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youcouldmakealife · 5 months

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LBTE: Jared (125-127)

Birthdays! Playoffs! The fucking Kansas City Scouts.

If you'd like to read along, IJ(aoe)'s series page is here.

125. Many Happy Returns

The Canucks are second in the west but they don’t have a mathematical chance in hell to catch up to Kansas City, who’s blown every other team in the league out of the water, and hold a firm enough lead to almost certainly win the President’s Trophy.

Cue fist shake at the Scouts.

He feels guilty about it, rooting for Bryce to succeed but not succeed too much, hoping that the Flames succeed enough to make the postseason but not enough to earn a date with the Canucks.

Because Jared has absolutely no idea what that would lead to, whether they’d be able to put it aside or not, the fact the rest of their season depends on their husband’s team losing. Jared already gets annoyed when Bryce plays particularly well against him in the regular season, how is he going to feel if Bryce is doing it in the playoffs? How’s he going to feel if Bryce throws a borderline hit against one of his teammates, or one of his teammates throws a borderline hit against Bryce? Would he be welcome at their place when they were in Calgary? Would Elaine be comfortable with him staying with her in Vancouver when he’s playing her son?

Jared’s underestimating himself a bit here. He is underestimating Elaine a LOT.

“This is a stupid amount of flowers,” Jared says. It’s heavy it’s so big. And then they’re going to die in a week or two and Bryce will have blown a bunch of money on nothing.

“I love irises,” Elaine says happily, so Jared will grudgingly accept the flowers Bryce has sent, since they make Elaine happy, and that is a noble thing. “Did he leave a note?”

Jared picks a note out of the gigantic mess of flowers — irises, Jared presumes. Jared can tell a rose from a tulip, but that’s about it on his flower knowledge.

Mom loves irises, it says. I wanted to get you flowers but know you don’t care about them so I picked a bouquet that she’d like. Stop frowning at the flowers. Happy 21st babe, I love you. x B

How does it feel to be Known, Jared.

It’s not a game day, so at least Jared isn’t subjected to a post-game shaving cream pie in the face in front of the media, though he is subjected to a post-practice shaving cream pie in the face, courtesy of one Dmitry Kurmazov, and then forced to get lunch with his attacker.

Dmitry: participates in a time-honoured hockey tradition.

Jared: is this harassment?

“Yeah, him and Stephen and Dmitry,” Jared says. “After I got shaving cream pie to the face. It stings like hell when it gets in your eyes.”

“Thank fuck my birthday’s in August,” Bryce says. “Worst tradition ever.”

I don’t think I even need to tell you Bryce feels this way for hair related reasons.

“Hey,” Stephen says. “Jared. Mrs. Marcus?”

“Elaine, please,” Elaine tells him.

“Stephen,” Stephen says, “Gabe’s boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Elaine says, glancing over at Jared. Jared possibly should have told her that at — literally any point.

Might have been a nice heads up, yes.

“That’s a lovely coat, Elaine,” Stephen says.

“Oh, thank you!” Elaine says. “My, um — I got it last mother’s day.”

“Stephen knows about Bryce,” Jared says with a wince, because yeah, that is also a thing she does not know.

Here Elaine was all ‘okay Elaine, don’t mention Bear, and if they ask any questions defer to Jared, you can do this’ the entire drive in, hyping herself up.

Jared has the sudden immature urge to like — stick his tongue out at him, but he resists it. Mostly because Stephen would never let him live it down.

See, Jared and Julius have a brotherhood, and so do Jared and Stephen, but in Stephen’s case Jared is specifically the LITTLE brother. And he hates it.

“Go drink some Gatorade,” Jared says. “Replenish those electrolytes. I can wait ten.”

“Okay,” Bryce says, then, “Love you!”, like Jared isn’t going to talk to him in ten minutes.

Bryce’s refusal to end phone calls with Jared any other way, regardless of the context, is legit one of Jared’s favourite things, though he won’t even admit that to himself.

126. Apprehension

“You played really well tonight,” Jared says. “You’ve been on fire lately.”

Bryce laughs. “Why are you saying that bitchily?” he asks.

Accusatory would be the most accurate descriptor of Jared's tone, but bitchily isn't wrong.

Bryce is quiet for a moment. “Jared,” he says. “Are you mad at me for playing well?”

Jared would feel a little cornered if Bryce didn’t sound amused. “No,” Jared lies anyway.

Bryce is SO fond of this gremlin.

It’s a weird situation to be in, watching game tape, Dmitry talking about chopping at a recently injured ankle — that’s some cold blooded shit Jared is now considering — while bouncing his baby on his knees, breaking off musing about maiming dudes to blow raspberries against his cheek.

Jared's expression at this moment is priceless. There is judgment and horror and disgust and also confusion and is that the slightest bit of…respect?

The final score’s 2-0, but it would have been a completely different story if Kinder hadn’t been standing on his head, the D doing the best they could to help keep it from him in the first place. The Scouts made Bryce look like a ghost out there, which was the worst part.

So the thing about Willy's line -- it's hell. It's a hell line. They can score, obviously they can score, they have two of the most prolific scorers in the NHL, but they are also extremely defensively responsible and physically punishing when they don't have possession. It's an absolute nightmare to play them. The closest anyone has come to solving them is 'endure their shifts'. But then more Scouts arrive onto the ice, and they're no slouches either.

The Flames would put Bryce out against the second line instead to boost the offence at home, but in KC? Scouts have last change, and they have rendered Bryce toothless.

The frustration starts boiling over halfway through the second, the Scouts up by — Jared would prefer not to think about how many goals the Scouts are up by right now. Suffice to say that Kinder is currently wearing a baseball cap and fuming, and if Jared didn’t have a game tomorrow he’d be drinking as much as Elaine is.

Shortly into the second Elaine stopped getting up and going to the kitchen to refill her wine and brought it back into the living room. Shortly into the third, she returned from the kitchen with another bottle.

The Flames are fuming too, and Jared sees flashes of Bryce’s temper he hasn’t seen in years, in every after the whistle scuffle, and then when the second’s drawing to a close, he gets into it hard with Williams, looking genuinely furious.

“Fuck,” Jared says.

“I can’t watch,” Elaine says, hiding her face in Jared’s shoulder. “Tell me when it’s over.”

At least it's not Shithead? Though Playoff Willy is dangerous to everyone, up to and including himself.

They get coincidental roughing minors, the top centre of both teams out, and no one’s really taking advantage of the four on four, while Bryce and Williams don’t stop talking the entire time, it seems, yelling at each other from their respective penalty boxes. They get a lot of footage of that during the second intermission, the talking heads all musing about ‘passion’ and ‘gamemanship’ while Jared just hopes Bryce doesn’t murder or maim the dude.

I love them as much as they hate each other.

Jared can’t honestly say he’s surprised when Bryce ends up right back in the box in the third for cross-checking Williams to his hands and knees right in front of the ref, though he is not impressed.

Bryce Justin Marcus, at least give the refs the opportunity to pretend they didn't see it.

“I used to be that flexible,” Gabe says, sounding a little wistful about it.

“Then you got old,” Jared says.

Poor Gabe. Gets it at home, gets it at the rink. Can't escape.

127 - Defeat

Jared’s not the scorer on their line, that tends to be Gabe with the final finesse or Dmitry with the net-front redirect

Read: with his big ass planted in the blue paint. Surprisingly generous of Jared not to refer to it that way.

“I’ll probably see you before they even get there,” Jared says. “Canada Post takes forever.”

“Just do next-day,” Bryce says.

“Do you know what next-day delivery costs?” Jared says.

Look, Jared WOULD see him before they get there for regular delivery, and next day delivery IS extortionate. But see Jared willfully ignore the existence of Fed-Ex and the like.

Well, Jared could just wander over to their equipment manager and ask for another game puck — there’s plenty, mostly for selling off to fans purposes — but he expects he’d get a look of grave disappointment that he lost like, career milestones, and Disrepected the Importance Of Equipment — he caught that look from Joseph when Dmitry smashed his stick in frustration after he whiffed on a puck tonight — and also he’d always know they were fake, so.

Could you imagine. It’d be like the Tell-Tale Heart, rubberized.

Jared texts Elaine during commercial breaks to keep from getting too antsy between shifts, his dad, who’s in the crowd and can tell him about shit the cameras aren’t catching, that happen when the screen cuts to yet another ‘here’s a big fucking truck for a big tough guy like you.’ ad.

I honestly almost miss ‘hoorah pick up truck for good ol' boys’ ads, now that 90% of ads during hockey games are for betting sites. But they’re still among the remaining 10%, so.

He texted Ash a few times during the first but she just replied with exclamation marks, so Jared suspects she is too in her feelings right now to communicate, which is fair enough.

I appreciate that Jared respects this very understandable position.

Jared would like to un-make that wish.

There is an entire subgenre of fairy tales about how you don’t get to do that, Jared.

Jared grabs a quick bite to eat at the hotel bar, since he’d been too nervous to eat dinner properly, checks the time every few minutes until he knows Bryce has gone through the coaching staff team pissed media bullshit gauntlet, and tries to find somewhere properly secluded to call him, since Carter’s still recuperating in their room.

Jared’s had a roomie change, which is easy to miss since they’re not Julius so they’re dead to him.

“Don’t tell me to stay out of the box,” Bryce says. “Everyone’s already told me to stay out of the box.”

“Stay out of the box, Bryce!” Jared says.

It bears repeating.

“He insulted my mom,” Bryce says. “My mom, Jared.”

Always effective! The classics are the classics for a reason.

Bryce will, however, be in Vancouver for the Canucks’ Game Five, having practically jumped off the plane from Kansas City and right onto one to Vancouver, only cramming in a night of sleep closer in length to a nap, and half of media day — Summers is probably furious Bryce cut out early, not to mention the Flames management — and by the time Jared gets back from the gym to change into a suit for pre-game Bryce is sitting in the kitchen with Elaine, looking tired, worn out.

Bryce still doing himself absolutely no favours with the Flames.

“Everything fucking sucks right now but coming home so I’m just—” Bryce says, and Jared holds him tighter. He’s pretty sure Bryce is crying, and Jared never knows what to do when Bryce cries. He figures the best he can do is just hold on right now, that there’s nothing he can say to make shit better, so that’s what he does, holds on until Bryce is more slumped into him than hugging back.

It was cut out early or break in like this while front of the cameras, honestly, so, no favours or not, Bryce made the right call, because he’d have been eaten alive if he had.

“Didn’t think it’d be a good idea to be in the crowd,” Bryce says apologetically as Jared gets ready to leave, and it absolutely would not be — Jared can’t imagine what the reaction would be if Bryce was seen watching a rival team’s playoff game in a whole other province after cutting out of his own media day, hometown or not.

They would refer to it in his OBITUARY. Dealer’s choice on whether said obituary is many years in the future (but still spoken of bitterly by Flames fans) or very shortly, right after Dave got his hands on him.

“I don’t,” Bryce says.

“Don’t what?” Jared says, when Bryce says nothing else.

“I don’t know,” Bryce mumbles.

“Okay,” Jared says. “That’s okay.”

Jared basically just says ‘okay’ repeatedly during this scene because he doesn’t know what to say but that is for the best, honestly, because Bryce just needs to be heard right then. And held, which Jared is much better at.

“They’re going to blame it on me,” Bryce says, and Jared can’t say anything, because he knows Bryce isn’t wrong. Knows Bryce cutting out early is going to add ammunition to a campaign of condemnation that’s completely out of proportion to what Bryce deserves. Penalties to Bryce resulted in three Scouts goals. He also scored five of the nine goals the Flames managed to get against the Scouts, scored two, including the game-winner, in the only game the Flames won. It isn’t on him, the Flames were up against a juggernaut that they couldn’t figure out how to beat, but that’s not what the narrative’s going to be.

Not that Jared was counting.

Jared was counting, because he knew, just as well as Bryce does, that they’re going to blame it on him. And, because he is Jared, he was tallying just how much that was going to cost.

#liveblogging the end

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jehanne-gaudet · 9 months

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Authentic Louisiana Gumbo

Cooking time: 90 minutes

Growing up in South Louisiana I always heard about my family's older generations living in New Orleans. My mom moved to Baton Rouge in her 20s, but we're New Orleanian through and through– we have our roots traced back to Acadia, Gaudet is our family name. In highschool my mom taught me how she and her mom and her nana made their gumbo, but a few conversations will tell you that there's more "right ways" to make Gumbo than there are creole people. Here's my right way.

GATHER YOUR INGREDIENTS: I always heard that your mom was my mom's midwife when I was born, but we didn't know each other really until highschool because you lived in Lafayette. I changed my name to Johanna Gaudet during my transition, which I guess you learned through Facebook. You also chose your name when you transitioned: Marcus. Marcus Gaston. (Not like the Disney villain, it's pronounced like "GA-stun", not "ga-STAWN".) When you transitioned at 17 your parents kicked you out of their house. I transitioned while I was away for college but I guess that was around the same time, me being older.

PREP THE INGREDIENTS: In February I got a call from you. You were crying in the parking lot of the Rouse's because you'd bought some random things hoping to make gumbo based on the Emeril Legasse cookbook, but the more you grabbed the more you realized it wasn't right. You couldn't even articulate what was wrong, because your mom never taught you her gumbo recipe before she kicked you out and stopped talking to you. You tell me you feel like your whole childhood was taken from you. You tell me you hate this fucking state and can't wait to move out to Seattle. All words I've said or thought before. My dad is from Texas, he used to forbid my mom from cooking Creole food or even taking us to New Orleans where she grew up. He wanted us to grow up as his perfect white American status symbol children, and our actual heritage would have made us dirty. Joke's on him, he never expected gay and transgender kids. My mom taught me how to make gumbo after the divorce, and after I stopped talking to him. And talking about my mom's recipe some, we decide I'll come over to teach it to you. It's not your childhood or your family, but at least it's a childhood to make up for what was taken from you, the way it made up for what was taken from me.

GETTING STARTED: At your apartment, I do tell you that you won't need the shrimp. It's a chicken and sausage gumbo my mom taught me. There's other kinds, black Creoles brought over Okra gumbo, native Creoles adapted it to Filé gumbo, and my people (the formerly-French Acadian Creoles) adapted it to be made with a roux. Seafood gumbo usually is done with okra, at least in my family. I don't know where we got that recipe from– Creole people have been all mixed together so long– but pairing seafood with okra is how we do it.

PROCESSING THE CHICKEN: You'll want to start with taking out your WHOLE CHICKEN. Not leg quarters or breasts, a WHOLE chicken, WITH giblets. Just from memory, this is how to process it. You'll start by pulling the wings up and cutting along the white line of fat, and then between the bones. Next you'll pop the legs out of their hip sockets by bending the thighs opposite from how they're supposed to sit, and cutting along the fat line between the thigh bone and the hip socket there too. Next is the part I never totally remember, I think you pull the torso as open as it goes and try to cut along the fat lines on the side of the torso, starting opposite the ribs and going forward? But at some point you'll hit ribs, and I always just try to go around them. Maybe there's an easier way, I don't remember. Anyway at some point you'll get to the clavicles at the front of the chicken, and you just have to break those. My mom taught me to do it by setting the knife blade on one and just hitting the back of it with your hand until it breaks. Finally, try to cut the breast meat out of the breast bone. This is a huge pain to do, tbh. I think there's a way to split the chest bone in half and leave some bone and cartilage on there, but I just try to cut out the meat as close to the bone as I can. It's imperfect, whatever.

BROTH: Go ahead and put the breasts and leg quarters aside, but set the rest of it (mostly just wings and bones) in a big pot with the giblets. Cover it all with water and set it to boil on a low heat. By the time you need broth, this will have turned into broth. You can also supplement with even more broth from the store, if that's your inclination. I do it sometimes for no particular reason.

THE HOLY TRINITY: Anyway then we gotta cut the vegetables. Onions, green bell pepper, and celery. This is called the Holy Trinity. Actually, there's a 4th one, and it's garlic? My mom used to say that the Holy Trinity is those 3 vegetables, but the Whole God is Garlic. To me that reads hilariously like the Heresy of Partialism, but it's fine, she converted out of Catholicism as a teenager. She only pretends to be Catholic now. Anyway how much of each of the Trinity veggies? Idk, I always kind of eyeball it. I'd say like equal-ish parts of all 3, but it should be 2 or 3 cups all together? Maybe more onion than the other 2? And you definitely want a lot of veggies, because they can disappear in a gumbo. But again, just eyeball it. This part also takes the longest, it's so annoying. My mom would make me do this part when I was young so that she didn't have to, and I sometimes make my wife do it. But also you can get store-bought trinity that's already cut. As a rule I don't like store-bought stuff when I can do it myself, but I still do it sometimes.

SEASONING THE CHICKEN: Okay assuming that's done, time to season your chicken. The ones you set aside, the breasts and leg quarters. Try to get the seasoning under AND over the skin if you can. Idk if that makes a difference, but I always heard it does. I keep the seasoning here simple. Salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, and cayenne. Eyeball the quantities, but know a lot of this gets cooked off into the roux, so too much won't hurt you at this stage. You'll want to get a big gumbo pot and cook the outside of the seasoned chicken. Oh, you used your only big pot for the broth. No worries I brought mine. I'll get it from my car. It's one of those dark blue pots with the white speckles on it. Dirt cheap, thin metal, but it's big and does the job. Anyway, put some olive oil in there and cook the outsides of the chicken on a high heat. Doesn't need to be cooked all the way through yet, you can take it out after a minute or so.

THE ROUX: Now we get to the actual hard part. Roux is easy to burn, and my family does it dark. Advice online often says not to do it too dark to make sure it can thicken the gumbo more, and that makes sense, I've heard that before. But my family does it dark. Like Dark Chocolate dark. I also do a LOT of roux. Roux tastes good in the final gumbo, so don't skimp. I empty your bottle of olive oil into the pot, and I bring out my bottle from home too to add some more. I brought it because I knew I'd feel bad using all of yours. You want probably like 1/2 an inch of standing olive oil at the bottom of the pot, at med-high heat. Then the flour, we want enough of that to make the roux thick. It's gonna seem too thick at first, but don't worry, it thins out. And you're gonna sit yourself over that pot in the high heat with your bamboo spatula and scrape the bottom of that pot as it gradually gets darker. Keep going until you can barely tell through the steam that it's not totally black, but you're getting afraid you've burned it. I want to be clear though, you are scraping every inch of the bottom of that pot. If you ignore one part too long you'll notice that the flour settles real low in the oil and starts to burn. So you scrape every part off, and you scrape fast. Early on you can scrape slow, but as it gets dark you gotta speed up. Probably wear a mitt too, because the oil is gonna splash and that hurts. As it gets darker I get a little nervous and drop the heat to med.

ADD THE HOLY TRINITY: While you're doing that I'm getting all the Holy Trinity we chopped together in a big bowl. Once it hits dark chocolate brown, I tell you to scooch over in a panicked voice, and then I dump in the holy trinity. Then I ask you to keep mixing it up while I get a glass of water to dump in there to cool it down so the roux doesn't burn in the residual heat. I don't get the glass glass, I get a Mardi Gras glass, obvi. I also lower the heat to med-low. At this step you notice the roux has lightened a lot. It's milk chocolate brown, now that the Trinity is in there. I add another glass or two of water as it cooks down, just to make sure the texture stays like a paste that clings to the vegetables. I tell you to keep mixing it while the Trinity vegetables cook and the onions turn clear. I add a whole mess of minced garlic too.

PUT IT ALL TOGETHER: Anyway now we add that broth. You're really supposed to skim off the foam at the top of it, but I don't always. But you should. I do it in front of you, to set a good example. And then we pour the broth over the trinity and roux trying to keep the chicken scraps from falling into the gumbo. We mix it until the roux disappears into the broth. I realize we forgot to cut up the Andouille. I tell you how annoying it was to try to find Andouille while I was in Alabama for college. There was one brand, Savannah, which was pretty good though if I could find it. People were so weird about Creole stuff in Alabama. I never fully "got" cultural appropriation until I heard rural Alabamians at a crawfish boil talk about my home all while exclusively calling me anti-Creole slurs. We use Kiolbassa's Andouille though, which has a special nostalgia for both of us. I used to wake up at 2am and cook an Andouille sausage to eat as a snack or on bread. It's like the ultimate comfort food. We cut them up into discs and toss them in the gumbo. I've heard that the sausage can soak up some of the extra olive oil from the roux, but I don't really know. Maybe you have to do something special for that to work. We toss the chicken pieces in too. They'll need to cook in the gumbo to soak up the flavor, but also to cook the insides of the chicken. Remember we just cooked the outsides.

SEASON TO TASTE: We also toss in some seasoning. A couple bay leaves, salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, cayenne. You add paprika because you're suspicious of ONLY cayenne. Like won't that just have a front of mouth burn? Some paprika would help to push it backwards. Balance it more, you think. It's sound logic, I might have to do that from now on. Then we leave it to cook for a while. It already smells awesome…

RICE: Wait, shit, we forgot the rice!! Okay, we make the rice. You know the trick right? Like about measuring rice? You can measure the correct amount of water by sticking your knuckle into the water down to the top of the rice. The water should cover the entire thickness of the middle section of your finger. Which is all good and well but you have a fancy Japanese rice cooker so you just use the measuring cup that came with it. I tell you my family used to have a rice pot. Like a normal sauce pan, but we used it specifically for making rice and we sometimes left it on the stove (with a lid on it) in case we needed to reheat the rice for something. I have since heard that this was very unsanitary, but it was tradition in my family, and I just think it was cool. Anyway, we start the rice. The wait is fine honestly, this will force us to let the gumbo stew for a bit. One time, during the 3 week power outage after Gustav, my sibling learned how to make rice on a propane stove. They were so good at it, never burned a single pot. Crazy, right?

LET IT STEW: We start talking about this childhood thing. The heritage thing. You should check out Butterfly Soup, it's this queer visual novel by Brianna Lei. Or, specifically the sequel. It's about being Asian American, and like I would never want to try to claim that experience (esp as a white Creole) but there's a lot in there I think you'd like. It's like, y'know our heritage, our culture... it's not just something we're just given and have to accept. How much did we lose when we transitioned, and our families cut us off? It feels sometimes like if we want to be queer the "right way" then we have to move to the PNW, or San Francisco, or New York and work in tech and act like those terminally-online people on Discord. And if we want to be Creole then we have to be cis and straight and conservative, like your Nana who posts Q-Anon shit on Facebook. But the thing is, we don't JUST inherit our heritage. We are active participants in it. We create our culture as much as we experience it. It doesn't need to be transphobic, y'know. It doesn't need to be racist. We don't need to let ourselves become southern Americans and we don't need to accept creoleness as it was. Ain't WE Creole? It's like the gumbo, y'know, like we got our recipe from our families, but it's OUR recipe now. Our parents passed it to us, but it's our culture and our recipe to pass on. We can decide what it means to be "authentic" gumbo. And we can decide what it means to be "authentically" Creole. And that can mean trans, or gay, or whatever. And you can put the tomatoes from your garden in your gumbo if you fucking want to, it's your gumbo. It's our culture, and that's who we are, isn't it? The culture is us. The rice maker starts singing its beeping rendition of twinkle twinkle little star.

ENJOY: God this gumbo really is so fucking good. My mom really knew what she was talking about, like, sometimes.

#writing #short story #transgender #creole #lesbian #new orleans #gumbo #recipe #authenticity #this is not really a recipe but you can actually learn how to make gumbo from it

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cdyssey · 1 year

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Trust Me, Pt. 1/2

Summary: Melissa had to put someone down as her emergency contact.

CW: Car Accident; Medical Procedures; Hospitalization

A/N: Pt. 1 of my gift for @straperine for the Secret Santa exchange! Michael, ily!! I wrote more in the AO3 A/N, but the gist is that I adore you, and I’m so glad that we’re friends!

AO3 Link | Part Two

“Last time I trusted someone else to shuffle, I lost a kidney.” - Melissa Schemmenti

It’s a perfectly normal Saturday night.

Standing barefoot in her kitchen, listening to an old Sam Cooke vinyl on her grandmother’s still-functioning record player, Barbara hums to herself as she cards her fingers through her recipe box, looking for her poppyseed chicken recipe. Taylor is coming over for dinner tomorrow evening with her new boyfriend—a young gentleman named Marcus, who apparently works on Wall Street.

Barbara hates that.

Just a little.

Thinks she knows the type from the books she’s read and the movies she’s seen.

Tie-wearing, cocaine-snorting, fast-talking hooligans.

Mm.

When she told Gerald of her suspicions during one of their occasional calls a week or so ago, he only laughed and said that she should give the boul a chance. Her ex-husband had caught a glimpse of him once on a FaceTime chat with Taylor and said that he seemed nice enough. A little bit of an egghead, maybe, but that’s only to be expected from a broker. When she told Melissa the exact same thing in the teacher’s lounge the next day—(dissatisfied with that perfectly reasonable answer)—to her chagrin, her best friend only doubled over in laughter too, briefly holding on to her shoulder for support.

“God, Barb,” she shook her head, her green eyes twinkling with amusement, “I do love the way you see the world, hon.”

So, with these humbling reactions in mind, she grudgingly supposes she’s going to give Mr. Marcus Wall Street a singular shot.

He had better not waste it either.

She eventually finds the recipe, props it up against a half-empty bottle of Merlot, and starts rooting around her kitchen to ensure that she has everything. She’ll need to go to the store and grab the chicken, definitely… a box of Ritz Crackers for the crust too… and maybe a few other necessities besides.

More TV dinners to neatly stack in her freezer. (It’s hard to cook for precisely one person.) Another half-pint of milk. (That she won’t be able to drink by herself anyway.) A fresh bottle of wine that she will slowly and methodically desiccate to its dregs throughout two weeks, allowing herself a singular half-glass when the home she has lived in for twenty-one years feels like a total stranger.

(So quiet. It used to never be quiet in the Howard residence. Once filled with the pealing laughter of her two beautiful girls. Once filled with the ambient noise of Gerald flicking on the TV after a long day at work. Once filled with their shared laughter as they gossiped together about some neighbor or another. But this had been well before the disagreements had begun. They never had fights, her and Gerald. Just polite disagreements in slightly raised voices. And she’d go to school the next day, attempting to plaster on a beatific smile that would crumble as soon as Melissa saw her, clocking her on the spot, seeing her. Oh, how naked she was beneath that verdant gaze, so exposed, like the carefully layered outfits that she meticulously put together disguised absolutely nothing. And the younger teacher would rush to her in an instant, dropping everything, and in the embrace of her friend’s arms, Barbara would finally let the mask drop too—if only for a few seconds, a minute at most, her face buried against the crook of that warm neck like it was her own personal Bible.)

As Sam Cooke’s soulful voice continues to warble through her empty kitchen, she harmonizes with him as she makes her grocery list.

And idly pours herself a half-glass of Merlot.

It’s a perfectly normal Saturday night.

After she heats up a bowl of leftover tomato soup for herself, she settles in her favorite recliner in the living room and prepares to watch Jeopardy!, which’ll be on in about ten minutes.

She tries to call Melissa twice to see if she wants to get on the phone and watch it together—as they sometimes do these days—but to no avail. She gets hit by Melissa’s vaguely threatening voicemail twice.

“Melissa.” A slight pause, wary, like her dear friend thinks that even giving her first name might backfire on her. “Schemmenti. If ya need me, you know where to find me. If you’re tryin’ to sell me somethin’, don’t.”

She leaves a message on the second call, just a general no worries if you’re busy.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

And so, Barbara eats dinner in silence too, occasionally calling out the answers to clues. Hamlet. The Grand Canyon. Ghosts. Jennifer Coolidge, though the correct answer is actually Jennifer Hudson, which seems incorrect to Barbara but alright.

She gets tired of doing that by Double Jeopardy, though, and sits the rest of the program in silence, idly stirring the dregs of her soup. The grandfather clock in the corner slowly drags her into seven, the toll echoing solemnly through the darkened room.

Melissa never calls her back.

And it’s fine, of course.

She’s well-aware her friend has a life of her own… but Barbara admittedly likes it—much more than she rationally should—when the two of them share their evenings together, even when it’s just over the phone.

Melissa’s been her saving grace in all of these endless months since the divorce, coming over on so many weekends—and now that school’s out for the summer, much more often than that. They’ve chatted and cut-up and talked about new art projects they want to try with their kids in the fall, shoulders lightly brushing, their curving hips, their thighs. Melissa has unfailingly cooked for her, always lamenting the deplorable state of Barbara’s fridge or else complaining about her depleted spice cabinet.

Perpetually making sure that she has enough to eat.

She made the tomato soup that Barbara is currently picking at, having popped over for dinner just two nights ago with a foot-long baguette, a bunch of vegetables, and assorted spices that she dragged from her own kitchen.

“You gotta know I love you, hon,” Melissa had huffed as she dropped her haul onto the pristine island in Barbara’s kitchen. “I haven’t cooked for someone this much since Joe.”

At first, Barbara had easily smiled at the fact that she was loved by Melissa, warmth radiating through her chest and all the way down to her perfectly manicured fingertips, but then, she had been less pleased by the casual comparison to Melissa’s idiotic ex-husband, blinking in a manner that she hoped wasn’t too revealing.

“Joseph was hardly as good-looking as I am, though, right?” She had asked, trying to play it all off as a joke.

Of course it was a joke to her.

This jealousy that she was pretending to affect.

Melissa only chuckled, though, and lightly swatted her on the ass with a dish towel, which did something unpleasantly delightful to her insides too.

“Damn straight,” she winked, and Barbara hasn’t been able to let go of the moment since. She rubs the emptiness on her ring finger almost subconsciously, as though she can still feel where it had cuffed her.

(The inlaid diamonds had almost been as heavy as her guilt.)

She gets Final Jeopardy right.

Derrida.

It’s a perfectly normal Saturday night.

After taking her makeup off, showering, and slipping into her favorite silky pajama set, she finally crawls into the king-sized bed that she had once shared with Gerald and tries to settle her mind by reading. She and the ladies at her Bible Club have been making their way through a pretty hefty devotional lately—(in-between a little light gossiping about Brother Carlton Sanders’ possible mistress, of course)—and Barbara tries to stay on top of the weekly readings as much as she can with her busy schedule.

But tonight, the words of God are falling on glassy eyes. She can only get through a few pages before she’s distracted, disconcerted, discontent—staring at the empty space next to her, gently biting her tongue between her teeth.

It’s been eleven months since she and Gerald divorced, their thirty-seven year marriage ending as it had so beautifully begun—with a moment of quiet intimacy. They laced their hands together in their attorney’s office and both quietly shed tears at what they were about to do.

She almost changed her mind then, right as her shaking pen was poised above the dotted line with her name neatly printed beneath it.

Almost conceded to everything that would be required of her to not let him go.

Almost gave that crucial piece of herself away.

Here, take it—I can’t do this.

I don’t know how to be alone.

I don’t know how to be without you.

But Gerald, still holding her other hand, squeezed it and silently reminded her it was okay.

They had done everything right in a desperate attempt to preserve their marriage.

They had talked to their dear pastor first, Brother Hank, who told them that God knew the plans He had for them, plans for them to prosper and not be harmed, plans for them to have hope and a future.

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean that your future is together,” he had added kindly, peering between both of them with keen eyes. He had known them for well over twenty years now and had been their friend through most of them.

It was time, he implicitly said without ever saying the words, but neither Barbara nor Gerald had been ready to hear it then, both stubborn to the last.

They had gone to at least five months worth of couple’s counseling after that, Gerald an unstoppable force and Barbara an immovable object on the subject of her husband’s possible transfer. He was an excellent welder, and his company wanted to send him down to New Orleans to work on the cruise ships that docked and departed from the Big Easy. The pay was handsome—far more money than Barbara had ever seen in her entirety of a career as an public school educator—but the emotional toil was steep.

Gerald wanted to move back to Louisiana—where she’d been raised and where they had initially met when he temporarily located there for a job. It clearly made more sense than him traveling back-and-forth between contracts, but Barbara had been adamant about staying in Philadelphia. She was too old to start anew at a different elementary school in a now foreign place. And she didn’t want to leave Abbott, having invested nearly half of her life there, with so much more left to give yet.

Ava surely needed her. Though the once thoroughly incompetent principal had grown leaps and bounds over the past few years of her tenure, she still relied upon Barbara for some help with the budget and other administrative duties.

Her young mentees too—Janine, Jacob, and Gregory—all coming into their own as fine, young teachers, of course… but still, whenever they encountered some hard problem or another, they unfailingly continued to consult Barbara. They called her their work mom and she fondly (if a little exasperatedly) claimed them as her own.

And then there was the problem, the possibility, and the exquisite pain of surely losing Melissa Schemmenti.

Melissa—her dear, sweet Mel—independent and self-sufficient, bold and thoroughly capable and so full of life… probably didn’t need her.

But Barbara did.

Barbara needed her best friend.

She would never admit it aloud—not even to herself, much less to Gerald—but even the mere thought of parting with Melissa fueled an almost ungodly amount of her hesitation. She had been inseparable from the younger woman for nearly as long as she had been teaching at Abbott, then new to Philadelphia, lacking a community and a context beyond her nuclear family and the Baptist church they went to every Sunday.

But then there had been Melissa, whom she had instantly clicked with despite the thousands of differences between them: their ages, their upbringings, their overall demeanors and almost every last habit in-between. But before three months had passed since Mel had become a teacher at the school, the two of them had already claimed the round table closest to the fridge in the teacher’s lounge as their own.

A South Philly native, born and raised, Melissa took her under her wing and made her feel at ease in the city, something that even her husband hadn’t been able to accomplish. She would never forget this initial kindness, even though she has long since striven to repay it.

She would always remember that Melissa had been the first person who made her feel at home.

But there was something about this particular truth that felt like it was unsavory—a confession of sin weighing upon her otherwise stainless soul.

So they argued about thousands of different things.

But never once about Melissa.

She wouldn’t dare probe that tender wound for Gerald to see, somehow finding it much more tenable to let it fester beneath her carefully buttoned shirt and become an abscess, a maw, dark and desolate, devouring her from the inside out.

It gnawed on her that her husband of three decades had to beg her to leave, but she innately knew that her friend of nearly the same amount of time didn’t have to so much as lift a finger to convince her to stay.

What was wrong with her?

How had her kind and loving marriage arrived at this terminal end?

(And what, pray tell, had her relationship with Melissa become in all the intervening years?)

(Friend was starting to feel insufficient, lacking the gravitas to encapsulate the fact that the two women had spent nearly thirty years together, teaching side-by-side in the unchanging hallways of Abbott Elementary. Partner felt closer—maybe comfortable even—but partner was dangerous too, laden with some of the same connotations that encircled the diamond encrusted band on her fourth finger.)

(So friend would have to fit. She would make it fit, damn it. She was Barbara Howard, by God, and if anyone could maneuver a square through a circular hole, it was surely her.)

“You could retire.” If Gerald had brought this suggestion up once, he had done it a hundred times. “My salary would finally be more than enough to support us, Barb, and you wouldn’t have to work anymore! You could finally have time for all the hobbies you’ve wanted to do!”

Barbara had intimately known that he was just trying to be considerate when he made remarks such as these, but it had simply devastated her, with each occasion, to know that he had thoroughly misunderstood her life’s project. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life pursuing hobbies; she wanted to be in Classroom 1A, teaching the next generation how to read.

Their marital counselor, a kindly lady named Mrs. Russell, emphasized honest communication, encouraging them to voice their wants, needs, and fears to each other—something which they increasingly found they could only do with her in the room, and even then, in front of the counselor and God Himself, Barbara could not be completely vulnerable.

“We’ve raised our daughters here,” she once said, deflecting.

“And our daughters are grown now,” Gerald replied gently—always gentle, her Ger. She loved that about him. Sitting across from him in a hard-backed chair, she had never hated that trait of his more, how it cast the weakness of her protestations in clear and ungainly light.

“But what about your family?” She grasped at straws. “Your stepfather?”

“My brother can finally step up to the plate to help with him, and we can always come back to visit.”

“Taylor’s only an hour or so away from us now.”

“Taylor can fly out to see us anytime she wants to.”

“Gerald,” she had only pleaded at the end, during the last fifteen minutes of their final appointment with the marriage counselor. Their careful budgeting wouldn’t allow them another, not if they wanted to make next month’s mortgage payment on time. “I’m not finished yet.”

Finished.

Barbara Howard used all her words very carefully, and this particular verb was no different. On her desperate tongue, it implied an end, a conclusion, a vital depletion.

She’d be passively destroyed, hollowed out, chipped away piece-by-sordid-piece, weathered with the patina of time until nothing was left but the ruins of herself still standing miraculously tall. She’d be the pillar of salt, perpetually looking back at the homeland she had made for herself as she slowly eroded to the grains.

I’m not finished yet.

And I’d be finished if I went to New Orleans.

If I retired in a city I was unfamiliar with.

A ghost well before my time.

She begged him with her eyes, with the tears that were traitorously starting to leak from them, to read between the lines, to understand the magnitude of what she was still incapable of fully saying.

Gerald digested it quietly, agony straining every weathered line in his face. He stared at the ground and sat like a man carved from stone for what felt like minutes, hours, days—forever in a microscopic moment.

“Me neither, Barb,” he eventually croaked, finally looking up at her, with desolation in the darks of his eyes, and she knew at once that he wasn’t talking about leaving Philadelphia.

His own ghosthood was staying in it.

“I’m not finished either.”

Together, they had arrived at an untenable conclusion.

The only one that remained.

It was time.

They had been married for thirty-seven years, in love for perhaps forty.

Even still.

It was over.

Finished.

It was an amicable split, a no-fault divorce, and the two of them have done everything in their power to remain on good terms with each other since then—not just for their girls’ sakes, but very much for their own. Their one irreconcilable difference has done nothing to change the fact that they still care for each other deeply, that they will always have thirty-seven wonderful years between them, that they will always be family. They chat on the phone at least once a month and send texts even more often than that. She forwards him mail all the way in Louisiana. He sends her pictures of weird birds he sees when he’s out on a job. She usually smiles and responds, LOL.

Barbara most definitely isn’t in love with him anymore—the entire year they had spent fighting and ten months of separation besides has firmly put the nail in that coffin—but admittedly, she does miss him from time-to-time all the same.

The companionship he offered.

The safety.

The peace.

She places her devotional on top of her blanket-covered lap and stares off into the middle distance for what feels like an hour, though when she checks her phone, it’s only been three minutes. Her lockscreen is a selfie of her and Melissa from when they had gone on a road trip together this past spring.

It’d been the younger woman’s unsubtle way of saying, Hon, I’m dragging your mopey ass outta the house if it kills me.

Melissa’s chin is nestled against Barbara’s shoulder in the unsteadily taken picture, the sun glinting off the scarlet vividness of her hair, and Barbara herself is smiling down at her friend, visible affection in her eyes.

Love.

She is smiling even now, at this very minute, always heartened by the reminder that she exists at the same time as Melissa Schemmenti.

Oh, how she adores this woman.

It vaguely bothers her, though, that Melissa hasn’t returned her call or even sent a text to show that she's received it. It’s a bit unusual for her; she’s always been fairly quick about replying to Barbara…

She supposes that she’s just being a little clingy, though.

Mel had mentioned something about going out this weekend after all. She likes to frequent bars occasionally and shoot pool with strangers.

Sometimes, she even takes them home.

Barbara crinkles her nose at the thought, distantly irritated by the image of Melissa swapping spit with some man who always ends up resembling Joseph in her head or trading lipstick with some woman who is devastatingly beautiful.

The women Melissa dates are always devastatingly beautiful.

That crucial fact always makes Barbara feel some type of way. She can deal with the Joseph substitutes—the slobs, the drunkards, the sleazes. After all, using Joseph as the paradigm and the example, she knows they’ll never last.

She cannot say the same of her own gender.

Indeed, she cannot say anything at all about the way that she has to repress an inexplicable urge to compete with Melissa’s inamoratas for her attention.

Even though she knows she maybe shouldn’t, Barbara wings one last text her friend’s way.

Girlfriend, call me back in the morning!

Let’s grab brunch.

Perhaps they can go to Over Easy—that breakfast café up the road from Melissa’s house—and inappropriately sip mimosas at eleven in the morning and share a stack of waffles as they talk about their week. And perhaps, like the last time they did as much, Barbara will have the opportunity to reach over and thumb away the little bit of whipped cream that somehow gets on Melissa’s cherry-red nose…

It'd been so lovely, sharing that domestic intimacy with her.

It doesn't strike her as odd at all that she wants to do it all over again.

It’s a perfectly normal Saturday night.

And then, Barbara’s phone rings precisely six minutes after midnight, startling her upright in that big, empty bed.

Groaning, moaning, fumbling a little in the coagulated darkness, she flicks the latch on her bedside lamp and snatches her phone up from where it had been laying facedown on her devotional.

Her first thought, seeing the unregistered number, is that it’s just another one of those damn robocalls, interrupting what had been a very good sleep, but the area code seems to suggest that it’s local.

She tentatively decides to answer—perhaps solely to chew the midnight caller out—pulling the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?” She asks crossly.

“Hello, yes,” comes a tired voice—gruff but not necessarily unkind. Clinical, practiced even. This person is a professional. “Is this… Barbara Howard?”

He says her name like he’s reading it from a document, and sudden terror carves through her like a knife.

“Yes, this is she,” Barbara grips her phone so tightly that her arthritic wrist starts to ache. “May I ask whom I’m speaking to?”

All of the sleepiness has been sieved from her in an instant, shed like a decaying skin. She palms her stomach, suddenly and completely nauseous.

“My name is Dr. Alex McGill, and I’m in charge of the emergency room at St. Vincent’s tonight,” the voice identifies itself, nearly doing her in right then and there. St. Vincent’s. The hospital about twenty minutes away. She’d given birth to Gina there, and the association immediately makes her think of her girls, even though one is certainly in New York and the other is all the way in California. But then she comes to her senses—remembers that it’s highly likely that she’s still listed on Gerald's medical forms—and that terrifies her just as powerfully. “I’m calling to inform you about—”

“Who is it?” She interrupts sharply, incapable of enduring polite decorum, not now, not when every muscle in her body is clenched with unbearable anxiety.

There is only one type of phone call that this can possibly be.

A short pause.

And in that infinitesimal moment, that tenth of a second before the entirety of her world is irrevocably shaken at its foundation, Barbara suddenly realizes the awful answer before Dr. Alex McGill ever articulates it.

“I’m calling because you’re listed as Melissa Schemmenti’s emergency contact,” he says, so gently, but even still, Barbara lets out a strangled cry that she barely registers as coming from herself. “A driver in a truck rear ended her around eleven this evening and caused her to skid off the road.”

The proclamation is simply ruinous.

And its hypotheticals violently assault her, seizing across her mind’s eye in a whirl of vicious colors.

Melissa in a pool of crimson blood.

Melissa slumped over against the wheel, turning blue.

Melissa, cold, laid out beneath a white sheet.

They force Barbara Howard on her knees, these horrible visions, these phantasmagorias; she feels the cold metal of their possibility against her goosebump knotted skin. She waits for the inevitable pull of the trigger.

Melissa! She wants to yell. She wants to scream. She wants to shake the world with her primal grief and tear it all asunder until someone, anyone, feels an ounce of the horror that is currently rearranging her central nervous system.

Melissa.

Please, God. Not now, not yet—not ever.

“Is she—“ She can’t quite get out, choked and choking.

“She’s still alive,” Dr. McGill quickly assures her, his voice steady where hers is not. “She’s in surgery now with one of St. Vincent’s finest.”

And Barbara, holding the phone against her ear like it’s a lifeline, begins to weep with visceral relief.

She’s alive.

The doctor tries to console her further, she thinks—perhaps even giving her specifics—but she barely registers that he's speaking; her head only has room enough for one recurring refrain.

She's alive.

#work wives #melissa schemmenti #barbara howard #abbott elementary #s: abbott elementary #reginianwrites #straperine

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rikamp3 · 10 months

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my thoughts on claire (unpopular opinion?)

spoilers for the bear s2 finale under the cut!

After that finale I kind of get why claire felt so jarring and off-putting. I mean, we never really get to know anything about her other than she's nice and pretty and smart (also are carmy and her cousins or did they call her claire bear just because it rhymes please tell me its the latter eugh ) BECAUSE carmy is a disaster person and isn't ready to be in any kind of relationship, so obviously he isn't seeing any of her faults and might be in love with sydney?? yall those flashbacks to syd's first day i am side-eyeing.

for all we know she could kick puppies but carmy (and by extension us) wouldn't have noticed. every nice moment between them has either had carmy pretend to be someone else or avoid some other stressful thing in his life. it was never going to work out and i hope they dont have them get back together later down the line because yikes.

also i hate how bloated this character arc was, i wish theyd given that screen time to ebra (we basically got very little explanation for his whole thing) or added more to tina or syd or marcus's characterizations. Even richie or sugar couldve used that time well.

I dislike syd x carmy because carmy is a self-loathing jerk and desperately needs therapy. i love the both of them when theyre actually listening to each other but carmy is...carmy lol. Maybe down the line when he has an emotional toolkit and isnt angrily lashing out or running away every 5 seconds. also syd needs to put down some roots and become more secure in her career, because as it stands she's not getting enough validation from her partnership.

#the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear fx #carmy #syd #claire the bear

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aquanova99 · 4 months

Text

Remember your Roots

Felix Volturi x Reader

Final Part

Prev <<

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A/N: I’m back!! I am trying to put everything that’s sitting in my drafts but I’ve been visiting family so it took a while. I will be rewriting many of my original fics I wrote as I feel like I have somewhat improved lol, I hope you guys enjoy the final installment and sorry a million times over for taking so long!

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Felix’s POV

You almost rushed past her. You were shocked at careless speed at which she walked. As if she didn’t just completely jeopardize her well being. Perhaps she had merely hidden any confidence in what she and Sulpicia created, but the amount of pressure in that room… how dare she risk her life like that?

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I can.” She shrugs as she continues walking past you. Intentionally bumping into you and effectively surprising you. Your reflexes are faster, however and you find yourself latching onto her arm.

“Let. Go.”

“No. What if what you just drank kills you? What if it—”

“So what if it does? I lose nothing. At worst… Then Sulpicia is back to the drawing board. Its not any of your concern.”

“Of course it is! How can you say that? Do you have any idea what would happen to me—if you—god!” You try to take a deep breath and calm down. As quiet as you both may intend to be, everyone’s damned hearing would ensure a less than private conversation. “I was wrong…happy? You win. I’m worried.”

She shakes your hand off of her arm and you immediately look for any cracks or indication that you were too harsh. You start to mumble out an apology but she quickly interrupts, “Stop. Just—stop. I need to focus. This needs to work.”

“I—”

“We can worry about each other after this works…” She quickly retires to her quarters and closes the door. You stand frozen for several minutes trying to decipher exactly what she meant. Not exactly acceptance towards any sort of amicability, but no outright refusal. You stew over the words ‘we.’ Was that intentional? Could this have possibly been the first step in mending what you broke. You feel your body more or less shoved towards your own chambers, probably Demetri’s doing.

You spent the next few days waiting for some kind of adverse effect on Y/n. You kept silent. At this point you knew everyone had known how… protective you were over the covens newest addition. It was something you had tried to avoid. In the long run, you knew Marcus had probably long since told the other leaders how much you cared for her. The only problem is now, there was no denying it. It was leverage the volturi had never had over you. The closest relationship they had to be able to take advantage of was Demetri and even then…he wouldn’t keep you here. You were now stuck. An eternal life was meaningless without some sort of purpose, why else would he concern himself with the coven he had called home? They certainly hadn’t ben able to control him as a newborn, even now the strength had never faded. He was an asset he knew that much, the only way to stop him would be Jane or Alec, he would win against Dmetri and Caius if it came to it. Not that he wanted it to come to that. Not that he even wanted to leave. It was just something that had simply never crossed his mind. At least not before Y/n. If she left…would he follow her? Would she want him to?

“Felix.” Demetri interrupted his train of thought, “Seems we have a visitor.”

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Y/Ns POV

You wondered if your abilities would actually help at all. Apparently the entire volturi was needed for this. Everyone assuming a battle would be incoming, you seemed to be the only one wary of the informant. Why would she rat out her closest friends and allies? While it was no secret some of you may not make it, most everyone seemed confident this would be over quickly. You hated it. If this coven had gifts equaling your own, this arrogance could be your downfall. Everyone was gathered after the meeting with the leaders. Only Santiago was missing since he was more or less guarding Irina. In case she ran off, I guess. Not like her family wasn’t aware of the news at this point. The only one who seemed worried was, well…Felix.

You supposed there was a chance he wasn’t. You stood back behind everyone half listening to Demetri and Heidi. Demetri was debriefing on who all would be there, and what we knew about them. Felix was the only one sat, you knew everyone would keep their distance. He could be prepping himself, but as much as you wanted to speak to him you couldn’t. Partly out of spite, and partly because you were never sure where you stood with him. He seemed furious at you when you tried the tonic, genuine concern was etched over his face. The worst part is had been right. Sulpicia had grown bored of the same companions and quickly explained how everyone fit into the coven. You had come to know it was a warning, how Chelsea could force almost anyone to stay with their coven. How she could find what made some vulnerable to persuasion and others break apart over the most miniscule things. Sulpicia’s stories made you wary. How they could find who you cared about most and hurt them in ways unimaginable to you. You understood why Felix had warned you not to worry about him, not even for his own protection but yours. He would hate himself if anything happened to you because of his own account, so you did what you could do. You stayed away. As much as you could from everyone really, though as much as it would hurt only one person could break you.

To be fair, its not like you had anywhere else to go. You still had no memory of your life, and unfortunately for you, any snippets you may have had started fading more and more the longer you were stuck like this. Its partly why you were careless, the isolating was getting to you. You knew it was crazy the second Felix grabbed you, but admitting you were wrong was not your forte. Still, you didn’t want to go into this fight without clearing the air…

Fuck it.

You sat down next to him, you weren’t even sure he noticed. He seemed concentrated, every part of him seemed tense. His hands were crossed in front of him, his usual stance at trials. You tried to be as quiet as possible and avoid anyone trying to listen in on your conversation, which no doubt they would be.

“Felix.”

He stiffened, blinking at the sound of your voice cutting through the air. “…yes?”

“Will you walk with me?”

He nods and stands up, he offers his arm out to you. Out of habit, I think. He starts to apologize but you link your arm through hi before he can say anything and walk out towards the gardens. The snow is barely coating the courtyard, its beautiful. It’s a shame you have to worry about the law at a time like this. You should have worked on the garden earlier. The original plants you managed to grow were wilting, you try to not think about that as a sign and will yourself to grow plants that seem to thrive in the winter: snowdrops, camelias, hollies and anything else you can think of soon decorate the garden. You wish there were brighter flowers that could bloom but you enjoy some of the pinks that shine through.

“They’re lovely.” Felix says softly.

“Thank you. And thank you for coming with me.” I’ve missed this, you say to yourself.

“Is everything all right?”

“How are you feeling? With this fight?”

“Fine.”

“Are you really going to keep lying to me?” You didn’t mean to snap but if you were going to clear the air he needed to work with you. He looks surprised…and hurt and you quickly decide you would rather not bring up another argument. “Just forget about it—”

“No. I apologize. Its habit. I forget you always seem to see through it. Please.” He gestures to a bench and you sit. Still irritated at this whole situation.

“You can say you don’t want to talk about it. I would rather hear that honestly.”

“Yes. Except that isn’t exactly true, I just…I think somethings off.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Cullens and the Denalis…their whole thing is they don’t want to fight. Why would they protect an immortal child. And why would all of those other covens risk what their safety? I don’t like it…”

“Do you think they have an advantage?”

“They’d have to.”

“Okay. Why do I feel like that’s not everything?”

Felix sighs, “If they do have an advantage. With their gifts…I’ll be useless.”

The thought of them targeting him, him being at a disadvantage. You feel your stomach turn to lead. And then guilt gnaws at your heart for waiting for so long to have a conversation,

“Abilities only go so far. You are not useless.”

“If they have someone like Jane I will be. I wouldn’t be able to protect…anyone.” He becomes still again, its like you can see him thinking of every possible way he could fail. You hesitate and try to tell yourself to stop, but your body moves on its own accord. Your hand intertwines with his and you sit. Sit and wait. He returns your gesture but before you can say anything you hear the footsteps approaching you. Your heads snap towards the leaders and you know they cannot be bringing any good news. You notice you both aren’t moving, you know he’s anticipating something too.

“Y/n. We’ve been looking for you.” Caius starts

“I don’t imagine this is a good visit.” You feel Felix eyes glare at you.

“We have informed the others, they are all to think of the most absurd things possible. Songs, stories, rumors, anything. What we haven’t told them my dear is why. We need you to be ready to use your gifts, before any of the others realize whats happening.” Aro starts

“That’s why you’ve kept me in hiding? Whats the distance?”

“How close do you need?” Caius asks

“Depends, if I can dig my hands into the dirt its faster. I can visualize where everything needs to grow better. It would be obvious but with so many vampires I may be able to hide somewhere further. I would just need a clear visual.”

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Felixs POV

Away? As in away from the guard? What if they had someone waiting on the outskirts, you’d have no way of knowing. What if she needed you? You open your mouth to protest but Marcus jumps in.

“Theres too many variables. We cannot send anyone to scout out the area without calling attention to ourselves, it would give it away.”

“I’ll practice to see how quick I can grow them if I focus. But you realize I wont be able to think about anything else?” You want to shush her, warn her to be careful of who shes dealing with. You know you are likely on thin ice after staring down the leaders instead of standing up and acknowledging their presence. But she remains unphased.

“Its why we are hoping to distract them.” Aro smiles

“You don’t want them to think about random things. Assign them a person. And have them focus on how they plan on taking them down. The mind reader needs to think I’m the least of their worries. Have them think of the worst they can do, the stronger ones should focus on the mind reader, his mate, and child. So long as they know their actual target it should be distracting enough to at least confuse him.”

Caius grins, “I like the way you think, child.”

You didn’t. If they realized what was happening she would be the first one they were after. Which means you are already going against their plan, all you are going to be able to think about is her safety. You refuse to let go of her hand.

“Well, then I should start practicing. I trust you will tell the rest of the guard the plan?”

“What they need to know.” Caius answers.

She only nods and the leaders leave without so much of a glance in your direction. You could hardly form a singular thought. Your mind racing to try and find a favorable outcome. Would the leaders force you to hang back, far enough away you wouldn’t be able to run to her if something happened?

“So. This will be fun.” She starts. You know shes trying to calm you down but you can still hardly form an articulate sentence. Not now. “I’ll be fine, Felix. We both will be.”

She squeezes your hand, signaling its time for her to practice. To leave you. “Lets go out to the fields. You can practice the distance there.”

“Okay.”

You practice until its time for you to depart. Y/n was a fast learner. And she had settled several of your worries. Not all, but several… well at least enough to know she could in fact handle herself. You both silently seem to agree to start over. And, frankly, you couldn’t be happier. The flight over was silent, but you refused to leave her side. Even if you didn’t say anything you needed to know she was still there. You would both make it out of this somehow. You weren’t one to back out of a fight, but if it was really hopeless would you run? Make sure Y/n got out of there? You had told her once you would ensure she made it out… and you always were a man of your word.

~●○°●○°●○~ ~●○°●○°●○~ ~●○°●○°●○~

Y/n’s POV

Felix was right. They were hiding an advantage. As the blond vampire swore everyone was a witness, the wolves descended. If these were children of the moon, they had been somehow subdued, maybe ready to take out the threat that almost eradicated their kind. You can hear several people step back. Demetri usual smirk is dead serious. Caius looks more furious than ever. And Felix…while his expression is neutral you cant help but notice his hand graze the scar that had still painfully reminded him of his past. You fight the urge to go over to him and grab his hand. You would not show any weaknesses here. You take a deep breath and refocus on the new hurdles your coven may have to jump. You decide you’re glad Felix chose against the tonic.

The application had proved to be difficult, Sulpicia had several people hold Caius down as she reopened some wounds before lathering your creation on it. You would never forget his screams as his skin broke like porcelain. You couldn’t imagine the pain. After cursing you and Sulpicia everyone had noticed how much happier he seemed. Heidi told you shed over heard how it felt as if the pain was slowly diminishing day by day until it was gone. It worked.,,but you knew it was something Felix would rather live with. And truthfully, no one would have volunteered to hold him down anyway. Now, the pain surely radiating from his arm would hopefully garner him to be more careful. Maybe even hesitant, it was better than him willing to sacrifice himself in order to fulfill his purpose or whatever.

You are snapped back to attention as Alec grabs Jane. Her gift, always useful in negotiations was ineffective. Meaning they had a shield. Not good. However, shields you’ve learned, are always either mental or physical. You notice the vampire with almost golden eyes, different from the the others up front. You can only assume that’s Bella. You focus as hard as you can sprouting the tiniest blade of grass through the snow. One of the wolf creatures twitched but disregarded it. Perfect. You force a vine to begin growing behind you, it wraps around your ankle and continues growing. You feel it climb up your back and then wraps around your arm. When it reaches your fingertips you know every dormant root in this field. The leaders had been right. Your gift would be useful. You are not going to let anyone go through what Felix endured, what Caius endured. No one would make it across this field. Not without permission. You would make sure of that. Now you wait.

And luckily you don’t have to wait long. Two vampires give a statement and then leave hurriedly. Your eyes scan every huddle. Separating themselves into their respective covens was a stupid mistake. You see a man and woman clutching a small girl. The irish. Demetri had told you how defensive they had been. One. You look at the wolves, one of them almost eager to start an actual fight. Two. You notice the big black one, he had growled at them when they first joined the clearing. Three. You wait a little longer. The child whose heartbeat becomes clearer with every step they take closer makes you pause. Irina had been so sure… but your new coven came first. After they head back to their group you Caius has run out of patience. You and Felix lock eyes for a moment as Irinas life has come to an end. Then you hear the screams. And Edward makes the mistake of letting you know who has the ability to blind them. Four. As you see the blonde ones mate fall to the floor with her you decide she will be your last target. Five.

You choose a combination of Foxglove, hemlock, and devils breath for the first three. For four and five you decide to go with a mixture of nightshade, poppies, and peyote. The Irish are the first to back away. The scream is unlike anything you’ve ever heard of.

“Maggie? Maggie!!” Her eyes have no hatred in them, only fear. Fear of losing her child due to her own decisions. Fear of losing what she holds most dear. Welcome to the club, you think.

“Wait! NO!” Edward growls.

The two wolves fall, one twitching and the other immobile. The bigger one in the front begins snapping some kind of order but the two wolves are picked up and their pack disperses.

Then the screaming comes from four and five. You’ve heard the hallucinations you can give off are no joke. They really should have picked their battles more wisely. You are almost surprised how detached you seem from all of this. Except for the little one in the Irish coven, everyone chose to be here. Had they wished to be witnesses a phone call surely would have sufficed. The blond tries to step forward again.

“Aro, please. Lets settle this calmly.”

“Oh I have no idea what you old friend, I gave no orders for this to happen.” His voice is laced with sarcasm, although technically he wasn’t lying. He told you to be watchful, I doubt even he expected this. “Siobhan, Liam please bring Maggie, we can assure you she will be fine.”

The man hesitates, but Siobhan only shakes her head at Carlisle before rushing over. You look at Aro and he waves a finger in a circle. The vine retracts and both hands extend out to your sides, no use hiding it now. The field is surrounded by flowers of different colors, but it is winter so you have to focus to ensure the cold doesn’t kill them off. Sulpicia holds her arm out towards the irish coven and they quickly follow. Desperate to help their loved one, not caring if it meant certain death for themselves, you decide to like them. You can apologize later. Aro asks Bella to return with them to Volterra, just to ensure her and the child wont be an issue. She looks around panicked, the remaining Egyptian covens have fled, the Denali are trying to fix their blonde friend without getting too close. Senna is almost cradling Zafrina as she tries to clear her head. There isn’t much of an escape route now.

“B-but…”

“Bella darling, lets go.”

“Oh no, Edward. Just the two.” The brown wolf seemed ready to lunge, and you decide to knock him out for safe measure. Bella grabs the child but her eyes are looking for any way to escape. Not a likely option without risking her child’s fate. You make it a point to have a vine rise up to the childs height. Harmless, but I doubt she would know. As she takes the tentative steps forward you can feel the flowers wilting. You focus on their growth, just a little longer…just until the leaders come to a conclusion… You can barely hear Carlisle and Aro speak. Something about this never intending for everything to turn out like this. You can hear the screaming from the other blonde who was still furious at the inability to regain control of her mind. Carlilse explains something about the giant creatures who had stood beside them. Aro and Caius agreed to leave them alone unless they cause anymore trouble. Apparently everyone was done with this stupid meeting.

You try not to buckle when Aro finally gives you the signal. Your vision is spotty and you feel like you could collapse any moment.

“You did well, Y/n.” Aro smiles, “Felix.”

He immediately appears next to you, “Yes?”

“You two take up the rear, just in case. Make sure Bella is following.”

“Of course. We’ll have a good time.” He smiles at Bella and slightly bows his head. You try and stifle the chuckle that escapes you. He certainly knew how to play his role. Athenadora comes and scoops Renesme from Bella.

Before she can protest Athenadora smiles, “Sorry, cant have you running off though.” She turns to the child and continues, “Come on, sweetheart, you’ll see your mommy soon I promise.”

As this is happening Felix gets closer offering his arm in case you need it. You shake your head and squeeze his hand before setting it back down at his side. You try and focus on the woman joining you on your flight. She looks back at her coven, as if debating whether she would rather be with her mate or her child. You follow her eyes, noticing how the bigger vampire in their coven and Carlisle continue to hold him back. They try and get him to calm down but you can see him unraveling. Bella takes a step forward him and he starts screaming for her. Felix steps in front of her arms crossed and shakes his head. She takes the same step back.

“Bella! No! Let go of me! BELLA!” He’s growling when suddenly everyone stops and looks towards the other vampire suddenly appearing at the edge of the clearing. She’s a small thing with another taller man behind her. She looks like if she could cry she would. Wherever she was she’s too late. Bella seems to realize some kind of betrayal because her face turns to stone, she hisses under her breath and turns around towards her child. You and Felix only look at each other for a second before deciding to make sure she goes towards the rest of the coven. They could deal with her later. You can hear the commotion behind you confusion, anger, demands to know their location. The diet must slow the others down because your on Bella almost immediately, she doesn’t try to escape, in fact she is silent the entire way to Volterra. Only rubbing the back of her child in a meek effort to comfort her. Sulpicia gave the Irish coven a “cure” for their daughter. She will probably wake in less than a day, you made sure she was the least affected.

Felix sits next to a window, he leans over as close as he can to your ear and says “You did well.”

After that its silence. He only stares out the window, pensive. You would think he was mad at you if his hands weren’t firmly intertwined with your own. You can only hope this is only because of the many vampires around. You hate when he lets go upon descent.

Everyone disperses when you land. The leaders decide to speak to Bella immediately, they instruct Heidi to get her a room read, for Demetri and Santiago to stand guard during their meeting, and dismiss everyone else. Thank God. You’re tired of playing the bad guy today. You start to make your way to your own room when Felix reaches out for your hand and gestures towards the direction of the sanctuary you once found. You agree and head over there. While mostly empty now it is still remains eerily peaceful. Like your presence alone would ruin its beauty, like any disturbance could turn this paradise into a waking nightmare. Seemed to match the energy after today.

You barely had time to ask Felix what the matter was before he enveloped you. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispers.

You don’t hesitate to return the affection you finally allow yourself to admit you were craving. When he does pull back he just as quickly scans your face before his lips lock onto yours. You return that too, trying to convince yourself you hadn’t thought about doing this for months. His lips were soft against yours and warm oddly enough. You push against him, not wanting this moment to end. He allows it, only breaking it once.

“I’ve missed you…so much.” He groans in between breaths

“Me too…” Because you have. It was ridiculous to think that you would simply not worry about one another, you two were linked together somehow. The only thing staying away from each other did is cause unnecessary amounts of pain. You needed to control your pride, handle your ego. Apparently you both did, but at least Felix had come to the realization sooner. You pull away, the very least you could do is tell him you were wrong.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”

“Don’t. I was the one who started all of this, you were still acclimating and I only made things worse.”

You chuckle, “Yeah our communication needed some work.”

“I think you’re right. But we do have time to get better.”

“That’s true.” You smile at him

“Y/n… you should know uhm—I think I should tell you. Theres a reason we feel so… drawn to eachother. I think theres a chance—”

You shut him up by kissing him again, “I know. Heidi told me all about it. She says its up to us to reject it or not.”

He sighs deeply, “I’m going to kill her.”

You cant help but to laugh, “You thought she’d be able to keep it a secret? I Figured you would tell me when you were ready…or you rejecte—”

Its his turn to shut you up, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. That…we’re okay now?”

You nod. “Of course.”

And you mean it. Any lost memories you mourned seemed unimportant when you could focus on making new ones. Especially now that the two of you were back on speaking terms. The two of you find a spot and sit in silence for hours. Just soaking in eachothers company.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“What if we didn’t go back?”

You freeze, “Felix. That’s your home, your family.”

“I know. But you would be happy there? Truly?”

“Is that what your actually worried about?”

“ Partly. Today was a lot. You shouldn’t have to expend yourself like that, and you’ve frankly painted a large target on yourself. What if…what if we don’t get so lucky next time. I’m supposed to protect the leaders. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Felix, if Aro finds out…no. You’ll do your job, okay?”

“If it were only that simple…” You both snap towards Caius’s voice, Felix threw you behind him a low growl coming from his throat. “Oh honestly, Felix. You think Marcus wouldn’t tell us about the bond between you two? Not that it wasn’t glaringly obvious.”

Felix didn’t move. The thought of anything happening to him because of you makes you want to hyperventilate. They wouldn’t get rid of you, you knew that but to force him to stay or hurt him to convince you broke you.

“Both of you relax,” he continued, “Nothing is going to happen to either of you. I know all about how strong this mate bond is, obviously. You two will be called upon, often I assume. But we have enough with Jane and Alec to get the information we need, and if we get Bella to cooperate…”

“I don’t want to leave. I think everyone could maybe rotate some time off? You guys have been working seemingly nonstop. You can still call upon us of course, but… this coven is where we both belong. I’m not worried about any other fights. I think I’ve proven I can be useful.”

“Yes, that is true. You shouldn’t worry about protecting your mate Felix. We would all do it if it came to that. I do, however, suggest not trying to just avoid your duties?”

You have to nudge Felix to get him to relax, this was not a conversation he was expecting to go well. You can see him analyzing everything, thinking of every possible outcome. “I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything, Bella mentioned something about the mind reader so wait a few days and you can go.” He turns to head back to the castle, “and lets not have anyone know about this conversation. I have a reputation to upkeep.”

“Of course,” You answer and grab Felix’s hand. Still, Felix doesn’t relax until he’s sure Caius is gone, “You can breathe now, Felix.”

“That was too easy. Why would they do that?”

“You really think that after years of being with them they wouldn’t be even a little sympathetic towards you? I told you before. You’re more important to this coven than you realize. I’m sure they’ve noticed more than you think.”

“Hm.” He still seems pensive… sad

“Lets go home, we can decide where we want to go after the mission is truly done. It’ll be an adventure.”

“Okay.” You take your time, worried about what other news the youngest vampire had brought them and excited for the new life they had in front of them. But your first and biggest obstacle might just be having to explain to Heidi and Demetri exactly what just happened over the last couple days. It was going to be a long night.

~●○°●○°●○~ ~●○°●○°●○~ ~●○°●○°●○~

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @artaxerxesthegreat @aunt-pipie @imtoanonymousforyou @jelly-fishy-babie @lacychick @quarthly @venusdelaroix @volturiwolf @xcastawayherosx

#aquas works #felix x reader #felix x y/n #felix volturi x you #felix volturi imagine #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi

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space-blue · 2 years

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Hello, I happened to come across today the post you made about Jinx and Silco's relationship and you mentioned that you dislike Cait. It's not a really common opinion in the fandom, and because I more than dislike her a little I would love for you to elaborate on it.

Thanks for the ask, Anon. I'll try to elaborate without painting too big a target on my back for Cait lovers, who, as I understand it, are a majority in the Arcane fandom.

This answer is 2.8k words, so have fun, and I'm hiding the rest because nobody needs that much on their dash.

First off I'd like to stress I don't hate Cait as a character, and that I'm capable of making the difference between what I'd like to see and what the show runners wanted us to see. A lot of my distaste for her lies in that in-between space. None of this applies to fanfic Cait, as of course people can take her any direction they want.

Cait, as a concept, is an interesting character. There are ways for her to develop in season 2 that can make her more loveable for me... But I admit I'm sort of pre-disposed to dislike her.

I think there are some ways the script could have been doctored to make her inherently more likeable, and for her to not ruin Vi's character so much. That's right, I'm showing my soft belly for Caitvi lovers to bite into: I actually don't like Caitvi as a season 1 ship, and think Cait contributes to making Vi's act II-III character worse.

Ok, let's take it slowly.

Cait is the top 0.01% of the uber rich in universe, in a show asking us to sympathise with the people who are being controlled, exploited and killed by that ruling class. (And polluted!)

Cait is a cop. Cait went out of her way to become a cop, it's clearly not what Cassandra wanted for her. I'm rather on the ACAB side of the fence, so again she doesn't quite recommend herself.

She is shown to be more of an investigator at the start, so I was actually curious at first. Would she be some sort of Sherlock type? But no. Turns out Cait is the entitled kind of vigilante.

So, like, of course the show frames this as good. It's good that Cait goes to investigate, because Marcus is corrupt. The truth would never air, and she'd never figure out who is behind the bombings if it weren't for her private investigation. Private detectives who go rogue are typically the heroes of their stories, and we usually root for them.

But the issues pile up with Cait: She refuses to take her firing as having any meaning. She keeps wearing her uniform after she knows she isn't on the force, and forges documents (and Jayce's seal) to get what she wants.

Although she acts "for good", that's not her actual stated motivations. Cait's only stated motivations are to catch the perp. Funnily enough, she's a lot like Jinx. She wants to prove herself. She thinks she's right, she's close to wrapping her case and she doesn't trust her colleagues to do it, so she goes and usurps power and impersonates an officer to do it herself.

My issue here is she does all that NOT KNOWING Marcus is corrupt. This would be a totally different vibe if she knew he was a pawn for a powerful undercity "industrialist".

There is also the aspect that she studies Zaun and its criminal underground extensively... And yet never went?

I've been told "her parents must not allow her!"

And I reply: So what? The moment she has a good reason to go, she just straight up goes, and suffers zero repercussions for doing so! She never voices any complaints or anything about the Undercity being off limits to her.

She doesn't know about the suffering in Zaun. She says she had no idea it was this bad... How sheltered can you get, that you study a place and its rampant crime, fill up a map, get called "obsessed" over it, but you somehow never had the motivation or curiosity to go there?

This ties into another aspect of Cait which I dislike, which is again completely involuntary and an artefact of the show's strict timetable.

She doesn't share anything about herself. Not even to Vi. We virtually know nothing about her except that she likes to shoot guns and looks up to chief-ACAB Grayson (my beloved). Even on the bed scene with Vi, it's only ever Vi opening up and sharing. And you may say, "yeah but we only see a glimpse, I'm sure Cait shared stuff too". And yes, sure... But Vi is making a comment about the place when they break in... That reveals she has NO idea it's Cait's home!

That's one of the thing I'd suggest editing out to give the impression that Cait has explained things and that Vi doesn't learn she's a Councillor's daughter until after breaking her into her own home.

Cait learns about Vi's past, again and again, and shares nothing about herself. Even when faced with the Firelights, she "knows a friend on the Council" but fails to mention her mom is there too. In front of Ekko, I get, but... What does Vi know about Cait? Canonically???

Back on track.

Cait being surprised that a city riddled with violent crime is actually a miserable place to live in left me feeling like she needs to see the misery to feel it, and somehow failed to extrapolate and empathise from all her "obsessive" research.

There's lots and lots of good reasons for her to not have gone there yet... But it's half her city and again, she's a cop!! I've once been told "Maybe her parents don't allow for her to be sent to Zaun" and I'm like, all right, so her colleagues were totally right for making fun of her, she's an over-privileged and sheltered kid.

And HEY, that's a fine character trait. My issue with it is that it doesn't come across as intentional. It comes across as the writers showing their hand through her. Cait needs to show shock at the poor Zaunites... A real world Cait would probably not be shocked, because she could hardly discover such stuff at her age and station. The show also doesn't expect us to criticise Cait for being the way she is. Show Cait is "naive" and at the start of her character arc, but I really didn't get the feeling she was meant to be seen the way I perceive her. She's very much "uwu good girl protagonist, also she's hot and smart, please don't think about her actions too hard haha".

On to the meeting with Vi.

I feel like there Cait shows us that she also doesn't have a very strong sense of Justice or Fairness. Again, that might be intentional, but I doubt it. She knows that Vi is in the worst prison around because "No reason actually, there wasn't even a trial".

This is as unfair as it gets. She asks, Vi gives her a flippant answer, and bam, Cait doesn't show enough interest to get to the bottom of this. Vi wouldn't help, so fine, Cait just leaves.

She won't free Vi out of her good heart, but only once her fear makes her act, when Vi threatens that the Undercity will eat her alive.

My fix, to start Caitvi on a better footing, would be this:

Vi is flippant and refuses to answer. Cait shrugs and leaves, and when Vi says the undercity will eat her alive, she leaves ANYWAY. Cut to Vi hearing the Warden come and tensing... And she's actually being released. She walks out of the prison, and down to the dock, perplexed. Cait is waiting there next to the boatman she hired. She waves Vi over and says she may as well share the ride.

Vi is surly and silent for a while, before asking Cait why she had her released. Cait would shrug, say it was the fair thing to do, considering she was never even tried.

THEN Vi would accept to guide her in Zaun, knowing that it might lead her to her sister. Mutually beneficial thing, but on a better footing. This would establish that Cait has a moral compass, and give a basis for Vi to trust that maybe this enforcer is not entirely rotten.

Because in the show, so far, we only know that Cait is a cop because SHE LIKES SHOOTING GUNS and the one woman who could out-shoot her showed her the way. It's never established that Cait has some great inner sense of Justice, or a drive to save the people or anything. Grayson, in that one speech about why she needs to know how to shoot, inherits a greater sense of her dedication to peace and being a Good Cop TM than Cait ever gets. Cait is show to want to solve mysteries, and does the right thing in the fire... but so do all the asshole cops, rushing into a burning tent to rescue a little girl.

Cait becomes a vigilante to prove she "can do it". She's not a Good Cop TM.

Right, on to caitvi specific grief.

For me, I see absolutely zero reasons for Vi to be anything but hyper-wary of Cait. She's an enforcer, literally the type of person she has all the reasons in the world to hate most, and we're shown and told all of those reasons. She's spent her entire late teens being beaten in prison thanks to an enforcer. She's seen enforcers shoot people point blank. She considers her mother killed by enforcers.

Do you think anyone IRL would have this level of hate for authority/oppression tools such as enforcers, come out of a multi years stint in the worst prison possible, and fall in love with one such enforcer overnight?

"But Cait is hot and Vi is horny, and Cait is a good cop and—"

And canonically it's never shown that Cait is good actually, just that she abuses her power, is entitled, and has terminal main character syndrome (meaning she does all that while it being cast as a "good thing" by the show. We're meant to consider this all Good-and-Fun).

And I'm sorry, but I can't. Cait finds Vi in prison, being chronically abused, and that budding relationship starts within hours of her freeing her. I can't associate that with "healthy".

I don't think it's Good or Fun that Vi immediately starts having feelings for an enforcer (and the 1% to top it off), no matter who that enforcer is, or how cute they are, and that this enforcer would allow it/go for it without having the wherewithal to see how potentially unhealthy this is, and that this person (Vi) needs time to find themselves outside of prison first.

I just don't buy their relationship on that spectrum. Begrudging, hard earned respect, I can get into. But the show doesn't give us time or opportunity to get there.

I think the show chickens out of taking the time to make Vi scary and broken. To make her hate and distrust Caitlyn, who is the pretty face of oppression, who didn't even think to release her on her own after finding she was wrongfully imprisoned, and instead needed to be threatened.

They unrealistically sped up their relationship, most likely because they wanted to give the fandom an (implied, F/F) relationship to keep everyone buzzing until season 2.

Anyway, a better caitvi dynamic, imo, is a dark Vi who hates and distrusts Cait, and a naive, entitled Cait but with a strong sense of justice, who earns Vi's respect by not falling into the typical cop or one-percenter grooves, or trying her best when called out on it.

Leaving Vi's warming up to Cait for season 2, and for them to actual common grounds besides "you're hot" and "we spent 48h together" would have been ideal.

Cait going on to not become Sheriff (maybe more of a PI?) and Vi not becoming an enforcer, would also be ideal, but I guess I'm demanding too much. Especially when it comes to Vi, who was all over the place in that last act.

Poor Anon, you'd also be shocked to know how much I dislike act II-III Vi, considering how much I write her myself. But Vi is an interesting character who gets shafted by the narrative and its time constraints, and is a pleasure to write in fix-its, while Cait is a 1% cop gone vigilante as the core of her narrative, so, yeah...

The firelights come in as a final point of dislike... They muddy the waters in the show, casting Silco as a moral-free villain while offering no solution for the whole of Zaun in their rebellion against him and Piltover both. They also give Cait a safe soundboard to tell a Zaunite to please "not do violence because violence is not the solution uwu". Try saying that to Silco's face lol

I just... really disliked that from the show, not only from Cait, because it felt like this was the middle ground message I was meant to accept. Both Silco and Piltover get vilified, and the Firelights and Cait are these half baked middle grounds of true goodies, who offer nothing tangible.

At the very least she has no ground to stand on to tell Ekko, or any Zaunite, that violence isn't the solution. The show went out of its way to establish that piltover and the Council will stop at nothing to keep Zaunites oppressed and working for them. It's in every arc.

IMO that justifies Silco's revolt. I mean his violent revolution plans, not whatever undefined stuff he has going on in act II-III. But then I'm French and I grew up being taught that decapitating kings was a Good Thing. And I strongly believe that violence CAN be a necessary part of revolution. The show proves that protests, violent or not, were not even cutting it.

Cait comes down to Zaun, sees the misery, hears from Vi about losing her parents to enforcers... and tells another Zaunite to chill and not attack her people.

Yeah, to me, that looked like no arc at all. She's justified in her actions by the reveal that Marcus was a mole/owned by Silco... So everything she did to uncover Jinx was justified.

Then there's this one good thing, in the final bit, where her story for a brief moment mirrors Vi's.

Remember how Vi makes her first grown up decision, to take responsibility for her actions and stand up to protect her family... And Vander takes it away from her, throwing her down into the basement?

Then Vi and Cait face the Council, and Cait steps up and looks like she's about to LIE to the Council to protect Vi. She's about to ruin the entire point of her going on a vigilante trip in the first place by hiding the truth she's learnt about Jinx...

But Vi stops her, pushes her hand (and her help) away, and throws her own sister under the bus by naming her to the Council. (Yeah, for the LIFE OF ME I cannot comprehend what Vi is meant to think she's doing there. She's basically condemning her sister to death or the rest of her life in Stillwater. What other things does she think she's achieving? A question for another time).

Finale Cait is very much used to just play with Jinx's projections and doesn't do much as a character that would make me feel either way.

As a result I'm left with a Cait who has no great personality. She likes shooting. She liked science a bit, maybe, as a kid? She doesn't mind forgery or abuse of power if it's done by her. She's got a good analytical mind (reconstructs crime scene) but very low empathy (literally can't fathom people would be miserable in Zaun despite years of obsessive research). And that's it. Jayce has more character than her. Heck, we know more about Heimerdinger than Cait, and he's at least fun to hate lol.

She comes off as an entitled brat who doesn't do a whole lot of growth, doesn't learn any valuable lessons, and doesn't see any issues with falling in love with someone like Vi, despite the insane power imbalance between them and Vi's crazy baggage.

And most of this is not "her fault" but the way the writers characterised her, in a show with a shit ton of characters with very complex plot intermingling.

But it's also a show from a game that has her as a sheriff, has hot police skins, and used to have a bunch of police brutality jokes as Vi's voice lines. So yeah, I don't think her creators consider people like me Cait's target audience.

I have, however, read some excellent fics that made a great use of Cait, though not often because I simply don't browse the Caitvi tag. But plenty of fans like her without liking her sheriff/cop side and have done fabulous work to characterise her away from that and give her... Depth, personality, all of that.

So yeah, not holding my breath for season 2, but who knows.

#arcane #arcane meta #anon ask #thanks anon #vi #cait #arcane ask

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yezzyyae · 9 months

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The Bear: Sydney is really the villain.

I can write about Sydney’s character being so annoying allday. I know Ayo Edebiri executive produce the show so she okay her character so I blame her. Sydney is came in with a chip on her shoulder she never ran a restaurant wasn’t in the best restaurants like Carmy but she came in like she did. She is soo impatient and that’s not a great trait. Sydney is the real villain in this show even my mom said so as she watched. And I’m black but I don’t root for everybody black esp if they are a rude person. Sydney never apologized she owes Richie an apology she owe the whole business one because Tina, Richie, and Marcus worked with Mikey and he was chaos she didn’t even give Carmy enough time he only been there like 1 month. Sydney is very impatient and it annoys me plus she is an asshole. I know hurt ppl hurt ppl and she was mad she back in her dad’s house but that weird always stuttering act she do is annoying.

Plus Sydney asking Carmy to help her on the expo when it was getting busy was so selfish you are the CDC it’s your job Carmy have other things to do. She messed up the vibe that’s why Carmy go upset and stuck in the fridge. It’s always Sydney but she play this role like everybody are assholes but her. She came right in judging the restaurant like Carmy who worked the best restaurant in the world couldn’t see that. When the staff stole her onions she acted like it was the end of the world she is sooo emotional and it sucks. She was a mad the executive chef Carmy went out the his gf’s table I am lost because how would Carmy being back there next to you make your life easier. Smh she always need reassurance which is def “Only Child Syndrome”. Carmy can’t okay everything that’s why he made Sydney his #2 & why would he call you when he tore the wall down Sydney can you help gut the walls out or have the money to pay to get it fixed. She is just in the restaurant acting like this is her life when she don’t have anything invested in it. She can easily walk away it’s weird cause how is she a partner. Sydney and Carmy only work in the menu together which Sydney don’t get anything right as they practice.

It’s so much for me to write about Sydney. I bet in season 3 they start exploring her asshole ways more. She is the only one who never accept when they are wrong she rather quit. When Carmy told her to cook the 7 fishes over or get another chef too she really was arguing with him then waited until Carmy signed her “I’m sorry” I was screaming like wtf Syd do what he say she always questioning Carmy when it comes to food when she can’t because he is a way better cook then her! I’m screaming now in my head over how much I hate Sydney’s character.

#thebear #the bear fx #sydneyissooooooannoying #sydneyisrude #sheisanasshole

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sissytobitch10seconds · 8 months

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Abhorrent

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: Marcus may not have been the best leader, but he's still better than whatever the fuck is happening with the Umbrella Academy. Ben could be better than their leader and he sure as Hell is a better second in command even if he and Marcus argue sometimes. Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks, canonical child abuse and torture, not Allison Hargreeves friendly Word Count: 5,991 Ship(s): Marcus Hargreeves/Ben Hargreeves/Viktor Hargreeves

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A/N: So I've edited this quite heavily but I'm still not sure how I feel about this. The quality is lower than some of my other fics have been but I still want to get it out there. I feel like if I don't post this then I'll just sit and fiddle with it until I can't even look at it. So here it is! Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you like it! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

They were all sitting in the main living room at the Academy, staring at each other like it would make the other team explode. They had managed to soothe their differences and quell the rivalry that had been brewing between the two families for the time being. The Umbrellas were sitting on one side of the living room while the Sparrows took up the other side, though Sloane and Luther were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace while looking between both sets of superheroes.

Ben was pacing back and forth between the couch with the rest of his family on it. Fei was reclining back with her arms folded so that she could pet the feathers of the bird on her lap while still looking as intimidating as possible. Alphonso was leaning back against Jayme’s legs where the other girl was positioned next to her sister. Christopher was rolling anxiously over the lamp next to the couch. Marcus was sitting on the chair next to the end table, a physical and metaphorical distance between him and the rest of the team. Ben hated how poetic all of their positions felt.

It seemed like the other team couldn’t go five minutes without arguing about something, including where they were going to sit. The angry one with mind-control powers flopped down into the chair closest to the door after they had guided her in. The one with knives was spread out over the couch with the girl that hadn’t been with them when they arrived perched on his lap. The one that looked as though he was a child was brooding on the couch beside them, muttering something under his breath. The one that had been running around with their father was splayed over the armchair opposite to Marcus and possibly sleeping or dead.

“Where is he?” a new voice demanded.

It had been hard to remember which of the Umbrellas was missing since the battle that they had was so chaotic, but Ben was sure that one was. Their numbers were finally complete as the missing member was walking into their space with Grace following behind him, likely having just brought him into the house.

Ben’s mind stopped the angry whirring long enough to take in what he actually looked like. The pronouns had naturally switched themselves in Ben’s mind when he took in the more masculine energy that the newcomer was projecting. He had cut his hair so that it framed his face and hung over his forehead. The brown color of his hair brought out the starkness of his eyes, which held a deep rooted sadness just barely behind the fire burning there. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, similar to what people looked like when they had just come from a fight of some kind. He had an inch long wound on his cheek that had very recently scabbed over. His chest was heaving for air and his skin was slightly luminescent, just enough that Ben noticed the swell of power in the air.

“Who, Harlan?” the mind control Umbrella asked as she rose from where she had been sitting. She crossed her arms menacingly over her chest as she stepped towards her brother.

“Yes, Allison!” the smaller hero snapped as he advanced on her. “What did you do to him?”

“Why didn’t you tell me what he did to us?” she retorted.

“What?” Viktor asked, looking genuinely confused and upset.

“Why didn’t you tell me, or anyone for that matter, that he was the one that killed our mothers and got us into this whole mess?” Allison demanded.

Ben stopped his pacing and walked over to the couch. He folded his arms and then leaned on it so that he could be closer to his siblings. “Ten bucks on the little one,” he muttered as he grabbed a chip from the bag that Jayme had open on her lap.

“I’ll take that. He beat the shit out of both of us when we were fighting him and she has trigger words she has to use,” the other Sparrow snorted as she mimed biting at his hand to get him to stop stealing her food.

The smaller Umbrella grit his teeth together hard enough that it looked like his jaw hurt. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think that it was fucking relevant, Allison! I also didn’t have a lot of time before you were pushing me out of the door,” he was talking with his hands as he got more upset. Something underneath his skin was beginning to glow pale white in a way that made him look ethereally beautiful.

“You don’t get to make that call for the family, Viktor,” the one that looked like a child objected, his brows furrowing together in anger.

He rounded on another brother, “And you do? You’ve all been hiding information from me and cutting me out of family decisions since Dad died so you don’t get to be upset that I’m doing it now! I was just trying to protect an innocent man that I hurt,” he turned back to Allison then. “You had no right to trick me into letting you kill him after you promised that you would help me.”

“I did help you. Until you started letting him kill you,” she growled. He rolled his eyes at that and took a step away from her. “I don’t know why I should help you anymore anyways. Everything that you do ends up hurting me in some way because that’s all you do!”

“How am I the one that ruined your life when I’ve barely seen either of them? Every time that you come back into my life you also end up fucking it up, Allison, so I don’t think that you get to accuse me of being that evil,” Viktor snarled at her.

“You killed Claire!” she shouted, her voice holding a kind of feral darkness to it that the Sparrows had only seen in their most dangerous foes.

Viktor took a sharp step back like he was expecting to be hit. “I didn’t kill Claire! I’m sorry that I don’t know how to get her back, none of us do. I don’t know how to bring her back or send you back to Ray, but that’s not my fault. I tried to help you-”

She cut him off before he got to finish. “Help me what? Help me mourn? Every single one of you has been trying to push me to just get over it since we got here. Do any of you even grasp what I’ve lost every time we’ve jumped through time?” Allison demanded, turning towards the rest of the Umbrellas while still keeping her eye on the rest of them.

The one with the ineffective powers shifted on his chair so that he was upright while still slumped back, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was toying with a pair of dog tags resting halfway down his chest with his fore and middle finger. He didn’t even open his mouth to try and fight her though, which let her keep going.

“You haven’t lost anything and you have cost me two families, Viktor. You’re conceited and dangerous and you don’t even fucking realize it. I can’t believe I ever thought that we could actually be siblings after all the shit that you’ve pulled on me that ended up making my life absolutely miserable,” she seethed.

“Allison, you don’t get to take the high ground here. You were one of the worst people in the house when it came to tormenting me and you’re the one that-” Viktor desperately tried to get a word in edgewise.

“Shut up!” she screamed. The air rippled with her power in a way that was honestly kind of impressive, especially since her power hadn’t been that strong when she had used it during their fight. Viktor’s eyes glazed over with foggy white for a moment and when they cleared he began to claw at his mouth.

Ben could hear him taking in ragged breaths through his nose as he tried in vain to get his mouth to open. The other Umbrellas immediately realized that she wasn’t going to hold back despite the good relationship the two had seemingly had prior. “Woah, Allison, that’s enough,” Luther protested from where he was sitting next to Sloane. When he made a movement to get up, the Sparrow pulled him back down and gave her head a little shake. It made Ben wonder what had happened that made Sloane so cautious about her new boyfriend being around his own siblings.

“I think we all need to calm down,” the one that looked like a child said as he glanced warily towards his brother. Viktor’s skin was still glowing a luminescent blue color and the foundation of the house was beginning to shake the stronger that it grew.

Allison completely ignored the kid, which he looked very frustrated about, though he still didn’t try to interfere at all. “I haven’t done anything to you! We should have left you in the fucking basement to rot,” she almost screamed.

“That’s enough!” Diego shouted before the last word had even finished passing through her lips.

It seemed to finally break her out of whatever angry trance that she had been stuck in. She blinked a few times and then took a half step back, which was apparently able to break whatever spell she had over Viktor. He gasped in a breath and then turned on his heel to rush out of the room as quickly as he could.

“Fei, you can handle this, right?” Marcus asked as he and his second in command shared a look. There was an expected animosity between him and Ben despite the fact that they had grown up around each other and the Sparrows were overall fairly close with each other. They had personas that they instinctively covered themselves in when they were around outsiders and strangers to protect their public image, but that wasn’t who they really were nor what they really felt about their teammates.

“Of course,” the blind woman nodded. The bird on her lap had turned towards the door that Viktor had left through, hopping a couple of times like she was tempted to go after the small hero to see for her master what had happened. She straightened out the raven as Marcus and Ben headed for the door. They closed it behind them so that the meeting could be held in relative privacy and people were less inclined to follow him.

Marcus glanced down each of the halls for any sign of the man that they were chasing after. “Any ideas about where he might have gone?” he asked.

The layout of the house had been changed quite a lot after they had started to drug their father. They had created a more cohesive space out of the amalgamation of buildings so that it felt more like one singular home instead of storefronts stitched together as Reginald pressured them out of their deeds. Some of the base hallways and rooms were the same since the Sparrows weren’t immune to the comfort and nostalgia that the space brought them. If the house had been changed in a different way than it had looked in the Umbrella’s timeline then it was very likely that Viktor was going to get lost quickly.

“We should get the bedrooms we had as kids first. If I had my sister bring up something super shitty and obviously triggering the first place I would go is my room,” Ben said as he began down the hallway towards where his and Marcus’ bedrooms still were. Some of the other siblings, like Sloane and Fei, had moved elsewhere in the house so that they weren’t always on top of each other once they became adults.

Marcus reached out and threaded his fingers together with Ben’s to try and remind the other man that he was there. The last time that they had worked with someone having a panic attack outside of their own family had been the Jennifer Incident. That had given Marcus his own helping of PTSD and issues, of course, but it had been far worse for Ben. He just wanted to make sure that his boyfriend was okay while they dealt with what was a serious situation for them both.

They checked through the empty guest rooms surrounding their own bedrooms before they heard a shuffling sound behind Ben’s door. They shared another look with each other before they both pushed forward. Ben’s room had been the first to get renovated after they had drugged Reginald enough to have full control of his bank account and property. It was curious that he had gone through the door that had been used as a storage closet between some of the bedrooms before Ben had absorbed it into his own.

“Viktor?” Marcus asked carefully as he stepped through the door. He had maneuvered his boyfriend so that Ben was behind him if the man ended up being anywhere as dangerous as it had turned out that Jennifer was.

The aforementioned man was sitting on the rug in the center of Ben’s room. He had a pair of headphones over his ears and was pressing the ‘play’ button so hard that Marcus was surprised that the walkman hadn’t broken. His skin was less blue than it had been while he was arguing with Allison, likely because he didn’t feel like he was being attacked when he was hidden away in Ben’s room. His hair was disheveled and this close they could both see that his clothes were marked with dirt and bits of leaves. He was shaking as he clamped his other hand over his mouth to try and stifle the sounds of his cries. The wound on his cheek was weeping again, though it was hard to tell because of the way that he had spread the tears around his skin.

Marcus took a careful step into the room and then knelt down next to the tiny hero. He reached out and pressed a hand to Viktor’s shoulder which got him out of his head, but also caused him to fling himself away from the touch.

“It’s okay, we’re not here to hurt you,” Marcus soothed, putting his hands up in a defensive posture.

Viktor removed the headphones from his ears so that they were hanging down around his neck and then pushed himself up into a standing position. He plucked the front of his shirt twice and then began to pull at the tips of his fingers. “I-I’m sorry, I know that this is someone’s room but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,” he stuttered around the sobs that he wasn’t able to keep back. His eyes flitted from Marcus to Ben and then to the partially open window, though the outside was obscured by the bug screen that they had put in.

“It’s my room,” Ben replied plainly as he moved past Marcus so that they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder half a yard in front of the doorway. “You came in here to cry?”

“In the other world it was my room,” Viktor replied awkwardly. “Part of it was, at least. You guys did the same thing that Klaus did. I slept in this part and he slept in that one, but when I went to college he knocked a huge hole in it so Dad had to combine them. Made it awkward when I tried to come home for Christmas my freshman year.” He gestured towards the blue-painted feature wall that had been nothing but cinder blocks when they had been using it as a storage room.

“I’m sorry, are you saying that you slept in a closet when you lived with the Academy? I don’t think that would make you very mission ready,” Ben snorted. He had judged the Umbrellas pretty heavily when they arrived since they seemed to be nothing more than disjointed rabble that had basically been pulled off the streets. Marcus and Sloane had told him a couple of things about them that only cemented that idea, like Viktor’s claim that he had ended the world and Luther’s surprise at the closeness of the Sparrows.

“I didn’t go on missions,” Viktor cleared his throat. He tapped at the floor with the point of his shoe.

Ben looked even more bewildered than before. The Umbrellas were an enigma that he was wishing he understood the more that he learned about them. “Why not? You’re obviously the most powerful out of your siblings. You were able to take all of us down with one burst and we’re actually good.”

He sighed. “It’s complicated. You guys don’t want to hear it. I shouldn’t have done what I did anyway. I’m being selfish again,” he brought one of his hands up to his hair, a fist clenching around the strands on his forehead for just a moment before he fixed it naturally.

Marcus recognized it as a very subtle self harming gesture, something that they had to train Jayme out of when she was little and felt guilty about using her powers on people while they were on missions. It was one of the reasons that she was so closed off and jaded to everyone other than Alphonso now. “I don’t think that not wanting someone to die is selfish. I… If I’m being honest, the only reason that we wanted Harlan was so that we could have some kind of power over you all. It’s scary suddenly finding a team of people just as powerful, and in some cases more powerful, as you after all of our time being the top dogs. We haven’t had someone challenge us the way that you all did since we got Dr. Terminal in prison.”

“We have bigger problems to worry about. Allison-” Viktor tried again.

“Screw that bitch. What she said obviously bothered you and it’s not going to get off your mind until you talk about it. So talk,” Ben said. It was his way of safely telling the other man that he cared enough to listen to what he needed to say without letting him feel too guilty about it. He had never been very good about being heartfelt or showing any kind of vulnerability since their father had raised him to be Number One their entire lives, until that fatal mistake. Marcus recognized it and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

Viktor had long since stopped crying but the tears and snot were still wet on his face, so Marcus handed him a tissue and then motioned for him to sit down. The Sparrows sat on Ben’s bed, facing towards him while he sat down on the chair that had been tucked into the desk. “So?” Marcus prompted.

He fidgeted for a moment longer before he finally answered, “I wasn’t sent on missions because I was raised to believe that I didn’t have any powers. I don’t have great memories of it because of something that Allison did when we were four and that’s pretty fucking young for even non-mind controlled people. But essentially, Dad decided that my powers were too volatile and dangerous. He put me on this medication that he told me were for my nerves and he made sure that I took them my entire life. I only got off of them about six weeks ago.”

The Sparrows shared a look with each other. They knew about the medication that Reginald had made that would both sedate them and take away whatever was making their powers inside of them. It was the only thing that had kept Ben from dying during the Jennifer Incident and often helped Alphonso when his own powers began to get out of control. They had only ever had it used on them when they needed it, usually that was determined by Grace or Pogo when they were too young to consent, or when they were in a life-or-death situation. It had never been used for longer than a couple of days and never without them knowing what it was doing.

“Does that have something to do with you ending the world twice?” Marcus asked, a small smirk slipping over his face despite himself. He had never seen a display of power more errotic and terrifying at the same time than when Viktor had said that to him while, in a controlled manner, made the entire diner they were in rattle.

The aforementioned hero flushed and then ducked his head down towards the ground. He was still toying with his fingers to try and soothe his nerves but he no longer looked like he was going to burst into tears at any given moment. “It does. I had a… boyfriend? I don’t know if you could even call him that since we knew each other for all of seven days but anyway. I had a boyfriend that found one of Reginald’s old journals somehow and he used it to figure out about my medication. Long story short, he took me off of the meds and then it turned out that I had a lot of repressed power that I couldn’t control. I ended up blowing up the moon because I used my powers through my violin and it got out of hand really fast.”

“What about the second time?” Ben asked, genuinely curious. He was learning a lot of information that was really helpful to know about their enemy as well as just getting overall closer to a man that he found very attractive outside of his overall annoyance for new people.

“I got kidnapped by the FBI who thought that I was a spy for the USSR when we were in the sixties before we came here. They gave me a hallucinogen and then electrocuted me to try and get me to talk but the only thing that it did was jump start my powers. Five never fully explained how that was supposed to start the apocalypse but Diego mentioned something about the FBI building exploding, which had to be my fault since shit tends to blow up when I let my powers go too far. The apocalypse ended up not happening, obviously, but it was because of the ghost of you in another timeline,” his eyes flickered nervously towards Ben.

The Sparrow understood the trepidation that he had in bringing up Ben’s other universe self since he hadn’t exactly reacted well to it the last couple of times it had happened. This time it didn’t feel like an insult, like he was upset that Ben wasn’t that other version instead of just being himself. It carried too much guilt and anxiety with it to be mean. Ben wondered what kind of relationship that version of himself had with Viktor, especially if they had the same taste in partners if the fluttering in Ben’s stomach at being able to make Viktor blush were anything to go by.

“Wait, did you say that you were electrocuted? Like tortured?” Marcus asked, snapping the other man out of his introspection.

“Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal. Diego had to go through way worse when he was locked away in the mental institution and they all had to endure worse in their training,” he brushed them off.

The ease of his dismissal was what really worried both of the other men. They had encountered people even within their own circles that were very willing to blow off their own problems so that they could focus on others but Viktor’s excuse seemed almost practiced. “It’s still a big deal even if other people have gone through what you might think is worse. Trauma isn’t a fucking sport,” Ben growled. “Who made you feel like it was?”

“No one,” Viktor shook his head, which they could both tell was a lie. “I just… My siblings have gone through way more than I have. They had to go on missions and put up with all of that training. I never had to go through anything like that because Dad took away my powers. I lived a relatively quiet life and was ignored a lot so I didn’t even have to deal with harassment the same way that Allison did. I pitched a lot of fits and got disproportionately upset about a lot of things when they’ve all had to endure way more than I have. It’s not something I get to be upset about after all I put them through.”

“All you put them through? I think you meant to say the consequences of what our shitty father did to you,” Marcus corrected. “The second apocalypse was definitely not your fault, you can’t help the reaction that your powers have to that kind of trauma.”

“What happened during the first?” Ben asked before the man even had a chance to process what the other hero had said. He was curious and beginning to get angrier that the other team could treat one of their own the way that they had been. The Sparrows weren’t exactly kind to each other but they definitely had more compassion and understanding for their teammates that the Umbrellas seemed to.

“It’s kind of complicated. We should probably get back to the planning so that we can stop the end of the world,” Viktor mumbled as he slowly began to raise from the chair.

It was Marcus that stopped him that time, gesturing with his head for Viktor to sit down again. He did so cautiously, eyeing them like he was unsure that he wasn’t walking directly into a trap. “I… We all kind of went our separate ways as adults and it made me get bitter. I was left alone a lot when I was growing up but now I was literally alone and I didn’t quite know how to handle that. So I wrote a book about the kinds of things that Dad had done to me and I spilled a lot of family secrets. Allison in particular was riding off of the fame that the Academy gave her with her Hollywood career and she accused me of trying to ruin her image. I think I just hurt Diego’s feelings by talking about the way that Dad had hurt specifically him. I don’t know, I thought that it was a good idea at the time, but it turned out to be awful. My ex-boyfriend got ahold of the book and then used that with the journal that he found behind the house to abuse me.”

Viktor was staring down at his hands the entire time that he spoke. Both of the other men could see that he was shivering slightly with the emotions that were overcoming him. Regardless of what he was feeling, he pressed on, “He turned me against my family. Told me that none of them could ever truly love me even if some of them were trying to have a good relationship with me after our dad’s death. Then he tricked me to go cold turkey off my meds and convinced me that it was a good idea. It wasn’t and my powers were totally out of control. They still get a little messy if I’m really out of it now but it’s nothing like it was back then.”

Guilt crept over his face and he scrunched up his nose like he was trying to resist the urge to cry. “Then, um, Allison showed up at the house that he and I were staying at and we got in a fight. We were arguing because she remembered that Dad made her rumor me into believing that I was ordinary in all things for the duration of my life. At the time it felt like she was the reason that my entire life had been utterly miserable but I know that’s not true now. But I got scared because she tried to rumor me again and I cut her throat with my powers, channeling it through the bow of my violin. I… I felt awful, of course. She was my sister and not even Leonard-Harold,” he screwed up his face and shook his head.

He placed his head in his hands and tried to muffle the sound of the sobs that were pushing their way past his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispered after a moment.

Marcus slipped off of the bed so that he was kneeling in front of Viktor. He had always been at least a smidge more compassionate than Ben and was definitely better at showing it post-Jennifer Incident. “You don’t have to keep explaining if it’s putting you in actual distress. The more that you tell us the easier that it’s going to be for us to protect you, though.”

“Why would you want to protect me?” Viktor asked, sounding genuinely confused.

The two Sparrows showed a look at each other. Ben folded his arms defensively over his chest as he said, “Because you’re going to be a good fucking asset to our team. They treat you like shit, you’re very obviously powerful and talented. It just makes sense that you would want to come and work with us instead of staying with them.”

“They’re my family…” the Umbrella hero whispered with a minute shake of his head.

“Blood is thicker than water, Viktor. We were all ripped away from our biological families and lumped together like that was somehow going to bind us together. We won’t pressure you into it, but we would like to at least have some connection to you after this is all over,” Marcus whispered. He was trying to ignore the shy smile that was forcing its way onto his lips. Despite the content of the meeting, back when they were in the diner he was unable to completely ignore the fact that it felt a little bit like a date. He and Ben had already talked about it and if Viktor was at all willing, Ben had given Marcus permission to pursue a possible romantic relationship with him.

“I’d… have to talk to them about it. I couldn’t just leave them after everything that I put them through,” he sniffled. “But, um, the first apocalypse. I came back to the house and they locked me in the basement. Apparently there was a room that Dad had made especially for me, I think he put me in it when I was four and he was making the medication. But it was sound proof so that I couldn’t hear anything inside of it from the outside and it even muffled the sound of my own breathing.”

“That is quite literally torture. That kind of thing is illegal for the government to do to their prisoners and scientists aren’t allowed to study it besides small trials,” Marcus said, brows furrowed in worry.

Viktor shrugged. “My powers are to turn sounds into energy so that meant that I wasn’t allowed to have any sounds so that I couldn’t use them to break out of my prison.”

Ben scowled. He didn’t like what he was hearing and it was upsetting him more the longer that he listened to it. “So when that bitch said that she should have left you in the basement she meant that they should have kept you in a tiny, soundproof room until you either starved to death or found a way to kill yourself?”

The smallest of the heroes nodded awkwardly. “You know, the ironic thing is that they already did that. When Luther locked me in that room- and don’t go after him for that he was brainwashed by our father and thought that it was for the best until they could get me back on my medication- I begged for them to let me go. I was literally screaming so bad that my voice hurt for days afterwards. Granted I didn’t know what had happened in the days following that incident because I got hit by a car and developed amnesia, but it was really distressing. They were all just standing there and not even Allison or Five let me out. I thought that they were the two people that would see the most humanity in me, especially since Allison knew that I hadn’t meant to hurt her and it was an accident. I guess what she just said proves that she didn’t care or see the good in me.”

Marcus and Ben glanced towards each other for the millionth time that night. When someone spent their entire childhoods growing up alongside another person they developed a way of silently communicating, which is what they were doing currently. They both came to the same conclusion, Marcus rising so that he was standing beside Viktor. He cleared his throat and tried to look as much a leader as he could despite having very little practice in it. “We’re annexing you into the Sparrow Academy. Your own team treats you poorly and doesn’t seem to understand you. I can guarantee you that with a little time we can help you more than they can. I know that they’re your family and you love them very much, we’re not trying to replace them. We just want you to have the chance to flourish in a team that could really use your talents.”

In response, Viktor tilted his head down towards his hands and then took a deep breath. They could see him struggling not to cry, so gave him the space that he needed to cope. “I think I want that. I think that I want that so much.”

Surprisingly, it was Ben that took the step forward and wrapped him up in a much needed hug. Viktor grasped the back of his shirt so tightly that he wasn’t sure that he could escape even if he wanted to. The small hero hid his face in the crook of the other man’s neck and then began to sob so hard that his body shook with the force of it.

Once he had finished, the two heroes separated. Viktor turned to grab some of the tissues from the desk so that he could clean his face. It was terrifying how quickly he was able to make the distress disappear from his features. For a moment, Marcus wondered how often he had been forced to do that when he was young for him to be so practiced at it now.

Ben stripped his shirt off and deposited it into the laundry shoot next to the desk in his wall. When Viktor spotted him, rippling muscles shining under the natural light streaming through the window, his cheeks turned bright red and he angled his body away from the other man slightly. Marcus cataloged it as a good sign for the romantic relationship that they might be able to pursue with him once they learned a little bit more about his trauma and how they could help him through it.

After they were all presentable again, they walked back to the living room where the rest of their family was. Ben placed a careful hand on Viktor’s shoulder to steer him towards their side of the space despite Klaus’ attempts to drag him back over. The shock and confusion that covered their faces was satisfying in a twisted kind of way, like they were realizing that they had the potential to lose their brother to people that would love him more. Even Allison, despite all of her harsh words and bravado earlier looked offended to the bone that Viktor’s doe eyes had been turned towards Marcus and Ben and away from her. They were going to treat him better, they were going to worship him and appreciate him as the walking god that he was.

That much they were sure of.

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