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vintageshanny · 2 months

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Waiting for Love - Part Twelve

You Fulfill My Soul

Content: All of the Elvisy things - angst, fluff, smut, mention of prescription drug use, removal of sweaty jumpsuits, etc. 18+

I know I said two more chapters, but as I started outlining and writing this part, I knew it would take us to the end. I had a loose vision for this story from the beginning. I don’t want to spoil the end right now, so I have written an author’s note at the bottom about how much this story means to me. Thank you so much for reading, liking, commenting, sharing, etc. I appreciate it more than you know. ❤️❤️❤️

Catch up here: Waiting for Love series

December 1972

“I don’t know, Rox. I’m excited to go to Hawaii and see him do this big performance, but I’m worried about him. He keeps trying to lose all this weight, he’s barely been eating. He just looks so stressed and tired.” Vivien curled the phone cord around her finger, peeking over toward the bed to make sure Elvis was still asleep. His light snores reassured her.

“I’m sorry hon, hopefully he’ll feel better after it’s all over.”

“I hope you’re right,” Vivien sighed. “Oh, are you and Michael coming to the Christmas party?”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” Roxanne sounded excited and then snickered a little bit. “Well actually it depends. Am I going to walk in on the two of you getting busy on the couch?”

“Roxanne! I apologized for that a million times,” Vivien protested, her face heating up with embarrassment.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. I was actually enjoying the show, I wish I had stayed til the end. Does he start singing when he orgasms?”

“No, he just moans my name and, well…” Vivien trailed off as she thought about how he would look at her with such tenderness when they were done, how occasionally she would see a tear brimming in his eye. Those moments were just for her though.

“C’mon, don’t stop now. You’re no fun,” Rox complained.

“Elvis thinks I’m pretty fun.” Vivien blushed at her own innuendo.

“Now you’re just being a tease!”

“You love it,” Vivien laughed. “I’ll see you next week.”

*************************************************

January 14, 1973 - 3:00AM

“Okay, tell me the truth now baby. How was I? The guys always jus’ tell me what they think I wanna hear.”

Back at their private villa in the wee hours of the morning, Vivien eyed Elvis, still in his sweaty jumpsuit emblazoned with an eagle. He looked beyond exhausted, but also a little relieved that it was over.

“Honestly? I thought you were amazing.” Vivien smiled and grabbed his hand, fiddling with the giant rings he’d worn for the special.

“Really? Ya think the people watchin’ at home will like it? Will they feel the energy?”

“Well, right off the bat they’ll like it because you look soooo handsome.” Vivien winked and Elvis blushed and smiled. “There’s that cute blush,” she teased, watching him grow even redder. “And yes, they will feel your energy. I was just getting upset that they made you keep doing songs after it was over. They’re wearing you out.”

“And that’s your job, right?” Elvis laughed when he saw it was Vivien’s turn to blush. “Don’t worry baby, I still got enough gas in the tank for ya.”

“Oh yeah? Are you gonna shoot me full of rhythm and blues?”

Elvis’ laughter grew as he pulled her in for a kiss. “I shoulda known that’d be your favorite part.”

“I think this next part is actually my favorite,” Vivien whispered as she unzipped his jumpsuit and started slowly peeling it off of his sweaty body.

“I look good, don’t I baby?” Elvis stood before her in just his white briefs, the jumpsuit now a sweaty pile on the floor. “I knew I could lose the weight.”

“You always look good to me.” Vivien leaned in and licked the sweat off his collarbone, sending a shiver through his body.

“Mmm baby, I think I’ve worked up an appetite.” He unzipped her blue sequined dress and let it pool onto the floor at her feet. “Oh God, like a feast for a starvin’ man,” he groaned as he slid her lacy panties down and laid her on the bed, spreading her legs open. “How do ya get more beautiful every time I look at ya?”

“Elvis,” Vivien protested shyly.

“Honey, this is my reward for all my hard work. I jus’ know ya wouldn’t deprive me of that.” He started kissing and licking up the insides of her thighs, approaching the wet delicacy at her center. “Mmm, sweeter every time too.” Vivien moaned as he licked her folds. “That’s right baby, keep lettin’ me know this is your favorite part.” Elvis started grinding against the bed, his dick almost uncomfortably hard as he sent her into orbit, his name echoing off the walls of the room. Ahh, sweet release.

“Okay that was definitely my favorite part,” Vivien panted, trying to regain control of her breathing.

“I think the people staying in the next villa over might know it too, baby.” Elvis laughed as he pulled himself up to lay next to her.

“Let me make you feel good now.” Vivien reached inside his underwear and found he was already a sticky mess.

“Honey, ya already did make me feel good. Ya know I jus’ can’t control myself around ya. And it makes me feel so good when you feel good.”

Vivien blushed, feeling flattered that her moans could excite him so much. “Well, let me take care of you in a different way then. I’m going to draw a nice relaxing bath for you.”

“Okay baby,” Elvis whispered, his eyelids already starting to feel like they didn’t want to stay open anymore.

“Come on, my love. You can sleep after we get you all cleaned up. You can sleep all day if you want.” She slipped on her nightgown and pulled him into the bathroom. “You’ll have to take your underwear off,” she reminded as he stood there next to the tub while she tested the water with her wrist. She smiled at his cute embarrassment when he quickly pulled off his underwear and sat down in the soapy water. As if she hadn’t seen him naked before. Hadn’t kissed and licked every part of him…

“Are ya comin’ in here with me?” Elvis’ voice brought her thoughts back to this beautiful exhausted man lying in the tub.

“No, this is just for you. I want you to lean back and relax while I take care of you.” She took a soft washcloth and started slowly washing his body, starting with his long graceful neck and working her way down. She scrubbed over his hairy chest and stomach and then very gently washed his penis and scrotum. His eyes were closed, but he let out a tiny little moan when she touched his most sensitive areas. She felt her own desire heating back up, but she knew how badly he needed to rest. She moved down his legs and then scrubbed his aching feet, setting aside the cloth when she was done so she could massage them with her hands.

“Baby, you’re so good ta me,” Elvis moaned.

“Okay, time to get you into bed.” Vivien helped him stand and step out of the tub. She grabbed a fluffy towel and carefully wiped him down from head to toe, no body part escaping her attention. Then she helped him into his pajamas and led him over to the bed.

As they curled up together, his arm wrapped around her from behind, Elvis whispered in her ear. “Baby, I was jus’ thinkin’ that my mama would be so proud of me for findin’ such a special woman ta love me and take care of me like you do. I wish you coulda met her.”

Vivien smiled, her eyes watering with emotion. “Elvis, I feel like I have met her in a way. All the love and kindness and passion that shines in you, I know that she gave that to you.”

Elvis didn’t say anything, but Vivien could feel the teardrop that slipped off his face and onto her own.

*************************************************

April 1973

Vivien awoke to see Elvis staring critically at himself in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall. He was wearing just his silky pajama pants. The top was draped over the velvet tufted chair next to him. Elvis jumped with a start as Vivien crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

“What’re we looking at?” she murmured into the soft skin of his back.

“N-n-nothin’ honey, lemme jus’ grab my shirt.” Elvis reached for the shirt, but Vivien snatched it away and hid it behind her back.

“Mm-mm, no, that will block my view,” she teased with a wink.

“C’mon baby, lemme have it,” Elvis demanded, turning toward her.

“You can have it in a minute. Just turn back around first. Pwease,” she added in a baby voice.

“Okay baby.” Elvis relented and turned back toward the mirror as Vivien tossed the shirt onto the chair.

“Wow…look at you,” Vivien breathed as she peeked out from behind him, looking at his body in the mirror.

“Yeah, look. I’m gettin’ too fuckin’ fat,” Elvis retorted. “All that weight I lost for the special came back. Plus more.”

Vivien wrapped her arms around him again. “You look amazing,” she murmured, her hands running over his broad hairy chest and down to his soft stomach. “I can’t believe this is all mine.” She slipped a hand inside his waistband and let her fingertips trace lightly over the little pooch leading down to his pelvic region.

“N-n-now that’s enough honey,” Elvis breathed out, but he didn’t make a move to stop her hand from drifting down further.

“This,” she whispered, “this is one of my favorite spots. Cuz if I follow it down, it takes me right to Little Elvis.” She cupped the soft warm appendage in her hand, feeling a shudder run through Elvis’ body as she stayed pressed tightly against him.

A low groan seemed to catch in his throat when she removed her hand from his pants and leaned in to kiss an old acne scar on his shoulder blade. She started slowly sliding his pants off, leaving a trail of kisses down his back and over that perfectly round butt. As his pants pooled around his ankles and she gave a tender kiss to the back of each sturdy thigh, Vivien noticed Elvis’ body trembling slightly. The sight of him being nervous after all this time together made her heart swell.

“Wh-wh-what are ya doin’ down there baby?” Elvis stuttered out as Vivien crawled around to kneel in front of him. She gave a kiss to each foot as she lifted them to help him step out of his pajama bottoms. “Ya ain’t gotta be d-d-down there on your knees like that, honey.”

Vivien took in the sight of him while she knelt there - his foreskin had rolled back to reveal that sensitive tip just begging to be tasted. “It looks like you’re enjoying it.” She smiled up at him and leaned in closer, licking her lips.

Elvis looked down and saw that, despite the…issues he’d been having the last couple weeks, Little Elvis was indeed standing at full attention. He sucked in his breath as Vivien pressed her lips to him, kissing his tip before lapping at it with her tongue and then taking him fully into her mouth.

“Oh damn Vivien, ya always know how ta make me feel good,” Elvis moaned out. His hands rested on her head, his fingers weaving through her thick dark hair.

Vivien could feel her own core throbbing with desire as she moaned around him, grabbing his butt and pushing him deeper inside of her. Every one of her senses was consumed by him.

Elvis looked down at Vivien taking care of him so passionately and his heart swelled with a profound desire. To make her his in every way. If only he could find a way to make his body keep cooperating. Too late…He could feel Vivien’s movements slow as he began to soften in her mouth.

“C-c-c’mon honey, that’s enough now,” he whispered with his eyes closed, the embarrassment threatening to push him into anger.

Vivien pulled her mouth off him but could not turn off her desire to shower him with affection. She saw that he had retreated completely into his cocoon and pressed two soft kisses to it, then two more to the fuzziness covering his pubic area, another one to his lower abdomen, then one to his belly button, until she had worked her way up and her face was buried in his chest. Elvis still felt embarrassed but also oddly grateful for her display of affection toward the body that just betrayed him. He’d never experienced this level of tenderness from someone.

“Did I do something wrong?” Vivien mumbled nervously into his chest.

Elvis kissed the top of her head. “Naw honey, it wasn’t that at all. I want ya, I really do, it’s j-j-just that I gotta couple new medications, a-a-and sometimes it does this ta me. My body’s not in sync with my mind and heart I guess.” Elvis pulled his pants and shirt back on and sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding eye contact.

“More new medications?” Vivien asked softly. “What are these for?”

“Baby, we’ve been over this. Ya ain’t gotta worry about me. I jus’ need some things ta help me keep performin’, ta help me sleep, and now my stomach’s been hurtin’ lately, so I got some more painkillers, but none of this is your concern, okay?”

“Not my concern?” Vivien echoed in disbelief. “I love you. How would I not be concerned? And I’ve seen your medications in the bathroom. Why do you have so many from different doctors? And some don’t even have your name on the bottle…” her voice trailed off when she saw Elvis’ jaw tighten. She braced herself for the storm she knew was coming, the storm she had provoked. But she could no longer bite her tongue and pretend that she didn’t see what was going on.

“You’ve been snoopin’ through my things?” Elvis barked, his whole body tensing up.

“I wasn’t snooping! Everything was right there on the counter by the sink.” She tried to lower the defensive in her tone. “Elvis. I’m just worried about you. You’ve been so exhausted lately, and sometimes you don’t seem like yourself. I think that maybe you should go to the hospital so they can see if there’s something seriously wrong.”

“Oh, I see. Ya wanna send me off cuz I can’t fulfill ya no more?” Elvis still sounded angry but now also hurt. “How do ya like that,” he muttered under his breath. “Like a race horse that’s outlived its usefulness. Just send him off ta die.”

“Elvis, you’re talking crazy now.” She tried to reach out and grab his hand, but he pulled back from her touch. “I know we are both passionate and affectionate people, but it’s not about the…sex,” she said, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “It was never just about that with me and you. From the first time we spoke, I saw something so deep in you that I can’t let go of. You fulfill my heart, you fulfill my soul. And I just can’t watch you do this to yourself.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“So that’s it? You’ll leave me if I don’t go to the hospital?” His voice was quieter now, but still full of hurt.

“I could never leave you. I love you beyond what I ever would have thought possible. I need you.” Vivien wished there were words to describe how completely her heart belonged to him. “But it will break my heart to see you getting sicker. It will break me. Please Elvis, I’m begging you to try. Just go get checked out and take only the medications that they give you. You can take a break from touring. We can run away together. Anything you need, I’ll be there to help you. I can’t exist without you.” Vivien felt the tears flowing freely down her face as she dropped down to her knees and buried her head in his lap.

Elvis swallowed as he looked down at this beautiful woman who cared for him so much. Who would do anything for him. He tried to let go of his anger as he stroked the back of her head. “Baby, please don’t cry. I know you’re worried about me. You don’t have ta be, but I know it’s cuz ya love me. I will go get checked out, okay? I’ll do it soon. For you. To make ya feel better, okay? You’ll see there’s nothin’ wrong, okay?”

Vivien nodded and wiped her tears away, knowing how hard it must be for him to make that concession, to let go of what little control he had in his own life. “Thank you.”

Elvis pulled her up off the ground and onto his lap, giving her a sweet kiss before reaching to button his shirt, feeling too exposed all of a sudden.

“Do you have to button that?” Vivien asked, stilling his hands with her own.

Elvis let out a guffaw, his face turning pink. “What, ya want me ta be walkin’ round in the nude all day?”

“Maybe I do,” Vivien teased, pushing his shirt back open. “Can you blame me when you look this good? So sexy,” she cooed.

Elvis grabbed her glasses off the nightstand and put them upside down on his own face. “I-I-I don’ know honey, I think we gotta get ya a new prescription in these things. I don’t know what you’re seein’. You’re liable to run off with some other sexy man thinkin’ it’s me!”

Vivien giggled and snatched her glasses back. “Hey, you’re the one who’s always losing your glasses!”

“I don’t lose ‘em baby, I give ‘em to fans as gifts. Plus your beauty is so powerful I could be blind as a bat and still see it.” He put a finger under Vivien’s chin and lifted it toward him so he could plant a sweet smooch on her lips. “Thank ya for worryin’ ‘bout me and takin’ care of me, baby.”

“Oh Elvis, you really want to know what I see when I look at you? It’s this.” She pressed her hand firmly against his heart, feeling the soothing rhythm that guided him. “Your heart is so beautiful it makes every part of you glow. Your looks could change a million times - you could gain weight, lose weight, stop dying your hair,” she teased, playfully running her fingers through his black mane with random pieces of silver nestled throughout. “You will always look perfect to me.”

“Thank ya sweetheart,” Elvis murmured, overwhelmed with emotion and…something else. “Oh baby,” he groaned as she pressed her body into his. “I think we’re back in business.”

VIvien squealed as he rolled her onto the bed and lowered himself on top of her, preparing to join their bodies as one.

*************************************************

May 1973

“There she is! Vivien!”

Vivien turned her head at the sound of her name to see half a dozen reporters and a news camera swarming toward her. She nervously took a step backward and bumped into Roxanne, who was carrying the sack of Krystal burgers that Elvis had sent them out to get.

“It’s okay Viv, I’m right here with you.” Roxanne whispered her reassurance into Vivien’s ear.

“So it’s true that Elvis is staying here in this hospital? Can you share what condition he’s in after canceling shows due to exhaustion?”

Vivien steeled her nerves against the intrusion, knowing Elvis would be much more polite and kind than she was about to be. “What condition do you hope for him to be in? Didn’t you report last week that he’s been gaining weight and might be losing his touch?”

“I take it you don’t share that opinion?” A condescending smirk played across his face.

“Not in the slightest.” Vivien tried with all her might to keep her voice even and steady.

“Do you think you’ll be the next long-suffering Mrs. Presley, watching over the home while Elvis goes off gallivanting with the boys?”

Vivien cocked her head slightly to the side, fire shooting out of her eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight - I am not suffering with Elvis. He is the kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever known. It is an honor to be at his side, loving and supporting him while he gives everything he has to bring happiness to his fans. But if you’re content to be vultures waiting to pick at the bones of a man, of a human being, who only wants to bring joy to this often miserable world, well, I can’t stop you.” Vivien turned on her heel and marched into the hospital lobby, Roxanne tagging along behind her in awe.

“Wow Vivien, that was amazing! I didn’t know you had it in you to tell him off like that.”

“Neither did I,” Vivien exhaled, her hands shaking with nerves as she took the bag of food from Roxanne.

“You’re gonna have to be strong like that to help him through all this. Have you thought about what you’ll do, I mean what if it doesn’t work? What if he starts taking all the painkillers again? What if he doesn’t get well?”

“Then we’ll try again. I’ll try forever with him, by his side.” Vivien spoke with determination. “I know he hasn’t always gotten everything right, but neither have I. I know he always tries his best. And I wouldn’t trade a second of our story. He has shown me this whole-hearted love that has filled my soul. Roxanne, I need him.”

“I know, Viv. Are you gonna be okay without me? I have to get back to work.”

“Yes, I’ll be okay. Thanks for driving me. And walking with me past the vultures.”

“You go be strong for him now, okay?” Roxanne pulled Vivien into a quick hug. “I love you.”

*************************************************

“There’s my baby! My baby with my burgers!”

Vivien was relieved to see that Elvis was still in such good spirits.

“Mr. Presley, you really should try to eat something a little healthier while you’re here.” The older female nurse spoke sternly but then smiled at Elvis’ pouty expression. “But I guess one burger would be okay.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Elvis dramatically stage whispered with a wink, a crooked grin lighting up his face. The nurse giggled like a schoolgirl and left the two of them alone in the room. “C’mere baby.” Elvis patted the narrow spot next to him on the bed, and Vivien squeezed herself in, snuggling up to his soft warm body. “They’re just running some tests now honey. They’re gonna find out why my stomach’s been hurtin’ and see what medicines I actually should be takin’. Ever’thing’s gonna be okay, you’ll see.” He put his arm around her and kissed her forehead tenderly.

“Of course everything’s gonna be okay,” Vivien said confidently. “I was waiting for love for such a long time, and I’m never letting go of you. Got that?”

“Mm-hm,” Elvis nodded as she pressed her lips against his sweet plush ones, her hand resting on his chest. The steady thump of his heart beat vibrated out and coursed through her own body, an ocean of love washing over the two of them.

Author’s note:

A million thanks to everyone who stayed with me on this one! This was such a cathartic thing to write for me, but I’m also sad and overwhelmed with emotion to let go of it. I feel Elvis gets a lot of undue criticism for just essentially being a human being. I loved being able to explore a little bit of what he may have thought and felt about his own life and relationships and why he did the things he did. My goal is always for my writing to convey the love and compassion that I feel for him, so hopefully I was successful. As for the ending, I had in mind from the beginning that it would be a little bit open-ended as to the future. In my fantasy world, with the right love and support, he would have been able to be with us a lot longer. But I also know that addiction and the health problems he faced were very serious, and sometimes all the love in the world can’t take that away. I don’t believe his level of fame is healthy for anyone’s psyche, and part of me thinks that he would have been better off as a human being if he had a short career at local clubs and then settled down to have a family. But on the other hand, I wonder if, knowing how much love and light he’s spread around the entire world for decades after his passing, would he still take the same path despite what fate had in store? All I know for sure is that, like Vivien, I am never letting go of the love I’ve found in him. ❤️

I would love to hear your thoughts, feedback, comments, etc.!

Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @pebbles403 @deniseinmn @everythingelvispresley @little-laamb @annapresley8 @leapresley @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @atleastpleasetelephone @gatheraheart @richardslady121 @helen06dreamer @arg-xoxo @i-r-i-n-a-a @returntopresley

#elvis #elvis smut #Elvis fan fic #Elvis fan fiction #Elvis x oc #waiting for love #i love this man

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tempting-andromeda · 10 months

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Do you perchance have more modern eagle flies hc? 🤔

Modern Eagle flies Headcanons!

Whenever he gets in an argument with his dad he goes to the back porch to smoke and his dad always plays music

His family is actually pretty big on music

His pockets are always stuffed with shit

Half finished cigarettes, a Lego he found in the parking lot, a candy bar wrapper, hair ties, etc

Gets embarrassed if you look at him for too long

Has a playlist/cd for everything

Wanna drive to the farmers market a state over? He has just the songs

Likes when you lay on him

Or sit on his lap in the comfort of his room

He always feels calm in your presence so he pretty much allows you to do anything

You wanna do his makeup and do an intricate hairstyle? Yeah go ahead

Can get into arguments about anything

Doesn’t look at you the whole time

Has slept in his truck because of arguments with his dad that he refuses to admit he went to far with

His dad always made him breakfast and made sure he was safe

Doesn’t fall in love easily but he falls HARD

He’s kinda scary dog privilege

Tall native guy with a resting bitch face?

Idk id be scared

Loves talking shit

Tried to work at the same place as Paytah but got fired and now they act as if they’ve been drafted to different sides of a war

Loves the movie princess and the frog

And 10 things I hate about you

Thinks wearing boxers as shorts is acceptable

Wanted to play hockey when he was younger

Obsessed with Eddie spears

Father and son by cat stevens is about him and his father.

#eagle flies #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #eagle flies x reader #eagle flies headcanons

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sweetheartmotives · 7 months

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𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓿𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓼!

Desc and possible Cw: None!

Let me know if I missed any

Micah, The yan Bartender: Just like other holidays, Micah was ecstatic for this one! Another holiday to celebrate all the time he's spent with his beloved?! Yessir! Count him in! Anyway, you guys start the day off with breakfast in bed [Micah made it for you] and then a quick cuddle sesh, and another cuddle sesh, and another cuddle seshhhh- until around 3:00 pm! Around that time, Micah runs off to the grocery store while you sleep to prepare a surprise dinner for you! He made something yummy, fancy, and somewhat homely dinner. You guys finish the lovely day off with gifts, kisses, and you guessed it, love making.

Overall, 10/10! Great yan to spend this lovely holiday with! :3

Jaakobah, Evil Yan Cupid: Oh yeah, this is a holiday Jaakobah digs. First of all, he is Cupid, therefore he knows all about romance and how to sugar you up! He, of course, plans a whole day of activities a week prior since he's the 'expert' on this holiday. Anyway, you get your favorite flowers in a neat little bundle with a package of chocolates matched with it, you go to a fair, and finally, you go to dinner.

Overall, 8/10. He's a shithead during all this btw. 'You're so desperate lol, you had to get wit cupid to get a valentine.' BE QUIET.

Harper, The yan Eagle Hybrid: Harper, as expected, didn't know what Valentine's Day was. You tried explaining it to him and all he took from it was he had to give you flowers and a gift to show his love. It didn't make sense to poor Harper, he already gifts you the finest flowers and fruits he can find in the forest, what else could you want?? After expressing his confusions to you, you explain that it's a day of love and gift giving is just one way of showing love! Harper nods along as you explained it, he finally gets it now, you want a baby! That's the ultimate gift! Oh goodie, off to the nest deep inside the cave you two go! [Dw, his cum has special properties to get EVERYONE pregnant. Don't matter what ur gender/sex is 😊]

Overall, 4/10. It was nice at the beginning but now your legs are sore.

Damian, The yan deep diver: Damian, as expected, was the one who suggested and explained Valentine's Day to you. He even brought you your special treats to jndugle in for the special occasion! He brought you pretty shells, rocks, Coral, etc from the deep depths and not deep depths for you to enjoy. He also tried, again, to kiss you. You bit him. Hard.

Overall, 3/10. The gifts were nice but the kiss attempt ruined everything.

Taiyō, the Yandere Cafe Host: Prepare to get spoiled! First, he comes to wherever you live with a big, big expensive bouquet of flowers matched with a pretty heart package of fancy chocolates. After that, he tells you all about your dinner plans for the evening and how he expects you to wear something nice. But now you might say, "But sweetheart, what if I don't have nice clothes?!" Well, don't worry your pretty head about any of that! Taiyō will happily whip out a fat wad of cash for you to buy something nice for your little Valentine's Day dinner 😊 You two lovebirds end the night off eating in a fancy restaurant under the jawdropping, most marvelous Moonlight around.

Overall, another 10/10! The spoiling never ends with him! 😭

Yumako, The yan magical girl: She was pumped! She planned a picnic, an hour of albuming photos together, going around town, and eating yummy Valentine's Day themed foods. You guys did all those things btw ^_^

Overall, 10/10. Was so cute!!

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Welcome to the end credits! This is where I will give information on my new or previous yans!

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you all get whatever chocolates and other sweets you enjoy from that special someone! I hope you all enjoyed reading as I enjoyed writing! [Sending virtual chocolates to you all! ♡]

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#happy valentine's day #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere blog #yandere scenarios #yandere scenario #fem!yan #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x reader #x gn y/n

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cow-smells · 4 years

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You’re Mine [Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Reader]

Requests: 1. there’s a new girl on miyagi-do, she’s classmates with sam, hawk, miguel, tory, robby, demetri, etc... for some reason, she and hawk didn’t like each other (he can be on cobra kai or eagle fangs, that’s your choice), and one day they make a bet, which this girl wins. hawk has to be her slave for a whole week. BONUS IDEA: a stolen kiss during a fight. maybe admitting feelings for each other? i’d love that! ( @berriewrites ) 2. love the hawk smut but i’d also love some fluffy hawk about him secretly liking the reader who’s in miyagido but he tries to act all tough and hide it (anon) 3. AHHH CAN WE GET SOME HAWK FLUFF!? I love the idea where you swear that you don’t like him and you guys make eye contact from a distance when he’s standing with his friend group and you’re standing with yours and you get flustered and he can tell and he smirks and just ahh (anon)

A/N: this took so longggg this came out longer than expected (and honestly i could go on, but i wanted to get this out already) + real life has come hitting all at once and its been overwhelming lol. thanks for being patient and sticking around <3 i enjoyed writing some fluff (amidst a flurry of smut reuests loool :)

Words: 2981

Warnings: none

Read this on AO3

Summary: You don't like Hawk. He's a bad person, that much you know for sure. You're ready to make his life miserable when he loses a bet with you, but then you actually have to spend time with him...

You didn't like this.

Forgiveness seemed to be a virtue that evaded you. Eagle-fang and Miagi-Do were uniting and everyone seemed to be all for the union – except for you.

Some things were simply unforgivable. For you, Hawk breaking Demetri's arm was one of them.

You and Demetri became nearly inseparable friends when you both joined Miagi-Do. He had told you all about his former friend Eli and how he'd abandoned him in the favor of bullying him in any way he could come up with; that bullying taking a turn to the extreme when Hawk took to breaking bones.

Demetri had since forgiven him, but you hadn't.

Demetri had a softer heart than he let on, and he missed Eli terribly, so when the latter suggested they work together he gladly accepted.

But you were more objective about the situation, as you weren't a part of it, and forgiving such cruelty was beyond you.

The one good thing about the dojos coming together was the intense dedication that grew on everyone. Now that you had a common enemy, many participants would hang around in Miyagi-Do's dojo long after training sessions, training until you could hardly move your limbs.

The sun had ago long fallen when you and the remaining students took places around a mat, ready for the sparring session to begin.

With Daniel and Sensei Lawrence gone, you had taken to writing down names and pulling them out of a bowl to decide on sparring partners.

All the negative emotions you felt channeled in to great excitement when Miguel called your name – followed by Hawk's.

You could have sworn you saw a look of something you couldn't read – concern, perhaps, or fear? Before he seemed to share your excitement as he stepped on to the mat with a grin that was almost predatory.

Two could play at that game.

“You're as good as dead,” you said, your voice dripping venom. Hawk's smirk just grew.

“Is that so, princess? I'd like to see you score as much as a point.”

A light bulb lit in your mind.

“Yeah?” you taunted. “What if I get three?”

Hawk laughed. “You got a lot of confidence, don't you? I'll tell you what. If you can score three points on me and win, I'll...” He bit his lip as he thought. “I'll let you boss me around for a week. Whatever you want.”

The blood rushed through your veins, ready more than ever to fight. You were grateful for the lack of your sensei, knowing this nonsense wouldn't stand if he were here.

“Deal.”

“Are you guys done?” Miguel huffed, standing between you two, ready to referee. “Good. Bow.”

You bowed without intent and got straight to attacking. Hawk didn't expect it; he came from the dojo that prides itself on strike first and yours cared mainly about defense. You earned your first point within seconds.

That only served to throw Hawk off his game further. He dived in right away for the attack and was caught unprepared when you fell, sweeping his leg.

You earned your second point.

By that point, Hawk might as well have been fuming out the ears. His brows furrowed in anger as he looked at you like you were the most vile thing he had ever seen; that satisfied something within you.

The flurry of hits and misses was so rapid you were caught unprepared when you managed to land a punch on Hawk, Miguel's voice rising as he named you victor.

Hawk huffed, clearly exerted. You smiled. “You're mine.”

You were fully intending to use this bet to its full potential.

The next day was Saturday, and Hawk, true to his word, showed up at your doorstep at 9 p.m sharp, just as you had ordered.

You paid him no kindness when you opened the door, not exchanging a word with him before demanding: “Helmet?”

Hawk handed you a helmet, not looking particularly pleased about the situation but not being able to stop himself from taking in an eyeful of you anyway.

You needed a ride to tonight's party – that's where Hawk came in, beginning his work for you as a personal valet. Accordingly for the event, you were dressed meticulously, showing off your best features – and if you were to judge by Hawks reaction, you were on your way to turn heads.

You climbed on the motorcycle after him, circling your arms around him loosely; but when he kicked off and started the ride, you couldn't help but tighten your hold.

The party was overcrowded with people from the moment you got there; Yasmine's parties tended to get a bit... excessive.

You ditched Hawk the moment you got sight of your friends, ditching the helmet on his bike to run over to Sam, Moon and Yasmine.

Yasmine didn't hide the dirty look she sent at Hawk. “Ew. Who's the freak?”

You grinned proudly. “My valet. Ignore him. Actually...”

You looked over to the drinks table; someone had tapped a keg and it was being swarmed with people.

“Hey, Hawk!”

Hawk turned to you, the slightest furrow in his brow as he had already joined his own friends. You pointed at the drinks table. “Vodka soda!” you ordered.

He rolled his eyes, but did it anyway. Your friends watched wide-eyed as he obeyed you wordlessly, bringing over the drink. “Anything else, princess?”

“Yes,” you gave him a judging once-over. “Don't drink tonight. I want to get home in one piece.”

He bit his cheeks and glared at you before growling “Fine” and returning to his friends.

At some point you didn't even want a drink any more, it was just fun ordering Hawk to go fetch you another one; and so, you found yourself unintentionally drunk, laughing mindlessly at anything said and swaying on your feet.

You didn't even know how late it had gotten when Hawk came in the living room looking for you, ready to go home as most the others already had.

You had earlier made him promise to take you home as well, and – something you were quickly learning was, Hawk was definitely a man of his word. He spotted you half-sprawled on the couch, laughing with Yasmine at something you didn't fully register. Your cup was askew in your hand, contents about to spill over when Hawk grabbed it out of your hand, placing it on a table nearby.

“Come on, Y/n. It's time to go.”

“Not yet!” you grinned gleefully, taking hold of his wrist and shaking it dumbly as you spoke. “Later! We're having fun!”

Hawk placed his free hand on yours that held him. “It's four AM, Y/n, time to call it a night.”

You didn't reply, instead resorting to pouting like a child.

His eyes softened (the puppy eyes never failed to work) – but his jaw clenched. “If you don't come now I'm leaving you here.”

“Fine!” you hurriedly rose to your feet, using Hawk for balance. “Bye,” you pouted at Yasmine childishly as Hawk pulled you away from her and out of the house.

The sudden quiet of the outside was nearly overwhelming, Hawk's voice sounding too loud for you. “How am I supposed to get you home when you're this drunk?”

“I'm not drunk,” you answered instinctively, knowing that you very well were.

“If you can make it to the bike in a straight line, I'll believe you.” You look at his bike, ten feet ahead. You decide to keep holding on to him. “That's what I thought. Listen. You gotta stay awake, okay? I can't have you falling off in the middle of the road, or making me sway, because then we're both dead. Got it?”

“Dead. Got it.”

Hawk didn't look convinced, but placed a helmet on you and buckled it anyway.

It was about ten minutes in to the ride when Hawk pulled over. He turned to you, his voice as serious as he could make it; you simply smiled, somewhat dazed. “This isn't going to work.”

“Hm?”

“Y/n!” Hawk called, trying to wake you up a little. “Don't fall asleep!”

“Yes, sensei.” you slurred. Had you been any more awake, you might have noticed the way Hawk's eyes widened at that.

Hawk had to refocus himself to go on. “I'm serious. Look... My house is closer than yours. You can sleep it off at mine, and I'll take you wherever tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay,” you shrugged, your mind not caring about much other than regaining the warmth of Hawk's body pressed against yours.

Minutes later you pulled up at an unfamiliar house. Hawk unbuckled your helmet and set it aside, helping you off the bike and guiding you inside, motioning Shhh as he led you through the corridor of his darkened house until you reached his room.

The most natural thing for you to do the moment you saw a bed was to collapse on it. In the seconds Hawk turned his back on you to find you Pj's to wear, you had fallen asleep.

Looking at you on his bed, Hawk exhaled heavily. He was very aware of your hatred of him; what he couldn't understand was, if everyone else forgave him, why not you?

It certainly didn't help that you looked the way you do, that you were talented, and that everyone loved you.

So Hawk undid your shoes and pulled them off, laying a blanket on you before leaving you to sleep.

You woke up groggy, somewhat hungover and in a strangers room; an interesting start to the day.

You didn't really want to leave the comfort of your lonesome in the room but it was clear you would have to face the music at some point, so you womaned up and left the room.

Following the smell of food cooking, you walk down a hallway to find a red-haired man in the kitchen, his tattooed back to you, muscles flexing as he flipped a pancake.

With his hair down, it took you a moment to register who you're seeing; who's bed you spent the night in.

Hawk.

Your first instinct was to groan, to cower in to yourself in regret; but then you remember how tenderly he treated you the night prior, making sure you got safely to a bed, letting you have his bed.

You swallowed your pride and stepped in to the kitchen. “Morning.”

Hawk's shoulders jumped in fright as you startled him; you couldn't help but giggle. He quickly rightened himself, straightening his back and flexing his abs as he turned to you.

He was good looking and he knew it. You hated him.

However, you felt your power returning to you as he couldn't help but look you up and down, your disheveled clothes revealing a bit more than they had the night before. Hawk inhaled sharply, reminding himself of who he was, how he was supposed to act: unfazed.

“Bout time you got up.”

You frowned, looking at the kitchen clock. “What do you mean about time? It isn't even noon yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Hawk flipped a pancake on to a nearby plate. “You wanted me to take you to the mall today, right? I have practice later, so it's gotta be now.” The Eagle-fangs were holding weekend practices of their own, something you weren't a fan of.

“Jeez, fine,” you sneered, allowing yourself to sit at the kitchen table. Amidst the chaos that was waking up in Hawks bed, you had totally forgot you previously asked him to take you out today. Yasmine's parents were making her take tutoring lessons, Moon was doing some spiritual healing thing and Sam was with Miguel, so you were left all alone – but you certainly didn't intend on spending Sunday at home, doing nothing.

Hawk finally shut off the burner and joined you at the table with a stack of pancakes and two plates in tow. “Eat away your hangover. I'm not gonna hold your hair up if you hurl.”

Breakfast with Hawk ended up being a surprisingly civil affair; so was shopping. There was something exciting about dragging him along after you, shop after shop, having him carry your bags and modeling clothes for him. And honestly, you were loving the effect you had on him. You knew he was trying to hide it, but you could see the way he grew antsy when you tried on bikinis. You loved teasing him, knowing he couldn't have you.

What also didn't hurt was the way you two turned heads walking down streets together. You were undeniably gorgeous, and he... While at first you thought it was the bright red mohawk that grabbed peoples eyes, after a close inspection you couldn't deny he had fair features, too. You had to look away whenever he tensed his jaw, accentuating his jawline, or if God forbid he smiled, you had to deny the way his smile made your stomach knot up.

As though to top off the experience of him, by the time you finished shopping, Hawk would have been late if he was to take you home, so you suggested he take you to practice with him and just take you home once he was finished. And oh my... You did not need to see him fighting. Having a whole hour to see his biceps flexing as the threw punches was doing you no favors; when you were both practicing you were too busy with yourself to notice him, but right then you had a whole hour to do nothing but stare.

At the end of the practice you rose when Hawk approached you, ready to go. When his sensei understood you were waiting there for him, he asked Hawk, “Yours?”

Hawk didn't answer; he merely smirked that Hawk smirk of his. His sensei nodded proudly. “Nice.” Creep.

You had a couple more days to squeeze the most you could out of your bet, and by all means were you planning on using them.

Hawk was taking you to school and home every day on the back of his bike – to Miyagi-do, too. It became a regular thing to see you two together, and if anyone was expecting you, they expected Hawk, too.

Just as the previous mornings, you and Hawk walked in to school together. Seeing your friends, you bid him goodbye and went to join them, your eyes lingering on him a bit too long as he said hello to Miguel.

Yasmine's jaw dropped as she looked at you, her expression scandalized. “What?” you asked.

“You're totally in to the freak!”

“What? No,” you denied – but even as the words left your mouth, you could hear your lack of conviction. “No.”

You looked back to where Hawk and Miguel stood; this time, he caught your eye. Then, with total audacity, he winked at you.

You felt heat rush through your body.

The smirk that grew on him suggested he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You hated it.

Deciding to put an end to this madness, you wordlessly leave your friends and march up to Hawk, a new rage running though you.

He stopped talking with Miguel when you reached him; Miguel visibly tensed at what he felt was a dangerous situation for him to be in.

“Sidebar,” you ordered. Hawk smirked.

“After you, princess.”

You hoped no one would notice when you lured him in to an empty classroom, but in all honesty, it was you and Hawk. There were always eyes on you two.

You turned to him once you were engulfed in the silence of the room. “Listen. I don't know what you're playing at, but cut it out. I own you, got it? Don't go winking at me in the hallway like I'm your girlfriend or something.”

You expected to see him cower, blush, show any sign of intimidation – but there was no such emotion. The smirk he wore only grew in confidence. “You sure about that?” he asked cheekily. “Because it seems to me like you'll find any excuse to be around me.”

You couldn't believe the audacity of this boy. You were stunted for words; he went on. “Be honest with yourself. Once the week is up, you'll still find reasons to talk to me.”

You bit your cheeks; you hated how he was right, how he read you so easily. “And look, I'm done playing this game too.”

Your stomach dropped. Was he about to reject you, without you even confessing? “I'm not playing with you,” you tried to say intimidatingly, but your voice came out too small for comfort.

“Me neither. So...” Hawk looked down at you; you could have drowned in his ocean eyes. You averted your gaze to the side, crossing your arms.

“Fine. We can call it off early.”

Hawk chuckled. You wanted to punch him. “You still don't get it, do you?”

You returned your eyes to Hawk, ready to chew him out when he placed his hands on your cheeks, pulling you to him for a kiss.

You could feel yourself melting in to the kiss, feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you as you finally got to experience what you didn't want to admit to yourself that you craved so deeply.

When he finally pulled away, he kept his hands on you, your noses nearly touching. “I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Hawk admitted.

You half-smiled. “It's only been a week.”

Hawk had burst in laughter, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “You still don't get it.” Before you could protest his words, his lips met your once more.

Maybe you could find it in you to forgive him, after all.

#cobra kai imagine #cobra kai #eli moskowitz imagine #eli hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz/reader #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai hawk

589 notes · View notes

feralaot · 4 years

Text

random scouts hcs!

I did a post like this for the warriors my beloved (here) and people seemed to like it so here's one for the scouts :) had some input from @afrival for this one luv u

no warnings I think

eren

if he had twitter he would have a vaporwave bart simpson profile picture and tweet lil peep lyrics. also uses way too many hashtags

he's scared of snakes and hates armin's ball python

his eyes are probably crusty as hell and mikasa has to wipe em for him because he won't

when he's losing an argument he goes "ooh you wanna kiss me so bad" and it always escalates things but he doesn't stop

almost exclusively wears american eagle

"what's a pronoun".mp3

uses the 💯 emoji in every other text message he sends

armin

sends his friends pictures of cats cuddling/hanging out and says "me n you <3"

genuinely can't stand when people have dirt under their fingernails. he gets so mad at eren bc his nails are dirty asf and armin forces him to clean them

he calls himself sexy a lot (e.g. "that was really sexy of me")

chews on bottle caps then is like hmm why do my teeth hurt

he hates feet. toes look weird to him. nobody in his house is allowed to take their socks off

unironically uses faces like ^-^ and :3

acne :(

mikasa

she's really bad at giving advice. don't go to her for help she'll literally be like "that's tough"

probably has like 4 instagram accounts made just to follow eren

solid black profile picture and no bio

maybe now and then she'll put a my chemical romance quote on her story but that's about it, she doesn't respond to dms or anything

doesn't wash that damn scarf so it's probably stinky

sticks staples, pins, etc through the tips of her fingers for no reason other than she likes freaking people out

probably hisses at people

jean

the only possible relationship dynamic somebody can have with him is rivals to lovers

very short social fuse and has to stay home for several days after public events bc it's just exhausting

he's an introvert adopted by extroverts (connie and sasha) and has to deal with their shenanigans. truly the mom figure between the three of them

marco has to listen to him ranting about connie and sasha's foolery and doesn't have much advice to offer bc he doesn't know either

for a long time he only knew "straight" and "gay" and when he found out about the concept of bisexuality his mind almost imploded

he sighs and yawns a lot and doesn't even realize he does it. people always think he's either annoyed or tired

probably dresses like a diet e-boy. crewneck king

connie

the kind of kid in your high school gym class that wears mismatching neon clothes. bonus points if it's nike

also the most likely to start a food fight for funsies

he doesn't yell often because his voice cracks when he does and it's embarrassing

sasha and him hate cafeteria food so he always brings an ungodly amount of food in his backpack instead to share with sasha. connie's backpack is 90% food

unironically says things like "pogchamp" and "rad"

he works at zumiez and probably lives there. always rocking their latest drip

jumps up and slaps exit signs

sasha

randomly breaks into song (usually disney songs) and connie will automatically duet

manages to fall asleep in any situation. on buses, while watching movies, sometimes even mid conversation if she's zoned out enough

tried to take armin fishing one time but he almost cried because he felt so bad about it

at least reiner will fish with her though. the himbos always come through

her instagram is all pictures of fish she caught and now and then there's an awkward candid pic of niccolo

stayed overnight in a walmart one time and got away and brags about it but she won't admit it was an accident. panicked and spent the night eating snacks off the shelves to "survive"

while she's talking her voice slowly gets louder and louder and she doesn't realize it until people tell her to stop yelling

historia

pulls people by the ears to bring them down to her level

also kicks people in the shins a lot, if she's arguing with someone they'll usually keep their distance to avoid getting shin kicked

loves climbing on ymir's back and just being carried around like the little creature she is

posts inspirational quotes on her story

would definitely be a cheerleader in high school. nobody would guess a prep like her is dating some grunge girl w a pretty much opposite personality

she always has bandaids with her for some reason. if someone gets scraped she'll whip out a bandaid immediately. her friends call her "mom" sometimes

hates grilled cheese so god damn much. can't stand it

ymir

"damn I don't remember asking".mp3

is always the first one to comment on historia's instagram posts. her comments range from "beautiful my queen!!!" to "damn ma yo ass fat"

she always called reiner gay as a joke then he came out as gay and for a while she thought it was her fault

her and reiner have wlw and mlm solidarity, they're bffs for that matter

if someone tells her that her music is too loud she'll say "huh?" and turn it up

similarly if someone scolds her for something she'll go "hm? repeat that, I'm a little deaf in this ear"

"bro stfu you always tell me you're gonna fire me for being late"

levi

really really hates cooking pasta because straining the water is for some reason more difficult than it should be

"do not underestimate me, bitches"

always refuses to get his hair cut at places in shopping centers. especially walmart great clips

makes monkey noises when he sees something he likes. he started doing this as a joke to mock zeke but it evolved and now he can't stop doing it randomly

will not hesitate to knock someone on their ass if they're talking shit

coffee makes him jittery so he drinks tea instead but won't admit to anyone that he lowkey also has a redbull addiction

hange calls him a catboy but he doesn't know what that means so he's always like "yeah" bc he thinks it means he's a cat person

hange

buys levi shoes from the kids section and doesnt tell him bc he likes them anyway

such a millennial, they say shit like "doggo" and "adulting"

"for practical reasons I don't exist. do not perceive me"

probably wants to marry mothman

levi has had to scold them on several different occasions for bringing live animals into the house

legally isn't allowed to cook bc they can and they will blow something up

goes on tipsy rants almost nightly

erwin

white skechers king

hosts barbecues in those white skechers. he talks shit about people with nile and pyxis like a bunch of gossiping middle aged fath- wait

his profile pictures on social media are probably pictures of himself taken from awkward angles with an empty expression. it's always posted like six times as well

when levi is getting Out Of Hand he'll pick him up from under the arms and carry him away like "okay, that's enough" and levi kicks around but can't escape

rubs his hands together a lot like a fly. nobody knows why he does it. what are you scheming

falls asleep on couches while watching sports games

[swinging his keys around his finger] "let's rock and roll"

259 notes · View notes

realcube · 4 years

Text

haikyuu boys with a professional volleyball player! s/o 🏆

characters: kuroo, bokuto, kita, oikawa & sakusa

tw// swearing

thank you anon for this awesome request!

Tetsurō Kuroo

he’d tell all his teammates about you and none of them would care

well, lev would care - he’d be so excited and asking for kuroo to get him your autograph but yaku would just be like ‘you don’t actually believe him, do you? 🙄’

so yeah, yaku would convince lev and yamamoto that you were just a figment of kuroo’s imagination

even thoUGH YAKU KNEW YOU WERE A REAL PERSON BC HE HAD MET YOU BEFORE AND HE KNEW THAT YOU WERE DATING KUROO AIREBVKZGA he just loved annoying kuroo <3

and he did the job well bc kuroo was definitely annoyed

he’d be waving his phone around, desperately trying to show lev and yamamoto the selfies he took with you but they’d just be like 😑

then he finally convinced you to come visit him at practise to put an end to his humiliation

so you appeared one day and kuroo was so hyped

but not as hyped as yamamoto

he has hot-ppl senses which tingled when you entered the room so he was the first to greet you while kuroo was sitting setting up the nets

he was literally all over you

‘woah 😍 your thigh are so toned’

‘uh thank you ???’

and kuroo was not here for it

‘AYE GET YOUR DIRTY PAWS AWAY FROM THEM!!’

yamamoto fkn shits himself and runs ✌🏃‍♂️💨

then kuroo picks you up bridal style and parades you around the gym, rubbing it in everyone’s face - especially yaku and lev

‘guys, do you see this? my totally REAL s/o! who’s been to NATIONALS!! uhuh. all mine, y’all.’

yaku is so ticked off and definitely goes to snitch him out to Nekomata

and lev is just so awed, ‘(y/n) is real???’

for a moment he thought he was dreaming too until kenma purposefully hit him with a ball

‘put me down, tetsurō.’ you groaned, folding your arms over your chest

he obeyed, gently setting you down on your feet before pecking your lips, ‘ok, well, i should probably get back to practise now - train hard so hopefully one day i can be as good as you.’ he joked, teasingly emphasising the ‘you’.

you playfully punched his arm before turning on your heels to head out, ‘you wish!’

although he’ll always joke about how amazing you are in comparison to him but he genuinely admires you 🤩

Kōtarō Bokuto

he hypes you up to his team constantly

they’ve literally never even met you and they are being asked all these questions from bokuto lol

‘hey onaga, did you see (y/n) at their nationals game the other day?’

onage flinched upon being jump-scared by his captain, then choked out a little white lie, ‘uh yeahhh.’

bokuto’s face lit up, ‘great! they were so amazing during the third set, weren’t they? what was your favourite part?’

onaga froze, ‘uhh- oh, i think i hear anahori calling me to help him practise his sets! gotta go.’ then he proceeded to bolt off

bokuto shrugged it off at first as he shouldn’t complain bc a teammate dropped a conversation to continue training with anahori - i mean, onaga came to volleyball club to practise so he wasn’t obligated to make conversation with bokuto

but while he was saying his goodbyes to everyone as they left the gym to go home, it hit him-

‘bye, komi! buh-bye, washio! and goooodbyeeee, konoha.’ bokuto let out a relived sigh as he had now finished saying his partings which meant he could lock the gym then go home, ‘wait-- ANAHORI DIDN’T EVEN COME TO PRACTISE TODAY! ONAGA!’

bokuto was deeply disheartened that his own teammate would lie to him - to get out of a conversation about you, no less

he just wanted them all to love you as much as he does

like..he’s your biggest fan!!!

~ even post-timeskip ~

he’d show up to all of your games wearing your jersey and some of the eagle-eyed press would try talk to him

they’d interview him about his own affair or about the MSBY Black Jackals but he genuinely has no interest in talking about that bc today is your day and he is here to support you

‘are you and your team hopeful to attend Olympics despite player Miya’s rumoured injury? and disclose whether these rumours are factual?’

sakusa decked atsumu after he joked about having covid-

the interview shoved and waved a microphone in bokuto’s face while he just stared at them blankly like ◉_◉

after a while bokuto stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth and chuckled, ‘don’t know! but the game is about to begin, shhh!-’ he hushed the interviewer, instinctively swatting the microphone away as he stood up in the stands to cheer for you, ‘WOOOO! GO, (Y/N)!’

then he turned to the interviewer who stood frozen with a dumbfounded look on his face, ‘THAT’S MY LOVERRRR!’ he screamed into the microphone so loudly that all the press naturally backed off

and please do the same for him when the press approach you at his games 🙏

Shinsuke Kita

ofc he dates a volleyball player player-

he is such an ushijima

he is ushijima if he wasn’t left-handed

he doesn’t really brag about you too often at practise but he feels so proud when you win a game then he comes to practise the next day and his teammates tell him to pass on a congratulations

also he always comes to your games

no matter how minor or how large

you’d think you could both bond a lot over volleyball and you did that in the beginning

but over time - especially when you started playing volleyball professionally - you found other things to bond over and saved volleyball for work

he probably runs a (y/n) stan page AEIVBARTBV

AND YOU’D NEVER GUESS

like he is literally a rice farmer- you are under the impression that he doesn’t even know what facebook is

and he’s good at selling the act too

‘did you see the picture of us i posted on my instagram?--’ you asked, taking another spoonful of your cereal

‘insta what?’ kita inquired without hesitation

then as soon as you exit the room, he’ll log onto his (y/n) twitter stan account

ok ok sorry i’ll stop now

anyway he ALWAYS tries to ensure that the first thing you eat after a big game is something that he cooks

and if you go out with your team to eat after a game to celebrate a victory, he’ll try at act sweet but he’s lowkey shady tbh

‘congratulations on your victory, (y/n). and to many more’ he lifted his glass and so did you

but just as you were about to take a sip, kita interjected, ‘but that is going to be difficult if you keep filling your body with junk rather than healthy, organi--’

‘kita-’

‘ok.’ he took a sip of his drink in your honour

HE JUST CARES ABOUT YOUR HEALTH AND WELLBEING HE’S NOT TRYING TO BE RUDE 😭

Tōru Oikawa

again, when you and oikawa first started dating, volleyball was one of the only things y’all talked about

but now that you were both doing it professionally, it was basically banned in your home

well, the the game itself wasn’t banned but i mean, why would you do something all day then come back to talk about it more?

you both might adore volleyball but everything has it’s limits lol

anyway, oikawa is another one that is extra af when they come to your games

he probably makes a sign and paints his face in your team colours

and when you come out onto the court, he’ll blow you a kiss and if you don’t blow one back he’ll be so offended lmao

bc he always makes a big deal out blowing you a kiss or winking at you as soon as he steps out onto the court

it’s basically a thing he does for good luck at this point

also, if there are ever ppl trying to take pictures of y’all in public- oikawa is the first to make a big show for them

like he’s all up on you

he’ll dip you then push his lips against you for a passionate kiss, in front of the ppl and they always go fkn crazy

he thinks he is like..Beyoncé famous...which he is not

please humble him

but nicely

but y’all only get attention around summertime when you are frequently playing big games

like if oikawa leaves the house a week you competed in a big game- he’ll literally get swamped with ppl asking about you

but contrarily, if you both leave the house in winter literally no one would even spare you a glance

on a RARE occasion, someone might sneakily snap a photo but that’s it

so you get the best of both worlds :))

also, if you’re an ace and he’s ever feeling down, if you ask him to set for you for a bit and you compliment one/all of his sets, he’ll literally feel so much better

Kiyoomi Sakusa

sometimes you both come back from a rough day at work, slump on the couch and watch TV together

after showering, changing, dinner etc

he’s not nna come anywhere near you if he thinks there is a chance he might be stinky from practise

he turned on the TV and it just so happened to be on an Live volleyball game in some language that neither of you understood

he’d snake his arms around your shoulders and pull you close to his chest, satisfied by your synced breathing

he’d press a single kiss against your jaw before shifting his attention onto the channel

you’d lay there in his arms, both of you seeming content in each other’s presence while watching the game

in reality though, neither of you were actually absorbing anything that was happening on the court - you were just staring blankly at the TV

the TV simply served as background noise to your cuddling

tbh he was way more interested in hearing the sound of your heart beat peacefully against his chest

after a while, if he gets bored, he might finally break the silence by inquiring about your day

but if he doesn’t, you’d probably end up falling asleep in his arms, forcing him to sleep on the couch bc he’s doesn’t want to risk moving and waking you up 🥺

anyway, he’s another one that likes to save volleyball for work then leave it by the door as soon as you step inside the house

but he’s not as uptight about it as oikawa or kita

like he’ll happily put on a volleyball match for you guys to watch if he thinks the player’s techniques are impressive

also, if the weather is nice, if you ask him to come out and practise with you for a bit and he’ll say yes 🤠

but actually 🤔 now that is think about it, if you guys had a pool in your back garden sakusa would definitely make the most of it

you’ll humbly ask him spike for you on a nice sunny day and he’ll be like

‘volleyball? really? we bought this expensive ass house with a pool which we can only use 4 out the 365.25 days of the year and you want to play volleyball? don’t you do that like..every work day.’

what can i say? man likes getting his moneys worth 🤷‍♂️

‘so is that a no to volleyball?’ you’d ask

*cue sakusa picking you up bridal style and dropping you into the pool*

then you play pool volleyball 👍

as for your games, he turns up in casual wear 😔

disappointed but not surprised

you’ll jokingly be like ‘hey! why aren’t you wearing my team colours? how are people gonna know who you’re cheering for?’ which is fair bc you turn up to all his games with his MSBY black jackals jersey with one of those foam pointy fingers with his number on it

MANS WOULD POINT TO HIS FKN WEDDING RING LIKE ‘our team colours right here.’

392 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 4 years

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Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #katriona cassiopeia #charles cromwell #jacob cromwell #my art #my writing #GAAAAHHHH BILLLL #I LOVE YOU SO FRIGGIN' MUCH MY PRECIOUS BOY ;~;#you go be a good big brother and best friend for carewyn you wonderful thing #also ooh hoo hoo~ orion you can claim you're not crushing but you aren't fooling anybody hahahaha #you'll figure out what you're feeling soon enough >D #we're learn more about how magic works in this universe as time goes on of course #but yeah rest assured there's still a lot to unravel in regards to what happened to jacob... >>#and of course this part is another reminder that charles cromwell is a no-good son of a b****

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rickriordanfandam · 4 years

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opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below)

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong.

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up. the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more

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curedeity · 3 years

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Summary: After a late night working, Hikaru and Tsubasa hang out, with Kyoya along for the ride. Quiet conversations are had in the dead of night. (These three deserved to hang out, fight me)

Work was strewn across the table as Hikaru and Tsubasa shuffled through paper after paper. There were emails to be sent to publicity companies, bladers to invite, a stadium to reserve, hotels to contact for discounts for participants. Planning a tournament certainly was a monumental effort of organization.

No matter how many tournaments Tsubasa had helped organize, he never really got used to the amount of work that came with them, and from the mounting frustration on Hikaru’s face, it was clearly the same for her.

Hikaru sipped the cup of coffee in front of her, despite the fact that it was nearing midnight. The tournament would be in two weeks, and to stay on schedule she would need to start sending out notifications for the necessary tournament officials already. They’d need a nurse on scene, security, an announcer, etc.

Kyoya sat on the couch, every so often looking over at the duo and raising an eyebrow. Tsubasa had invited him to stay in his house while Kyoya prepared to participate in the tournament. When Kyoya had agreed though, he hadn't expected to watch this duo run themselves ragged every night.

Wasn’t his concern though, he continued to half-listen to whatever was playing on the television.

“What do you think about using the Piffling Advertising Agency?” Tsubasa mumbled as he fumbled through some files on his computer.

“I think they have a good enough track record,” Hikaru rubbed at her eyes as she tried to remember. So much about planning tournaments was just remembering past experiences, but her brain had begun to pull blanks. Who were the agencies that had done good work in the past? Which DJ was best for hometown crowds?

Tsubasa hummed and started to type out an email to them. Thankfully, they already had a draft format for emails like this, and now he had to just fill in all the openings.

Kyoya went over and grabbed a soda can from the fridge, popping it open and drinking as he watched the duo slowly try to focus on their computers. This was just a waste of time at this point. With a sigh, he resigned himself to having to get the duo to bed. “Yo,” he tried to get their attention, but they barely even flinched. “Yo!” He repeated again, slamming his hand down onto the table.

In an instant Hikaru had her launcher pointed at him and Tsubasa had knocked a sheaf of papers off the table.

“Take a break you two, you ain’t getting nothing done anymore,” Kyoya snarled at them.

“The fuck was that for?” Hikaru hissed back at him, her chest heaving with uneven breaths. Tsubasa nodded in agreement as he turned to tiredly glare at Kyoya.

“Listen, if you both want to stay up the next hour trying to write just a single email because you’re too tired to focus, that’s your choice, but you’d be using your time much better if you just slept.” Kyoya rolled his eyes at the two dumbasses. He would’ve thought that with the duo working for the WBBA they’d have learned how to manage a workload, but apparently not.

Hikaru sighed as she realized the truth behind his statement and cast her eyes toward the clock. It was really time to just turn-in for the night, there was no way she could focus now.

“You wanna stay here instead of having to get back to your apartment?” Tsubasa asked her. He gestured at the couch, indicating it was hers for the taking. This wouldn’t be the first time either had crashed at the other's house, they’d spent many nights up late working together, and getting home was a bit of a pain.

Besides, Hikaru had been on the blading circuit for a while, she could fall asleep almost anywhere.

Hikaru collapsed onto the couch while Tsubasa wandered into his room, Kyoya sat at the table to finish drinking his soda. The whole house fell into silence.

But no one was able to fall asleep.

Hikaru groaned as she sat up and turned back on the TV. If she couldn’t fall asleep, at least a break would still do her some good. She curled up and pulled a blanket over her limbs as she watched whatever was playing with bleary eyes.

It seemed to be a romance movie. But there was also some magic going on, so maybe there would be some interesting action.

“Can’t sleep either?” Tsubasa asked her as he joined her on the couch, having given up on getting his own rest.

Hikaru flicked him. “I drank a shitton of coffee, what’s your excuse?”

“Being an insomniac,” Tsubasa deadpanned. The bags underneath his eyes supported his claim.

“Take some melatonin then,” Hikaru grumbled as she shared the blanket with him.

Tsubasa hummed and ignored her. “What are we watching?”

“Not whatever this is,” Kyoya interrupted, grabbing the remote and switching the channel. He was not going to put up with watching whatever crap that had been. Within a few seconds, he settled on a cheap spy movie.

“Hey look Tsubasa, it’s you,” Hikaru commented as the spy got caught almost immediately.

Tsubasa didn’t even have a response for that.

Kyoya got up from the table and started moving around, shuffling through the junk that had begun collecting around the house. He wasn’t really tired either, but the movie couldn’t hold his attention span, and sitting around was grating on his nerves.

“What even is that cell?” Tsubasa mumbled as the spy was thrown into what seemed to be the flimsiest jail cell ever. The bars were so far apart that it looked like a person could strut out of there, and the padlock at the door looked like a tap would open it.

“Paper mache,” Hikaru guessed, her face perfectly flat.

Kyoya rummaged through a collection of small bottles before lifting one up and wiggling it at Tsubasa. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with nail polish on,” he commented.

Tsubasa broke away from the TV and looked at what Kyoya was holding, his tired brain taking an extra second to process what had been said. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t been putting it on recently. Been too busy with everything. Used to wear nail polish often though,” Tsubasa shrugged.

Hikaru wiggled out of the blankets and padded over to look at Tsubasa’s collection. She let out a low whistle. “Damn Tsubasa, you got a lot here.”

Kyoya picked up as many bottles as he could hold and walked over to the ground in front of the couch, where he sat everything down. “Come on nerds, let me show you how to properly paint nails.”

Tsubasa rolled his eyes and slid out from under the blanket to join Kyoya on the ground. Hikaru joined them as well, looking at Kyoya with a hint of teasing in her gaze.

“Which of you wants to go first?” Kyoya asked, gazing at the rainbow of colors he had brought over.

Tsubasa shrugged. “Sure, show me what you can do.”

Kyoya pulled out a bottle of purple nail polish and began painting a thin first layer over each of Tsubasa’s fingers. His hands were surprisingly steady as he moved, with barely a drop of nail polish staining the skin. True artistry being performed in the dead of night.

Hikaru had decided that braiding Tsubasa’s hair would be a good use of her time while she awaited her turn, even then she only had half her attention on it, the other half on the movie.

The spy was now making plans with the prisoner in the cell next to his, who he seemed to be slowly falling in love with. Somehow, he still hadn’t broken out. Hikaru was pretty sure he could slip through the bars without a bit of effort.

She stood up and went to heat up some popcorn for the group. Well, mostly for her because Tsubasa couldn’t eat with wet paint on his nails, and Kyoya wouldn’t want to get his grip oily. She laughed at the look of betrayal Tsubasa sent her when he figured that out.

“You’re gonna want to eat the quick, ‘cause you’ll be up soon,” Kyoya grumbled as he applied the second layer to Tsubasa. “Eagle boy, you gotta stop picking at your nails, these are so uneven.”

“Fuck off,” Tsubasa responded.

Hikaru went into the bathroom and got a nail file for them, resisting the urge to throw it for emphasis. It was sharp, her brain reminded her, you cannot throw sharp things, that’s how people get stabbed and in the hospital.

Tsubasa already had enough hospital trips under his belt.

“Tsubasa, do you wear any other makeup?” She asked as settled back down beside him.

He couldn’t shrug with his hands needing to remain still, so he purposefully kept his body motionless as he responded, “Some eyeshadow sometimes.”

Kyoya rolled his eyes. “I think I remember seeing you once in that, please tell me you were just tired that day and that’s not normally how you put on eyeshadow, otherwise I’m going to have to confiscate it all from you until you learn to do it properly.”

“I look amazing fuck you,” Tsubasa deadpanned.

“I’m sure you do,” Hikaru agreed dryly, flicking his hair. “So, you the makeup expert here then Kyoya?”

“Seems so, do you even wear makeup?” Kyoya asked.

“Not often,” Hikaru replied. “I know how to put on a full face of makeup, but I don’t want to put in that much effort or want to look like that every day. I wear lipstick every once in a while though.”

“On the days you go out for lunch with Madoka,” Tsubasa added in, shooting her a sly smile.

Kyoya retracted the brush just in time for Hikaru to punch Tsubasa in the shoulder.

The spy and the other captive seemed to have escaped their imprisonment and were now kissing on screen.

“Put your hands back into place dumbass I’m almost done,” Kyoya huffed.

“She’s the one who hit me!” Tsubasa protested as he did as he was told.

Hikaru stuck her tongue out at him.

In a few deft strokes, Kyoya completed his work, and Tsubasa lifted his hands up and started fanning them.

“Alright, you’re next,” Kyoya gestured at Hikaru, and she and Tsubasa swapped places. “What color do you want?” He droned as he already was trying to think of what colors would go with her.

“Blue,” Hikaru answered immediately, which came as no surprise to either of the boys in the room. Her entire wardrobe was made up of blues. “It’s a good color!” She defended herself as Tsubasa snickered.

Kyoya pulled out a royal blue and began to get to work.

The spy was now running through a base, a gun in his hands as he shot at the group of enemies.

“Is he even trying to be discreet?” Tsubasa critiqued, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn for himself.

“I dunno Tsubasa, you’re the only one of us who’s actually worked as a spy,” Hikaru said slyly.

“Is that what spying’s like,” Kyoya deadpanned, earning a cackle from Hikaru. “Don’t move dammit!”

Tsubasa shook his head, a breath of air whooshing out from between his teeth, “If you want to continue talking about my undercover activities Kyoya, maybe we should also talk about the time you and Gingka’s gang tried to break into the Dark Nebula. That’s a lot closer to what’s actually going on onscreen.”

Kyoya whipped his hair up to glare at Tsubasa while Hikaru turned around just as fast to look at him with excitement. “Don’t you dare,” Kyoya warned him.

“I don’t think I’ve heard about this escapade,” Hikaru grinned. “So they tried to break into the Dark Nebula?”

Kyoya grumbled as he resigned himself to this.

“Yes, there was security footage of the event. Yu used to watch it for fun so he could shittalk about what a terrible infiltration it was. I believe it was when Kyoya truly defined his tactic of hitting walls until they collapse,” Tsubasa shared a smile with Hikaru.

“And it worked damn well,” Kyoya huffed.

“Sure it did sweetie,” Tsubasa responded without sparing him a glance.

Kyoya growled as the other two returned their attention to the movie.

“Alright then bastard, you’re done,” he declared, pushing Hikaru away. She giggled and repositioned herself against the couch, fanning her own hands.

Kyoya got ready to return the bottles, but Tsubasa laid his hand atop of his, stopping him momentarily. “Come on Kyoya,” Tsubasa said, reaching over and grabbing a bottle of forest green polish. “You did it for us, let me do it for you.”

Kyoya laid out his hands and watched Tsubasa slowly paint his nails. Tsubasa’s brushes weren’t quite as neat as his, but he was completely focused on the task, his braid falling down to brush against the floor as he leaned over Kyoya’s hand.

The movie ended with the evil base being blown up. Hikaru was disappointed by how underwhelming the explosion was. She vocalized that very vociferously.

They put on some soft music as Kyoya let his nails dry. Hikaru had already fallen asleep against the couch, and Tsubasa draped a blanket over her. They didn’t talk much, only a few whispered comments here and there as Tsubasa cleaned off his Earth Eagle.

Within half an hour, both boys were asleep against the couch as well.

The next day, Tsubasa and Hikaru went into work, their laptops open in front of them with their fingers click-click-clicking away. Both of their nails shone as the light hit them, Tsubasa’s being painted a soft purple with gold glitter, and Hikaru’s a deep blue with pink sparkles. Kyoya went into training and carefully didn’t chip his dark green with silver glitter painted nails as he did launch after launch.

And if they happened to do their nails more often when they hung out now? Well, none of their friends commented on it more than a few nice compliments.

#beyblade #beyblade metal fight #beyblade metal fusion #its just hikaru tsubasa and kyoya hanging out AS THEY DESERVE #fanfiction #fanfic #swearing #these three have so much narrative potential surrounding each other

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years

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10x21: Details

Okay, let’s talk details. And most of these will just back up what I’ve already said about these sequences being callbacks to Grady and leaving Beth behind, as well as foreshadows of finding her again.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x21. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Carol and Dog:

Of course Dog goes with Carol and I noticed that when she gets back to Alexandria, she says, “let’s get you home.” So, home theme, and it’s especially potent because Dog = Beth.

She says to Dog, “For the record, I didn’t need an apology for him.” It’s the ‘for the record’ part that caught my attention, not only because Beth mentioned records at Grady, but Negan said the exact same thing to Daryl about Carol several episodes ago. “For the record, I don’t think she’s coming back.” So, it’s something of a theme.

She tells Jerry the story of the Stone Soup, which to me parallels Rick’s “Rock in the Road” story, which we’ve always thought was about Beth. (X). And I’m not sure how exactly to interpret the rock in either story, but biblically Christ = the rock. So, there’s that.

We see her fixing the solar panels as well. Because of the sunlight angle, that could represent Beth. I’m actually seeing a lot of symbolism here for both Carol fixing Beth in some way and Beth fixing Carol. So, I think this has to do with the template for the future. I think the two of them will come together again, as they did at Grady, and they’ll both be kind of a mess at that point and need to help each other through some stuff. I’ll talk about it in more detail later when I do another forecasting post.

When Dog starts chasing the rat and Carol runs to see what’s happening, he knocks over a lamp. Lamp Theory. And the cord of the lamp has been gnawed on by the rat. So can you see how all these symbols kind of interlock?

When Dog chases the rat and knocks over the pot, Carol has a serious/Sirius mention. She says, “This is serious. We need that food.”

Now, for the record, I think food shortages are going to continue to be a thing, and Beth and the CRM will be the answer to needed resources, so both sides of that sentence are important.

She makes a trap to catch the rat, which I talked about yesterday. Then she goes out looking for more ingredients for the soup. While out there, we see a dragonfly, a blue butterfly, and a spider. All three of those are important symbols.

They all represent some form of transformation, wisdom, renewal, and fertility.

It’s probably important that Carol uses Leah’s knife to fix the solar panels. Again, just more Beth symbols on top of Beth symbols.

@frangipanilove also pointed out that it’s important that the instant she can’t see the rat anymore, the power goes out. See how that works? Rat (Beth) is unseen and suddenly no sun power.

Carol also says at this part, “there will be more sun tomorrow, right?” That’s super important. Sun = Beth. And ever since AOW, I’ve thought the “tomorrow” theme pointed to the CRM war. So again, just more evidence that this is both a callback and a foreshadow of what will happen with Beth and CRM.

As I said yesterday, Dog watching over Carol as she sleeps = Beth watching over Carol while she’s unconscious at Grady. She also says to Dog, “You miss him, don’t you?” Which is exactly what Beth asked Daryl about Merle in Still.

And then of course she destroys the wall. The next day, Jerry comes to see her, and we get lots of interesting references. There’s the poker, poker face reference. He says, “caring…yeah that’s a problem,” which we’re connecting to Beth’s famous line, “when you care about people, hurt is just part of the package.”

Jerry also says, “2+2=Eureka.” Now, Eureka is an expression which means “a cry of joy or satisfaction when one finds or discovers something.” We’re hoping the 2+2 is a reference to episode 22, and the discovery is that Beth is alive. *fingers crossed*

The song that plays, No Worries by Amateur Blond, has references to dogs in it. And it keeps saying “Oh, oh, oh.”

Of course Daryl returns, Rat gets free, and I especially love how Dog runs to Daryl. Cuz, you know, Dog = Beth. :D

One other thing @frangipanilove brought to my attention. The scarf Carol has in this episode can be linked to the scarf she wore in S3. They actually look very similar. Remember that at the prison, when T-Dog died and Lori gave birth to Judith, Carol was wearing a scarf over her head. Daryl found it with blood on it, which led him to assume she was dead. They even created a grave for her. But of course he found her (after finding her knife, btw) soon after and she lived.

It’s just a little too coincidental that this can be connected to a death fake out in season 3, and there’s a major knife exchange going on in the same episode.

Daryl and Bike:

Okay, so I talked a lot about Daryl yesterday and how Bike = Beth. The part where he gets under the car is really interesting. I’m not entirely satisfied with how to interpret it yet, but I do think it represents leaving Beth behind and stuff that happened during the missing 17 days.

You could call Daryl’s behavior here destructive. I mean, he crawled under a precariously perched car. And that could represent his depression, to the point of self-harm, after losing Beth. He does find the part he needs in the 3rd car (rule of threes). And that car was somewhat hidden at first.

He didn’t see it until he’d already reached and checked the first two cars. So, that could represent looking for Beth’s body but there’s an unseen element he isn’t aware of at first. It also parallels the “third man” theory. (X).

When he gets back to the bike, he suddenly realizes he gave the knife to Carol and he needs it. His huge, Rambo knife is just too big to get it into the crevices of the bike to attach the new part.

I think this is important for the future story line as well. After the spinoff starts, when he and Carol part ways, he’ll give her something and realize he needs it later on. It’s when he goes looking for this part that he’ll run into the CRM and Beth.

I also noticed kind of a cute little parallel here. When he realizes he doesn’t have the knife and he needs it, he sort of does this thing where he brushes his hair out of his face. He did a similar thing in Consumed.

I just remember a lot of people commenting on how adorable it was. So I thought I’d point it out here as well.

So then he goes looking of Beth, er, I mean a new knife. I talked about a lot of this yesterday: the Beth walker, his limp, the dry river bed, etc. It’s important that he finds the knife with military walkers (probably the CRM). I can’t help but wonder if letting walker fall into the ravine represents him letting one of their communities get overrun with walkers or something.

I also REALLY want to connect it to when the group did this in Them. In that scene, Rick was almost bitten. Daryl came running up at the last minute and helped him, but I think it’s significant that they were doing the exact same thing there that we see Daryl doing here. I’m thinking it represents something about maybe him finding Rick with the CRM and helping him in some way, or something. Again, just speculating about future storylines here.

But he finds the knife he needs and goes back to the bike. And two more military walkers come at him. Yes, two. You may have missed that, as I and my fellow theorists both did the first time. But one is coming at him from ahead of the bike, down the tracks.

The other is coming at him from his right side. You can tell because he turns his head to look at it.

Couple of things here. Part of the reason it only seems like one is that they show it weird. We only see him killing the one straight ahead, not the one to the side. I’m sure there’s some symbolism in that, but I honestly have no idea what it is.

But here’s an interesting thing. He finds a second knife on that second walker. It doesn’t do a close up on the second knife, so it’s easy to miss. But there are actually 2 knives.

Not entirely sure how to interpret that, but remember that in Still, there were two knives. First, Daryl gave Beth his, but between rooms in the golf club, she found her bone-handled one that she always carried after that, and gave his back to him. So it might just represent Beth and Daryl and their 2 knives.

He also finds military rations (food) on one of them. As I said yesterday, I think TF is going to get to the point where they desperately need resources. Where food is scarce and even water becomes undrinkable. It will be part of the CRM plot. So I think him finding food on military walkers hints at that. They will need the CRM’s resources to survive.

The other thing I’m curious about is what he says. He says, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” To me, that’s a weird reaction. There are walkers all over the place in these woods. And neither of these two are a massive, immediate threat to him. So his reaction doesn’t make tons of sense. But again, I’m sure it has something to do with a future storyline that simply isn’t clear here yet.

Also, the walker he takes the knife from is missing his leg/foot. That’s part of the missing foot/shoe symbolism, and just proves in my mind that this is symbolic of something to do with Beth.

He then sets to fixing his bike. But it takes a while and it’s dark before he finishes. This was super cool and something I missed the first time through. While fixing it, he hears a wolf howl. And they draw attention to it by having Daryl turn his head toward it, as thought acknowledging it.

Plus, the captions say it’s a wolf, not a dog or a coyote. So, this is wolf symbolism. And I think what they’re trying to say her is that when Daryl finds and “fixes” Beth, the wolf symbolism will be in play. I’ll talk more about what the means and how it MIGHT manifest in coming days.

Finally, he gets the bike fixed and started and heads back.

@wdway, as usual with her eagle eyes, noticed something about this shot. In the sky above him, we see three stars. They look suspiciously like the “spoon” portion of the Little Dipper. And guys, at this distant, stars wouldn’t even register on camera, which means they were put in purposely with a computer. Daryl is riding toward the spoon/star/Sirius symbol. Just saying.

The only other thing I noticed (other than all the stuff I talked about yesterday, anyway) is that there is some missing time here. Daryl fixes his bike at night and we see him drive off into the darkness, but by the time he gets back and talks to Carol, it’s late afternoon or early evening, and he’s talking about going to bed. I don’t know if he could have gone out far enough for it to take him that long to get back. Of course, maybe he just looked some more the next day and didn’t come back right away. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. But it’s something I noticed.

So, yeah. I think that’s all the details I have. Anyone notice anything I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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a-simple-complexity · 3 years

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Things about the creepypasta improv thing my close friend and I have been doing since 4th or 5th grade (maybe longer):

- My character doesn't really have a cp name yet but has been around for 401 years

- My character, when not at the mansion, is roomies with JTK (and he steals cheese its)

- Vivian's (the close friend) character is close to Slenderman and has a older sister bond with Sally

- Aside from the Jeff The Cheeze Itz Snatcher gag we have more running gags

- Such as Masky locking Toby in the closet when he's annoying only to turn around and see Toby standing there.... MENACINGLY (lol)

- LJ punts Mr Widemouth across the mansion weekly

- EJ is no longer allowed to cook for others after the barbeque of 2017. We miss you, Butler Bill

- Tuesdays and Thursdays Viv's character takes pets and children out the mansion for a playdate while everyone else has some fun

- Viv's Hidden Stash of Tuna TM

- My Hidden Stash of Vodka and Rum TM

- My character might have a problem but then again immortals aren't really affected by alcohol like most mortals are

- Speaking about my character: Holy. Pets.

- They have a bunch of guard dogs (despite them all being guard dogs they are pampered like you wouldn't believe)

- Pastas respect COVID stuff. Slender ordered everyone to scatter until it's mellowed out alot. Slender caught it at some point. They say get the vaccine and wear ya damn mask.

- There's a "Community Garden". It's just a few pitcher plants, some Butterworts, a killer cow plant (courtesy of Ben pulling some strings), a small patch of wither roses (courtesy of Herobrine), and a oran berry plant (courtesy of a few poke-pastas), rose bushes, etc

- Holidays are fun too

- Christmas time is filled with my character and Viv's taking Sally, Jane, Clockwork, and Nina out for a "girls" night

- Granted Nina only gets taken along bc despite the love-hate relationship between my character and Jeff, Jeff deserves time away from Nina during the holidays at least

- Also despite Jeff hating Nina he appreciates the knives she gives him (and return he gives her some sort of card)

- Due to staying in the vents constantly and stalking everyone my character gets everyone what they think they like would like

- Christmas lights everywhere. Splendor always gets Offender to put the star on top the comically large tree just bc

- Despite it not being Christmas music, everyone listens to Hotel California by The Eagles

- and watches Christmas movies (what was that Christmas movie with Tim Allen?)

- Everyone plays in the snow. Jeff decides to start a snowball fight and Sally makes a snow man.

- Everyone wears something festive and it's normally an ugly sweater thanks to Trender

- Spiked nog anyone?

- Thanksgiving includes everyone gathering together and having fun

- A small hunting trip is planned instead of a football game (the hunt takes place the day prior bc no one wanna miss the parade)

- Sally's favorite float is the Charlie brown float

- You know how the president pardons a turkey? Slender pardons a victim (and has been doing it since meeting Viv's character bc of a joke Viv made)

- My character makes mashed potatoes or some sort of really outdated dish from the 1700's

- The Slender Bros, Viv's character, Sally, Toby, Smile Dog, Jeff, and Nina all watch the dog show after the parade

- Nina is kinda allergic to dogs and doesn't really like them but bc of her lingering obsession with Jeff she puts up with it

- Offender and Trender argue over what dog they think should have won (funny to watch to grown immortal-ass men argue over this)

- Slender carves the turkey

- The pardoned victim is allowed to stay for dinner granted a majority of memories get changed (not really erased, just changed)

- My character, Jeff, and Ben all walk through the woods before dinner and get fucking plastered (and think no one notices....everyone notices)

- the week of Thanksgiving the tree gets put up (acceptable if it's the week of Thanksgiving, any other time then it's just weird)

- My characters mom, (considered the co-founder of Hell) pops in, steals a couple slices of pie, and leaves

- Halloween is celebrated kind of like Thanksgiving and Christmas

- My character decorates the mansion with various bones

- 31 Days of Horror Movies (at some point it's decided to watch Earnest Scared Stupid and some of the serious dog lovers opt out)

- The Slender Brothers dress up as the three musketeers. Splendor is Porthos, Offender is Athos, Slender is D'artagnan and, Trender is Aramis

- Jeff and my character do a duel costume by dressing of as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer from Cats (musical not movie, duh) alternatively they dress as Rum Tum Tugger and Mr. Mistoffelees.

- Sally dresses as Carrie or a fairy princess

- Jane, Clockwork, Nina, Viv's Character dress up as four of the five muses from Hercules (Viv changes last minute to a cat due to her character having cat ears and a cat tail)

- Toby, Masky, and Hoodie originally wanted to dress as the three musketeers but after slender took that idea they decide to dress up as separate things. Toby dresses as Masky. Masky dresses as the phantom of the opera and Hoodie is a ghost.

- Smile dog dresses as a hot dog :P

- A small hunting trip is planned and Jane and Clockwork take Sally trick or treating

- Everyone finishes the month with A Night are Before Christmas (a classic)

- Not many celebrate Valentine's day

- It's really only the Slender Bros, Viv's character, My character, Nina, Toby, Masky & Hoodie, and Sally

- and by Sally I mean she just leaves candy from the candy bowl everywhere

- Masky and Hoodie make a day of it since Slender gives them holidays off. They eat cheesecake in the woods and just spend the day together.

- Toby spends the day alone but still celebrates in his own way. Eating waffles.

- Offender (in our improv thing he's not....yeah....he's just a hopeless romantic that does consensual hook ups) and my character spend his their leaving roses out at restaurants and going to bars for hookups. They have a bunch of stuff worked out.

- Viv and Slender spend the day in bed or lounging in the living room watching some cheesy comedy.

- Trender spends the day as a self care day seeing as he's alone at the moment. Every day is self care for him but it's even more on Valentine's Day. He goes all out and even treats himself to a fancy restaurant.

- Splendor likes going to neighborhoods and leaving cute little poems on people's doors then heading to the zoo for personal time.

- Nina harasses Jeff who, in return, leaves the mansion and heads to the apartment him and my character share.

- New Years is something everyone celebrates. While some have resolutions others have new quotas they're trying to meet.

- Sally tries to stay up and watch the ball drop (she's only seen it drop twice before falling asleep)

- My character and Viv's character get shit faced

- Jeff normally sits there with a beer in one hand and Smile Dog beside him

- that's really all that consists of New Years

More about our two characters:

My character:

- a 401 year old demon thing

- in our universe hell is ran by the 7 devil's as well as my characters mother. Hells more of a city than a pit.

- Has lived with Jeff as a roommate since late 2018

- Use to be with Herobrine but broke it off with him for unknown reasons.....they're civil and still good friends. He's one of those people that could make a good boyfriend but is best as a close friend

- On their 400th birthday a crackening happened in Hell that enhanced their powers and they were hunted by Zalgo. Luckily a truce was established.

- Has been by Viv's character side since her characters soul was first created. More in Viv's Character's section

- Y'know those dogs that were talked about in the beginning? They primarily stay at their mothers mansion in Hell.

- Also all cats go to hell but they don't get hurt. They like to watch. Sometimes if you're lucky you might get a celebrity's cat. That's how my character got their lovely (and kinda douchy cat) Delilah. She likes to pee all over people's suits just bc she's like that.

- They were born in 1620 but are progressive

- Still liked fashion through the ages

- Maybe not the health damaging ones

- Is able to fly and teleport but due to back pain and migraines prefers to stay grounded and rarely use teleportation

- Doesn't actually kill much but has had souls sold to them (job as a demon....doesn't really need one though....is Crossroads Demon)

- Had a one night stand with Trender about 240ish years ago

- Does have proxies....it's those souls they take and barter around for

- Souls in hell can be used for currency depending on whether or not they sold their soul

- Anyways, was at some point known for having an obsession with chainsaws and hoodies...still has a bunch of hoodies and a chainsaw but doesn't really use them much (is more of a flannel and gun person now)

Viv's Character:

- her character managed to get everyone's favorite dwarfed rag doll cat from the internet

- Her character use to be with Entity 303 and ended up Slenderman

- that makes two of us who were with a Minecraft pasta and ended up with a slender brother lol

- I think her character is called Kat or KC so for now imma call her character Kat

- Kat has an addiction to tuna and milk

- Also has cat ears and a cat tail which are both very sensitive

- when Kat's soul was created my character was created. Even though Kat has been through many many reincarnations my character has always been alongside her. Even though my character doesn't die they act as a guardian towards Kat.

- Has a tendency to sit up in the cat walks and within the walls of the mansion alongside my character

- Gets lost in the forest from time to time and needs help getting out

- Despite being with Slender she has her own room to store her weapons and stash her plans.

- If I'm not mistaken Kat also was with Toby for a short while but doesn't talk about it much. Imagine dating your ex-lovers boss lol

- Disappears for up to a week sometimes without saying where she's going and when she comes back she acts as if nothing happened

- When both Kat and my character started living in the mansion they shared a room for about a year.

- Kat had a personal garden that was completely wiped out by Zalgo before a treaty was established and she still hasn't forgave him

- The garden mostly had marigolds and a few small plants. The only one that really mattered was Audrey the Venus fly trap.

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pufflyhallows · 5 years

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gif not mine

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Request: Hi! I love your blog and your writings!! They’re so amazing and I love your wiring style!!! Anyway, I was hoping you could do a soulmate!George Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader if your requests are open/if you want to. If not just ignore this please. If you decide to do it, could it maybe be a matching tattoo one where they both have a flower on their wrist and the reader always tries to hide it and keep it covered but then maybe one day something happens and he or Fred sees her tattoo?

a/n: I AM BACK! This is my very first soulmate!AU, so I hope I did okay :) thanks again to the sweet anon who sent the request, I loved it. Also, there is no war.

Warnings: language, as usual.

Word count: 3,623

********

Pulling down the long sleeve of your school robe to cover your wrist had become a habit. Closing your hand tightly to hold the fabric in place only added to your obsessive manner, something that your friends had noticed already.

Inconvenient questions had been asked, but you flawlessly dodged them every time. You were used to it, although it bothered you.

It bothered you for many reasons: the fact that people cared about it so much and often asked to see it, making you sound like a jerk when you didn’t let them; the fact that apparently you were the only one uncomfortable with your soulmate tattoo, everyone else showing them off proudly and excitedly; the fact that you had seen with your own eyes people finding their match and you thought it wouldn’t happen to you because you just couldn’t bring yourself to be more open with it.

But there you were – walking down the corridor with your hand squeezed tightly, the long sleeve in its right place, keeping your tattoo perfectly covered.

You were headed to the common room, where you would meet your friends to play Exploding Snap, a typical Friday night. It was rare to have a homework-free weekend, though. So this time was different – many Hufflepuffs were going to stay up late down there, which was the closest you could get to a big slumber party. The thought of it excited you.

Once you reached the corridor to the kitchens, you saw two tall boys wearing Gryffindor robes at the end, coming your way. You knew they shouldn’t be there, but Hufflepuffs were used to seeing students from the other houses sneaking out of the kitchens, usually with hands full of snacks. You couldn’t judge though, you did the same with your friends – it was one of the perks of being a Hufflepuff and having the common room so strategically located.

You chuckled quietly to yourself when you noted that the boys – twins – were, in fact, carrying snacks.

“Good evening,” you greeted once you walked past them, a cheeky smile on the corner of your lips.

“Good evening,” they replied in the same tone.

“You didn’t see us here,” one of them added.

You stopped walking, realizing the opportunity that was being presented, and looked back, trying to hide a wicked grin. “I think I did, actually.”

They stopped as well, turning back to you.

“Are you sure?” the other one asked. He had a small bundle in his hand, which you quickly glanced at before meeting his eyes again, “I could swear we weren’t here.”

“Maybe I’m confused,” you said, frowning, “I might need something to clear my mind.”

The twins, who you knew by sight, looked at each other and smirked, both very amused by the girl in front of them. The one holding the bundle glanced at it too, pondering whether or not he was willing to give it up for a silence deal.

Such deal might not be worth a slice of the profit from their visit to the kitchens, but a possible friendship with a clever girl certainly is.

“Very well, then,” he handed it to you, a very business-man manner adding to the contract-being-sealed atmosphere.

You intended to look cool, but you were sure the look on your face was giving away the surprise you felt for being successful at the disguised blackmail.

You grabbed the bundle and looked at it for a few seconds. “Yeah... I guess I didn’t see you here.”

The boy smirked and stepped back, joining his brother as he left with the rest of their stuff.

You walked fast towards the barrels, tapping the right rhythm to open the passage and getting in as soon as it did.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted your friends, “I brought snacks.”

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

The sun was shining bright in the sky, the wind alleviating the increasing heat coming from it. It was the perfect day for the last match of the Quidditch cup, with summer right around the corner.

You weren’t really excited, though. Hufflepuff was in third place, which meant that the results of the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw match wouldn’t change anything for the better. If Gryffindor won, Hufflepuff would remain in third place, but if Ravenclaw won, Hufflepuff would go down to fourth.

Cedric had put a poster on the notice board with the cup ranking. He wasn’t happy either, everyone could tell, but he tried to stay positive and cheer his housemates up.

1. Slytherin

2. Gryffindor

3. Hufflepuff

4. Ravenclaw

The Slytherins should be the ones feeling worried, that’s for sure. They were in first place and they intended to stay in first place. So, if Gryffindor won, they would probably lose their shit.

You walked out of the common room with your friends, heading for the pitch. The only excited one among you all was Hannah, who rambled on and on about how everyone should be rooting for Gryffindor because their victory would mean Hufflepuff wouldn’t end up in last place and it would also mean the Slytherins wouldn’t win the cup which was good because they were responsible for the defeat that threw Hufflepuff to third place and Flint had called Cedric names and etc etc… You sighed. She had a point, sure. But third place?! That was so disappointing compared to last year’s cup. And a feeling of fulfilled revenge wasn’t going to change that nor make you feel better.

But if the Hufflepuffs were down and the Slytherins were worried, the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws were the complete opposite. The extremely loud cheering gave it away as soon as you stepped in the pitch – the chanting of the houses’ names took over the entire crowd.

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

“Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw!”

You could spot several Slytherin students screaming the eagle house’s name, though. Perhaps they didn’t believe Ravenclaw could surpass them on points in this match and win the cup, otherwise they wouldn’t be cheering so loud. Instead, they would wear stern faces like their worried housemates.

Hannah was already conjuring a red headband with the words Go Potter! on it.

“Really?” Susan asked.

“Why not?” Hannah replied, following the Gryffindor crowd on the chanting.

You exchanged a look with Susan, both of you finding it amusing how she could be enjoying this so much. You wished you could too.

“Try seeing it this way,” Susan said as she conjured two red headbands, “It’s not really rooting for Gryffindor. It’s more like rooting against Slytherin.”

She handed you one of the headbands and smiled encouragingly, putting on the other one.

You looked at it, reading the words Go Gryffs. This time, you smiled too, even if resignedly.

“I don’t like house rivalries,” you explained to her, “I feel like wanting Slytherin to lose the cup is just… bitter. Like a sore loser thing.”

“Ignore what I said and see it as rooting for Gryffindor, then,” she shrugged, “I don’t know, Y/N. Just have fun.”

Just have fun. Well, she was right. You were over-thinking. Again.

You put on the Gryffindor-themed headband and waited as Madam Hooch entered the field, being followed by the Ravenclaw team not long after, with Gryffindor right behind them.

Lee Jordan greeted the crowd, narrating what was going on down there while Madam Hooch talked to the captains. You looked at both teams, recognizing most of those faces, until your eyes fell on two ginger heads – twin ginger heads.

“Oh, that’s right!” you thought out loud, “They play for Gryffindor!”

“Who?” Susan asked.

“The twins.”

“Um… Yeah,” she chuckled.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and several brooms lifted off the ground, flying high above all the other students and the few teachers – the match had begun.

With every tight turn Harry Potter took, Hannah gasped. In a minute, it looked like he had seen the snitch. In the other, he seemed as lost as Cho Chang. And between those moments, both teams scored.

Right now, Ravenclaw had the lead, and your friend Hannah looked like she could explode at any moment. She had bitten her nails to nubs, complaining loudly when Ravenclaw scored a goal.

“Come on!” she yelled, placing her hands around her mouth to amplify her words. The movement made her long sleeves slide on her arms until they reached her elbows, revealing her tattoo. Before you could tell what it was, you looked away, pulling down your sleeve and squeezing your hand shut tighter than ever.

You always felt weird when that happened, like you had just seen something very personal, a complete invasion of privacy.

You trailed off in thoughts, distracted by your own insecurity when you heard the people around you cheer the loudest in that morning. Even Susan, who had been rather discreet throughout the game, was now jumping and chanting with the others.

Confused, you looked at the field, realizing a few Ravenclaw players had come down and gotten off their brooms already. All the Gryffindors were still up, flying around each other, raising theirs fists and smiling/laughing.

“Gryffindor is the winner!” Lee Jordan’s words finally made sense to you, “Gryffindor surpasses Slytherin and is the winner! Gryffindor is the Quidditch cup winner! Gryffindor!”

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

You were taken aback. You didn’t know what to think of it, really.

“They won!” Susan cheered, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “We’re not in last!”

“Great,” you tried to smile.

“Ravenclaw got so close to surpassing us!” Hannah placed a hand on her chest, “I almost died, I swear to God.”

“A difference of five points, Y/N! That’s why we’re celebrating,” Susan explained, “If they had scored another goal, we would be in last right now. It wouldn’t matter if Gryffindor won.”

“Yeah, I know how Quidditch works,” you said, regretting it the second after, “Sorry. I just wish it was Cedric.”

You pointed at the field and Susan saw the Gryffindor team carrying Oliver Wood, their captain and Keeper, as he raised the silver Quidditch cup trophy above his head. You looked for Cedric, finding him a bit far from you, and noticed the polite smile on his face as he congratulated the Gryffindors around him, but that smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Five points!” Ernie yelled next to your ear, startling you, “One more goal and we were down!”

“Oh my God, where were you?” Hannah asked.

The two of them quickly started recounting their favorite moments of the match, while you watched as the Gryffindors went nuts. You were pretty sure you had seen Professor McGonagall announcing a detention to a student who had ripped his shirt open and spilled Butterbeer on himself.

“Room of Requirement, right now,” Ernie replied to whatever Hannah had said.

“We’ll be there,” she nodded and he left, joining the Gryffindors as they jumped and sang.

“We’ll be there for what?” you asked.

“Celebration party!” she smiled.

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

You knew about the Room of Requirement, but you had never been there.

It was said it only revealed itself when a student was in need. You didn’t think of partying as a need, but… well, you weren’t complaining.

You followed Hannah and Susan to the middle of a corridor on the seventh-floor. You had no idea of how you were going to get in and it looked like neither did Susan, but, once the three of you reached a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet, Hannah went to the opposite wall and started pacing in front of it. Slowly, a big door appeared on the wall, and Susan smiled excitedly at you.

Hannah stopped and reached for the doorknob, not before motioning for you two to follow her inside.

As soon as you stepped in the room, the words seemed to have left your brain – you were completely speechless.

You were expecting an old, dusty room full of old furniture, or at least an old classroom, or, God, even an empty room. But boy, were you wrong.

Behind that big door was a big room, with Gryffindor-themed decorations, cool furniture – like comfy armchairs, couches, round tables – dim lighting that made you forget the sun was shining bright outside, snacks and drinks of all kinds and music!

You looked at Susan and realized she was just as surprised as you. Hannah, on the other hand, looked totally unimpressed, as if none of that was new for her.

The people in there were mostly Gryffindors, but you recognized fellow Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws. No Slytherins in sight. No one there looked younger than a fifth-year. No teachers, obviously.

There couldn’t be more than fifty people in that place. You started to think that was a rather exclusive party.

How did you get there?

“C’mon, there’s Ernie,” Hannah said, motioning for you and Susan to follow her once again.

Your friend was chatting with a Gryffindor girl, next to the snacks table. When he saw the three of you, he smiled, opening his arms.

“There they are! Emma, this is Hannah, Susan and Y/N. Girls, this is Emma.”

Greetings were said and polite smiles were exchanged.

“Where’s the team?” Hannah asked.

“They’re coming,” Emma answered, “They stop by the locker-room first, which is good ‘cause we can prepare all this for them before they get here.”

“That’s so nice of you,” Susan replied.

“It’s a way of thanking them, I guess. I mean, they worked so hard for this.”

“They deserve it,” Hannah nodded, “And thank you for having us, by the way.”

“Ernie’s friends are my friends,” she smiled, “Have fun!”

“We will. Thank you,” you smiled back at the girl and she left to talk to a group of Gryffindors, probably the people who organized the party with her.

“So…” Hannah smiled mischievously at Ernie, “Ernie’s friends are my friends, huh?”

“Yeah...” the boy looked down, blushing, “Did you see her tattoo?”

Your heart stopped.

“Oh! I didn’t!” Hannah gaped, “Is she…?”

Ernie nodded, making Hannah gasp dramatically.

“Oh my God, congratulations!” Susan smiled and gave your friend a hug.

“I’m so happy right now,” Hannah covered her mouth with one hand.

“Please, don’t cry,” he chuckled nervously as she hugged him tightly.

“Congrats, Ernie,” you managed to say with a smile.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink,” you excused yourself and headed for the drinks table, feeling your breathing get a bit irregular. Instinctively, you pulled the long sleeve down and covered your wrist – not that it was showing before, you just wanted to be sure.

You examined the various drinks on the table, realizing there was more than five bottles of Firewhiskey. You shook your head internally, grabbing a bottle of Butterbeer instead.

As you opened it and took a sip, you noticed a boy coming in the room and going straight to Emma. He said something in her ear and she nodded, quickly motioning to someone else you couldn’t see. Suddenly, the music stopped.

“Listen, everybody!” she called, “The team is almost here. I want every single one of you to cheer as loud as you can when they come inside, okay? Let’s show them how special they are! And don’t worry about the noise, there’s a sound-proofing spell for a reason.”

Mumbling of agreement could be heard from the entire room and Emma nodded satisfied.

You decided to go back to your friends, bottle of Butterbeer in hand. The four of you managed to talk for a little bit before someone asked for silence and everyone looked at the door expectantly.

The big door swung open and the face of Oliver Wood was the first one to be seen. Just like Emma had asked, every single person in the room cheered loudly as the captain came inside with the rest of the team close behind. Sparkly confetti fell from the roof, showering everyone inside.

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

Oliver Wood, Harry Potter, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Fred Weasley and George Weasley. You learned the names with Ernie, feeling your chest slightly warm when you realized ‘George’ was the one who had given you the bundle of snacks the night before.

After a short ‘thank you’ speech by Oliver Wood and a round of applause and more cheering, the music was back on and the party had officially started.

Ernie left your group to join Emma once again, not before repeating her words and telling you to have fun.

“Y/N, would you be the best friend in the entire world and get us some snacks?” Hannah asked.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the youngest.”

“Yeah, like two months younger than you.”

“Exactly!”

You looked at Susan, who shrugged. “I’m good.”

You looked back at Hannah, meeting her puppy eyes. “Please?”

Sighing, you gave in. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Chips!”

You headed for the snacks table, realizing a very familiar tall figure was there, back facing you. You approached the table, placing the empty bottle of Butterbeer on it.

“Hey,” you said, catching the boy’s attention.

“Oh, hi,” he replied, a cheeky smile forming on his lips, “There’s plenty of food here, okay? You don’t need to take mine again.”

“When did I ever take your food?” you frowned, pretending to think.

“Last- Oh. Never,” he shook his head, “Did I say you did?”

You exchanged a smile, both of you amused with the little inside joke that had been born. You quickly looked down at the table, though – he was really handsome and way too cool to be talking to you, that’s for sure.

“I’m George, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said as you grabbed a little bowl and started adding chips to it, “Congrats on the win, George. It’s the second consecutive, isn’t it?”

“Thank you. And yeah, it is.”

“Must feel great,” you replied, not taking your eyes off of the bowl and chips.

“It does,” he nodded.

The boy opened his mouth a few times, trying to think of something else to say, but the words escaped him. Instead, he watched as you grabbed another small bowl and added chips to that one as well. He looked at your hands, noticing their careful movement, as if you were performing a highly important task. Why he was paying attention to such a random thing was unknown to him, though.

Something about you caught his attention. Something about you attracted him, in the most literal meaning of the word. He knew it wasn’t just the fact that he thought you were really clever for what you had done the night before, although that was something that had made him think about you more than someone normally would after a quick chat with a stranger in a corridor. He also knew it wasn’t just what Fred had said.

She’s the type of person I would want around when planning the next move, if you know what I mean.

Oh, George knew what he meant. You were clever. And cleverness was important when planning a prank that you didn’t want to get caught for.

He studied your face and noticed how calm and friendly you looked, which made him feel lame for not being able to hold a conversation with you.

One single chip fell from your grasp on the way to the bowl, and George found himself feeling flustered by the view of you biting your lip as you put the fallen chip back in its place.

His trance was interrupted when you asked about his brother. Seconds had gone by, but it felt so much longer.

“Fred? He’s uh… around,” the boy shrugged, not putting much thought into it.

He gulped, feeling very awkward and completely out of character – George Weasley had never had trouble to talk to people, ever.

You, to his entire ignorance, were not feeling very different.

“Enjoying the party, I’m assuming,” you said as you finished fixing snacks for you and Hannah, “Well, I’ll let you do the same now. See you around.”

“See you,” he replied, cursing at himself internally when you walked away – he should’ve said something! ‘I’m enjoying it right now’, ‘let me get you another drink’, anything.

He sighed, walking away from the table as well.

Hannah clapped her hands quietly when you approached her, a fake impressed look on her face.

“That’s a true friend,” she said to Susan, “Learn, Bones.”

Susan rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Take it before I regret bringing it to you, Abbott,” you joked, offering one of the bowls. She quickly took it, thanking you.

The music playing switched between The Weird Sisters and some very famous muggle songs. Soon, Hannah was rocking her body back and fourth while chewing on the chips.

“Ernie looks so happy,” Susan said to you, pointing discretely at the other side of the room, where Ernie stood with Emma, his soulmate.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Emma seems nice, right? I like her.”

“She does,” you nodded again, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the subject.

“Hey, this is my favorite song!” Hannah gasped, catching Susan’s attention – you mentally thanked whoever was the person responsible for the music. “Let’s dance!”

“I don’t really dance, but you two can go. It’s no problem,” you replied.

“You sure?” Susan asked.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll stay here with my chips,” you raised your bowl at them.

“In that case, can you hold mine? I’ll be right back,” Hannah promised.

“Okay,” you agreed, taking her bowl in your hand.

“Thanks! C’mon,” she held Susan’s hand and took her to the back of the room, where people were dancing.

You sighed, realizing both your hands were busy and now you couldn’t ‘stay with your chips’ while they were gone. Well, it was just a few minutes, you could wait.

********

Part 2

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #george weasley soulmate #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #hogwarts #gryffindor #slytherin #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #random tag #i'm stupid

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 8: The Light]

Hi y’all! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing. Each and every message/reblog/comment/etc makes me smile, and it’s a dream come true to get to share my work with you! 💜

Chapter summary: John shares a secret; Y/N excels at Scrabble; Brian makes peace; Roger suffers a misstep.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy (not who you think!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

Medicine teaches you to be fiercely skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Bodies fail—completely and inevitably, though the timing may differ—and patients lie. Medical records don’t, fingerprints don’t, track marks up the underside of an arm don’t, blood and paternity tests don’t, oftentimes the eyes don’t; but given half a chance, people will lie themselves right into the grave.

Those bruises, doc? Got ‘em from a nasty fall down the stairs. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck!

Nope, never done drugs, not even a joint, I swear on my mother’s life.

I’ll give it up, I’ll go to rehab. Never again. I promise. I don’t want to die.

Doc, I don’t care if the timing doesn’t seem quite right. My husband IS the father. There’s been no one else!

That doting fiancé is flirting with the nurses. Those grown-up children who fluff pillows and dab away tears are asking about the will. That wife is never going to testify against her abusive husband. That addict is going to relapse again...and again...and again. Are there exceptions? Of course. But if you get in the habit of trusting people—of believing all those tantalizingly attractive, hopeful lies—it’ll break your heart six ways to Sunday. There is no perfection in medicine, and there are very rarely miracles.

And so during those first few weeks with Roger—as you watch him from the reeling crowd, from the other side of the tour bus, from across the restaurant table, from the tiny viewfinder of the Canon F-1—you can’t stop searching for the cracks, the shadows, the lies, the dark malignancies breeding beneath the surface. Because everything about Roger Taylor is too good to be true. He’s bright and he’s loud and he’s brilliant and he’s always smiling, always warm. He careens backstage after every show—you keep bracing yourself not to be disappointed when the novelty wears away, when it ends, but it doesn’t—pushing aside roadies and reporters, shouting “Where’s the love of my life? Where’s my Boston babe?” with the most absurd grin you’ve ever seen until he finds you, collides with you, scoops you up and spins you in ungainly circles as your toes skim the floor. Then he cradles your face in his scarred hands and kisses you, breathes you in, tells you everything about the show (even though you were there to see it) in a rush of pure, manic adrenaline. And you stumble into some dressing room together—or a hotel room, or a taxi, or a limousine, or an elevator—and finally it’s your bare thighs his palms are gliding over, your tongue tasting the Heineken and craving on his lips, and it feels impossible for that to ever change. Roger is too good to be true, that’s undeniable; but when you watch him with those doubtful, cautious eyes, you can’t find anything but light.

He wakes up at 6 a.m. to join you on a bayou tour in New Orleans, taps his cigarette over the moss-covered sides of the boat, points out the alligators with leathered skin and ancient yellow irises lurking in the depths. He walks Fremont Street with you in Las Vegas and makes you choose his numbers for the Roulette wheel, for his fate. He snaps photos of you on a sun-drenched balcony in Miami, roaring cobalt waves crashing in the background. He takes you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Philadelphia Zoo, Myrtle Beach and the Saint Louis Arch and the Santa Monica Pier. Because he was telling the truth when he said he could show you the world all those months ago when Queen was at Top of the Pops; he was telling you the truth about the list that’s etched into the rushing scarlet chambers of his heart.

When the American leg of the tour ends and the band gets a brief reprieve in London, you move into Roger’s paltry, disorganized flat and scrub away all the remnants of his past life: dust and empty cigarette boxes and women’s socks, ashes and copies of Vogue, a tube of lipstick that isn’t yours. You don’t complain, don’t even frown; you’re under no delusions that something eternal can be founded on resentment, on lies. And so you clear out the clutter and open the windows so sunshine and crisp spring air can breathe through the apartment, so you can both start fresh along with the bellflowers and delphiniums and roses and the tawny newborn ducklings scampering behind their mothers. You hang photos from the tour and John’s sketches on the refrigerator, place your Canon F-1 and pink conch shell from Ostia on the nightstand, litter the drawers with your own socks and makeup. You teach Roger how to sew (although he’s not much good at it) and how to treat blisters (although you’ll always be there to do it for him); and in return Roger teaches you how to trust, how to believe, how to stop searching desperately for faults in the light.

On the second day of April, Queen boards their flight to Tokyo. Brian settles into a plushy, billowing blanket and loses himself in an astronomy magazine; he’s an engaged man now, an honest man in the eyes of society at large...and, far more importantly, his parents. Freddie pens lyrics in his notebook, humming disjointedly, napping like a cat when the mood strikes him. Roger snacks constantly and tries to get John chatting, but John is particularly subdued today, preoccupied, prone to gazing unfocusedly at the clouds that drift by outside and wringing his hands.

And you think, as you peer down into the glistening sapphire waters of the East China Sea: Brian’s a willow tree, Freddie’s a lightning storm, Roger is wildfire...but what is John?

Something deep, something beautiful and strong and constant and hidden.

The ocean, you decide as Queen’s private plane soars over the quicksilver waves that conceal the abyss. John is the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

John is lying on his back under a small grove of cherry blossom trees outside the hotel, sketching grey outlines of petals and arcing branches in a new notebook. He hasn’t given any sign that he heard you coming, doesn’t turn his head to see you. You freeze, startled.

“How’d you know it was me?!”

“You have very distinct footsteps. Dainty, yet purposeful.” He sets aside his notebook and sits up, crossing his long legs. “Why didn’t you go to lunch?”

“Because you didn’t. You turned down ramen, and you never turn down ramen. I was worried. Plus someone has to make sure a roving posse of screaming Japanese girls doesn’t carry you off.”

That makes him laugh. The Japanese fans are inexplicably obsessed with John; or maybe it’s not so inexplicable, maybe they just have a better eye for quiet, unassuming wonders. “Always so thoughtful.”

You sit down beside him, open a pack of chocolate-flavored Pocky and offer John a piece, frown when he lights a cigarette instead. “That’s really bad for you. Seriously. You should quit.”

“At last. One thing you and Brian agree on.” He exhales a gale of smoke and peers up at the cherry blossoms.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break up with Veronica, did you?” Chrissie and Mary didn’t mention anything about her tearful devastation, and you suspect they would have had John gone through with it.

He sighs. “I did not.”

“And...are we feeling...okay about that...?”

He twirls the cigarette nervously between his fingers. After a silence, he surrenders. “Look, I haven’t told anybody yet, but I’d tell you first anyway. So here it goes.” He glances over at you guiltily, gloomily, wishing he could disappear. “I didn’t break up with Veronica because she’s pregnant.”

Your jaw falls open. A half-eaten stick of Pocky rolls out of your mouth and onto the grass. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

“Please don’t be disappointed,” John pleads. “I’m disappointed in myself enough for both of us, believe me.”

“I...I...I’m not disappointed, John, I’m just...” You blink at him. “Oh my god.”

He nods, acquiescent. “I’m in complete agreement.”

You shake your head, gaping at him, stunned; and suddenly you don’t like what you’re feeling at all. Because it isn’t just shock and horror, it isn’t just apprehension. You hate the thought of him touching her, of her delicate white hands on him, of innocence stripped away and memories impressed into muscle, into soul.

Because you know she’s not right for him. Because you know he doesn’t love her the way he should. Because you want the best for him and always have.

Oh, there’s a comforting rationale; but is it true?

And then: You fucking hypocrite. Since when do you get an opinion on who anyone sleeps with?

“It must have happened in January,” John says miserably. “Right before we left for the States. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone...I guess maybe she thought if she did I’d never come back. So she told me as soon as I landed in London. And here we all are.”

You stare down at your shoes, trying to compose yourself. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one option.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. But I know you’d never consider them.” John’s father died when he was ten, and he never talks about it; which is precisely how you know it’s a wound that can’t ever heal, a gash that goes straight down to the bone. He would never leave his child, never banish them to some dusty, repressed corner of his consciousness while he moves on with a blissfully unencumbered life. You whisper: “I’m so fucking sorry, John.”

That snaps something in him, something he was choking back. He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?” he moans. “I’m twenty-three years old, I’m broke, I turned down loads of jobs, good jobs, as an electrical engineer, I’ve somehow become the bassist in an increasingly famous rock band...I mean, how the hell did this happen? How did any of this happen?”

“It’ll be okay,” you insist with newfound resolve. I have to save him. I have to protect him.

John rolls those soft greyish eyes, hopeless, distraught. “Sure.”

“It will be, I promise you. The tour is going great. I had my doubts about the band when I first met you, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know if there was a future for Queen. But you’ve made me a believer. You’ve made millions of people all over the world believers. The money will keep rolling in, Queen will finally start seeing some of it, you won’t be broke forever. You’ll have two more months on the road and then we’ll be back in London, and it’ll be on to recording the next album, more shows, more money...the hard times are almost over, John. You can do this. And I’ll help you.”

His brow furrows. “You will?”

“Of course. If it’s easier for Veronica, it’ll be easier for you. So I’ll be extra friendly, take her to appointments when you’re busy, help organize the wedding, babysit the littlest Deacon whenever she needs me to. We’ll get through this. I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly. “You and Roger. You aren’t going anywhere.” He’s reading you closely, sifting through your words and forced smile for something deeper.

“I’m happy,” you assure him. “You don’t need to be concerned about that. I’m staying with the band, I’m staying in London. Whenever Queen is home, that is.”

He nods, but perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He finally accepts a piece of Pocky from you and takes a bite. “Then I guess we’ll plan for a summer wedding.”

“You could do a double one with Brian and Chrissie.”

He laughs so hard he almost inhales the Pocky, then doubles over coughing. “I think Bri would rather slit his own throat, but a charming thought. Thank you for that. Bravo.”

You smile at John, genuinely this time. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I hope you aren’t worried about that part of it, at least.”

“Will you be their godparent?”

“What? Me?!”

“Yeah. Because, you know...” John averts his gaze. “You’d be the person I would want to raise them if something happened to me and Veronica. You’re the most dedicated, stubborn, capable, nurturing, remarkable person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend. And maybe Roger’s your best friend and you’re his, and that’s all fine, that’s alright, but you’re still mine.”

“Roger is a lot of incredible things, but he’s not my best friend.” You lie flat on the grass and lace your hands behind your head, tracking the weightless snowy clouds as they float by above. When did we become adults? When did all of these rules catch up to us? “I would be honored to be your child’s godparent.”

John plops down beside you. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I want to wait until the tour’s over. I don’t want them to panic and think I’m leaving and try to replace me or anything.”

“They wouldn’t try to replace you, John.”

“No?” he asks doubtfully.

“No. Roger knows it, Fred knows it, I think even Bri knows it.” You reach out and weave a lock of his hair through your fingers as cherry blossom petals tumble in the breeze. “You’re irreplaceable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sod,” Freddie mocks. “That’s the best you could do? Really? Sod?”

Roger flings up his hands in frustration. “Freddie, I’ve got like a million Cs!”

“You could have done cod,” Brian notes, sipping a cup of hot tea. “Cods, actually.”

Roger glowers down at his Scrabble tiles. “Fuck.”

“And I’m so delighted he didn’t!” You place your tiles, expanding on sod to make rhapsody. John high-fives you and records the points in his notebook. Freddie and Brian groan in defeat.

“What the hell is a rhapsody?!” Roger snatches the Official Scrabble Dictionary off the table and flips through it.

“It’s a, like a...” Freddie waves his cigarette, scattering smoke through the air. “It’s like an epic poem. Or an opera. With lots of bizarre, different parts all pieced together.”

“That sounds made up.”

Freddie cackles. “Darling, it’s a real thing, I swear!”

Roger locates the pertinent page in the Scrabble Dictionary and his shoulders slump. “Goddammit. Fucking...too smart...nerdy...college-educated...girlfriend.” He drags you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t usually tolerate being conquered like this.”

Bri smirks from behind his teacup. “I rather think you conquered her, Rog.”

“Oh, a rare good one from Bri!” Freddie trills as everyone laughs, although John soon busies himself with clearing empty bottles and cigarette butts off the table.

“Yes,” Roger agrees. “Against her superior judgment, I finally won her over. Only took eight months. Which is approximately...wait, let me count...seven and a half months longer than it has ever taken me before.”

You trace your fingertips across his stubbled cheeks, his soft lips, his little dark blond tufts of sideburns. “No one knows how to say no to you, do they?”

“It’s impossible. I’m too charming. Blindingly heroic. Perseus in the flesh.” He kisses your forehead and steadies you, his hands on your waist, as the brakes squeal and the tour bus lurches to a halt.

Freddie leaps to his feet and claps. “Alright, darlings! Off to the new digs we go. Deaky, hand me my shoes, they’re under the table...yes, right there...and toss over Brian’s hideous clogs as well.”

You help the roadies and the band drag luggage into the hotel (no small feat, as the elevator is out of order), unpack your toothbrush and hairbrush and a floral-patterned dress for dinner, giggle as you listen to Roger’s feral, raspy singing in the shower. It’s something about loving a car, how perfectly on-brand for him. Then Roger goes to fetch Freddie and John for dinner while you find Brian. Bri is collapsed on his bed in a striped t-shirt and jeans, freshly-washed and dewy, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze.

You tap gently on the doorframe. “Bri? You want to join us for dinner? There’s a sushi place a few blocks away that’s a local legend, apparently. Lots of veggie options too.”

He looks over at you. You haven’t spoken about the argument since you had it two months ago. Brian sometimes grimaces or smirks or rolls his willowy viridescent eyes, but he never says anything; not to you, and not to Roger as far as you’re aware. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I may have been out of line before. Incorrect, even.”

“No need to apologize, Bri. I’ve forgotten all about it.” You haven’t, but there’s no reason for Brian to know that.

“I just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I know, Brian.” You cross the room and take his long, moon-white, artful hands in your own. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be in the wedding party, won’t you? I know Chris will ask.”

“Of course. And I’ll proudly wear whatever dreadfully tacky and uncomfortable bridesmaid dresses she picks out.”

“Even if they’re a frightful shimmery green?”

“Oh god.” You swallow noisily. “I’ll still do it. And then burn the photos.”

Brian chuckles as he climbs out of bed. “In a stroke of luck, I suspect she’ll ask you to take the pictures. So you can avoid being in them as much as you’d like. And conveniently lose the unflattering ones.”

You study him thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Brian?”

“I am. Chrissie’s excited, my parents are thrilled, they’ll be sitting in the front row with the proudest smiles you’ve ever seen. Next comes a proper house, and children, and all the rest of it.” But something in those mellow olivey eyes is resigned, melancholy. His words from two months ago echo in your skull: It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.

“Do you still think about New Orleans?” you ask softly. About the woman he’d fallen in love with there before you ever met Queen, about the utopian passion he never quite stops searching for. Everyone has demons, secrets, shadowy trenches like cracks in porcelain; you’ve learned all about Brian’s. What about Roger’s? What about mine?

He shrugs, staring out the window at the dusky skyline of Yokohama. “Maybe I’ll always think about New Orleans. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to grow up and start taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” you reply cynically, before you can stop yourself. “Is that all love is about anymore?”

“Not for you. Not for Roger. You both want your freedom, your adventure, your true and uncomplicated love. And you’ll get to keep it.”

For now. But you don’t say that. Instead, you smile appeasingly and gesture for Brian to follow you out into the hallway.

The others are waiting by the door to the stairwell: John in a smart grey suit, Freddie in his black-and-yellow jacket, Roger in sunglasses and a ridiculous leopard-print vest he’d dug out of a trashcan somewhere and precariously tall boots.

“At last, Nurse Nightingale and my darling Brian!” Freddie chirps. “Come on, I’m positively famished, and also I’ve bet five pounds that I can consume more sake shots than Roger and I could really use the dough.”

Roger pushes through the door, leading the way. “Prepare to lose!”

“Roger, please,” you implore. “New livers don’t grow on trees, and I can’t give you half of mine. I’m the wrong blood type.”

Roger laughs as he bounds down the steps, then whirls to grin up at you as he walks backwards. “Relax, Deaks will share! You’re type A, aren’t you John—?”

Roger’s heel slips and he plummets down the flight of stairs. He tumbles as the four of you shriek in horror and bolt after him, slams into the wall of the landing, ricochets off of it and plunges down the next flight as well. There’s blood, you think frenziedly as you descend, screaming Roger’s name. There’s blood all over the steps.

Roger, crumpled on the maroon-streaked landing, slowly unravels and groans. He glances down, appraises himself, then hammers his left fist against the concrete wall of the stairwell, roaring in raw agony and rage. “No no no no no no!”

“Roger—!”

And then you see it.

Roger’s right arm hangs uselessly, unnaturally, his snapped radius bloody and splitting through the skin.

#but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #but you can never leave #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x reader #queen fic #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #299

“you look so beautiful tonight / reminds me how you laid us down and gently smiled before you destroyed my life.”

Ever done any drugs? Besides alcohol, no. How many people have you kissed? Three or four. What’s your favorite show to binge? I could only ever willingly *binge* Meerkat Manor and not get bored after like, two episodes. Do you watch porn? No, it's never appealed to me. What’s one of your fantasies? Being financially stable. :^) Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? I've lightly considered getting one, but I really doubt I ever will. What’s the most overrated movie? /shrug. Let people like what they like. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message. I'd love to get to know my Facebook acquaintance Courtlynn better; I've wanted to for a long time. I think we could be fantastic friends. We'll like each other's stuff regularly and occasionally leave comments, but we don't really talk. Do you like paper books or ebooks better? Paper ones, by a long shot. I just really like the feeling of a book and being able to clearly see how far in you are. I enjoy the smell and sound of turning pages. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick? Probably Wonderland, realistically. I would say Azeroth, but too much world-threatening shit goes on every day lol. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? G O T H Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? Yep. Do you drink? Very, very rarely. Almost exclusively during celebrations or on the once in a blue moon occasion we go to a sit-down restaurant. Do you read erotica? No. It would make me super uncomfortable. What color was the last candle you lit? I don't remember at all. Do you own a treadmill? No, but I want one. Have you ever signed up for a gym membership? Well, not exactly me. Mom and Nicole both had memberships to Planet Fitness, and I was able to come as a guest. It was just cheaper that way. What color was the last fish you had? That I owned or ate? Either way, idr. Is there a garbage can in your room? What color is it? No. If you play The Sims, do you download custom clothes, hair, etc? I don't play it. Does your animal sleep with you? Roman does, yes. He legitimately spoons with me lmao. Sometimes he'll move to the bottom of the bed, other times he'll sleep through most of the night there. Have you ever had to wear a hairnet? Yes. What is your favorite song to play on Guitar Hero or Rock Band? "Hotel California" by The Eagles on expert is so much fun and just feels good. The ending solo is just great. When you drink chocolate milk do you just buy the jug of it or the syrup that you can put into the milk? Almost always just the chocolate syrup. Do you own a robe? What color is it? No. What’s the worst abuse you have done to your phone? I know I've thrown it across the room once. Well, not my current phone, but a really old one. How did you meet your first love? High school. Well, you could maybe say Facebook. He sent me a friend request and I literally only accepted it because I thought it was another Jason. We talked via messenger some and then we ran into each other at school, and tbh I kinda knew I was fucked from there lmao. Have you ever worn the opposite sex’s underwear? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever kissed in a pool? Yeah. Are there any hobbies you have that you don’t perform in front of others? I absolutely cannot write in front of others, and I HATE drawing when people are watching. What do you do when you simply don’t know what to do? Odds are I'll probably be scraping the bottom of the barrel to find something in WoW that sounds even remotely fun, or I'll browse Facebook. How did you find out about your current favorite band? He's one of my mom's favorite singers/bands, so I grew up with some of his music, and when I was getting into rock and metal, I decided to go through her music case and listen to some of it. Ozzy's Black Rain album set the adoration into motion. Where are you most likely to go when you need clothing? The Internet or Wal-Mart, depending on what kind of clothes I need. When was the last time you tried to do something yet failed? I should have an answer for this very quickly... yet I'm unsure. I don't think anything *major* has happened in a while. Oh, this is a tiny thing, but I did look really hard for the pencil sharpener so my niece could finish coloring her drawing, but I couldn't find the damn thing for anything. Do you think your life is comprised more of success or failure? Lots and lots of failure. What’s one personality trait that’s not strong in you? Uhhh outgoing, ig. Are you a difficult individual to get to know? Considering I hide a lot about myself to try and be accepted, yes. When was the last time you opened up to someone and about what? Literally yesterday to my mom about this unreasonably massive fear I've had lately that she doesn't have much longer in her. I'm terrified she's going to get COVID or her cancer just comes back faster than we hope. To whom do you feel the most important? My mom. Is there something you want but might not ever have? Many things. What’s something you’re working to obtain? Mental stability. Do you tend to enjoy your dreams? No, considering they're usually violent and rarely just psychotic nightmares. Are there any projects or goals you’ve recently abandoned? Hm. What in life serves to keep you going? The hope it'll get better, and I'll reach a point of actually being happy and content with my life. What was the last good news you received? Nicole's trip to Maryland to bring back a baby was successful (if that sounds weird, she's a child social worker). He has a heart condition where if his heartbeat or something like that was irregular, she'd have driven all the way up there for nothing; the baby wouldn't have been able to take the ride. Are you more inclined to appreciate sweet or savory foods? Sweet. Are romantic relationships important to you at this point in your life? I mean I'd like to be in one, but I highly doubt it'd be successful, just given where I am in life. I'd be signing up for heartbreak. Who was the last person to apologize to you for something they did? I don't know. Probably Mom for something minor, like just bumping into me or something. Are you wearing a necklace, and if so, who got it for you? No. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done lately? Lately? Uh. I don't know, but I can guarantee to you it wasn't long ago at all, considering breathing embarrasses me, pretty much. Do you ‘think out loud’? Sometimes. Do you take gummy vitamins? No. How do you know the majority of the people you know? Former schools. Hell, or maybe various online locations. I just might have more online friends and acquaintances than in-person. Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? I've talked about my pebble from my partial hospitalization program enough. Can you play electric guitar? I used to be able to play a little bit; I took guitar lessons for a short while in high school. Best I could do was the intro to "Crazy Train," but I'd still occasionally mess up. Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? Usually. Do you believe in ghosts/supernatural occurrences? Yes. Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? Yeah. Is there a kind of music you listen to that helps you release your anger? Yes, usually songs that are also angry. How does it make you feel looking at pics with your ex and someone else? The only case this has ever happened was with Jason and his gf after me. There are no words to describe the fucking hatred I felt. I haven't seen pictures of him with an s/o in a long time, and I absolutely never plan on seeking them out ever again. What song are you listening to right now? "Rest In Pieces" by Saliva. If you’re not in college, why? I couldn't handle the stress anymore. Just couldn't. Do you own a studded belt from Hot Topic? I have a good number of old ones from high school, actually. I wore them all the time. I could never fit into them now. Favorite fictional character? Um, Darkiplier, duh. Most recent thing you are looking forward to? I think it's finally set in stone that I'm getting my tattoo redone soon. Thanks to my laptop saying "ha fuck you," it's not as soon as I originally planned since I had to pay to fix it, but Mom seems fine with helping me pay for my birthday. Not a guarantee that it'll happen on that date of course, given scheduling, but yeah. It should fucking finally be happening. How many stairs can you climb before you wanna pass out? This is too embarrassing to even answer lmao. Have you ever kissed someone with braces? No. Would you ever consider adoption? I don't want kids, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't. I feel like I'd personally need the "wow this is a part of me (and/or my s/o)" connection. Do you ever go hunting/fishing? I would never go hunting, and the only occasion in which I'd fish again is if Dad asked me. I don't like the idea of fishing for fun anymore, but that's like... always been our bonding experience, and I wouldn't tell him no. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Knew. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Who are your godparents? I don't think I have any. Do you have any friends who are famous? I have two friends who are parts of bands, but idk how successful they are. I don't think either are like, huge. Nova Mortis if you're into heavy metal and I think Toukan does rap? When was the last time you stayed at a hotel? Hm. I have no idea. What side of a heart do you draw first? Uhhhh I think the left? What is your mom saved as in your phone? "Mama Bear." Do you want your tongue pierced? I had snake eyes for a while, but I took them out because I kept chipping my teeth. I miss that piercing, it was so cute, but it wasn't worth ruining my teeth. Ever made out in a pool? It's possible very briefly, idr. Do you like to have long hair or short hair? SHORT. SHORT. SHORT. Do you change your phone background a lot? Not really. Would you get back with your last ex if you could? Yeah. Have you ever been strip searched? No. Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? Yes. What is your least favorite type of chocolate? White chocolate is way too sweet. Did anyone see your last kiss? It was at an airport, so probably. Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? I mean, I do, but I don't really know how smart it would be right now. Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? A few. Who IMed you on Facebook last? My friend Girt. Were you kinda scared of the goths in high school? Hell naw man, I looked up to them lmao. What size is your mattress? (single,twin,double,queen,king) Queen. Do you like spaghetti? Hell yeah. It was my favorite food as a kid. What about lasagna? No; I don't like the cheese at all. Have you ever been stung by anything? What was it? Mosquitoes of course, as well as a bee once. Maybe other things, idk. Have you ever worn contacts? (even just to try them out) Yes, but I changed to glasses because I had too much trouble putting them in and taking them out. Have you ever had any suspicious moles removed? No. Have you ever been screened for STDs? No. Did you have your tonsils taken out? No. Did you have your appendix taken out? No. Do you have any collector’s glasses or cups or mugs? What is a "collector's" glass or mug? Were you your parents’ first born? No; I'm the middle child. Do you have a child? Is the father still with you? No. Were you born perfectly healthy or with some (or a lot) of health issues? I was born healthy. Good 'ole days. Did you ever catch any bugs or insects with your friends as a kid? Ohhhh yes, my neighbor and I loved doing that. My favorite was catching fireflies with my sisters, though. Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? With a friend. I'd get lonely. Do you know anybody who has been diagnosed with cancer? A whole lot, sadly... I'm despising that disease more and more every day that goes by. I know far too many people who have it or have died at its hands. Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? No. Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? N/A. Do not stay in a relationship where fighting is common. Would you ever share a site password with a family member or partner? I mean sure, depending on the site and person, and the reason they (may) need it. Has anyone ever told you they couldn't trust you? Hm... I actually don't think so? Who in your family has the prettiest eyes? Idk, I don't see enough of my extended family to know. What is an odd food item you would like to try, or have tried? I'm sure there's something I'd like to try, but nothing I think about with consistency, really... Most "odd" food I find unappealing anyway. When/if you drive, do you go the speedlimit? When I did, I certainly always tried to, but I was bad at maintaining a stable speed. I went up and down too much. Are you an aggressive driver? Or more passive-aggressive? I was dangerously passive at driving. Describe a hairstyle you had as a little kid? Well, I had long hair with bangs. What routine of yours would you most hate to break? Probably stopping getting a soda first thing in the morning... That is like so deeply ingrained into my day and is a motivator to get up in the first place. I want to change this to where I'm not allowed to grab one until I've had a full cup of water, but yeah, that hasn't happened yet. Has jealousy ever ruined one of your friendships/relationships? Honestly? I think it's possible that Jason totally split on me because of it. We were in this very unstable "friends" position after the breakup and hung out very briefly and awkwardly twice (which I'm pretty sure he didn't want), and I think one of our last attempts at conversation was who a girl he was talking to via Messenger was. No, before any assumptions are made, I didn't snoop. He showed me something on his phone and I just inevitably saw the little Facebook chat icon of a girl I didn't recognize. I don't even remember his answer. I just know it wasn't too long later I was blocked and everything. What is one restaurant you would NOT recommend? I personally am not a Chili's fan. What was your last conversation about? Mom and I were just talking about what a mush the cat is, haha. Who is your favorite person to debate or discuss with? Yo fuck debates, I got mad anxiety over that kind of stuff. Are you more likely to praise or insult yourself? Why? Insult. I don't even believe myself when I try praising, so it's not worth the effort. I have a billion and two reasons. Do you enjoy cloudy days? Why or why not? Honestly, not very much anymore. I've found that it actually does affect my mood. I like some cloud coverage, though. Would it bother you to be forgotten after death? Yes, even though when you think about it, most of us will be. I want to do stomething so badly; not even particularly something major, but just contribute to things and causes that matter and slowly change the world for the better. It's especially likely I will be forgotten though at some point because I don't want kids, so my blood isn't carrying on. Do you tend to prefer healthy or unhealthy snacks? Ugh, unhealthy. Has anyone ever asked you for diet advice? I think so, back when I started recovery and lost like 60 lbs fast as fuck. I wasn't even dieting though, just... came off awful meds. What age is your youngest aunt? Ummmm I have no clue. Do you like bowling? Yeah, it's fun, but I'm not good at it. Do you like roasting marshmallows on a bonfire? Totally. Do you prefer sweet or sour fruits? Sweet. How're your dancing skills? Rusted to the point of just not functional anymore lmao. What brand of batteries do you usually get? I don't pay attention to the kind Mom gets. Are any of your friends pregnant or have kids? A lot of my FB friends have kids. At least two are pregnant, but I only consider myself remotely close to one. I'm beyond worried about how she's going to be as a mom. Where's the strangest place a fast food restaurant was located? I've certainly seen some questionable placement in busy areas, but none that are super odd. Do you stay up all night on New Years Eve/Day or go to bed after 12am? I don't care nowadays; I just stay up until I'm tired like every other night.

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''rest in pieces'' by saliva

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joe-young-stories · 3 years

Text

A Week.

Hey, new to tumblr. This is something I wrote in an enclosed, dodgy Christian community in 2018.

The last time I saw Dad in person I was seventeen, and I’d either just finished my A-levels or I was halfway through them. I’d seen him a year before, for Grandad’s funeral. After we’d got home from the wake I’d nicked a crate of Guinness, and thrown up on my suit. I’d thrown up all over the guest bed as well, and I’d left all the empty cans in the waste paper basket. I told my dad that the emotional stress of the funeral must have affected me, and I didn’t really give a shit about the fact that he knew.

This time it was summer, and it was that one week of the British summer that is actually scorching hot. Dad was waiting for me at Oxford train station for my visit. Visa Skank was there too. Visa Skank is my dad’s Russian wife, and perhaps she married him for a visa or perhaps she really loves him. I’ve never actually had anything against her. It was rude, offensive, calling her Visa Skank, but it made me feel really savage and clever back then. This day at Oxford train station she was in her late forties, and she was wearing this shimmer- shimmer peach linen halter top harem pants combo thing with a dainty cream pashmina and a big floppy straw hat. She was basically just easy mockery.

We went straight from the station to this ultra quaint Riverside pub/restaurant garden. I had Peronis. I had a burger too. We didn’t really have a conversation because Visa had seen a picturesque riverside photo opportunity, and she had my dad take pictures of her next to a drainage sluice for almost an hour, at different angles and filter settings. At the end we walked back through the pub to get to the car and she started draping herself mystically around rustic beams and cosy fireplaces, or sat herself next to like, napkin dispensers that pleased her. And my dad took more pictures. I just wanted to get back to the house. I don’t remember too much more from the meal.

In the daytimes that followed I fell into a routine. Dad would wake up late (his teaching job at the schools wasn’t on) and he might mooch about or he might go into Oxford, or he might just go to Headington High Street. Visa Skank had a busy social schedule attending a young mum’s social club in the Florence Park Cafe. She would spend a lot of time there. I would wake up and take a walk into Central Oxford. And I would stop for a pint in the White Horse, where we used to go for Lunch when I was little. In town I would walk the old streets around the Radcliffe Camera, and this was back when I had academic ambition before I stopped caring about most things, and the scholarly atmosphere excited me. I walked past the cathedral boys’ school – my first school—and into the Eagle and Child, or the Kings Arms, or the Turf Tavern. I would read Franz Kafka stories or Iris Murdoch novels or I’d listen to pretentious students talk shit and praise myself for being more intelligent than them. After a few pints I’d saunter back over Magdelen Bridge and back up towards the house in Headington.

Dad’s house had changed a lot over the years. The retro porn PC used to be in the dining room, and all my 9 year old self used to do at my dad’s was either play SimCity on that computer or watch Dad’s porn. He’d archived literally thousands of pictures, all categorised according to hair/boobs/race etc. Albums of particular stars. I got up early at that age, and if you were proper stealth about it could get up with the dawn and watch a four second clip of a woman getting pleasured by a mechanised shoe buffer. Only if you were stealth though. The computer screen could be seen from the stairs via the dining room mirror. You had to listen for footsteps. God forbid that Visa or even Grandad would walk in. View me wanking it to Dad’s shoe buffer porn.

Now though the house layout was different. Grandad had been a cantankerous twat since Nan died, and all he ever did was sit in the living room watching cartoons and chat shows. GMTV, Pokemon, Digimon, Homes under the Hammer. That was all I ever saw him do on visits to my dad’s. I left him to it.

But he started losing control of his faculties, and Dad and I would walk in from the pub to a stray smell of nappies, the CBBC channel playing in the background. His osteoporosis got worse. The last time he was alive I was seventeen and he’d been moved to a hospice. He was half asleep next to his colostomy bag but he murmured a greeting and a goodbye. The three of us, Grandad, Dad and me, sat in near silence for approximately fifteen minutes. “Good to see you, Grandad,” I said to him as I was leaving. Grandad had written “to a very impressive grandson” on my birthday card seven months previously.

While Grandad was dying his house was being renovated. The dining room and kitchen had been knocked together into this rustique farmhouse experience, with a big beaten up pine table, a pine dresser and a freshly installed aga. An aga in a nineteen thirties semi. There were a lot of wholesome wicker baskets bought in and gooseberry jam jars were placed in them for effect. Next door the garage was knocked down and a den/conservatory/stargazing lounge/music studio was built. The living room, where Grandad watched all the kids TV, and which I was told was always going to be “His Space” had had all the carpets ripped out and new sofas put in. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, and they were all full of this intelligentsia Russian shit no one read. The retro porn PC was upstairs in Dad’s bedroom now, so after I got back from Oxford that last week I’d sit in the conservatory on my laptop. Sometimes if my dad was around I’d bring up an attractive female friend’s Facebook profile and wait for him to ask me about it. He’d talk about organic food and hand picking your own raspberries, and how Russian customs and traditions were the best way to live. But most of those afternoons he was upstairs in his bedroom checking his email, which took about two hours and was a pretty full-on activity for him. If Visa was at home she’d make still life displays from Kitsch crap she found in charity shops. And she’d do photoshoots. Most of the time she was out though. Presumably with the young mums.

When I was downstairs on my own I would drink from the many, many bottles available on the farmhouse shelf. I never drank in front of Dad, but I’d never bother hiding how drunk I was getting either. A little bit of gin, little bit of vodka, whiskey, white rum.

I’d always done this. When I was about twelve, thirteen, fourteen I’d go through Dads bedroom and raid his wardrobe. I’d find his extensive magazine stash and his books on “Tantric Passion”, “The Multi Orgasmic Man”, “Make Her see you Mean Commitment”. I’d find the hamper full of Bombay Sapphire bottles; I never questioned the water bottles full of urine next to his bed. I wasn’t subtle. I’d try and incite his scorn, his discipline, his parental authority. I’d find glow in the dark condoms in his bedside drawers, and I’d take them out of the packets and leave them under his pillow like a treasure hunt. I would neck a bottle of chardonnay, refill it with tap water and leave it in the fridge for him to find. He’d look at the bottle, look at me, deliberate and stammer “I must have rinsed it out for recycling and put it back on autopilot.” I don’t think he knew me well enough to confront me. He once drove me back to mums with me throwing up ass the way down the M40, and we both agreed that I must have eaten some “ropey” quiche.

I didn’t want Dad to parent me anymore; I just didn’t really care. So while Dad was upstairs checking his email I’d access the WiFi and watch naked men beat each other, and I’d masturbate and drink gin. I think on the Tuesday of that week he found me full-on passed out in the stargazing conservatory, sleeping it off. Later on he’d said something about travelling being exhausting, especially across London, and it always took a few days for the mind to properly relax on holiday. I agreed.

In the evenings we’d go out to a pub, the Vicky Arms or The Chestnut or something. I would tell Dad what A levels I was doing. I’d namedrop attractive female friends quite a lot, and talk about parties I went to with them. I’d wait for him to be like, “Are they pretty?”, “Are they into you?”, “Like yeah, get in, my son!”, “Well done, boyo!” and things like that. Visa would come with us. She’d sit there in peach tracksuit bottoms and some kind of burgundy flamenco/matador top, and she would say things like, “Never microwave food because it changes the molecules. Did you know this? We go through a recipe book and you will find meals you would like to try.” We might order popcorn from behind the bar. Visa might demand a photo shoot of her next to an inspiring sunset or whatever.

At home Dad and Visa would go to bed in Grandads old room. Nans room, now the guest bedroom, was being fitted with a “Roman balcony” so I slept on a blow up bed in the living room with all the Russian volumes. I’d drink more whiskey and watch a comedy show about teenage lesbians.

That was it, really. The last week I saw my dad was fairly uneventful. Mundane. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was the last time I saw him I doubt I would have remembered it

Only two events stand out in particular. On the Thursday of that week Dad was playing at a jazz and tango concert at a bar/club in Wantage. He did concerts like that to keep money coming in when the schools weren’t on. Visa took tango lessons down at the community centre, and she’d met a new friend and tango partner called Allan. He had had a stroke and divorce in a five year period and had taken early retirement, so I was told. So I was briefed. Briefed why? I didn’t care.

Allan met us at the house. We all sat about having a back garden beer and then Dad and I set off for Wantage. Allan’s and Visa came later, in Allan’s car, which he could still drive all post stroked up apparently. We had another pint in a pub in Wantage. Dad introduced me to the concept of a “Session Beer”. Advice I have never followed.

Dad gave me money for the evening and then left me to my own devices. I sat on the balcony and drank a lot of Stella, and from my vantage point I could see Dad playing onstage. I could see Visa and Allan as well, and she had her head on his shoulder and he was holding her close around the lower back. This didn’t look particularly tango-ey, but Visa had told me on one pub evening that tango was more about feeling than steps. “Feeling. Yes?” she had said with gusto. This was the passion of the dance I was watching, then. Dad had told me in the car that tango was Allan’s hobby, it’s what got him out the house, like his physio. I looked at Dad, and he was playing some sassy chords on the piano, watching the two of them become one with the dance. He didn’t do anything else. He just sat there, watching them get on with it. I finished one of my Stellas, and later on I thought to myself that he looked like a drooping bunch of flowers in a vase, half dead. A bit sad, maybe. A bit lacking. I was quite proud of myself for thinking of that. It felt very grown up.

Two days later we were having a back garden beer, Dad and I. The garden had changed, and where a swingset once stood there was now a very wholesome vegetable plot. Beyond that was a washing line. It was one of those washing lines with one pole in the ground, and it folded out like an upside down pyramid. You could spin it around for ease of pegging/unpegging. I looked at the washing line and remembered my eight year old self playing by it. I had been playing with a football. I was staying with him for a few weeks or so over the summer. I was out there, by myself, with the football. But I liked to pretend I was playing with all the other children I knew from school. Kids who were actually busy with their own friendship groups or who called me poofty boy by the wildlife pond. But when I was playing with them by myself they were all like, “I did not see this coming! We have not appreciated your serious skills! Hey guys, check out this Baller!” and none of them called me a poofty boy by the wildlife pond.

I had devised a game where you had to throw the ball into the opened up washing line to score a point. Dad came outside just as I was about to land the sickest shot from ten feet away, the shot which was going to blow George and his gang away, and was going to make Sadia and Carrie-Ann think I was total boyfriend material. He asked me if I wanted anything to eat.

And I really don’t know what came over me, but I said something along the lines of “I’m playing a game. We have to get the ball off each other and get it in the net. Do you want to play?”

“Oh, right!” was something like he said “Yes alright then, I will”. I’d never played a game with Dad before, and we were both a bit hesitant. Like, do we just…start, or what? I chucked the ball at the line and missed, and he grabbed it. We ran around the garden, playing the game. He scored a point. I scored a point. At one point he wrestled me to the ground to get the ball off me, and then helped me up. I remember laughing and smiling, being out of breath. I was tense, too. How did things like this come to a logical end? Did, like, the session finish? Was there a way for this to end without Dad having to just be really rude? Like: “I’m sorry Joe, but I need to stop doing this at this point and go back to my day. You are welcome to continue though.” How did it work? After approximately fifteen minutes it mercifully started raining, and we went inside. It was the only time we ever played the game.

Sitting and having a beer with my dad that last week was the last time I looked at the garden, or indeed spent any time with him. Halfway through our drink Visa came out of the stargazing conservatory doors, and she was wearing a floor length lacy white gown, a white bonnet and silky white gloves. She was carrying a large wicker hamper, and she put the hamper down and pulled out a silver teapot. “I am English lady at tea,” she said, and she raised the teapot in the air. Then she laid the patio table for a country manor high tea, and started demanding a photoshoot. I went inside.

The next day I was due to go home. I woke up that morning to find that I’d drunk too much and pissed the blow up bed. I put my soggy boxers in a plastic bag, and I covered the damp sheet with my duvet and left it to fester.

I hardly spoke to dad after that week. There was no reason to most of the time. I rang him twice to ask for money, once to say merry Christmas can I have some money and once to tell him I’d just left rehab. In 2018 I had written to him to tell him he was a cunt and I wanted to burn his house down. “Past wounds” with my Father had become a significant part of my “Life Story” by that point, and I thought that sending such a horrible letter might activate a Life Event in some way, some dramatic finale.

Dad has always had his settings such that I can’t find him on Facebook, so I have to log in as my mum to see his profile. Him and Visa quote Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare sonnets on each other’s pages. Visa’s profile has about 64 photo albums. They’re all called things like “Casserole dishes on the patio”, “Beauty In Autumn”, “Sensuous mermaid has adventure”. Her name isn’t actually Visa Skank. All the photo albums are silly and innocuous. When I’m drunk, or self pitying, or feeling like a victim, or all of the above I sometimes find myself thinking about the game me and Dad played with the washing line and the football.

#writers on tumblr #writers #short story #story #childhood

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