#maybe for season three if we’re lucky?

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?  

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[thecrystalquill]

Hi again!

after a lot of thinking, i would like to ask you to write for Percy Jackson. Like a cute winter day or something where Reader and Percy just do cute stuff together.

maybe they cook/bake together, idk. if you need more to this you can tell me and i'll try to think of something more to add.

I went with Apollo!reader bc I’m biased. Hope you like it :) also very excited for my first post in the pjo fandom!

Also I’d like to thank my adhd for allowing me to write about my favourite demigods more accurately lmao (bless uncle Rick for making them like me 🥲)

(Book) Percy Jackson x Apollo!reader fluff

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

It was December. Persephone had been long reunited with her husband, and her mother - still bitter about their arrangement - let the world know of her sadness.

There was snow at Camp Halfblood, and the demigods who remained were enjoying it fantastically. All except the remaining children of cabin seven. With the sun weak and the weather cold, they seemed to slump about with low energy, no matter how they tried. Seasonal depression was often a little worse for children of the sun.

Which was why (Y/N) was glad to have Percy.

“What’s going on? Where’re we going?” She asked, letting him drag her by the arm through the snowy paths.

“Well, if I told you it kinda wouldn’t be a surprise.” He grinned that big stupid smile he reserved for occasions like this. He pulled her towards the kitchen, eager to see her reaction.

They entered the kitchens and (Y/N) saw before her a table arranged with bowls, utensils, and more ingredients than she could imagine using in a single recipe, along with three cook books all open at different pages. “We’re…baking?” She asked, kicking off the snow from her boots before she approached the display.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Oh, actually it’s a science experiment - I thought we’d have a try at making a bomb.” He sassed, ignoring the light slap to his arm and instead opted to help his girlfriend out of her coat. “I thought we could make a pie?” He explained, though it sounded more like a question.

(Y/N) smiled; it was times like this that she felt so lucky to have someone like him. “What kind?”

Turning to the pantry, Percy rummaged through for options, coming up with a bag of apples, a sack of peanuts, three oranges, and a black banana. “Uh… apple and cinnamon?”

At that moment, it could be a mud pie for all she cared. “Sounds perfect.”

Within ten minutes, they’d gotten everything together and started on the dough. Flour, water, salt, sugar, and butter. Easy.

“Why is it so… gooey?” Said Percy with dough stuck all around his fingers. “Am I not kneading it enough?”

(Y/N) looked into the bowl to assess the problem. The consistency was definitely off. “Maybe just add some more flour?” She suggested, grabbing a handful from the paper bag at her side to throw in the bowl. Only, she also threw about half of it all over his jeans.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, jumping back and almost dropping the bowl. He pushed as much of the sticky dough off his hands and grabbed some flour to throw back before she could defend herself.

“What’re you doing? Stop!” She squeezed, but laughed despite the powder on her shirt.

He did as she said, but the mischievous spark in his eye remained.

When the crust dough looked… good enough, they split it in half and rolled it to the size of the pie dish. They chopped and sugared the apples as the recipe said in the blue (or was it the red?) cook book, and Percy added the cinnamon until his heart told him to stop. (Y/N) mixed the filling while he preoccupied himself with decorating the edges of the crust. Her eye wandered as she stirred and listened to Percy talk about fun words he’d heard of in German (how did they get onto that topic, anyway?), until she saw an open cupboard with a tub of food dyes. Curiosity got the better of her, and she snuck a peak while her boyfriend was distracted. Red, purple, yellow, pink, green… why did they even have so many?

She grabbed two and sneakily poured them in - maybe a little too much, but Percy wouldn’t be distracted for much longer - and took her chance while Percy adjusted the oven. In the filling went, and she hurriedly covered it with the pie top.

“Hey, that was fast.” Percy complimented, unaware of the sly adjustment to the mix. “Just gotta put some holes in it and glaze the top with milk and sugar.” He smiled and picked up a fork.

“I’ll do it.” (Y/N) said, and Percy was more than willing to let her, happy to see the beautiful smile on her lips.

When the pie was finally in the oven, they let out a breath and leaned against the messy table. “Do you have a timer?” She asked.

Percy looked around but came up empty handed. “Nope. But it’s fine, the book says thirty minutes. We’ll remember.”

Famous last words.

Forty-eight minutes later, they scrambled to open the door and hoped with fingers crossed that it wasn’t burnt. Fortunately, luck was on their side; the edges were too brown and the top had started to darken more than the recommended golden colour, but it was salvageable.

The pie was sat on a wooden serving tray in front of them, and the couple pulled up some chairs. They’d worked up quite the appetite.

(Y/N) pulled out a knife from a draw and handed it over. “Would you do the honours?” She asked, and Percy bowed his head as he took it.

He licked his lips a little as the knife cut through the crumbling crust, and proudly pulled back the slice to see its sweet appley insides, chunky and sugary and… brown? “What the hell? Why’s it look like that?!”

(Y/N) looked around to see from his view and groaned. “Aw dam,” she sighed loudly, “I tried to make it blue.”

“You did?” Percy asked, and smiled anyway when he saw the frown on her lips. “That’s okay, it’s the thought that counts. Let’s just try it.” He said as he reached for some forks and handed one over.

They tapped their forks together and tried it at the same time. For a moment, it tasted pretty good.

And then that moment ended.

“Why does it taste like that?” (Y/N) said with a scrunched face.

“I don’t know! We followed the recipe…” Percy reached for the book and checked the ingredients. “See - five cups of flour, a pinch of sugar, two teaspoons of salt—“

“Woah, how much?” (Y/N) interrupted.

Percy held up the green book in his hands. “That’s what it says. Page thirty-one, ingredients—“

He was right, (Y/N) realised, the book did say that. Only, it was the wrong book. “Oh, Percy, that book’s green.” She said, and Percy looked at her in clear confusion, until she held up the book in front of them and one to her right “The ones we were comparing was the blue one and the red.”

Percy’s eyes widened comically large and he gasped. “Then what did I…” he flicked back a page to read the description. “Aw man, this is for a sea salt bread!”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, ew!” He groaned and banged his head on the table in a clear display of hopelessness. “I’m sorry.” Percy grumbled weakly, sounding beyond disappointed.

(Y/N) sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. “Why’re you sorry?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you.” Percy muttered, still with his head on the wooden surface.

“Hey,” she said, easing him to lift his head up and look up at her with his big, sad eyes. He had flour smeared on his forehead from the still messy table, and she giggled while dusting it off. “You did. We had fun.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. But the pie sucks.”

Pausing for a second, (Y/N) opted to pick up her fork and take another bite, ignoring his protests. “It’s not so bad the second time.” She said. Sure, the crust was salty and crumbly, and a little burnt, and the filling was an unappealing green-brown, but she’d had worse. She scooped up another forkful and put it to Percy’s lips, waiting for him to take a bite.

He wrapped his lips around the offering, and tried not to think about the salt or the strong cinnamon flavour. “I guess it’s… okay.” He said, and he smiled at her gesture.

He hasn’t expected her to laugh at him, though.

“What?” He asked, frowning in confusion yet again, only making her laugh more. “What?”

The sight of a clueless Percy Jackson, with flour on his face and brown-coated teeth, was one she’d give a fortune to have on camera. “Y-you- you look like you ate sh—“ she managed before she was cut off by more laughter. If she wasn’t already sat down, she would have collapsed already from the near violent laughs taking over her body. Tears streamed down her face, and her stomach hurt like she’d done a minute-long plank, and she’d started laughing so hard that no sound even came out anymore.

Percy couldn’t help but laugh too, harder and harder each minute, until they were both exhausted and heavily meaning in the table for support. “This whole day was a disaster.” He chuckled and shook his head.

(Y/N) moved forward to cup his floury face in her hands. “Not at all - it was perfect.” She swore, and thanked him with a sweet, cinnamon flavoured kiss.

It was the best date they’d had in a while - sweet kisses were the perfect ending - and the clean up could wait until after. They’d remember.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

The camp’s snowman building contest was interrupted an hour before dinner by a scream from the kitchen.

“WHO THE FUCK TRASHED THE KITCHEN?!”

It might be best to skip dinner that night…

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Thank you for requesting :) what did you think?

[crowleysgirl56]

Something that I’ve been thinking about for a good 6 months now, ever since Good Omens season 3 was green lit, and that was the three sentence description of the plot that Neil gave in his official announcement interview:

The plans for Armageddon are going wrong. Only Crowley and Aziraphale working together can hope to put it right. And they aren’t talking.

It really makes me think about the book sequel he and Terry had discussed and what was going to be included in that story.

Season 2 was thought to be that story. But then Neil confirmed after the season aired that it was in fact a bridging season that he wrote deliberately in order to get us to season 3, which would be based on the story that he and Terry plotted together in the 90’s and early 2000’s.

Neil also famously never gives anything about his stories away, always excited to tell us to ‘wait and see’. The fact we get this much of a description is quite exciting.

At first glance it doesn’t seem like anything we didn’t already know:

The plot involves Armageddon: Metatron told us as much when he mentioned the second coming at the end of season 2.

Crowley and Aziraphale need to work together: they have always done so before, so this time shouldn’t be any different.

Crowley and Aziraphale aren’t talking: very evident from where we left off.

But did you notice something else? Something hiding in plain sight? The plans are going wrong. And they hope to put it right. So what are these plans? Why are they going wrong? Who made them go wrong? What exactly does going wrong mean? What does putting them right mean? Also, notice how Neil doesn’t say Crowley and Aziraphale need to work together to stop it. Interesting choice of words right?

Now let’s think about the book sequel for a second. For a moment, let’s pretend that the TV series doesn’t exist (*shakes everyone by the shoulders* HEY, STOP SCREAMING! CALM DOWN! The show STILL exists! Just go with me for a second here, and you can go back to remembering the show in a moment! It’s OKAY! *pats everyone until the screaming subsides*). The Good Omens novel is structured with flashback sequences of Aziraphale and Crowley together over time as the story of the Anti-Christ and the Non-Ageddon unfolds. What if the three sentence description of season 3 that Neil gave was the actual tagline of the book sequel? Like, this is literally what he and Terry came up with? Something happened between Aziraphale and Crowley between the end of book 1 and the beginning of book 2, and the second book is telling us the story of the second coming, whilst at the same time providing us flashback scenes of exactly what happened between A&C? That part of the book is the mystery of why these ineffable husbands who spent the last 6000 years together were suddenly no longer talking.

Can you imagine reading that blurb and thinking “WWWHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAATTTT?”

Whether the intended sequel involved the story of a memory wiped Gabriel is up for debate. But I understand why Neil devoted an entire season to telling this story, because I don’t think there would have been room to do the second coming storyline and devote enough time to exploring the relationship breakdown at the same time in just 6 episodes.

And if my theories are correct, this is why I don’t think we will get any further flashback sequences in season 3. If we’re really lucky, maybe we’ll get a 1941 part 3 flashback, and a “what happened when they went back to Crowley’s apartment and body swapped” flashback (I’ve drafted some wildest dream posts on these, so look out for them coming in the near future). But unless they’re relevant for the plot, I think we’re out of flashbacks. This next season is likely going to be focusing specifically on the second coming, the consequences, and answering the question what does putting it right mean?!

This is obviously all opinion and conjecture and I could be completely wrong. I just like putting my thoughts down and sharing with others. So if you want to discuss comment or reblog! Let me know your theories! (And as always, please don’t tag Neil)

[grippingbeskar]

unearthed

chapter one - matched

warnings— canon typical violence, mentions of death, loss, injury, maybe a lil trauma

a/n— and we’re back! just over a year of having this account, and the end of season three, and i’m back where i started. thirsting after the mandalorian. i’m super excited about this one, and even though i think there will be a bit of a wait between chapters i promise its because they are going to be higher quality. also, obviously there will be smut further on (come on, it’s me. of course we are going to fuck him.) so no minors please!! hope you enjoy! big thank-you to @kyberblade for beta reading and saving me from my typos i love u.

also a psa. disregard season three for this fic. it fucked up my timeline so i’m changing it. things might be a bit all over the place, but it’s just going to be what i wanna do with it HAHAH no rhyme or reason :)

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You stared out into the never ending darkness, interspersed by twinkling hints of far away planets, all of them seeming more and more out of reach as you were shuffled out into the hall. Flanked by guards, the view from your room disappeared from sight, replaced by the familiar, safe walls of your palace. This was your life now— being shoved towards the known and away from those giant stretches of sky you longed so much for. Your duty, you say to yourself. This was the way you had to live, destined to the confines of your pre-determined universe. It is what you were born to do.

You knew this day would come. You were, as you were constantly, incessantly reminded, the last of the royal bloodline. After your parents early death, it left you as heir and sole survivor to the throne. All of your life, you had been trained for this moment, but it was something that was always so...distant. 

You used to look forward to this time in your life, where you’d get to travel the galaxy, finally earning some of that coveted freedom all the other girls in the palace talked about. You dreamed of seeing the galaxy, being unknown on an Outer Rim planet, going wherever your heart takes you. You thought you’d have time to live. But then, within the blink of an eye, you were rushed through your coronation and left to carry the burden of commanding an entire planet. It was like a rug was ripped out from underneath you, all while someone dropped a fifty pound weight over your head, all the while chiding you for stumbling over. 

In the wake of the Empire finally falling around the galaxy, planets all around the suns were scrambling— resources were scarce, trade routes were un-secure and stability was out of reach. This was the same for you, because the future of your planet was now in your hands, and you had no idea what to make of it. 

Unfortunately for you, stability in a woman’s world came in the form of a contract. Most usually, a marriage contract.

This meant, much to your dismay, an entourage of young, hopeful (and practically brainless) men arriving on your doorstep, all popping the question in hopes of securing the new Queen's hand in marriage. Your hand. You knew your planet was important and appealing, with its natural resources, expanding economy in spite of the Empire’s devastation, and an abundance of funds for all the newest technologies with the death of two of the greatest ruling minds of the time. Any leader of even a remotely nearby planet would strike on this opportunity— you know you would, if it were someone else.

The whole idea wasn’t new, but it still made your gut twist. Your parents were lucky they had something more– real love, and a home filled with the stuff of fairytales. While you knew this was rare, it made you long for that. Knowing it was real, that a connection like that could be somewhere out there for you, but you’d never reach it because you never got the chance to try... you knew you were lucky, but it didn’t stop your heart from longing for more.  You wanted someone to show you the stars, to let you be you, and not just try to win you like a prize or a notch in their belt. 

Everyone around you said this was the smart thing to do. Choose someone— anyone who would bring you what you wanted. Your planet, as fertile as it is, is not famous for its army. That was clear during the reign of the Empire, and now the New Republic was thinning their guard posts after the war, you needed manpower. You knew it was a necessity, and you wanted to keep your people safe, but to offer yourself up like a prized mare? You were a Queen, and you were planning to be a good one, with or without a husband.

As you sat on the throne, dismissing yet another suitor with a shake of your head, the collective group of your father’s– now your own Advisors groaned, and one walked up the steps, approaching you with a slightly bowed head.

“Your Majesty, if I may…” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, only because you knew the watchful gaze of neighbouring planet leaders were on you.

“I have a feeling you will anyway.” He shook his head, quickly coming up the stairs to your side. He sighs, and you shrug at him. “What? He wasn’t my type, okay? If I’m going to sleep with the man, I should at least–”

“Your Majesty, this is the fourteenth potential match you have rejected. We are a coveted planet, but if you do not choose someone, we run the risk of having no options at all.” He says, looking down his nose at where you are strung lazily across your throne. He was still harbouring some of that anger from earlier, where you had refused to change into the giant mess of a gown the styling team had chosen for you. If the colour wasn’t enough– a pale puke green measurable to the blood of a Trandoshaan– the fabric was so expansive you would have drowned in it. You loved a pretty dress, but at least one that didn’t eat you whole.

“Would that be so bad?” You dropped your head back, and he shook his head, sighing again. 

“Yes— it would mean instability. We would be a target for neighbouring planets. We are strong, but not strong enough to be alone. The New Republic has already thinned their guards to a ghost number compared to four years ago. We cannot wait any longer. We are… vulnerable, without a strong army.”

“We can make allies without forcing me to marry one of them.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. We would never force you to do anything.” He says those words, but every syllable is laced with warning. You may be the last living member of your blood line, but no matter how important, and no matter how beloved by your people you are, there were some things that you couldn’t control.

The worst part was he was right. Sure, you could solidify alliances, but a marriage was a lock and key. If you picked the right one, your people would be safe for years to come, long after you were successful. After what you had seen of the Empire, what they had done here, and all over the galaxy, your people deserved safety. Freedom— whatever the cost.

Your love for your people would get you through this. In them, you saw your parents legacy, and the passion to build something greater than yourself. You would never trade this life for anything... but it didn’t mean you couldn’t have preferences. Just as you were going to justify why you rejected the man now sneering at you from the corner of the room, the doors burst open, and your attention is diverted to the messenger rushing in with a strange look on his face.

“Your Majesty, we’ve just received another request.” He calls, breathless. “I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s… I am not sure how to say this.”

The man is clearly nervous— avoiding your eye and instead staring at his feet. You rise off the throne and move to him, attempting a comforting smile and nodding at him. 

“It’s alright. Start at the beginning.”

“This request… It is unusual.” He swallows, and you laugh lightly.

“What is it this time? Don’t tell me the Hutts have thrown themselves into the mix.” You had nothing against them right now, but they were so… slimy. “Whoever it is, as long as they send a message in peace, they will be well received.”

“Well, that is the thing. They do not ask Your Majesty to receive them. They…”

“They don’t want to come here?” Already, you are breathing a sigh of relief. Anything to stop the constant parade of men flapping their money and stupid hair around.

“No, they ask that… they ask that you come to them.” He finishes, and your advisors are next to him in an instant, all attempting to speak over one another. You raise your eyebrows, surprised, but intrigued.

“That is an insult!” The man who challenged you before, known to you as Advisor Corell, spits at the messenger. “Her Majesty only receives guests— she does not travel unless there is cause.”

“Did they say anything else?” You ask, and the room goes quiet again as you step forward. The messenger looks uncomfortable, knowing there are still foreign diplomats in the room. “Everyone else, please go. You’ll be... informed of my decision later.”

The entire room exits quickly at the sound of your voice, all mumbling to themselves, probably still hurt over your rejection and blatant disinterest, but all you could care about was this new message.

“It’s alright. Go ahead.” You encourage. “What else did they say?”

“They asked for your hand, of course. They have a new King, and think the match would be beneficial to both sides.” A new King. Your mind buzzes, trying to think if you’d heard of any close planets going through a succession besides your own. Nothing comes to mind, but if he was new, at least this one would hopefully be closer to your age.

“A new King?” The messenger nods. “And he asked for me personally?”

“Ah... the message was not from him, Your Majesty. It was a hologram from a member of his court. A… Bo-Katan.” You had never heard the name before, but one of your advisors makes a noise of recognition and you spin to her.

“You know this name?” You ask Advisor Kaylen— probably your favourite member and the closest thing you have to a friend. She nods eagerly. “You’ve met them?”

“I have heard it before, but that would be impossible…” She fades off, and you turn back to the messenger. 

“This is the most interesting person I’ve heard of since this whole thing started. What’s impossible?” You watch the messenger's face twist, so you reach out and touch his shoulder, the contact surprising him and earning a disapproving hum from Advisor Corell. “You can tell me, just ignore him. I do.”

“Well, that’s just the thing. The planet they claim to come from has been long abandoned.” Advisor Kaylen was still muttering to herself, but you couldn’t focus on her anymore when the messenger finally spoke again. “They say they are calling from Mandalore, and that their new King has asked for you to be his Queen.”

“Stop asking me about that.” Din growled, stopping his swift movement through the makeshift repair station he’d been pulling together. “I’m not interested.”

“This isn’t just about you anymore.” The longer he spent with these Mandalorians, the more the thought of taking off with their precious Dark-Saber and leaving seemed appealing. “An alliance like this is exactly what we need. With all the repairs, we’ve run low in funds. We need resources— we need to outsource, and this is the fastest way to do it. She’s all but waving a flag for us.”

He never thought there would be a time when bounty hunting was the normalcy he craved— but standing surrounded by relics of his people long passed, discussing a potential marriage—he started to miss the reliable frame of the Razor Crest a little too much.

“Mandalore was built on the backs of our people. We can do it again, the same way.” Bo-Katan sighs, giving him a glare after removing her helmet. “Would you do this? Was this a part of your plan to re-take Mandalore?”

“They didn’t have a dwindling empire and economic crisis to deal with. If you do this, we can rebuild the way our ancestors wanted us to live. How we used to live. Welcome our family home. Isn’t that what you want?” He spins, taking two slow steps to face Bo-Katan, who stands with her helmet tucked under her arm. “To answer your question— yes. I would have. I was royalty once, and I know what this is like. And I would still do it. You might even make a friend in her, Din.”

“You aren’t suggesting friends.” To her credit, she doesn’t back down, just raises her eyebrows at him. “You are asking me to get married. You know what that means.”

“It’s not like that. Rulers marry for all kinds of reasons— and if she’s looking, it means she wants to take full advantage of this. It’s the smart thing to do. Her planet is powerful, but vulnerable. Their army numbers are small after the Empire’s attacks, and she needs what we can offer now the Rebellion is squaring off. Good, strong fighters. Besides, I’m sure you aren’t exactly all she hoped for, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hardly see her after the first few months.” Rolling her eyes, she turns back to the pile of spare parts they had dragged in from outside. “We’ve already sent a hologram inviting her here. If she accepts, you can discuss a potential alliance like adults. If you are still opposed, we’ll cancel it and try it your way. Until then, we have work to do.”

“Send another message. Say I’m no longer interested.” Din stands impossibly still, waiting for Bo-Katan to agree and leave before he lets out a long breath. Clearly, he’d misjudged how set on this idea she was.

“Just think about it, okay?” She turns and disappears from view, and he feels like he’s going to collapse under the pressure. Things were complicated enough— in the last month, he’d learnt his way of life was not the only way at all, inherited a saber he had little idea how to use, and dropped everything he knew to come back home— to Mandalore. To say he had enough on his plate was an understatement.

Truthfully, he had come back with one thing on his mind. The Way declared one could only truly be forgiven for their misdeeds in the living waters beneath the mines of Mandalore— and Din had a lot to be forgiven for. If there was anywhere he could start fresh, it was here, but before he could do that, he had to find the mines, currently buried under years worth of rubble and debris. The last thing he needed was to disgrace himself in yet another way— which is exactly what Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorian’s were suggesting.

He was not ready for this. Not in any way. He was not a ruler— not a born and bred leader, like Bo-Katan, and he’d never wanted to be. It might have made sense to an outsider, maybe. A new, untested ruler of a planet as economic as yours was bound to attract unwanted attention, and about the only thing Mandalore could offer right now was its ability to fight. It was the only thing it was known for.

He didn’t want to marry, though. Not for a political alliance. He didn’t think about it at all— not right now. He’d heard a few things about you by now— how your parents had passed suddenly, and how you were now being squashed into the same situation as he was, forced to play a role which you had no choice in being cast to. He felt as sorry for you as he did for himself, and he found his thoughts drifting to the Child.

Din looked around, exhausted at just the thought of getting this place into any form of working order. Spare parts to old ships scattered on the floor, and the room was painted in a light purple hue thanks to the reflection of the glass roof overhead. He stood, leaving the mess of a garage and walking back out towards the largest building in this city.

There were streets lined with cracked stone, several Mandalorians dragging and pulling equipment to replace the broken ones. They had been working hard— everyone had, including him, and the place was looking less and less like a war zone by the second. The sight made him feel easier. At least his home wouldn’t be rubble forever. Buildings were gaining foundations, others entirely rebuilt by hand. It had only been a month or two, and already this place was looking like he’d been told in the stories. Like home.

As he walked through them, he didn’t miss the stares of those who’d left their helmets behind, but at least that was familiar. Everyone stared, on every planet he went to, and even with the oddly shaped buildings, some spiralling high, others flat and long enough to park a few speeders in the front, he felt settled here. The cities were huge and spanned far into the horizon, too long to walk everywhere, so the Mandalorians had gone straight to work on the speeder parts, using them to zip around not only around this central city, but between other parts of the planet.

Finally, he began the walk up the steps of the castle. It was giant— bulky and boxed, rooms stacked on top of each other with seemingly no purpose. It was the most well conserved building on the planets surface, and it was what constituted as a home for Din. For now, at least. Either way, it was the safest place to keep Grogu during the day, and he would go wherever it was safest for him.

He could hear him before he saw him, loud chirps and gurgles coming from the throne room. One, giant looking chair was elevated by a few steps at the end of the room, and he saw a flip of green zip over Sasha’s unmasked head.

“Get down here, you gremlin.” She barked, but laughed at Grogu’s slightly worried face when he spun to a stop in mid air. It was then he finally noticed him, dropping to the ground and wandering over. “He’s been a little pain in my—“

“Patu!” Grogu chirps, and Din laughs roughly, bending down to pick him up. He holds him in front of his helmet, watching as his tiny hands reach out to grab his gloved wrists.

“Have you been causing trouble, Grogu?” He makes a little gurgle sound, like he always does when Din says his name, and he smiles under the helmet.

“Bo-Katan was looking for you.” Sasha says, putting her helmet back on. Most Mandalorian’s that lived around the capital did that when they spoke to him, now, even ones as high ranking as Sasha. Din doesn’t look up from Grogu’s giant eyes.

“She found me. And my answer is still no.” He hears her laugh, but when he looks up at her, she stops.

“She didn’t tell you?” Din turns to face her, letting the kid fiddle with something on his armour.

“Tell me what?” Unlike Bo-Katan, Sasha is a little afraid of him. Everyone is, especially since they had seen him fight with the DarkSaber when they first arrived on the planet. Since then, there had been a quiet fear, a commanding presence Din didn’t think he had earnt, but regardless it was there. She swallowed, tilting her helmet down to the floor. “Tell me.”

“The Queen replied. She accepted your invitation, and is expected to arrive within the week. She also implied, if the meeting goes well— she…”

“She what? What did she say?” Din had no idea why, but his heart was racing a mile a minute. Had she been insulted by the offer? Was she going to stage an attack?

“She said she would marry you.”

“You said I would what?” You shout at the group of advisors, all of whom look like they are about to scramble and run. And they should. “Who’s bright idea was it to send correspondence, with my name attached, without my go-ahead?! What the hell kind of advisor does that?!”

None of them so much as moved, except for Advisor Kaylen, who caught your eye, making a pointed look at Advisor Corell. You shook your head, and a bitter smile curled the ends of your mouth.

“I should have known. Corell. Get up.” He spluttered, stumbling to his feet as you dragged him up the dais, and forced him to his knees. “Was it you? Did you tell Mandalore I would accept their invitation?!”

He shakes his head. “I only said you would meet with them! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“When I was ready!” You want to scream, but your embarrassment and nerves choke your throat. Yes, you were going to accept. Probably. Maybe a month from now... a few months, if you could stretch it. Not this week.

“This is a good thing! Now you get to go! To— to see the cursed land for yourself. To look upon its new ruler! I was only doing what I thought was best! They would have been insulted if we had rejected…and we’re running out of options.”

“The only one insulted here is me, that you truly believe I would buy any of the shit that comes out of your mouth.” He was on thin ice as it was, but your fathers words played in your head, and you saw the faces of your other Advisors in the corner of your eye.

Your father had selected this team of people because he trusted them, and for some reason, you did too. You didn’t know why, or how they were picked, but they were supposed to be the six people you could rely on. The six people who would challenge you, who wouldn’t blindly accept your decision like the rest of the planet. They were a tradition— to ensure the sanity of a ruler and the safety of a planet. You trusted them; or you would, eventually, but they would not overstep. Or at least, they shouldn’t.

“My father trusted you. It is that reason alone that I will let you continue to work underneath me, and forgive this lapse in judgment. But this is the one chance you will receive. I might not be my father, but you work for me now. If you choose to disobey me or do anything without me specifically telling you again, I will send you to Mandalore in my stead, and the King can have you in my place. We will see how far you make it in the ruins before he cuts you down.” They all scurry from the room, Advisor Corell not glancing back as he heads for the door after you drop him.

All that is left is Kaylen, who doesn’t need a title when it’s just you and her. She was a friend— perhaps your only one, so you only used her title around the other Advisors.

“That was exciting.” She says, and you flop down onto the cushioned throne, golden pillows softening the blow as she comes to lean on the armrest. “It’s been too long since we had some real palace gossip.”

“Well, hold on to that, because you might be shipping me off to marry a fish. He’s like a ghost— I couldn’t find anything on the King, and now I’m supposed to just…go?” You sigh, swinging your feet over the edge of the chair and letting your head fall into her lap. “This is insanity. This entire month has been suitor after suitor, none of them with armies strong enough to keep our planet safe. And now it’s like I don’t even have a... it all just happened so fast.”

“I know. You were right to reject them all. But this one is... it’s different.” You sit up, turning to face her.

“You think I should go?”

“Are you asking me as an Advisor, or as a friend?”

“Both.” The throne is huge, made for the large frame of your father, so she can slide right in next to you.

“Well, as your Advisor, Mandalore is famous for one thing— war. Sure, they have lost a tonne, but when they were at their peak, they were unstoppable. Feared throughout the galaxy. With our help, they could be that again. Even having the name attached to us would scare off any potential threats for a while. They are good fighters, they could teach our people ways we would never learn ourselves, and one day we could even be allies. Especially if this goes well.” She sits up when she speaks, and even though she’s only a few years older than you, she seems light years ahead. You understand why your father chose her.

“And as my friend?” She swings an arm over your shoulder.

“As your friend, I think you need this. I think that you haven’t changed a single thing about the palace since you have been crowned because you know once you do, this is real and your parents are gone. I think you know this is the right thing to do, but you’re scared, and you think that when you do this, you’ll finally be alone, and you hate that.” You’re thankful she’s not looking at you because you almost start crying as soon as she mentions your parents. “I think you know that this is different. That this could be a defining moment for you. For your reign. For the planet to come back after the Empire.”

“Why do you have to be right about everything?” You say tightly, and she helps you stand off the throne, leading you towards your bedroom through the maze of winding corridors.

“Just lucky. And, hey, don’t look so sad. Rumor has it he wears a very pretty beskar suit. All shiny and silver. You love shiny stuff.” She gestures at the hallways, all lined with golden and silver detailing. You nudge her on the shoulder and she laughs, peeling off before you open the door to your bedroom.

It was technically your parents room— the room you grew up in now vacated for your future offspring. You didn’t mind, using the room helped you feel a little bit closer to your parents. You remember all the times you’d climbed into bed with them, buried under the covers because you were afraid of the dark.

Kaylen was right. Corell was right, even if he was an asshole. It was selfish to not accept an offer. You hated that you couldn’t do more for your people, that all you had to offer was your arm, but if that was what you needed to do right now, you should just... suck it up. A Mandalorian, though. That was different. You knew they were feared, although scattered throughout the galaxy, and if their words were true, an entire planet of them would make you virtually impenetrable.

You couldn’t help but think about the King. Mandalorians were a confusing bunch, the few you had met, anyways. Very quiet, lethal as anything, and in your experience, solitary. Your mother had hired one years ago to collect a bounty for her, and he completed the four day job in three hours, arriving and leaving on his own, hardly talking if he didn’t have to. Why would someone like that want to be married?

Shrinking out of your outfit, you decided to try and get some sleep. If tomorrow was going to be anything like today, you’d need all the rest you could get, and for some reason, there was a racing in your heart you couldn’t settle. Maybe just nerves from the incoming visit to Mandalore tomorrow.

That had to be it. The myths, legends surrounding the cursed world— it would make anyone nervous. But it was just that. Nerves. It couldn’t be anything else.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[clockwayswrites]

Specter of Starlight - Part 2

Part 1 Mind the CW at the top. (which together will = chapter 1 ones it goes up up on ao3)

WC: 1068

-

He looked around the roof assessing the scene again, then at the other person.

They were leaning casually on the gargoyle now, unconcerned about the height. The new pose did cause them to throw one leg over on the roof side of the ledge, though, and Tim felt the bundle of nerves inside him unwind just slightly.

“Odd place to be then.”

“Maybe. I find height comforting. I’m Danny,” they said.

Tim was a little startled at being given a name so easily.

Danny gave him a lopsided smile. “Not that it’s not obvious who you are, but usually one guy tells another guy their name, they get a name back. There are social motions to go through here. There are expectations.”

Tim tilted his head at that, fighting back a smile. “Are social motions still in place when we’re sitting on a roof at—” His eyes darted to the hud feed inside his lenses. “—three twenty-two in the morning?”

“Hum,” Danny seemed to be actually thinking about that as he picked absently at the fang of the grinning gargoyle. “I suppose we’re exempt from most. In my defense, I think I lost track of time.”

“While star gazing.”

“Cloud gazing. I think we covered that already.”

“Red Robin, then, if we’re pretending to be normal,” Tim acquiesced.

“’Normal’ says the guy in the bird suit. Wait, I’m sorry, that makes you sound like a furry. Not that furries aren’t delightful people, but don’t really think you are one.”

It took some effort not to laugh, but he finally gave into the smile. “No, just a vigilante.”

“Got to say, that’s probably a pretty big step down from furry, sure you want to admit that?”

He was being teased. He was being teased by a random guy on the edge of a roof at three in the morning. This wasn’t at all what Tim expected but he would take it.

“You’re lucky Batman isn’t around to hear you slander the good vigilante name like that.” Mostly because Bruce was dealing with Justice League business. Really, right then, Tim was the only Bat who would be in this particular area to notice Danny (other than Oracle’s all seeing eye, but this high up didn’t have a lot of cameras).

“Okay, but seriously,” Danny said, spreading his hands, “Batman is way more furry adjacent than you. He’s got the wings—”

“It’s a cape.”

“—and the ears.” Danny brought his hands up, holding a single finger up on either side of his head. He gave them a little wiggle.

Tim wasn’t able to help the snort of laughter that time. “I’ll let you bring that reasoning up to him yourself.”

“No thanks, I don’t really want to have a run in with the Batman.”

“But I’m fine to have a run in with?” Tim wasn’t really offended, he knew he wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Batman. Or Red Hood. Or the latest Robin. Not to mention the girls… Okay, so he wasn’t the scariest Bat by far, alright?

“I’m not minding your company so far. Besides, you’re way cuter than Batman.”

He could feel the heat of the sudden blush on his cheeks. Hopefully the the dark night would hide it.

From Danny’s smirk he guess it didn’t.

Tim cleared his throat and grappled for a topic. “So were you hoping to see any particular stars?”

“I mean,” Danny let his head tilt back over the gargoyle, exposing the long line of his neck as he looked back up at the sky. “That always depends on the time of the year.”

If Tim was a less composed person he would have rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, what on this specific March night would you have been looking for?”

Danny’s gaze jerked back down to blink at Tim, but he couldn’t gather what for. Did Danny really think Tim didn’t know something as basic as the constellations changing with seasons?

No, Danny seemed to take a notice breath (why was it so noticeable suddenly) and relaxed again.

“Well, for March, we’d be seeing Orion,” Danny said, returning his gaze to the sky as if they could see anything. “He’s pretty easy to spot even in cities, because of how bright his starts are and his belt. His belt isn’t the brightest stars in Orion, but since they line up people have been spotting them for ages.

“In ancient Arabic they were Al Nijād, also the belt, but in modern they refer to them as scales, which is what the Chinese maybe called them too. They’re also sometimes called the three sisters or the three kings. There’s three stars on it, all pretty bright. Well, we call them three stars, but two of them are actually star systems— shit, sorry, I’m just ranting at you now.”

“No,” Tim said quickly. He hated the way Danny was curling into himself now. “It’s interesting. What do you mean they’re not three stars?”

Tim felt like he was being judged as Danny’s eyes swept over him. Judged and expected to be found wanting. How many times had people dismissed Danny when he was talking about this?

Tim must have passed because Danny started talking again. Slowly, at first, as if he was waiting for Tim to change his mind. “Well… see, the left most star, Alnitak, is a triple, maybe quadruple star system. We’ve known it was a double start since early eighteen something something— I’m not so great with remembering the dates— but then we found another star with the primary later which is super cool. And the right most star Mintaka is also multiple stars and one of them has a unusual metal abundance which is also really cool.

“Now the middle star, Alnilam, is a massive blue super giant. And I mean like, forty times the size of our sun massive. It’s the, twenty-seventh or twenty-ninth or somewhere there brightest start in the sky but even then, it’s only the forth brightest start in the Orion constellation. Like I said, super noticeable. Most people think Betelgeuse is the brightest because that’s one of the larges stars visible to the naked eye. If you thought Alnilam was big at forty times our sun’s size, Betelgeuse is over twelve hundred times bigger…”

A soft smile gracing his lips, Tim shifted to be more comfortable and hear all about Betelgeuse and Rigel and the other bits of starlight that made up Orion.

____

AN: Well, this decided it really wanted to be written, like now (now being 4am). But to be fair, I did rewrite two scenes of the next chapter of lbfd first. (And seriously, no shade on furries, they really are a wonderful community and the best cons to vend at.) Hopefully not too many mistakes, fresh migraine hell over here.

I hope Danny nerding out about the stars there at the end wasn't too dry? I don't know if I need to trim it down? Fun (?) facts, Orion is my fav constellation and my brother actually helped study the metallic content of starts because he's crazy smart. Anways, I love Danny being able to completely change the mood on Tim just by being his delightful, dumpster fire self. You all stay delightful too, darlings!

bby tag list: @michealawithana | @skulld3mort-1fan | @legowerewolf | @tsukihimeyfan | @bahfev | @lehana37 | @ghostreblogging | @quirky-gardener

[ice-ice-lizzie]

Translation of the Thomas Bordeleau interview on episode 329 of the Sans Restriction podcast hosted by Kevin Raphael. Bold text was originally in English and translator's notes are in brackets. Additional notes are at the end.

Host: Tommy B on the podcast. Tommy B, do you have a new tattoo?

Thom: Mmmm. No. No. Not so far.

Host: It's the same? I haven’t seen [unintelligible].

Thom: (shows him the tattoos on his shoulder)

Host: Okay, ehhhhh.

Thom: I’ve got ‘Bordeleau’ like that (shows tattoo on his bicep) and ‘Bordeleau’ over here as well (shows tattoo on the back of his arm).

Host: Ohhhh. Ohhhhh. It’s like La Valle*. How’s it going Big Dog? Happy to see you, happy to see you, man. How’ve you been spending the summer? You’ve been training here [in Montreal]?

Thom: I’m doing alright. I haven’t seen you too often lately.

[both talking at the same time]

Host: We should go to L'Alliance. I have tickets. I have tickets for L’Alliance.

Thom: Yes, yes.

[both talking at the same time again]

Thom: But ummm, no, it’s going well. Just taking a break and then training. Our season ended early in (he pauses to think) mid-April?

Host: Yo. That’s on paper. (Laughing) Your season ended in mid-February. 

Thom: Exactly. Yeah, unfortunately. [Making playoffs] was not in reach that early in the season, but, uh, no, it is what it is. I took a month off.

Host: What did you do? When you were in San Jose and the season ended, you guys had your meetings or whatever the next day I guess?

Thom: Mmm yeah. On the next day maybe, or to give it some time, two or three days later.

Host: So you take care of business and then you come here?

Thom: They can ship your equipment.

Host: Oh! They ship your equipment?

Thom: It’s the teams who do it. It depends on the equipment manager and what they want. We’re lucky. But uhh I ship my car and I keep my equipment in my car so it doesn’t really matter.

Host: So you put your gear in your car and you send it all in a boat?

Thom: No, it’s just on a truck that drives it across country.

Host: Shit, Quebec is [unintelligible] man.

Thom: It’s expensive. Really expensive.

Host: Oh yeah? It’s bad eh?

Thom: It’s a little insane. Having two cars might be worth it. It’s a shit show shipping everything across the continent.

Host: Because you ship everything before [the season] and after [the season]?

Thom: Yeah. Now the team helps but at the beginning, (giggling) at the beginning I did it all.

Host: What’s the thing, that right now, you know, there’s the team, but did you ever think to yourself did I really pay for all of that at the beginning, for real man?

Thom: Oh

Host: There’s plenty of things in this job that I have to do myself, there’s a lot. There’s a lot.

Thom: Sometimes, just for simple things, like food or supplements anyways, like [unintelligible] for nothing. It’s funny I was talking to my dad and he said ‘when you’re playing everyone wants to give you everything for free but you don’t appreciate it until after your career is over because that’s when you need the paid promotions but no one wants to give them to you.

Host: My method is to buy clothes that I like, but after I put them on, I take a photo, or someone takes a photo, it’s on Instagram, put it on Instagram stories, and it’s like yo Kev’s wearing these clothes.

[both taking at the same time]

Thom: For free.

Host: I’m like I ain’t no bitch. Send the goods!

[both talking at the same time]

Thom: It helps to wear the clothing that they give you. Shout out Elwood. They sent me-

Host: Who?

Thom: Elwood.

Host: Where are they from?

Thom: L.A. It’s a brand from L.A. They’re good.

Host: Shout out. (looking into the camera) Yo Elwood! (looking back at Thom) Elwood?

Thom: (laughing) Elwood.

Host: (looking into the camera) Elwood L.A. Yo yo yooooooo. Sans Restrictions podcast needs some Elwood. 

Thom: Thanks guys.

Host: Tommy B needs some Elwood.

Both: (laughter)

Host: Ok, so the season ends and you come here but you’re not on vacation.

Tom: Yeah, I had to stay here for a bit because my grandmother has health problems that made it so we needed to stay here with her and my grandfather, then three weeks after we came here, we took a little trip to South Carolina to golf. It was nice. Incredible temperatures.

Host: It’s only me who can say ‘that shit white.' [Host is black]

Tom: Oh yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. Real white.

Host: South Carolina, bro? Like the people there are called Corwin. There’s no Mustafas, there’s no-

Tom: Yeah, there’s not a lot.

Host: There’s like ‘John’

Tom: (snorts) Richard.

Host: Richard. Paul.

[both giggling too much to say anything]

Host: But how’s the golfing down there?

Thom: Insane.

Host: You’ve seen my swing, man?

Thom: On the ice, we’d call it a slapshot, but that’s- that’s not-

Host: It goes straight.

Thom: Yeah, yeah it goes straight.

Host: I can still hear the sound of it-

Thom: But it can actually go too far. It can go too far.

[both talking at the same time]

Host: What’s your [furthest distance]**?

Thom: Not too far. 250? 300?

Host: That’s a lot. That’s a lot. What’s your problem?

Thom: Well, you’re right. I [unintelligible] yesterday. At the tournament, I mean not tournament, at the Benjamin Saint Just Foundation ummmm yeah. They did 400 for the longest drive of the day.

Host: You’re shitting me. This guy is fucking with us. Josh, we invite him on the podcast and he’s fucking with us a little. It’s laughable, Josh. Ok. So the season ends and you’re training how many times a week?

Thom: Everyday.

Host: Every day on the ice?

Tom: No, everyday in the gym. On the ice at the beginning, two times a week, later in the summer three, four, five times a week.

Host: Then how… The season is long. Bro, I listened to the games. I looked for you. 

Thom: (laughing through his nose)

Host: Shit, it’s long bro. How is it so long?

Thom: The hardest game of my life was the one that was 10 to 1 against the Oilers at the end of the year. 

Host: It was 10 to 1?

Thom: It was bad in every sense of the word. They were just getting through us all over the place.

Host: Oh shit.

[Both laugh]

Host: Ok admit it, admit it, it was 7 to 1 there, and-

Thom: No, but it was 4-0 after like five minutes and we were like oh my god.

Host: How does that happen? 4-0 after five minutes.

Thom: Well, we had a lot, we had a lot of our players who weren’t playing.

Host: Bro, 4-0 after five minutes is classic but [something I can’t make out about comedians in the NHL]

Thom: Yeah, It was tough. It was tough. A tough game. I think that-

Host: When it got to 9 to 1, was there any chatter on the bench? 

Thom: Well, no.

Thom: Well, no.

Host: Was anyone talking?

Thom: No. We were trying to do something. We were trying to play well. We were trying. The worst thing, I think, was, if I can remember, I think I’m right, but I think, it was 9-1 at the end of the second.

Host: Impossible.

Thom: Or maybe the beginning of the third, because I remember there was a good moment at the end of the game where we didn’t score but, like, we could have had, we could have had it.

Host: Bro. Did you ever have a game this shitty at Michigan or..? (trails off laughing)

Thom: Yeah… I’m sure. I’m sure. It’s tough. You don’t want to get into the habit of losing. You don’t want to develop that kind of mindset. I’ve never had that mindset. Each loss really pisses me off***. It happened so often, but it’s hard to develop an ‘ok, onto the next day’ mindset when it really pisses you off, when you want to win.

Host: At least this year they played you more.

Thom: Yeah, they used me a lot at the end of the year. I really, I found my game in the NHL. I found the optimal place for me, how I see the game, how I think about the game. It clicked.

Host: What was your favorite moment from this year? Not necessarily a goal but like was there a moment there that made you go nice?

Thom: Damn. Umm there’s a lot. Well, at the beginning of the year when we took our team trip to Napa, when I made the team after camp, after I made the team at the beginning of the year, then we took the team trip to Napa. It was my first team trip in the NHL. It was fun. I found it really fun. Ummm, then another moment, another good moment, it was really nice. it was one of those games where I scored twice.

Host: ‘One of’ (laughing).

Thom: No, but it was against Chicago and it was really nice because it was rare this year. It was tough for the fans because of how often we lost and even at the end of the year they showed up. It was really packed. It was a nice feeling, especially at home.

Host: Tell me about the Connor Bedard effect. You’ve played two games against him, right?

Thom: Yeah, two games.

Host: So what’s it like, the Connor Bedard effect?

Thom: It’s crazy. Everyone is already a fan. He’s like the next big thing****, he started with fans, like he already has a fan base. I guess everyone is talking about him, even the journalists.

Host: So, when you see him you want to give him [unintelligible but he does a hand motion like a punch].

Thom: (laughing) No, well, we have lots of friends in common.

Host: You have friends in common? 

Thom: Kent Johnson, who I played with in Michigan.

Host: Ohhhh, true. So you’ve already seen him.

Thom: We’ve crossed paths at NHLPA events and things like that.

Host: There’s going to be rumors, you know. They’re going to say ‘Yo, Tommy B is boys with CB’.

Thom: (laughing) No, no, we’re not boys. 

Host: No, but do you have boys, besides Kent Johnson, that play with you guys, that you play against in the NHL? You know, a lot of the time in basketball you play against someone a little and there’s a respect that develops and he becomes your boy, right?

Thom: Yeahhh, uh, not lately, just because I was moving up and down between the AHL and the NHL.

Host: You were up more than you were down this year, right?

Thom: I didn’t play badly, but I did play more down than I did up. I spent a little over half the season down [in the AHL]. They brought me up just before the deadline. [Unintelligible] playing with all these teams like that. In the AHL, the players, the roster changes so often. It’s really the guys from Quebec that stick together. 

Host: Do you talk to each other very often on the ice?

Thom: Yeah, sometimes. It depends on how you know each other, but there’s even times when you know each other really well but you won’t talk on the ice, just before or after.

Host: In San Jose, you’re the Barracudas?

Thom: Yeah, Barracuda. Yeah. It’s a really good place for the AHL. A new arena, a new dressing room. Listen, for me, the jerseys are good quality, everything is beautiful.

Host: Did you keep a jersey? Did you keep a Barracuda jersey?

Thom: I have a couple, I think.

Host: So you went to Napa, and you also played in the opening game.

Thom: It was a good moment, the opening game. 

Host: They said your name!

Thom: It was nice. My first opening game in the NHL. It was really cool.

Host: What do you say, [unintelligible] up in the NHL?

Thom: Uhhhh yes. Yes, but it’s just… It was the first time that I really did that up in the NHL and I want to appreciate it as much as possible.

Host: Were you able to sleep before the opening game?

Thom: Yeah, yeah I had a nap, yeah. Each game day I take a nap. We had a morning skate that morning, after that I went back to our house. I made myself eat. A lot of the time I’ll do normatec^, like I do a lot of things for my legs, just for recovery things for my legs, then I make myself eat. Just pasta all the time before I go to sleep.

Host: The same thing?

Thom: Bolognese. All the time.

Host: All the time?

Thom: Spaghetti Bolognese.

Host: You eat that before going to sleep, bro? That’s the sort of thing my coach told me never to do in gym class. Here comes Kev, you’re already a fat fu-

Thom: It’s a forty minute nap. 

Host: A forty minute nap?! [He says something about 20 minutes that I can't make out because they're talking over each other]

Thom: Quick, quick, quick. 45 is perfect for me.

Host: Now we know the demands of the NHL. Pasta and then sleep!

Thom: No, but everyone sleeps before they eat. Everyone has a pre-game meal in the NHL. I’ve done it ever since I came to the NHL.

Host: Oh, yeah?

Thom: Like, the pre-game meal is at one in the afternoon, two in the afternoon. You eat, you take your nap, you have a snack.

Host: Do you have a place far away from the arena or are you close?

Thom: Close. Just beside it. I live downtown. Right there in the middle of it. 

Host: Are there guys who stay there because they live too far away?

Thom: Where? At the arena?

Host: Yeah.

Thom: Oh, no, no. Morning skate is over at ten in the morning and we don’t have to be there for the game until 4:35.

Host: So your favorite game was the first game, but you had two goals against Chicago and then who else?

Thom: Ottawa.

Host: Ohhh, but Ottawa… [trails off with the implication that he thinks that Ottawa won the game].

Thom: Oh but us (starts laughing).

Host: (laughing harder) 

Thom: Like, we really played well that game, like we were good in that one^^.

[talking over each other]

Host: My guy said ‘us’. (lots of laughing) What song would you choose to put over your goal highlights when you put them on insta reels?

Thom: Damn. Right now-

Host: Not Like Us, by Kendrick Lamar. Yes!

Thom: (laughs) One of Wun.

Host: What’s that, One of Wun?

Thom: From Gunna’s new album.

Host: Oh.

Thom: Mmm-hm.

Host: Oh, yeah?

Thom: Mm-hm.

Host: Okay. That’s not North Carolina. [I think he’s trying to reference earlier when they were talking about South Carolina].

Thom: Nope. Not at all. Not at all. It’s far away.

Host: (mimes playing a banjo) Dinga-linga-a-ling, dinga-ling-a-long. Banjo! 

[both giggling]

Host: So, do you celly? When you-

Thom: I could but no. I don’t really do a big celly.

Host: You do the- (badly mimes the heart breaker celly)

Thom: Not really, no.

Host: Who does that one?

Thom: Kane.

Host: Ohh, it’s Patrick Kane who does it.

Thom: Yeah, the heart breaker (mimes the heart breaker celly very small).

Host: Yeah. Ohhhh, you know the name?

Thom: Yeah, you make the heart and then you break it after. (mimes the heart breaker celly).

Host: It’s a heart, bro?

Thom: Heart breaker. (mimes the heart breaker celly).

Host: I thought he was swimming!

Thom: No, no, no, no.

Host: I swear to you, no one knows that.

Thom: Well, that’s what it is. The celly is called the heart breaker.

Host: That’s a team USA thing.

Thom: Everyone who plays hockey knows about it.

Host: (to the producer) Bro, did you know about that? No one knows that it’s called the heart breaker.

Thom: Wow.

Host: We’re going to put that on tiktok. Who knew it was the heart breaker? What’s your favorite celly?

Thom: The heart breaker is beautiful. I’ve never done it but I think it’s great. When someone does it, it’s hockey. But it’s Kane who came up with it.

Host: Oh, he came up with it?

Thom: [He says something about Kane and showtime that I cannot make out]

Host: I like it when you jump. When you jump in your cellies, it’s nice. It makes for good photos. But do you guys celly after every goal?

Thom: A lot of the time I lift up one leg or go to my knees.

Host: Ok, that’s a celly. When someone scores and doesn’t even raise their arms, I’m like, man why don’t you, it’s fucking difficult in the NHL.

Thom: Yeah. Sometimes I do that, but it also depends on the goal and the game.

Host: Even if it’s 10 to 1-

Thom: I guarantee you when Edmonton was beating us 6 to 0 and we scored, I did not celebrate much.

Host: Ok. Are you satisfied with your season? What’s your evaluation? Your first real season.

Thom: My second. For the first one, I spent the majority of the year in the AHL. That was my first real pro season. 

Host: So it’s your third year?

Thom: My second full year. My second year that I finished. So I burned that first year when I signed after Michigan and played some NHL games and then after summer.

Host: Oh, it was games at the end of the year.

Thom: Yeah. Games at the end of the year.

(Both laugh)

Thom: Prime time! Prime time!

(they toast with their mugs)

Host: [He says something in English but I can not understand him] (pointing at Thom) He has good people giving him advice! He burned a game!

Thom: No, well, when you sign your contract after you’re 20 and you play a game in the NHL you burn a year.

Host: Mmmm.

Thom: But if you sign before you’re twenty, it’s ten games.

Host: Oh, so you did ten games.

Thom: No, for me it was one game.

Host: Yo, that’s crazy bro. I need your agent in my life, man.

Thom: Pat Brisson. Shout out.

Host: Yo, shout out Pat. Okay, there are lots of comedians who listen. Do you have some advice for them, because I have a problem with you. You, you’re so chill until the third period and then you go crazy. You go crazy! If there’s only 5 minutes left, we’re still sitting on the bench because we can’t play without you. What advice do you have, not for me, because I have a good shot like Antony Duclair, but if you had one piece of advice to give, what would it be?

Thom: Find… umm… the spot on the bench that’s the most comfortable.

Host: (shocked laughter) WOW.

Thom: I’m sorry. (big laughter)

Host: WOW. You there on the ice, such trash talk.

Thom: No no no. (laughing)

Host: It’s impossible. It’s impossible that you don’t trash talk. First of all at Michigan, you trash talked.

Thom: Oh totally.

(both laughing)

Host: Ok. Ok there. We’ve got to be PG, but what is your best trash talk? Your best PG trash talk?

Thom: The best trash talk was our student section at Michigan. They’d look for the families of the players, and they’d get their pictures and social media, ex girlfriends, tinder profiles, all of that.

Host: Shit. You dodged the question by saying that.

Thom: (laughter)

Host: It’s good, it’s good, it’s good. You’re nasty, man.

Thom: PR trained.

Host: You’re nasty. That’s how- no one was talking about it when you came into the league. You explained that it’s not a big deal, but after that, after three years, how do you manage the PR and all of that?

Thom: Uh, well for me, I’ve been lucky with my agent, Pat Brisson. The year before the draft, he had a camp in L.A. We did a practice draft. He made us watch a practice about the news about new supplements and then someone caused a concussion and at the same time-

Host: I caused a concussion..

Thom: (laughs) And at the same time there was an actor from Grown Ups-

Host: Oh yeah?

Thom: -who did our PR training about how to like, show your personality, without putting yourself in a bad spot. He prepared us really well. And then there was a little bit about how to do social media.

Host: It’s not a big deal but that’s not what Jean Sebastian [Dea] said. [Jean-Sebastian Dea's NHL contract was terminated shortly after he appeared on the Sans Restrictions podcast].

[both laughing]

Thom: No comment.

Host: I’m the only one that’s going to lose his job after this podcast. (laughing) Oh man. Okay. It’s true [unintelligible] after the podcast.

Thom: I don’t know about that, but I’ll be surprised if that’s what happens.

Host: Bro, man, [Jean-Sebastian Dea] texted, bro bro [Dea] goes all out for the podcast, okay? Then me, each time I feel like going all out-

Thom: Did you fact check it?

[I’m omitting like three sentences here that make no sense to me]

Host: He came on the podcast.

Thom: He came on the podcast at Christmas?

Host: No at the end of the year. The end of the year. Anyways, he said things, bro. I said what am I going to do with you, man. I said to Bruno [the producer], can we do that? Is that something we can put out? And he said yeah, we can put that out, so I did it and he lost his job. I felt so bad. They said terminated or whatever. I felt bad. I panicked. I texted him, not at the beginning, I texted him two days later, I said yo, my bad, man, he said no, it is what it is, I wanted it. I wanted to sign with the KHL. I said Man, fuck this mother fucker, man. I couldn’t sleep!

Thom: I felt bad!

Host: I couldn’t sleep, bro! But he comes on the pod all the time. He’s welcome to go all out on the pod, the Russians don’t blink, you can say whatever you want^^^. Ok, so what’s been the hardest thing for you right now during your transition from your first year as a pro to your second year? What was the hardest thing, apart from losing 10 to 1?

Thom: Getting sent down to the AHL in my second year.

Host: Oof.

Thom: Yeah, that felt bad.

Host: Did they call you? (mimes putting a phone up to his ear)

Thom: No, it was- At training camp, I made the team, and then I played, mm (he’s counting in his head) eight games? Nine games?

Host: But that went well, didn’t it?

Thom: Personally, I thought it did, but we went zero for ten in the first ten games.

Host: (giggling).

Thom: Something had to give. But you know, obviously, I was the youngest on the team, besides Eklund. And it was me, then Eklund. They wanted me to go back to the AHL. They called me on a road trip that was like seven games, which is a long time to be on the road. We went from California to Florida with stops in Nashville, the Hurricanes, all that. We were on game seven of the road trip and there was a rest day after game six, but before the morning of game seven, at the hotel, the GM called me and came and met me in the lobby. I’d been in the middle of taking a walk, because when we stay in Washington, it’s really beautiful in Georgetown, like around the Four Seasons. It’s really cute. So I was taking a walk, and I was like 15 minutes away from the hotel and he called me and I turned right around and I had a 15 minute walk back and I called my dad because I was sure they were going to send me down. They had just scratched me the game before. I played like 6 games, then I was scratched, then they put me back in the line up for two games, then my last game in the NHL before they sent me down, I remember it was against the Tampa Bay Lightning, we lost, like 8-0. We were more dominated than the game where we lost 10-1. It was horrible. I can’t remember anything except for one zone exit. I think that for me, that was a traumatic NHL game.

Host: He was traumatized!

Thom: One of the things that made me like that, [the zone exit] didn’t bother me until they sent me down.

Host: But that’s crazy, you didn’t have a chance-

Thom: Oh, no, no. Not at all, they tried things-

Host: But that’s not what you told yourself because, for me-

Thom: There was nothing to do, I was just trying to grind it out.

Host: I coach soccer. When the other team drives the ball to us there’s a moment where someone gotta do something.

Thom: Yeah, but…

Host: Hey. Hey.

Thom: But we didn’t necessarily have the tools to-

Host: There wasn’t someone to do something. 

Thom: We had Hertl, who did everything for us, but-

Host: Yeah, yeah, but he was all alone.

Thom: Yeah, and Couture was injured the entire season. He had a rough year, unfortunately. He came back for seven games. The seven best games for the Sharks by far. He’s a big piece.

Host: His impact is crazy.

Thom: He’s incredible, a great guy. The best dude ever. He’s really [unintelligible] you can’t replace him. He’s just there to help. He’s like another coach. If you have a question about anything you can ask him and he’ll answer you. He’s my go to when I have a question about anything, it’s him that I ask. He gives me an answer every time with pleasure. He really comes in clutch.

Host: Ok. You lost 8 to 0 and you were at the Four Seasons…

Thom: Yeah, 8-0 and we were at the Four Seasons, I took my walk and they called me, and when I got back then they started talking to me, and I said I think I know where this is going, eh they said unfortunately-

Host: That’s how they welcomed you?

Thom: Well, you know. I didn’t want… I didn’t want… There were other, really good players in the NHL, it’s a tough league. I didn’t want to seem like I had a bad attitude especially because I wanted them to call me back up as fast as possible. Just like, I wanted to play in the AHL and play good minutes, the power play, 5 on 5, and I did that, and when they called me back up to the NHL I wasn’t sent down again because at the end of the season I was playing my best hockey.

Host: And how did they announce that you were being called up again?

Thom: My AHL coach called me and told me, yeah you’ve been called up, you’ll practice with the others tomorrow.

Host: Ok, but talk to me about how it felt! When you were sent down you went from taking the jet to taking the bus.

Thom: Yeah. Yeah.

Host: What takes 2 hours in the NHL takes 12 hours in the AHL.

Thom: Exactly, yeah. It wasn’t that bad but my back did hurt.

Host: So they called you and told you you’re going back to the NHL. How did you react?

Thom: Ah. I was miserable because it was late at night and I just wanted to go back to bed, so I was miserable, but then they told me and I was really excited. And then I didn’t want to go back to bed because I, like, wanted to enjoy it as much as possible before going to bed because I knew as soon as I woke up in the morning it would be like boom business, so I went to bed trying to savor it.

Host: (pretending he’s Thom) Yay! They called me up! [unintelligible]

Thom: Yeah. You switch to a different mode. You enjoy each day. I spent a lot of time with the boys, all of them, even the older guys. It was good to see them again.

Host: So how does like, you’re the smallest one there, right?

Thom: Mmm hmm.

Host: You play like (gestures and makes zooming noise). I have season tickets for the Rocket [the Canadiens AHL affiliate]. Jesus Christ, those guys don’t look where they’re going. I said to Jean-Phillipe Vautier at the celebrity game when he landed a big hit on me, you saw that?

Thom: No.

Host: When he hit me?

Thom: Oh yeah, I think I did see that.

Host: He laid me out, I was like disrespect.

Thom: Me, I’m lucky. I have a guy called Bokondji Imama who changed division.

Host: Oh! You played with Boko?

Thom: Well, I played against him in the AHL.

Host: You played against Boko? Toughhhhh. Was Boko still there when you got sent back down?

Thom: (laughing) Oh, Boko, he’s my boy.

Host: he said, ohh, Boko he doesn’t fuck with me.

Thom: I hope. [unintelligible because he’s laughing so hard]

Host: I know that Boko switches.

Thom: Oh yeah, you see it. Alright, I remember looking for someone else and then, next thing you know, he’s suspended for three games. Damn. Boko’s a different beast.

Host: The toughest guy that I’ve ever met is Boko Imama.

Thom: He skates really fast, he’s the whole package. Shout out Boko Imama.

Host: I saw him at a Rockets game and he was punching guys. Everyone was like eh I’m good. He was pulling on their jerseys like this (pulls the collar of his shirt away from his body). I’m good, I’m good. You’ve never fought, right? You’ve never dropped gloves?

Thom: Me? No, never. I’ve never fought.

Host: You don’t have the taste for it? What’s the closest you’ve ever been to fighting?

Thom: Ah, uhh, there was a moment in the AHL during a back to back where I threw a punch but I didn’t finish it.

Host: It’s what you’ve got to do. I don’t want you to fight because it’s dangerous. (Looks to the camera, pointing) [unintelligible] you ain’t doing this shit. (back to Thom) But you’re capable and say you’re on a team and everyone is squaring off with someone, ok?

Thom: (barely holding back laughter)

Host: Do you look for the smallest guy? Do you scan the crowd or is it really-

Thom: It’s really- It’s the closest guy and if the closest guy is the biggest, you’re like fuck. If the closest guy is the biggest one I just try to keep- I just try to-

Host: What do you guys say to each other when you’re squaring off like that? Like, yo, We’re not the same weight class. You’re heavyweight, I’m lightweight. Do you say, 'it’s not my problem, it’s not your problem, we good? We good'.

Thom: A lot of the time, a lot of the time it’s like that, except for when the other guy did something cheap.

Host: Right, except for that.

Thom: Then there’s no choice. But like if a guy comes out of the penalty box, for something like a back check [laughing too much for me to understand him] (makes a fist and mimes punching someone)

Host: I have a concussion guys! Zach Patterson gave me a concussion. Ok ok. So the AHL, is it, I won’t say easier because there are people who don’t give full respect to the league, but-

Thom: It’s harder.

Host: Yeah. Oh It’s harder, eh? A guy like you has a good way of seeing things. You have good hands. Do you feel like you have more of a place in the NHL than the AHL?

Thom: A little. In a sense, yes just because there’s more finesse in the NHL. In the AHL I’m not a playmaker, I don’t decide games, whatever. There’s less control, it’s just less of a league, but at the same time, there’s enough skills guys on each team, it’s a very good league, but it’s a war every game. Fist after fist.

[someone off screen says something]

Host: You won’t watch AHL games?

Thom: It’s scary.

Host: Oh yeah, it’s more scary.

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Even when I watch the boys play, I text them during the game. (points towards the camera) Yo, by the way, if you play professionally, and you text me back while you’re playing you are a vagabond, ok? 

Thom: Yeah that’s weird.

Host: Yo there are so many guys. Yeah! You don’t do that in San Jose?

Thom: No.

Host: You better not.

Thom: (laughter) Put your phone away for the whole period.

Host: I won’t say who it was. I’m not going to snitch, but there was a guy who was texting me for two periods, who is in the NHL, during a very important game. I was working and then I saw a text from him and I was like, are you insane? And then he stopped responding. Do you get on your phone [during a game]?

Thom: No, but there are guys who listen to music on their phone, but no one is like texting (mimes holding a phone in front of him). Maybe sometimes there’s a guy who’s checked out of the game because he wants to text someone.

Host: Oh, huh. Are you going to go to Michigan?

Thom: No, but I went back at the end of last summer. It was really nice to skate with them, they’re a good group to skate with. I’m going to go back before the end of the year.

Host: But you’re not going for a game, for a presentation or anything like that?

Thom: No. No. Michigan, the regionals are in Saint Louis.

Host: Oh, yeah, I saw that.

Thom: We won against North Dakota.

Host: You won a national championship, right?

Thom: No.

[talking over each other- I can't make out what they're saying]

Thom: We lost the frozen four. Yeah. Tough game. One and done man. Tough game. All our season for one game, man.

Host: With all the talent you guys had?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: When you went back to the room and looked around you at all the talent-

Thom: Yeah.

Host: -did you say the fuck happened?

Thom: There were a lot of things expressed in that dressing room by the players there, unfortunately.

[both laughing]

Host: Yes! This is just for me. This is my overtime. What are you watching at the moment to relax?

Thom: I started-

Host: Rookie?

Thom: Alice in Borderland.

Host: What’s that?

Thom: (asking someone off screen) It’s what, Chinese? It’s like, like the same type of thing as Squid Games, but different.

Host: Would you do the Squid Games?

Thom: No, are you insane? It’s too much up to chance.

Host: But the game show version, would you do that?

Thom: Oh, the fake one? Oh yeah, well sure, I would do that. Will there be a Squid Games Quebec?

Host: Don’t give them the idea, man. They’re always looking for ideas. They have 100 USD hidden, what game do you think, without a team, which game could you do?

Thom: I’m trying to remember what the games were.

Host: There’s marbles, the one where you lick a cookie, there’s the, uhh, ice that you have to jump.

Thom: For me, I think the cookie one, or the first one where you have to turn around.

Host: Oh yeah.

Thom: It’s easy.

Host: Really, the cookie one?

Thom: Yeah, the cookie one.

Host: You’re not meticulous enough for that bro.

Thom: I’ll manage.

[both laughing. The host stands up and doubles over]

Thom: I have a wet mouth.

[both laughing more]

Host: Wooo. The podcast is almost over. The podcast is over, huh? Oh shit. I try to talk about business, because that’s what the podcast is for, but I also try to discover the person.

[Both of them laughing too hard to talk]

Host: You can’t make this shit up.

Thom: (takes a sip of water)

Host: I’m trying to reflect. I’m in a wedding, ok? (starts laughing again because Thom looks at him) Hold on, I’m trying to tell you. I’m in a wedding, and it’s all the same people together, and I’m in their wedding and at their wedding they have so many hockey players and I didn’t really know what was happening in the conversation but they explained to me, you know do your thing. Come on, Kev, do your thing, and after that I had 20 pros who were coaching me. Bro.

Thom: Like uncles.

Host: Best moment of my life. Best moment of my life. So I took their advice, you understand? It was theoretical, it was practical, right?

Thom: Yes.

Host: I did my thing, bro.

Thom: So you’re a pro now, or?

Host: No, no, no. My lady and me. She did my thing, bro. It was totally crazy. I woke up and I went to hide in the bathroom, and I texted my people like ‘yo, that worked!’

Thom: No way.

Host: Bro, since that day, bro, my game is at another level bro.

[both laughing]

[both talking over one another]

Host: (pointing at someone offscreen) You go out there (pointing at the door) and I’ll tell you (looking at Thom) something after.

Thom: Okay, okay.

Host: Okay, to finish, if they made a movie out of your life, what type of movie would it be? A romantic comedy, a thriller, what type of movie would it be and who would play you?

Thom: Damn.

Host: And don’t say Tom Holland, you’re too beefy for Tom Holland.

Thom: I don’t know, Tom Holland is pretty beefy.

Host: He goes to the gym?

Thom: Yeah, have you seen him?

Host: Tom Holland does not go to the gym.

Thom: He goes in Spiderman.

Host: Bro, that’s the wish version of Spiderman.

Thom: [unintelligible] Spiderman.

Host: Tobey McGuire is Spiderman bro. What are you talking about? I watched Endgame.

Thom: I have a special love for Tony Stark. I don’t know why, because Spiderman [unintelligible] Tony Stark.

Host: Really, Tony Stark?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Really?

Thom: Yeah. Iron Man is just a different breed, different aura.

Host: Iron Man’s a little bit of a bitch.

Thom: You think so?

Host: Out of all the superheroes he’s the least powerful.

Thom: The least powerful?!

Host: Bro, he’s a robot.

Thom: But at the end- did you watch the movies? It’s because of him that everything works out! 

Host: It might be because of him that everything works out but-

Thom: The technology is insane. Insane.

Host: Alright, moving on.

Thom: He was able to beat Hulk.

Host: Hulk? Hulk isn’t that strong by himself.

Thom: Iron Man isn’t in the same division as the ones that can change reality-

Host: Oh those are whack, those are whack, man, Dr. Strange is a bitch, the day he’s not happy with the way things are he fucks off. The best one is Black Panther.

Thom: Dope. Dope.

Host: Wakanda! My king!

Thom: (into the camera) RIP. RIP.

Host: Ok so who would play you in the movie?

Thom: What type of movie?

Host: Clearly it would be a superhero movie.

Thom: Oh well, maybe. [unintelligible]

Host: [laughing too much for me to understand him]. Ok, so who would play you?

Thom: Who would play me? Uh, I like…

Host: (pointing at someone off screen) Help him.

Thom: The guy that played Harvey Spector, but like in a comedy movie.

Host: Harvey?

Thom: Harvey Spector.

Host: That guy is like 45.

Thom: You want someone that’s my age?

Host: Oh no, but I didn’t expect to hear ‘Harvey Spector’.

Thom: Okay but I don’t know actors that are my age. I think, in the world, like-

Host: Harvey Spector could work.

Thom: Yeah, I think for an adult me.

Host: Like a future you?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: And what would the title of your book be?

Thom: The title of my book? Damn. 

Host: I wrote a book, you know.

Thom: Oh really?

Host: I wrote a real book.

Thom: Nice. Is it good?

Host: This book is insane.

Thom: What’s it about?

Host: I can’t say.

Thom: Oh, so it’s not out yet. I’m sure I would have seen it otherwise. You made me think I missed it.

Host: Have you seen the Stanley Cup?

Thom: Seen?

Host: Yeah.

Thom: In my life, I think, yes? But I was young. As for my book, I’d call it bwater^^^^.

Host: bwater?

Thom: (holds up his glass of water) Bwater.

Host: Be water?

Thom: Be water. 

Host: Why?

Thom: Adapt. Change form according to your container.

Host: That’s fucking nice. Bwater I like that.

Thom: With a little b-

Host: Like a type of water? That’s great.

Thom: Marketing.

Host: Marketing, yo bwater. That’s a classic, you take off your jersey and underneath (he mimes opening up his shirt) bwater. Okay, last thing. Why are you wearing that hat? Are you a 49’ers fan?

Thom: Yeah, in San Francisco, San Jose-

Host: But are you a fan of the team?

Thom: Of course. I went to two games this year.

Host: A fan of the team for real?

Thom: Yeah.

Host: Y’all like to lose, huh?

Thom:  (laughter) It was a strong year for them.

Host: A strong year?

Thom: We’re doing good over here.

Host: You had two super bowls but you’re not in the Stanley Cup finals, you understand, so what are your extension requirements.

Thom: I remember we watched [the Superbowl] live in a restaurant as a team. We watched the TV like (leans forward and stares, eyes wide) what’s happening. I didn’t come back after they lost like that. But shout out to their insane season.

Host: Have you already told the guys on the team?

Thom: I haven’t said anything. I’ve seen Deebo [Samuel] at a shopping mall.

Host: You just crossed paths?

Thom: Yeah. He had shopping bags. He was with someone else.

Host: Did you say ‘What’s up’ to Deebo?

Thom: No, I didn’t say ‘What’s up’ to Deebo at that time. He was on a mission.

Host: In and out. (Laughter). I pass through that neighborhood sometimes.

Thom: Oh really?

Host: There’s [an In-N-Out Burger] in Montreal, did you know?

Thom: Is it uptown?

Host: No, it’s like, on Mansfield. There’s one over there.

Thom: But, no. The guys on the 49’ers I don’t know where they live, because the stadium is ten minutes from San Jose. It’s not in San Fransisco. 

Host: I don’t know where the guys are, but the stadium is insane, for example-

Thom: The stadium is sick but it’s ten minutes from San Jose, so it’s 35 minutes from San Francisco, you know?

Host: Have you had any other encounters with celebrities during the season?

Thom: During the season? Who have I met… (thinking)

Host: You don’t have a lot of celebrities in San Jose.

Thom: Uhhh, no we don’t have a lot in San Jose. At times at games we’ve had a couple.

Host: [something about Montreal]

Thom: We only come to Montreal once a year.

Host: Oh poor guy.

Thom: We come in the night before a game, maybe like 1 am and after we play, we leave.

Host: Tommy B?

Thom: Yo.

Host: Thanks a lot for coming on the pod. Do your thing. Off season. There’s no reason to work too hard.

Thom: Yes sir.

Host: Don’t say anything (turning towards the camera) PAY THE MAN.

Thom: (giggles)

Host: PAY. THE. MAN. Put the cash in his account! That’s all I’m asking! Lots and lots of cash! Alright. Pay the man.

Thom: Help your employee.

Host: (laughter) Help your employee. I said not to say anything and you say ‘help your employee’. [unintelligible] the poor thing. Shit.

Notes: *I'm not sure what La Valle is, or if I'm spelling it right. **I'm not sure how to translate this because I'm not familiar with golf terminology in English. ***The french phrase I’m translating as ‘pisses me off’ literally translates to ‘makes me shit myself’. Just a little french lesson for you guys. ****Thom said ‘le nouveau Kid’ like referencing Sid the Kid but translating it to ‘the new kid’ has different connotations in English than it did in French. ^a type of compression therapy ^^The score of the game that Thom is talking about was San Jose 2, Ottawa 1. Thom scored both of San Jose’s goals. ^^^The host is probably unaware but Dea’s KHL contract had already been terminated by the airing of this podcast. ^^^^This is probably a pun. L’eau is the French word for water, like in Bordeleau.

[heyclickadee]

Okay, here’s the slightly evil, kind of sad, but mostly happy in a somewhat melancholy way (basically just a lot of feelings here) thought I had about Tech and Phee having kids, if that should ever happen:

So, operating under the assumption that Tech comes back, let’s say he and Phee do get together. And let’s say they stay together, and end up more or less space married. Let’s say they both want kids, and, after a lot of discussion about the war going on in the background and how they’re going to raise them and keep them safe, they end up going ahead with it. They don’t really settle down in any one place, but they’ve got their own ship with plenty of room, Pabu (maybe) is a good, stable home base to go back to when needed, and they’ve got a huge family for support. Those kids, if they have more than one, are loved. They have tons of uncles, somebody is always around, maybe some of the other batchers have partners (or not) and also have kids or adopt kids (heck, let’s throw Riyo in there, too, since she and Echo are a popular ship—they end up together but they don’t want kids, but they do a lot of work helping younger clones when they’re not fighting the Empire, Hunter took in several of the clone cadets they rescued from Tantiss, Wrecker is the favorite uncle but Crosshair is the favorite babysitter, they all manage to visit Cut and Suu once in a while, and and both Omega and Lyana are delighted to have little cousins running around (I kind of headcanon that Shep and Lyana kind of adopted Phee into their family after she found Pabu, so even if we’re going with a version of Phee that was formerly a Jedi and and doesn’t really know who her birth parents were, her kids are going to have family on both sides).

And this all exists just as a headcanon for something that could maybe happen after season three, depending on how season three goes, buuuut I like it. It’s just this nice little thought of this big, chaotic family, way bigger than just our six batchers, that’s structured a little weirdly, because clones, and everyone has their problems. but they’re all doing their best for each other and there’s a lot of love in it. And then I started thinking about clone aging.

And we all know clone aging sucks, but: let’s say clones really do age at twice the normal rate once they reach maturity, and let’s say Tech is chronologically, like, twelve but physically in his late twenties. A hard late twenties where he could pass for anything between thirty and fifty, but late twenties all the same. Suppose he gets the best case scenario and manages to live till he’s physically 90. Chronologically, he’ll be around forty-five. So, close to best case scenario, barring dying violently or getting sick, he’s got maybe another thirty-three years in him. That might seem like a lot (and it probably is to a clone), but to put that in perspective, I’m thirty-five. If I die in thirty-three years, I’ll only be sixty-eight—I’ll have died pretty young. And I’ve already been alive almost three times as long as many of the clones have. The clones do not get that much time.

There’s a lot to be explored with that in regards to Phee; I’ll be honest, the potential, “This is going to be over faster than either of us are going to be ready for,” “It is—let’s do it anyway,” is part of why at draws me to the ship, because there’s something a little defiant about two people going into a relationship knowing one of them was built to die faster, and choosing to live their lives how they want despite that. But there’s also a lot to be explored in how Phee and Tech would handle that with their kids. Because—they’d tell them. They’d have to sit down and tell them once they got to a certain age. Tech is going to be lucky to see them hit their twenties. It’s not like they wouldn’t notice their dad and their clone uncles getting old so much faster than their mom, Omega, or their uncle Shep, or anyone else they know. They’d ask questions, and it’s not like Tech wouldn’t be up-front. But I don’t think it’d be an easy conversation for any of them to have.

[funnylittlelad]

Rules Made To Be Broken - Steve Harrington x gn! reader

Masterlist - AO3

<< Rule Two | Epilogue >>

summary: As you and Steve grow closer, things seem to be going perfectly. That is until your police chief father steps in. The more you lie the deeper a hole you dig, but what else can you do? No matter what your dad says, you're not staying away from Steve Harrington.

wordcount: 6k

notes/tags: Hopper!reader, secret dating, sneaking around, fluff, friends to lovers, events of season three do not take place (canon divergent), Hopper is a bit of an (redeemable) overprotective helicopter parent, mentions of/talks about: abusive parents, Steve's father is his own warning, Good Brother Jonathan (tm), tumultuous relationships, divorce, death, and family trauma.

Rule Three: No Having Steve Over If Your Dad Isn't Home

Joyce corners Hopper when he’s brushing his teeth before bed. She shuts them both in the bathroom and turns to him with a stern expression. He raises his eyebrows at her in question, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. She crosses her arms. He turns, spits out what toothpaste is left in his mouth, and rinses. As he turns back to her, he wipes the corners of his mouth with a rag.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

“Jim, I know you're not stupid so why are you being so hard on Steve?” She questions.

“Someone ought’a be,” he answers.

“You don't think John is?” She scoffs.

“What's this about, huh?”

Joyce shakes her head a little.

“You have to have noticed they like each other. There's something there and Steve is a good guy-”

“He’s a Harrington.”

“Jesus Christ, Jim, that doesn't matter! Steve has kept both your children safe from Upside Down monster bullshit! You’ve already been complaining that something is different with your relationship. If you keep this up, you won't have a relationship at all,” Joyce hisses.

Hopper crosses his arms. He breathes evenly as he and Joyce stare each other down. It doesn't matter how long he stands here, he knows she'll win.

“He reminds me of me,” he admits through grit teeth.

“What?” Joyce’s brows furrow.

“Steve- he…,” Hopper sighs and looks away, “He reminds me of myself at that age. It's when I met Diane. Just… My kids deserve better than that- they deserve better than me.”

“Any of those kids would be lucky to end up with someone like you. Steve is a good one. We’re lucky it’s him and not one of those other idiots out there,” Joyce says softly.

Hopper runs a hand down his face.

“So, what? What are you saying? What do you want me to do?” He questions.

“Let go a little. Let them see each other.”

“You mean let them start seeing each other.”

Joyce’s mouth presses into a thin line. She doesn't want to give up her mistake, but she doesn't want to lie. That alone says enough. Still, Hopper gives her another chance.

“Joyce, you meant to say you want me to let them start to see each other, right? Not continue to see each other,” he tries again evenly.

She takes a measured breath. Her big eyes flash down and then back up at him. They're brimming with an apology.

“I’m sorry, Jim. This is what I mean-”

“How long?”

“I don't know.”

“How long have you known?”

“I just found out. Neither of them wants to be sneaking around, but they don't think you've given them another choice,” she tries to explain to him.

“Thank you, Joyce,” he states and turns back to the sink.

His large hands grip the edge as he glares at the faucet. Joyce watches him for a moment, teetering between annoyed and sympathetic. She loves Hopper but, Christ, is he stubborn. 

“Maybe instead of seeing Steve and thinking of him being a Harrington, you should think about Callahan. Steve’s related to him too, remember? Will and Jonathan are related to Lonnie, but you don't think they'd ever be like him,” she points out, “It’s okay that you're scared, but you can't let it control you.”

“ Thank you, Joyce ,” he says again with more emphasis. 

With a sigh, she leaves unsure if she just made things better or worse. 

The next time you see your dad is strange. He lumbers around you as you do the dishes, grunting in acknowledgment, with a storm cloud over his head. It's not totally unusual so you don't think much of it. You figure he's just in a mood. So, you let it be while he prepares his lunch of a sandwich. Then you accidentally drop and break a plate in the sink. That seems to light whatever short fuse your dad has today.

“We can't get a new place to live and buy a whole new set of plates,” he drawls bitterly.

You turn annoyed furrowed brows on him.

“It was one plate. I think we’ll financially recover,” you quip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you balanced the checkbook recently?” He all but snaps.

You blink at the running water. Aggravation and concern are beginning to swirl together. Why does it feel like he's picking a fight?

“Okay, I’ll buy the plates. There, happy?” You bite.

“ Peachy .”

“Good.”

“Good.”

A tense silence blankets the kitchen. Ceramic bits of plate clink against the metal of the sink as you collect them. Your dad angrily spreads mustard on a piece of bread. 

“You’re watching Will and El tonight,” he informs you.

“Excuse me? Since when?” You let out a single sarcastic laugh and turn on him.

“What? Do you have plans?” He shoots back pointedly, eyes sharp and analyzing.

Your heart catches in your throat. You do have plans. Plans with Steve you had yet to lie to him about. It’s okay, those plans can change. You aren't giving up coveted Steve time, not when it's feeling so hard to come by. Steve went full-time last week. You haven't seen him outside of the mall in days. Both of you have been too tired while adjusting to your new schedules.

“No,” you lie, “Doesn't mean I wouldn't like the option.”

His gaze hardens. There's a tug at your stomach, a warning signal that something is awry. He’s not just in a mood, he’s fucking pissed. You just don't know why. 

“Well, now your plans are watching Will and El,” he says cooly, going back to his half-assembled sandwich. 

“They don't need me to watch them,” you echo what must be a million you’s from the past. 

“I say they do.”

“Whatever, this is fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself as you toss the plate bits in the trash.

“That’s it, you’re grounded,” he snaps and turns on you.

You gape at him with a scoff.

“ What? For what?” You demand.

“Talking back.”

“Talking ba- I’m fucking nineteen, dad, get a grip!” You shout. 

“Indefinitely,” he tacks onto your sentence.

“God, I can't wait to move out and get away from your insane ass!” You boil over furiously. 

You stomp away before you can see the crumpled look on his face. You don't want to see it. The words just slipped out. They weren't even true, but not much is from your mouth these days. At least when it comes to your dad. Your heart seizes as you trek down the hallway to your room.

 It shatters when the door slams shut. There was a time your dad and you were close. You had weekly traditions and inside jokes to fill up the empty parts of your lives. Then you grew up. Then all the Upside Down shit started happening. With each gate, the rift between you widened. You started working and hanging out with Robin more. He started working more, carefully monitoring for the next sign of foul play. El distracted both of you from whatever uncomfortable distance sat between you. For a while.

Steve had never been a stranger. After he saved your life, the two of you became something like old friends. The kind that had once been close in school, but since grown apart. You acknowledge each other’s existence with a nod and move on. After you saved his life, you began to talk more. Nothing crazy, just a hello or a how are you if you ran into each other. Until you found him outside the convenience store one night. You had walked over to grab snacks for you and El. Steve sat on the trunk of his car, occasionally sipping a coke. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greet with a small smile. 

He seems a little startled but relaxes when he registers it's you. He returns your smile.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” 

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckle.

“Me? Oh, well, isn't it obvious,” he holds his arms out at the no one around you, “I’m hanging out with my tons of friends.”

You can feel the knit grow in your brow.

“Are you okay?” You cut right to the chase.

“Yeah,” he sighs, drops his arms, and nods, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe you,” you deadpan.

“I’m fine, really. I’m just… reflecting,” he shrugs. 

“On what?” You ask and gesture to the spot beside him.

He nods and scooches over to give you enough room. You lift yourself up onto the trunk next to him. He sips his coke. You wait patiently.

“I think my only friend right now is a child,” he wrinkles his nose at the thought.

“You finally gave up on Carol and Tommy H.?” You tease. 

“Yeah, little while ago.”

“Who’s the child?”

“Henderson.”

You perk up at the mention of the curly-headed goofball.

“Oh, Dustin’s a good one to have around. He’ll talk to you like you're stupid, though. Sadly, most of the time he does he’s right , but still,” you tell him. 

Steve hums in agreement. He stares down at his hands for a moment. Then his eyes are on you once more. The multicolor fluorescents in the window advertising different beers streak color across his eyes. It makes them look like they're made of rainbows. Little rainbows only you can see.

“What about you? Friends? Enemies? Lovers ?” He smirks and nudges you at the last one.

You roll your eyes and give him a small shove. He laughs in response. 

“I’m good friends with Robin Buckley. She’s in the marching band at school so you probably don't know her,” you answer.

He shakes his head to confirm he doesn't know her.

“Is that it?” he quirks his eyebrows at you.

“The same children as you, I guess,” you laugh, “Other than that… yeah, pretty much. You know my dad.”

Steve nods contemplatively.

“There's me too. We’re friends. We kinda have to be after everything,” he reasons.

You gasp dramatically.

“Does this mean I’m friends with the Steve Harrington ?” You ask with a hand over your chest.

Steve laughs a beautiful full bodied laugh. It brings a smile to your face. At least you were able to make his night a little brighter.

“It sure does,” he says.

“Well, since we’re friends and all,” you slide down off the trunk and turn to face him, “If you ever find yourself at the mall, feel free to pop into the arcade and say hi.”

He seems to deflate a little bit. It's almost as if he's disappointed when he realizes you're leaving. He nods with a small smile.

“Will do,” he promises.

You take another moment to really examine him. He looks so small half curled in on himself, clutching an open bottle of coke, and ignoring the whip of his windbreaker.

“Are you really okay, Steve?” You ask softly. 

“I’m better now,” he nods.

You smile, accepting that answer.

“Alright, I should grab snacks and head back to El. Take care, Harrington.”

“Take care, Hopper.”

The following day Steve did go to the mall. While there he saw the hiring sign in the window at Scoops. Fast forward a week to you going to bother Robin on your break. There Steve was behind the counter in little blue sailor shorts. It was easy to slip and fall in the Harrington charm once you were subject to it on your break every day. Sometimes Robin had to fight to remind the two of you she was there. 

You wait for your dad to leave for his night shift. The moment the chief’s truck is out of sight, you’re on the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Will asks when he wanders into the kitchen for a drink.

“Steve. We were supposed to see each other tonight,” you explain a little shorter than you intend.

Will offers a sympathetic smile.

“We tried telling him we didn't need you to watch us,” he says.

“Thanks for trying,” you give a small smile in return.

“Harrington,” Steve answers the phone.

“You sound like such a douche when you answer the phone, y’know that?” You tease.

“I don't have to take this. I could hang up,” he scoffs, pretending to be affronted.

“No,” you whine, “Then you won't hear me inviting you over.”

“I thought your dad worked tonight?”

“He does, but now I’m stuck here thanks to him. You can be gone before he gets back,” you say.

“Okay, just give me like twenty minutes.”

“See you soon, handsome.”

“See you soon, baby.”

Your face floods red as you hang up. Will snorts. You shoot him a glare.

“What?” You question.

“Nothing,” he defends, “you guys are cute.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, a little embarrassed as you walk by.

You plop onto the couch next to El. She instinctively leans into you. From the moment you met, El just kind of latched onto you. She would be behind your legs, at your side, and telling you first when something was wrong. You don't know what you did to earn her trust like that, but you value it.

“Stevie’s coming over,” you tell her.

“Dad doesn't know?” she checks.

“No, he doesn't and we have to keep it that way,” you answer.

She nods dutifully. You know you can trust her. She’s had her own arguments with your dad over his protectiveness. Granted, arguments with El tend to see a lot more things flying off the walls.

“You have been fighting more,” she comments after a moment.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess we have.”

“Is it about Steve?”

“No, but dad keeps trying to make it about him. Dad doesn't… He doesn't know how to let go of things. Including us,” you explain sadly. 

“Are you going to leave?” She whispers.

You choke down your uncertainty.

“Well, I’m going to start saving for an apartment soon but that doesn't mean you’ll never see me again,” you whisper back.

“Dad will be very sad.”

“Y-yeah, I know.”

“So will I,” she admits.

“I know, me too.”

She hugs you tightly from the side. You do your best to do the same. Will flops down on the other side of El with a sigh. The three of you watch tv until there's a rhythmic knock on the door. You bounce up and go to the door, swinging it open with a smile. Steve stands there with a wide smile of his own, hair freshly primped just to see you. He swoops in for a kiss, earning a chorus of ew s from Will and El. The two of you chuckle as you pull apart. 

“Are you guys cool to be alone for a bit?” You check.

Will and El make disgusted faces and pretend to gag. You roll your eyes. You take Steve by the hand and lead him to your room. The door stays cracked, in case you get called for. Once you turn around you’re wrapped in Steve’s arm. He nuzzles into you as much as humanly possible.

“Steve,” you giggle into the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“I missed you,” he grumbles into your skin.

“I missed you too,” you sigh and melt into him.

You comb your fingers through his hair, half expecting him to purr like a cat. After a moment, you manage to lead the two of you over to your bed. There you fall back on your old comforter, still attached. Steve pulls away so you’re nose to nose. The smile that brightens your face is instinctive. The one that brightens his is the same. Smiling is natural around each other. 

“I want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe dance a little,” he says, eyes sweeter than ever.

“You dance?” You smirk.

“I was in ballroom until I was ten,” he states with a goofy smile.

“That right? Well, now you have to show me the moves,” you decide and extract yourself from him.

He sits up after you. His eyes stay on you as you dig through your tapes. You pop one into the stereo. Something light and poppy drips from the speakers. With a bright grin, you hold your hand out to him. A light blush takes over his cheeks, but he ignores it. As requested, he gets up and takes your hand.

You descend into laughter as Steve glides and spins you around the room. His arm is snug against your lower back while his other hand clasps yours. He’s not bad for not having had a lesson in eight years. Together you and Steve walk on air, bolstered by the high of finally being together outside of blistering fluorescent lights and fake plants. 

The station is absolutely dead. There's one light that's been buzzing for weeks now. It irritates Hopper’s ear, gnawing at his eardrum and begging for restitution. He sighs heavily and drops his face into his hands. As he attempts to rub the tired boredom from his eyes the bell dings from the front.

“Flo, you got that?” He calls.

There's no answer, but another ding .

“Flo?” He calls again, growing short.

Another ding . He sighs and heaves himself out of his chair. Irritated grumbles fall from his mouth as he makes his way over to the front desk. Flo is gone for the night. He forgot it was that late already. Another sigh leaves his lungs. 

“How can I-” He pauses when he sees John Harrington smiling from the other side of the desk, “What can I do you for, John?”

“I’m here for Phil. Picking him up. Say, I’m glad I ran into you, though,” John Harrington grows a smarmy grin, “We should get the family together soon. Have dinner.”

Hopper’s mouth tightens and his nostrils flare a tad as his warning bells go off. His eyes narrow as Callahan rounds the corner from the locker room.

“Oh, hey-” Callahan begins to greet.

“Why would we do that?” Hopper questions John, ignoring Callahan completely.

Callahan stops a few feet away. He looks inquisitively between the two men.

“I figured celebration is in order since our kids are together! I gotta say, Jim, you raised a good kid. Gotta good head on-” 

“How would you know that from a two-minute conversation at a crowded bar?” Hopper snaps, already knowing where this is heading.

His face grows red with anger. John attempts a confused facade, but it's thin.

“We had dinner together a few weeks ago,” he says as if reminding Hopper.

“Oh, did you?” Hopper asks with a nod.

“Yes, I thought you kne-”

“Callahan,” Hopper booms as he starts back for his office, “You’re staying in tonight. I have to leave.”

Callahan, who had already been heading back to the locker room throws back a you got it, Chief. Hopper doesn't spare John Harrington another glance as he storms out to his truck. If he had, he would have seen a sly satisfied smirk. As you and Steve twirl around in a fog of affection, your dad races home with his lights on. 

Steve spins you out and then back into his arms. The moment you're back, his nose is brushing against yours.

“I love you,” he breathes between notes of music.

“I love you too,” you smile.

You're not sure who kisses first this time. Perhaps you meet in the middle. Either way, it’s a tender kiss that warms you from your head to your toes. Steve kisses you as if it’s the reason he was put on this planet. You let him guide you back to your bed. When the mattress hits your legs you tumble onto it. Steve lands over you, smiling full of adoration.

“My mom’s birthday is coming up. Every year there's this big dinner somewhere stuck up with a bunch of people who are even more stuck up,” he tells you.

“Sounds awful,” you chuckle.

“It is. Would you come with me? She really likes you and it might be half decent with you there,” he turns bashful.

Your smile falters.

“I want to, but my dad grounded me indefinitely,” you chew on your lip, “Maybe I can sneak out-”

“No, no it's okay,” Steve shakes his head, “You sneak out for me enough as it is.”

“I do it because I want to,” you remind him.

“I know, but I can tell all the lying has been messing with you. I don't want to make it any worse,” he says. 

“I appreciate that, Steve, really. It’s my decision, though. It isn't your fault I’m lying or sneaking around. It’s my dad’s,” you reply.

“That doesn't mean I don't feel bad.”

“That’s because you’re sweet,” you give him a quick peck on the tip of his nose, “I would love to go with you to this awful birthday dinner.”

Caramel apple eyes go molten as they bore into you. The softest of smiles graces his face and your line of sight. You can almost physically feel the love rolling off of him in waves. It throbs in your chest.

“Great because I’ve been��dying for a way to show you off,” he sighs as if relieved.

You chuckle as fire crackles across your face.

“You’re such a dork,” you tease.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he teases back.

Your mouth opens to respond, but the bedroom door slamming shut stops you. Both of you snap to look just in time to see the lock click on its own. Your attention immediately moves to the window. The world stops, then falls. Red and blue flash against the trees outside.

“Steve,” you whisper urgently, “ hide .”

“Wha-” he starts at normal volume.

You grab his face and point him toward the window.

“You need to hide,” you hiss. 

“Shit,” he breathes and scrambles off of you. 

You can hear your dad’s voice from the living room. He’s loud and angry. Hot spikes of fear shoot through you as you try to pull together your room. His footsteps are heavy as they come down the hall. When you turn around Steve is nowhere to be seen. You have no clue where he hid. Whether that's good or bad is to be seen. 

The banging on your door causes you to jump. You freeze for a moment until more banging jars you.

“Open the door now,” your dad orders from the other side, jangling the knob.

With a deep breath, you do. He stares at you furiously, mouth twisted and tight, and breathing heavy. He’s still in uniform, which makes you feel even worse.

“What are you doing ho-”

“Is he here?” He cuts you off.

“Who?” You play dumb.

“Who?” He lets out a sardonic chuckle, “Your boyfriend. Is. He. Here?” 

Your stomach lurches. It takes a lot not to grab onto something to steady yourself. 

“No one is here,” you answer firmly.

“Like I’d believe you,” he scoffs and pushes past you.

There’s nothing you can do but watch. You watch him turn out the curtains, check the old wardrobe, then the closet, before reaching under your bed. He pulls out some lost socks, but not much else. With nowhere else to turn, he goes to Jonathan’s side. It's the last place. Your heart is pounding in your throat. Your palms are clammy. 

He reaches under the skirt of Jonathan’s bed. After a moment of feeling, he yanks out a sandwich baggie of weed. His nostrils flare as he takes it in.

“Great, perfect, now I have to deal with this ,” he grumbles.

“Are we done here?” You ask.

He turns on you slowly. You cross your arms over your chest. 

“How long?” He shoots back.

“What-”

“Don't play dumb with me,” he snaps, “How long have you and Steve been together?”

Your own nostrils flare as you stare at him. Tears burn a threat into the backs of your eyes, but you don't let them spill.

“June,” you answer quietly. 

“ June ? It’s August,” he points out angrily. 

“Yeah, it is,” you nod.

Realization dawns on his face then more fury.

“Was it you Callahan caught in Steve’s car?” He interrogates.

The flush of your cheeks says enough, but you answer anyway.

“Yes, but it was one time and nothing happened.”

Your dad runs a furious hand over his face. 

“So, you've been lying to my face since June, sneaking around with Steve, and breaking every rule I set. Did I miss anything?” 

You shake your head weakly.

“No.”

“I don't even know who you are anymore,” he huffs. 

That punches you right in the gut. A tear escapes its holding cell. It breaks you.

“You didn't give me a choice! I’m an adult, dad, whether you like it or not! You can't control me or my life! I get that you don't like Steve’s dad and I get why, but Steve isn't him. Steve couldn't be farther from him. If you just took your head out of your ass for a fucking second you’d see how happy Steve makes me and how fucking in love with him I am,” you shout, voice angry and wet. 

Your dad spends a moment regarding you. Such a long moment your steam dies out and you have to stop yourself from crumpling to the floor. His entire demeanor goes from hot to cold. He nods a little.

“Fine. From now on, do whatever you want since you're going to anyway. Don't bother lying to me about it- I don't care anymore,” he states coolly.

Then he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. You drop to your knees numbly. Steve emerges from underneath Jonathan’s bed looking manic and disheveled. 

“Tell Jonathan I’m sorry for selling him out, but your dad was like a second away from grabbing my di- shit,” he shuffles to you and takes you in his arms, “I’m sorry.”

You didn't even realize you were crying. Fat warm tears stream down your face. You bury yourself in Steve and let the sobs shake you. I don't care anymore echoes in your head like a curse. After a while of falling apart in Steve’s arms, he slips out through the window. He parked his car a street away to be safe, thankfully. The rest of the night is spent crying under your comforter. 

At some point, you hear Jonathan come home. He and your dad get into a shouting match of their own. Then Jonathan slams into the room and throws himself into his bed. Both of you ignore each other. There's nothing to say. It's a long, restless night. Sara plagues the short hours you do manage to sleep. As much as you miss her, you wish she’d just stay away. You wish she would stop reminding you how much you've fucked up, how you've disappointed your dad in ways she never would have. 

The following morning your eyes are sore from crying. Your face is a touch swollen with it. Joyce gives you a small sympathetic smile when she sees you emerge in the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” El greets softly as she butters an Eggo. 

“Morning,” you croak as you ruffle her hair.

The phone trills loudly as you pour yourself some coffee. Joyce answers it. After chatting for a moment she calls gently for you. You look over your shoulder to see her holding the phone out for you.

“It’s Steve,” she tells you.

You nearly spill your coffee with how quickly you put it down. With an appreciative little smile, you take the phone from her.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey,” he sounds relieved to hear your voice, “I wanted to check in after last night. How’s it going?”

“It’s… alright,” you sigh, “thanks for checking.”

“If I’m being honest, it took me twenty minutes to sike myself up enough to risk your dad answering,” he chuckles.

“I appreciate your bravery,” you muse with a small smile.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?” he asks gently.

Your lip starts trembling then. You thought you had it together, but hearing Steve’s voice has made you realize how much you don't. 

“N- no, not really,” you admit quietly, knowing you have company. 

“My parents are gone. I can come get you if you want,” he offers.

“Yes, please,” you accept, muscles easing at the thought.

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten,” he tells you, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then the phone clicks off and you put it back on the hook. When you turn around only El is there. She’s buttering a second Eggo. You grab your coffee and sidle up next to her.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you say quietly.

“I know,” she smiles a little at you.

She slides the buttered Eggo to you. 

“Are you okay?” you check.

“I am okay. I was worried about you,” she answers.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, “Thanks for the door.”

She smiles and nods. Then she walks out to the table. You take your Eggo to go, eating it as you head back to your room. You change into fresher clothes but stay comfortable. It's the first day you and Steve have had off together in a week. After last night, you plan on staying in with him. 

Once changed, you make your way nervously to the living room. Joyce folds laundry on the couch while your dad watches an old baseball game from his recliner. Joyce smiles at you when you enter. Your dad shows no sign he even realized you wandered into the room. It sends your stomach underground, but you try not to look at him.

“I- I’m going to Steve’s,” you inform them timidly. 

Joyce’s eyes dart to your dad. He has no reaction. She looks at you again with another small, sad smile.

“Okay, have fun, sweetie,” she says.

You can't help it. You look. Your dad’s eyes stay fixed on the screen. It’s like you aren’t there at all. A lump rises in your throat, threatening to push out of your mouth as a sob. Even if it's full of rage, you just want him to look at you. He doesn't. You swallow the lump and look at Joyce again, eyes watering.

“R- right, yeah,” you answer half broken. 

With one last look at your dad’s stoic face, you go outside to wait for Steve. You’re crying again by the time he gets to you. It takes the whole ride back just to get out one sentence coherent enough for him to understand what happened before you left. I don't care anymore , your dad told you. You didn't realize how much he meant it. 

Steve brings you to his room. There you let yourself get lost in Steve beneath his covers. You let him hold you until your tears lull you to sleep. When you wake up an hour later you let him hold you some more. He makes sure you eat, even though you don't care much to. He also makes sure you drink water, something you forgot to do. Steve holds what's left of you together with pins, duck tape, and his two hands. Regardless, you’re still in one piece and for that you're grateful.

“He hates me,” you whisper to Steve in the cover of darkness in his bedroom. 

The sun is still up, but the curtains are drawn to keep it out. 

“He doesn't hate you,” Steve whispers, rubbing circles into your back as you lay together.

“He won't even look at me, Steve. You heard him last night I-” your voice cracks, “Fuck, I've ruined everything for everyone in the house.”

“Whoa, you haven't ruined anything , okay?” He holds you firmly so you look at him.

You shake your head.

“Are you kidding? Jonathan’s more grounded than I am. El and Will are mostly avoiding everyone so they don't get trapped in any fights. Joyce is stuck between feeling bad for me and my dad hating me. Everything has gone to shit and it’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I shouldn't even be the one that's still here and I’m ruining everything,” you cry. 

The comforting shapes Steve draws in your back return. He looks caught between distraught and tired. You immediately feel bad for putting all this on him. You even try to tell him as much, but he stops you.

“I want you to talk to me. I’m happy you're talking to me,” he promises, “but I don't really understand why you think you shouldn't be here.”

You blink away a few tears. Emotion wells up into a swollen ball in your gut. 

“I prayed for it to be me,” you admit, “I didn't want Sara… She was always better at bringing my parents together, making everything good again. I’ve never been any good at that. I just mess shit up. It should have been me, not her. Things would be so much better if it was me.”

Tears drip down Steve’s face by the time you're finished. He’s seen you in some dark places, but this is the darkest by far. Still, he’s determined to usher some light back into you. He’ll reach even the furthest corners that haven't been touched by light in years.

“That’s not true,” he says shakily, “I wouldn't be better.”

“Steve, that's not-”

He takes hold of your face tenderly.

“No, you don't get to decide if people are better off without you. I’m sorry about Sara, really I am. It’s awful and it sucks and there's no way to make sense of it, but that doesn't mean it should have been you. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it. Actually, yes I can. I’d be miserable, working for my dad, and spending every fucking minute wondering why I couldn't be brave enough to stand up for myself. Because it's you that makes me brave. Even that first time when I came back for Nancy- I didn't take a bat to that Demogorgon because of her. I did it because I saw you there. Because you’re always there when I need you to be. That's why I can't just let you say you don't deserve to be here, or that you shouldn't be. I need you here. I need you here ,” He tells you urgently and earnestly.

You both have tears streaming down your faces by the time he’s done. There aren't any words. At least, none that you have. In lieu of words, you kiss him like your life depends on it. It’s wet and salty, but it's Steve and that's all that matters.

“You really went after that Demogorgon because of me?” You whisper into his lips.

“Well, yeah, I knew your dad would kill me if I didn't,” he jokes lightly.

It draws a laugh from you. You squeeze into him tighter, needing your atoms to merge with his and become one.

“Sounds like it's my dad that makes you brave,” you joke in return.

A laugh rumbles through Steve’s chest against your cheek.

“No, he just scares me. You make me want to be better and do better. You make me want to be the kind of guy that deserves someone like you,” he answers softly. 

“You do deserve someone like me, Stevie,” you tell him.

“And you deserve to be here just like anyone else.”

You take a deep breath and let his words sink in. You try to internalize them deeply, ingrain them into your psyche, anything to make sure they stick. 

“I love you so much,” you say into his chest.

“I love you so much too,” he says back into your hair.

Steve makes a decision at that moment. He doesn't know what he can say and he might just get himself killed, but he has to talk to your dad. He has to fix this. Steve is determined to make things right for you. He’s going to take care of you like he promised.

<< Rule Two | Epilogue >>

[teecupangel]

Having just watched Captain Laserhawk, I must ask- no, i must Beg- for our dear precious Bullfrog to be descended from Desmond! And to let those poor souls LIVE HAPPILY- and preferably with the other ancestors who desperately need a hug! Dang that show was beautifully deranged

It absolutely was, nonny. I love it.

We’re gonna play fast and loose with canon in this one though. (Spoilers to Captain Laserhawk's season 1 ending)

.

.

Bullfrog was not the only hybrid in the Brotherhood.

But he came from two old Assassin families, a rarity even in the Brotherhood.

He had only heard about it though.

He was told that they were originally created in a modified lab of one of the ancient ones.

Created by the remaining descendant of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and, through the Kenway line, Ezio Auditore.

A man that only goes by the name ‘Elijah’.

He was not an Assassin. He preferred to stay away from the war between the Brotherhood and the Order. But he was hunted by the Templars so he had a ‘distant’ alliance with the Brotherhood.

They didn’t trust him and he didn’t trust them in turn.

Elijah wanted to be left alone in peace and anyone who threatened that were killed without mercy.

Bullfrog’s grandparents were born from his lab, ‘blessed’ with Elijah’s blood and the blood of another great Assassin of old, Callum Lynch.

According to his parents, Callum Lynch agreed to provide his blood in exchange for Elijah’s help in one of the more dangerous missions the great Master Assassin had before Eden had taken over everything.

When there was still a glimmer of hope that the Brotherhood could defeat the Templars...

And from the combination of those two bloods, their ability to access the Calculations were formed.

Elijah’s blood held the genetic codes of the men whose fate were closely linked to the Calculations. Callum Lynch’s blood held the genetic codes of a French Assassin who can ‘see’ the memories of his targets.

Modifications had to be made to stabilize them and…

Well.

Like they said, the rest was history.

When Elijah disappeared (dead, he must be dead, it has been a long time), Bullfrog’s family was taken in by the Brotherhood. Bullfrog had grown up having human childhood friends, Hastings and Darcy.

Then…

Eden found them.

And Bullfrog survived because he had been lucky.

Because the Warden saw his potential.

He was sure Eden ordered the complete eradication of the Brotherhood.

The Warden was playing a dangerous game and everything went to head at the end.

And now, here he was, being escorted back to his cell.

At least they were kind enough to hand him a juice box to drink while they walk.

Maybe they were still all confused by the orders they received to stay his execution.

They seemed a bit daze.

There was one more thing that separated his kind from the other hybrids.

Bullfrog had lived his entire life with the whispers of dead men.

Sometimes, he would even stand back and let them control his body.

The Bleeding Effect, the Brotherhood called it.

It was rare though.

The whispers prefer to advise and to talk to him.

They were the ones who suggested he talk to Eden’s puppet.

There was nothing to lose after all.

[Now.]

The moment he heard that whisper echo with different voices, all speaking at once, he threw his juice box at the guard to his right before kicking the guard to his left. He grabbed the man’s pistol from his shoulder holster and fired at the three guards behind them.

Head.

Neck.

The third one moved enough that he was hit on the shoulder and he quickly took out his own gun.

Bullfrog kicked the man he had taken the gun from and ducked, firing two more rounds.

The first one hit the man between them on the chest at the same time the guard with the bleeding shoulder fired and hit him on the back. The second one hit the hole that the first shot created and the shot goes through the man.

Both men fell on the floor, killed by that single bullet as it hit the chest of one and the head of the other.

Bullfrog jumped the remaining man that he had hit with his juice box, jamming his gun inside the man’s mouth and pulling the trigger as his screams were muffled by the gun in his mouth.

He jumped off the corpse as it slumped on the floor and rummaged their bodies, finding the key to his cuffs in the first man he killed.

The whispers continued the entire time.

[Good job.]

[We must go.]

[Run.]

[Don’t take the elevator.]

Bullfrog nodded.

His hidden blade and other weapons would be near his prison but it was too risky.

He’ll have to find someplace to make his own weapons after escaping this shithole.

That was easy.

One of his whispers knew how to make a hidden blade.

[dinitride-art]

So, I’m taking a closer look at some scenes in season four for my Mike... essay/analysis- whatever. And I’ve got some thoughts on this-

scene (the one with El’s note) that don’t really fit into it. So I thought I’d just shove everything in a post and call it a day.

“If you keep starring at that, it’s not gonna change, y’know.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” [Mike throws El’s note into the trashcan beside Jonathan’s desk]

“From, El” won’t change. El and Mike’s relationship falling apart isn’t going to change. The reason why it’s falling apart won’t change. Mike won’t change. When Will says this, Mike let’s go of El. He throws her note into the trash. Her role in this conversation is over. 

“Before the cops came, me and El, we- we had a bad fight. We never fight. I mean, we fought before but just like silly fights, stupid fights. But, I dunno, this one just felt more adult. Like it just felt more real. Like- like it was a fight that you can’t come back from. And maybe I should’ve said something- and if I said that thing then maybe she’d want me there with her, where ever she is.”

This dialogue also describes Mike and Will’s fight in season three. Mike and Will had a bad fight, when they normally never fight, and it was bigger than anything we’ve seen between them before. They were arguing about their futures and their relationship, and Mike hurt Will. Mike never got the chance to apologize because the Mind Flayer came back, and then Will moved away and didn’t call him for six months. 

The pronouns that Mike is using are also important. He’s not saying ‘him and El’ the entire time, he switches from that to ‘we’. Mike doesn’t talk to El, nor about El, like they’re a singular unit. It’s very rare for him to talk about El and himself and say ‘we’ or ‘us’. He’s more likely to say things like, “you know what I think of you” and “she knows I’m lying” and “that’s because she’s my girlfriend, Will” and “I mean, she’s special. She was born special... when I stumbled on her in the woods... and one day she’s gonna realize that I’m just some nerd that got lucky Superman landed on his doorstep.” However, when he’s talking about Will he’s more likely to say, “We’re friends. We’re friends” and “I think it’ll be easier if we’re a team. Friends. Best friends” and  “But we’re not kids anymore. I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?”

It’s not that Mike doesn’t ever use ‘we’ and ‘us’ when talking about El and himself, it’s just that it happens with a much higher frequency when he’s talking about himself and Will. Mike also avoids using any pronouns that are specific to a single person until the end. 

“Wh- look, Mike. You’re gonna see her again and whatever it is, whatever you didn’t say, you can say it to her then, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Mike’s apology to Will follows what happened in Jonathan’s room with El’s note. Will told him that he could say whatever he didn’t say when he saw El again. And next thing we know, Mike’s apologizing to Will for everything that’s happened over the last year. The thing he never got to do after the rain fight.

[ordinaryschmuck]

The more I think about it, the more I realize that we’re never going to have an animated show like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic again. And I’m not talking about the show’s quality, I’m talking about the fact that it was a series with nine seasons, twenty-six episodes in eight of them, a canonical movie in theaters, a spinoff series that inspired more cartoon crushes, and more than enough time to develop a lot of characters in an ever growing cast. All while staying in this relatively stagnant level of quality that made it fun to watch weekly.

There are DOZENS of show runners who would kill for series like that, and likely won’t in a long time. The only other show that manages that was Bob’s Burgers, which is still going and is still good, but also came out around the same time as Friendship is Magic. There is rarely a show nowadays that gets past three seasons or even TWO, with show runners being lucky enough to have more than eight episodes a season. And that’s because studios and networks, for one reason or another, don’t want longer shows anymore. Maybe it’s because people are so used to the binge format of streaming or studios don’t want invest too much in a show if it’s not an instant hit. Either way, longer shows don’t feel like a thing anymore, with Friendship is Magic being a once in a blue moon type of success.

Now, I’m not saying EVERY series should be as long as it. If anything, Family Guy proved that sometimes a show should just stay dead. And another reason why Friendship is Magic lasted for so long is because it was based on a popular franchise to sell toys to girls. The more people bought, the more seasons they got and all that. But much like how every show doesn’t need to be too long, not every show should match that standard. A show runner should feel like that they have enough time to tell their stories or develop their characters. Not feel like they have to rush everything out of fear of a sudden cancellation.

[eemoo1o-sunnyoo]

Ladies and gents, today I announce that I will be doing an Analytical Rewatch if It’s Always Sunny, but focussing solely on Dennis, as well as Macden(nis) as a whole. The rewatch is intended to allow me to take note of Dennis’ trauma, symptoms of trauma, and neurotic behaviours throughout the show, so that I may make either an end-of-watch mega-post or a fanfiction about the two (or both).

At the end of each season, I will make a brief round up concerning my thoughts and notes, collectively under the tag #em’s analytical rewatch. I will also most likely live-post some miscellaneous thoughts as I watch, but as they most likely will not concern anything analytical, they will not go under the aforementioned tag.

Additionally, I should add:

I intend on rewatching one season per week, but seeing as there’s 15 seasons total in need of watching (16, if I somehow get my hands on the new season by the time I finish Season 15), I may watch two or three seasons in the same week. Furthermore, there may be some weeks where I am lacking (I apologise in advance if that is ever the case).

I will be rewatching Season 1, but it should be noted that I will not be taking much from this season to heart, as most of the characters and their dynamics were still being worked out.

This rewatch is to put introspective into Dennis, and as such his dynamic with friends, and amidst the Macden(nis) ship. Such traumas of character include: his apparent eating disorder, need for control (i.e. his treatment of women, eating cereal whilst driving, etc.), his dynamic with Mac from the titular episode “Mac and Dennis Break Up” (5x09), the librarian, his canon BPD diagnosis (10x03), and so on.

As said above, I intend on making an end-of-show mega-post or possibly a Macden(nis) from my notes (maybe both, if we’re lucky) once I am done.

And that’s it! For those interested, make sure to follow me, or the tag, and that’s it! Wish me luck, because it all starts with season one…

[banannabethchase]

I just think. Adam deserves to have someone titfuck him. (challenge mode: not mox. in fact, double challenge mode: someone completely new!)

A Cowboy to Ride - also on AO3

~

Matt's obsessed with Adam's chest, and he's incorrigible about it. Luckily, Adam is happy to indulge.

~

*sighs* Sarah what have you done to me with this prompt. I achieved the single challenge but not the double.

~

Adam should have learned by now, after all this time, that Matt can’t control himself.

“Locker room,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing at Adam’s wrist. “Now.”

“Fuckin’ hell, baby, tone it down,” Adam murmurs, sliding a hand into the back pocket of Matt’s jeans. “We’re still in public, you know.”

Matt licks his lips as he stares at Adam’s chest. “But – you look good.”

“And you need to keep it for the bedroom.” Adam leans in and presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead, though, because he can’t resist.

Matt lets out a mildly panicked whine and yanks Adam harder. “Don’t make me wait like last time,” he pleads, but there’s a smile behind it.

“Do you want me to make you wait?” Adam asks, in his ear. “Do you want me to work you up so you go to everyone in this place for just a little attention because you can’t get what you really want?”

Matt’s considering it, and Adam thinks he’s in for a hell of a night, when he’s interrupted before Matt can even speak.

“Matt!” Tony yells. “I need your help – Jerry had to step out so I need somebody else up here.”

Matt lets out a weird little panicked whimper, looking from Tony to Hangman. “But I –”

“Go do your EVP shit, Matty.” He leans in and whispers in Matt’s ear. “We can do cowboy shit later.”

Matt giggles and turns a little pink. “Okay,” he half whispers. “I – okay.”

Adam walks backstage, shaking out his shoulders as he shoots smiles at some of the friendlier guys backstage.

“Hanger!” Nick says, catching up with him. “You okay? Swerve and Cage are the worst.”

Adam shrugs, still high on adrenaline and Matt’s attention. “I’m good. Dealt with worse guys, right?”

Nick looks at him funny. “I mean, yes, but a post-match beatdown never feels good, you know?” Nick studies him for another moment until it seems to dawn on him. “Oh, god, you and Matt are doing a thing again, aren’t you.”

“I – what?” Adam searches his mind for when he could have been that transparent in this three second conversation. “No we’re not.”

Nick sighs. “God, you guys are so obvious. Sometimes I wonder if my life was easier when – ” He stops himself. “Well, okay, it wasn’t.”

“Nah, you’re right,” Adam says, and he’s surprised he’s still riding the earlier high. “Your best friend and your brother fucking across the country can’t be all that fun for you.”

Nick groans. “Please – don’t make me relive the shit you did back in New Japan and Ring of Honor back in the day.” Adam’s grin gets wider, and Nick winces. “Oh. Well. Damn it.” He laughs, a little panicked. “As long as the two of you are happy, I guess. But I do hate it. I need you both to know I hate,” he gestures weirdly in the air, “this. The vibes or whatever, when you do whatever this is.”

“And I’m sure we both hate your dancing, but here we are.”

Nick frowns. “My dancing is entertaining and everyone should be into it.”

“Entertaining does not mean good,” Adam says, nudging Nick with his shoulder.

“Exactly. I didn’t say good. It was fun. Maybe I’ll join Dancing with the Stars next season or something.”

“Please do,” Adam says, clapping Nick on the arm. “I’m always a fan of comedy.”

“Eff you!” Nick says, grin widening. “Alright, man, I gotta get to the locker room – we had to rearrange the card for Rampage and I’m the lucky person to go tell people.”

Adam nods. “Good luck, man. Don’t get yelled at.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Nick turns to leave, then comes back for a hug so quick Adam can’t even react. “Love you, man. Even when you and Matt are weird.”

Adam wants to hug him back, to tell Nick that he feels the same way, but Nick’s out of there before Adam can even open his mouth.

He gets back to the hotel on his own after a text from Matt and another from Nick. Matt’s I have to stay late I’ll see you later at the hotel <;3 has Adam a little worried, but Nick immediately texted after to say I’ll keep him from doing anything stupid, so Adam was able to relax.

Adam debates getting himself off to a few of the videos they made back in Ring of Honor, but he decides to keep it in his pants until Matt gets here. He can wait.

He flips through the channels absently, checking his phone more often than he probably should, until he gets the text from Matt at 11:14pm.

On my way back &lt;3

Adam grins. Matt’ll be off his rocker with the need to blow off steam with he gets to the room, and Adam can’t wait.

He makes sure the room is presentable – underwear in his luggage, the takeout from last night in the trash, all that – and he’s just finished when the door unlocks and swings open.

“Hi!” Matt says. “Oh, my god, the traffic was insane.”

“You walked across the street!”

“The foot traffic and the car traffic came together to make my life stupid,” Matt explains. “Plus, my backpack is heavy.” He looks over at Adam.

“You have four steps to walk,” Adam laughs, but he grabs the backpack anyway and drops it on the chair. “C’mere.”

Matt hits Adam like a brick wall into a vicelike hug. “Hi,” he says, face muffled in Adam’s chest. “This is kind of nice, actually.” He pulls back. “Can you get naked now?”

“What a line,” Adam says, shaking his head. “Romance really does die.”

“It – no it doesn’t!” Matt says. He plays with the hem of Adam’s shirt, bites his lip a little. He leans in, pulling the collar of Adam’s tee down, tracing his collarbone.  “It’s just, you – you looked so good,” Matt says, open mouth moving along Adam’s collarbone. “You looked so good.”

Adam laughs, settling his hands on Matt’s hip, fingertips sliding under that pretty shirt of his. “You look good too, baby.” He pulls back. “Real good. You know I like the half up hair thing.”

Matt’s eyes scatter away, a pleased smile on his lips. “I know,” he says. “But, um.” He slides his hands up Adam’s chest, nails gently pressing into the skin of his pecs. “You look good. Like, your chest.” Matt clears his throat. “God. You – wow.”

Adam laughs. “What, you got a thing for big tits or something?” He means it as a joke, kind of, because it’s such a weird word, but Matt goes bright red. “Oh. Oh, you do.” Adam huffs out a laugh. “Sit down, baby. You want a show? I can give you a show.”

Matt sits down on the bed so fast he bounces, legs folded under him as he drops his hands in his lap. “I wanna see,” he near whispers. “I – yeah.”

After all of Swerve’s shit talking the week before, the look on Matt’s face as Adam plays with the hem of his shirt, the way he whimpers at the barest hint of skin, makes Adam feel like he could rule the world.

“Too slow,” Matt says, eyes locked on Adam’s fingertips as they tease at pulling it up. “Go faster.”

“Oh, you’re being demanding now?” Adam asks, dropping the shirt. He steps into Matt’s space, grinning at the way Matt cranes his head up to see him. “You wanna have control, by all means, take it.”

Matt bats his eyelashes, looking up. “I could,” he murmurs. “I do the top thing.”

Adam leans down, presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead. “Sure you could, baby.”

Matt pushes at Adam’s chest. “Go – get naked. I wanna see.”

“You want a strip tease?”

Matt shrugs. “If that’s what gets you naked, okay.”

There’s a part of Adam that’s always been a bit of a performer. He likes the attention and putting on a show, likes to be a bigger version of himself. But he’s never a better performer than when his audience is Matt.

“Higher,” Matt murmers, the request almost a question. “Please?”

“You sure?” Adam asks, only his eyes peeking out over his shirt. Matt’s eyes are glued to his stomach, slowly crawling up his body.

Matt’s eyes snap up to Adam’s. “Are you kidding? Yes, I’m sure. Take off your shirt.”

Laughing, Adam slowly drags the shirt over his body. He thinks he can feel Matt’s eyes burning like a laser into his skin, and finds himself wishing the touch were real.

“Screw it,” he mutters, and he rips off the shirt and throws it somewhere in the room, diving at Matt to catch his lips with his own. Matt lets out a cute little squeal of excitement as Adam drapes himself over Matt’s body.

Matt is shameless as he runs his hands over Adam’s skin, grabbing and touching and squeezing. “You’re so – I don’t – come back.” He doesn’t seem to be able to string a sentence together, so focused on Adam, and it’s the kind of ego boost Adam might not need.

Adam slides his lips down to Matt’s neck. “And here I was,” he laughs, in between kisses, “thinking you were getting tired of me now that I’m older.”

“Are you kidding me?” Matt asks. He’s trying to pipe through some of his usual attitude, but the breathy desperation makes it fail. “You look, somehow, even better.” His breath catches as Adam bites at his collarbone. “Like – I like the scars. A lot.” Matt’s fingers trace a few from barbed wire against his forehead, eyes locked on the spot. “You should do more death matches. I like this.”

“You just want me all beat up and bloody.” Adam props himself up on his elbows to press a kiss to Matt’s nose.

“Not – well, okay, that’s not all of it.” Matt’s cheeks turn pink. “I mean, like, you know how good you look when you get all wild eyed, and you look so pretty when your hair goes all pink – don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you!” Adam says, doing a terrible job of stifling the chuckles.

“You – go back.” Matt pouts, but Adam’s pretty sure it’s an attempt to be firm. “I wanna see you.”

Adam’s still laughing as he leans back on his knees, and he watches Matt’s eyes light up. “What?”

“When you laugh, your pecs – bounce.” Matt’s tone is almost reverent. “Do – I can’t think of anything funny. What’s funny?”

“Monkeys on unicycles?”

“In theory, that’s funny, but I need something that will actually make you laugh!” Matt huffs. “Okay, remember that time we were in the gym and you and Kenny were trying to actually wrestle and –”

Adam can’t help it; he laughs so hard he throws his head back. “Oh, fuck, and Kenny slipped on his shirt and fell with his ass in the air? And you texted a picture to Kota?”

“Yeah,” Matt murmurs, not laughing at all. “Oh, my god. You – get over here.” Adam barely gets his eyes open before Matt’s leaned up and biting at his pec.

“Oh, hi,” Adam says, swallowing. “Jesus, you’re like a lamprey.”

“A what?”

“A fish that – never mind,” Adam says. “Fuck. Usually I do this to you.”

“And now it’s your turn,” Matt says. “Now shut up and lie down so I can get my hands on your chest.”

Adam does as he’s told, because he can indulge Matt from time to time, and Matt goes at him again like a madman. Adam slides his hand onto Matt’s hair, fingers tangling. “You’re determined today,” he exhales. “Jesus. I’m gonna be covered.”

Matt pulls his head up, quirking an eyebrow. “No worse than what you do to me, like, nightly.”

“Yes, but you’re used to it,” Adam says, with a little tug to Matt’s hair. “I’m not used to you being all, well, dominant is absolutely the wrong word.”

“Is not!”

“Really,” Adam deadpans. “Calling you dominant is a totally normal, accurate statement. You’re pouting right now.”

“I – tops can pout!”

“Not like that they can’t.” Adam can’t resist pulling Matt in by the hair and tasting the pout on his lips. Matt scrambles on his lap, shoving Adam back onto the bed. His fingertips tweak Adam’s nipples, grab at his skin, massage his muscles, and fuck if it isn’t great. Matt’s doing his best to control the kiss, but he’s hesitant at times, unsure, and Adam fills in where Matt can’t figure it out.

“Tell you what,” Adam says, pulling back as he cants his hips up to meet Matt’s ass. “You ride me tonight, tell me what to do. It’s all about you, baby.”

“Okay,” Matt says, even pinker than before. “I – I can do that. But it’s always all about me.”

“That is not what a top would say.”

Matt opens his mouth to argue. Then, like he’s just lost an argument with himself in his head, huffs and swings a leg off of Adam’s hips and goes to his bags in the corner of the room. “I’ll have you know,” he says, digging around. Adam’s a little disappointed he’s still mostly clothed. The view would be outstanding. At the thought, he undoes his belt and shoves his pants and boxers down his hips to drop them to the side of the bed, wrapping a hand around his cock for the hint of relief. Matt’s still talking as he searches, and Adam can’t focus on it. “And that was twice, and since one of those times was in a match, I think that counts double.”

“You getting on top of someone during a match and pinning them to the ground doesn’t count as being a top,” Adam says. “You forget the lube? I’m not going out to CVS this time.”

“You would if you really loved – oh, found it!” Matt turns around, twirling the bottle in his hands. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hey,” Adam says with a lazy smile, hand still around his cock. “Somebody order a cowboy to ride?”

“That’s not even funny anymore,” Matt says with a smile. He strips out of his clothes at lightning speed and dives back on top of Adam, squeezing at his pecs. “God, you’re hot.”

“You, too.” Adam gets two handfuls of Matt’s ass and squeezes, grinning at the way Matt’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open. “Pretty tits, too.” He leans in and wraps his lips around a nipple. Matt whimpers.

“I – I want to –” he stops speaking when Adam pulls away, grinning up at him. “I – oh my god, what?”

“What what?”

“I don’t know what to do!” Matt wails. “I just want you to fuck me but I don’t – please?” He bats his eyelashes. “Being a top is too much work. Can you just fuck me and make me cry about it?”

“Of course, baby,” Adam murmurs. He reaches out and brushes some hair from Matt’s pouting face. “Anything you want. All about you, right?”

Matt keeps the pout at a thousand as he nods. “I love you,” and it’s impressive he gets the words out with how stuck out that bottom lip is.

“I love you, too.”

Adam grins at him as he drips the lube over his fingers, probably too much, but Matt’s wide eyes as he watches are so damned pretty he can’t stop the show.

“Now, please,” Matt whispers. “I – please don’t make me wait like last time.”

“Oh, you remember last time?” Adam says, sliding his finger between Matt’s cheeks, watching his eyes flutter closed. Matt leans forward, ass in the air, like he’s desperately waiting, but all Adam does is trace the rim of his hole. “You got so needy for it you started hitting on the whole roster.”

Matt’s breathing picks up. “Only ‘cause you were doing one of your stupid experiments.”

“Maybe this is one, too,” Adam says. “Maybe I made sure to get my tits all pumped up just to get you riled up.”

Matt leans back, like he’s trying to coax Adam’s finger inside of him. “Sure, whatever, just – please?” He turns those eyes on Adam.

“Only because you asked all nice,” Adam says, like it’s a chore to give Matt exactly what he wants, like he’s not just as impatient for it as Matt. He just hides it better. He works a finger in, grinning at the noises Matt makes, then a second, then a third, all while Matt pushes his hips down. “You really are desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!” Matt snaps. His eyes widen. “Sorry. I just –”

“Nah,” Adam says, grazing Matt’s prostate with his fingers once before pulling them out. Matt makes the weirdest combination of sounds, akin to a frustrated cat, and Adam has to resist the urge to laugh. “Don’t apologize. I like when you get bitchy.” He drips more lube on his hand and coats his entire cock, Matt’s eyes on him the whole time.

Matt goes easily when Adam grabs his hips and moves him backward. Matt tries to shove himself down on Adam’s cock, but Adam stops him.

“Slow down, baby, don’t hurt yourself.”

Matt pouts. “But I want it.”

“Fuck, you’re insufferable.” Adam guides him down, his own vision going white at the feeling of Matt all around him. “And perfect, goddamn.”

Matt giggles, hips rocking. “I – oh, yes – know that, thank you.”

“This is why you can’t be a top.” Adam rocks his hips up, trying to screenshot the look of Matt’s bliss in his mind. “Tops don’t talk about how perfect they are all the time.”

“They can,” Matt replies. He pulls up on his knees, Adam’s dick slipping out of him entirely, before carefully sliding back down. It’s almost more than Adam can handle, the feeling of it all, and he finds himself weirdly worshipful of the moment. He thought for so long this was gone, but it’s all here in front of him right now.

He’ll never stop beating himself up over all the years they lost.

Matt still, like back in the day, makes the prettiest little noises as they slowly rock against each other, as their bodies slide and move and connect. Matt smiles down at him, his hair falling like a curtain, as Adam keeps his hands on Matt’s hips to guide him, move him. He moves a hand and slides it into Matt’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss.

Matt hums against his lips, hands braced on either side of Adam’s head as he rocks, breathing heavily. “Adam,” he says in almost a whisper.

“I know, baby,” Adam says back, their foreheads pressed together. “I love you, too.”

He’s not paying attention, is his mistake. He’s focused on Matt, on how he feels and how he looks and how he sounds, on the perfect slide, of the warmth of Matt around him. He’s not trying to keep himself together.

“Matt,” he chokes out, before he can figure out how to stop it. “Oh, god. I – Matt.” He groans and comes, deep within Matt, his mind whiting out for anything that isn’t the man he loves, the world swirling around him and settling into a feeling of utmost satisfaction. “Matt,” he whispers again as he comes back to earth.

Matt is still rolling against Adam’s cock, and its getting to be too much too fast too –

“Matt,” Adam gasps, “Matt, I have to –” He tilts his hips, sliding out of Matt, who whimpers.

“I didn’t get to come,” Matt says, pouting. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Adam says. “Oh, my god, no, Matty, I just got super into it and you.” He thinks, desperate to get that disappointed look off of Matt’s face. And it hits him. “Oh. Matt, I – do you want to fuck my tits?”

Matt blinks at him. “What?”

Adam shuffles so he’s better propped on the pillows and moves his arms to his sides. He looks down, and his chest really does look big like this. “See?” he says. He reaches his arms out and grabs Matt’s hips, pulling him closer. “Go for it. I know how much you like them.”

Matt bites his lip, hesitant, like he’s not sure how to do it.

“I’ll help you,” Adam says, stroking the soft skin of Matt’s thighs. “Come on, baby, try it.” He grins up at Matt. “You want to see about being a top, right?”

Matt’s hesitance disappears. “Okay,” he says, almost like he’s convincing himself. “Yeah, okay.” He leans down and braces his hips on either side of Adam’s ribcage and slots his dick in the valley of Adam’s chest. “Wow,” Matt says, and he’s able to slide okay even without any lube, he’s leaking so much. “Oh, wow, Adam, this is…” He trails off, staring at his dick as it moves. He reaches down and grabs handfuls of Adam’s chest, pushing his tits together, and moves his hips.

It takes a second, but Adam realizes the wetness pooling on his belly is – oh, god. His own come is leaking out of Matt, getting all over the two of them. Adam’s head is spinning with all of it – Matt’s focus, his little noises, the slick sounds, the way Adam’s nails bite into Matt’s thighs.

“Adam, can I?” Matt asks, breathing raggedly. “I’m so – I’m gonna –”

“Do it, baby,” Adam says, and he works on a hunch. “Get us all messy.”

Matt’s last sound is a desperate little whimper, something from the back of his throat as he splays one hand in the mess behind him and pushes one more time. Adam’s never had somebody come on his chest before. On his face, sure, but this is new. It’s warm and wet and all Matt, and he feels claimed. Permanent.

“Oh, my god,” Matt pants, eyes a little wild. “You – it’s all over you.”

Adam laughs. He shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, baby, that’s kind of the point.”

“I’m usually…”

“On the other end of things?” Adam fights the urge to laugh again.

Matt huffs. “Well, yes, but still. I didn’t know…” He runs his fingertips through the mess on Adam’s chest and neck. “I don’t want to do it all the time, but I liked it.”

“I’m glad,” Adam says, and he reaches up and twirls a lock of Matt’s hair around his finger. “Figured you might like to have a moment with these.” He makes his pecs bounce, and Matt’s eyes lock on them. “You like that?”

“You know I do. Shut up.” Matt’s smiling, though. “I don’t think I could do this every time, though. I like – I like it when you’re in charge, mostly.”

“I know, but we can change things up.” Adam winks. “Though I’ll never get tired of fucking you up against the wall.”

Matt’s giggle is a little panicked. “Um. Good. Good, because I won’t get tired of it, either.” He rests his hands on Adam’s chest again, face wrinkling. It only gets more distinct as he wiggles. “Okay, so, it was super hot or whatever, but now I feel gross and sticky.” He rolls off of Adam at an angle so weird he can only be avoiding dirtying the sheets.

“Shower?” Adam asks. He’s got come in his hair, somehow. He hadn’t realized Matt’s aim had been that terrible.

Matt stands, hips shifting. Adam almost managed to get hard again from the shining wetness all over his ass and thighs. “Shower.”

~

Mini Playlist:

Me & U - Cassie

Strip Tease - Danity Kane

Keep Riding Me - ur pretty

Do Me - Kim Petras

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #11

Leviathan:

>saves rare items for the most dire of situations

>gets through the whole game without using any of them

Mammon:

“What if there’s an emergency?”

-gets into emergency-

“WHAT IF THERE’S A BIGGER EMERGENCY”

•

Leviathan: If Santa keeps track of naughty kids every year and the year doesn’t start until January 1st, that leaves 6 days after Christmas and New Years left undocumented, so nothing you do can be held against you

Mammon: The Purge: Season’s Greetings

•

Mammon: A vanilla soy latte is a type of three bean soup

Barbatos: No

•

Mammon: Does mace work on birds

Mammon: If a heron is attacking me will mace be an effective deterrent

Mammon: Time sensitive question please respond

•

Solomon: Despicable me ruined the word minion whenever I become a supervillain I’m just gonna have to call them my homies or whatever

•

Solomon: What if when you went to hell you had to watch a cinemasins-style video of every sin you committed during your life as part of your punishment

Me: Why didn’t I get into heaven lmao???

God: Everything Wrong With You spoilers! (Duh)

•

Asmodeus: Be handed a letter by your maid. Break the wax seal. Read it with dawning understanding and then slowly look up into the middle-distance with an ominous smirk. Order your carriage to be prepared at once.

Mammon: Me getting a text and calling a Lyft

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Leviathan: Any body know any substitutes for love and personal fulfillment

Beelzebub: Crunchwrap supreme from Taco Bell

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Satan: Fun Fact: ever wonder why it’s called The Iliad? Because ilium was another name for Troy, and the -ad suffix was used to mean “The Story of” This means that if you translated the title, the Iliad should actually be called

Troy Story

Mammon: Thanks I hate it

Simeon: You got a friend in horse

Luke: YOU DO NOT HAVE A FRIEND IN HORSE

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Satan: Nothing will fuck you up more than the realization that there’s no real reason the alphabet needs to be in order

Mephistopheles: the fuck

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Mammon: Telling someone “you are shit” and “you ain’t shit” are both insults

Satan: But “you are not shit” is a reassurance

Asmodeus: And “you are not the shit” is an insult

Belphegor: And “you are the shit” is a compliment

Solomon: I present to you the English language

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Leviathan: Do you ever look at your eyes in the mirror and be like “I’m looking at my eyes with my eyes”

Mammon: I DONT NEED THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW

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Diavolo: Lollipops are so weird you’re literally swallowing your own flavored saliva

Asmodeus: What have you done

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Satan: “Maybe if you go to bed you’ll feel better in the morning” is literally just the human version of “have you tried turning it off and back on again?”

Leviathan: What have you done?

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Solomon: Some of us are still “it” from a childhood game of tag

Mammon: This fucked me up far more than it should

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Mammon: Pineapple on pizza discourse is so ugly like no one can win

We’re all losers as long as we live in the reality where it’s commonplace to put fruit on pizza

Mephistopheles: Tomato is a fruit

Mammon: Blocked

Mephistopheles: You can block me but you can’t block the truth

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Belphegor: What if sleeping is our natural state and we’re only awake to gather information for dreams

Lucifer: You stop that

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Raphael: If you’re lucky your internal organs will never see the light of day

Mammon: What?

Raphael: At some point you will be the next person on earth to die

Mammon: Stop!

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Satan: The guy on the radio just said “gas prices aren’t so bad if you consider you’re really buying liquid explosive dinosaurs” and my perspective on life is forever changed

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Barbatos: Want your house to smell great? Put two caps of vanilla extract in a cup, place it in the oven at 300 for an hour and your house will smell like heaven

Simeon: Hack life here

Mammon: I did this once and I thought it said TWO CUPS of vanilla extract and my entire house smelled like pillsburry dough boy’s butt hole for a month

Last • Next

[justinewt]

False Victory - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Twenty-Nine

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (07/23/2024)

Summary: The battle was over. Alie was no more, but that wasn't necessarily good news for the survivors. There was no real victory as they were already faced with the news of an impending doom, another praimfaya. They had to find a way to survive, or in a few months, the remnants of humanity will disappear completely, leaving no one behind. And it fell to Clarke, Bellamy and Michelle, to go figure out a way to survive what was coming.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: The 100 season 4 spoilers (episode 1 "Echoes"), blood, aftermarth of the battle, fluff (but sad lol)

Bellamy, Clarke and Michelle got down the tower and upon stepping outside, and the first thing they came across was the body of a man lying on the ground, a large pool of blood spread all around his head. They saw the survivors piling up bodies, either distressed, crying over their dead, or completely disoriented and confused, having a hard time processing what had happened, after they had been chipped and mind controlled. This was a sad and unnerving sight. Michelle was thankful she hadn’t lost anyone, but she felt for those who weren’t so lucky. She could never have lived with killing her dead, because she would have done in a desperate attempt to save Bellamy. She wasn’t chipped and wouldn’t be able to tell herself that it wasn’t her doing.

“She’ll be okay. Octavia can take of herself.” Clarke told Bellamy, wanting to be reassuring. Michelle saw the girl kneeling next to Indra down the street. Bellamy didn’t meet Clarke’s gaze and shook his head.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“She won’t be charged. Everyone will say that Pike had it coming.”

“Maybe we all do.” He said, eventually looking at her. Their three faces were all tainted with worry and concern. This whole day felt so strange. After what Clarke told them, it felt nothing like a victory. Clarke’s pulled her eyebrows together, the corners of her lips turning downwards. Michelle was listening to them, still watching the grounders gather their dead in the square.

“How do we tell these people that the world is ending after everything they’ve been through?

“We don’t,” Bellamy declared. “not until we know Alie was telling the truth.”

“It was the truth.”

“Still, we keep it to ourselves until we know what we’re dealing with and how to stop it.”

“Damn. You’re afraid of how people will react.”

“Yes.” He wasn’t about to try and deny it, but his seriousness quickly lightened as a smirk appeared briefly on his face. “Besides, I could use a break from keeping you alive. You gave them back their pain, Clarke. Let’s not add to it by telling them they’re gonna die in 6 months.”  She quiertly nodded. “Good. Once everyone’s down, we go home, we get to work. We didn’t survive this long just to let a little radiation take us out.”

“Thank you, for keeping me alive.” Clarke then said softly. Unfortunately, the peace was short lived when a woman wailed nearby, leading to Clarke running towards her as the latter was kneeled next to the body of a man just sat there, his head falling forward. “He didn’t fall. He chased me in the city of light. Lexa killed him.”

“Wanheda.” The woman stood up, glaring at Clarke, accusing her of doing this. People began staring at the trio, surrounding them.

“Well, this isn’t ominous at all.” Bellamy and Clarke both gave her a look from the corner of their eyes. Michelle’s quiet observation wasn’t supposed to be this sarcastic, but Murphy was probably rubbing off on her, as he did when they were together in the beginning. They walked around and found Abby and Kane had come downstairs.

“Good. You’re down. We have to go.” Clarke exclaimed. “The rover’s in the north woods.”

“What about the wounded?” Abby asked.

“Grounders don’t want our help. Our people we’ll treat at Arkadia.” The girls agreed, nodding at Bellamy’s statement, when Raven’s voice came over the radio, trying to reach out to him. Michelle looked at her two peers’ step away to take her call and knowing they would tell Raven about the fate of the Earth; she went to join them. Raven was reporting to them. Telling them everyone was okay on their side. Bellamy spoke close to the radio. “There’s something we need you to look into.”

“First, tell me how my friends are. Did everyone make it? Clarke?” The latter took the radio to make herself known, thanking her for her help. Michelle assumed Raven somehow helped her in the city of light.

“Did Alie ever tell you why she created the city of light?”

“No... Why?” They looked up as they heard a grounder proclaim that King Roan was still alive. He had been shot by Kane himself before chaos unravelled in the throne room, but apparently survived. He needed a healer ASAP. Clarke sent Bellamy to take care of filling in Raven with the news while she looked back to her mom, and they ran toward where Roan had been carried. Michelle and Kane followed them there. They got down to his side and after she was told he was shot trying to help Clarke, Abby checked for an exit wound but there was none. They had to get the bullet out quickly but then, a blade was suddenly drawn to Clarke's throat, and she had to step away from Roan. It was an Azgedan woman, given she called Roan her king. Abby tried to reason with her, saying she could help if only she would let her, but the Azgedan dismissed her offer. They had their own healer and she seemed dead set on not letting them, Sky people, touch the king. Bellamy came rushing towards them, calling her by what was probably her name, Echo, and Michelle wondered how he even knew her already. Maybe he met her back at Mount Weather, among the emprisoned grounders. That was her only guess. Kane grabbed his arms, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let her go, Echo. Let her go.” He repeated through gritted teeth. He wasn’t playing when Clarke’s life was at stake. Echo wasn’t keen to talk with him, telling him off. Panting, Clarke attempted to speak with her.

“Your king is my friend. Let us help him.”

“I saw you in the city of Light. I know you destroyed it. Thank you for that.” She then uncermenously pushed her towards her peers and she stumbled, catching herself on Bellamy. “Look around you. Skaikru did this to us. Because of them, Ontari, your rightful commander, is dead. This imposter stole her flame.”

“No.” Michelle looked at her father as he rose his voice angrily. “Wanheda saved us, all of us – grounders and Skaikru.”

“There would have been nothing to save us from if not for you.”

“Azgeda has no authority here.”

“We do now.” She argued. “In the name of King Roan, as rightful caretakers of the throne of the commanders, Polis is now under Azgeda rule.”

Another grounder woman chimed in, walking towards her, challenging the claim she made, demanding where her war chief was, but as she then replied, the latter was dead. Michelle noted she called the woman ambassador. Echo, being apparently a member of the queen’s guard – the late mother of Roan who was previously Queen of Azgeda – informed that command of the army had fallen to her, until the king woke and came to his senses. If he even did.

“Until a new commander can ascend, Polis is to be ruled by ambassadors of the coalition. If Azgeda wants it, they must take it by force.” As she was speaking, Echo swinged her sword across from her, slitting the woman’s throat and Michelle’s eyes twitched, taking a step back in shock. Her father put his arm in front of her, grabbing her shoulder and making her move further back, bringing her closer to him in protection. Feeling her father pull her back, she reflexively brought her hand upwards and held onto her father’s arm and stared as blood poured heavily from the woman’s neck, her eyes wide as her body collapsed to the ground in a thud. With this act, Echo made it clear that Azgeda had taken the city. And she then declared that no Sky people was to leave the city, trapping the lot of them once again. And it would be so until Roan woke up, as he would, hopefully, restore and uphold the coalition and make Skaikru the 13th clan again, as Lexa did before she died, and it all went to shit. He people shouted in unison.

“Looks like saving the world will have to wait.” Bellamy mumbled to Clarke and Michelle. The two slowly turned their heads towards him, looking at each other with a concerned frowned. Roan was transported in a room inside the tower and Kane told one of Arkadia’s guards that came with them to gather the others. They couldn’t enter the room where Roan was so they stood in another, with candles all over the walls.

Michelle was standing near Clarke as the latter looked at the flame in her hands. She looked up upon hearing her mother talk to Kane, and so did Michelle. His wrist and hands were hurting, and Abby softly lifted the top of his bandage, peeking at his wound. Michelle’s heart sank at the though of her father out there on the cross, until he gave in and took the chip. And to think she was going to kill him… She desperately wanted to not think about it, but it was all she could think about, and the guilt it brought. He held Abby’s face softly as he spoke to her. Michelle and Clarke glanced at each other, a tiny smile raising the corner of their lips. They grew up together, their mothers being best friends and they became best friends themselves, and they always considered themselves to be like sisters, but seeing their parents be together, they really were a family, and it was a nice, recomforting thought in the midst of all these troubles. Indra and Octavia then came in and he walked towards them. They looked at each other and bringing an arm behind his back, she pulled him into a firm but friendly hug. Michelle took her eyes off her dad and turned around upon hearing someone walk behind her. It was Bellamy. He stopped by her and Clarked, his arms crossed.

“You’re not gonna like it.” He instantly told them.

“When you destroyed the city of light,” Indra spoke up. “there were a thousand Azgeda warriors inside the city of Polis.”

“Good timing.” Octavia commented.

“Only way to remove them is by force.”

“Then let’s remove them.”

“Slow down. You’re talking about a war.” Abby tried to talk to her daughter.

“Yes. Rockline, Flokru, and Broadleaf will join Trikru without question, but we’ll still be short.” Indra’s addition didn’t convince Abby, who still thought this was madness and while the idea of a war was indeed madness, they had to do something about the Azgedan hold onto Polis. Clarke wanted to act; her mother wanted them to leave the city with the others while they still had time. Michelle agreed with what her father then told her, because he was right. The Azgedan knew their whereabouts, they knew where Skaikru lived, and fleeing would only lead them to follow them back to Arkadia and attack their camp and they wouldn’t be able to fight an entire army.

“There are 8 other clans.” He continued. “How do we get them to join us?”

“I can do it, but I’ll need the flame.” Indra turned to Clarke, but the latter refused to give it to her.

“Clarke, the clans will follow whoever has the flame.” Bellamy said.

“Azgeda won’t.”

“Then we fight.” Octavia spoke. “That’s the point.”

“No. No, it’s not. The point is, there’s no time for a fight. We have to save Roan.”

“Save him? They won’t let us near him.”

“Wait a second.” Abby stared at Clarke, sensing something was wrong.  “What don’t we know?”

“The reason Alie created the city of light.” She paused, glancing at Michelle and Bellamy before telling the rest of them. Pinching their lips, they gave her a nod. “Nuclear reactors inside the power plants that survived the bombs are melting down. Radiation levels are already rising. If we can’t figure out a way to fix it, all of us will be dead in 6 months.” Both Kane and Alie were somewhat doubtful of what Alie had told her but they had Raven looking into it and in any case, Clarke believed that the AI had said the truth about what was happening to the power plants.

“Even if it’s true, that’s 6 months away.” Indra noted. “There are thousands ice nation warriors on the street who want to kill us today.”

“They won’t kill us.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Octavia asked Clarke.

“Because we’re gonna surrender.” Everyone looked at each other, clearly baffled, not knowing what to say to that. It seemed there was really no other choice for them anyway. The group exited the room they were kept in and met Echo and the Azgedan warriors outside, pushing Jaha in front of them. He looked like he was in pain, and it was easy to assume they had beat him. He was, after all, the one who initiated this whole Alie situation, bringing the key with him and encouraging people to take it. Echo grabbed him, said something to his ear and threw him their way. He fell on the ground, held his side as he winced from the pain as he struggled to get up. Kane was the one to come forward and he helped Jaha as the latter stumbled in his direction. He spoke to him as he hugged him, because this whole encounter was actually just a distraction. Michelle carefully looked up to the side, to where she knew Bellamy was posted with a sniper. Michelle knew Jaha had brought them a body, supposedly Ontari’s, so that she would be with her people, but it was really Octavia being sneaked in the room to take out everyone there and clear the way for Abby and Clarke so that they could take care of Roan. Michelle knew she wouldn’t be of any use to her friend, and they didn’t need multiple snipers watching over them out there, so she just stayed with her dad.

Night had fallen. Michelle and Bellamy were talking with Indra and Kane, standing around the other guards from Arkadia, by the light of the torch. Michelle was quiet, leaning against the wall, starting to feel somewhat tired, barely listening to the conversation the others were having, and she stared into space, until she saw movement from the corner of her eyes, to her left and she looked yo, realizing it was Murphy walking towards them. He was accompanied by that girl she saw him hug back in the tower. She hadn’t paid much attention to her back there so she barely noticed her, but she could take a real look at her then. She had markings on her face, like some grounders they had seen before. They had stopped in their tracks, the girl telling him something, but Murphy crossed Michelle’s gaze. It seemed his girlfriend didn’t want to go towards them, so Murphy went ahead and approached Bellamy and Michelle. She slightly nudged him and motioned towards Murphy with her chin. Indra saw him look away and called him back to the conversation which revolved around Echo and the Azgedan. She was apparently part of the royal guard, which were literal spies, untrustworthy.

“That’s why she’s not marked. Very dangerous. Very loyal.”

“Not to the people who saved her life.”

“Bellamy, I know how you feel about her, but you can’t lose control.” Kane said. “You offer them technology, guns, whatever it takes to keep her talking. Is that clear?”

“I didn’t agree to give them guns.” Indra argued.

“Well, that’s probably because you’re not an idiot.” Murphy joined the conversation. Kane then assured it wouldn’t get that far, they only really wanted to buy themselves some time for Abby to save King Roan.

“If you want to help, grab a weapon, stand a post.” He then told Murphy and Bellamy handed his gun to him. He gave him a nod, but Michelle was staring at him, and she might be standing somewhat in Bellamy’s shadow, the flame’s light flickered in her eyes. And she actually knew Murphy quite well, and she knew he hadn’t walked up to them to simply offer his assistance. She knew he had his own agenda and with his girlfriend standing a few feet away, who she crossed eyes with for a second, she was sure of it, and then it was as if a light turned on in her head and she subtly shook her head. Murphy and his girlfriend wanted to take off, but the guards were in the way. That was the only possible reason why he even came to talk to them in the first place. She wasn’t disappointed, she expected something like this, and she stopped looking at him, kind of ignoring his presence, which he noticed because she felt his eyes on her but didn’t look back. Bellamy walked ahead of them, she stayed behind with her dad, Indra, Murphy and the guards as he headed towards the Azgedan, sat together in the distance. They immidietaly all stood up as he came in their area. Michelle saw Murphy go to stand in a corner as he was supposed to stand post and cover for him, but with everyone moved out of the way, he could leave if he wanted and as he turned around, he almost walked into Michelle as she stood right behind him. She wasn’t even going to stop him, but she wanted Bellamy’s gun back. She had a smaller gun in her hand and turned it around, putting the gun’s butt against his chest. He apologized, though he didn’t precisely say it was because he was leaving without a word, yet again, but they both knew she was already aware of his intentions so there was no need to say anything else.

“Just fucking go.” She spoke under her breath and grabbed Bellamy’s gun and watched him sneak away from the corner of her eye as she stood post in his stead. She leaned against the stone wall, in a corner and watched as Echo walked down the stairs to meet with Bellamy. After a few minutes of watching them talk, Echo turned around and Bellamy grabbed her wrist to stop her, prompting both sides to step forward, her warriors raising their swords. Michelle tightened her grip on the gun’s handle. She still didn’t take aim, keeping its butt against her shoulder, the cannon facing down. Echo didn’t take kindly to him grabbing her and immobilized him on the ground, putting her knife to his throat. She rose her voice to Michelle and the others.

“Guns on the ground or he dies.”

“We disarm, we’re done.” Indra told Kane, quietly.

“Abby’ll come through. Do what she says. Guns on the ground, now.” The guards obeyed, and Michelle came out of behind the corner, standing right beside her father as she put down the gun. No one had realized Murphy was gone. It really all happened the exact same way as months ago, when it took people an entire afternoon to figure out, he was gone. They had more pressing matters to tend to anyway, she wasn’t eager to tell anyone about him leaving. They had to watch as Bellamy was unceremoniously picked up by a guard and dragged away as Echo headed for the room where Roan was kept. They heard some yelling, but it subsided. No screams or ruckus. Roan had probably woken up. Azgedan guards then came for the rest of them, some fled, but Michelle, Kane, Octavia and a bunch of the guards were put in a cell, shackled to the walls. Sat on the floor, curled up with her cheek crushed against the wall, her eyelids twitched and opened as she woke up with a subtle jump after having a nightmare about the grounder strangling her back in the elevator. She sighed and frowned at the daylight coming through the barred window at the top of the wall. She lifted her head and kinda looked around before standing up, with Bellamy and Kane chained on both sides of her.

“Your cheek’s red.” Bellamy said, almost in a whisper, smiling softly.

“At least there’s no blood on it.” She was used to getting blood on her at this point, as she always managed to get herself hurt. She got on her tiptoes to try and look out the window but ended up just glancing at her chains after she pulled on, unconsciously bringing her hand to her neck. She kept to herself about her bad dream and stared at the wall until they heard noise coming from the cell door. The grouder keeping guard opened it and a whole bunch of them walked in with a determined step.

“Wanheda, on your feet.”

“Where’s the king?” Clarke stood up as Echo came to face her while the guards held their blades up to the prisoners. She cried out, asking to see Roan but a cloth was thrown over her head. Bellamy and Michelle immediately reacted, with Bellamy trying to call out to Echo but no one got any answer. On their way out, the grounders threw a punch at Bellamy, making him bend over, his arms pulling on the chains. Michelle instantly went for him, grabbing his arm as they watched their friend being taken away, helpless. But they were soon reassured when grounders came to free the rest of them and everyone joined the crown outside as Roan stood before them, with his bone crown on his head, addressing his people. Michelle knew he was a king but that was the first time she actually saw him as such.

“I know you’ve all come here for an execution, but no one else will die here today. The city of light has fallen… and there is no commander left to rule us. Until another Nightblood ascends, I – King Roan of Azgeda, eldest son of Nia, grandson of Theo – am caretaker of the throne, and keeper of the flame.” As he spoke, he raised his hand, showing the flame in between his fingers. Some people seemed to protest, though Michelle didn’t quite catch the meaning of their words, but she understood their tone. “Until another ascends, Azgeda honors and will defend the coalition of the last true commander – Lexa Kom Trikru, including the 13th clan. Let it be known that an attack against Skaikru is an attack against us all.”

After his speech, they were met by Echo. Bellamy walked up to her. She was impassible but her annoyance still transpired as she barely pronounced a few words, handing him something from the king. She unfolded the leather wrapping the small object and revealed Roan’s seal, allowing them free and safe passage in any of their lands. He grabbed it and she took a step towards him, her mask cracking. She didn’t look so threatening but Michelle had no idea what they were saying to each other. She could see in the spy’s eyes, the anger or annoyance or whatever emotion she previously had was gone and she seemed somewhat unsettled or disappointed or maybe both as she stepped back, glancing over his shoulder at the group standing behind him, her lips tight. “Welcome back to the coalition.” And she walked away. Bellamy turned on his heels and went back to them. It was time to leave the city.

“We’ll do our best to keep the king on his throne.” Kane assured.

“We’ll find a way to beat the radiation.”

“If either of you screw this up, we die.” Octavia then added, looking at Bellamy, Clarke and Michelle who were standing side by side in front of them. “No pressure.”

“This is serious, O. If anyone finds out why Roan helped us, it’ll be every clan for itself. The king will fall, and they’ll come after us.”

“It’s getting dark. Let’s do this.” Clarke spoke again, before the siblings came for each other’s throat again, or rather, before Octavia felt like it. At first, Michelle watched Clarke and her mother hug and wish each other goodbye, and her eyes then went to her own father. She didn’t want to say goodbye to him again, after having just reunited, a day prior. Sadness tainted her eyes. He shared a handshake with Bellamy, tightening his grip on his hand, the other on his shoulder, to make him look up at him.

“You turn the page, and you don’t look back. You do better than you did yesterday. You understand?” Bellamy subtly nodded, without saying anything. “Before you know it, you’ll deserve to survive.”

“I hope so.” With all that happened, it was understandable that he wasn’t sure he was worthy of surviving. Kane let go of him and turned his head to Michelle, looking at his daughter tenderly, tucking strands of hair behind her ear, before they drew each other into a tight embrace. He softly kissed her temple, stroking her back and she rested her face on his shoulder, closing her eyes, hoping this moment would last forever.

“May we meet again.” She finally uttered, opening her eyes again, a tear rolling over the bridge of her nose. She reluctantly stepped back, his hands holding her shoulders. It pained him to see her sad, and for her he held it together, but he was no less affected by the fact they had to go their separate ways again.

“May we meet again.” She knew how much they had come to mean to each other, and he was now, without the shadow of a doubt, the person she loved most but it really hit her in this moment. She saw in his eyes, how much love he had for her. She felt guilty for ever giving him the silent treatment when she was mad at him, or blaming him for the death of her mother. Later, she would apologize for it all, and he wouldn't even need to think about it before forgiving her. He cupped her cheek in his hand, “I’m proud of you.” and added in a whisper, only for her to hear, “I know your mother would be too.”

She nodded, her lips sealed tight so they wouldn’t quiver, and she lowered her eyes as they got watery again, taking in a deep but shaky breath before she took a step back. Bellamy put a comforting hand on her back and locked eyes with Kane. The two men looked at each other understandingly, giving each other a somewhat solemn nod before they turned around, and left Polis with Clarke. Michelle wiped off her tears and held her head high, looking straight ahead of her.

“Okay, princess. What now?”

“Now we survive.”

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (07/23/2024)

Published (07/19/2024) by Andrea

Taglist:  @mirellef2001

[lampmanliveblogs]

Watching and Dreaming

Seven minutes and seven seconds into the episode we get out title. It feels fitting.

I think I mentioned this in one of the previous season three liveblogs, but I already knew what the secret message hidden in the episode titles was.

Thanks to Them For the Future Watching and Dreaming.

Thanks For Watching

It’s… bittersweet, in a way. I suppose we’re lucky to actually get a finale for the show, and these episodes may be great. But damn it, how much greater could it have been? How much greater could things have been with twenty more adventures? We could have gotten to see the witch kids go on adventures in the Human Realm. We could expand on lore and characters. We could have gotten a solo episode dedicated to Vee in the Human Realm after the others left where she could go on a date with Masha and maybe even telling them the truth goddammit! And who knows, maybe Vee would even end up on an adventure of her own as there was something strange going on in Gravesfield…

Alas, that’s not how things worked out in the end. But for what it’s worth, since the team behind The Owl House thought it appropriate to thank everyone for watching, I want to give my sincere thanks to them for making this wonderful show. Thank you.

Atop the giant Rubik’s cube, Luz finds King still trapped in a nightmare of his own, haunted by the visages of Bill and… um… what was his name, the guy who was like a kindly uncle to King… Turok?Tarak! Tarak, that was his name!

So the real important question we have to ask for episode: are we finally going to get that backstory for the Bat-Queen?

The second most important question we must ask for this episode is this: Is that the real Bill and Tarak, or just fake puppets The Collector conjured up based on some memory they pulled out of King’s mind? Even if The Collector knew about the Titan Trappers, who they were and where they lived (and that’s not a certainty if my theory about the Titan Trappers worshipping not THE Collector, but some other Collector/Collectors is true), I’m not sure he would care to go get them for his collection. It is possible that he read King’s mind, saw Bill & Tarak, zoomed over to Titan Trapper Island, picked them up, and then zoomed back… or that he just created some dolls that look like them.

On her other side, Luz finds Eda, she too trapped in the bad dream, haunted by what I’m gonna assume are the real versions of Gwendolynn, Dell, and Lilith. And in hindsight, the slight weirdness of Lilith having her hair colored black like her old hairstyle, but still cut short like her new one in Eda’s nightmare can be explained by The Collector (or Eda’s mind) just putting a thin layer of illusion on the puppet.

D’aaaaaawwwwwwwww… told y’all the reunion would be a tearjerker.

”…the dog?”

Pfffffft! Not gonna lie, this made me burst out laughing, You can just hear the utter confusion and bewilderment in Philip’s voice (well, I guess it’s actually Raine’s voice, but Philip’s in the driver’s seat… you guys know what I mean).

Anyways, back in the bed space, The Collector’s talking with Philip-posing-as-Raine (or RayRay, as I’m henceforth going to call Possessed!Raine). Rather than immediately trying to convince The Collector to destroy everyone, RayRay convinced them to put everyone in those twisted nightmares to ”make them see the error of their ways.”

(Were I a more learned man, I might be be able to make some connection with religion here. Like, The Collector as God, and these nightmares are like… a warning of hell or something? I dunno.)

However, now that they’ve broken free, The Collector realizes that maybe this wasn’t they’ve best way to go about it if he wanted to be friends with them. Should’ve just made some friendship bracelets, shaking my head. Nah, instead he warped them into a world of hate and war where they were assaulted by everyone they’ve known and loved before.

(Future Lampman here: something I noticed during a rewatch of this scene is RayRay grabbing Francois, and The Collector quickly taking it and putting it back on the little drawer; because King doesn’t like anyone else holding Francois)