#which would tie in my idea of his crutches being able to act as a conjurer's staff >:3

[sheyshen]

Something I want to build on with vincent at some point is how much the years of being an adventurer has taken a toll on him. he spent so long just being angry at the world but as he gets closer and closer to carteneau he does start recognizing how reckless he's been and the mistakes he's made over the years. friendships (especially with layla and nhea) helping him get a little closer to how he used to be before finally stopping and trying to do better for himself when he loses his leg. and the fact that guilt has really solidified in him to still make him push himself in his healing rather than combat (though sometimes still pushing himself too far) and how the years of treating himself like a weapon have taken a toll on his mind (he has terrible nightmares that only a select few have been able to help him through it)

[tonitheloftwing]

UnShelled: The Freak The Mighty And Unwind Crossover No One Asked For

The image had stayed in Max’s head for ages. The image of Kevin, spraying chili powder into his father and captor’s eyes, sending him back to jail where he belonged. If this new law passed, there could be the possibility that his father could be unwound and shelled. Killer Kane, Killer Kane, a parts pirate soon to have no brain. He hadn’t known what shelling was originally, when he’d first heard of it on the news, so he’d asked Grim. 

“Shelling’s a horrible thing. They unwind you and then throw out the brain. You’re not alive in a divided state if they shell you, I sure think,” Grim declared.

 “Of course you’re not alive without a brain,” Max said. “No different than being a zombie then.” Even though Max was pretty sure he had no brain- he was a massive butthead. He wondered- would he want shelling to be his father’s fate, or was it too cruel? Better than the death penalty. At least his stupid body would be helping somebody. 

“I heard the only type that shell is that foreign unwinding place,” Gram said with a shake of her hand. “What do they call it… The Zah Dey?”

“It’s the Dah Zey,” Grim corrected. “Something for flesh market.”

“Kevin said it’s Burmese,” Max interrupted. Kevin had… a very strong stance on unwinding. 

“How unchivalrous! It’s a horrible practice, and should never be performed on anyone nor supported,” he claimed. “I know they can’t unwind me because I’m ‘unclean’. Well, I’ll show them unclean! I’ll protest against unwinding until this nonsense stops!” 

Max had always admired his friend’s courage and way to speak his mind. He admired that he even had a mind, something Max always felt that he had lacked. Freak was his mind; together, they were Freak The Mighty, nine feet tall and with the biggest brain you’d ever seen. Even separate, they were a menace. Freak had led to the arrest of a notorious parts pirate, and Max had passed the eighth grade! They were unstoppable! 

Max thought about unwinding a lot. No doubt if he’d been adopted out instead of taken in by Grim and Gram he’d be a pile of organs by now- a big pile of organs. He was probably worth a lot on the black market, an extremely tall, boeuf 13 year old, the prime age for unwinding. Maybe his dad would have raised him a tithe if he “found the light” earlier. Max chuckled at that. The thought of him, a tithe! He’d probably be the biggest tithe of all time. Maybe they could put him in Ginny’s World Record book or whatever it was called. 

Max also thought about parts pirateering. When your father was someone who was so cruel to send his own wife off to be unwound by the Burmese Dah Zey, you had to. Iggy and Loretta were still tied up in that business, and Max vowed to stay away from them for that very reason. Even if Loretta had saved his life once. Maybe she was just eyeing up his parts. She always acted like she was, anyways. 

One day, Kevin declared that he had a quest. “We must go to where I am to receive my robot body! To the Medical Research Center, noble steed!” 

And so Freak hopped up on Max’s shoulders and they became Freak The Mighty once again as Max galloped off into the sunrise with the smaller boy on his back. This was Max’s favorite thing in the world; the wind blowing through his hair, Kevin on his shoulders, off on a wild quest to who knows where. He loved Kevin, Freak, whoever the hell he was, he knew he did. He wasn’t sure what that love meant or what kind of love it was, but it was there. His butthead was too stupid to figure out what it was. The only way would be to ask Freak, and then he’d know that Max was a butthead too stupid to understand love, and then where would they be? But Kevin never treated Max like a butthead. He seemed to be the one person in his life who understood that even if he was one, there was no need to treat him like one. Teach the big goon to read and write, eek eek. Then call him a noble steed. 

“The castle looks just fabulously ravishing today, doesn’t it?” Freak said from atop his steed. 

“Ravishing? Hungry?”

“No, that’s famished. Ravishing means beautiful, alluring, bewitching…”

“So all the things your mom is?” Kevin smacked Max with one of his crutches. “The noble steed will not make comments about his rider’s mother.” Max untied one of Kevin’s shoes playfully, a game they always played together. Kevin always pretended it ticked him off, but Max knew it didn’t. Then when he got off of him, Max would tie his shoe back up. Kevin was originally surprised he could even tie a shoe. 

“So, when are you getting your robot body?” Max asked curiously.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m really nervous for you,” Max admitted. “I mean, you’re getting a bionic body. That’s pretty freaky.”

Kevin sighed. “Max, it’s time you know. There is no robot body. It’s just as fictional as Arthurian legend. I came up with it to help myself cope with the inevitable, the inevitable being my soon but sure demise. It’s called manifestation. If I lie to myself enough, it becomes true to me.”

Max didn’t understand most of what Freak had said, but seeing the tears in his eyes told him most of what he needed to know. “You’re… going to die?” Kevin nodded. “My organs are just getting too big for my body, and since I refuse unwound organs, I’m not going to last long.”

“Why don’t you just take them?” Max asked, trying to plead with him. “The kids got unwound anyways.”

“Do you know how hard it’d be to find organs small enough for my body?” Kevin asked. “They’d need to unwind a three year old. And they’d have to make it so the organs couldn’t grow either,” he explained. “It’d be far too complicated. And possibly illegal.”

“But you can’t die!” Max exclaimed. “Without you, I’m just… The Mighty. I need my Freak.”

“That which comes cannot be avoided,” Kevin said seriously. 

But Max would find a way to stop it. He knew he could.

First, he needed money. Lots of it. But where does one get lots of money? He swore to never be a criminal, but that might be the only way. Kevin would have called what he was doing a quest of the unnoble variety, but he needed the money. Enough money to bribe someone who probably had all the money in the world. 

So, he ransacked all the abandoned houses in town he could find. Eventually he’d stolen one, two thousand dollars? He’d been able to find a diamond necklace he’d been able to pawn off, and he had his cash. Now, time to go to the people he’d needed.  

“Loretta? Loretta, you in there?” Max asked, banging on the door. Eventually, the woman with the fake eyelashes and droopy lips greeted Max tiredly. 

“What do you want, kid?” She asked. “No, I’m not lending you money.”

“Oh, I’m not asking for money,” he said with a smirk. “Quite the opposite. You’re going to become very rich.”

“So, let me get this straight…” Loretta thought, long and hard. “You’re going to pay us to take you to the Dah Zey?”

“Well, not quite. The money is to bribe the higher ups into letting me do what I want. But yes, I’m submitting myself to you as an AWOL. No one has to know, and the Dah Zey will still pay you.”

“Well, your plan’s crazy, but you got a deal, kid,” 

Soon enough, he was on a plane to Burma, going to be unwound… maybe. He could admit he was scared out of his shorts, but this was something he needed to do, or else innocent lives would be over. He must do this.

Loretta and Iggy wouldn’t be making this journey with him, as they claimed that they were too small in the parts pirateering business to meet the owners of the harvest camps themselves. According to them, they didn’t even know what happened at the harvest camps, at least no more than anyone else knew. It had recently come out that the Dah Zey experimented on children, when the doctor had publicly made an appearance with his chimpanzee-footed assistant. Max had bigger dreams than being put on postcards, but he had a similar goal to Mr. Chimpanzee. To become an experiment of the doctor’s.

When Max arrived at the Dah Zey, they threw him in a cell, by himself. “Volunteers get special permission. You don’t go with others.”

Max wasn’t bothered by the man’s poor English; he was just anxious to meet the doctor. Only then did he realize how miserable the existence of the prisoners at Dah Zey were. 

Despite being a volunteer, Max was given very little food or water, and only a bucket to eliminate himself in. For entertainment, he was given a crappy old TV with only movies buttheads would ever want to watch, and especially enjoy. But he put them on anyways, because he was a butthead. I mean, what kind of butthead would turn themselves into parts pirates for a friend?

Apparently an impressive butthead, as later Max received a private audience with the doctor. 

“My name is Doctor Rodín,” he said, sitting down. “And you purposefully… volunteered yourself for experimentation?” 

“Yes, although you’re only allowed to experiment on me if you do exactly what I want and as I say.” 

The doctor snorted. “And why should I?”

“Because.” Max took out wads and wads of cash from his pockets. “I’ll make you very rich indeed.”

“Boy, I see more than that in a day,” he said, and Max couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not. “But I love to meet someone with my same interest in human experimentation. So, pitch your idea to me.”

“Imagine,” Max started. “A nine foot tall giant, with a brain just as big to match. He’s super smart, like, super duper smart. He could probably invent world peace or something. Or something that’d make somebody rich.”

“I’ve already done experiments for giants,” he scoffed. “They went poorly, though. The person survived, but they’re completely bedridden. I’ll have to come up with another way than stacking spinal columns.”

“Sir, I’m already 7 feet tall, and I’m only 14. Imagine how much taller I’ll be when I’m older. Or you could give me, let’s say, a two foot spinal column addition.”

The doctor looked intrigued. “So, what exactly are you proposing?”

“I have a friend who’s a supergenius, but he’s going to die soon, his organs grow but his body doesn’t. So, why don’t you shell him…” “And then shell you…”

“And then put Kevin’s brain inside my body. Oh, yeah, Kevin’s the supergenius. And, we’ll be normal enough that we can pass as a normal person, someone who could maybe publicize your experiments as not cruel, but rather innovating.” Saying all these things made Max sick, but it had to be done to save Kevin’s life. 

“I see. And what shall we call you?”

“Freak the Mighty.”

“I like that.”

Kevin woke up one day, no memory of what had happened to him or where he was. 

That was when he noticed how big he felt. His hands felt heavier, his feet reached further down in the bed than they ever had before, and when he sat up, he felt two tons of extra weight. Well, not two tons, but that was what hyperboles were for. 

He wasn’t himself. This wasn’t his body. He was Max. 

He noticed a doctor looking down on him curiously. “Hello, Freak The Mighty.”

[fanciful-of-life]

Rubber Ducky You’re The One

Bobby stood at the kitchen counter cutting up the vegetables for the stew to simmer for the dinner he was making that night.The December Fall Season had vastly approached the Los Angeles area and it was a particularly chilly day.

It fit the mood of the firehouse.

Hen, although under mandatory investigation because of the parents of the young girl in the car wanted one, was not her usual sunny self but still able to take shifts. She may put up an armor of unbreakable badassery but on the inside she is just as fragile as any other caring human. It was an accident. Green light or not. Unfortunately not everyone understands the law of clearing the way for emergency vehicles. Either that or they’re just not listening out for them. She had her fire fam to lean on, most of all Athena. Karen was trying but she still had her own depression to work through. He wasn’t worried as much about her though. Although he cared for all his subordinates the same, he knew she would pull through because that was what Hen does because she learned a long time ago it’s what she had to do to keep surviving. He did have soft spots for certain ones though. Hen being Athena’s long time friend being one of the reasons she was one of his.

Chim, bless him, was doing his best to up his regular Chimness for her.

Buck, it was the the kid he was worried about the most though. He has been way too quiet the past month. Unnaturally quiet for Buck. He’s been there for Hen. Supporting her, talking her back behind the wheel of the ambulance, sitting in the passenger seat as he goes on non-emergency test drives with her.

It had finally come to a head when “The stubborn little shit” to quote Hen, said he’d be happy to drive as Buck got behind the wheel ahead of Chimney when the call siren blared. Hen’s reply of “Like hell are you driving my baby” ended with him riding in his usual spot of the front passenger seat with her instead of the truck had done it as she told Buck in Chimney’s words “You’re an annoying little ass.”

It was that moment Bobby realized what Buck actually brought to the team. Eddie had joked in the truck Bobby’s dad was showing, not even realizing he had a proud dopey smile on his face before schooling his features and going back into Captain mode but Eddie smiled at him saying he was proud of Buck, too.

Bobby had many realizations about Buck this past month.

When he turned around after they pronounced the girl dead, with Athena holding onto Hen as her wails made a symphony of grief in the wind, he saw his eyes. Haunted. Like he knew Hen would never be the same. He’d seen those eyes in the mirror before but never on the kid. That was the moment he learned more about Evan Buckley than he had in the two and a half years he’d been working with him. Even after the lawsuit and a morning in the ER before going to breakfast. It was a moment Buck let his guard down and Bobby learned what a good actor Buck truly is.

All three were surrounding the kitchen island as he chopped. Buck even helping peel and cut potatoes. Bobby learned another thing about Buck in that moment as he snuck a peak as he used the peeler at breakneck speed. Buck was letting his guard down and forgetting to act the part Bobby finally figured out he created.

The look on Maddie’s face at Thanksgiving when Buck jokingly called Athena Mama Nash made Bobby pause thinking maybe it wasn’t really the joke Buck was trying to make it out to be.

Evan Buckley knew his way around a kitchen. There was a story there. One Buck had not and maybe would never share like he had the bartender and Navy Seals.

He suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu. When two of the same three were surrounding the kitchen island but that time it was Buck they were concerned about. This time he knew it was Eddie that was on Buck’s mind.

Eddie wasn’t in just yet, his counseling session scheduled for this morning. After their talk Bobby offered him the day off but he refused. He needed to work. In that moment he sounded just like another certain one of his boys. Bobby started sautéing the meat in the crock pot and without hesitation Buck tossed in some flour.

Now Bobby was really worried. He never taught Buck this recipe. He was starting to wonder if the “cooking lessons” Buck wanted a few years ago was just really the need of some one on one time. He was also starting to wonder after that conversation in the ER about Buck feeling like his firefighter uniform was a costume that made him feel like he was making a difference was a cry much like Eddie’s. When was the kid going to finally figure it out? Bobby had told him he didn’t need a costume to be a hero, two people were alive because of him. The idea that Buck single handily helped keep so many people alive during a tsunami. Bobby couldn’t have been prouder. Which lead to the fiasco of a dinner after Buck made Fire Marshall, deciding light duty was better than no duty.

He knew he shouldn’t have lied to Buck. The department had cleared him to return but it was Bobby himself that suggested light duty. The picture of Buck lying under a fire truck giving him nightmares. After seeing him on the crutches in the cast the day of Eddie’s party he felt the guilt punch his gut, Buck had been a liability to his past which lead him to say to hell with it, life is is too short, and going home to Athena to get married right then. He also swore Buck wouldn’t be another liability because of him.

Bobby had been waiting for it for a month now. Knew it was coming. Chim had already mentioned it to him on many occasions. He had seen the looks Buck would throw towards Eddie. Even before Bobby found out about the street fighting and their talk.

“Something is going on with Eddie.”

And there it was, finally.

Buck was taking his frustrations out on the potatoes. Which impressed Bobby how perfectly cubed they were and maybe scared him a bit at the speed the knife was going. Trust. Bobby maybe worried but he had to show trust to rebuild trust lost. Plus, the kid knew how to hold a knife the right way. By the end of the blade where it connects to the handle with his thumb, fore and middle finger grasping it and not wrapping his hand around the handle itself for better control. He never showed him that. Or how to keep his fingers bent on the other hand to use as a guide.

Yeah, the kid did some time in a kitchen. Buck was still a wet behind the ears twenty something when he came to the 118 that let his emotions get the best of him, or so Bobby thought. That was what made Buck, Buck.

Bobby should have known better to think that the kid was just ego tripping and on a mission of self destruction. Known the moment Buck’s fist hit the table that he had made a grave error. The memory of Buck’s face when he helped him with his tie before his date with Abby. Like nobody had taken the time to ever show him they cared.

Maddie had lost touch with her brother, that much he knew. They barely spoken for long periods of time. Chimney let him in on that Buckley family acknowledgement. Maddie had been mum so far on any other family knowledge. Part of it had been Doug. Part of it had been Maddie leaving when Buck was still a young teenager. He could fit the pieces together. He knew enough people with shit dads. Like Eddie had told him. He didn’t feel like he was enough. How did he miss that with Buck when he himself had gone through the same thing?

That’s the thing with trauma though, isn’t it? Everyone’s is different but in the end the results are the same. It’s why Buck “the little shit” got Hen back behind the wheel. No matter how many talks she had with Athena, trauma causes scars. Buck didn’t want Hen anymore scar tissue than she already had.

Bobby wished he had thought about that the day he talked to Buck in the hospital and how much scar tissue had been added from his actions. Buck may have the dumb act down to a “T” but Bobby wonders sometimes if the kid isn’t smarter than he is.

Much like that conversation he had with the three about Buck that warm day, with him staring Eddie in the eyes that time. This time it was Buck looking at him like he had all the answers. When did he miss that? Too caught up feeling betrayed. When did he miss the fact Buck saw him as the dad he should have had?

“Eddie has us and he has people that care about him enough to help him understand they care.”

Buck looked down for a moment, then back up at Bobby. Nodding his head that he got the message. It was Buck’s turn to push this time.

A week later Eddie walked into the station. He’s had two sessions a week with the counselor and goes every other day to talk to the priest Bobby introduced him to the day they talked. Sitting his duffle down he sees a rubber duck, the kind a kid would play with in the bath tub on the top shelf of his locker by his helmet.

Letting out a chuckle and finding himself smiling, he picks it up sitting on the bench as he tosses it from hand to hand.

“Well, that’s something I haven’t seen in weeks.” His smile grows wider as the one person he knew would leave a gift like this voice comes from behind him.

Straddling the bench he half turns to look at Buck, already in uniform, hands in his pockets. Eyes surveying his face, what skin he could see, his knuckles, noticing he can turn but mostly Eddie’s movements. Eddie’s long sleeve henley and jeans covering his arms and legs.

“Christopher is going to Love this.” Eddie says standing back up he gently sits the rubber duck back by his helmet as he takes off his shirt. He can feel Buck’s eyes on his back, it clicked with Eddie then. Buck was looking for bruises.

“It’s not for Christopher.”

Eddie pauses with the shirt covering his face and a muffled “What?”

Taking the shirt off, Buck does a quick survey of Eddie’s chest as he does so before slipping on his button up.

“It’s for you.”

Eddie is used to changing in front of Buck and he knows something is up so he kicks off his sneakers and drops his jeans, showing no bruises on his legs.

Pulling on his pants Eddie buckles his belt asking “And just why do I need a rubber duck? I’m a little old for bath play time.” Okay, that sounded a bit more suggestive than he meant.

Buck smirks “Who could possibly be in a bad mood when holding a rubber ducky? Rubber Ducky, you’re the one.” Buck sings the last part. Fairly well to Eddie’s surprise.

Eddie is back in the bench tying his boots when he pauses. “Bobby?”

“No. Whatever you confided in him he didn’t share. I know signs of fighting when I see them. Plus, the bruised ribs at Halloween.”

“How did you know? I made sure not to change in front of anyone.”

“You pulled away.” Buck sat down next to Eddie. “I was hoping you would tell me yourself about the street fighting. I kept dropping hints with everyone. Saying I think something is going on with you, hoping it would get back to you and you would come talk to me. I didn’t realize how much I screwed that up, even if you forgave me. You used to tell me everything.”

“How could you tell I was street fighting?”

“I’m observant.”

“Evan….”

“I know what street fighting looks like.”

“Evan Buckley.”

“I wanted to be a pediatrician. I got into the pre-med program at Pen State. Full scholarship. It was my out from home. I love kids. Wanted to help them. While other kids partied I read every medical book and journal I could get my hands on. I had to hide them though.”

“Buck why are you sitting in a fire station instead of being in a residency program?”

“I used to be really skinny. Wasn’t very athletic. Played the guitar and piano. I was hoping I could give Chris lessons. He should’ve have limits. He told me on the pier the day of the tsunami he wanted to be a firefighter. I know you hated me during the lawsuit but I swore to myself even if he were only a Fire Marshall I would move heaven and hell to get him on the LAFD if he still wanted that. I’d support him in anything, you know that right?”

“I know and those music lessons, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Piano. He’d be good at the piano.”

“Okay and why do I have a feeling you already bought him one for Christmas?”

“Because much like I know you, you know me.”

A moment of silence.

“I was jealous. Of Shannon. One day she just appeared and you were back with her. Even though I was holding onto Abby when I knew I shouldn’t have been. That need to not let things go. To hold onto something. Hope for something, even if it isn’t there. I even started dating Ali to get my mind off you with Shannon. When she asked you for the divorce and you called me that night wanting to meet up I was a selfish prick that was glad she was going to be out of yours and Christopher’s lives. Real asshole move. Then I saw her on the ground at the accident sight and I knew what it would do to you. I’m not in a residency program because my dad found the Pen State letter. Laughed at me. Told me I was an idiot to think I could ever make it as a doctor. Being first in my class, skipping a grade. Still wasn’t good enough for him to stop calling me worthless every night at dinner.”

Eddie looked at Buck’s profile thinking about the lawsuit. How on Halloween he told Buck he made Cap out to be the bad guy when in Buck’s mind it was reliving a father figure telling him he was too worthless to be a firefighter. Those emotions of his getting in the way of rationality. Reality was Eddie ended up doing the same thing. Just in a different way.

He listened on as Buck started up again. “I had this one friend, Jefferey, Jeff. He got me. My dreams. My mind. Everything. Maddie had stopped checking in as much by then. I already knew what Doug was doing to her. I wanted to protect her from him but my skinny ass couldn’t even protect myself. One night Jeff came over to study and he kissed me. I liked it. Of course that was when my dad decided to come into my room. He threw Jeff out. Forbade me to see him. Took me to church to “pray the gay away” why I do go now, haven’t stepped in one in years. They sent me to a “special” summer camp. Convinced me I was screwed up. So, I started to sleep around with any girl that would put out. Until Abby. After my father burned the scholarship letter from Pen State I just said screw it. Got odd jobs when I was supposed to be in school clubs. I graduated. Packed my bags and the day I turned eighteen I took the cash I had saved up and left while my parents were at work. You see Eddie. I get it. That feeling of not being enough. I wasn’t enough for med school. My parents. Even Abby, I know she loved me but I wasn’t enough for her to stay. Enough for Ali to get why being a firefighter is important. I wasn’t enough for the Navy Seals. Top in my class except my emotions kept getting in the way. I know about street fighting because when you’re a bartender in South America you see shit. The guy in charge helped me learn to fight but he never put me in the ring. Told me I reminded him of his son. He died before I left. The only time I stepped foot in a church. One of the fighters decided he wanted to be in charge and killed him. So, yeah I was worried shitless about you. When I got back to the states, I was in Texas, helped out a fire company one day. The Captain of the squad told me I had a gift. Somehow I ended up here. Went to the academy. Came to the 118 acting like a dumb jock. Then all the sudden I wasn’t enough for the 118 anymore. I heard Bosko call you Diaz, saw her name taped over mine. Then I was at dinner with Cap and Athena but in my head my dad was sitting there and I was a teenager again. You don’t have to tell me you started fighting because you didn’t feel like enough, Eddie because I know you.”

It was then the call siren rang. Eddie stood up grabbing his gear as Buck did the same. When he turned around he saw a stoned face Bobby watching Buck’s back. Bobby shook his head no at Eddie, turning around to get in the truck.

It was the standard car accident. Bobby worried about Hen but Buck was already on it being an annoying little brat around Hen. He was distracting her. Both drivers made it out alive, although the one at fault was a complete ass. The other being transported to the hospital with Hen asking Chimney how he could want to be related to Buck on purpose one day. Bobby and Chim exchanging knowing looks.

When they got back to the station Bobby went to check the stew while Buck and Eddie put away their gear. Eddie was having that craving to fight. He would have to visit the church this afternoon. Then he saw it, sitting on the top shelf. The rubber duck and he could feel himself smiling. The craving disappearing. Rubber Ducky you’re the one suddenly jingling in his head.

Buck had told him he was enough.

“So, does that make you Burt and me Ernie?” Eddie asks him.

“Dork.”

“Come over for pizza. We can pick out a place to put that piano you bought my kid without asking.”

“Like you would have said no.” Buck huffed.

Bumping shoulders with the rubber duck in Eddie’s hand, he felt a warmth in his chest. Buck made him feel like enough. His counselor had called him out on it once but he changed the subject.

Now it was his turn to return the favor.

Buck was more than enough for him.

And when they started calling each other Burt and Ernie on occasion, nobody really questioned it.

[hecohansen31]

Tinder date with Ivar, please! Fluffy, smutty or angsty, it’s up to you! Thank you 💕

(A/N); Hello lovely!

Can I just say that I love you so so much for senidng me some Ivar thing to write, I am in the mood to write anything about him, so... if you have do send, I love my grumpy murder boy... (also very funny: there was supposed tto be smut, but also... I didn’t want to make it seem too fast, but if you want a continuation with smut, I am here for it! And Ivar...).

(Let’s give some joy to this baby).

Also I know this might stray a bit from the original idea, but I also had a similar idea for a bit and thought about writing it out... if you feel like it doesn’t match your ask just let me know and I’ll write it again!

Also, sorry if Ivar is a bit OOC, he is less grumpy than usual, so... I just feel like “meanie” Ivar would get a knee in the balls from me, so...

Much love, lovely! 

I hope you’ll enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Hvitserk Being A Douche, Ivar Having Enough Of His Bullshit (also I Am Sorry If Your Name Is Elaine).

Ivar hated deeply his brother, in that moment.

He hadn’t been able to quickly get himself out of that position, and he had ended up in tight jeans, looking like an idiot at the bar part of the restaurant they were supposed to meet their dates at.

A few weeks ago, he had noticed Hvitserk quitting any social interaction in favor of his phone and a few days before he had discovered his brother had started a relationship on tinder, with some girl.

He could honestly care less.

But Hvitserk hadn’t only set up a date for himself, but also for his “virgin brother” as he had called him, meanwhile he gave him the news that they would be spending the night at a restaurant, Hvitserk with his pretty girl and Ivar with a best friend of said girl.

“… I just don’t want to meet her alone!” had protested his brother and Ivar had just rolled his eyes, muttering about the fact that Hvitserk was a man and she was a woman “…haven’t you read the news? Bad things can also happen to men!”.

He low key had soon understood that Hvitserk didn’t need a shoulder or some help, but he was trying to set him up so that his brother wouldn’t stay all day onto his sofa, when he wasn’t at work, which meant the only time he would sleep.

“Hvitserk, why do you have to drag me into this?” he mumbled, meanwhile the brother pushed onto the bed a few of his clothes, to try to set up some outfits for the night, meanwhile he sat onto bed, clutching his clutch between his hands.

He knew what would happen if he went with Hvitserk: him and the girl would smirk at each other, and probably have a great time and he would be stared as a freak by the other girl, probably with some kind of snobbish smirk, meanwhile she asked what he had to make his legs like that.

Or worse, he would met a “nurse” that looked at him with pity in his eyes and hoped to cure his heart and legs with the beautiful power of her love.

He swore that if she were like that, he would have thrown up in front of her.

“Oh c’mon! It is going to be a fun night!” Hvitserk, mumbled absentmindedly, meanwhile he set up a tie around a shirt, seeing the match and Ivar had to slam down his hand against it to get him to finally get his attention, with Hvitserk staring at him “… me and Ubbe are just worried about you, you need to socialize more…”.

“I am fine” he mumbled, looked down at his hidden legs.

“Then you won’t mind joining me for a couple of drinks…” replied cheerily Hvitserks, moving in fronto of him to block him from watching elsewhere, showing him his best puppy eyes “… I’ll pay the dinner”.

He perked up, pushing himself onto the clutch, and moved onto the wardrobe.

“Who can say no to free food?”.

But now not even the promise of free food made him feel less nervous and Hvitserks had to stop him from downing another shot of whiskey.

He was low key thankful that he was sitting because it made his flaw stand out less and when Hvitserk elbowed him to make him see that his girl and her girlfriend had arrived he was able to seem almost normal, if not for the crutch next to him.

He also hoped that Hvitserk had told the girl about his problem, so that he hadn’t have to explain it, but he hadn’t much talking to do anymore with his brother, because abandoning him completely. Hvitserk moved closer to the girl smiling gently at her, but before he could welcome her properly, she locked lips together in a crashing and heated kiss that Hvitserk didn’t seem to mind.

The kissing quickly turned into a full blown make out session and Ivar huffed looking at his feet, before he saw near them a pair of booties, standing in front of him and raised his head to meet the stare of the prettiest girl in the room.

She was wearing a simple blazer over a striped shirt, matched with high waisted jeans, with a larger legs, giving her a bohemian look, that made her look easy to approach and the shy smile on her face kept up that impression he had of her.

It would have felt even worse to be dumped by a pretty girl.

“I am very sorry for Elaine” she muttered, her smile awkwardly shuffling on her feet “… she is an only child with daddy issues and tend to latch onto any male figure she sees…”.

He couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped his lips and she seemed to brighten up a bit, standing straighter.

“I mean… I would like to say that I have excuses for Hvitserk acting like that, but…” he looked at her in her pretty eyes, feeling any emotion blossom and his own shyness retract a bit, just because they seemed so welcoming and nice “…I try not to associate with him, too much”.

She laughed quickly and again her feet were shuffling, and her eyes were down observing the suddenly interesting movement of her feet.

“So, you were also dragged into this?” she asked softly, some kind of insecurity shining in her eyes, clearly she didn’t feel at ease as him in this situation “…I already make my condolences for being stuck with me”.

He honestly understood perfectly insecure girls, but with the body that she had, he couldn’t understand what might make her insecure, mostly with somebody like him.

He also didn’t understand this sudden interest in her, alongside the willingness to seem nice towards her, probably the fact that she had been pretty gracious with him, although she probably hadn’t noticed about the crutch.

“I don’t see why you should say something like that, when you clearly haven’t spoken with me, yet” he mumbled with the same reserved tone, getting a side-eyed confused look by the girl “… and then you might hate Elaine for dragging into this”.

“Are you a serial killer?” she asked, with a conspiratorial look, exaggerated enough that it made him smirk matching perfectly her tone.

“Nope” he rolled the “p”, almost childish, but it made her giggle adorably, sheltering her face with a hand, hiding her adorable smile.

“Well then you just got some pretty points on your favor” she replied, and then sat onto the chair that had belonged to Hvitserk, and Ivar had the perfect chance to take a good look at her body in movement, graciously but with also a slight presence of goofiness.

“… you have low standards” he replied, sarcastically “… even lower than mine”.

The silence that followed him made her think that she had taken personal offence to the reply, and he turned to reply but just found her looking at her confused, before she turned her head away caught in the act of observing him attentively.

He questioned whether he had noticed his “slight problem” but before he could ask or apologize for his harsh sarcasm Elain and Hvitserk mumbled that their table was ready and Ivar noticed that although Elain seemed head over heels for his brother, Hvitserk just seemed like he already wanted to go out.

They settled down and Ivar had the chance to show off his walk on the crutch, which didn’t pass clearly unobserved by those around them a waiter even coming to ask if he needed help settle down and he was slightly thankful to Elaine’s friend (he felt extremely annoyed by the fact that he had been rude enough not even to ask her name, Asluagh would have decked him for being so ungentlemanly) for smiling gently but firmly at the waiter and telling him that “they would manage, just fine, on their own”.

He settled down in front of her, beside Hvitserk, and immediately Elaine moved the hand onto Hvitserk’s grabbing it, with a lovesick smile that brought bile in his mouth, meanwhile a blush spread onto the other girl’s face, but most importantly they were both cut off from the other couple on their own.

“I was such a terrible date already because I didn’t even ask your name and didn’t give you mine” he tried to make small talk and found some kind of relief in the way she immediately was receptive to it, showing interest in him “… I am Ivar”.

“(Y/N)” and then she muttered, spelling wrongly his name and asking if it was alright.

He taught it to her, slowly, making her blush and giggle softly at the pronounce, till she got it right, asking for the story of it, and showing interest in his Viking origins, alongside the story behind it.

After talking about him, she had moved onto offering him some info about herself, and Ivar couldn’t help but be amazed by her interests, alongside interested into knowing more, and he couldn’t help but notice the fact that she kept hiding in herself a bit, shy and insecure.

But soon from two strangers imply making small talk they found themselves to become more involved into each other and most importantly at ease with each other, enough that Ivar found himself slightly attracted by you, and “slightly” as in, he wanted to propose on the spot.

He was still a bit insecure about his legs, but she hadn’t asked much.

Elaine actually did, motioning the crutch, after Hvitserk had tried to escape to the toilette for a bit of privacy (trying to get him to accompany him, but he was enjoying (Y/N)’s presence too much), and focusing her attention onto Ivar, as if he was her next prey.

He was thankful for the way (Y/N) had gently moved her hand onto his, to stop her friend’s eyes from wandering.

“I was born with a disease that makes me legs’ bones pretty frail, they tend not only to fracture easily, but also to weld themselves badly and deformed together” it was useless to say that it was TMI for Elaine who immediately turned her head to Hvitserk as soon as he was back.

He expected the same look of horror on your face but nothing like that appeared on your face, preferring a soft smile, and your hold onto his hand tightened slightly, before it went back over your thighs.

“… that sounds painful to endure” he simply uttered.

“It is” he confirmed, and was thankful her glance wasn’t laced with pity, just strong admiration.

Hvitserk suggested a walk after the dinner, probably so that he could dump Elaine in a more private place, suggesting that (Y/N) and Ivar came back together, idea completely backed up by Elaine who looked like she was ready for a marriage proposal.

(Y/N) actually had the car so she was supposed to be the one who was going to leave him over, meanwhile Hvitserk accompanied her Elaine home, and according to what was going on… he low key was the one who got lucky tonight.

He didn’t think that she would be interested into seeing him again, although he low key wanted to, but the idea to ask her out made him nervous and completely aware that she wasn’t interested in a useless cripple.

In the drive home, the conversation had gone down to a slight small talk, before delving into comfortable silence, and she had suggested he walked him home, and although he usually thought that it was offending to treat him as some kind of less abled man, he took every chance to spend more time together.

And he was low key thankful when he found out that the elevator had stopped working for that night, he had only one floor of stairs to walk and he could have done it alone, but she offered to help him, mostly as an assurance in case he fell.

She came behind him in order to catch him if he ever feel, not invading his space but being close enough.

“I am sorry for this… I know that you low key just want to go to sleep and forget about everything” he joked, getting a slight poke on his side, which got a quiet giggle from him.

“I don’t mind it, and I get to be close to you…” she replied, softly moving her hand onto his hips to steady him, something that he wouldn’t have encouraged from any stranger, but he didn���t mind it, he kind of felt like it was just so natural “… and your wonderful cologne”.

“… that isn’t creepy in the slightest” he retorted, but his tone was light.

He felt as light as he hadn’t felt in a long time, that is probably why when they finally arrived in front of his house he tried to find excuses to make her stay in his mind, but she was the one who spoke first, something for which he was grateful.

“It was a nice night” she started, and then looked down, without facing his eyes “… we should do it again”.

“Oh definitely” he mumbled maliciously, making her raise her head and smirk softly, leaning closer and he met her halfway.

It was a simple caress of lips, but it strangely meant so so much for him: it made him feel alive.

Not strange, not pitied.

She made him feel good.

He might do indeed to propose on the spot.

When they separated, pretty quickly, mostly because she was insecure, he pushed her closer to him and smirked.

“Why wait?” he honestly didn’t care about not being able to satisfy her or anything: he just wanted to be a bit selfish “… I have a few cool things to show you inside”.

“Now that sounds creepy” she mumbled, but quickly followed him, with her hand in his.

Strangely his tinder date came up better than he thought.

He really needed to thank Hvitserk.

[entamewitchlulu]

On the Essence of Recovery: The Necessity of Arc V’s Unsatisfactory Ending

So, lately, I've been rewatching Penguindrum.  I've also been reading a lot of analyses of Penguindrum, and in turn I've been looking up analyses of some of my other favorite surrealist anime, mostly Ikuhara's work.  And remembering how Penguindrum ended, I found myself thinking about how almost all of Ikuhara's main works end sort of...bittersweet.  Progress has been made, but something huge has been lost as well, leaving the end feeling almost unsatisfactory.

And that's gotten me to thinking about analyzing shows that have similar endings, that aren't necessarily made to be...well, as dense as that particular brand of anime.  Specifically, I've been thinking about Arc V, and again about the ending that left a lot of people upset.  I was and still am to a point one of those people who was disappointed with how it ended, but looking back at it in hindsight, and especially through the lens of the previously mentioned anime, I wondered if maybe there was something more to the decision than first appeared.

Now before I start the actual meat of this post, let me disclaim that I would be among the first to admit that it's probably “not that deep.” But there's the distinct possibility that it is, and regardless of whether my conclusions were intended conclusions, the act of analyzing fiction against one's own individual interpretation is an important final step in the process of any creative endeavor.

Without spoilers, let me briefly talk about the anime I mentioned up above. Penguindrum is at its surface level a hilariously silly and ridiculous anime.  The main characters are followed around by odd penguins and their sister is possessed by a penguin hat.  But it is also an intensely deep anime, about family, fate, sacrifice, and unconditional love, which culminates to a sad, but ultimately inevitable end.  The sacrifices that are made at the end are hard, upsetting, and honestly upon my first watch through I was quite upset about it.  It didn't seem fair. I experienced similar reactions to the endings of Ikuhara's other works, as well as Arc V.  

But for Ikuhara's works, the unsatisfactory endings where something was lost in exchange for something gained, there was a thematic importance to the decision to make those endings, and I think Arc V is the same.  But to understand that thematic importance, first we must examine what the major theme of Arc V is.

In my humble opinion and in light of the ending, I think the theme of Arc V is recovery.

Certainly there are other themes, both major and minor.  The title theme of “take a step forward with courage,” is one, the idea of spreading smiles is another.  But I believe both of these and many of the other threads tie into the major, overarching and unspoken theme of “recovery.”

Yuya is introduced to us right away as a depressed child.  I don’t think there’s any way you can get around this, it’s just shy of them telling us straight out in canon.  He’s been bullied, he’s suffered terribly from the mysterious loss of his father, he’s been ostracized and held up against his dad since he was nine.  His mother says that he’s “put on the mask of a clown,” laughing at himself before others can as a self-defense mechanism.

Yuya is a hugely flawed character in the first half of the series, especially in the first season.  He is basically a living embodiment of bad coping mechanisms held together by denial.  He hides himself away when he’s hurt or upset rather than addressing the thing that’s upset him.  He gets defensive and upset when someone else Pendulum Summons, something that he was using as a crutch to make himself feel like he was worth something.  He jokes around and tries to force Entertainment instead of feeling it himself.  He forces himself to laugh to avoid facing the possibility that he is actually not okay.  He tries to force his beliefs on others in order to make himself feel like he and the tenets he clings to are actually worth something.  And very often, his attempts at avoiding his problems backfire.

Throughout the series, these issues are addressed, one thing at a time.  His talk with Shuzo helps him understand that Pendulum Summons themselves aren’t what makes him special, it’s how he continues to move forward in the future and make use of the opportunity that they gave him.  His mother encourages him to not let his anger eat him up and to continue trying to do his best without forgetting who he wants to be.  He realizes through his interactions with Jack that he was trying to force his feelings instead of just relaxing and letting go of his self-inhibitors. His Synchro character arc helps him learn how to see outside himself  and meet others where they’re at instead of seeing through his own narrowed worldview.  He is growing, changing, and healing.  He is moving out of the shadow of his father that he's crunched himself beneath and learning to stand on his own feet again.

In the third season and part of season four, we see that Yuya is, despite his situation, reaching a healthy place mentally.  His long periods of depression interspersed with highs of determination from Synchro are all but gone, leaving him at a fairly steady emotional level.  He stays true to his convictions, remains light and cheerful, and meets people where they’re at instead of viewing them from his own situation.  Yuya is healing.

Then in the tail end of the Fusion arc, we learn the final major twist: that of the existence of Zarc and Ray.  And in that discovery, we realize that this was never just about Yuya's recovery.  

Zarc, who through flashbacks and seeing bits of him in Yuya throughout the series, was just as or even more broken than Yuya ever was.  He was a lonely, desperate young man who wanted what Yuya wanted, to be able to be happy and smile and make everyone else happy with what he was doing, too.  But he was pushed too far, he didn’t have the emotional support network that Yuya did, and he and his dragons simply fed into each other’s anger and distress until they reached a breaking point, until Ray came along and literally broke him into pieces.

And then I think it’s clear enough if you take a watch through the last part of Arc V.  That whole last arc is about Yuya accepting that he is Zarc, but not only that, but accepting his healing.  Zarc was broken—so was Yuya.  Yuya learned how to grow and develop and work with his issues.  Zarc didn’t get the chance, and Yuya’s final arc is his final step for both him and Zarc to heal.  I don’t think it’s any surprise that there are two other important characters in this arc who reach some level of recovery.  Shun finds it in himself to start healing the fractures in his heart that he has harbored all this time (there was another very good post I read once about Shun’s arc following the stages of grief, which I will attempt to find and link here).  Dennis finally finds acceptance and enough security to pull off the mask that he’s kept on for self-preservation for so long.  These are two incredibly powerful writing decisions, and their place in this part of the narrative really implies to me that Arc V is reaching its thematic conclusion on the themes of recovery.

I think it's important to note before we continue that these are not the only characters who experience the need for or the arc of recovery.  Reiji is presented as a very emotionally suppressed young man devastated by the breaking down of his family.  Reira's entire character arc in Synchro is about him healing from the PTSD and loss of identity he experienced from a combination of war and abuse. Sora, and to a lesser extent Selena, are child soldiers recovering slowly from indoctrination through interaction with people outside of their “cult.”  Edo presents a more violent response to the attempt to recover, bucking and fighting against the healing offered to him until the end.  I feel that there are even more characters that we could apply this theme to, and it would easily make sense.

Finally, then, we reach the ultimate end, which spurred this meta in the first place: the contentious ending where Yuya and Yuzu do not split from their other selves, but instead remain a single fused person.  If we continue this analogy that the essence of Arc V is recovery, then…in a strange, bittersweet, and sad way, it makes perfect sense to me.

One of the things I hear a lot about recovery is that, people who have been through horrible mental illnesses or trauma should not expect of themselves to be the person that they were before the illness or trauma occurred.  To search for that is to find yourself trapped, because you can’t go back, and you will ruin yourself in a cycle of trying to retrieve something that can't be again.  That's not necessarily a bad thing, though; you are still you, but you are going to be a new you.  To me, that’s exactly what’s happening in Arc V.

Zarc cannot go back to being Zarc.  What happened to him was literally too shattering.  But he, through Yuya, found healing, and literally mended himself back together.  But he’s not Zarc anymore, now, he’s Yuya.  Yuya and Yuzu are, by word of canon, actually Zarc and Ray, but they are different, now, too.  It's incredibly telling that Yuya's final arc is about him accepting himself as being Zarc, but moving forward into being him, as well.  Recovery and healing doesn’t bring you back to the person you were.  It brings you to the new person that you can be once you’ve accepted what happened to you, and start working on the things that were holding you back.  In this manner, Zarc and Ray can't go back to being themselves, but they have been able to put themselves back together in order to give themselves a second chance as Yuya and Yuzu.

So yes…it is still incredibly sad to me that the girls and boys were not able to separate, but in the themes that I feel Arc V was trying to promote, it makes sense.  Something was lost, yes, and it hurts a lot, but something was gained as well. It's the same feeling I had of the end of Penguindrum: something incredibly precious was lost, and yet there is hope in what was gained.  I feel that the overall gut punch of Arc V was a little more intense, though, as where Penguindrum never exactly pulled away from the fact that their characters were the tools for the fable to tell the story, Arc V never pretended that their characters were anything other than living humans.  My own much heavier emotional entanglement with the Arc V cast made the ending much harder.  (It should be noted, as well, that Arc V is not the first Yu-Gi-Oh iteration to take characters away from us at the end, or end with a bittersweet tone where something was lost in exchange for something gained.)

In conclusion, reading Arc V in this light actually gave me a lot more closure about the ending.  I will quite honestly always be a little sad about it, and I will always wish that there had been a different ending.  I'll always choose to ignore it when writing my own personal canon, haha.  But I also feel in the light of this analysis that Arc V couldn't have ended any other way, or it would not have been the same story.  For the story that they were trying to tell, for the theme that was being presented, it was the ending that needed to be told.

Recovery is not an easy process, and nor is it always a happy one.  There is always something sad about recovering and about realizing what you lost along the way.  But there is hope at the end of it as well, about the new future that you can now reach for.  It's the eternal duality of sadness and joy that comes with the act of living.  “Take a step forward with courage,” is the what the summary says is the theme of Arc V, and that, I think, is the best tagline for recovery I can think of.

Go forward, because there is no going back.  And there is nothing wrong with that.

[colubrina]

Unlikely Brothers, Chapter 3 (chapters 1 - 2 on FFN)

Harry ends up back in time on the steps of Wool's Orphanage. Raised in institutional squalor with Tom Riddle, he has a very different attitude toward magic, Hogwarts, and friendships.

Harry liked Potions.  He didn't expect to, especially when they were told to put their wands away, but the professor flattered Malfoy, which was fun to watch, and told Nott he'd quite liked the book 'Old Cantankerous' had written.  Both boys cringed under the praise of their families, and Nott managed a, "I hope to excel on my own merits, sir," which earned him a thumping shoulder clap and the exhortation that he was a good lad.

Tom raised his hand after the explanation of basic ingredient preparation and asked a leading question that allowed Professor Slughorn to expound at almost tedious length on the matter.  Harry frowned at his friend.  When Tom caught the look he just smiled before returning his whole attention to the lecture.  Harry controlled his grin when he realized what was going on.   Tom's sycophant act had never quite worked on Mrs. Cole.  She'd raised one too many troubled children to not recognize blatant manipulation when she saw it, at least most of the time, but this place seemed filled with easier pickings.  He'd bet half their remaining funds Tom would have this old bore eating out of his hand by Christmas.

Transfiguration was less fun.   Tom kept his mouth shut, and Harry followed his lead, and it didn't matter.  Before the class started the pair of them talked to Nott and Malfoy, sharing stories of transfiguration gone horribly wrong.  Both wizards had a slew of stories, likely old wives tales, about people who accidentally drank potions blended with animal hairs and became half-cat or half-rat hybrids or people who stayed in an animagus form so long they forgot they were human.    Dumbledore slipped into the room so quietly they didn't hear him and cleared his throat, and all the young students pulled away from one another as though they had been caught doing something naughty.

"I do hope you aren't filling your heads with the kinds of outrageous stories printed in the back pages of The Daily Prophet," he said with a serious tilt to his head.  "That sort of salacious rumor-mongering leads to fear and intolerance."

"Who wants to be tolerant of werewolves?" Malfoy whispered in an undertone to Tom and Harry.    "It's like asking us to be tolerant of Muggle-borns."

Dumbledore fixed his steady gaze on them, and they fell silent.  The class began with a reasonably cogent explanation of transfiguration and what they could expect to do this term, but throughout the whole thing Harry could feel the professors's eyes on him, worried and watchful in turn.  Tom wouldn't be able to charm this one.

"What's a Muggle-born?" he asked later as they loped through the halls on their way back to the dungeons and their room.

"Maybe you," Malfoy said.  The words sounded mean, and Harry's fingers itched to curl into a fist.  Even without knowing what the term meant, he knew it was insulting.

Nott, however, shook his head.  "The way Riddle does magic?  Not likely."

"What is it?"  Tom asked.

"A wizard with two Muggle parents," Nott said.  "Like having a cat give birth to a person.  They're unnatural."

"You were probably half-bloods," Malfoy said.  Harry couldn't tell if that was a concession or a sneer.  He doubted Malfoy was sure himself.  "One Muggle parent, one real person as a parent."

"I feel like it would explain why you got left in some orphanage with no name," Nott said.  He sounded sure of himself, pleased he'd worked out a problem that had been nagging at him. "You did magic and it scared your Muggle mum or dad.  Everyone knows Muggles don't care about their children.  My governess told me they used to even eat babies, use their blood in bread and stuff."

Tom's mouth twisted with scorn at that idea, and Harry had to keep from laughing.  These two had no idea what went on outside their little world.  "Your governess didn't know anything," Tom said.  "Muggles don't go around eating babies."

"Abandoning them, though," Malfoy said.  "Still pretty bad."

Harry's stomach tightened because he couldn't argue with that.

"Does Dumbledore say you should like Muggles and stuff?"  Tom asked.  The words were too casual but neither Nott nor Malfoy realized he was probing for answers that really mattered.  Harry just kept walking as Malfoy let out a mean laugh.

"Yeah," he said, "Muggles and werewolves and even house elves.  He's all 'everyone needs to be nice', but he used to be friends with Grindelwald, that what my dad says, so he's full of it."

"Grindelwald?" Tom asked.

"Nutter on the continent," Nott said.  "There's articles sometimes in the Prophet."

"Huh," Tom said, and that was the end of that.

. . . . . . . . . .

Better than Potions, though, was flying.   They lined up, all the first years at once, on the Quidditch pitch, one student to a broom.  Tom eyed the broom with barely concealed disdain but it flew into Harry's hands with the happy enthusiasm of a puppy and once it was there it felt right.  He held onto the wooden handle, hardly listening as the grim-faced teacher went through a safety checklist and waited for everyone to be able to command their brooms.   Waiting for people bored him, especially when the broom in his hands twitched with an eagerness to be off.

Off wasn't something they were allowed.

Even once the dullards had managed to coax the brooms to fly up into their hands, they weren't allowed to do more than fly at a slow pace, barely off the ground, around and around the Quidditch pitch.    It was still good.  It was still great.  He just wanted more.  One girl cried when her broom tried to shaker her off, and a boy with a blue tie argued with his broom when it wouldn't listen to him.  He could explain all the theory of flying wood and anti-gravity charms in great detail but his broom sank back to the grass every few feet, exhausted by its burden.

"Bit dull," Tom said as they walked away from the lot at the end of the lesson.  "And brooms?  Can't see why that should be necessary."

Harry shrugged but he was already trying to think how he could get his hands on one of those brooms.  A filched copy of  The Daily Prophet, found left on a bench in the corridor so surely abandoned and thus fine to take, showed him the prices of new brooms.  He remembered how much money they'd had to get supplies, compared it to the listed prices of even the the low-end models, and felt his shoulders sag.  Buying one was out.   The physical education professor had locked the school brooms away when the class was done, and he'd watched her use a magical lock on the door so he assumed breaking and entering was equally out.  

He wadded the newspaper up in frustration as a group of older students jostled by, their brooms in their hands.  "Watch it, firstie," one of them said as he passed.  "Stay out of the way of the team."

"You aren't the team yet," another said.  "Tryouts are over the weekend.  Some little maggot might bump you right off, which would serve you right, you wanker.  Snogging that Clearwater girl all summer instead of working on your form."

"I wasn't the one wanking," he said with a bit of a crude gesture.  "If a girl ever let you near her knickers, you might find out there are things beside Quidditch and your hand."

Another one of them laughed, and they shoved at one another as they disappeared down the hall.  "Jocks," Tom said with derision until he noticed the way Harry stood with his fists carefully unclenched and his feet too still.   "You want to try out?" he asked.

Harry's eyes were still on the empty corridor where the Quidditch players had been.  "Doesn't matter if I do," he said.  "No broom.  Can't exactly compete against tossers like that who've been flying for years."

It took Tom three minutes to break the lock on the broom shed.  "I watched her do it," he said.  "Just a matter of doing it again backward."

"You aren't getting one for yourself?"  Harry asked.

Tom made a face.  "No," he said.  "Too much like a crutch."

"Suit yourself."

If flying in a slow circle around the pitch was good, flying as fast as he could at night, low to the ground to avoid being caught, was great.   Tom leaned up against a rock wall, textbook in hand as he did something between transfiguration homework and experimentation on an unfortunate frog.  Harry ignored the homework, the frog, and the very real possibility of running headlong into a tree in the dark because he was finally free.

Flying, he decided, really flying, was worth anything.  He laughed with delight, then again as the air tore the sound from his mouth and threw it behind him, already lost because he was moving so quickly no one could ever catch him.   The air stung his eyes, and he was cold, and none of that mattered because he'd finally outpaced Mrs. Cole and his much-hated mother who'd left him at Wool's.  Even Dumbledore with that insistence he wasn't on his precious Hogwarts list couldn't stop him.

When he settled at Tom's side again, Tom closed his book and said, "Done?"

Harry grinned.  "Never," he said.  

. . . . . . . . . .

Never meant he went to Quidditch tryouts.  A bored seventh year leaned on his broom and divided the would-be players into groups.  Most had their own brooms and several had models Harry immediately recognized as top of the line models, but he wasn't the only person to pull a broom from the pile of school equipment.   He hefted the one he had and ran a thumb over the worn place where the label had once been.  It had fallen off so long ago the wood was almost universally weathered, but the indent from the metal plaque was still there.

"No one's ever gotten on using a school broom," a boy waiting near him said.  Harry shrugged and looked over at the side of the pitch.  Tom was leaning up against one of the posts of the stands, book in hand.   "Did ya hear me?"  the boy demanded.  He gave Harry a shove.

"I heard you," Harry said.  He turned his back with contempt the boy was probably too sheltered to read, and waited for his turn.    

When the captain tossed a practice Snitch into the sky and said, "First one to get it is the backup Seeker," he launched himself into the air.

The wind felt cold, and he could tell at once that the broom under him wasn't as fast or as good at hairpin turns as the fancy models.  Money did buy quality.  Slim young men darted and wheeled through the air, showing off skills and equipment in equal measure.  Harry nodded to himself as he went higher and higher.   The gold snitch seemed to be playing with the lot of them.    It darted left, then right, then swooped down so it skimmed right along the grass.  Three people crashed into the ground as they tried to catch it.  Two sullenly walked off the pitch, but one had to be helped back to the castle, limping as he favored an ankle quite obviously sprained.

The Snitch darted up, going almost straight into the air.  The gold glittered a little in the dying sun, but the ball was so small as to be almost invisible.  Harry drifted downward toward where he'd seen the last glint, then, when another would-be Seeker dashed his way, feinted off to the left with a hard jerk on his broom.  The boy followed his lead and went left too, and Harry raced back to the where he'd seen the Snitch.  It hovered, almost not moving with wings that were a blur, and he reached out and plucked it from the air.  It tried to fly away right as his hand closed around it, but it was too late and he had it.

He dropped back down to the captain, who looked at the worn broom and asked, "Calling it quits?"

Harry opened his hand and displayed the little golden ball.  "What do you think?"

The captain looked at him, began to grin, then thrust his hand out. "Baran Flint.  Welcome to the team."

"We have to get him a real broom," said one of the other team members.  "That thing is shite."

"I just got your Snitch," Harry said. He shoved a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. His hair never quite cooperated but after flying it was even less behaved than usual.  

"What happened to your head," Flint asked.  He reached out a finger to point at the jagged scar on Harry's forehead.

"Orphans aren't posh," Harry said, though in truth he had no idea how he'd gotten the lightning shaped scar.  It had just always been there.  He never even thought about it.    "Or rolling in blunt.  You get me a free broom, I'll fly it.  Otherwise…."  He trailed off and patted his broom.  

The group waved him away with orders to check the board in the common room for practice times, and a brewing argument about how long  it had been since a firstie had made a team, even as a backup.  Harry walked by the group still waiting to fly for other positions and tossed the school broom at his foe from earlier.  The boy fumbled for it and it ended up on the ground. "You can't buy talent," Harry said.

Tom had closed his book and stood when he reached the edge of the stands. "You on?" he asked.

"Seems I'm the youngest in more years than they can remember," Harry said.

Tom kicked at the half-open door and slipped back into the castle.  "Malfoy needs help with his Potions homework," he said after they'd reached the entrance to their dorm.  "I said I'd look it over."

"He just wants to copy your answers," Harry said.

Tom grinned. "So do you," he said.  "Do you think you can get Nott to join the study group?"

"He likes Quidditch," Harry said.  "He'll want to hear all about it."

"There we go," Tom said.  "Potentia."  The wall slid open and they both walked in to the common room, ready to study the way different ingredients could be mixed together to make a new, more powerful compound.