Eamon said.

"Well, yes." He sighed. Then he chuckled a bit. "If I agree to go along with this, I reserve the right to court my future wife. It's only fair."

Anora looked amused. "This should be interesting," she said. "You have never courted anyone in all the years I've known you. And I have never been courted." It was true enough; Maric and Loghain had betrothed Cailan to Anora from the cradle, and her betrothal to Alistair had barely lasted long enough to deserve the name. "We will both have some things to learn."

"I'll do some reading on the subject," he promised with a chuckle. More seriously, he inquired, "Must we rush the proceedings, Eamon?"

"The sooner Ferelden has its heir, the easier everyone will breathe," his brother replied. "But there will need to be time for preparations, especially as Denerim is still recovering from the Archdemon's onslaught. I think if we plan for the wedding to take place in three months' time, it should satisfy everyone's concerns."

"It will be a challenge, then," said Anora. "Can Teagan earn my affections in just twelve weeks? I must stop thinking of him as my uncle by marriage, after all, and a woman may require time to change her mind."

Teagan looked at her in perplexity, which was quickly broken by understanding. Anora was joking. She had been so serious for so long, he'd honestly forgotten that she was very quietly witty. Evidently the situation was not so uncomfortable for her that she was unable to find humor in it. That warmed Teagan.

"I've never been one to shy away from a challenge, my Queen," he said aloud. "This will be quite the undertaking. I will endeavor to surpass your expectations."

"I have none, Teagan." Her eyes were glinting. "Whether that makes your task easier or more difficult remains to be seen."

"Indeed it does, Anora."

#wintersend 2017 #da secret santa 2017 #cherith #the-queen-of-thedas #right-in-the-vhenan #fanfic #Teagan/Anora

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marjaystuff · 6 years

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Sally Cabot Gunning interview by Elise Cooper

Monticello by Sally Cabot Gunning is a fascinating historical novel about the relationship between one of America’s Founding Fathers’ Thomas Jefferson and his eldest daughter Martha. Because the author based this book on actual correspondence between father and daughter it is immersed in reality. Readers see the struggle throughout their life with family, relationships, and issues of the day, including being a good wife, a good mother, honoring her father, and shaping his legacy. His greatest accomplishments included authoring the Declaration of Independence, founder of the University of Virginia, and an advocate for religious freedom as well as an end to slavery. The author explores the complicated life of both father and daughter.

Also a character in the book is Monticello. This home played a significant role in their lives, the family's beloved Virginia plantation among lush mountains. It was a place where Jefferson escaped his political worries and thrived, while Martha sought security, as it became her haven. This soul of the family was also its Achilles heel. It became a necessary evil where they needed to have slaves to manage the plantation. Through Jefferson and his daughter’s life readers will get a glimpse of the complex era.

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for the story?

Sally Cabot Gunning: In doing research for my previous book, Benjamin Franklin’s Bastard, I found this letter written by Martha to her father when she was fourteen. It read, ‘I wish with all my soul that the poor Negroes were all freed. It grieves my heart when I think that these, our fellow creatures should be treated so terribly as they are by many of our country men.’ I knew I had to learn more about her and the relationship with her father. As his oldest daughter she was much more involved in Jefferson’s life and with their property at Monticello than I ever could have imagined. I hope readers love this novel as much as I loved writing it.

EC: What research did you do?

SCG: I poured through her letters to her father and his to her and realized that she and I had embarked on a similar mission, to figure out her father. I read all the letters they wrote each other, letters to other people, and numerous biographies. I searched through endless Jefferson documents online. I learned that as Martha matured she came to spend many evenings at her father’s dinner table in the company of Europe’s greatest men of arts, letters, politics, and science, enhancing her education still further. I took many trips to Monticello and discovered something new with each trip, not just about the people who lived there, black and white, but also about the significance Monticello held for them.

EC: How would you describe Martha?

SCG: She looked more like her father and was tall at 5 feet 11 inches. Martha was energetic and feisty. She and her sister were told by their father that they were the most important people in his life. I don’t think she lived in a secure world having lost her mother when she was young, a father who was here, there, and everywhere, and a marriage that was unstable. I think Jefferson might have favored her because why else would he write long letters to his other daughter saying Martha was not the darling of his eyes, almost defending himself.

EC: How did she view her father?

SCG: I read letters where she wrote her father that no one would be more important to her than he. She put her father on a pedestal that no one else could live up to. She always wanted to earn his respect. Her emotional and financial security was her father.

EC: What about her education?

SCG: She was one of the most highly educated women of her time. The point of her education was for her to converse intelligently, teach her children, and to be a good companion. Most women did not receive that type of education, and I think Jefferson saw in her an intellect that should be nurtured. According to what I read she was fascinating to listen to and was a draw, someone cultivated, even by Presidents.

EC: Why did she marry Tom Randolph?

SCG: Her decision to marry Tom Randolph was done impulsively, on the rebound, and turned out to be a bad one. William Short, Thomas Jefferson’s advisor when he was the Minister to France, wanted her to stay but she was persuaded by her father to return to America with him. He was very good at talking people into things. After her return she married someone who wallowed in self-pity. Both Jefferson and she went to great lengths to convince Randolph that he was not in the shadow of her famous father, had equal sway as the other son-in-law, and was beloved. The phrase in the book written by Jefferson is true, ‘I hold you with greater esteem than you hold for yourself.’ Yet, he turned to alcoholism, forcing Martha to take her children and live at Monticello.

EC: When I heard you describe Martha and Thomas Jefferson’s feelings for Monticello I thought of how Scarlett O’Hara felt about Tara from the Gone With The Wind story?

SCG: It definitely was a character in the book. The place itself became so significant in their lives, especially if you think what they did to preserve it. They were hell bent on holding on to it. It was their sanctuary. She actually moved back during her troubled marriage. Also, after Jefferson died, when it was being sold, the family appealed to William Short to influence Martha to not be present.

EC: Monticello was also their Achilles heel?

SCG: It explained many things including slavery, the relationship with each other, and the extreme debt of Jefferson. This is just my observation, but I believe had he not inherited slaves from his father and an enormous debt from his father-in-law he would not have been a slave owner. I also think had he not been in such financial trouble he would have freed his slaves after he died. Although he thought slavery was wrong, it became a necessary evil, a way to manage the plantation.

EC: I think in understanding Jefferson we need to understand the times and not have tunnel vision?

SCG: Yes. A single slave was worth $500. The banks allowed him to keep taking money because he had this ‘valuable commodity.’ Plantation owners were land rich and cash poor. They did not know how to get out from under this vile system. I think that he as a slave owner and his slaves were both victimized by slavery. Many people call him a hypocrite. But until someone learns about the conditions of the day, what was going on, and his beliefs, they should not be making this statement. They need to get the whole paragraph and not the headline.

EC: This book quote shows how both were conflicted over the issue of slavery: “He caused intentional harm to no living creature; that he’d done what he could to ease the plight of those in his care; that he was trapped, as they all were, in a vile system that could not be righted in this life.” Please explain.

SCG: At the beginning of the book I have this quote by Jefferson at the end of his life, ‘on the subject of emancipation I have ceased to think because [it is] not to be a work of my day.’ He did what he could to end it, but was stifled by others and the law. While in France, he had decided to set up tenant farming for those of his slaves who he felt were ready to take on the responsibility. He also believed legislation was needed to do away with slavery in its entirety. In 1769 he had someone file an emancipation bill because he was only a junior legislator. He had an elder respected legislator put it forth, but it was instantly tabled and not put up for a vote. He wrote this into the first draft of the Declaration of Independence, calling slavery ‘a cruel war against human nature itself,’ but others in the Congress had it deleted. He also said, ‘There is no G-d that would side with us in this conflict.’

EC: There is no good slave owner, but with that said how did he treat his slaves?

SCG: He had a paternalistic view of the master/slave relationship with the feeling he needed to care and feed them. He did free five slaves after his death because he knew they could support themselves. He never beat his slaves, and when they went to him with a complaint about the overseers he always sided with the slaves. Remember George Washington gets credit for freeing his slaves, but he did it only after he died when he did not need them anymore. Also, Washington did not free any of the slaves owned by his wife.

EC: Let’s talk about Sally Hemings, the slave Thomas Jefferson had a relationship with. What is your take?

SCG: When she was fourteen she accompanied Jefferson, the American envoy to France, to take care of his youngest daughter Maria. She could have remained free if she stayed in France. She did agree to return to America with Jefferson. I do think she had some agency in it although not total agency. She could have remained free if she stayed in France so she did have some decision making power. Hemings negotiated freedom for her children and privileges: their children would be set free once they reached 21, and Hemings would never again do the work of the other enslaved women at Monticello. An African-American historian who I greatly respect truly believes there was some feeling between the pair. I do not think he physically forced himself upon her; yet, we have to emphasize that if a person owns another person there is the question of mutual consent.

EC: How did Martha feel about the relationship?

SCG: She resented Sally. For example, Sally or Thomas named the child they had together James Madison, and shortly thereafter Martha named her next child by the same name. Martha’s son Jeff stated after she died that his mother had a difficult time with the Sally situation. She made a concerted effort to keep Sally out of her father’s story.

EC: Is your next book going to be about another Founding Father?

SCG: I am leaning to getting back to writing about early 1800s New England.

THANK YOU!

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carraville · 7 years

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Hi there I'm writing a fic and wondered if you could help me with something. I don't know an awful lot about David beckham Paul scholes and Phil Neville. I know your a man Utd fan and you'll probably love them all haha but just tell me what they're like from what you can gather as people and players. Even if it's just your opinion that's fine! Thanks so much for your help

ok SO i do love them a lot and i know much more about them than i ought to, so much so to the point that it might be more useful if you had something more specific you need to ask about, because i…am far too involved in them??? buT general-wise i wrote a draft primer on the co92 a while ago and I’m just going to copy and paste from there and hope this helps!!!!

putting this under a read more because this is....long

BECKS:

Everyone and their mum (especially their mums, probably) knows who David Beckham is, but did you know him when he thought that curtains were not just to make windows pretty but also for hair? Did you? Because curtain becks is almost as bad as half-alive mullet becks (although nothing can beat cornrow becks in the history of what the fuck were you thinking, let’s be real).

What can I tell you about Becks that you don’t already know? He has OCD and has to have an even number of coke cans in the fridge. He took cooking classes when he was at Milan and learnt how to make pasta (a far cry from his humble beginnings in Gary Neville’s kitchen). His middle name is Robert for Bobby Charlton. He’s honestly a more down-to-earth and clever bloke than people give him the credit for and he’s really just a little boy who’s loving what he does and works incredibly hard for it? A lot of people always remember the underwear modeling (for good reason, I mean, have you seen) but in doing so they dismiss his playing days, which is ridiculous because he was so fucking good. And hey, you can be good at both football and looking like a life-sized, anatomically correct Ken doll! His crosses were exquisite, his free kicks were sublime, and the partnership he had with Gaz is still guilty of murder for killing me through old, grainy youtube videos. Also everyone’s always keen to stress that he’s never really let fame change him or the way he deals with people, which is lovely.

If you wanna kill urself, watch his retirement interview with Gary, because it perfectly sums up who he is. Boy from Leytonstone who wanted to play football. He’s so insistent on being remembered as a player that it really breaks your heart that more people don’t. No one talks about how he tried that Wimbledon goal every day in training, or how he still hits exquisite free kicks aged 40plus because he practiced them for so damn long. He’s a beautiful talented hardworking boy and I lov him!! and he’s not arrogant or anything at all he’s just so cool!

Becks left United in 2003 after a bit of a bust up with Fergie, even though they remain on great terms nowadays. It broke everyone’s heart, it broke Gary’s heart, but it wasn’t so bad for Becks bc he found a Spanish goalkeeper to frolic around with. Still couldn’t watch us play for years, though, so there!!! In 2007 he moved to LA Galaxy, in 2013 he moved to PSG, and he retired then. It was great, he got thrown into the air and shit bc he was retiring so it wouldn’t matter if he broke his legs. ffs lads.

Fun fact: I still laugh at the fact that his house in Hertfordshire was called Beckhingham Palace

SCHOLESY:

My favourite story of him regarding this Intense Dislike for Humanity is this one: after the 2008 CL final, which we won, he was the first and only one on the team bus while everyone else was ostensibly getting drunk off their tits. At the next press conference, reporters asked him if he’d wanted to have some time to himself and reflect on how he’d finally gotten redemption for 1999. He stared at them and said, “I just wanted to go home.”

IDC IF IT’S AN URBAN MYTH IT BASICALLY SUMS HIM UP ENTIRELY.

My other favourite story of him is him telling AC Milan’s president that ‘if you want me to play for you, you’ll have to buy this club’, because we’re the best club in the world. Seriously, his love for United is so great. Sometimes he’s described as an Oldham fan, but he’s said before that it was United first and Oldham second. Did I say ‘said’? I probably meant smoke-signalled it because this bitch is so hard to get interviews with. There’s this great one where he’d just retired or something so the BBC got him to do an interview and their first question was ‘is this a living hell for you, then?’ and his response was ‘it is, really, yeah…I’ve been thinking to myself ‘why the hell did I agree to this???’. I know people have been knocking him for talking a lot more nowadays but a) he’s a pundit, it’s his job to talk and b) I rly think it’s just because it’s his only link with football that he has left?? So he puts himself thru it, because he just loves football so much, and that makes me love him even more? The directors of CO92 had a kickabout with him and described it as watching a little boy play again and I think that’s just the most beautiful and pure thing and Scholesy is so pure. Except when he’s setting people on fire.

BC HE DOES THAT A LOT, like, you think he’s quiet so he ain’t gonna be up for much banter but, my dude, he is the most savage person you will ever encounter. The closest I’ve ever seen him come to pissing himself laughing was when he was describing attacking Phil with a 50-yarder and knocking a POOR INNOCENT BOY flat on the ground. Laughing at that! Also his sense of humour is absolute wreckage. Gary has the best story:

People think Scholesy’s shy and quiet but he’s one of the most cutting people I know. Example: the day Diana Law, who worked in United’s press department, was chatting with the players. “Gary, you remind me of my brother for some reason,” she said. “Why?” Scholesy replied, quick as a flash. “Is he a knob too?”

HAHAH u knob. AnyWAY this is getting long but tldr tiny ginger little shit who hates the world and would probably hate how much i love him. He debuted for United in 1994, scoring twice against Port Vale, and retired in 2011, then unretired in 2012 and waltzed into our starting XI, and then retired again in 2013. So the only person we could find to replace Paul Scholes was Paul Scholes. smh.

Fun fact: he used to steal all of Gary’s shit and hide things and he’s SUCH A LITTLE SHIT, both literally and figuratively, I love it

PHIL:

ok phil is just the sweetest purest cinnamon roll you will ever meet, ever, I mean you probably won’t ever meet him but u know what i mean. Sometimes I think he’s too sweet bc he’s such a dumb pushover. Someone once said he was everyone’s favourite Neville just by virtue of being not Gary. Which is hilarious. ANyway he’s a fuckin sweetie pie and family man who constantly refers to his kids has his babies even tho Harvey is, like, old enough to drive I think?? and he’s an incredibly good dad to Isabella especially who has cerebral palsy but he’s so!!!! supportive!!! and god what did we do to deserve this dumb boi. If we were doing a CO92/Spice Boys crossover he would be Redders hands down because he also gets a lot of stick, from his commentary to his analysis (I s’pose it doesn’t help when ur bruv keeps winning shit like pundit of the year), but he always takes it on the chin and laughs it off and keeps on being such a good person, kind to everyone he meets and genuinely good-natured. I love his self-deprecating humour, it’s the best thing. He also loves United a lot, altho probably not as much as he loves Gaz uwu

Ok, so he’s not the world’s most exciting or greatest player, but he was honestly rly talented and people can forget that?? I mean you don’t just make captain of Everton bc you’re the United captain’s lil bro. He scored some amazing goals when he was at United - maybe the olden day Jesse Lingard - not a great goal scorer but a scorer of great goals. And he was always so intent and almost enthusiastic going into things, which kinda mirrors his puppy personality, which I lov. because don’t let his puppy dog eyes and smile fool u, ok, he’s just as driven as all of them and he will get what he want. probably just with less blood and dead people than, like, scholesy.

He’s two years younger than the rest of them so he made his debut in ‘95 and then heartbreakingly left in 2005, going on to captain Everton (but not before scoring an own goal against us bc he loves us still really). He retired in 2013. All these kids retiring in the same year! Tsk. It’s like they planned it or something.

Fun fact: he was a brilliant cricketer and used to play with Freddie Flintoff. A tear shed for the hungover Philip at Buckingham Palace that we never had

#Anonymous #answered #i remember word counting this and it was like.....2k or 3k with the other lads as well #istg #there were also embarrassing pics but im too lazy to copy them over

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briangroth27 · 6 years

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Riverdale: Who is the Black Hood?

A new killer, the Black Hood, is stalking Riverdale and I think I know who it is.

It’s Chic Cooper, Betty’s half-brother and the baby Hal tried to force Alice to abort, but she didn’t. I believe Chic was inspired by Betty's speech like he said, and he’s getting his target list from Alice's journalism.

A lot points to someone directly connected to the Coopers. That’s why the Coopers got the evidence: it wasn’t to report it in the paper or give it to the police; it was to prove he’s Alice and Betty’s loyal follower. The personal connection is why Betty got the letter and phone calls, and why the Black Hood apparently wants to cut her off from her friends so he doesn’t have to “share” her. Only someone with access to Betty or obsessed with becoming close to her could know about that Nancy Drew cipher. She’s his sister and he wants a reunion.

Chic’s out-of-wedlock conception, the attempt to make Alice get an abortion, and his teen mother giving birth are all examples of sinful behavior (from an extreme conservative point of view), which is the Hood’s stated target. Maybe he feels his sinful origin can only lead him to one destiny—more sin—so he’s accepted that by aiming himself at other sinners; a twisted way of doing “something good” with the “evil” of his origin. I think he sees Betty as the light to his darkness...and maybe thinks she’s his salvation.

Alice is from the South Side, just as the killer seems to be. It's true Alice hates the South Side, but the Black Hood is cleaning up the criminal elements that crop up in the North, preserving her half of Riverdale. He hasn’t attacked any upstanding or “innocent” North Side people yet, because he’s not waging war on them, he’s “protecting” them from sin as it gets too close. He may not be able to take on all of the South Side as one man, but he can certainly curb their encroachment into the North Side...which is something Alice wants.

The only person the Black Hood has actually killed is Fake Miss Grundy, and she was murdered via a much more personal strangulation instead of a shooting. Is it possible his victims haven’t gotten lucky three times now, but he’s just firing off extreme warning shots? Fake Miss Grundy’s creepy tutoring sessions are the crime Alice truly hated…and the one she didn’t expose in the paper. Maybe the Black Hood was finishing the job for her.

The cops said there was no sign of forced entry, so Fake Miss Grundy “must’ve known the Black Hood,” but she seemed surprised the window was open. Perhaps Chic acted as one of her tutoring students—maybe he even offered himself up as a sick test to see if she’d reformed (he’d be of legal age, but she might not know that)—and unlocked the window from the inside.

Midge and Moose were shot right after Alice took pictures of her buying Jingle-Jangle for one of her articles. Does the Black Hood have access to her phone (or her cloud uploading service) somehow?

It's possible the gunman's green eyes are color contact lenses, meaning we can't depend on accounts of his eye color. Spotty contacts could also account for his seemingly poor shooting. Furthermore, as TV Guide pointed out, Midge didn’t agree his eyes were green—she didn’t disagree either, but she didn’t confirm it—and Archie was traumatized by his dad’s shooting, so the eye color and aging around his eyes is suspect.

If it was the Black Hood stalking Ethel and not just some creep (I’m inclined to believe the latter, since wouldn’t he just drive up and shoot her if he wanted to?), the only motive would seem to be her having been slut-shamed by Chuck Clayton. She was the one to go on record about that, so even though Chuck was lying about her, her reputation was smeared. However, she was also there when Betty tortured Chuck to get him to confess. Maybe the Black Hood has some knowledge of Dark Betty/”Polly” (Chuck’s confession video was why he was kicked off the team and suspended) and wanted to punish Ethel for bringing that darkness out in Betty. If he sees Betty as the light to his darkness, he certainly wouldn’t want to see her tarnished.

If the kids are right and the Black Hood is in his 40s, it can’t be Chic (Betty approximated his age as mid-20s). A friend of mine theorized Hal could be the Black Hood and while I can see a lot of these clues adding up to him acting alone—even cleaning up the town could be a sick plan to get Alice back—the phone calls to Betty don’t seem like his style to me (and it’d be weird if Hal were punishing all these other people for sins when he’s tried to force abortions and accepted incest). If Chic isn’t on his own, I think my friend’s absolutely right that Hal’s wearing the mask: I think he’s working as his son’s gunman. If that’s the case, I don’t think Chic knows Hal likes to force people to have abortions or the true lineage of Polly’s kids. Or, maybe Chic knows everything and Hal working for his son is the price of protecting Polly—maybe Chic will make the Blossom/Cooper connection public knowledge and ruin Polly’s life if he doesn’t help—as well as some sort of penance, just like Chic is using his “evil” to help the town. I like that better.

Whether Hal is the gunman or it’s just Chic, much of the Black Hood’s information—particularly on Betty—could easily come from blackmailing Hal for details with the same kind of threats. He’d definitely know about the cipher. He’d probably have access to Alice’s photo cloud drive and he’d definitely have access to early drafts of her articles since they work at the same paper. He’s shown a dark side and is willing to do extreme things to “protect his girls.” Furthermore, just wounding people rather than killing them seems like an appropriate level of darkness for Hal; I’d also believe it if he were simply a bad shot. Even more damning, he’s in a position to have been told about Fake Miss Grundy’s affairs with students by Alice...and unless the Black Hood also read Betty’s journal (which is not impossible), it’s hard to believe Fred or Betty told anyone else so Alice must’ve been the source. Since Betty is/was on medication, it’s possible Hal and Alice know about Dark Betty. Most simply, he wouldn’t have even had to deliver the package of evidence to himself; he could’ve just walked into the house with it (and Chic could’ve hand-delivered the cipher letter to Betty at school). If the Black Hood is not Chic acting alone, Hal is my number one suspect for his gunman.

If the Black Hood is not Chic or Hal, perhaps the kid wasn’t even Hal’s and the gunman is Chic’s actual father, who may be someone we already know…maybe one of the Serpents Jughead’s in contact with, like Tall Boy. That would explain why they couldn’t turn anything up beyond a loudmouth when Jug asked the Serpents to look into the Black Hood.

I thought for a moment the as-yet unnamed “Young Serpent” played by Arthur MacKinnon who hangs with Tall Boy could be Chic, but apparently Chic’s been cast (I won’t spoil by who in case they introduce him under a different name). …Unless they’re pulling a bait-and-switch here and the guy they cast as Cooper isn’t playing the real Chic. Maybe "Young Serpent" will hire "Chic" to feel out the town before revealing himself as Betty’s true brother.

The comic book Black Hood is a series of former cops-turned-vigilantes who kill criminals, so it’s possible this Hood is a cop rather than a Serpent. I’ve seen Sheriff Keller suggested elsewhere as a suspect; could he be Chic’s dad, cleaning up the criminals he can’t catch as a member of law enforcement?

It’s cleaner if the kids are wrong about the age and it’s Chic under the Black Hood—and I love the idea of Archie being so rattled by the shooting that he didn’t know what he saw (which echoes Cheryl’s unreliable narration last year)—and he’s threatening Hal for details. I’m not discounting a gunman following orders, though, and my money is on Hal for that culprit. Regardless of who’s wearing the Black Hood, I think Chic Cooper is pulling his strings.

EDIT Following the 11/8 Episode, “When a Stranger Calls:” Outing Alice’s past throws a bit of a wrench into my theory, but I still think it’s Chic. I think the Black Hood is only being guided by Alice’s reporting because it gives him a convenient insight into who the criminals are in town. He’s only proving himself to Betty, not Alice. As far as he’s concerned, Alice being a teen mother probably marked her as a sinner.

I think Betty “recognizing his face” means that Chic has either been hiding in plain sight under a different name or that she’ll recognize his eyes or some other feature as someone related to her.

Maybe I was wrong and he wants to bring out Dark Betty, so they can clean up the town together. Their familial relation is another reason they’re “the same.”

Sheriff Keller saying the two handwriting samples didn’t line up makes me think Chic has an accomplice.

Betty thinks he’s in his 30s or 40s—getting closer to the mid-20s she estimated Chic to be—as opposed to the 40s suggested earlier and that he might have a daughter based on his Nancy Drew cipher.

Knowing exactly where Polly is (and about Alice’s past) definitely incriminates Hal as an accomplice at least. I don’t think he knows everything Chic is doing, though, and I think he’s just the information source; just like the Hood is threatening Polly to coerce Betty, he’s threatening Betty to coerce Hal. I just don’t buy Hal saying these things to Betty—especially the things about Polly and her children—even as controlling as we know him to be.

As TV Guide pointed out, the Black Hood’s refusal to even threaten Archie is very odd. I have no answer for that, unless Chic’s father is Fred and he doesn’t want to hurt his half-brother.

What do you think? Who’s your top suspect?

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