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renaerys · 3 years

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PPG One-Shot: Spelling Bee (Brick/Blossom)

Happy birthday to @genovah! She is always inspiring me to come up with more PPG content, a true hero. I’m back with another entry in the ongoing Shooketh, Not Stirred high school AU Reds series for your entertainment. As always, this can be read alone, but it happens in the same universe as part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. This is also posted on my AO3.

Summary: Brick and Blossom hunker down in the library to study for the upcoming regional spelling bee.

***Reblogs are extremely appreciated, since this probably won’t show up in the tags due to cursing. Thank you! <3

xxx

In fairness, Brick had come to the library during his free period with the pure intention to learn. And he was certainly learning something. But somewhere between sliding into his seat opposite Blossom and watching her lips move around insouciant as if it were a strawberry slathered in ganache, his purity was torn from his weak, teenage boy fingers and there was absolutely no going back.

“Brick, are you listening to me?” She touched his hand across the table.

“Yup.”

“Did you need me to repeat the word?”

“Yup.”

“In-SOO-see-uhnt.” She sounded it out slowly, and hand to god, that dominating SOO went straight to his cock.

This, of course, was fine.

“Origin?” he asked.

She twirled her hair around her finger and puckered her lips. “French.”

Fuck.

“I…”

Blossom mistook his increasingly horny stupor for plain old stupor and sighed. “Are you even trying? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were completely fine with Darla Dimpleton going to regionals instead of one of us.”

“I am not fine with that.”

Darla Dimpleton was an unassuming, unthreatening nobody with the personality of plain oatmeal. Brick would never have even bothered to learn her name had she not committed the cardinal sin of scoring so much extra credit while everyone else was busy having lives that she stole the number one GPA right from under him. Which meant she stole it from under Blossom too. Which meant Brick was no longer a respectable silver medal to Blossom’s gold, but currently ranked third and therefor merely happy to be on the podium at all (and for the record, no one has ever been happy merely to be on the podium, just like no one has ever been happy winning Most Improved: you sucked, and now you suck a little less. Except this time, you actually suck more because Darla fucking Dimpleton decided to Quaker Oats her way to the top of this rat race that doesn’t actually matter, but it’s the principle of the thing, i.e., the only thing that matters.).

All of this to say, Darla Dimpleton was the Worst™ and she was one hundred percent going down.

“Are you sure? Because you’re being awfully cavalier about this. Some might even call you insouciant.”

It was a testament to Brick’s powerful fondness for winning and being seen doing it that he spelled insouciant in one Darla Dimpleton-shaped cock blocking breath.

Blossom smiled like she knew something. “Much better.”

Yeah, she knows a lot of things.

The problem with dating, Brick was convinced, was that suddenly the mundane became extraordinary. Everyday experiences that he had previously taken for granted—flying around Townsville, enjoying a cup of coffee, thwarting his sometimes murderous demonic overlord from distributing incriminating polaroids, that sort of thing—were suddenly exciting, thrilling even. Because now he got to do those things with Blossom, and Blossom was cool in a smarmy, elitist sort of way that both softened his heart and hardened his dick all at the same time, and that was kind of A Lot to deal with at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“All right, do me,” Blossom said, and Brick coughed so badly his aforementioned weak, teenage boy fingers shook to stifle himself.

Mercy, he thought, probably. But all his blood was rushing south and it was going to take a supernatural willpower to get through these words so that one of them could beat the upstart porridge peasant to this year’s regional spelling bee.

“You’re the boss,” he said, because it was true, and also because he liked the way she looked at him when he said it. Like he was now the ganache-coated strawberry in this overextended metaphor that he was too laden with Homeric concupiscence being in her general proximity to unpack.

Concupiscence, there’s a ten dollar word for you, you horny genius.

He made a mental note to brag to Blossom about this later.

“Okay, let’s see…” Brick made a show of organizing the flashcards so that she wouldn’t see him discreetly re-situate his pants under the table. “Your word is cymotrichous.”

Blossom tapped her lips, and Brick found himself sympathizing with the Puritans in their absolute befuddlement over the libidinous effect of women having lips. Witchcraft, surely. “Could you use it in a sentence for me?”

Compelled entirely by black magic and therefor not responsible for his imminently questionable choices, Brick obliged her with: “Thinking about how I’d rather run my fingers through your cymotrichous hair for the rest of free period instead of sit here spelling words no one’s ever heard of.”

Blossom, who he was dead certain was extremely thirsty for him and had been for years long before they ever reconciled their rivalry, leaned over the desk separating them. Her hair, long and loose and indeed quite wavy today, was tempting. “Brick, are you flirting with me?”

It was a well-known fact of being a Weak-Fingered, Teenage Boy that one must never reveal such weakness, especially not in front of one’s girlfriend. On the other hand, co-opting said weakness and rebranding it as the suave truth was galaxy brain levels of flirting. And Brick, as has already been established, was a horny genius. “Yup.” He leaned in to meet her, and he twirled her hair between his fingers because they were weak for her, indeed. “How am I doing?”

Blossom, too determined to let her thirst deter her from her goal of sweet, academic retribution and bragging rights, tapped a finger to his lips. “Great. But we have so many words to spell, and only thirty minutes left to do them all. So get shuffling, stud.”

Well, he could work with that. One thing that made his relationship with Blossom work very well was their insatiable competitiveness. Whether they were whaling on each other over an empty parking lot, debating the efficacy of post-its as a note-taking device, or combining their powers to Captain Planet a cornmeal know-it-all back down the leaderboard where she belonged, they were relentless glory chasers. And the greater the challenge, the more they enjoyed the experience and each other.

Blossom spelled her word perfectly, by the way. She stretched out the o-u-s at the end in a bewitching little whisper as she pulled away and her hair slipped through his fingers. That moment when the light changes and the temperature shifts and you’re weightless in a state of existential anticipation of something monumental about to happen, but not quite? That happened. Thirty minutes to explore the shape of that anticipation was enough time to taste it but not enough to savor it. Which, Brick supposed, was about to make this the best thirty minutes he was likely going to get all week.

“Are you ready?” Blossom watched him from behind the card she’d drawn. She had a glint in her eyes that told him she was smiling behind that card.

“Anytime.”

“Your word is eudaemonic.”

That fucking gorgeous ooh again.

“Define it.”

Blossom flushed as though he had just ordered her to bend over. She bit her lip (it must have been a ten Hail Mary’s kind of day when the Witch-Finder General caught a flesh and blood woman doing that with her improbably sorcerous lips) and grinned. “It means producing happiness. Based on the idea of happiness as the proper end of conduct.”

Producing happiness, which is proper, much like how Blossom came off as proper and even prim around adults, when really she was the most fun, most confident, most person he’d ever met, especially when she was spelling in that chiffon top (son of a bitch, that was a great top on her), and the only conduct he was interested in was of the happiest kind.

“Oh.” His throat clenched, and then his stomach twisted, and then his pants grew little too tight again in a full-body chain reaction that began and ended with a fierce determination not to give in first even though it would mean release because release would be meaningless without this etymological tête-à-tête.

Don’t think about tête-à-têtes.

Seventeenth century, noun, borrowed from the French meaning literally “head to head” (please, please stop hurting yourself like this).

“Brick?”

Brick cleared his throat. “Yup. Got it. E-u-d…”

Crisis averted, Brick picked the next card and promptly choked on his own tongue. Blossom made a show like she was concerned and are you all right? and please drink some water. Brick drank her water, which of course she had had her anatomically heretical lips on earlier, which was just fantastic for him. Tuesday fucking morning.

Milieu was her word.

“Milieu, hmm.” Blossom’s smile was spellbinding, which was a pun because he punned when he panicked. “Origin?”

You bitch, he thought, and be cool, and also, witchcraft.

Brick leaned back in his chair, slipped his trembling hands in his pockets, and squeezed every ounce of anything you can do I can do better into a winsome grin. “French.”

Blossom’s adult-facing façade cracked like an egg, and he got a glimpse of the raw delight she felt for this game, for the words, and for him for making it happen. For cultivating the electric milieu, if you will, currently driving them both into a state of impassioned, competitive euphoria at 9:42 a.m. in the library.

“Right, um…” She stumbled over her words, and Brick had to restrain himself from crowing for joy and risk the rheumy-eyed librarian coming to scold them.

By the time they got through another set of words, they were each visibly frustrated and doubly turned on by the other’s masochistic resolve not to throw in the towel.

“Okay, ready for another round?”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions now, and that was just fine with Brick. “Of course.”

One more.

If it was another French word, he was fucking done.

“Really?” Blossom truly had ice in her veins for the way she was able to school her face then. He couldn’t read her, and that was very bad.

If it’s another fucking French word…

He could be over the desk and on her faster than you could say concupiscence.

“Okay.” Blossom set down the flashcard she’d drawn and folded her hands on the table. She looked him dead in the eye licked her lips. “Succedaneum.”

The bookshelf shook but Brick’s fingers didn’t as they pinned Blossom’s over a Dewey Decimal-stamped spine and he kissed her with all the horny passion of a teenage genius who would make a note to thank the devil for giving women lips. One of his better ideas.

xxx

“Hey, has anyone seen Blossom? I’ve sent her, like, four texts!” Bubbles shoved her phone, open to the ignored texts in question, in her sister’s face. “She was supposed to help me with Chem homework.”

Buttercup ducked. “No, and watch where you’re swinging that thing.”

“I saw her earlier,” Boomer said. “She was with Brick coming out of first period.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mike slung his arm around Boomer’s shoulders. “Don’t they both have a free period right now?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “What a scam. Whoever decided to give the A-students free periods while the rest of us mere mortals gotta slave away is a straight-up Supervillain.”

Boomer snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just remembered! They both decided to compete for the spot at the regional spelling bee this year. I bet that’s what they’re doing.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. That’s a new low even for Blossom.”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the regional winner,” Bubbles said. “It’s like twenty thousand bucks! Remember, everyone in school signed up and we had to have that assembly to narrow it down?”

“Twenty thou— How the tits did I miss that?!”

“I mean, it was all over the school,” Mike said. “We signed up too.”

“What? And no one thought to tell me I could’ve won the lottery?”

Boomer chuckled. “Dude, come on. You wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell against Darla Dimpleton.”

“Who?”

Bubbles cast Boomer a not worth it look, and he just sighed. “So, if they’re studying for the spelling bee, do you think they’re in the library?”

At that moment, Butch came bursting down the hall a little too fast to be human. Open lockers rattled on their hinges as he passed, and a Sophomore girl’s binder went flying, scattering looseleaf papers everywhere. Buttercup looked ready to punch him in the dick for breaking the no powers in school rule. “Guys, you’re gonna shit!”

“Calm down before you blow a load, Jesus Christ.” Buttercup yanked him back down to the floor so he wouldn’t spontaneously float.

Sensibly, Boomer asked, “Why?”

“‘Cause Brick and Blossom are making out in the library right now!”

Mike cringed. “Oh, come on.”

“The hell they are,” Buttercup said.

Bubbles smiled. “Good for them.”

“I’m serious! There were books everywhere, and the noise—”

“Oh look, there goes my dignity. Better catch it before it gets away. C’mon, moron.” Buttercup dragged Butch down the hall over his protests. “What were you even doing in the library? I didn’t think you knew where it was…”

“Like that could ever happen,” Mike said. “Those two wouldn’t waste a minute of study time if it means beating out the competition.”

Boomer did not look so convinced. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re officially, for real dating now,”—“Finally!” Mike interjected—“so it’s not that unbelievable.”

The bell for the next period rang. Bubbles groaned thinking of stewing for an hour of Chem. At least she shared that class with Boomer and would not have to suffer alone. They parted from Mike and walked together through the throng of students rushing to get to their next period.

“Hey, do you think…”

“I mean…” Boomer shrugged.

They rounded the corner and nearly ran into Blossom dashing to her next class with a rushed “Got your texts talk later bye!” before she disappeared into the crowd.

Bubbles whirled on Boomer. “Did you see her buttons—”

“Completely uneven—”

The late bell rang and made them jump. Among the last stragglers, they both dashed a bit too fast to get to class and made it to their seats just as Mr. Micelli finished writing a problem on the board.

Boomer winked when she caught his eye a couple desks away from hers, and it took everything she had not to laugh.

“Good for her,” Bubbles said to herself.

“You are late,” Mr. Micelli said.

Everyone turned to watch Brick sink into his seat, his short hair totally askew and looking healthily flushed for a Tuesday morning.

Boomer burst out laughing and needed a whole minute to calm down.

He’d tell her later that the detention was worth it.

xxx

Witchcraft! 👁️👄👁️✨

#powerpuff girls #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #ppg shook #powerpuff girls fanfic #february fic prompts #this probably won't show up in the tag due to cursing #so reblogs are super appreciated!!

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elrondsscribe · 3 years

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What is a plot that you think went effectively nowhere in Turn, or wasn't realized properly? For example, I that Robert Rogers starts feel auxiliary in the third season onward.

Oh honey, how long do you have?? There were legitimately so many plot threads left dangling that could've really had the potential for something really good!

For one, Nathan fucking Hale! He gets what I consider a passing mention, almost entirely in service of creating a parallel for the death of John Andre in S3 and giving Ben some anti-Brit angst. That's it. The real Nathan Hale's death was a huge deal in the Revolutionary War and impacted the way that both sides went forward with spy work -- if you're gonna make a show about Washington's most famous spy ring, and Benjamin Tallmadge is (debatably) going to be one of your leads, you can spare more than a passing mention for his close friend Nathan Hale.

For another thing, the sewing circle that Mary and Anna attend all of twice in S1! They introduce it as a way for Mary to accidentally spill the news about the gravestones, and then poof! Never a mention of it again! Is this a spy show or what?? Let the sewing circle become its own potential information exchange circle -- heck, you can even do the 'jealous two-faced bitches all around' thing if you wanna!

Or how about this: the entirety of Abigail's story?? Like, to this day we don't know who Agent 355 was. You make the choice to envision her as an educated enslaved woman. Okay, great -- post of story potential there. But if you're going to do that, you have to commit. If you want her to be a dedicated Patriot spy, you gotta give her good reasons for wanting to do that when her obligations run out. And if you don't think you can do that, then don't make her Agent 355. Just don't. Write her as a white woman, and let Abigail be doing a bunch of dangerous shit because her actual enslaver is forcing her to. Oh, but that would make the worst parts of slavery really prominent, and we don't want to do that, do we??

But I think the abandoned or snipped threads that tend to piss me off the most have to do with Ben's character development. For example, do you remember the scene in S4 where Washington tells Ben the truth about Nathan Hale's Fake Last Words? Did you know there was a deleted scene filmed for the first episode of S3 that has all the same character beats, down to some of the same dialogue? Ben could have learned this lesson about spycraft and honor a good season and a half earlier!

Or how about the time in S3 in 'Many Mickles Make a Muckle' when Billy drops a line that the cinematic language treats as Super Fucking Significant? Ben's expression changes while the camera zooms in and the music gets all Ominous -- like, 'ooh, is Ben maybe realizing something is up with the Arnolds?' And the first time I saw that, I was like, 'ooh! Ben's gonna Detect Something with his Spycraft!' But nothing came of it! Nothing!!

But the Ben plot thread that had the most potential, the handling of which pissed me off the most? The Sarah Livingston arc.

Now, I wanna say up front that I'm not crazy about the way that I've seen a lot of people in the Turn fandom react to Sarah and the Sarah/Ben association. Like, I get being queer and projecting onto him, or just straight up thirsting for him, but the level of vitriol I've directed toward a female character for having sex with a man they felt entitled to really rubs me the wrong way.

Having said that, the way the show itself treats Sarah is shameful. They throw her at Ben for all of two episodes, and then fridge her in the worst way (a r*pe-murder scene? Fucking really?!) just to have Ben Angst! Like, y'all had this golden opportunity to have Benjamin Tallmadge, this preacher's boy, really question his own morality, and the relative morality of his cause -- this opportunity to give some real characterization to a Loyalist who has real cause to hate the Patriots, a woman no less -- and y'all squander BOTH of these things??

#turn amc #turn: washington's spies #turn venting #ask answered #thanks for the ask!#I think I like asks #y'all keep sending em!#turn ask #answered asks

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years

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Chasing birds | T. W.

Talbott Winger x reader

not adding a taglist cause it's the first hphm fic I've posted so I'm not sure if you're into it

Summary: The reader realises Talbott is spending the holidays at Hogwarts and decides to stay behind too, to keep him company

Reader's house not specified!

Word count: 2195

Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of parent death, mentions of difficult family relationships

a/n: it's assumed the reader has helped him with the necklace, is an animagus (the form isn’t mentioned) and had the first date, valentines day and festival date with him. I also assumed the festival took place at the very beginning of year 5 while it was still summer and it's now the following winter.

Also, I pretended Bea didn’t get sucked into the portrait because I didn’t want Penny all sad.

It was safe to say that most of Hogwarts students were looking forward to the winter break. Some because of the Holidays, some purely because of the time off.

Some were counting down the days since the very beginning of the term, some since November 1st, some from the moment the castle grounds had been graced with the first snow of the season.

Winter had its own charm to it. The castle got its share of sunlight during the warmer months, towards the end of the school year, as the summer was approaching, and at the very beginning of it as the summer was slowly fading away. But once the grounds were covered in snow, the grand castle seemed even brighter – the winter sunlight and sky is different but all that light, reflecting off the snow and amplifying, seeped through the windows.

You were already filled with anticipation, more and more with each day that separated you from Christmas break.

You were currently counting down the minutes till the charms class ended, your last class that Friday – minutes to your last weekend before Christmas. You divided your attention between encouraging the blond Gryffindor in lifting his feather and the watch on your hand ticking away.

“Alright then, dear students, that’s all for today! Some of you I will not be seeing until the next term so I’d like to wish you all Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and may you all have a nice rest before the new term starts! Class dismissed.” Said Flitwick cheerfully as a chorus of thanks and all kinds of wishes followed, before the students began to pour out of the classroom.

“Gee, you’d think there was a fire…” you heard Jae say groggily from behind you as he was getting up from his nap and stretched lazily. You looked at the crowd trying to squeeze through the door and chuckled, agreeing with him.

When the crowd thinned a bit, you saw someone you immediately recognised walk into the classroom. You smiled to yourself at the sight and involuntarily paused your actions to look at the tall boy in his Ravenclaw robes try to push through the students with a bit of a grimace on his face. You could almost hear his thoughts in your head.

“You coming, Y/N?” said Rowan from beside you.

At the sound of your name Talbott looked up in your direction and you briefly met his eyes. He smiled as soon as he saw you and you smiled back at him, waving your hand lightly. He raised his hand in response for just half a second before turning his attention to Flitwick.

“Coming,” you said quietly, turning to Rowan who now was standing with arms crossed on her chest and suppressing a grin.

“Ohh shut up..” you said jokingly flinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I did not say a thing..!” she countered, giggling.

On your way out, you managed to hear a bit of Talbott’s conversation with Flitwick.

“He’s staying at school for holidays..?” Rowan mentioned, looking over her shoulder after you left the classroom.

“Yeah…” you went quiet for a bit, thinking.

You had to admit, you hadn’t thought about it before, but it was quite logical. When you first learned about Talbott’s parents, you never pressed the topic further and you didn’t know whether he had any other family, someone to spend the holidays with. And during all those times you spent Christmas at Hogwarts, was he at the castle too? Hiding away somewhere, alone?

“You know, I gotta do something real quick. Meet you in the dorm later?” you said to your friend, already quickening your pace, finger-gunning in her direction.

“Sure, yeah,” she answered, a bit puzzled, yet entirely used to it.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

“Oh I am so excited, I can’t wait! You see, each year Bea and I, we have a gingerbread house making contest. Neither one of us is very good at it, but it’s so much fun. Mum always has both of them on display…”

You listed to Penny ramble in excitement about Christmas over dinner and couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Oooh, Talbott! Talbott, come on over here!” she called over your head all of a sudden, waving energetically at the boy who just looked as if he got caught, but walked over to your table anyway, then sat down opposite you with a quiet greeting.

“What about you, Y/N? Are you going home for the holidays this year?” Penny asked curiously.

Your heart rate picked up a bit, before you answered, “No, I’m staying here,” you glanced at Talbott and met his eyes before he looked back down onto his plate.

“Oh, ok,” said Penny, before changing the topic.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

The case with Talbott wasn’t so easy. Your crush on him started with you being simply intrigued. You met him in your third year and there was just something about him that wouldn’t allow you to just let him be, no matter how tall he put up his walls. You felt the need to make him feel comfortable around you and you wanted to get to know him better. That’s how you became friends.

But when you did get to know him, that’s when you were truly lost. His wit, sarcastic sense of humour. His calmness and collectiveness. And him opening up to you felt more rewarding than anything else.

There were so many moments between you, the dates you went on, where you wanted to just take a dive and go all in, and each time you were closer to doing so. But in the end, you were scared of scaring him away, even if he showed time and time that he felt the same way. He even announced out loud that you were his date at the festival!

Still, each time you got back to the starting point, stuck somewhere between friends and lovers.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

You woke up a bit giddy and slightly nervous. Last afternoon all the students not staying at school for the holidays left. You got freshened up and dressed, then headed to the great hall for breakfast.

When you walked through the great entrance you scanned the four, almost empty tables. And there he was indeed, at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, as usual.

“Talbott!” you greeted, sliding into the seat next to him.

He hadn’t noticed you approaching and got a bit startled, “Y/N, Merlin…” he said, putting down his toast and placing a hand over his chest, “what are you doing here?”

“Tsk, already so accusatory. I came here to have breakfast with you and spend some quality time together!” You said in an exaggerated tone.

You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a smile creeping up onto his face and he looked around the whole room.

He scanned the tables to see if any other friends of yours stayed over the holidays or if maybe there were none, leaving you with no other choice but to sit with him. Upon noticing Chiara and Jae a bit further away he turned back around lifted one eyebrow, acknowledging, and took a sip of his coffee.

Suddenly, you became painfully aware that the last time you properly spend time together, with just the two of you, was during the outdoor festival. And there you were, sitting side by side, doing something so casual and everyday as having breakfast.

It was also uncommon for you to see Talbott out of his school robes. He had this magical talent of looking good in just about anything. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a plain turtleneck, his hair, as always, smart and neat and just the right amount of messy.

“Aren’t you eating?” he called you out with a bit of a smirk, not gracing you with a glance, and got back to his own food.

With a guilty blush and no confidence to strike up a further conversation, you focused on your breakfast.

“So how are you doing lately?” he asked after a few minutes, having finished eating, and sipped on the rest of his coffee slowly.

“Uh, alright. Considering everything,” you answered and he nodded slowly. “You?”

He shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent expression, “As per usual. So what made you stay at school this year? Your mum away..?” he inquired.

“Eeh… irrelevant,” you tried to dismiss the question.

“Ooh-kaay…” Talbott replied.

“Do you have any plans?” you asked quickly.

“Uhh… I was going to just read for a bit..?”

“Great! And in general, for the holidays?” you questioned further.

“Y/N, where are you going with this?” he asked, puzzled.

You mustered up all your courage for the moment you’ve been waiting for since you told your head of the house you’d be staying in the castle for the holidays.

“I thought we could spend Christmas together,” you started, taking Talbott by surprise.

“Y/N, do I look like a Christmas person to you?” he asked after a second.

You looked him up and down, “Very much so.”

He sighed deeply and leaned his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. You knew he was debating it and you almost had him on board.

“Aww, come on, Tal! It’ll be fun!” You shook him by the shoulders, making him groan.

“I swear, you’ll be the death of me,” he said and you tried to tame the grin on your face and the butterflies in your stomach.

After finishing your food you rushed to your dorm to owl Rowan as quickly as possible.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

“Do you like snow?” you questioned after you went outside into the grounds.

Talbott chuckled, “Who do you take me for? I’m not that much of a bore, am I?” he teased you.

“No, I just…” you mumbled.

“Although it does get in the way when you try to fly during a snowfall…” he cut you off, walking a bit further, and crouched down, facing away from you.

It took you a second to realize what he was doing. You looked around, trying to find cover and ducked, but it was too late, you got hit with a snowball.

If you weren’t so focused on getting revenge, which turned into a full snow fight, maybe you’d take some time to admire him. The way little snowflakes rested on his hair, how his eyes looked when he focused or how bright he was smiling.

“Alright, alright, I surrender!” Talbott put his hands up and you felt relief, as you were starting to get tired, but you didn’t have it in you to give in first.

“Don’t mess with the curse-breaker, Winger,” you said in playful smugness, walking out from behind your cover and up to him.

“Yeah, yeah…” he started, “go inside or you’ll freeze, you’re covered in snow” he brushed some of it off your shoulder, and you were glad you had already been blushing from the cold.

——————⁛⁙⁘◊⁘⁙⁛——————

“On the Christmas morning Jacob and I used to wake up to a pile of presents at the foot the bed each,” you started, “I always loved Christmas. But after he disappeared things at home changed. I know mum is trying, but it’s difficult sometimes, especially during the holidays…” You reminisced, looking down at your hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate.

“My mum really liked Christmas,” Talbott said, “She’d always get so into it, with the decorations, she used to make them herself, too… and she’d sing to me. I don’t think my dad was as much into it, but he tried to keep up for her,” he smiled a little wider to himself. “It was really nice,” he confided.

Your heart ached for the boy next to you. After he had to go through so much, you deeply wished to make it your mission, to bring as much happiness to his life as you could, even if to brighten it up just a little.

“So you don’t hate Christmas after all, huh..?” you said quietly.

He answered after a moment, “No, not Christmas itself.”

“I was hoping I could make it a little bit better. Maybe show you that it can still be nice,” you confessed.

He looked up at you, “That’s… Y/N, I don’t know what to say,” he trailed off.

Unsure of where to go from there either, you took one of his hands in yours.

“Y/N,” he softly prompted you to look up at him.

His face was close to yours and he glanced between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission. You inched a bit closer and he closed the distance, cupping your cheek with his hand.

Unsure at first, he relaxed after a second and you melted into him. His lips were really soft and warm an you placed your hands on his shoulders. You could smell his perfume mixed with his natural smell, the smell you adored, and which brought you comfort. Talbott kissed you tenderly and you felt absolutely ecstatic, sure that if he weren’t holding onto you, you’d collapse.

He pulled away only slightly and rested his forehead on yours.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Talbott.”

#hphm #talbott winger #talbott winger x reader #talbott x mc #hphm talbott #hphm imagine

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grunge-mermaid · 3 years

Text

grunge watches A Dangerous Man

there's a character in this called "Curzon" alrighty

oh hello there Sid

OH HE PRESENTED FEISAL "WITH HIS OWN RIFLE" DID HE? DID HE NOW???

yep ok yes I understand why bby Sid was almost cast as Sisko

what a beard on that child

look at that sparkle in those Bambi eyes

THOSE ARE NOT THE SMILES OF STRAIGHT MEN, SIRS

"I can't leave Feisal"

caveat: I don't remember if I've ever seen Lawrence of Arabia but if I have, it was at least 15 years ago

these accents are too posh for me to understand

was he writing/reciting a love poem about Feisal?

where is that interview/SCSC meeting of Sid saying that Lawrence & Feisal were in love and he (or both he & Fiennes) played it that way

there is so much eyefucking in this movie that there is Only One Way to interpret that mirror scene, Mr Fiennes

heavy breathing, Super Intense Eye Contact with yourself, that smirk otherwise only reserved for Feisal

positively pornographic, sir

thank you

truly

it really pisses me off that Sid is able to make smoking look sexy

OH MY GOD CHARLIE CARSON

I've lost the plot a bit

did I ever have a grasp on the plot?

it's post WW1 Paris that's about all I got

oh god I'm only 40 minutes in ok

Lawrence sounds like Joe Lycett in this scene

the sparkle has been replaced by smoulder and just...wow

HOW IS THIS MAN 23 HIS AGEING PROCESS IS A PARABOLA

you sure fucked that up real bad, Lawrence, good work

this is a 100-minute long lovers quarrel, nothing more

"you were not there when I needed you"

"Anyway, I'm here now"

GENTLEMEN PLEASE

oh, everyone talks about Lawrence's eyes, do they?

ok I think I've got the plot now

Lawrence and Feisal supposedly had some victory in Damascus but whether or not they got there before the ANZAC troops is under debate

*presented with naked, willing woman in his bed* *laughs in her face*

says goodbye to Feisal with intensely tender hug; cuts to sad, dishevelled Lawrence asking to borrow his former CO's bathtub

and I'm supposed to believe they didn't just fuck goodbye?

"I though you were somebody's pleasure boy" if he were, whoever laid claim to him would have been very lucky. he pretty.

ooh steamy mirror self-eye-contact *waggles eyebrows*

wait what

enemy spy how

what did I miss

turned on your race? get fucked, old white dude

Jesus fucking christ that closeup of Ralph Fiennes is traffic-stopping

ok yes damn right everyone talks about his eyes mother of god

"100 years from now he might be understood" oh my queer babies I need to hug you

(yes I know he was talking politics but you get that that's a metaphor by now, right?)

REUNITED AND IT HURTS SO BAD

EXCLUSIVE ARCHAEOLOGICAL RIGHTS TO MY KINGDOM

IS THAT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL SIR

OR JUST AN I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME PROPOSAL

"they are frightened of us together"

oof that memoir opening is erotic af

especially read by the eternally soft-spoken Sid

Jesus wept talk about slow burn...fuck

ok I really like this movie

beardy baby Sid is almost definitely in the Top Five Sids, but baby Ralph Fiennes is on very much par

so good

#in terms of a historical/political movie I have no opinions #as a love story I love it so much #Lawrence after arabia #a dangerous man #Alexander Siddig #siddig el fadil #Ralph fiennes

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palukoo · 3 years

Note

ooh Idea- donna is AMY’s assistant for the au asks?

ooh boy okay!! this got really fucking long because of course it did! yk, the post said 5+, so!! there’s like 11 bullet points that are all very long under a cut

donna still does go to the bartlet campaign first. i think she maybe leaves a little bit in because she realizes she doesn't like campaigning that much, because you aren't getting anything done yet, and she wants to be getting things done now. or maybe, actually, when she leaves the bartlet campaign for her boyfriend, she's too embarassed to go back after breaking up with him, and ends up looking for other ways of working in politics

how she ends up working for amy, and where amy is working are really, really funny conceptually to me. because i'm a little obsessive about where amy is working when but the timelines don't make a ton of sense? she'd either be at now or the wlc, probably, and either is fine bc tww is also pretty vague on what amy actually like functionally does? she's a political director iirc, but i make her more of a lobbyist, bc she does some lobbying in canon, but she also gives speeches and does debate prep? idk. anyways, i like the idea of donna just going into the wlc or now bc women's rights! but i also think it's kind of hysterical if it's more pointed/less random, like josh either suggests it or mentions amy in passing and donna is like oh that sounds fun. i feel like she may actually apply in this case, but who knows? anyways, amy is impressed by her work ethic and sense of humor and her experience with the bartlets and josh (and her reasons for leaving, if its about not liking campaigns) and hires her on the spot

oh god, the banter is so fun to think about. i mean, i've genuinely written so much about just like. how amy and donna bounce off of each other, because it's fun, and because it's them it's probably flirtatious, but amy would absolutely not genuinely make a move on her assistant. i think they also both help a lot with the other's self doubt or whatever, with donna pushing amy to do more but also to take care of herself and take a step back sometimes, and amy just showing that she cares about donna's opinions and insights into whatever they're working on, and sort of forgetting that she's her assistant and not her co-conspirator, and sort of calling donna on her constant bad dates in early seasons, too ("don't go on that date, donna" "jealous?" and maybe she is, sort of, a bit, but that's really not the point. "disappointed in your taste. or your concept of yourself." "what's that mean?" "you could do better." "could I?" "yes." "then give me something better to do tonight, amy." and amy doesn’t ask her to stay) (don't think about amy finding out about dr. freeride and the conversation that would follow don't think about it don't think about it)

oh but things get fun once we get to a point where amy's there in canon, because you now have donna working with josh again in a roundabout way, and she left him, and she still feels guilty about it, and she can sort of see the glimpse into what it would've been like, if she had stayed. and amy and josh are like. just a mess, obviously. my brain is also stuck on the concept of that conversation amy and josh have in women of qumar but in reverse ("are you dating donna?" "no." "i heard you might be" "i'm not" "she's cute." "she's my assistant." but it also has a lot more. implications for him to hear that than for her to, so. that's fun). i kind of have no idea what amy and josh's relationship would look like in this au so. not gonna dwell on that. (except to say that the concept of donna "gather ye rose buds"-ing amy about josh is Really fucking funny, partially bc amy would just be like "he's a thorn not a bud")

when amy gets fired, donna's upset with josh about it, because she's spent the last... three and a half? years working with amy, so she's probably more on amy's side here, even if she will admit it was kind of reckless. donna's given a chance to stay at the wlc, but she goes with amy, which amy is baffled and terrified by, because she doesn't know what to do with that kind of loyalty (”you’ll never lose me amy” “please don’t say that”) and because she... doesn't have a job, really, at the moment. she pays donna, anyways, and makes sure she has a job with the stackhouse campaign with her if she wants it. donna takes it, and doesn't question why amy's doing it. she doesn't question why amy leaves, either, and amy doesn't get why she comes with her, again.

around when amy gets hired by abbey (and brings donna on with her if she wants it, which of course she does) amy kind of snaps and asks her why she keeps working with her, why she won't stay somewhere and climb up a ladder or go anywhere, she's qualified as hell and could and should be working a better job, should be doing anything other than following amy over cliff after cliff, should not be working for her at this point, and... donna kind of thinks its obvious. she loves working with amy, loves that they do new things all the time, that the work feels important, loves the opportunities amy has given her and that the work feels important. amy sort of lets it rest and throws herself into work with abbey, and we finally get to have donna with the whole group again somewhat, but its a conversation that they sort of keep having without really having, until donna finally snaps and says something like "do you want me to quit?" or "do you want to fire me?" or "do you want me to leave?" idk, and amy maybe says yes, and maybe doesn't answer, and that's commencement (of course the idea of donna and josh doing "you have to get amy" and "are you in love with amy" is also really. interesting to me bc of how you'd have to make it work and i don't not have thoughts)

once things have settled, a little bit, after zoey's gotten back, donna goes to amy and tells her like "i'll resign. if you don't want me here... i'm not gonna make you fire me, but if you don't want me here, i'll go." and amy is a mess of a person, so she's like. "okay." and donna's naturally upset by that, and oh, this is happening during constituency of one, by the way! so donna leaves, amy gets yelled at by jed, goes to josh's office and sort of has a breakdown about everything, and when he says "apologize, you gotta apologize" he means to jed and to donna, and she goes to jed and quits and everything ('this building isn't very conducive to relationships’ hits here, huh) and tells him that he or abbey should hire donna, that she's incredible and one of the best people she's ever worked with, and she leaves.

donna takes the job (i'm not sure about specifically what job? i do really like the concept of her being abbey's cos for a lot of reasons but idk if she'd be like "qualified" for it at this point? maybe she gets taken on as like an interim cos for her but abbey just keeps her, anyways. or it could be something in legislative affairs bc i loved angela and donna working together) and feels too weird and sort of hurt to reach out to amy even though she does get amy well enough to sort of get it, she's also too insecure to really get it. someone mentions, in passing, at some point, that amy told jed to give donna a job, and she's sort of touched and sort of insulted and it's all complicated, and abbey or whoever reassures her that she has this job because she deserves this job, not just because amy recommended her. very highly.

cj probably points out a lot of stuff about amy and their relationship to donna in my no exit analog bc i love a good bottle episode, and cj being friends with both of them and being super perceptive is so important to me. i will also not be discussing gaza here bc i honestly don't think in this au that donna would be going

she and amy run into each other either at some fundraiser thing abbey and amy are both speaking at, or in some lobbying meeting or something, and amy's glad to see her doing well, and it assuages a little of her guilt over the whole thing. they have a really awkward conversation, something like "are you enjoying the new job?" "yeah, i really am. i guess i should thank you, since i hear you helped me get it." "you don't... it kind of felt like the least i could do." "yeah, well. thanks, anyways." "i miss you." "then why did you tell me to leave?" "you're the best assistant and probably the best friend i've ever had, you know." "so you decided to ensure i was no longer either?" "i was kind of only going for the first one." “well, you always were an overachiever.” and then they have to like. go and do their jobs bc they’re very busy people. but things are a little better between them now

finally, at some point, god knows when or how or why, donna’s probably made a joke about it, or something, and amy just says something like “i didn’t want you to work for me anymore because i knew you could do better, could do more, than being my assistant, but i didn’t want to tell you to leave.” and donna, who gets amy just nods and says “i appreciate that. i really did love working with you, but i appreciate that. could’ve said that then.” and amy laughs and rolls her eyes, and donna gives her a look. “is that the only reason you didn’t want me to work for you anymore?” and amy just shakes her head, and donna starts to say something, expects to have to say something, but amy kisses her and says “i’m really glad you don’t work for me anymore.” and donna laughs and says “i am, too.”

#asks #answered #claudiasjeancregg #amy gardner #donna moss #tww #honestly this was really hard for me bc one of the things i really like about donna/amy in canon is that donna has never worked for amy #like theres power dynamics obviously but that amys never been a part of the chain of command that donnas in. not really #but this was fun to think about and figure out how i could make it work #i also genuinely think amy would've either promoted or gotten donna to run way earlier but need that maximum drama #ALSO this just turned into fic whoops #the dialogue was just easier than explaining it but also its not like. fixed entirely to be in their voices this is too open for amy lmao #also of course i made this gay :) i would also love it just as an amy donna brotp concept but yk

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years

Note

Ooh, how about Hojo for the ask meme?

OHOOOO, I HAVE A L O T TO SAY, BABY-- Especially after seeing that final showdown, oh boy.

(hfhdkjfhjkj sorry for this being late!! had many thinsg to do <33)

For context, I know jack-shit about Dirge of Cerbeus, and I’d rather it stay that way. Vee has scarred me enough with her recollections from the wiki alone, and unless we finally do that shit-movie night we’ve been meaning to for awhile, I’m not touching it with a ten foot pole.

First impression: Horrible rat man; nasty. Your run of the mill Mad Scientist except somehow Even Worse. Perhaps a little generic at times. Pervy fuck. Probably has a bunch of obscenely lewd magazines in his study. Fuck him for fucking over absolutely everyone that’s gotten within ten metres of him. This guy fucks, and that’s how we got Sephiroth. -1/10, Worst Scientist, Husband and Father of the Year.

Impression now: I... I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I like him now, unironically. You win, Hojo Fuckers. Seeing that scene at the control panel, I think that man’s genuinely depressed-- Like, ‘I’ve devoted my entire life to my work to numb the pain but now I’ve realised it’s all for nothing and it’s fucking useless and I’m fucking useless and there’s nothing for me to do other than sacrifice myself for my son, who fucking hates me.‘ Like... Jesus Christ, I did not expect him to be so self-aware. He’s still a downright horrendous person and many of the things he’s done, if I believed in such a mindset, are downright irredeemable. Basically, I actually like his character now-- full-on -- even if he’s still a right bell-end.

Favorite moment: The rooftop scene. Jesus Christ, man, that changed my whole view on him. The way he’s actually becoming aware of how wrong he was, and how it weighs on his mind-- How, almost absently, as if he’s saying it more to himself, he tells Cloud he should become a scientist. It’s a small thing... But it speaks to a level of respect I don’t think Hojo has had for anyone in a very long time. He’s been brought to his limit, willing to give anything and everything so that the one thing he’s done right, his son who he gave up to further his now-dead career, succeeds in world-annihilation. What really gets me is that moment in the fight, where you’ve ended the first phase, when he says, apathetically, how he hopes the Mako juice is going-- And then he turns into a monster. This horrendous, twisted thing that’s barely held together by skin and sinew-- Probably one of the most downright-horrifying things in this entire game --And it’s just... like... wow... he broke.

Idea for a story: A fic where him and Sephiroth actually try and make amends. I’ve seen this guy killed off-screen so many times, and everytime, I am deeply disappointed. I get it. Hojo’s probably the worst character in the game. He has no morals and no boundaries, and he’s irritating as fuck-- I get it --But he’s also the reason all of this shit has happened, and is such a vital character in the forming of the story, in Sephiroth’s specifically, that I want him to be done justice. I want to see one of them reach out to the other, and slowly, bit, by bit, by agonising bit piece together something vaguely resembling a foundation for their relationship. I want to see them reminisce over the few good times they had together, and address deeply the many, many bad ones. It’ll be painful, and there will be many bumps in the road where they’ll feel like there isn’t even a point to this shit, and yet push on despite that. Because despite everything, they are family-- And not because they are obligated to, but because they’re choosing to. I want to see that. I really do. I’ll probably write it myself.

Unpopular opinion: I think my newfound appreciation of him in general, lmao. I won’t get into the paternity debate, as I’ve addressed that in Vincent’s post and another one. Perhaps the fact that I think it’s stupid that the scientists in FFVII get referred to by their first names-- Like, who does this shit??? Who out here thinks Hojo sounds like a first name??? It’s just... Really unprofessional and I don’t think Hojo is comfortable enough with anyone to just have them call him by his first name. Also Dr. Faremis Gast sounds better than Dr. Gast Faremis. I know it’s a pun in Japanese but I don’t give a shit. Fight me.

Favorite relationship: Him and Sephiroth, because there’s just, alot of shit. I don’t think he was ever truly close enough to Lucrecia for me to get invested-- It’s clear the relationship, though while initially stable and they probably got along well, was one mostly of work --And I don’t think there’s anyone else close enough to Hojo’s character to serve as another option, either. Maybe Vincent, but again, that was through Lucrecia. Seph and Hojo have this dynamic where strained doesn’t even begin to describe it. Hojo thinks Seph doesn’t know and Seph thinks Hojo doesn’t know that he knows-- And it’s painfully clear that had it not been for Hojo, Sephiroth wouldn’t have been so unstable. There was alot of abuse, physical and psychological, that got framed as ‘work,’ and it’s undoubtebly fucked with Seph’s very concept of ownership, and who owns another. It’s clear that on some level, Hojo feels shame for what he’s done-- Not guilt, shame --And is unwilling to let the boy(and perhaps even himself) from knowing his true parentage. Part of it’s definitely spite for Lucrecia, but there’s more. I could go one for hours, honest to god, so like, feel free to tack on your own ideas, fellow trash conoisseurs.

Favorite headcanon: Him being Wutaian. Not sure if it’s entirely headcanon, but like, it really is ironic. I personally think his family moved to Midgar while he was still young-- Perhaps due to a faction split -- so he grew up on the Eastern Continent, so he was stuck in this weird middle space alot of immigrant or descended from immigrants children where on one hand, you’ve got your family’s legacy, and you probably, if not fluently, speak their native tongue and carry out their traditions, and on the other hand you’ve grown up with people who’ve been here for generations and inevitably get moulded by their ways and their customs, perhaps to the point you’re more culturally theirs than your native land’s. If we’re going with the faction split, I think Hojo leans hard into the latter, out of a deep-seated indignance. Maybe his family were fairly influential, before they had to move to what was, no doubt, a less than idyllic neighbourhood. I think part of what made him want to become a scientist was that need to regain that honour, that dignity-- It’s very self-centred, and clearly didn’t work out.

Thank you Vee as always-- You incredible bastard --For both asking and also rambling with me about this grease-weasel for like, a good long time.

Knowing my luck I just might’ve gotten another hyperfixation. A terrible one. Fuck.

And to anyone who’s read this far, thank you! As always, feel free to throw in your own thoughts, whether they be replies or reblogs. I’m curious to know what the general vibe is about him(other than Haha Stinky Goblin Rat), as I don’t think he’s talked about all that much? Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places.

Anyhow Hojo Fuckers, I owe you a beer. Not a good one, probably tastes of piss, but knowing you lot, that’s probably just fine, lmaooooooo. Keep up the ungodly work <3

#ffvii #professor hojo #ask meme #scrawny speaks #I Have Posted Cringe #headcanons

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onlydreamofmysoul · 4 years

Text

You should visit more often

I couldn’t do a whole thing on the background of the fic and then not post it😂

Some Theyna to feed the soul

Summary: High school. The best or worst days of your life? That's definitely up for debate.

(But it certainly helps when your girlfriend visits.)

"Ugh! I just cannot with her anymore!" Thalia declared dramatically flopping down on the grass on the grounds of their school, throwing her bag down next to her and crossing her legs as she sat.

"Uh, Thals? You're in a skirt." Annabeth pointed out, having caught a a nice glimpse of Thalia's underwear.

"Stupid school uniforms. Stupid Katie. Stupid assigned seating." Thalia grumbled as she readjusted herself, rearranging her skirt.

"Wait, are you talking about Katie Gardner?" Piper asked, eyes wide in shock.

Thalia shook her head as she backpedalled a little. "Katie Gardner is a sweetheart. I'm talking about the infamous Katie-"

"Greene." Everyone else sitting in their little circle finished.

Thalia grinned. "At least I'm predictable. Anyways so we were in chemistry, you know the way she's my lab partner? So we were just starting to measure the amount of hydrogen peroxide when she declares that she can't help because she didn't want the chemicals to mess with her fake tan..."

Thalia launched into her story of the day, her friends called it the Katie Chronicles. Attending an all-girls Catholic school didn't have many perks and it certainly had a few downfalls. One being uniforms and dress codes, another being assigned seating. Thalia could swear her chemistry teacher sat her next to Katie on purpose. What Thalia did in a past life to deserve this, she didn't know, but it must have been truly awful to wind up with this punishment.

It wasn't that Katie was blatantly a bitch. Thalia could have grudgingly respected that, being absolutely awful, but at least you were honest about it. No, Katie was much worse than that. On the surface she seemed so sweet, almost kind. But her tone was always teasing. Her words sweet but her eyes betrayed her. She would wait for you to say something she thought she could use against you, then pounce. Thalia always had to have a guard up around her, making her responses almost always sarcastic, so Katie wouldn't be able to hold anything against her. To be perfectly honest, it was exhausting. Thalia had no idea why being cruel to other people seemed to get Katie off, but she would be damned if she ended up one of her unwitting victims.

Thalia finished telling her tale, then normal conversation resumed, Annabeth organizing a party for Percy's up and coming eighteenth birthday, Piper chiming in to help with the guest list. Her boyfriend Jason would be flying in from California to attend along with Reyna - Thalia's girlfriend. Leo, who was attending the neighbouring boys school was secretly inviting all of Percy's friends without him knowing. It was truly becoming quite the undercover operation.

A few weeks and many Katie encounters later, only a day remained until the surprise party of the year. Jason and Reyna had arrived the previous day, under the guise that they were due a visit to their respectful significant others and it just so happened to coincide with Percy's birthday. To be perfectly honest, Thalia couldn’t believe they had made it this far without Percy noticing anything, but who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She had the entire day for herself and Reyna planned, and it had been perfect. They had gotten hot chocolate and strolled leisurely around the city, basking in the sun and each others presence. But all good things must come to an end and Reyna and Thalia had to depart ways, Thalia getting the bus back to her apartment, where she lived with Percy and Sally while Reyna returned to the accommodation she and Jason were staying in.

After walking her to the bus stop, Reyna pulled Thalia in by the waist, tugging her into a kiss. Thalia went with it willingly, melting into the warmth and familiarity of her girlfriend. They kissed sweetly for a few minutes, until Thalia pulled away reluctantly, having heard the bus pull up behind her.

"I gotta go." She mumbled against Reyna's lips.

Reyna groaned, kissed her one more time before pushing Thalia away slightly.

"Go." She laughed. "You'll miss your bus. I'll see you tomorrow."

Thalia laughed, waved then spun around to join the line for the bus. And her stomach dropped.

Standing in the queue was none other, than the one and only Katie Greene herself. Staring at her. Complete with her entire group of friends, all of whom would have looked less shocked if Thalia had shot them. Thalia smiled politely, groaning inwardly, before proceeding to ignore their presence on the bus the entire way home.

The party was a massive hit. Percy was genuinely surprised and everything went off without a hitch - Thalia would have expected nothing less from something planned by Annabeth Chase. Most of the other guests had left, leaving only Percy's close friends gathered around in the living room, just talking and having fun. Somewhere along the line, chatting had turned to revealing ones secrets and they had fallen down the rabbit hole of telling their most embarrassing stories.

"Your turn Thalia." Hazel called from the floor having just regaled them with a story involving shampoo, a wild horse and an avocado and was still blushing ever so slightly, Thalia groaned from her seat between Reyna's legs on the couch, hiding her face behind her hands as she cringed.

"Okay guys, you'd better buckle your seatbelts because you are in for a wild ride." She stated before launching into her latest Katie encounter. Her friends were an excellent audience, oohing and aahing in just the right places, groaning as expected and looking at Thalia sympathetically.

"I'm never gonna live this down!" Thalia cried as she finished her tale of woe.

"But," She added a few minutes later, as Reyna stroked her thigh soothingly, you should've seen her face. “I'm never going to forget it. Her mouth made a perfect 'o'.” Everyone laughed and Thalia found herself joining them no longer dreading facing chemistry class next week.

The following Monday, Thalia strolled into the chemistry lab, Katie already at their desk. Reyna had left last night and this time, she and Thalia had said goodbye sans-audience. Katie looked up as Thalia reached their desk, eyes already wider than plates.

Thalia just smirked at her before she could begin her interrogation.

"I hope your jaw didn't hurt when it hit the ground."

Katie's eyes grew impossibly wider. Thalia just smiled sweetly as the teacher walked into the room.

After class, Thalia took out her phone and texted Reyna.

You should visit more often.

#thalia grace #reyna ramirez avila arellano #theyna #percy jackson #annabeth chase #Piper McLean #jason grace #Hazel Levesque #theyna fic #thalia/reyna

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mldrgrl · 4 years

Note

Lately I've been all about reconciliation. For some reason, I want all the Mulder-and-Bill-Scully-finding-some-peace fic I can get. I'd love to see your take on this, maybe in the IWTB era? Or even revival era.

One Sorry Sonofabitch

By: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: See above - but be advised Mulder and Scully aren’t in this story a whole lot. Please send all complaints to @perplexistan and I’ll be filing a lawsuit shortly for pain and suffering for having to turn Bill Scully into a sympathetic character. (Set post-IWtB)

He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year. He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event. And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years. He can’t even remember the last time he saw her. He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born. Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.

Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays. It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend. He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.

He loves his sister. He truly does. He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made. Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him. He would never. He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas. And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.

Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up. One that implores him to please behave. His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is. He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her. It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.

“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.

His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.

“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.

“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.

Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her. Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.

“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.

“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder. He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy. “As you can see. Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!? And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”

Matthew’s cheeks darken. He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat. Both his boys are soft, like their mother. He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them. A regular mother lion. He doesn’t get it. When he was a kid, he idolized his father. Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best. He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it. His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.

“Maureen is napping,” Tara says. “You’ll meet her later.”

His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story. She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa. She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father. She sasses. She rolls her eyes already. She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants. She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers. Tara calls her their little threenager.

“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says. “Why don’t we head to the family room.”

“We brought pies,” Dana says.

“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says. He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him. They seem to hold some silent conversation. To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house. He doesn’t know why she’s here.

They gather in the family room and make small talk. Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations. Dana nods and smiles through most of it. Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.

A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap. Tara is on her feet in an instant.

“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says. “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”

“I’ll help you,” Bill says. Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.

Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in. She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.

“How’s my girl,” Tara coos. “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”

“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.

“Oh, Bill.” Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her. “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”

“It still is. You know that.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart. Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”

“I’ve been cordial. Hell, I shook his hand.”

“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says. She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail. “No hair up, Mama.”

“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”

“No.”

“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.

“Okay, hair up.”

“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know. Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother. Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”

“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.

Tara gives Bill a weary look. “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”

Maureen laughs and bounces. “Daddy in trouble. Daddy in trouble.”

“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty. And so are you. Get down.” Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed. “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure. Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”

“No. Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”

“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?” She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door. “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason. You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was. Think about that.”

“Hmph.”

Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention. His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.

“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.

The women laugh.

“Where are the boys?” Bill asks. “And Mr. Mulder?”

“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.

Basketball. They should be playing a real sport like football. The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears. Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.

Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window. There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling. They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.

“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy. “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.” He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own. “That’s it. Let’s try it again.”

Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.

“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells. “Nothing but net.”

Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder. He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.

“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks. Bill cringes.

“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”

“Did you like being part of a team?” Matthew asks.

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.” This is news to Bill and he’s surprised. Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.

“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school. You should ask her for some tips.”

“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says. “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”

“Glorified,” Matthew corrects. “Not glory fried.”

“Glorified, whatever that means. He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”

Bill grits his teeth. He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it. He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.

“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says. “She’s a great doctor. But, you know what? Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”

“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.

“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”

“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says. “But, now I think it’s boring.”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“My favorite is SimCity. Have you ever played that?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.

“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes. “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”

“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

“Cool!” Both boys yell.

Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch. Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.

“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says. “It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.

“Yes, Sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm. “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”

“You can keep playing,” Bill says. “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen. Come on, Mikey.”

Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder. “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.

Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside. Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket. He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.

“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.

“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.

“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games. Think they can keep it up?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”

“Were you on the team?”

“No. We won all four years I was there though. Tied one year, actually.”

“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”

Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully. It makes no goddamn sense. “1957,” he answers. “14-0, Navy.”

Mr. Mulder nods. The conversation stalls. Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens. Bill turns and sees his sister in the window. She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.

“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says. “Everything alright?”

“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says. Dana stands close to him. He puts a hand on her back.

“It’s good to see you, Dana.”

“You too, Bill.”

The three of them stand in awkward silence. A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet. Bill shoves his hands in his pockets. Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.

“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers. He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably. He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.

“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says. Straight to the point. His sister has never been subtle.

“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here. You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table. I have to say I agree with her.”

Dana stares at him with a cool gaze. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”

“All her children?”

“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”

“I’m not fighting. I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably. “That’s between them. Charles is…”

“Charlie is married. His husband’s name is-”

“Patrick. I know. I do speak with him on occasion.”

Dana gives a brief nod. “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps. Be just like Dad. Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids. Everything in ship-shape order. They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”

“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”

Dana snorts. “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill. He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”

“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”

“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”

“Exactly. Where was he? Not with his family. You can be sure I would-”

“You would, what? Step away from the Navy? Reject a deployment order? What would you do, Bill?”

“It’s my job,” he says, curtly. “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected. Tara understood that when she married me. The kids understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom? Dad’s namesake, Dana. My namesake. How could you?”

“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses. “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder. Named after Mulder’s father. Not you, and not Dad. And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice. None at all.”

“Then why did you do it? If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”

Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth. She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum. He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.

“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks. “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old? Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him? Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him? Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son? Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever? Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”

Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy. He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult. She’s like fire. Hot and terrifying.

“No,” he says. “How could I? Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous. “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”

“Do you even have any friend, Dana? Aside from Mr. Mulder?”

“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”

“Including your family?”

“Mulder is my family. A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”

“That man has poisoned you against your family.”

“That man is the reason I’m here today. You’re right. It is me that doesn’t want to be here.” She turns and walks away.

“Dana.”

She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone. He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different. He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.

When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation. Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her. She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.

Bill turns away and heads back to the family room. The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction. Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation. He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed. Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she says. “Mulder is going to take me home.”

Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.

“What is it?” his mother asks. “Do you need to lie down? You can use the spare room.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner. I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”

“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Can’t you just…”

“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says. “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”

His mother wrings her hands together. He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either. The hugs goodbye are awkward. The kids are confused.

“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.

“Some other time,” Tara tells him. “Go wash up for dinner.”

Dinner is somber. His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose. Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.

Bill shrugs. “Mom, stop. Tara and I will take care of the dishes. Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”

The boys looked relieved. Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room. After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.

“Bill…”

Bill raises his hands in surrender. “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits. “It didn’t go well.”

“Is that why she left?”

“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”

“This really meant a lot to Mom.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.” Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen. It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her. She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.

“I don’t want to accept it, Tara. I can’t. She’s my sister.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls. “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two. I’m...going to go out there.”

“You should take the boys with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”

That hurts because it’s probably true. He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter. He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room. The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.

“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”

They look at each other and then look at their father. “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.

“No, son. We’re just going to take a drive.”

He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do. Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”

“Really?” Michael asks.

It’s an hour-long drive. Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long. They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.

“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”

“She was?”

“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year. They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old. And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.” Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby. He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.

“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.

“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”

“Oh.”

“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”

“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers. “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”

“I see.”

“I want to hear it,” Michael says. “I want to know the story.”

“Me too,” Matthew adds.

“She learned to shoot pretty young. My Dad had taught us. She was the best out of all of us, even Dad. She just never missed. Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them. They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew. Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target. She whipped those boys good. Six older boys against one little girl.”

“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.

Bill thinks back on that day. He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger. He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys. Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win. She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause. He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.

“Respect,” Bill says. “She won a lot of respect.”

“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says. He and Michael chuckle together.

“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa. Dana was a real tomboy. She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”

“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.

“How come what?”

“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago. But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now? Or Uncle Charles?”

“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.

“Who told you that?” Bill asks.

“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”

“She said that?”

“Mmhm. She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”

Bill is quiet. He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church. Good for her, he thinks. Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family. He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.

“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says. “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”

“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”

“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says. “So you can relax when you’re home.”

Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror. “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me. Not ever, alright? You can come to me with anything. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say.

“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome. That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”

“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.

“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”

“Cool,” Matthew says. “Three new uncles and an aunt.”

The roads start to become more rural and desolate. It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars. Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.

“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.

“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks. “It looks like a farm.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun. He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting. Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light. When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate. Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.

“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard. “What’re you doing out here? Everything alright?”

“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.

“Uh. Okay. Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.” Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate. “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”

Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight. He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.

“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand. “Do you have cows?”

“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers. “I think there might have been horses here at one time. There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”

Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out. Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.

“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says. He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him. Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael. Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.

The interior surprises Bill. It’s cozy, almost cabin-like. There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner. They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going. His sister is wearing slippers.

Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill. “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.

“I will.” There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister. “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”

She hesitates and glances at the boys.

“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers. “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.

Bill nods. Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment. The boys cheer. Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.

“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says. “I just want you to know that up front.”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“Because I don’t like the way we left things. I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Or supporting you when you needed it.”

Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined. Her eyes water a bit. She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet. “Thank you,” she says. “That means a lot.”

“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”

She snorts softly. “You were so mad at me.”

“No, I was proud of you. I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have. Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”

“Maybe.”

“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.” He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little. “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us. They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”

“You probably will.”

“I think you might too.”

Dana raises her brow. Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.

“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says. “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment. “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long. I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people. Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”

“You were like that as a kid. Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”

“And a quick temper.”

“Yeah, that too.” Bill chuckles. Dana smiles slightly.

“I’m sorry I left like that. I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”

“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow? The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”

“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks. She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.

Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest. She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little. “I can’t imagine, Dana. What you must feel.”

“Some days are harder than others.”

“Does he help you through it?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes. Bill stops her before they go back inside.

“One more thing,” he says. “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything. Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no. That’s her son. I would never. The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”

“I know.”

“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem. I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas. I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”

“It’s just Mulder.”

“You guys are so weird about your names.”

“That’s how we like it.”

Bill puts his hands up in surrender. Dana opens the door and he follows. The boys are laughing at something. Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms. He rubs her back and nods at Bill.

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.

“Sure.”

“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.

“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends. “We only caught half of him. The tail end, unfortunately.”

“Gross!” the boys cry.

“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.

Mulder shrugs. Bill sighs.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #bill scully #I never imagined I would have to get into this dudes head #perplexistan

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fbfh · 4 years

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three infinites and a reunion - sirius black x reader (gn)

pairing: sirius black x gn reader

wc: 1.2k

genre: ooh boy some hurt/comfort, moderate angst but it’s justified and quickly resolved, some trauma but what’s to be expected lol

warnings: spoilers for prisoner of azkaban sort of but most of it’s kind of common knowledge at this point, some fucks and other brief swears, post azkaban but the timeline is weird don’t come for me, reader is shaking cause of emotionally intense situation, mentions of bad mental health bc you know... dementors.... and uh, brief mentions of small stress induced weight loss (some promenent bones), sirius is king of consent, “you must be starving” then y’all eat some food, you get really fuckin determined to protect him who wouldn’t

summary: Holding out faith sometimes works out for the best, especially when the condemned love of your life is suddenly right in front of you, embracing you on the floor of your laundry room.

requested: no i just have dogman brain rot

song I listened to while writing this: snow - ricky montgomery, the shipped gold standard - fall out boy, golden days - panic at the disco (bc it makes me think of marauders era in general lol)

a/n: as I have stated before I don’t know how numbers work or how to do basic math so I fucked with the timeline a little which should boil down to this: sirius was in az*aban for two years before he escaped making him around 23, while harry is maybe 3 or 4, don’t come for me if it’s off lmao

also this is what I imagine sirius to look like but like,, with the expressions and mannerisms in the viria fanart

I have at least two more parts planned out roughly so those should come at some point uwu

requests are open, here’s my kofi xo

Shaking. You’re fucking shaking, tremors wracking uncontrolably through your body as you stare through blurry, tear filled eyes already spilling, at the big black dog in front of you. You look up at your porch light almost instantly, squeezing your eyes shut. You can’t tell which is louder, the layered incomprehensible thoughts fighting and screaming every instinct, or your pulse hammering in your ears. This is almost too much to bear as it is, but right now what you need are some fucking answers. This is confirmed as steel yourself, looking back down at the dog before you can even finish the thought.

You read somewhere that the more you think of a memory, the faster it fades. After almost two years of thinking of him, of those eyes that held such love and loyalty and courage, you were sure your memories of him must be worn out to near transparency. And yet you stand corrected right there on your porch after one year, eleven months, and two and a half weeks of repetitive, maddening remembering, looking into those eyes and knowing as clearly as you did all that time ago that this isn’t just a black dog.

You don’t even have to say anything, the message clear in those all too intelligent eyes being proof enough. Practicality snaps into place, and you hurriedly usher him inside, not knowing which felt longer - almost two years of painfully tested loyalty, or those fifteen seconds out on your porch. You secure the locks, pushing the foyer table against the door, and lead him into the laundry room and away from any windows or fireplaces. You press your back against the closed door, sliding down, trying to catch your breath, the dog sitting patiently across from you.

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, letting out a sharp breath, almost laugh, of relief. You take a few deep breaths, trying to center yourself before you work up the courage to look up. When you do, he’s sitting right there. He looks virtually identical to the last time you saw him, your memories once again stronger than the time trying to erode them. Those same eyes are latched onto yours, disbelieving and searching yours for any traces of hate or bitter judgement.

He concludes there really is none when you throw yourself into his arms, holding him so tight. He chokes back a sob as he buries his face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, hands clutching your shirt. You fight tears of pure relief, pursing your lips and letting out a few concentrated breaths.

“Sirius,” you manage after yet another infinity, still shaking in his arms. His tears finally spill at the raw love in your voice, beginning the painful filling of the hole the dementors had been steadily carving for years. You feel the cool, wet droplets hit your shoulder, and you squeeze him even tighter.

“I swear, I would never-”

“I know,” you cut him off, his voice tight, riddled with pain and the fear of being unjustly rejected and shunned again. One hand runs over his back in soothing, repetitive shapes, the other smoothing the back of his hair, “I’ve always known.” You repeat, your voice fierce with certainty, free of any trace of doubt. Your warmth almost burns him after all that time in the bitter cold, and he curls tighter into you, almost unable to breathe.

After a while, you’re not sure how long, you finally pull away to look at him properly. It’s surreal, one moment he looks exactly like how you last saw him, the next he’s almost unrecognizable. His face is slightly more angular than you remember, the rosy glow to his cheeks all but gone, and you’re sure he’s lost some weight. His collarbones and spine are more discernible under your touch than they had been. At only 23, he holds a battered, beaten sorrow beyond his years, but a light lives in his eyes that will never go out. Who could blame him? You’re sure he’s in much better shape than anyone else in that hell hole.

His hand caresses your cheek, memorizing every eyelash and freckle.

“I missed you,” he brings his forehead to yours, “so much.” You feel the pain and emotion in his voice, and you remind yourself that it’s all over now. You’re not going to let him go back there. Ever. Your hand runs through his hair, and you bring your lips closer to his.

“I missed you too,” your warm breath fans over his face, and his breath hitches, “so, so much.” Your words echo his, and his heart lurches, feeling like it’s beating again for the first time in far too long. You hover there for a second, and you feel his hesitance. With everything that happened, all the slander and lies, he doesn’t know how you feel. The last thing he would ever do is try to initiate unless he knows you want to as much as he does. His unbroken, unwavering respect makes you smile - he’s still as much of a gentleman as ever.

You close the space between with no hesitation, and your lips meet. The corners of both your eyes are misty with relief and passion and everything left unsaid as he pulls you into his lap, as invested in you as ever. You kiss feverishly, his lips slightly chapped but still soft. You angle your head deepening the kiss, and his hands squeeze your waist. When you finally pull away to catch your breath, you pepper a few kisses across his face, trailing down to his neck before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” you ask quietly, already dreading an answer.

“Not yet, I don’t think,” he answers, kissing the top of your head, “just got out.”

You pull your head up, staring at him in disbelief, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“You’re the first person I’ve come to see,” he continues, loving the look on your face, “though the whole world will probably hear in the papers tomorrow-” “Oh my god,” you mutter, gently batting his chest, pulling him close to you again, pressing more kisses to the side of his face.

“Well, who did you think I’d see, the Queen?” You laugh into his neck, and the sound sends warmth through his whole body, like someone finally turned on the sun. His chest aches, this time from being so full after so long, and his arms tighten around you again. You pull away suddenly, a few moments later.

“God, you must be starving. Do you want anything to eat?”

“Well…” he muses, and you know that look.

“Come on Puppy,” you say, finally getting to your feet, and helping him up with you.

Sitting at your kitchen table across from him, the love of your life, finishing leftovers and debating on certain wizard vs. muggle foods was something you truly, to your core, never knew if you’d be able to do. In a moment of warm, insurmountable determination, you know that you will let absolutely no harm come to this man. Your mind is made up, resolutely as you pour tea, plans already forming. He fought for himself and for you for so long, now it’s your turn.

And this is not a fight you’re capable of losing.

#sirius x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius black #harry potter x reader #marauders fic #marauders x you #marauders x reader #harry potter #marauders #marauders era

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