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kcrabb88 · 3 years

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Queer Movies/Books/TV Shows for Pride Month!

Happy Pride everyone!! For your viewing/reading pleasure I have made a (non-exhaustive) list of queer media that I have enjoyed!

Movies/Documentaries

Pride (2014): An old tried and true favorite, which meets at the intersection of queer and workers’ rights. A group of queer activists support the 1985 miners’ strike in Wales (complete with a sing-through of Bread and Roses + Power in a Union)

Portrait of a Lady on Fire: On an isolated island in Brittany at the end of the eighteenth century, a female painter is obliged to paint a wedding portrait of a young woman (or, two young lesbians fall in love by the sea, and you cry)

God’s Own Country: Young farmer Johnny Saxby numbs his daily frustrations with binge drinking and casual sex, until the arrival of a Romanian migrant worker for lambing season ignites an intense relationship that sets Johnny on a new path (Seriously this movie is GREAT and doesn’t get enough love, watch it! It’s rough but ends happily)

The Half of It: When smart but cash-strapped teen Ellie Chu agrees to write a love letter for a jock, she doesn't expect to become his friend - or fall for his crush (as in she falls for his crush who is another girl. This movie was so good, and really friendship focused!)

Saving Face: A Chinese-American lesbian and her traditionalist mother are reluctant to go public with secret loves that clash against cultural expectations (this is an oldie and a goodie, with a happy ending!)

Moonlight: A young African-American man grapples with his identity and sexuality while experiencing the everyday struggles of childhood, adolescence, and burgeoning adulthood (featuring gay men of color!)

Carol: An aspiring photographer develops an intimate relationship with an older woman in 1950s New York (everyone’s seen this I think, but I couldn’t not have it here)

Milk: The story of Harvey Milk and his struggles as an American gay activist who fought for gay rights and became California's first openly gay elected official (the speech at the end of this made me cry. Warning, of course, for death, if you don’t know about Harvey Milk)

Pride (Hulu Documentary): A six-part documentary series chronicling the fight for LGBTQ civil rights in America (they go by decade from the 50s-2000s, and there is a lot of great trans inclusion in this)

Paris is Burning (Documentary): A 1990s documentary about the African American and Latinx ballroom scene. Available on Youtube!

A New York Christmas Wedding: As her Christmas Eve wedding draws near, Jennifer is visited by an angel and shown what could have been if she hadn't denied her true feelings for her childhood best friend (this movie is SO CUTE. It’s really only nominally a Christmas movie and easily watched anytime. Features an interracial sapphic couple!)

TV Shows

Love, Victor: Victor is a new student at Creekwood High School on his own journey of self-discovery, facing challenges at home, adjusting to a new city, and struggling with his sexual orientation (this is a spin-off of Love, Simon, and it’s very sweet and well done! Featuring a young gay man of color)

Sex Education: A teenage boy with a sex therapist mother teams up with a high school classmate to set up an underground sex therapy clinic at school (this has multiple queer characters, including a featured young Black gay man and also in season 2 there is a side ace character!)

Black Sails: I mean, do I even need to put a summary here? If you follow me you know that Black Sails is full of queer pirates, just queers everywhere.

Gentleman Jack: A dramatization of the life of LGBTQ+ trailblazer, voracious learner and cryptic diarist Anne Lister, who returns to Halifax, West Yorkshire in 1832, determined to transform the fate of her faded ancestral home Shibden Hall (Period drama lesbians!!! A title sequence that will make you gay just by watching!)

Tales of the City (2019): A middle-aged Mary Ann returns to San Francisco and reunites with the eccentric friends she left behind. "Tales of the City" focuses primarily on the people who live in a boardinghouse turned apartment complex owned by Anna Madrigal at 28 Barbary Lane, all of whom quickly become part of what Maupin coined a "logical family". It's no longer a secret that Mrs. Madrigal is transgender. Instead, she is haunted by something from her past that has long been too painful to share (this is based on a book series and it’s got lots of great inter-generational queer relationships!)

The Haunting of Bly Manor: After an au pair’s tragic death, Henry hires a young American nanny to care for his orphaned niece and nephew who reside at Bly Manor with the chef Owen, groundskeeper Jamie and housekeeper, Mrs. Grose (sweet, tender, wonderful lesbians. A bittersweet ending but this show is so so wonderful)

Sense8: A group of people around the world are suddenly linked mentally, and must find a way to survive being hunted by those who see them as a threat to the world's order (queers just EVERYWHERE in this show, of all kinds)

Books

Loveless by Alice Oseman: Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day. This wise, warm and witty story of identity and self-acceptance sees Alice Oseman on towering form as Georgia and her friends discover that true love isn’t limited to romance (don’t be turned off by this title, it’s tongue-in-cheek. This is a book about an aroace college girl discovering herself and centers the importance and power of platonic relationships! I have it on my TBR and have heard great things)

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters: Reese almost had it all: a loving relationship with Amy, an apartment in New York City, a job she didn't hate. She had scraped together what previous generations of trans women could only dream of: a life of mundane, bourgeois comforts. The only thing missing was a child. But then her girlfriend, Amy, detransitioned and became Ames, and everything fell apart. Now Reese is caught in a self-destructive pattern: avoiding her loneliness by sleeping with married men.Ames isn't happy either. He thought detransitioning to live as a man would make life easier, but that decision cost him his relationship with Reese—and losing her meant losing his only family. Even though their romance is over, he longs to find a way back to her. When Ames's boss and lover, Katrina, reveals that she's pregnant with his baby—and that she's not sure whether she wants to keep it—Ames wonders if this is the chance he's been waiting for. Could the three of them form some kind of unconventional family—and raise the baby together?This provocative debut is about what happens at the emotional, messy, vulnerable corners of womanhood that platitudes and good intentions can't reach. Torrey Peters brilliantly and fearlessly navigates the most dangerous taboos around gender, sex, and relationships, gifting us a thrillingly original, witty, and deeply moving novel (again, don’t be thrown off by the title, it too, is tongue-in-cheek. This book was GREAT, and written by a trans women with a queer-and especially trans--audience in mind)

A Tip for the Hangman by Allison Epstein: A gay Christopher Marlowe, at Cambridge and trying to become England’s best new playwright, finds himself wrapped up in royal espionage schemes while also falling in love (this book is by a Twitter friend of mine, and it is a wonderful historical thriller with a gay man at the center).

Creatures of Will and Temper by Molly Tanzer: a very very queer remix of The Picture of Dorian Gray (which was already quite queer), featuring amazing female characters, a gay Basil, and a much happier ending than the original.

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston: The gay prince of England and the bisexual, biracial first son of the president fall in love (think an AU of 2016 where a woman becomes president). Featuring a fantastic discovery of bisexuality, ruminations on grief, and just a truly astonishing book. One of my favorites!

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston: For cynical twenty-three-year-old August, moving to New York City is supposed to prove her right: that things like magic and cinematic love stories don’t exist, and the only smart way to go through life is alone. She can’t imagine how waiting tables at a 24-hour pancake diner and moving in with too many weird roommates could possibly change that. And there’s certainly no chance of her subway commute being anything more than a daily trudge through boredom and electrical failures. But then, there’s this gorgeous girl on the train (This is Casey McQuiston’s brand new novel featuring time-travel, queer women, and I absolutely cannot WAIT to read it)

The Heiress by Molly Greely: Set in the Pride and Prejudice universe, this takes on Anne de Bourg (Lady Catherine’s daughter), and makes her queer!

Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters: Nan King, an oyster girl, is captivated by the music hall phenomenon Kitty Butler, a male impersonator extraordinaire treading the boards in Canterbury. Through a friend at the box office, Nan manages to visit all her shows and finally meet her heroine. Soon after, she becomes Kitty's dresser and the two head for the bright lights of Leicester Square where they begin a glittering career as music-hall stars in an all-singing and dancing double act. At the same time, behind closed doors, they admit their attraction to each other and their affair begins (Sarah Waters is the queen of historical lesbians. All of her books are good, and they’re all gay! The Paying Guests is another great one)

(On a side note re: queer books, there are MANY, these are just ones I’ve read more recently. Also there are a lot of indie/self-published writers doing great work writing queer books, so definitely support your local indie authors!)

#I am inevitably forgetting things!!!#These are just ones that came to mind #Long post #Pride

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non-bee-knees · 3 years

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I just rewatched “The First”

And let me tell you;

I’ve seen a lot of this franchise in a relatively short amount of time

I got into it just before the summer holidays, June-ish, and since then I’ve seen most of the Specials and Movies (some are…very questionable😓), a few episodes a piece of Part 1 and 2, as well as all of Parts 4 and 5, some episodes twice or even three times (think the Jigen and Goemon eps from part 4, any ep that involved Albert in part 5 and the part 5 finale eps) and I’ve read and written my fair share of FanFics (even the supposed ‘OOC’ ones are still in character btw, yall are doing gods work with your writing) and I gotta say,

After all of that, coming back and watching this movie, as absolutely spectacular as it is, just feels out of place, for a reason I couldn’t figure.

Until I did.

So, with no other way to begin phrasing this will-be-essay of a post, here it is:-

They made Zenigata stupid.

Obviously, he’s not an idiot, that’s not fair to say, but we see through other movies, as well as parts 4 and 5 that he knows the Lupin and the gang inside out, from figuring out it was Jigen in that Chapel in his part 4 ep, to knowing Lupin would go after Fuji in part 5, he can figure out Lupins next move like nothing, calling card or not.

So for him in this movie to just not be up to that, he feels lacky almost, letting his guards try catch Lupin rather than do it himself (until that desert scene, where he’s tricked). Yeah he’s still smart, but it doesn’t feel like he has it all figured out yet. He feels like “The First Contact” kinda smart

Next, my Dear Goemon.

I’m impressed, really, because they took one of the most annoyingly standoffish and quiet characters, AND MADE HIM MORE SO!

But not quite. He’s not himself.

He’s been quiet before, and standoffish before, but this feels different. Before hand it felt he wasn’t talking/interacting with the others by choice, but here, it felt more like he wanted to say things, but wasn’t sure how. He was just awkward. And while I love that, it wasn’t him.

That scene where he didn’t want to give up his sword, he felt childish in complaining about it, where as in another other movie/series of the show he’d had thrown hands at the idea of it.

Even back in the original Red Jacket series and other Red movies, he isn’t like this, isn’t as unsure as this.

Next: Fujiko.

Right off the bat; I don’t like her. I can’t tell you why, because I don’t know, because as much as I hate the bitch, I fucking love her at the same time. It’s a very mixed vibe.

The summary about her is shorter, because she is one of the few characters who hasn’t changed much (in my opinion). She has gotten more empathetic over time, I think, but I don’t pay too much attention to her really.

What I did notice is that she was very sloppy. She got caught out of her scam with the suitcase very quick, and you can’t tell me that it’s because that guy was smart. No he wasn’t. She was also surprisingly co-operative with the gang, something she usually seems reluctant on, at least without some reward. And while she did complain, it was only once, and she wasn’t trying to get something out of it afterwards. She wasn’t as fleshed out in her whole “scamming” business yet.

Finally, Jigen.

(I’m not gonna do Lupin, as his character is very hard to place at the best of times, but hasn’t changed too much really)

Jigen right off the bat, is not the man we know and love today. He too feels like he’s more of a few episodes after “The First Contact” kinda development. Without a second glance he shuts down Lupins idea of the Bresson Diary, despite the fact we know they been through worse for less. He doesn’t really care. And even though he never says it, it feels like he could have called Lupin ‘Boss’ in this movie and gotten away with it.

He, at the point of this film, feels like he’s only in it for the money. Maybe he’s starting to grow attached to Lupin, which is why he goes after him, but still, they don’t have that bond yet.

Where am I going with this nonsense?!

This film starts by calling out that the first scene takes place in World War 2, probably near the end, so let’s say on a late end, it’s ‘44.

Then just after the open title, we see that it’s “more than a Decade later”, and we get to see Laetitia for the first time. I’m not saying she’s anymore that 18-ish, so let’s take the late end again and say she’s 20.

Given that ‘44 year before and the 20 year age gap, we can safely say, even at the latest, this movie takes place in the mid ‘60’s.

If we can guess about the Gangs ages, with what we know, we can say that Goemon is about a year or two older than Laetitia, say 22-ish. Fujiko isn’t far behind, nor Lupin, say 25-ish and 27-ish respectively, with Jigen pulling rear at around 30. (These are all just guesses)

All of that together puts this film at the very earliest, timeline wise, that we’ve seen the Gang together, even earlier than the OG Green series, which we can assume takes place in the 70’s, the years it was produced (Ik the manga was written earlier but the show would probably have taken elements from the year it was produced in)

Basically!

That explains why they’re all so odd. They haven’t gotten to know each other yet, they haven’t been in the job long enough to figure the kinks out!

Ik that Zeni obviously knows a few of Lupins tricks, indicating that he’s been after him at least for a hot minute, but this could be one of the first times that the Gang (Zeni included) are all working together!

And I kinda like it, looking from that perspective, that they don’t really know that they’re doing yet.

If they make another CGI film I hope they keep it in the older era, and that they keep this newer feel to their partnerships together.

ANYWAYS.

Im so hyped for Part 6, seeing Albert AND Yata in the trailer says to me that even though it’s a different Jacket, it is indeed a rough carry on of the last 2 seasons. CANT WAIT :))

(All of this is my person opinion and take on the film and the characters, please feel free to give your own take on the subject, I’d love to here y’all’s opinions too x)

THANK YOU IF YOU READ THIS FAR X

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ironlime · 3 years

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60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

#the glorious 25th of may #night watch #discworld #sam vimes #gnu terry pratchett #fanfiction #john keel #terry pratchett #writing

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breitzbachbea · 3 years

Note

#11 and #41 for turgre!

Thank you for sending the prompt in!

Fanfic Trope Mash Up

#11 Neighbour AU + #41 Big Damn Kiss =

Herakles & Sadık are both recent university graduates from Athens & İstanbul, but find themselves lacking opportunities to work in their homecountries. So they go abroad to try their luck elsewhere.

Both end up in Germany. Herakles' is living with the Simonides old family friends who've either migrated decades ago or are living as expats in Germany. Natasa and Ibrahim welcome Herakles with open arms. He immediately makes friends with their twins, only a few years younger than him. Omar and Timothea, as they're called, are still living with their parents while they're attending the local university. They're not living in luxury, but they're happy.

Sadık manages to get in contact with Havva Be Yauno via some university acquaintances. They migrated to Germany a while ago, after being kicked out working in local administration. Sadık gets to share a small flat in the building Havva manages for the landlord, together with a Kurdish Woman called Dilan Taş. After some initial hiccups, the two become close friends.

The hiccups with their neighbours next door are less initial. No, that's a lie - The Simonides don't mind their new neighbours, even invite them for coffee and tea. Omar pretty quickly evolves a crush on Dilan.

It's just Herakles and Sadık who keep butting heads.

They argue about petty semantics that only people who studied 'breadless art' would care about. Herakles complains that they're too loud at night. Sadık says Herakles is dragging stray cats into the house by leaving out food & now the whole staircase stinks. There's always something.

As time goes on, they get over themselves a little. Too busy with their own life. Sadık feeds the cats with scraps he gets from the Turkish butcher. Herakles comes over after it's been eerily quiet for weeks and finds out that Sadık's latest odd job makes him work at night. He actually finds him slumped over on the kitchen table when Dilan lets him in before she leaves for work. He goes back and leaves him a package of expensive coffee beans that he had imported from Greece.

One night, they end up together on the university campus. Sitting on the steps surrounding a piece of green near a small river. The city's barely still awake, there's only music, TV and chatter from the dorms. The occassional student crossing after they stayed late at the library.

"What did you actually study?" Sadık asked and put the lighter back into his pocket. It was a cheap one with a wheel. Pain in the ass to get working at this point. His last money had been spent on the cigarettes themselves.

Herakles took a deep breath through his nose. He stared at the water, flowing invisibly except for a few dancing white and orange specks. "Philosophy," he said.

Sadık chuckled and the chuckle quickly became a laugh. "Oh, what a surprise that you couldn't find a job with such a prestigious degree." He grinned and exhaled some smoke.

"And history. Archaeology, Politics, Linguistics, Architecture, Maths... I dipped my toes into physics, too, for a little bit, but couldn't really make it."

Sadık's grin had long faltered. Herakles looked to the river. A smile replaced the initial surprise on Sadık's face. "Oho, a real Renaissance man, aren't you?"

"I like to learn. But all I could do with the few fields I actually managed to acquire a degree in was teach in school. And I'm just not... very good at that." He sighed. Long. "But my dad had stopped paying once I had gotten a job, not that he had ever really paid me enough, mind you, so... I had nowhere to go if I had quit."

"Except here." Sadık wished Herakles would have looked at him. To even catch a glimpse of him, a little bit of that beautiful face illuminated by the pale moon or the orange streetlights.

"Except here." Sadık finally had his wish granted. "What did you study?"

Sadık took a deep breath through his nose. His cigarette was almost finished. "Architecture, too. Tried to get into engineering, but couldn't quite make it. Would have loved to do Literature, frankly. I dunno, get a teaching position at an university, but Anne* always had higher plans for me. Career woman and all that, only wanted the best for me, too, so studying something almost as useless as philosophy wasn't really up for debate."

Now he was the one to stare into the river while he took another drag. He looked at his feet. His shoes could need a good cleaning.

"A smoking literature professor, how cliché," Herakles said and the deep shadows on his face hid how much it reflected the amusement in his voice. He leant in closer to Sadık and put a hand on his thigh. His inner thigh. "All the women would have gone wild over this."

"You think so?" Sadık asked, an expectant but cautious smirk on his face. Rest of his cigarette between his fingers. Herakles' weight on his thigh. He enjoyed his touch. The nights were so cold here in Germany. He leant in for a kiss.

Herakles' hand disappeared. "But I don't kiss smokers." The next moment, Sadık was engulfed in darkness as Herakles stood and blocked the streetlight. He turned and adjusted his jacket. "I have a job interview tomorrow, so see you around, I guess." He turned to just the right angle that Sadık could catch his grin.

He only had a dumbfounded stare as goodbye while Herakles climbed the stairs back to street level.

Some time after this incident, Herakles gets a job as research assisstant at the local university. It's initially only for a project of the history facculty, but he's happy nonetheless.

Now that he knows Sadık enjoys literature, he tells the Simonides one time the topic crops up & they know of a regional literature club, who's holding public reading nights. Any author can show up and read their pieces for 10 Minutes to an audience. Omar tells Dilan, who knows that Sadık writes poetry. She thinks he should go and so after she bullied him into it, they do.

Sadık becomes a regular guest there and ends up meeting other literature enthusiasts, like the Beilschmidts. (He and Gilbert bicker a lot about what the other writes, both trying to take the other down a peg). Sadık never tells Herakles any of this.

So imagine his surprise when he spots him one night in the audience. Afterwards, he's torn between sneaking out and going straight up to him, but Herakles makes the decision for him.

"I didn't know you wrote poetry," Herakles finally broke the awkward stare-off.

"Well, now you do." Sadık closed his book and shoved it under his arm. With a grin, he asked: "You think it's good?"

Despite what followed, Herakles couldn't wipe the smile off his face: "I enjoyed it more than the other guy's crime story, at least."

Sadık gave a short bark of laughter. "Oh, you don't know half of it, Gilbert's been trying to make it work since forever. You got time for a coffee?"

So life's good. They're hanging out, they're working, they're pursueing their passions. One time, the heater in Sadık and Dilan's flat breaks and despite Havva trying their best to get it repaired and them a temporary replacement, they're freezing their asses off. So they go and visit their neighbours, who offer them to sleep over. Sadık is supposed to sleep on the couch. Dilan is supposed to sleep on a mattress in the Simonides' room. Both somehow end up sleeping in a Greek's bed instead. (Herakles has a really small room - his desk is even in the twins' room cuz it wouldn't fit in his own. Sadık asks if he wants coffee and they end up drinking coffee in his bed together and talk until they fall asleep.)

Life could be rosy. That is until one day, the Simonides get into real trouble with the landlord. You see, Natasa and Havva always had a tense relationship, because Natasa doesn't believe in playing by the rules too much, while Havva is a very organized person. However, now some things - like mayhaps Herakles living with them - have gotten directly to the landlord of the building and they're not amused. They threaten to evict them, unless Herakles is going - and want a hefty fine from the Simonides either way.

Getting a new home would mean severe financial strain, not to mention the fine. Omar and Thea may would have to pause or drop their studies. Herakles would have to go back to Greece and start from scratch.

Which he's willing to do, seeing how much trouble he caused the family, even if it breaks his heart. Natasa is having none of it - "I'm not sending you back to your son of a bitch, deadbeat dad, Iraklis" - and insists he stays.

Dilan and Sadık get wind of all of this and they're just as devasted as the family itself. They don't want to lose their neighbours. They don't want this to ruin Omar's and Thea's future. They don't want Herakles to leave. Sadık doesn't want Herakles to leave.

So he pleads with Havva to do something, anything, he'll help them do whatever it takes. Natasa is far too proud to do so. Maybe she even suspects that Havva had something to do with it. (They don't).

And through a lot of negotiation, bribery and running errands, the Simonides get to stay. Omar and Thea can continue pursueing their degrees in peace. Herakles gets to stay and keep working in Germany.

"You... You've spent your past weeks on this?" Herakles' stare pierced Sadık as much as it seemed to look right through him. His mouth hung open, jaw slack. "This was all your doing?"

Sadık took a deep breath, but had to settle for a rather unintelligent "Well, yeah." Herakles' stare unsettled him. He had never seen him at a loss for words before. He was even afraid the other might faint.

A heartbeat later, Sadık was afraid he might faint. Herakles had taken a step towards him, grabbed his face and pressed his lips onto Sadık's. It knocked the breath out of him.

His lips were soft. They were so soft and hot and melded with his own effortlessly.

He kissed back, hands on Herakles' face, fingers buried in the messy hairy. The pressure between them was right, felt right, made them one for a brief eternity.

It ended as abruptly as it had begun. They both took a deep breath through their nose and Herakles panted loudly as he exhaled through the mouthm He swallowed.

"Herakles, I don't think that that's an appropriate enough Thank you", Ibrahim said, but neither of the two barely even registered it. Natasa laughed. Loudly.

"Oh, no, I think it's more than enough," Sadık replied as he stared at the wall next to Herakles' head. His hands were still on his face. "Although..." Ibrahim and Natasa were talking in Greek when he faced Herakles again. She still chuckled while a grin stole itself onto his face. "I think I could go for a little bit more gratitude, after all we've done."

"Don't push it," Herakles warned him. Yet, his cockyness was rewarded with another kiss.

Sadık's tongue slipped between his lips effortlessly. As if it belonged there.

Like Herakles belonged here.

So... yeah! I hope you liked it!

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thishintoflove · 3 years

Text

‘tis the damn season - A Narcos Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: 18 + Explicit (Language, P/V sex, Car sex), 2.4k words of angsty smut

Summary: You and Javi are former high school sweethearts who occasionally meet up when you’re both back in town. Inspired by Texas!Javi from season 3 episode 1 of Narcos.

A/N: Thank you very much for reading this series and reblogging/commenting/liking, etc. I appreciate it so much!

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you

It's the same to me

You called him the night after Christmas. Your parents were in bed, your sister and nephews had returned home, and you were alone on the couch at your parents’ house.

You knew he was home for the holidays too. You’d seen him at Mass the day before last. He’d caught your eye as he passed by your family’s pew, walking quietly beside his father who seemed to stop and greet every person they passed. He gave you a small nod before moving on.

When you’d first caught a glimpse of him, you thought that maybe you were over it. Maybe you didn’t need him this time. Maybe the two of you could be in this damn town at the same time and not fall into old habits.

But now you're lonely and you're calling your ex high school sweetheart the day after Christmas, asking to meet up for old times sake.

“Javi…” you whispered into the landline when you heard him pick up.

“Want to meet at the usual spot?”

No greeting. He knew it was you. He knew what you were calling for. It’s been your pattern for so many years now.

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, but you knew you weren’t going to change your mind. It was too late and you needed him, even if you tried to convince yourself you didn’t. “Yeah, the usual spot.”

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Look for my dad’s truck.”

And it always leads to you in my hometown

I parkеd my car right between the Methodist

And thе school that used to be ours

The first thing you did after you hopped into the passenger seat of the truck was kiss him. Javi reached forward to cup the sides of your face, kissing you back just as desperately. His mustache scraped the sensitive skin around your mouth but you didn’t care. It felt like coming home.

Your back protested as you leaned across the console. You were too old for this. He was too old for this. But this was the way when it came to the two of you.

You moaned into his mouth as he bit your lip and his hands slipped down to caress your sides. Javi moved away from your lips and trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, and then your neck. You gasped as he found the sensitive spot below your ear, your nails digging into his shoulders as he sucked. You couldn’t help the way you squirmed in your seat, desperate for more friction.

In high school you used to kiss like this on any available surface. Against the lockers, on the bleachers, in your childhood bedroom, in the older model of his dad’s truck. You were always searching for a place to be alone and explore each others’ bodies. Sometimes it felt like nothing had really changed.

The holidays linger like bad perfume

You can run, but only so far

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

Laredo, Texas called you home for the holidays and you showed up like the dutiful daughter you were. Los Angeles wasn’t that far, comparatively, but you didn’t like the feelings that your hometown created in you. The expectations. The traditions. The disappointment.

He was back from Columbia, on his once-per-year-at-best visit. He always had to one-up you. You were considered a rebel for running off to LA to pursue a journalism career. But he went so far as to leave the country.

And maybe that’s why you continued to be drawn to one another. Laredo was a living time capsule to the two of you. It grew and changed for the people who lived there, but to you it will always be the place where you grew up dreaming of someplace else. So when you came back, you sought out the few things that hadn’t changed. He was familiar and safe, and even if he only lived in Laredo in your heart, it felt good to know you had someone waiting here for you when you came back.

Javi’s hand on your breast pulled you back to the present. You got the message and yanked your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes darkened as he stared at your chest before capturing your lips once more. You could feel his grin as he easily popped the clasp on your bra and used one large hand to massage your breast, the other tangling in your hair. It was hot and desperate, and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped as he tweaked your nipple.

“God, Javi, that feels amazing,” you gasped, your nerves tingling at all the sensations. It’s been longer than you care to admit since you had a man in bed and you were already embarrassingly wet. Javi knew all of your quirks and special spots, and he was all but guaranteed to make you see stars every time.

He pulled away for a moment to pull the lever on his seat, pushing it back as far as it would go before grasping at you. You didn’t hesitate-- you climbed over the center console to sit in his lap and immediately crushed your lips together again. He was already rock hard against your thigh so at least you weren’t the only one in danger of coming as quickly as you did as teenagers.

You ground your hips down against him, earning a loan groan as he squeezed your thighs with both hands. You fumbled with his belt as he slipped your jeans down. He slid one finger inside you, then another, working you open gently but efficiently. You moaned and dropped your head to his shoulder as you thrust against his hand. You let your own hands wander across his shoulders and the expanse of his back.

We could call it even

You could call me babe for the weekend

I'm stayin' at my parents' house

And the road not taken looks real good now

His body was achingly familiar, even with the changes caused by stress and time. His arms and his back were still muscled and his shoulders were as broad as ever, but his middle had softened and he had a bit of a tummy now. There were a few more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes than last time and there was a hint of grey in the stubble on his cheeks. But it didn’t matter. You were older and softer too. His eyes were the same deep chocolate brown as they always had been and he still moaned the same way when you tugged at the softly curled hair at the base of his skull.

You didn’t keep meeting him because you expected to see the same bright eyed, strapping boy of your youth. Even decades later, you wanted Javi because he was… well because he was Javi. And even if you only spoke a few times a year now, there was something about his presence that felt like coming home.

"God baby, the things I want to do to you..." he rasped, pulling back to look at you for a moment with lust darkened eyes.

You shushed him and leaned forward to capture his mouth again. You slipped a hand down to free him from his boxer briefs, giving him a quick tug that sent his eyes rolling back in his head. Before you could guide him in, he reached a hand down,

"Condom?" he ground out, glancing up at you from under his dark lashes. You cursed and reached back to the passenger seat for your purse and pulled one out. You handed it to him and slid back towards his knees as he fumbled with the packet.

"Hurry up. Need you now," you murmured, tugging at his ear with your teeth.

“Fuck,” he swore, finally rolling the damn thing on.

You grinned and pushed your hips down on him, eliciting a deep groan. He slipped inside, letting you have a moment to adjust before giving a shallow thrust. Soon you were moving in tandem, two bodies so familiar with each other that you didn’t need to speak.

Javi set a fast pace, driving into you hard and deep. “You’re so wet for me. Always are,” he told you between grunts, “What did I do to deserve you, baby?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” you moaned back. You put your hands on his chest, giving yourself leverage to twist as you moved up and down.

Javi gripped your hips tightly and you knew you’d have bruises later but you didn’t care. Your breathing picked up in time with his thrusts, and soon you could feel the pressure building deep inside your core. He slipped a hand down and rubbed your clit, and after only a few more thrusts you were undone. Your orgasm crashed over you and you cried out as your muscles clenched around him. You could tell he was close too as his thrusts became more erratic. Still reveling in the aftershocks, you leaned down and whispered in his ear, “cum for me, Javi”, and like a magic word he obeyed. He grunted as he spilled into the condom, pulling you close and then collapsing back against the seat.

You both lay still for a moment, letting your breathing return to normal. You reached up and brushed some stray hairs off his sweaty forehead before turning and resting your head against his shoulder. He buried his face in your hair and sighed. He mumbled something, but you were too blissed out and tired to tell what it was.

I wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

You remember being in high school. Being in love for the first time. Having sex for the first time.

Javier was your first in so many ways. You weren’t the type of girl to dream about your big white wedding, but you truly believed you loved him.

But as graduation crept near, the claustrophobia set in. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t you. It was both of you-- the pair of you were too similar. The world was so much bigger than Laredo and you both knew it. You were both too practical for your own good. So you left for journalism school in California, and he took a different, more dangerous path.

You couldn’t help but think about the road not taken as you rested against his sweaty chest. Javi surprised you by speaking first.

“You’re the only good part about coming back here, cariño.”

You pulled back to look at him, “That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? You think I come back to Laredo to shop at strip malls and drink watered down margaritas?” he scoffed.

“You come back to see your father. I know how much you love him, even if you’re not as close as you were,” you replied, absentmindedly tracing his jaw with one finger, “And don’t try to pretend that you come back here just for me.”

Javi caught your hand in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave the inside of your wrist a small kiss.

“Maybe you’re not the only reason,“ he said, “But you’re certainly a contributing factor. I love seeing you.”

It was always like this with Javi. It was easy to daydream about a future together when you were face to face-- in your post-coital haze, everything sounded so good and so easy. But you knew the truth.

He was lonely. You were lonely. And in the light of day, it would never work.

Once again you thought about how similar you were. Your careers were your first priority and you both solved your loneliness with casual sex. It could never be the other way around. Neither of you would be content with a quiet, domestic life.

“I like catching up with you too, Javi,” you replied, leaning in to press one more kiss to his lips, “But tomorrow we’re both going to catch a plane to very different places, and all of this will be a distant memory.”

You pulled away and slid back over to the passenger seat of the truck, feeling cold.

We could call it even

Even though I'm leavin'

And I'll be yours for the weekend

'Tis the damn season

You tried not to look at him as you adjusted your shirt and buttoned your pants, but you could feel him watching you. The windows were down and a slight breeze blew through the truck, but your goosebumps weren’t due to the cool night wind. You finally looked up at him again.

“What?” you asked. He blinked at you and then glanced down, focusing on re-buttoning his shirt.

“When’s the next time you’ll be in town?”

“Probably not until the summer, at the earliest. When will you be back? Two years from now?” you answered, rolling your eyes.

His silence answered your question and you knew him well enough to guess that he had no plans to come back here anytime soon. You tried not to think about the fact that he could die half a world away in the span of time before you might possibly see each other again. Worrying about Javier was the last thing you needed and you reminded yourself that he wasn’t really yours to worry about.

He was going back to Columbia and you had to focus on your career. You had your own life to live.

You hated how small your voice sounded when you finally spoke again. “What if I said that this is the last time?”

Javi let out a humorless chuckle, “You say that every time, baby.”

“I mean it, Javi. Maybe next year I’ll have a real boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get married on a whim-- do the whole ‘settling down’ thing.”

Javi hummed and reached over to brush your hair off your face. “If you’re married by the time I see you again, I promise I won’t say anything except ‘hello’ and ‘congratulations’.”

He pressed a light kiss to your temple before pulling away.

“But if you’re not married,” he continued, “I’ll meet you right here. Same spot. Same time.”

And who were you to disagree with Javier Peña?

#javier pena #javier peña x reader #narcos fanfic #agent peña #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

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green-blue-heller · 3 years

Text

Look What You Made Me Do (Cockles FanFic)

Title: Look What You Made Me Do

Pairing: Cockles (Jensen x Misha)

Fandom: Supernatural RPF

Rating: GA

A/N: Part of my 500 follower celebration. This was based off a prompt by @dolphindiluna.

If you want to send me a prompt based on the theme, coming out, check out my pinned post.

Words: 2729

Read on AO3

Jensen stood on the stage, Robbie and the boys of Louden Swain behind him, music pumping into his earbuds as he smiled at the roaring crowd. A wave of panic filled him as the opening notes of his intro music sent the crowd into a frenzy, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

In the back of his mind, there was a voice screaming at him to turn around and leave the stage as quickly as he could. That would be the smart thing to do. Especially since his stunt was about to lead to career suicide.

But as he glanced to his right, he caught sight of Misha and the smile on the other man’s face took his breath away. With a shy smile, he looked down at his feet for a moment.

You can do this, Jackles.

It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision that brought him up on stage during the con’s Saturday Night Special.

It started out as something he wanted to do for Misha. Which was totally the wrong reason to want to do this. But he’d had such a hard time after the show ended.

Truthfully, he’d been having a hard time the last couple of years, and Jensen knew he hadn’t made things easier. Misha had never shied away from his sexuality, while Jensen had still very much been in the closet except for a few close friends.

But the whole Destiel thing had been like watching a trainwreck you just couldn’t look away from. The network and studio handled things badly and forced Misha to take the brunt of it, even though it wasn’t anywhere near the scope of his responsibility.

But he did it.

And Jensen hated it.

There had been a few bigwigs in charge who hadn't known but highly suspected that Jensen and Misha had been an item. It wasn’t like they really hid it on set, but they didn’t flaunt it either.

Misha called their remarks whenever they were on set or at a con, a microaggression.

Jensen took his word for it, as he really had no clue, other than that Misha meant it was homophobic, even if they didn’t seem to be on the surface.

So, he wanted to do something for Misha. To show him that he was loved and appreciated. And that he was committed to him, even with the show being over.

Misha and Danneel were his forever. And he never wanted either of them to forget it.

He had spent long hours over the last couple of weeks leading up to Vegas Con, talking it out with not just Misha, but with Danneel and even Vicki. They, along with the kids, were his life. And he would never make a rash decision, especially a possibly life-altering one, without consulting them first.

But they understood what he wanted. And what it could mean for all of them.

And they were all ready to stand by his side, no matter what he chose.

So, two months after he first got that cursed idea, he found himself on stage, in Vegas for the first time since the show wrapped up.

What a clusterfuck that had been. He knew it was bad as soon as it had been pitched. There were too many ways that things could go wrong by the time they got to the finale. And boy, did they ever go wrong.

Not that he was against Dean and Cas ending up together.

Jensen snuck another peek at Misha and smiled to himself. No, he definitely did not mind Dean and Cas ending up together. They deserved to be as happy as he and Misha.

The only problem was that, as he suspected, by the time push came to shove, no one was able to pull the trigger.

They’d cocked the gun and pointed it, had Cas confess, but then the execs at the studio were on edge over the dailies they’d been sent. With a global pandemic knocking on their door, they were afraid to go with anything but sticking to the status quo.

Except the show had been anything but status quo for quite some time. They were just too slow to realize.

He knew some of it was personal bias but that most of it was business. Though they managed to screw up even that.

But he was at the con, and he was going to do what he could. For everyone involved who deserved some vindication. They deserved to know they weren’t crazy.

Jensen took a deep breath and looked out at the crowd and gave them the most charming Dean Winchester smile he could manage.

And it sent them wild.

“Hey, guys!” When the crowd cheered their own greeting back at him, Jensen grinned.

With another deep breath, he steeled his nerves and mentally nudged himself forward. This had been his idea, and he still knew and agreed that it was the best idea, but that didn’t make him any less nervous.

Especially since he knew he was about to piss off the studio execs who were footing a large portion of the bill for his and Danneel’s production company.

He was almost certain he could kiss that goodbye.

“Look, I know there has been a lot of discourse since the show ended, and even more questions. I wish I could give you all the answers you’re looking for, but I hope that tonight, we can clear some things up.”

He knew it wasn’t a lot, but he wanted to be able to give the fans as much as he could, as much as he was comfortable with.

“Wow,” he said with a chuckle. “I haven’t been this nervous up on stage in a long time.”

He grinned at Rob as the music morphed and the opening bars to a Taylor Swift song kicked into his ears.

Part of him felt stupid. This was a stupid song for him to sing. But it was fitting.

He didn’t like to be backed into a corner, nor did he like his loved ones to be put into uncomfortable positions. And that had happened with most of them since their twelve-to-fifteen-year tenure on Supernatural ended.

Jensen knew he made a lot of mistakes in the last decade, and tonight he planned on correcting some of them.

A cleansing breath went through his lungs as he caught sight of Misha again, who flashed him a grin and a thumbs up.

He could do it.

He needed to do it.

Misha deserved it.

Jensen deserved it.

Their wives deserved it.

He opened his mouth and as soon as he started to croon out the first line, his voice low and smooth like a fine whiskey, the fans erupted into such a frenzy. Jensen thought might never stop grinning.

“I don't like your little games

Don't like your tilted stage

The role you made me play of the fool

No, I don't like you

I don't like your perfect crime

How you laugh when you lie

You said the gun was mine

Isn't cool, no, I don't like you”

As Jensen finished the first verse of the song, he felt his confidence grow. He’d practiced - a lot. He knew what he was doing and he trusted the band to be there for him and back him up as they’d rehearsed.

They’d smoothed out some of the music, made it more fitting to his vocal style, and the crowd erupted as the music morphed into what was more likely to resemble a 90’s rock ballad than a Taylor Swift song.

In the back of his mind, he thought it was a little sacrilege, but he’d never admit it out loud.

“But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time

Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time

I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined

I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me do”

Jensen soon found himself bopping his head along with the crowd.

With a grin, he turned and strode over to Rob, who shook his head with a hearty laugh.

“I don't like your kingdom keys

They once belonged to me

You asked me for a place to sleep

Locked me out and threw a feast (what?)”

This was it.

His moment.

Their moment.

Jensen is no longer looking at the crowd. He’s all but forgotten there is even anyone else there as he continues to sing without even thinking about it.

How could he think, when he found himself lost in the perfect storm of those blue eyes that stared back into his green ones?

He moved with purpose as he marched across the stage.

“The world moves on, another day another drama, drama

But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma

And then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure

Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours”

And in one swift motion, he pulled Misha, who had taken his outstretched hand, and pulled him out on the stage and Rob picked up the vocals and sang the chorus.

They had taken a few steps back when they let go and Jensen’s hand reached up to cup Misha’s face while his left hand, which still had his microphone, snaked its way under his boyfriend’s arm and wrapped around his back.

Jensen gently pulled Misha against him, who complied, putting both his hands on Jensen’s hips as their lips met and lazily molded together.

They fit perfectly.

Kissing Misha wasn’t even something Jensen had to think about, it just came as naturally as kissing Danneel.

He was sure the crowd was going crazy, but all he could hear was the whimper he elicited from his boyfriend as their lips parted and Jensen’s tongue caressed Misha’s.

“But I got smarter

I got harder in the nick of time (nick of time)

Honey, I rose up from the dead

I do it all the time (I do it all the time)

I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined

I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!”

Jensen pulled away, hand sliding down to Misha’s shoulder, breathless as always when Misha is near.

“I love you, babe,” Jensen whispered as he looked into Misha’s shining eyes that threatened to spill tears. Because even though he knew what Jensen was planning, it was real, at that moment, and Jensen could see that it was hitting Misha harder than he could have imagined.

His heart swelled as he moved his hand from cupping Misha’s shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him into a hug.

As he turned their bodies to face toward the crowd, Jensen smiled, his own teary eyes taking in the crowd that had gone wild, and dropped a soft kiss onto the top of Misha’s head.

With a grin, he stepped back and glanced over his shoulder to see Rob grinning at him. He threw the other man a wink as he gave a nod of appreciation for all his support and love not only given to him, but to Misha.

As he turned his gaze back to the crowd, a wicked grin spread across his face as he tilted his head at Misha, who was still securely snuggled into his side, and brought the microphone back to his mouth.

“Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me do”

Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle into the microphone as he caught Misha’s eye roll. Of course, the older man thought he was being over the top and more protective than he needed to be. But he also knew how much it meant to him.

The look in his eyes, at the unshed tears and the smile that went on for miles, was all Jensen needed at that moment.

He knew he made the right decision. His family was more important than some job. There were plenty of things he could do besides acting or having a production company, if it actually came to that.

There was the Family Business Beer Company, there was Radio Company, not to mention the profits they turned from renovating houses and flipping them. And it wasn’t like the studio or network could now retroactively go back and undo the contract he already had for residuals from the show.

Jensen tried to swoop in and steal a kiss, but Misha let out a shy laugh and playfully pushed his face away as he gave one of his patented not-so-subtle winks. He immediately found himself letting out a chuckle as he let his arm fall from Misha’s shoulder and took a step forward, really paying attention to the crowd for the first time.

They were on their feet still, and going wild. All the bright lights from the cameras snapping pictures was a little much, especially since there wasn’t supposed to be flash photography, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain about anything at the moment.

As the bridge was about to kick in, he motioned with his hand for the crowd to join him.

“I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actor starring in your bad dreams”

He was grinning like a loon as he dropped his arm to his side, but he really didn’t care. Especially as he made his way back over to Misha and slid his hand home within Misha’s. They were a perfect fit.

“(Ooh, look what you made me do)

(Look what you made me do)

(Look what you just made me do)

I'm sorry

But the old Jensen can't come to the phone right now

Why? Oh, 'cause he's dead (oh)”

He knew he’d get in trouble for it later, but with a dramatic flourish, Jensen held his arm out in front of him and let the mic fall to the stage.

What were they going to do? Fire him?

As Jensen stared into the endless pools of Misha’s blue eyes, he didn’t really care what they did anymore.

He was going to do what he wanted, what felt right . And not let anyone else tell him differently.

And at that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss Misha.

His movement caught the other man by surprise, as he reached over and put one hand behind his back, and one behind his head, and gave him a slight dip before he leaned down and claimed his lips.

When they came up for air, they didn’t even realize there was anyone else in the room. They only had eyes for each other as they reached for each other at the same time, took each other’s hand, and walked off the stage as Rob and the band finished out the song.

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

Look what you just made me-

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do

If you want to be added or taken off my tag list, please let me know either in the comments or via a DM.

@dolphindiluna @kristina710

#supernatural rpf #rpf #jenmish #cockles #coming out #jackles sexy silence #doing the right thing #comfort misha #jensen done with the network and studio bullshit #taylor swift #look what you made me do

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yumeka36 · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Rebuild of Evangelion (all movies plus ending interpretation)

*Artwork credited to リオ on pixiv*

Now that Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time, the last movie of the Rebuild of Evangelion saga, has been released, I'm finally ready to discuss all the movies as a whole, including my interpretation of the ending...

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!

I've been a fan of Evangelion for nearly 20 years, starting back in 2002. After hearing the series praised by some classmates, I asked for the DVD set of the original TV anime for Christmas that year. I was 15 years old and a fairly new anime fan at the time, so naturally I was blown away by the show. The Internet was young then, and since there were no fandom wikis or YouTube explanation videos available in those days, I had to rely on a few scattered fan sites and my own resources (mostly bonus features on the old DVDs) to try and figure out the lore and symbolism. Even though many aspects of the series, as well as the eventual "true ending" movie, End of Evangelion, left me scratching my head, I still loved it and it left a long-lasting impression on me. And now, here I am almost two decades later, sharing my thoughts about the new movies...

-Before Thrice Upon a Time was released, I hadn't touched Evangelion since 3.33 came out in 2012. I had forgotten many details, and since Evangelion is a franchise that is fraught with nuances and subtleties that can be key to understanding what the heck is going on, I wanted to watch all the Rebuild movies again before watching Thrice Upon a Time. So I plowed through all four movies this week, and I gotta say, after being away from the franchise for so many years, I'm happy to report that I still thoroughly enjoyed it. But I can also recognize that it is definitely not a series for everyone. The drawn-out technobabble, constant introduction of lore jargon with little to no explanation, and the ambiguity between what's real and what's symbolic, can certainly turn off casual viewers (it gives Kingdom Hearts lore a run for its money!) Funnily enough, as I was watching the Rebuild movies, I was thinking, "I understood the lore better 20 years ago than I do now, lol" (maybe it's because I was younger and didn't have as strong of a theorizing mind as I do now!) But after reading through a bunch of pages on the EvaGeeks Wiki, I learned enough to get a gist of the story's vaguer elements. But unfortunately, the fact that information necessary for understanding the plot can only be found by Internet research, could certainly be a turn-off for viewers. But at the same time, for those willing to make the commitment, or at least appreciate the series' other qualities even if you can't follow many aspects of the lore, it's definitely an anime unlike any other. There's a reason it's been such a well-known franchise in Japan for so long.

-Asuka has been one of my favorite anime characters ever since I saw the original Eva TV series, and thankfully, I'm happy with what they did with her character in the Rebuild movies. My only complaint is that I preferred her original backstory that emphasized her relationship with her mother, rather than having a "clone-complex" similar to Rei. However, her character development in this new storyline made up for it. The Rebuild movies really nailed her abrasive, no-nonsense personality that hides depth within. There were also more scenes that showed her "softer" side, something I always felt was lacking in the original series, such as when she confides in Misato towards the end of 2.22 and when she confesses her feelings to Shinji in Thrice Upon a Time. I also felt her initial dislike for Shinji and Rei was a bit more warranted this time; despising the fact that they were able to become Eva pilots purely by connection to Gendo while she had to work hard for it. But again, we get more hints at her kinder side when she makes the sacrifice to help Rei get Shinji and Gendo together. This is pretty contrasting to the original series, where she was always oozing hate for Rei. Even their infamous elevator scene ended differently in 2.22 compared to the TV series, where instead of hitting and yelling at Rei, she agrees to help her (in her subtle, Asuka-way). Asuka and Rei also had a brief scene together when they were at Village 3 in Thrice Upon a Time, and the way Asuka talked to her made me feel like she actually cared about her, or at least didn't hate her. But even with the Rebuild movies giving Asuka more scenes to show her goodness, they still stayed true to her tough-love personality - it's not like she suddenly started smiling a lot, or gave Shinji a passionate hug, or broke out in tears...they developed her character without making her do a 180 change, which I appreciated. Even in her final scene with Shinji on the beach before he saves her (loved that scene, and the shoutout to End of Eva there) she still reacted in her "tsundere" way (though not as harshly of course). I'd also like to mention that they made the fourteen year time-skip in 3.33 very believable in terms of Asuka's growth. I really liked the hardened, lone-wolf, protector role she had in Thrice Upon a Time because it makes sense - fourteen years had passed and she not only matured during that time, but she had spent all those years being the sole Eva pilot along with Mari fighting to protect humanity, so settling into that kind of identity makes sense for her. But yeah, Asuka's always been a great character, and the Rebuild movies made her even more awesome in my opinion.

-When I first watched 2.22 years ago when it came out, I was puzzled that they decided to put Asuka in the Eva that Unit-01 ends up destroying rather than Toji. But looking back on it it now, it worked better since they had a plan for Toji's character that had nothing to do with the Evas. I did kind of miss Asuka's friendship with Hikari though (they could have tied that into her staying with Toji and Hikari at Village 3 instead of with Kensuke). I actually wrote a WYDS fanfic for End of Evangelion way back in 2003 that emphasizes Asuka and Hikari's friendship (that's somehow still on Fanfiction.net!) But she got a friendship with Mari instead, so it's fine, lol (I also liked that they removed her crush on Kaji, which I never thought fit well in the original series). But I do wish we got to see what was going through her mind while she was stuck in the Eva and getting attacked by Unit-01. We know she was aware of what was going on because she knew what Shinji did (that he didn't try to save her or attack) so it would have been nice to see a scene or two of her reactions.

-Misato was always my second favorite character after Asuka, but I wasn't thrilled with the coldness she exhibited towards Shinji after the time-skip in 3.33. I know she probably got hardened after all those years and maybe still felt resentment towards him for initiating Near Third Impact (which killed Kaji among others). But even so, I felt like her coldness was more to keep the suspense rather than stay true to her character (plus she was the one encouraging him to do what we wanted at the time of Near Third Impact). It makes sense for Asuka to be cold to Shinji, since she was always standoffish like that, but Misato was always shown to be a source of warmth and the most "human" of the characters. But at least she made up with Shinji in the end and got to finish her story arc with a bang (literally).

-I'm not sure if it's still a thing now, but back in the day, Shinji got a lot of hate from anime fans for being too whiny and indecisive when confronted with his task of piloting the Eva. But even all those years ago, I always thought those reactions made him believable. Maybe it's because he's compared to anime shonen heroes like Naruto and Luffy, who are always cheerful and brimming with motivation, while Shinji is pretty much the opposite of those kinds of characters. But it makes sense for him to be like that...if I were a fourteen-year old kid who never knew my mother, had a father who abandoned me, and had to live on my own in a crumbling world while witnessing death and destruction all around, I'd be pretty hesitant and scared too. He's definitely not a "wish-fulfilling" protagonist like many shonen and super heroes are, but a protagonist grounded more in reality, representing a disillusioned youth. So it was nice to see him finally get over his insecurities and be proactive with saving everyone at the end of Thrice Upon a Time (compared to everyone giving him the pep talk at the end of the original series). Though I did think his personality shift was a bit abrupt...he was at his lowest point at the beginning of Thrice Upon a Time, but the one kind gesture from Rei seemed to immediately snap him out of it. A little more gradual build-up to his change would have been better, but it's a nitpick.

-Mari was an enigma in 2.22 and 3.33, so I was hoping Thrice Upon a Time would give us her origin story. Unfortunately, it didn't offer much and maybe brought up more questions than not. My main question is, we see that she knew Gendo and Yui when they were younger, yet if she was their age then, that doesn't match up to the age she appears to be when Shinji first meets her. So she must have been afflicted with the "Eva curse" all those years back, which means she must have become an Eva pilot around that time, but it seems too soon. I thought the first Evangelion pilots didn't exist until after Yui died, so Mari should have been older...I don't know, I'm still having trouble figuring out her place in the timeline. But besides that, I did like her relationship with Asuka that we see in Thrice Upon a Time. Again, it makes sense in terms of the time-skip that they'd develop a good friendship after spending all those years being Eva pilots together.

-I don't have a lot to say about Rei, since I feel her story arc is one of the simpler ones (which isn't saying much for this series, lol). The scenes of her in Village 3 in Thrice Upon a Time were endearing, though I knew they would end in tragedy. Actually, that whole part of the movie with the characters spending time in the village was great. The world-building in those scenes was fantastic too - it really felt like what a post-apocolyptic survival camp in that situation would be like. It was nice to see the characters partaking in and reacting to situations that don't have to do with Angels and Evas (spin-off series for this when?)

-And lastly, how did I interpret the end of the Rebuild saga? Was I satisfied with how it ended? Right after I watched Thrice Upon a Time, I wasn't totally sure. But after reading some more wiki pages and watching some explanation videos, especially this one here (it's a great explanation if you can forgive the bad pronunciation of the names), I've realized just how brilliant of a conclusion it is. There's been speculation that the story involves a time loop, with the events of the original TV series, as well as the Death & Rebirth and End of Evangelion movies, being different versions of the time loop, while the Rebuild movies is where the loop ends because Shinji finally overcomes the pain of his past and can restore the world this time (while he had failed to in the previous loops). I don't think it's a time loop so much as a cycle that keeps resetting and repeating. Further support for this theory is that Kaoru acts like he's met Shinji before, since he's reborn in each cycle to meet Shinji only to be killed by him later (all the coffins seen on the moon are for his past/future selves). I think the final movie title is symbolic of this too, with "Thrice Upon a Time" meaning "three times upon a time," the three times being the three cycles of the Evangelion story: the original TV series, the movies Death & Rebirth and The End of Evangelion, and finally the Rebirth movies. But mostly, the scene towards the end where Shinji meets Rei in the anti-verse, and they're standing in what appears to be a filming room while projected images from the Eva TV series are shown behind them. This to me symbolizes that the original Eva series exists in the Rebuild movies as one version of the cycle, and Shinji has now finally broken out of the loop. Once Shinji has saved everyone, the filming room (which symbolizes the old versions of the story, as I believe it's supposed to be the room where live-action footage used in previous Eva works was filmed) fades away and the literal animation around Shinji begins to break down into its purest forms, as key animation, then layouts, etc., - a near 4th wall-breaking depiction of the world resetting. However, Gendo and Yui had sacrificed themselves so that Shinji wouldn't have to, so Mari is able to pull him back into the world, just like she had promised. In the end, Shinji is able to join his friends in the new world that's free of Evas. Without the Eva curse, all the pilots are now their proper ages as well. The movie closes with Mari and Shinji heading off somewhere in their new lives while the environment merges into live-action footage, representing the fact that the story has now transcended animation and is now "real" because the cycle has finally ended and a true Neon Genesis took place. Like many aspects of the franchise, there are many ways to interpret this ending, but this is the interpretation I've settled on.

-While I am satisfied with the ending overall, I do wish the epilogue showed us more of what the other characters were doing, especially the survivors from Wille and Village 3. I know we can assume they're living out their lives as well, but it would have been nice to get confirmation of that with a few quick cameos. But there are some main characters whose fates are uncertain, particularly Misato, Kaji, and Fuyutsuki. I'm assuming the only people Shinji was able to save were the ones whose souls were still bound to Evas, namely Asuka, Rei, and Kaoru. I don't know about Kaji since I'm still not clear on exactly how he died. Maybe Shinji couldn't save Misato because she died "for real" and wasn't just trapped inside an Eva/Angel. But it is implied that many souls, not just Eva pilots, were saved when the world was restored...so maybe she was too? And like Kaji, I'm not sure what happened with Fuyutsuki. Did he turn into LCL because he gave up his humanity in some way, like Gendo? I'm also a little salty that we didn't get a decent shot of adult Asuka at the train station, lol. I'm not sure if the ending was hinting at Mari and Shinji being an item...possibly Rei and Kaoru too, maybe even Asuka and Kensuke. Like many things in the franchise, the eventual pairings, or lack thereof, could be interpreted in many ways.

In conclusion, while there were some aspects of the old Eva TV series and movies that I liked better, the Rebuild movies overall did an excellent job of retelling the story with the same rich lore and thought-provoking symbolism that we're used to for the franchise, but with enough new twists to make it stand out. And as I mentioned in my interpretation of the ending, these movies weren't just a retelling but a redefinition of the franchise as whole, bringing together the previous versions of the story and giving them true closure. Though we could see some spin-off material at some point, Thrice Upon a Time does seem like it was intended to be the final installment of the Evangelion series. While I was satisfied enough with the endings for the TV series and End of Eva movie, having watched the Rebuild movies, I do believe they're the "retelling we didn't know we needed." It's a tad bittersweet to know that such an influential franchise, and one of my favorite anime for years, has come to its true end. So, to translate the text in the below fan art...

"Thank you , Evangelion."

*Artwork credited to リオ on pixiv*

#evangelion 3.0+1.0 #neon genesis evangelion #evangelion #rebuild of evangelion #evangelion spoilers #rei ayanami #asuka shikinami langley #shinji ikari #evangelion thrice upon a time

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salmonthestoryteller · 3 years

Text

The Widow of the Web

A Roswell New Mexico/Krull AU Fanfic (Part of the fic Destiny) The group traveled out of the swamps the next day. The new area was full of tall mountains and rich forests, though none as vibrant as the area around where the Emerald Seer had lived. Towards dusk, Valenti called a halt to the excursion - near one of the tallest mountains in the area.

“The Widow’s place isn’t far.” She explained. “But I must go alone from here.”

“I could go with you, at least the entrance of the cave-” Kyle began.

Valenti shook her head. “No, this is a journey it’s best I take alone.”

The cyclops seemed to hesitate, but nodded. “When will you return?” He asked her.

“...If i’m not back by sunrise, I won’t be back.”

“You shouldn’t bother. She won’t help you.” Rosa crossed her arms. “She helps no one but herself.”

“I understand your anger. I was angry, too, once.” Valenti told her.“

She deserves her fate.” Liz had approached as well.

“Perhaps. But perhaps she deserves redemption, too. Perhaps we all do.” With that she started towards the mountain.

Alex watched the group talk, feeling very much as though he was missing something. “Do you know anything about the kingdom that fell?” He asked Max.

“Very little. It was before I commanded the armies. I know there was a battle, and a fire that rampaged Sky’s land - your weapons or our magic, I couldn’t say which was the cause. In the separate kingdoms' histories we each blamed each other for their fate.” Max offered. “I didn’t think you were the sort to read histories, let alone from my kingdom.” Alex admitted.

“I didn’t always want to be a warrior. In the end, though, I had little choice.”

“I understand. I didn’t always want to be a warrior either.”

Max placed a hand on his shoulder, a moment of understanding between them, and left his side to go speak to Isobel.

Alex hesitated a moment, before joining Kyle where he stood watching the direction Valenti had gone. “I didn’t know you knew each other.” Kyle hesitated a moment before replying. “She’s my mother.”

Alex froze at the words, shock clear on his face. “I…”

“They led the armies of Sky together. Sky had a trade agreement with Slate in those days. They didn’t join in the war against Antar, but they didn’t have any agreements with them either. Your father demanded the right to pass through Sky’s lands to attack Antar, and was refused. That didn’t stop him. Sky became a battleground - it’s lands ravaged and it’s leaders dead or scattered.”

“I… didn’t know…”

“Why would you? Sky hasn’t existed for over a decade now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t your father, Alex of Slate. You don’t have to apologize for his wrongs.”

Alex saw the pieces come together in his mind, he glanced over to where Liz and Rosa were talking with Maria and Jenna. “The Emerald Seer was once Sky’s seer, wasn’t she? Valenti and your father the army leaders. That makes Liz and Rosa Sky’s lost princesses, doesn’t it?”

“You have a sharp mind. I don’t think anyone else has figured it out yet.” Kyle told him.

“Who, then, is the Widow of the Web?” Alex looked at him, frowning.

“...” Kyle looked back to Liz and Rosa, and Alex closed his eyes as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

-----

The cave opening was dark, but Michelle didn’t bother to light a torch. The path was a simple curved path, easy to traverse even in the dark. And once far enough in, a strange ghostly light illuminated from where the tunnel expanded.

There was no bridge, no ledge. The cave opened to a fall into darkness below. But stretched between was a gigantic web - it’s fibers lighting the area with a pale luminescence. And in the center was what looked like a large sac - domed and completely opaque. There was no sign of anyone living. No breath of wind, no sound.

“I seek the widow!” She shouted out into the emptiness - hearing her own voice echo from the walls.

“Enter here and find death.” A voice replied softly, but still managing to echo around the room.

Taking a deep breath, Michelle moved onto the webbing carefully, using it to slowly make her way towards the center where the mysterious domed sac was. Partway across, she heard a sound like a chime, looking up she spotted a spider - gigantic in size, and made of looked like crystal. It was crawling towards her along the web. She hurried along the webbing, but soon realized it would reach her long before she could make it to safety.

She turned towards the center. “Helena!” She shouted out.

“Who knows my name?”

“It’s Michelle, Helena!”

Inside the dome a shadowy figure reached out to an hourglass on the table, slowly she turned it - the sands beginning to drop slowly inbetween the two chambers slowly. Outside, the spider was frozen in place. “I give you this time…”

Michelle hurried forward along the webbing as fast as she could, pausing briefly as she tried to make her way around a wrapped shape. Reaching out a curious hand, she pulled away part of the webbing - a skeletal face looked out at her from the cocoon. Wincing, she moved onwards. Inside the dome, the sands began to run out. The spider’s eyes watched her progress, and she when she glanced back she saw it slowly begin to sway - regaining movement.

Climbing upwards, she pulled out a knife - hacking away a few of the strands. As the last of the sands dropped to the bottom chamber, and the spider leaped forward after her - she grabbed onto the loose webbing and swung across an open portion of the web - landing safely inside the domed sac. The spider ceased it’s movements, but didn’t retreat. It waited.

Michelle pushed farther into the strange structure - finding the hunched form of Helena inside, her face covered by a black veil.

“I was young when I last heard that name.” Helena told her.

“I was young when I last spoke it to you.”

“And my face was as beautiful as my name…”

“And we all loved you, with all our hearts.”

“Yet you were all so busy.”

“There were duties, Helena.”

“Rubbish… Rosa is his daughter, you know.”

“I guessed it.”

“Did you know I invited Jesse’s army to cross our lands?“

Michelle took in a sharp breath at the words, not having expected them. “But you said nothing…”

“My anger needed an outlet. I arrogantly assumed I could control the situation. This is my punishment.” Helena glanced at her, then away. “I know you can never forgive me.”

“I cannot forgive myself, I have already forgiven you.”

“How can you forgive the woman who is to blame for the man we both love dying?”

“...If I could not - could I see us now, as I saw us then?” Michelle turned to the mirror, concentrating. The glass shimmered, and in it was a picture of the two of them - laughing in the corridor of a palace. A crown was on Helena’s head, and Michelle was dressed in leather armor.

“...And allow me to see through your eyes…” Helena paused, pulling away the veil - her face matched the young queen who seemed so happy in the mirror. “Your vision is your gift to me.”

“And your vision can be your gift to me.” Michelle told her. “The black fortress - where will it be tomorrow?”

Helena’s eyes glazed over for a moment. “At sunrise it will appear in the iron desert…” She blinked, returning to the present. “But this knowledge is useless to you - there’s no way out of here.” When Michelle glanced at the hourglass, she shakes her head. “It can be turned only once - it is the lure of the web.”

“A young prince is being held in the fortress. An heir of ancient power. Another young prince seeks him. Hopeful, innocent. The ages we were when… we all loved so deeply.”

“You ask for something I cannot give.” Helena tells her.

“Then the other heir of ancient power will also grow old and alone in a place of darkness. This whole world will be a place of darkness.” Michelle reached out to take her hands.

Helena clung back - her expression torn. She turned to the hourglass, pulling her hands away and reaching out to pick it up. “These are the sands of my life… use them and the Crystal Spider will have no power over you. But your own life runs out with the sands...”

“What about your own life?”

“...I give it to the new heir of ancient power…” Helena held the hour glass up, and brought it down on the table - smashing the top to pieces. Outside the safety of the dome, the Crystal Spider gave a sound like a scream.

“I cannot stop the sands…” Michelle mentioned as Helena poured the contents of the hourglass into her palms.

“You cannot stop time.” Helena replied. “Go now, quickly.”

Michelle hesitated a moment more, gazing at her, then she hurried out of the dome - finding her way carefully along the webbing. The spider began to approach and she held up her hand - the sands dripping steadily out of it. The spider froze in place. She glanced back at the dome, just making out the figure of Helena inside, holding the broken pieces of the hourglass - then she turned away and made her escape from the cave.

Once she’d disappeared out of the cave entrance, the spider approached it - pincers working angrily - it then returned to the dome - it’s legs slowly cracking the structure and the connecting webs. Within moments the entire web broke, both the spider and the sac falling into the abyss below….

To Be Continued….

Notes: While I still managed to use some of the lines and plot points of the original movie, a lot of things are altered here to fuse with RNM. It’s an 80s movie, and in the original couple is Lyssa, the captured princess, and Colwyn, the Prince trying to rescue her. Gideon is the Old One - whose place I fill with Valenti. There is no third kingdom, and the Cyclops has no real connection with Gideon. Gideon, however, has a different connection with the Widow of the Web.

The original phrase is “A girl of ancient name will become queen, she will choose a king and together they will rule our world, and their son shall rule the galaxy.”

The name of The Widow of the Web in the original movie is Lyssa. Gideon was her chosen king. He neglected her, and she murdered their son in her anger. Her placement in the web is her punishment.

Gideon says the exact line, “I cannot forgive myself, I have already forgiven you” to her. But her line about the captive of the Beast is: “What of your own life?” “I give it to the girl who bears my name.”

The reveal of their history is a very dark, but very powerful and wrenching moment in the original movie. I’m not sure I matched it with this take, but I tried.

#malex #alteraroswell2021 #krull au #rnmfic #This fic is my pure self-indulgence fic and will be finished no matter what #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #fanfic

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

Text

On Your Six, Chapter 1

Okay first of all, did we all coincide the Taiqrow Week with Father’s Day... accidentally? Because that’s secretly genius.

Secondly, whoops we’re also meshing with Qrowin week - hope y’all are okay to share!

Finally, let’s get down to business. Hi y’all, hope you haven’t missed me too much. Hopefully I can make up for my silence with this absolute beast of a fanfic. This is going to be a single, interconnected story matching the prompts of the entire week. I hope those of you who choose to read it, will enjoy it!

Day 1: Tattoos for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overrall

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Marks

The day Taiyang walked into his shop, before even a single word was spoken, he knew.

It wasn’t from any particular mannerism. Everyone’s body language was different. A chattering mouth. Averted eyes. A tapping foot. A drooped posture. In the short time Qrow had been doing this, he’d learned no single action could encapsulate the variety in which people expressed their shame.

Yet, not a single one could escape the stench. It was a foul thing. Sharp and smokey, like a tire fire on a junkyard, it lacquered over an omega’s scent so completely that it was near impossible to catch a whiff of the true smell that was originally there.

Even now, as Qrow inspected the damage upon his former friend’s bare back, mere inches away from the man’s scent glands, he couldn’t pick out a hint of the sunflowers and fresh soil that was Tai. Nothing left except the reek of burnt rubber and dishonor.

He didn’t call attention to it, just like he didn’t call attention to the shake in his friend’s shoulders as he placed a hand over the first mark. “This is extensive.”

“I know. But, I didn’t know who else to turn to.” Even as he turned his head to look at him, Tai hunched over a bit, and the brand seared across his shoulder blades stretched with the movement. “You’ll help me, right?”

Qrow’s eyes flitted between watery eyes and stained skin where the word SLUT, all in caps like some mockery of a grand declaration, taunted his every decision since their falling out and left the taste of bile on his tongue.

“Of course.” He promised.

It was widely thought that it was a farmer that first came up with branding back during the Early Modern period. Having been “inspired” by the tagging of the cattle which kept them in order, the alpha decided to do the same to omegas, ascertained the same outcome would follow. The practice was later adopted by prisons and other corrective facilities. Back then, it was merely a way of keeping track of those who had been in and out of the system by searing the skin with an iron that had the center’s insignia on it.

Advancements to the printing press and mail systems did away with that particular need, but while the jails abolished the practice, reformatories did not, releasing studies that claimed the procedure resulted in more ‘proper’ and ‘desired’ behaviors in omegas and were absolutely critical to full rehabilitation. Despite newer evidence showing these original claims were likely falsified simply for convenience and often actually had a devastating effect on an omega’s psyche, the three-century long old policy had yet to be abolished from the system.

The most the outcries had done the past few decades was change the method on which the ‘brand’ was applied. Instead of an iron, it was done with a tattoo needle and instead of an insignia, it became a single word that was like a permanent reminder of what landed the omega in the facility to begin with. The stench was caused by the use of the chemically enhanced ink that made it impossible for laser technology to fully remove.

In short, if an omega wanted the mark gone, their only choice was to cut out their own skin. Most, like his mother, accidentally killed themselves trying.

Which led to where Qrow was today, trying to shake things up in the only way he knew how. So, he jumped off society’s grid, took up a needle and his drawing skills, and turned the marks into works of art. More importantly, he gave the omegas who came to his door a way to recover and take back their lives.

He just never thought Tai would be one of them.

Once he’d taken the pictures he needed and Tai’s shirt was back on, things were relaxed enough he could brew some tea. As he handed the other man his cup, Qrow finally asked, “So, how’d you find me?”

“Wasn’t that hard.” He replied, fingers wrapping around the porcelain. “The omegas back at the reformatory would whisper before bed. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were talking about you.”

Qrow froze, trying to hide his trepidation. “Oh? They say my name?”

Tai snorted. “Not your name, but a name.” His expression turned cheeky. “Don’t worry though. Only someone who knows Harbinger used to be your Relics & Wyverns character could put the pieces together.”

“Ah, can it!” He barked as a flush worked its way up his neck. Still, tension drained from him. While there were no laws that specifically stated what an omega was required to do with their mark after their rehabilitation was complete, if he was caught tampering with it for them, he knew the courts could claim he was willfully interfering with a person’s emotional stability. Might even get him on a few counts of practicing mental health care without a license too.

Still, he didn’t particularly want to be sent to the slammer, which was why he worked so hard to keep to the underground. Never told anyone his name. Moved often. Kept minimal contact with clients. Whatever it took to make sure only the people who needed to find him could.

“I’m glad that you’re doing alright for yourself.” Tai said, giving a cursory glance to the shoddy working space that doubled as his apartment. Beyond his tattoo kit, he rarely took much with him when he relocated. Sometimes he got lucky on the accommodations and the place would already be partially furnished, other times he had to make do with what he could afford from the nearest thrift store.

This place was one of those latter times. He had a mattress on the torn up box spring with a chipped nightstand beside it, a circular, rickey table with two chairs for the dining room, a fairly barren kitchen area, and a slightly beat-up leather recliner for the clients.

It wasn’t hard to see Tai was really reaching as he said, “Your place is… nice?”

It was Qrow’s turn to snort. “At least be honest and tell me I live in a shithole.”

“I was not going to – okay, yeah it is kind of a shithole. But, you’re eating okay and everything, right?”

What an omega. “Yes mom, I’m getting my three squares a day and I’m even brushing my teeth before bed.” He lent back, the plastic chair creaking underneath as he did so. “But you didn’t exactly come here to critique my living conditions. Think there’s a lot more important stuff to talk about, don’t you?”

Suddenly, the tea was much more interesting than his face. “Yeah. Right. Um, guess there’s a lot to catch you up on, huh? You don’t even know about-”

“Whoa, hold up a sec.” He quickly interrupted. “Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t ask for any of my clients’ stories unless they feel like sharing. Some do, some don’t. But my help doesn’t come with any strings attached.” He met his gaze, stressing the next part carefully, “Even if they’re friends, okay?”

Tai still seemed to hesitate. “But, don’t you want to know about Yang?”

Of course, he did. He had about a thousand and one questions whirling through his head. But that didn’t matter right now. “You ready to talk about her?”

For the second time that day, tears shimmered in Tai’s eyes. He looked away quickly, saying nothing.

Yeah. He figured as much.

“Then no.” Qrow cleared his throat some. “Besides, I’m still a total disaster when it comes to handling people when they cry.”

That one, at least, earned him a weak chuckle.

“Some things never change?” Tai said with a sniff, rubbing the corner of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“If it ain’t broke…” He shrugged. “Anyways, what I meant was, how do you want to change up that lil’ blemish a’yours?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. What do you normally do?”

“Turn it into a single design. But, I’ve never had to work on one so large before. That thing’s taking up about half of your back. Still doable, just… more difficult.” It was easy to busy his designs enough the word got lost under all the rest. Working on a scale of this size though, there weren’t many things he could think of that would both look nice and cover up the word. “Not to mention, we’ll have to take a lot of breaks, so your skin can heal.”

“How long do you think it would take?”

“Well, with three weeks between each session and the scale and details… probably nine to twelve months?”

Tai’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, no I mean…” He sighed. “I was just, kind of hoping it would be done before October, is all. Before the kids come home.”

Kids?!

As in plural?!

Qrow had to bite his tongue to physically stop himself from breaking his own rule. Took a deep, steadying breath.

Okay. That was six months away. There was no way. Unless…

“Well, we could make it four separate designs. One for each letter. That way I could work on one side and then the other while it’s healing. If we meet every week, should be doable. Gonna be some long hours under the needle for you though.”

Tai lit up just like the sun he was named after. “I can handle it. I’ll do anything. Oh-! We could even make it four dragons, couldn’t we?”

Qrow barked out a laugh. “I mean yeah, if that’s what you want. Give me your scroll deets. I’ll work up some designs over the next few days and send them to you.” As he pulled out his device to input the information, he added, “We gotta work out a schedule too. What days are RO?”

“She visits on Tuesdays and Saturdays right now. It’ll go down to once a week pretty soon. I’m also TA-ing at Sanctum Middle, so weekdays are pretty full.”

It was all par for the course. Even after doing time at the reformatory, omegas still had to have frequent visits from their rehabilitation officer, to make sure they were keeping a steady job and homelife. That meant good evaluations from his superiors and a living space that looked like not even a speck of dust had had a chance to touch down. This was especially important for omegas like Tai, who would have to fight for every top mark he got. If he failed to, the RO would claim he was still unfit to raise his own children and keep them in the fostering system.

Qrow knew that was the reason for the six-month time limit. He had no doubt that once Tai was out of parole and had his pups back, he’d be hightailing it out of the kingdom. But for the RO to still be visiting at that frequency… “Did you come looking for me right after you got out?”

“I-” The tea had become interesting again. And cold. “Yeah. I knew you were working out of Mistral, and Atlas allows for transfers to Argus.”

At this rate, his tongue was probably going to have indents from his incisors. Once he knew he wasn’t going to start prying or, worse yet, shouting at Tai - because really how stupid could he be?! – he opened his mouth and said, “So, Sundays then?”

For the first time in nearly six years, Tai smiled at him. “Sounds perfect.”

For the next few days, Qrow did nothing but draw. Whether it was with a buzzing needle or a pencil, his hand was rarely empty. Even as he downed his morning coffee or spun his suppertime noodles onto his fork, his other hand was moving over a sheet of paper, his muse on overdrive as he tried to pick out the perfect designs for each letter. By nightfall, he was sending at least half a dozen pages full of sketches to Tai, then checking his phone every five minutes as he impatiently anticipated his reply.

It didn’t actually matter where they started, because once they decided on which letter was going first, Qrow’s focus would narrow to the second one over. The tricky thing was, Tai had always been the type who was simple to please – well before a reformatory could ever drill that lesson into him. Even when they were young, whether it was a question of what game they wanted to play or what food they wanted to eat, Tai would almost always just grin and say ‘whatever you want’. Which meant, every sketch was perfect and Qrow had to work twice as hard to actually find something he truly fell in love with.

He knew he finally struck gold for S when Tai figured out how to use the circling tool on his scroll and sent the shot back with an exuberantly loud ‘THIS ONE’, followed by a horrendous amount of exclamation points.

Qrow had never felt prouder.

It was a small effort to resketch the piece in full and line it. Adding color was more challenging, as he had to balance what looked nice with the limitations of his inks. But leaving it without was absolutely not an option. Not for someone who used to decorate his walls with paintings of tropical beaches and autumn-locked forests and had had a Crayola box spectrum of begonias sitting on his windowsill in his childhood room. Tai was a man who radiated a rainbow both in his life and in his heart. To try to dull that by leaving him in nothing but blacks and grays was a crime Qrow wasn’t willing to commit.

Besides, the design wouldn’t translate well without it.

So, he kept working at it until he knew it was just right. When the omega’s excitement only seemed to grow, he knew his labor was over.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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bimboamyrose · 4 years

Text

Unfamiliar (Ch. 10)

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic

First two chapters

Previous (Ch.9)

Chapter 10: Indebted

“You told Knuckles, right?” Amy nervously held her communicator at eye level as she adjusted her scarf in the camera.

“I told you I did,” Tails responded. He was making the final preparations to his plane for takeoff. “Can you just come over already?”

Amy groaned. “I don’t want a repeat of last time!”

“Knuckles isn’t going to kill Metal.”

“Right…” she looked over to Metal, who was shifting his weight between feet impatiently. His jacket was draped over one arm.

“Just fly over. I’m almost ready for takeoff.”

“Are you sure you can fly with one hand?”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

It did little to ease her stress. “Okay, we’ll be there in a few.” Tails gave her a thumbs up before disconnecting, leaving Amy to look at her own troubled reflection in the dark screen. She sighed deeply, worried for what was to come. “Are you ready, Metal?”

Sensing her distress, he stopped his fidgeting to give a nod. They would be flying to Angel Island that morning to meet with Amy’s friends- no, her team. Metal had already met most of them individually, but as a team, they had been his enemies for nearly a decade. It would be tense. First, however, they had to get Tails’ lab so she could board his plane.

Amy returned the nod and the pair got ready to take off outside. “I’ll take that for you.” She reached out for Metal’s jacket. “So it doesn’t wrinkle.” He handed it to her to fold neatly, though she held it so tightly that it creased under her anxious grasp anyway.

Metal picked her up delicately. Since their encounter with Sonic, he treated her with kid gloves, afraid of causing another injury. Amy had noticed this and was tactfully avoiding bringing it up, even going as far as to cover her bandaged arm whenever they were together. It was sweet that he was being considerate, but his gingerly grip on her made her more nervous than a silly cut on her arm. “Metal, do you think you could hold me tighter?” Color rushed into her cheeks when she realized how forward it sounded. “So I don’t fall, I mean! Oh, not that I think you’ll drop me-” Take your foot out of your mouth, she scolded herself.

The same nervous excitement from a day earlier hit him and he stiffened suddenly. She was right, the fragility with which he was holding her could cause him to lose his grip if he wasn’t careful. Metal’s arms tightened around Amy as she settled into him, her red face buried in his jacket. She looked oddly… endearing that way- what a clumsy feeling.

“I’m ready when you are,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric.

They propelled into the sky at a much slower pace than usual. Amy peeked out from her satiny hiding place when she noticed. They were running late as it was. “Um, you can go a little faster. I’ll be okay,” she assured. Metal obliged, though she was well aware that they still weren’t moving as quickly as they could. Luckily, their destination wasn’t far.

Tails was already hurrying Amy along the moment they landed on the runway. “Come on, you know how Knuckles gets,” he insisted.

“Okay!” she huffed, climbing into the back seat of the small plane. Amy was still scrambling to get her goggles on as the engine started.

“Ready for takeoff. Try to keep up, Metal,” Tails grinned.

“Tails!” Amy snapped before Metal could so much as make a noise.

He snickered as the plane accelerated forward and lifted off the end of the runway, Metal following closely. He hovered near Amy’s seat as they flew, though she nervously looked straight ahead for most of the flight. As they approached their floating destination, Tails pointed out the landing site- a spacious clearing at the edge of a dense forest. Metal cut ahead of them, doing a flashy set of loops in the air before spiraling to the ground and looking back up at Tails expectantly.

“Psh. Show-off.” Tails remarked. “Think we can beat that?”

“No!” Amy felt sick enough as it was. Tails seemed to be enjoying himself though, laughing in response.

Once on the ground, Amy unbuckled herself and exited hastily. The tall plane was harder to jump out of than it was to climb into, but she’d done it dozens of times- not that knowing this would have stopped Metal from hurrying over to offer her a hand.

“See?” Tails said smugly. “Told ya I could fly with just one hand.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Tails as Metal helped her down. “Thanks. Here,” she offered Metal his jacket and smoothed down her hair and scarf while he slipped it on. She moved on to smoothing out the wrinkles in the satin across his shoulders and adjusted the collar, looking Metal up and down. “There. I think you look pretty friendly.” Taking each of his hands in hers, her brow curled anxiously. “Remember what we talked about, ‘kay?”

Metal had spent much of the morning listening to Amy as she got ready, rambling the team dynamics and how their meetings usually went. “We work with some other people, but usually discuss things between ourselves before getting anyone else involved,” she’d told him. “So it’s kind of a big deal that you’re coming. Thanks for agreeing to it.” Then she’d flashed her usual sweet grin, though she let out a sigh at the same time. “So, just sit and listen, and get to know everyone! I really think you can get along well.” Metal wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Just having someone new at the table might cause tension, but he had a feeling that who that someone was would factor into the strain more than anything. He couldn’t remember any of their encounters or battles- but they could. What’s more, the threat they were discussing was Metal’s very creator; he didn’t know how he would feel or if he’d agree to help if asked. There were too many unanswered questions and he knew he couldn’t follow Amy around forever; at some point he would have to learn about his old life. It was only fair to be informed about how it could affect the people that showed him kindness. How it could affect her.

Now they were minutes away from this meeting, the importance of which couldn’t be overstated for Amy. She wouldn’t say it directly, but she was anxiously putting her faith in Metal, hoping he wouldn’t have another outburst akin to their encounter with Sonic. After recalling how they’d all met, his actions, though well-meaning, were admittedly threatening. He would have to show more restraint.

“Oh! Here,” Amy fished a little notebook and pen from her coat pocket. “In case you need it. Sorry, the whiteboard was a little cumbersome for the flight.” Metal took them with a nod, tucking them away in his jacket.

A gust of wind blew Amy’s hair over her face and caused her scarf to whip around uncontrollably. Sonic had rushed in, skidding to a halt just past the trio. “Hey! What took ya so long?”

“I just fixed this,” Amy groaned, combing down her quills. Tails made his way over to greet Sonic as she readjusted her scarf for the third time.

“Don’t worry, Ames, it’s just us.” Sonic turned his attention to Metal momentarily. “And you, I guess. Hey, isn’t that Amy’s jacket?”

Metal crossed his arms and chimed indignantly. “It’s, uh, his now,” she replied sheepishly.

“Oh-kay. Hey, Tails, why don’t you take Metal and go ahead. I wanna catch up with Amy real quick.”

The two hadn’t spoken since the incident. Neither of them wanted the meeting to be any more uncomfortable than necessary, and apologies were no doubt in order. “Do you mind, Metal?” she turned to him with her gentle request. He shrugged nonchalantly with a hand at his hip, doing a poor job at concealing his annoyance.

Tails beckoned to him. “Come on, it’s not far.” Metal joined the boy, following him on the path ahead. He took a quick look back at the pair just in time to spot Sonic placing a hand on Amy’s shoulder.

“You alright, Amy?”

She nodded, her cheeks turning rosy. “Mhm. I’m sorry about the other day- I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that...”

“Come on, we both know I’m used to your temper by now,” he teased. “But, you know, sorry if I sounded like I don’t trust you.”

“Do you, though?”

“Of course! But Metal Sonic- I mean, he just flew off with you- like before. I was worried, Ames.”

It was reassuring to hear him admit his concern. Amy understood that Sonic cared for her- but after all their years of friendship, she wondered if he’d ever feel any other way about her. When she recalled the hand she’d drawn at her reading so many years ago, Amy couldn’t help but ponder over her interpretation of it. Lately, it felt more and more like her crush would never be anything more than that. Still, hearing him admit any kind of affection for her made Amy melt. She met his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Sonic. I know you’re worried, but Metal’s been doing great. It sounds silly, but I think he was trying to protect me.”

“That so?”

She shrugged. “Well, he didn’t do it for shock value.”

Sonic’s usual grin returned to his face. “Well, either way, I can’t be too worried; I’ve seen you knock him around pretty good since the first time he kidnapped you,” he snickered.

Amy smiled along, though being reminded made her uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Look, I think what you’re doing is great. Just promise you’ll keep your guard up, alright?”

“Sure,” she agreed. Amy sincerely felt that she was safe with metal, but it wasn’t worth continuing the argument. She was sure that Sonic would see that soon enough.

“Anyway, we’re late. Let’s get going before Knuckles loses it.”

The two set off on a well-worn path through the thicket of trees that grew denser as they went. A rocky clearing led into a burrow, where they found the others waiting for them. A pile of pillows and cushions were laid out against one wall in a circle- their usual seating arrangement on the floor. Knuckles and Tails had taken their usual seats, studying some documents that lay before them. Tails picked up a map to take a closer look. Metal was standing cross-armed near the entrance as the chilly air spilled in from the outside. Though Amy was strung tighter than a mandolin, she still did her best to give him a reassuring look on her way in.

Knuckles looked up as the duo entered. “About time. Amy, c’mere and sit next to me.”

“Oh, um, sure.” She usually sat next between him and Sonic anyway; it was odd he asked her to sit with him specifically. She took a seat on a cushion next to his and he immediately threw an arm around her, pulling her in close. Amy sensed Metal was putting his guard up.

“Amy, care to tell me why you’ve brought a killer enemy robot to my home?”

Despite the chill, Amy was beginning to sweat. She laughed softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Stop kidding around, Knuckles. We’re all friends here.”

Knuckles didn’t find it so funny. “Am I the only one who remembers when your ‘friend’ stole the Master Emerald and sent my home plummeting to the ground?”

Sonic sat next to her, grinning. Amy ignored him, looking instead toward Metal and making a patting motion with her hand, signaling to keep calm. “Come on, Knuckles, that was years ago. Besides, Metal doesn’t remember doing that.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

She pushed him away. “Ugh! Would you calm down? You’re yelling in my ear.”

“I think the situation warrants some yelling, Amy!”

Sonic was snickering nearby; payback for all the times she and Tails teased him and Knuckles about their petty bickering. If looks could kill, she would have harpooned him with her eyes. Sonic cleared his throat, quickly gathering himself. “Relax, Knuckles. Amy says Metal’s safe, so he’s safe. Right, Tails?”

“Huh?” Too entranced in the map to notice the argument, Tails looked up upon hearing his name. “Oh, yeah. We took his weapons, anyway,” he shrugged.

Amy turned her deadly glare to Tails, who quickly hid behind his map again. “Who’s ‘we’? You did that.” Trying to avoid antagonizing Metal, Amy hadn't exactly made it known that Tails went beyond repairs when he was working on him. This wasn’t the gentlest way for Metal to find out.

“I think it was a good call,” Sonic remarked. She scoffed back indignantly.

Metal was looking to Amy, who turned back to him with an apologetic expression. They hadn’t been there for two minutes and the meeting was already a trainwreck. He’d expected the heightened reactions, but learning that whatever weapons he was once equipped with were just taken from him without consent was an unpleasant surprise. Despite not remembering what he’d lost, he felt somewhat betrayed. Perhaps Amy still had her guard up along with the others.

Taking a deep breath, Amy addressed the room. “Guys, let’s settle down, there’s business to discuss. Metal, come sit with us,” she motioned to him. Narrowing his eyes in Metal’s direction, Knuckles grumbled something under his breath. “Quit it already,” Amy elbowed him. He conceded, letting out an exasperated breath as Metal sat across from them, remaining further out of the circle than the others.

The team all turned to Sonic expectantly while Metal sat watching Amy. Her anxiety grew again as she felt his eyes on her and she was reminded of their first meeting.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Sonic began, “Let’s talk shop. Tails?”

He nodded. “So, last time we encountered Eggman, he ran off before the fight was finished.”

“So, we decided to go after him,” Sonic interjected. “I went looking for him the next day, but there were no flashy hideaways or ‘secret’ factory- none of his usual antics.”

“Then I saw this.” Tails tossed a newspaper into the center of the circle and Amy and Knuckles leaned in for a closer look. Magic City Under Way, read the main headline. Concept art of three tall, tower-like buildings was illustrated, followed by a smaller photo of a crew breaking ground at a construction site. A familiar rotund figure stood at the center proudly.

“Eggman?” Knuckles picked up the paper for a better look. “What’s he building?”

“Some kind of theme park by the looks of it,” Tails suggested.

Knuckles scoffed, tossing the paper aside. “That’s his usual schtick- let’s just go after him already.”

“Nothing to go after,” Sonic replied. “He’s usually building these things in secret, right? Using some weird tech to pull off his evil scheme. And now, he’s just out in the open. What’s that about?”

Amy picked up the newspaper, skimming through the article. “Magic City. I heard about this project- is Eggman really behind it? He usually sticks his face on everything, but this looks normal.”

“Yeah, that’s cause there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on there. I spent the better part of a week hanging around that construction site. I even talked with some crew members and snooped around the place, but it was just your average build site. Everyone acted totally normal-”

“Pah, sounds like some mind control junk to me,” Knuckles interrupted.

Tails leaned in. “That’s what we thought, too. But none of the crew seemed brainwashed. And look at this,” he pulled up some photos on a digital tablet, scrolling through. “Budgeting sheets, payroll…”

“Just like any other jobsite,” Sonic confirmed. “Why would you need HR if you’re using mind-control?”

“Sonic even found blueprints for the buildings. The one on the left is basically just a hotel. There’s a few restaurants, a casino on the bottom floor... This one has a nightclub and an indoor amusement park,” he pointed out. “And none of his usual traps, either. Everything looks totally normal. It’s just… an entertainment complex?”

Amy looked puzzled. “So, what, he’s an entrepreneur now?”

Knuckles leaned back against the wall, looking up in thought. “He’s gotta be hiding something.”

“Yeah,” Tails agreed. “And by the looks of it, this photo was taken on the day we battled- you know.”

The team turned to look at Metal. He gazed at each of them momentarily, noting their concerned expressions. “Metal,” Amy said, “Do you remember anything from that day? Before Tails and I found you?” He’d scanned what little was left of his memory enough times to know the answer. Metal shook his head right away, being met with disbelief from Knuckles.

“I don’t buy it. Metal Sonic has to be a spy- why else would he be here?”

“Knuckles, there's no way,” Amy looked to Tails for support. “You searched through all his stuff, right? He doesn’t remember anything.”

Tails half-nodded. “Well, yeah- to my knowledge. There was a lot of encrypted data- but it’s inaccessible in theory. He definitely can’t be tracked, though.”

“So how can we be sure then?” Knuckles returned.

“I trust Amy’s judgement,” Sonic said with a matter-of-fact tone. Surprised to hear him admit it to the team, Amy’s face softened into a look of admiration as she faced him. He probably should have felt grateful for the support, but Metal was displeased with Sonic’s playful wink back at her. “Besides, what’s Eggman gonna find out if he is spying? That we have no clue what he’s up to?”

Sonic had a point. There was silence as the team sat in thought, each pondering about possible scenarios or trying to come up with a plan of action. Metal could see this going on for an hour. He didn’t remember anything from that day, but he might if something jogged his memory. So, he tapped his sharp fingers against the ground and Amy’s ears perked up.

“Oh! That’s right,” she sat up straight. “Metal was able to remember the day Sonic and I met him when I told him about it. Maybe we can tell him about...” Her posture immediately became hunched when she realized what it meant. She recalled how broken his body still was inside, a sense of guilt casting down on her.

Tails’ eyes widened with excitement. “No kidding? I gotta take a look at him again!”

“More importantly,” Sonic added, “we gotta tell him about that battle and see if he remembers anything.”

Knuckles chimed in. “How do we know Metal Sonic won’t suddenly remember some objective to, I don’t know, kill us?”

The way they spoke about him like he wasn’t in the room did nothing to make Metal feel welcome. He knew he’d be far from their acceptance, but being viewed as an object to be poked and prodded was far more demeaning. Trust could be earned, but would they ever see him as something other than a machine? Amy kept calling him a friend. So what did it mean that she kept his “modifications” a secret?

“Metal,” Amy interrupted the boys’ musings, “would you be okay with that?” She side-eyed her teammates as she continued. “We wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He returned with a lazy shrug, looking away from the others. Reliving a defeat at the hands of these people- the people he was meant to associate with, who were suddenly giving him reasons to be distrustful- he wasn’t sure how he’d feel. It wasn’t about losing his weapons; after all, he hadn’t needed them since Amy found him. If asked now, he would disarm himself willingly as long as he was staying with her. But perhaps his debt of gratitude amounted to more than accompanying her on trips and helping her down from high places. Now, it felt like Amy’s kindness could come at the expense of his autonomy. It was hardly a fair choice. Metal wished he was anywhere but that burrow.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Amy assured him. Knuckles looked like he was about to say something but she jabbed her elbow in his side again, rendering his complaint into an intelligible grumble. Metal wasn’t responding. He looked aloof, casting his gaze sideways to avoid eye contact. Amy had seen that look in him before, quickly recognizing his discomfort. She picked herself up and crossed the circle to meet Metal at the other side, kneeling next to him. “Hey,” Amy placed a hand on his shoulder, “remember that you can choose from now on, right?” She leaned in close to whisper. “We’ll talk about the other stuff after the meeting, promise.”

There was something in her kind voice and gentle touch that continued to stir him. Amy’s warmth seeped into Metal’s steely joints and melted his icy façade until he could no longer guard himself against her. She could give him all the choices in the world, but obliging Amy was quickly turning into a compulsion; one that, he suddenly realized, was about more than just his gratitude. Pleasing her seemed to bring him an unexpected and immeasurable satisfaction; It was inexplicable. He would endure any manner of painful memory if she only asked him to- but she wasn’t asking. She wouldn’t. Metal had to decide for himself. He considered all her kindness, yet wasn’t any happier about the “other stuff,” as she put it. It was as painful as it was confusing.

Tails’ worried voice shook Metal from his daze. “Hey, is he okay?” The uncomfortably long silence that had filled the room was impeded only by the whirring crescendo of Metal’s engine. He caught sight of Amy’s concerned stare first, then the vexed faces of the rest of the team.

“Do you... need a minute?” she asked hesitantly.

Metal quickly shook his head, wanting to get all their peering eyes off of him.

Amy sighed as her hand left his shoulder. “Metal, do you want to hear about the battle the other day? It’s okay if you don’t.” He nodded hesitantly to no one in particular, reasoning that he may as well remember what he could. It wasn’t the answer Amy was hoping to hear. A grimace spread across her face as she immediately began thinking of tactful ways to approach the story. Before the pause had a chance to become awkward, Sonic chimed in.

“Alright, so here’s how we kicked your-”

“Sonic!” Amy sent her piercing glare at him once more.

“What? That’s what happened,” Sonic grinned. He caught Metal rolling his eyes.

“I can tell it, Amy,” Tails chimed in. Amy responded with a begrudging nod and he continued. “So, late afternoon, we received a distress call about Eggman and Metal causing a fuss close to town. We expected to find more of his badniks hanging around, but it was just you and him there. You’d set off a few missiles at some rocks-”

“Eggman said you were just doing ‘target practice,’ trying to sound innocent” Knuckles scoffed.

“Right. So, we told him to get lost, but he said he wasn’t doing anything wrong and ordered Metal to continue-”

“I intercepted and shot the next missile right back at you,” Sonic cut in with a smirk. “Really set you off.”

Tails nodded. “Then you two started fighting. Eggman said something about you finishing practice on your own and took off, which was weird, ‘cause he usually sticks around. Anyway, Sonic and Metal headed into the valley, so I sort of followed you…”

“Then you broke Tails’ wrist,” Sonic commented, looking directly at Metal. “Right, Ames?” Amy frowned apologetically and answered with a shrug.

“Yeah...” Tails continued. “But anyway-”

Knuckles interrupted impatiently. “You flew up the hillside and Amy knocked Sonic into you with her hammer. End of battle,” he grunted. “So do you remember anything or what?”

An immense guilt befell Amy the moment her name left his lips. Metal watched as she avoided looking at him, fidgeting with the tassels on her scarf anxiously. Battles aren’t friendly- Metal didn’t fault her for attacking him when they were enemies. The story actually impressed him where she was concerned, but it didn’t give him the epiphany that Amy’s tale had. He remembered nothing.

“Well?” Knuckles insisted.

Metal turned to him and shook his head plainly.

“Tch. What a waste of time…”

“Back to the drawing board,” Sonic remarked.

Tails looked back at the newspaper with a smiling Eggman on the cover. “The battle was probably just to keep us from crashing this party. Eggman knew we’d come after him if he caused a racket, then he ran off when we were distracted so we couldn’t interrupt. I guess he really wasn’t doing anything other than making noise, though.”

Sonic yawned lazily. “You make it sound like we started the fight.”

“We kinda did,” Amy mumbled under her breath.

Sonic stood up, stretching his arms. “Well, nothing we can do about this now. We’ll just have to keep an eye on it.”

“Calling a meeting with no plan,” Knuckles followed, “typical.”

“Hey, I want us all to be on guard. There’s no telling what scheme this could lead to. We’d better be ready.”

“I’m always ready!” Knuckles boomed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been away long enough waiting for all of you to show up.” He marched across to stand over Amy, offering her a hand. She pulled herself up with Metal following her lead. “So you’re keeping an eye on Metal Sonic.” he grinned at her proudly. “Pretty brave, kid.” She clicked her tongue at him, giving him a lighthearted shove. Knuckles turned his attention to Metal’s looming figure with narrowing eyes. “I’d better be wrong about you.”

Metal knew that her teammate’s suspicions were justified and it would be hard to prove him otherwise. He crossed his arms and gave Knuckles a single nod. Knuckles returned with a nod of his own before glancing down at the rose-shaped patch on the front of Metal’s jacket with an amused scoff. He waved himself out before Amy had a chance to become aggrieved over it.

“Long way to fly for such a short meeting,” Tails sighed from across the room. He gathered his things hastily and booked it toward the front. “Let’s head back, I have something I gotta finish.”

“Right behind you, buddy.” Sonic made his way across. “Ames?”

She leaned her body towards Metal. “Actually, could you give us a minute?”

Sonic’s brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you guys get going?”

Before Amy could respond, Metal draped an arm over her shoulder. Their eyes met and he cocked his head sideways confidently. Amy got the message. “Well, if you’re sure…” she turned back to her teammates. “Why don’t you guys take the plane? Metal can give me a ride.”

Tails and Sonic looked at each other in confusion. “I guess,” Tails said. “Do you want a ride?”

Sonic shifted to look back at Metal. How the robot managed to look cocky even with his usual expression, he did not know. At the risk of losing another staring contest, Sonic gave Amy a wave and started toward the exit. “Sounds good. Catch ya later.” Amy returned the wave as he and Tails went off, Metal straightening himself back up once they were out of sight.

Amy then exhaled so severely that her entire body slumped. She didn’t think she’d ever feel so tense around her friends, and having kept the meeting mostly civil was an incredible relief. Unfortunately, there was another can of worms to deal with. She just managed to suppress a groan before addressing it.

“Thanks for coming, Metal. You did great today; But I thought Knuckles was gonna lunge at you for sure,” she chuckled. In a rather puffed up manner, with a hand at his hip, Metal gave her a sly shrug. Amy couldn’t keep from snorting at how pleased he looked with himself. “Don’t look so smug, he’s beat you up before,” she teased. He turned back to her with a resentful chime. It was incredible to Amy how comfortable they were together- she never would have expected to become such fast friends with a former (and very recent) enemy. But there they were, a few days into their new relationship, cordial and playful as if lifelong friends. All this even as they both knew a serious topic was approaching. She braced herself, her eyes cast down nervously.

“I’m sorry, Metal. I know taking your things was wrong. I blamed Tails, but I never really said anything, and then I kept it from you- but I’ll make sure you get everything back.” She twiddled her fingers together.

The sincere apology made Metal want to forgive her immediately, but the strange hurt he still felt didn’t allow him to. It didn’t make sense- he wasn’t angry anymore, she apologized, he understood their fear was not unfounded; so why couldn’t he feel okay about it? It may have been the realization that being autonomous wouldn’t be the same for him- how could it be? As quickly as she warmed up to him, even Amy didn’t see him as a person right away. Maybe some never would. It wouldn’t be fair to rely on her advocacy, either- counting on her to mediate every tense situation was hardly freedom. And then there was the worry that his only affection for Amy was out of an innate need for guidance.

Pulling the notepad from his pocket, Metal scribbled some words down. He ripped the leaf from its binding to hand to her. Amy glanced up at him momentarily before taking it. “You didn’t ask,” it read.

“I know I’m sorry,” she sighed. “Do you think you would’ve said yes?”

Metal pondered for a moment. He would have weighed his options at the time, but the moment had passed and he wasn’t so sure now. One thing was certain, however: if she’d asked him now, he wouldn’t think twice before agreeing. Metal handed her the next note with some hesitation as he admitted this. “You can ask for anything” was written neatly on it.

Amy didn’t know what to say. It was incredibly kind, but only made her feel more guilty that she had betrayed his trust early on. “Then, I guess I’ll ask you to forgive me- if you can.” Her ears drooped as the words grew ever remorseful. “And for hurting you, too. I feel like it's my fault you lost your memory in the first place.”

But that wasn’t something he would have to forgive her for. Instead, he carefully wrote his feelings, tearing the leaf from its binding gently. Metal locked eyes with her as he nervously placed it in her hand. “Thank you for finding me.”

She didn’t have an opportunity to respond. The second Amy looked up, Metal closed the gap between them, pulling her close into a hug. Her face flushed as a small gasp escaped her lips. Before she knew it, she was returning his embrace tenderly. “Dummy- I’m trying to apologize here,” she protested, though her swishing tail seemed to contradict any complaints. There were few things Amy enjoyed more than friendly affection, and considering the incredible embarrassment she felt after their last hug, she relished in his readiness to hold her. “I’m glad we found each other, too.”

As they slid away from one another, Amy combed through the front of her hair, pulling it over to conceal her blushing cheeks. “You know, this isn’t even the first time I find you in the snow…” Metal tilted his head curiously, so she continued. “Well, first time, it was a couple of years after we met. You’d been laying there a while- actually, I think it was after Knuckles took back the Master Emerald from you. He can really throw a punch,” she chuckled. “But you know, you seemed so sad. We were enemies then, but I helped you get back home because, well, I guess I thought it would change things. Don’t know if it really made a difference, though.”

Defeat. Snow. Amy’s mercy and kindness. It was like déjà vu; Metal could suddenly remember each encounter individually, the earliest of which was just as vivid a memory as the most recent. He dropped the notepad and pen and took her hands excitedly, looking into her widening eyes. An exuberant smile spread across Amy’s face in realization.

“You remember!” Her fingers tightened around his delicately. “I don’t know what happened after that, but, I hope it’s a happy memory for you.”

He recalled how indifferently he acted toward her help then. He knew who Amy was, but whatever memory he possessed of their first encounter had been gutted. All he remembered as she dragged him through the snow was holding her captive and being defeated. No empathetic smile, no tarot reading, no kind words- she was just a footnote in his files by the time she found him; just like had been a few days ago. Though he had scarcely tried to communicate with her, the unfamiliar comfort her care provided compelled him to relent. And despite how unresponsive he had been Amy still lent him her aid. She’s offered him a hand time and time again without holding it over him. Perhaps that was why all the small ways in which he returned the favor brought him such pleasure.

Metal nodded. He didn’t remember anything after she left his side then, but finally understanding the mixed emotions that went through his head that cold day did bring him joy. It was close enough.

“I’m glad…” Amy sheepishly unlatched her fingers from his and clasped her hands in front of her face, concealing her rosy cheeks. “I guess… we should head home? We can take off from where we landed.”

Metal turned toward the exit, impulsively offering Amy his arm. She looked astonished for a moment before latching onto him with a giggle.

“Where did you learn to be a gentleman? I’m surprised you have it in you.”

Metal’s smug tones and exaggerated head-bobbing gave her more to laugh and tease him about as they made their way out and through the forest. He didn’t mind. Every time they started back to Amy’s house together, it felt more like home.

---

Everything in the burrow echoed and could be heard from the outside if one knew where to listen from; And Knuckles knew just the spot. “About time,” he grumbled, watching as the pair sauntered out of sight from behind a thick tree trunk. He re-entered the space to find Metal’s pen and notepad left behind on the ground. So that’s how he was communicating. Annoyed that they had left their trash behind, Knuckles picked up both items with the intention of throwing them in the bin, but stopped when he noticed a short note written on the first page. He grinned as he read it. Probably knows I was listening, he thought. It didn’t really come as a surprise that Metal left it behind for Knuckles to find, but the words and their sentiment were unexpected.

He ripped the page out of the book to keep. Knuckles would have to hold Metal to his word: “I will prove you wrong.”

..................................................................................................................

hi babes~ how are you all doing this cursed election week?

i’m uhhh not 100% satisfied with this chapter but i’m sick of looking at it so here she is! also obviously i’m obsessed to death with the mania adventures short because where else are we getting our canon metamy crumbs

((yes i could have picked one of several canon names for the amusement park yes i decided to call it magic city because i’m from miami (: fight me abt it))

#metal sonic #amy rose #metamy #metal sonic x amy rose #unfamiliar

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

Text

This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 8: The Temple

The eighth and final chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! You can find it here on AO3 and here on Tumblr. Below the cut are extras for this chapter and a few things for the story over all. I’ve had such fun writing this fic, and hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and following along with the writing process here too!

Like the previous chapter, chapter 8 is named for the location where it takes place, in this case the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, which is near the Valley of the Kings, Thebes, and modern Luxor, on the west bank of the Nile.

As mentioned in both this chapter and previous chapters, several sections of the temple have stars painted on a blue background on the ceilings:

The ‘towering statue’ Clara comments on is one of a line of statues depicting the pharaoh Hatshepsut as the god Osiris, only a few of which are still standing:

Here’s a short video showing both the exterior and interior of the temple from earlier this year.

I came across the Temple of Hatshepsut fairly early in my writing process, when I was looking into what archaeological dig sites were active in the 1910s and 1920s. This photo from the late 1920s shows the continuing work going on in the area (that’s the Temple at the back left), and served as part of the inspiration for Clara’s memory of finding the Doctor at a dig site in Thebes in 1921:

About a month into writing This Isn’t A Ghost Story, I was grappling with the detail of Clara’s wedding ring, based on the poll results you guys gave me. I had been toying with going with an emerald for her ring, since emeralds have some interesting ties to ancient Egypt, but I also really wanted to go the route of a TARDIS-blue sapphire, and in particular a star sapphire really appealed to me, for its look and its symbolism. The results of that little impromptu poll clearly pointed to a star sapphire -- but also suggested I tie it into the world-building somehow.

Those two elements came together in my head rather abruptly when I remembered the star ceiling at the Temple of Hatshepsut, and after digging into the history of Hatshepsut, I realized it worked almost too well. On 28 June this final epilogue chapter sprang into being in basically the form you see it in here, baring a few edits I’ve made to it in the three months (!!) since then.

As the Doctor says in this chapter, the Temple was designed and overseen by Hatshepsut’s head advisor Senenmut, and many modern Egyptologists do in fact believe that the two may have been lovers during Hatshepsut’s time as pharaoh. While there are many stylized statues of Senenmut (including a few of him with Hatshepsut’s daughter, to whom he served as primary tutor), archaeologists have also found ostracons, chips of limestone that ancient artists used as throw-away sketching surfaces, that depict Senenmut in what he more likely looked like in life:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees this resemblance:

And then there’s Hatshepsut herself, who is depicted in numerous different ways throughout art and statuary, sometimes shown as more typically male in her role as pharaoh, but more often shown in what Egyptologists believe she looked like in life -- large eyes, full cheeks, and a small chin:

I mean:

Once my brain made that connection, I really couldn’t let it go.

I had originally planned to end the story with the sequence in the Cairo museum that eventually became chapter 7, but the connection between Clara and the Doctor and the real historical Hatshepsut and Senenmut -- with the added parallel of Senenmut as tutor and guardian of Hatshepsut’s daughter corresponding to the Doctor watching over Margot in Ghost Story, even -- was just too good to pass up.

Senenmut’s tomb is as the Doctor described it, with the oldest known astronomical ceiling of any tomb or temple in Egypt:

His tomb is very near to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, and tunnels into the cliffside such that it is extremely close to Hatshepsut’s own tomb, which is entered from the Valley of the Kings, on other side of that mountainous area. This has only further fueled speculation that the two were very much in love -- as pharaoh, Hatshepsut had to have her tomb built in the Valley of the Kings, and as a commoner Senenmut couldn’t be buried there. But they could design their tombs such that they would be as close as possible to each other, even if the entrances are miles apart.

Part of my goal with this final chapter was to give a hint at a larger story that this version of Clara and the Doctor are just a part of. I left the possibility that they had once been Hatshepsut and Senenmut intentionally open-ended, so the reader can make their own decision. They might have been, they might not have been, but in the end what matters is that they are together and in love now.

Similarly I also wanted to make allusions to both Doctor Who canon -- Senenmut as an ancient astronomer, and Clara’s comments about travelling the stars together in their next life -- as well as the wide variety of fanfiction that exists for this ship. In a way there are thousands of versions of them scattered about out there, finding each other and falling in love over and over again. This Isn’t A Ghost Story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s part of a much larger multi-layered story that is constantly being told and re-told. And in many ways, that’s what I love best about fanfiction versus any other genre of fiction.

The process of writing this story has been so interesting and rewarding, frustrating at times and huge amounts of fun at other points. With this final chapter posted, This Isn’t A Ghost Story is officially the first multi-chapter, non-series fanfic I have ever actually finished, in more than a decade of posting fanfiction online. This is the first time I’ve made myself wait to start posting a story until it’s nearly complete, and I documented more about my process thoughts here on Tumblr than I have for anything I’ve written previously.

It has been a fantastic nearly four month journey, and so much of that is down to the lovely interactions with those of you reading, both here and over on AO3. From the early interest many of you expressed way back at the beginning of June, to the comments and cheerleading on my #process thoughts posts throughout the summer, to all the many wonderful and humbling comments on the story on AO3, I could not have made this journey without you guys. With what a strange, stressful, and often depressing year 2020 has been, I know that when I look back on this year, this is what I’m going to remember the best, taking this journey along with all of you.

And on that note -- do any of you have any questions about Ghost Story? Anything about the writing process or the world building or really anything at all, I am more than happy to answer in as much detail as you like. Feel free to ask here, or on AO3, or use my Tumblr askbox, now or at any point in the future. ❤️

@tounknowndestinations had asked about the timeline I worked out for the entire story, that I’ve been keeping under wraps for fear of spoilers. Originally this started as just a way to keep straight how many years had passed -- ‘do I say eighty-six years here, or eighty-seven??’ etc -- but eventually ballooned from there to cover the entire narrative, and even some of the timeline that is only hinted at in places. This is its final form in my working googledoc:

1875: the Doctor is born

1885: the House is built

February 1899: Clara the 1st is born

13 May 1921: the Doctor and Clara the 1st meet in Cairo, she is 22, he is 46

12 May 1923: the Doctor and Clara the 1st marry in Glasgow, she is 24, he is 48

June 1925: Clara and the Doctor return from Egypt

August 1925: purchase of the House

23 Nov 1927: the Doctor dies, age 52

21 August 1928: Margot is born

23 Nov 1928: Clara the 1st dies, age 29

8 April 1956: Ellie is born. Margot is 27

23 Nov 1986: Clara is born. Ellie is 30

1991: at 5 years old, Clara tells Ellie and Margot about the ghost

September 2000: Ellie dies of cancer, age 44. Clara is not quite 14

January 2010: Dave Oswald dies of a heart attack, age 56. Clara is 23

October 2014: Margot dies, age 86, leaving her house to Clara, who is nearly 28

16 Nov 2014: Clara has the nightmare that begins to unlock her past life memories

13 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor return to Cairo to mark 100 years since they met, the Doctor is restored to life

18 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor visit the Temple of Hatshepsut, which leads Clara to wonder if perhaps they have met and fallen in love before

Thank you so much to all of you who have followed along during the writing process, to everyone who has reblogged chapter posts here and commented on AO3, and everyone who has cheered me on during the past four months. You have made writing this such a joy, and I cannot wait to share my next project with you. ❤️

#This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story extras #process thoughts #my writing #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Clara and the Doctor

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