#miserable mill part one

[sarnie-for-varney]

Rhys Darby really said 'Repressed gay character? Sign me up!'

[hier--soir]

sleepy

pairing: joel miller x f!reader summary: joel is out like a light, but you can only think of one thing that will help you fall asleep. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] established relationship, f!masturbation, masturbating next to sleeping partner, unprotected piv, cockwarming, mild dirty talk, soft joel. word count: 2.7k a/n: this one is for the folks with sleep problems lmao. hope you guys enjoy—any feedback is appreciated!

Your bedroom was pitch-black, the curtains drawn to protect against any slivers of light shining in and disturbing either of you in the morning. Rain pattered softly against the roof, comforting you as you lay awake in the darkness.

Joel was dead asleep beside you.

His bare chest rose and fell with rhythmic deep breaths, soft lips parted to allow quiet snores to escape. After an hour or so your eyes had adjusted to the dark, and you were able to make out the fuzzy outline of his face and body, the way his forehead had smoothed out in his sleep, and how his hair pressed against his forehead from being shoved into the pillow.

It was something you’d never understood—the way most men could simply close their eyes and drift into sleep within minutes. Every man you’d ever dated, slept with, or even slept in the same room as; they were all the same. A few minutes of silence before their breathing evened out into soft snores, body relaxing into the mattress as they disappeared into dreamland. It wasn’t fair.

You’d struggled with sleep since you were a teenager. No matter how busy your days were, or how much physical labour you undertook, your mind whirred at night, endlessly awake until you’d exhausted all avenues of thought, and you’d wake the next morning with no recollection of ever falling asleep.

And when you’d first met Joel, you’d discovered it was much the same for him. Fierce nightmares plagued him at night, terrified him out of falling asleep until he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, only to fitfully rouse him at multiple points throughout the evening. But as your relationship grew over the years, the pair of you settled. You got comfortable, and suddenly all it took was wrapping your arms around one another and you could both pass out with a snap of your fingers.

But on days like this—ones where you’d wiled the hours away reading and doing laundry and eating your meals alone and being terribly fucking bored—you felt old habits rear their ugly head, as you laid down for bed and found yourself wide awake. And yet you couldn’t be mad at him, didn’t even contemplate frustration or jealousy, because his day had been vastly different to yours.

When you’d woken up that morning to find his side of the bed empty, the cold sheets signalled that he’d risen far earlier than you. A note left on the kitchen counter told you that he’d been called out to fill a patrol spot for someone who was under the weather, and that he wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary for him to do favours like that for people, and so you’d gone about your day as usual, performing mundane tasks and chores, milling about with no real goals set for yourself.

And when he did get home, well after sunset, he looked worse for wear. Sodden clothes stuck to his skin as he kicked off waterlogged boots, mumbling under his breath about needing to trade for some thicker socks. It had been raining for hours. What started with soft spitting in the early afternoon had quickly turned into a thunderstorm, and Joel and Tommy had been caught in the thick of it all evening. Fat droplets of cold water oozed out of his hair and rolled down his face, slipping under the collar of his shirt to send shivers down his spine.

He looked positively miserable as he shed the soaked layers by the door, impervious to the sympathetic look you were offering from the couch. Only when he was down to his underwear and t-shirt did he spare a glance in your direction, gaze softening.

“Long day?” you asked softly.

“Long day,” he confirmed, not making a move to come any closer, lest he get any of the rainwater on you.

“Tell me about it,” you prompted, padding across the room to him.

“I’d rather hear about yours,” he retorted earnestly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.

And so you led him up the stairs and into the bathroom, detailing how you’d managed to get their washing done before the rain properly set in. And as he stepped under the warm spray of the shower, you told him about Ellie stopping by for a movie in the afternoon.

He hummed to signal that he was listening, but you could see how the day hung heavy on his shoulders. His head slumped forward under the stream, thick steam filling the air as he lazily rubbed a bar of soap along his skin with one hand and brushed his teeth with the other.

“Sounds like a nice day,” Joel smiled as he shut off the water, stepping out into a towel you had ready for him. You nodded, feeling somewhat guilty that he’d listened all about it, knowing his had been the complete opposite.

But he didn’t seem bothered, herding you towards the bedroom where he pulled you underneath the covers, pressing a few soft kisses to your cheeks before he relaxed back into his pillow. Cue: a few brief minutes of silence, breaths growing heavier, and then snoring. And god he deserved it. You watched him for a while, smiling softly at the sight of the man you loved so dearly, your life partner through thick and thin, getting the rest he so needed.

It was lovely… for the first thirty minutes. And then an hour passed. And then it got closer to two hours, and you could hear the leaky shower faucet dripping from down the hall, and the trees rustling against the side of the house, and you were so fucking awake.

The thought flashed through your mind, as it always did when you couldn’t sleep.

Maybe if you just….

Having an orgasm was the only thing you could think of that might tire you out enough to have you falling asleep in seconds. The way the muscles in your arm would get sore, and your entire body would go from tense to lax within minutes. It was enough to have warmth flood your bones and dopamine zap through your brain – and would definitely put you to sleep in a heartbeat. You felt guilty, though, as you contemplated it. Masturbating in front of Joel was common, and was something he often encouraged during sex, dragging your hand between your thighs and encouraging you to touch yourself while he got undressed. But doing it while he was asleep beside you was territory you’d never dipped your toe into before.

Is this perverse? Am I being creepy? What if he wakes up and is horrified?

Well, you told yourself. You just have to make sure that he doesn’t wake up.

Slowly, so as not to disturb the blankets too much, you slid your palm across your stomach until your fingers cupped your sex over your underwear. You stroked your fingers across the material, teasing yourself a little, trying to inspire some kind of horniness. And after a few minutes of gentle touching you could feel a warmth brewing in your stomach, a desire.

Carefully, you tugged your underwear down your legs before swiping your tongue across your middle and ring finger, lubricating them before you pressed them between your folds. You swiped at your entrance, collecting the small amount of slick that had formed there and spreading it across your core. A soft puff of air left your mouth as your fingertips connected with your clit for the first time, thighs tensing as you circled over it with fierce precision. This wasn’t about fun and games or prolonging the experience – this was about finishing as fast and as quietly as possible, and then going the fuck to sleep.

You took care not to move your arm too quickly, tensing your bicep to keep it still while your fingers circled and stroked and flicked against your clit, trying to find the perfect rhythm. A slow tightening began to build in your lower stomach as you discovered the right spot, the right speed, and you quickly pushed a finger inside yourself, collecting more of your slick before returning to your now aching bundle of nerves, the added lubrication making it easier to move.

A harsh exhale to your right made you pause for a moment, limbs stiffening as you waited to see if Joel had woken up. But a moment later his breathing steadied, and you relaxed, fingers continuing their quick movements.

Your forearm burned, muscles tensing with the struggle of keeping still but also providing enough friction to bring you to the edge. And as you felt your high approaching, you struggled to keep your breathing quiet, as heavy, laboured exhales forced themselves past your chapped lips. With your blood rushing in your ears and your middle finger drawing figure eights against your sensitive clit, you could feel it. You were so close, so fucking close, just five more secon—

“What are you doin’?”

The words were accompanied by a warm hand landing on top of your own, long fingers hovering over yours to see if he was correct; if you were touching yourself. A short gasp of surprise left you and your fingers froze, orgasm slinking away, disappearing from reach. Fuck.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled breathlessly, a little embarrassed to have been caught. “I can’t sleep and it’s been hours, and m’just trying to make myself sleepy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” Joel’s voice was rough and gravelly from sleep, and you bit back a whimper at the sound of it, fingers twitching against your pulsing centre. He moved on the bed, shifting closer so you could feel the warmth of his chest against your side. “Should’ve woken me up baby, would’ve helped tire you out.”

As he spoke, his hand tightened over yours, pushing your fingers to continue moving. Shyly, you began to circle your clit again, attempting to make out his expression through the darkness. For a moment, you swore you could see him grinning.

“You had a bad day,” you whispered raggedly. “Need the rest, I—fuck—didn’t mean to w-wake you.”

While you chattered away, a thick finger dipped into your folds, stroking against the pool of wetness that rested at your entrance. Your fingers sped up, the warmth of his body helping you chase the high you’d come so agonisingly close to. He exhaled heavily, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

“Christ,” he sounded pained. “You’re fucking—soaked. Were you thinkin’ ‘bout me?”

“Wasn’t thinking about anything,” you murmured honestly. “Just—ungh—just wanted to come, knew it’d help me fall asleep.”

“Poor baby,” he tutted, nosing at the side of your neck. “Need somethin’ to come on, hmm? Is that it?”

“Yes,” you mewled, hips shifting desperately upward into your hand now that you weren’t afraid of your movements waking him up. He dragged his hand away from you, using it to remove his underwear and then you could feel him against your hip, solid and hot and throbbing. He must have been listening for a moment, hearing you work yourself up. Your mouth went dry, stomach tensing at the feeling of him.

“Yes what, honey?”

“Need something to come on,” you repeated his words, grateful that he couldn’t see the sheer desperation on your face in the darkness.

A strong hand gripped your hip, gently pushing your body until you were laying on your left side and facing the wall. And then he was there, hot chest pressing against your back, lips dragging along the shell of your ear as he manoeuvred your legs into the best position for him to drag the aching tip of his cock through your drenched folds.

He exhaled heavily at the feeling, taking a moment to lube himself up with your slick before notching his head at your entrance. Your fingers were still against your clit, eyes closed as you waited for him to press in.

One arm slithered underneath your head, wrapping around your shoulders to hold you firmly against his chest and allow you to rest the side of your head on his bicep. His other hand held you still, fingertips pushing into your flesh as he flexed his hips, dragging his cock halfway into you. You gasped, pushing your ass back into him, mumbling some nonsense under your breath like ineedyou and pleasejoel and fuck.

He tried to control his breathing, but hot heavy puffs of air tickled the back of your neck as his pelvis came flush to the soft round of your ass, and then he was bottoming out, the full length of him slipping easily inside of you. A low moan dragged its way up your throat and you clutched deliriously at the arm around your torso, griding yourself back against him. But he didn’t budge an inch.

“Go on, baby,” Joel rasped against your ear. “Make yourself come.”

A soft cry of frustration left you, but your hand dropped between your thighs within a second. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing his length as you began to rub your clit in soft, slow motions at first. He murmured quiet encouragements in your ear with that deep, coarse drawl that drove you crazy, his thumb rubbing against your waist as you rutted against him. He was heavy inside you, bringing a delicious burn to your cunt that you always loved, a beautiful medley of pleasure and pain that had you careening towards the orgasm that had dangled so painfully out of reach for however long.

Joel’s teeth nipped at the sensitive skin below your ear, no doubt leaving a mark as he licked and sucked over the sore spot he’d caused. You gasped at the sensation, tilting your chin up to give him better access to your neck. He squeezed your hip appreciatively, leaning closer to sponge messy kisses along your racing pulse point. Your fingers moved fast against yourself now, circling and rubbing messily, and unintentional moans were spilling from your lips as you felt the coil in your stomach start to draw tighter and tighter.

“Joel,” you choked, hips bucking relentlessly as you searched for more friction, but he still didn’t give you anything.

“C’mon,” he urged. “I know it feels so good, honey, keep goin’. You’re so close, I can—shit—I can feel it, c’mon now give it t’me.”

It didn’t take much more than that for you to start twitching, body convulsing against him as your orgasm tore through you. Your arm burned as you continued to rub your clit, fucking yourself through it as your walls clamped down around him.

He groaned softly in your ear, grip on your waist tightening just a fraction as he pressed forward, giving you a hint of a thrust to prolong your high. You cried out, mouth hanging open in elation as waves of pleasure rolled through you. It was euphoric, and exactly what you needed. Your hand stilled after a minute, and then you were simply rocking against him, riding out the aftershocks.

After a while, the ringing in your ears died down and pinpricks of feeling returned to your fingers as you released the death grip you had on his arm around you.

You slumped against him, the only tension remaining in your body being in your neck as you tried to keep your head up. Your eyelids had grown heavy, and you could feel your body relaxing into the post-orgasm haze that you’d been seeking so desperately.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lathing soft kisses against the edge of your jaw. “Feelin’ tired now?”

You hummed sleepily in response, walls fluttering around him. He let out a low groan but didn’t move.

“Sleep, darlin’,” he said quietly, arms tightening to keep your back flush to his chest.

You could feel how hard he still was, cock pulsing inside you every few moments. But his body was heavy, arms like lead draped over you, and his head had already dropped down to rest against the pillow again. He was exhausted.

“Can we stay like this?” you asked drowsily, shifting your hips to show what you meant.

Joel squeezed your hip in confirmation, and you murmured gratefully. His warmth shrouded your body, filling you up and enveloping you, keeping you safe as your muscles slackened entirely, chin dropping to your chest.

A soft, stilted thank you was the last thing you could muster before sleep clouded your brain and pulled you under. Finally.

[honeyflashbang]

My theory on Sampo's true identity...

(Minor Spoilers for 2.4) (also, I’m no expert in… anything, really, but these are just my ramblings).

So, this has probably been mentioned before, but I have a teeny-tiny theory about Sampo’s true identity, and it relates to Finnish mythology.

So, “Sampo” in and of itself doesn’t have a set meaning, but it has its roots in Finnish mythology, particularly the “Kalevala” which is a 19th-century compilation of epic poetry. In it, a blacksmith god by the name of Seppo Ilmari(nen) forges the mythical device known as “The Sampo”. It’s never quite explained what The Sampo really is; some versions depict it as a mill, others as a cornucopia from which bountiful creations flow from, and some even have it as being a world tree/world pillar, so what The Sampo really is, isn’t entirely known. But, what is known, is that it brought riches and good fortune to its holder (again, the same as the cornucopia from Greek mythology).

But why am I mentioning all of this? Why bring up the Kalevala? It could be that Hoyo just chose the name “Sampo” for some flavour—befitting of a character who magics up relics from seemingly thin air and is trying to create riches—and yeah, it’s a possibility…

Until I saw these two screenshots from the 2.4 story:

You know what this means, right? 

Kalevala is a real planet in Hoyo’s Star Rail universe, and I find it awfully coincidental that they would use this name for a planet and not have it related to a certain blue haired conman, especially since The Sampo is such a pivotal element in the plot of the Kalevala—there is no way this is a coincidence (I refuse to believe it).

This leads me to believe that Kalevala is Sampo’s real home world, and is where he originates from.

Now, this is all well and good, knowing where “The Sampo” hails from, but I want to focus on its creator—Seppo Ilmari(nen)—and his parallels to a certain blue haired conman. For one, Ilmari(nen)’s name is quite interesting as the ‘Ilma’ part is Finnish for ‘air’ or ‘weather’, and as we know, Sampo’s element is that of ‘wind’ (And also the fact that Ilmari(nen) is credited as “Godlike smith-hero and creator of the sky”. I could go into a whole spiel about Ilmari(nen) and Qlipoth swinging their giant hammers in tandem together for all eternity (Go Sampard! Geppie is Qlipoth's true heir, you can't convince me otherwise!), but that’s for another conspiracy theory lol).

So, ‘Ilma’ means ‘air’, and Sampo wields ‘wind’.

Cool.

If the parallels ended there, I’d just say I was being crazy… but there’s more.

Sampo’s 4th (and arguably best) eidolon is called “The Deeper the Love, the Stronger the Hate”. Two out of his six eidolons refer to 'love', whilst the other 4 are to do with wealth and riches. The wealth and richest aspect leans towards The Sampo of mythology, whilst the ‘love’ aspect, well…

According to the story, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is the unluckiest bastard alive when it comes to love. Like, seriously. His whole storyline is that he can’t find a woman. For one, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is double crossed by his so called buddy, Väinämöinen, into creating The Sampo for the evil witch Louhi of Pohjola in exchange for her daughter’s hand in marriage (which, Ilmari didn’t even want in the beginning), but when the poor guy actually sees the daughter and falls in love with her (and subsequently creates the Sampo—after failing miserably a number of times, mind you—he creates a crossbow, a boat, a cow(wtf?) and a plough, all which are somehow either evil or flawed), she ups and just leaves him hanging! (in the original runes, however, he is successful in gaining a wife, as his ‘unlucky in love’ spiel was later added by Lönnrot in compiling the Kalevala).

As with any mythology and re-telling of it, there’s so many different versions of the same event. In “The Maiden of the North”, a 1898 opera written by Oskar Merikanto, both Ilmarinen and Väinämöinen compete for the chance to marry Louhi’s daughter, who is then mentioned as being “Ilmari(nen)’s first wife” and who later dies to Kullervo’s curse (apparently she was a bit of a bitch to Kullervo by taunting and tormenting the poor boy—who was a child slave mind you!). Distraught, Ilmari(nen) forges himself a wife of gold and silver, but he finds her to be too cold and callous—he forges her out of love but only finds hate—so he tries to gift her to Väinämöinen (who doesn’t want her either, lol), and suggests he cast her back into the furnace and to “forge from her a thousand trinkets”.

Here’s the accompanying poem:

Never, youths, however wretched,

Nor in future, upgrown heroes,

Whether you have large possessions,

Or are poor in your possessions,

In the course of all your lifetime,

While the golden moon is shining,

May you woo a golden woman,

Or distress yourselves for silver,

For the gleam of gold is freezing,

Only frost is breathed by silver.

It is apparently your standard Aesop’s fable of “money can’t buy happiness”, which is something else I see in our dear old Sampo Koski. During our time in Belobog, we see how different he acts with the Underworld and Overworlders. To the poor, he actually seems approachable (albeit a bit of a nuisance), going so far as to help the Underworlders (an example being the questline “Survival Wisdom” in which he and Peak set up a business together renting out his tools to help the miners make a decent wage to support their families). In contrast, we actively see Sampo being very hostile towards the Overworlders, scamming them and putting the nobles in their place or setting them up to be caught by the Silvermane Guards (an example being during the museum questline where you discover his identity as “Mr Cold Feet”. Sampo clearly states to who he thinks is his mark that ‘we are not friends’ in a very hostile manner, something which we’ve not seen from Sampo before as he is usually quite amicable). 

For all Sampo’s showboating and flashing his money around, he helps where it counts. He wants to make money, sure, but not at the detriment of the people who need it the most, only to those with excess.

Anyway, back to him being unlucky in love…

In another rune entitled “Kosinta”, Ilmari(nen) goes on a journey to compete for Hiisi’s daughter, and wins by completing various feats, one of them being “ploughing a field full of snakes”:

And as we know, Sampo is very heavy on the snake motifs (the head of the snake on his shoulders, the spine wrapped around him, the daggers are its fangs…etc.)

So that’s another interesting link between Seppo Ilmari(nen) and Sampo Koski.

So, why have I gone on this long winded tangent about Seppo Ilmari(nen) when I’m supposed to be talking about Sampo Koski?

Well, that’s because I think Sampo Koski’s real name is (or a variant of) Ilmarinen.

In the Hoyo universe, I believe Ilmarinen came from the planet Kalevala and ‘created’ the persona of Sampo Koski, much like how in the Kalevala, Seppo Ilmari(nen) forged The Sampo.

As I’ve listed above, there’s so many links between the two:

“Air” as a name and “Wind” as an element.

Seppo Ilmari(nen) ploughed a field of snakes to win Hiisi’s daughter’s hand in marriage, whilst Sampo Koski relies heavily on snake motifs for his attire.

Sampo’s two eidolon names that relate to love (which are completely different from the other 4 eidolon names), whilst Seppo Ilmari(nen) is known to be unlucky in love.

I’m pretty damn sure Sampo creates his own bombs and tinkers with the old relics to bring them back to life, whereas Seppo Ilmari(nen) is a smith who created the dome of the sky! They’re both artificers!

And now the revelation that a planet by the name of “Kalevala” exists is no mere coincidence.

So, either Sampo is Ilmari(nen) - or! - Sampo is a puppet (like Herta) created by someone called Ilmari(nen). 

(I would love if his 5* version is him with this name).

Right, I’m finished rambling. Gonna go huff some copium...

[protectionsquad24601]

People who say "I don't like asoue bc it's formulaic" miss the point bc

-it starts as a formula, a cycle of the Baudelaires being abused and mistreated bc IT'S A CYCLE THAT THEY'RE STUCK IN!! A cycle of evil and ignorence. They're being tossed around by the world and they need to get out of the cycle themselves.

-the cycle: they go to a new guardian, led by Mr. Poe, who ignores the problems about the situation. Count Olaf is stalking them, trying to kill the Baudelaires and steal their fortune.

-as is the rules with poetry and writing, you have to repeat something a few times to mess around with the formula, which you see is changed as early as the Miserable Mill. There's a poetic quality to the repetition, as well as when and how it changes.

-as it goes on, you see their passiveness being increasingly replaced with action that culminates at the end of the Vile Village, where they run away. In doing so, they've cut off the "new guardian" element to the cycle.

-they're trying to save the Quagmires and figure things out on their own. But two crucial elements to their cycle haven't been broken: they still are trying to contact Mr. Poe and they are still being hunted by Count Olaf.

-in the Grim Grotto, they break Mr. Poe out of the cycle.

-in the first chapter of the Bad Beginning, Mr. Poe meets the children on Briny Beach to inform them of the death of their parents. They come with him.

-at the end of Grim Grotto, they meet him again at Briny Beach and refuse to come, choosing instead to listen to a mysterious stranger and coded message. They choose autonomy. They choose to try to learn and figure things out. Active, not passive.

-in the Penultimate Peril is an effort to cut ties with Count Olaf once and for all as well as obtaining roles from both sides of VFD.

-but they can't get rid of Olaf and they can't let him go. Bc the last part of the cycle needs to be permanently put to rest.

-YES; Olaf hunts them throughout every book. That's. The. Point.

-Olaf needed to DIE before they could leave the island in The End.

-Olaf needed to die before they could move on.

-Olaf's death cut the final current in their cycle, ending the formula and therefore ending the series. Cutting out all the "repetitive" elements of the series made it finally end.

-they broke the cycle. That's why they could be free.

UGH I have so many thoughts

One day I'll write up this theory more cohesiveness.

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason part 2 - Alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

Author note: Hey as requested this is part 2 to my alexia x reader pregnancy fic! Sorry if it’s not great but I’ve got ideas for further chapters that I’ll work on soon! Also please send ficlet requests if you’d like more consistent posts as they take significantly less time :)

Warnings⚠️: mentions of vomit, tiny bit of suggestive content, angst

Part 1- https://www.tumblr.com/apute11as/733631966220582912/everything-happens-for-a-reason-alexia-putellas

~~~~~~

As you strolled through security, your mind flickered back to the conversation you’d had with the mother in the plane. Unease overtook your body as you couldn’t help but wonder if she were right, but she couldn’t be, surely? Yes you and Alexia had been trying but you’d taken a test after the last round of IVF and that test read a strong negative.

Casting the thoughts out of your mind, you decided to shift your focus to the important upcoming tournament. Getting though baggage control was yet again, a thankfully unproblematic task and you’d found your driver with minimal effort. These were further signs that you’d simply been overthinking the spontaneous sickness from this morning which was mostly likely due to fatigue or anxiety.

Having had help from your driver with hauling your luggage into the back of the black car, you finally sat down in the back of vehicle and allowed yourself a breath of relief as the most difficult part of your journey had been achieved. This moment of peace finally allowed you to check your phone, where of course you were met with a text from Alexia that read:

“I hope you had a safe flight bebita, I left you a suprise in the top pocket of your bag, te quiero mucho amor ❤️xx”

Smiling down at your phone, you clicked her icon to reply with a simple

“just got in the cab, can’t wait to see it te quiero más bebé xx”

The journey from the airport to St George’s Park was relatively short and you’d surprisingly managed to occupy yourself well enough that not once did your mind shift to your impending potential pregnancy. Upon arrival, you thanked your driver, giving him a generous tip for his good service and further help in hauling your heavy bags from out of the car. Thinking, you had another moment of peace, you reached down to look at a message which was a short lived attempt as you felt yourself being almost plowed down by a body being thrown at you.

“HOLA CHICA” bellowed none other than Mary Earps, the English goalkeeper wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Hiya Mary” you sighed after getting over the initial shock of her entrance, recovering from the near dropping of your phone onto the concrete floor below.

“How’ve you been, we’ve missed you at home, how’s Spain treating you?” she exclaimed, bombarding you with questions.

“Let the girl breathe Mary” rung the voice of Millie bright, the defender taking a much more gentle approach to you welcome.

“hey Mill, I’ve missed you all so much it feels like ages since I’ve seen you all” you replied.

“Clearly you’ve found some superior company though” stated Leah Williamson who now entered the scene, greeting you with a hug.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, confused.

“well if the marks on your neck are anything to go by then I’m sure you’ve been just fine with Putellas” Leah jeered teasingly.

“oh shit I totally forgot, it’s been such a hectic morning I didn’t even realise” you stuttered although thinking back, your wife would surely have noticed your failure to cover up the less than subtle marks that littered your neck. Although, knowing Alexia she would have watched you walk out with pride, knowing that everyone would know you were hers just by taking one look at you. Typical la Reina.

“don’t get all stressed now, some of us a just single and miserable” the Chelsea defender gestured to Leah.

“haha very funny bright” retorted the younger blonde, and with that the pair of defenders wandered off inside.

“you said this morning has been hectic but I thought travel was smooth?” questioned Mary with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah yeah travel was perfect, it’s just other things.” you said with your expression visibly faltered.

“If your ever need to talk babes I’m here, it’s nothing to do with Putellas is it? Because i swear if that woman hurt you…”

“No no” you insisted, cutting her off. “Alexia has been perfect, just got a lot on my mind right now.” You assured the older woman.

“Alright hun, just don’t hesitate to reach out” she said with a smile.

“Thanks Mary I appreciate that so much” you replied.

After a further wave of reintroductions and also a couple of greetings towards the new players, you found yourself in a room with Sarina, the team and the assistant coaches.

“Right as usual of course, your rooms are to be assigned” stated the coach

“Leah and Keira”

“Georgia and Ella”

the list went on in a typical fashion.

and “Y/N and Alessia”

You let a small smile slip at the revelation, knowing that the blonde forward was easy to talk to and respected your quiet time, something you felt as though you needed more than ever, given your current stresses.

You were presented with a key card each and then made your way upstairs, having to haul your several bags into the elevator, a task that left you unusually out of breath. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Alessia as you hunched over, clutching your stomach.

“Are you ok Y/N?” the younger girl questioned.

“yeah thanks, I’m ok. I think it’s just a little discomfort from travel.” you replied with a weak expression.

Finally, the two of you reached the comfort of your shared room and unlocked the door swiftly. You offered Alessia the window bed as you knew that she much preferred it and felt slightly claustrophobic otherwise.

You both began unpacking your vast array of bags and unloading stuff into the wardrobes, when your mind shifted back to the text your wife had sent you earlier. You reached for your carry on bag and unzipped the pocket, to be met with the sight of your favourite Spanish chocolates with a small note that read:

“Para mi princesa. Un regalo casi tan dulce como tú. Te amo mucho mi corazon.”

You smiled softly, your wife had always expressed her love so beautifully through words, the terms of endearment making you tear up slightly.

“What’s that?” Alessia asked with curiosity.

“Just something Alexia got me to remind me of her.” you replied, wiping your eyes simultaneously. “They’re spanish chocolates” you continue “she knows they’re my favourite from our local chocolatería.”

“that’s so sweet” the younger girl replied with a smile.

“Yes it really is” you said, beginning to open the sweet treats but before you got a chance to offer some to Alessia, the smell hit your nostrils. Normally that would elicit a mouth watering response but this time you felt your stomach lurch in discomfort, similarly to the way it did this morning. You the found yourself bounding to the bathroom to throw up the small sandwich you’d eaten on your flight.

“Oh my god Y/N” exclaimed Alessia, worry evident in her tone. “I knew you looked pale earlier, you are sick!” she said holding your hair back and grimacing as another round of nausea had you further emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowel.

“Sorry Alessia you don’t have to stay for this.” you managed in between the dry heaving that had replaced your sickness.

“No god I don’t mind, should I go get a staff member though?” She questioned.

“No, no definitely not I think I know what it is it’s fine.” You assured her.

Though Alessia wasn’t convinced and made a mental note to ask you again after team bonding, which you insisted you were well enough to attend.

“I thought you said those were your favourite chocolates, why did they make you feel sick?” The blonde questioned curiously.

“I’m not sure maybe they’d gone off” you offered weakly.

The two of you finally made it downstairs to the team, albeit 10 minutes late as you changed and freshened up after your spell of sickness.

“Look what the cat dragged in” shouted Beth as she attempted to rugby tackle you to the floor but before she was successful, she was stopped forcefully by Alessia.

“Careful Beth she’s not feeling great” explained Alessia.

“It’s alright Less, I’m alright now” you assured the girl.

“Anyways now that you two have finally arrived, we can start the fifa play offs!” cheered Georgia

As the night progressed, your stomach settled but your anxiety levels only heightened as the reality of your situation truly began to settle in. You were shocked out of your thoughts by a soft hand on your shoulder, that belonged to your captain- Leah.

“Woah there jumpy” she said as you flinched at her touch. “I was just checking if you wanted a hot chocolate but is everything all right?” she questioned.

That did it, the tears that had been threatening to flow came free now. You ran off hurriedly to the bathroom, Leah watching in awe as to what had actually just happened.

“It’s alright I’ve got her.” Alessia assured a couple of the team members who had gathered at the commotion.

You were now balling your eyes out in the bathroom, as the thoughts of what the pregnancy would mean dawned upon you. Ordinarily when you’d planned the pregnancy, you wouldn’t be attending the World Cup, opting to sacrifice it for your wife who’d just come back from an injury and was 4 years older than you anyways. However, now here you were, ready to go to the tournament and were potentially pregnant. You heard the door swing open and were soon met with the concerned face of your roommate, knowing you now definitely had to share your concerns with her.

“What’s up Y/N, no “I’m fine” or any nonsense, you’re struggling with something let me help you.” said the blonde, sympathetically.

“I-I think I’m pregnant” you said for the first time out loud since you began questioning.

“That’s good surely? Wait you’d have to do ivf for that, unless it’s not Alexia’s baby oh my god, oh my god is it somebody else’s, that’d explain the tears…”

“No Alessia” you urged, cutting off her rambling. “It would be Alexia’s it’s just not quite gone to plan” you continued as Alessia stared at you with a confused face.

You the preceded to explain your conversation with the woman on the plane, the negative pregnancy test from earlier this month and yours and Alexia’s plans to start a family. Alessia listening intently and comforting you as you spoke.

“Maybe the best idea would be to get a test” Alessia stated “because for all you know you’re getting stressed over nothing.” She reasoned.

“Yeah yeah that’s true, I just didn’t have much time to get one between the airport.

“We can get one tomorrow at lunch, it’s late now anyways maybe you should call alexia and tell her what’s going on?”

“No no no I can’t call Alexia she can’t know” you urged.

“why not she might be able to help you see clearly” said Alessia

“No she’ll be on a flight over here to make sure I don’t play, I really want to play Alessia” you pleaded

“Ok then let’s tell the girls you don’t feel well so we’re going to bed early how’s that?” Asked the blonde

“Yeah that sounds good thank you Less it means so much that you care.” you thanked her

“Of course Y/N anytime” she smiled.

[c1qfxugcgy0]

adventures in QA

(previous post in this series)

My shop in Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing (AMCW) at Large Aircraft Manufacturer (LAM) is at the very end of the composite fabrication building. Hundreds of people carefully lay up a hundred foot long slab of carbon fiber, cure it, paint it, and then we totally fuck it up with out of spec holes, scrapes, primer damage, etc. The people who write up our many defects are from the Quality Assurance (QA) department.

Every single screw and rivet on a LAM aircraft can be traced back to the mechanic who installed it. Back when even everything was done in pen and pencil, it was joked that the paper used to produce an aircraft outweighed the plane itself. Now that everything is computer-based, of course, the amount of paperwork is free to grow without limit.

(Haunting the factory is endless media coverage of an emergency exit door plug popping out of an Advanced Smallbody - Upengine (ASU) plane during a routine flight a few months ago. Unlike that airframe's notorious problems with MCAS, this was a straightforward paperwork screwup by a line worker: the bolts were supposed to be tightened, and they weren't.

As a result the higher ups have visited hideous tribulations on non-salaried workers. Endless webinars, structured trainings. Here at the Widebody plant we have received a steady flow of refugees from the Narrowbody factory, hair-raising tales of receiving one hundred percent supervision from the moment they clock in to the second they clock out from FAA inspectors who can recommend actual jail time for any lapse in judgement.)

A single hydraulic bracket Installation Plan (IP) is around four brackets. The team leads generally assign two bracket IPs per mechanic, since each bracket set is something like a foot apart, and while working on the plane is bad enough it's much worse to have another mechanic in your lap.

Let me list the order of operations:

One: Find where you're supposed to install these brackets. This is harder than you might think.

Firstly, it's a hundred foot long plank of carbon fiber composite, with longitudinal stringers bonded to it to add stiffness. The stringers are pilot drilled in the trim and drill center, a truly Brobdingnagian CNC mill that trims off the composite flash at the edges and locates and drills part holes for us. But there's a lot of holes, so you must carefully find your set.

A minor difficulty is that the engineering drawings are laid out with the leading edge pointing up, while the wing panels in our cells hang from the trailing edge. Not so bad, you just rotate the paper 180 when orienteering, then rotate it back up to read the printed labels.

A major difficulty is that the drawings are from the perspective from the outside of the panel. But we work on the inside of the wing (obviously, that's where all the parts are installed) so we also flip the drawings and squint through the back of the paper, to make things line up.

Large Aircraft Manufacturer has a market cap of US$110 billion, and we're walking around the wing jig with sheets of paper rotated 180 and flipped turnways trying to find where to put brackets.

Oh well, we're paid by the hour.

Two: Match drill the aluminum brackets to the carbon fiber composite stringer. I can devote an entire post to the subtleties of drilling carbon fiber, but I can already tell that this post is going to be a miserable slog, so I will merrily skip over this step.

Three: Vacuum up all the carbon dust and aluminum swarf created during this process. This step is not optional, as your team lead will remind you, his screaming mouth clouding your safety glasses with spittle at a distance of four inches. LAM is very serious about FOD. Every jet airliner you've ever ridden in is a wet wing design-- each interstitial space is filled with Jet A. There is no fuel bladder or liner-- the fuel washes right over plane structure and wing hardware. Any dirt we leave behind will merrily float into the fuel and be sucked right into the engines, where it can cause millions in damage. No place for metal shavings!

If you are nervous about flying, avoid considering that all the hydraulic lines and engine control cables dip into a lake of a kerosene on their way from the flight deck to the important machines they command. Especially do not consider that we're paid about as much per hour as a McDonalds fry cook to install flight-critical aviation components.

Four: Neatly lay out your brackets on your cart, fight for a position at a Shared Production Workstation (SPW) (of which we have a total of four (4) for a crew of thirty (30) mechanics) and mark your IP for QA inspection as Ready To Apply Seal.

Four: Twiddle your thumbs. Similarly, we have three QA people for thirty mechanics. This is not enough QA people, as I will make enormously clear in the following steps.

Five: Continue waiting. Remember, you must not do anything until a QA person shows up and checks the box. Skipping a QA step is a “process failure” and a disciplinary offense. From the outside, you can observe the numerous QA whistleblowers and say “golly, why would a mechanic ever cut a corner and ignore QA?” Well...

Six: QA shows up. Theoretically, they could choose to pick up the mahrmax you prepared for them and gauge every single hole you've drilled. But since we're three hours into the shift and they're already twenty jobs behind, they just flick their flashlight across the panel and say “looks good" and then sprint away. Can't imagine why our planes keep falling out of the sky.

Seven: Apply the seal to the bracket. P/S 890 is a thick dark gray goop that adheres well to aluminum, carbon fiber, fabric, hair and skin. Once cured, it is completely immune to any chemical attack short of piranha solution, so if you get any on yourself you had better notice quick, otherwise it'll be with you as long as the layer of epidermis it's bonded to. LAM employees who work with fuel tank sealant very quickly get out of the habit of running their hands through their hair.

Eight: Now you wait again. Ha ha, you dumb asshole, you thought you were done with QA? No no, now you put up the job for QA inspection of how well you put the seal on the bracket. Twiddle your thumbs, but now with some urgency. The minute you took the bottle of seal out of the freezer, you started the clock on its "squeeze-out life." For this type of seal, on this job, it's 120 minutes. If QA doesn't get to you before that time expires, you remove your ticket, wipe off the seal, take another bottle out the freezer, and apply a fresh layer.

Nine: Optimistically, QA shows up in time and signs off on the seal. Well, you're 100 minutes into your 120 minute timer. Quickly, you slap the brackets onto the stringer, air hammer the sleeve bolts into position, thread nuts onto the bolts, then torque them down. Shove through the crowd and mark your IP "ready to inspect squeeze out"

Ten: Let out a long breath and relax. All the time sensitive parts are over. The criteria here is "visible and continuous" squeeze out all along the perimeter of the bracket and the fasteners. It is hard to screw this up, just glop on a wild excess of seal before installing it. If you do fail squeezeout, though, the only remedy is to take everything off, throw away the single-use distorted thread locknuts, clean everything up and try again tomorrow.

Eleven: QA approved squeeze out? Break's over, now we're in a hurry again. By now there's probably only an hour or two left in the shift, and your job now is to clean off all that squeeze out. Here's where you curse your past self for glopping on too much seal. You want to get it off ASAP because if you leave it alone or if it's too late in the shift and your manager does feel like approving overtime it'll cure to a rock hard condition overnight and you'll go through hell chipping it off the next day. You'll go through a hundred or so qtips soaked in MPK cleaning up the bracket and every surface of the panel within three feet.

Twelve: Put it up for final inspection. Put away all your tools. (The large communal toolboxes are lined with kaizen foam precisely cut out to hold each individual tool, which makes it obvious if any tool is missing. When you take a tool out, you stick a tool chit with your name and LAMID printed on it in its place. Lose a tool? Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye, pal, because the default assumption is that a lost screwdriver is lurking in a hollow "hat" stringer, waiting to float out and damage some critical component years after the airplane is delivered.)

One tool you'll leave on your cart, however, is the pin protrusion gage. There is a minimum amount of thread that must poke outside of the permanent straight shank fastener's (Hi-Lok) nut, to indicate that the nut is fully engaged. That makes sense. But there's also a maximum protrusion. Why?

Well, it's an airplane. Ounces make pounds. An extra quarter inch of stickout across a thousand fasteners across a 30 year service life means tons of additional fuel burnt. So you can't use a fastener that's too long, because it adds weight.

On aluminum parts, it's hard to mess up. But any given composite part is laid up from many layers of carbon fiber tape. The engineers seemed to have assumed that dimensional variation would be normally distributed. But, unfortunately, we buy miles of carbon fiber at a time, and the size only very gradually changes between lots. When entire batches are several microns oversize, and you're laying up parts from fifty plies and an inch thick, you can have considerable variation of thickness on any given structural component. So you had better hope you had test fit all of your fasteners ahead of time, or else you'll be real sorry!

And, if you're really lucky, QA will show up five minutes before end of shift, pronounce everything within tolerance, then fuck off.

And that's how it takes eight hours to install eight brackets.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Every Episode of Miraculous Ladybug Season 5 Ranked (Part 2)

Part 1

(This site's stupid 30 images per post forced me to do this, so thanks for nothing, Tumblr)

#14: Transmission

I swear, I'm not doing these on purpose. This is just how I've been ranking the episodes.

Like I said in the last part, this episode just did not need to happen. The first half is cheap melodrama between Marinette and Adrien and the second half is a run of the mill Akuma fight with two different heroes. This is the story that seriously warranted two parts this season?

I just can't stand the fact that Marinette and Adrien gave up their Miraculous so easily here. Maybe if it was Season 2, Season 3 at the latest, I'd buy it, but near the middle of Season 5? They honestly view their love lives as more important than the battle with Monarch. If it was anything else like the stress or physical danger, I'd also be understanding, but Tikki and Plagg decide that Marinette and Adrien are so miserable that they need to be happy by losing their Miraculous without a fight. Remember, this was just two episodes after “Reunion”, which showed Joan of Arc was a Miraculous holder. So fighting in the Hundred Years' War didn't get so much as an ounce of concern from Tikki, but teenage angst is too much for her little heart to bear?

Maybe it's the benefit of knowing this won't be permanent, but the issue I have is how much the show draws this out for so long, as if the audience is supposed to buy it. “It's really happening, guys! Ladybug and Cat Noir won't be the stars anymore, we swear!” This kind of plot can work under the right circumstances. All you needed to do is at the very least, make it something they choose to do instead of their Kwamis taking their Miraculous away so we can see them weigh the benefits of giving up life as a superhero in ways that aren't exclusively about their love lives. I'd even buy it if it's something Ladybug and Cat Noir actually agreed on before quitting.

While I can sort of get Alya becoming Scarabella due to her experience with the Ladybug (even if she chose to give up using any Miraculous at the end of Season 4), Zoe getting the Cat just feels like the writers put a bunch of names in a hat and picked hers. The two just don't have as compelling a dynamic as Ladybug and Cat Noir do, because they don't get a lot of time to know each other. Alya and Zoe have almost never interact with each other, so the masks don't really shake up their relationship, because there's no relationship to speak of.

Also, the Akuma here was really forced. We know nothing about this new character while the show acts like we're supposed to know who he is based on some minor hints with Nora calling earlier. While I will give the show credit for arguably giving us the most powerful Akuma of all time due to being both a man and a bear, he's as forgettable as a villain as Kitty Noire is as a hero.

Just about nobody here comes out smelling like roses in this episode. The Kwamis are morons for caring about one ship becoming canon, Marinette and Adrien are selfish cowards for giving up their Miraculous with little hesitation, their friends are ignorant buffoons for thinking some random attempt to get Marinette and Adrien to talk will somehow seal the deal, and Alya and Zoe are idiots for not thinking that they should take off the shiny ring that tracks their every movement. It's a terrible episode, and the only reason why “Deflagration” is ranked higher is because it didn't irritate me as much as this one did.

#15: Determination

And now we're onto the really bad episodes this season.

This episode is pretty much what you've come to expect by Season 5. People keep forcing Marinette into situations she's clearly uncomfortable, and we're supposed to just laugh at her anxiety, because we still have eight episodes to go before the show decides to take her mental health seriously.

What makes this episode really sting for me is that it's Luka and Kagami that are forcing Marinette into these unfunny antics this time. For the most part, they never really stooped to this level and didn't try to force anything with their respective love interests until they had trouble in their relationships that required them to communicate. But now, even though one knows Marinette and Adrien are superheroes while the other is usually very blunt with her feelings (at least, before she became this season's next victim), they're going to try forcing Marinette and Adrien to spend time together even they both know they have feelings for each other and MY GOD, THIS IS SO STUPID! It's just a cheap excuse for more pointless shenanigans that stopped being funny years ago.

Yet somehow, that's not the worst of the Love Square drama this episode. It's here where we learn that Adrien fell in love with Marinette over a season ago, during a scene where she violated his personal space. In addition, Adrien somehow showed no signs of attraction to Marinette until the plot demanded it, and came right after another episode showing him falling for her. Why not make it the fake confession Marinette practiced with Cat Noir in “Glaciator 2”? The kiss Marinette gave Adrien at the end of “Heroes' Day”? I'd even take another umbrella scene callback like in “Mr. Pigeon 72”. But no, it's the statue scene that the writers decided on. It's like they noticed all the criticism Marinette got in that episode and were like “Joke's on you! Adrien actually liked being lusted over like an object!”.

And then the masks come on and make things even more convoluted. Adrien at least got to reflect on the events of a previous episode to explain his new feelings for Marinette, but what caused Ladybug to suddenly fall for Cat Noir after four seasons?

The writers don't even bother with an explanation for this. Ladybug spontaneously becomes attracted to Cat Noir with absolutely no foreshadowing, buildup, or even callbacks to earlier episodes. The writers either wanted to complicate things one last time before Adrienette became canon, they wanted to bury the Ladynoir conflict arc from last season in the sand, or the most likely option, a combination of both.

The idea of the public turning on Ladybug was an interesting one to take, seeing how she's been universally beloved for the past four seasons. But despite hinting at it in “Multiplication”, this is the farthest is goes, and even then, guess who's behind it? You can't keep raising points against the main characters if it's only Chloe who does it. It doesn't open debate on the story and essentially tells the audience that they're wrong to agree with her, no matter what kind of point she makes.

As dumb as the way it happened was, Ladybug still screwed up and endangered the city by losing the other Miraculous, but we can't actually challenge children by acknowledging that the hero actually did something wrong and needs to grow as a person. We need to use a recurring character as a strawman to tell the audience that only bad people think this way! Way to remove any interesting internal conflict, writers.

The Akuma was pretty weak, just being an older Puppeteer, down to using wax statues like what happened in “Puppeteer 2”. The army of wax heroes could have been interesting, but there wasn't enough time to do much with the idea. The one thing I liked was how the Ox Miraculous' Resistance was used. It felt like an upgrade instead of a core power Manipula got.

This episode pretty much set the stage for a new level of frustrating Love Square drama this season, and it was one of the season's first outright awful episodes.

#16: Conformation

The only reason this episode isn't at the bottom is because the rest of the ones on this list are far worse by comparison. Make of that what you will.

Like most season finales, this one continues the tradition of being better at buildup than actual execution. Gabriel's plan is pretty decent, even if it's just Heroes Day on a global scale. He utilizes his public influence and business skills to plan out a plan to get almost all of humanity working for him. While I don't like the Miraculized, I still think Gabriel being on top works here, especially since he's not going out into the field like the last three finales.

But other than an okay evil plan, this episode is still pretty bad. Marinette being infected with nightmare dust only happens to get her to the Agreste manor because the writers forgot that Marinette learned Gabriel was Monarch last episode. It could have been a decent way to up the stakes by showing Ladybug not being at 100%, but like everyone else, she just fights off the nightmare dust and doesn't have a single problem during her fight with Monarch. In general, the nightmare dust isn't really utilized well, only being an excuse to bring out the Miraculized. It doesn't impact everyone fighting off the Miraculized, and there's no lesson or theme about fear that's conveyed here.

Speaking of nightmare dust, I'm pretty sure the only reason why it was introduced in the first place was to bench Adrien, which is still easily one of the dumbest decisions the show has ever made. While everyone else had no problem resisting the nightmare dust, Adrien is just physically incapable of doing so because of some half-assed character arc the show pretended happened. So either Adrien got a more potent dosage of the nightmare dust, or Adrien's just too weak to actually overcome his fears. “Sandboy”? Never heard of it! The fact that the writers also tried to claim they were being subversive with fairy tale tropes and cliches didn't help, since it devalues Adrien as a character even further. He's not a superhero and Ladybug's closest ally. He's just some damsel in distress who needs to be saved. Let me just remind you, if the genders were reversed, this would not be seen as some bold move, but the same overused cliche trying to be something new.

I already talked about my problems with Nathalie in “Passion”, and the stuff she does here isn't really different. Despite enabling Gabriel for five seasons, the episode has the balls to act like Nathalie always had morals and is appalled by Gabriel planning to sacrifice someone to save his wife. Just remember, “Passion” established that Nathalie had a history as a treasure hunter, so this is like Indiana Jones not knowing what the Holy Grail does. Nathalie only got dumber than in “Passion” because she somehow thought she could take on a supervillain with nothing but a crossbow and a body that already has one foot in the grave. And just like Felix, Nathalie can't even apologize to Ladybug for the aiding and abetting a terrorist thing. Between Nathalie, Felix, and Gabriel, does using the Peacock Miraculous just make you an idiot?

While the buildup is decent, it's just not enough to really get audiences excited for the second part.

#17: Representation

This episode is yet another example of the show's double standards.

Without going into detail too much, this episode came right after “Revolution”, the one that essentially portrayed Audrey taking control of Chloe's life as a karmic punishment. What happens in this episode? We learn Felix's father literally took control of his life and it's portrayed as wrong as child abuse should be. That's why this episode is still better than “Revolution”. It at the very least understands how serious child abuse is, and tries to tell Felix's story with as much dignity as two teenagers in white onesies can have.

With that being said, there's a reason why this episode is as low as it is. The Sentimonster play used to tell Marinette about Felix is just so stupid. The sets and costumes look ridiculous, it's hard to take the story seriously with Felix and Kagami doing all the voices, and most of it is unnecessary since the whole point is to tell Marinette that Gabriel is Monarch... something that the writers decided she needed to find out on her own in the next episode. It comes across less like Felix trying to alert Ladybug to who Monarch really is and more like he's just trying to justify his own actions. Hell, the actual reason he decided to tell Marinette about Gabriel was because he and Kagami were worried about their own relationship being ruined by him. And yet somehow, Ladybug lets him on the team at the end of the season.

The stuff with Adrien was also pretty dumb. It's cheap fanservice that reminds the audience of Cat Blanc when none of the characters should know who Cat Blanc is. You can call him Anticat all you want, but everyone can see that he's just Cat Blanc with blue hair. It's bad enough that this was what all the times Cat Noir almost Cataclysming people this season was meant to lead up to, but this is pretty much the reason why Adrien is benched during the finale.

This episode really shows how desperate the writers are to make people take this show seriously by showing serious topics like genocide and child abuse, as if the show didn't already ignore the horrible implications previous episodes (like the very last one before this) raised and will continue to raise during the season finale. So much of the episode is just dark for the sake of being dark. It's nothing too horrifying for children, of course, but the issue is how obvious it is that the writers are trying to raise the stakes right before the season finale and show how mature the show's writing is. For lack of a better term, it's this show's equivalent to “Ow The Edge”.

#18: Revelation

Get ready for the episode where the writers abandon all attempts to be subtle and create an episode specifically to attack people who think Chloe isn't the most evil character on the show. Because how dare they be optimistic and try to see the good in people! What do they think this is, a kids' show?

While a big problem with the Lila episodes was how stupid the class is, this episode made it so Marinette got to join in on losing brain cells too. Despite outright admitting to neglecting her duties as class representative (as absurd as it is to be in charge of notifying teachers about student progress they should be aware of), we're supposed to agree with her for not telling her teacher about Chloe cheating. Not only does this make no sense since you'd think Marinette would want to see Chloe get punished, but her claiming that all Chloe does is abuse her privileges loses any point to it because Marinette admitted to not doing her job as class representative, making her just as lazy as Chloe and unintentionally helping her through not telling the teachers. And that's not even getting into how many times Marinette has broken the secret identity rule despite also being the one to enforce it the most as the Guardian.

If the episode at least admitted to Marinette having personal issues that prevented her from displaying any form of professionalism towards Chloe (especially since this episode takes place after “Derision”), that'd be fine. Sometimes, people just can't let bygones be bygones and let their emotions dictate how they handle things. If she willingly resigned from her position by admitting she was just as at fault for Chloe getting as far as she did with her cheating, that would have worked. Instead, the episode does the same things it did with Adrien for the last few seasons: Go out of its way to vindicate Marinette's complaining and never even consider the idea of her being wrong in the slightest.

It's also hilarious to see Ms. Bustier act like an actual teacher for once and plan to work with Chloe to help make up her missed work, but portray it as a bad thing because in Marinette's eyes, that's not a punishment. Since the school year is almost over, Chloe will have to attend summer school at best and be held back or even expelled at worst. How the hell does that not count as a punishment, Marinette?

And don't forget how she gets not one, but two separate scenes insulting people for being idealistic and not wanting to write off people as beyond saving, the second one being copied from Astruc's Twittter.

And remember, this was right before a string of episodes where characters were able to change their ways, including Sabrina (Chloe's accomplice), Andre (Chloe's enabler), and Gabriel (Chloe's supervillain contact). How the hell is Chloe the only one being written off as irredeemable when she didn't pull off any of her evil plans without help? You can still punish Chloe. All I want is for the other characters to be punished as well.

But let's talk about the main event for this episode: Lila. In one of the most confusing “twists” in the show's history, she's now an identity thief who lives with three different mothers. Why? Because the writers have no idea how to hype people up for her being the main villain for Season 6, so they think just making her mysterious for the sake of making her mysterious is enough to build her up as a villain. It's like the writers realized Lila had absolutely zero resources of her own, so they felt like they needed to establish her as an evil genius to compensate. “Who cares if there's no logical explanation for how she's gotten as far as she has despite constantly boasting about her celebrity connections in public? We have to make her vague and mysterious, damn it! It worked for Judas Traveller and Kaine, didn't it?”

This episode takes multiple shots at fans and tries to make Lila seem more compelling than she actually is. It feels more like damage control than an actual plot-relevant episode.

#19: Illusion

Want to see the main characters acting like idiots for almost a half-hour? No? Too bad!

So much of this episode's conflict, the characters trying to investigate a possible lead related to Monarch, comes from everyone making stupid decisions. Nino tries to get one of the most influencial men in Paris akumatized, talks about it in public, falls for his trick, and lets him into his secret alliance. This season really cemented his role as the Zapp Brannigan of Miraculous Ladybug with how incompetent he is. If you really want to start portraying Nino as a tactical genius, maybe you should actually show him doing something smart instead of getting outsmarted by obvious tricks.

Of course, the other characters aren't immune to Nino's stupidity either. Marinette, Adrien, and Alya just go along with his asinine plan to get Gabriel akumatized, never question his logic, and ultimately still go along with the Resistance despite how obnoxious their leader is. The worst part is Ladybug not recognizing her own partner being stung by Venom... when they're fighting someone with access to over a dozen Miraculous. I know Cat Noir was born with glass bones and paper skin, but I don't think he literally freezes in terror when he's scared. And of course, Ladybug never questions the tiny invisible men who stunned Cat Noir after this scene.

The cafeteria scene is something that should really be cited as an example of how terrible this show is with acknowledging continuity. You thought there would be some compelling drama discussing the secret identity rule and all the double standards it has? NOPE! It's a funny joke about how confusing the identity stuff is at this point. The fact that Nino somehow doesn't understand the concept of secret identities in this scene is yet another reason as to why he isn't even qualified to lead an anime club, much less a resistance against Monarch.

The idea of Monarch using an illusion to fight Ladybug and Cat Noir was an interesting one, but it still had some holes. For one thing, what if the two heroes can't dodge one of the illusion Collector's attacks? What if they're fast enough to try tying him up, only to dispel the illusion? The entire plan pretty much relies on the fact that Ladybug and Cat Noir are too slow to catch the Collector.

But one scene that has only become more questionable after the finale is Ladybug trying to reach through to the illusion Collector. Like several episodes this season, it comes across like the show is spitting on idealism and wanting to solve problems peacefully because Monarch tricked Ladybug into believing he willingly rejected an Akuma. Remember kids, if someone says they want to change, it's really a trick as part of an evil supervillain's plan to maintain his secret identity.

This episode is like a microcosm of everything wrong with Season 5. Poor morals, characters acting like idiots, shooting down any potential for plot development, and being told characters are right when their actions say otherwise.

#20: Confrontation

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the episode where the writers just gave up.

There is just so much that happens in this episode that the writers cram in. There's Marinette's “final” confrontation with Lila, the battle with Reflekta, Sabrina's redemption, Juleka's character development, Ms. Bustier's character development, Mr. Damocles' character development, and the reveal of Lila's true nature. I don't think I need to tell you that the writers struggle to make all of these plot threads work in less than a half-hour.

First off, Marinette and Lila. The previous episode implied that Marinette let Lila have this short-term victory because she had her own plan to expose her. This episode puts that plan into action. See, she has the genius idea of going along with submitting school application forms to Lila and Chloe with no actual countermeasure in place, waiting for Sabrina to have a sudden change of heart so they can work together to expose Lila and Chloe through a bathroom peephole. This is the kind of tactical intelligence that will be studied in the history books, let me tell you. There's just no weight to Marinette and Lila's final battle of wits because there isn't any. There's no series of gambits or scenarios that actually pit their minds against each other, so you don't get a lot of satisfaction from Marinette's triumph over Lila. It doesn't help that there's more focus on Sabrina than on Marinette, but I'll get to that later. Even the actual payoff is anti-climactic. Most of the class' apology to Marinette was deleted because Mr. Damocles using a Magical Charm shield was just too important to leave on the cutting room floor according to the writers.

This episode really shows just how Marinette's classmates are like NPCs in the Lila-centric stories. They don't second guess Lila's accusations due to their past experiences with Marinette, and as soon as Marinette's name is cleared, they instantly apologize to her and don't even think about how easily they were fooled by Lila and Chloe. The worst example is Alya, Marinette's confidant and someone who was trusted to temporarily use the Ladybug Miraculous last episode, falling for this and not trusting Marinette. My sister in Christ, your friend goes out and saves lives on a weekly basis at least. How can you fall for Lila's story? This is why I think the Lila episodes should have all been set pre-Season 4, so Alya falling for Lila's lies is a little more believable since she isn't already in on Marinette's biggest secret.

I also have to roll my eyes at how melodramatic the talk about everyone's “futures” is. Yes, I don't know a lot about the French education system (If there's anything I'm getting wrong here, don't hesitate to let me know), but I don't get why they're treating their high school choices like such a big deal. Maybe if it was college, I'd get it, but high school? Why can't you just transfer if it doesn't work out? But then again, this is the same show created by a man who thinks school uniforms are a sign of fascism.

THIS IS WHAT THOMAS ASTRUC ACTUALLY BELIEVES.

Speaking of futures, this episode also showed just how little the writers cared about Adrien at this point, with how a supposedly heartwaming moment is him having no plan in life other than Marinette. I know this might seem weird given my problem with him last season was his refusal to think about anyone but himself, but there's a difference between wanting someone to follow orders without complaining and giving them absolutely no motivation outside of their significant other. And once again, if you swap the genders, this becomes sexist as hell.

But the big problem comes in the form of how the side characters are utilized. I don't know why the writers decided to focus on developing characters like Sabrina, Juleka, Ms. Bustier, and Mr. Damocles with five episodes left in the season. This should have been done in earlier episodes, not in the middle of a major story arc. I'm just left not caring about the development because it takes away from the conflict between Marinette and Lila, to say nothing about how little Adrien and Alya contribute to the story.

To me, this episode feels like the writers had no idea how to make Marinette outsmarting Lila into an episode, so they crammed in all these half-assed character arcs to pad out the runtime. While “Revelation” personally upset me more, I personally think this is the worse episode of the two from a writing standpoint.

#21: Revolution

Given how often I've criticized the way Chloe has been handled over the years, I bet you're surprised that this one isn't at the bottom of the list. You'll be even more surprised to learn that I think Chloe is one of this episode's saving graces.

This episode (along with “Derision”) provide an example of the Chloe we should have gotten ever since Season 3 ended: A villain who's allowed to be a threat while still being funny. So much of the past two seasons have done nothing but portray Chloe as nothing but an incompetent joke, but here, near the end of the season, she's in a position of power and is taken seriously. The episode does a good job showing how tyrannical Chloe's rule as Mayor is while still making it funny and in-character for her. She uses her power on frivolous things because she's a teenage girl who doesn't understand the complicated issues that come with politics. It's also why her idea of punishment involves detention, because it's something she's more familiar with as someone in middle school. Of course, even the episode all about Chloe ruling Paris with an iron fist isn't stupid enough to actually let Chloe be a compelling antagonist. No, we need to constantly remind the audience that Chloe is being played, as if we're supposed to see her as nothing more than a pawn even though the show still wants us to see her as an irredeemable monster.

Putting aside that one speck of something interesting, this episode is still incredibly bad. So much of the story is dependent not on how smart the villains' plan is, but rather, how lazy the heroes are. Not only is there not a single moment where Ladybug and Cat Noir acknowledge that the whole reason why Chloe was able to take over as Mayor was their fault, they act as if Chloe abusing her power to make everyone's life a living hell isn't enough of a reason to stop her. What kind of Prime Directive bullshit is this? YOU JUST HELPED SOMEONE LEAD AN INSURRECTION AGAINST A POWERLESS CIVILIAN! HOW IS THIS ANY DIFFERENT?! If there was at least something involving Ladybug and Cat Noir taking responsibility for what happened or at least showing that they played a part in this (especially since they “grow up” in this episode), I'd get it. Instead, because this is Season 5, our heroes are perfection incarnate, and can't ever be wrong. Even when they finally decide to get off their asses and stop Chloe, they didn't know she was akumatized, and nobody seemed to care before Chloe blurted it out, so Ladybug and Cat Noir have no excuses for slacking off.

The final battle is just a joke. Not only is it another excuse to force the Resistance into the plot, it shows Ladybug and Cat Noir unlocking the full power of their Miraculous in the most anti-climactic way possible. Even though they spent most of the episode caring more about their personal lives than actually stopping the obvious threat, somehow, this means they “grew up”. There's no buildup, no explanation, and no catharsis gained from this achievement. All of a sudden, Ladybug and Cat Noir are adults now. There's one decent scene with Adrien, but that's far from an actual explanation. What, did you actually expect an explanation for something this huge? Too bad! We need to have Marinette tell Chloe she's not afraid of her anymore even though she was never afraid of her prior to this season. Of all the things that happened this season, this is the one that makes it clear that Season 5 was supposed to be the end. There is no way Season 6 can happen unless the writers come up with some crap that undoes this, because Ladybug and Cat Noir have essentially unlocked god mode.

But I saved the worst for last, and you all know what it is: Chloe's punishment. I still can't get over the fact that there's actually a scene heavily implying we're supposed to be happy Chloe is going to live with her emotionally abusive mother in the same season that's trying to tell a serious story about child abuse. There's already been so much said about all the horrible things this implies, so I'm going to try and bring up something else. Specifically, how everyone is just okay with this. I can buy Ladybug given all the things Chloe has done to her, but it's pretty odd that Cat Noir, Andre, and Zoe all decide to wash their hands of their association with Chloe as if they never knew her. They don't even feel bad that it had to come to this, and feel absolutely no sympathy for her. Remember in episodes like “Malediktator” and “Queen Banana” that showed Adrien and Zoe still cared for Chloe despite all the terrible things she's done, teaching kids a lesson about trying to show compassion to your enemies? The writers sure didn't, because Adrien and Zoe don't get to say a thing about Chloe after she's defeated. Way to establish connections between characters and do nothing with them, writers!

This episode had so many things wrong with it, and it only got worse the longer it went on, to the point where the ending is essentially condoning child abuse. It's disgusting, but at the very least, it means we're not going to have to deal with Chloe in Season 6.

.....

#22: Adoration

This is one of those episodes I honestly didn't think would hate as much as I did.

I think of all the episodes this season, this is the one that shows how frustratingly inconsistent the characterization is. Characters will either announce how much someone has changed or will take a complete 180 while the show makes it clear this is how things have always been. Not only does the show say Zoe has somehow changed and suddenly developed feelings for Marinette, but Chloe's view of Sabrina has gotten even lower, to the point where she calls her an underling to her face. Because actually showing character development and changing interpersonal relationships is too hard for these writers. It's like that rule everyone knows: Tell, don't show. That's how it goes, right?

Before anyone gets on my case about this, I'm not trying to say that Zoe having a crush on Marinette was a bad idea. The issue is more how it comes across like the show is trying to earn brownie points with LGBT+ audiences with the reveal. The issue is that this major revelation isn't about Zoe, but rather, Marinette. It's from a Marinette-focused episode all about her heterosexual feelings for Adrien while Zoe's coming out story is nothing more than a cautionary tale to get Marinette to finally try kissing Adrien. I'm not saying Marinette should have dumped Adrien to be with Zoe. The point I'm trying to make is if you want to show something as huge as a character coming out as sapphic, maybe put more focus on that character's struggles than the struggles the straight main character goes through. Maybe instead of being an afterthought in the story, make the episode about Marinette helping Zoe confess her feelings to a girl she likes.

This was also the episode that laid the groundwork for Andre and Sabrina's “redemption arcs”. Normally, I wouldn't mind something like them changing, but it's less to show a character becoming a better person and more to vilify a different character. Andre went from a corrupt politician who abuses his power to please his daughter to an honest politician who is forced to abuse his power to please his daughter. Sabrina went from Chloe's loyal friend who chooses to help her make people miserable to Chloe's underling who is being forced to help make people miserable. Both of them were perfectly willing to go along with Chloe's acts in the past, and as we saw in “Revolution”, being a pawn didn't excuse her from being punished, so by that logic, they shouldn't get a free pass either. It's also strange how this wasn't the episode where Andre and Sabrina officially cut ties with Chloe, considering they already had issues with them. There wasn't really a reason to wait if they already made their issues clear, especially Sabrina. Somehow framing Marinette here is okay but doing it a few episodes later is too much for her?

Also, Lila served no purpose in the episode. Just like in “Collusion” and “Revolution”, all she does is tell Chloe to do things she was perfectly capable of doing in earlier episodes. We're supposed to see her as a mastermind, but I don't get why she has to hold Chloe's hand here. Why can't Lila come up with her own plan or manipulate different people from behind the scenes? It only further highlights the double standards because while Sabrina being a lackey to Chloe earns her sympathy, Chloe being a lackey to Lila doesn't for some reason.

I am getting really tired of the whole “Nobody believes Marinette” formula that every Lila episode relies on (Chameleon, Ladybug, Risk, Revelation, Confrontation). It's the exact same story. Everyone who has known Marinette for the past four seasons suddenly loses all trust in her, only instead of instantly believing Lila, it's Chloe. CHLOE. This is worse than Lila, because she's at least in good graces with other people, but this is the same season that solidified the idea of nobody liking her at all. They seriously take her words at face value over Marinette, someone whose friends know has tormented her for a year at least (Derision)? Put aside how I feel about Chloe, this is a story that depends on trusting someone nobody has any reason to trust, and it makes no sense.

There are just so many minor issues in this episode that pile up enough to really piss me off. It's like a death by a thousand cuts.

#23: Collusion

I normally don't try to get political on this blog unless I absolutely have to, and talking about this episode is one of those occasions.

If you've been around since the early days of this blog, you'll remember that Astruc once compared Chloe to Donald Trump, and not too long after the January 6th attack on the Capitol Building at that.

Even before that thread, Astruc made a joke comparing Trump to Chloe less than a week after the attack.

Whether you agree with Astruc's views on Trump or not, the point is that he kept up with American politics and strongly opposes him. So anyway, let's get to the episode where the heroes let someone lead a small army to storm the mayor's office and force him to resign, which is totally different from what Trump did.

I cannot get over just how confusing this episode is. For a show created by someone who usually keeps up with American politics, this is such a tone-deaf episode. I get that the story is trying to lean into French history, and I'm not sure how far into production the crew was when the attack on the Capitol happened, but given how Astruc was aware of the drama, he and his team should have at least considered the implications this episode could raise. The problem with the discussion around January 6th is that the supporters see it in as righteous a light as Miss Sans-Culotte is. As far as they know, what happened wasn't a violent invasion of government property, but a peaceful demonstration. Sure, none of the talking balloons said “Hang Andre Bourgeois!”, but it still brings similar imagery to mind.

Something that also harms the French Revolution narrative is the fact that all of Miss Sans-Culotte's supporters are helping her against her will. Much like countless Akumas throughout the show's history (Darkblade, Kung Food, The Puppeteer, Princess Fragrance, Despair Bear, Befana, Zombizou, Malediktator, Gamer 2.0, Mr. Pigeon 72, Hack-San, Revelation, Confrontation), Miss Sans-Culotte brainwashes innocent civilians so they can help her cause. This goes against the idea that she's speaking for the people, because her victims don't have a say in this. She's not reenacting the French Revolution, she's reenacting Order 66!

Also, this is something I've neglected to discuss. Why make Miss Bustier pregnant at all, much less akumatize her while pregnant? Outside of her students telling Chloe not to make a scene because the stress caused from dealing that is bad for the baby, Ms. Bustier's pregnancy adds nothing to the story. Seriously, the story thinks Chloe annoying the class is more dangerous for Ms. Bustier's baby than Ms. Bustier herself running around and getting into fights with her baby inside. It could have made for some interesting drama where Ladybug and Cat Noir are hesitant to hurt a pregnant woman, even if she's been akumatized. While the writers do try to work around it by giving her minions to do the fighting (as much as it mucks up the themes of this episode), it still doesn't explain why she needed to be pregnant during this episode in the first place.

Putting aside how unlikable Miss Sans-Culotte is in this episode, you can't even enjoy seeing Andre getting kicked out of office because this is the same episode where the writers really want us to feel bad for him. Look at how sad the rich white politician is. Let's ignore the fact that he's a big part of the reason why Chloe is as bad as she is, has abused his power multiple times, and is all around the cause of his own problems. But even though this is a show that tries to take an anti-capitalist stance (which I'll get to more in “Emotion”), we're supposed to side with one of the biggest symbols of everything wrong with capitalism and political corruption. Even then, Andre is framed for corruption instead of the several instances he actually abused his power, as if they're trying to say he was never a corrupt man. He just loves his daughter. Is that too much to ask for? His daughter herself? Eh, who cares? You really need to support the rich white man. Are we sure this show was created by a liberal?

But the biggest issue is the moral. It's impossible to frame Miss Sans-Culotte storming the mayor's office as a peaceful protest because she's clearly inspired by one of the bloodiest and most violent revolutions in history. If she was supposed to be a violent warrior who needed to learn there was a better way, that would work, but instead, the show downplays how dangerous she is... when she has a guillotine blade for a weapon. You can't claim Miss Sans-Culotte is non-violently protesting Andre's administration when she brainwashes innocent civilians, storms into the building, and demands he resign without any question. Even taking all that into consideration, the moral ends up backfiring because forcing Andre out of office caused an even bigger problem with Chloe taking over, and the very next episode threw the non-violence message out the window.

Whether or not you want to consider the political implications here, this is still a terrible episode with a terrible moral.

#24: Pretension

I've always had issues with Felix, and after the trainwreck that was “Emotion”, let's just say this didn't exactly do anything to raise my opinion of him. Just like his other appearances for the last few seasons, he did absolutely nothing to help Ladybug, focused on only doing things that benefited him, and making everyone's lives worse due to his incompetence. And somehow, this idiot is the one who moves the plot along the most.

The entire conflict happened because Felix kidnapped Kagami without even coming up with a plan. Even when he believes that Kagami is a Sentimonster (I apologize for saying that word Felix hates, but once again, the show provides no alternative to it), he doesn't think of Tomoe being able to track her or command her to leave even at a far distance. He doesn't even try to explain himself to Ladybug and Cat Noir and spends more time running away from everyone who wants to kick his ass. But by the show's logic, he just needs friends, even though his entire deal is that he works alone to get what he wants.

It's bad enough that Felix has to screw up everything he touches, but now he's dragging Kagami to his level. Kagami has cemented her role as Felix's lackey/girlfriend and nothing more. People give Marinette crap for the way the behaves around Adrien in and out of universe, but Kagami knows nothing about Felix, yet a single conversation about his past is enough for her to fall head over heels in love with him. She went from someone not willing to take any bullcrap from Marinette and Adrien to believing Felix's story in a fraction of a heartbeat. This season really likes ruining the few likable characters the show has left.

I also have to roll my eyes at the conversation Marinette and Gabriel have about fashion. For one thing, it's one of the few times the entire season remembers that Marinette wants to be a fashion designer and doesn't really factor into her rivalry with Gabriel. This season made their conflict revolve around how to treat Adrien, not their views on fashion. It feels like they only brought it up to remind viewers that Marinette is still into fashion. Well, that, and also to take a stance on artistic integrity... supposedly.

And on that note, it's amazing how the writers display little to no self-awareness during this scene. The show that embraces sticking to the status quo and rejecting almost any attempt at keeping consistent continuity is now trying to teach children about the importance of being willing to take risks when creating something. This is like Hannibal Lecter trying to promote veganism. I get the message, but the messenger's history is keeping me from buying it. It doesn't help that for a scene trying to point out how outdated certain views are, the show ultimately chooses to take the side of the man with the “wrong” mindset by the end of the season.

The pancake metaphor really confuses me too. It's meant to be a running gag that the only thing Gabriel knows how to cook is pancakes, but A) Nothing is really indicated to show how terrible they are as a metaphor for how bad his outdated views are other than Marinette's verbal assessment of them, and B) We later learn Gabriel used to be poor, so either he never knew how to cook prior to earning his fortune or being rich somehow made him forget basic living skills. I'm just saying, when an episode of Sid the Science Kid manages to better convey someone doing a terrible job making pancakes, you might need to put in a little more effort to show how bad Gabriel's pancakes supposedly are.

Finally, Tomoe. This episode didn't really do much to show her as a compelling threat, given all she did was nag Gabriel and try to shoot her daughter when she didn't even try commanding her to fight back when she was kidnapped. She's nothing more than a female Gabriel and is another example of how overstuffed this show's cast is,

This episode is awful, plain and simple. It took aspects from previous episodes that were already questionable, and doubled down on them while acting like there weren't any problems at all.

#25: Derision

And now we're onto the really, REALLY bad episodes this season. One of the reasons why this post took so long to make was that I wasn't sure how to rank these last three episodes. Thankfully, I managed to find a way to rank them based on the morals are executed. With that being said, let's start scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Ah, “Derision”. You're the only episode that makes the backlash caused by “Chameleon” seem like a pleasant breeze. It's incredible to see just how much negative a reputation this episode has in the fandom. Virtually nobody likes it because it manages to upset everyone with its poor characterization. I'm talking Marinette fans, Adrien fans, Chloe fans, Kim fans, and pretty much every other character's fans. I've only seen a few die hard fans defend this episode, and they're the people on Tumblr who defend pretty much everything done this season.

I have just one question to ask about this episode: Why did it need to happen? We didn't learn anything new that we didn't know already. We know Chloe is mean, and we know Marinette used to be more timid and had no friends. We didn't even need that much of an explanation for why Marinette acts the way she does around Adrien, seeing how it was usually played for laughs

Speaking of which, let's talk about the fact that the episode tries to shame the audience for laughing at the jokes about Marinette's reactions to Adrien. You know, something that was the show's primary running gag ever since Season 1? A running gag the writers ran into the ground by the end of Season 3 but still chose to go with it? Now we're not supposed to have laughed at it, assuming we laughed at it all. Way to insult even the small portion of viewers who didn't get on your case about this, writers.

I only have about two positive things to say about this episode. For one thing, Chloe actually served as a pretty decent antagonist in the flashbacks. Much like in “Revolution”, when the writers actually let her be a villain on her own without being made a pawn, she can be somewhat entertaining. If this was the Chloe we got after Season 3, I don't I would have been as upset at the direction Astruc's team took with the character.

In addition, the thing that saves this episode from being at the bottom is that unlike the next two, it actually understands that what the antagonist did was wrong. They don't make up excuses for what Chloe did and she actually gets called out as a result. It doesn't lead to anything major, but it's something.

Like with “Queen Banana”, there's not much else I can say that hasn't already been said. There's plenty of retcons, the characterization for everyone is off, it attacks the audience, and the message about trauma got fumbled by the show's usual double standards. It's been said over and over again, and it's become a symbol of how much the show's quality has degraded.

#26: Emotion

I think if you've kept up with my reviews of this season, you should know by now that I don't exactly like Felix, and most of the problems I have with him can be attributed to this episode. In fact, for a while, this was going to be my choice for the bottom slot.

It's clear that the writers want to make Felix this wild card who's only in it for himself, but like most of the show's antagonists, they want to show Felix as this devious mastermind... but he's also not really evil, and you should feel bad for him. For most of the episode, Felix does nothing but make everyone's lives worse during his first outing as Argos. He smears his cousin's reputation yet again, tricks his girlfriend into dancing with him, condemns some rich kids for the crime of being rich when he's just as rich, and eventually wipes out all life on the face of the earth. But he's just doing it for his cousin, we swear!

While Felix has understandable motivations for what he does, wanting to free Adrien and Kagami, the way he tries to achieve his goal makes it hard to sympathize with him. If the whole point was that what he did was wrong and that he needs to find a different way, that could work. Instead, we're supposed to see him as this tragic figure who was forced to do terrible things when the episode shows him happily singing while causing chaos. It's the same problem with Gabriel, wanting a sympathetic character to do unapologetically evil things. The fact that he has to be told that genocide is bad doesn't make us want to sympathize with him when he breaks down crying. It paints a picture that he's crazy but the show wants to act like he isn't.

Even putting all the crap with Felix aside, the episode is still unbearable. The stuff with Marinette was poorly executed and was just done to get her involved in the plot, and later become the first one to excuse Felix for betraying her. Other than the dance scene, you could easily just have Marinette swing in as Ladybug when Argos starts his rampage and nothing would really change. The episode tries to make jokes about how unnecessary this is, but as usual, its attempts to be self-aware come across like its saying “What we're doing it wrong, we know it's wrong, but we're gonna do it anyway!”

Speaking of the dance scene, I can't stop rolling my eyes whenever Felix tries to be all “We live in a society” to Marinette. Forget the corrupt politicians, corporate moguls, human traffickers, and despotic rulers of foreign nations. The absolute worst section of humanity is composed of the teenage children of the 1%. Sure, you'd have to break my legs before I'd agree to supervise them at this party, but I don't get why these are the people we're supposed to see as irredeemable monsters. Do the writers think because these kids associate themselves with Chloe, we'll automatically hate them? Newsflash, but if I had to choose between hanging out with some annoying kids and a mass murderer, I'd stick with the annoying kids.

Rewatching this episode was what helped me finally realize just what my problem with the show's anti-capitalist message is. How the hell am I supposed to hate the villains on this show for being rich when several characters are rich or at the very least, are successful thanks to their connections to the rich? Think about it for a second. Putting aside Adrien and Kagami, you have Marinette, the daughter of two of the most popular bakers in Paris and earned the respect of multiple celebrities, Alya, the daughter of a chef who works at a five-star hotel, Nino, someone who got to DJ at a major fashion show, Rose, who is friends with a literal prince, Luka and Juleka, the children of a popular rock star, and Max, the son of an astronaut with access to cutting-edge technology. Somehow, these people are supposed to be poor? They make Monica from Friends look like Oscar the Grouch. It's why I can't take the message seriously. You can't write a story about a class struggle when both classes are shown to be pretty well-off.

The only thing that saves this episode from being at the bottom of the list is the fact that despite committing genocide while singing, Felix at least gets what he did was wrong and makes up for it. It doesn't fix everything else he did in this episode, but that's better than nothing. As for the villain featured in the episode that's at the bottom of this list? If you've been keeping track, I think you know who I mean.

#27: Re-Creation

I'll admit, I'm sort of cheating here. I'm judging this episode more as a finale than an individual episode, but I'm making an exception because the plot is tied to wrapping up all the loose ends this season.

I'm mentioning this because for a season finale, the stakes just feel so low. The fight between Bug Noire and Monarch doesn't have any weight to it because they've barely interacted at all for the last five seasons. These are supposed to be two mortal enemies, but you can't really buy the enmity between them. It ultimately cheapens the moment of Bug Noire triumphing over Monarch in the end... before Monarch triumphs over her not long afterwards, but we'll get to that.

The stuff with the Miraculized doesn't help either. We already know that the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous are in the Agreste manor, so the Miraculized's goal is impossible to achieve. It's never even explained why the Miraculized don't go back to the manor to help Monarch beat Bug Noire, since they should still be able to track the Miraculous. All of the fights with them just come across like filler, and there's no real sense of danger or hopelessness to be found. Whether the Miraculized win or lose is irrelevant. Nothing will happen either way because the important stuff is happening in the Agreste manor.

This extends to the part where all the heroes appear to help. It doesn't come across as an Avengers-esque moment for the climax, because it doesn't change anything. The episode never explains what any of these characters were doing prior to the events of this episode and why only now they're helping out. The United Heroes are the most egregious example because unlike Fei or Su-Han, they're a major organization whose members include the president, and they didn't do a damn thing when Monarch stole all of the other Miraculous. Speaking of, there is no way in hell that Su-Han taught Mirakung-Fu to three random people over Ladybug and Cat Noir, much less that those three people are actual masters after about two months at best. Maybe they got to train in Bunnix's Burrow? After all, she's not doing anything else to stop the end of the world other than sending four people over to Paris. This whole sequence really highlights how bland the other heroes of this universe are. If they're not slacking off when they're needed, they're criminally underdeveloped because there's a slim chance they'll get spin-offs to flesh them out.

But I think the biggest issue me and other people have with this finale is the resolution. In what is easily one of the most baffling decisions the show has made, Bug Noire doesn't defeat Monarch, and Monarch gets to make his wish. I don't care how many times the writers technically say she won because she beat him in a fight. Gabriel backstabbed her at the last minute and got her Miraculous to make his wish. Yeah, he died, but he succeed in achieving his goal, never faced any real consequences, didn't get any closure with his son (much less apologize for abusing him), told Marinette to lie about the monster he was to him, and was turned into a martyr with a statue made of the same things he used to control the world.

This ending infuriates me because it not only makes Marinette out to be a terrible hero for failing to do the one thing she was chosen to do (get the Butterfly Miraculous back), but it also ultimately makes Gabriel out to be a decent person even though he destroyed and recreated the world. All Marinette did was take credit for saving the world, and even then, Gabriel got more celebration in the end. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen! She got outsmarted by an abusive parent and didn't even get a new statue in her honor!

But the most damning thing of all this is the fact that this finale retroactively makes everything that's happened over the last five seasons completely pointless. If Gabriel making a wish wasn't as bad as it was supposed to be, why didn't Ladybug and Cat Noir let him borrow their Miraculous? Why make the stakes this high if you're going to downplay the impact of a madman recreating the world in his own image? Follow-up question: why make the stakes this high if the wish being made is ultimately shown to have huge benefits for society? In an attempt to wrap things up with a happy ending, the writers accidentally made the conflict completely meaningless.

That's why this resolution is the ultimate example of the writers refusing to allow any major changes to happen. If they're willing to treat the end of the universe as less important than Ms. Bustier becoming mayor, why should we assume they'll ever take their story seriously? For God's sake, every character you know and love is essentially dead, and we're supposed to act like that isn't a big deal? That's how you wanted to end the show originally? Then again, at least they tried to resolve something, unlike the Love Square. We still haven't gotten a reveal, and I don't think we ever will at this point. These writers will drag out the story until the show stops becoming profitable, which won't be for a long time.

And with that, I am officially done with Season 5. Honestly, after having to rewatch this season again, I'm not sure if it's even worth giving Season 6 a shot. There's nothing to look forward to, and Lila becoming the main villain isn't really appealing to me. At the very least, I have the movie review to look forward to, meaning I can watch something good for a change.

[all-things-fic]

By The Fireplace // RM

A/N: First time writing Ross, could be the last time too! It's long (7k), it's smutty and it's a day late (sorry @abiiors). This is part of Promptober '23 and I'm not sure if I've written it right as it's set in November (as you can tell it's going well lads).

***

November 23 2023.

Six hours and forty-seven minutes.

It made sense for him to fly straight into Glasgow. It shaved almost two hours off the red-eye flight in comparison to London and another twelve hours in the car to get you to your destination.

This airport and this place weren’t something foreign to him either, he found himself popping up here more often than not just to get some advice. At times he knew he could pick up the phone, but nothing beat an actual, in-person conversation with his big brother in a normal pub with a cheaply priced pint without any pretence. 

As he walked to the carousel to grab his bag, he slid the second strap of his backpack onto his arm and immediately followed it with pulling up his hood. He was knackered, body achy from the cramped flight and blinking heavy from the lack of sleep.

His glasses-covered eyes silently followed the black tracking as it moved bag after bag past him. Inside his mind, he began to ridicule himself for not just flying with hand luggage. He didn’t need the extra items, only staying here for seventy-two hours before he would be back in America. 

Utah he thinks, or was it Oregon? He made a mental note to figure it out before he left.

Subliminally, he felt himself perk up when he saw his beat up silver luggage push through the black rubber flaps at the start of the carousel. Rather than waiting for it to meet him, Ross went to meet it dragging himself to the other side of the carousel. 

Plucking up the item with ease, his gaze quickly scanned the case. He made sure to spot the battered dragonfly sticker that represented one of his favourite bands, therefore knowing he was picking up the right case. Last thing he needed was to be on the phone to Glasgow Airport sorting out their mistake (or maybe it would be his).

Wheeling the case through the airport was easy, even at this hour. Hood still up, he was able to keep himself to himself as he headed towards border control. 

The queue shuffled along quite nicely, and he couldn’t help but smile as he read your texts that had been sent throughout his flight. The last one saying, “I’m standing beside the massive Christmas tree, it has mistletoe x.”

He was dying to kiss you, mistletoe or not. He didn’t need an excuse. 

Passport scanned and stamped, he softly smiled at the lady on the desk before letting his feet take him to you. His ears perked up at the sound of the accent around him, one that always filled him with the warmest of emotions. It reminded him of the soft lilt his nephew was beginning to pick up.

Walking past W H Smith’s, he weaved around what he perceived to be a couple greeting each other and let his eyes scan over the crowd milling around him.

Christmas tree, Christmas tree, Christmas tree.

He actually spotted you first, regardless of the size of the tree that you were next to. All flannel shirt (which he was sure was his), leather leggings (which he definitely knew were yours) and black boots. Ross gently smiled to himself, taking you in. 

You hadn’t noticed him, too engrossed with turning around to look at the flight board that was placed over your left shoulder and reading whether there was any delay with his flight. Truth was the stupid board wasn’t updating so it wasn’t the latest information and you couldn’t be anymore in the dark if you tried to be.

It was almost like slow motion when you turned back around, this sea of hair moving behind you as you looked through the crowd and found him. You knew your smile was megawatt, as you ran your gaze over his entire being; biting it away when you saw the way he had embraced his miserable, emo self and pulled his black hood up. 

You couldn’t blame him. 

Part of you could already see the heavy tiredness in his body, even though he was at least two yards away from you. Guilt was the heaviest emotion in you, relief was the second. You knew it should be happiness, and god it was there as a close third, but your thoughts were so strongly filled with how much he must love you to do these kinds of things for you.

Flying red eyes. Fucking his body clock up even more to see you for three days. Only to pack his shit up and do it all over again. 

Ross closed the gap between you both easily; long and strong strides making the most of his 6’4 stature. When he was in front of you, your hands found his abdomen with ease. Arms sliding underneath his hoodie, desperate to feel as much of his warmth on you now that he was here.

Your head buried itself into his neck, and his arms immediately anchored you to him; hand sliding up to gently cup at the back of your neck. Staying in silence allowed you to really breathe him in, he even smelt tired if there was a way to describe it.

“Where’s this mistletoe then?” He queried, voice wrecked from his time in the air, his lips at your temple.  

“Any excuse,” you playfully murmured, as you nudged your head back to look up at him. 

“I think you’ll find, you text it to me,” he jested, eyebrows raised as he looked down the bridge of his nose at you. You always loved when he looked at you with such a roguish expression, dimples framing his closed lipped smile. 

People often thought of him as sensible and he was, but the times that you saw his eyes light up in this way were some of the most alive times of your life. 

“Details,” you whispered, as he pulled you up to him with a know-it-all hum and a mumbled “I’ll give you details” leaning down the rest of the way to meet you. 

You’d missed his beard, that was the first musing that came to mind. It’s juxtaposing bristle and softness, always something that distracted you in the best way. 

His lips were of course a close second, especially in that moment as they tenderly plucked at yours in a way that heavenly sighed god, I’m glad to see you. 

This contented hum left you as he pulled away gently, his lips not done as they nipped at your jaw before he buried his face into your neck now. He started to sway the two of you as you hugged, your hands sliding up his back and gripping to the worn band tee that he donned. 

“How was the flight?” you asked, voice slightly strained due to your head being tilted upwards. 

The question hung around in the air for a while, before he lifted himself and pressed his lips in sponging kisses to yours once, twice and three times once more.

“Shit,” he let the word linger at your mouth as you heavily sighed, “but ‘s fine.”

With a deep breath, Ross raised to his full height once more, chest puffed out as he stretched, before asking, “Where’s the keys?”

“I’m driving,” you replied, quickly. He eyed you, right hand rubbing at his chest. You hated driving, especially in Scotland. He knew it, you knew it. The times you’d let out the girliest of screams when picking him and Rob up from Murrayfield were far too embedded into his mind to not tease you religiously about it. 

It was almost like you could hear his thoughts, reminding him of all the moments you’d panicked when on the roads up here. 

“I’m driving, Ross,” you stressed, cutting the thoughts dead. You knew he meant well but there was no way he was going to complete the almost six hour drive that you had on your hands after being sat uncomfortably on a plane for six hours himself and most likely only running off fumes. 

His lips quirked, amused at your tone which was so heavily laced with reprimand. “Alright,” he conceded. “After you, darlin’.” 

***

He had fallen asleep to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac about an hour and thirty minutes into the drive. You had assumed it to be because you had hit the A82 which was such a large stretch of road which you had to drive along for such a long period of time that it had bored him enough to nod off.

As you had slowed in traffic, you took the time to admire him while he slept. His glasses hung at the neck of the tee, never far away so that he would be able to see almost instantly when he woke rather than panic trying to find them. 

His arms were folded across his chest; his neck awkwardly propped up by his bunched up hoodie made into some makeshift pillow and placed between him and the car door. You knew he would regret it later - his body was about to remind him that he was a thirty-four year old man who needed a proper bed to rest in - but regardless you were glad that he had given in to his need to sleep. 

A soft smile lifted at your lips as you took in his slightly rounded chin, you just knew a double chin was hidden by his impressive beard and it filled you with such affection that you wondered if you needed an intervention at this point.

Eyes back on the road, you lifted your hand to turn down the music even further, not wanting anything to disturb him during his slumber, and concentrated on the journey ahead of you. 

“What a dickhead,” you muttered after a while, pressing the break harder than you liked and watching the navy car to your right almost cut you up without a care in the world.

“He had right of way.”

Turning your face to the left, you blinked in silence over at Ross, whose face was far too amused for your likening. He did not just wake up and berate your driving. How long had he been awake? 

“Easy to say when you’ve been asleep for just over four hours,” you commented, pulling off and taking the next left onto a road you didn’t catch the name of. “Must’ve needed the beauty sleep.”

The laugh that he gave you was sudden and hearty. He wasn’t afraid to let you know he was amused by your previous comment which was heavily petulant in its delivery. 

“M’necks fuckin’ killing me,” he broke the silence. 

“Karma.”

He meowed at you then, communicating he was heavily aware of your cattiness towards him. You cut your eyes to him, infuriated by the way his gaze sparkled before he winked at you to try and soften you up. 

Next his right hand moved to brush your hair behind your shoulder. He could feel the tension sitting at the back of your neck and across your shoulders without really touching you. 

“Ross,” you mithered, “I’m trying to drive.”

“Pull in ‘ere, let me do the last bit.” 

“Sweep in and take the glory, true United fan.”

“No,” he spoke, voice level. “I can feel your apprehension, and I want you to relax. Pull in.” 

Sighing, you felt your fingers reach for the indicator before you could stop them, signaling that you were moving to the curb. His belt was off him before you had actually stopped, an annoying beeping sound filling the car to signify someone wasn’t wearing their seatbelt as it was still in operation. 

You undid your seat belt slowly, watching him wait at the front of the car as traffic moved around. When it became clear, he rounded the car to your side, opening your door for you and giving you space to get out. 

“Any CDs in the glove compartment?” He asked when you were stood in front of him. “Driver's choice.”

You rolled your eyes knowing you were about to endure some scream-o band from the early noughties with heavily distorted guitar sounds and tons of drum snare.  

“On you go, Passenger Princess. I’m not changing my mind.”

You squinted your eyes up at him, as he patted twice at your backside. 

Watching him in your car, fixing the seat for his long legs always did things to you. It felt like an age since you had last seen him drive, hands moving smoothly over the steering wheel and placing the gear stick into first to pull off.

The finesse he showed was always far more attractive than it should be and you always remembered so vividly the first time he had taken you on a drive in America in this fancy old car that just wasn’t responsive. 

You had felt on edge the entire time. Ross? He was so calm. So in control. Taking it all in his stride. Not at all bothered about driving on the opposite side of the road than when you were both home. 

It weirdly comforted you. Made you feel safe, secure. Here was a man who was exactly everything you had ever wanted. A little bit geeky, a whole lot manly. Able to act the fool when he felt it, but sweep in and put the pieces back together when needed.

Grateful is what you were.

He must’ve felt it too, because as he pulled out back onto the road and got comfortable, his left hand found its spot atop your thigh. You quickly encased it with both of yours, weaving the fingers of your right hand through his before using your left to gently stroke at the top of his hand, knuckles and forearm. 

“Woah, what’s this wanker doing ‘ere?,” he broke the silence with his high pitched and incredulous tone, followed by “ya could fucking indicate, mate!”. You watched as Ross turned the wheel with his right hand alone and looked through his mirrors, almost asking himself silently if those around him could actually drive.  

“Doesn’t he have right of way?”

“No, he fucking does not.”

The delivery of his response was so deep and astute you bit back your laugh, before lifting his hand to your lips; giving in and chuckling against his skin.

Of course, he didn’t!

(He absolutely did). 

***

The Isle of Skye was renowned for its beauty. A hidden gem of sorts within the Scottish islands. Known for its rugged landscapes, picturesque fishing villages and medieval castles, the largest island in the Inner Hebrides was to be your home for the next seventy-two hours. 

The feeling you got when you drove over to the coast via the bridge that connected it to Scotland’s northwest was like no other. You heard Ross chuckle under his breath at the way you let go of his hand and clambered for your phone so you could film the scenery around you, mountains and hills that were awash of oranges and browns, with the odd bit of greenery clinging on even though you were fully in the throes of autumn. 

Panning your camera across the car, you filmed his profile as he drove with poise along the bridge, barely any cars in front of you giving an open road feel. He looked at you from the corner of his eye when he felt you filming him, this devilish grin lifting at his mouth as you watched him through the camera lift your hand to his lips then placing it against the side of his face.

“Eyes on the road, Romeo,” you replied to his non-verbal action, stroking his cheek with your thumb, before gently turning his head away to look through the windscreen. 

The rest of the drive had been quite a damp one, the heavens opening and rain battering down onto your car. With about fifteen minutes to go, you wrapped yourself up in Ross’ hoodie, glancing over at him to see him sat further forward in his seat as he wiped at the inside of the window which was misting up.

You fiddle around with the blowers to help him, blasting them up to the highest they would go and seeing the way the hot heat helped clear the windscreen slightly. 

The sat nav told him to take the next right, the car dropping down to 15mph due to the narrow streets that he was driving around and then it was the next left to take you to the cottage that was nestled in the village of Elgol. 

The beauty of Elgol was something the two of you had discovered and became captivated by over his short and sweet summer break after attending a wedding of his brother's friend. 

During those four days, you had spent time exploring the breathtaking coastline and ventured on scenic walks through the landscapes that were so often talked about when it came to Skye. 

When you had last been there, you had been able to experience the perfect balance of seclusion and adventure, which was exactly what you and he had been after for the longest time.

“We’re going to be rained off,” he mumbled, a little agitated as he pulled the car to halt outside your cottage for the next three days. 

“You say that as if there isn’t plenty for us to do inside.”

It was meant to be suggestive and you appreciated that he had picked up on it immediately, this smug smile plucking at his lips; the kind that was absolutely driven by a dirty thought or two. 

“I know how much you love a game of chess, babe.”

He glanced over at you unamused, as you laughed in such a dirty way, you were almost shocked a sound like that could leave you.

“Just love it, me.” 

His deadpan was second to none. It was definitely one of your favourite things about him: made the list of the top five favourite things ever. 

“Getting really good at it.”

“And who’s told you that?” He dropped his head back against the headrest and rolled his face to the side to look at you. He was currently on a losing streak, truth be told. 

“Hey, Waughy and I talk. Usually when I’m waiting for you to reply to my text but you’re too hungover to pick your head up off the pillow.”

“Oh, I see how it is, fraternising with the enemy. Giving him all my tricks.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose. “Not all of them.”

Those words were weighty. 

There were some things John didn’t need to know about his friends. Things that were for only you and Ross. 

A silence fell over you both, filling the car. You kept your eyes on each other, Ross’ occasionally falling over your features and dropping to your lips. He’d stare at them for a while, before they’d lift and he’d start the process all over again. 

He did this a lot when he was away, sometimes in person like now after he had dared to take the flight, or other times through the phone when FaceTiming from California, or New York, or Perth. It was like he needed to memorise you in some way, just in case you changed by the time he got home.

You took him in too, his usual hair less sleek as flyaways made their presence known thanks to the damp moisture in the air. His skin wasn’t as perky as usual, a little sallow in colour but regardless he was still the most handsome man you knew. 

Under his loving gaze, you shivered. It was probably more from the cold than anything, but that didn’t stop the light blush invading.

“Best get you inside and warm,” he spoke. “Gonna have to make a run for it.”

You giggled to yourself as you opened your door, breath catching in your throat when the cold splashes of rain hit you. You turned briefly to see Ross using his long stride to his advantage, jogging to the blue front door of your cottage and moving from side to side to keep himself from going numb as the November cold whipped around him.

Car door slammed behind you, you held your bag in your hand and ran to stand next to him, both trying to cram yourself into the alcove under the thatched room.

Your hands shook as you fiddled with the keys. Trying your best to align it with the lock. He watched from the side of you as you shivered on the front door step, all-natural radiance and slightly sodden, swaying from side to side as you tried to keep warm. 

“Come ‘ere,” his deep voice chuckled, unable to watch you struggle any longer, gently taking the keys from you and pushing them into the lock. “How are you so fuckin’ freezing and you’ve even nicked my jumper?”

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to push the door open the minute he’d unlocked it and prayed that the owners had left some kindle for the open fire so that Ross would be able to sort it immediately.

***

One warm shower later, you stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, eyes moving over the scene in front of you. Hair thrown up in a messy bun atop your head, the tartan pyjamas you had purposely packed were loose against your frame.

Ross has disappeared into the bathroom about thirty minutes ago now to wash away the travel, his rendition of And She Was muffled but still present over the sound of the shower.

You’d spent that time going through the welcome pack that was filled with freshly baked bread courtesy of the owners, a burgundy white wine which boasted buttery tastes of peaches and citrus zest, and of course a bag of coffee that sounded completely to Ross’ fancy. 

With the bottle uncorked, you poured yourself a glass, quickly placing it into the fridge to keep it chilled. Regardless of it edging closer to winter by the day, there was nothing worse than room temperature wine.

Shoulder pressed to the door jamb, you sipped at the alcohol and rested the cool glass against your lips. 

The Nest as it was known, was definitely romantic. All thatched roof and spectacular panoramic views which overlooked Knock Castle and across the Sound of Sleat to the Knoydsrt mountains. 

Inside it was all vintage French fabrics and fine linen. With its sheepskin rugs and real wood fire stove, the cottage was described as the “perfect getaway for couples looking to explore and return to comfort after a day walking in the hills and mountains”.

While your exploring had only consisted of you carrying your items from the car and into the cottage, you were definitely ready to get cosy next to the fire and relax in the lived-in space.

“Forgot my clothes,” he spoke in a hushed tone not wanting to break the serene silence when he spotted you across the room. His voice slowly tapered off as he took in the particular tartan pattern that you were donning, recognising it to be that of his own family name. 

The smirk that lifted at his lips, and the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled deeply let you know he had caught on. As tribal as it was, you didn’t mind the way his eyes ravaged you. 

Your eyes ran over him without shame in return, his hair wet and sitting against his shoulders, lines of water dripping down his hairy chest and over the tops of his broad shoulders. The delicate chain that he always wore was decorative against his neck. 

His right hand held a white towel securely at his hips, clenching at the fabric as he glistened and walked closer to you. 

“Any of that going spare?” He nudged his head towards the wine, causing you to peel your eyes away from him and down to your own glass. When you looked back at him, he was so close to you you had to tilt your head back slightly. 

“Depends,” you started, watching his eyebrow quirk up at you with intrigue. “Are you planning on sitting around in that towel, or covering yourself up?”

The crackle of the fire cut through the room and your question.

“How’d you want me?”

***

Ross opted for clothes, which meant he had to pour his own glass of wine when he came back from getting dressed. Rather than giving him a verbalised answer earlier, you’d flirtatiously tugged at his right wrist trying to get him to drop the towel. 

“Towel stays on babe,” he had whispered against your lips, wet hair moving to almost curtain around you. “This cold won’t do anything for my ego.”

You rolled your eyes at him bringing up “winter penis”, which if you recalled correctly had been a topic of conversation a few nights ago when he had called you from Toronto. A conversation that had started with the guys, and one he thought fitting to continue with you. 

It wasn’t, but you’d rolled with it. Mainly because at the time of the call you could hear the stage whisky fuelled slur and wanted to humour him. 

You had fawned over him in that moment, openly discussing the size of his dick and before you knew it you were engaged in particularly erotic dirty talk while you sat and ate your Weetabix. Time zones were fucking bizarre, but you did what you had to to survive tour. That’s just how it was. 

“You know the other morning when you phoned me and started talking about your dick,” he hummed, wanting you to continue. “I was eating breakfast-“

“Was it any good for you?”

“The Weetabix? Ten out of ten.”

He laughed, his head falling back against the cushions as he sat on the floor with his back resting against the bottom of the sofa. 

“Cheers,” he bit back in good humour, looking at you upside down. 

You let your fingers run gently across his brow, thumb stroking at his forehead as you softly smiled. “You know how I feel about your dick,” you whispered.

“Do I?”

You hummed your response of “yes”, voice light and airy.

“Why are we whispering?” He asked. You shrugged. “They deliver cocktails to this cottage, did ya know that?”

You hummed again, watching him flip through the menu he was holding. His fingers tapping at one of the cocktail names, “Reckon I’d like this one.”

Leaning down and looking over his shoulder you read the title. 

Highland Fling. How predictable.

You chose to stay silent as you read the few lines explaining it underneath its bolded title. 

The Highland Fling cocktail is a bold, robust and a slightly sweet drink with a flavour of citrus. The smoky and rich flavours of the Scotch whisky are balanced by the sweetness of Drambuie and tart lemon juice. Mixed together they create a complex and satisfying taste experience. 

The cocktail is a popular choice among whisky enthusiasts and those who appreciate the rich history of Scottish culture. 

“Technically we’re not in the Highlands,” you paused, glancing over at him and seeing his rich eyes were already on you. “For someone who likes to think they’re Scottish, you’ve fucked it there.”

He raised his eyebrows. Touché.

“Spoilsport.”

You leant forward to soothe him with a peck to the lips, whispering against his mouth, “Get four of ‘em.”

***

Before you knew it you were both a few cocktails deep, glasses lined up either side of you on the floor where you sat. 

As he looked over at you, he knew you were at the very least buzzed by the soft flush that littered your cheekbones. He had zoned out at whatever it was you were talking about, too engrossed by the way you shone as you talked to him. 

He knew he was fucked, in more ways than one. Hopefully literally, at least later on, but that thought could wait for another hour or two. Loving someone and being in love were different things, and in that moment he knew he was in love with you. He knew a lot of things actually; like he knew he needed to ask you to marry him before the tour was out. 

He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when but he knew he had to make it happen. 

Maybe he could find some time in the new year, whisk you away somewhere warm to fight away the January blues. At least that’s what he would tell you. 

With your feet in his lap, you leant back on your right hand as you sat on the floor, left holding your fifth cocktail to your lips. It was something pink and fruity - watermelon or strawberry based, he couldn’t quite remember - but the way it was staining your lips was all too satisfying.

“I actually think he has a soft spot for me now,” you spoke softly, humming and closing your eyes as you felt his hands move to massage your feet. 

“Who?”

You spoke the name of his eldest nephew, seeing the way his eyes smiled at the mention of his brother’s son, when yours fluttered open and looked back at him. 

“He’s always liked you,” he reassured, hand rubbing gently along your calf. He liked you talking about his family so breezily, even if you were showing a need to be liked by his three year old nephew in this scenario. 

You shook your head, biting down at your lip. “No one compares to Uncle Ross.”

“Uncle Ross, is really fucking cool that’s why.”

He widened his eyes to emphasise what he was saying, wondering how he wasn’t cringing at describing himself as cool. 

“Pretty fit too.”

He looked at you over the rim of his glass as he stalled his movement to drink; holding your eyes with his he let his lips encase the rim of the glass. They were dark and smouldering, never leaving your face. There was no chance he didn't know what he was doing; he didn’t need to verbalise how much he wanted you at that moment. 

“How fit we talking?”

You breathed deeply, a blissful sigh leaving you on exertion. “So fit.”

He laughed down his nose, the additional sip of his cocktail he had taken now swallowed. 

“Really eloquent.”

“I know,” you played along, voice breathy. “The most eloquent, but tell me I’m wrong.”

In goading fashion you pressed your foot gently into his stomach, feeling his hand clasp around the top from your action.

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

Ross pulled at your leg then, hand curling under your knee, needing you closer. Your joyful squeal turned into a throaty laugh as you threw your head back and somehow found yourself in his lap. 

He was back against the sofa then, hands sliding up the back of your pyjamas and gripping gently to the nape of your neck. He guided your face down and towards him. His mouth smiled against yours, the two of you too happy to engage in a proper kiss.

Giving up, he slid his lips across your cheek and underneath your chin as you tilted your head back and breathed his name. He gently nipped at your throat, tongue licking and tasting your skin which was slightly salty due to the heat within the room from the roaring fire.

Your fingers were woven into the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing upwards underneath where his hair tie sat, to try and loosen his bun. His hair was still damp from where it had been tied up after his shower hours earlier, and the cool strands felt delightful to your fingertips.

“I fucking love you in this,” he confessed, face buried in your chest as he finally acknowledged you wearing his family tartan. His right hand had a strong hold on your back, hand splayed between your shoulder blades as you leaned back.

His left was fumbling with the buttons of your pyjama top, desperate to rid you of the clothing item. Your mind was telling you to help, but you were too engrossed by the feeling of his lips suckling at your sternum. 

“Babe,” you gasped, when you felt him nudge the fabric away with his nose, mouth wet along the top of your boob before he enclosed his lips around your exposed nipple. A satisfied moan left you, as you stroked down the back of his neck and lightly grazed your nails over his skin. 

His fingers were firm, deftly plucking at the remaining buttons of your top like the strings of a bass as he grew confident. Top now sat open, his hands were quick to encourage you to move yours from around his neck, so he could slide the sleeves off. 

Ross was so immersed in you, the smell of your skin and the way your breath got caught in your throat as he lapped at your nipple.

“Your tits are incredible.”

The comment was boyish and almost lost against your skin. It made you smile, teeth biting down at your bottom lip as he switched boobs.

“I missed you too,” you replied, humour lacing your words. 

From your response you felt him lightly trace his nose against your breastbone, he tilted his face back to look up at you, his chin resting at your chest. Your hands moved to gently cup at his face, Ross turning slightly to press his lips to the inside of your palm.

His eyes were imploring as they looked up at you, silently watching you slide your top off completely and aimlessly throw it away before welcoming you back to him by sliding his hands up your bare back and applying a small amount of pressure to your shoulder blades to pull you down to him.

He had missed you. He didn’t need to voice it literally at that moment. It was in his gaze, his touch, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you. 

You cupped his cheeks, the sound of both your inhales mixing just before your lips met and his face became blurred to you. He started off delicately, almost allowing you to process the feeling of his beard beneath your right hand, and his lips against yours. It wasn’t long until a fervent, urgent need overtook, building from this graduation of intensity that had you clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in your ever-changing world. 

Ross’ mouth was insistent as he parted your lips and it evoked a sensuality within you that you had missed the minute he had parted from you all those months prior. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, causing a swimming giddiness to overflow your being. 

You smiled at the smacking sound of your lips audible, like two teenagers necking on. Faltering lips and a low and muffled moan omitting against your mouth from him as you curled your fingers in his hair and lightly pulled. 

Fighting a losing battle, Ross’ lips moved messily down your chin and to your neck. He paused momentarily, holding you against his body before moving to lay you back against the sheepskin rug. It felt sleek and inviting against your skin and you looked down your body at him waiting on his next move.

“Thought about you fucking me on this carpet when I booked this place,” you softly voiced like it was some lewd confession and not one you were sharing with your long term boyfriend. 

This wicked glint flickered across his gaze and the smuggest grin you had sworn he had ever worn lifted at his lips; slowly he sat back on his haunches and started to unbutton his top. His eyes were everywhere; at your bare chest, on the sea of hair that haloed above you. 

“Did ya?” 

Looking down at him, you nodded happily wearing your soft blush and lifted your hand to try and reach for the bottom of his shirt to help him remove it quicker. 

“Lured me here under the pretense of wanting a nice little getaway,” he teased. “Really just wanted to have your way with me.”

His eyes took in the way you looked at him, all doe-eyed and biting gently down on your bottom lip. You weren’t going to deny it; why would you? 

You instead reached for his hand. The heat and wetness between your legs felt all too inviting, desperate for his touch. He palmed you over the top of your underwear so easily, dexterous digits swiping at your clit in the right way. 

“Don’t start without me,” he paused, as your eyes started to close from the feel of his fingers. His lips pressed to your warm cheek when he continued, “Let me go get some condoms.”

As he rose to his feet, he quickly stripped his lower half leaving him naked, unphased and all bare bottom as he walked away. It wasn’t lost on you the use of the plural. 

Starting without him was exactly what you needed, fingers caving and picking up where he left off: gently rubbing at yourself and spreading your wetness over your clit. 

“Hands,” his chided when back in the lounge, hearing a soft whine escape you and seeing your hands move to easily rid you of your pyjama trousers. When you returned to your place on the floor, you watched the strip of condoms bounce to the carpet next to you, from his relaxed throw. 

“Someone’s confident,” you casually commented, gazing up at him through hooded eyes and taking in the open wrapper that was placed between his teeth. He smirked around it, head dropped and looking down at his hands as they adeptly rolled the latex over his erection. 

Joining you back on the floor, Ross leant over and pressed a kiss to the inside of your left knee, his eyes finding yours from under his brow. He mumbled, “Some would say prepared…”

He stalled his words, lips now at your right knee. “…. Safe.”

“Sexy.”

“How’d you want me?” He queried in return, feeling your hands pulling at him. 

“You decide. Just want you.”

He moved so effortlessly between your legs, them pliant in his hands and accommodating. His weight above you was always welcomed, comfortingly looming and imperturbably virile. 

“Put me in,” he spoke, voice low and caught in his throat as slipped his tip between your folds. You whined around your bitten lips, reaching up to pull him down closer from where he was hovering over you. 

His lips were heavy on yours once more, all tongue  and hungry. He groaned against your mouth as you stroked him over the condom that he wore, hands sliding down your waist and angling your hips. 

“S’yours, you know.”

You slowly smiled at his slurred and barely audible words, mouth dropping open and head falling further into the carpet as he slid into you with no resistance, bottoming out in one long, smooth stroke and the manliest “fuck me”. 

Humming deeply, Ross bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires. 

“More,” you craved to feel the power you knew he held. 

He listened, thrusts more measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what you wanted and needed. Undulating and determined. 

He jutted his hips forward, knocking your body with more force as you lay relaxed below him, arms above your head and boobs bouncing with each swift jolt of his thrusts as he fucked into you.

“Yes, fuck me,” you breathily moaned, head pushed back further into the floor beneath you, hands moving to the rug upon which your lay, fingers grasping at the soft material. 

To think that all those hours earlier, you thought that neither of you were going to get warm. Now you almost choked around the thick air that consumed you within the room and from the roaring fire. 

Ross’ thrusts kept their measured in pace, more forceful than before and you couldn’t help the blissful sighs and heavenly cries that left you lips as he devoured your sweaty skin, licking and sucking at the curve between where your shoulder and neck met. 

The feeling of his touch let you know how sure of himself he was. You couldn’t disagree as your body welcomed him, receptive and pliant and willing. 

He frowned along with you when he felt you begin to go taught. When you breathily gasped his name, he scooped you into him and held you against him.

Your orgasm had crept up on you, causing you to cup the back of his neck and bring his face back to yours. He was muttering words of approval into your skin, something that you couldn’t decipher that had you opening your legs wider for him. 

He knew you liked it when you couldn’t quite figure out what filthy things he was saying to try and get you there. It summed up the mystique that peppered throughout your relationship. 

As you shook, he sloppily fucked you through your release, hand tilting your hips up as you become slack.

“God, I love you,” you desperately gasped when you came to, face flushed and feeling clammy from the mixture of the heat from the naked flame to your right and pure exertion.

“‘Think you love fuckin’ me,” he roughly spoke, his right hand seeking yours and lacing your fingers together against the rug. You looked at him with desperate eyes, a shake of your head to his words. “No?” He sniggered down his nose, his own skin taking on a pink flush.

His other hand wound underneath your lower back, as you arched slightly, liking the way he wanted to drag it out; to roll his heavy hips into yours this entire time and making it so your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone on every thrust. 

He watched your eyes roll back and your chin lifted upwards, him finding your spot once more causing you to clench around him. Ross groaned your name, begging you to look at him. Your hazy eyes found his shortly after he aired his request, hips snapping forward when you silently begged him with fucked out eyes to fill you up.

“Fuck, ‘m comin’.”

The sound of his voice was watery; choked as he groaned causing you to blissfully sigh when you felt him drop down to you, your arms enveloping his body and holding it to yours.

You ran your fingertips lightly down his back, listening to his breathing even itself out, you pressed a fluttering kiss to his temple and purred, “Welcome home, baby.”

[esamastation]

Part thirty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty

-

They've landed in Wutai after a frankly miserable plane ride in a windowless, seat-less troop carrier - which, why even call it a troop carrier when it's clearly not designed to be carrying people? The thing is filled with boxes and stuff, there was barely enough room to move!

Guess that's what happens with last minute takeoffs - you get what you get.

The first few minutes onboard were fine and kinda novel - being on a plane at all was kind of a mind trip, because, heh, plane, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, eat your heart out! But then it became just hours upon hours of boredom in a rattling tube of metal. Sword flying is clearly a superior mode of transport.

"We will have your things delivered to wherever you're going to be staying," Reno says, waving them off the plane, hiis attention fixed on one of the bigger boxes. "Rude, come give me a hand with this…"

"We should -" Rude starts to say, looking at the SOLDIERs.

"Yeah, yeah, now come give me a hand with this."

Angeal gives them an awkward, slightly relieved smile and then claps Sephiroth on the shoulder. "We better get out of the way," he says, and together they exit the plane.

Sephiroth had been bracing himself for a warfront, Angeal had even told him what to expect, but he… didn't actually know what that entailed.

Shinra troops had taken over a small town at the foot of Tamblin Mountain sometime in the past and are now using it as their forward base. That's where they land - in a dirt runway cut into the forest, just by the town. And it's…

It reminds him of old movies, the mixture of vaguely mixed Asian style buildings, with these modern canvas tents pitched in between them and on the roads. There are trucks that totally aren't jeeps that have worn grooves into soft  streets, unprepared for such traffic, making everything messy and muddy. They've erected fences all over the place, sectioning parts off, and there are  floodlights everywhere. There's also  robots patrolling the place. 

In the distance, on the rolling hills somewhere to the west, there are rice paddies and behind them mountains. All around them there's a lush wall of green that looks almost like a rainforest. It actually might be rainforest! It would fit the allegory!

The mental, ethnic vertigo is so strong for a moment that Sephiroth doesn't know which way to turn to look. He doesn't know what to think. Mostly he just feels kinda… unnerved.

Angeal returns to his side before he even realises he'd gone somewhere. "I talked to the Colonel. Come on," Angeal says, clapping him on the shoulder. "They've set up a place for us. We'll… debrief there."

"... Hn," Sephiroth answers, and follows him.

There's a lot of Shinra troops milling about, infantry mostly, but some SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds too. They all stop to stare. Some of them look excited, but most just look tired and dirty and worn.

Sephiroth wonders if the Colonel is in charge of them. Actually, it might be that they're now in charge of everyone here! They're SOLDIERs First Class. Isn't that the highest rank? He can't remember if Sephiroth being a General was fanon or canon, but hasn't he been involved with the war since the beginning?

Would he have to give orders now, orders to march, to fight… to kill?

Angeal shows him to a house that was clearly someone's home before Shinra took the place over. It's a single room with tatami floors and rice paper walls, and the military bunks clash with the aesthetic horribly. Their pillows are clearly seat cushions.

There's a fancy looking kimono stand that's being used to hang bags and ammo satchels.

"What happened to the people who lived here?" Sephiroth can't help but ask, staring at the stand and wondering where the kimono had gone.

"They abandoned the town ahead of the troops," Angeal says.

Sephiroth looks at him and then at the room. Did they really, or is that a nicer thought than they were all executed? "... Right," he says and picks up the seat cushions from the bunk, piling them up in the corner - wondering if there was a table here, and what happened to it.

"Are you alright?" Angeal asks.

Probably not! "What's our mission here?" Sephiroth asks, picking up bags and satchels from the stand and carrying them outside.

"... We have a day to acclimate. After that, there's a number of things that need to be accomplished," Angeal says, subdued, and takes out his phone. "We can start slow - there's no major engagements being planned just now, no one will mind."

"Mn, and what does starting slow mean?" Sephiroth asks, as he picks up stuff around the hut and gets rid of it.

"Well, there's a number of monster extermination requests around here - Wutai wildlife is high-level, and it's rumoured that they're being intentionally bred by Wutai people. They've been attacking patrols."

Sephiroth gets rid of most of the random crap in the hut and then considers the bunk beds. They're ugly and probably unpleasant, but… they have to sleep somewhere. 

It takes just one swing of Masamune to improve the situation immensely.

"Um," Angeal says as Sephiroth finishes separating the beds and moves one of them to the other side of the hut. "... Why?"

"I am not sleeping in a bunk bed," Sephiroth says simply and looks around. "... Do you think they have folding screens around here?"

 Angeal arches his brows. "I don't know for sure. I suppose we could ask around? I think there's a storage house where they've put the collected, um," he clears his throat. "Things that will be sent to Midgar eventually. Maybe we can requisition some of it."

Things to be sent to Midgar…  that's nice. That's a nice way to say the spoils of war, huh. 

Sephiroth looks away. It's the way of war, he knows that, nothing unusual about it. It happened in PIDW too - cut out all the smut and stupidity, and all Binghe did was plunder and loot and pillage. When he wasn't being handed tributes, anyway. It's just par for the course! Right? Right…

"You…" Angeal starts and then sighs and puts the phone away. "How about I'll go get a screen for you, if there's any available. Do you want anything else?" He sounds very indulgent and understanding.

"Two screens. And a table," Sephiroth says without facing him, feeling like a sullen little kid being placated. "... Thank you. Can you ask someone to get rid of the - stuff outside?"

"I'll take care of it," Angeal promises. "You just… take a moment to make yourself comfortable, okay? There's no rush."

Aka, pull yourself together, man, you're looking really pitiful right now. Thanks, Angeal-bro.

Sephiroth's waits until Angeal is gone before sinking down to sit on one of the beds, putting his head in his hands.

Though they'd not seen much from the plane, what with it not having windows and all, he can see it in his mind's eye now. Burned villages smoking in the jungle, scorched fields, muddy paddies ruined. He'd never cared much for any kind of war stuff, but he'd seen his share of first person shooters and letsplays.

It all feels very real all of a sudden.

And he's supposed to be the Big Bad here! The Demon of Wutai! Who knows how many people he's already killed in this war! And sure, it is a war, and that's what happens, and yeah, he has killed before as Shen Qingqiu, but -!

Going to war on behalf of the America-allegory of the situation? The invader, the hostile occupier, the - the evil planet-sucking dystopian megacorporation?!

Dragging his hands down his face, Sephiroth sighs and looks up.

There are calligraphy scrolls hung up on each side of the door. One reads Integrity and the other Honour. Sephiroth stares at them miserably for a long moment.

Yeah.

He's so going to end up defecting here, isn't he? Four days, four days in this world, and he's doing to fuck up the whole plot, right here and now. It must be some kind of record! But where the fuck will be even defect to? The Demon of Wutai, hello?! The locals probably want his head on a spike!

"I am so fucked," he mutters wretchedly and hangs his head.

[stirthewaters]

A little drabble for my lovelies while I’m writing. This has been stuck in my drafts for like a year and a half and I lost motivation so go nuts. This could possibly be a TSTT au?

Sleep

Word count: maybe 500 idk

Warnings: uhhh sickies

Pairing: Wednesday x Reader

You're sick. Not just your average run-of-the-mill, common cold sick either. You're sick. You have a high fever, and the worst chills you've ever experienced in your life. Luckily for you, you have someone to take care of you. And it's the person everyone would least expect.

Wednesday Addams; your girlfriend, had 'begrudgingly' agreed to take care of you, but you knew otherwise. You could tell from the way that she would sit by your bedside for hours at night, watching you to make sure you actually slept, that she did in fact care, despite her claims. Her twist on this was this; you were her partner. She needed you to get better simply because not only did Enid miss your sickening presence in their shared dorm, but you were missing classes, as well as having the worst self-care she'd ever seen. Wednesday repeatedly told herself this; not that it was because just the sight of you sitting in bed looking pale and helpless made her dark heart twist. Sure, she was your girlfriend, but the need to take care of you and make you better makes her miserable. So it wasn't too bad.

Most of the time she didn't need to be there; you took your pills when needed, drank plenty of water, and got rest. You should've been fine. What she didn't expect was for your fever to somehow get worse.

The fact that you had a lack of self-care already made her want to snap at you, to make you admit to yourself that you needed to get better. That you needed to take some responsibility. That you mattered.

But for the most part, she just told you to take your pills, rest, and eat the soup that she would bring occasionally. It wasn't too bad, since most of the time you were reasonable and compliant.

But tonight, Wednesday simply could not tolerate you.

You woke from fever, grimacing and head swimming; deliria was the most common symptom these nights. You take a minute to drink in your surroundings. You had been moved to Wednesday's dorm a couple of nights ago; she had claimed that it was because you couldn't be trusted alone, but you knew otherwise.

Your vision was screwed up too; all peripheral vision was out the window, and dots flashed in your vision every time you moved.

Had you been thinking normally, you would've gone back to sleep.

But with a 103 degree fever, and delirium sinking faster than the Titanic, you only have one thought. One need. Water. You turn to the nightstand, but only a small bottle of Tylenol sits there. And no water? Grimacing with frustration and pain, you slowly peel back the hot covers, letting out a faint sigh of relief at the coolness that encompassed your flushed skin. You were wearing...Wednesday's pajamas? The material was surprisingly soft, and black. Typical. You looked around for Wednesday, assuming she'd be in the room, but she was nowhere to be found. Enid isn't present either. Odd.

You slowly push your way out of the bed, body shaking from being too hot and cold all at once. Your nerves feel alive. Tumbling as soon as your legs try to hold your weight, you let out a startled and hoarse cry, cursing softly as you find yourself face down on the floorboards.

You push yourself upwards, groaning with pain and dizziness to find yourself face to face with Wednesday, looking at you with her typical deadpan that is laced slightly with annoyance. "In bed. Now." Normally you'd oblige to this request; you've known not to get on Wednesday's bad side. But the delirium is refusing to allow you to see common knowledge, and you sit there on the dorm floor, frowning slightly as if trying to remember who she is. "What?"

Sighing with frustration, Wednesday grabs your wrist, hauling you onto your feet. Shaking, you find yourself leaning on her so much that she almost stumbles, but she regains her footing quickly and pinches her eyebrows together. "Y/N." Turning your head to look at her, you shake your head slightly, pulling away from her, though her grip is too tight. Not painful, just tight. As if to ground you. "I have to...I need the um..." You're stammering now; you needed something. What was it again? That's why you had woken up, wasn't it? Looking mildly upset, you try to pull back again, but she simply sighs, as if this has happened before (which it most certainly has), and pushes you gently back onto her bed, though there is a bit of annoyance to the action. "Go back to sleep, now.”

You let out a delirious groan, not budging as you once more tried to leave the bed, only to be met with yet another refusal.

“Your fever is what’s affecting your common sense right now, you need to rest.” Wednesdays voice was tinged with irritation now as she placed a cold hand on your chest, making you flinch as she pushed you down into the covers. “I shall have no other choice than to watch you like a petulant child if you cannot refrain from disobedience.”

Your eyes were glazed, she could tell that there was simply nothing going on behind them. She couldn’t blame you; you were making it hard for yourself to heal and that was the issue at hand.

The Addams took a seat on her chair, watching you lay limply in her bed. If any good came out of this it would be the opportunity to scold you, which you absolutely deserved.

Her eyes never left you the whole night.

(Requests are open now, go shoot me some requests and I’ll crank them out. ✊)

[too-antigonish]

Some Endeavour BTS Trivia for HNW

But first, a sleepy, just-waking-up Morse...

OK, now here's the trivia part:

Note the little white puff of vapor in the circle there.

According to one of the D.M. Barcroft interviews, the conditions for shooting this were rather brutally cold:

"The factory floor is where Endeavour’s flat and the Thursdays’ dulce domum resided.   The mill itself was a Health & Safety Officer’s nightmare – and bitterly, but BITTERLY cold.   Despite the heat from the lighting rig, Ice cubes were the order of the day.  Sucked on by the actors before a scene, lest their breath steam in the chill air and give the game away." --D.M. Barcroft S3 Interview

Imagine being freezing, only half-dressed, and then having to suck on ice cubes so that the vapor from your warm breath wouldn't show that the air around you was literally freezing! It sounds utterly miserable!

Obviously, Evans did not suck on his ice cube sufficiently prior to shooting this scene.

[lovelytsunoda]

a thousand miles // mick schumacher

summary: searching for life after f1, the race of champions may just have the answer mick needs, in the form of a shy former w series driver who is just as lost as he is

pairing: mick schumacher x female driver!reader

warnings: mentions of guenther steiner/haas, karaoke, matchmaker val returns! corinna the icon is also trying to get her son to go on a date, one small joke about crashing a rally car.

author's note: @magnummagnussen told me this was a terrible idea. i beg to differ : )

the swedish sunlight bounced off the snowdrifts outside of the ski lodge, illuminating the inside of the dining hall where the drivers milled about and socialized, bright smiles on their faces.

mick saw her first.

he was locked in conversation with seb, his eyes catching her just out of the corner of his line of sight, hair braided messily over one shoulder, wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie for a band he's never heard of, a pom pom hat with the race of champions logo on it as she nervously clutched a breakfast tray and tried to figure out where to sit.

normally, she would have sat with jamie chadwick, but the brit had decided to go for an early run, and had left the other former w series driver alone.

it was valtteri who noticed the young german driver's wandering eyes first. with a smile and a sip of his espresso, he waved the young woman over, enjoying the look of panic on mick's face.

"valtteri!" mick hissed. "why would you do that!?"

"because you've been miserable since abu dhabi and you need to let loose a little bit."

mick couldn't exactly protest. since learning that he had been dropped from the haas formula one team just hours before the qualifying session for the last race of the season was due to start, there had been a hole in his heart, something that he couldn't patch up.

but he knew that a short lived roc fling was the last thing that would help him out.

"hi." she said sofltly her voice like music to mick's ears. "can i sit with you guys? jamie kind of left me high and dry this morning."

sebastian smiled, ever the gentleman as he motioned towards the free seat next to him.

the free seat that also happened to be next to a certain young schumacher.

"i'm y/n y/l/n, i used to drive in the w series for quantfury. i'm felipe's teammate for all star team this weekend." she introduced herself as she picked at the paper wrapper on her double chocolate muffin, an untouched mug of hot chocolate and whipped cream on the other end of the tray.

"mick schumacher, fellow racing reject." mick joked nervously, reaching out to shake the young woman's hand. "formerly of the haas formula one team and the ferrari driver's academy. now proudly driving reserve for mercedes."

"i'm technically a part of the alpine young driver's programme, but it's not like they've done any work at getting me closer to driving an f1 car. not that i blame them, all of otmar and laurent's efforts were on the piastri thing this season."

"technicalities only matter in this sport when the fia get what they want." seb hummed. "i'm-"

"sebastian vettel, racing legend!" y/n gushed. "i'm like, a huge fan. i grew up watching you on the telly, i had a poster of you at red bull hanging up in my room. this is so fucking surreal, dude. heck, i walked past mika hakkinen earlier and thought i was going to cry."

the rest of the table laughed. "mick was like that when he was here last year." seb said fondly. "i think everybody is like that when they come here for the first time."

"mika fucking hakkinen, man."

seb and val shared a look before looking back over at mick.

they knew.

the boy was smitten already.

--------

the press conference took place at exactly noon, and as was typical of the roc, most of the scheduled drivers were late.

it's not that y/n was late on purpose. but she was horrifically lost inside the chalet and had been turned around four or five different time trying to find her way to the conference room, overheating in her race suit in the warm chalet.

the directions were loaded on her phone, but she still felt like it was a lost cause as she rolled up the sleeves of deep blue nomex material, leaning her head against the wall to take a few deep breaths.

everything was fine. everything was okay. she was safe.

she heard voices coming from her left, and her heart skipped a beat.

the press conference. she had found it.

she rushed inside, trying to duck out of view of the cameras as she scurried to the table at the front of the room. catching her eye from the distance, mick waved at her, a small smile on her face that was enough to put a matching smile on her own as she took a seat in between the german and her teammate, felipe drugovich.

"where have you been?" felipe asked quietly.

she shook her head, unwilling to admit that she had gotten lost. "don't worry about it."

"so nice of you to join us, miss y/l/n." one of the reporters said, the young driver snapping to attention and reaching for the desktop microphone, fumbling with it and trying not to knock it over. "with the w series seemingly ended permanently, what's next for you after this weekend?"

"i'm still trying to make my 2023 plans." she said softly, the microphone barely catching her soft voice. she had always hated media commitments. "obviously an f3 place is out of the question right now, and it's pretty obvious that i'm too old for all that now, so i've been looking into these one-off racing opportunities and tests so that i can find out what i want to do in 2024."

she felt her throat get tighter, the sweat forming on the back of her neck as she nervously reached one black polished fingernail to brush an errant strand of hair from her bun to the space behind her ear.

"hey." mick said softly, nudging her in the side. "you're doing great."

she took a deep breath before flashing mick a smile as she continued talking.

"i've got a few races lined up with the nascar xfinity series down in the united states, and i'm really looking forward to it. racing in america has a completely different vibe to it, you know?"

--------

the next time mick saw y/n, he was with his mother, testing out the rally car during the free practice session.

she was impossible to miss, her screams of delight carrying over the wind and followed up by laughter as the car caught air going over a hill.

it was enough to make the boy freeze behind the wheel, corinna giving him a knowing look.

"what's her name, mickie?" corinna said with a smile, pulling out her phone, no doubt to see who her son was so infatuated with.

"y/n y/l/n." mick said softly. "but i dont know her that well, mom."

"oh, she's pretty!" corinna beamed, pulling up the driver's instagram profile. "look, she's a perfect fit for you, she's quiet and she's shy and she doesn't go to parties!"

"mom, i swear to god i will crash this car and make you walk back to the chalet yourself!"

mick rolled his eyes, turning his head back to the windshield as he took a sharp corner around the track. it's not that he hadn't thought about y/n since the presser. he thought she was sweet, and he would deny it if asked, but he looked forward to seeing her and knew that when life went back to normal after roc, that he would miss her.

"you don't have anything to lose, mick. what's the harm in even just going for a coffee with her or something? i'm not telling you to marry the girl, but at least give romance a chance."

the german would think about his mother's words all day: through his time in the sauna, to the ice bath and then again at dinner. the thoughts would eventually keep him awake at night, unable to fall asleep while wrapped in the hotels luxury down bedding.

he found himself wandering the chalet at odd hours of the night, lost in his own thoughts as he meandered towards the coffee machine in the lobby. if he was going to stay awake, he might as well stay warm as well.

the chalet doors slid open, and mick's breath caught in his throat as he watched her stride into the lobby, wearing a different beanie hat but the same one ok rock hoodie she had been wearing when he eyed her for the first time, a puffy tan jacket pulled over the entire ensemble and a plastic bag for a swedish supermarket hanging from her arm.

"mick!" she shouted, face bright as she crossed the lobby. "couldn't sleep?"

the boy shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his palms were sweaty and his heart was racing and was she always this pretty? was that mole on her upper lip always there?

"come on, let me introduce you to my favorite pre-race ritual." she beamed, pulling a bag of edible pilsbury cookie dough from the bag, along with two metal spoons clearly stolen from the breakfast buffet.

mick couldn't help but laugh. "how has your performance coach not killed you yet?"

"what she doesn't know won't kill her. who is she to rob me of life's greatest pleasures?"

pinching himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming, mick followed the driver back to her hotel room. her energy was magnetic, and mick couldn't help but be drawn in.

they settled on the plush bed, shrouded in blankets as she overturned the shopping bag, allowing it's contents to fall to the blanket.

"so, this is what i watch when it's been a long day, or if i don't have the mental energy to focus on anything else." she said with a cheeky smile as she popped open her laptop. "when i was in the w series, it was juju noda who got me hooked on the really cheesy j-dramas. i already watched the darker asian dramas, like the psychological thrillers and everything, but it was juju who got me hooked on the romance ones when we watched coffee and vanilla."

she clicked onto disney plus, waiting for it to lead as she opened the canister of cookie dough in her hand. after the screen loaded, she navigated her cursor over to an orange thumbnail.

"this is yakuza lover: romance and bullets. and yes, it's as mind-numbing as it sounds."

they watched a few episodes, exchanging bites of cookie dough and popping open bottles of flavored sparkling water as the characters on the screen kept digging themselves into holes they couldn't get out of.

"do they not take one look at the dialogue and go 'what the fuck is going on here'?" mick asked quizzically, staring at the fictional yakuza boss on the screen. "like, seriously? and she finds that even remotely attractive?"

"it reads like a bad wattpad novel, and that's enough for me when i don't want to think about anything." y/n laughed, shoveling another spoonful of cookie dough into her mouth. "either that or i watch a concert film or something. i live for live music. hate parties, but i'll go to a good concert any day. that's why i liked racing, you know? not for the fame or the money, but for the travel, the means to an end."

her eyes went wide, and mick was captivated, hanging on to her every word.

"have you heard of one ok rock? probably not, since you didn't mention it when you saw my sweater earlier, but they have this one really good concert film from when they played yokohama stadium, it's called mighty long fall. i saw them live in 2018 on the 'ambitions' tour, so that's a good film as well if you can find it, but mighty long fall is one of my favourite live concerts like ever."

mick was struggling to follow everything, as she seemed to have talked without even breathing, her fingers flying across they keyboard as she searched for 'mighty long fall' on youtube.

he was well and truly smitten with her as she loaded the concert, seemingly skipping to a particularly important part.

"this has to be one of my favoruite songs they've ever done, and it's not even theirs."

mick would have recognized the piano arrangement anywhere. anybody born before two thousand and five would have. the japanese band on the screen was playing an acoustic rendition of 'a thousand miles' by vanessa carlton.

"making my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and i'm homebound."

she was singing off key, but that seemed to be the point as she threw her head back and forth, her hair flying everywhere as she beamed, singing into the metal spoon as if it was a karaoke microphone.

"come on, schumacher. i know you know the words!" she laughed, mick laughing along with her as his face turned pink. "sing it with me!"

and when she looked at him like that, what else was he supposed to do?

---------

and just as quickly as it began, the race of champions weekend was officially over.

gathered in the warm den of the chalet, the drivers milled about and chatted among themselves, jazz music playing in the background as a warm fire crackled in the hearth.

y/n and felipe had placed second in the nations cup as the all-star team, and she seemed to glow from the happiness of the somewhat victory as she stood off to the side with both her teammate and jamie chadwick.

mick couldn't help himself, staring at her with a lovestruck gaze from the other side of the room, where he stood with sebastian and valtteri. mick and y/n had grown infinitely closer over the course of the weekend, but mick hadn't had the courage to ask for her phone number, or to properly take her out on a date.

and soon, he'd lose those chances for good.

"the way i see it, you don't have anything to lose." seb suggested, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "the worst that could happen is that you made a new friend, who doesn't want to be more than that."

"why not just accept things as they are?" mick whined. "the weekend is almost over anyways!"

"it's never too late for a romantic gesture." valtteri suggested, nodding his head towards where a karaoke machine had been set up by team norway earlier in the night.

and that's when mick knew what he needed to do. with seb and val's help, he managed to get everything rigged, set up and ready to go.

when the music started playing, she knew that it was meant for her, all conversation stopping at that piano arrangement as she stopped to look at the german, hands nervously gripping the microphone as he began to sing.

"making my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and i'm homebound."

jamie broke out into a grin, turning to look the the other female driver. "there's no other person this could possibly be meant for. how did he know you're emotionally attached to this song?"

despite herself, y/n found that she was also starting to sing quietly under her breath.

"staring blankly ahead, just making my way, making a way through the crowd."

felipe nudged her in the side. "go on. you're not going to get another chance."

trying to stop the uncontrollable blush on her face, she kept her eyes cast down as she made her way to where mick was standing. sebastian gave the duo a knowing look as mick wordlessly passed y/n the microphone, shy smiles on both of their faces.

"if i could fall into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'cause you know i'd walk a thousand miles if i could just see you tonight."

neither of them realized how close to each other they had gotten, barely a foot of space between their bodies, faces blushing bright pink as the lyrics faded out to the instrumental.

"mick-" she said softly.

"you don't have to say anything. not right now, not right here. just kiss me."

and that's exactly what she did, the room erupting into cheers as mick's soft lips met hers. she dropped the microphone, feedback echoing around the room as mick held her, both parties smiling into the kiss before mika hakkinen came running over the grab the fallen mic.

"will you go on a date with me?" mick asked, lips swollen and shyness in his tone. "like, a real one this time?"

"yes, mick." she giggled. "of course i will."

Tags: @scuderiamh @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @sidcrosbyspuck

[scientia-rex]

What is this show?

Sports Night was, in many ways, the prequel to The West Wing: Aaron Sorkin’s short-lived show about the people behind a sports show, ESPN-inspired because he had been watching a lot of ESPN at the time. The two anchors, Dan and Casey, have the kind of chemistry that made my sister (who was never into fandom even a little) say mere seconds after walking in to the room, “They’re kind of gay, aren’t they?” Dan is played by Josh Charles, who you may know from The Dead Poets Society or perhaps The Good Wife; the show originally aired in 1998-2000, so he is just a little baby here. Casey is played by Peter Krause, who you may know from that new fireman show (911?) or Six Feet Under. They are huge goobers and very bangable. Excellent grist for the shipping mill.

You have a rich cast of characters, though—there is the show’s producer Dana, who is insane like all the best Sorkin women; the executive producer Isaac, who is lovable and grumpy and full of wisdom; the neurotic nerd Jeremy; the assistant producer Natalie, a tiny pint of spitfire. There are toothsome villains like Sally Sasser, who’s gunning for Dana’s job, but the eternal enemy is The Suits, the corporate types who want the show to be profitable above all else.

Season One is great. It’s magical. In Season Two, Sorkin started doing a lot of drugs again and was also starting West Wing so the writing and characterization suffered horribly. However, there are still some moments that demand confrontation and reconciliation with the canon as a whole, and I find the whole dynamic fascinating. Sorkin can’t write women for shit because to him, all women are crazy bitches and who knows why they do what they do—but he still manages to construct appealing people out of them, until he lets it all collapse like soggy tissue paper in Season Two.

The acting is brilliant. The writing is hilarious. (Until partway into Season Two.) Josh Charles is, in my opinion, the narrative heart of it—his pain and fear and hitherto undiagnosed anxiety disorder anchor the story in a way that Casey’s will-they-won’t-they with Dana can’t, because of Sorkin’s shortcomings in writing women.

I loved the show when it initially aired, bought the DVDs when they were released even though I didn’t have money—because back then we didn’t have the option of finding videos on the Internet, so it was the only answer to years of not being able to watch it. I’ve watched it several times over the years, Season One much more than Season Two. I’ve made three vids, written a slew of stories, and the longest one is a 70,000 word epic exploring how therapy might help someone like Casey actually be happy instead of a miserable bastard (“A Form in Wax,” available on AO3).

I love this brief, flawed show. I love it even though Felicity Huffman, who played Dana, turned out to be part of that scandal a few years back where rich parents paid to get their kids into prestigious schools for “sports” that they didn’t even play. I love it even though I had to stop following Joshua Messina, who played Jeremy, on Twitter years ago because his bitter, angry, often sexist takes kept bothering me more and more. None of the people are perfect. The writing isn’t perfect. But the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

[augustjustice]

Crush Confessions, Part 1/?

Inspired by this post

AO3 Link

It was a totally normal, run-of-the-mill Saturday night when it happened.

The spring from hell had crept slowly into summer, and the older teens were all gathered at the Harringtons’ for what was becoming a near weekly hang out tradition–movies, music, booze and weed guaranteed. Steve had held more parties than he could count here over the years, but these quieter nights getting to spend time with their little apocalyptically bonded gang were his favorites, no question.

He and Eddie had gone into the kitchen in search of refills for their now empty beers, and somehow gotten sidetracked into an extended conversation on…well, pretty much anything and everything, from Eddie and the munchkins’ latest campaign (‘harrowing’ was the word Eddie had used to describe it, Steve committing it to memory as Eddie rubbed his hands together in glee) to how Lucas’s summer basketball practices with Steve were going (great, the kid was a natural, and only getting better by the day). 

Steve wasn’t even sure how they had gotten on the subject–some playful crack from Eddie about Steve’s high school title as ‘The Hair,’ maybe–but the next thing he knew, he was reaching out to tug on a strand of Eddie’s own long, dark mane. 

“You’ve got such nice hair to work with, dude,” Steve said sincerely, curling it around his finger, “I could style it for you sometime, if you wanted.”

Eddie had stilled as soon as Steve’s fingers combed through the locks, and he was now shooting him a baffled, amused look, like he also wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. He opened his mouth, but before he got a chance to say anything, Nancy walked by.

“Don’t let Steve talk you into it,” she warned with a giggle as she passed, following Jonathan back out to the living room, “you should have seen Dustin at the Snow Ball. He looked like the world’s cutest poodle.” 

“Hey!” Steve protested, one hand on his hip as he jabbed a finger at Nancy’s retreating back. “I’ll have you know that hairspray has never, not once, let me down.” 

As Nancy disappeared, Eddie turned to him, a dimpled smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, bright eyes expectant. 

“You gave Henderson’s hair the old Harrington treatment?” Eddie flicked at one of the locks falling artfully across Steve’s forehead, which earned him a half-hearted watch the hair, man as Steve batted his hand away. “And pray tell, good sir, when was this?”

“Like Nance said, it was for the middle school dance,” Steve explained, then launched into an entire retelling of the night as it had unfolded.

By the time he had finished, Eddie was staring at him with those rapt, dark eyes, a strand of hair pulled down over his lips like he was trying to smother his wide smile–and failing miserably at it, as it so happened.

“What?” Steve asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Nothing, man, nothing,” Eddie shook his head, smile never wavering. “It’s just…”

He clasped his hands together in front of him, his whole body practically doing a little shimmy, the kind Steve had come to associate with Eddie not being able to keep whatever thought had suddenly struck him from spilling out. 

“You’re just–stupidly sweet, you know? That’s all I was thinking.”

The earnestness with which Eddie said it caught Steve off-guard, and he felt a faint blush rising to his cheeks. 

Eddie was always doing that–with him, with the kids, with Robin–telling them exactly what he thought and felt, like he wore every emotion he’d ever had right there on his sleeve, out in the open for  anybody to see. And while he was perfectly capable of being a little shit when he wanted to be–Steve liked that about him, too, was always happy to have someone who could hold their own alongside his own bitchiness–more often than not, he was painfully sincere, never shying away from giving out compliments, bear hugs, and even the occasional effusive ‘I love, man’s for something as simple as remembering his favorite pop.

(Yoohoos, of course, a fact Steve could never forget–not after the long, hellish Spring Break Eddie had spent on the run. …If that chocolate nightmare could even really be called pop, that was.) 

“I mean…I guess so,” Steve murmured, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck, not sure what else to say. It was like he was in the Upside Down all over again–Eddie showering him with compliments he didn’t entirely know how to take. “He just…he needed a ride. You know how those kids are. And I wasn’t doing anything else, so I just thought, I mean, that I’d–”

“That’d you swoop in and play big brother, and give our nerdy baby Dusty Buns a confidence boosting pep talk while you were at it?” When all Steve could do was shrug, feeling weirdly bashful and still struck a bit speechless, Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’m saying. It kills me, the way you just do shit like that, and it’s–god, you’re so cute, what the fuck? It’s kind of disgusting, to be honest with you.” 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Steve waved his hands in the air, as though calling a time out, “you think I’m cute?”

This time, it was Eddie’s fair skin that flared suddenly red. 

Tugging a strand of hair down over his face, he cleared his throat. “I, uh. I’m pretty sure I said it’s cute.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, emphatic, as he tapped a finger to his ear, “no way, dude. I definitely heard what you said. You said you think that I’m cute.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, giving Steve’s shoulder a gentle shove. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Harrington, everybody at Hawkins High who liked dudes acknowledged the cuteness of King Steve at one point or another, even if it was just inside their own head. Same as anybody, I wasn’t immune to that shit. But it’s not just that. You’re just so–” Eddie flailed in Steve’s general direction again, words seeming to have left him. No small feat where Eddie was concerned.

“Alright, alright, don’t stroke out on me, man,” Steve caught one of Eddie’s wrists in his hand, the touch stilling him instantly as Eddie blinked over at him with those too big brown eyes. “I’m so what?”

“Nice! You’re so nice, it’s stupid, man, and you definitely weren’t supposed to be.”

Steve barked out a laugh.

“What, you liked it better when I was an asshole?”

“Yeah! I mean–no, of course I didn’t, I just…it was a lot easier to control some stupid high school crush when I thought you were just some hot douchebag but now you’re all–heroic and noble and shit, and I am but one measly little mortal and very homosexual man, Steve. You can’t do this to me.”

“Okay, I’m not that nice,” Steve protested with a roll of his eyes, still feeling that tinge of heat on his cheeks.

“No, you definitely are, dude. You’re like–like, rescue kittens out of trees, help little old ladies cross the street nice.”

“So I helped Mrs. Davis across the street put away her groceries one time–”

“See! You see what I mean?!” Eddie jabbed an accusing finger at him. “You are literally that nice!” Then, he covered his face for a moment, hiding it behind his hands as he sucked in a deep breath, like he was trying to steel himself for something. When he spoke again, the words came out muffled through his fingers. “I just–I like you a lot, you know?” 

One corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up into a soft half-smile, confusion clinging to the edges. 

“I like you, too, Eds.” 

“No, Stevie, I–that’s not exactly what I meant, man.” 

Dropping his hands, Eddie caught Steve’s gaze, dark eyes suddenly serious. Steve felt the whole mood in the kitchen shift around them. 

“I mean…I like you. God, that sounds so fucking stupid, like we’re in kindergarten, or something,” Eddie scruffed that hand over his face again, running it up into his hair to ruffle the very locks Steve had complimented earlier. “What I’m saying is…I’ve had this fucking–massive crush on you since high school, and you constantly finding new and unique ways to be adorable is definitely not helping, dude.”

Steve blinked, surprised.

The truth was, he had suspected that Eddie might be flirting. Steve had cultivated enough game over the years–the ‘You Suck’ period of his life notwithstanding–to recognize it when he saw it, and he had known, since Eddie had put two-and-two together about Robin’s sexuality and come out to the two of them, that Eddie was into guys.

But…Eddie was also an energetic, tactile guy. He got in everyone’s space, cracked jokes constantly. The playful borderline innuendo was mostly restricted to his interactions with Steve, but there was still enough leeway for Steve to write it off as Eddie just being like that.

Evidently that wasn’t all it was. 

And even as Steve felt that pleasant, fluttering warmth that came from knowing somebody had a crush on him…he also felt a sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Because…Steve was straight. He’d never been interested in anybody who wasn’t a girl. 

Which meant that now he was in the uncomfortable position of having to tell Eddie he couldn’t return his feelings. 

Steve was no stranger to rejection, on both sides. He’d been turned down–and still blamed that stupid sailor hat for at least a third of those rejections–and though he kept his options open and played the field in high school, he’d had to let girls down easy when he started dating Nancy or gently rebuff them when he simply wasn’t interested. 

But usually those were relative strangers or casual acquaintances, people he chatted up at the mall or Family Video or in the classroom. They weren’t someone who had quickly become one of Steve’s best friends. They weren’t funny, kind Eddie, who had a way of making Steve feel totally at ease every time they were in the room together, who had slotted so perfectly into Steve’s life it felt like he had always been there.

Sheesh, was this how Robin felt, huddled on the bathroom floor at Starcourt? Knowing you had to let someone down, someone you really cared about, all because you just happened not to be compatible in this one specific way? 

The whole thing completely sucked. 

“Eddie…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. Wishing there was something he could say. 

Eddie jerked up his head, and when he caught Steve’s eyes, he shot him a sympathetic look, like Steve was the one who deserved comforting in this situation rather than the other way around. 

“Oh, no, man, don’t sweat it. I know that you are totally, 100% a certified straight boy. I just, I don’t know,” he shrugged one shoulder, smile sheepish, “you know what absolute shit I am, about keeping things to myself. So, I thought…I’d go ahead and tell you, get it out there before I blurted it out at an even less opportune moment. And I’m also here to tell you that, give me a little time, and I can absolutely guarantee I’ll get over it. Cross my heart, the whole shebang.”

He drew a little cheeky X over his heart with his fingers, the curl of his lips growing wider, much more like the Eddie Steve knew. 

“In the meantime, I just…hope we can still be friends?” Eddie blinked those wide, hopeful doe eyes at him, and Steve had never had any intention of saying no, but, even if he had, it would have been impossible in the face of that.

Steve gave Eddie a friendly clap on the shoulder, his smile soft and sincere.

“Of course, man. Of course we’re still friends. Nothing’s gonna change that, and definitely not something like this.”  

“Oh, why, cuz so many of your friends have had crushes on you in the past?” Eddie teased, but his posture had noticeably relaxed, body open, swaying in Steve’s direction like he always did.

Steve huffed out a laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. 

“The opposite, actually. Before we became platonic with a capital ‘P’ soulmates, there was a period in there where I definitely had a crush on Robin.”

“No shit?” Eddie shook his head in amusement, curls bouncing.

“As embarrassing as it is to admit it now, I totally did. And I mean,” Steve gestured into the kitchen, where the other four teens were congregated around a six pack, “you know I’m friends with my ex. Just saying…I’m kinda the poster boy for crushes on your friends, so. I know a thing or two about what you’re going through.”

“Guess I’m in pretty good company, then.” Eddie nudged his shoulder against Steve’s. “You’re a good guy, Steeeeve Harrington. Which is still totally not helping with the crush, by the way.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Eddie Munson,” Steve mimicked teasingly. 

“What are you two even doing in there?” When Robin’s voice suddenly bellowed into the kitchen from the other room, the pair of them jumped, like they had been up to something. They shared a quiet giggle at their own surprise. “Not to break up your little secret babysitter’s club meeting, or whatever it is, but could grab some chips? We’re all out up here.”

“Duty calls,” Steve said with a nod of his head.

“The host’s job is never done, or so I’ve been told,” Eddie agreed.

As Steve attempted to juggle the three bags of chips from the counter under one arm and his beer in the other, Eddie took mercy on him and took the can from his hand. 

“This one’s totally lukewarm now, Stevie. Let me get you another.”

Steve simply nodded in reply as he watched Eddie grab a fresh drink from the fridge, keeping the room temperature beer for himself. 

When they finally stepped back into the living room, Robin crinkled her forehead at him in a silent, What was that all about?

Tell you later, Steve replied with a significant look of his own, earning him a shrug of acceptance as Robin went back to cheerfully shoving the chips he had just tossed her into her mouth. 

Steve settled down into his customary seat on the loveseat beside Eddie–still close enough to the chair Robin claimed as her own that they could throw snacks at each other and share stage whisper level conversation–and Eddie handed off the cool beer can to him, tab already pulled up and everything, with an easy, “Here you go, man.” 

As he got comfortable, Steve caught the quick, relieved look Eddie shot him when he didn’t leave any more space between them than usual, their thighs pressed tightly together, close and casual. And that was enough for a swell of hope to build in Steve’s chest, feeling reassured that nothing would have to change between them. 

Surely, everything would be just fine.

[magnus-falafelking]

FIERROCHASE WEDDING SUMMARY!!!

wanna know how our special day went? here you go :)

[NOT MY FANFIC]

[MY FRIEND WROTE IT FOR TODAY]

Boston weather was always a coin toss. During the summer months, it could be gloriously warm and sunny, miserably hot and humid, or, especially during the first part of June, even chilly and rainy. Most summers on the back bay were a mixture of all these conditions, plus a splattering of dramatic thunderstorms, just to keep the grass growing. 

But today? Today was perfect. 

All day, the weather had been clear skies and a cool breeze. Even though Frey wasn’t supposed to make an appearance, Magnus couldn’t help but feel like he had something to do with the strangely favorable turn in the forecast. The sun peeked through the partly cloudy sky to dress the sides of the chase mansion in warm summer sunlight. It was beautiful. For so many years, whenever Magnus looked at this building, he’d felt like some angry god had installed a permanent storm cloud over the roof. It had always been shrouded in an aura of foreboding, always surrounded by darkness, and always made him feel a little uncomfortable. But today, with the sun shining warmly and the breeze rustling the paper streamers and handmade signs the homeless kids at the chase space had insisted on personally designing and hanging from nearly every window, even the gargoyles seemed to look a bit friendlier. 

As the sun started to set, there was a vibrant buzz of excitement on the top floor patio as friends, family, and the current residents of the Chase Space milled around in excitement and chatted about the evening’s events. The space had been done up beautifully by Samirah, Mallory, and Annabeth (who had done all the organizing, and most of the arguing about the way things should look) with help from Halfborn, Tj, and Percy (who had mostly broken up said arguments and lifted the heavy objects). It wasn’t extravagant, but there were chairs with little flower bouquets tied to them, and a little raised platform for the two of them to stand on, and Blitzen had personally arranged several extremely expensive looking potted flower arrangements for either side, so they would be framed by lilies and magnolias and roses and other flowers Magnus couldn’t remember the names of as they said their ‘I do's.’

The bedrooms on the third floor had been converted into changing rooms for the event. In the one on the south side of the house, Magnus was unfolding and refolding the paper with his vows on it as he looked out over the stunning view of the back bay. 

The day was finally here. He was finally going to marry Alex. 

In front of everyone, he was going to say a lot of things about how much he loved Alex, how much Alex meant to him, how much he needed Alex, how he would always be with Alex until the end of the world- literally.

“I think I’m gonna puke.” 

Behind him, several heads turned as Magnus gripped the edge of the railing on the little patio he was standing on. Blitzen came up behind him as he leaned over it, patting his back reassuringly as Magnus made sounds much more like someone who had eaten bad falafel than someone who was about to experience the happiest day of their life.

“Hey kid. Let’s back away from the railing before you go headfirst into the bushes. That would not be a good look on your wedding day.” Carefully, Blitzen pulled him back into the room, sitting him down in one of the available chairs and giving him some very fatherly and encouraging pats on the shoulder. He was really putting in the work Frey probably should have been there doing…

Around him, everyone was putting the finishing touches on their outfits. All perfectly tailored, of course, which Blitzen had done much preening about in the hours leading up to now. Despite their extremely varied figures, Tj, Halfborn, Hearthstone, and Blitzen were all dressed in the same suit. It was simple but elegant, a wool suit tailored to fit each of their varying frames, smooth silk shirts, a professional but understated waistcoat, and a pair of brown leather shoes to match their ties. The only differences were that Halfborn and Tj were dressed in shades of brown and green, and Hearthstone and Blitzen were wearing warmer, more sunny but not overbearingly bright colors. Halfborn was also sporting a kilt which was, apparently, the same color as Mallory’s outfit. The pair of them had insisted on matching separately, then found out about each other's request and insisted on NOT matching, then had some kind of argument that had begun with words and ended… well, still with tongues. Magnus hadn’t asked a lot of questions after that, and had just told Blitzen to make an executive decision. Seeing the amount of leg hair on display now, he wondered if Blitzen should be trusted with too many more of those, even if they DID relate to fashion.

 Magnus himself was dressed in the same suit, except his was a deep, forest green, his waistcoat was white and had some kind of a subtle metallic shine to it, and his silk shirt was a light, blush pink. 

Alex’s colors. He was happy to be wearing them.

His hair was trimmed but still longer, hanging neat and orderly around his anxious face. On the lapel of his suit, he was wearing a pin with the same symbol Alex had tattooed on his neck, the two entwined serpents, the reclaimed symbol of Loki pinned just over his heart. 

“Gettin’ cold feet, Magnus?” Halfborn was all smiles and mead-blushed cheeks, standing with one arm on the back of a chair as he worked his way through his second horn of booze this hour. He had insisted it was Norse tradition to get absolutely hammered for the entire ceremony and reception, and when no one had joined him, he’d insisted he’d carry the load alone. “Don’t drop your guts in here. It’s much more romantic if Alex gets to watch.”

Tj sighed, shaking his head as he put a hand on Halfborn’s huge shoulder and patted it a couple times. “Halfborn, I think you’ve had enough to drink until after the ceremony. Magnus is just excited, not getting cold feet. Right, Magnus?” Tj sent him a bright, confident and reassuring smile. His wedding suit was spotless, perfectly fitted and pressed with the care and attentiveness he always gave his regular uniform. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t carrying his weapon. They were all on the property (just in case) but he looked a bit strange not having it right over his shoulder where it usually was. If it had been in his hands, he thought, Tj would look battle ready even in a wedding tuxedo. 

“Right.” Magnus’ voice was shaky. “Totally.”

All four of his wedding party exchanged a look. Each one of them took a seat, and Halfborn even set his drink down in its little stand as he half stumbled onto one of the couches and pinched his face into a decently impressive impression of a sober man.

Hearthstone sat nearest to Magnus, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before he pulled his attention to sign to him. 

‘It’s normal to be nervous. No worries. Big day.’ He exaggerated the gesture for big with an appropriate facial expression, making it clear he understood how nervous Magnus really was. 

“I’d be nervous marrying Alex too.” Halfborn agreed. “The Argr is a bit unpredictable. He might get you up to the altar and-“ Beside him, Tj subtly kicked his leg, causing Halfborn to let out an “ouch” followed by some apologetic muttering. 

“Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day.” Blitzen agreed, looking over at Halfborn like he might want a turn. “That’s why there’s alcohol. To take the edge off the jitters. You’re fine, kid. You’ve handled way more difficult things than saying a few words.”

“The last time I said a few words about Alex I embarrassed myself in front of everyone.” Magnus leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands and making another one of those bad-falafel noises. “What if I mess up again? What if my vows suck?” His head shot up as he looked over at Hearth, eyes wide. “What if I lean in to kiss Alex and I puke into the kiss??” 

Hearthstone’s expression was a pretty clear don’t-be-ridiculous look (mixed with some disgust as he pictured a vomit-kiss unwillingly), but he still signed it out to reassure him. 

‘You will be fine. No puke in mouth. Won’t happen.’ 

“And if it does happen.” Halfborn assured him, his voice slightly slurred, “I’ll distract everyone by puking with you.”

“If anyone but Magnus throws up on these suits, I will personally drag the responsible party to Helheim and hand them over to the goddess herself.” Blitzen said coolly, eyeing halfborn with a narrowed gaze. 

Somehow, that made the tension in Magnus’ stomach settle a little. He even managed a laugh, fiddling with the paper with his vows on it again. “I’m glad you’re all here. I really didn’t know if Alex was going to agree to this or not. I bet they’re having a way easier time getting ready across the hall.” Alex was always so cool and calm and collected. Magnus was pretty sure his finance wasn’t considering which of his uncle’s expensive display vases it would be best to toss his cookies into.

“So, is it time for this then?” Halfborn patted the small, flat green box tied with a black bow he’d been entrusted with earlier that day. It was a decent size, but it looked small in halfborn’s massive hands. Inside was the gift he’d gotten for Alex for their wedding day. It wasn’t a lot, but he’d put a lot of effort into it. 

Magnus felt the butterflies that had been making his stomach their home for the last few days make a reappearance. Suppressing them must have pissed them off cause they were fluttering around his insides with a vengeance. “Y-yeah… I guess it’s probably time?”

Halfborn stood with a nod, carrying the box towards the door. “Gotcha. I’ll be delivering the package then!”

———-

Across the hall, the other wedding party was causing so much noise, it was a miracle the boys couldn’t hear it. 

“Catch it! Grab her! Don’t let her get to the door!” Furniture was overturned, pillows were torn and weapons were flying as Samirah, Alex, and Mallory chased something around the room. 

It had appeared when Alex had been checking the mirror to make sure the wedding suit was sitting right on her (for the fifteenth time in as many minutes) slithering up onto the fabric of the shoulder and whispering in her ear things nobody wanted to hear on any day, much less at their wedding. It had taken her a moment to figure out where the voice was coming from, but had spotted the tip of a little green head just over her shoulder in the mirror. 

Alex wasn’t willing to listen to bullshit any day, but especially not today. She’d grabbed and thrown the snake against a wall, the snake had hit the surface and flattened like one of those rubber sticky toys and slid down between the wall and a couch, and that had started a mess of moving things to get at it. 

“I know it’s you, mom!” Alex hissed, rolling on the floor and reaching under a chair, nearly missing grabbing the snake’s emerald green tail. “You weren’t invited! What are you doing here?”

The snake slithered over to a bookshelf, lifting up its head to peer at them. “Don’t be ridiculousss, Alexx …” the s sounds on the ends of his words were lengthened by the flicking tongue peeking out between those scaly lips, though it wasn’t clear if it was intentional or something Loki was doing for dramatic effect. “No child of mine will be married without my presenccce. I'm hurt you didn’t invite me. What have I ever done to deserve such disssregard-“ 

The snake’s speech was interrupted when a glowing spearhead sunk into the wood of the bookcase beside it, forcing Loki to dodge and slither away again. 

Samirah scowled, leaping over to retrieve her weapon and spinning around to look for where he had gone. “Nobody is humoring you today, Loki. You know exactly why you’re not welcome here.”

“Sorry, I know you’re family and all,” Mallory chimed in, her twin daggers flashing threateningly as she scanned the room for any sign of movements. “But the guest list is exclusive, and Sam and I are sort of responsible for watchin it. We’re gonna have to remove you if you don’t leave on your own.” Lighting fast, she stabbed her dagger down by a new moving lump in the carpet, nearly missing the worm. She scowled as she tried to land several more jabs in the twisting, contorting shape.

Samirah came to help Alex up off the floor as Mallory attempted to turn the rug in the room into Swiss cheese, straightening out the ruffled edges of the wedding suit. “Mallory is right, Alex. It’s our job to handle things like this. Don’t go jumping around and ruining your outfit.” As she spoke, she picked up her axe from a table beside her, throwing it as the snake came slithering out of the carpet and nearly pinning Loki to the wooden floor. The axe sunk in the old wood floorboards deep, but a few inches too far to the right, letting the snake slither away and under the door into the hallway.

“Oh Hel no.” Alex undid Sif’s garrote from her waist, making towards the door before both of the other women stopped her. 

“And just where do you think you’re goin?” Mallory asked, raising one fiery red brow at her. She and Samirah were both dressed in shades of pink, though Mallory’s pink was more of a rose red sort of color. It was a knee length dress, suited to running around a room toppling over furniture, which was pleated and patterned with a traditional Scottish plaid. The plaid pattern extended to a piece of fabric which lay up over one shoulder and went back down her back, and there was a belt cinching the whole operation in at the waist. Beneath the plaid she was wearing a plain white shirt, making her wholly more prepared looking for a fight than really anyone else Alex had seen all day. “I just said I’ll handle it. It’s only one snake, even if it is Loki.” She brandished a knife, wiggling it threateningly. “Think I can’t dissipate a little illusion magic? I swear, I just gotta catch him and you won’t need to worry for the rest of the week. I’ll send whatever piece of him came crawling up here right back where it came.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will. I just think it’ll go faster if we all handle it together.” Alex pushed out of their hold, heading for the door. Her hands were a little sweaty as she gripped her garrote. Why was Loki here? What did he want? Did he really care that much about this stupid wedding? It was just some words they were saying, it’s not like it was anything super serious. Why had Loki decided to meddle in her life  again? She wasn’t sure, but she was 100% sure that the ceremony couldn’t go on if there was a worm wiggling around the Chase Space. No, it was definitely not okay that Loki was here. Loki was the cause of Alex’s anxiety, and Alex was going to stay anxious until she personally sent Loki back to that stupid cave. 

And anyways, it was better to be running around than sitting in this damn room counting down the minutes like she had been. Yes, definitely better to be chasing a snake that was actually your mother who is actually a mega-control-freak-shapeshifter than sitting in a stuffy old room staring at yourself in a mirror. 

Just as she put a hand on the door, Samirah pulled her back, placing herself between the exit and her sister. 

Samirah’s pink ensemble was much different than Mallory’s. Her dress was four or five shades of pink, and all layered organza. The skirt swept to the floor, and the sleeves were a sheer white lace that went all the way to her wrist, framed by loose curtains of the pink organza that fell delicately over her shoulders. With the hijab around her head, she looked a bit like an upside down rose the way the diagonal hanging layers of the dress cascaded around her form. 

Sam may have looked nice, but blocking the door was a very dangerous move. Alex had to respect it a bit, but she didn’t have to agree with it. 

“Sam, it’s my wedding day and I want to hunt a snake.” Alex’s voice was as tight as her grip on the garrote handles she was brandishing threateningly. 

“No, you want to escape dealing with your anxiety by cutting something into a million pieces.” Sam corrected, folding her lace covered arms over her chest. “And while I understand that living in Valhalla has inclined you towards such… violent forms of stress relief, I’m not allowing you to do this today. It’s a little sliver of spirit. Easily dispersed. Loki is still weak and recovering from… last time.” Samirah sighed, taking Alex by the shoulders and forcing her to sit on one of the chairs. When she had finally wrestled the garrote out of her sister’s hands and secured it back around her waist, she knelt in front of her to hold them in her own. “There’s no reason to assume he could show up in any significant form. He didn’t even change shape once, so he must be too weak to manage it. He’s just trying to get in your head and ruin your wedding. You’ve proven over and over that he has no power over you. Don’t give up that control just because you’re nervous about the wedding. Let us handle it and you just stay here and relax.”

“No trouble at all, Fierro.” Mallory assured her, finally un-wedging her knife from the floorboards. “We’ll go deal with this. You wait here and look pretty.”

Alex made some sort of sound that was probably more jaguar than frustrated human, grabbing a pillow and vaulting off the couch to chuck it full speed at the wall. “I’m not going to sit around in this room like a decoration ! If my mom wants a piece of me I’ll give her one!”

“Alex, no!” Samirah grabbed her arm, giving her a stern look. “I know you’re anxious. I promise it will be fine. Really, I swear. Please, let me handle it? And just take a few minutes to calm down, okay?” Samirah put on her best pleading expression, her hold on her arm softening. “I just… I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to worry about anything today. Please…”

Alex didn’t know what she was feeling. Confused, angry, startled, nauseous… all the emotions were building up all at once. She felt a strange, almost uncontrollable desire to shift. Felt like her skin was itching to change, like maybe if she became something slippery enough she could slide out of this mess, or maybe change into something with a roar loud enough to quiet the buzzing that had been in her head all day. She had almost been happy to see Loki. Not because she wanted to, but because it gave her something to focus on besides how she really felt about this whole wedding situation…

Scared. 

After a long, silent stare-down, Alex crossed her arms and turned her head away, hoping she’d withdrawn fast enough to hide the way they were trembling. “Fine. Whatever. Call me when you need my help catching the slippery bastard.”

Samirah let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, nodding with the warmest smile she’d had all day. “We’ll call if we need you. Come on, Mallory.” 

————

[Song accompaniment: Wonder by Shawn Mendez]

Magnus had most often found it best to follow the rules. When his mom had been alive, she’d even accused him of being a little too well behaved sometimes, pinched his cheeks and told him he should sneak out or talk back. “Live a little, be a kid” or something like that. It wasn’t like he had a strong inclination towards the law or whatever, it was just usually easier and created less issues to do things the legal, reasonable way. 

But, his two years on the streets had taught him a lot of things, and one of those things was that sometimes, breaking the rules was sort of a necessary thing. Like when you hadn’t eaten in three days and there was nothing edible in the dumpster, so you had to swipe a sandwich from a deli. 

Or when your whole wedding party suddenly leaves your dressing room to deal with some kind of pest control emergency (since when did the Chase Space have worms?) and left you holding the box that someone else was supposed to deliver to your fiancée. 

Magnus stood awkwardly in front of Alex’s dressing room door, lifting and lowering his hand a few times. Should he leave it and run? Should he stay? Did it really matter if they saw each other a little early?

Inside the room, Alex was sitting with her feet up on the couch, knees to her chest and thoughts racing. There was too much to consider. Her eyes settled on a little ship in a bottle on the bookshelf across from her as a storm started brewing in her mind. 

Did Mangnus really want to marry her? Why were they getting married anyways? Mallory and halfborn broke up every other month and fought like crazy. What if they started fighting like that in a hundred years and wanted a divorce? 

The ship in the bottle seemed to move, swaying on the waves of Alex’s frenzied thoughts. 

Why was Loki here? Did he have some sort of plan to mess with her life again? Did he want to stop the marriage so that he could try and force her into another one like he tried to do to Samirah? Like she was almost forced to do when she took samirah’s place?

Her thoughts were so wild and all-encompassing that she didn’t notice the way her hands were shaking, didn’t notice the way her eyes were reddening. The memory of drinking out of the cup after Thrymm at her first wedding returned to her against her will. She’d been forced to do it, and the realization that the ceremony might have actually been completed made her almost as nauseatingly disgusted as the thought of sharing his backwash-wine did. She felt sick. The ship in the bottle seemed like it might capsize-

There was a knock at the door, followed by a familiar voice. 

“Uh… hey Alex. It’s me.”

The noise stopped. The sky seemed to clear. Alex blinked, wiping something wet and hot away from her eyes as she looked at the ship on the shelf. It was still.

“I know I’m not supposed to see you yet. Or uh, well, I mean you’re not supposed to see me either. but… there’s no rules about our voices, right?”

On the other side of the door, Magnus was fidgeting anxiously, rolling up onto his toes and back onto his heels like a weird little doll, bobbing back and forth in a way that would have made Alex laugh if she could have seen. “I just came to bring you your gift.”

Alex glanced towards the door, her body uncurling from its little ball before she even thought about it. Her feet moved without her direction, like Magnus was a lighthouse in her little storm guiding her safely to shore. She stopped a foot or so from the door, finding it startlingly easy to level out her voice. “You are breaking the rules, chase.” Her voice was barely shaking. She felt warm. She always felt warm around Magnus. 

Magnus felt his lips turn up into one of those stupid goofy smiles that always made Alex blush. He didn’t fight it. “Yeah well, you know, I figured you’d be way more into me if I broke a few rules.” 

Alex laughed a little. The sound was genuine, so the edges of the sound were tinged with the lingering fear that Magnus always chased away. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Ooh, careful. In a couple hours I’m going to be youridiot. Like, forever. You wouldn’t want to be married to an idiot, would you?”

“Probably not. Not unless he’s really hot. I mean, he’s gotta be really, really hot.”

Magnus’s grin got a little wider as he felt a swell of confidence. “Oh yeah? So you think I’m really really hot? Like really really really -“

“Alright chase, you’re pushing it. Three reallys? That’s crazy.” 

By now, both of them were pressed up against the door. If there hadn’t been a piece of wood between them, they would have been forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Magnus swore he could feel Alex’s breath on his cheeks if he closed his eyes. 

Alex felt completely calm. The rolling waves in her stomach had changed to a warm, bubbly feeling. Ah, right. What a dummy she’d been. Alex wasn’t marrying Magnus because someone told her to. She wasn’t marrying Magnus because he was strong or cool, or really really really hot. 

Alex wanted to marry Magnus because to her, Magnus felt like home. She’s realized recently that Magnus was warm and summery and light, and that just being near him made her feel warm and summery too. Her whole life had been a hurricane of wild misfortune and crazy happenstance, everyone and everything whipping her wildly in every direction all at once. 

But whenever Magnus was there, she knew she’d found the eye of the storm, and that was never going to change. 

“This is crazy.” The words left her lips before she could stop them, and she felt a momentary pang of guilt and fear, her eyes flicking up to the wood as if she could peer through it to see Magnus's reaction. Crap. 

“Yeah. It’s pretty crazy.” Magnus agreed, turning the box in his hands around a few times. “I mean, I never thought I’d get married. And I kind of thought if I did get married, I’d still be alive when it happened.” 

“Ghost marriages exist.” Alex ventured, her brain fried from all the emotional ups and downs. 

“Yeah, I know. We’re doing one I think.” Magnus pulled his head back from the door, reaching for the handle. “Here. This is for you.” He pulled the door open a crack, just enough to pass the box through. “Tj said I’m supposed to give you a gift before the ceremony? Halfborn was gonna bring it over but I guess we have worms…” 

As if on cue, the sound of something crashing came from downstairs, followed by the sound of a berserker shouting at the top of his lungs. 

“Must be big worms…”

Alex stepped away from the door and set the box down on a table, carefully untying the ribbon. Her hands started to shake again as she lifted the lid, carefully peeling back the tissue to see what was cradled inside. 

After a few moments of terrifying silence from both Alex and the lower levels of the house, Magnus heard the loudest, most ridiculous laugh he’d ever heard come from behind the door. For a moment it made him smile, then his smile faltered slightly when it seemed like Alex was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “What? I did my best!”

Alex was practically rolling over what she’d found in that box. In her hands she held a little clay figurine of (she was pretty sure) an animal, only she couldn’t tell what animal it was supposed to be. It was just big enough to fit in her palm, and seemed to be some kind of cow-goat-giraffe hybrid. It had a neck that was just a bit too long, short stubby little legs that came to strangely sharp points, what appeared to be a cat’s tail, and a lump of clay that was surely supposed to be designed into some kind of face, but Alex couldn’t for the life of her see it as much more than a smushed in thumb with eye holes that was smiling at her in a comically goofy way. The worst part was the little cow-giraffe’s dorky smile kind of looked like Magnus if she squinted. She had to put the figure down in the tissue so she didn’t break it as she nearly collapsed on the floor. 

“Mag- Magnus. Please tell me-haha! T-tell me what the Helheim im looking at.”

Magnus was moping on the other side of the door, a serious pout on his face. “… you really can’t tell…?”

“Oh gods. Hahah! Go- go back to your room. Hah! Oh my gods… I’ll see you in an hour. I’m giving you the biggest goddamn kiss when it’s time.” 

Alex couldn’t stop the laughs still slipping out of her lips as she picked up and cradled the little clay figurine in her hands like it was some kind of treasure. By the sound of Magnus’ excited little trot back to his side of the hall, it seemed like they were both in much better spirits. 

————

[Song accompaniment: Electric Love by BØRNS]

It took the wedding party an hour to deal with the pest control issue, which fortunately meant they were done right on time to walk the aisle. 

Unfortunately, that also meant that Mallory was walking the aisle with some kind of ash from an explosion on the left side of her skirt, and blitzen had to do a last minute patch of hearthstone’s sleeve, which had ripped in the scuffle with the worms. The state of them had confused Magnus, but they had all insisted it didn’t matter, and hurried into their places. 

They’d definitely looked worse. At least Halfborn was still wearing his shirt.

As the sun set over the horizon, settling a halo of golden hour glow over their reception venue, the ceremony began. 

The first down the aisle was the officiant, Jack. 

It was really a good thing that most people in attendance could see through the mist, because for the few that couldn’t, he couldn’t imagine what display was replacing a self-levitating talking sword. They had briefly considered using someone else for this role, but upon being rejected, Jack had offered to MC via acapella renditions of all their favorite songs for the whole evening, and had swiftly been returned the offer of officiating. He floated quite impressively to the end of the aisle, then spun to face the crowd in a pretty show-offey flourish. Magnus figured he was probably smiling. 

Up next were the boys. Tj walked the Aisle first, proudly taking his position at the side of the groom with a way too excited look on his face. He was followed swiftly by Halfborn, but only after Mallory had cursed him out in Gaelic and taken the mead horn from his hand that he’d been trying to walk down with. 

After that it was Magnus’ turn. Gods he was terrified. Alex wasn’t even up there yet and he was terrified!

He took a deep breath, straightening his jacket and trying to settle his stomach as Blitzen and Hearthstone came up on either side of him. 

Blitzen adjusted his own jacket, giving him a wink and a confident smile. “We got you, kid. No worries.”

Hearthstone nodded on his other side, signing ‘right beside you.’ 

Arms interlocked in what had to be a cheesy way, they made their way down the aisle together. Magnus was glad for the handhold, because when he started making eye contact with people, he felt like his knees might give out. He spotted Annabeth and Percy in the crowd, his cousin waving and smiling sweetly at him. Percy looked as cool and calm as ever. How did he do that all the time?

The walk to the altar felt like it took forever. By the time they stopped, Magnus wondered if they’d missed the ceremony altogether. 

“Welcome señor! Now that the groom has arrived, it’s time for the ladies~.” 

The crowd mercifully turned their attention away from Magnus. Blitzen and Hearthstone stayed beside him, holding his hands and giving him reassuring squeezes as they watched the entrance. 

Mallory came first. She’d made a good fuss about it earlier in the day, but she seemed happy now to be filling the role of flower girl. Most of her argument had been they hadn’t needed a flower girl, and if Samirah wanted one so bad how come she didn’t throw the flower then, and of course Alex had enjoyed the little spat and not helped settle it at all by saying she didn’t care either way. In the end, Mallory had agreed to be the “best damn cailín bláthanna anyone had ever seen”, and Magnus had to admit she was doing pretty well. Although it should be said there wasn’t much to throwing flower petals. 

When Mallory joined them on the altar, Jack's blade seemed to brighten up a little more, his runes glowing a soft pink as he spoke again. “Señors and señioritas, would you please join me and rise for the presentation of Alex Fierro?”

Eager smiles filled the faces as the door to the top patio of the Chase Mansion opened, and Samirah and Alex stepped out into the light of the setting sun. 

And oh, gods, did Magnus nearly fall over. 

Alex was dressed in a suit that hugged her body in every proper way. It wasn’t like his, it was… hard to describe. The base color wasn’t too far off the green of his own suit, but it was accented with beautiful shades of pink lining some of the seams and peeking out between the folds of the suit around the neck. Where Magnus's suit had sharp, smart lines that gave him an air of masculinity, Alex’s outfit was soft curves and gentle slopes. The way it moved made it seem like Alex was switching genders with every step. Like she was glowing with the sunset and becoming one with the wind. Like the breeze tossing his hair to the side might have also subtly changed the shape of his nose. Trailing behind him and draping off the back of the coat was a long, elegant train. It was a gradient pink to white, and glittered with the adornment of several hundred tiny crystals. Each one of them glittered a different color depending on the way the light hit them, making the whole thing seem to glitter in the setting sun. It seemed to be attached to the suit jacket in several places, at the shoulders, the waist… When Alex turned to pull the train from the stairs, her silhouette was so completely feminine. The suit seemed to shift fully into a dress, and the dress seemed to curve around her body perfectly. When the train was free and Alex faced front again, the suit came back into view, and the heavy stare that Alex leveled at him combined with the full frontal focus of the suit snapped him straight in the opposite direction so hard he almost fell into Blitzen. 

For the first time, his sense of Alex’s gender was a mystery.

Blitzen steadied him, nodding appreciatively. “I know, Magnus.” He patted his pseudo-son on the back, leaving the ‘I outdid myself’ silent. 

Alex took Samirah’s arm as the door closed behind them, and the pair of them made their way towards the altar. With every step, Magnus swore he could see Alex shift and change. He was fluid, harmonious, breathtakingly beautiful. As Alex got closer he could see the little bits of makeup she’d put on, and as he came up to the altar, Magnus said a rushed prayer to his dad that he wouldn’t fall over when Blitzen and Hearthstone let him go. 

Samirah gave Alex a kiss on the cheek, whispering something in her ear and left to take her spot on the Altar. 

Blitzen stepped up to Alex first, somewhat awkwardly reaching out to take her hand and shake it. “Alright, Alex. We’re handing him off. It’s a big responsibility.”

If Alex was nervous, it didn’t show. His expression was confident and maybe a little cocky as he shook Blitzen’s hand. “Yeah, I know.” 

“You take care of him properly.”

“I will.”

“Cause if you don’t, you know we can-“

Hearthstone cleared his throat, raising one thin brow when Blitzen turned to him with a scowl. The attending audience laughed politely. “Alright, alright. I get it.” 

Hearthstone stepped down to join him, smiling and nodding once before he signed. ‘We are happy to be here. Happy for both of you.’ He turned to Magnus when he signed ‘both’. He reached out his hand towards Alex, who placed her hand in his. He guided Alex up to the altar, then carefully placed his hand in Magnus’ hand, giving them both a little squeeze before he let go. 

Magnus wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have seen hearthstone brush away a tear when he and blitz went to sit down. 

“Aaaalrighty then, let’s get to it!” Jack said happily, swaying excitedly back and forth as he started in on the ceremony. Since Jack was a minister (for some reason) ordained a long time ago, his ceremony didn’t deviate too far from the one they had attended (and ruined?) before. They each shared a drink out of the same cup of wine, Jack floated sideways and impressively delivered a proper blessing on their rings while using himself as the tool of blessing, and there even seem to be a fairly targeted break in the clouds when they took turns slipping the rings on, filled with the warmth of summer. 

“Now that someone is done showing off ,” Jack said with a sour tone as their magical halo of ring-exchanging light dimmed and the sun finally began to dip all the way down. He muttered something that made his runes glow just barely, then brightened up as he floated a little higher again. “Magnus, you may say your vows to your beloved~.”

“Right. Cool.” Magnus smiled, still holding onto Alex’s hand where Hearthstone had joined them. Should he go for the paper with just one hand? Was it okay to let go? Probably not. Best to keep holding on, right? He didn’t want to let Alex go anyways. With one hand, he dug into his pocket for the folded up paper with his vows. Then, still holding his hand, he did his best to unfold them against his leg with his one free hand, smoothing it out clumsily and nearly dropping it. 

Could Alex have let him go and helped him out? Absolutely. Was he enjoying this display of genuine awkward lovable idiocy too much to help? Absolutely. 

As he watched Magnus finally get a hold of the situation (and the paper), he couldn’t help the snort of laughter that broke out of him. He waved off Magnus’ confused look with his free hand, gesturing for him to read his vows as the crowd giggled with him. 

Was he ever going to let go of Magnus’ hand?

Absolutely not. 

“Okay, got it.” Magnus smiled sheepishly, hoping the hand Alex was holding wasn’t too clammy. He gave her an apologetic smile as he cleared his throat and glanced at the paper. 

“Alex,” the name came out a little awkward, but he smiled through it. “Ever since you came to Valhalla and garroted my head off, I was intrigued by you.” He glanced up to see if Alex was still there, then back down at the paper. 

Yep, still there. 

“You were mysterious and mesmerizing, but I wanted to know more. I wanted to know you.” The words were coming easier now, but Magnus still felt like if he looked up he might start remembering how he’d felt a few hours before, and he just really didn’t need the thought of bad falafel at this exact moment. “And… through these years we’ve been together, as I’ve come to know you…” he looked up. It mattered this time. He had to look up, and when he met Alex’s eyes, he felt like he might not even need the paper anymore. 

Still held on to it though, just in case. 

“I think I’ve finally found what I’m looking for.” He smiled, the tension leaving him. For a minute, he felt like maybe they weren’t standing on a stage in front of a bunch of people. Maybe they were somewhere alone, maybe he was just telling Alex these things in private. They were sitting at a campfire, huddled together, things were undefined but Magnus knew what he knew, what he felt, and what he needed to say. “The piece of you that makes me vow to love you and stay by your side forever. And that piece is you, Alex. Who you really are. With all your compassion, courageousness, and with everything you’ve been through, you make me admire you more every day.” He smiled, squeezing the hand he still hadn’t let go of. “I love every part of you, Alex. And I want to stay with you forever, past ragnarok.”

There was a little cheer around the crowd, as well as what seemed like some sniffling sounds emanating from Jack’s blue glowing runestones. “Couldn’t have said it better myself señor.”

Magnus glanced towards Hearth and Blitz, both of whom gave him a thumbs up. Tj patted him on the shoulder, whispering “Great job, Magnus. The hard part is over!” In his ear. 

Magnus smiled and nodded, still holding Alex’s hand like a lifeline as he shoved the paper into his pocket, missed, bent to pick it up, tried to shove it in again, missed again-

After watching him struggle, Alex sighed and shook his head, reaching out to take it. He mercifully did not release his hand, using one of his own to fold the sheet back up as the crowd laughed some more. 

“Here.” He leaned over, tucking it into Magnus’ pocket. “Try not to lose it.”

“Right.” He nodded, still grinning dumbly as Alex rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Okay Señiorita, it is officially your turn to confess your undying love for Magnus.” Jack directed, floating a little closer to Alex. 

“Cool.” Alex nudged the sword back into place with an elbow. “Personal space, please.” For the first time since coming up to the altar she looked nervous. Magnus could tell, even if Alex didn’t want him to tell. It was reassuring, feeling the way Alex’s hand trembled slightly in his own, noticing that Alex was just as eager to hold on. Alex even reached out to take the other hand too, fully facing him.

“Wait, don’t you need to-“

“I memorized it.” Alex said evenly, shrugging. “I’ve got it.” Despite her cool demeanor, her hands were trembling a little, just like his. 

She took a breath, focusing both two-toned eyes completely on Magnus and doing her best not to think about how many people were staring directly at them. “Mags.” Her lips twitched into a smile, hands squeezing his. “Beantown. Maggie.” Their audience giggled. Alex dropped her shoulders a half inch, relaxing. “I can’t believe that we’re actually getting married. Honestly, you must be a saint.” She squeezed his hands again, her eyes flickering down to them instead of Mangnus’ stupid perfect sunny face. “I’m flawed and I’m well aware. I know I can be annoying and loud and too flashy…” she trailed off, still not meeting his eyes. He squeezed her hands back, drawing her attention. He was still smiling, but his brow was creased slightly, as if he was saying “what are you talking about, dummy?” He shook his head just slightly. 

Alex felt a rush of warmth. Maybe it was a little bit of that weird Frey magic. Maybe it was just Magnus. 

She met his eyes again, and all the tension went out of her. “But, in the end, you're my person. And I’m yours, too. And while I may be kinda mean sometimes, I do love you. So much.” She nodded, seeming satisfied with her speech. “So yeah, I do.”

Behind Magnus, Halfborn’s voice broke up the sniffling and “awe”s coming from the audience. “Is that it?” 

Mallory bent down and pulled off her shoe, shooting it across the altar and beaning Halfborn in the head. Magnus didn’t even notice. 

“Relax the smile, Maggie, your face is gonna get stuck.” Alex whispered, reaching up to pinch his cheek. 

Magnus nodded, blinking back tears. His smile didn’t waver. 

“If there are no other blessings to be offered, then I will call for the end of the ceremony.” Jack said, wiggling around behind the couple on the altar like he was looking for someone to stand up, then glancing up towards the sky. When no one moved and it didn’t seem like frey was going to descend from the clouds, he bobbed up and down a couple times, glowing a little brighter. “In that case, dudes and dudettes of the assembly, I am totally thrilled to pronounce these two souls bound for life. Or uh… until the end of the world. You may now- oh.”

Alex didn’t wait to be told. As soon as they were given permission, she took a fistful of that expensive suit and swung Magnus around, dipping him dramatically and pressing their lips together. 

Magnus wasn’t sure if he was dizzy with excitement or because of how fast Alex had spun him around. He figured that was going to happen a lot from now on. 

———-

[Song accompaniment: Paper Rings/New Romantics by Taylor Swift]

The after-ceremony celebration was wild beyond expectations. Actually, it was a miracle upon miracles that no cops were called in for a noise complaint. 

It had started off relatively reasonably, with a little bit of magical mead carried over from Valhalla and a few uninvited guests (not wedding crashers really, just friends of friends), and had quickly somersaulted into what was basically an out of control house party. 

At first they were just playing music on the roof deck. People were dancing and hanging out, and there were a few volunteer valkyries running for food and drink from Valhalla (courtesy of a new catering service offered by Odin. They had gotten a discount for trying it out.) Of course there was catering from Fadlan’s Falafel as well, managed by Amir personally. Any time magnus came anywhere near him he was offering the new groom a plate of falafel. For once he wondered if he might be able to get sick of it. When some other Enherji had spotted the running Valkyries asked about where they were going, the attendance list of the wedding had started growing, and people had started looking for interesting things to do on the lower floors. 

By midnight, from the roof deck to the front lawn, there was music, drinking, and all out revelry. Even those who had abstained from the alcohol seemed to be overtaken by the mood of the celebration. There was an impromptu karaoke room set up in the study, a bowling tournament using some of Randolph’s old statues occurring in the hallway on the second floor, and since the catered food didn’t seem to be satiating them anymore, people had started raiding the kitchen of the Chase space for some kind of cooking operation. When Magnus peeked into the kitchen, he saw a lot of things going into a blender that didn’t seem like they were meant to go together, followed by several large burly guys daring each other to chug a disgustingly thick concoction. 

There were no weapons allowed, since many of the guests were Enherji and couldn’t be trusted to mix partying with violence and not end up dead over it, but there were still stick sword fights in the hallways branching out into all out Guerilla warfare. As Magnus moved from room to room defending his new wife, he noticed some of the Einherjar teaching the kids from the Chase Space how to fight, and noticed some of them were pretty good fighters.

That probably wasn’t a great sign for the future conflicts they were going to be dealing with, but whatever. Tonight was a good night. He was married. He didn’t Puke in Alex’s mouth or fall off the stage or embarrass himself, and he even got to look cool in front of the homeless kids, which was great for his ego. 

And best of all, Alex was next to him all night. The two of them were practically glued together, and Magnus was over the moon about it. He barely needed a drink of mead to start feeling drunk and giddy. They went from room to room playing games, laughing, and generally causing a bit of chaos. At one point, the play-war happening separated into the living vs the Einherjar, and he and Percy had had a very impressive sword fight in the front yard. He’d been one horn of mead in at the time, and was pretty sure he shouldn’t have been able to beat him, but Percy had taken a somewhat dramatic dive into the river after a good strike, leaving Magnus standing stunned on the bank for a few seconds before everyone exploded in applause. Alex had given him an excited reward kiss and shouted something at Annabeth as she was towing her wet boyfriend out of the river. 

Annabeth didn’t seem upset, and Magnus was pretty sure he’d seen her smiling the whole time as she’d given Percy a kiss of his own. 

It had been a few years since he’d died, and even though he’d stopped counting, he was pretty sure he was over Valhalla’s legal drinking age, or at least that he had earned it saving the world once or twice. So, after his glorious victory, he’d had a couple more drinks, offered some fighting tips to his eager (and drunk) troops, then wandered off to find somewhere to hide with Alex. 

The two of them were hiding for a few hours. No one ever figured out where, or what they had been doing, and they were extremely tight lipped, if very smiley about it, when they came back out to the party. They made a stop in the karaoke office for Magnus to do a frankly impressive performance of Taylor Switf’s ‘Lover’ to a flustered Alex sitting in a chair. He was still singing it when they headed out of the room. 

Near the end of the night the two groups of hallway fighters had called for an orderly competition, and they’d settled on a tournament of sorts on the rooftop. The chairs had been pushed aside and a circle had been marked off in the center of the space. It seemed like they were playing a game of King of the Ring, taking turns pushing eachother out of the circle and cheering excitedly when someone won. 

When Alex and Magnus had wandered up, the competitors had arranged a sort of throne for the two newlyweds to spectate the ongoing competition from. It was just a couple of chairs pushed together with the flower arrangements from the ceremony next to them and a bunch of pillows, but Magnus did kind of feel like a king every time they cheered and raised their glasses towards him. 

Alex came half wobbling over after refilling a plate full of snacks. Tossing her plate down on her seat, she planted herself directly into her new Husband’s lap with a happy wiggle.

Huh. Husband. Weird. 

“Make room, mags.” She pushed his arms and legs around a little until she was comfortably sitting sideways on his lap with her feet over the armrest, then reached over to pull the plate of food into her lap. 

“Mags?” Magnus was grinning. He'd had something to drink since they came back out. It might have been spiked? He hadn’t asked. Everything seemed kind of warm and funny. He felt a little dizzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the smell of whatever Perfume Alex had put on. Alex seemed in a similar state. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t using the mean nicknames. Happily, he wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed. 

“Hey, I’m eating!” She elbowed him, steadying her plate of cookies and chips. “Sit still or I’ll get a proper chair.”

“Okay.” He nodded like a dummy, then rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. After a few minutes of shouting, a round of the competition finished, and the whole roof let out a cheer. Magnus smiled, squeezing Alex again. 

“‘Mhappy.” He muttered, his voice quiet and next to her ear. 

Alex paused, tilting her head towards him and raising a brow. “Better be.”

“Mhm.” He nodded a couple times, his chin bumping her shoulder. “Mmm.”

She offered him a piece of cookie, which he ate obediently. “Magnus.” Her voice was soft, a little slurred. 

“Mmm?” He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes and trying to focus. 

“I love you.”

The two of them sat there, staring at each other for a few moments. The air was warm, the sky lit up with stars. They were surrounded by a hundred happy people there to celebrate them. Still, the best moments of the day were ones like this. Ones where they felt completely alone, and understood each other completely without saying any words. Magnus’s big dummy smile spread across his lips, and for once, Alex’s drunk mind didn’t bother trying to hide her own in return. 

“Yeah.” Magnus nodded. “I know.”

————————————————————————

TAGS: @alex-fierro-pr-nightmare@mallory-keen-to-kill@thomas-jefferson-jr@halfbornhalfdead@lordofsummergodofrizz@deadmomclubattendee@imhotterthanallofyou@that-hijabi-loki-spawn@runest0nes@blitzen-imnot-that-short

[fruitcoops]

Slowburn

Fic O'Ween Day 12: Goosebumps, with part five of the firefighter/ EMT AU! Coops, Leo, and Layla belong to @lumosinlove, fest header belong to @noots-fic-fests!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

TW extremely brief mention of bodily fluids (one sentence at the beginning)

Five hours and forty-four minutes. He had been bled on, puked on, grabbed, yelled at, and nearly toppled. His only spare pair of pants was now bound up in a plastic bag. Miracle of miracles, Sirius’ shirt was the only thing that hadn’t been damaged in the miserable afternoon. It made a great undershirt. It would also need to be washed at least four times before he could even dream of returning it.

Layla stared at a spot above his shoulder in the opposite jumpseat. One side of her eyeliner had been completely smudged away; the other, smeared sideways to her temple in a smoky trail.

“Nice job today.”

“Thanks.”

“That was a lot.” Layla nodded mutely. His heart pulled for her, a little bit. Even if their cases had been run-of-the-mill, nearly six hours of back-to-back calls would wear anyone down. He nudged the tip of her shoe with his own. “You’re learning fast. I saw some good work out there.”

“I’m…” She blinked slowly, then shook her head. “Wow, I think I fell asleep sitting up for a minute.”

“It happens.” In time, she’d learn to sleep wherever she could catch it. “When does your shift end?”

“Seven.”

“Almost done, then.”

“Mmm.”

The ambulance went over a bump, rattling the near-empty shelves and bashing Remus’ tailbone against the back ledge. “Sorry!” Leo called through the small window to the cab.

He had mostly given up hope that he’d see Sirius in the next twelve hours. His shift wasn’t over until midnight, and Sirius’ started at six the next morning. If he made time between his dentist appointment and calling his parents, he might be able to stop by in the afternoon, but it would be a stretch if he wanted to get any laundry done. And, Christ, that was a chore he couldn’t delay for another week. He liked those pants. More importantly, he now knew just how much Sirius liked them.

Something stirred in his belly at the thought. Warm hands cupping his ass and sliding over his flanks with astonishing care. Sirius had felt him up enough that he could probably make a Model Magic version of Remus’ body on touch alone—and wasn’t that a thing to picture. Somewhere between rounds two and three, Remus remembered kissing the backs of Sirius’ thighs. Pale skin and dark hair above the bare, sensitive bend of his knees. They slotted so well in his palms. Sirius had looked like glory itself when he peeked over his shoulder to look.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Remus jumped. “What? Nothing. Sorry, nothing, why?”

“You’re all frowny.”

Thank god for that. “Just…the day.”

A vague and reliable excuse. Layla snorted. “Tell me about it.”

There will never be a day when I tell you about this. Remus hoped his laugh didn’t come out too strained. “Seriously.”

They took the next turn a little wider, sending their final two ointment boxes sliding out of place. He fixed them blindly while the city center rolled past through the back windows. Did Sirius still have scratch marks on his upper thighs?

Another bump knocked the thought from his head. “We’re home,” Leo singsonged from the driver’s seat. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the showers, wondering why I chose this life path.”

“Mood,” Layla mumbled.

“I’m also Grubhubbing a sundae, and you can’t stop me.”

One of the last functioning neurons in Remus’ head lit up. “Get me one.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Get your own.”

“I’m your boss.”

“You make more money than me.”

“Yes, let me flaunt my extra fifty cents an hour,” he countered dryly. “Every night, I rub my quarters together, just to flex on you. That beautiful sound of a handful of nickels.”

“…I’ll see what they have.”

“Good rookie.”

He didn’t wait for the ambulance to stop before opening the doors. The familiar ka-chunk of the lock coming free was music to his ears—a sweet, sweet anthem of freedom, the promise of a lukewarm cup of coffee and a maybe-stale donut from the break room.

And Sirius.

Sirius, sitting on one of his packed and labeled inventory bins.

Remus stared.

“Remus?”

“Go ahead,” he said absently. “I’ll catch up.”

Layla hopped out with a groan. Six hours was a long time to be up and down. Remus was sure his feet would ache the same when he stood. If he stood. Sirius’ hair stuck up at the back, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Remus loved when he did that.

He just. He really did like him, quite a lot.

Keep me.

What had he been thinking? Six hours was a long time to wait. He had told Sirius he’d be right back. It was his day off; why hadn’t he left after it was clear Remus wouldn’t return?

He supposed he could ask the same question about that morning. God, could it really only have been a few hours since he felt Sirius’ bare chest against his own? They had practically been spooning with how tight they were tangled in each other when he woke. Remus hardly remembered falling asleep, only aware of the pleasant ache in his muscles and the humming pleasure in his belly. Pure satisfaction. Pure comfort, at having Sirius hold him like more than a friend.

He watched Leo wander off. Sirius didn’t seem to have noticed. He didn’t so much as flinch when Remus stumbled off the rig and beelined for him, not until Remus stopped in front of him, unsure what to say. I want you I like you I’m sorry please kiss me again, I still get goosebumps thinking about the way your mouth tastes with adrenaline.

Sirius blinked up at him, full lips and glossy lashes. His bone structure was fucking criminal. “You’re back,” he said, so soft and sweet and genuinely happy that Remus’ stomach flopped over itself. Sirius stood, tucking his phone into his pocket without a second glance at it. He was just—big. And tall. And gorgeous. Remus now knew precisely how solid his chest was, and how nice it was to kiss. “Did you have a good day?”

Remus stepped forward and planted his face directly into that chest.

“Oh,” Sirius laughed. It vibrated against his forehead; he closed his eyes. Arms came up around him, hands settling at his nape and the small of his back. He knew he smelled awful. Sirius didn’t seem to care as a tentative kiss nestled on the top of his head and melted Remus’ insides out his throbbing feet.

He sighed. Sirius smelled all warm and spicy. Detergent, cologne, or simply the way he was? Remus couldn’t wait to find out. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” The delight was back. Sirius pushed the breath from his lungs on a squeeze. “Yeah, it is. I like this.”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Remus mumbled. “Gonna kiss you so good. Just…two seconds.”

“You can kiss me whenever you want.”

“Two seconds.” It was so dark in his new haven. Sirius’ lungs moved calmly, steadily. His heart rate was a little fast, but nothing to worry about. Remus let his ears go foggy and pressed closer, nuzzling into the space between his collarbones.

Sirius kissed the top of his head again, less hesitant this time, before resting his chin there. “Long day?” he asked after several seconds. Remus hummed. “Sounded like you guys didn’t get much of a break.”

“Mhmm.” He turned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek over Sirius’ sternum. He couldn’t count the number of times they had sat together on the couch or at the table or in the window seat, legs intertwined while they worked through their days. Separate snacks at first, then a single bowl to share once they knew each other’s favorites. It had been nice, to have someone there. Someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone who understood.

But this…this was so much better.

Sirius’ thumb stroked a short path along his spine. It zinged all the way into the base of Remus’ skull. “I sweated through your shirt,” he muttered, pushing his head further beneath Sirius’ chin. “After I stole it from you by accident. Sorry. I’ll wash it.”

He felt Sirius’ smile on his temple. “Keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Think I left mine at your place.”

“Guess you’ll just have to come back and get it,” Sirius whispered playfully. Remus couldn’t help a grin, raising his head despite the pounding drowsiness behind his eye—he had barely opened his mouth to retort when there were lips brushing his own, a wordless request. He granted it easily.

This was different than the rushed promise on the ambulance. Different than last night’s smoky, need-fueled passion. He let Sirius lead, tender and questioning, then pushed into it a little more. Have it, he tried to say. Take it all, it’s been yours for a while. The words may not work, but he was willing to bet Sirius would understand anyway. His lower lip was chapped on one side when Remus ran his tongue along the seam, giddy and dizzy with the kiss-buzz of chasteness.

“Hmm.”

That was good. It was all good, if Sirius would keep making noises like that. He brought his hands up to rest on narrow hips (marked with a tiny scar just above his thigh, which Remus was so fucking glad he knew now) and gave a little more, pushed a little harder. Sirius’ hand cupped his jaw and the right side of Remus’ brain powered down.

“Hm—wait, wait.”

His attempt to lick forward into Sirius’ mouth was stymied by sudden distance between them. Not far—he could still pick out each fleck of quicksilver in Sirius’ unfocused eyes—but far enough to be frustrating for the part of him that was enjoying turning his thoughts off. Remus went up on his toes for more, but Sirius pulled away. “What?” he whispered, though they were alone. “Did you—are you mad at me?”

“No,” Sirius said hurriedly. His hands soothed down Remus’ sides in a long drag that sent tingles through each cell. “God, no, I’m trying to—” His cheeks went a touch pink as he glanced around them and coughed lightly. “Uh, I’m trying to calm down.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Remus hadn’t even thought about that. He was pretty sure he was too tired for his body to consider arousal, aside from the inevitable spike of desire for a soft place to land for two to eight hours. Sirius’ mouth was so nice, his body so warm, that it was all too tempting to get lost in it.

Sirius’ tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Well. Remus supposed he might be able to feel something other than pure exhaustion, if he tried. “What time do you get off?”

“Whenever you want me to,” Remus answered immediately, then felt himself redden at the arch of Sirius’ brows. “Fuck—sorry. Midnight. My shift’s done at midnight.”

The fingertips on his back had become an extraordinary distraction. Sirius looked almost shy, so at odds with the animated boy he knew against this backdrop that Remus wanted to memorize every inch of it. “Can I…” Sirius began, then trailed off as his blush darkened. His thumbs hooked around Remus’ hipbones and paused there, lingering on bare skin. “Can I maybe take you to dinner? Or a diner?”

“At midnight?”

“I know a couple places.”

Remus frowned. “You have work tomorrow.”

Sirius gave a sheepish half-shrug. “We could nap together. Today, I mean. If you want.”

“I smell horrible.”

“You smell fine.”

“I’m soaked in dry sweat.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I—” That was it for excuses. That was all he had. Every defense against Sirius was dust in the wind. He smiled, and stood on his toes again to kiss one scruffy cheek. “Yeah, sounds good. Let me wash my face and grab some water. I’ll meet you in the bunks.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled, and Remus fell for him all over again. “I’ll be waiting.”