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maddieautobot273 · 1 year ago

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Silk & Cologne (52)

A Miguel O'hara x OC fanfic - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 52: Lost - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x Female Spidersona OC

Words: 3.5K+ words

Warnings: PG for mentions a panic and/or anxiety attack

Summary: The webslingers hatch a plan to rescue Kasey.

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“So Hugh Everett’s theory about other dimensions is legit?” Toya’s eyes were bug eyed wide, as well as Touga and Hannah after I had finished sharing my story.

I told them everything. From when I got bitten by the spider, Miguel and Peter B. rescued me whilst introducing me to the Spider Society and ultimately joining them to control my new powers. The rest they had pretty much already knew to an extent, as far as me and Miguel dating goes.

“Pretty much,” I innocently shrug my shoulders. “If there’s another universe that has Spider-Man in someway, shape, or form, it exists.”

“So like a spiderverse?” Touga asks, his fingers waving with a dramatic flare.

“Spiderverse?” Miguel huffs, crossing his arms over his puffed chest. “The technical term is the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse.”

Everyone gawks in Miguel’s direction, myself included. I clear my throat, offering him a playful smile as I nudge his side. “Soooo, the spiderverse?”

Miguel rolled his eyes, but gave me a ghost of a smirk. “In the simplest of terms I suppose, yes, a spiderverse, if you will,”

“So the characters, er, I guess, those people, everyone we saw was real?” Toya went on, stepping forward as the more he talked, the more calm and relaxed he appeared to be processing all of this.

Hannah gulps suddenly. “Including the villains?” She shuddered, Touga wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“Especially the villains.” I nodded firmly.

“So, Chameleon, Vulture, Green Goblin. . .” Touga mumbled as his voice wandered before shaking his head, speaking up. “All of that was real.”

I nodded again.

“But they looked different from what we know of them,” Touga quickly realized, his mind racing thinking back to just mere minutes ago.

“Think of the Multiverse like a giant spider-web, with lots of interconnecting webs and nodes,” Miguel explained, his arm open wide as if mapping it out in his head. “I’d show you my own illustration but time is of the essence.”

“Why are they here?” Hannah asks, her voice a bit more calm with Touga’s presence.

“They’re after me,” I swallowed, curling my fingers into a fist so tight I thought I’d puncture my skin with my finger nails. “The spider that bit me and gave me my powers came from dimension Earth-1997, home to Harry Osborne who orchestrated this attack.”

My friends eyes lit up with concern and worry, anxiously holding their breath as they waited for us to speak more.

They’re here because of me.

“I wanted to wait to tell you a theory of mine, but Spider-Doc’s research confirmed my suspicions,” Migue spoke up as his long fingers trailed down my arms to my fists, uncurling my fingers and intertwining our hands. “Better late than never. Harry was trying to recreate the venom that gave the Spider-Man of his dimension their powers. He made a modification that amplified the specific targets' natural talents and enhanced them. In Lisa’s case, it amplified her athleticism when it came to her dancing, and her voice.”

“Her voice?” Toya repeated with a confused glint in his eyes.

“My webs glow when I sing, triggering various effects if I use them on someone,” I suddenly became nervous, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand. It kind of sounds outrageous saying this all out loud here. “I can put my targets to sleep, issue commands, and I uh– triggered them to explode once?”

“Exploding webs?!” Toya exclaimed, eyes wide as Hannah jumped, Touga holding her protectively.

“I didn’t kill anyone! I only used it against a giant rock monster!” I started, waving my hand reassuringly.

“You fought rock monsters?” Touga gawked, his grip tightening on Hannah.

Miguel coughs into the fist of his free hand, regaining everyone’s attention. “Can we stay focused, please? Trying to have an adult conversation, or at least something close to it.”

“Right, sorry, Spider-Man– Miguel, or Mr. O’hara, er, sir!” Touga apologies before both he and his twin offer Miguel a salute, straightening their posture.

Hannah glances between them, unsure whether to do the same. I cast her a reassuring glance, waving my hand down. “That’s not a thing in the Society, you don’t need to do that,”

“Please, just call me Miguel,” Miguel nods over to the boys, putting them at ease. “Mr. O’hara was my father. I am not him.”

“. . . Doesn’t Pavitr call you Mr. O’hara?” I gently remind him, lowering my voice to a whisper.

Miguel keeps his gaze on my friends, not breaking eye contact as he matches my tone. “I don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. He’s a good kid, so he gets a pass.”

“So does Kasey’s disappearance have something to do with Harry going after you?” Hannah asks me.

“Yes,” I sighed deeply, lowering my head. “They’ve. . . come after me before.”

“Wait, the attack at your apartment that one time was them?” Hannah’s voice dropped as she covered her mouth and I could see the exact moment when her heart dropped.

I nodded. “Yes, and now they’re trying to get to me through those closest to me. That’s why they took Kasey and Chameleon disguised himself and took Kasey’s place so I wouldn’t notice.”

“But if you have spider-powers now, wouldn’t your spider-sense warn you if something was up?” Touga asked me, his voice a little hesitant.

“Truthfully I’m still getting used to how it works exactly,” I shake my head with a grim expression. “I can sense danger right before it happens, but not in the long term it seems.”

But maybe if I could. . .

I winced, hearing white noise in my ear. An image flashed in my head, but I couldn’t quite catch what it was as I vigorously shook my head. It had to be the stress of all that was happening, at least that’s what I told myself to keep calm.

I didn’t miss the look Miguel gave me. Could he hear my thoughts through the mental bond he had connected with me? Before he had a chance to talk, Hannah’s voice spoke up and his eyes gazed upon her.

“So. . . where is Kasey?” Hannah asked me nervously.

My shoulders slacked as my head hung low. “I have no idea.”

Chameleon had mentioned that he disguised himself long enough for the plan to work. But how long was that even? The day before the show? A week ago? Or when we had that fight?

“Has anyone tried contacting her since you all got here?” Miguel’s eyes wandered between the group, looking at each of us.

Everyone looked shocked, puzzled as to why they didn’t think to do that before. Myself included. We all whipped out our phones, trying to text, call, even facetime Kasey’s number. But it all went to voicemail.

“She’s not answering.” Toya shook his head with a frustrated growl.

“But it went straight to voicemail,” I quickly realized, whipping my gaze to Miguel. “Her phone is still on!”

Miguel nodded, the gears in his head turning as he was one step ahead of me. He pulled away from me, lifting a hand to his gizmo, typing in a command on the touch screen. “Lyla, can you track the signal to see where Kasey’s phone is?” A holographic map of my dimension’s New York appeared before us, my friends surprised gasps could be heard in the back.

“Sure can!” Lyla beamed happily as her avatar took form on Miguel’s shoulder and the gasps returned, this time louder and more alarmed. “Oh, Lisa, these must be your friends!”

“Introductions later, Lyla, we really need your help.” I insisted.

“Anyone got a phone charger she can borrow?” Lyla asked as she zipped over towards my friends, studying them.

“Uh, h-here!” Touga turned back, walking over to the kitchen counter as he pulled a drawer back and pulled out a charger.

“Thanks,” He handed the charge to me and I found a USB port on the side of my gizmo.

After connecting the two devices, I dialed Kasey’s number again. My heart dropped deeper and deeper into the pit of my stomach the longer it rang. Loading icons appeared on Lyla’s eyes as she studied the holographic map carefully. Then suddenly she exclaimed before flying over to a part of the map and tapping it with her finger.

The map zoomed in on the spot before the hologram reconstructed itself and took the shape of a very familiar small island, with a very familiar historical landmark. I cursed under my breath. My knees buckled as I took it all in. “She’s back there?”

The Statue of Liberty.

“Specifically, here,” Lyla zoomed in on the hologram again, this time, directing it beneath the monument to a series of tunnels and passageways. “I tracked the signal underground.”

“She was beneath us this whole time?” Toya’s jaw dropped as he stepped closer to the holomap, studying the pathway.

“Are you absolutely sure, Lyla?” Miguel asked the AI, hands on his hips.

“That’s where the signal is coming from,” Lyla nodded before looking over at Miguel. “It’s not a bad place to keep a hostage.”

Miguel’s stance was collected, calm and his eyes narrowed seriously as he looked back towards me. “What do you want to do?”

My eyes trailed down to my phone, seeing the failed calls and texts to Kasey’s phone before looking back towards the holomap. I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and exhaled out of my mouth as I glared at the red dot indicating Kasey’s proximity location. “If there’s even the smallest chance, I have to go.”

“We will go,” Miguel corrected me, stepping to my side as he placed a steady hand to the small of my back. “I’ll call the others, and figure out a plan.”

Footsteps caught my attention as I looked up, seeing Hannah, Touga, and Toya approach the opposite end of the holomap, determined looks on their faces.

“How can we help?” Touga crossed his arms over his chest, offering me a smile.

“What?” My eyes widened at his offer as I looked between them and Miguel just to check if they were joking. I narrowed my eyes cautiously. “I’m not asking you to put your lives–”

“Oh, we’re not asking, we’re telling,” Toya spoke up with a grin, cracking his knuckles. “We’re a team, remember? The Webslingers?”

I gawked at his words, feeling like I was going to cry right there and then. “Guys. . .”

“Kasey is our friend too, and we want to do everything we can to help.” Hannah stated, appearing a little more calm and confident in herself.

I looked over towards Miguel. “Well?”

‘We could use the extra help?’

Miguel’s eyes narrowed before he sighed, shaking his head lightly as he glanced over to the floor. Hands still on his hips, he glances up to my friends. “It will be dangerous. If we go in there. . . there’s a chance we won't come back out.”

My body froze at that moment, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I thought it was going to burst as I watched my friends exchange looks with one another. The idea that more than Kasey’s life could be at risk, or worse. . . I didn’t want to think about it. The white noise and flickering came back briefly, and I shook my head again as my friends looked up towards Miguel. Determination still painted on their faces.

“We understand the risks,” Touga spoke as Toya and Hannah nodded their heads. “We’re coming.”

“Then we got some work to do.” Miguel stated as he rose his gizmo to his face. “Spiders, rendezvous at my coordinates. All hands on deck.”

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Operation: Rescue Kasey and save Earth-1218 was a go.

Avoiding the police and the checkpoints they set up on practically every block leading up to the harbour was a cakewalk, as we navigated across on the rooftops. After dropping down and getting by the patrols, we found the twin’s family yacht. Using cloaking technology on the S.S.Saki to avoid being seen by the Coast Guard, we sailed back to the island under the cover of darkness.

There was an eerie silence as we sailed across the lake and into the port. To think only mere minutes ago, the place was covered with fire and explosions. I could still smell the ash and smoke from here.

Not to mention that stupid portal was till glowing and hovering up in the sky like the biggest eyesore. As we navigated closer to the statue, I prayed to any God that would listen to me to not let another villain variant or anomaly pass through and cause more destruction to my home. As far as I could catch through the radio chatter on the police walkies as we snuck by, the villains never left the smaller island and attacked the mainland.

It was the smallest of blessings, but I didn’t take it for granted.

“Everyone in position?” Miguel spoke through the gizmo’s commlink.

Miguel and I had snuck our way to the top of the Statue of liberty to catch a peek at the portal to check if any more villains would be coming through any time soon. Thankfully it didn’t appear so, but the place was crawling with Oscorp guards, the same ones that abducted me back when all of this first started. I had shuddered when I first caught a glimpse of their uniforms.

“We’re ready to go in when you are, Miguel,” Noir responded.

Noir would be leading Gwen, and my friends through a back door at the bottom of the statue that led into the underground maintenance facility where the network of tunnels started. Miguel and I would make our way down through the statue itself by the security entrance. Pav, Peter B., Jess, and Hobie were on standby for backup in case we needed it.

“We go on my signal,” Miguel spoke before he glanced over at me, noticing how my eyes had yet to stray from looking at the portal. “I’ll call you back.”

He hung up the feed, approaching me softly as we stood within the crown of Lady Liberty.

I had changed into my real, and very much cleaner and not tattered, spider-suit via my gizmo. The nano-technology fit me like a glove as I lowered my head down to look at my mask. My fingers curled tighter around it as a wave of shame and guilt coursed through my body.

“Something has been eating at you,” Miguel spoke gently. “I can tell.”

“. . . This is all my fault, isn’t it?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Mona Lisa, none of this is your fault,” Miguel eagerly insisted, his voice still stern yet gentle as he squeezed my hand in his.

“But what if it is?” I turned my head to look back at him with worry. “Even if my universe doesn’t actually have a canon like Lyla told you, I still can’t use my powers here. I tried to when I pushed Touga out of the way. I saved him, but I blacked out in that split second.”

Miguel’s eyes softened in sympathy, his fingers squeezing my hands tightly as his thumbs brushed against the fabric of my gloves. “Lisa. . .”

“I should have been more vocal with you with my worry about Harry coming here when you first told me the other week. I trusted you to handle it and I still do, but. . . without my powers, how can I rescue Kasey?” My voice trembled, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears. “How can I protect my home?”

I could see Miguel’s lips moving, but I couldn’t hear him. Everything seemed to blur as the white noise returned, erupting my ears. Spots flickered in my eyes as I began to see things, someone that wasn’t there.

For a brief moment, someone else took Miguel’s place. First it was Hannah and my eyes widened in fear when it looked like she was beaten up, bloodied even. Then it was Toya, and Touga, then Kasey, and I recoiled, fearing the worst for her.

“What if they get hurt because of me?” I choked.

Miguel’s form flickered as he continued to try and talk to me, before I closed my eyes and when I opened them again I saw my mother. I nearly fell to my knees. As if he were shouting from a distance, I could hear Miguel’s muffled cry to me.

“What if—!” The words were there but I couldn’t get them out as I shut my eyes again, shaking my head.

But when I looked back, Miguel wasn’t there again. It was a woman, an elderly with snow white hair tied in a bun. She wore a visor with multiple red eyes staring at me, in a long red suit like gown as she sat on a black throne that was covered in webs.

“What if you’re right? What if my universe won’t accept me as its Spider-Woman because of all of this?” I whimpered, my fingers clutching on to the sides of my head.

The woman suddenly lunged for me, arms out.

“Lisa, look at me!”

But it wasn’t the woman’s voice that came out of her mouth as I shut my eyes feeling someone grabbing on to me, shaking me back into reality. I slowly opened my eyes to see Miguel kneeling before me, his hands on my shoulders as they trembled, as if fighting not to grab me too hard. His eyes poured into mine, his pupils flickering between his normal brown and his powerful red irises as if trying to keep himself calm through all of this.

“Maybe. . . Maybe I’m wrong. I’ve seen what you can do with these powers and how you’ve used it to protect those around you, to protect me. But even if I am right, I will be there and help you every step of the way. I’ll work with Lyla and the Doc, research and study the spider-venom DNA for anything that can help you to use your powers here and reduce the pain that you’re feeling, because I’m so shocking proud of you, Lisa!”

Slowly the white noise whine down, and I started to hear music? Violins playing a soft, enchanting and also familiar melody.

“Not done fightin' (no way), I don't fear I've lost

Am I dreamin', is there more like us?”

My lips trembled as I looked at him, eyes watering as something warm swelled in my chest. “Miguel. . .” The white noise and voices started to dissipate.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He panted, managing a smile as he laughed.

I could see his fangs glisten in the moonlight, flashing that signature grin of his as his hands came up to cup my cheeks. He closed the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine in a confident, pulling my flush against him. I was worried that someone might see us, a patrolling guard or another anomaly sneaking through the portal, but when Miguel’s fingers dug into my hair at the back of my head, I melted into his touch completely.

“Got me feeling (no way), like it's all too much

I feel beaten, but I can't give up”

His tongue slowly brushed against my bottom lip suddenly, testing the waters, silently asking for permission. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold myself closer, and I parted my lips. It was brief, only for a few seconds, but I felt his tongue slip into my mouth and massage itself against my own in slow, gentle strokes before Miguel pulled away completely.

“Your best is enough.” he stated, his fingers brushing stray strands of my hair away from my face. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you save your dimension. You have my word, Lisa.”

There was a look in his eyes, as if he wanted to say more, but he held back, as I stared at him wide eyed. He reached down to the floor, gently plucking my mask that I had dropped during our kiss. Offering it to me with a soft smile, he spoke confidently, “Ready to get to work, Spider-Muse?”

“I'm still fighting, I don't fear I've lost

Am I dreamin', is there more like us?”

My gaze flickered between him and the mask as the surroundings around us became more clear to me. I couldn’t hear my heart pounding in my chest anymore as I reached for my mask, taking it from his large fingers. I didn’t hear the voices anymore as I tied my hair back before slipping the mask over my head and pulled my ponytail through the hair opening.

“Got me feelin' (no way), like it's all too much

I feel beaten (no way), but I can't give up!”

The HUD of my mask came to life as vital signs and data measurements followed my UI menu and the eyelets of my mask glowed to life as I met Miguel’s stare. I reached my hand back out, grasping his and intertwined my fingers tightly with his. “Let’s go save the multiverse together.”

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besidesitstoowarm · 6 months ago

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"The Impossible Astronaut" thoughts

my biggest recollection of s6 as a whole is that it's a bit of a mess, with multiple important episodes being essentially first drafts bc moffat ran out of time. i am thrilled to announce that the premiere is not one of those stories

we open on amy and rory with amy scouring through history books trying to find reference to the doctor. i think this continues to corroborate my view on amy as a big reader, literary and historically minded. they get an invite in the mail, tardis-blue, with a date and coordinates to southwest america! river gets one too, in jail. "she's doing it again. dr. song. she's... packing." the doctor looks sexy in a stetson and river shoots it off, i love their dynamic

they have a picnic and he tells them that he's running further and harder than ever before, that he's now 1103, and that he hates wine. mood. amy sees a hill person but forgets. an old man rolls up and an astronaut comes out of the lake. the doctor says he knows who it is and it shoots him twice. the old man gives them a can of gasoline, introduces himself, and they have a viking funeral. they need to go to "space" circa 1969 and look up canton everett delaware iii. old canton's actor is played by the father of mark sheppard, who plays young canton, which i really like

they realize younger doctor, 909, also got an invite and just what is up w that? they tell him to go to space 1969 and then debate telling him more. "i'm being extremely clever up here and there's no one standing around looking impressed!" we see young canton, who is ex-fbi. "you were my second choice for president, mr. nixon" now how did fucking doctor who cast such a good nixon when the crown cast the world's worst jfk. the doctor touches down in the oval office "you think you can just shoot me?" "they're americans!!"

amy sees the silence again and starts feeling sick, and bc she is a woman on television, we know what that means. she goes to the bathroom and another silence explodes a woman. this is why the line for the women's restroom is always so long, bitches are exploding in there. why is anyone worried about trans women in the bathroom when there's papa snoke??

anyway nixon keeps getting calls from a girl, the doctor traces it to florida, and they all go. there's a reference to jefferson, adams, hamilton and the doctor said "two of them fancied me" now which two? i assume hamilton had to be one. maybe jefferson? adams seems like too much of a wife guy

river and the doctor have amazing chemistry. "your 'he's hot when he's clever' face" "this is my normal face" "yes, it is" "oh, shut up" "not a chance" he wants her so bad it makes him look stupid. "i'm quite the screamer. now there's a spoiler for you" and he smirks! i love how he's usually put off by flirting and kissing and such and doesn't seem to notice innuendo until it's river and then it's no holds barred. i have never wanted to be someone's third so badly since rhaenys and corlys

so river wants to explore tunnels under the center, the doctor asks rory if he'd mind going with her ("yeah, a bit") which is so funny. what is rory going to do. river monologues about how the first time she met the doctor, he knew everything about her "can you imagine what that does to a girl" and rory looks fucking miserable. i like that that still affects him, that just bc she chose him doesn't make everything else go away. it feels very real. so they maybe get attacked and amy tells the doctor she's pregnant and the astronaut shows up and amy shoots without hesitation BOOM ROLL CREDITS let's go

#doctor who #besides its too rewatch #DW S6 #The Impossible Astronaut

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 2 years ago

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Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 44

*Warning Adult Content*

Before The Storm

As the credits of an unremembered movie scroll across the TV screen, Knox awakens to the sound of music... a ringtone, maybe? playing.

Everett's head rests comfortably against Knox's chest, their breaths no longer in sync as Knox's eyes flutter open, his senses sharpening when he spots Everett's cell phone ringing and vibrating on the nightstand.

A frown creases his brow as he carefully reaches for the phone and reads the name on the screen.

Michael.

Who the fuck is Michael?

And why the fuck does Michael have a purple heart emoji beside his name?

A flash of jealousy explodes within Knox as he starts to imagine all the different ways to make a man's murder look like an accident.

Then rationality kicks in to remind him that Michael is the name of one of Everett's best friends.

Knox chuckles quietly to himself as the call ends, his jealousy and anger fading with it.

"Whose phone is going off?" Everett's voice is groggy and muffled against Knox's chest as he stirs awake.

"Yours. It was Michael."

Knox hands over the phone, suppressing the residual twinge of jealousy that dares to linger.

"That's your friend, right? Or is there another Michael that I need to be made aware of?"

Everett laughs and sits up to stretch.

"I only know one Michael and yes he's my best friend, so tell your beast to relax. I told Michael and Alissa that I was coming back into town for a bit, so they probably want to hang out before I leave again."

"Don't let me stop you," Knox says, though the most selfish and needy part of him screamed to do exactly that... keep Everett all to himself.

"I know they're probably fed up with not having seen you in so long."

"Seriously... Who even are you anymore?"

Everett's brows lift in surprise.

"You'd really let me go out alone with them?"

"Why not? You deserve a break from all the bullshit we've been in."

"Yeah, you keep saying that..." Everett pauses, considering.

Knox's usual overprotectiveness has been notably absent these last two weeks, making Everett question if the man's soul really did get swapped with someone else's as Keith fought to keep him alive.

Every other confession and encouraging word that comes out of Knox's mouth has Everett wanting to scream 'Snap out of it' and 'Please, keep this new version of yourself.'

"They live just a few blocks away from here, right? I can send my guys home and keep watch for the day."

Knox's tone is nonchalant but his gaze is intense in a way that feels comforting rather than intimidating.

"Thanks for offering but I can't and won't have you do that."

Everett kisses his shoulder, smiling warmly.

"I can hang out with them tomorrow and... if you want, you can join us. No pressure. Do you think we can stick around town for another day?"

Knox's response is immediate.

"Whatever you want, kitten."

"Whatever, huh?"

Everett's grin is a combination of affection and mischief as he leans down, his lips grazing Knox's.

"I like it when you give me what I want."

The moment shifts.

Knox's hands reach out to pull Everett on top of him, his voice a low rumble filled with a playful challenge.

"And what is it that you want right now?"

"I think you already know exactly..." Everett's sentence is interrupted by a loud crack of thunder.

"Shit, that sounded a little too close for comfort. Did you know it was going to rain today?"

Knox shakes his head.

"Sky was clear when we left home. Didn't have a reason to check the weather."

"This sucks," Everett pouts.

"I don't like driving in the rain."

Knox laughs.

"But I'm the one driving."

"To be honest, I'd rather just sleep here tonight."

"Me too. I'm sure Dad won't mind but I'll ask him anyway if we can stay here for the night."

He plants a quick kiss on Knox's lips and hops off the bed, calling over his shoulder.

"Be right back..." the words are absorbed by the patter of rain as he goes upstairs.

In the living room, Everett finds his father fast asleep in his favorite chair, the TV casting flickering shadows around the room.

Everett's lips curve into a smile at the sight.

He tiptoes over and grabs the remote out of his father's hand, clicking off the TV.

Leaning down, he gently shakes his father awake.

"Time for bed, old man."

Gary's eyes open with a hint of disorientation before focusing on Everett.

"Damn, I guess that steak really hit the spot and knocked me right out," he chuckles, his voice rough with sleep.

"What'd I miss?"

"Nothing. You're up just in time for a storm," Everett says.

"Knox and I just woke up from a nap, too."

"Oh. Are you two getting ready to head out?" Gary asks, slowly pulling himself into a more upright position.

Another thunderclap splits the air, rain now pelting against the windows.

"It's really coming down out there," Gary adds.

"I don't remember it calling for storms today."

"Mother Nature does what she wants," Everett laughs.

"I don't want Knox driving in this mess, so I was going to ask you if we could stay the night here."

"Remember when I used to tell you that there is no such thing as a stupid question?" Gary asks.

Everett nods.

"I take it back. That was a very stupid question, son. Of course, you two can stay here."

"Thanks, Dad."

They move together, Gary pushing himself up from the chair with a groan of effort.

As they walk towards the hallway, Gary's voice lowers, a more serious note creeping in.

"I really do like Knox," he says, and Everett senses the 'but' before it's even spoken.

"But?" Everett prompts.

"But..." Gary pauses, turning to face Everett.

"There's a darkness about him. Something there beneath the surface that I can't quite put my finger on. Doesn't mean I don't trust him to take care of you or treat you right..."

He shakes his head as if trying to dispel the concern.

"I'm sorry if I sound a little loopy but that's how I feel."

"It's okay. I appreciate the honesty."

"I love you no matter the decisions you make in life and no matter who it is that you choose to give your heart to. But... what I never want to see is my son getting dragged down by someone else's bullshit."

"AKA, in this scenario, Knox's darkness."

"Yes."

Everett's stomach twists in knots, the same fears he harbors reflecting in his father's words.

More than once, he's seen episodes of Knox's darkness in action.

It's frightening, quite literally murderous.

Everett is certain he's lost a little bit of his sanity along the way because even now as his father turns the spotlight on Knox, he chooses to push all negative thoughts away and lock them up tight behind a faux smile.

"How do you know Knox is going through something?"

"Call is a father's intuition," Gary jokes.

"Is that a thing? I think it might be a thing."

As the storm intensifies outside, his thoughts swirling with new fears and desires, Everett wishes his father a goodnight and then makes his way back down the hall.

He double-checks that the front door is locked before heading back downstairs.

Everett forces himself to focus only on the present, on the fact that Knox is here with him now.

That was all that mattered tonight.

But as he stepped into his room, his heart stuttered... Knox wasn't there.

"Knox?" he calls out, a trace of worry bleeding through in hopes that there wasn't another random emergency which required his presence.

"Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere."

Knox steps out of Everett's bathroom clad only in his underwear.

The sight sends more than one current of heat through Everett, setting off a hunger that thrums violently beneath his skin.

"When..." Everett swallows hard, his brain not catching up quick enough for his mouth to get the right words out.

"Why are you naked?"

"Out of respect for your father, I'm not naked."

From his smirk to his rippled abs, Knox was pure sin walking, and he damn well knew it.

"You see I have underwear on."

"You know what I fucking meant."

Stepping closer, Everett sheds his shirt and jeans.

His gaze is playful, eyes teasing.

"Why are you almost naked?"

"Because I was 99.9% sure your father wasn't going to kick us out in the rain," Knox chuckles.

He climbs into bed and pats the empty spot next to him.

"I figured I'd get ready for bed. Sorry for not waiting for you."

Accepting the response, Everett flips off the light switch, flooding the room with moonlight.

He takes his time climbing into bed, admiring Knox's features, their limbs interlocking like perfect puzzle pieces.

"I'm not sleepy anymore. Want to watch another movie?" Everett asks but they both know that's the farthest thing on his mind right now.

To hell with TV.

"Not really..."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Rhetorical question, isn't it?"

Knox's fingers gently untangle the curls at the nape of Everett's neck, a touch that belied the power in his hands.

"You already know exactly what I want to do," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down Everett's spine.

"Humor me."

Everett lets one hand trail down Knox's taut abdomen, lower and lower, until it ventures beneath the elastic of his underwear.

"What exactly do you want to do? Go to sleep?"

In answer, Knox shifts their positions so that he's hovering above Everett.

His muscles ripple with controlled strength that matches the growing intensity in Everett's pretty brown eyes, the latter's breath catching in his throat as he makes a failed attempt to speak again.

"Fucking you to sleep is more along the lines of what I was thinking," Knox smirks.

He purposefully grinds his hips down, pulling a moan from the boy.

"That's what you want, too. You need my cock as badly as I need to be inside you... don't you, kitten?"

"Yes."

Everett's heart races with anticipation, desire pooling low in his belly as his body aches for more of Knox's touch.

"Lube is in the nightstand. Hurry."

"Careful. Don't rush me," Knox warns with another thrust of his hips.

"You'll get my cock when I give it to you. Understood?"

Too horny to combat him, Everett merely nods.

"Please..."

"That's better," Knox says.

"I like it when you beg."

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nemesyaaa · 1 year ago

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i'm starting to have a massive phase of curtis everett and damn your imagine is so good and so hot. the way your writing got me from the start to the end. dark!mean!curtis everett 🤯🥵 my mind is about to explode + the nicknames too

prize of the tail-end.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2021

prompt | anal play

summary | curtis prepares you for a new kind of torment.

pairing | dark!captor!curtis everett x reader

warnings | curtis has captured/“claimed” reader as his, dark!curtis (noncon), kinda soft!dark tho? idk, heavy use of petnames, crying, gagging, restraints, butt play (just fingers), fingering, forced orgasm, cum play?, mentions of previous forced vaginal penetration, implied forced anal penetration

word count | 1,036

an | this one turned out a lot darker than i planned, but i’m truly not complaining! i love a little sick&twisted curtis, especially with something like breaking in a virgin asshole, he wants to be careful but oh he’s so hungry for it– hope you guys like this one! also i feel like these blurbs are ending up much longer than originally anticipated but oh well! i forgive myself

The bare bones of your back ache relentlessly as they rattle against the wooden bench beneath you; with your hands tied above your head and your legs suspended in the air to spread you open like the wings of a bird, all you can do is sniffle down your sobs and hope, hope so desperately that you’ll be gifted some time to rest before your heartless captor returns from attending to his normal business organizing the tail-end.

To your complete horror, though, it’s only moments later that you hear rustling outside of the small cubby you’re tucked into, Curtis’ own personal quarters he earned when taking control of the cabin. More tears build in your eyes as you watch the doorknob only feet from your face twist from the intrusion of a key, and before you can even blink, the man himself has appeared in front of you, his expression imitating a sympathetic frown. “Oh angel, what’s the matter?” he asks, a tinge of hurt present in his voice. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Please,” you beg hoarsely, watching as Curtis removes his coat in front of you, tossing it in the corner on top of his disheveled pile of clothes. “Please, just let me go- I-I promise not to cause you any trouble, I-”

“No, no, no, none of that,” his strong yet sensitive voice cuts you off as tears begin rolling down your cheeks. “Remember what I told you, sweetheart? You’re not goin’ anywhere; you’re mine now. I earned you. There’s no need to work yourself up over something non-negotiable like that; you’re only making this harder for yourself,” he dismisses, walking up to approach you before bending down to level his face with your exposed cunt, still swollen and agitated from his last round of abuse.

“Look at that, still dripping with my cum,” Curtis marvels at the sight of your glistening folds. As you suck in a breath to prepare another round of pleading, the man reaches down to find your discarded panties on the floor, wadding them up into a ball and raising them to your lips. “Open wide for me, pretty girl. ’m gettin’ sick of all your whining, and I don’t think you’d like what else I have to shove down your throat.”

Eyes as wide as saucers, you shake your head pleadingly, sobbing, “No, please-” But opening your mouth to speak is soon proven to be a mistake as the fabric’s shoved forcefully between your lips; now unable to make much more than a mutter, you cry heavily into the gag, but Curtis pays no mind to it. He’s much more focused on the mess between your legs.

“Come on, babydoll. Remember how good it felt last time?” Your cheeks burn with humiliation as you do your best not to think about the torture you were forced to endure, and how despite your best efforts, Curtis was able to play your body like a skilled instrument, ripping away every last drop of your dignity through his selfish chase of gratification. “Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt,” the sick man groans, his voice hazy with lust as he brings a calloused hand up to dip into your cream-filled cunt, working one finger gently against your aching walls. “But I bet you have something even tighter for me, don’t you, princess?”

A horrified cry of protest rises through your throat only to be muffled by the makeshift gag as you put meaning to his words, your entire body jerking against your bonds as Curtis’ finger sinks down to rub over your puckered rosebud. A fresh round of tears overflows down your cheeks as his steady voice mutters, “Shhh, just relax for me, angel. We’ll get you nice and warmed up for me, don’t you worry. Wouldn’t wanna hurt my sweet baby, my perfect prize.”

Your gut burns brutally in shame and anger as your tiny hole is gradually coaxed open, a low groan escaping your body as Curtis starts forcing his digit inside of you. Though there’s plenty of slick to aid in the process, the sensation is still entirely overwhelming and terrible, a horrible sense of fullness overcoming you as the entire finger is eventually worked into your virgin bottom. “Look at that, takin’ me so well,” your captor praises, his encouragement completely unwanted as he starts building up the speed of his movements. “Bet that feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart? See, nothing to cry about.”

His words only make you cry harder as your sensitive walls burn at the intrusion, a light chuckle rising out of Curtis as he brings his other hand up to begin working your clit, earning a pathetic sob as his intentions have now been made clear. No, you plead inside your head, not again, but as a second finger’s added to pump forcefully into your quivering hole while tight circles are rubbed over your throbbing bundle of nerves, there’s nothing you can do to stop the warmth building up deep inside your belly. “There, that’s it,” the man grins before you, the hunger laced in his voice suggesting he sees right through you, sensing your approaching climax. “Don’t hold back for me, pretty girl; I can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

You shake your head frantically, but you know you’re not fooling anyone. With your clit on fire from such intense stimulation and a mortifying burn of pleasure building deep inside your gut from such profane penetrative measures, before long, you’re stumbling over the edge entirely, a gutted cry forcing its way through your fabric-stuffed lips as you clench down on Curtis’ forceful fingers, a triumphant laugh coming from his crooked smile as he cheers, “There you go, good girl. Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ hard- god. Don’t think I’ll last long at all with you squeezin’ my cock like this.”

When your high finally dies away, you’re left limp in your bindings, contact now blissfully lost from Curtis as he stands over you, beginning to work at the zipper of his pants. “Stay with me sweetheart,” he mutters as he pulls his shirt off over his head. “C'mon, need you awake for this part. I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

#tysm for this #its so good #curtis🤯🤯#this is perfect #smut #dark content #llove it #curtis everett

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chasingmemoriesofficial · 1 year ago

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Chasing Memories Lore: Legacy of the Green Ninja

Now... I bet you're all wondering, is Lloyd still the Green Ninja in my AU? The answer is yes! But also no.

See, Lloyd is not THE Green Ninja, he is A Green Ninja. He is not the first, and is in fact the most recent in a series of Green Ninja spanning over the past millennia and a half.

Lloyd is in fact the Eighteenth Green Ninja, chosen in 2011 AC. The Green Ninja before him was a woman named Sarah. Before her a man named Alistair. Then Julia, then Marco, Lea... needless to say the prophecy was attempted many times... but all who came before Lloyd never succeeded.

Green Ninja Current to First: Lloyd Okada - 18th, chosen 2011 - son of Master of Destruction Sarah Leonardo - 17th, chosen 1982, died 1983 - wife of Master of Form Alistair Stone - 16th, chosen 1936, died 1937 - Master of Fire Julia Wilson - 15th, chosen and died 1865 - Master of the Mind Marco Pevsner - 14th, chosen and died 1748 - Master of Sound Lea Rose - 13th, chosen 1656, died 1657 - Master of Nature Theodore Turner - 12th, chosen and died 1535 - Master of Speed Deidre Avani - 11th, chosen 1460, died 1462 - Master of Earth Mason Sparks - 10th, chosen and died 1374 - Master of Lightning Ariana Graham- 9th, chosen and died 1246 - wife of Master of Sound Argyle Everett - 8th, chosen 1134, died 1136 - Master of Poison Gina Church - 7th, chosen 1061, died 1062 - Master of Light Thomas Shades - 6th, chosen and died 973 - Master of Shadow Erica Quinn - 5th, chosen 918, died 921 - wife of Master of the Mind Winston Young - 4th, chosen 852, died 854 - Master of Wind Irene Rhodes - 3rd, chosen and died 730 - Master of Water Hanta Yamada - 2nd, chosen 651, died 652 Iris White - 1st, chosen and died 502

Now, you might recognize some of those Elemental Powers. You might also realize that Ice is not among them, but the other three Elements of Creation are.

Some of these Green Ninjas went off half-cocked and that's what got them killed. See those dates? Eight of these Green Ninjas were sent off the same year they were chosen. Others went the next year or even two years later.

But how did they all die? Well, I'll say right now a lot of them never made it to the Dark Island. The lucky ones, like Sarah, washed up back on the mainland. Others, like Julia and Mason, lie at the bottom of the Endless Sea. Iris, the first, made it the furthest, but she still died. AND she did it without powers.

Out of all the previous Green Ninjas, the only ones who made it to the Dark Island were Iris, Irene, Argyle, Deidre, Marco, and Alistair. The rest either died around the halfway point or they never got very far from the mainland... like Hanta did.

Hanta's death was unique. SOMEONE sabotaged the engine of his motorboat and it exploded a good two miles out. His body was too badly burned for anyone to recover.

The other unique death was Julia. Her bad luck saw her cross paths with the crew of Misfortune's Keep.

Now, why did all of these people die trying to fulfil the prophecy? Well, because someone cursed it after Iris died. She only died because she had no way to defeat the Overlord. "Anyone who abandons their loved ones for glory will suffer the same fate as the first to attempt this cursed prophecy"

Be careful what you say out of anger. You can never take it back.

#ninjago #chasing memories au #fanfic #alternate universe #worldbuilding #green ninja

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lilacwisps · 2 years ago

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i prayed one word (i want)

Ship: Ominis Gaunt x Ravenclaw Female Player Character Rating: M (eventually)

Summary: When Sebastian tells Ominis about the new fifth-year student, Ominis can sense troubles from a mile away - and tells Sebastian as much. Unfortunately for Ominis, he doesn't seem to be able to take his own advice. ao3 link, Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Ominis barely suppresses a sigh - it seems as though the double Potions class will never end. He's always been a decent student and has enjoyed most of his classes - but Potions is by far his least favorite subject.

"I'm amazed you manage to get the grades you get," Sebastian told him once after they'd received back the grades from a particularly difficult test, "I can see the things I'm adding to my brew, and even still I'm utterly and completely lost most of the time. What's your secret?"

Ominis just shrugged in response - he'd gotten "Acceptable" on that test, which wasn't exactly something to brag about. In truth, he always struggled with Potions - the kind of concentration it required made that class significantly more complex than all the other subjects. It seemed as though to make a perfect brew, every step needed to be meticulously recorded in one's mind, as even the tiniest distraction could spell disaster, and Ominis found that so utterly exhausting.

Loud clanking, followed by Sebastian cursing under his breath, distracts Ominis from his thoughts. They are brewing the Draught of Peace, a potion that's supposed to ease anxiety and agitation, yet Ominis - and, he suspects, most other students in the class - find the process of making this brew anything but peaceful. As if the recipe requiring two dozen ingredients wasn't bad enough, there also were what felt like a thousand little instructions that were absolutely crucial - and, as a consequence, at least a thousand ways to mess this potion up.

Ominis has long given up on making the perfect brew - somewhere after step eight, he's accidentally lost track of just how many times he stirred the potion counter-clockwise, and now all he could do is finish the task and hope for the best. Judging by the under-the-breath cursing coming from the direction of Sebastian's workstation, his friend is struggling too. Sebastian has stayed up the entire night, reading the notebook they'd found in Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium, and has been barely able to focus in any of the classes. Ominis is almost surprised that Sebastian's cauldron hasn't exploded yet, given the complexity of the potion.

"Blasted," Sebastian swears, and suddenly, the dungeon air's filled with the foul scent of sulfur.

"You added too much moonstone, Mr. Sallow," Professor Sharp says calmly - his voice sounds closer than it does when he gives instructions at the start of the class, and Ominis realizes that he must be making rounds, checking everyone's work, "And you did not reduce the flames as instructed - hence the sulfur smell. The Draught of Peace is significantly more complex than any potion you've brewed before - you must pay close attention to the directions."

"Sorry, Professor Sharp," Sebastian replies, then whispers, "I much prefer being anxious every day for the rest of my life to ever attempting this potion again."

Ominis can only chuckle and nod in agreement. Surprisingly, despite the treacherous nature of the Draught, only two people need to leave before the lesson is over - Everett Clopton and Lenora Everleigh. Clopton's cauldron explodes halfway through the first hour, scalding him and drenching everything around his workstation with foul-smelling sludge, while Everleigh's potion boils away so much, it starts releasing noxious fumes that make her - and everyone around - feel sick.

A small part of Ominis almost wishes something happened to his potion so that he can get out of the class early, but he knows better than to try to make an accident happen. With a brew like the Draught of Peace, there is no predicting what could occur, and the last thing he wants is to end up at the Hospital Wing, scalded by a wave of disgusting sludge. Especially since he'd promised Ava to meet her in the Undercroft after Potions class to teach her Glacius.

Unlike Sebastian and him, Ava appears to have a much easier time brewing the Draught of Peace.

"Excellent job, Miss Rosier," Professor Sharp says, "Your potion is the perfect color."

Professor Sharp has never been particularly generous with compliments, so Ominis knows Ava's potion must be very impressive.

"And you, Mr. Weasely," Professor Sharp continues, "Could learn a thing or two from Miss Rosier."

"Perhaps, if Miss Rosier would agree to tutor me, I could learn much more than a thing or two," Garreth Weasley responds, and Ominis scoffs. As if she doesn't have better things to do.

"I wouldn't count on it," Ava says coolly, "I'm woefully short on time with all the catching up I have to do before the O.W.L.s."

"You give yourself too little credit," Weasley laughs, "At the rate you're studying, I'm sure you'll be able to pass the N.E.W.T.s before the end of the year."

Upon hearing that, Ominis frowns. How does Weasley know that? Do they study together? Instantly catching himself, Ominis pushes the thought away - even if they do study together, it's none of his concern.

The lesson slowly draws to a close, and Professor Sharp instructs them to bottle up the potions and submit them for grading. Ominis pours his potion into the vial and seals it with the spell. He knows his brew is not perfect - Sebastian had told him it looked closer to beige than silvery white - but he's confident it's close enough to earn him a passing grade.

He's halfway through cleaning off his workstation when he hears Weasley approach Ava again.

"Hey, Ava, do you have a moment after class?" he asks, "There's something I wanted to show you."

"Sorry, Garreth, but I can't today - I have an appointment to keep," Ava replies.

"How intriguing," Weasley chuckles, "And would that "appointment" just happen to be a date?"

Ominis shakes his head - Garreth sounds too invested in Ava's extracurricular activities to his liking.

"Why do you ask?" Ava responds fatly.

"Perhaps I'm scoping out the competition," Garreth laughs.

Ominis almost drops his brass scales - that answer was quite daring, even for a bone-headed Gryffindor like Garreth. Just what does he think he's doing?

"Weasley really can't take the hint, can he?" Sebastian scoffs, "If he wants to be embarrassed, he should do it on his own time, not in class when the rest of us are forced to listen to this."

Ominis sighs - caught up in his own annoyance, he hasn't even thought of how difficult this might be for Sebastian. Ever since the trip to the scriptorium, he has suspected that Ava had feelings for Sebastian - after all, she'd agreed to be tortured by Crucio to spare him the pain - but, perhaps, her feelings weren't as one-sided as Ominis initially assumed.

"Bold," Ava's amused voice distracts him from the thought, "I like that in a man. Alas, your curiosity will have to remain unsated - I can't go on telling you all of my secrets now, can I? My mother always said a lady doesn't kiss and tell."

A sudden wave of warmth rises in Ominis's cheeks at her words, and an unfamiliar feeling stirs in his chest. Confused by his reaction, he quickly grabs the vial containing his Draught of Peace and walks over to Professor Sharp's desk to submit it. Mercifully, the conversation between Garreth and Ava is over by the time he's back at his workstation.

As soon as the bell rings, bringing the joyous news that the double Potions lesson is finally over, the students instantly pour out of the classroom into the corridor.

"I'm exhausted," Sebastian complains, yawning as he walks next to Ominis, "But I have to get back to the notebook. I made some real progress last night - the key to breaking Anne's curse is right there; I can feel it."

"Please be careful," Ominis says wearily - he knows that Sebastian's only half-listening but still feels that it's his duty as a friend to warn him, "Salazar Slytherin was no stranger to the darkest sort of magic - this notebook may be much more dangerous than you think."

"If it brings me closer to finding a cure for Anne, I'll handle whatever it throws at me," Sebastian replies defiantly, "And besides, how dangerous can a thousand-year-old book really be?"

Ominis sighs - Sebastian always took dark magic way too lightly.

"You'd be surprised," is all he says.

"Ominis, you worry too much," Sebastian chuckles, "I'll be alright. I have to go now - I will see you later."

With that, Sebastian is gone, leaving Ominis to shake his head. Once Sebastian sets his sights on something, he never veers off course - that was his greatest strength and his greatest tragedy.

"Hi, Ominis," lost in his thought, he doesn't notice Ava approach him, "Ready for our lesson?"

"Hi, Ava," Ominis smiles, "Of course."

There are only a few routes in the castle that Ominis knows better than the one from the dungeons to the Undercroft. "You have quite a talent for potions," Ominis remarks as he and Ava walk up the stairs, "I rarely hear Sharp praise anyone - he must have been really impressed by your draught."

"That makes me feel quite special," Ava chuckles, then lowers her voice, whispering conspiratorially, "Can you keep a secret?"

"I'll take your secret to my grave," Ominis promises, his tone faux-solemn.

"You see, when I said my magic abilities didn't manifest until I was fifteen, that wasn't entirely true - otherwise, my parents would have disowned me for being a squib years ago. I've always had some…vestiges of magic abilities - not strong enough to cast a single spell, but enough to make it possible for me to create potions. I've spent hours upon hours with my mother's old Potions textbooks, brewing all kinds of draughts - my parents thought doing so would awaken my magic. I don't have any particular talent for potions - I've just spent a lot of time practicing.

Ominis nods in understanding, his heart clenching with sympathy - he knows all too well how squib children are treated in pure-blood families with a penchant for dark magic.

"I disagree," he says gently, "I've been learning potions for the last five years, and I still cannot brew a decent Draught of Peace, so I definitely believe you have a talent for the subject."

"If you think so," Ava replies softly.

They reach the Undercroft and, ensuring no one's around to see them, walk through the hidden door in the clock. Once inside, Ominis settles his book bag on top of a wooden crate and walks toward the back of the room, where more crates and barrels are located.

"Ready to learn Glacius?" he asks Ava.

"Of course," she says, "I did some reading after you mentioned this spell yesterday, and I think it'll be extremely helpful to know."

"It has certainly come in handy for me before," Ominis responds, "Shall we begin?"

With that, he turns towards the crates and whispers, "Accio," to bring one of them forward.

"Since you've read up on Glacius, you must know that it freezes the object in front of you by releasing a wave of cold air from your wand," Ominis explains, "And this is the wand movement."

With a well-practiced hand, Ominis slowly traces an all-too-familiar movement of Glacius - a peak and then another, underlined by a decisive stroke.

A myriad of tiny ice crystals, sharp as knives, ring through the air, followed by a wave of cold wind. A moment later - a familiar cracking sound of ice forming over the wooden crate fills the Undercroft.

"It froze solid," Ava muses, "That was quite impressive."

"Do you want to try now?" Ominis offers, lowering his wand.

"Could you show it to me again?" Ava asks, "You are amazingly fast with the wand - so I just want to ensure I caught every detail."

Her words bring a smile to his face. "I was planning to walk you through it when you cast it for the first time," he says, "But if you prefer to see it again, I'm happy to show you."

"I think it'll be easier to learn if you show me again," Ava replies.

Ominis nods and lifts his wand - mere seconds later, the air in the Undercroft fills with the sound of the ice forming over wood again.

"Well," Ominis says, turning to Ava, "It's your turn now."

Ava does not argue - he hears her walk up and stand next to him.

"Do you feel comfortable casting the spell right away, or would you like me to talk you through it?" he says, forcing the frozen crate to shift back to the wall with a spell and summoning another box forward.

"Could you talk me through it?" Ava asks, "I watched you closely, but you are almost scary fast with the wand."

"I have Sebastian to thank for that," Ominis replies, trying to hide a smile blooming on his lips, "If you think he's much too eager to duel everyone these days, you should have met him a few years back - he was a true menace and didn't have even a fraction of a restraint he does now. So I got a lot of practice out of interactions with him."

"Are you saying this version of Sebastian has self-restraint?" Ava chuckles.

"Oh yes - during our second year, a day wouldn't go by without Sebastian trying to pick a fight with someone," Ominis laughs, memories making warmth rise in his chest, "One time, he even tried to get Professor Black to duel him - which ended as well as you'd expect."

"I can't even imagine," Ava says, amused, "Maybe it's for the best I only started school this year - I did not have a lot of patience when I was younger."

"Who knows," Ominis smiles, "Maybe if you were here, he'd get out of that phase faster. I'll have you know, he'd become a little more humble ever since you beat him during that first Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"That was quite the day," Ava chuckles, "And it feels so long ago - even though it's been less than two months."

"I always felt like time runs differently at Hogwarts," Ominis agrees easily, "Part of the magic of this place, I suppose. Well, back to Glacius before we get completely off track. When I cast Glacius, I always picture a peak, followed by another, underscored by a soft line - like this." With that, Ominis traces the movement with the tip of his wand, "But I'm not sure if that image is helpful to you."

"It is quite helpful," Ava replies, "I'll give it a try."

Ominis nods and steps to the side, letting Ava stand in the center of the room. She takes a deep, steady breath, then lifts her wand.

"Glacius," her voice rings through the air, followed by a gust of freezing cold wind. Ominis listens for the sound of ice forming but hears nothing - a moment later, the wind dissipates.

"Hmm," Ava sounds displeased, "That doesn't seem right - it appears I made a mistake."

"What happened?" Ominis asks.

"When I cast the spell, a gust of cold air came," Ava explains, "But it wasn't nearly strong enough to freeze anything - and, as you've probably noticed, it disappeared almost instantly."

"Cold air is a sign that you are on the right track," Ominis notes, crossing his arms in front of him, "There must have been a small mistake in the wand motion - you should try again."

So Ava does as he says - one more Glacius rings through the air, and then another.

"Still the same," she sighs, frustrated, "And I have no idea what I'm doing wrong."

Ominis shifts from foot to foot, feeling his heart tighten with guilt. If he could see, he could correct her, but he cannot - so they are left to guess. He knows the feeling welling in his chest is irrational, yet he cannot help it. Suddenly, an idea comes to his mind.

"I could…I could show you," he starts, unsure, "How to do the movement properly."

"But you already did," Ava replies, "More times than most people would, too. It's my fault that I can't follow the instructions, and it is my responsibility to figure out and correct my mistake."

"There is no "fault" - you are learning," Ominis says firmly, "And I'd be doing a pretty terrible job teaching you the spell if I didn't try and help you work through whatever confusion you may have."

"You have the patience of a saint," Ava laughs, leaving Ominis to wonder just what kind of teachers she's had before if showing her the spell a couple of times earned such a response.

"What I meant is that I could…hold onto your hand as you perform the spell," Ominis suggests, "That way, I could feel what part of the motion is incorrect."

Ava's quiet for a long moment, and suddenly, Ominis's mouth feels dry. The idea seemed quite reasonable in his head, but he could not deny that vocalizing it made it sound a little awkward.

"That's brilliant," Ava says suddenly, "Yes, let's do that."

It takes a moment for Ominis to realize that she has accepted his idea. Nodding, he puts away his wand and steps toward Ava. Belatedly, he starts to wonder if, perhaps, he's standing too close as he feels the warmth of her arm brushing against his and smells the light sweetness of her perfume. It's utterly distracting, but Ominis knows it would be quite odd to step away now, so instead, he forces himself to focus on the task.

"Very well," he says, stretching out his arm, "Lift your wand."

As Ominis reaches forward, his hand finds Ava's outstretched wrist. Her skin feels so soft under his touch as he traces lightly over the back of her palm and grasps her hand. Her hand is small against his and cold - and yet, for some confusing reason, as soon as he holds it, the Undercroft feels so much warmer than it did just moments ago.

"Alright," Ominis clears his throat, "Make the same motion as when you cast Glacius before."

Ominis lets Ava's hand guide him through the movements. She starts slowly, drawing a line upward, followed by a drop and another peak. Ominis tries focusing on the motion but is utterly distracted by how soft her skin feels against his.

He's not too fond of touching others - in his family's household, a touch was almost always accompanied by pain, so Ominis started almost instinctively avoiding it at quite a young age. The only people he'd touched before were the ones he fully trusted, like Sebastian and Anne, and even then, he felt a little anxious doing it. And yet, somehow, grasping Ava's hand doesn't feel unpleasant - far from it. Unbidden, warmth rises in Ominis's chest, spilling through his veins.

With a swift motion, Ava traces a flat line across, finishing the spell.

"So," she says expectantly, "What am I doing wrong?"

Bright blush blooms on Ominis's cheeks, and his heart stutters, startled, in his chest. He's been too distracted by the feeling of her hand in his to fully pay attention to the actual motions of the wand - but he'd much rather die than admit to that.

"I…I think the issue is with your transition from the peak to the lower line," he says as calmly as he can, hoping and praying his voice doesn't betray him, "But I need to be certain - can you perform the spell again?"

"Of course," Ava readily agrees.

Ominis struggles to stay focused on her wand movement and ignore the sweetness of her perfume and how she feels so delightfully warm against him.

"Yes," he says once Ava finishes with the spell, "That's exactly the issue - the lower motion of the wand needs to be decisive yet soft, and you are cutting through the air way too harshly."

"I see," Ava replies, pensive, "I…don't know if I can make it any softer. Could you maybe guide my hand through how you'd do it? I think that would make it easier for me to understand."

And so he does. Holding Ava's hand in his, Ominis slowly traces the symbol for Glacius - a peak, followed by another, then a drop - and a swift yet soft line across.

"I understand my mistake now," Ava says as soon as the spell is done, "The movement across needed to be smoother."

"That's exactly right," Ominis nods, "Ready to try on your own now?"

His fingers linger on her hand a moment longer than they should before Ominis finally lets go and takes a step back, giving Ava space. He hears her shift her stance and raise her wand again.

"Glacius."

Instantly, he feels a gust of cold wind as a myriad of tiny ice crystals ring through the air, followed by the unmistakable crackling sound of ice forming over the wooden crate.

"It worked," Ava says, and Ominis can almost hear the smile in her voice, "And all thanks to you - you're a remarkable teacher."

Warmth rises in Ominis's cheeks at her words as he tries to conceal a smile blooming on his lips - he isn't used to being praised, and Ava's never struck him as someone generous with compliments.

"It's nothing," he says, "I'm just fortunate to have such a good student."

"I mean it," Ava insists, "Without you, I'd be here till midnight, desperately trying to figure out my mistake."

"That would still be less time than Sebastian and I needed to figure out the intricacies of this spell," Ominis chuckles, "I think it took us at least a couple of days."

"Yes, but you were much younger," Ava counters, then adds, "I'd like to practice Glacuis a little more if you don't mind."

"Of course," Ominis readily agrees.

Twice more Glacuis rings through the air, followed by the gust of freezing cold wind and the ringing of ice crystals. Ominis nods, satisfied - it seems Ava finally has a grasp on this spell. A third Glacius follows, and suddenly, there's an unfamiliar hissing sound.

"Ah," Ava winces.

Suddenly, Ominis feels her shoulder blades hit against his chest - the mishappen spell must have pushed her back - and instinctively raises his hands to her shoulders to steady her.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concerned, his hands still resting on her shoulders.

"Yes - my hand slipped, and I didn't finish the movement correctly. So sorry about that," Ava offers apologetically before drawing a sharp breath through her teeth, "Ugh, I hope I didn't freeze off all my fingers."

"Let me check," Ominis says, reaching for her hand.

He may not be able to see, but he can tell frostbite by the feel of it - when he and Sebastian first tried Glacius, his dear friend had more than his fair share of accidents. He gently holds Ava's hand, slowly touching her fingers - her skin is cold against his, but it still feels soft.

"I don't think you have frostbite," he hums.

"Well, that's a relief," Ava replies lightly.

Neither of them moves - and suddenly, Ominis is acutely aware of just how close they stand. Her shoulder blades no longer press against his chest, but his left hand still rests firmly on her shoulder, and he's holding her right hand in his. The sweet smell of her perfume and warmth overwhelms his senses as a pleasant yet unfamiliar feeling uncoils in his chest, sending his heart racing.

"You should bend your fingers," his mouth feels dry when he speaks, "Just to ensure it's not frostbite."

They both remain still as if waiting for something. Before he knows what he's doing, Omini tightens his hold on Ava's hand ever so slightly and feels her skin turn warm under his touch.

"Thank you," Ava murmurs, brushing her thumb against his palm softly, making Ominis's breath hitch in his throat. Comfortable warmth blooms in his chest, and Ominis hopes the moment doesn't end.

Their little reverie is shattered by the sound of the Undercroft door opening, bringing them back to reality. Instantly, Ominis lets go of Ava's shoulder and releases his hold on her hand - the last thing he wants is to create any misunderstanding. He would never do that to Sebastian - or Ava. Still, as he steps aside, his heart flutters staccato, and blood rushes in his ears.

"Would you look at that," Sebastian drawls, "A gathering at the Undercroft without me? I'm really starting to feel left out now."

"Sebastian," Ominis says, "I thought you went to the dorms to read Slytherin's notebook."

"I did," Sebastian replies, "But then Nott and Avery decided to cut class, and I could not focus because of their incessant chatter, so I figured I'd head over here."

"You made the right decision," Ominis muses, "It's best they don't see you with this notebook."

"Exactly my thoughts - and, besides, I feel like I always get through the reading faster here," Sebastian says, then adds, "Don't mind me - no need to stop whatever you were doing on my account."

"Ominis taught me Glacius," Ava explains, "But, given how my last attempt went, I think I'll hold off on trying it around anyone else for a bit - I would loathe turning one of you into an icicle."

"Despite your last attempt, you seem to have a decent grasp on the spell," Ominis notes.

"Even so," Ava replies, "I hadn't realized that it's already almost six - I still have to finish the forty inches of parchment on the lunar phases for the Astronomy class tonight. Thank you for the lesson, Ominis, I will see you later. Goodbye, Sebastian."

With that, Ava leaves the Undercroft. Ominis thinks her exit rather hasty - before Sebastian came in, she seemed in no hurry to leave. Guilt wells in his heart - was it something he did? Perhaps, Sebastian saw them when he walked into the Undercroft, and that upset Ava…

"Glacius, huh?" Sebastian says, distracting Ominis from his thoughts, "A good choice, although I think Diffindo would have been a more obvious one after Confringo."

"Perhaps you could show it to her then," Ominis responds calmly, "Since you are the one who taught her Confringo."

He has enjoyed teaching Ava, but if his suspicions are correct and perhaps, Ava's feelings for Sebastian are not unrequited, he'd hate to stand between them.

"Perhaps I will," Sebastian replies, returning to his reading.

#ominis x mc #OC: Ava Rosier

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part One)

Yeah, so...Spectrum exploded last night.

So, I'm unfortunately a little behind. BUT NEVER FEAR! I'll get back on time before you know it! So, uh...where were we last time? OH RIGHT! Let's talk about black comedy. And I don't mean black-and-white comedies, or comedies prominently featuring African-American culture and demographic. No, I mean dark comedies.

The "black comedy" functions off of macabre or taboo humor and jokes, and is often closely associated with biting satire and commentary in film. That definition is loose as hell, I know, but it's all about the subject matter. The most common subject matter for dark humor is death, of course, and related subjects to death. War, murder, strife, madness, and violence are also common topics here.

Some of the best comedies are black comedies, though. For example, Brazil (1985; dir. Terry Gilliam) focuses on themes of depression, dreams, terrorism, totalitarian governments, and madness. And it's GREAT. How about The Death of Stalin (2018; dir. Armando Iannucci)? The title ALONE should tell you everything you need to know about the tone and topic, AND YET...

It's HILARIOUS. And also informative! If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it. And again, that film is about, well...the death of Stalin, and the fallout of his disastrous and murderous regime. Dark, DARK topic, but very funny movie.

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is about war; Fargo is about murder in North Dakota; Heathers is about a toxic relationship and the death and murder of teenagers; Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is about an actor's existential crisis and complete mental breakdown; and Trainspotting is about the devastating effects of drug addiction and features a DEAD BABY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...and yet they're all full of laughs! Except for the baby scene. Fuck me, the baby scene in Trainspotting.

So, yeah, these are a diverse group of films, that's for sure. But where does it all start? There's 1942's To Be or Not to Be (dir. Ernst Lubitsch), which is about a Polish theatre company who need to escape in the midst of...well, 1942 Poland. If you don't get why that's dark, you should probably look up some history, bud. Charlie Chaplin would dip into the role in 1947's Monsieur Verdoux, which I mentioned last time. And there's the seldom-talked-about Kind Hearts and Coronets (dir. Robert Hamer), a 1949 film about murder for status, essentially.

But it's hard to argue that the most prominent early black comedy is 1944's Cary Grant vehicle, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Directed by Frank Capra, this film was based on a 1941 stage play, and is about...well, we'll get to it. While its prominence as a black comedy is one reason I'm watching this movie, the other is...well, to be honest, this is a movie I heard about CONSTANTLY from my Mom, as this is one of her favorites. And yet, like Dirty Dancing, I've somehow never seen it! Let's remedy that.

So, without further ado, let's get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The film starts off with a BANG, as a man calls me a “big simp” to my face! Actually, he’s screaming at a Brooklyn Dodgers game, where a massive fight breaks out. This fight quickly transitions to a city hall, where a line of people are waiting to file marriage licenses. Amongst the line is Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) and Elaine Harper (Priscilla Lane).

Brewster is hiding from the press, as he’s a famous reviewer, and author of the Bachelor’s Bible, and it would be quite the scandal for him to get married. And yet, he’s head over heels in love with Elaine. After going through an existential crisis about the whole thing, he gives into Elaine’s sweet demeanor, and the two file their marriage license officially.

It’s Halloween day, and we move from the city to the suburbs of Brooklyn, where two policemen, O’Hara (Jack Carson) and Sanders (John RIdgely) are on patrol. Sanders tells O’Hara of the kindly Brewster Sisters, the sweetest women on Earth, both of whom live in the neighborhood. Currently, they are being visited by Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s father. He’s speaking with Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha Brewster (Jean Adair), the kindly aunts of Mortimer.

Also living there is Mortimer’s brother Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), who apparently believes that he’s Teddy Roosevelt, which is...hilarious. Dude is hilarious, seriously. The cops come over to visit the two, and collect some clothes and toys for local charity. Also, Teddy only leaves a room by screaming “CHAAAAARGE!!!”, and running up the stairs, and I love Teddy a lot.

Reverend Harper and the cops leave for the night, and the sisters settle down for the evening. Abby and Martha state that their plans for Elaine and Mortimer should go as scheduled, which is probably talking about their marriage. Abby also mentions that she’s done something while she was away, to Martha’s delight and surprise. They tell Teddy that he’ll soon be digging a new lock for the Panama Canal...whatever that means.

Martha’s about to go to the basement to see what Abby’s done, but she states that because she was all by herself, the surprise is in the window seat. As she’s about to look at the surprise, Elaine shows up in the window, and the two arrive to give the happy news that they’re married. Elaine goes to tell her father of the news, while Mortimer goes to tell his sweet aunts. Afterwards, the two will be on their honeymoon, going to Niagara Falls. And I should say, they’re quite a sweet couple.

After telling the news to his aunts, he asks them where his notes are for his new controversial book, Mind Over Matrimony. They go to look for it around the house, and Teddy comes downstairs, dressed up in attire to “go to Panama.” Aunt Abby comes across a childhood picture of Jonathan, Mortimer’s brother and apparently a violent sociopath or some sort. She goes to burn the picture (geez), and Mortimer continues to look for the notes. He goes to the window seat.

Yup! It’s a body! Looks like Abby and Martha’s sweet old lady act is a guise for some myurder! Which I know, just because it’s the most famous thing about the movie. However, Mortimer thinks the murderer is Teddy, and tells his sweet old aunts about the body, asking that he gets put into an asylum. But Abby notes that Teddy didn’t kill the man, and they already know about the body!

Which, yeah, surprises Mortimer, obviously.

Abby cheerfully admits that the man, Mr. Hoskins, was poisoned by a tainted glass of elderberry wine, and that they did so on purpose, hiding the body before the Reverend came for a visit. The whole thing isn’t a big deal; it’s just Abby and Martha’s little secret!

After they leave, and brush off the whole thing as easy as needlepoint or macramé as a hobby, Mortimer, is completely broken by the whole affair, and is partially convinced that he’s dreaming. All the while, Elaine’s trying to get Mortimer to come over and speak with her father. But Mortimer can’t exactly forget about this whole silly murder thing, and goes to confront his aunts about it. He learns that Teddy’s digging not a lock, but a grave in the cellar. As he’s done with 10 other bodies. Or maybe it’s 11 others?

After picking up a phone call from Elaine, then hanging up abruptly (and understandably), Mortimer finds out how this whole thing started. See, the two have a “Renters Wanted” sign in their front lawn, and the neighborhood thinks that it’s there so the two sweet old ladies can offer help to anyone in need, even though they aren’t actually renting to anyone. In reality...well, they do it for another reason.

See, an older gentleman stopped by a bit ago, and he had a heart attack right there in the living room. After seeing how peaceful he looked, the two decided to bring in other lonely old men and bring in the same kind of peace. And from there...well, yeah, you get the general idea. They’ve been poisoning them with arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide mixed in with elderberry wine. Apparently, Martha’s got the mixture just right so that it tastes delicious. With all this explained, they offer Mortimer a sip of wine. Which he’s understandably nervous about.

But with all of that done, Elaine comes over to check in on him. But he’s not able to tell her anything, which greatly (and understandably) confuses her. He basically kicks her out (which enrages her, once again understandably), and calls a judge with the intent to frame the whole affair on Teddy, who’s always been.unstable. Which, for the record, is not even SLIGHTLY going to solve the problem.

But as he’s on the phone, a man named Gibbs (Edward McWade) comes in to rent an apartment. He’s all alone in the world, with nobody to care for him. And of course, this leads to the women trying to poison him with the wine. It’s a funny yet tense moment as he stops just short of drinking the wine, distracted by Mortimer’s freakout over the phone. But Mortimer gets off the phone JUST in time to scare Gibbs away and stop him from drinking the wine. And it is...VERY funny, goddamn.

As Mortimer tries to tell the aunts exactly what’s wrong with what they’re doing, the phone rings. It’s a call from Witherspoon (Edward Everett Horton), who runs an asylum that Mortimer wants Teddy committed into. However, they don’t quite have room for him, as they have too many Theodore Roosevelts at present. However, they do need more Napoleon Bonapartes. I love this goddamn movie.

Still, Witherspoon agrees to take him in despite that, and Mortimer head out to get the paperwork done. However, he asks his aunts to not do anything until he gets back, and he also proises that he’ll attend the “services” for their latest victim. He leaves, and kinda steals a cabbie’s car in the process (I love this movie, I’m telling you), and Abby and Martha start shutting things down for the night. However, as they do, they get a mysterious knock on the door. They pretend not to be home...only for a man with an ominous scar to enter the room regardless.

Let’s pause here, shall we? See you in Part 2!

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hogwartsmysteryho · 4 years ago

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There's no doubt in my mind that you're swamped in asks, but if it isn't too much trouble, perhaps 💛?

you? be too much trouble? it’s more likely that i get struck by lighting at the same time as a bunch of forensics chemicals fall on top of me as a particle acelebrator explodes, turning me into a superhero called the flash.

now, of all ur impossibly adorable boys, i will be choosing conner, because i love him and because he is in dire need of some appreciation! if i pulled up the oxford english dictionary and looked up “good big brother” a picture of conner everett would be there. conner is the most wholesome thing ever. he puts all his dedication into looking after his younger, neurodivergent brother and none of into looking after himself, which is just, i want to give the poor kiddo a million hugs!!!! i will never get over conner’s quiet relateableness, because who hasnt wondered “what’s wrong with me” at least once? he has the purest heart ever, he just wants to help other people at any cost often taking on way too much and deteriorating his own mental health 😔 i love conner with all my being and wish i could tell him that!!!!!!!!!!!!! his story is so unique, and tragic, and it really stands out from all your other wonderful boys. if only conner could see himself as i see him, a lovely, amazing person, brother and friend!

#conner everett #hpma #this poor child deserves so much more 😭😭

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

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Don’t Worry, Be Snappy!

Summary: Amber finds herself stranded on a boat with Mike Weiss…and as anything where Mike is involved, it all gets a little crazy!

Warnings: Bad Language words.

A/N: As it is past midnight here in the UK here it is!

BEWARE- This is utter, utter nonsense. You’re about to get an insight into exactly how stupid mine and @icanfeelastormbrewing ‘s minds and brain storming sessions really are. But it made us laugh, and we hope it makes you laugh too.

Written especially for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for her birthday! Happiest of days to you Ambi, we love you lots!!!

Fic Song: Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bob Marley

Now listen to what I said, in your life expect some trouble, when you worry you make it double. But don't worry, be happy, be happy now

The problem with Mike Weiss is, well, just that he is Mike Weiss. Total crackpot, in more ways than one. Which was why Amber found herself one sunny July afternoon sailing down a literal creek without a paddle as they searched for his pet alligator. Mike had been struck by a sudden idea the previous night that it would be nice to take Snappy to the Everglades- “So he can associate with his own kind, learn so alligator social skills”

Of course, despite Mike’s protests to the contrary, Snappy was instinctively a fucking wild animal. So as soon as Mike had dropped him into the water he had slunk off into the weeds and completely ignored (again, not surprisingly) Mike’s calling of his name.

“Why did you let him go Mike?” Amber groaned, laying back on the bench in the boat.

“I was high, ok?” Mike sighed “Seemed like a good idea.” He chewed the inside of his cheek a little as he glanced around, hands on his hips “Here Snappy, Snappy.” “Yeah, he’s mingling Mike…there’s no fucking way we’re A- gonna find him, or B- he’s gonna come back!” “I love what a positive, always look on the Brightside kinda gal you are.” Mike shot her a look as he steered the boat carefully down the small reed lined stream.

“I’m a realist.” Amber sighed, still looking up at the clouds “You should try it sometime.”

At that point the boat they were on gave a little stutter and Amber sat up to see Mike glancing curiously at the controls.

“Erm…” he looked around “It broke.” “What do you mean it broke?” “Well it was working…” Mike rolled his eyes “And now it’s not.” “Fucks sake…let me try.” Amber sighed. She stood up, shoved Mike out of the way and she turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. With a groan she looked at him, her hands on her hips “I TOLD you we should have taken my fucking canoe.”

She flopped down back into her seat with a growl.

“Someone’s cranky” Mike whispered and Amber glared at him.

“You know what, I am, you’re right.” She pointed at him “You’re a dumb dork, who does dumb dork things, like letting an alligator go free in the middle of the swamp in FUCKING FLORIDA!”

Mike opened his mouth to say something but the sound of another boat engine drew their attention and they both turned. Amber’s eyes were instantly taken by the man steering the boat who was dressed in a white shirt and a dirty pair of jeans. His wind ruffled hair was stuck up slightly and his eyes were hidden by a set of aviators. A small girl with blonde hair sat besides him, a ginger cat on her lap and behind her perched a woman with long, reddy-brown hair, a pair of glasses also over her eyes.

“You guys alright?” the man asked as they pulled up alongside them.

“Yeah, this dumbass managed to strand us here.” Amber jerked her hand over her shoulder.

“Frank did that to us once.” The young girl grinned and the man who had just stopped the boat besides them looked down at her.

“That was the one time my repairs let me down.” He shook his head.

“One time too many.” She quipped.

Amber snorted, “I like you kid.”

The little girl smiled “I’m Mary, this is my uncle Frank and his girlfriend Fliss.”

“Nice to meet you all.” Amber smiled. “I’m Amber and this is Mike.”

“Want me to take a look at it?” Frank asked, nodding to the boat “I do it for a living so…”

“Be my guest.” Mike said, and Frank nodded, heading to the back of his boat.

“So what are you doing here?” Mary asked.

“Mary stop being so nosey.” Fliss sighed. Mike gave a chuckle.

“We’re looking for my pet alligator…”

“Yeah Idiot Boy here set him loose. Thought he needed some alligator time with other alligators…” Amber rolled her eyes.

“You have a pet alligator?” Mary’s eyes widened. “Frank, can-“ “No.” Frank cut her off as he turned round, a length of rope in his hand.

“It can live in the pool!” Mary pressed

“Absolutely not.” Fliss looked at her and then their attention turned to Mike as he gave a chuckle.

“Can’t keep em in a pool kid, chlorine…not good.” Mary paused and then grinned “We can build him a lake in Monty’s field…” “The hell we can.” Frank snorted.

“Ah go on man, make the little girl happy!” Mike smiled. “They make great pets…”

“Clearly they don’t.” Frank grumbled, looking Mike up and down before he frowned at the man’s ridiculous shirt and trouser combination. Fliss grinned.

“Nice boots” she said, gesturing to Mike’s cowboy specials.

“Thanks!” Mike flashed her a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Shame about the rest of it.” Frank quipped, as he tied a length of rope to the side of the stranded boat, securing it to his own so he could hop over onto the deck.

“You’re calling my outfit out?” Mike scoffed, gesturing with his hand to Frank’s loud yellow and black Hawaiian print shirt “Exhibit A your honour.” “Clearly this is some sort of shit outfit competition.” Amber mumbled.

“I feel you sister.” Fliss grinned “Are you two…erm…together…or…” “Never seen him before in my life.” Amber denied and Fliss laughed.

“What the fuck Amber?” Mike protested.

“He just turns up from time to time when he has the munchies and eats all my Sour Patch Kids.”

“That’s not the only thing I eat.” Mike grinned and Frank let out a snort.

“Yeah, sure.” Amber rolled her eyes before she looked at Fliss and Mary, dropping her voice “He also eats my dog, Tikka’s, food.” “Frank ate one of Fred’s catnip treats once.” Mary said and Frank shrugged, not taking his attention of the engine of the boat.

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“You were drunk” Mary retorted.

“That was the night you came home saying the leprechauns had stolen your jacket.” Fliss said.

Mike grinned “I see leprechauns a lot.”

Amber shook her head “Jesus Christ…” she mumbled.

“Ok, I see the problem.” Frank smiled, stranding up and turning to Mike “You’re out of fuel.”

Amber blinked as Mike turned to her, giving her a small shrug and an innocent, boyish smile as she exploded “What the…you didn’t think to CHECK?” “I thought they were electric.” Mike shrugged.

“God you’re an idiot…should have brought my canoe.”

“You know, that’s the second time you said that.” Mike looked at her.

“Really, well here’s the third…” She snarked “I. SHOULD. HAVE. BROUGHT. MY. CANOE!”

“Ok, we can give you a tow back.” Frank said, moving back to climb into his own boat. “Get you back to the centre.” “No can do.” Mike shook his head, “Need to find Snappy…” “Yeah, erm…” Fliss pointed to something that was approaching them, a confused expression on her face “I think he may have already found you.” They all turned and as they watched Snappy sail past their boat led on an Alligator shaped pool inflatable, being pushed by an extremely good looking man in a wet suit. He glanced up at them, smiling, his teeth white from behind his beard and he flicked his long hair back out of his eyes.

“Leave no gator behind.” He said simply, as he continued swimming past, Snappy basking on his inflatable.

Amber blinked, looked at the can of coke she was holding and turned to Mike “What the fuck did you put in this?” “Nothing…” “And why am I suddenly cold?” she frowned.

“Cold?” Frank looked at her “It’s like 90 degrees…in the middle of Florida.”

“That may be, but I’m still cold…” she frowned “And why is it going dark…”

****

Amber sat bolt upright, her head colliding painfully with the bunk above her, breathing deeply as she looked around. The light and warmth she had been feeling had been replaced with dark and cold, the blues and greens of Florida swapped for the dark greys and browns of the train…

“Hey…” a familiar voice said and she turned to look at Curtis as he sat up besides her “You ok baby?”

“Yeah, I just had the strangest dream.” She said as her man gently rubbed between her shoulders as she began to explain to him what she’d been dreaming about. He arched an eyebrow, sniggered occasionally and then snorted with laughter, a rare thing for Curtis Everett, when she told him about the inflatable alligator.

“And Mike, Frank, the Diving guy…they looked a bit like you. Which is odd.” She finished shrugging.

“Well I’m clearly on your mind.” Curtis quipped as he lay back, arms folded behind his bed as he gave her a sinful look “And you should be on my face so I can wish you a happy birthday properly.”

Amber grinned and shuffled round to straddle him before she stopped, her hands falling to his chest.

“On one condition.” She smirked.

“What?”

“Take your beanie off first. It gives me a rash.”

#happy birthday sweater #have some nonsense from us #don't worry be snappy #mike weiss #frank adler #ari levinson #curtis everett

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years ago

Text

Two Lost Souls -ch 11

The Elementalists au

Beckett x Oriana

Words: 3059

Series Master List

Complete Master List

Series Warnings: Will contain NSFW content. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Physical, Emotional, Sexual, and Domestic Abuse. Death. Rape, Violence, Manipulation, Drug Abuse, and lots and lots of Angst.

Chapter Warnings: NSFW. Physical and sexual abuse implied.

By Reading you are acknowledging you are 18 years of age and older.

Previously on Secret Studies:

“If we can survive all this, Beckett…I think we can survive anything. I don’t think I could ever be happy without you.” Oriana told him softly.

“I know I couldn’t.” He returned. “I’d probably turn into a miserable prick…I think I knew right away that you were the one for me. We’re like pieces of the same puzzle, but there were a couple pieces missing from it. The moment we came together, I think my soul recognized yours, and the puzzle was suddenly complete. And as long as we’re together…we’ll never be lost”

8 Years ago, Beckett and Oriana Harrington graduated Penderghast College. A year after that, tragedy struck, and they haven’t seen each other since. What happens when their paths cross once more? Is it coincidence? Or is it their souls trying to find their way home?

Beckett’s POV

Beckett stared at the form of the woman sleeping in his bed. Although the room was dimly lit, his eyes raked her body, and he felt his dick twitch. Oriana always had that effect on him. This was literally the last thing he expected to see. What is she doing here? She argued with him about going back to the office that night, and now, not only did she go back, but she was in his bed. Wearing almost nothing. He ran a hand through his hair and turned around quickly, his heart thundering in his chest as he went back into the hallway. It was only then he noticed it felt slightly more damp than usual in there. Frowning, he went into the bathroom, stopping short at the sight of her clothes rumpled on the ground and a towel missing.

“No way.” He murmured. Did she seriously shower at his penthouse? What is she wearing right now?? He peeked into the shower, but there were no additional items…just his own shampoo and body wash, which he could still faintly smell, so that means she also used them. Being as quiet as he could, he slipped back into his bedroom, approaching her cautiously. Swallowing hard, he finally saw that she was wearing his clothes. His shirt, his briefs. She was hugging one pillow while her head rest on another, and her breathing was…his eyebrows furrowed. Her breathing was ragged and shallow. Definitely not a normal sleeping rhythm. Even in her slumber, he could tell it was her right side being favored. He reached out to lift the shirt, actually holding his breath…before yanking his hand back. What if she wakes up while he’s standing there with his hand up her shirt? That certainly wouldn’t go over well. But if she does wake up, at least she’ll have no choice but to show him what’s underneath.

Nodding to himself, he slowly reached out again, the butterflies in his stomach erupting, gingerly touching the fabric and pulling it up. When his eyes landed on the source of her ill-breathing, his blood immediately boiled. He’s never seen such a bruise before, and he knows damn well it wasn’t there before. It must be a broken rib, if not more. And she certainly couldn’t have caused it on her own. He rubbed the back of his neck, debating what to do. Again, why isn’t she healing herself? She’s clearly struggling, she’s clearly getting hurt, and there’s only one person who could be doing that to her. Everett. That mother fucker.

It baffled him that Oriana was hurt and didn’t do anything about it. She’s extremely powerful and yet she didn’t stop it, she didn’t heal it. In fact, by marrying Everett, she’s basically ensuring it keeps happening. His own breathing was starting to become erratic. He’d made a promise to her that he would always protect her. He failed. It was as if all the years they had been apart didn’t matter, didn’t exist. There was only him and Oriana again, and the surge of love between them. He chastised himself for removing that protection spell so long ago. He was so devastated that he thought he didn’t care if she was harmed. Hell, he practically wished it upon her. But he was wrong. He was so incredibly wrong. And they would have been reunited long before this if he was still able to go to her when she was in danger. The realization hit him like a freight train. He stumbled backwards from the abhorrent truth. She’s punishing herself. She thinks she deserves to be devastated, deserves to be unhappy, doesn’t want to keep herself safe. He knows why she’s here. He knows why she showered and put on his clothes and curled up in his bed. He had buried something she’d told him twelve years prior, but now he heard it as though she was speaking directly in his ear.

“Beckett, you’re literally the strongest person I know. Honestly…I only really feel safe when I’m with you.”

“I need to protect you.” He whispered in the darkness. “From everything I can. Even it’s from yourself.”

Knowing he couldn’t stay, knowing it would piss her off to see him right away, especially with what he was about to do. She didn’t heal herself for a reason. But Beckett didn’t have a reason, and he couldn’t leave her like this. He stepped forward next to the bed again before creating a new ward, this time to go back to his own penthouse in New York, before turning back to her one last time. His eyelids fluttered shut as he mumbled, feeling the magic flow through him and into her and he inhaled sharply as the connection was made. He exploded in warmth, the euphoric tingling overcoming him, and in her sleep, Oriana whimpered, and her breathing became strong again…but also had a breathy tone to it, the kind she would get when he would touch her, and she wanted more. Seeing the bruise fade away, he rushed through the ward, disappearing from sight, portaling into his bedroom in New York. That damn healing spell always brought the strangest sort of connection between them, and this is the second time he’s used it in the past few days. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He could practically feel her all around him, her quiet moans replaying in his head like a record he can’t turn off. He leaned back against his door, unzipping his pants quickly and yanking them down, taking his already hard length in his hand. He groaned as he started stroking, picturing Oriana with water cascading down her body in his shower, Oriana in his clothes, writhing beneath him on his bed, Oriana touching him, kissing him, grinding on him. He stroked faster, bucking into his hand, squeezing and releasing his dick and rubbing his balls that he came so hard that his semen went flying as he shouted her name. He was panting and a bit frazzled from his body’s response to her, wanting to just go back to London and fuck her good and hard, make her scream his name in ecstasy the way he used to…the way he just did with hers.

“Ah fuck” He moaned as he felt his cock stand to attention again from thinking about it. For a brief second he debated getting his phone and calling up an old female acquaintance. It didn’t really matter which one, since he’ll be picturing Oriana in their stead. If he’d never run into his wife again, that’s exactly what he’d be doing right now. He’d use whoever he wanted to relieve his tension and then kick them to the curb, but now there’s only one person he wants to have touching him. Only one person he wants to be inside, one person he wants to give pleasure to more than he wants to be pleasured himself. But she happens to be the one woman he can’t have, the one who doesn’t want him. The one engaged to someone who was hurting her to keep her in line, and she actually wanted it that way. Feeling angry, Beckett picked up a heavy book that was on a glass stand next to his door and hurled it across the room where it landed with a loud thunk.

“FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!”

He slid down to the floor and buried his face in his hands. All he can do right now is hope that what just happened would get them started in the right direction again.

Oriana’s POV

Oriana woke up from her own movements. She was breathless and so incredibly turned on that it took her a second to remember where she was. She must have had quite a dream. She dreamed Beckett was there, touching her everywhere while she begged him to make love to her, needs him inside her desperately. As if moving on its own, her hand started trailing down her stomach and then slipped underneath Beckett’s briefs that she was wearing. She whimpered when she discovered how wet she was. She began moving her fingers, coating them with the juices from the apex of her legs before circling her clit so hard and fast that she came in seconds. But it was nowhere near enough. She pushed two fingers inside her hole, thrusting them in and out, imagining it was Beckett’s hands on her, in her, driving her mad with passion and love. She palmed her breast and tweaked her nipple with her free hand, bucking her hips off the bed in ecstasy as her fingers hit just the right spot. She didn’t feel the need to be quiet. She was alone, and this penthouse took up an entire floor, so she encouraged herself along using Beckett’s name, telling him to dive into her pussy, that she needs to fuck him so bad. Throwing her head back as her body lifted from the bed one last time, she was shaking, her eyes hooded, mouth agape, overwhelmed with the powerful orgasm ripping through her at the thought of her husband.

She was panting as she hugged his pillow back to her, inhaling his scent again. “Mmmmmm” Her hand once again started lowering again as if it had a mind of its own. When her fingers trailed past her stomach this time though, she paused, confused. She wasn’t feeling any pain. She should be in pain right now. She hurriedly lifted her shirt and gasped when she saw the healed skin, her hand covering her mouth in surprise. There was no discoloration, no more aching, no more trouble breathing.

“Oh my god. He really is here.” She breathed, jumping out of bed and dashing through the penthouse, calling Beckett’s name. In such a rush, she accidentally ran straight into a large chair so hard it moved, spilling the contents of her purse on the floor. Disappointment washed over her as she realized he wasn’t actually home. Then she saw the flowers.

“What….?” She approached them slowly, gingerly touching a petal. They were gorgeous. She loved calla lilies and orchids. And the color contrast with the purple and blue was so beautiful she could cry, and with Beckett being an amateur botanist, she knew he picked the colors on purpose. He’s given her a bouquet similar to this before…the day they were married. A purple calla lily signifies passion, but the blue orchid...that represents a rarity, a unique connection. The blue color of emotions permeates spirituality, so it is an unusual bond, something that is not so easily broken. It is the rarest of orchids, and of course he would choose that. “A rare flower for a rare love.” He had told her. Her eyes landed on a small card tucked among the stems. She grabbed it, tears filling her eyes as she read. It only had three words. But the three words spoke volumes.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shakily put the card down, tears filling her eyes and blinking them back. “Then why didn’t you stay?” She whispered to the empty space. He clearly saw her, since he healed her. And then…

“Oh God.” She buried her face in her hands, her mind flashing to how she was masturbating in his bed. If he’d seen that she would be mortified, but she knew without a doubt that he couldn’t have. Maybe that’s why he left. Them having sex right now would only lead to disaster, and she was absolutely positive that’s what would have happened if he stayed. He must have known that too.

Sighing, she went to retrieve her phone from her purse, seeing the text Beckett had sent earlier about needing the divorce papers again. Her heart plummeted. So the flowers were to simply butter her up, since apparently the “things” he had to deal with in New York was clearly their divorce. Anger was beginning to bubble up to her surface. Who the hell does this guy think he is? He’s giving her the same flowers for their divorce as he did their wedding? Why even bother saying he’s sorry? Sorry for what? Ruining the original papers she gave him? She began gathering the rest of her stuff and shoving them into her bag. Her mascara had rolled under the chair, so when she went to grab it, she was surprised to feel something else. Something made of fabric. Rage filled her as she plucked the hot pink G-string out, looking at it in disgust. She scoffed at the audacity he had, grabbing the flowers and note and threw them into the trash can with such force that she heard the glass vase shatter.

And then she knew exactly what she’d do.

Too bad for him, she was already two steps ahead. She’d had her lawyer email her a copy of everything that same morning she served him the papers, just in case. If she had learned one thing from Beckett, it was to always be prepared. She marched into the office and turned one of the computers on. She’d already hooked it up to a printer, so it was just a matter of signing into her email and bringing up the document. Pressing print, she went into the bathroom, removing his shirt and briefs before throwing her own clothes back on. It was still the middle of the night. Hopefully she’d get home before Everett came back drunk as a skunk.

Walking back into the office, she sat down and looked through her files for an address she knew Beckett must have given her at some point, then retrieved the freshly printed divorce petition, as well as a blank piece of paper that she scribbled a hasty note on. Surely he must have a business envelope here somewhere. Searching once more through the penthouse, she found a small cabinet containing some stationary. She quickly wrote the address she found and shoved the note, the divorce decree, as well as the slutty undergarment into the envelope. After making a quick call, she head down to the lobby. A few minutes later, an ExpressAir employee arrived.

“Oriana Miller?” The employee greeted.

“Yes, that’s me. Here you go. It’s extremely important that this gets overnighted to New York City. How fast can I get it there?”

“You called the right people. They will have it early in the morning at their location.”

“Thank you so much.” Oriana told them gratefully.

“You’re very welcome. Have a good night.”

“You too.” Oriana called out as the courier left.

She was still teeming with hostility towards her husband as she got into a cab and went home. Walking inside, the flat was still empty, which means Everett hadn’t been back yet. She quickly jumped in the shower to rinse off Beckett’s smell, and while she was in there, the door opened.

“Hey babe.”

She stiffened at the sound of Everett’s voice. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Actually, I’m coming in.” A moment later, a very naked Everett was standing in front of her as the hot water streamed down. “I’m sorry, darling. I was completely out of line. I went out and sobered up, and I can’t believe I hurt you like that. Are you okay?”

Oriana blinked. “Um…”

Everett’s hand brushed her side. “I’m glad you healed yourself.” He murmured, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He kissed the top of her head. “I swear I’ll never lose my temper like that again. I swear it, Oriana. I’m just so worried you’ll choose him again. Just the thought of it…” His arms tightened a bit more than comfort level, and she grimaced. But then he pulled back, kissing her lips and brushing the wet hair out of her face. “You’ve assured me many times that you’re over him, and…I believe you. I trust you. I’m sorry I keep getting out of control. And as for what I said…I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. I swear I didn’t mean it.”

He was looking at her so earnestly, with these puppy-dog eyes that had her nodding. “It’s okay, Everett. I’m okay. See? I’m all healed. Like it never happened.”

“You’re too good to me.” He whispered hoarsely. “When you’re done, come join me in bed. I plan on making it up to you all night long. You’re up for some fun, right? Make-up sex is important to keep relationships alive.” He swiped a finger along her lower folds, quickly inserting and removing a finger from her center.

Oriana swallowed, giving a slight nod.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” He told her, with a slightly menacing tone, as he stepped back out of the shower. When the door closed behind him, she let out a huge breath, then sank to the floor, the water still cascading over her. She cried silently, hoping she could take enough time in there that Everett would be asleep by the time she got out. Otherwise, it was going to be one very long night that she wasn’t sure what condition she would be left in. She wasn’t sure what kind of condition she even wanted to be left in. A fleeting idea crossed her mind when she took that into consideration.

When the water started turning cold, she finally turned off the faucet and wrapped herself in a towel before leaving the bathroom. She halted in her tracks when she saw the look on Everett’s face.

“You were in there a long time.”

“Sorry.” She whispered. “It just felt so good.”

He quickly approached her, removing her towel and scanning her body with his eyes. “I’m the one that makes you feel good. I guess I need to make absolutely sure that you remember that.”

She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the sharp slap on her ass. Everett was right. He could make her feel good. She repeated that line over and over in her head as she welcomed what he gave her. She deserves the worst of the worst punishment tonight. And if it had to happen under the guise of “make-up sex” then so be it. She couldn’t care less. The moment of hope she’d felt at Beckett’s had been destroyed in an instant. Everything he said was a lie.

@annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @alesana45 @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @mfackenthal @coffeebeandragon @desireepow-1986 @lapisreviewsstuff @padfoot0415 @indiana-jr @liyanin @liam-rhys @emerald-bijou @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalker04 @nomadics-stuff @lovemychoices @sweetest-marbear @furiousherringoperatortoad @thatcatlady0716 @elainew13 @the-soot-sprite @paisleylovergirl @emichelle @symonde @kendrasgue @pbmychoices @sonsie0613 @cordoniasmost @oofchoices @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @dottie-minerva-mikas @warblerlo

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mrs-denton · 4 years ago

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Paul Fanfic Pt. 3

A day later, Bebe heard a knock at her window. Paul, she immediately thought. Getting up from bed, she trekked over to the window, and sure enough, Paul’s characteristic eyes peered at her from the night. She let out a gasp and opened the window to quickly let him in. Once inside, he instantly held her in his arms and kissed her passionately, pressing her up against him. “Oh my god, you’re okay . . .” she sighed in between his kisses. “I missed you so much,” he said. “But I’m finally here.” “I missed you too,” she replied. “What happened?” Offering him a drink, she led him to the living room where she poured him a glass of water. Paul couldn’t drink alcohol for another week because of Tong’s procedure and because of how erratic his nanites were behaving at one point that he couldn’t stimulate them. Paul was still under supervision, and Bebe made a joke about both of them having to stop drinking for a while. Then he continued, and both spent hours talking about everything that happened—JC, the Illuminati, Bob Page, Helios, the Collapse, Area 51, and the entirety of Majestic Twelve’s plan that was stopped by the two brothers. Bebe was intrigued and in awe at Paul’s accounts, but kept listening. She already knew enough to understand exactly what he was talking about, but didn’t know exactly how deep the rabbit hole went until that moment. “. . . And so when JC merged with Helios, the entire merge took so much energy from sector four that it created instabilities in the reactors. Running for his life, he barely made it out of the underground bunker before everything inside exploded; Page, the Aquinas hub—gone. Tong got the small government he wanted, and Everett got Page dead. But neither were counting on JC to merge with Helios. I suppose everyone got something they wanted at the expense of another thing. Tong wanted to decentralize power, but JC took it all himself, and Morgan Everett is powerless without communications.” “Aren’t you worried that Everett will strike back in the future?” she asked. “That’s what I’m trying to prevent,” he replied. “Right now, Everett’s weak without the net and his gadgets. But give it enough time and the same factions, possibly even new ones, are going to be fighting for power again.” “Exactly,” she said. “It’s all a matter of time. History repeats itself again and again. But what do you mean, ‘prevent?’” “I was just about to get to that,” he replied before taking a sip of water and his expression turned more serious. There was a pain in his eyes. “After JC merged with Helios, we found out that it was a faulty merge. JC didn’t have the correct nanites that were ready for Helios. He started getting sick, real sick, so we had to freeze him. He’s somewhere far away.” An expression of melancholy appeared softly on his hard face. A certain gentleness about Paul Denton appeared like a shawl over the heavy bones and contours of his face. Bebe felt for him. “Wow Paul,” she said. “I’m so sorry . . .” She gently took his hand and kissed it, their fingers interlaced. “We’ll be fine, though,” he said and kissed the top of her head, bringing her close to him. “I’m already thinking of a way to get him back. He must come back. No matter how long it takes.” “Fix his nanites,” she said. “Exactly. I’ll explain more later on, everything that I’ve said is really sensitive and no one must overhear,” he said. “It doesn’t help that every law enforcement agency is looking for you,” she said. “You and your brother are on every newspaper.” “Which is why we have to leave,” he said. “I came back to get you. We have to leave New York before they start tracking us down.” “I’ve already packed,” she said, getting up to return to her room to show him the suitcases. “What’s the plan?” “We’ll take your car down to the beach where nobody will see us," Paul said. "Jock said he would meet us there. Then we're leaving for Hong Kong while we plan where to move in the future. Tong’s base is safe. Besides, we’ve got the protection of both Triads.” “The Triads?” she asked, surprised. “Are you sure we can trust them?” “Don’t worry,” he said. “JC made peace between them. They’re more than happy to have Hong Kong to themselves, which is why they’re loyal to us. We should be alright.” “Alright, I guess you make a point. You know these men better than I do,” she said. Wearing a blond wig and sunglasses to disguise himself, Paul helped Bebe take her things and pack them in the car. They could only afford one trip to avoid being recognized, however. The security guard at the entrance didn’t seem to mind, though. Apparently the hair and shades had done the trick. Paul’s trench coat concealed his athletic figure, too. But before they left, she made sure to leave a a solitary, neat envelope on her kitchen table containing a letter inside. She had written it a few nights ago, ready for it to be opened. “What’s that?” asked Paul. “My farewell letter,” she said. “For my friends and family. I know they’ll come looking for me.” And with that, they shut the door behind them and walked out, never to turn back again and only to embrace a future together at last.

#deus ex #paul denton #paul denton x oc #fanfiction #lol paul in a blonde wig and sunglasses is hilarious

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takaraphoenix · 6 years ago

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Season 4 Finale Fix-It Fic: Who Tells Your Story

Quentin blinked, feeling very disoriented. What had happened...? There was something vague, in the back of his mind. Screams and something... He looked around wondrously. He didn't know where he was, but he had the feeling that this wasn't where he had last been.

"Quentin Coldwater. Welcome to the underworld."

Ah. That was it. That was the thing that kept escaping him. He had died. Everett had interrupted them in the mirror world, he had been too startled to destroy the monster in time and then things exploded. Had he done it? Had he saved his friends?

"Your friends are alright", assured the man with the very pleasant voice.

Quentin tilted his head and looked at him. "Who... are you?"

"I'm Hades. King of the underworld."

"Oh", nodded Quentin, frowning a bit.

He was still very disoriented and his thoughts were swirling too fast for him to even grasp them. Hades gently guided him to sit down. Odd. Well, wasn't that just his life? Odd.

"You died killing the monster for good", stated Hades and leaned back in his own seat, hands crossed on his lap. "You have a choice now."

"Choice?", echoed Quentin.

His tongue felt heavy with all of the questions on his mind. What with his friends? Were they alright? Truly alright? Magic. The library still kept magic limited. What about Fillory? And his mother. He was dead. She had just lost his father, even if they had been divorced. And Eliot. Eliot.

"You died a hero's death", explained Hades, offering Quentin a card – a ticket. "You earned the privilege to move on to Elysium. An honor reserved to truly good people."

"So I... did something brave? I didn't just... finally find a way to kill myself?"

The look Hades offered him was not quite amused. "You earned this, your death was a hero's death. However, I have a choice to offer you. You slayed the monster that killed my wife, so I personally owe you a debt of gratitude. Elysium will still be there when you die at an old age. What I am offering you is something I only very rarely hand out. A get out of the underworld free card."

Quentin blinked and turned his ticket around once, to find it changed into a white card, with the small symbol of Pluto in one corner and elegant writing reading get out of the underworld free. Very... direct. But in his current state, Quentin kind of appreciated that.

"You are a hero, Quentin Coldwater", stated Hades slowly. "And I think that your destiny has not yet been fulfilled. There are many things left for you to do. People are waiting for you."

Quentin frowned at that. "Really?"

He hadn't truly felt like that lately. He felt like since the quest for the seven keys, he had grown apart from the others. Eliot had been... possessed. He hadn't seen actual Eliot since the castle at the end of the world. Everyone else had been so busy with their own drama and their own quests and Quentin had kind of been stuck babysitting the monster. Which had hurt. Because it had Eliot's face and... everything that had happened between him and Eliot and everything that hadn't happened between him and Eliot and he was just so confused.

A large part of him had wished for Margo, wished to sit down together and talk. Or even to go with her and try to help, but Margo had been in Fillory and with Fen and Josh, working on ways to bring back Eliot, without him.

Penny 23 was still very much a stranger to Quentin and he seemed too engrossed in some kind of love-triangle or something with Kady and Julia. Kady, well, Quentin had never been close to.

Julia had been there, but not... Well, she had enough on her own mind, huh? She had no time to sit there and listen to Quentin telling her about the conflicting feelings he had for Eliot and for this situation with the monster, or to talk about how incredibly betrayed he had felt by Alice, or how much the death of his father affected him.

And Alice, Alice was still so complicated. For the most part, he had kept his distance to her. Though they had managed to rekindle their friendship, to a certain capacity, it was still... awkward.

Who was there? Who really... needed him? He had barely gotten anything important to do this time.

He had been who brought them all together, he had been the one with the knowledge about Fillory, he had been a king of Fillory for a while. He had held them together during their quest for the seven keys and somehow, he had thought that after that, things could be different.

Part of him had thought that after that, him and Eliot could live in Fillory, together as kings – they were still kings, weren't they, even if Margo was High King, had been High King? There had always been four rulers in Fillory. The life they had shared together just weighed too heavy on him, the memories of decades spend with Eliot. They had raised a child – his child – together. And being hit by this life, this... happiness... he thought maybe he could have it now too. Maybe, after this monster was slayed, he could actually have this... living out his life with someone who made him happy, with someone who supported him even when he wasn't happy.

But Eliot had rejected him and then Eliot had been possessed and now Quentin was... dead. But Eliot had said – well he had been rather out of it and only temporarily in control – he had talked about peaches though? He had talked like he wanted that too, wanted to try. And now they couldn't even try because Quentin was dead.

Strange. For so many years, he had contemplated what it would be like to be dead. Had wished to be dead too. And now that he actually was dead, he found himself oddly... hung up on life.

"Can I give you a piece of advise?", asked Hades.

Right. Quentin wasn't alone. He was in the underworld, with the king of the underworld. Unreal.

"...Yes, I'd appreciate that", nodded Quentin slowly.

"I just lost my wife. The love of my life", stated Hades. "And when a god dies, there is no afterlife. I will never see her again. If you think you have even the faintest chance to find love in life, you should choose life, because death will always be there to wait for you."

Death will always be there to wait for you. Huh. That was probably right. He would, if he went back to life now, die again and be here again and he could still move on then.

"There are just... so many things, so many questions I still have", admitted Quentin. "Julia, she lost her magic and her godhood – she is my best friend, my oldest friend, I can't leave her like that. And Alice, she probably feels guilty about my death. Margo. And... And... Eliot."

"So you have made your choice then", stated Hades with an amused looking smile.

/break\

Quentin smiled, though it was a reluctant expression as he sat next to Julia, his legs drawn up. She had cried, when he had approached her. Then she had hugged him. And then cried some more. After she was done crying, she had shown him the card-trick – had shown him that she apparently still had her magic somehow. So here he was... maybe useless after all.

"I just thought, I had to come back to help you deal with losing your magic", whispered Quentin.

"Guess I'm like a... magical cockroach, huh? Can't be killed, not even my magic can", replied Julia and tilted her head. "I suppose I'm back on my quest to regain my godhood then."

"Need help with that?", asked Quentin, resting his chin on his knees.

The smile on Julia's lips was warm and the look in her eyes was understanding – like she understood more than Quentin, which was probably true. "I think you should... you should follow your own path for a change, Q. You were so helpful for everyone, keeping everyone together, putting everything else before yourself. I think it's time for you to be selfish, Q. You were so excited to find Fillory and I know, I know it disappointed you – but maybe it's up to you to make it what it should be, what you wanted it to be. You're still a king of Fillory, aren't you?"

"I... don't know", hummed Quentin thoughtfully. "Maybe? I was barely at the castle during our reign anyway and then we were overthrown by Tick and Margo got elected High King, but now she's banished too... honestly, I have no idea what my place in Fillory even would be."

"Then maybe you should go and find out", suggested Julia, nudging him gently. "After your... After we said goodbye to you, we parted ways. Margo and Eliot went to Fillory, you know. To find out if Margo could get unbanished and I think Eliot is just looking for some... distance."

Quentin hummed at that and turned to look away, stare up at the moon. "He's been through a lot. Being possessed by the monster. Does he... remember what the monster did?"

"No. He was inside a mind-palace, he says", replied Julia and shook her head. "It was traumatic, but for the most part he was... safe in there, safe from the monster. That's what I overheard at least. Him and me, we were never close, so he didn't tell me much. But he... I think what truly hit him, even more than the possession, was losing you. He was so devastated, Q."

"Mh", grunted Quentin, pressing his lips flat together.

Maybe. Eliot had seemed so excited, like he wanted something – anything. Him.

/break\

He found Margo and Eliot in their cottage. Somehow, it was surreal for Quentin to be here now. He hadn't really been here in a while. He... still hadn't graduated. All he had wanted was to study at Brakebills but somehow, classes and a degree had just... slipped away from him.

"I just can't believe he's gone, Bambi."

"I know", whispered Margo back, holding onto Eliot.

Quentin just stood there for a moment. He still felt rather disconnected from his new body – thank you, Hades – but also if he was being honest with his emotions. Too much had happened. There was so much to feel and he just... didn't even know where to begin to feel.

"I couldn't even actually tell him anything", sobbed Eliot into Margo's arms.

Feeling too much like he was eavesdropping, Quentin stepped into the room, making enough noise to draw their attention. "Uh... Hello? Or, what do you say in this situation...? I'm... back?"

"Q... Quentin?"

Both Margo and Eliot looked up at him, shock written all over their features as they took him in like he was a ghost. Which, admittedly, he was to them. They knew he had died. He had died.

"Turns out Hades wasn't a big fan of the monster, what with him killing Hades' wife and all, so he expressed his gratitude by... giving me a second chance?", offered Quentin in explanation.

"Don't play with me", warned Eliot, voice shaky as he pointed a finger at Quentin. "If you're just a-a hallucination, or some... magic trick, or something, I am in no state for that."

"I'm me. The real me. I'm... back. For good. Or, well, until the next time I die. Which, hopefully, will be quite some in the future", replied Quentin, lifting both hands up. "I'm real, Eliot. I'm not a hallucination or anything. I'm back. And hey – it's not like I'm the first of us to survive dying."

He cracked the smallest grin, less out of humor and more out of a strange sense of giddiness. Eliot was right there. The real, actual Eliot. Eliot, in the flesh, with his mind. The past months with monster – with this evil creature posing as Eliot. But this one was the real one. Quentin could see it in his eyes, in the way he carried himself, could hear it in his voice.

"Eliot", whispered Quentin, voice soft. "I'm here. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

They walked toward each other slowly, on shaking legs. Eliot's hand was shaking as it reached out for Quentin's face, carefully cupping his cheek. Tears were still running down Eliot's cheeks as he touched Quentin. And then, the next moment, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Quentin, hugging him like he never wanted to let go again.

"You didn't give up on me", whispered Eliot into Quentin's neck. "Bambi told me. They wanted to give up on me but you kept pushing and believing and... I wouldn't be here without you. And when I woke up, I thought... but you weren't there and you died. You died like that and I never could tell you—thank you, for not giving up on me, for fighting for me."

All Quentin could do was nod and pull Eliot closer to him. And in that moment, he was glad to be alive. Feeling Eliot against him, his warmth, his everything, after all those months of trying to get Eliot back. He couldn't imagine being anywhere but here. How could he have chosen to move on when there was so much left unsaid and undone? There was so much more he had to do.

"I... heard you guys want to go back to Fillory?", asked Quentin, voice muffled by Eliot's shoulder as he was still being hugged like he would dissolve if Eliot let go. "Got room for one more?"

"Of course, Q", offered Margo gently, standing next to them and looking torn.

She wasn't big on emotions and she felt like intruding on this moment – but this was Q. She knew she had been very focused on Fillory and on bringing Eliot back, but out of everyone on this fucking quest, after Eliot, Quentin had mattered the most to her. The three of them, they had been through a lot and it had brought them all closer. Beyond the high-as-a-kite threesome. Quentin turned toward her with what was the most watery smile she had ever seen before he pulled her into the hug with them and regardless of how strong she was and how much she could contain her emotions, in that moment she didn't want to. Q was alive.

"Let's go to Fillory together and fuck that bitch up", laughed Margo, feeling drunk on relief.

/break\

Quentin had gone and talked to Alice too before they left, before they packed up. Yes, they could go back to getting their degree – but somehow, they had moved past that. And out of everyone from their group, the three of them had been the most drawn toward Fillory. Quentin knew that was where his path lead. What Julia had said to him was true. Fillory was meant to be something different, he had dreamed of something different – so it was up to him to make it something different. They had gone to rule this country multiple times at this point, but as soon as they were in power, some quest had thrown them off and they had never actually managed to do anything.

This was it though. This was the end of the line. The Beast had thrown them into a chain-reaction, he was followed by Reynard, then they had killed a god and had to fix magic, the quest of the seven keys, the monster at the end of the world – but this was it. Ending that one had not pushed over the next pillar to fall. They had done it, they had finally finished their quest.

They could now actually change Fillory. Make it better. Make it the place Quentin always had dreamed of living at. He turned a little to look at Eliot and Quentin next to him and grinned.

"What? What's with that look, Q?", asked Eliot confused.

"We make quite the Golden Trio", chuckled Quentin.

"I'm clearly the badass sidekick. So that must make Eliot the love-interest", stated Margo.

It made Eliot stumble and Margo snort in amusement. She rolled her eyes and made a show of walking ahead, giving Eliot and Quentin some space. They had not quite yet... talked. They had talked and packed and left together, but not quite talked about what... mattered.

"I was a coward", stated Eliot, decidedly looking ahead and not at Quentin. "When you... When we... The life we had. It was too much, when I started remembering it. You know me, I'm a party boy. I rarely do serious relationships and the last I had ended in a bloody murder after my boyfriend got possessed. And that life – that life we had – it was so... domestic and... normal. It was... scary. Because it was more than I ever thought I'd have. You and me and our... son. And when you asked me to give us a try, it felt like you were asking me to give you all of that and I knew I couldn't."

"I didn't...", started Quentin with a frown. "I didn't mean to ask for all of that. I asked for you."

"I know. I know that now. But back then? It was too much and too scary and I was a coward, afraid of my own feelings. But then... everything happened. While the monster... I thought a lot about myself, I reevaluated my life-choices, the worst of me, the best of me. And I thought of what I wanted and I want... you. I want you, Q. That's all I want. Just... you. Whatever that entails. And when I came out of it all, all I wanted was to... run to you and to tell you, but you were dead. And suddenly, I realized just how much I want you. How much I... love you."

Quentin's eyes widened as he turned to look at Eliot. Eliot had finally given up on avoiding him and was staring him dead in the eyes. He looked genuine – serious. When they had first gotten together, in the other timeline, it had just... happened, on its own. This? This was Eliot, consciously taking the first step toward Quentin, admitting what he wanted. Now, it was on Quentin to take the next. He took that literally, stepping up to Eliot and reaching up to pull Eliot into a tentative, soft kiss.

"Fucking finally", groaned Margo in the background.

/break\

They were a strange, royal family. High King Fen, her husband Eliot, his husband Quentin. On the other side, High King Fen's wife Margo and her husband Josh. Fillory and its strange marital laws had made that possible. And while in his position as the husband of the husband of the High King (and oh, the irony of that, considering Fen had simply been a girl promised to a king at the beginning of her story), Quentin didn't have a proper ruling role. He still aided as an adviser. And, in a way, everything was as it ought to be. Between Eliot, Quentin, Margo and Josh, there were four children of Earth ruling Fillory, at the side of their High King. They did it, they managed to actually help the people of Fillory, make Fillory a better place – even though it took them years to fix.

And along the way, Quentin had found his own calling. The author of his childhood had disappointed him, but sent him on a quest. So Quentin wanted to do better, be better. He spent a lot of his time at the castle writing. Writing the books of their story. The Beast in the Book, The Goddess in Green, The Creature in the Castle. A best-selling trilogy on Earth, to tell their story, and very popular among Fillorians too. He spent a lot of time on the ship – the flying ship that had made him so happy and euphoric when he had first entered it. Just flying through and exploring all of Fillory with his husband, writing down their adventures. And if they were needed, the others would simply send them a bunny and Eliot and Quentin would return to the palace.

But mainly, they were living on the fly, wherever they wanted to be, exploring, enjoying life. Being happy together and with what they had made of their life. That was their story.

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3!

#Queliot #The Magicians #Margo Hanson #Eliot Waugh #Quentin Coldwater #Julia Wicker #Fanfiction #Fix-It Fic #Hurt/Comfort #HAPPY ENDING #HAPPY FOR THEM ALL #BEYOND THE SHIP #BECAUSE Q GENERALLY DESERVED BETTER

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childoftimeandmagic · 6 years ago

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Mending Major Problems

My first actual Queliot fic. You can also read it on AO3.

FYI @kickassfu you’re welcome.

Mending of minor objects: a small and useless discipline, just like himself. Small, hazardous, and maladjusted. Fixing a toy plane, a mug, a kite for christs sake. Yet he couldn’t fix the big things. Couldn’t help Julia, couldn’t put Alice back together, fix Fillory, fix magic. None of it worked. Quentin for all his efforts, had in fact made most if not all of those situations worse. Maybe his mother had been right. Maybe Mayakovsky had been wrong. Maybe it came with a curse. Which meant the bigger the problem he tried to fix...maybe he just broke it more.

Sitting at Eliot’s side his fingers worrying the pages of Fillory and Further: The World Within the Walls. As he stared at the familiar pages, he thought about the last month of panic and intense fear; which had come to culmination in such an anticlimactic way. In the end it hadn’t been anything he’d done. Julia had negotiated them a deal.

Alive that had been the deal. They all got out of this alive and wouldn’t ever bother the monster or his sister again. The sister who had been shoved into Julia, only for Julia’s consciousness and god powers to expel her back out into the ether. The monster did not enjoy that, but there hadn’t been anything he could do about it. The influx of powers by awakening his older sister had jump-started Julia’s powers within herself. They’d found the body to hold his sister and then as Julia told it, the two goddesses had parlayed.

Apparently the sister and Julia had come to an agreement. Something to solve the issues that the young goddesses had felt was applicable. So one fresh goddess and a newly awakened goddess worked out a deal for everyone, the entire thing though hinged on the monster returning Eliot to him them. They’d found an agreeable replacement, a god stripped of his spark. With no powers to reawaken, a weak conscious, and no backbone of substance to fight the possession.

Let Persephone deal with the twins if she cared about her son so much, that wasn’t their problem. Reynard would be the replacement for Eliot’s body. The monster’s sister knew a spell that would transfer her brother into him. All they’d had to do was win against Everett, and the library. Zelda had been initially enraged at what they’d agreed too. She had reluctantly agreed it was the only way, and if not then they were in for something far more dangerous. She’d quickly agreed to an amended deal as it saved the majority of the library’s contents from harm.

Everett had proven almost impossible to stop. Even with three gods, seven magicians, and a network of hedges all working together it hadn’t been easy. They’d managed it though and after they’d dealt with Everett, and fulfilled their promise to the young gods who’d been so horribly abused by the greed of man.The binder was burned and destroyed, which would allow them to disappear into obscurity.

They’d retreated to the new Library to lick their wounds.Alice was still in the infirmary with burns on her arms. Kady, Harriet, and Zelda had immediately started releasing magic back into the world. The sister, had in turn found a body that would work forever, and hold her soul encased. Julia had traveled back to Fillory to help ease the influx of magic that had explode through the multiverse with the defeat of the Everett led library.

That had been four days ago, Eliot hadn’t woken up though. Nothing had brought him back. Not Margo beating on his chest, Fen crying over him, and then there was himself talking to Eliot whispering shared memories. The healers at the infirmary couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t waking up as his body was perfectly fine. So they’d taken him back to Kady’s loft so he’d be in a less frantic environment if when he woke up.

After the second day, Margo and Fen had been forced back to Fillory. Something about talking animals revolting or maybe the nymphs were going insane. Quentin if asked couldn’t give an answer. His focus had been solely on the brunette man lying peacefully on the bed. Putting the book down Quentin ran his fingers over the spine of the old much loved paperback.

Julia and Penny 23 were off doing goddess knows what, goddess knows where. Q had promised her that he wouldn’t lose himself in trying to wake Eliot up. Julia and Penny had tried to gain access to his mind, but had been rejected or barred from Eliot’s mind palace. When that had failed, Alice and Zelda had offered to search the library for anything about being unable to wake up following a possession.

“Remember those mornings back in Fillory when the sun would catch the dew just right and refract little rainbows everywhere?” Q murmured, shifting so he could stretch his back out and look around the room. “You would bend the light with Popper 98 and Teddy would giggle for ages.”

“You were always so good with him, especially after Arielle passed. Then we just gave each other a chance,” Quentin laughed, to himself scrubbing a hand over his face. Tears pricking his eyes as he looked down at the love of his life. “Gods, I miss Teddy and Arielle so much. You promised me El, you said I’d never have to do this alone. So you can’t stay in there forever.”

“I just -- need you to wake up.” Standing for the first time in a day-maybe two. His bladder screaming. His stomach knotted and nauseous he moved slowly through Kady’s loft to the bathroom. Wincing at his reflection Margo would call him an idiot. He had school, friends to help, a kingdom to support, and he was wallowing. His eyes sunken, hair growing out again, god he needed a haircut bad. Scrubbing his hands clean and zipping his pants he groaned.

Dragging himself through the loft toward the kitchen. The empty mug from someone who had given him a beverage of some sort in his hand. No one seemed to be around. Which was probably better, Quentin didn’t think he could handle conversation with anyone right now. Turning on the coffee pot that someone, probably Julia had set up before. He leaned against the counter.

None of the books on magical comas had any idea what to do about this, they all said once the spell or the possession had ended, the soul of the original inhabitant would return. If they hadn’t been completely snuffed out. As long as the body wasn’t dead or hadn’t been killed while possessed, everything should be okay. Eliot should have woken right the fuck up. Yet, Eliot was unconscious upstairs, and Q was here making coffee and searching his tired brain for something that would fix this.

“Q, you in there?” Kady’s voice broke through to him finally and he looked up from were his head had been resting on his hands. When had she-god he was tired.

“Not really Kady,” he admitted looking at his fri-acquaintance, honestly at this point he was as close to Kady as he’d ever be. Hew as still not as close to her as Margo, Julia or Alice. But, Kady was here.

“I take it Sleeping Beauty hasn’t woken up,” Kady asked, pouring both of them a cup of coffee. “Cause you look awful Coldwater.”

“Gee thanks, and no he’s still sound asleep,” Quentin murmured, taking the cup she’d slid his way. Offering a gentle smile he sipped at the coffee and let out a bit of tension in his shoulders.

“Why don’t you just kiss him,” she asked, clearly joking, “you love him enough that you were willing to burn the world to get him back. Doesn’t true loves kiss always wake the princess?”

“Har har-” Q glared at Kady before he remembered that Fillory had also been a story “-wait that could work,” Quentin said, bolting back up the stairs to the room he was sharing with Eliot, though Eliot was sound asleep.

“Q it’s not going to work, that’s just a freaking kids story,” Kady shouted, shaking her head feeling bad for the nerd. It was just another disappointment in the making. Sipping her coffee she sent off a quick group text <Q’s trying something dumb, come back in case it doesn’t work.>

Standing in the door way he looked at the prone body of the man he’d lived fifty years with, the king he wanted to protect and guard for all time. Walking slowly over to the side of the bed, praying to Julia as hard as he possibly could that it worked. He leaned down. Eliot’s lips were warm and dry as he kissed him gently, pulling away. Nothing.

“Eliot Waugh you fucking pain in my ass. Get up, or I swear to god I am done,” he whispered, dropping down onto his knees at the side of the bed. Looking at the love of his life, who even with a kiss hadn’t woken up. Burying his head in his hands he started to finally cry. He couldn’t fix anything.

“Brave...for you,” Eliot’s voice was a rasp, Q looked up eyes glossy and cheeks wet.

“El?” Q whispered, cupping Eliot’s face gently as he turned to look at him. Blinking.

“I need to be braver for you,” Eliot coughed out, sitting up feeling musty and gross but no longer locked in his mind. He couldn’t go somewhere he’d never been and the room wasn’t familiar. Also Q’s hair was shorter than he remembered it. He was awake.

“Oh god, I have to get Margo back from Fillory. You’re awake,” Q rambled, looking at Eliot who was blinking and moving around slowly. Pulling himself into a seated position as he looked from Q to the room and back. Pulling away only to have the man in question grab his hand. Intertwining their fingers tightly.

“Q don’t leave me,” he murmured, looking at their joined hands. Q was the only thing he recognized. Q was here, they’d done it -he’d done it. He’d saved him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Q said, switching tactics to pull out his phone. Texting Kady that El was up and to get Margo here asap. He put his phone away and sat on the bed all without breaking the grip Eliot had on his hand.

Eliot was shaken to his core, he’d stumbled across the memories of Teddy and their life in Fillory. He’d made a refuge there, watching his family grow. Reliving the memories in his mind as he waited to either wake up or die, whichever came first. Suddenly everything had started to fade, first the cottage then his memory self, then Teddy and finally Q. Tears started to pour down his cheek.

“El what’s wrong?” Quentin asked, gently running his fingers through Eliot’s hair as the taller man dropped his head onto his shoulder. Sobs shaking his body.

“I was with him Q, I was rewatching all of Teddy’s firsts. Now I’m awake and you’re here. I love that, but he’s gone,” Eliot whimpered wrapping his arms around Q’s waist, feeling broken and tired. Gods he felt so tired.

“Oh El.” He wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him tight. Running his hand over Eliot’s back gently. “Teddy is always in your heart, so he’s never gone.”

“So you and Alice?” Eliot sniffed, reading himself for rejection. It was always Q and Alice. It was best to ask now, make sure he didn’t make a fool of himself.

“You have got to be kidding me, I literally give you true loves kiss, and you think I’m back together with Alice?” Q asked, snorting at the thought. “No she’s off helping Zelda and Harriet rebuild the library. I think, or somewhere else, I didn’t really care honestly.”

“So you’re single?” El asked, wiping at his eyes, feeling foolish.

“That depends on you Waugh, am I?” Q asked, looking at the man he’d been madly in love with for almost a year. A man he’d been ready to die for, and one he would rip the world apart brick by brick to bring home.

“Absofuckinglutely not,” Eliot said, more forcefully than he’d originally intended. Cupping Q’s face in his hands he looked into Q’s eyes. “I love you Quentin Coldwater. You’re never getting rid of me again. No more running. No more bullshit. I’m yours.”

“I love you too Eliot,” Quentin said, his thoughts torn. Maybe he could fix somethings after all.

#writing corner #queliot #the magicians #sleeping beauty au #lets all be fucking real Eliot is a princess through and through #playing the part of sleeping beauty fits him #thanks to my dearheart for listening to me grumble and second guess myself about this piece #hope you all enjoy this #my writing

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mistressdickens · 6 years ago

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A little piece of Oscars thinking

This morning I saw a post which claimed Glenn Close had never deserved a single Oscar nomination in her entire career, but she was probs going to win because eh, it’s time and whatevs and even though I can’t actually find the post anymore, I just wanna write my feelings about the Oscars as a whole, and Glenn Close in particular because I found the post hilarious, especially as it was meant to be super salty, and I just ... laughed.

I wrote something else recently about awards, which I’ll be the first to admit wasn’t pitched the right way, and seemingly set one actress against another. That’s not my intention here.

This post is therefore written with a huge amount of passion, very little wit, a heavy reliance on IMDB and Wikipedia lists, and a general knowledge that no one is going to read it, but I may as well write it anyway. In a sense I am going to the matresses for Glenn Close.

(Here I would put a gif of Tom Hanks blowing on his fingers and starting to type from You’ve Got Mail, but I can’t find it, so the above joke is basically ruined).

The academy awards are a big pile of garbage (one that I get sucked into almost every year), and have rarely recognised the ‘best’ in cinema, but have rather followed the zeitgeist flavour of the month (La La Land being a case in point), and often rewarding campaigns rather than performance. The academy awards of 1999 being a superb case in point here, where Shakespeare in Love won 7 awards, including best supporting actress for Judi Dench (which I remain convinced was because the academy went ‘oops, we fucked up’ when they didn’t give her the award for the superb Mrs Brown). 1998 boasted The Truman Show, Ever After, Patch Adams, Little Voice, How Stella Got Her Groove Back to name but a few, ALL of which garnered few to none nominations. It’s no coincidence that Miramax were the production company for Shakespeare in Love, and a certain wine stain threw his weight around to get the results he wanted.

It’s nowhere near as bad as the mid to late 80s. I think everyone was high. Sean Connery winning for The Untouchables instead of Denzel Washington for Cry Freedom? I thought the Oscars loved a true story of overcoming adversity? But #oscarssowhite has been a thing long before hashtags were invented.

The fact that Glenn Close has been nominated seven times but has yet to win has nothing to do with her talent as an actor (which is brilliant, and has been overshadowed by a number of other actresses, not least Meryl Streep, although they’ve only gone head to head three times (in 1988, when they both lost out to Cher ...., 1989, when they both lost out to Jodie Foster, and 2012 when Streep won for The Iron Lady (again with the zeitgeist). I’m not even knocking Streep for her multiple nominations - the woman is a class act, and has gone longer between wins than most people (having been nominated 12 times between her wins in 1983 and 2012). Luckily for her, it is easier to understand the losses in this century, when you look back at her competition. I’ve said it before, and I say it again - the 80s were weird.

I’ve seen it said that Glenn Close is bound to win just because she hasn’t already done so (although that logic didn’t work for Richard Burton) which completely detracts from the atristry of her work. Not that Close herself refuses to acknowledge the body of work that’s behind her, nor that this will be in people’s minds. In a recent article for the Daily Herald she said ‘People have been going back and looking at my basic body of work and the six times I lost and what those roles were. So I can't pretend it's just for 'The Wife.'

The simple fact is though that it shouldn’t matter. If you’re an actor over a certain age, you should be considered in light of that you’ve done in the past, and not just the nominated stuff. I think the first thing I ever saw her in (apart from 101 Dalmations) was something called Paradise Road, and I’ve never got over that film. It’s stunning. I wanted to watch everything she ever did after that.

The funny thing is that The Wife is slightly zeigtgisty (is that even a word. It is now). It taps into the Time’s Up and Me Too movements in a way I’m not sure any of us would have expected, and without saying a word, Glenn Close shows us exactly how being a woman and sidelined feels (then she explodes and it is awesome in it’s ferocity).

I could go on, and I could denounce Close’s ‘category sisters’ (as she so wonderfully calls them) but they are all wonderful and deserve the recognition of the work they have been doing. I could wonder why Rachel Weisz wasn’t nominated for Disobedience, ANY of the cast of Oceans 8, Saorsie Ronan for On Chesil Beach, Emma Thompson for The Children Act, Rupert Everett for The Happy Prince, Rosamund Pike for A Private War (although I remain confused which year that sits in terms of nominations), Viola Davis for Widows, but I guess them’s the breaks, and we’ll never know who was on the long list before the final 5 were announced. It’s SUCH a lottery, and based on so much institutional bias and favouritism that you’d be better off throwing a dart on a massive board of names to try and pick a winner.

In short, if Glenn Close wins this year it will be for her superlative performance in The Wife AND for her fantastic 45 year career, and I for one do not have a problem with that.

#glenn close #academy awards #oscars #in which I go on a slight rant

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