#that's a lie it was totally dead ive just been trying to figure out what song to replace it with for a year

[incorrect-league-of-villains]

Sako: What song should I play-

Hawks: ALL STAR

Sako:

Sako: [sighs] What other song?

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt 14

Steven Hyde x Read

Happy Holidays and New Years everyone! I can’t believe we’re already 14 parts in. I’m so glad you guys are loving the story! Tag list is open if you want to be a part of it :)

Beep, beep, beep.

           The sound of the heart monitor was the only noise resourcing from the room. Hyde sat beside y/n, watching as her chest gently rose and fell, and listened to Red interrogate Eric from the hallway.

           “What do you mean you don’t know what happened?!” Red asked him in his usual gruff tone.

           “I don’t, Dad!” Eric defended. “All I saw is that she was sick and she was trying to get Fez and Hyde to stop fighting and she just dropped!”

           “And you didn’t catch her?” Red fumed. “She could’ve gotten hurt!”

           “Well, I didn’t expect her to fall!” he responded.

           “Red, honey, your yelling isn’t making anything easier,” Kitty said quietly.

           “For me it is!”

           “Red,” she said more sternly.

           “Well, have they figured out what’s wrong with her?” the worried father asked impatiently.

           “No, they haven’t,” Kitty answered calmly.

           “What’s taking them so long?” he grumbled. “We’ve been here for hours!”

           Kitty blinked at her husband. “We’ve been here for twenty-five minutes.”

           “And our daughter has been unconscious for forty! My little girl is in there now and I want answers, dammit!”

           “Red, she’s fine,” Kitty said, trying to soothe him. “She’s tucked in a bed right now with monitoring and her breathing is normal. They drew her blood and we’re just waiting on the test results.”

           “They need to come faster!” he shouted, causing Kitty to frantically look around and smile nervously as her coworkers stared at them.

           “Hey, Mom, if Dad has another heart attack, at least it’ll save us another ambulance bill since we’re already at a hospital,” Eric said grinning, sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

           “Can it, dumbass!” Red snarled.

           Inside the room, y/n groaned, hearing the arguing from outside and slowly opened her eyes, seeing nothing but white. Her head felt someone was taking a jack hammer to her skull. Steven noticed and waited anxiously by her side.

           “Why do they have to be so loud?” she mumbled.

           Steven sighed in relief and grabbed her hand. “Are you okay? How’re you feeling?”

           “I think so,” she croaked. “I feel like crap and I’m tired.”

           Hyde chuckled softly and leaned over, kissing her head softly. “You scared the crap out of me.”

           “What happened? Am I in the hospital?” she asked, not letting go of his hand.

           Hyde paused, searching her face. “You don’t—? You fainted and hit the ground pretty hard. They think you may have gotten a concussion.”

           “Well, that explains my headache,” she grumbled and rubbed her head. She looked at Steven who was still looking at her with worried eyes. “Where is everyone?”

           “Your parents are out in the hall with your brother, Fez is here but went to find ice cream.” He rolled his eyes at the thought but continued. “And everyone else is on their way.”

           “How long have I been out?”

           “About forty-five minutes. I’m glad you’re okay,” he answered and pulled her hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss.

           If it wasn’t for her head screaming at her, her heart would be fluttering away like butterflies, but all she wanted to do was numb the pain. A sharp pain surged through her skull, causing her to hiss.

           “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked her.

           She tried to nod, but that caused more pain to her skull. “My head hurts. A lot.”

           “That’s what happens when you smack your head on concrete,” he answered. “You have a pretty good-sized knot on your head.”

            Y/n reached up and felt her scalp until she felt a painful bump behind the side of her head. She winced at her own touched. “Ow.”

           “Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” Hyde chuckled. “I’m going to go get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

           Her stomach churned at the thought of liquids and scrunched up her nose. “No, but I probably should. I’ll take a ginger ale if they have any.”

           “You got it, doll,” he said and walked out just as the doctor was stepping in.

           “Good afternoon, Miss Forman,” the middle-aged, dark haired man said. “I’m Dr. Kipp. I’ve been looking over you while you were out. How are you feeling?”

           “Not gonna lie, Doc, I feel pretty lousy,” Y/n responded. “I’ve been sick for the last couple of days. Not being able to keep anything down, I’m achy all over…I’m starting to wonder if I have the stomach flu or something. On top of that, my head is killing me.”

           “Well, you passed out due to your blood pressure dropping which caused a lack of blood to the brain, but it’s definitely not the stomach flu,” Dr. Kipp answered casually, setting down his clipboard as he went over to the sink to wash his hands.

           “How do you know that?” Y/n questioned him.

           “Well, it can’t be because you’re pregnant.”

                                                  --Time Skip—

           ���How’s y/n doing?” Donna asked as she got to the waiting room, flowers in hand.

           “Oh, that’s so sweet that you got her flowers!” Kitty gushed, making Donna smile. “And she’s awake. The doctor is in there right now with her.”

           “Oh, good,” she said and sat down next to Fez who was quietly eating ice cream. “Where did you get the ice cream?”

           “Oh, I told them that y/n was my wife and they let me get ice cream!” he replied stoically.

           “So, you’re telling me that you hit on her and now you’re telling people she’s your wife?” Hyde seethed, holding a cup of coffee in one and a ginger ale can in the other.

           “Can you kids not fight for five damn minutes please?” Red asked impatiently. “It’s bad enough that we’re here, I don’t want to have to hear about your petty drama.”

           “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the reason she’s here in the first place,” said Fez.

           “Why would it be your fault?” Kitty asked Hyde.

           “It’s not!” Hyde replied. “He’s just saying crap so I can knock his teeth in.”

           Kitty and Red squinted their eyes at the teens for a moment. “What on earth is going on here?” Kitty asked, growing frustrated.

           “Nothing,” Hyde answered through gritted, glaring daggers at Fez.

           Fez returned the glare. “You know, Hyde, I often wonder what it would be like to hook up with my best friend’s sister. Don’t you?”

            Hyde’s expression hardened. “It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital because when I break your bones, you’re already here!” Hyde aggressively moved towards Fez, but was stopped short by Eric getting in between them.

           “Okay! That’s enough,” he sang-song. “Hyde, why don’t you sit over there quietly and don’t beat up Fez.” He turned to Fez. “And Fez? Shut the hell up.”

           Hyde jerked himself away. “I’m going to go give this to y/n.”

           Back in the room, y/n felt like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. “I’m…what?”

           “Pregnant,” he responded in a faux enthusiastic voice. “That was through the blood test. We’re going to have you take urine test as well. So,” he pulled out a plastic cup. “You’re going to pee in this cup and when you’re finished, pull the string and a nurse will come in and collect it. Then, we’ll do a full examination on you to make sure your head is okay.”

           Y/n nodded numbly and mindlessly grabbed the cup in her hand. “Okay…”

           “Probably not the news you were expecting, huh?” he asked.

           Y/n chuckled weakly. “No. Not at all.”

           “Well, I’ll be back soon with your test results.”

           He walked out the door, leaving y/n alone in the room. Her hands felt numb and she felt like there was static all around her. How could she be pregnant? How did she let this happen? And oh God, what was she going to say to Steven? Her eyes widened. Her parents?!

           A sudden heavy weight was shattered onto her chest and her eyes began to water. How was she going to tell everyone? What if her dream came true and she truly was alone? Could she raise a baby on her own? Where would she live? What job would she have to do to support her baby? Was she even going to be a good mom? Will her children grow up to be decent people? What if they’re born with health conditions? Or they fall ill? Can she even count on herself to get out of bed at 2 AM to go to the 24 hour store to buy cough medicine when they get sick? How do you even change a poopy diaper? How is she going to react when they’re teenagers and they’re learning how to drive or get their first boyfriend or girlfriend? What kind of mom was she going to be? What kind father was Steven going to be? Will he even stick around?

           With all these questions swimming through her head, she didn’t notice Steven walk back in. “I got that ginger ale you—hey, you okay?”

           Y/n snapped her head up as she was yanked out of her thoughts, which she silently thanked heaven above for. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

           “You sure?” he asked as he set down the drink on the table next to her. “You don’t look fine. In fact, you look kinda pale.”

           “Yeah, um,” she stuttered, swallowing hard and waved her hand casually. “The doctor says I passed out due to lack of blood to the brain. Blood tests came back normal, but he wants me to take a urine test just to be sure.” Not a total lie. Just left out a part.

           “Oh, okay. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

           “I think I got it,” she answered truthfully and slowly got out of bed, barley able to feel her legs. She ambled her way to the bathroom, dragging the IV along with her. She felt Steven’s stare burning a hole in the back of her head, but she couldn’t think of what he was thinking right now. She couldn’t. It would drive her to an anxiety attack.

           She closed the door quietly and baby stepped her way to the toilet. She passed by the mirror and did a double take to her reflection. Her ponytail was a complete rats nest, her eyes had dark circles under them, and her normally rosy cheeks had lost all color. She looked half dead and she wanted to cringe away. She turned her head to the side and saw the swelled up bump on her skull. She winced when she saw it and let out a sigh. She really wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for 72 hours.

           She made her way to the toilet and shakily did her business in the cup. When she was finished, she left in on the counter in the bathroom and pulled the string. After she was finished washing up, she walked out to meet Steven sitting in the chair.

           “Hey,” he said gently whispered.

           “Hey,” she answered in the same manner. “Where is everyone?”

           “In the waiting room. Do you want to see them?”

           Her heart dropped, but she needed to play it cool. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

           He nodded and opened the door to call them in. She got back in bed with Hyde’s help, making sure her IV wouldn’t get pulled out of her arm.

           “Oh, y/n,” Kitty sobbed and rushed over to y/n who was sitting up fully and wrapped her arms around her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

           Y/n barley reciprocated the hug. “I’m okay, Mom.”

           “When we saw you being loaded up into the ambulance, I thought I was going to die right there,” Kitty responded, stepping away from her daughter.

           “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

           “What did the doctor say?” she pried.

           “Uh…they don’t know yet,” Y/n replied. “They’re taking a urine sample.”

           “Well, a person fainting is never a good thing,” Kitty stated matter-of-factly. “It means your blood pressure dropped and you weren’t getting enough blood flow to the brain. Those things just don’t happen.”

           “I know. They’re running tests right now,” Y/n said and leaned back against the pillows.

           “When will we find out?” Red pushed.

           “I don’t know,” Y/n responded growing annoyed. “I don’t know anything.” Lie, lie, LIE.

           “Well, we better find out soon,” Red said. “This place gives me the creeps.”

           “If you wanna leave, you can. I’m a big girl, I can leave on my own,” Y/n responded.

           “No, no, I wanna be here in this room when the doctor comes and tells us what’s wrong,” Kitty said stubbornly.

          Y/n’s heart and stomach dropped. There was no way anyone was going to be in this room when the doctor came back with the results. Positive or not, she didn’t need her parents asking questions and then finding out about her and Steven.

           She kept her face and voice as calm as possible. “No, no it’s okay. Really. I don’t know if I want everyone in here anyway. In fact, it’s probably best that I’m alone.”

           “Oh, nonsense. I—”

           “Kitty, if she wants to be alone, then we’ll leave her alone. She’s an adult now. She doesn’t need us in here,” Red said, signaling to his wife that they leave. “Besides, the Packers’s game is on and I wanna go home.”

           Kitty sighed, annoyed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll leave, but I want to hear everything, missy.”

           Y/n’s eyes widened a fraction and her heart beat violently against her blood cage. She could practically feel her blood pumping through her veins. She nodded numbly. “Okay.”

           Kitty nodded and kissed y/n on the head before leaving. She felt some tension leave her body as she watched her parents leave. She leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, feeling completely drained.

           “Are you okay?” Donna asked.

           “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Just…feeling depleted.”

           “Well, you can’t go to sleep yet,” Hyde said. “You might have a concussion.”

           “I want sleep,” she whined.

           “I know, but I’d rather you be exhausted than not wake up at all,” he responded.

           She glared at him through half open eye lids and grumbled, “I hate you.”

           He chuckled lightly. “I know.”

           The door to the room opened revealing Kelso, Fez and Jackie.

           “Hey, y/n, how are you feeling?” Kelso asked.

           “Bout as great as I look,” she replied, a weak smile playing her lips.

           “So, super sexy,” Fez responded cheekily but that smile quickly faded when Hyde punched his shoulder. “Ow.”

           “Remember: Respect,” was all Hyde said before sitting back down.

           “I heard what happened,” Kelso responded. “And Brooke made me bring you these.” He handed her a small bouquet of yellow daisies and lilies.

           Y/n chuckled, accepting the flowers. “Tell Brooke I said thank you for the nice gesture. And tell her to bring the baby around soon. I want to meet my niece.”

           Kelso’s face brightened. “You…you really think of her that way?”

           Y/n nodded. “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve all been best friends since we were little and it only makes sense that we look at each other more than just friends now.”

           “Like lovers?” Fez asked her seductively.

           “Do you have a death wish?” Hyde spat.

           “Okay, Steven that’s enough,” Y/n said as sternly as she could. “And Fez, shut up.”

           Fez pouted and went and sat in the corner of the room.

           “You know what? My mind is made up,” Kelso said. Y/n stared at him curiously, everyone joining in.

           “Kelso, in order for your mind to be made up, you have to have a brain,” Eric commented.

           Kelso shot Eric a glare before turning his head back towards y/n and Hyde. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Betsy lately and Brooke is really starting to trust me.”

           “Okay, and that makes up your mind for?” Y/n asked him.

           “Hang on, just let me finish,” he said smiling. “Brooke is starting to trust me so much she’s even allowing me to pick the godparents.”

           “Oh, that’s great!” Y/n gleefully responded. “I’m so happy for you.”

           “And there’s only one rule. It can’t be Fez,” Kelso added on.

           Fez nodded. “That is a good rule.”

           “Godparents?” Donna mumbled to Eric. “Like we need any more responsibilities.”

           “I know,” Eric whispered back, rolling his eyes. “Such a burden.”

           “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and it’s a big deal. So,” Kelso said, stepping closer to the bed where Eric and Donna sat. “Eric, Donna.”

           “Uh, oh,” Eric sang-song.

           “Please scooch over so I can ask Hyde and y/n if they’ll be Betsy’s godparents?”

           Y/n looked at Hyde with excited eyes. “Really?!”

           “What the hell?!” Eric exclaimed.

           “Hyde and y/n?” Donna asked insulted.

           “You picked Hyde and y/n?” Jackie asked, equally insulted. “Why didn’t you ask someone else? Like me?”

           “Because you’re single,” Kelso deadpanned.

           Jackie crossed her arms. “And?”

           “And you need to be in a relationship to be a godparent,” Kelso responded slowly like he was scared to continue speaking. “That’s why they call it godparents. You can’t be single and be a godparent. That’s just stupid.” He laughed and rolled his eyes.

           Jackie stared at him in disbelief, trying to make sense of what he said. “That barley makes any sense, you moron.”

           “Hey, hey, hey, he chose us. Let him speak,” Y/n said not trying to contain her glee. “Not that I’m questioning your choice because, you know, you chose us, but why us?”

           “Because I really trust you and I think you’d be fantastic with Betsy,” he responded sweetly.

           “And you don’t think we won’t?” Eric asked.

           “Yeah, you don’t trust us?” Donna chimed in.

           “Well, to be fair, I’ve seen you drop almost everything you’ve held in your hands,” Kelso responded. “And you’ve never really taken care of a baby.”

           “Yes we have!” Donna defended. “Remember that time last year when Laurie had to babysit that one baby and I ended up changing her diaper when she couldn’t? I was a freakin’ natural!”

           “Yeah, I mean, if you gave me the honor of being godmother, I would be popular, head cheerleader, and voted best legs. This would give me another title,” Jackie argued.

           “Would you guys relax?” Hyde asked everyone. “It’s not that big of deal.”

           “Yeah, it’s not like he’s shunning you guys,” Y/n responded.

           “You’re all still going to be aunts and uncles,” Kelso defended.

           “Yeah, that’s easy for you to say,” Jackie grumbled and joined Fez in the back.

           “We can be good godparents,” Eric argued. “You can trust us.”

           “Eric, remember Goldie, the goldfish?” Y/n asked.

           “Yeah,” he responded.

           “Remember how you killed Goldie by taking him out of the fish bowl?”

           “I needed to hug something,” Eric answered coldly. “Besides, I’m not going to have to flush a baby down the toilet!”

           “Either way, man, thanks. I’m honored,” Hyde said and clapped his hand with Kelso’s and pulled him in for a bro hug.

           “If I have another kid, I’ll make you two godparents. I promise,” Kelso said.

           Eric huffed. “Yeah, yeah.”

           “Alright, I have to take a leak,” Hyde announced.

           “And I’m going to go find some more ice cream,” Fez said.

          “Can you guys make sure y/n doesn’t fall asleep?” Hyde continued.

           “You got it pal!” Kelso responded and watched as Hyde and Fez walked out.

           “I’m not a child,” Y/n responded once they were out of ear shot. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you.”

           “Kelso!” Fez called out and barged back into the room. “Kelso, come quick! There’s a hot nurse fight happening downstairs! Hurry before it ends!”

           “See ya,” Kelso said and scrambled out the room, leaving Jackie, Eric, and Donna alone.

           “Yeah, I’m leaving too,” Jackie said pouting. “I don’t want to sit here and be reminded that I wasn’t picked for godparent. I may have to do some shopping therapy to get over it. Bye!” She squealed and walked out, leaving just the twins and Donna.

           “Do you need anything sis?” Eric asked. “Some water? Fluff up your pillows? Relinquish your title of godparent over to me?”

           Y/n gave her twin a look before scoffing. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

           “Fine. I’ll just go see if they have any teddy bears in the gift shop that reads ‘Not Quite the Best Godparents’ and maybe it’ll be tear absorbent!” With that, he stormed out the room, leaving Elena in stunned silence.

           Donna rolled her eyes. “I better go after him. Last time I left him alone while he was upset, he thought I didn’t care about him anymore and didn’t speak to me for three days.”

           She left, leaving y/n alone in the room. Again. She leaned back once more, enjoying the silence, but now that she was alone again, she realized just how loud the silence was. All she could think was pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.    

           “What am I going to do?” she mumbled to herself.

           The door to the room opened again; Dr. Kipp entering once more.

           “Hi Miss. Forman,” Dr. Kipp greeted. “We got your test results back.”

           She gulped. “And?”

           He sat down on the stool next to her bed and looked her in the eyes. “It’s positive.”

           Her heart dropped completely, and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “I’m pregnant?”

           “I know this is a lot to take in, but we need to gather some more information from you so we can determine how far along you are. But first the basics. What’s your full name?”

           “Y/f/n y/m/n Forman.”

           He scratched her answer down on his clipboard. “Birthday?”

           “May 18, 1959.”

           “So, that makes you eighteen years old, correct?”

           Y/n nodded.

           “Okay, and your current address?”

           “416 Edlebrook Ave.”

           “Beautiful,” the doctor responded and looked up from his clipboard. “Do you know who the father is?”

           Tears started to burn her eyes as she nodded her head. “I do.”

           “What’s his name?”

           “Steven James Hyde.”

           “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

           “Somewhere in mid September.”

           “And today is October 19,” he said more to himself. “So, you are about three weeks along. Now, I’m going to give this information to the nurse and have her give you a pamphlet and a referral to an OB/GYN. I’ll have them give you a call to set up an appointment. Do we have permission to leave a message with someone if you’re not available?”

           “Uh…no, just me is fine, thanks. I’m not ready to tell people yet.”

           He nods. “Understandable. Now, let’s look at your head and see how you’re doing.” As he took out a flashlight and started examining her eyes, Hyde walked back in the room.

           “Hey, Doc. How’s she doing?” he asked.

           “Well, I’m not seeing any signs of concussion, so that’s good.” He turned off the light and started feeling around underneath her jaw to the back of her head where he felt her bump. She winced and he took note of it. “She seems great besides that nasty bump. Just put some ice on it if it starts to hurt and take some aspirin for the pain. Otherwise, you’re good to go.”

           “What about her test results?”

           Dr. Kipp glanced at y/n and saw her terrified look. He glanced back at Steven who looked worried. “Test results came back normal and she’s perfectly healthy.” He noticed Steven visibly relax. “Anything else, she may discuss with you at her discretion.”

           Y/n mouthed a thank you to the doctor who gave her a subtle nod and finished writing his notes on his clipboard. “I’ll have a nurse discharge you. You have a good rest of your night and rest up.”

           Y/n nodded. “Thank you.”

           With that, he left the room, leaving y/n wanting to vomit—and not from feeling sick this time. She continued to sit in her bed, not being able to properly process the information. Her world felt fuzzy and she felt like she was going to pass out for a second time. She could hear Steven talking to her, but it was all garbled and muffled as if she were underwater. Was her dream right? Was she going to be disowned by her family? Is she going to disappoint her mother? Oh no, how is Red going to take this? She and Steven are dead. Dead like road kill.

           She heard Steven’s muffled voice again, but this time louder. She blinked and looked up at Steven. “I’m sorry, what?”

           He knitted his eyebrows at her. “I said, are you okay? Do you need help getting dressed?”

           She shook her heavy head and slowly slid out of bed. “I should be okay.” She untied her hospital gown, allowing it to pool around her feet. She shivered as the cold air hit her bare skin and turned to see her clothes balled up in a plastic bag. She slowly started dressing herself and felt Hyde’s eyes burn into her the whole time.

           She finally looked up at him as she finished putting on her pajama top. “What’s up?”

           “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting different.”

           She nodded, not being able to look him in the eye. “Yeah, I think so. Just still not feeling well and feeling a little disoriented from the fall. But I think I’m good.”

           He eyed her for a minute. “Okay,” he responded slowly. “As long as you don’t pass out on me again.”

           She chuckled. “I think I’ll be okay.”

           A knock came at the door and the nurse walked in. “Okay, Miss Forman. Here are your doctor’s notes to help you feel better. Plenty of rest and fluids. And—” She noticed Steven listening to her and she looked back down at the pamphlet in her hands and slid the doctor’s notes over it. “Here’s everything you else need to know. If you have any questions, there’s a number you can call and if you don’t get better or start to feel worse, come on back in.”

           Y/n thanked her and quietly gathered the rest of her stuff and headed out with Steven. He guided her slowly into the camino and started up the car. She rested her elbow on the windowsill of the door and leaned her head into her hand, feeling like sleep will overtake her any minute now. Hyde placed a gentle hand on her thigh and lovingly rubber circles with his thumb.

           “Let’s get you back in bed, yeah?”

           She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, not being able to form words in fear she would start crying.

           The drive home was deathly quiet as rain started to fall. The only noise emitting was outside as the rain fell onto the windshield. Not being able to handle the silence, Hyde reached over and turned on the radio, allowing the music to softly fill the car. It eased the tension slightly, allowing y/n to relax.

           He pulled up in front of a supermarket and put the car in park.

           “What are we doing here?” she croaked.

           “Do you want some soup?”

           She gave him a small smile. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

           He nodded and got out of the car, leaving it on so the heater would warm up y/n. Ever since the hospital, she’d been cold and not able to heat up as fast as she normally would. She shivered, realizing she didn’t bring a jacket or her robe. She looked around the car and noticed a blanket behind the driver’s seat. She wrapped her cold fingers around the soft material and realized it was their sex blanket. She crunched up her nose a little, noticing some stains. “Ugh, gross,” she murmured before placing the clean side on her. The stench of sex filled her nostrils, but luckily it didn’t upset her stomach more than it already was.

           She waited in the car for a few more minutes with the blanket pulled up to her chin and listened to the music. Paul Anka came on, singing (You’re) Having My Baby.

           “Would you look at that,” she grumbled and changed the station. Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely was on playing. “What the…” she grumbled and changed it to another station. A country song this time was playing. One that y/n didn’t know, but it was better than the others, so she left it on. She listened to the lyrics as they went:

           The girls in New York City, they all march for women's lib And better homes and garden shows, the modern way to live And the pill may change the world tomorrow, but meanwhile, today Here in Topeka, the flies are a buzzin' The dog is a barkin' and the floor needs a scrubbin' One needs a spankin' and one needs a huggin' Lord, one's on the way

Oh gee, I hope it ain't twins, again.

             “Are you kidding me?” She reached over and turned off the radio, choosing to sit in silence.

           Just then the driver’s door opened and Steven clambered inside with a container of chicken soup in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. “Here you go, doll.”

           “Awe, thank you, baby.” She grabbed the container from his hands and allowed the warmth to thaw her icy ones.

           “You turned off the music?” he questioned and started to beat the pack against the heel of his hand.

           “Yeah, there was nothing good on.” Technically not a lie.

           “Ah, makes sense,” he responded and noticed the blanket. He snorted teasingly. “Cold?”

           “No, no, I’m burning up actually. The blanket was so I could feel like I’m in hell.”

           He threw his add head back laughing. “Take it easy, Firecracker. If I hada known you were cold, I would’ve given you my jacket.”

           She smirked at him. “Nah, this is fine. Thanks. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be cold.”

           “I’ll be fine,” he said and stuck a cigarette between his lips.

           Y/n’s eyes widened and quickly ripped it from him mouth.

           “What the hell, y/n?”

           “Uh, I’m still not feeling well enough. I don’t want hurl all over your car.”

           He scrunched up his nose at her. “Fine. Fair point. But I’m smoking when I get back!”

            Y/n shook her head at him. “What a rebel.”

           “Damn straight,” he responded and turned the car on. “Don’t forget who you’re with.”

           “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

           He smiled at her before backing up and driving them home for the night.

                                                 --Time Skip—

           The next couple of days were brutal for y/n. Kitty wouldn’t stop interrogating her and y/n finally told something made up to get her off her back. Kitty didn’t believe her, but she backed off knowing she���ll be back again. She wanted so badly to tell Steven about her pregnancy, but every time she tried, it would come out a different sentence.

         “I’m,” she would start, but right when she would look into his baby blue eyes, she would panic. “hungry. I’m hungry, starving! Can we go get something to eat?”

         He would give her a weird look before agreeing and leaving to buy her food.

           On top of that, morning sickness would rear its ugly head and she would end up being sick at the most random of times. She would be sitting down in the basement with her friends, feeling fine, but then she would feel her lunch coming back up and she would have to haul ass to the nearest restroom.

           Everyone was worried about her, trying to get her to go back to the doctor, but she already knew. She had secretly made the appointment with the OB/GYN and wasn’t going to be able to see her until two weeks out. Until then, she had to keep lying and making excuses.

           “It’s been almost a week,” Eric said one afternoon as they were all huddled into the basement. “You really should go back to the doctor.”

                      “I’d rather not,” Y/n said. “Going to the doctors for every sniff and cough is not my thing.”

                     “But it’s not just a sniffle or a cough,” he pointed out. “It’s like one minute you’re fine and then the next you’re throwing up Mom’s tuna casserole.”

                  “That was a long night,” she countered, remembering that night as she had to lay on the floor next to the toilet for hours because she couldn’t stop throwing up.

             “Well, can you still keep down fluids?” Donna asked. “Like, chicken broth, orange juice, and tea?”

           “Yeah, those are fine,” Y/n responded. “I just can’t seem to digest solid foods. But I was able to drink apple juice the other day with some bread. I’m also not nauseas all day anymore. I think I’m getting better.”

             “Well, if you’re feeling better, wanna go shoot some hoops?” Kelso asked.

             “Nah, but you guys can,” Y/n responded. “Me and Donna can just sit and ogle.”

             “I knew you were checking me out,” Kelso purred and rubbed his chest.

             “Not you, you dork,” Y/n said. “Hyde and Eric.”

                      “You ogle at me?” Eric said disgusted. “That’s gross.”

             “No! Donna is, you dumbass!” Y/n said and stood up while Eric laughed. “Moron.”

             She walked outside to the driveway with everyone behind her. As they reached the driveway, the boys split up into their group while Donna and y/n moved away to watch from the porch.

             “So, Hyde, how’s it been with you and y/n?” Kelso asked under his breath, making sure the girls couldn’t hear.

             “You know, things are going good, but with her being sick this past week, it’s been kinda hard not getting any action,” Hyde responded.

             “Ewwwww! Could you please not?” Eric exclaimed. “I told you I don’t wanna hear it.”

             “I know, that’s why I did it,” Hyde laughed and tossed the ball to Eric. “Your play. Go.”

             The girls watched from the porch, admiring the way their men looked. Y/n wanted so badly to jump Hyde’s bones, but didn’t want to puke in the middle of it and ruin the mood. She and Donna chatted idly as they watched their men get sweaty and hot.

             “Look, I know he’s your brother, but damn does he look hot when he’s all concentrated,” Donna swooned as she watched Eric block Fez’s slam dunk.

             “Really? I think he looks constipated,” Y/n laughed.

             In the middle of the play, Eric turned, facing them while trying to block Kelso from making his shot. The concentration he wore on his face made Donna drool but laugh.

             “You’re right, he does look constipated,” she agreed and laughed even more.

             “I know you don’t think so, but Steven just looks so good when he’s moving around like that,” Y/n said and stared at her boyfriend. “I mean, when he gets all sweaty and flushed, it makes me want him so bad.”

             Donna chuckled. “So, how have you guys been?”

             “We’ve been good. You know with me being this sick, we haven’t really gotten the time to do it or anything.”

             “From the looks of it earlier and hearing Eric scream ‘ew’ makes me believe that Hyde already said something like that to him,” Donna laughed once more.

             Y/n chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

             They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the four boys play basketball. The entire time, y/n’s heart was hammering against her chest, debating on telling Donna right there. She couldn’t take keeping a secret this big from her best friend. Besides, if she wasn’t going to tell someone soon, she was going to explode.

             “Donna,” she said shakily. “I have something to tell you.”

             Seeing how serious her tone was, Donna perked up. “What?”

             “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to freak out. Because if you do, everyone will hear it and I can’t have that right now.”

             Donna’s heart started beating wildly against her own ribcage, now nervous and worried. “Okay?”

           “And whatever happens, promise me you’ll still be my friend?”

           “Of course! What’s going on?”

             Y/n took a deep breath before looking Donna in the eye. At that moment, she wanted to crawl up in a bawl and just cry. But she knew she couldn’t; She had to be strong. So instead she let out a shaky breath.

             “I’m pregnant.”

@lieswithoutfairytales​ @mdittyz123​ @n-dg-wm​ @undead-sierra​ @random-thoughts-003​ @taysirene​ 

[fweasleyswhore]

F.W. Who We Are

Chapter Two: Your Least Favorite Color

Chapter One

a/n chapter two my lovlies!! i rlly wanted to pump this out p fast bc ive been having so much fun with it and i hope you are too!

summary: fred and george tell you their plan for their prank. fluff with a pinch of angst.

word count: 3k

warnings: some touching??? uncomfy situation??

tags: @you-make-children-cry @levylovegood @bohemianspacebabe

comment a request to be added to my taglist !

“Snape’s least favorite color?” I laughed out. “I think you mean, like, any color. I mean has he ever worn anything that isn’t black?”

I was now seated in a small semblance of a circle on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, Fred and George in front of me. It was most definitely past curfew but because tomorrow was Saturday I really didn’t care, the time was the last thing on my mind. The most present thought I had was how the hell Fred and George were going to change the color of all the cauldrons in Snape's room and get away with it. 

“Well, now that you bring it up, I do believe I saw him in robes that looked rather navy instead of black.” George pondered, looking up to the ceiling and tapping his chin as if he was deep in thought. 

“Oh bug off!” I laughed and smacked him on the arm. He looked at his arm with wide eyes, his smile gone. Before I could ask if I was too forceful he was pretending to cry, a little too loud than he should’ve considering it was well past 12 and I am technically trespassing. None of us cared though or even thought to care as we watched George grasp onto his brother’s arms like it was the last thing he would ever do. 

“I-I don’t want to die Freddie.” He whispered. His grip tightened onto his brother as he spoke again. “Freddie, I…” He then let out a loud, fake sob. “There’s so much I haven’t done.” He dropped his head and shook it. I rolled my eyes, how long was he going to keep this up? 

Fred brought his hands up to cradle his brother’s head. “It’s ok George, you can let go, it’s ok.” He looked into his brother’s eyes tearfully, “I’ll help you…”

Before George could react Fred lifted one of his hands and swiftly flicked him on the forehead. George let out a loud groan and spasmed a bit in Fred’s arms, I watched with narrowed eyes as he seized up and shook. 

“You look more like a fish out of water than a dying man,” I said smugly. George rose up and fixed his hair. He looked over to me with a glare and his tongue out. I laughed fully, the situation and everything, as well as some sleep deprivation, catching up on me. I threw my head back, clutched my stomach, and rolled around for what felt like hours. Once I had started I couldn’t stop. 

“I didn’t think it was that funny,” George whispered to Fred. “Maybe we have finally broken her?”

“Maybe…” Was all Fred was able to say back, too caught up with the beautiful girl in front of her to even fully process George's words. 

Finally calming down due to the sharp pain building up in my stomach from laughing so hard, I painfully pushed myself to sit up straight. Leaning on the couch behind me I tried to catch my breath while gripping my stomach. I could feel my face was flushed, my hair was a mess but I couldn’t care. Although the pain that coursed through my body, I was still smiling, looking at the two boys in front of me. Focusing on George I saw that he looked at me with a look of disbelief and amusement, rolling my eyes at him I focussed on Fred ready to be met with the same expression. 

What I was met with nearly made me roll over again. 

The way he looked at me made the rest of the world evaporate. I lost my breath. He smiled at me, but it wasn’t amused or disbelieving like George, he smiled at me with pure content, like watching me writhing around on the floor was the best use of his time. His eyes flickered with something, his usual gleam of mischief no longer evident but what was currently being held I couldn’t decipher. My whole face flushed even more if that was possible, I was praying in my head he didn’t notice it. I diverted my eyes from his gaze, trying to hide my red face as I adjusted into the position I held before I broke out in laughter. 

“Maybe red?” I tried to steer the conversation back to its previous topic, my voice quivered, making me cringe and I hope that the boys didn’t notice or just wrote it off. 

“If we make them red he will know a Gryffindor did it, that’s the equivalent of a murderer leaving a ransom note with his name on it.” George retorted. I sighed, relieved he didn’t say anything. Bringing my gaze up to meet theirs I looked between them, they were both staring at the floor, obviously lost in thought. I brought my gaze to the fire behind them. I pulled my lip in between my teeth trying to focus on a specific color that would make the blood drain from Snape’s face. 

Snape was the head of the Slytherin house, and though that relation, I absolutely despised him. He was terribly rude to Gryffindors for no bloody reason, being that my friends mostly consisted of Gryffindors, he was terribly rude to me as well. He never took points away from me specifically, knowing it would reflect badly on him, but he took the absolute piss out of any Gryffindor around, often even subjected me to long detentions for minor offenses. I have to watch my step around him, even my breathing could set him off, send a nasty glare, or even grade my way. Being a Slytherin though, there was not much I could do about it except accept it, and that made my blood boil under the surface. 

“Perhaps,” I started, my gaze was still trained on the dancing fire behind the boy. “Hot pink would suffice?” 

Lifting my gaze from the fire I glanced between the two. 

“Wicked.” They said in unison. They had these stupid grins on their faces that made me giggle. 

The rest of the night was spent actually completing the plan, or trying to and getting distracted. The day before we leave for Christmas break we would sneak into his room, Fred and George would hide in the back of the room while I waited for Snape to arrive. I would ask him to help me find a book in the library about potion making because “I had really been struggling this past year in his class”. Total lie, I knew what I was doing Snape just hated to give me the grade I deserved. 

Considering Mrs. Pince was on maternity leave he would have no option but to say yes. The boys would hex the cauldrons then run back to the Gryffindor common room where Harry and Ron were ready to provide an alibi. It flowed well, the potions section of the library was in the back and far up, Ron and Harry were more than happy to take the piss out of Snape, and Snape knew that because I was in his house I would never do anything directly against him for fear of being expelled. 

Although I knew there would be no evidence for Snape to use against me I was still quite nervous but the thought of the shit eating grins it would provide the twins gave me enough courage to agree. They always made me happy, it was only fair I do the same for them. 

Once it was mildly solidified in our brains we let the conversation drift, topics from quidditch to the worst animal to transfigure as filled up what should’ve been a quite common room at that hour, and never once did I feel bored.  

-

The feeling of someone shaking my shoulders brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes to a rather bright and blurry mess of red around me, quickly shutting them again I groaned, swatting at my attacker. My lazy attempts fell short never actually hitting anyone. 

“That was lame.” Hermione laughed. 

I opened one eye to glare at her. “Considering I was blind I think they were ferocious.” I shot back. 

She laughed again. “Well I don’t know how late you stayed up, but it’s quarter to 9. Breakfast ends at 10.”

“I have so much time, why must you hurt me ‘Mione?” I huffed running a hand down my face. 

“Because Saturday is blueberry pancake day!” She said half singing. “Also I figured you would want to shower and get ready before we go to Hogsmede.” I groaned again but I knew she was right. I threw my hands over my face and rubbed my eyes before opening them, this time the brightness nor the redness of the room affected me. 

“What would I do without you?” I asked sitting up. Now in a seated position I could see my surroundings. I was laying longways on the couch, a robe sprawled over me like a makeshift blanket. Hermione stood behind me, her hands rested on the armrest that my head was just against.

“Probably dead, due to these two.” I couldn’t see her but I knew she was talking about the twins. I turned my head around and smiled at her. 

Squinting around the common room I could see George curled up in a loveseat by the fireplace, he sat sideways, his head against the back of the chair while his arms hugged one of his legs tightly to his chest, his other leg was thrown over the armrest. I giggled at the sight of him in such an unnatural position, it could not be comfortable with his long limbs. I searched the room for Fred. He wasn't in the other seats by the fireplace or the other couch pushed against the wall. 

My heart plunged into my stomach at the thought that he went up to his dorm, I wasn’t completely sure why it hurt me so much. It made sense for him to have left, but part of me just felt pained at the fact that George stayed and not him. Of course I liked George but not in the way I liked Fred. George was like a brother to me, he was a best friend. Fred was something more than that, not that he knew, I would never admit it to him much less our friends, but that didn’t stop the longing I felt for him, hoping that he felt the same way too. 

Finally I found him and all the doubts I had before were void upon seeing him. He laid on his stomach on the floor next to the couch. One arm under the pillow supporting his head that was facing me and the other thrown across the floor. He didn’t have a blanket on him and his robe wasn’t in sight. His hair was slightly brushed in his face and I had to refrain from leaning down and brushing it out of his eyes. I let out a small laugh realizing he was using the pillow that I threw at George the night before. 

Turning around again to Hermione I spoke again. “You’re completely right.” She rolled her eyes with a smile before exiting the common room muttering something about the work she needed to do that day. 

I stretched and readjusted, pulling my legs to my chest while figuring the best way to get up without disturbing Fred. I balled up the robe that was laid across me, still trying to figure out how to navigate my way out of the common room. 

There was a small space near his arm on the floor, taking it as my best shot to then jump around him. I carefully placed my foot down, making sure not to step on him. Shifting my weight onto that foot I began to move my other leg to go around his back. 

Slowly crouching to get some momentum I jumped, but before my foot could even leave the ground a strong arm grabbed my ankle. Taken by surprise I let out a small shriek before falling onto the couch and then sliding onto the floor. 

I was met with Fred, smirking at me with half lidded eyes. 

“Trying to sneak off with my robe are you?” He said smugly. His voice was deeper and raspier than it usually was and had an immediate effect on my body, my legs weakened and my face burned. I was thanking Merlin I was already sitting and flushed from the fall.

“What are you on about Weasley.” I whisper-yell at him. 

He released my ankle, something I hadn’t even noticed he was still holding until I felt uncharacteristically cold where his touch had been only moments ago. He used his now free hand to point at the balled up robes in my arms. 

“You did not just make me fall on my arse only to accuse me of stealing my robes!” I whisper yelled again, although a tad louder than last time. 

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Your robes? I wasn’t aware we had joint custody over my clothing Y/L/N, but since you want them so bad I suppose you can keep them, red looks good on you by the way.” He shot me a wink at the end of his remark. His confidence and cockiness just upset me further. Although he was unnervingly annoying I couldn’t help the grin that split onto my face at his own stupidity. 

I rolled my eyes and unbunched the robes to show him the green that adorned them, but once they were unrolled I saw the red fabric. My eyes shot wide open, I could feel my eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. 

“But…” I couldn’t even form a whole sentence, this didn’t make sense. “You hexxed my robes!” I shot at him. It was the only logical conclusion I had come up to that he had planned this. 

The laugh he was holding back erupted from his mouth. His morning voice made it much deeper than his actual laugh. The rings of his laughter normally made my body hot but this was a whole new level. 

He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand up to my collar and tugged. Looking down I saw that I was still wearing my robes. Never took them off. 

I groaned and threw my face into my hands which only made him laugh harder. He peeled my hands away from my face and held them in his much larger ones. “I would never hex your clothes,” I could feel my face heat up at his words, the genuine tone and the lower octave of his voice sent shockwaves through my whole system. “At least not red, I’d make them purple!” He stuck his tongue out at me and I playfully swatted his shoulder. He knew that was my least favorite color. 

I stood up and threw his robes at his face. “See you in the Great Hall.” And with that I grabbed my shoes and walked out as quickly as possible. I could hear him still laughing as I got to the portrait hole but kept going trying to calm down and get the flush off my face, both from our proximity and embarrassment. 

-

I had thrown on my favorite muggle outfit. Going to Hogsmede was a tradition but the excitement was still there which qualified for a little dressing up. It wasn’t anything special, just plain light wash jeans, a white turtleneck and an oversized orange button up I managed to steal from the twins. All pulled together with a little accessorizing I thought I looked rather good. 

Walking out of my dorm and into the Slytherin common room there was an evident pep in my step. I was happy but a fool wouldn’t be. Stepping towards the exit of the common room someone just had to ruin my fun. 

“Not going out with the Weasels again are you Y/L/N?” Draco drawls. Turning I see him snickering with Crabbe and Goyle before standing and waltzing up to me, arrogant as ever. 

“What is it to you Malfoy?” I spit at him. I was not going to let him ruin today. 

“Well you got so pretty today, Weasleys do not know how to appreciate such expensive things, they can’t afford them, how would they know how to? You deserve someone who knows how and can express their appreciation in equally expensive ways.” He laughed out. He lifted his hand to caress my cheek. His touch made me cringe, his hands were cold and his demeanor was uninviting. Everything about him made me recoil. 

I grabbed his wrist and threw his hand down. “I hope you don’t mean someone like yourself Malfoy. I’m not sure how you even know how to use a hand like that, it looks as though it hasn’t done a day of work in its life. Is that something you are really proud of?” I threw my words at him like daggers. Steam rolling off of me. I could see him change under my glare, his confidence shrank and his anger grew, his relaxed expression was soon replaced by his snarl he adorned everywhere Harry was near, his back stiffened and his fists balled up. 

“Never, touch me again Malfoy.” I turned on my heel and stormed out. Before reaching the exit I thought of something though. 

“Future advice,” I turned again so I was facing him. He hadn’t moved and still looked at me venomously as before. He lifted an eyebrow at my comment, urging me to go on. “Money can’t buy consent.” 

His face darkened and I had to turn quickly to stop myself from all out laughing at him. I’m sure that if I stayed I could have watched him have his temper tantrum but frankly I wasn’t interested. My interest laid with the redhead waiting for me at the doors of the Great Hall. The same one who smiled at me as I walked up to him and poured my juice for me when we sat down. Fred Weasley had me totally, inconceivably, and utterly smitten, and I was completely ok with it. The harder I fell the sweeter it would feel when he caught me. 

Or I hoped. 

[morganaspendragonss]

together we sang (i’m ready now)

five times tk and carlos learned how to be around each other, and one time they already knew.

ao3

It’s not an easy start for them.

They had the initial road bumps, of course, but after that… After that, it takes a while to figure out how to fit themselves together, sharp edges and all. It isn’t as golden and perfect as they want it to be, but by the end of it, well - it’s them. TK and Carlos.

(and here’s the secret: neither of them would want it any other way)

i.

TK barely sleeps the first night he stays over at Carlos’s. It’s not so much the unfamiliarity (though that doesn’t exactly help) but it’s just… Being here, in Carlos’s bed, having spent the entire night. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act.

And it’s ridiculous; TK knows this. Carlos is...well, they haven’t labelled it yet, but they’re in this now. Together. It makes sense that he’d stay over, and Carlos had asked him, for god’s sake. Still. When he wakes up after a brief, fitful rest, finding Carlos’s arm slung over his chest and his own head turned towards Carlos, TK’s entire body tenses, suddenly, minutely aware of his situation.

He breathes slowly as dawn starts to creep through the curtains, watching Carlos’s face for any sign of waking. He doesn’t dare move, for fear of disturbing him. 

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, Carlos stirs, his eyes blinking lazily open. “Hey,” he rasps, the sound of his deep, sleep-heavy voice bringing a smile to TK’s face despite his anxieties.

“Hey yourself,” he returns. He bites his lip, gaze darting away. “Is this… Is this okay?”

Carlos frowns. “Is what okay?”

“This. Me. Being here.”

Carlos actually laughs, tightening his hold around TK and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Of course it is. I don’t let just anyone sleep in my bed, you know.”

TK looks up at him and sees the sincerity in Carlos’s eyes, that he really means it. That this is okay - or it’s going to be. 

And TK begins to let go.

ii.

It’s been six months since Alex, give or take. TK should have been happy when he realised he could no longer number the days since that night, but he’s just scared.

He’s fucking terrified, and he’s got no idea why.

He and Carlos have been doing this - properly, that is - for just over a month (and those days TK can number - 42 and counting) but they still haven’t named it. Not in so many words, anyway. Not in that one word.

It’s not a choice. TK wants, more than anything, to be able to call Carlos his boyfriend, and to have Carlos call him his boyfriend back. He just… He can’t force the word past his lips.

It’s been six months since Alex, give or take, and TK is terrified of the idea of having something concrete, only for it to dissolve in his hands. Not just that, though. He can’t be the one to say it first, because he’s not sure if he could stand it if Carlos isn’t ready for it either.

Arms slip around TK’s waist, lips pressing against his neck. He smiles and turns, pulling Carlos into a full hug. 

“What’s this in aid of?” Carlos asks, surprised, though he returns the hug just as tightly.

“Nothing,” TK mumbles. 

Carlos hums. “Well, much as I’m enjoying this, I do need to do stuff now.”

He begins to pull away and TK whines, mourning the loss of contact. Carlos laughs, keeping one arm wrapped around TK’s waist.

“Complain all you want, but, you see, my boyfriend is a pretty terrible cook and we do need to eat at some point.”

TK freezes. “You…” He swallows roughly and shakes his head, trying to clear the sudden static in his brain. “Boyfriend?”

Carlos’s smile falters. “Yeah… Is that not okay? If you’re not ready, I completely understand -”

TK cuts him off with a kiss. “It’s more than okay.”

iii.

“You know you don’t have to knock,” Carlos says, grinning at TK standing sheepishly on the front step. 

“I didn’t want to be rude,” TK protests, kissing Carlos as he walks in. “What if you had company?”

“I gave you a key for a reason, TK. The reason being for you to actually, you know, use it.”

“Oh, I thought it was just for decoration.”

Carlos rolls his eyes affectionately. “Idiota.”

TK grins. “You know it.”

He flops down on Carlos’s couch and drapes an arm across the back, quirking an eyebrow. Carlos huffs an exasperated laugh but heads over, settling comfortably into TK’s embrace. It’s nice, just existing together like this. Easier, too, TK’s finding. Apparently not easy enough for him to feel totally comfortable using the key just yet, but easier.

And that means a lot. 

iv.

Dating another first responder is great in many ways. Carlos gets the toll the job takes on him, both in body and mind, and they have a kind of understanding TK’s never had in any other relationship. There’s also the fact that Carlos is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but that’s more because he’s, well, Carlos. 

Unfortunately, dating another first responder also means that they understand each other’s jobs a little too well, sometimes. It’s bad when they’re at the same scenes, one of them having to watch the other run into danger without knowing what’s going to happen; it’s worse when they have to just sit at home and wait, not even able to be there.

They deal with it, mostly. 

“Are you insane?” Carlos yells the second the door slams shut behind them. 

TK scowls, the arm not in a sling crossed defensively over his chest. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Leave her to die?”

“TK, the building was coming down! It is not your job to save everyone -”

“That is exactly what my job is!”

“- and you can’t save anyone if you’re dead!”

TK scoffs. “I knew what I was doing.”

“No, you didn’t,” Carlos insists, a finger stabbing forward. “You were just trying to play the hero, but you don’t seem to realise that your actions have real consequences, TK.”

“Of course I do!”

“Do you? You could have died today, did you think about that?”

“I was thinking about that woman who, I might add, is alive right now because of what I did. Anyway, you’re one to talk; what about that shoot-out downtown the other week?”

“I was doing my job.”

“So was I!” TK breathes through his nose, setting his jaw and looking away. “I’m going out.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t wait up.”

(the anger drains away within ten minutes of leaving Carlos’s house; it’s funny like that. pride stops him from going back that night, but when morning comes he’ll find himself there once more)

(they don’t fix things immediately. but they talk, and they learn, and they heal. and, slowly, together, they make themselves stronger)

v.

“I love you.”

The admission comes quietly, surprising both of them. TK hadn’t exactly meant to say it; the words had just slipped past his lips without a thought. He means them, feels the truth of them deep in his bones, but he’s not sure if he’d been prepared to face up to them so soon.

See, he hasn’t said them since the night Alex left him - not in that way, anyway. He’s just not sure if he’s judged this right.

TK doesn’t think all of this with Carlos could disappear, not anymore. He knows Carlos better than that, and he knows their relationship better than that. They’re good, and happy, and in this for the long haul. 

None of that stops the fear.

“Hey,” Carlos says, voice soft. TK looks at him, heart swelling as he sees his own love reflected right back at him.

“I love you, too.”

+1

TK can’t say when he knew that, oh, this is my person. The romantic in him wants to say the very first day they met, but that’s a lie. It happened sometime in the middle, when they were learning what it means to be them.

But it’s moments like this that solidify the feeling; moments like this that really matter.

He comes home after a long shift, moving through the house on silent feet so as not to wake Carlos, who he knows will already be dead to the world. He smiles when he walks into their bedroom, brushing a stray curl from Carlos’s forehead before climbing in beside him. Carlos stirs at the movement, but TK doesn’t feel guilty for it, not anymore.

He doesn’t sleep so well without Carlos, either.

Carlos’s arms come around him and TK nestles into the embrace, his entire body relaxing as sleep calls to him. He drifts off soon after, comforted by the fit of their bodies together.

And TK is home, in every sense of the word.

[tricewithaz]

I saw your post about Kaz and Nikolai and I agree. I think they would be amazing friends. Do you have headcannons about that?

thanks pal ive been DYING to ramble about this

When first meeting, Kaz develops some sort of respect for Nikolai cause A_man developed an entire alter ego for literally no reason and B_He was completely honest with him. He also seems to work by his own rules and Kaz relates to that.

Nikolai also respects Kaz, he can see hes a very intelligent young man (i mean he read him like an open book). He was quite impressed cause up till that point no one read thru him like that.

He also has the time of his life seeing all of kaz's plan unfold, he didnt know any of it (though he suspected something wouldnt go as planned). Everything was chaos and all he could do was look in amazement and try to figure out what his thought process was

While going back to ravka he IMPLORES nina to tell him everything about the heist and the auction and hes just amazed at A-the absolute CHAOS, B-the adventure (there where you see him hes quite an adventure and mistery novels fan) and C the fact that he managed to get that damn money.

But hey kaz isnt the only one who can read people, Nikolai can see that theres many gears working within Kaz, and sort of feels sympathy for him, not too sure why not like theyre literal parallel characters or anything but the gloves are a dead giveaway

Nikolai also feels sort lf protective over him for no reason. He feels the same way about Nina.

Listen, Kaz somehow enters in Nikolais bedchambers at the embassy. he has like maximum security. However, he doesnt calculate well enough so while hes still there, Zoya and Nikolai enter (i mean, i dont think theyd have a fixed schedule while in kerch at the time, considering the circumstances). Zoya suggests hes imprisoned and even killed for stealthing into the kings chambers and "possibly attempting regicide" but Nikolai is just impressed he kind of needs to ask him how he managed to enter.

And thats the story of how kaz taught nikolai lantsov king of ravka grand duke of udova how to open any kind of lock.

Kaz finds himself trustung Nikolai. He knows he shouldnt and he knows most of it is Political Charm™ but still

Nikolai reads him like a book and most of it is cause he can see himself in Kaz. Hes not called the King of Scars for nothing ad he can tell Kaz has some too

Oh and he confronts him about it, real big brother shit or whatever

(similarly to how he told alina to stop bitching and either get over mal or do something about him which is still iconic)

weirdly enough kaz listens to him 😶 character desvelopment yall special thanks to inej ghafa and nikolai lantsov king of ravka you know the rest

Kaz asks him about inejs parents pretty much as if asking a favour from a friend, its cute and extrangely vulnerable. Nikolai tells him that "he has a ton of money, he certainly can try"

Kaz is all scary and black clothes and sharp bone structure but to nikolai hes just a boy in need of a good time and hes very fond of him

They totally get drinks in kerch, as payment for teaching nikolai his Thief Secrets™. Its a good time, Nikolai talks a lot and Kaz listens to his stories and plans and opinions. Its good info and quite fun.

THE BANTER, they bounce off each other so well.

Kaz admires Nikolais ability to charm anyone. Not like he cant be charismatic himself, but the kings ways to make himself respected and not necessarily scary seem very useful to him.

Kaz picks up the "improbable" line

they have the same scheming face. I like to think zoya and jesper are quite freaked out about it. So is nina.

When nikolai goes back to ravka, they write to each other. It starts with the whole thing about inej's parents but it quickly becomes routine. Not too often, but at least once every three months.

Nik buys stocks at the Crow Club. When hes in ketterdam he likes to have a couple of drinks there and chat with kaz and some other people.

He like to joke with Kaz about hiring him to make his dads life impossible. and not gonns lie hes this 👌close to actually doing it.

Theres kind of an unspoken rule between them to not ask too much, but kaz is dying to know about the whole sturmhond stuff.

Oh Nikolai has definetely offered kaz a job in os alta but he refused

he also often offers him actual haircuts 😶

they have good laughs, i mean, its what hating the exact same kinds of people does to a relationship

Overall good partners in crime with a strangely fraternal bond

[tearsofgrace]

Don’t Forget Me, I Beg

read on archive!

Cas

“Cas?! Thank god, you’re awake. Look, the doctors said you wouldn’t remember anything… but I figured, well, since you’re an angel, ya know?”

Cas blinked and looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He had an IV connected to his arm, and a heart rate monitor taped to his finger. There was a slight stinging on his chest, but besides that he felt fine. Then he froze. What had the man said? Angel?

“Yeah, of course,” he muttered, looking into those earnest green eyes. 

Looking back on it, he would have no idea why he said it. Why he lied. Why he pretended to know what was going on when he knew a total of three things about himself. That his name was Castiel (seriously, what kind of a name was that?), that he was in Longmont, Colorado, and that he was in love with a man named Dean Winchester. 

He had no idea where Longmont was in relation to anything else, and he had no idea where to find this Dean Winchester. But his mind clung to those facts desperately, trying to block out the swirling confusion that threatened to overwhelm him. 

“So, your grace blocked whatever spell that was?” Cas nodded and busied himself counting the freckles on the man’s face. He had a lot of them. 

“You scared us, man. You were out for four days. They said you were in a coma, and you probably wouldn’t wake up. But Sam and I figured that your grace would heal you faster.” 

There was that word again, grace. Every time he heard it something inside him seemed to glow, to buzz with a fiery heat. 

“I’m sure you need your rest. I’ll go find Sam. He was finishing up the hunt.” The man looked him up and down one more time then walked from the room. 

A hunt. Okay, so he’d been hurt in a hunting accident. Though that didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel like a hunter. And what was that about a spell anyway? And had the guy seriously called him an angel?

Angel must be a nickname. Or maybe it was his last name. He wasn’t sure if he had one. 

A nurse walked in and smiled warmly at him. 

“Mr. Dougherty said you remember. That’s really good news, Simon. We should be able to get you out of here in just a few days.”

“My name is Castiel,” he said automatically, squinting at her. 

She nodded with a smile and glanced pointedly at the IV drip connected to his arm. Great. So she thought he was delusional. 

Which really, might be better for him. He had no idea why he’d pretended to remember--what had she said?--Mr. Dougherty. But now that he had, it seemed he would need to play the part. 

“I need to find Dean Winchester,” Cas said as the nurse turned to leave the room. 

“I’m sorry, but I only know the two men that brought you in.” 

“Did I have a phone?” She shook her head and glanced quickly at her clipboard, clearly anxious to get back to her rounds. 

“What happened? I only remember leaving the house and then it all goes black.” He wasn’t sure if he even had a house. But it seemed like a plausible story, and he needed at least a few answers. 

“You were in a hunting accident. They said you hit your head, but we can’t find any bruises. To tell you the truth, Simon, you have us puzzled. The cuts on your chest… well, it’s not important now. You’re doing okay, and that’s what’s important.” She smiled again, tight and close-lipped, and then hurried from the room. 

Cas ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He needed to find Dean. Dean would help him. He shifted in the bed and lifted the collar of the loose hospital gown. He nearly cried out when his eyes found his chest. 

Pure white light was shining through the deep, blood red cuts. They were meticulous, almost like they were forming some symbol. And they were disappearing. Where the light touched, the skin knit back together and left light pink scar tissue. 

Cas watched mutely, then dropped the hospital gown and leaned back in his bed. His tired eyes found the IV and he shook his head slowly. He wasn’t thinking right, and he didn’t know what he had seen. 

He needed to find Dean. 

Cas ripped the IV roughly from his arm and pulled the heart rate monitor from his finger. Then he stumbled to his feet, surprised when he didn’t feel woozy. In his experience (as far as he knew it to be), coma patients generally were very disoriented when they woke up. And he’d only been awake for an hour and thirty-six minutes. Cas frowned at the number--it was oddly specific--but shrugged it off and walked to the cabinet in the corner of the room. 

He found a trenchcoat and a wrinkled suit and started dressing under his gown. 

Then he slid the thin fabric over his head and looked at his chest. The barest outline of a scar remained, and he closed his eyes, determined to ignore it. It must have been an old scar anyway. An old scar he was turning into something more than it needed to be. 

His fingers struggled on the buttons of his shirt, and he guessed he didn’t get dressed in a suit often. After he’d shrugged the trenchcoat over his shoulders, he turned to the window. His reflection was faintly visible, and he looked right. He felt like himself again, whoever that was. 

With detached interest, he noted that his hair was black and his eyes were blue. Not what he would have guessed, but that didn’t matter. He smoothed his hair carefully, trying to stop it from sticking up at odd angles, but it didn’t work so he gave up. Something in his pocket hit against his hip and he pulled out an old flip phone. 

He quickly flipped it open and opened the contacts. There were only six. Sam, Bobby, Rowena, 666 (that had to be a joke), Jack and Dean. His breath quickened as he clicked on the name, finger hovering over the call button. 

But he didn’t click it. When he’d woken up, he told himself he knew three things about his life. That had been a lie. He remembered four. His name was Castiel, he was in Longmont, Colorado, he loved Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester did not love him back. 

So he didn’t call, but he figured a text wouldn’t hurt. His fingers felt unpracticed on the keys, but he managed to type, Where should I meet you? 

He frowned at the message. It didn’t make sense, really. Not if Dean had no idea where he was. Then he clicked send anyway. 

For a minute, he stood staring at the dirty window with his reflection faintly visible on the dirty glass. Then he walked from the room, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention before leaving the hospital. He pulled his phone from his pocket again and clicked on the notification.

We’ll pick you up at the hospital. Sam killed the witch, so we’re leaving town. 

Witch. Alright. That was normal. 

Dean

“He remembers, Sam.” His brother stood and shrugged, gathering the last of their things from the room. 

“Really? Because that witch seemed pretty sure he didn’t. She cast a spell designed for angels, Dean.” Dean frowned and threw the room key on the table, leading the way to the car. 

“That’s weird. I thought she didn’t know what Cas was. And it’s the same spell she cast on all the other vics, right? They were all human.”

“Right, they were. But she got wind we were in town and used a different one that would work on him. She told me herself, right before I killed her.” Dean rolled his eyes and got in the car. 

“So you believe her? You were about to kill her, Sammy. She was just trying to freak you out.”

Sam snorted but stayed silent. 

They got to the hospital a few minutes later, and Cas was standing outside, back in his trenchcoat and suit. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little. The angel looked so lost. The nurses had probably given him a bitch of a time.

When the car pulled up to the curb, the angel stood there, just looking at the street. Dean sighed and rolled down his window. 

“Hey, Cas. We kinda need to roll, what’s the hold up?” 

“Dougherty?” His voice was a little higher than normal, more like Jimmy Novak’s had been. Dean frowned but raised his eyebrows.

“Dude, that’s the name on the insurance. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I have to wait for-- I can’t go with you.” His stomach was starting to sink and he took a deep breath.

“See, Dean? I told you.” He was tempted to tell Sam to shut up, but Cas spoke first. 

“Dean? Wait, Dean Winchester?” 

“Yeah, that’s me. You really don’t remember anything, huh?” Cas was staring at him like he was back from the dead. Well, back from the dead again. 

“If you remember me, or at least my name, get in the car. We’re here to help, okay? I promise.” The angel gulped, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. Then he nodded and got in the backseat. 

Dean drove away from the hospital with the pedal almost flat against the floor, hands gripping the wheel. Cas didn’t remember anything. Didn’t even know who he was. 

“Call her.” 

“Calm down, Dean. I’m working on it.” Sam dialed slowly and raised the phone to his ear, holding up a finger for silence. 

“Hey, Rowena… yeah, I know we’re sorry about that… listen, we need your help.” Dean glanced at him, ignoring the road.

“Put her on speaker.” Sam rolled his eyes but lowered the phone. 

“Rowena, you have to help us fix Cas.”

“Dean, always with the pleasantries. I wish I could say it’s good to hear your voice.” 

“Cut the crap, Rowena.” Her sigh blew through the speakers, and her accent managed to seep into it.

“Fine. What seems to be the trouble with the angel?” Cas perked up in the back seat and leaned forward. 

“A witch. Some sort of memory spell.”

“That worked on an angel?” She sounded mildly impressed. If she’d been in the car, Dean might have strangled her. 

“I’ll come to you, boys. I know of two spells that could do this, and the cure is very different for the both. Although, I must admit I hope it’s the second of the two.” Dean pulled the phone from Sam’s hand and held it to his mouth. 

“Why? What’s the second?”

“Now now, Dean. We mustn’t spoil the surprise. Now where are you?” Dean opened his mouth to spit something back at her but Sam grabbed the phone. 

“Mead, Colorado.” 

“I’ll be there in two hours. Bye, boys.” Sam hung up before Dean could take the phone again and Dean rolled his eyes, slamming a palm into the wheel. 

“I’m… an angel?” Cas’ voice had started to drop in register, and he was sounding more like himself. 

“Yeah. One of God’s finest. Well, not really. But you’re one of the not-dick angels, so that’s good.” When Cas didn’t answer he looked in the rearview mirror. The angel was staring out the window with a thoughtful look on his face. 

They pulled into the nearest motel and waited in tense silence for Rowena to get there. Dean didn’t really see a point in trying to explain to Cas who he was. He meant too much. To him, to the world. 

Everytime he looked at the angel, he found him staring. He would look away as soon as he saw Dean’s eyes on him, but by the fourth time Dean stopped trying to convince himself he was imagining things. 

He couldn’t place the emotion on Cas’ face, but it was far different than how he looked at Sam. And it hadn’t been Sam’s name he knew. 

Dean was almost glad when Rowena knocked on the door. 

“Hello, boys.” The minute the words left her mouth, he decided he wasn’t glad. She was a pain in the ass. 

When Dean didn’t reply, she sighed and walked over to Cas.

“I drop everything for you bloody Winchesters and when I get here, I’m greeted with cold silence. Are you sure Cassie wants his memories back?” Sam stood up and took her bag, setting it on the bed.

“Thanks for coming, Rowena.” She sighed again, more dramatically if that was possible, and put a hand on Cas’ head. 

Her laughter rang through the room and she took her hand back, folding over. 

“What?” Dean growled. 

“It’s a very interesting spell, one I’ve only used once myself. It’s designed for fallen angels. Well, angel’s who’ve fallen.” Dean squinted at her and instinctively reached a hand to the gun in his waistband, so she hurried to go on. 

“Fallen in love, that is. It leaves the angel with the memory of the name of the one they’ve fallen for, and a few other details. The best part,” she laughed again and then went on, wiping her eyes, “Is that it can only be undone by a kiss from that person.” 

“A fucking true love’s kiss. Are you fucking kidding me?” She raised her eyebrows but laughed again. 

“Well, this shouldn’t be too hard for you, boys. I would be on my way, but I’m afraid I’ll have to stay for this.” 

“Whatever, we’ll just find the girl and get her here,” Dean said, the blood in his veins running cold. Cas was in love with someone. That didn’t bother him at all. 

He could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he tried desperately to calm down. Rowena was laughing again. 

“Oh, you poor, sweet thing.” She turned to Cas, who was watching the whole exchange with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay, Castiel. You can say who it is. He won’t be mad I promise.” She said it softly, especially for a witch, but Cas still stared back at her with wide eyes before dropping his gaze. Dean looked over at Sam, his heart pounding. His brother seemed to be hiding a smile, and not very successfully. 

Then he looked back to Cas. The angel’s eyes were fixed on the floor and his ears were tinted pink. Dean could see his shoulders rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths, like he was trying to calm down. 

“It won’t matter,” the angel finally said. 

“Cas, he feels the same,” Sam said, crossing the room to stand next to Rowena. 

“What the hell is going on?” Dean glanced between the two of them, trying to read their faces. Besides laughter, he found nothing.

“I know he doesn’t. I can’t remember why I know. Or anything else about who I am. I know that though.” Sam nodded slowly and looked at Rowena, who was staring at Cas with an incredulous smirk.

“Okay, this has been fun, but I really need to get going. I left a very… interesting party for this. Cas, say the name. You want to remember who you are, don’t you?” He nodded and looked up, finally meeting Dean’s eyes.

“I’m in love with Dean Winchester.” Dean froze. At least his face wasn’t bright red anymore. It was now white as a sheet. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and looked at Sam and Rowena. They weren’t laughing anymore. 

Then he walked to Cas and cupped his face gently, pulling him up so they were chest to chest.

He looked scared, but Dean didn’t blame him. He had no idea who he was, just one name and the knowledge that he wasn’t loved back. At least Dean could do something about it. He ran a thumb over the angel’s cheek down to his lip, grazing it softly. 

Then he gently threaded his hand into the angel’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips met gently, barely touching, and then he pulled back. 

The angel’s eyes glowed white, and then widened. 

“Dean?”

“Hey, Cas.”

“You didn’t have to--” Dean pulled his hand from his hair and set it gently on the angel’s waist, pressing their bodies together. Sam cleared his throat and Dean raised his middle finger, smiling as he pressed his forehead into Cas’. Sam sighed (Dean could almost hear the eye roll) and quickly left the room, followed closely by Rowena. 

“I love you too, Cas.” The angel smiled softly and leaned in for another kiss. 

[tonystarktogo]

(this could’ve been) a villain’s origin story 

part IV

For @shitistanstank who wanted to see Bucky’s reaction and @everything-is-applepie who asked for more [Warning: Bucky is an unrepenant killer and his mindset is dark(er) than Tony’s parts were]:

James hates mentals. Doesn’t matter if they can read your thoughts, break out illusions that have you question everything you believe, make you forget everything you are, everything you used to be or if their powers are even more insidious -- every single one of them is a manipulative fucker with a god-complex. 

Usually, James doesn’t generalise like that -- it leads to assumptions and assumptions lead to stupid mistakes that get you dead -- but in this case he’ll make an exception. It’s widely known that, as fussy as the Winter Soldier can be about his jobs, he always takes contracts involving mentals. Doesn’t matter how old they are, what gender, how powerful, what specific abilities.

Mentals are weapons in a way that physicals aren’t, can’t ever hope to be -- and it doesn’t matter what their intentions are, what fucking alignment they hold -- like alignment isn’t just a skewed personality test gone wrong -- or what laws they follow.

[Every supe uses their power. You can’t not. You can’t be less than you are, even if some like to pretend otherwise. Like to play at being human, idealising what they’ve lost and will never achieve again.

Even when you don’t want to, even when you train yourself mercilessly, grit your teeth against it-- a supe’s first instinct is to use their abilities to the fullest. To survive. To live. To make life more comfortable.

There’s better men than James out there who like to offer long lists of requirements, of all the people they refuse to kill. As though not killing children, women, supes, humans, whatever the fuck their line in the sand is, somehow absolves them from the fact that they kill others for money, power or pride. As though having rules -- morals, as they like to sneer pretentiously -- makes them better, when all they do is choose and find one life more worthy than another.

James doesn’t have a list. He takes a contract or he doesn’t, depending on whether he trusts the contractor to pay up and not stab him in the back while he’s at it.

Have you ever seen a five-year old in a temper-tantrum that can bend the minds of those around them to their will? Have you ever considered what a toddler with the ability to erase memories is, what they become? Do you really think it was morals that kept anyone under fourteen from being chosen?

Rules, after all, are rarely implemented before they’ve proven to be necessary.]

The problem with having a reputation for killing mentals is that mentals don’t take kindly to being killed. And it’s hard to be prepared for a threat you don’t know exists until it reveals itself and tries to twist your mind into hushquietobeybenothing.

Granted, that doesn’t stop most of the stupid ones who track him down from monologuing about their righteous revenge before they get on with it. So convinced that just because James didn’t see them coming means he won’t kill them anyway.

Arrogant fuckers, all of them.

He’ll make them regret that before he’s done.

At least the last set of attackers wasn’t stupid. Makes it more of a pain, but ultimately a more satisfying fight. And fuck, if he hadn’t been blind-sided by the witch, James would’ve gotten away clean. But Scarlet Witch [And what kind of bullshit name is that when everyone knows her powers are anything but magical?] has been a persistent pain in his ass for a while now.

She’s smart and powerful and embodies everything James despises in a mental. The only reason they haven’t gone to war so far is because Scarlet Witch couldn’t care less about mentals as a whole. The only thing she values is her brother -- and the guy is a physical. A physical James wouldn’t try to land a hit on unless he was 100 percent sure he could take out the witch as well.

And Quicksilvers is a hard man to hit.

They don’t have an understanding of any sort because James doesn’t do understandings with mentals. But The Captain does, which puts Scarlet Witch and James into an awkward position as far as battles go. That’s the only reason James assumes their last showdown was an accident -- and, also, presumably the only reason he wakes up at all.

James doesn’t wake up slowly. Hasn’t since they shoved the pills down his throat for the first time, back before they realized that injections were that much more effective.

[The doctors never did figure out why James activated at all from such a low dosis, why he survived at all when the pills turned out to be useless with the sole exception of him. Granted, James killed them roughly forty hours after the first test, which might have played a hand in that.]

He comes to from one moment to the next -- finally, finally free of the black nothingness the witch trapped him in [nothing like what she can do, or so the rumors go, but that doesn’t make him itch to see her brain splattered over a sidewalk any less] -- and is immediately aware of his body, his surroundings, himself.

He’s in an unfamiliar place. He’s half-naked. He’s in a negligible amount of pain. He’s unrestrained. He’s not alone.

James is up and moving before the observation fully sinks in. It doesn’t have to. He already has all the data. [Has pinpointed the steady breathing and puttering motions of one person, placed him to his left, four steps, notices his odd surroundings even as he moves. There’s a wrench in easy reach that James aimes before he even sees the person -- man, young, brown hair, a head smaller than him -- and throws before he’s finished taking stock of his surroundings.

It’s more reflex than cold-blooded murder, really, not there’s much of a difference between the two where it concerns James.

The man ducks, proving that he’s not quite as idiotic as James initially assumed for keeping him unrestrained in his direct vicinity. That or he has good instincts.

He’s not a mental though, James can tell. He can always tell. His killing intent goes down a solid 60 percent with that realisation, though that still leaves him with plenty to work with should his potential client [James has lived through weirder recruitment strategies, though not all those potential bosses have] and potential victim prove troublesome.

It’s not that James wants to kill every human he meets. It’s just that he prefers to plan for the eventuality of needing to kill them and how to accomplish it efficiently, rather than be caught off-guard when the inevitable happens.

[There’s something that never made it into any of the papers and articles about supes and it’s this: A supe’s life is insane. There’s no logic, no rationality, no clear reason why you can’t go to a public swimming pool without accidentally ending up in a lagoon filled with starving piranhas. The Captain once theorized that supes offend the natural order or balance and this is nature’s way of striking back, of wiping them out. That or their unnaturalness attracts similar insanity.

James thinks that’s bullshit, not that it matters. He still has to live with the painfully ridiculous situations he tends to get himself into, after all.]

As such it really is nothing personal that as soon as James finally gets a clear view on the man -- kid, really, can’t be a day over twenty -- who’s found him, he immediately plans the guy’s death. It’s not like he acts on it right then, James isn’t a total barbarian.

He even gives the kid time to regain his footing and stare at him in shocked surprise, mouth half-way open and holding a bag of marshmallows as though those will somehow soften the next blow.

James is not gonna lie, he totally expects the boy to pull a sonar death ray, explosives or something similar out of some hidden stash and start some tirade about James having killed his parents and how he’s been planning this moment for a long time, or something along those lines.

Not to offer him marshmallows.

James gives the innocuous bag the deeply suspicious look that offer deserves. 

[On an unrelated note, his respect for the boy rises a smidge. James doesn’t know many people with the foresight to keep something ans inconspicious as poisonous marshmallows within easy reach.]

“No.”

“Oh.” The boy looks disappointed.

A scientist eager to see his newest creation in action? James doesn’t frown, but it’s a near thing. He’s not fond of scientists. [They tend to end up dead in his vicinity, but most people do.]

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

James raises his eyebrows, but fairly obvious attempt to drug and or kill him aside, he’s never before wasted a chance to be a little shit and he’s not planning on starting to now. 

“You can.”

The kid blinks. Snorts. “Oh, I like you.”

James smirks. He can’t recall the last time anyone told him they felt that way, but he doesn’t recall very many things beyond how to hunt and make them bleed.

“You’re the exception of the rule then.”

The boy laughs and if James wasn’t what he was, he wouldn’t have heard the bitterness echoing it. If James looks closely, he can even see the fractures in that pretty, wide smile.

“Believe me, Goggle Eye, I’m the exception of every rule.”

[It’s a good hour later, after the kid -- call me Tony -- has recounted where he found James and needled him endlessly -- “Come on, there’s got to be something you need! If not food or clothes, what about information? The adresses of your attackers? Schemantics of the newest SI rifle? Clean papers? Give me something!” -- that it occurs to James. A stray thought that nonetheless leaves an impression: It’s a good thing he’s human.

Because there’s something broken underneath Tony’s easy words and open gestures, something sharp and jagged -- still bleeding -- that was crushed and never healed quite right. Because when it comes down to it, you can forget the pills and the injections and the endless treatments and experiments designed to push for moremoremore. Because all the miracles of modern technology can’t build a monster out of spite and thin air. The drugs only reveal the potential that’s always been there.

And there’s no doubt what Tony would have been, should he have found himself among the test subjects.

His mind is a weapon worth killing for already.]

James leaves Tony’s lair two hours later, armed Quicksilver’s current adress -- one can never have enough leverage --, detailed information on four potential targets and the knowledge that Tony is the kind of competent that is as useful as it is dangerous and has an agenda James doesn’t yet understand. 

He’s not yet sure what to do about the latter.

[panharmonium]

you can be my ride or die: a staggeringly long essay about a deceptively short appearance

(aka, pan’s personal depository of notes about prince william of ealdor.)

now that my fic is long since done and posted, i can finally transfer this monster piece of meta out of my google docs and onto my blog, where it can serve as an unasked-for, absurdly detailed, beginning-to-end analysis of my obscure fave.

(whose line ‘yeah, and i’m prince william, of ealdor’ is still the funniest damn shit i’ve ever heard and also the most shocking burn arthur has ever received; i hope he thinks of it sometimes and remembers that humility is a virtue)

(the BRISTLING DISRESPECT!  the ZERO FUCKS GIVEN!  i love him!  please can someone else talk to arthur like this!  he needs it!)

disclaimer before we begin: i wrote this over a year ago, as a character check for myself during the very early stages of working on my fic.  i kept messily adding bits to it over the course of a couple weeks as i explored what i knew about this character and who i understood him to be, but at the time, i didn’t intend on posting it; it was just prep work for my own story-making.  it’s still essentially just a record of my train of thought as i pieced this character together - i’ve cleaned it up a bit now and added some recent links to make it more coherent, but it was never meant to be a posted essay, just a collection of notes for myself.  

be forewarned, it is more comprehensive than the things i’ve written about this character since, and it goes on for years.  if you are not interested in many, many pages of super heavy in-depth musings about a character who appeared in one episode, now is the time to scroll on by.  i promise i won’t mind in the slightest; i wrote this for my own purposes and don’t really expect people to read it - i’m posting it just to have it archived with the rest of my merlin stuff.

if you are interested in that sort of thing, however - hit the jump, and off we go!

i really love the episode where we meet will, though i’ve started to love it for new reasons since the first time i watched it.

the first time i watched season 1, 'the moment of truth’ was my favorite S1 episode overall, because it was the first time the Fab Four went off on an adventure together, and that was very exciting; and i also loved it because all the character stuff in that episode was so good; and i also loved it because look, all of us are suckers for that classic seven samurai plot, you know - i loved it in TCW, i loved it in the mandalorian, i loved it in merlin.  not gonna get bored of ‘simple farmers defend their homes with pitchforks’ anytime soon.  it is overall just a solid, self-contained plot with clear emotional arcs, and it sticks its landing well.  it’s a simple, strong story.

nowadays, though, i also love it because of will.

i. will whomst?

prince william of ealdor, that’s who!

will straddles a kind of weird place in canon, because he feels like a minor character to the audience but is very much not a minor character for merlin, who has known will much longer than the brief hour we get to spend with him and who has spent his entire life with will as his sole friend.

but, because will only appears once - let’s start with a round-up.  what do we actually know about him?

he’s a peasant farmer from ealdor, like merlin

his father was killed fighting for king cenred (as a foot soldier - these people are not wealthy enough or high-status enough to afford or be accepted into the knighthood)

his mother is either dead or absent

he’s painfully class conscious and doesn’t trust the nobility

he’s a “troublemaker” (the interpretation of which is...well, it’s left to the viewer’s discretion.  fandom seems to jump to ‘fun mischief and pranks,’ though i personally don’t get that vibe from this episode.  “troublemaker” in will’s case seems to mean more “doesn’t know how to keep his head down/can’t go along to get along to save his life.”  it means when he sees something that he thinks is Wrong, he absolutely will not shut up about it even when all his neighbors are sick of him and want him to just let it go.  it means he can’t stop rocking the boat even when rocking the boat makes everybody want to strangle him.)

he supplements his agricultural pursuits with carpentry.  you can see in his house big piles of hewn timber along one wall, as well as a grindstone and a shaving horse, and when he comes out of his house on two separate occasions he’s holding woodworking tools (mallet, chisel, etc)

he knows about merlin’s magic - for how long this has been the case, we’re not told.  it doesn’t feel like a new thing to me, but ultimately that’s guesswork.

he appears to have just one friend

that one friend is merlin

will loves merlin enough to die lying for him

merlin left will behind.

ii. it wasn’t what i wanted

so let’s talk about that.

merlin is asked “why did you leave?” twice in this episode, first by arthur and then by will.  he gives completely contradictory answers to the two of them, and it’s worth remembering, before examining both responses, that one answer is inherently more honest than the other, because merlin is only able to tell the whole truth to one of these people.

so when merlin talks to arthur, it goes like this:

“why did you leave?”

“things just...changed.”

“how?”

*silence*

“come on, stop pretending to be interesting and tell me.”

“i just didn’t fit in anymore.  i wanted to find somewhere I did.”

arthur has to drag this answer out of merlin, and it’s not because merlin doesn’t feel like sharing (i mean, come on, we know merlin; merlin wants to be in everybody’s business and he feeds off human connection like a starving man; he’d be thrilled that arthur was interested in his life) - the problem isn’t that he’s shy; it’s that he’s not exactly telling the truth and he’s trying to figure out how to do it in the least deceptive way possible.

i just didn’t fit in anymore.  i wanted to find somewhere i did.

that’s nice.  

it’s also a lie.  

it’s not a total lie, of course - there’s an element of it that becomes true, after merlin gets to camelot and realizes that working for arthur is “not totally horrible all the time” - that he sort of likes the excitement, and the newness, and being somewhere where nobody knows him and nobody will judge him - but that’s the reason he stays in camelot, not the reason he leaves ealdor.

by contrast, when will asks the question, merlin gives a completely different answer:

“why did you leave?”

“it wasn’t what I wanted.  mother was worried.  when she found out you knew - she was so angry.”

it wasn’t what I wanted.  

can we digest that for a moment?

merlin didn’t want to leave home.  

not that he isn’t enjoying himself in camelot now, of course - which he conveniently doesn’t mention in this conversation, because will is upset with him and merlin feels guilty that he’s been off enjoying his new life while will has been struggling at home alone - but at the point of departure, merlin didn’t want to go.  

his answer to arthur about finding a place where he belonged is certain-point-of-view bunk.  he didn’t just up and decide that he wanted to run off and find a place where he fit in better.  he didn’t leave because he wanted to escape a place he didn’t belong.  he didn’t set off in search of adventure and a new life.  it’s true that he didn’t feel like he fit in in ealdor, but that’s not what sent him packing.  he left because his mother found out that will knew about his magic, and she panicked and sent him away.  

iii. why did you leave

most fannish things i’ve encountered tend to interpret merlin’s departure in a much more generous light than i do, with merlin explaining to will that he’s leaving and will being unhappy about it but eventually understanding and kind of like...giving his blessing before merlin goes.  this is fine, of course, but it did surprise me, when i started dipping my toes into fandom, because i never interpreted events in this episode like that, and i don’t think it’s even a plausible read, not from the conversations we’re actually given.  the antipathy that accompanies merlin’s return doesn’t make sense under those circumstances, and moreover, from the way things actually unfold in this episode, we’re told, in order, the following three things:

1) the fact that will asks “why did you leave” tells us that he and merlin did not discuss it prior to the point of departure.  there’s no other reason for will to ask this question.  everything about will’s tone and body language in this scene indicates that he’s been stewing over this for a long time, that he doesn’t understand, that this is something profoundly difficult for him to address.  and while it might be nicer to think that merlin sat down and discussed things with will before leaving for camelot, that’s not the inference we’re being asked to make here.  

2) there is absolutely no way they wouldn’t have discussed it, if will had known that merlin was going to leave.  like - if your only friend in the world told you they were moving to another country tomorrow, there’s no way “why?” wouldn’t be the first question you asked.  there’s no way you wouldn’t have that discussion, at the most basic level, before separating.  it just wouldn’t happen.

3) so, given that information, the unfortunate, inescapable conclusion is this: will didn’t know merlin was going to leave.  merlin left without telling him.

everyone is free to continue to headcanon this in their own ways, of course.  but this is what we’re actually being told.

iv. we don’t want your kind round here

the fact that merlin vanishes without so much as a word to his best friend goes a long way towards explaining why merlin is so uncomfortable when he first sees will in the street.  

when they first encounter each other, merlin looks so apprehensive and wary, and the writers are playing it like ‘uh-oh, someone saw him use magic and now he’s nervous about it!!!’  but two seconds later, you realize that this can’t possibly be what’s causing merlin’s concern, because it’s made immediately clear that will already knows about merlin’s magic and isn’t going to say anything about it.  

merlin isn’t afraid of being outed, in this scene.  but he might, however, be afraid of the reception he’s going to get, given what we just discussed.

merlin just up and disappeared from home, and not so much as a letter since - we know will’s had a secondhand update, probably from hunith (“how’ve you been?!  i hear you’re skivvying for some prince”) but he very clearly hasn’t had any direct contact with merlin since before merlin left.  

merlin knows this was a big fuck-up.  he feels guilty.

(and to be clear - i think there is a lot to be said about just how merlin’s departure unfolded, and what stopped him from getting in touch.  it’s a complicated enough topic for its own piece, and it’s not quite within the scope of this essay, but suffice it to say for now that i don’t believe it stemmed from deliberate thoughtlessness or callousness on merlin’s part; it’s...deeper and more complicated than that.  honestly, i think merlin looks back on this as like...the first major mistake he ever made in his life, his...original sin, sort of.  and i don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself for it, either, but again, that’s a story for another day.)  the point here is that merlin didn’t necessarily want to cause harm, but he knew that’s what he was doing regardless - he knew that leaving without a word was the wrong thing to do.  and in this moment he feels rightfully guilty about all of it, and he’s afraid that his friend won’t welcome him home.

merlin’s moment of uncertainty is real, when will pretends to greet him with hostility.  merlin is afraid that will is angry with him for leaving him behind.

(and let’s not kid ourselves, will definitely is)

it’s a festering thing that keeps boiling to the surface as we progress through the episode.  it shows in the way will finally asks why did you leave, avoiding merlin’s eyes, the question laden with vulnerability.  it’s in the exchange “are you going to abandon them?”/“what, like you did?”  there’s real pain there, and confusion, lots of hurt feelings.

but.

despite all of that, will doesn’t freeze merlin out, when merlin comes riding back into town.  merlin is rightfully afraid that will might not want to see him, afraid that “we don’t want your kind round here” might be less of a joke than it ought to be.  and while all of the troubles that merlin is worried about are absolutely real and poised to cause friction later, the truth is that at that exact moment, when merlin comes walking up the road - none of it matters.  will has been nursing a collection of hurt feelings for months now, yeah, but in the immediate moment, when it comes down to it - he puts them aside.

they both do.  nerves, guilty thoughts, bruised feelings - they temporarily abandon all of that in favor of a momentary joy.  you can see how excited they are when they reunite.  how they start smiling at the same time.  how they laugh their way into that hug.  they’re so happy to see each other.

people get pretty worked up about ***That Time Arthur Finally Hugged Merlin!!!***, but i don’t know.  i think it matters to remember that merlin had people who knew how to hold him long before arthur was even a flicker of a shadow in merlin’s mind.

v. why are you being like this

so they reunite!

and then they fight. D:

but what really matters is how they fight, because even when they’re having an argument, they never let things escalate quite to the level of interpersonal nastiness, certainly never to the level of cruelty for cruelty’s sake - just a few hard truths and a pile of hurt feelings:

“i trust arthur with my life.”

“is that so?  so he knows your secret, then?”

...

“face it, merlin, you’re living a lie, just like you were here.  you’re arthur’s servant, nothing more.  otherwise you’d tell him the truth.”

the delivery in this scene is essential for understanding how these two interact with each other.  it’s so telling.  merlin and will are having an argument, and will is angry about everything we’ve already discussed, and on top of that, some prince is trying to round up a bunch of will’s neighbors for a fight that’s going to get a lot of people killed, and will sounds so sharp when he’s talking, up to and including the challenging “is that so?”  

but then when he sees that he’s touched a nerve there and merlin knows he’s right, his voice drops those edges and goes gentler, regretful, like - he and merlin aren’t all hunky-dory right now, but he’s not out to rub merlin’s face in it, either.  he’s not trying to “get back” at merlin for leaving him.  he’s not like...happy that merlin’s situation is shitty.  

vi.  if i broke it (would you quit?)

we mostly only see these two in a tense season.  they’re arguing with each other for almost the entire episode, and yet even in this at-odds state, there are little things that remind us of what they’re usually like - that they don’t want to be arguing, that this isn’t a natural at-rest state for them, that this isn’t what they’re used to.  they butt heads, but they keep swinging around back to each other, and trying again, and trying again, and trying again.  they never write each other off.  they keep trying to make it work.  

examples: merlin asking “why are you being like this?,” the implication being that will isn’t usually like this, that this isn’t how they usually act around each other.  the two of them together in the background of arthur’s pitiful training session, coming right off the tail-end of another argument and busying themselves with their own work, but still reflexively hanging in each other’s orbit.  merlin, even in the middle of a strained conversation, helping clean up the mess that the bandits made of will’s house, without asking or being asked, like it’s just the automatic, reflexive, natural thing to do.  merlin using will’s proper name when discussing him with other people, but always the diminutive when they’re talking to each other.  merlin following will every time will walks away; will doing the same when merlin’s the one who’s leaving.  that moment up in the hedgerow, with will’s embittered “you know why,” which sets them to arguing again, except instead of it pushing them apart, it pulls them closer together - will climbs right up into the hedge where merlin is standing so they can sit next to each other and talk.

like.  he’s angry!  but the instinct isn’t to storm away, it’s to get closer.

i love that so much.  i love how they’re starting to have another argument and merlin stands there and says “why are you being like this,” to which will, already upset, responds “you know why,” BUT -

but

will stalks up into that hedge and plops himself down right next to merlin, and merlin, without a moment’s hesitation, sits down beside him.

i love that.  they’re angry with each other, but their first instinct is still to close the distance.

i wonder, sometimes, how much of that is a function of them only having each other.  when you’re on the outs with someone, usually you can lean on your other friends, but what can they do?  it’s different when the person you usually seek out for comfort is the same person who’s pissing you off.  you don’t have anyone else to run to, so you can’t ever really storm off.  you have to learn how to hash things out.  you have to learn how to make it work.  you have to learn not to give up on each other.  

vii. she was so angry

the implied backstory for how merlin actually ended up in camelot is so painfully fascinating and, quite frankly, wrenching to think about, given how this episode eventually ends.

when will asks merlin why he left, merlin tells him, “it wasn’t what i wanted.  my mother was worried.  when she found out you knew - she was so angry.”  this is telling us that merlin’s departure for camelot was directly preceded by his mother discovering that will knew about merlin’s magic.  that is what ultimately prompted her to send merlin off to camelot.  of course there would have been other contributing factors - it’s evident that merlin’s situation in ealdor has always been precarious - but her immediate reason for sending him away was the fact that she found out that will knew about merlin’s magic, and she was angry and afraid to learn that merlin had been lying to her about something that put him at risk.

“i wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“i know you wouldn’t.”

but merlin’s mother didn’t believe that, or she wouldn’t listen to him when he tried to tell her, and she shipped him off to camelot anyway, despite the fact that camelot is arguably more dangerous for merlin than ealdor ever was.

the web of how this played out is such a tangled mess.  is it my fault, thinks will, before the episode even starts, desperately trying to figure out why merlin would abandon him like that.  it’s my fault, thinks merlin, at the end, knowing that if he had used his magic sooner, or come back alone, events would have unfolded differently.  it’s my fault, thinks hunith, realizing that the particular fear upon which she based merlin’s entire departure was utterly unfounded.

merlin doesn’t blame her for it, even though he has reason enough to be angry about it, by the end of this episode.  he understands that she was just trying to protect him.  but the truth of the matter is that she did make a mistake.  she was afraid for him, and she saw danger everywhere, and so she made a misjudgment.  

it’s the miniest of mini-arcs, but it’s there.  at the end of this episode, right after will drops the Big Damn Lie, merlin looks desperately around for the only other person in the room who understands, and the camera rests on hunith’s face for one lingering moment, as she realizes what’s happening.  when she’s exiting the house, there’s a shot where she pauses for a minute on her way out the door, staring back at her son's dying friend, who just offered himself up as a willing sacrifice to keep merlin’s secret safe.  

she and merlin are the only people in the room who understand the real import of that moment, the real meaning of that gesture.  they’re the only ones who know what’s happening, what it really means for will to say “i did it.”

hunith knows she misjudged that kid big-time.

viii. you can be my ride or die

so.  will.

why am i even interested in him?  what is it about this character that makes me want to write about him?

number one: i love him because he’s the only person we ever meet who cares exclusively about merlin.  

everyone else merlin has met up until this point is either a) as beholden to camelot and arthur as merlin is himself, or b) aware of merlin’s “destiny,” which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but does change the way people talk to him and treat him.  

it’s not that merlin doesn’t have people who care about him, but those relationships are not the same as the one he has with will.  merlin is obviously #1 in his mom’s life, of course - but, importantly, even hunith’s immediate reaction to merlin’s uncertainty at the end of 1.10 is to tell him that he has to go back to camelot, that arthur needs him, that he’s “the other side of a coin.”  this despite the fact that hunith has known arthur for all of five minutes and that merlin, in the moment where she talks to him, is in a lot of pain, and maybe it isn’t the most appropriate moment say, ‘hey, you absolutely must devote yourself to that guy i literally just watched lecture you about the evils of magic while attending your (supposedly magical) dead best friend’s funeral.’  

and when it comes to merlin’s camelot network, well - he’s #1 in gaius’s life, too, but gaius also is deeply concerned with the greater good, with the future emergence of albion, with what merlin is meant to become and do.  morgana and arthur - well, they don’t know merlin, first of all (really know him, all of him, the important bits) - they definitely like him well enough, and care about him in their way, but ultimately they’re royalty or pseudo-royalty and they have priorities that go beyond merlin, who, at the end of the day, is still a servant.  gwen comes the closest to being on merlin’s level, but she doesn’t know him-know him either, and as time goes on she gets more involved with the Crown, with arthur, and with the responsibilities all of that brings.  even merlin’s later friends all go on to have other missions - they absolutely all love him, but they all become knights, and they are as concerned about the well-being of the realm and the king as merlin is.  even merlin HIMSELF puts arthur’s life ahead of his own - he defines his worth by how well he can protect his prince.  

but will is the only person we ever meet who just cares about merlin - merlin the regular person, not the servant he pretends to be, or the legend he’s supposed to become.  not the fake, non-magical merlin facade (which is what almost everyone else needs merlin to be before they can condescend to be his friend) and not some destiny-laden figure out of prophecy, either.  will doesn’t know anything about destiny or prophecies.  he’s never needed to know about any of that stuff to care.  he’s always liked merlin.  just merlin.  just as he is.  

that matters.  all merlin ever does in this show is deny himself or be denied of the things every regular human being needs to thrive - love, acceptance, truth, safety.  he constantly puts or is forced to put other priorities ahead of his own interests, to a point where now, by season five, he’s spent years defending a regime that oppresses him, protecting kings who would execute him.  

will, in a display of true-to-character contrariness, upsets that entire narrative, because he does not care one whit about any of the things for which merlin is supposed to sacrifice his life.  will gives less than zero (count them: negative zero) fucks about arthur pendragon, and he doesn’t care about camelot, and he wouldn’t know what “albion” meant if he heard the word.  and it is refreshing - a blessed, beautiful, heartbreaking relief - to see one person in the world who only cares about merlin, for whom arthur pendragon, in comparison with merlin, isn’t the slightest bit important.  arthur isn’t even on the map.  he’s a non-entity.  he doesn’t exist.  

it’s a complete inversion of the way things are supposed to go, in this story.  you know how it goes - arthur is the once and future king, and merlin’s job is to usher in his reign.  "maybe that is its purpose,” gaius says, about merlin’s magic being meant to protect arthur, about merlin being born this way for that particular reason.  it’s merlin’s job to save arthur’s life.  it’s merlin’s job to teach arthur to be a better person, at his own expense.  it’s all for arthur.  i give my life for arthur’s.  his life is worth a hundred of mine.  what is the life of a servant compared with that of a prince?

will delivers the biggest fuck-you to that entire framework, because he doesn’t assess merlin’s worth based on what merlin can do for some random prince on the other side of the border.  merlin’s magic wasn’t purposed for anything, as far as will is concerned.  it doesn’t need to justify itself.  it just is.  it’s just who merlin is.  

and who merlin is has always been just fine.

ix. am i the only one wondering who the hell this is

for will, it’s people like arthur who need to justify themselves.  arthur with all of his power, arthur riding into little villages with his sword drawn, arthur and his bossing around and his “now, merlin!” conversation-interrupting.  will makes no allowances for wealth and couldn’t be less interested in royalty - his frame of reference isn’t you’re the once and future king and merlin exists to prop you up; it’s who the hell are you?  what gives you the right to be here?  what did you do to earn what you have?  

will, like gwaine after him, is acutely aware of the injustice of the reigning social system, and he’s not afraid to throw it in arthur’s face.  he knows that people like himself and merlin and all of their neighbors are unjustly disadvantaged from birth until death, and he knows they’re disadvantaged solely because the people at the top of the social chain are greedy lords who sow no seed but reap all the grain, who do no work but enjoy the greatest rewards, who steal from the people with impunity and call it divine entitlement.  will knows that he and merlin and all of their neighbors are considered no better than plow-beasts or war-fodder, and he knows that there is absolutely nothing they can do to stop the nobility from either taxing them into starvation or sending them off to die in a ditch - which makes him impossibly angry, and, unlike everybody else in his village, he’s not shy about saying so.

will is, at this point, literally the first non-villain to look at arthur and not immediately see some messianic pinnacle of human greatness - which is refreshing, to be honest, and fair enough besides!  he’s evaluating arthur from merlin’s side of things, after all, which nobody - including merlin - ever does, and while i love arthur as much as anybody - for the people’s hero that he could be, and for what he is, sometimes, if not frequently enough - the truth is that he’s not good for all of his people, not yet, and he’s not good for merlin, not the way things stand right now.  

will knows that.  he looks at arthur and sees a guy with a lot of power, who also happens to rule over the the least magic-friendly place in the five kingdoms, to whom merlin needs to lie in order to avoid the executioner’s block, and he sees merlin deluding himself into thinking that this supremely unequal, extremely unsafe situation counts as friendship.  

now, is will’s assessment of the situation a snap judgment based on personal encounters with an unjust social system and very limited knowledge of arthur as a person?  yes, definitely.  are there nuances to merlin and arthur’s relationship that he’s missing?  absolutely.

is he wrong?

not really.  and merlin knows it.

x. friends don’t lord it over one another!

i think about that line every damn episode.

over and over again, it comes back to me.  i hear it every time arthur gets On His Shit and invokes power he pretends not to have, every time i see more evidence of how this supposed “friendship” between him and merlin is inherently imbalanced.  it’s my favorite thing will says in all of 1.10, because it is so true and yet, most of the time, so unacknowledged as a dynamic.

we’re meant to love arthur and merlin together, and we do - i do; i do; when i see those moments that approach true mutual respect and care between them i am as swept up by the potential beauty of this friendship as anyone - but i still think about this line all the time.  it’s not right, the power dynamic between the two of them.  it’s not just about servants vs. royalty, though of course that’s a structural part of how it plays out.  it’s about the fact that, in a real friendship, one person can’t just whip out “you ever say anything like that again, and i swear you’ll join her in exile forever” to shut down a conversation and cow you into silence.  one person can’t just throw you in jail to spend a night “cooling off,” and they definitely can’t arrest you whenever someone levels a random accusation at you.  in a real friendship, it’s not one person who has all the power.  

but when it comes to arthur and merlin, that’s exactly what happens.  arthur gets to decide when he and merlin are and aren’t friends.  arthur gets to call merlin in or send him away.  arthur gets to make all the decisions about when to listen, when to ignore, when to trust, when to believe.  merlin can nudge, encourage, suggest, even defy, but ultimately, when you get right down to it, arthur is the king, and merlin is his servant, a dynamic which is compounded by the deadly particulars of merlin’s situation.  the relationship isn’t unequal solely because of a difference in social class, it’s unequal because arthur literally has the power of life and death over merlin.  arthur could (and would, as far as merlin knows) have merlin executed any day of the week, if he found out who merlin really was.  

that’s why when merlin tries to tell will that arthur is his friend, will snaps, “friends don’t lord it over one another!”  it’s not that you can’t care about someone who has more power than you, and it’s not that you can’t have some kind of relationship with them, but it is not real friendship if you think your “friend” will kill you when they find out who you really are.  it is not a real friendship if you have to pretend to be someone you’re not in order to preserve the relationship.  real friends don’t leverage impossible amounts of power to shut you up when you say something they don’t want to hear.  real friends don’t say things like “you’ll be a friend for life if you do [x thing]” to convince you to lie to their dad while they go out with a girl and thus get you clapped in the stocks three times in a row, and then turn around and show their appreciation by letting people raid and ransack your house multiple times, throwing you in jail at least twice, accusing (and once nearly executing!) your loyal long-serving mentor more than once - among innumerable other issues.  real friends aren’t “you’re my friend when i need you to be, but not when it’s inconvenient.”  they don’t have the kind of power to turn things on and off whenever they want.

i love that will is the only person who ever acknowledges this, across five seasons of this show.  i love that he spits it out immediately, without hesitation, the minute merlin tries to makes things sound better than they are.  i love that he says it unapologetically, to merlin’s face, because he says it for merlin’s sake, after all - the point of saying ‘friends don’t lord it over one another’ is to say ‘that guy doesn’t appreciate you the way you appreciate him/this isn’t reciprocal and he’s taking advantage of you/this isn’t the friendship you want it to be and i don’t like seeing you settle for this.’  will is that friend who watches you interact with someone and then later gets in your business like ‘EXCUSE ME!  I DO NOT LIKE HOW HE TALKS TO YOU!  I DON’T LIKE HOW HE TREATS YOU!'

will knows that merlin deserves better than arthur pendragon, even when merlin himself won’t concede that point.  merlin won’t advocate for himself, so will tries to do it for him.  merlin can try to convince himself that arthur is a real friend all he wants, but will knows what’s up.  he knows.  he knows where this is going, if merlin’s relationship with arthur is allowed to continue on exactly as-is.  will knows, from the very beginning, that this is a recipe for disaster.  

[addendum 2020: speaking from a post season-5 perspective...will understood where merlin and arthur were headed long before even we the audience did.]

xi. friends don’t lord it over one another [reprise]

you know what real friends do do for each other, though?

a) listen - even when they don’t like what the other person is saying

b) care - even when they’re angry

that’s it.  that’s what matters.  

we don’t need more than an hour of watching will and merlin onscreen together to see that this is how they interact with each other.  they’re arguing for most of this episode, and they’re both right, in different ways, but by the time they’ve had it out with one another, they both understand where their own arguments were wrong, too.  they listen to each other despite the fact that they’re angry, and despite the fact that they both have very strong feelings about their respective positions.  they care enough about each other to look past their personal injuries and accept where the other person is coming from.

merlin starts off this episode absolutely dead-set against using his magic to help ealdor, if there’s any chance arthur could find out about it.  but later, before he and will have even officially reconciled onscreen, we can already see that he’s been listening to what will’s been saying, that he’s come around to will’s way of thinking, because he tells his mother “if it comes down to a choice between revealing who i truly am and saving lives - that’s no choice at all,” hearkening back to will’s “are you telling me you’d rather keep your magic a secret for arthur’s sake than use it to protect your friends and family?”  and: “if arthur doesn’t accept me for who i am...well...then he’s not the friend i hoped he was” (you’re arthur’s servant, nothing more.  otherwise you’d tell him the truth.)  

merlin has been listening the whole time, even if he didn’t like what will was saying.

and the same goes for will, too.  he’s (understandably!) bitter about merlin’s situation, about the way merlin left, about the new life merlin built for himself while will was suffering in a confused limbo of abandonment at home - and will also obviously thinks the Farmers’ Resistance is a total disaster, a noble-spun farce that’s going to get good people killed - but even though he doesn’t trust the camelot contingent and couldn’t give fewer shits about prince arthur pendragon specifically, he trusts merlin.  he listens to merlin, even though they’ve been fighting.  he comes back because merlin keeps telling him it’s the right thing to do.

they both listen, even when it seems like they’re just arguing with each other.  and they both acknowledge where the other person was right, even when it means making themselves vulnerable.  will comes back to help his neighbors fight a battle against hopeless odds.  merlin exposes his magic to save people’s lives.  

they teach each other how to do the right thing.  they make each other brave.

xii. you just saved my life

let’s talk about being brave, then.

this kid jumps in front of a crossbow for a guy he doesn’t even like.

can we be clear about that?  will doesn’t even LIKE arthur.  he doesn’t particularly care about him.  he doesn’t accept him as the noble savior of all mankind.  he isn’t interested in defending the nobility, and he certainly hasn’t jumped on the camelot bandwagon.  just because he’s seen that arthur wasn’t planning on sending them all to their deaths without risking his own neck doesn’t mean will is suddenly going to start flying the pendragon crest from atop his house.

but he isn’t going to step back and let a coward shoot another man in the back, either.

arthur’s still a prince, yeah.  arthur’s still sitting at the tip-top of an unjust social system, benefitting from all kinds of privileges he didn’t earn.  arthur’s still a crappy friend to merlin.  heck, two seconds before that crossbow gets fired, arthur’s gone full-on inquisition-mode, interrogating merlin about sorcery, which, given that arthur can just go ahead and have merlin executed with a snap of his fingers, isn’t a great way to earn will’s respect or trust.  

but you know what?  when it comes down to it, will’s automatic, reflexive reaction upon seeing someone in immediate danger is to Get In The Way.  

it doesn’t matter that will doesn’t like arthur.  it doesn’t even matter that he actively dislikes arthur.  will doesn’t even think about it, he just moves.  instinctively.  automatically.  he isn’t going to let anyone standing right in front of him get murdered with their back turned, no matter how much he can’t stand them.  

let’s all take a second to remember and acknowledge something in arthur’s stead, since i’m not sure arthur will do it himself - arthur pendragon would have been dead right there if it weren’t for a dirt-poor peasant farmer from cenred’s kingdom who never had anything nice to say to a prince but still stepped between a pendragon and a crossbow in the name of doing the right thing.  without will, the story would have ended in season 1, episode 10.  albion itself owes its future existence to a young man with no surname who will never be acknowledged or recognized for anything he did, not for teaching the future king a lesson in humility, not for saving the prince’s life, and certainly not for the greatest and most noble move he ever made, because that gesture’s success is predicated upon its remaining a secret.  

this kid saves the entire World That Will Be.  the show would have ended before it ever really began, if not for our man prince william of ealdor.  

merlin knows that, and merlin never forgets it.  but i’m not so sure about everyone else.

xiii. yeah, don’t know what i was thinking

let’s talk about defiance.

this kid is dying, and he’s still full of piss and vinegar.  when arthur says, wide-eyed, “you’re a sorcerer,” will responds, “yeah.  what are you going to do, kill me?”  

what a power move.  what a thing to say.  

that’s not a question.  that is a no-fucks-given, shame-and-blame challenge.  

what are you going to do, kill me?  

merlin uses those exact same words during his confrontation with morgana in 3.02.  when he’s trapped - when he’s cornered and betrayed and angry - he reaches for the kind of defiance he once saw exercised on his own behalf, for a shameless bravery that burned itself into his brain.  for the kind of strength he wants to channel himself.

when it comes to holding your ground in front of the pendragon dynasty, merlin learned from the best.

xiv. and i’m prince william, of ealdor

let’s talk about names.

william: from wil (will or determination) and helm (protection, a helm)

hence the common translation of resolute protector.

which, given the events of 1.10, seems very fitting.

xv. i did it

let’s talk about lies.

because resolute protector rings even more powerfully true when it comes to merlin than it does for arthur.

at the time of this writing, i have four more episodes to watch before i’m done with season 5.  at this point, at the end of the show, merlin’s magic is still a secret.  merlin’s gotten involved in a lot of dangerous situations, risking his life in other ways, but the one danger he’s never had to really confront is the executioner’s block, because none of the pendragons know his secret.

and the reason none of the pendragons know his secret is thanks to our boy prince william of ealdor, who turns his own untimely death into a last-second rescue operation by telling the Biggest Damn Lie of his life and then doubling down on it when merlin tries to tell him no.

will is the one who secures merlin’s next five years of relative safety.  not from all of life’s dangers, of course; no one can do that - but when it comes to merlin’s greatest fear, the worst outcome, the prospect of being dragged out of his home in chains and murdered in front of an ogling crowd for just existing - will buys merlin’s escape from that fate with his life.  merlin remains hidden and unexposed to this very day because will died protecting his secret, because will lied to the prince of magic-hunting and invited upon himself all of the risk and scorn and danger and condemnation that a false confession like that entailed.

i honestly don’t know how to express clearly enough the enormity of that moment.  the momentousness of that gesture.  i called it a bold and tremendous lie in some other post somewhere, and i don’t know how else to capture what it was.  the thought of what it would mean, to be merlin, and to see someone throw themselves on the block for your sake, for your safety and your future and your freedom, when the rest of the world and every message you’ve ever absorbed says you don’t deserve to be safe, you don’t deserve to be free, you don’t deserve to exist.  

it is impossible to overstate how much that matters.  merlin carries that with him for the rest of his life.

xvi: i can’t fight you anymore (it’s you i’m fighting for)

let’s talk about love, okay?

this ep is called the moment of truth, right?  

so here are some truths about will.  in the time that we spend with him, we come to understand that he is the following:

a poor peasant kid with nothing to his name

a kid whose father is dead  

a kid whose mother is either dead or absent

a kid who “people are used to ignoring”

a kid who’s been making his own way through this backbreaking subsistence-farmer’s life with no grown-ups to hold him or help him or listen to him when he comes home at night

a kid who isn’t trusted to protect merlin’s secret, even by merlin’s own mother, whom will has known for his entire life

a kid whose only friend in the world fucked off to the country next door without a hint of warning or any indication that it was something that should matter to either one of them, making will think he misread the only meaningful relationship he’s ever had, because if merlin can just vanish to nowhere and not even bother to send a note, then either merlin wasn’t actually his friend to begin with or merlin was his friend at one time but doesn’t want to be anymore, both of which options are soul-crushing

a closed-off, heavily-armored, hurting kid who’s been unspeakably lonely for the past few months but also angry and ashamed at himself for feeling that way, because how stupid did he have to be, to think that he mattered to someone, that someone would ever want him or love him or need him or miss him, to think that this time would be different, that this time somebody wouldn’t leave him -

and even in this state - even in the midst of all this -

at the moment of truth, he still puts himself on the chopping block.  he still says, “you’ll have to go through me.”

he comes through for merlin.  of course he does.  the irony is bitter and beautiful - hunith sent merlin away precisely because she didn’t trust that merlin would be safe with will knowing about his magic, but in the end it’s will who gives up everything to keep merlin’s secret concealed.

not just to keep it concealed, even - to reverse merlin being outed.  merlin had already been exposed.  the deed was done!  the magic was seen!  it was all over - and then, miraculously, it wasn’t.  what will did was the only way merlin could ever have slipped safely back under the cover of secrecy.

will didn’t have to do that.  he didn’t have to lie about performing magic, and he didn’t have to save arthur, either.  it would have been better for will to let arthur die, in fact, and it would have been better for him to let merlin get caught, too, because ‘maybe then merlin would have to stay here with me’ - but will is so much better than petty revenge.  he’s so much better than anybody ever gives him credit for, merlin excepted.  

the fight will has with merlin doesn’t matter to him, in the end.  it was a complicated situation for both of them; will knows this.  if he weren’t dying now, he and merlin would have talked it out and made up - will knows that, too.  things could have gone a little smoother between them, maybe, and will still thinks going back to camelot is less than what merlin deserves, but it’s what merlin wants, and the mark of truly loving someone is when you want the best for them, even if it means you don’t get what you want for yourself.  so ultimately, when it comes down to it, the truth for will is this: he wants merlin to have a good life.  he wants merlin to be safe.  he wants merlin to be happy.  he wants merlin to be with him, too, but if he can’t have that, it’s no reason to withhold any of the other gifts he can bestow.  if one of those gifts is freedom, if one of those gifts is safety - it’s no choice at all.  

merlin is will’s one good thing.  merlin deserves everything will can give him, as far as will is concerned.

xvii. the only place worth being

this place has been boring without you.

what a thing to tell someone.

what a powerful thing to say to someone whose entire life up to this point has been a litany of ‘there’s something wrong with you,’ ‘you don’t belong here,’ ‘you’re cursed/broken/wrong/unnatural.’  what a dauntlessly loving thing to tell someone whose entire life has been the message ‘people like you deserve to die,’ over and over and over again.

what a singularly beautiful thing it is, for someone like merlin to hear ‘you are what makes this place worth living in.’

xviii: the only one worth seeing

likewise it’s good to see you again.

because it’s not just “it’s good to see you again;” it’s an acknowledgement that merlin is the last person will is ever going to see.  

and will is like, okay.

he’d rather be alive, yeah, but if he had choose - it’s good that it’s you.

xix: the only bed worth sleeping in (is the one right next to you)

the most devastating moment in this sequence, for me, is at the very end, when will confesses fear.

it doesn’t happen until everything else has been taken care of.  arthur’s been fooled, merlin’s been safely shuffled back under the cover of secrecy, everybody’s been taken in by the ruse and sent away, none the wiser  - all the necessary and important business has been dealt with.

only at the very, very end does will’s own predicament rear its ugly head.  only after everything else is done does he even allow himself to feel it.  he’s spent the rest of this sequence making jokes and roasting arthur and keeping it all together, but at the last second, when he falters, he comes undone for the only person he trusts, the only person who understands him, the only person in the world who gives a damn about him.  his defenses come down, in that last moment, for merlin - and it could ONLY be for merlin - when will says, “merlin, i’m scared.”

we don’t need anything else, to understand their relationship.  we’ve seen enough of will by now to recognize that he keeps the world at arm’s length, that even his walls have walls, that this is just not the sort of thing he would ever admit to.  confessions of pain?  acknowledging vulnerability?  never.  he’s not that kind of character.  we know he has a big heart - look at what he’s doing - but we also know he’s had a hard life.  he’s wrapped himself in layers upon layers of protection - snark and anger and deflection and sarcasm and still making jokes at the prince’s expense after being shot in the chest - nobody is allowed to see him open and undefended, never.

except merlin.

will is dying.  he is so young.  he has been so alone, for so much of his life, and he’s so young, and he’s dying.  he clutches for this lifeline like it’s the only thing he has, because it is the only thing he has - merlin is his only friend.  merlin is the person will loves best in the whole world.

merlin, i’m scared.

that is so unbelievably vulnerable.  that is so utterly naked.  that is totally defenseless, exposed, belly-up and barethroated under someone else’s burning gaze.

that is absolute trust.  will would never have said that in front of anyone else.  he would never have allowed anyone else to see him like that.

his confession is, like pretty much everything else he ever does, for merlin alone.

xx. your heart is on my sleeve

merlin, will keeps repeating.  merlin.

how much do you have to love someone, to make their name your last words?  how much do you have to care about someone, for that to be the only thing you can think to say, again and again, in your last terrified moments on this earth?

that’s a rhetorical question.  

i know how much.

xxi: i missed you too

i think, sometimes, about will, when i watch the later seasons of merlin, and about how he would feel if he could see what merlin’s life has turned into.

i sometimes wonder how he would feel, if he could see how merlin allows himself to be passed over, disbelieved, disrespected.  if he could see how merlin has started to define his worth in terms of how well he is able to protect Some Dude who doesn’t even know who merlin is, who keeps people like merlin trapped in the shadows of subjugation, hidden citizens in their own kingdom.  if will could see how merlin has laid his entire life down for other people’s enrichment, if he could see how little hope merlin now holds for his own happiness, if he could see the way merlin in S5 has given up on his own liberation -  

i don’t have to guess what will would say about it.  i know how he would feel.  if will could see merlin in season 5, his raging little heart would break.

i wish he were here to tell merlin exactly what he thought about it.  merlin does all this self-sacrificing for the sake of his “destiny”; whereas will would think that any destiny making merlin this miserable was a steaming pile of trash.  will would tell kilgharrah to get lost, and to take his questionable advice with him.  will would tell arthur to fuck off - he’s done it already, in slightly less explicit terms.  

does that mean i truly think merlin is supposed to abandon his mission and ditch camelot and run off to live his own life?  no.  merlin cares too much about making the world a better place to be truly happy with that kind of existence; he wants to change things for the common good; he wants to help the people he cares about.  but merlin, as he tries to fulfill his mission, is desperately missing will’s kind of support in his life.  merlin needs someone who is only here for him.  he needs someone who is going to get up in his face and remind him, “you matter.”  he needs someone to tell him, “you deserve better than this.”  he needs someone who isn’t afraid to tell destiny to fuck off, when telling destiny to fuck off is in merlin’s best interests.

merlin needs someone who is on his side.  

not camelot’s side.  not albion’s side.  not arthur’s side.  

HIS side.  merlin’s side.

xxii: he still is

the thing about will, then, for me, is this: i can’t minimize him.

i can’t do it.  i can’t diminish that part of merlin’s life.  

i don’t think it’s possible to overestimate his importance, frankly.  merlin, when we meet him, has only ever had two people in his life.  that is such an...unfathomable experience, for many of us.  just two people.  just two people to know you.  just two people to love you.  just two people, for your whole life.

will wasn’t just some friend.  will was half of merlin’s world.

fannish pursuits that i have seen...the things where will appears are already so limited, and of course that’s completely understandable - it’s not like he’s a main character, or even a side character, by any means; i totally get that.  but - so much of what i see is him serving solely as a set-up for merlin/arthur, or otherwise being shoved out of the way as soon as arthur shows up on the scene, or showing up only to be a receptacle for discussion about arthur and merlin’s developing relationship - even will and merlin’s own ship tag is 90% merlin/arthur fics.

and there’s nothing wrong with this, ultimately; everybody should continue to write exactly what they want and enjoy exactly what they want; that’s the fun of fandom.  i mention these things here only because for me, personally, the whole point of will’s character is that merlin’s life is bigger than just arthur.  the most important relationship merlin had for most of his life had zip-zero-nothing to do with arthur pendragon, and it still has zip-zero-nothing to do with arthur pendragon, after will is dead.  

you remember will’s funeral at the end of 1.10?  arthur has an entire conversation (a horrible one, fyi) with merlin, and merlin doesn’t look at him once.  he answers arthur’s questions because he has to, but his eyes never once leave the pyre in front of him - not while he’s listening, not while he’s talking, not once.  not ever.  arthur comes, arthur chastises, and arthur goes, all without being granted so much as a glance, because this isn’t about him.  this is none of his business.

the whole point of will is that it is possible for someone to love merlin and not give a tinker’s cuss about arthur pendragon.  the whole point of will is that having someone love merlin without caring about arthur pendragon is, in fact, a good thing.  merlin needs somebody like that in his life.  he struggles when he doesn’t have someone like this around to advocate for him.  just look at where he is in season 5 - look at what his life has become, when it’s been years since he had an in-the-know friend.

merlin suffers when he loses this kind of support.  it’s easy to say that will is never mentioned again after 1.10, but there are real reasons why merlin wouldn’t be willing to explicitly mention him, and the lack of explicit references doesn’t mean we can’t still see him, if we pay attention.  we see the immediate impact of his death in merlin’s attitude shift in 1.11.  we see him in 2.02, when merlin names his fake tournament knight sir william and spends the rest of the episode roasting arthur to within an inch of his life.  we see him in the season 3 opener, when morgana levels her sword at merlin and the first thing that pops out of merlin’s mouth is “what are you going to do, kill me?”  we see him in gwaine’s intro episode, when merlin immediately cleaves to this class-conscious ‘people get sick of me too quickly’ stranger whose father was killed fighting one of the king’s wars.  and his absence is felt, more generally (as is lancelot’s) in how quickly merlin’s life starts to spiral out of control once the only two honest friends he ever had are gone.  their loss doesn’t have to be explicitly referenced for us to understand that merlin, without that kind of support system, is faltering.  we see it happening with our own eyes.

[edit, post-viewing-of-S5-finale: and we see where it eventually leads, too.]  

so, once again, as i said - i can’t minimize this character.  i can’t overstate the positive impact of merlin having somebody who was here for him and only him, who affirmed merlin’s value independently of arthur pendragon’s fate, who knew and loved merlin without caring about a “destiny” that ultimately, in the end, turned out to be a cruel joke made at merlin’s expense.  

if will had lived, i’m not sure we would have ended up in quite so dark a place.  we might have landed in some other tight spot, sure, but i can tell you one thing for certain - will would not have sat quietly by and allowed merlin to throw his life away, not for camelot, not for arthur, and certainly not for a parade of empty promises.

xxiii: where you are, there i’ll be

the bottom line is this.

merlin spent the first two decades of his life with one friend.

one.  

loved by one friend.  

one.

merlin had his mother, who was there for him from the beginning, whose love was unconditional, who was an “of course.”

and he had will, who chose merlin, who kept choosing merlin even after merlin told him the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Secret.  will’s presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin grows up believing himself to be deserving of love from people who aren’t his own mother.  his presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin knows how to have and be a friend.  his presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin is who he is - a merlin who’d spent his entire life without a single friend would not have been the same confident, optimistic, gregarious person who later walked into camelot and told arthur pendragon, “i’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”

will mattered.  we don’t talk about him much, because he only appeared in one episode, but it wasn’t “one episode” for merlin; it was closer to twenty years of companionship, of elbows in ribcages and smirks exchanged across the room and someone to natter on at, a person to sit next to and walk beside, in every season and all sorts of weather.

will chose merlin, and he kept right on choosing him, until he breathed his very last breath.  that is enough for me to love him, to feel grateful that he existed.  i don’t care how rough he is around the edges.  i don’t care that he hates arthur pendragon’s guts, that he has a big mouth, that he speaks out of turn, that he has no tact, that he can’t suffer fools, that he has a chip on his shoulder the size of a minor planetoid and wings it at people’s heads when the mood is on him.

he loved merlin.  actual, magical merlin; merlin as he truly is, merlin in all his gifted, unnatural, beautiful imperfection.  

that is a desperately rare thing.  that is worth celebrating.

[tiffgeorgina]

What are your headcanons and/or feelings about Blair and Harris?

Ahhh first of all thank you for your patience anon! I’ve had a wild (and unfortunately pretty uninspired) couple of weeks but now i have a ton of ideas so here they are. btw these are super unorganized and non-time-centric and pretty much plotless and random lmao anyways let’s get into it:

-harris is a by-default, die-hard back sleeper. sure, he’ll spoon and cuddle, but he won’t fall asleep like that. he’ll just lie awake all night if he’s anywhere but on his back. blair’s also kinda weirded out by being the little spoon just bc he isn’t used to it. he’s been sleeping next to a woman half a foot shorter than him all his life so it’s basically weird all around. harris will roll over like thirty minutes into the night (when he thinks blair is asleep) and they’ll both get comfortable from there.

-blair’s a really tactile person though and he likes knowing that the person next to him in bed is still there if that makes sense? plus hes always waking up freezing so he likes to be close to harris. one night kinda early in their monogamous-ish relationship he wakes up at like 3 in the morning and decides to just. crawl on top of harris. harris is obvs on his back, and blair just hitches his outside leg over harris’s hips, rests his head on his chest, and sort of lies mostly on his stomach and practically on top of harris. he sleeps like the dead for the rest of the night. 

-harris wakes up and he’s like “well fuck i cant move now” not that he wants to and it’s a saturday morning anyways so he just cards his fingers through blair’s hair and harris thinks he could get used to this

-they both tend to leave their wedding rings on when they’re together because once they both lost them and they only had 15 mins until harris needed to meet corky and it was a huge disaster. blair loves to spin harris’s around his finger since he’s almost always holding his hand in some capacity anyways, and harris loves to just stare at blair’s bc godDAMN if that isn’t the most beautiful piece of jewelry he’s ever seen. first, it symbolizes a pretty excellent arrangement between blair and tiff that makes it possible for harris to even be with him. second, it’s set with the biggest stone he’s ever seen. it’s a 12 carat emerald cut emerald and it’s gorgeous in the light ok im done talking about blair’s wedding ring lmao

-once corky walks in on them in the harris house and they’re obv shaken as hell, but she doesn’t even care. she’s like “oh hey guys” and just walks to the kitchen. obviously they’re like “uh what the hell” so they go ask her what her nonchalance is all about and she’s just like “i know. ive known for months. kissing at the country club? subtle” but she’s obviously just teasing and harris is just like “you aren’t pissed?” and she’s like “should i be?” and blair comes out of his shock for a minute to be like “uh yeah kinda?” and harris just elbows him like “why are you looking a gift horse in the mouth” and she’s like “yeah, i don’t think i really care. huh. i don’t really care” and no offense but it’s kind of the best day of harris’s life

-harris has a lot of traumatic memories from conversion therapy (showtime you’re wild asf for writing this in fuk u) and blair’s really good at calming him down if harris is panicking. blair’s been through his fair share of traumatic shit as we all know and tiff made him start going to a therapist, so he knows a bunch of techniques to prevent/stop panic attacks. harris is actually shocked at how quickly blair can calm him down. he’s curious too as to how he knew how to do that, but he figures it’s a question for another day

-that day comes a couple weeks later when they’re lying in bed, blair in what is now his standard sleeping position: outside leg over harris’s waist and his head on harris’s chest, practically draped over harris. harris can’t sleep, so he’s just staring at blair and running his hands over his back when he notices how rough his skin feels. he can’t really see, but he remembers to check in the morning before blair wakes up, and he notices--really notices for the first time--that his back and arms are littered with scars. he asks him the next day at breakfast, and he’s never seen blair freeze up like that. he explains his whole past with his dad (slowly and not without crying) and above all harris is just really glad that he could help blair and that blair trusts him enough to tell him

-MOMENTARY NSFW: this is kind of already canon from 2x02 but blair likes having his hair pulled ok goodbye

-they seem like the type of couple that would be together for years? like YEARS. they come out in like 2010 and get married in 2011 after having divorced tiff and corky in like the mid-90s no i do not take constructive criticism

-again, they’re in bed, standard sleeping position. harris can generally tell when blair’s fallen asleep; he can feel and see when his breathing evens out. he’s running his hands over blair’s back, just watching him, and he just looks so serene and peaceful that he can’t help but whisper “i love you” for the first time. of course this has to be the ONE time harris misjudges blair’s sleep and blair looks up. thankfully blair smiles, kisses him, and says “i love you too” 

-harris’s gay and out friends hear that harris is going steady with this guy he met, and they’re nothing short of shocked. roger harris? monogamous? that’s absurd. so they meet this guy (blair duh dkjfhglkfdjh), and they’re surprised to actually recognize him from all those tabloids and TV spots and shit. (secretly, they had always had the suspicion that blair was gay, but the confirmation is nice). he’s actually pretty likable, and they’re about to feel bad for him (because they know harris is the human manifestation of the word “infidelity”) until they see how they act together. like, harris seems really genuinely into him. his friends have never seen him like this, all lovestruck and shit. his friends are somehow even more shocked and genuinely cannot believe their eyes. they talk to him about his relationship with blair later and he’s like “what can i say? i genuinely like him. i really, really like him” and they’re shocked speechless

-blair is a TOTAL baby gay and harris thinks it’s equal parts adorable and hilarious. harris didn’t realize blair hadn’t been with other men before he blurted it out at the country club, but it makes so much sense that harris is almost embarrassed he didn’t realize it sooner. harris will use any sort of gay slang and blair will just be utterly lost. blair is always super eager to learn though and harris ofc thinks it's adorable how excited he gets to learn and fit in so he’s happy to indulge him. blair’s kinda like a boomer trying to use gen z slang for a while but he eventually gets the hang of it, and sooner than later blair can take off his wedding ring and pass for an out-and-proud gay man to anybody who looks in his direction 

whew i think that’s all ive got in me for rn. these ended up being super harris-centric but irdc dfjhgdfk. again thank you for your patience and thank you for sending this in anon!! def feel free to ask me anything/demand i write anything about anything black monday lol i hope yall liked these!

[docholligay]

The Bad Ending

Angstober, Day 22! Written for @keyofjetwolf but also HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINAKO. about 1500 words, basically if I had Haruka’s MaS arc end terribly. ‘m not totally satisfied with this, but I tried

“It’s okay, buddy. I’m here. You did good, it’s okay.” 

She shouldn’t have made it to the hospital. She’d been crushed, half-buried under the rubble left in the wake of their terrible victory, and the doctors had, as kindly as possible, told Mina that there was too much damage. They weren’t sure why she was still alive, even now. Her body was failing her, and it was only a matter of time. 

Usagi, Mina, and Pluto. They were the three left standing, without a scratch on them. Mako and Michiru were still deeply unconscious, Ami and Hotaru were dead, and Rei was currently cussing out at least two doctors and a nurse from her hospital bed. It was poetry, wasn’t it, that it was going to be groups of three? Three dead, three damaged, and three just absolutely, perfectly fine, to live their doubtless long lives. 

The fight had been long, and hard, and Mina felt the wave of exhaustion hit her, all their senshi power fallen away to leave them with all the sacrifices they’d made. To figure this world out on their own, and how to be a normal person in it. 

Mina wanted to be left alone, when she was sick, and she assumed when the time came for her to die that she’d more or less crawl under the porch like a cat and let it come to her on her own terms. But Haruka was not that way, at her most honest heart, and craved comfort when she was sick, or hurt. 

“You’re not alone, Ruka,” She squeezed her hand, “I won’t leave you, I promise.” 

She’d discovered this over the course of several months in their little apartment, where she had slowly moved from being a full-time angry asshole to a full and layered person in Mina’s eyes. How she’d softened with the application of warmth like a stick of butter, and how, over the years, she had come to trust enough in the world to extend out her hand, when she needed it. 

The sensation of that memory waved over her, the cheap couch they’d found by the side of the road, Haruka buried in blankets, hot with fever, eyes heavy with sleep. The few days of the flu had taken it out of her, and despite Mina’s forceful application of pedialyte, she was a bit woozy and dehydrated. 

Unfortunately, Haruka being Haruka, this had made her slightly clingy and hysterical, in a way that Mina could simultaneously be flattered by the level of trust it conferred, and annoyed by a woman trying to wash the damn kitchen dishes. 

“You’re okay bud,” The room was soft and warm, and Haruka nodded along with her, willing herself to listen, “You’re totally fine, you’re okay. It’s okay--

The memory split, and there was a grey sky and the pile of blankets were replaced by stones, and Haruka’s eyes grew wide as she began to shake, and all Mina could hear was her saying, over and over again, you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay. 

It was a prayer. It was a lie. 

She shook herself awake, the grey passing into the too-bright white of the hospital room, and she looked down at Haruka, panicked for a moment. She was still there. She was still breathing, however weak and ragged and inconsistent it was. Mina hadn’t left her alone. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, running a hand through Haruka’s hair, a touch of blood at the ends of it, “I’m sorry. You deserve better.” 

It was true. Haruka had fought hard for her world, for her princess, for her senshi family, and the only reward it seemed to bring her was death, a drawn out death in a bright, terrible hospital room, a death without her wife at her side, and all Mina could hope was that she was far gone enough it didn’t hurt much. 

Given Haruka’s general luck in life, it probably did. 

She looked off out the window, where night had fallen, a full night with no stars and no moon to guide, and even the city lights did not seem to penetrate in here, just the sheer black of night, staring at her, grinning, grinning as it began to slither through the windows, whispering. 

She’s ours now she’s ours because you weren’t there because --

“No,” Mina shook her head, “She--” 

The tendrils of night came in and caressed Haruka’s face, Mina swatting at them as they came closer, but they only split, heads of a hydra, and one curled around her ear, hissing quietly. 

You could have kept her at your side you could have run her through you could have done anything but all you did was make it as bad as it could possibly be and you will know this your whole very long life that you did nothing for her at the end--

“STOP!” 

The howl echoed off the sides of the room, and Mina realized she’d been sleeping again, scrambling as she held Haruka’s hand tighter. Still a heartbeat. Still there. 

She had to get coffee. She couldn’t leave the room. She couldn’t find a nurse, she couldn’t flag down anyone to help her. If she could give Haruka anything, at the last, it had to be this, it had to be the gift of having someone at her side at the end of her life. She had spent too much of it alone, too much of it without a kind word, and Mina was going to fix this small sliver of Haruka’s life, this one detail, and if she did that, she could know that she did something to improve this horrible, dark day. 

She should have asked Usagi to be with her. She should have asked Pluto. They could have taken turns, but no, Mina was selfish, and Mina wanted to watch one of her favorite people on this earth die without having to bear Usagi’s grief, or Pluto’s questions. She wanted to bear the quiet misery of watching Haruka fade by herself, and drag that millstone around her own neck whether or not it dragged her to hell, because Haruka would do that same thing for her. 

She pinched the skin of her inner thigh, tight, and almost made herself yelp with the pain of it. It couldn’t be enough. Haruka was struggling, now, and she could only keep going so much longer. Her breaths came in soft gasps, and Mina must have said a hundred things to her, but none of them felt like words, just like smooth stones, blended together at the bottom of the clear, stuttering rapids of Haruka’s breathing. 

Could Haruka even hear her? What could she possibly say that she hadn’t said, over and over again? 

“I promise to take care of Michiru. I promise not to be mad at Usagi. I promise to be okay.” 

It was a prayer. It was a lie. 

Mina wasn’t sure that the hospital windows could open, but she felt the chill of a wind come up behind her, envelop her, chill her to the bone, and she felt that pinch on her leg bruise, grow bigger and bigger until she feel it in her belly, until she could feel it snake up into her chest, the blood vessels bursting into a tie dye across her body. The wind blew the blanket off Haruka’s body, and Mina went to pull it back up, but the blood had hardened, and as much as she tried, she was stiff, laying back in the chair, unable to move as the wind howled and howled and--

“Honey?” a nurse touched her shoulder, shaking it gently. 

Her eyes opened, and she cursed herself again. “Can I have some coffee, right now, please?” 

“Of course,” she rubbed Mina’s shoulder, and all that blood compressed into a heavy ball, and dropped into her stomach, “you can have whatever you--” 

There was a doctor by Haruka’s side, writing something down in a chart, as another nurse unhooked a tube from the IV. 

“No.” Mina leaned forward. “No no no, fuck!” 

She shook Haruka’s hand in hers. Cold. Cold. Cold. 

 “No, I--fuck! Haruka!” She called after her, wherever she had gone, tears beating a path of imminent failure down her cheeks. 

The nurse gently pulled her back by the shoulders, saying something Mina could no longer hear, the silence where Haruka used to be roaring and churning inside of her so loud that the world had fallen away, and there was only that full night, no stars, turning its attention to her, filling her, taking up a residence it would never leave. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

The only sound in return was the high metallic clink of a transformation ring, fallen to the floor.

[annanooo]

whumptober: bound

Bloom (Steve has powers AU for Whumptober 2019) — Harringrove

When Steve finally got to see him, Billy was strapped to the railing on a bed. Half of his body looked bandaged. He was clearly drugged up and there were wires and IVs trailing from him, but he was awake. His eyes slid off Steve and he muttered, “What the fuck?” Everyone else in the room ignored him.

Steve was hooked up to a lie detector. He couldn’t tell what it was actually reading, because his heart was pounding already, but there were bands around his chest and fingers getting some kind of data from him. They had already asked him a few generic questions to watch the machine’s response, but Steve couldn’t stop watching Billy.

“When did you meet him?” clipboard guy, whose last name he learned to be Rines, asked him.

“Um, last year. October. He transferred.”

“Have you been in contact with him over the past week?”

“No.” Steve wasn’t lying, but he glanced at the machine. It didn’t seem to do anything different. Then he looked back at Billy, laid out on the bed, who kept gripping and releasing the straps with gauze-wrapped hands.

“Can you hear his thoughts?”

“No.” Billy squinted at him but it was clear he wasn’t following the conversation, was still trying to work out what Steve was even doing there in the room. Maybe he forgot how he knew Steve entirely. There was something deeply comforting about seeing his face in this setting, despite everything.

“Can you sense anything unusual from him?”

“I don’t know?” Was it a trick question? Yeah, he could sense people’s feelings or thoughts or whatever, he’d figured that out by now. They knew that too, and still they expected him to do more. But if he was getting anything from Billy, it was only confusion — and he felt enough of that on his own. “It’s hard to tell when, like, when there are a lot of people around.”

Rines looked at him keenly. He always seemed to think Steve was trying to play him, or something. But he only sighed and inclined his head to the others in the room. The technicians and the woman standing by Billy’s bed didn’t hesitate, just got up and left at his indication.

“Okay, Steve,” he said, leveling him with a look across the table that was part challenging, part irritated. “Focus.”

On what? Billy’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t totally still, his whole body was wound tight in pain. Steve scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to focus. He strained to listen, even though these feelings he picked up on never came in through his ears — he hadn’t figured out how to concentrate with his powers yet.

He felt — one of Billy’s arms shot up, trying to grab something or push it away in some half-awake nightmare before it was stopped by the strap around his wrist — Steve felt a spike of desperate fear that made him jerk in his seat. Billy was asleep like he was being held down and forced unconscious. He was fighting it.

Rines asked, “What is it?”

“I think it’s a nightmare. He’s afraid.” Steve heard a small sigh from him, and he finally tore his eyes from Billy to look this guy in the eye. “What? What exactly do you want me to say?”

“I want some insight into what the hell is going on with you two,” Rines said almost entirely through his teeth. “Do you sense anything from him that you don’t sense from me?”

“I mean.” He thought of the bone-chilling dreams he saw from Billy, as close as he’d come to reading someone’s mind. “It’s just nightmares, I think.”

“You think.”

“Okay,” Steve said, resting his hands on the table in front of him so he didn’t freak out and tear the sensors off his fingers. He was tired. His stomach felt like the Grand fucking Canyon because, even though they were gracious enough to feed him, he was so goddamn anxious that his gut turned every time he tried to eat. He’d only gotten to shower once since coming here, and he was pretty sure there’d been a camera watching him then, too. Plus, his head had been hurting for days.

Just as he drew in a breath, Rines stood up in front of him. “Don’t worry. It could be that you need training, or it could be that you need the proper motivation. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.” And on that frankly disquieting notion, he started to gather up his notes.

“Training? Motivation?” Steve could barely put into words how frustrated he was, and that was only pissing him off more. “I didn’t ask for this shit—”

“None of us asked for this shit,” Rines said matter-of-factly.

“So quit your fucking job.”

It made the man really look at him. For a second Steve was afraid he was going to do something to him — because at the end of the day, he was a prisoner here, even if everyone around him pretended he wasn’t. As far as he knew, everybody on the outside world already thought he was dead.

But he wasn’t sensing that kind of intention from Rines. He wasn’t able to pinpoint the man’s feelings before he turned, wordless. On his way out, he gestured for the others to get back in the room.

The door shut. Steve went to stand up but immediately dragged wires with him, so he sat back down. It wasn’t like he’d get far doing anything here, anyway. If he wasn’t constantly watched on camera then someone would be there to monitor him within seconds.

But he said Billy’s name, hoping he could at least get something sensible out of the guy even given the state he was in.

Billy groaned, though he’d been doing that intermittently the entire time. He didn’t look any more awake than he had a couple minutes ago. Steve realized that this must be his room. It was pretty much identical to his own down the hall, but with a lot more medical equipment.

He thought to look up over his shoulder and, just like he thought — same camera in the same corner of the ceiling.

Then the technicians came back in and set to work unhooking him from the machine. Billy, though, they left strapped down.

[mossflowermouse]

Second ‘When Christ and His Saints Slept’ reaction post (part one here), covering chapters 11 to 20 aka the bit where I start shipping actual historical figures for the first time ever (other than Wars of the Roses-era people, but that’s different because they were actually married and it wasn’t a ship ship in the same way these are. Anyway.)

Chapters XI and XII:

Annora and Ranulf still love each other :) and they found a loophole so they can get married when Maude's queen! I really should've remembered about that plight-troth. Now a bit worried about all the ways this could go wrong, not least because I'm aware Maude doesn't become queen, but that was really sweet and I'm glad they're happy and things have been resolved (ish)

UGH, GEOFFREY. He's being awful about Maude and Henry's overhearing :(

Between the odd mentions of her here and what little I know about her historically, I'm so excited for when Eleanor of Aquitaine shows up!

Whoops, Chester. Genuine anger and a lack of mercy from Stephen may be a rare thing, but I have a feeling this has crossed the line.

I like it when Maude has interactions with people she likes and trusts - her brothers, Adeliza, and now Brien. It's good.

...okay I might be starting to ship this. 

Oh dear I'm definitely shipping this. It's impossible and a mess and they both (Maude especially) seem like they'd rather be swallowed by the earth than actually admit to feelings, but it's so sweet and they trust each other so much and must have such a long shared history? Help?

And also lbr this is just That One Dynamic that absolutely kills me in every piece of media. The mutual trust, the quiet but unbreakable loyalty, the circumstances making things so difficult for them? This is absolutely my thing.

This might be the first time I've actually shipped people who existed. Like, there were some good moments in TSiS but all with people who were actually couples in real life. But with this, I don't know many of the specifics, I have no idea what happens to Brien and only know slightly more about Maude. This is strange.

AAAAAHH. Maude you can't do this to my heart. You just can't.

Chapter XIII:

I like Robert.

Hmmm. Looking at both sides' chances in this battle, and knowing Stephen gets captured at some point during the Anarchy, I have a feeling I know how this will end.

Why does it feel like the awful déjà vu of this part was intentional. This is making me have Bosworth-related emotions all over again.

Okay, wow, that was all quite a lot to take in. Chester's plan was good, and I'm grateful that he saved Robert; wasn't expecting William of Ypres of all people to flee*; Stephen's determination is also making me remember Bosworth in TSiS; I liked the bit with him and Robert and Ranulf at the end.

Chapters XIV and XV:

Aww, family (Maud and Robert and Ranulf) 

Maude :')

Matilda just found out about Stephen :(

Maude's going to have trouble winning over the people. London's apparently still loyal to Stephen, and their favour was often an advantage in struggles like this war (looking at you, Edward IV)

I'm feeling more sorry for Constance with every scene she's in or mentioned. Things just keep getting worse for her.

William de Ypres just showed up; Matilda is (understandably) furious about the Battle of Lincoln and letting him know it. 

Alliance time! This is one of the things I was vaguely aware of before starting the book, and the anticipation of it has been a lot of fun. Also, I like how honest he’s being here - he made a choice, realised/decided it was the wrong one, and is making no excuses, instead being clear that he wants to try and make things right. The contrast with, say, Bishop Henry’s total lack of self-awareness (or maybe it’s wilful ignorance?) about his moral bankruptcy is wonderful.

Chapters XVI and XVII:

My ship! They're interacting!

HAND. KISSES. My weakness. I know they're the norm and not necessarily romantic at this time but still. 

I am deceased. This ship has killed me and they've only had two direct conversations.

Bishop Henry is possibly about to switch sides. Again. I ought to keep track of who’s betrayed both sides the most times (probably him right now).

It's been four months since Matilda joined forces with William de Ypres to try and save Stephen, I wonder what they've been up to? (They haven’t been mentioned in the novel since then)

Everything about this:

and then THIS:

I love this conversation for so many reasons. Most of which involve Maude and Brien because apparently now I’ve dedicated my life to being emotional about them.

Matilda!!! It’s been too long.

Okay, so based on Northumberland's thoughts:

hmmm, new ship?

they're using nicknames they're being familiar this feels like a Big Deal for people in their position at that time. It’s certainly a level of informality that very few others have in the book so far.

Wait they just mentioned a Thomas Becket. Is he that Thomas Becket? I know his feud was with Henry II, whose reign begins in about fourteen years, so it's possible.

I love every mention of the chronicles. It's really cool having the regular narration of the novel interspersed with little pieces of old accounts.

I also love the little moments like Ypres here and his quiet admiration of/confidence in Matilda.

Chapter XVIII:

Not content to just leave me to deal with my feelings from the last few pages, the chapter opens with this:

Immediately following that last part, we now switch to Matilda’s thoughts about de Ypres? He’s trying to hide his exhaustion and she’s not having it? Literally standing over him to make sure he eats? Fond??? Yup, I'm definitely invested in it now. These relationships will be the death of me.

Stephen listing Ypres as one of the people who he could never expect to help Matilda :')

And he's just found out about their alliance!

The guard saying "No one knows how your lady won him over" before being cut off is just really funny. I'm just picturing all of England in total confusion about how Matilda managed to get this cynical, battle-scarred mercenary's unwavering loyalty after Stephen couldn't manage the same. Just. The entire country, collectively looking at this alliance and going '???'

"I had my own miracle all along. I'd married her!" Stephen you cinnamon roll you're completely right

Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien

:DDDD

...I have become hopelessly obsessed. This book has two ships that are my favourite dynamic. Two. This is turning into Code Geass all over again.

(The dynamic is "mutual trust, admiration and respect; if there are romantic feelings, they might be ambiguous and possibly not acted on for any one of a number of reasons, most of which can be summed up as ‘external circumstances getting in the way’; absolute loyalty through thick and thin; help each other grow and get through difficulty; one or both is probably also a little scarred by the world". Bonus points if they have a long history, or any period of time spent together that’s not fully described in canon and can therefore be speculated about.)

 Chapter XX (and some reflections on XIX):

The thing about recognising Matilda’s habits:

made me think immediately of this post

Hell yeah teaming up to get Chester to leave. 

Ypres just internally being like “oh god I’m actually caring about someone’s emotional wellbeing what is this what do I do”: 

(also “the one man she trusted not to lie to her” is sweet but it’s also kind of upsetting that Matilda’s surrounded by allies and yet knows she can’t fully trust most of them)

my heart???

Some of my favourite ships are the ones where I don’t even know if I see it as platonic or romantic, just that these people have such deep affection and trust for each other and it’s wonderful. This is absolutely one of those ships.

I’ve not written anything about the destruction(s) of Winchester, mainly because this book is once again difficult to put down, but suffice to say that it’s pretty harrowing. Seeing things from the perspectives of Maude and Matilda, who haven’t witnessed this side of the war up close before and are feeling responsible for everything awful that’s happening, as well as Ranulf, who’s similarly horrified and hasn’t seen this kind of destruction before, possibly makes it even worse. Also I love the occasional scenes from the point of view of ordinary citizens – it really makes the wider effects of this civil war between cousins sink in. This may have begun as a personal tragedy for Maude, Stephen and their loved ones, but it’s become a catastrophe affecting so many more people across England, Normandy, Anjou…the fact that the narrative brings in the thoughts of people from all across society in recognition of this is one of the things that makes this book so good imo.

Okay, so I’m getting very attached to quite a lot of these people and it’s occurred a few times that I don’t actually know the dates of death for anyone except Stephen. But because this is history and also the first book in a trilogy spanning many decades and the characters are (as far as I know) not immortal, they’re all going to die at some point. I just don’t know when. There is no way to be prepared for the sadness that this book and its sequels will bring.

OH NO RANULF

At this point he should really just stop trying to break into nunneries. As Gilbert mentioned, it never seems to go well.

Wait, if they’re specifying not to kill Ranulf does that mean everyone else who was with him was killed? FEAR

Okay good there are more survivors

That fire was awful. Although I’m going to keep in mind that Gilbert and Marshal are only dead according to the people outside the church – the narration moved away from them when Marshal lost his eye, so there’s still hope (albeit not much). Also, this really showed both sides of de Ypres – he’s managed to be merciful and ruthless in the same paragraph.

Ancel!

And Ranulf is free, but with a hefty dose of survivor’s guilt.

Awww, Maude’s really openly relieved he’s safe. Robert too.

Gilbert’s alive too! I’d suspected but wasn’t sure. Glad for him and Ranulf that they’ve got each other back.

 *I’d known that he’d abandoned a battle at some point before allying with Matilda, but had thought that referred to his feud with Robert during the Normandy campaign, which was briefly mentioned earlier, so this came as a surprise.

[kikyozoldyck]

iv. catch me if you can

PAIRING: diego hargreeves x reader SUMMARY: you can dance if you want to WARNINGS: mentions of shooting people, also diego being a fuckboi extreme

-

You're on desk duty for the night, taking distress calls and redirecting resources. It’s not the most glamorous job, but it’s got to be done by someone. You’ve just ordered an ambulance for a family on Washington Avenue when Inspector Lupo ducks his head in.

“Looks like your boy is on the news.” He grunts from around his cigar. You look up, putting the phone back in the cradle and leaning back to rub at your face.

Of course Diego-Kraken-Diego is in the news. He’s probably off taking down a pedophile ring, and then he’s going to tie the perps up with a red ribbon and leave them bleeding out all over your carpet. Diego-Kraken—okay, just Diego—keeps getting you bigger and bigger presents. It’s like he’s a cat, bringing you dead mice. Slightly endearing, but also incredibly morbid. A little creepy.

Kind of sweet.

“Tonight’s supposed to be Kraken free.” You sigh, taking a large gulp of your cooling coffee, “okay. What, did he take down some psychotic kingpin now?”

Lupo shakes his head, and he looks—wow, he looks pissed. Pissed and grim.

“Shot a cop.” He says darkly, and ducks away, leaving you staring blankly at the cheap plastic of the phone for a second.

You push yourself to your feet, grabbing your jacket and hurrying out after Ludo after ordering the first rookie you can find to handle the phones.

“Hitching a ride.” You mumble, piling into the back of the car. Ludo gives a noncommittal puff of his cigar, climbing in behind the wheel and turning on the radio.

Diego? Kill a cop?

No.

Not Diego, you keep telling yourself on the way to the crusty motel. Not Diego. Not the idiot who remembers you like to dance and listens to Duran Duran. Yeah, he’s annoying (and just ever-so-slightly charming) as hell, but he’s not—he hates criminals. He told you so. There’s no way he’d murder an officer.

You hear the dispatch on the radio. They’re pulling beat cops off the streets, just to find Diego and run him down. And you get it, there’s a personal vendetta to get the bastard that did this, but do they really need ten squad cars tracking down one guy who didn’t do it anyway? Who didn’t shoot that cop, because it’s Diego and he only ever hurts criminals. There’s a misunderstanding here, a disconnect.

You get to the motel, it’s old in a rough way that means it’s seen a lot of shit just like this and even it’s parking lot smells like sweat, and sex, and scum. The parking lot is full despite the bright flickering “VACANT” sign in the window. It’s not just squad cars—someone’s tipped off reporters, at least four vans of them full of them are swarming the front desk.

“The cop he shot, anyone we know?” You ask, clenching your fists at your side.

“Nah,” Lupo grumbles, angrily spitting out his cigar and stomping on it, “some shit bird from the 99th precinct. But, still it’s the principal of the thing, you know?”

You nod. “You think that D-the Kraken will come back here?”  

“These sickos always come back to the scene of the murder.” Lupo says, pulling a new cigar out of the silver cigar case and offering it to you.

“I don’t smoke.” Is what you’re going to say but there is a crack like lightning, and people start screaming. And Lupo, you think in a panic, they’ve shot Lupo. You turn towards the inspector and find that the sticky metallic scent of blood isn’t wafting from his clothes.

It’s wafting from yours.

*

When you wake up, Lupo’s sitting next to your bedside a cigar pressed between his lips as he scowls at the television. You sigh and groan and he turns to you, his eyes invisible behind his circular sunglasses, and says something about how it was the Kraken who shot you and how he’s going to give the bastard ten bullet holes for the one he gave you before stomping away. You know you should stop him, tell him that no, Diego wouldn’t do that. It’s not who he is but now you’re tired, so you’re going to sleep, wake up, eat red jello, flirt with nurses, and try your best to stay focused on the news.

When you wake up, the Kraken is standing over you.

“I didn’t do it.” Kraken -Diego says, and he sounds desperate. “Please, I swear I didn’t do it. And I wouldn’t--” He swallows hard. “Please.”

You roll your eyes and try to sit up a little, hissing in pain and giving up a moment later.

“Duh.” You say, not unkindly. The Kraken freezes. “You’re not a sniper, Diego, or a cop killer. I know you. You don’t have the balls for assassinations.”

“Oh.” Diego stays perfectly tense for a moment, and then he stumbles down to sit at the end of your bed. “Okay. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if—thank you.”

“Sure.” you tell him carelessly. “But you look sort of like death warmed over, so I’m guessing you weren’t completely uninvolved.”

Diego bites his lip.

“No.” He admits, shifting awkwardly, “I was…I was at the motel, but I didn’t…I didn’t kill the cop.”

“Do you know who did?” You ask, trying again, in vain to sit up.

“Yes. No. Sort of.” Diego sighs, running his trembling hands through his hair, “These psychos showed up to my house trying to kill my brother so I followed them to their motel room and when I got there, the guy was lying on the floor bleeding out. But I didn’t see anything.”

This time you do force yourself to sit up, despite the pain in your abdomen. Diego shakes his head, puts a firm hand on your shoulder to try and keep you still, but you push against it.

“Someone tried to kill your brother? Is he okay?” You ask, alarmed. “Jesus, Diego. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, no.” Diego promises. “These are all pretty much just flesh wounds, don’t worry.” He gestures to himself widely, like getting seriously wounded by murderous psychos is something totally mundane. For Diego, maybe it is. “I’ll be okay.” He bites his lip. “And so will you.” He doesn’t sound sure, so you nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Not even any permanent movement problems—clean shot, through and through.” You tell him optimistically. “They said I should be out of here in a couple of days.” Diego relaxes, reaching out to touch your hand.

“Good.” He sighs, you nod absently, staring down at the tentative brush of Diego’s index finger against the back of your hand. It’s nothing like the Diego who pulled you into a slow dance just a few days ago. It’s careful, hesitant, you think it must be because even though you say you’re okay, Diego’s still got this whole cop killer-sniper thing going on and he’s not sure that it’s the same anymore.

And it shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t be a ‘same’ for it to be, because Diego is a criminal and ‘Diego’ is not even his real name. You don’t even know what he looks like. Diego doesn’t trust you enough to give you his real name, or to show you his face. There’s nothing you owe him.

You turn your hand carefully to catch Diego’s fingers, tugging until you can thread your fingers together and squeezing gently.

“We’re okay, Diego.” You whisper in spite of yourself, and Diego swallows and nods, squeezing back. You shift and feel the slide of cool metal against your skin. “Hey, Diego.” Diego hums, questioning. “I was wondering if you’d want to buy me dinner after you sort out your brother-cop killer-sniper debacle.”

Diego goes very still.

“Like a date?” He asks, and his voice is a little hoarse. “You want to go on a date with me?” you nod, rubbing your thumb against his scarred knuckles.

“I figure, you only live once right?” You say gesturing to your bullet wound, Diego nods, his throat working.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know if you’d ever really come around.” He admits softly. “I wanted you to, but I didn’t know.”

“Are you kidding me? I would never pass up a free dinner.” You let your smile soften, and squeeze Diego’s hand again. “There’s this kabab place I know. So good. The only thing is, it’s near the station so if you come in full garb you’re going to get shot.” Diego smiles weakly.

“I’d like that.” He says, and there’s too much in his voice, it’s too thick, too heavy. It’s one thing when it’s lighthearted flirting, Diego smirking and dancing around you. It’s another for Diego to be sitting here next to you in the hospital, holding your hand and talking in that voice. You should call for the nurse, call for security, call for someone. You should let go.

You don’t let go.

“Me too.” You tell Diego honestly, because the thought of dating him - really dating him not whatever bullshit you’re doing now - has been on your mind since the night he’d broken into your apartment, and it’s a nice restaurant, and Diego’s a nice guy. You like them both far more than is healthy.

“I really like you.” You say, because between him talking to you like that and all the pain medications pumping through your veins you can't be bothered to lie.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Yo confirm. Diego beams at you, and your heartbeat spikes on the monitors, beat going crazy. Diego’s smile widens. “Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.” Diego dares you, and he’s leaning closer, closer—yes.

Diego’s soft at first, a little unsure, but you want this—god, you had no idea how much you wanted this—so you reach out, pull Diego a little closer. Diego sighs, happy, and wraps an arm around your waist, careful of the bandages on wrapped tightly around your abdomen.

It’s a lazy kiss, slow and comfortable like it’s motion memory. You had sort of been expecting—not that you’d thought about it before—fierce passion and lots of sharp little nips and bites, but this is much gentler, warm and sweet like tempered chocolate.

“Shit!” Diego hisses, and pulls away sharply. You blink after him, feeling strangely bereft. “I’ve got to go. Just—don’t change your mind, alright? I’d be so good to you, you’d never regret it, I swear. Just… kababs. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And the bastard sprints out of the room. Tease. “Hey sweetie, you need anything else before we change shift?” A kindly older woman asks from the doorway, wearing Cookie Monster scrubs and looking a little exhausted. Though, you’re sure you don’t look much better, you think it’s been a tough night for everyone. You lean a little to try and get a look behind her, but there’s nothing there anymore. “No, no. I’m fine. Thank you.” you smile at her, a little weakly. “Just a weird dream.”

-

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we out here kids

if you want to peg diego click here

feed my big ass ego & comment something pls

[andthenigetbored]

I’m crying and I don’t know why

I just ordered my first binder.

It’s a black tank-style binder from g2cb. I’ve thought of myself as nonbinary for about a year now (not counting the year and a half before it where I wasn’t sure), but I only thought about getting one recently. Really recently, tho, Ive had moments where I think I experienced significant gender dysphoria around my chest. Like, I’d previously thought that they were too big (I’d gained weight in college, and went from 34B to 34D, where I still am now), but they were kind of fleeting thoughts and I never felt sick about them.

As I’m learning more about how I experience being nonbinary, I find that I kinda waffle about how I feel about being and presenting AFAB and feminine. I don’t wear skirts at all anymore, but I still wear women’s pants and blouses and, very occasionally, dresses. Most of the time, I’m kinda neutral to vaguely positive about my body. I think I might be some flavor of genderfluid tho, if there’s a version where you move between demigirl and transmasculine. I started noticing that I’ll have 5 to 10 days where I really want to be feminine, but then I’ll suddenly feel weird and then I’ll have 5 to 10 days where I want to be masculine, and then it’ll cycle back around. But, even in my more masculine moments, I would still be wearing clothes from the women’s section (women’s flannels, women’s jeans, even a regular bra) and usually not have a lot of body dysphoria when I feel masculine.

More recently, especially after I’d graduated from grad school, I’ve started feeling sick during my more masculine days. I had “boat shoes” from the women’s section of sketchers (they look pretty masculine) and boy-short style undies from Victoria’s Secret, but while they did help, they didn’t make the feeling completely go away. I’ve always really wanted to get clothes from the men’s section, but after i graduated from my nearly all-women grad program, I left my apartment (where I’m completely closeted to my roommates) to stay with my parents and little brother. For context, all three know I’m bi and tend to wear masc clothing from time to time. Only my parents know I’m nonbinary, but they have no idea what it means for me outside of not wanting to be referred to as a “woman,” specifically, and wanting to be referred to as Ely; to his credit, only my dad knows that it’s related to my gender, and he’s been using it instead of my birth/dead/zombie(?)name (I don’t hate Elizabeth at all, especially in my feminine days, but Ely is more gender neutral and feels slightly more comfy on masculine days) around 75% of the time around me, to my mom’s 20% (she thinks it’s a nickname, and I’m still kinda scared to clarify; not because she won’t love me and won’t do it, because she would if I ask, but I’m scared that she’ll be mad at me if/when I correct her more concretely. She has been saying Ely more often than she had been tho). Basically, my parents know and are ok with it, but they still don’t fully understand what that means for me, and I always find myself at a loss for how to explain how I feel without resorting to essentialist language, which doesn’t really work for them, so I don’t know how they’d take me buying masculine clothes from the men’s section (as opposed to masculine/butch clothes from the women’s section, which they’ve actually been really chill and supportive of)

To my main point, I felt the opportunity for real men’s clothes come up. I went to TJ Maxx when I had a day off and my parents were at work and my brother was away and I picked a pair of khaki shorts (like, fuckboy/yacht-club shorts) and a collared shirt with a shark pattern to try on. I picked a few shirts from the womens section too to help them blend in a bit when I went into the changing room.

The shorts actually fit me really well-they were really comfortable, and they went to just above my knees and the pockets were huge; all things that I had expected. What I hadn’t expected was how they hid my hips. I’m kinda curvy, and have a really strong hourglass figure, and I was kinda startled by how straight my thighs looked in them. It was like I was a man from the waist down and a woman from the waist up and I never felt so amazing wearing clothes in years.

When I went to try on the shark-patterned shirt though, I couldn’t button the chest part. I’d had that problem with some women’s shirts too; when you’re larger than a C cup, it makes the buttons gap weirdly in the chest. But this was the first time that the buttons couldn’t close at all. And I felt this pain in my heart that I’d felt before, but never so strongly and so continuously. I had my short-for-a-girl/long-for-a-man gender neutral haircut, I was wearing gender neutral boat shoes, and men’s shorts, and the shirt fit so nice in the shoulders and the arms and it felt like nothing mattered because the shirt couldn’t close and I felt disgusting because my chest was too big. I caught myself wondering why I let myself get so big in the chest, and wanting to plan out how to lose weight quickly so my chest would shrink (a mentality that I hadn’t had since high school, when I had a very unhealthy obsession with counting calories and came close to being underweight). When I snapped out of it, I practically threw the shirt off and tried on some of the masculine shirts from the women’s section. They all fit perfectly.

It’s been about a week since then, and I’m still processing how I felt. I bought the shorts, and I haven’t worn them yet. I didn’t tell anyone I bought them, though I think my dad saw them when he was trying to find his own pants (all four of us are around the same size, so our clothes sometimes get mixed up; for the record, I gave him permission to look through my closet for them and only remembered they were there after the fact, so it wasn’t an invasion of privacy). I’ve thought about it a lot and I decided to bite the bullet. Its my birthday in a few weeks, I’d heard that g2cb was a good company to buy binders from, and I actually wear black tank tops quite often, so I wouldn’t have to explain what it is outside of it “having a really good sports bra built in” (which, if I’m being reallllly technical, isn’t totally a lie).

So, as of about an hour ago, a binder it’s on it’s way to me. My first binder. I don’t know if I should be proud, excited, or completely terrified.

[stevesharrlngtons]

hey.

steve harrington x reader

summary: he was such a staple piece in your life, that as a child and young teen, you never saw your life without him. late night promises and pinky swears were made in blanket forts that you two would be friends until the day the sun burned out in the sky. it was just a given that’d he be there, that you never worried about the two of you drifting apart or being separated. he promised he’d always be there, and you had believed him. you now corrected yourself, foolishly believed him.

word count: 5.4k

a/n: holy shit? chapter nine! 38,000 words later and it’s done!!! this is such a sentimental piece for me. i started working on this in november, right after st2 was released, and was just writing it for myself to read. but as time went on, i was four chapters in and decided i wanted to share it with other people. posting your writing online is terrifying, even if you do it all the time. so posting this, which i consider my baby in a way, was super scary. but i’m really happy i did. i’m glad that the few people i reached with story, really really enjoyed it. everytime i get a message saying that someone loves this story it always brightens my mood. for those of you who have been there from the beginning or just found this story, thank you for all your love and support! i love you all.  i know i mainly write for billy now, but thank you for sticking around anyway! hopefully i can get some inspo for more steve in the future. my love for him and joe is not gone, so here’s hoping!  and if you are still here, thank you for your patience while i took the time to write this, i hope it is enjoyable and worth the wait. 

here is chapter nine, please let me know what you think! and thank you for letting me share this story with you!

chapter i / ii / iii / iv / v / vi / vii / viii / 

                                                   chapter xi

The next morning you woke to your pillowcase cemented to your cheek from died spit, and a splitting headache. Remnants of last night were coming to you in bits and pieces but nothing too concrete.

Shit. Concrete.

The pain from your skinned knees started to become prominent, and your eyes felt red and puffy. Fragments of conversations came and went in your head. You vaguely remembered a fight with Derek, then Jonathan tucking you in, but everything else was a blur. You glanced towards your alarm clock, the red numbers brighter than usual, reading 11:46 AM. You sighed and placed your head back on your pillow in a huff. As you did, you started to feel all the old makeup, sweat and blood that caked your skin. As much as you just wanted to lay in bed all day waiting for the screwdriver in your head to dislodge itself, a shower was definitely needed.

Peeling yourself up from your sheets, you trudged your fatigued legs towards the bathroom, and once you were inside, the mirror above the sink was anything but forgiving. Black smudges painted your face, forgotten tear tracks in their wake. Your hair was knotted and matted, and your eyes were bloodshot to hell.

Rolling your eyes and shrugging, you discarded your wrinkled clothes, got into the shower and turned the water on to a blistering heat. Standing under the stream, you ran your hands slowly over your face, breathing in the already accumulating steam. The water soothed your tense muscles and eased your headache, and you were starting to feel human again. But as you calmed, more memories came up. Derek’s harsh words, calling Jonathan, making up with Jonathan, telling him you were in love with Steve, weeping after Jonathan left your room. You tried to push the thoughts to the side, they were causing your stomach to ache and your head spin. Right now, you needed to focus on shedding the layer of grime you had accumulated over the past twenty-four hours.

When you were sufficiently clean, you turned off the faucet and climbed from the bathtub, taking the two towels from under the sink and wrapped one around your hair and the other around your torso. At your vanity, you wiped away some steam that clung to the mirror with your hand, revealing a window of your broken, tired self.

Your head was still throbbing and your skin felt like sandpaper, so in the fruitless effort to make yourself feel better, you put on a face mask. Wiping the green goopy substance on your face, you were officially turning into the Hulk for the next fifteen to twenty minutes.

With nothing but your mask and towels, you went downstairs to get a cup of much needed coffee and possibly a slice of toast if your mother had been to the store. Thankfully she had. So, with two pieces of bread in the toaster and coffee brewing, you debated calling Jonathan. Not to harass him to pick you up in the middle of nowhere, but to thank him for the night before. You could be a fun drunk or emotional one, there was no in between. And last night you had definitely been emotional. If anyone was best equipped to take care of you in that state, it was Jonathan. But you would always call the next day with a load of apologies and appreciations and promises of a donut and David Lynch at a later date.

As you buttered your toast, you wondered if donuts and Lynch were enough to mend this wound? Not only yours but Jonathan’s as well. You both had been sucked under the Harrington and Wheeler ray of false feelings, but you always had a thicker skin than him. Maybe not when it came to Steve, but you would still put on your best face when you would inevitably console Jonathan about this situation.

Just as you were crafting the words you were going to say to your best friend, the phone started to ring. Thinking that it was Jonathan with some newly achieved ESP, you paused eating your toast and went to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“How’s it hanging?” The unexpected voice asked.

“Perry?” You furrowed your brows, surprised he was calling.

“Yeah, you expecting someone else or something?” He chuckled.

“Well, kind of. But this is a happy interference.” He laughed again.

“Dad ran out for the afternoon, so I thought I’d see how things have been.”

You laughed humorlessly under your breath, “Things have been things. How about you?”

“Things have been things?” Perry repeated with skepticism.

“Yeah, things have been things.” You sighed and shook your head.

“Fuck that cryptic shit, how have you really been?” His tone grew serious.

“Just drop it, okay? How are you?” You tried to push past his question.

“I asked for first. Now tell me, (Y/N/N).”

You leaned your head on the wall next to the phone and shut your eyes to have a brief moment of clarity before you told Perry what was happening. You couldn’t lie to him. You had that weird sibling connection that could always detect a lie.

“Remember Steve? Steve Harrington?” You said slowly.

“Yeah, last I heard he was dead to you.”

“Well a lot has happened since then.”

“Like?” Perry asked.

“Like, I sorta, kinda, maybe fell in love with him? And I thought he loved me, which he didn’t and it broke my heart. I don’t know…A lot can happen in a month…” You crinkled your forehead. You hated how naïve and young you sounded.

“How the hell did this happen?” Perry was trying to keep his anger at bay, but it was still peaking through.

“We ran into each other at a party, he had just broken up with his girlfriend and I guess I felt guilt or pity, I’m still not sure... He was sad and even though I hated him, I still cared about him, y’know? So, we ended up spending more time together after that and one thing led to another and I dumbly fell for him. He made it seem like he felt the same way. Trust me on that, he was very forward with saying how much he liked me. But I was scared. Scared because all the asshole men in my life, present company included, have screwed me over.” It was a low blow to Perry, but he knew how much his leaving hurt you. This wasn’t anything new. “So, I told him I needed the weekend to think about if I was really ready to be in a relationship, he was totally against it. Wanting me to stay and telling me all this shit, but I knew I needed some time. I thought about it a lot and talked with mom and realized that I really did want to be with him. When I went to tell him, I caught him with his ex, so…”

Perry was silent on the other end for a long moment.

“Steve Harrington did this? Are you sure?” He asked.

“Why the hell would I lie, Per?” You rolled your eyes.

“That just, I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like him.”

“A lot has changed around here. We aren’t playing superheroes in the backyard and drinking Yoohoo, anymore. It’s been years since you saw him.” You toyed with the telephone chord as you spoke.

“Yeah but he was so into you when we were kids. I always thought something would happen with you guys. I always told him he had my blessing. He seemed really thankful for that.” Perry said nonchalantly.

“This is new fucking news to me.” You said straightening your posture.

“What? He was a nice kid and you two were attached at the hip! I told him when you were like ten that if he ever wanted to be with you, I was okay with it.”

“So, even through all the shit talking I’ve done for the past few years, you always thought that we would end up together?” You scoffed.

“Yeah, I always figured it was just hormones or something.” You could practically hear him shrugging on the other end.

“Hormones? Are you fucking kidding me?” You roared.

“See! Right there! Fucking hormones!” Perry said.

“I’m going to kick your ass, I swear.” You mumbled.

“Try me!” Perry laughed, but stopped when you didn’t join in.

And when you stayed silent on the other end, he knew he needed to step up his big brother duties.

“Whether it sounds like him or not, he’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you. If I was there I’d beat the shit out of him and revoke my blessing! I would!” This earned a laugh from you and Perry knew he’d done his job.

“If you were here, I might have to take you up on that.” You sadly smiled.

“But I’m not. So what are you going to do, kid?”

“Mope, get over it. Move on.” You sighed.

“Fuck that!” Perry scoffed, “You need to tell that asshole off! Who does he think he is?”

He always knew how to work you up.

“He made you love him twice! Not once, but twice! Fool you once, shame on you, but fool you twice…”

“Shame on him.” You said tightly.

“Exactly. You need to make him feel like shit. You need some good old fashioned revenge.” Perry cursed.

“You know what? You are so right!” You nodded dramatically.

“Steve fucking Harrington doesn’t get to march into people’s lives just to destroy them! I need to tear him a new one!” Perry was putting you over an open flame, and the more he spoke, the more you bubbled over with anger.

“Now there’s the (Y/L/N) in you! Go tell that fucker off!” He cheered.

“I’m gonna!” You raged. “I’m going to go now before all this anger and hype wears off.”

“Yes! Call me when you’re home and describe his tears, okay?”

“Deal.”

-

Hastily, you had ran up the stairs, wiped off your mask and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Your hair was still mostly damp and you looked an absolute hungover mess, but you had just enough momentum and energy to drive over to the Harrington residence. Thank God your mother had left her car this time she had gone out of town, because walking in the freezing weather would have no doubt made you turn back and sulk in your bedroom.

You had a lead foot on the gas pedal as you vibrated with anger. Your music loud enough to cover your insane rambles as you whipped around corners and California breaked at stop sighs. Soon, Steve’s house was coming into view, and your adrenaline was spiking.

The car lurched as you came to a quick stop. You yanked on your emergency break and took the keys from the ignition, the music cutting out and leaving you in a tizzy of silence. Upon exiting the car, your nerves began to set in. The cold attacked your damp hair and sent a chill through your bones. The cloudy Indiana sky was creating a grey mood that made you think that the universe was trying to warn you.

Turn back.

It isn’t worth it!

You don’t want to hurt him, you love him!

And yet, your legs did not stop as you stomped your way through the morning dew on the Harrington’s grass and approached his front steps. The large double doors seemed taunting and terrifying, but you paid no mind to this as you slammed your fist hard on the wood, your other hand relentlessly ringing the doorbell.

The surface for your fist to hit was ripped away so fast, you almost pounded Steve in the chest, but your arm stiffened when you saw him standing in front of you.

You did the best to ignore the flutter of your heart at the sight of his bed head and astonished gaze. This wasn’t the time to falter, this wasn’t the time for weakness.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here? I was just about to come over and see you.” Steve said in a gentle voice.

This was half true. He had woken up at nine, gotten dressed, driven to your house, had a panic attack when he arrived, then came home and decided he needed more sleep before he confronted you. Even with being up all night trying to craft what he was going to say to you, nothing seemed good enough. Steve had wronged you before, and with you thinking he had again, that was how he was going to have to approach you. And it terrified him. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“I have some things to say to you, Steve Harrington!” You boomed, moving you arms down to your sides stiffly.

“I, um, me too.” Steve said, nodding.

“I want you to know that you are a two timing, pig! Who I hate by the way! You manipulative, piece of shit!” You screamed in his face, pointing an accusatory finger in his face.

Steve just stared at you and said nothing. These words were all expected. He was surprised you hadn’t called him anything much worse.

“You come back into my life and make yourself seem like I’m your savior! You make me let you in, you made forget all the rules I had set up- that you fucking made me set up in the first place! You make me fall in love with you and you fucking make me believe you loved me too! Just to see you feeling up Nancy Wheeler in the school parking lot? You are a Class A asshole, Harrington! I hope you rot!” Steve was sure by the decidable of your voice, that you had drawn attention from all of his neighbors by now.

After your speech, you stood on his doorstep, heaving with an enraged look on your face, your body slightly tilted forward. It must have happened sometime during your heated words and violent hand gestures.

“Can I speak now?” Steve asked calmly.

“No! I don’t- no! You can’t. I’m leaving. I have nothing left to say.” You said, going to turn around.

But ever the rule breaker, Steve spoke, “Nancy and I aren’t together. She saw us the night you left when she was coming to get some of her things. Monday we were just talking… mostly about how much I love you. I told her that we are soulmates and she agreed. We lost track of time and when I realized it, I freaked. She told me to wait for you, but you never showed.”

As Steve explained, he stepped closer to you. You were still fuming, but Steve could see the subtle changes in your face as he spoke. But he knew you wouldn’t let your guard down just yet, and he didn’t expect you too.

“I called your house and your mom cursed me to hell and back. I waited the rest of the day in the parking lot, hoping you would show but you never did. I thought, I don’t know… that you decided you didn’t love me after all. That’s why I stayed away. I thought you were avoiding me because you couldn’t face me after realizing that feelings were only on my end. It wasn’t until Jonathan showed up here last night to scream at me, that I connected all the dots.” He was in front of you now.

The information he was telling you was making your resolve of anger and revenge dissolve. Your mind felt like a static television screen, you couldn’t think or act- just listen.

“But that’s why I didn’t call or come to your window or bang on your door and fight off your mother. Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you telling me to my face you didn’t love me. It happened with Nancy and it broke my heart, but with you,” Steve placed a hand on your frozen cheek, “I would die. The pain would consume me, and I knew I would never be the same again. Because I love you, (Y/N). And you’ve got to believe me when I say that, and that I always have.”

Your jaw was tense as tears brimmed your eyes. You were hesitant and apprehensive to believe the sweet words he was crooning to you. It all seemed a little too good to be true. And you didn’t know what to think in this moment. Expect about how much you wanted everything Steve said to be the honest to God truth.

“How can I know? Because you have to understand my side of this too, Steve. You have to put yourself in my shoes.” You said sadly, a giant contrast from your tone just minutes earlier.

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Steve’s other hand now made its home on your other cheek, “Trust me when I say that you are the only one for me. From now until forever. We will be the testament that movie love exists, our kids will know true love because we will be the example! And you will be my best friend from now until the end of time, because I will never let you go again, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I love you. And I know its going to take time for us to rebuild, but it’ll be worth the wait.”

If you thought his words weren’t completely truthful, you knew by his eyes that he was. It was clique, but the eyes were the window to the soul, and Steve’s was screaming at you that this was real.

But that didn’t mean it scared you any less.

“Steve, I,” Your breath hitched.

Both of your eyes were glassy, Steve’s nose was inches from yours as he begged you silently to say everything he had been wanting to hear since childhood. He had just cut himself open to you, bleeding in front of you in the vain of forgiveness. He was in a vulnerable state and he needed your kiss for comfort and reassurance.

“I need a minute…” You gasped quietly, stepping out of Steve’s grip.

Before his hands felt like weights, keeping him grounded to the only thing that mattered to him, but when you stepped back, they fell from your skin like feathers. He felt like he could hear his heart breaking.

“But, I…” Steve choked out.

“So much has changed in just the past ten minutes, let alone the past month! I feel like I have whiplash.” You breathed heavily.

All of this was hard to digest. You had just been on the phone with your brother, plotting the best way to cut off Steve’s balls; but then this happened? Steve’s sincere words and heartfelt glances. It felt like you were spinning.

“I feel like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode or something…” You heaved, placing your hands in your hair, trying to find a way to ground yourself.

“Like, I came over here to tell you to never speak to me again and you just threw a huge wrench into that!” You rambled, Steve’s face was sullen as you did.

“This has to be more than a crazy misunderstanding, right? This has to be a sign or something?” You felt like your air way was going to close off as you spoke manically. You had never been this flustered in your life.

“Why can’t this be the sign? Why can’t Jonathan coming to me last night and you showing up here this morning be the sign? Or who cares if it is or if it isn’t! Because at this point, frankly, I don’t.” Steve said back to you.

“We have been in this round about for years, (Y/N). Getting close to our happily ever after, but always missing the exit. This,” He motioned between you two, “This is the exit. This is the moment where we decided to go out separate ways, or finally just be happy. To be in love with each other.”

You let a shaking breath and stared at the broken boy in front of you. He was right, this was the exit. This was one of the pivotal moments in your life that would set the course for everything. Drive off into the sunset or let your fears and haunted memories send you for the hills.

Steve was offering you a grand gesture, he was saying life is a fact, that people do fall in love. And you knew that was true, but you were still scared. A stupid feeling you were sick of always coming up.

“Steve, I’m such a mess… look at me today! And this past week. I just spiral and I just…” You shook your head as your throat choked up.

You wanted to give him one last out.

“I don’t care, I don’t care! When has it ever seemed like I did? I want you, all of you. I know you, every part, every chapter, every subsection and footnote. I have the PhD in you! I love you, nothing else matters. I know I hurt you. I know Jonathan and Perry and your dad have too. I know they fucked up. I know I did, too. But I am going to work every day for the rest of our lives showing you that I will never hurt you again. I can’t lose you, and I’ll do everything I can to prove that. You just have to let me.”

Steve’s words made your knees weak and your stomach flip. He really did love you. With tears peeking from your eyes and gracing your cheeks so said sweetly, “Really?”

“Yes,” Steve said with a small smile, “Really.”

And you believed him. You believed every word he was saying because your heart wouldn’t let you not. You loved him, and he loved you. You were ready to exit.

You took a stride towards him and slotted your lips with his. It took Steve no time at all to fall into your kiss, his hands flying to your waist as you gripped his neck. He was ready to stop wasting time and to make up for every kiss he was too afraid to give and every chance he had missed. The kiss made you feel electric, the cold fall air no longer affecting you. Steve was enough to keep you warm in this instant, and you guessed, for many times after this one. His lips felt like they were made for yours as you kissed him with passion and meaning. Steve pulled you as close as he could, wanting every section of his body to know you were there, that you were finally his. His heart had mended itself in no time and was working overtime beating out of his chest as he licked your lips and your nails grazed the nape of his neck.

Breaking apart briefly to catch your breath, you laid your forehead against Steve’s. His eyes were still shut as he stroked your sides and grinned wider than you had ever seen. You thought he looked so classically beautiful in this moment and smiled too.

“Steve,” You whispered, unable to hold back you words any longer.

He opened his eyes and separated just enough from you, so he could look you in the eyes.

“I love you, too.” You spoke softly.

You finally had said it. Not to Jonathan, your mother, or your mind. Finally, to the person who desperately needed to hear it. The second you said it, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulder. One that had settled itself there over years of repression and grief.

“Good.” Steve said, laughing lightly and you joined in.

You rested your forehead to his collarbone and he pulled you flush to his body. Steve couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried, and he knew you couldn’t either. He was about to speak, when he felt something hit his head.

You pulled away and you both looked up and saw rain start to sprinkle down and hit your skin.

“This couldn’t get more cliché.” You shook your head playfully, looking back at Steve who was looking up at the sky with a happy expression.

“I told you,” He said, looking back down at you now as well, “Just like Holly and Paul.”

And as he kissed you again, rain falling all around you, you swore you could hear Moon River ringing in your ears.

It was cliché, perfect, and somehow, just like the movies.

It was all thanks to Steve Harrington.

-

                              ��                  Six Months Later

You stood outside the banquet hall, cigarette between your fingers as you watched the ash fall to your feet. You were leaning against a brink wall and listening distantly to the muffled pop music that was playing inside.

It was Dustin Henderson’s Bar Mitzvah, and you and Steve had been asked to be in attendance.

You had been his babysitter throughout your high school years, and always had a fondness for the curly headed kid. And when you were both roped into the police station on behalf of a giant monster and an evil lab, it caused you two to grow closer. You cultivated a protective nature over him, and even after his mom decided he was too old to be babysat, you would still drive him anywhere he needed if he called and asked. During some of these drives over the past six months, Steve had tagged along, and Dustin had grown to enjoy his company. Which earned you both not only an invite, but seats at the birthday boy’s table.

The night was a good time. Steve was in a great mood, chatting with Dustin and his friends, and even Nancy and Jonathan a bit- The four of you have reconciled nicely after you and Steve got together. Throughout the night, Steve’s hand was either around the back of your chair, fingers brushing over your bare arm, or planted on your thigh. You loved his soft lovely touches and how he always insisted on giving them to you in public.

After the kiss, that was now known as infamous to you, your mother, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and anyone else who desired to hear your story, you and Steve had started dating. Confessions of undying love and eternal happiness weren’t swept under the rug or forgotten after that night. Yet, they were choice reminders of how devoted you were to each other. You couldn’t imagine not being together after something like that.

And things were great, and every possible synonym of the word. It was strange at first, to be so happy with the person you had always wanted, but now it felt like second nature. It didn’t feel weird to plan your future to together or look into housing options for you two when you went off to college. It was an agreed upon thing, both verbally and nonverbally, that neither of you planned on losing the other anytime soon- if ever.

You had found the love of your life, your soulmate. Some people never had a great love, let alone found the person they were supposed to end up with. And you had gotten lucky on both fronts. For some, this all would seem far too soon, the two of you were only eighteen. But the road to you two still felt like an eternity. You both had had enough waiting in that regard, so no moment was gone unappreciated or taken for granted. You were both just excited to have a lifetime of memories to make with each other.

“I wondered where you slinked off, too.” A voice said a little ways away.

“Just needed a minute.” You said holding up the hand with your cigarette in it, turning to watch Steve approach you.

“I would have snuck out here with you, y’know?” He smiled, leaning his shoulder against the brick when he reached you.

“You were chatting, I didn’t want to pull you away.” You replied.

“I missed you,” You smiled and playfully rolled your eyes at his remark, “I did! When you’re not next to me, I feel like half a person.”

“You are so cheesy.” You shook your head, your grin widening.

“Yeah, but you love it.” Steve smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You sighed dreamily, turning to your adorable boyfriend.

You went to drop your cigarette, but Steve caught your wrist, taking the small smoke from your fingers and inhaling deeply before stomping it out himself. He blew the smoke over your shoulder before stepping closer.

You placed your hands on his chest and migrated one of them of his thin tie to smooth it.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Steve said under his breath as he watched you.

In gentle moments like this, Steve could only stop and stare at you. And thank the universe and every God in existence that you were his. In these moments, sometimes his overloading thoughts of adoration would slip out.

You looked up at his through your lashes and blushed, moving forward to bury your face in his chest. Something you often did when Steve would swoon over you.

“Wait,” Steve said, catching your cheeks before you could nuzzle into him.

“What?” You asked.

Steve looked down at you, pink cheeks and small dainty smile. It felt like he needed to take a beat and memorize this quiet moment, music humming in the background and your happy, tranquil expression. He was a giant sap when it came to you and he made no effort to hide it, but sometimes, when your beauty astounded him in such a way that made his knees weak, he kept to himself. He didn’t let these thoughts slip out, he just wanted silent reminders for himself about how wonderful you really were.

“I love you.” He said, moving slowly to your lips.

“Mm, I love you, too.” You said, smiling growing as Steve placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Ready to go back in?” Steve whispered to your lips after he pulled away.

He silently hoped you would opt for a French exit so you two could fool around in the backseat of his car, but then you would both miss the little trick up his sleeve.

“For a bit longer, we haven’t seen the chair dance yet, and I know Dustin would kill me if he was up there and didn’t see us singing along and smiling.” You said, moving your hand up to your cheek to take Steve’s and hold it down by your side.

“Okay, let’s go back in.” Steve nodded.

He shifted your hands so he could lace his fingers between yours and you both headed back to the entrance. As you rounded the corner and got closer to the double doors, the music became clearer, and you noticed the song change to a familiar one.

“Oh my god! You are so cheesy.” You stopped in your tracks, laughing.

“What? This wasn’t me. Dustin loves this song.” Steve feigned innocence.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure he loves the Carpenters.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Well, this sure is a coincidence. We better head in so we can appreciate it.” Steve said as you watched try to hide his knowing smile.

“Fine.” You said dramatically, and Steve began to pull you inside.

“Actually,” You stopped him, changing your mind, “Let’s appreciate it from here.”

You closed the small gap between you, setting your hands on Steve’s shoulders as his instinctively were placed on your waist.

He smirked, “Who’s cheesy now?”

“Still you, but I have my moments.”

“I guess I’m rubbing off on you.” Steve puffed out his chest as you two slowly swayed and you laughed.

“Yeah, I would say so.”

A comfortable silence fell after that, as you were pulled closer to Steve as you danced, swaying to the soft beat of Close To You. Steve knew that it may not been playing at your wedding, but for now, he knew it was enough.

Because obviously, he would make it up to you later. He was going to make sure that this song was the song you first danced after you both said I Do’s.

And like the silent language lovers have, you knew this too.

And you were looking forward to it.  

-

tags: @kaliforniacoastalteens @tanovic54321 @chels-nyc @hoebliss @remorsefuul @keejan-turtle @captaintightpants58 @fandomsfavorite @comefindmesomeday @random-ffandom @thingsweneverhave @nowvoyagerruinedme @rachrose8 @midgardiansworld @cats-on-the-beach @secillyj @kyaramaya 

[plsdonttellmay]

|3!7(|-|

A look into the Iron Kids group chat between Harley, Peter, and Riri. 

Sequel to Bold of You

Translation for Harley’s nonsense at the bottom

Spider-Son: @Son Prime Mr. Stark totally just admitted that Riri was his favorite.

Son Prime: wut???? thts blsht >:((((

Spider-Son changed their name to Pun-Son

Pun-Son: IKR?

Dad’s Favorite: HA! I fucking told you

Son Prime: fuk off riri

Pun-Son: Ya, this is a private conversation.

Dad's Favorite: Y’all are the dumbasses having a “private conversation” in the group chat

Pun-Son: Shit

Really?

I thought @ing him would make it private.

Oops

Son Prime: pete i lov n rspct u but ur a fukn dumbass

Dad's Favorite: This is why dad loves me most

Pun-Son: ;’((((

Whatever.

Anyway

So,,,,

The rest of the team knows you guys exist now.

Son Prime: shiiiiiiiiiiiit

Dad's Favorite: What happened?

Is everyone okay?

Are you okay?

Is Tony okay?

Pun-Son: Ya, everyone's fine, dw.

Son Prime: thn wut hpnd????

Pun-Son: IDK???

Like

Mr. Stark just said I did a good job

And then fucking Captain America was like

“Hey, everybody it's Peter Parker!”

Dad's Favorite: Damn. So now they all know?

Son Prime: thats ruf buddy

Pun-Son: Nah, it's fine.

I panicked and then said that Mr. Stark had lots of kids

And that Peter and Spider-Man were totally different kids.

Son Prime: wow. cnt blev u managed 2 lie 2 captain america

i figd he cld smell lies

or that u would spontaneously combust if u tried

tht was specific 2 u btw

Dad's Favorite: Has anyone ever told you you're a dick?

Son Prime: not 2 my face but thts what i assume theyre saying wen they dub chek tht mr tony isnt my real dad.

Dad's Favorite: Not a bad assumption ngl

Pun-Son: Also, point of order, didn't lie

I just,,,,,,,

Implied.

Heavily.

To the point of lying.

But didn't cross that line.

Son Prime: wow pete ur a saint

Dad's Favorite: They bought it? Just like that?

Pun-Son: TBH they were way more interested in the group chat.

Like, they legit forgot they were trying to figure out who Spider-Man is.  

I told Cap your usernames.

Dad's Favorite: Well I'm glad the team knows the truth now

Son Prime: wut? abt mr tony runin a daycare?

Dad's Favorite: No about me being his favorite

Dad's Favorite: Hey guys??? College fucking blows. I'm gonna murder whoever came up with it

Son Prime: sup riri?

Dad's Favorite: Literally just told you. College blows

The Live-in: *break dances gently*

What's wrong, Riri?

Son Prime: atm u if i had 2 ges

Dad's Favorite: Mostly that you're trying to comfort me via meme.

SHIT

Beat me to it

Son Prime: :p

The Live-in: You guys are the worst.

Dad's Favorite: You're the one who decided to be the middle child

The Live-in: WTF, no, I didn't??

Also, Harley is literally less than 4 months older than me.

Son Prime: god pete ur practically an infant cmpared to me

The Live-in: -_______-

Can we go back to talking about Riri’s problems now?

Please?

For the love of science.

Dad's Favorite: Nah I'm good actually. Roasting you is way more interesting

The Live-in: THE W O R S T

Son Prime: srsly tho. u ok riri?

Dad's Favorite: Yeah I'm fine. Just got assigned a group project

The Live-in: Was it at least a class you have a friend in?

Dad's Favorite: Peter literally everyone in that class is 7+ years older than me. If I had friends do you think I'd talk to you two?

The Live-in: Yes

Because you love us.

You've said so.

Son Prime: hes got a point

Dad's Favorite: Lies and slander

The Live-in: Seriously, though.

Are you good?

Dad's Favorite: Yeah. It's not like they're actively mean to me or anything. It just sucks not having friends

Son Prime: tell us if they start bn dicks. pete n i will kick thr asses. we r still ur big bros

Dad's Favorite: Yeah I know <3

God I can’t wait until you two are finally here and I actually have someone to talk to for once.

The Live-in: Yeah!!!!

We should get an apartment.

And a dog.

A secret dog.

Dad’s Favorite: Why is the dog secret???

The Live-in: Because I can’t have a dog at my apartment.

And your mom is allergic to dogs.

And Harley’s little sister is scared of dogs.

So it would have to live with dad over the summer.

And he won’t let us get a dog if he knows ahead of time.

That’s why a secret dog.

Dad’s Favorite: Hell yes secret dog.

The Live-in: I vote pitbull.

Son Prime: sum1 convinse me not 2 murder ths lady

Peter PARKOUR: ?????????

???????

?!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?

Harley, WTF you can't just say that and then not elaborate.

Dad's Favorite: Siding with Peter here. Who are you trying to murder Keener?

Peter PARKOUR: Dude.

Seriously??

Are you literally ignoring us right now?

HARLEY, YOU HAVE YOUR READ RECEIPTS ON!

Son Prime: Read: 3:23

Dad's Favorite: Harley I swear to god you're going in the nearest lake first time we meet

Peter PARKOUR: Wait.

Hold on a damn minute.

Are you telling me?

The two of you haven't actually met??

Like IRL???

Dad's Favorite: Yeah. I mean we Skype and text plenty but we've never been in the same room

Peter PARKOUR: That's wild??

I mean

I know the three of us haven't been together

But I figured you had met without me.

Son Prime: wait. wen did u 2 meet?

Dad's Favorite: Figures that's what gets his attention instead of murder

Peter PARKOUR: When I went to tour MIT?

Have you and Mr. Stark not gone yet?

Son Prime: nope

Peter PARKOUR: Why not??

Son Prime: i dunno. keep puttin it off

Dad's Favorite: I smell a lie. I don't know what it is but you better watch your back Harley. I will find out

Son Prime: ok baskin robin

Peter PARKOUR: Can we get back to the murder?

I feel like we glossed over that.

Son Prime: no

Dad's Favorite: No point. Either they decided to leave Harley alone

Peter PARKOUR: Or??

Dad's Favorite: Or they're dead

Son Prime: & ull nvr kno

Peter PARKOUR: You two need to chill.

And meet.

Seriously, we've been talking for a year

And you two haven't even laid eyes on each other.

H O W?

Dad's Favorite: Let's start with the fact that we live like 20 hours away from each other?

Peter PARKOUR: I'm not even going to grace that with an answer.

Actually

I am

Mr. Stark has like a fleet of planes??

You could literally make a day trip out of it.

Son Prime: hes actually got a point…

Peter PARKOUR: I almost always have a point.

You two just ignore me.

Because you're assholes.

Dad's Favorite: That's fair

Dad's Favorite: @Son Prime 

I saw this and thought of you

Peter In The Middle: WHAT

THE

FUCK

IS THAT THING EVEN REAL??

Dad's Favorite: Lol yeah. Saw it at the thrift store

Son Prime: What I want to know is why the FUCK it reminded you of me.

Peter In The Middle: Oh damn.

He broke out the capitals and full words.

He's serious.

Son Prime: Actually it's just a new phone Mr. Tony sent me. Can't figure out how to turn off the damn autocorrect

Dad's Favorite: Why is it that you 2 are geniuses but can't figure out how phones work half the time?

Son Prime: Excuse you this is 1 of those prototype StarkPhones that literally nobody knows how to use yet.

Peter in the Middle: Are you really never gonna let the group chat thing die?

Dad's Favorite: No

Son Prime: Absolutely not.

Peter in the Middle: It was one (1) time you assholes.

Son Prime: I feel like we’re forgetting about the horror show that somehow reminded Riri of me.

Peter in the Middle: I was.

Trying to, at least.

Thanks for the reminder.

Dad’s Favorite: I’m not forgetting. Ever

Son Prime: Explain???

Dad’s Favorite: Should I tho?

Peter in the Middle: Depends.

Do you want me to show Mr. Stark The Video?

Dad’s Favorite: You wouldn’t

Peter in the Middle: Try me, bitch.

Son Prime: Video????

Dad’s Favorite: Don’t worry about it

Peter in the Middle: I’ll send it to you later.

Dad’s Favorite: I hate you

Peter in the Middle: :D

Cow mug.

Now.

Dad’s Favorite: It says Tennessee on it.

Peter in the Middle: Wait.

That’s it?

No inside joke????

Dad’s Favorite: Nope

Peter in the Middle: What the fuck?

Now I feel dumb.

Dad’s Favorite: :))))))

Son Prime: |-|4 ! |=!6(_)|23|) !7 0(_)7

Dad's Favorite: What the fuck does that even say??

Peter in the Middle: Is that???

Even approaching English??

Son Prime: |\|0 !7$ |_337

Dad's Favorite: Stop

Son Prime: |\/|4|{3 |\/|3

Dad's Favorite has kicked Son Prime out of the Iron Kids group

Peter in the Middle: Harley is texting me

Saying to tell you to unblock him.

He has something important to say.

Dad's Favorite has added Son Prime to the Iron Kids group

Son Prime:

|3!7(|-|

Dad's Favorite has kicked Son Prime out of the Iron Kids group

Peter in the Middle: Fair and valid.

Dad's Favorite has kicked Peter in the Middle out of the Iron Kids group

Dad's Favorite: Finally I am free

Son Prime: guess who got his xseptns letter!!!!!!!!

Dad’s Favorite: Holy shit!!!! Harley that’s fucking amazing!!!!!!

Potor Purkur: Yessssssss!!!!

Dude, that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!!

Also????

How did you get yours early???

MIT letters aren’t supposed to go out for another week??

Did Mr. Stark pull strings?

BUT ALSO CONGRATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Son Prime: na tony dnt do nythng

Potor Purkur: ???????????

Son Prime: xseptns snt 4 mit

Dad’s Favorite: Was it a backup or something?

Son Prime: or smthn

Dad’s Favorite: I swear this is worse than pulling teeth. Spill.

Son Prime: i nvr actuly applied 4 mit

Dad’s Favorite: So that’s the real reason you never came to visit. You weren’t just putting it off.

Potor Purkur: Did you ever even plan on going to MIT?

Son Prime: hell no. ive had ths place n mind since middle school

Potor Purkur: Well?

What is it?

Come on, dude.

Son Prime: u hv 2 prms not 2 tell mr tony

Dad’s Favorite: Sure.

Son Prime: com on @Potor Purkur u gotta prms

Potor Purkur: I promise.

Well, I promise to try.

I’m kind bad at secrets, actually.

But so long as he doesn’t ask

I’m fine.

I promise.

Son Prime: how do u evn hv a scret id @ ths point

Potor Purkur: Honestly??

No idea.

All of Queens should know by now TBH

But

That has literally nothing to do with your college.

Dad’s Favorite: Yeah cmon Harls. Spill.

Son Prime: I’m totally serious right now. Don’t tell Mr. Tony. I want  to tell him myself.

Potor Purkur: Promise.

Dad’s Favorite: On my life.

Son Prime: ok hr it goz.

im goin to caltech

guys?

its bn lik 5 min. wts up

Potor Purkur: Holy sHIT

Are you serious??

Dad’s Favorite: You men caltech as in the school in Pasadena California? MIT’s biggest rival since ever? The school Tony loudly talks about how much he hates? THAT caltech?

Son Prime: …

…

…

yes

Potor Purkur: Holy shit.

*_*_*_*_*

Spider-Son: Hey, guys?

I think dad might have accidentally,,,,,,,,

Built a murder bot.

Again.

Dad's Favorite: W H A T

Son Prime: u ok? r u fiting it???

Spider-Son: No.

No, you see,,,,

The murder bot,,,,,,,

Is actually,,,,,,,,,,,

Karen.

Dad's Favorite: …

Son Prime: ..............

Dad's Favorite: Explain

Spider-Son: Well.

You know how my suit has an Instant Kill Mode?

And Karen keeps trying to make me use it?

Dad's Favorite: Yeah??

Son Prime: i dnt thnk tht counts as “accidentally"

jst irresponsible

Spider-Son: That's what I thought too.

But we're in the jet.

Headed for the mission.

And I joke that I should use IKM.

And Mr. Stark freaks out.

Dad's Favorite: Why???

Spider-Son: Here's the thing.

Mr. Stark.

Didn't make an Instant Kill Mode.

Karen did that.

By herself.

Dad's Favorite: Holy shit

Son Prime: dude wut the FUCK

Spider-Son: I K N O W

Son Prime: uve befriended her at least. hopfully she remains loyal during the robo revolution.

Spider-Son: Karen says hi BTW.

Dad's Favorite: Fantastic. Maybe she'll spare us as well

Spider-Son: Karen says, and I quote, “I don't know about that.”

Son Prime: /sweats/

Dad's Favorite: I'm not even sure how I feel about this tbh

On the one hand: possibly evil robot

On the other: if she's joking this is some seriously cool coding

Son Prime: i have xactly 0 mixed feelings. murder bot bad

Spider-Son: Mr. Stark offered to change her code when we got back.

Son Prime: thk god

Spider-Son: I said no.

Son Prime: W H Y

Spider-Son: Because I love Karen just the way she is.

And she loves me.

Dad's Favorite: Okay, I've decided. That is a seriously cool ai

Son Prime: a srsly cool ai thts gonna kill us all

Spider-Son: Karen promises to spare you.

If you buy me a milkshake.

Son Prime: i cnt bleve my terminator trauma is being taken advantage of by a murder bot.

Spider-Son: :P

Dad's Favorite: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Spider-Son: Oh my God

You actually sent me money for a milkshake.

Nice.

I'm getting strawberry.

Son Prime: fuk u

Son Prime: @Dad's Favorite wut r u doin n june

Dad's Favorite: Probably nothing? Idk I might take an online class. Mostly just hanging out at home

Son Prime: so u dnt hav ny plans 4 vacay or nythng

Dad's Favorite: Not that I know of??

Son Prime: wuts the prob tht u could get ur mom to let you go smwher 4 the month

Dad's Favorite: Depends??

What's with all the leading questions?

Son Prime: bcuz i just told my mom tht mr tony nvitd the 3 of us 2 stay at the compound in june

Dad's Favorite: He did?? Why didn't he say anything??

Son Prime: bcuz he dnt ask. im the 1 plan plannin it

Dad's Favorite: Harley what the actual fuck. Have you even asked Tony?

Son Prime: no thts peters job

Dad's Favorite: Wait Peter's in on it too? How long have you two been planning this?

Son Prime: bout 20 mins. & pete dsnt no yet

Dad's Favorite: Again wtf. Why don't you do it?

Son Prime: hv u SEEN peters puppy dog eyes

speakin of

@The Live-in nswer ur phone

@The Live-in

@The Live-in

@The Live-in

Dad's Favorite: @The Live-in

@The Live-in

@The Live-in

Son Prime: @The Live-in

@The Live-in

@The Live-in

@The Live-in

The Live-in: Jesus Christ.

You two are awful.

I was in chemistry.

Don't you two ever go to class?

Son Prime: y bother

Dad's Favorite: I do but I know how to text in class

The Live-in: Like I said.

Awful.

Son Prime: wtevr. cn u do it or no?

The Live-in: What exactly am I even doing?

Dad's Favorite: Pretty sure you're convincing dad to let the 3 of us stay at the compound over June.

The Live-in: Oh.

Yeah.

That shouldn't be hard.

Like at all.

He's about to pick me up from school.

I'll ask in just a sec.

Son Prime: c? told u it wld b ez

The Live-in: HE SAID YES

Well, he said yes so long as we can get our moms/aunt to agree.

BUT STILL

Dad's Favorite: Holy shit!!

The Live-in: I KNOW!!

Son Prime: wer gonna get n2 so much bullshit.

The Live-in: B]

Dad's Favorite: B]

Son Prime: B]

Spider-Son: Guys, I may not come back from this mission alive.

Tell Ned I’ve always had a crush on him

Wait.

Shit.

That was just supposed to sound dumb and dramatic.

Not like something to actually worry about.

I’ll be fine.

Mr. Stark won’t let me go on the super dangerous missions.

Son Prime: i swr 2 fuk im gonna kill u parker

Dad’s Favorite: Yeah maybe that wasn’t exactly the best way to start that off.

Also if Ned doesn’t already know you’re madly in love with him then there’s no hope for either of you.

Spider-Son: #rude

One day I’ll get Ned to fall in love with me.

Then you’ll be sorry.

Dad’s Favorite: Oh honey

Son Prime: stop w/ petes crush. i wnna no y he thnks hes gonna die

Spider-Son: H I M

Dad’s Favorite: Christ what’s Rogers done now?

Spider-Son: He’s just doing That Thing again.

The one where he calls me kid and son.

I h a t e it, and IDK how to make him stop

Dad's Favorite: /Hamilton voice/ I'm not your son

Son Prime: congrats on not str8 up murdering him yet

Spider-Son: God he’s just so??

I don't know what, but I hate it.

I swear to God if he benches me again this mission I'm going to strangle him with his star-spangled tights.

Dad's Favorite: You gonna beat him upside the head until he sees…

Stars?

Spider-Son: I HATE YOU!!

I WAS TRYING TO BE MAD

AND NOW I'M GIGGLING!

NOBODY TAKES ME SERIOUS WHEN I GIGGLE!!

Son Prime: nbdy takes u srsly evr

Spider-Son: Fuck off, Keener.

Son Prime: ;P

Dad's Favorite: Hey Peter quick question tho?

Spider-Son: Quick answer.

Dad's Favorite: If you hate Rogers why don't you just not talk to him? Why do you act all polite to his face? Just tell him to fuck off and leave you alone?

Spider-Son: I wish it was that easy.

I mean

It could be

But it isn't.

I have to be polite because we're on the same team.

We're supposed to work together.

I started off kinda rude to him, but Mr. Stark fussed at me.

Apparently what we're doing is bigger than petty squabbles.

Son Prime: uhhh ths is def mr thn a petty squabble tho? mr t wtf

Dad's Favorite: What are you even saying to me right now?? Is dad not mad?

Spider-Son: NoPE.

He just goes along with whatever He says.

Right now Mr. Stark is flying the jet.

Even though it has autopilot.

So I'm left alone back here with Him.

The only other person we brought was Ant-Man and he's asleep so it's just the two of us making conversation.

I hate it.

I'm dying.

Also

I think he doesn't like me looking at my phone so much.

DEAL WITH IT OLD MAN

Son Prime: u rly do snd lik ur bout 2 die. rip n pieces pete

Dad's Favorite: I'm SO glad Tony hasn't cleared me for missions yet.

Spider-Son: I wish you were.

I need someone to hang out with on these.

Speaking of which.

I'm gonna go ask dad if he'll try to teach me to fly again.

Last time…

Did Not Go Well

Also kinda wanna make Him sick again.

It was funny last time.

If he says no the at least I'll have some time alone.

Anyway I'm out.

Talk to you after we kicked ass!

Dad's Favorite: Take a better selfie this time. Lighting was garbage in the last one.

Son Prime: brng me a robos arm

If you didn't need Harley's nonsense translated, I'm impressed. If you did, here you go. He's speaking leet for anyone interested.

|-|4 ! |=!6(_)|23|) !7 0(_)7 ~ Ha I figured it out

|\|0 !7$ |_337 ~ No it's leet

|\/|4|{3 |\/|3 ~ Make me

|3!7(|-| ~ Bitch