#yeah henry buries him out in the woods (he did the same thing with the MCI kids' corpses and the irony is not lost on him)

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

the concept of henry killing clay is very creative and cool, I would like to hear more about it

Basically what happened was Henry was rummaging around his old workshop for parts in the 2000s to use in the 'set everyone on fire' plan and Clay found him cus Henry's old house is on his beat.

Clay confronts him about how Henry intentionally lied to him about William's involvement in the murders and Henry lets it slip that he actually knew Will was responsible the whole time and thinks Clay is pretty stupid for just taking their word at face value.

Clay gets pretty mad about this revelation and says he's 100% gonna report this and take him into custody and shoots Henry point-blank in the chest when he resits. He immediatly regrets this and lets his guard down to panic and check if he's okay.

Henry is a corpse at this point in time so he is actually relitivly unharmed (still pretty shaken mind). As soon as he recovers he stabs Clay in the neck with some pliers or something and he dies.

This is an important event to me because it's the first time Henry takes a life with his own hands. Every other time its been negligence or complicity but now he's an ACTIVE murderer. RIP Clay Burke congrats on missing the housing market crash.

[mageofseven]

I've been reading your stuff lately and I love them.

May I request like the bros' reaction when their kid told MC that they hate her and when the bro asked why they hate her the kid be like she gonna leave them too when they grow up... since mc is a human and stuff.. :/

Okay, I think you're talking about death here? If not, sorry, but if so, this is so sad 😣 It makes sense though. Once they learn about death, they might not fully understand it. That combined with hearing that human life spans are so short, maybe the kids would be afraid that it means their mommy is going to willingly leave them some day?

~

Lucifer:

Immediately angry with his daughter.

Grabs Ksenia by the arm and makes her face him.

"Tell your mother you are sorry."

"B-But she's going to leave me..."

Loosens his grip on her arm, frowning.

Realizes that the girl is just scared of losing her mother.

In all honesty...he is too.

"That doesn't mean you can say such things..." He says more gently. "Now please tell her that you are sorry."

He struggles with the same fear, but buries it deep within himself so he can enjoy the present with his Love and their daughter. Really hopes his daughter can do the same.

Mammon:

"Woah, woah, woah! Where the hell did that come from??"

"I hate her! She's gonna leave me!" Little Cassia starts bawling her eyes out.

Oh shit...

"Okay, none of that, none of that!" The second brother got down on his knees and pulled his daughter in close. "Your mama ain't going anywhere soon, ya hear? She's stayin' right with us, ya got it?"

"Y-You promise?"

"Ya bet. Think I'd lie to you?" He asked, feeling a bit guilty.

I mean yeah, his daughter is actually right...someday MC will be gone and that's that. Still, this girl is way too young to think about that.

Leviathan:

"Y-You can't say that!"

This man has no clue how to handle this--like at all.

Luckily, MC does.

The woman leans down and hugs her crying son close.

"I-I'm sorry. Please don't leave me, Mommy."

"Shh." MC cajoled. "It's okay. Mommy's gonna be here for a long time and no matter what, you're always gonna have Daddy, okay."

That jolted Levi from his freezed panic. He fell down to his knees and joined the hug, arms wrapped around both MC and Kai.

"Yeah. I'm always gonna be here, okay?"

God, thinking about a future where his Henry is not here...the demon doesn't even want to. He doesn't wanna face it. But some day he's gonna have to and he can't just shut himself away in his room when that day comes because Kai is gonna need him.

But will he be strong enough to be there for his son when that day comes?

Satan:

Steps in between MC and Amelie as the girl screams. She may be a child, but she still has the strength of a demon and Satan didn't want his Kitten to get hurt from their daughter's tantrum.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" The small child screamed, jumped, and cried. Each jumped cracked the floorboards under her feet more.

Puts in a lot of effort to remain calm. Matching anger with more anger solves nothing and the Avatar of Wrath recognized this.

"Amelie, that is enough." Satan said sternly, not yelling, but also making sure his daughter could hear him above her own sobs.

The little girl collapsed onto the ground and started kicking her hands and feet against the floor, breaking off bits of wood.

"I--don't--wan--na--lose-Mama!" Amelie screamed and cried with each heavy breath.

"S-Satan..." MC started tearing up at their daughter's words.

Satan took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"It'll be fine." He told her before letting go and leaning down to pick up Amelie.

The child kicked and cried till her father brought her in for hug and then she simply clung to him.

"Shh. Amelie, it's alright." The demon said softly. "Mama's right here with us. She's not leaving anytime soon."

"You promise?"

"I promise." MC chimed in, wrapping her arms around her daughter and kissing her head over and over.

MC's mortality...that's something her boyfriend wishes to fix. He's not quite sure how, but surely it's possible; Solomon proves just as much. Regardless of whether it is or isn't though, the demon did not want his daughter to fear that day or to give it any thought at all. This truth is something he wishes for only himself to bear, not Amelie or MC.

Asmodeus:

"Oh LiLi!" Azzy lightly scolded before pulling his son into his lap. "Don't say such mean things to Mommy."

"I-I'm sorry..." Liam burying his face in his dad's shirt and sniffled.

"Now what's wrong, baby? Talk to us." MC cajoled as she stroked her son's hair.

"I don't want you to die someday, Mommy..."

His parents' eyes widen.

"LiLi...that's not anything you need to worry about, sweetie." Asmo kissed his head.

"But isn't Mommy gonna leave someday?"

"Not for a very long time, baby," MC rubbed his back. "And I promise I'll be here with you always till that day."

Oh devil. Now Asmo is gonna be worrying about her eventual death for awhile. Later, his Dolly will have to switch to comforting him, but for now, they both need to focus on their son.

Beelzebub:

"Arsi..." The younger sister hugged her twin's arm.

Their parents just stared in shock at first. Why would Arsenia say she hates MC?

Beel frowned.

"Arsi, what's wrong?"

The girls both started crying and their parents immediately scooped them up, Arsi in Beel's arms and Anais in MC's. The two gently rocked their girls as they cried.

"Okay, what's going on girls?" The woman kissed her youngest's forehead.

Anais simply hid her face in the crook of her mama's neck

The demon pulled his oldest back a little to look her the eyes.

"Arsi, Baby Bean. Talk to Papa here."

The girl sniffled.

"We...we heard you and Mama talking about her dying some day."

"We don't want you to leave, Mama." Anais tighten her hug.

The couple fell silent. The two indeed talked about that earlier. They were talking about how happy and complete life felt...but then MC's mind wandered too far into the future and she voiced how worried she was about him and the girls when she dies. Though they don't know for sure, they've been told that their girls' lifespan will be closer to that of a full demon's, meaning that...MC's involvement in their lives will be such a small bit of time in comparison.

It was a heavy topic, one that they needed to discuss, but not one for their daughters' ears.

"Okay. Listen closely to Mama and Papa, okay, Baby Beans?"

Beel watched as the girls sniffled but nodded.

"We're sorry you heard that. Mama's gonna be here for a long time though, okay?"

"Yeah, Mama's right here." MC agreed, kissing both Anais and Arsenia's heads.

The ending will most definitely be bleak...but the present is a happy one. All of them need to focus on the now and not the far future, especially the girls.

Belphegor:

"Lilith, shut up!" Judas yelled at his sister.

It was too late though. Their mama's heart shattered and their dad was mad.

Belphie strode over to the kids and Judas stood in front of his sister.

"Dad, she didn't mean it--"

The sloth demon snaked his arms around his son and grabbed his daughter, picking her up before tossing her on couch, landing with a gentle bounce. The kids had been thrown on the couch by their dad and Unlce Beel plenty of times during playtime, but this time was different because their dad wasn't playing.

"You don't say stuff like that to your mom." He told his daughter. "Now what's your issue?"

The little girl crossed her arms with a 'hmph'!

Belphie huffed and looked to his son.

"Any clue why she said that?"

"Belphie, it's fine--"

"No, it's not fine, Butthead." He told MC. "They can't growing up thinking they can just talk to you like that."

He looked back to his son.

"Now, why'd she say it?"

The boy looked at his shoes.

"I can't tell you..."

"And why not?"

"'Cause it'll hurt you..."

Lilith's defiant expression fell into a worried pout.

The sloth demon raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me."

MC scooped up her son.

"Belphie, I said it's fine. Enough."

"Mommy, I'm sorry she made you sad." Judas mumbled into her neck.

"It's okay, baby." MC rubbed his back.

Belphie let out a long sigh before feeling his shirt be tugged on.

He looked down and saw Lilith staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

"We heard you tell Mommy that you're scared of the day she dies again...we asked Uncle Mammon what that meant and he said dying is when someone goes away and never comes back."

That dumbass. At least he didn't tell them anything about the first time...

Belphie plopped down on the couch next to his daughter and pulled her close.

"I-I don't want Mommy to go away." The little girl started crying harder. Judas started tearing up too.

Damn, the demon didn't know what to say. This...was a hard subject for him. Luckily, MC spoke up.

"I'm right here." She brought herself and Judas over to the couch and sat down. "I'm here now with you guys. You shouldn't just look forward like that when I'm right here...loving you three. And I'll always love you three."

"MC--"

"The future is a long ways out. Let's just enjoy today." She met her boyfriend's eyes as she said this.

It was obviously that it was just as much of a pep talk for the demon as it was their kids. Honestly, it wasn't really able to wipe away all of his worries but...it served as a wake up call to focus on the twins.

"You heard her." He pulled back and looked to both of his kids. "She's here now and that's what matters."

The sloth demon was pretty distant from his family for the rest of the night, mind stuck in that conversation. If only he could do as MC said and just live in the present. But he can't. He's so stuck in the past that he's honestly scared of the future.

[heavenseed76]

Contentment

Rating:G

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Summary: Daryl saves Paul from certain death and some truths are revealed

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, canon-typical violence

When mothers lift cars off their children it is not because their love or fear make them super strong. It is because adrenaline will make a person immune to the sensation of pain. Their muscles and tendons are often irreparably damaged. Human beings will tear themselves apart for the people they love. Daryl Dixon was no different.

He couldn’t recall how he was able to get to Michonne’s horse, nor how he hauled the limp form of his friend onto the horse with him. He was vaguely aware that he could hear Dog whimpering somewhere behind him, punctuating the sound of another horse beside him. In his arms, Paul Rovia, wrapped in a saddle blanket, armor long forgotten, slumped forward. Every few minutes Daryl could feel the man tense beneath his arm, locked as if it was welded across Paul’s chest. The man in his arms was in pain, barely breathing, but thankfully alive. Daryl couldn’t think beyond getting Paul back to Hilltop, to Enid, to safety.

Riding in the fog made a trip that would have taken eons stretch even further. There was no sense of distance, nothing to mark the passing of the miles. The trip, longer still holding his friend’s life in his hands, seemed like a dream: the ubiquitous nightmare where you try to reach someone at the end of a long path and the faster you run, the further away they become. With each gallop, Daryl could feel Paul’s life spilling out onto his chest, his arms, soaking the blanket he was wrapped in. He could feel the labored breath, deep pulls of air that went nowhere. At first Paul held on to Daryl’s arm as they rode, though they eventually fell away, too weak to hold on.

Through the fog, Daryl heard Aaron yelling for the sentries to open the gate at Hilltop before Daryl even saw the walls. Aaron kicked his horse into a sprint and easily passed Daryl’s horse. Seeing the end in sight, Daryl pressed his own heels into the flanks of the beast on which he rode and urged the animal to go faster. He followed Aaron straight to the medical trailer, where Enid and Alden were already helping him off his horse.

“No!” Aaron kept the wiggly bundle in his arms from slipping and motioned to Enid and Alden to help Daryl. “Get Jesus!” Without waiting for them to acknowledge him, Aaron rushed into the medical trailer.

Daryl brought his horse up short next to Aarons, and then there were too many hands, too many faces below him, pushing and pulling at Paul. At Enid’s insistence, her eyes full of dread and sympathy, Daryl broke the iron grip he had around Paul and let him slip gently into the waiting arms of Alden and Siddiq, who wasted no time making room for Henry and Kal to help carry his pale body into the trailer. He dismounted Michonne’s horse, letting someone with gentle hands take the reigns from him. He stood staring at the door, behind which two of the people he cared for most in the world could be dying, or worse, turning… Along with his beloved Dog.

He felt familiar hands on his arms, attempting to turn him aware from the trailer, and distantly heard soft words filter through the fog filling his mind, urging him to come away. Hot, angry tears spilled over and silently marked his blood-stained face and suddenly he was unable to catch his breath. He wanted to rush in and pull Paul back into his arms and never let go. If he died… If Paul turned… he needed to be there for that. But Aaron was in there, and he wanted to keep his friend from suffering that end alone.

“Daryl, come get cleaned up.” Carol’s voice was a solid mass he could anchor himself to, as his grief threatened to let him float away like ashes. He started to let her lead him into Barrington House, when Aaron came through the trailer door.

Eyes red, brows pulled in to etch lines of worry into his forehead, Aaron quickly made his way to Daryl.

“Dog’s gonna be OK. Paul…” Aaron’s voice wavered, but he swallowed and carried on. “Paul’s fighting. His lung collapsed and he lost a lot of blood.” Without warning Daryl pulled his friend into his arms, and with a sob he had been holding in the entire journey, Aaron hugged him back, fingers fisting in the worn leather of his vest. Watching them, the lump in Carol’s throat grew, and she had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep her cry from tearing a hole in the comforting bubble the men had made.

***

The sun burned away the fog that had settled over Hilltop, and the morning promised a beautiful day ahead. At a picnic table near the medical trailer, Aaron and Daryl sat vigil, their backs against the edge of the table top. Aaron absently cleaned his prosthetic arm with a rusty can of WD40 and a ragged bandana he kept for the express purpose. Like the Tin Man. Daryl thought. They were both clean, in clothes that didn’t smell like gore. Carol had not been able to coax either man into eating or trying to sleep.

“We’ve wasted so much time.” Aaron sighed and set the rag he’d been using aside. “This is a big damned wake-up call.” He was used to companionable silence with Daryl, used to holding up both ends of a conversation, so when Daryl didn’t respond, he just kept talking. “We’ve been lucky. To make it this long. But this world is still just as dangerous as it ever was. I feel so stupid…”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip, listening. He had been there when Aaron dove head first into being a father to Gracie, burying Eric’s death deep beneath the needs of a tiny, new being. It occupied his mind, it gave him an outlet for his affection and focused his energy. It did not, however, fill the gaping love-shaped void left when Eric’s corpse walked off into the woods. It was one of the many ways Daryl felt he had failed everyone in his life; it was one of the many reasons he walked off into the woods That Day, and didn’t look back. The seams holding his family together tore open That Day, and try as he might, he alone didn’t have the strength to stitch it back together. Neither did anyone else, apparently.

“I did it for you, you know.” Daryl said, his voice gravel in his throat.

Aaron turned his expressive blue eyes to Daryl’s, not having expected a two-way conversation. “Did what?”

Daryl looked away, unsure of himself. “Saved him. I know you two… I know he means a lot to you. I saw Dog attack that walker, and heard you yell, and I just, I don’t know man, I just couldn’t let him die…” Meeting Aaron’s eyes he said, “I didn’t want you to hurt no more.”

Something sparked in Aaron’s chest. Affection, love, gratitude… he didn’t know what or how many of those things he was feeling. He stared at Daryl for a long moment. There was only one thing he could think to say. “Thank you.” Aaron pressed infinitesimally closer into Daryl’s warm shoulder with his own.

Daryl nodded, glad he could make his friend smile, even if things didn’t turn out as well as they hoped. It had been hours, and except for Alden leaving to give Enid and Siddiq room to work, and getting Alex to come in to better assist, there had been little news of Paul’s welfare.

“I know you’ve been coming here to see him.” Daryl shifted nervously. “He make you happy?”

A man of few words, Daryl could say so much with so little effort. It took Aaron a moment to understand what Daryl was asking, and when the implication of the question hit him, he felt like he had been slapped. He scooted away from Daryl on the bench of the picnic table, so he could fully turn to face Daryl.

“You do know we’re just friends, right?” Aaron’s frown returned, and Daryl didn’t know how to respond. “We’re not… we’ve never… Jesus and I are good friends, that’s all.” Aaron watched confusion slide over the hunter’s face. If Paul weren’t dying behind the door of the medical trailer, Aaron may have laughed. “You know Jesus is… he’s in love with you!”

“No.” Daryl sat up taller, and Aaron could nearly see the walls being built around the other man.

“Yeah. He’s been in love with you since he brought you home from the Sanctuary! Daryl, how could you not know?”

The hunter stood, defiantly staring his friend down. “He don’t.” He tried to turn away, but Aaron was right there.

“He does. That’s what I meant! We all have to stop wasting time we might not have, Daryl!” Aaron grabbed Daryl’s bicep and swung around to face the stoic man. “I know you. I know you both. And if there’s anything I’m sure of, its that you two belong together. Even if I was interested, that man’s heart belongs to you!”

It was if the last brick fit into place in the fortress of Daryl’s heart. The realization that not only did Aaron see how he felt for Paul, but that Paul felt the same for him, and had made it a known fact. Overwhelmed with the severity of this revelation, Daryl’s dread swelled, and he felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the world. The truth Aaron spoke filled his eyes with hot tears, of shame and joy and sickening worry. Seeing all this take shape in his friend, Aaron pulled him in for an awkward hug.

The harsh slap of the trailer door snapping closed brought the men up for air. Standing on the steps to the trailer was an exhausted Enid, covered in blood. Neither could move, holding their breath.

A smile bloomed on the woman’s face as she said simply, “He’ll be OK.”

***

In his own bed inside Barrington House, Paul Rovia looked smaller than Tara had ever seen him. The trip up the stairs and into the bed had worn him out, and he fell asleep almost immediately. He didn’t even flinch as she started a new IV in his hand. She watched him, his breath shallow and lips twisted in a pained expression. He was pale, his eyes sunken. Laying in his bed with only a bandage across his chest, his strong body laid bare and vulnerable, Tara took stock of all the things they would have lost if the man in front of her hadn’t made it home. Despite his reluctance, Paul was a good leader, and she tried every day to convince him of it. People loved and respected him because he was willing to go outside the walls and risk it all to strengthen them.

“How is he?” Daryl’s low rasp shook Tara from her reverie.

“Exhausted. He’s got some pain killers, so he’s comfortable enough to sleep.” Tara covered Paul in a thin blanket. “Come in. Sit. I’ll be back in a bit to check on him.” Sheepishly, Daryl entered the room, letting Tara give his arm and affectionate squeeze as she went past.

It had been several days since the cemetery, and Daryl had barely slept. Seeing Paul gravely injured had shifted something inside him, something Aaron had nudged to hang just the right way.

“Gonna keep watch on me?” Paul’s voice was just a whisper on his lips. He turned his palm up on the bed, an invitation.

Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, slipping his big hand into Paul’s smaller one. “Feelin OK?” He let his thumb caress the top of Paul’s hand.

Paul nodded, then winced, which Daryl caught even though he tried to hide it. “As long as I don’t move. Or breathe.” He gave a Daryl a thin smile. “You’re too far away.”

Daryl slipped off his boots and lay down beside Paul, mindful of the bandage across his chest. “This OK?”

Paul hummed affirmatively. His limbs were heavy, though he positioned himself close enough to lay he head on Daryl’s shoulder. He laced his fingers together with Daryl’s between their bodies. He could feel the other man relax against him, and if he hadn’t been so exhausted, Paul may have quipped at Daryl to make him blush.

“I’m sorry.” Daryl placed a firm, confident kiss on Paul’s forehead. “Wasted too many years. We have a chance now and I ain’t gonna fuck it up.” He reached over and felt the smooth skin of Paul’s temple with the back of his hand, reveling in the new-found ability to show his affection.

Paul took his hand, kissing the palm and then holding it to his chest, just above his bandage. “You better not. I love you, Daryl Dixon, but you know I will kick your ass.” Paul’s lips quirked up on one side and he peered at Daryl through heavy eyelids.

Daryl huffed a laugh and kissed Paul’s head again, snuggling into the warmth of the other man’s presence. They fell asleep, Paul holding Daryl’s hand to himself, so the hunter could feel every beat of his heart. That is where Dog found them, limping on a bandaged leg, letting Aaron help him into the bed to curl up at their feet, content.

[thhimble]

baby don’t hold out(it’s cold outside), ii

Henry cavill x reader

part i: here

Warnings: none yet. A bit more cheese. A bit more nerdier. I tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but i think she might be a bit of a nerd, so a heads up for that. Hopefully it doesn’t throw anyone out of the fic too much.

Tags: @harrystylesholland​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​ , @laurakirsten0502​

baby don’t hold out (it’s cold outside), ii

.

.

                  It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself, standing outside of room 208, your nose and ears burning from the warmth inside compared to the cold outside… from how long you spent lingering in the snow, trying desperately to figure out a solution that you knew, really, wasn’t there.

Clara was right, after all, you did help make the lists, you helped write and organise and plan… and your options are—

Henry pops into your head, pitch a tent? Camp out in the lobby?

Your options are basically zero.

And you’re an adult not a pre-teen girl screaming over a hot boy. You can do this. You can absolutely do this. He isn’t fucking Adonis.

With a snort, you bury a laugh into your scarf. He’s just a guy. Just a really attractive guy. With really nice hair. And shoulders. And eyes. And—

Ugh, you think and blow out a breath, staring down the tauntingly-silent, somehow loopingly-mocking numbers staring you down from the upper middle of the door.

Fuck you, 208.

If numbers could personally offend, 208 was well on its way.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever felt personally victimized by 208.

208 stays silent, cursive and nailed to the door.

You resist the urge to lift your hand, yes, hi, I have. Let me introduce myself—

With another snort lost to your scarf, you close your eyes and pull in a steadying breath—

And lift your hand.

“You got this,” you mutter into your scarf. “You totally, absolutely got this.”

You’re a rock. Captain America’s shield. Mithril.

Sam carrying Frodo up the face of Mount Doom.

You knock.

There’s a noise inside, a shuffle—

You are absolutely not at all interested in running away.

You glance at the stairs you came up.

The door opens.

You feel like Frodo, holding the One Ring over the lava.

Henry’s in the same soft, dark blue sweater, but the dark of his hair is a little softer than it was earlier and his sleeves are pushed up over his forearms and he’s in socks and it’s all so— so—

No. You’re totally Samwise.

“Hullo,” Henry says with this slow smile that absolutely does nothing to your insides. “Thought maybe I lost you to a tent after all.”

“It was a close call,” you lie, swallowing around your heartbeat. “But the ground’s frozen. For you know. The tent thingies. That go in the ground.”

You make a weird hammer motion with your hand, it doesn’t at all look like a jerking-off motion. It doesn’t.

His smile goes crooked, his eyes flicking from your face down to the shift of your hand. You tuck it back into your coat pocket and decide you hate him. Him and his stupid, crooked smile.

“Stakes,” he says, with that stupid smile that looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Yup, those,” you say with a forced laugh. “Tent thingies.”

He snorts a laugh, but steps back, his hand spreading wide on the door, the thick of his arm holding it open for you as he tilts his head into the room.

“Come on then, girl scout. In you go.”

You hesitate before you remember you’re totally Samwise Gamgee and you heft your metaphorical Frodo and push past him into his— your— whatever— room; ignoring the heat of him, size of him, smell of him, so close to you.

(You’ve been here before, anyway, in the bar that first night, with his mouth to your ear; buy you a drink? But it’s somehow, no less staggering.)

Objectively, it’s a nice room, from the zero-point-one second you glance over it before your eyes land on the bed—

The bed you’ll be sharing with him—

No, nope. There’s no way you can get into that bed with him, you think. No way you can lie down and pretend that you’re not… at least a little bit attracted to him.

Like, a bit.

You glance down; the floor is a tanned-wood colour, but there’s a nice grey rug spread out in front of a gas fireplace, that’s not all that thick, but maybe…

Henry clears his throat behind you and you startle a little, lost in the maybe of camping out on the floor.

No stakes required.

There are plenty of pillows on the bed, you think, with a quick glance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“About earlier,” he starts, and your eyes dart up to his, startled out of your thoughts again. “I know you’re not…” he huffs something like a laugh, crossing his arms. “Well. You aren’t thrilled, yeah? But listen, I’m not in the habit of being a prick, so I’ve made a few calls, and there’s a chance one of the other hotels a town over can bring a spare cot by. They’re going to give me a call back. But until then, I have no problem sleeping on the—”

“I can take the floor,” you interrupt because really, he’s not— it’s not his fault, is it? You were the one dicking around outside and avoiding— not avoiding, just… circumventing the inevitability of him and what he does to… a large portion of the human population. Regardless of gender or orientation. Apparently.

What he might, maybe, sort of, does to you.

It’s not his fault, exactly. (Maybe his parents though, maybe you should write in a complaint, a strongly-worded letter: dear Mrs and Mr Cavill, how dare you?)

Henry pulls a face and scoffs. “You’re not. Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not daft,” you parrot back, pulling your own incredulous face. “I’m serious, you’re,” you wave a hand over him, a vague Henry-shaped circle. “All you, like. And I’m… good with a little pillow-pile on the floor. It’s like, you know, girl’s sleepover. But—”

But in the bedroom of a totally-not-Adonis.

“All me like?” he questions, his brow tilting up.

You make a noise in your throat. Pressing your lips together beneath your scarf. It’s too hot in here, you think, with the gas fire on and the whole— whole man in front of you in this stupid small room with its stupid one bed.

“You know. You’re like. Big.”

“Big,” he says with a slow-widening smile, and crosses his arms. It does nothing at all to his biceps. You totally do not look.

You roll your eyes, because muscles don’t just happen, and— and you know what? It is his fault, you think, he made the very conscious decision to become a brick shithouse.

That’s absolutely on him.

(Your metaphorical Frodo gets a little lighter, you think you might actually make it.) Blaming someone else usually helps lighten a load, doesn’t it?

This is his fault. Who cares what Clara says?

“Yup,” you say and pop the p with a finalizing sound. “So that’s settled then, yeah?” you say, copying the way he says the word, and step away from him to unwind your scarf and drape it over one of the two chairs in the room that sit in front of the fireplace and little coffee table; they’re actually sort of soft-looking, maybe you really could just sleep in that. You aren’t six-foot-whatever like he is, you have a much better chance at fitting into it in a comfortable sleeping position in one of them.

He absolutely isn’t going to out-nice you. No way.

Chair-bed or bust.

“This chair looks nice, look, the pillows are soft too,” you press your hand onto the cushion, it’s not as soft as you hoped but the pillow fairs better; it’s soft and there’s a nice little decoration of holly and ivy, too; the words Merry Christmas stitched in a looping cursive in the middle of it.

“You’re not sleeping on the bloody chair,” he huffs behind you.

“Well,” you start, floundering for something to say, unzipping your jacket and turning to look at him to buy time. “That’s your opinion.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but you think it was a very close call. “Listen,” he starts and pulls in a breath. “There’s no way I’m sleeping in that bed with you sleeping anywhere else. I promise I can sleep anywhere, benefit of having a big family an’ all.”

You shrug off your jacket, stealing a moment to gather your thoughts, moving back towards the door to toe-off your boots, thankful they were dry from the amount of time you spent lingering downstairs and then in the hallway before finding the nerve to even knock.

“And I promise I really don’t care about where I sleep. The tent? Totally could do it. It’s just the ground—”

“Is frozen, yeah,” he finishes for you. “I got that bit.”

You meet his eyes, it’s mostly an accident, you weren’t avoiding it, exactly, you were just… lowering the probability of eye-contact with him by avoiding his general upper face-area.

“Please take the bed.” His face does this… this honest thing that does something to your insides and you think, damn, he might out-nice you after all.

But screw that.

“Is this you trying to be a gentleman?”

He blinks and then grins, standing a little straighter. “I am a gentleman.”

You burst out a laugh and then cover your mouth to catch the pitch of it, grinning behind your hand. “Sorry,” you snort and shake your head. “I mean, okay. Sure.”

“I am. Private school, got all the lessons. Pulling out chairs. Door-opening. Arm-offering. Know all the proper forks and everything,” he teases and you can’t help but laugh as he grins at you. “My mum would literally kill me if she ever found out I took the bed and made a girl sleep on the floor.”

“Ah, so it’s a sexist thing?” you tease back, trying to kill your smile with a tsk. “That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“What? No,” he blinks and frowns. “That’s not— that’s not what I meant—”

You try to bite back a smile, but he must see it flickering on your mouth and huffs at you. “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” you say with a grin and step around him to look for your bag, which you find by the bed, of course. Because he’s a gentleman, apparently.

You lift it up and over your shoulder, following where Henry points out the side tables with drawers and the closet near the door.

You set your bag on the bed, pulling out your toiletry bag and trying to ignore the feeling of him looking at you.

He pushes out a breath. “We could also just… be adults about this and share the bed?” he hedges, crossing his arms again and looking at you like he’s gauging you for something. You meet his eyes for a too-long moment where something prickles warmly inside your stomach before he shifts again, his lips quirking.  “Then my gentlemanly ways would remain intact and neither of us will end up on the floor— or a chair—with a sore back.”

You hesitate, eyes flicking to the bed and then back to him.

“I snore,” you lie because the bed— any bed with him in it, is still a big, fat nope. “And I’m a cover-hog.”

He snorts, scrubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head. “Impossible is what you are.”

“It’s a character flaw.”

Henry huffs a laugh, pushing his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “How about we just wait to see if I can get a cot from another hotel? If I can get one, then this is all rather moot, isn’t it?”

Moot, you think. Probably.

Just like any and all attraction to him. That’s moot. Pointless. He’s probably so used to people looking at him like that, that he doesn’t even register it.

It makes you feel a bit better, honestly.

You shrug because you don’t want to keep arguing with him when ignoring him generally works so much better for you.

It’s a tried-and-true solution to the Henry-Problem.

“Sure. You think you’ll get one?”

He shrugs, tugging a hand through his hair; you like it, you think, the loose, slightly curling bits you haven’t seen before. He’d had his hair different last time, a bit shorter, a bit straighter.

“I promise I’m doing my best?” he offers with a half-wince.

That, and the lift in his voice carries enough meaning.

Not sure at all, then.

Well. He still isn’t going to out-nice you.

You’re Samwise fucking Gamgee.

   .

                  The bathroom is nice, a bit small, but nice. You plop your toiletry bag on the vanity and glance at Henry’s stuff, already neatly set on one side of the sink. You touch the edge of a cologne bottle, resisting the urge to pick it up to smell it.

Yes, your brain supplies. Absolutely.

That would be creepy, wouldn’t it?

The bathroom already kind of smells like him, anyway; it’s distracting and you let your finger slide off the cool glass of the cologne and look at yourself in the mirror, instead.

There’s nothing going on tonight, no real distractions until tomorrow— you and Clara had planned it that way. It seemed like such a good idea at first, hadn’t it?

Arrive, unpack, relax. Explore a bit. Give into the comfort and mood of the holiday season at the inn while watching the snowfall from a safe, warm distance.

Have a bath. Read a book.

You stare at the shower accusingly.

You’re sure your room had a bathtub.

You mourn a little for the lost opportunity of your quiet room and your e-reader with a hot chocolate or a bit of wine and a bubble bath, before pulling in a breath and righting yourself, fixing your clothes before reaching for the door.

Back out in the room, Henry’s sitting in one the chairs by the fireplace, looking mostly relaxed, watching the fake-glow of the flames, his knees spread in that manspreading slouch so many guys do. You want to hate it on principle, but his thighs are—

Thighs, you think. They’re thighs, get a grip.

Henry looks at you, you look at him. The moment stretches out.

His eyes are… your belly does a little flop and you take a step backwards.

“I’m going to check on Clara and Sam,” you say and take another step back towards the door.

“Already did,” he says from the chair, a little frown between his brows as he sits up. “I thought maybe we—”

“Yeah, but I’m the Maid of Honour,” you interrupt and force a smile as you slip towards freedom. The room is way too small and warm, isn’t it? Unbearable, almost. “It’s like, my job.”

(You know the room isn’t that small. The whole place is rather decently sized. It’s why it won out, after all. The reigning champ of all the hotels and inns and lodges that had been potential venues over the months of planning.)

But it still feels too small. And he’s all you can smell.

You’re definitely not running but you ignore his countering: I’m the Best Man! that follows you out the door— because it just doesn’t suit the narrative of your excuse.

If he noticed your e-reader in your hands, he was nice enough not to say anything.

Ugh, you think as the door shuts behind you lean against the door for a stretch of a moment, standing in the quiet hall and hoping no one comes out of their rooms to see you standing there.

Thankfully, you’re granted that moment of quiet before you push off the door and head down the stairs and towards the main sitting area.

The stair railings are covered in garland, set with twinkling lights and you let yourself relax the further you get from the room and the problem you left in it.

See, you think, ignoring a problem always works.

Downstairs in the main lounge area, there’s a little area set up with carafes of coffee and hot water and hot chocolate.  

You pour yourself a mug, slip into one of the over-large sofas in front of the burning, crackling, stone fireplace and wiggle your sock-covered toes towards the fire.

I can totally do this, you tell yourself, and pretend, for a moment, that you’re way more sure than you feel.

.

.

[eddieeatsass]

On the Edge of an Avalanche

Summary: Graduation was upon them and Eddie Kaspbrak was eager to leave Derry behind. His one last hurrah would be the senior ski trip, earning him an escape from his mother and the looming stress of college admissions. It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, until he got slated to look after resident pain-in-everyone’s-ass, Richie Tozier. Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak Rating: E Chapter: 4/5 Read Chapter 3 Here  /  Read on AO3

Richie’s room was nicer than Eddie’s, way nicer. It’s not that Eddie’s room was bad, in fact he’d spent a good amount of time admiring it earlier, it’s just that Eddie’s room was like the discount version, and Richie’s was designer. Where Eddie’s room had gotten tall windows, half of Richie’s wall was taken up by a fireplace. Eddie supposed it was a trade, someone who preferred a nicer view might say Eddie’s room was the winner, but there was something undeniably romantic about your own fireplace. Richie’s room also seemed to have a newer TV, mounted on the wall across from their bed. The TV in Eddie’s room was older and hid behind two panels of wood in a cabinet. Simply put, Eddie was very glad Richie had decided to bring them here. Richie flopped on the bed immediately, overdramatizing how exhausted he was just from limping his way down the hall. Eddie hid a knowing smile and joined him. “Thank you for saving me, I was about five minutes away from dying of boredom.” Richie drawled. “Well, I can’t promise you’ll have any more fun here, but you’re welcome. ”Richie let his head loll to the side, regarding Eddie closely before speaking again. “No, I’ll definitely have more fun here. ”The insinuation was brash, Richie didn’t even bother trying to hide it behind a joke. It made Eddie’s gut clench in unusual ways. He brought his thumb up to his mouth, the habit of gnawing at his fingernails a hard one to kick, but was interrupted by his own gasp as his hand came into view. His knuckles were starting to bruise, tender to flex and even more tender to touch. He hadn’t noticed any pain earlier, too caught up in Richie to even think about anything else, but now that he was staring at his fist the ache began to echo under his skin. “You just notice that?” Richie asked gently, noting the horror in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie could only nod, his gaze fixed on the evidence of his breakdown. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at his hand, but when Richie’s entered the frame Eddie startled. He’d gotten a hand towel from the bathroom and wrapped some ice in it, which Eddie could only guess was provided in their minifridge. Richie guided Eddie’s hand down to his lap, placing the ice pack atop his knuckles gently and murmuring an apology when Eddie hissed at the sudden coldness. They stayed silent for a few minutes, simply sitting in each other’s presence as the ice dampened the cloth atop Eddie’s hand. Eddie was the first to speak, keeping his eyes downcast as he admitted his guilt aloud. “I’m not a violent person, you know.” He could feel Richie’s eyes on his face but didn’t give in to the lure. “Yeah, I know.” Richie reassured. “But Bowers is an exception-”“No, he’s not.” Eddie snapped. “If I sink to his level, I’m just like him.” Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie would get it. They had both been targets of Henry’s attacks, but Eddie never wanted anyone to feel the way he’d felt, not even Henry himself. Eddie’s mind was constantly replaying all the times he'd had his face shoved into the dirt, the way the gravel would stick to his wounds, the shouts he’d receive from his mother upon getting home. Henry was a god-awful human, but that didn’t mean he deserved to feel that same pain and sorrow. That wasn’t going to change anything; you can’t break the cycle with the same bullshit that fueled it. “I didn’t mean to do it.” Eddie whispered. “I just snapped.” Richie immediately scooted closer, an action Eddie wasn’t expecting or prepared for. He looked up and met bright blue eyes, tender and open and completely void of judgement. “You’re nothing like him; you didn’t want to hurt him. Bowers wants to hurt people. ”Eddie looked back down at his hand, flexing his fingers and watching as the makeshift ice pack slid off and landed on the sheets. “You know…” Eddie began thinking out loud. “I’ve felt the brunt of a lot of people’s insecurities. I don’t usually mind being projected on, it’s easy to see through the words and figure out what’s actually going on behind them. I’ve even gotten good at doing it with Henry, though he’s a bit of a different breed… But there was something about the things he said today... they felt more personal.” Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to spill out into the space between them, his vulnerability a tender wound. “Whatever, it’s stupid.” Eddie was quick to dismiss his own feelings, covering them up with a shrug of his shoulders that attempted to pass as indifference. “It’s not stupid.” Richie insisted. Eddie stared down at his uninjured hand as it picked at a thread on the blanket beneath them. “Listen, I don't know what Henry said, but you're not suddenly a super villain for fighting back one time. The first time I was called a fag, I threw a mug at the dude’s head.” Richie admitted aloud with a chuckle. “We were in a coffee shop and I was on my first date with a guy. I ended up having to pay for the broken mug and my backtalk. ”Eddie perked up like Richie had just given him a straight shot of smelling salts. All other sound in the room fell away as Eddie homed in on Richie’s voice, trying to discern if he was dreaming or not. “Safe to say it was not a very good first impression.” Richie laughed lightly, completely unaware of the way he was flipping Eddie’s world upside down. “Anyway, all I’m trying to say is you’re not the only one who’s lost their cool before. You’re human, you’re allowed to get upset when people treat you less than.” Eddie was sure Richie was making a good point, was sure what he was saying held some wisdom that could potentially help, but he was guilty to say he hadn’t processed a word of it. He was too caught up on the fact that Richie had dated guys before. Stan’s words echoed in his brain ‘You might want to consider the possibility that this isn’t their first time eating a hot dog’, fucking Stan was always right, even with that stupid metaphor. Richie had begun talking again, but Eddie didn’t hesitate to interrupt him, this new revelation too significant to pass by. “You like boys?” Eddie blurted out, all grace and subtlety left behind with his spiraling thoughts. Richie froze in place, his hands up in a gesture Eddie was sure had something to do with what he’d been talking about, but now looked comically out of place. Slowly, Richie lowered his hands to his lap and regarded Eddie with a new look, one that held enough cockiness to knock the wind out of Eddie. “Grinding my dick on you didn’t send the message?” Richie teased, raising one eyebrow and swiping his tongue across his teeth. Eddie suppressed a full body shiver, averting his eyes from Richie’s intensity. “I thought you were maybe, like, I don’t know-” “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.” Richie said with a twang that went straight to Eddie’s pants. He blamed Brokeback Mountain. “Well, it isn’t mine either.” Eddie defended instinctively. He watched as Richie’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up again, quick like a hummingbird and with all the same charm. “So, then what’s the issue?” Richie’s voice had lowered, taking on something much more intimate and sultry. It made Eddie’s heart rate spike. “I guess there isn’t one.” He breathed. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” Eddie barely had a moment to breathe before Richie captured his lips in a hungry kiss, his hand burying itself in the hair at Eddie’s nape to pull him in closer. The gesture almost made Eddie go limp, as if he were a cat being held by its scruff, submissive by instinct. He opened his mouth pliantly, allowing Richie in with a welcome of his own tongue. Eddie couldn’t believe that this was happening. Just a couple hours ago he was fisting his own cock, fantasizing about the way Richie tasted. Now he knew. Richie was a cold fire, stoking Eddie’s lungs with mint and cinnamon spice. He tasted like the frost outside, and the embers that kept you warm. It was comforting, enveloping in a way Eddie couldn’t describe. Eddie pushed against Richie, guiding him to lay down on his back so Eddie could climb atop his lap, resuming the same position they’d been in the night before. This time, however, there was clear determination between them. There were no longer hesitant touches or swallowed moans, every move was purposeful, made with intent. Eddie wasn’t shy to shed his sweater, wanting to move things along as quickly as possible now that they were finally happening. “Your body, god, do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you?” Richie grabbed Eddie’s bare waist in near disbelief, awe shining in his eyes. “Less than 24 hours?” Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes and his hips in tandem. Richie groaned and tightened his grip, stilling Eddie forcefully. “Try years. You think I didn’t notice you until Mrs. Harrow forced us to sit together?” Eddie flushed even hotter, his skin reddening to match the fire that Richie was stoking. Richie grinned at Eddie’s speechlessness, pushing forward. “I noticed you for the first time in sophomore year. You were trying out for the track team at the same time as Mike and we were in the bleachers cheering him on. I was gone the second you walked out onto that grass. I tried to be respectful, but I couldn’t stop imagining myself squeezed between those thighs that your tight little track shorts did a great job of highlighting.” Eddie tried to recall that moment, tried to visualize Richie in the bleachers with his floppy hair and lopsided glasses, but all he could remember was the adrenaline he’d felt going behind his mother’s back, too busy to notice anything else. “I never stopped noticing you after that, in fact I’m surprised you never caught me looking your way during class…” Richie moved his hands to begin trailing up Eddie’s thighs. “But the second time I really noticed you, was at the end of that school year. We had a heat wave and the AC broke, d’you remember that? The school had no idea how to deal with it, so they just chucked us outside and gave us popsicles from the freezer in the cafeteria, probably because they were going to melt anyway. But you sat there in the middle of the field sucking on your popsicle like it was the best fucking thing you’d ever tasted. You might have been miserable like the rest of us, but you were too focused on your treat to pay any mind to the weather.” Eddie’s throat was going dry, his head beginning to feel light and airy as he listened to Richie talk. “That night I dreamt you were sucking my cock, that same euphoric look on your face as if it were that damn popsicle.” Richie’s hands reached Eddie’s hips and traced the curve around to his ass, causing Eddie to stutter a breath as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones. “I’ve thought about fucking you for years, Eds, to see you cum on my cock and hear you cry my name. I would do just about anything you asked me to, just as long as I can make you feel good.” Eddie had never been this aroused in his life. Every single nerve in his body was buzzing like a live wire, his toes already curling just from Richie’s words alone. “What if I asked you to take your clothes off?” Eddie braved, his voice shaky. Richie sat up, bringing them chest to chest. “Anything. You. Asked.” Richie punctuated each word with a featherlight kiss to Eddie’s lips. The butterflies in Eddie’s stomach went wild as he watched Richie begin to strip off his shirt. He did it slowly, keeping his eyes on Eddie as Eddie’s own raked down the newly exposed skin. Richie's skin was pale enough to rival the snow outside, spattered with fewer freckles than Eddie’s, but enough to break up the milky complexion. He was thin but still held definition, especially as Eddie’s eyes reached the ‘v’ of his hips that dipped into his waistband. Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded towards the spot where Richie’s hands were already hovering over his waistband. Eddie had to swing his leg off Richie and move to the side to let him shimmy his pants down his legs, every new inch equally as mesmerizing. “Like what you see?” Richie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Not sure yet, I think I need to see more.” Eddie whispered back, tension thick between them. Eddie could see where Richie was straining against the fabric of his boxers, tenting them to an intimidating level. The way his mouth watered at the sight made Eddie feel absolutely depraved, lewd in a way that only added to his arousal, made him want to spread his legs wide and offer himself up whole. The moment that stretched between them as Richie pulled his boxers down felt like an eternity. Eddie lived, died, and got reborn all in the span of that second. Richie’s cock was heavy, springing free for only a moment before falling back against his stomach. Eddie could see Richie moving in his peripheral, getting comfortable back against the duvet after throwing his boxers to the floor, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off his dick. He felt fingers carding through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and finally Eddie tore his gaze away from the challenge that sat before him. Richie’s smile was smug, but his eyes seemed vulnerable. Eddie realized he was waiting for his next command, unsure how they’d fallen into that pattern but not opposed to continuing it. Eddie felt powerful as he raised on his haunches and moved to where Richie’s legs were spread. He watched Richie’s face, noted the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers twitched as he tried not to move. Eddie lowered his head so it was level with Richie’s cock, pausing just a few inches away so his breath grazed against it as he spoke. “Fuck my mouth.” Eddie directed, lust overwriting his usual nerves and replacing them with boldness. Richie’s breath shook as he let it out slowly. “Jesus fuck, Eddie…”Richie’s hands travelled back into Eddie’s hair, gentle at first and then gripping at the base. He guided Eddie’s head the rest of the way down and shuttered when Eddie finally took the head in his mouth. Eddie instantly felt intoxicated, like Richie was the strongest absinthe man had ever made. He greedily gulped it down, laving at the underside of Richie’s cock as it glided into his throat. Drool was already pooling at the corners of his mouth, but Eddie paid it no mind, his only focus on drinking in as much of Richie as he could. He knew right away there was no reality in which he could take all of Richie at once, at least not without a lot of practice, so he committed his mouth to the top half and his hand to the bottom. His fingers barely met as they wrapped around Richie’s shaft and gave an experimental pump. Richie groaned, and Eddie took it as a good sign. He repeated the motion with a twist of his wrist, tonguing the slit of his cock where precum was leaking out greedily. Eddie could feel Richie’s legs tensing where he had his free hand splayed across his thigh. Every time he teased the underside of Richie’s head that muscle would jump, and it almost became a game to see how quickly Eddie could make that muscle twitch, his tongue moving faster and faster against that sensitive spot and causing Richie's legs to vibrate. “Oh my god- fuck, ahhhh-h-how are you so good at this…” Richie’s voice was wrecked, raspy and low and breathy all at once. Eddie just hummed in acknowledgement, sending vibrations up Richie’s shaft that made him hump up into Eddie’s mouth. The action caused Eddie to gag and he reveled in it, moaning like a whore in heat. He was so far gone he barely noticed when Richie pulled him off suddenly. “Okay you’re too good at that.” Richie panted, his chest heaving. Eddie’s head was cloudy, the only conscious thought chanting ‘more, more, more’. He blinked a few times, trying to shift the room back into place. “Why did we stop?” Eddie asked dumbly, his words a bit slurred. “I didn’t want to cum yet. I sort of thought… maybe, if you wanted to, we could-” “Finger me.” Eddie blurted out, his senses coming back to him but not all gracefully. “I mean…” He cleared his throat, face beginning to flush. “…please." Richie looked liked he’d just won the lottery and been slapped across the face at the same time, a dopey kind of smile accompanying his features. “You don’t have to be polite about it, Eds. I’m kinda digging this whole dictator thing you’ve got going on, actually.” Eddie giggled adoringly, calmed by the way Richie was able to dissolve his nerves so quickly with such a disastrously dumb joke, even at a time like this. “Gimme a sec.” Richie leaned forward, catching Eddie’s lips in a chaste kiss before he was springing off the bed. “I know that bastard has lube somewhere.” Eddie watched as Richie began searching through what he assumed to be Bill’s suitcase, throwing things to the side in a frenzy. He finally came across a toiletry bag and ripped it open, rifling around for only a moment more and emerging with a small bottle of clear liquid. “Will Bill mind if we use it?” Eddie worried his lip between his teeth, not so much caring about the answer but asking anyway out of respect for his new friend. “Nah, he’ll just be happy I’m getting laid.” Richie winked and those damn butterflies acted up again. Richie crawled back onto the bed, setting the lube to the side temporarily. He returned his attention to Eddie, a renewed twinkle in his lust blown eyes. He crowded Eddie’s space, towering above him but lowering his head so their lips grazed against each other. “Let’s get these off, hmm?” Richie’s fingers stroked lightly at the waistband of Eddie’s sweatpants. “I thought I was the one giving orders.” Eddie teased back, voice barely above a whisper. Richie hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled, letting it snap back against Eddie’s stomach as he released it with a shuttering breath. “Alright Kaspbrak.” Richie let his body fall backwards, bouncing lighting as it hit the mattress. He brought his hands up behind his head and made a show of getting comfortable. “I am at your mercy.” That same emboldened feeling consumed him once again, a confidence only Richie seemed to instill in him. It was intoxicating, much like everything else about Richie. With a smirk, Eddie backed up off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. Eddie kept his eyes focused on Richie as he began to pull his sweatpants down, going painstakingly slow just to see Richie’s reaction. He saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed back his desire, a nearly imperceptible twitch making his cock jump in intrigue. Eddie kicked his pants to the side where they joined his long since discarded sweater, and then all his focus diverted to his neglected cock. All earlier thoughts of whether Richie would like his body were gone, he knew Richie liked his body, and he was planning on milking that for all it was worth. Eddie palmed himself over his underwear, letting his head fall back and his mouth drop open as he finally offered himself the stimulation he needed. He looked down and noted that the white fabric had gone translucent where his cock had been leaking against it, giving Richie a peek of the pink head underneath. He heard Richie whimper from the bed but paid him no mind, indulging in his own senses for a moment. He continued to tease himself through the thin cloth until he couldn’t take any more, finally allowing his hands to wander to the waistband and pull the underwear down his thighs. Richie was silent, watching so attentively that a pin could be heard dropping in the room. Eddie kicked the last piece of clothing off to the side and immediately let his hand wander back to his own cock, tugging it a few times and allowing himself to moan at the sensation. He heard the bed squeak and opened his eyes to see Richie crawling towards him. Gone was Richie’s passiveness and submission, replaced with a new hunger that made Eddie’s legs quiver. Richie reached his arms out and pulled Eddie in until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Even with Eddie standing and Richie kneeling on the bed, he was still a good few inches taller than him, and he used that to his advantage while crowding into Eddie’s space. “You can’t tease me like that.” Richie whispered into the shell of his ear, kissing right under it and beginning a path down his neck. “I didn’t mean to.” Eddie answered honestly, succumbing to the warmth of Richie’s lips and letting his head tip back once again. “Just felt so good…” “I can make you feel even better.” Richie promised, ghosting his hand down Eddie’s torso and just barely grazing his cock. Eddie moaned, arching into the faint touch and whimpering as it left. “Please…” Eddie’s jaw was slack, the word falling out without a thought. Richie continued making his way down Eddie’s body, sucking marks against tan skin as he passed. He paused at Eddie’s nipples to give them special attention and Eddie keened, grabbing at Richie’s hair in sudden desperation. Richie swirled his tongue around one bud, allowing his hand to pluck the other until he switched. He nipped lightly enough to cause Eddie to shutter and then sucked to soothe the reddening skin. He continued his trail downwards, licking along Eddie’s hip bones and kissing the juncture between his thighs and his pelvis, avoiding Eddie’s cock purposefully. Pleas were falling from Eddie’s mouth steadily now; his hands tugging weakly on Richie’s hair to try and guide him towards pleasure. Richie swiftly gathered Eddie in his arms, catching him off guard in his haze of lust. He moved back up the mattress and laid against the bed board, situating Eddie so he was laying across his body. “I bet your pretty little hole is just begging to be touched.” Richie murmured, reaching for the bottle of lube and hastily pouring a generous amount on his digits. Eddie moaned at the lewdness of the comment, his hips moving against Richie’s and causing their cocks to grind against each other. He could feel a wetness smearing against their bellies, similar to the wetness Richie was spreading between his fingers. He watched as Richie’s hand disappeared behind him and then he felt the warm press of a finger at his entrance. The feeling was somewhat familiar; Eddie had fingered himself countless times before, he wasn’t new to pleasuring his prostate. But this was the first time anyone else had ever touched him there. It was difficult not to focus in on every small sensation, to not grind up against Richie like a virgin being touched for the first time. Richie teased the pad of his finger around his rim and unsurprisingly, Eddie fluttered in response. He could hear Richie’s laugh reverberating in his chest where Eddie laid his head. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a bit wider, silently ushering Richie to continue. The first slip inside was uncomfortable. It always is, no matter how turned on you are, but it was also euphoric in a way Eddie was never able to make it for himself. Richie’s fingers were thinner than Eddie’s, but significantly longer, and soon enough Richie was already in to his knuckle. Eddie breathed steadily, allowing his body to get used to the intrusion. Richie followed his queue, stilling for a moment until Eddie nodded minutely against him, signaling him to continue. The next finger wasn’t too much harder than the first, and soon the discomfort ebbed away to make room for pleasure. Richie worked his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch Eddie open as much as possible before a third was added. It felt way better than Eddie had ever imagined it would. Richie’s fingers weren’t clumsy or unsure like Eddie would have thought, they were precise with their pressure and quick to find the spots that made Eddie melt. He went at the perfect pace, allowing Eddie his time to adjust but not waiting too long to lose their momentum. Arousal bubbled hot in Eddie’s stomach, searing his skin at every spot where they were connected. His breathing had become labored, and his hips had begun their own little rotation where he ground himself down into Richie. Every time he did, he felt Richie’s cock twitching against his, eager to escape the slot between them and burry itself inside Eddie. And in that moment, Eddie wanted that more than anything. “Fuck me, now.” Eddie demanded breathily, holding no more space for patience. “You sure you’re ready?” Richie checked, his own breath seeming to stutter. Eddie whined indignantly, raising himself up on shaky knees and grabbing both of Richie’s wrists. He pulled them away, deft fingers slipping out of him easily and falling to the pillow beside Richie’s head where Eddie pinned them. “Now.” Eddie repeated, grinding his ass against Richie’s cock and coating it with lube. “I’m gonna die here and it’s gonna be the happiest day of my life.” Richie rushed out, eyes squeezed shut and face flushed a blotchy red. Eddie removed one hand and reached down to grasp Richie’s cock, marveling once again at its size. He was sure he was going to feel a stretch, but he craved it at this point. With determination and just a little too much arousal for rational thought, Eddie lined himself up and began sinking down. The stretch was… a lot. Eddie let out a pained whimper as Richie’s head breached his rim, and suddenly there were hands all over him, cradling his face, petting his hair, steadying his hips. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Richie rushed to comfort him, kissing the spot between Eddie’s eyebrows where he hadn’t realized he’d furrowed them. “We can stop at any point. You want to stop?” Eddie was stubborn, he knew this about himself. He was aware that his stubbornness had gotten him into trouble in the past, but it had also earned him some of the best moments of his life. He didn’t want to end this prematurely and look back on his first time with remorse, but he also didn’t exactly want to rip his asshole open on a high school ski trip. Eddie decided he just needed a minute, so he shook his head and told Richie as much. Richie continued to rub his back, his hair, anywhere his nervous hands could settle. He seemed on such high alert Eddie wasn't sure how his dick wasn't flagging. Eddie winced as Richie inched down the bed carefully, lying himself flatter and pulling Eddie back down to his chest. Eddie closed his eyes and focused on Richie’s heartbeat, feeling Richie moving above him but paying it no mind. He jumped in surprise when Richie’s hand joined his dick, but his body relaxed instantaneously as he felt those soft fingers begin to massage extra lube around his rim. As the seconds passed Eddie could feel himself opening up under Richie’s touch, his muscles relaxing and his temperature rising. Richie was clearly feeling the heat himself, as he’d started to rock his hips gently beneath Eddie’s. The action was gentle, inching him further into Eddie in torturously small increments but not pushing him past his limits. It was beginning to drive Eddie crazy as his craving for more became overpowering, all the pain from before having subsided. Without warning, Eddie pushed himself back on Richie’s cock, feeling his fingers flutter around his hole at the sudden movement. He was quick to use his hand to steady himself at the base of his cock, holding it still for Eddie to fuck back on. Richie let out an elongated breath, swearing profusely at the end of it. It made Eddie blush and move faster, his hips taking on a rhythm of their own. Eddie was on cloud fucking nine. His body lit up like a live wire, electrifying him with every move he made. Richie appeared to be just as affected, his mouth stuck open in an orgasmic ‘o’, his eyes practically rolled back into his skull. Richie had been quick to match Eddie’s pace, thrusting up into him feverously, hands clamped on to Eddie's hip as tightly as Eddie was clamping around his cock. "You're so fucking huge." Eddie moaned, the statement coming out honestly despite sounding like a script from a bad porno. "Holy shit, you can't say stuff like that or I'm gonna blow my load." Richie responded, chest heaving. "I'm serious, it feels like I'm being split open, god Rich." "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble." Richie's thrusts were speeding up, becoming more erratic. Eddie almost felt like he was riding a bull, clenching his thighs in a desperate attempt not to be bucked off. "Then shut me up." The response was instantaneous. Richie flipped them over, pressing Eddie into the mattress as he pounded into him mercilessly. He brought one hand up to Eddie's mouth and shoved two fingers against his tongue, forcing Eddie to suck on the digits. Eddie gagged on them like he would Richie's cock, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth and mixing with the tears that had escaped without notice. He was completely fucked out, his brain unable to process anything besides Richie. "I'm gonna cum." Richie warned, his orgasm approaching rapidly after being so on edge for so long. Eddie didn't mind, his own release not far behind. "Cum inside me, please, want to feel you." Eddie begged, unaware of his desire until it was suspended right in front of him. "Fuck, unnnf- god, Eddie." Richie said his name like a prayer, bringing his hand up to stroke Eddie's neglected cock. The sensation was downright sinful, the best thing Eddie thinks he's ever felt in his entire life. It caused his toes to curl, most of the muscles in his body seizing up at the pleasure. Richie's hips stuttered a few times and then he was overwhelmed with a warmth deep inside him, Richie's cock pushing through it to press diligently into his prostate. Eddie came with blinding lights in his eyes, his body convulsing as waves upon waves of euphoria flooded his senses. He's pretty sure he screams, but he could have been completely silent and it would have sounded the same to his deaf ears. Eddie's not sure how long he lays there in fucked out bliss, his mind completely separate from his body, but when he finally tunes back into the world around him he's alone in the bed. He looks around to find Richie and spots him crouched on the ground by the fireplace, tinkering with the button to light it up. Electric flames suddenly burst alive behind Richie's silhouette, highlighting his long legs as he stretches back up and turns to regard Eddie. "Hey." His voice is gentle, not quite a whisper but close enough to one that the greeting still felt secretive. "Hi." Eddie matches his tone, his throat appreciating the low register after being abused not too long ago. "I thought I lost you there for a minute." Richie crawled back into bed, pulling the thick duvet over them. "I think you did." Eddie admitted sheepishly. "That was fucking... wow." Richie laughed at the advanced vocabulary Eddie was able to implement at that moment. "Wow is right." Richie agreed, welcoming Eddie as he crowded into his space. The silence fell upon them naturally, their bodies and minds too exhausted to bother with much else. It was a long while until Eddie pipped back up. “Was that your first time?” Eddie asked quietly, his eyes having drifted closed from the comfort of being satiated in such a new way. “Mm-mm.” Richie answered carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “First time was with Ally Mae Espin. It was a mess.” Eddie hummed for Richie to continue, too content to respond vocally. “It was in Bill’s garage in 8th grade. It lasted exactly two minutes and neither of us finished. I had blue balls for the rest of the night, but honestly, I didn’t even care. I’d realized as soon as we’d kissed that I wasn’t into her the way she was into me. I don’t regret it, but as far as first times it’s pretty anticlimactic. Literally.” Eddie giggled, nuzzling closer into Richie’s warmth. He felt fuzzy all over, invincible to the evils of the outside world. He thinks he could probably survive an avalanche right now, completely safe inside Richie’s arms. “What about you? How was your first time porking the hog?” Eddie scrunched his nose in disgust, peering up at Richie judgingly. “First of all, ew. Don’t ever call it that again. And also… this was my first time.” Richie’s eyes widened a fraction, an unreadable but unmistakable softness within them. “Shit, Eds. I wish you’d have told me, I would have at least tried to perform better.” Predictably, Richie was trying to hide his vulnerability with humor. Also predictably, Eddie could see right through it. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” Richie seemed to gnaw on the inside of his cheek, so Eddie continued. “Ten out of ten, would pork again.” That earned a surprised laugh from Richie, and Eddie considered his mission accomplished. He could work on Richie’s insecurities more later, but for now, at least he knew Eddie didn’t regret what had happened. They fell back into another stretch of silence, the crackle of the fireplace background noise to their steady breathing. Eddie had almost fallen asleep when Richie spoke again. “Did you always know you wanted to be a mechanic when you were younger?” It took a moment for Eddie to fully re-inhabit his body, wondering why his slumber had been interrupted for such a random question. “Huh?” “You know, kids are so indecisive. One minute it's 'I'm gonna be a doctor' the next it's 'I'm gonna be an alien superstar princess'. Did little Eddie have lots of dream jobs or was it always a mechanic?” Eddie took a moment to think, having to dig through all of the expectations and responsibilities that had piled on top of him over time, shielding his passions and replacing them with pragmatic plans for the future. "I always wanted to be a mechanic. Actually, I even wanted to open my own garage when I grew up." Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to continue. "My dad was a mechanic. I learned a lot just from watching him, and then when he passed away I continued learning under a guy named Isaac, until mom decided it was too messy and too dangerous for me to be in the shop. I always believed I would grow up, open my own place where my mom couldn't ban me from being, and name it after my dad." Richie's face fell at the mention of Eddie's dad's death and he cursed himself for bringing it up. People always felt uncomfortable at the mention of death, and even though Eddie had long since accepted that his dad was gone, he always had to suffer through people’s weird grief reactions that, more often than not, made him feel worse. However a few moments passed and Richie still hadn't said anything, so Eddie braved a look upwards. "What's your favorite car?" Eddie was taken aback, already in the process of mentally preparing himself to field the same old questions he'd long since memorized his answers to. He blinked a few times, a smile creeping up on him without his permission. Richie continued to surprise him at every turn, and Eddie was absolutely giddy about it. "You're gonna make fun of me." Eddie sighed, infinitely grateful for Richie somehow always knowing exactly what to say and when not to say. "I absolutely will." Richie nodded. "1966 Volkswagen Type 2." Richie seemed to contemplate it, nodding slowly before bursting into a side splitting smile and letting a little laugh go. "You’re right, that's hilarious." Eddie laughed along, but still slapped his chest playfully to at least act offended. He snuggled in closer, settling his head on Richie’s chest. "It's just that the hippie lifestyle doesn't exactly match the Eddie Kaspbrak I've grown to know and lo-" Richie cut himself off just as Eddie's heart skipped, both of them falling silent for a moment before Richie cleared his throat and marched onwards, his own heart beating rapidly in Eddie's ear. "I'd have guessed you were a smart car kinda guy." "Why? Cause I'm small?" Eddie challenged, trying (and failing) to return his heart rate back to normal. "Yeah. Small, compact, can fit a surprising amount in its backseat." Richie moved his hand down from where he'd been rubbing circles into Eddie's lower back and tapped one of his cheeks. "Careful! I'm still tender." Eddie pouted, unknowingly looking far too cute for Richie's fragile sanity. Richie kissed the top of Eddie's head and Eddie kissed him back between his collarbones, absolutely smitten with the way Richie handled him. "I like the freedom of it." Eddie admitted, picking the conversation back up. "I've always felt trapped in this town, it's comforting to think of owning something that can take me anywhere." “Technically anything with two wheels can accomplish that.” Richie pointed out. “Yeah, but with a van I don’t have to worry about where I’m gonna sleep. I can live out of it for as long as it takes me to get to my destination.” “Where is your destination?” “New York.” Eddie answered automatically, surprising the both of them. Richie’s arms tightened around Eddie, erratic laughter falling from his lips. “EDDIE!!!” “WHAT!?” Eddie was being jostled now, Richie’s happiness contagious even though Eddie had no idea what was happening. “NEW YORK IS MY DREAM!” Eddie finally connected the dots, realizing a little late what that meant. If Eddie wanted to move to New York, and Richie wanted to move to New York, then they could theoretically move to New York together. The notion made Eddie’s belly do flips. “Oh, yeah, I guess that is kind of perfect huh?” Eddie answered, far more bashful than he'd expected himself to sound. “We can get a little apartment downtown where you can open your own garage and I can work at whatever coffee shop will hire me while I practice my standup routine on the weekends! We'll be a dynamic duo, running the streets of New York together. It’s FATE!” Eddie couldn’t deny that it did feel like something cosmic was at play. Richie was this boisterous, loud, chaotic puzzle piece that somehow fit perfectly into the slot on Eddie’s board. He pushed Eddie’s boundaries, encouraged him to challenge his world and rethink the ways he’d been taught to live. Being around him was invigorating, but it also felt like home. Eddie realized with terrifying clarity that he didn’t want to spend another day without Richie in his life. He couldn’t fathom how he’d done so before; looking back felt like watching a black and white film in contrast to the technicolor movie magic he was living in now. Richie had lit up a spot in Eddie’s life that he hadn’t even realized had been dark before. Eddie trailed his hand up Richie’s chest and found the back of his neck, tilting his head down to face Eddie. He moved slow, bringing their faces close together so their lips barely touched. Richie’s skin was soft, his lips plump and inviting as they trembled beneath Eddie’s. They breathed each other in as Eddie nosed at Richie, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his brain took a backseat. Eddie hummed a nearly imperceptible laugh and finally slotted their lips together, lingering in place for just a second before parting. It was teasing, but not in the sense of arousal. Eddie left Richie with a million thoughts on his mind and nothing but big brown eyes as answers. “I think I passed out for a second there.” Richie breathed shakily, effected in exactly the way Eddie’d intended. “You’re going to take me to New York one day.” Eddie decided aloud. Richie was all shy smiles, dipping his head low to try and hide his blush. “I sure fucking hope so.” Richie responded quietly, looking back up at Eddie through inky curls. Eddie pushed his hair to the side, tucking it behind Richie’s ear and letting his hand fall back down to his chest. “You will.” They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms with thoughts of the future fueling their dreams. Eddie knew that nothing was guaranteed. Two days can’t rewrite your whole life, and once they left the resort and re-entered Derry, he was sure that all the expectations and pressure he’d superseded were going to come back full force. But somehow, he felt more prepared to face them. They didn’t hold the same weight as they once had, because now Eddie knew he had a whole world outside of the one his mother had built for him to exist within. That world might just be Richie Tozier, but it was a thousand times bigger and brighter than the solitude he’d lived in before. For once, Eddie was excited to live.

[im-the-punk-who]

The Real People of Black Sails!

Here’s a quick(I promise....I promise this is as short as I could make it without leaving out some really choice shit) rundown of all the real historical figures peppered throughout Black Sails! I think I caught them all but if you know of others please mention them and I’ll add them on! Under a readmore because this is....so long y’all.

Pirates & Maroons

Anne Bonny (possibly 1697 – unknown; possibly April 1782) Started life crossdressing at her dad’s behest to avoid his wife(who wasn’t Bonny’s mom), married a guy her dad didn’t like, moved to Nassau. There her husband became a spy for Rogers and Anne was like ‘Not cool bro’. She met Jack, they started fucking, and Anne discovered she was really good at stabbing things. Resumed dressing as a man and started trying to seduce Mary Read who was also dressed as a man. They did indeed fall victim to one of the classic queer blunders. Anyway, Anne’s like ‘it’s not gay I’m a chick!’ And Mary is like ‘really?? Then it’s a little gayer than you realize because I’m a chick too!’ They (probably) start banging. Rackham’s like ‘hang on! I’m the only dick in Anne’s life’ and Mary and Anne are like ‘you sure are’ and Mary shows him her boobs and then they have some sort of complicated and probably not totally consensual threeway. Then they get captured because, Jack is That Guy Who Was Too Drunk To Realize His Ship Was Under Attack and Mary and Anne had to defend the ship against like, a whole other crew. Jack is hung(not a dick joke), but both Anne and Mary plead stays of execution due to pregnancy. Anne disappears but possibly is maybe referred to later. No one knows. Neat!

Edit: According to sources from this post there is a genealogical record that refers to Anne and it records her death as 1782. Very neat!

Israel Hands (c.1701-death unknown) Israel Hands was a real pirate and Blackbeard’s first mate. Not much else is known about where he came from or his life, other than that Blackbeard shot him in the knee at one point while supposedly aiming for another man. ‘Oops my bad this pistol is from like, the 18th century or something.’ While recuperating in Bath he was arrested after Teach’s death but took a pardon in exchange for ratting out the colonial officials who had been bribed by Teach. It’s unknown what happened to him after that although That Book About Pyrites says he died a beggar in London.

Benjamin Hornigold (1680–1719) Horny4gold was one of the most well known and influential pirates of the Golden Age. Most other pirates sailed under him or with him at one point, and he was one of the founders of the Pirate Republic of Nassau. He never attacked british ships during his time as captain so that he could be like ‘but brooooo I was acting in Britain’s Interests!!! Bro!!!!!’ But his co-pirates didn’t like that and eventually voted to replace him with Sam Bellamy. He accepted the king's pardon in 1718 and became a pirate hunter instead. Bummer. He was reportedly killed in a shipwreck.

Okay listen Horingold in any universe is a fucking JOKE I have to share this passage with y’all:

“Hornigold is recorded as having attacked a sloop off the coast of Honduras, but as one of the passengers of the captured vessel recounted, "they did us no further injury than the taking most of our hats from us, having got drunk the night before, as they told us, and toss'd theirs overboard"” WHAT A JOKE.

Dr. Howell - (birth/death unknown) John Howell was a pirate surgeon forced into service by Hornigold sometime in early 1717. He sailed with various pirate crews until October before returning into the service of Governor Rogers.

Ned Low (1690–1724) N’EDWARD. Okay I’m serious again. Born in London, Lowe grew up a thief in a thief family before moving to Boston. His wife died in childbirth in 1719, so he decided ‘fuck it I’ll become a Pirate Captain’ and did just that. He was known for torturing the people on board the ships he captured before murdering them and burning the ship. Interestingly though, Lowe was known to have a huge amount of regret over abandoning his daughter when he turned pirate, and wouldn’t force married men into his service. He also reportedly would allow women to return to port safely. Because of his numerous captures and cruelties, he was one of the most well known pirates in his day. There are differing reports about Low’s death - some say his crew mutinied and marooned him and he was subsequently hung, others say his ship sunk in a storm, and some say he just straight up disappeared. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Jack Rackham - (December 26, 1682 – November 18, 1720) Really a pirate, really named himself after a housecat pattern. (No, okay, he didn’t, it was because of his threads. But wouldn’t the cat thing fit too?) Sailed with Vane, Anne Bonny, and Mary Read. Was mostly known for being That Guy Who Was Too Drunk To Realize His Ship Was Under Attack and being Anne and Mary’s captain. He was captured and sentenced to hang after the aforementioned Drunk Blunder in 1720.

Mary/Mark Read - (1685 – 28 April 1721) Much like Anne Bonny, Mary dressed as a boy for much of her youth so a parent could swindle someone out of money. From her teenage years on she continued dressing as a man to find work in the military and as a sailor. She did marry but her husband died young and so she decided to become a pirate. Like ya do. She accepted the king’s pardon in 1718, then mutinied on the privateer she was aboard, once again becoming a pirate. Because pirates are sexy. In 1720 she joined Jack Rackham’s crew and sailed with him and Bonny. Cue the whole ‘Hey you’re hot, also I’m a woman.’ ‘Oh, hey, same hat!’ with Anne. In November of 1720, Rackham’s ship was captured. Mary died of a fever in prison(likely due to her pregnancy) in 1721.

Edward Teach - (c. 1680 – 22 November 1718) He started piracy sailing under Hornigold, and built the fleet alongside him and Stede Bonnet until Hornigold retired. COOL fact about Blackbeard is he was a MASTER showman who liked to light slow burning fuses under his hat to scare his enemies, and he relied more heavily on creating an image his prizes feared than violence. He did a lot of cool shit including ransoming the entire town of Charles Town and annoying the shit out of Woodes Rogers before settling in Bath and later dying of like, a shit ton of wounds while battling Lieutenant Maynard. The battle on Roger’s ship is pretty much what happened minues the keelhauling. Afterwards he was beheaded, his head hung from the bow of Maynard’s ship, and his body was thrown in the bay in Bath, where it’s said his ghost still haunts! Funky!

Charles Vane - (1680 – 29 March 1721)  Really a pirate captain! Known for being Not A Nice Dude. Sailed with Henry Jennings, Edward England and Jackie Rackhammie. He led the pirates in resisting Rogers in Nassau, and yeah he really did light a ship on fire and 18th centuryeet it into Rogers’ line in order to escape. There’s a note that he returned to Nassau to get married but I couldn’t find any info on who he married so he’s gay now. That’s a rule I just made up. Anyway so at one point his ship got into a fight with another ship and Vane ordered a retreat and the crew was like ‘this is BOOshit’ and voted him out in favor of Jack Rackham. Ouch. Vane and some of the crew that supported him left aboard the Katherine(I believe) but then they got caught in a storm that said ‘fuck you specifically to Charles Vane,’ and he was marooned on an island. He survived! Just long enough for a British ship to stop at the island for him to attempt to board, get caught, and then hung. Deus ex piratica.

(Honorary mentions)

John Silver + Captain Flint (sort of but I’m not kidding!) Okay so of course there are a bunch of suspected origins of the characters of Captain Flint and Long John Silver, but the one I like the most is of two brothers - one of whom had a peg leg! - who captured an enormous Spanish treasure and buried it near Ocracoke island. Their names were John and Owen Lloyd. (And yes, John was the one-legged brother.) In 1750 a Spanish treasure fleet named the Flotas de Indias attempted to sail from Havana to Spain in late August, and three ships were wrecked during a hurricane. By a stroke of luck, the Lloyd brothers had been blown to the same inlet as the wrecked ships Guadalupe and Soledad , and managed to convince the Captain to hire them to transport the treasure to Norfolk. 

But of course because they thought the Spanish SUCKED they said ‘psyche’ and just fucked off with it while the Captain was fighting Bureaucratic red tape in North Carolina. Iconique. Owen Lloyd reportedly buried the treasure on Norman Island and  the pair became folk heroes in the area, particularly in St. Kitts.  (P.s., the Stevenson family ran a sugar production business on St. Kitts, and R.L. Stevenson’s great grandfather worked there as early as 1773 - just 25 years after the epic heist. COOL STORY BRO.)

Captain Throckmorton (Okay not really but I just love this guy’s name) Okay so this guy wasn’t really a pirate captain but he was a Steamboat captain in the 1830s and his name is just too ridiculous for someone to make up. Toot toot, motherfucker.

---------

Queen Nanny(Maroon Queen/Madi) (c. 1686 – c. 1755) The spiritual, cultural, and military leader of the Windward Maroons (who the Black Sails Maroons are based on.) She led them alongside her ‘brother’ Quao although the relationship between them isn’t known. Exact information about her origins are not known but best guess is that she was of royal lineage from present-day Ghana, born sometime in the 1680’s. She did have a husband named Adou(who may have been the same person as Quao? I’ve read conflicting stuff), but they had no children. Many of the guerilla warfare tactics we now think of as common practice were developed by Queen Nanny and the other Maroons in their fight against British incursions. (The trap that Flint lays, covering themselves with paint and leaves, and the pits the Maroons lay in the forest are tactics known to have been used by the Windward Maroons.)

Nanny was a fucking legend okay a LEGENDS ONLY legend. She was one of the most instrumental people in preserving African culture among freed slaves and Maroons, and in encouraging the resistance to slavery in the Bahamas and surrounding areas. She was one of three leaders of the First Maroon War (which the war in Black Sails is based on). She initially refused to sign the treaty offered to Cudjoe because she knew the British were losing and was like ‘Why????? Would I surrender???? In a war??? I’m winning?????’

Anyway Queen Nanny was a fucking badass please read every piece of literature you can find on her. (You should absolutely read her full bio because she was fucking badass.)

Cudjoe (not exactly, but Julius is very close) (c. 1690s – 1764) Likely a freeborn son of one of the original escaped slaves turned Maroons, Cudjoe is hailed as one of the greatest Maroon leaders(after Queen Nanny). Much like in Black Sails, these original Maroons were slaves who escaped or overran their masters, forming free communities in the Mountains of Jamaica. The treaty in Black Sails is based on the one Cudjoe negotiated with the British, wanting an ‘honorable peace’ with the enemy, rather than the continued war and better terms that Queen Nanny and Quao wanted. (sound familiarrrrrr?) I do want to note that by the end of his life he became completely disillusioned with the idea that the British should be reasoned with and basically started fights with every British superior he could.

The English, Spanish, and Scottish!

The Guthries So while there wasn’t ever a female head of the Guthrie clan in Nassau, the Guthries were a Scottish merchant clan who emigrated to Boston around 1652 due to religious and racial persecution. While most of the family stayed around Pennsylvania and Massachusetts, John Guthrie moved to Virginia and his brother James Guthrie moved to Bermuda sometime after 1683.

(James Guthrie of Suffolk County, Massachusetts was listed in the will of John Richardson, dated 7 May 1683, in which Richardson says, “I give and bequeath unto James Guthrie all I have in the world except twenty shillings to buy John Harris a ring and ten shillings to buy John Kyte a ring.” This was witnessed by John Raynsford and John Ramsey.) Fellas is it gay.

Anyway, between Virginia and Boston and James’ ties in the Bermuda islands, the family made a shit ton fencing pirated goods during the Golden Age of Piracy, particularly from the Pirate Republic of Nassau.

A John Guthrie(likely a son of James’) was also a Colonel who was part of the peace talks with Cudjoe and the Maroons. Neat!

James Oglethorpe (22 December 1696 – 30 June 1785) Okay listen Oglethorpe was COOL AS FUCK. He is the founder of the colony of Georgia and is imo who Thomas Hamilton is probably based on. Oglethorpe was a HUGE humanitarian and even before he decided to form an entire colony around people not owning slaves. He advocated for better conditions for sailors, and prison reform. In 1732 he read a letter by a slave in Maryland named Ayuba Suleiman Diallo and on the spot decided slavery was terrible, divested himself of his stock in the African Trading Company, and resolved to include a law banning slavery in Georgia to the colony’s charter. Radical, man.

Speaking of Georgia, and specifically his plantation near Savannah, Oglethorpe actively spoke with the native Yamacraw who populated the land to ask permission and trade for the land he sought to build Georgia on. His plantation was meant to help debtors in London, released without any support, from falling back into debt and offering them a way forward to landownership through indentured servitude. I highly recommend anyone interested in early attempts at an equality based colonial system read up on the original charter of Georgia. (Of course there were still problems, but Oglethorpe was one of the most prominent proponents of a non hierarchical society - including limits to the acreage any person could own based on how helpful that land was to the people who worked it, and communal resources.) Oglethorpe was also a lifelong friend with Tomochichi, the chief of the Yamacraw, and worked very closely with him on colonial-indigenous relations.

Vincente de Raja (birth/death unknown) He was the real Governor and military Captain of Cuba from 1716-1717. He was a devoted pirate hunter and encouraged Spanish privateering against the pirates. Due to an attempt by Spain to increase tobacco profits at the expense of the farmers, there was a large revolt which resulted in many of the Cuban officials, including Raja, being replaced. 

William Rhett (4 September 1666 – 12 January 1723) He was a merchant captain and plantation owner in Carolina who served in the colonial militia and hunted pirates. He captured Stede Bonnet and was probably just as much of an asshole as he is in the show.

Woodes Rogers - (c. 1679 – 15 July 1732) The Governor of Nassau who was largely responsible for ending piracy in the Bahamas. He really did offer a universal pardon, which a large number of the pirates took. Fun fact: before he was Governor, he rescued Alexander Selkirk, who is believed to be the guy Robinson Crusoe is based off of! Neat! He really did have a brother who really did die during his privateering exploits which also really did leave him ‘disfigured’. He got sued by his crew, went bankrupt, wrote a book, got famous for writing the book, and he really did have a wife named Sarah whom he divorced shortly after all this happened. He then became Governor of Nassau for the first time. This first term did end in him being imprisoned for debts incurred defending the island from Vane and Teach and the Spanish, but he was released, helped write that most famous A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, and became governor again in 1728. He died in 1732 of just plain exhaustion from dealing with the bureaucracy. Alexa play tiny violin.

[parrishh]

Pynch and "I adore you" any thoughts? XD I Need some FLUFF right now ugh

okay but like, honestly, i don't think this happens too often. i think "i saved your life because i love you" was such a big deal because maybe neither one of them hears it as much as they'd like. but, at the same time, i think they both know when the other really needs to hear it. i was trying to think of an example of when that might happen, and i ended up just writing it. i know that's not what you were asking for but i haven't felt ~inspired~ to write for a while so i had to roll with it lol. here you go, a super quick "i adore you" one shot, audience of one:

It was common knowledge that Ronan Lynch was a shit.

Everyone and their mother knew it. If Adam opened the Aglionby yearbook to a random page, closed his eyes, and pointed, there was about a ninety-five percent chance the person he landed on would have some story to share in which Ronan Lynch was, in fact, being a shit. The night-shift clerk at the Singer’s Falls Sunoco, the one where Ronan bought his Slim Jims and tiny bottles of 5-Hour Energy, would have several stories. Even Ronan’s dentist would likely have stories, assuming Ronan ever listened when Declan told him his It’s time for your annual cleaning! postcard had arrived and he had to go soon, please. He had great teeth, so probably.

But the thing about Ronan being a shit was that there were levels to it. There wasn’t just Shit, period. There was I actively dislike you and want you to know it Shit. There was I secretly don’t dislike you and don’t want you to know it Shit, I don’t even know you but I’m having a bad day Shit, and If I don’t hurt you first, you’ll hurt me Shit. There was even a unique brand of Shit reserved solely for Declan.

Being close with Ronan meant either being the recipient of or personally witnessing most of these types of Shit at some point or another, but with that came the ability to differentiate between them. Adam, who knew Ronan better than anyone knew Ronan and was also sometimes pretty shitty himself, was intimately familiar with the varying degrees of Shit. He also knew that Ronan had been through more terrible crap in his eighteen years of life than most people would go through, ever, so even though the point of the Shit was to push people away, Adam pushed back. He talked to Ronan. He asked questions, or he listened, or he accepted, without argument, the times that Ronan didn’t want to talk at all, and all of those things meant that he had learned, or was at least in the process of learning, what Ronan needed and when he needed it.

Which is why, when they got back to the Barns one night and Ronan kicked the boots off his feet with a little too much force before stomping into the living room, alone, Adam thought about the news Gansey had shared in the booth at Nino’s and knew, right away, what kind of Shit this was.

Ronan had responded to the revelation of Gansey’s year-long road trip by shoving an entire slice of pizza in his mouth, so that by the time he’d finished chewing, the awkward silence would make Blue too antsy and she’d start excitedly chattering about the way redwoods seemed to stretch up forever if you stood at the foot of them, or so she’d read. So that when Gansey hesitantly slid glossy pamphlets and itineraries across the table, Ronan could shrug and waggle his grease-soaked fingers in the air, forcing Gansey to take the papers back and stack them, protectively, in his lap. It all worked. Ronan made everyone so uncomfortable that he didn’t have to say or do anything at all, and he didn’t. No snarky remarks or rude jokes all night. Just tense shoulders and silence.

This was bad, Adam knew. He sighed, slipping out of his sneakers and leaving them neatly by the door. He retrieved Ronan’s shoes from halfway down the hallway and stacked them next to his own, his heart heavy in his chest. This was Everyone I love leaves me Shit, and it was bad. It was really, really bad.

“Ronan?” he called, socked feet soft against the wood floor as he rounded the corner into the living room.

The back of Ronan’s head was visible over the top of the couch he was slumped on. He had turned the TV on but left the volume too low to hear. The Simpsons flickered across the screen, technicolor mouths moving silently, no subtitles. Ronan was staring at the screen intently, trying to read animated lips or making up his own dialogue or else maybe, likely, looking at the moving pictures without taking anything in at all.

“Hey,” Adam said softly. There wasn’t really enough space for a whole other person to squeeze between Ronan and the arm of the couch, but he did anyway, not bothering to wait for a response. He drew his knees up, Ronan’s hip digging painfully into his own, and wiggled his left foot under Ronan’s calf. Ronan was warm against his side and Adam leaned into him even though there wasn’t any room to.

For a few minutes, neither of them moved or spoke or did anything. Adam ignored the uncomfortable way his shoulder blade jabbed into the couch and watched Bart Simpson emphatically say nothing and tried very hard not to peek at Ronan out of the corner of his eye. Ronan was still quietly absorbed in Ronan-thoughts, but he didn’t move away. They were pressed so tightly together Adam could feel each one of Ronan’s too-quick breaths in the rise and fall of Ronan’s upper arm against his own.

Adam knew Ronan. He knew that Ronan hadn’t said anything at Nino’s because he loved Gansey, and he knew that Ronan hadn’t shied away because he loved Adam, and he knew that both of those things combined meant Ronan would talk. That Ronan wanted to talk, so long as he got a minute to sort through the minefield of his feelings. So Adam, his heart a little lighter, was patient. He watched Bart write lines on a chalkboard and he hated the Simpsons and he didn’t say a word.

“We can turn it up, you know,” Ronan muttered, finally, but he didn’t so much as twitch a finger towards the remote he’d haphazardly tossed onto the other side of the sofa.

Adam’s chest fluttered. “I have just about zero interest in actively watching The Simpsons.” He twisted his head. Ronan was still staring pointedly at the TV, Marge’s tall, electric blue hair reflected brightly in the cornflower blue of his eyes. “I think the fact that I can’t hear it might actually be making it better.”

This got a brief flash of a smile out of Ronan, but then he grimaced, wriggling his hips away from Adam. “Your bony ass fucking hurts, man-” he kept wriggling some more “-and don’t talk shit about The Simpsons.” His fingers lingered at the hem of Adam’s flannel shirt, and he didn’t move the leg that Adam’s foot was still wedged under, and Adam loved him so much it hurt, which was why he pushed him. Why he was always going to push him.

“He’s not leaving forever,” Adam whispered, trailing a knuckle across Ronan’s cheek.

Ronan looped his finger through Adam’s and brought them both to his lips, his long exhale slow and warm. His voice, when he spoke, was low and uncharacteristically quiet. “I know I was being a dick. I know that.” He closed his eyes and opened them again, let Adam’s hand drop, fidgeted in his seat. “But everything I wanted to say wasn’t nice, so I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t do that to him. He looked too...too happy, and, and-”

“Alive?” Adam offered, getting it. Really getting it, more than Ronan could guess. It had been months since Gansey had died and come back, and Adam still, every time he looked at him, saw the way he’d crumpled to the asphalt. It was etched into the back of his eyelids like a lithograph, or maybe more like some sort of old, 1920s-style animation. Like Steamboat Willie. A tragic short film, admit one.

Or two. Ronan looked up sharply and nodded once, quick. He looked as though he was about to say something, but he stopped, ground his teeth, and said, instead, “So, yeah, if he wants to go all Where’s Waldo with Sargent and Henry fucking Cheng, he should do that.”

“Ronan-”

“You’ll be in Boston. Matthew and Declan will be in D.C. Gansey will be in Timbuk-fuckin’-tu, but it’s great. It’s swell. I’ll be here every Friday night playing goddamn Scrabble with Opal. Five points for L-O-S-E-R.”

“Ronan,” Adam repeated. “Not one of us is planning on being away from you for like, the rest of time. We’re just...doing things. Because people do things, Ronan, but we’re all going to come back. And we’ll all be calling you, all the time, probably.” He pulled on Ronan’s earlobe, fingers curled against Ronan’s jaw. “You’ll be picking up collect from Timbuk-fuckin’-tu. Gansey will see a dung beetle or some shit and he’ll want to tell you all about it.”

“Yeah, but-” Ronan paused to gnaw on his wristbands, avoiding Adam’s gaze and staring at the TV again. There was some sort of pharmaceutical commercial on. A mom and her two-and-a-half kids and a golden retriever were all running jolly circles around a rainbow sprinkler while adverse side-effects ticked against the sky. “You guys will see and do exciting new shit every day. I’ll just be watching the cows sleep and telling Opal not to eat laundry detergent.”

“You could literally stare at a blank wall twenty-four hours a day and we’d still be happy just to hear your voice,” Adam told him and meant it. He leaned across Ronan, fumbled for the remote, and hit the power button. Now the only light in the room was the faint, dusky moonlight through the tall windows, and it splattered purple across Ronan’s forehead. They blinked at each other, the house somehow quieter even though the TV had been muted anyway.

“The Simpsons,” Ronan protested weakly, just to be difficult, and Adam clutched at his hand.

“Fuck the Simpsons,” he said solemnly. “Ronan, Gansey adores you. I adore you. You’re stuck with us, I promise.”

Ronan continued to stare, his eyes unnaturally wide in the dark, then tilted forward, burying his face in the side of Adam’s neck. “Okay,” he whispered there, muffled against Adam’s skin.

Okay didn’t sound fully convinced, but it didn’t sound like a fight either, so Adam just looped his arms around Ronan and hummed “I love you” into his ear. Ronan lifted his head and kissed him, long but sweet, chaste but searing, and, even though he was a shit, Adam loved him so much it hurt, and it was good. It was really, really good.

[onedoesnotsimplywriteafanfic]

Reunited at last (4/6)

Part 1, 2, 3

I waited on the steps of the Library, the cold morning air tickled my cheeks. It took Rafe indeed five minutes to get here. Once he arrived he honked the car. The sudden sound made me jump. Stepping inside the car I could barely keep my excitement inside and needed to share my information. ‘’I found a lead. It is rather small but it is something, this location might hold the last resting place of Henry Avery. It is a long shot but at least it is something.’’ he blinked a few times in order to process everything I just ranted.

For a minute he sat in silent, both hands on the wheel, looking outside. ‘’That is amazing.’’ He suddenly said. He turned in his seat to face me. ‘’You are amazing.’’ he said softly, which made me blush. ‘’Well it is my job, to look for clues and all, so uhm yeah.’’ I stammered not knowing what else to say.

He grabbed my hand and hold it in his. ‘’I never doubted you for a second. If there was someone who could find something from scratch it would be you.’’ This time I just smiled, completely lost of words.

Without wasting any time we packed our belongings and left the hotel, took the first flight to Scotland. We needed to make a pit stop somewhere to buy some warmer clothing because it apparently snowed in Scotland this time of year.

In the time we needed to get to the sight Rafe had called in some favors by Nadine and her special team called Shoreline, to set up camp there. ‘’Nadine just informed me her men are all set, once we get there we start searching.’’ Rafe updated me. ‘’That is great. I can’t wait to get there.’’ I was beyond excited. After years of being stuck in the library where I worked I never realized how much I had missed this.

It was a long car ride to the grave site. Tiredness overtook me and I fell asleep next Rafe. My head resting on his shoulder. Rafe smiled to himself when I felt my head falling on his shoulder. Arriving at the camp Nadine had set up Rafe had to wake me up. ‘’Hey, wake up, we are here.’’ Softly he shook my shoulders. Awoken from my deep slumber I felt disorientated.

Looking around confused. ‘’Where are we exactly?’’ I asked in a daze. ‘’We are at the camp near the graveside.’’ he helped me remember. ‘’Oh my god, of course, how could I forget.’’ I kinda felt stupid for forgetting but it was a well needed sleep.

We met up with Nadine. ‘’Just behind these woods is the graveside you tolled us about. Great findings by the way.’’ Nadine and I had already met at the auction. She was a nice lady but something tolled me not to put all my trust or faith in her hands.

Getting ready to leave for the graveside, I only took the necessary; notebook, pen, gun for safety and a flashlight. ‘’Are you ready?’’ I asked Rafe. He looked at me guilty. ‘’Is it oke if I meet you there? I want to speak to Nadine about what ever she has found already.’’ I simply nodded. ‘’No that’s oke. Update me as soon as you get there oke.’’ I gave him no time to respond and gave him a quick hug. ‘’Be careful.’’ he whispered into my ear. ‘’I will.’’

I followed one of Nadine's men to the graveside. Entering the graveside I immediately went my own way, leaving the man wandering behind. I knew what I was looking for, I just needed to find it first. There were so many graves scattered around the place, it would almost be impossible to find the right one, but I was determined.

Inspecting almost ever grave one by one. It took me some time and it was getting later and later in the day. Rafe hadn’t joined me jet. I was getting a little worried about him and whether or not I would find the grave. That little meeting of his shouldn’t take this long. But my mind was somewhere else then to worry about that.

After looking what felt like an eternity and not finding anything I consulted my notebook for information. I was looking for a gravestone with two swords crossing each other with a skull sitting on two crossed bones and with the following dates; 1659-1699.

I didn’t understand I know for a fact that I had looked at every single grave, it was not here. ‘’Y/N!’’ I heard someone yell my name. It was Rafe, panic struck my like a truck after the realization I had to share the bad news with him.

In a panic I tried to think of the right words to say. ‘’Found anything?’’ he asked as he was standing right behind me. My shoulders rose and fell rapidly. A sniff could be heard in the silence. ‘’Y/N, what is wrong?’’ He turned me around and looked at me. ‘’Talk to me.’’ With tear filled eyes I looked at him. ‘’It isn’t here.’’ I said in breath filled voice.

Confused he looked at me. ‘’What do you mean?’’ I took a big breath and said slowly to prevent myself from crying even more. ‘’Avery’s last resting place, it is not here.’’ there was a crack in my voice. ‘’Have you looked at all the graves?’’ for some reason I was getting angry. ‘’Yes, Rafe, while you were having a tea party with Nadine I looked at every single gravestone, some of them matched half of the description and others were missing just one thing.’’  He was taken aback by my sudden outburst. ‘’Sorry.’’ I whispered.

He looked around for a second and thought about something. ‘’Avery was a wanted man, are you sure he was buried under his name?’’ all of a sudden everything fell in place. ‘’Rafe you are brilliant!’’ I screamed and grabbed his face to kiss him before running off unaware of what I just had done.

I started walking towards a grave I recently had studied. ‘’Rafe, don’t just stand there, come.’’ I gestured with my hand that he needed to follow me, only Rafe was still startled by my action. ‘’Uh, yeah, I’m coming.’’ he shook himself out of his thoughts and followed me. In front of a grave I stood still, ‘’Benjamin Bridgeman’’ was the name engraved into the stone.

Standing in front of the grave I noticed something was off and so did Rafe. ‘’Everything matched except for the skull.’’ He was right, the skull should have been sideways, but before I gave up I wanted to try something. Placing my hands on the skull I rotated it to the side. A click could be heard from with in and behind the grave the ground opened up reviling a stair leading into the ground.

Walking in without hesitation I followed the halls into an open space. ‘’Someone beat us to it.’’ I said as I notice the puzzle Avery had set up was already solved. ‘’Drake.’’Rafe said in a low growl. I understand is anger, but I didn’t share it. I just kept quiet.

Looking around the room I looked for clues on what this puzzle led to. ‘’The puzzle is already cracked, who cares, the answer is ours to grab.’’ I tried to cheer him up and it seemed to work. ‘’Okey, why don’t you stay here, figure this out. Because that’s what you do best and I head back to camp and talk strategies with Nadine.’’ He walked over to me and placed his hands on my shoulder, looked me in my eyes with his smouldering charms.

He was right, this is what I did best, and he would only be in my way. But that didn’t mean I liked his plan of going back to Nadine, I was starting to get jealous. That she got to spent more time with Rafe than me. ‘’Oke, but radio me if you need me.’’ He nodded and thought what to do next, from the moment after I had kissed him he was looking for a way to return it. So he did.

Leaning in he placed a gentle kiss on my lips. It caught me by surprise. ‘’What was that for?’’ I asked, still not realizing what I had done about thirty minutes prior.  ‘’Because you are amazing.’’ I was glad that we were in a barely lit room, because I was blushing a deep shade of red. He winked at me and left me behind to work on the clues.

Every time I figured out where to go next Nathan and my dad were always one step ahead of us. We flew all over the world but eventually we found Libertalia, a colony build by Avery. A place he and his fellow pirates could hide out and live without getting caught. But Libertalia wasn’t the only place we had found. I found someone else too, someone I thought I would never see again. At that very same place I lost something as well. I lost my faith in Rafe.

Part 5 

Masterlist

[shimmershae]

Remember all the ship imagery we got in the early episodes of this season?  Carol literally sailing toward Daryl in a boat, the ships all over her bedding, the helm in the background as Daryl takes her dinner and a flower, and Daryl’s comments about poking holes in any boats she might use to leave him again?  Well.  It just occurred to me, when Carol had her emotional breakthrough and decided to fight and stick around and work toward putting her demons to rest, i.e. go home to Daryl, it was after a boat literally fell on top of her.  And maybe it was an odd little coincidence, but somehow I don’t think so.

I mean.  The first instance, with Carol literally sailing toward a waiting Daryl was lightly tossed about as our ship finally, well, setting sail.  I know I had a lot of fun with the idea personally.  But shining a different light on it, I think Carol ‘coming home’ to Daryl was twofold.  One, she was literally coming home, albeit somewhat reluctantly because she still hadn’t figured out a way to reconcile her feelings on Henry’s death and all the traumas it pushed to the surface nor all of the emotions being back in the circle of those who know her best kept ever present.  And two, it showed that Daryl is not only her person or place of stability, but that he perhaps has already reached the point where he knows exactly what he wants and that’s Carol herself.  I mean, he’s literally right there, ready and wanting to be her port in the storm.  

Yeah, I don’t know if I’m explaining myself well.  I’m sure someone else can piggyback on this and do a much better job, but I’m going to keep spit balling okay?  Okay.  

The boats on Carol’s bedding were a nice little touch, don’t you think?  Especially since Carol’s been shown to dream about Daryl in that bed.  Not in exactly the way that some of us might want her to, lol, at least not onscreen because our girl did say to Michonne that her dreams were good and that’s why they hurt so very much--why oh why they cut that scene from the aired episode I’ll never understand, unless they wanted to play close to the vest with their hand for a little bit longer (unneeded IMHO since those that don’t want to see are not going to see what’s staring them right in the face until it bites their noses off, but I digress) but still.  It’s been shown and suggested she dreams about Daryl when she sleeps in that bed.  Basically, she only allows herself to semi-admit what she most wants in her dreams, and I don’t remember if we see that bedding again later or not but I did find it kind of weird at the time that she was sleeping on top of the covers.  It’s almost like she doesn’t want to embrace (cover up) the comfort that her subconscious offers her, huh?  Psst.  Daryl.  Or, you know, literally stop running and relax enough to truly let her mind and emotions settle.  

I’m digging a little deep aren’t I?  Oops.  Sorry if I sound semi-delusional.  I am somewhat sleep deprived.  But truly.  My brain cannot accept that all of this is mere coincidence so the hamster wheel is trying to theorize and this is what you get.  Sorry not sorry, lol.  

So where was I?  

So basically Daryl’s had his epiphany.  The years Carol spent by another man’s side weren’t something he reacted to with the usual or stereotypical signs of jealousy because he’s Daryl.  He wants the best for those he loves even at his own expense, but there was some deep-seated stuff there he maybe didn’t recognize right away or likely, as with Carol, didn’t want to immediately confront.   

Sigh.  These two and their shitty self-esteems.  Whatever are we going to do with them?  

Putting the rest behind a cut because this is about to get even longer.  Read at your own risk.  ;)

Shit may not be settled, but Daryl’s more settled and mature than he’s ever been and he knows what he wants:  Carol.  So he’s there waiting on Carol’s boat to sail in.  He’s right there.  Waiting on Carol to have the same epiphany or reach the same conclusion or not, whatever may come, because Dude loves her.  He might not have put words to it, but he’s shown her and us in so very many ways.  Carol might have come to him on the boat, but make no mistake.  At this point in time?  Our man is the captain of this ship.  He’s standing at the helm.  Get it?  The helm in the background?  Er, I’ll shut up before I make myself sound even nuttier, lol.  

Let’s talk a little bit more about Carol, shall we?  

So Carol.  She knows what or who she wants too.  She just hasn’t dared to voice it.  Even in those woods, when her subconscious in the form of Alpha pressed her to admit the truth she wouldn’t say the words out loud.  It’s almost like her keeping those feelings secret is her way of protecting Daryl from the ‘monster’ she feels like she’s become.  

Oh sweet baby girl.  My heart aches so much for her.  She just has no idea.  Really and truly no idea.  

Listen.  Daryl was completely serious about poking holes in all them boats.  And call this a reach if you want to, but I think that little comment of his was twofold as well.  More on that a little later.  

Dude isn’t all that well-versed in matters of the heart, especially with somebody that means so very much to him.  So understandably, he’s not going to automatically get everything right.  And let’s be real here.  He’s still so much more of a show than tell kind of guy so that’s what he’s been doing.  Showing Carol how much he cares.  Demonstrating his love by being there for her, by having her back, and by calling her on her bullshit (but only after she’s taken up all the slack and put them both and their communities in an arguably untenable position). He wants her to stay and he’s done everything within his power to make her want to stay--except say those three little words.  

Which circles me back around to the two-fold part of the holes in the boat comment.  You know where I’m going with this don’t you?  Don’t you, lol?  There’s someone else Daryl hasn’t said those three little words to or about, even after Carol herself tried her best to put them in his mouth.  Our guy went so far as to tell our thick-headed Queen that it’s not like that, not at all, effectively poking the biggest of many holes in the most present ship.  I say present for lack of any better moniker.  Let’s just say that it’s the most threatening in Carol’s mind and subconscious because literally the only person acting like it’s a real thing is Carol.  Kelly’s little wink and nod isn’t something I’m going to take on gospel because let’s just say a thousand and one ships could be launched at a teasing sister’s behest and only one or two be manufactured out of more than popsicle sticks and imagination.  How many cute guys did your little sisters have you in love with when they simply offered you a smile or kind word?  I literally cannot keep track of how many would-be suitors my little sister would have had me have, lol.  The list is simply too long.  It’s one of the things little sisters are so very (obnoxiously) good at--spinning fantasy into a reality of their own making.  But yeah, I’m going off on another tangent.  In case you haven’t noticed, I’m very good at that.    

My point is this, hahaha.  Daryl’s not just willing to poke holes in all the literal boats to keep Carol with him.  The man has also, in his Daryl way, poked holes in the notion that he could feel something romantically for another woman.  Because it isn’t like that.  Not for the captain of this ship.  He knows what he wants whether he’s managed to use his words yet or not.  

Carol’s trickier because she’s not reached the same sort of zen Daryl has yet.  She’s still operating under the erroneous assumption that she’s not good enough for her Mr. Crossbow and has been doing her level-best to steer him toward what she considers his perfect match even though her subconscious has been baiting her to just fess up to her buried truth--that she wants and loves Daryl just as much as he wants and loves her.  

But you know what happened?  

A literal boat fell on top of our girl’s hard head and knocked some sense into her.  Honestly.  While the circumstances were actually heartbreaking--our baby girl’s emotions have been so fucked up for so long over something that couldn’t necessarily be helped in the world she’s been surviving in--I have to laugh now,putting it into this newfound perspective.  Kang literally bashed my baby over the head with her demons and the truth of her feelings.  Seriously.  She held all her so-called ‘failings’ up in her face and had her confront them before confronting her with her biggest fear.  That fear being, you guessed it, that she lose Daryl.  

You know what happened from that point.  

Deciding that she could never let that happen, Carol had her own epiphany--it’s never too late--and she decided to fight and she went home to Daryl.  Really went home to him and yeah, things are still up in the air because Angela Kang wanted to blue ball us just a wee bit more but I can’t be the only one hearing those drums break for their big solo in that old Phil Collins song, lol.  

I can almost taste canon on my tongue and hoo boy is it sweet.  A little bit spicy too.  

Damn the coronavirus.  Seriously.  Send that thing right back to hell.  

I don’t know about y’all but I need that finale yesterday.  

Anyhoo.  If you found your way to this last sentence after this mega stream of consciousness hooey, bless you.  If you feel inclined to add your own thoughts to my sleep-deprived thoughts, be my guest.  

Later, lovelies.  

Keep calm and Caryl the fuck on.  

[brntwd]

CHAPTER ONE :   curiosity leads to trouble .

 scene  transcript  between  henri  rousseau,  jasper  atkinson,  roman  keating,  banks  delcoy,  thalia  pham,  and  the  scott   family .  on  june  4th,  2020 .

opening:  it’s the last house on persimmon lane .  a little one on stilts .  the sort of house that looks like maybe it’s seen a hurricane or two in it’s day –– the blue paneling is slowly bleaching white in the sun .  there’s quite a few loose planks here and there,  as you bramble up the porch,  and the dock that juts out awkwardly into the water from the yard is blocked off by a fallen tree .  there's a very overgrown quality to the landscaping,  if you could call it that .  a porcelain bathtub full of spearmint plants lay on it's side in the tall grass .  there were several newly broken bird feeders .  a neon sign flashes in front of lace curtains in the window .  you see only candlelight through the windows .  they probably don't have power back yet .  PSYCHIC / PALM / TAROT / TEA / BY APPOINTMENT ONLY .  

thalia pham: lia isn't too familiar with the scott household, given that she's a woman of science and doesn't believe in any of that crap. that doesn't mean she doesn't have respect for the scotts--whatever they're doing, they're probably taking lots of money from dumb middle aged rich white women who complain about balancing their chakras, the perfect group to scam. people like that are just desperate to find "culture" in a small place like brentwood. if there's a place to do so, though, it certainly looks like this house. she's standing on the porch with the boys, reluctant to take the initiative and knock on the door. "not it!" she exclaims, waiting to see who will draw the short end of the stick.

henri rousseau: most of the year he simply longs to be considered a proper member of the gang. being able to properly take part without feeling like he's missing out. today he's just happy he can play the semi-innocent tourist card...  like he hasn't skated past the scott house umpteen-million times over the years. no. he's playing innocent, trying his best not to dig his hands in his pockets ( and curse himself further, if that's a thing) as he rocks on his heels. there are times when he knows to shut his mouth, and this is most definitely one of them... well, that is, until thalia mentions not being it and his jaw drops. "what?! nu-uh. if thalia's not it, i'm not either. i mean..." he purses his lips, "i know i have it, but like... if i'm cursed these could be my final moments! going out after knocking on a door is not really how i pictured it happening." banks delcoy: there's something about the house post - hurricane that makes him  .  .  .  uneasy. not in a this place gives me the creeps way, but more in a way that banks can't quite put a name to. beneath the gray sky, it feels too vibrant and too aged all at once. banks is shaking his head already as he swallows back a gulp of water from the two whales cup grasped loosely in his hand.  he supposes that he should be the one to take the leap   --   he pitched coming here in the first place   --   but instead he just leans against the white - washed banister. "i second lia. not it." roman keating: the atmosphere feels akin to what he imagines it would be in one of those movies cecilia used to love so much; the one she swore to him he’d love in return because it was supernatural. it turned out to be a romantic comedy about sister witches but he never complained. he stands behind the rest of them on the scott porch and crosses his arms over his chest with a heavy exhale, hoping the brittle wood didn’t concave from their combined weight. they were sticking their nose in something they had no business knowing ( if it was anything at all ). for all they knew, this could end up being a wild goose chase. roman’s right eyebrow raises and arms lift to protest. “i don’t even want to be here, let alone touch that damn door,” he opposes with a scoff. “japser can do it if he’s so worried about giving henri peace of mind or whatever.”

jasper atkinson: jasper had walked selene home after work whenever they got off at the same time. it was on the way to his apartment anyway, so it hardly mattered to him. while he didn’t believe any of the bullshit that spewed out of her mouth, he knew she did wholeheartedly, and so he respected it. who was he to knock her down? everyone had their thing that got them through life. “you guys are ridiculous. it’s a fuckin’ door.” he goes up to it and rings the doorbell, but there’s no sound inside. so instead, he knocks on the door. scott family . “ do you have an appointment ? ”  after a lot of dramatics about who was going to have to answer the door,  it is eventually fiona who does it .  six years old and forty inches high .  she’s wearing her belle from beauty in the beast costume over a pair of polkadot pajama pants .  she opens the door just two inches,  like she was told to,  and asks again,  louder :  “ DO YOU HAVE AN APPOIIIINTMENNNNNN–– ? ”  she was rudely interrupted by her mother,  who now stood in the doorway .  thirties,  bright blue eyes,  brighter blue overalls,   bandana,  juice box .  lavender gave her daughter the capri sun and then ushered her back into the house .     “ awfully sorry .  we don’t have power back yet . ”  she wipes sweat from her brow and starts her own capri sun .  “ i’m afraid we’re closed .  come back again .  .  .   well,  leave us a voicemail .  we’ll call you back when we have phones again .  take care . ” thalia pham: lia patiently waits as they finally pressure jasper into getting things done. she knows it's coming, because it always eventually happens. when the door swings open, though, thalia's met by someone closer in height to her than the boys--an adorable young girl with a loud mouth. when her mother tries to turn them away, thalia rushes to stop it from happening. they'd come this far already, right? "wait! we have kind of an urgent matter on our hands here. please?" henri rousseau: the brief sound of bickering is quickly replaced by the sound of henri's heartbeat in his head at the thought of having to head home with the chain."please." he repeats, almost as soon as it's left lia's mouth, if but a little desperately. "i, uh, i found something. a necklace. in amongst the debris on the beach but it... was like it didn't belong." his brow furrows and he briefly wonders whether or not to take it out of his pocket right there on the porch. "it just... it doesn't feel right."

banks delcoy: when a young girl begins calling out the door, a crooked smile threatens to twist at his lips. it's, admittedly, a little endearing. she fits right in with the neon signs casting technicolor shadows across his friend's faces. another woman swiftly replaces her and he's edges forward a step when lia cuts in. after a beat, banks nods toward henri in assent. "even a picture of the thing feels weird. we thought you all might be able to help." ilene scott: “ yeah, ”  lavender looks between the fiery one and the curly ones .  “ well .  that’s weird .  put it back where you found it . ”  as she’s closing the door,  there’s a voice from the candlelit kitchen .  “ lavender,  they’re going to think you were raised in a barn with those manners .  please,  come in .  i’m making iced tea . ”   lavender sighs, but ultimately waves a hand to welcome them inside .  she huffs up the stairs .  to the right,  there was a small yellow kitchen that was affectionately lit by the natural carolina sun pouring in through the windows and the hundreds and hundreds of candles . ilene,  town psychic and blue grass fanatic,  waved for everyone to have a seat at the table .  well,  probably someone’s gonna have to sit on the counter .  and maybe someone needs to pull up a stool .  “ lets have a look at it,  then . ” jasper atkinson: at this point, jasper felt like all he really needed was to be there for henri. he knew that he’d just about short circuit if he had to explain himself at this point. so, he sat next to him, hoping his presence would be enough. “i haven’t seen it yet, but if it’s real, based off of the picture, i’d date it at about 18th century.” his gaze shifted to his cousin. “show her, henri. it’s okay.” henri rousseau: there's always a bit of hesitancy whenever he takes the lead in something. more noticeable in his step as he makes his way across the kitchen - even if there is something oddly soothing about the interior of the house. but it's jasper's presence that finally gets him to stop twiddling his thumbs. just like it could when they were kids. "right, yeah, of course," he murmurs, digging in his pocket for a moment before pulling the chain out and laying it on the table. "it um, it's sorta alright like this. but when i looked at it more closely it... it sounded like it was whispering to me." ilene scott: “ where’d you find it ? ”  she narrows her eyes at henri . henri rousseau: "on the beach... just slightly buried in the sand." ilene scott:  she looks between the pendant and the group of people surrounding it .  “ well .  lets see then . ”  she reaches behind her and grabs a deck of tarot cards from the kitchen counter .  they’re barbie pink .  she passes the deck first to the curly boy who found the necklace .  “ shuffle,  pick one,  pass it on .   all of you pick one and put it down on the table . ” henri rousseau:  normally there would at least be a smile on his face at the colour of the cards. a reminder of the shade his step-sister sometimes insists on painting his nails with. but there’s something about the potential of being cursed that has him on edge, focussing more on the cards as he shuffles them than any offhanded remarks he could otherwise be making. although it takes a great deal of energy not to snort when he finally puts the card that feels right down on the table. the fool. were the cards really pointing out how much how much of a mistake picking up the necklace was too? he doesn’t know how tarot works well enough to say it, but it certainly feels that way. thalia pham:  lia watches as henri draws the fool, looking a bit embarrassed by how on the nose it is. she doesn't really get tarot cards and their supposed duality, but it would be rude to refuse. she slides the top card off of the deck and turns it over, placing it neatly in front of her. the sun. she feels warm.

roman keating:  an impatient foot taps the ground beneath him. “this is all a load of crap, right?” he inquires of the older woman who has dealt them the deck. when the cards end up in his hands, there’s a force that urges him to pull straight from the bottom. roman flips the card over to observe its depiction; the tower. all he sees is destruction. the structure's been lightning struck and bound to crumble, inhabitants falling from the sky are set to crash. he presses his lips into a thin line. banks delcoy:  banks can hear his mother's voice in the back of his mind as he takes the deck from roman   --   she had always said his curiosity is what would damn well get him in the end. little corbin banks had never believed her, of course, as he never had any intention of getting caught in the little excursions his intrigue would pull him toward. as a child, it had been harmless things   —   like sneaking out of his room at night to see what the grown - ups did from his perch at  the top of the stairs in their small two - story, tiny hazel eyes peering brightly like a cat's from between the spindles of the banister. this curiosity would morph into less harmless acts as he got older, and no matter how much he thought he got away with, leah banks always knew what went on in her own home. and he can't help but wonder what she'd say now. banks has no idea what any of  .  .  .  this means, but there's a tug in his chest that yearns for understanding. that same tug has him pulling from the middle of the deck   --   the card he flips onto the table reads wheel of fortune. hm. jasper atkinson:  as he watched all of his friends flip over their cards, information flowed through his mind. he'd read about all of this before, and thus, knew what each card that was flipped over meant. memories of sitting at the library, going over books in the metaphysical section, trying to grasp a sense for anything that might save him from his life. but the more he read, the more he realized it was all bullshit escapism. that didn't stop him from retaining the information, however, and it didn't stop the smile from curling up the corner of his lips as he watched henri and lia pull the fool and the sun. it was quickly erased when he noticed the tower and the wheel of fortune pulled immediately after. he knew what the tower meant, and the wheel of fortune, of course, could go either way. but no, he didn't believe in it. he took the deck for himself, split it in two (as he read was customary) and then picked from the top. two cards came out stuck together, and when he was about to place one back, ilene stopped him. told him that both cards were meant for him. he nodded and handed her the deck, then gently and carefully placed his cards down on the table. the chariot and the hierophant. he knew what they meant apart, but not together. fuck, he hated not knowing things. hated having to rely on other people for information. he looked up at ilene, trying to mask whatever anxiety he was feeling. ilene scott:  ilene watches carefully .  her expression is indiscernible .  after a long while .  she waited for the boy who chose two cards to finish before she moved .  ilene drew two more cards from the deck .  the star .  the magician .  she slid them into the middle of the table,  careful not to let them touch the pendant .   she says :  “ you’ve found it .  it’s starting .  hooray .  you’re not going to be able to use it until you find them . ”  she sips her iced tea .  she doesn't look at the gemstone on the table .

jasper atkinson:  he furrows his brow, a sudden rage filling his chest that he quickly pushes down. "are you just gonna be cryptic like that or are you gonna give us some real information?" thalia pham:  thalia reaches over to squeeze jasper on the arm. now is not the time to snap, even if she agrees that this hasn't been ...the most helpful, yet. she gives him a reassuring smile, to calm him down. jasper atkinson: and just like that, the anger in his chest cools to a simmer. as he makes eye contact with thalia, he knows exactly what shes thinking. shes with him, and she would handle this better than he ever could. she was always better at talking to people than he was. he placed his hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze before looking back down at his own cards, then at all of the cards on the table, as if putting together pieces of a puzzle. banks delcoy:  his attention skips across the cards and while he couldn't begin to interpret what any of this means, seeing them all together feels   --   right, maybe? complete? eventually he looks up to ilene. "what's starting?" something, though, tells him he's asking the wrong question. thalia pham:  thalia fixes her gaze on banks' own display of confusion. she draws her arm back, folding it across her chest with the other. "and what do we need to find?" ilene scott:  she sort of just listens to their questions .  nodding along while ripping open a sweet n low packet and pouring it into her iced tea .  finally,  she looks at the wheel and then to the sun .  “ good .  ”   lavender,  who it has become clear was hiding behind the door way into the room and listening to the conversation,  interrupts with a throat clear .  “ would you kindly get that thing off the kitchen table ? ”  she looks at the pendant .  “ we don’t want any part of this dust you’re kicking up .  treasure huntin’ is not known for being a profession in which people live particularly long .  ”  ilene says nothing ,  stirring her tea . jasper atkinson:  treasure hunting. jasper looks up. sudden interest sparking his eye. how much was this necklace worth? could he go to college with the money? would henri share? what if he found his own bit of treasure? if anyone could solve the puzzle, it would be him. but the cards on the table told him this was something they all had to do together. it was a piece of the puzzle. he didn't say a word. part of him not wanting to get his hopes up at the thought of a way out. banks delcoy:  it's almost as if the mention of treasure hunting has his heart pausing it's pace in the cage of his ribs. mind briefly flashes to his grandfather. "are you talking about the prospero?" maybe he's pushing his luck, but there's a sense that time to ask questions is running out. "is that what this is from?" closing:  " no, " lavender says,  crossing her arms,  still staring at the pendant .  " it's about time you should be getting home, now .  have a safe trip home . "  she starts to swipe iced tea glasses and empty them in the sink .  ilene says :  " next time,  consider making an appointment .  and yes,  take that with you .  you've met the other two .  you just don't know that you've met them .  certainly though,  you lot are starting to kick up some dirt .  it's starting .  bye bye,  now .  " armed with a reusable bag filled with mostly candy but also what could feasibly pass as groceries,  selene roller skates home from work .  to her understandable surprise,  her front porch was rather populated .  there was :  a bunch of kids she went to high school with,  the guy who works at her restaurant,  and a tourist .  weird .  she stood there,  and watched,  and said nothing .  she tilted her head .  then she went inside the house and closed the screen door behind her .  she looked at her grandmother .  and her aunt .  she said : “ what the fuck ? ”  fiona,  who chose now to come out from under the kitchen table,  said :  “ they didn’t have an appointment . ”

[akar0ku]

"You're not useless." Jarvis and Jack

“Not Useless”

It hadn’t taken Jack too long to get used to the day to day sounds that came muffled through his ceiling. He’d always been a heavy enough sleeper and the sounds of foot falls and inaudible words were surprisingly relaxing and a welcome break from the silence in his one room home. Though that didn’t mean things wouldn’t occasionally get a little too rowdy, even for him to obliviously sleep though.

The sound of something metal crashing against the bridge above ripped Jack out of whatever dream he had been having. He stared up at his darkened ceiling for a few moments in groggy confusion, wondering if maybe he had imagined the sound after all. Such wasn’t the case when muffled yelling began to drift through the layers of brick and plaster. The final thing that forced Jack out of bed was the sound of something clattering to the ground just in front of his door. Rushing outside, he was met with a dinged up trashcan and the increased volume of yelling from his rooftop.

“What’s your problem? I haven’t even done anything to you!” Jack hurried up the stairs, wondering if someone was being mugged or something. He slowed with an exasperated sigh when he instantly recognized the next voice.

“You did! You had the look on your face like you were thinking crap about me!”

“How could I? I don’t even know who you are.”

Jack peered around the corner, indeed finding Jarvis squaring up to a slightly nervous looking Paul. He debated turning around and going back to sleep, if he’s picking fights then he’s probably been drinking and even Paul could probably take him on, or at the very least out run him without the need for Jack help. As he’s about to leave though, he catches sight of Jarvis’ face, and something’s just not quite right. He’s too clear eyed to be drunk and his movements are far too deliberate and coordinated as he shoves the civilian man back a few inches.

“H-hey, I don’t wanna have to hurt you in self defence buddy.” Paul jabbed his wooden sword into Jarvis’ chest with a shaky hand.

Without even looking at it, Jarvis tore the training implement out of the other man's hands and pressed into his personal space once more. Without further prompting, Paul threw up his hands and quickly backed away before turning and escaping at a full sprint.

Jack continued to watch on with curiosity as Jarvis just kind of slumped. All of the previous anger in his form fizzling out as he carelessly tossed the wood sword aside and slinked over to the railing opposite of where Jack was hiding. Though Jack couldn’t see the man's face anymore, it was clear something was wrong in the way he leaned against the rail and buried his face in one hand. 

Deciding going back sleep could wait maybe a little bit longer, Jack emerged from his little hiding place and approached Jarvis.

“Hey Sarge, what was all that about?” Jarvis must have not heard him approaching, judging by how he jumped and looked at him with shock. Jack frowned when he noticed the obvious moisture in the older man's eyes. Not quite at the point of having been crying yet, though Jack wouldn’t be surprised if Jarvis had been bottling it all in for a while, just to save face.

Jarvis’ face grew red when he fully realized who it was that was talking to him and quickly diverted his face away while furiously rubbing at it.

“What are YOU doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I live here. You kinda woke me up.” Jack explained, as if Jarvis should have already known the answer. “You ok? You look kinda upset.”

“I’m fine. I have...allergies.” Even Jack wasn’t fooled by the obvious lie.

“Riiight. I’m surprised you’re still sober, what is tonight some kind of special occasion.” Jack prodded, trying to lighten the mood and hopefully get some kind of hint as to what was up.

“Piss off, I’m sober more often than you guys like to think I am! And I was going to grab a few with my friends but…” Jarvis’ face quickly fell and he once again leaned against the brick railing and stared off into the distance. “Never mind, those pricks aren’t even my friends.”

“You know I can’t help if you keep being all evasive like that.” Jack sighed, feeling only more confused and tired as the conversation dragged on.

“Did I even ask for your help?” Jarvis hissed and glanced at his young coworker, eyes red and expression holding none of the annoyance he was trying to project in his voice. After a short staring match, Jarvis conceded with a sigh.

“Alright, I went with some of our coworkers to get food and drinks. I don’t really know exactly how it came about but we got into an argument about how our squad always gets stuck with the lower paying throw away jobs. To make it short, they more or less said it was my fault for being so useless.”

“Ouch.” Was all Jack could really say.

“Yeah well...” Jarvis thought for a moment, eyes becoming glassy again as he drummed his fingers against the brick. “I guess they're not wrong.” 

“Doesn’t everyone always kinda give you a hard time about that kind of thing though? I’ve never seen you get so bent out of shape about it before.”

“When it’s something you’ve heard for most of your life, it kinda starts to wear on you.”

Both mercs fall into silence, one not really sure what to say and the other fidgeting uncomfortably with the vulnerability he’d just expressed.

“You’re not useless.” Jack eventually says. Jarvis turns to him again, this time a look of surprised confusion on his face.

“I mean, you kinda do drink a lot. And maybe you’d have more money if you didn’t, but you’ve done a lot of good things too, I think.”

“Oh, have I now?” Jarvis sounded more or less unconvinced, though there was the faintest glint of hope in his expression.

“Well yeah, you taught me a lot of things when I first joined Vancoor. And I know Daniel has a lot of respect for you...as long as crocogators aren’t involved I guess.”

Jarvis let out a humord ‘tsk’ at the mention of their teammates love for aquatic reptiles.

“Plus you look out for us when you can. Like that one time when I overworked myself, trying to do everything for everyone.”

Jarvis seemed to be at a loss for what to say, staring uncomfortably at Jack’s smiling face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally raising a hand and giving the brunette’s locks a hard ruffle. Jack gave a weak complaint, but didn’t fight the clear attempt at appreciative affection.

“Stop staring at me with such a dopey look, it’s weird.” Jarvis scolded, but his voice seemed to be a little less heavy than before. “Now go back to bed, I need you awake for our job tomorrow. I don’t want to hear you complain about being too tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. You better do the same though.” Jack jabbed back, doing his best to shake the hair out of his eyes. “Kinda hypocritical when you show up to work hungover.” 

“Fine, make you a deal, I’ll go straight home if you promise not to tell anyone about this. Ever.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jack agreed and started to make his way back to his house. He paused when something pulled on the back of his shirt and before he could turn around Jarvis spoke.

“Thanks Jack.” The pressure on his clothing disappeared almost as quickly as it had come and the light clink of armor and foot steps told him Jarvis was already leaving. With a smile on his face and the feeling like he had done a good deed, Jack hurried off back to the warm embrace of his bed.

Thanks Henry!

[201kl5-dead]

I’m sorry, you’re a *what*?

Eddie is walking home from school, and is taking a breather from all the shit going on. To his surprise, instead of spending a little time alone he meets a really badly dressed and messy-haired boy, who, by all logic, shouldn't exist.

Aka the 'Richie is a winter spirit and Eddie despises winter' -AU that nobody asked for.

Read it on AO3

thanks to seeki who for some reason volunteered to proofread this piece of garbage

Eddie Kaspbrak hated winter. Or more specifically, he hated all the things that came with it. He despised the chilling cold that always seemed to settle in the marrow of his bones and not want to disappear, leaving him shivering even after a long and steaming hot bath. The layers of clothing he had to wear, partly because of his mother ushering him to but partly also to keep himself safe- the cold winds and glimmering snow banks were treacherous and could swallow you whole in a blink of an eye while nobody was looking. Or, in Derry, even if the whole town was looking, they wouldn't even blink or spare another thought to a small boy drowning in the freezing cotton. Not to mention the ice- that's what Eddie hated the most. Sure, the smooth patches of slippery glass that covered the roads were scary, but they were nothing compared to the black ice, hiding under the safe-looking snow, ready to claim its next victim. Especially since he had fallen  and broken his arm because of said black ice a few years ago, the lingering fear of it happening again, having to feel  the searing pain and being forced to stay in the hospital for so long, was enough to get him to reach for his inhaler, desperate for the puff of minty medicine that would get his lungs working again. Even though he knew full well that it was only spiced water and nothing more, after the years he had spent believing his ‘asthma' was real, the cold and dry freezing air still triggered whatever it was that made it near impossible for him to breathe properly. To make everything even more hellish for him, with winter came the holidays, and with the holidays came Christmas dinner with his relatives at their house, that his mother always insisted on hosting. And with that came the obligation to act like the well-behaved, polite, straight, and loving Christian boy that his mom so desperately wanted him to be. So yeah, it was fair to say that Eddie hated winter.

*******

These were all reasons why he was kicking the snow on the ground while walking, or rather limping towards his house after school had ended. He knew he would have to walk normally and grit his teeth through the pain with a smile, or his mother would usher him to the ER and keep him there for the next week or so. And seeing as nothing was broken, he would be fine with just enough rest and a way to let his anger and frustration out. Sure, he had always been bullied; that's what being the delicate, small and ‘pretty' boy in a town like Derry got you. But boy oh boy, it had gotten so much worse around 6 months ago, right after Eddie's 17th birthday when his friends had encouraged him to sneak out of his house, and he had gone to a party. Thinking his alcohol tolerance was better than it actually was and that he could take two cans of beer had certainly been a mistake, but at least if he got one good thing out of it he learned the hard way he was a lightweight. Unfortunately, someone at the party had seen his condition and decided to have a little fun with the little ‘girly boy', and had pulled him to what he had assured was a safe and shielded corner, and Eddie hadn't been able to tell the difference from a shielded place and somewhere out in the open, so he had let his dick lead him. Against all his better judgement.

Eddie Kaspbrak was a virgin and had never even kissed anyone. The most obvious reason for that would be that the small brunette boy was a huge germaphobe, but there was another that one nobody, except maybe his closest friend Bill, knew for certain. Eddie was gay, and he had figured it out at a young age. At first, he had thought that his blatant disinterest in girls, kissing, and just any kind of physical contact in general was because of his fear of germs, but he had finally realized that that might have not been the case in fifth grade when he and Bill were in the school locker rooms after gym, hiding from the bullies and their gang, and Eddie had watched with reddening cheeks and a tightening chest as his best friend came back from the shower, dripping wet and then drying himself off before changing. That night his dreams had been a little more than restless, and he had had a hard time looking his friend in the eyes for the following week before finally breaking down and confessing to him what had happened. To his luck, Bill did nothing but pull the young and sobbing boy against his chest in a tight hug, and had held him for close to two hours telling him that it was okay, he wasn't sick, he would never hate him, and that he still loved Eddie all the same, even if it was all platonic. Bill had also told him that he might like both boys and girls, but couldn't be sure about it yet. Despite Bill's unsureness, to Eddie that was maybe the most meaningful news he had ever received. He wasn't alone, it wasn't only him. He wasn't alone.

Ever since that day, he had allowed himself to look at other boys in a completely different light- yes, he still felt guilty some nights when he buried his magazines inside several clothes and stuffed them under his mattress as his breathing started to even out and he eyed the mess he made in disgust, always scared to death his mother would find out, and send him away for being sick. To his luck, nobody but Bill had found out, at least not until that one fateful night at the party. The random boy whose name Eddie didn't even know, but wasn't a permanent resident in Derry, had managed to convince Eddie to come with him, to try something thrilling and amazing, and after a flirty smile and a wink, the boy had grabbed Eddie's wrist, tugging him along. He had already been smitten, ready to follow his Prince Charming to the ends of the Earth. Turns out, that wasn't far at all, and Eddie found himself being pulled under the stairs and up against the boy, but he assured him that they were safe and shielded, so what was the harm? Especially when every cell and atom in his body was seeming to crave closeness with the tall boy, maybe reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol which would have been enough to make Eddie gag and swear to stay away on a normal way, but that night it had seemed intoxicating, and he just had to have a taste. Despite it being messy, clumsy, way too horny and not meaningful at all and the worst of all, filmed and spread all around the school, the thing that made Eddie sob the hardest on the following nights in his bed, hiding under the covers, was that he had wasted his first kiss on that. And he'd never be able to get it back.

Logically, he knew that he should be more worried about the way everyone laughed and pointed at him at school, whispering and yelling derogatory and awful comments at him, or even about the fact that instead of getting punched or pushed once in a week or two, people seemed to at least try to attack him every few days. But the worst of them was Henry Bowers and his gang of goons who followed the insane boy like a herd of puppies follows its mother. The said gang was the reason why he was limping again and being forced to swallow the copper taste of blood and the salty tears rolling down his cheeks - there was no way in hell he could let his mom see him like this. Luckily, he had just only left school and had enough time to gather himself up before getting home, and maybe, just maybe, he would have a chance to sit for a few minutes in the woods he had to walk through. And then, for a few minutes, he would be able to breathe, let his tears fall, and tell his mind to calm down. 

*******

As Eddie walked through the woods and looked up at the sky and the snow-covered tree branches, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Despite his burning hatred of the winter, there was a smallish and fairly hidden opening in the woods, right by the path he used to walk to school and home, that he had stumbled in while running away from Bowers and his gang. It was small and slightly dirty, and full of leaves and other dirt he didn't want to know the specifics of when it wasn't coated in a thick blanket of snow, but it was *safe*. And it was his. It was a place where even despite the cold air prickling his skin and making his lungs dry up he felt free. Like nothing his mom or the bullies would say to him could affect him, like the hits he received felt only like balls of fluff thrown at him. It always felt like someone, or something, was watching him, but not in a creepy way. At least that's what he hoped.

But this time around it felt different than it usually was Instead of feeling like just a general presence somewhere around him, it felt more like a person- almost scarily much so. Eddie could practically feel the staring eyes boring into his head, and looked around himself, yelling out a small and shaky "Who's there?"

For a few seconds all he could hear was the wind blowing, before a small laugh could be heard from the edge of the opening. He snapped his eyes to the spot immediately, already trying to map out his surroundings for the quickest escape route he could dash towards if there was someone there waiting to jump him. Instead of a bully closing in he watched with wide eyes as a boy, around his age from what he could tell, with unruly and curly, shaggy black hair, his skin too white, lips tinted slightly blue and rectangle coke bottle glasses on his nose. What made the situation even weirder was the way the boy was dressed- he was wearing a worn out band t-shirt, khaki shorts, old black sneakers and a.. bright coloured hawaii shirt on top of it all. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and an impish smile stretched over his face, eyes trained on Eddie curiously. For a few minutes, neither of the boys moved. It was like they were frozen in place, one engulfed in fearful confusion and the other in child-like curiosity.

While Eddie stayed rooted to the spot he was sitting in, the boy started to slowly walk closer, tilting his head like he was inspecting him. Eventually, the dark haired teen walked up to Eddie and squatted down next to him, making him jump as the boy poked his cheek. That was what finally snapped Eddie back into reality, making him let out an annoyed noise as he slapped the hand away. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Who even are you, what are you doing here,  how are you not freez-" The boy cut his flow of questions short with a loud laugh that startled Eddie, and left him staring at the laughing teen with wide eyes. As his laughter finally died down, the boy sat down on the ground next to him with a mischievous smile, the smoothness of his voice surprising the smaller boy. "Wow, calm down there, firecracker. How about one question at a time?"

As his initial curiosity wore off, Eddie felt mostly annoyed. The first thing the raven-haired boy had said was to call him a firecracker? "First of all, do not call me that! And second, who even are you, and how can you be here wearing only that?"

"Well, I guess one question at a time was an unfair wish, so I'll let that slide," the boy chuckled before tipping off an imaginary hat. "The name's Richie, and how I'm not freezing my balls off? That's simple, winter spirits don't really get cold, so I'm all warm and cosy."

Wait. What? Winter spirits? What the fuck? "Wait, what did you just say? A ‘winter spirit'? What do you take me for? I'm not a gullible idiot."

The other teen, who was apparently named Richie, just let out a chuckle and nudged the glasses on his face up a little. "Well, believe it or don't. Honestly, I couldn't tell you that much either, it's not like we get a crash course on the whole spirit thing at any point, so everything I know is stuff I've either made up, figured out, or pulled from the wind. But what I do know, is that I've seen you walking here with your head down for quite some time now, and your face is way too cute to have a frown like that on it."

That just deepened the frown on Eddie's face, and he tried his best to ignore being called cute, and blamed the small blush that was rising on his face to the cold. "Oh yeah, prove it then," he spoke in a challenging tone, and crossed his arms as he gave Richie an unimpressed look. To his dismay, the spirit didn't give up but rather got a mischievous twinkle in his eye as his grin widened a little and he raised his hand. And lo and behold, a small snowstorm, one sized like those miniature snow globes, started to slowly swirl on top of his hand. The smaller brunette couldn't help but stare in awe with his jaw hanging open, mesmerized by the small snowflakes dancing in the air, only to suddenly drop to the ground as Richie closed his fist and lowered his hand. As he slowly let his eyes travel up he could see the slightly cocky but also excited smile on the other teen's face, before it turned into a small frown as he looked up, alerted, as if listening to some voice calling to him, unheard by Eddie. Before he could properly say something he felt Richie's fingers on his cheek, and he shivered at the ice cold touch, although it was almost.. surprisingly pleasant.

"I have to go, but I'll  see you around, cutie," was all he heard before Richie  suddenly stood up and dashed towards the edge of the woods, disappearing into the snowy landscape in less than a minute, while Eddie was left looking after him with his thoughts jumbled in a confused mess.

After sitting there for a few minutes, already doubting whether he'd actually just talked to someone or if his brain was so desperate for friends and comfort that it had made one up, and discovering that there were no prints on the snow in front of him, except a small dent where Richie had been sitting, did nothing to convince him that the boy he just met was real. And cute, exactly his type if he was honest- no! No. Bad Eddie. No. He was not even going to go there the slightest bit. He didn't even know if this ‘Richie' was even a real person- or spirit, he guessed. Which still made absolutely no sense, but he'd seen the evidence, right? There was just no way to suddenly fake that and make it look that real, so either he was really losing it or the boy actually controlled the snow. The thoughts and wonder continued to plague Eddie as he finally stood up and he realized that he had been sitting in the snow for too long, and his fingers and toes had lost all feeling in them already. Even later that day as he laid in his bed, he couldn't help but secretly hope that he'd see the boy again.

*******

Eddie could clearly tell that he wasn't paying attention in class the next day, and he wasn't the only one. After three of his first classes he had already been called out by his teachers five times now to focus, which in itself was already unheard of - Edward Kaspbrak, the student that got straight A's in everything but gym, being scolded by a teacher several times? At this point, Bill had already checked him for a fever thrice, and was clearly  trying for a fourth as the two boys were sitting at one of the otherwise empty tables at the corner of the dining hall, making the smaller teen swat his hand away in an annoyed manner "I'm fine, Bill! Seriously, do you really think that my mom would've let me leave my bed if I showed any signs of being sick?"

"Normally no, but come on Eddie, something's going on that you're not telling me," Bill huffed as he reluctantly settled back down in his seat. "You've been unfocused the whole day, and that's really out of the ordinary. I'm allowed to be worried-"

He was cut off by Eddie sighing softly and swatting his shoulder, signalling for him to shut up. "Alright alright, I'll tell you if you just shut up- and won't call me crazy."

As Bill nodded quietly, albeit with a frown, Eddie took a deep breath before summing up what had happened the previous day. Except he might've left out just how cute the boy, or alleged winter spirit, was. It took maybe ten minutes after Bill's amused smile began to fade as he stared at Eddie, sighing softly when he quieted down again.

"Holy shit, you're not kidding," the taller boy breathed out, looking at his friend with raised eyebrows. He only got an annoyed huff as a response, Eddie shaking his head as he got up.

"Wait- I believe you! I think. But I know you wouldn't just make that up, so yeah I believe you," Bill said as he looked over at Eddie, the latter just nodding slowly with a shrug. "Yeah. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you for not believing me, I don't even believe myself." The two were cut off by the bell ringing, and as usual, they gathered their bags with groans and grumbling about how stupid all of this really was, and which teacher they'd have to stand in their next class. They parted with a wave and with Eddie promising he'd call if anything more happened, or at least tell Bill after the weekend, no matter how reluctantly he had made said promise. *******

Eddie didn't remember when was the last time he was actually this excited to leave school. Sure, it sucked and was full of assholes, but at least there he had his friends and some adults who would be obliged to keep him safe. At home, yes his mother looked after him, but too much and in her own, twisted way that did nothing but harm Eddie in the end. And anywhere in town or on his way home, he was not even the slightest bit safe, seeing as he never knew what or who could be lurking around the corner, looking to pick at him or try and ‘ask a favour from the small pretty boy'. He shivered at the thought, but this time, this time he would be safe. He hurried out of the classroom, being the first one out so that he could get outside. He made sure that nobody was following him as he crouched behind the ramshackled toolshed behind the school. The place quite frankly disgusted him- it was falling apart, most likely mouldy, and probably infested with who knows what kind of germs and bugs. He guessed that was the reason why no one thought to search for the schools' infamous germaphobe there, and Eddie was able to wait somewhat safely until the other students had left the school grounds to go home or wherever they spent their time in.

*******

When he finally left his cover, he stretched while a small smile made its way onto his face. The parking lot was empty, excluding a few stray staff cars, and the sun had started to shine slightly through the thick cloud covers, filling the sky. He treaded calmly on the snow-filled path through the woods, happy that for once, he wasn't in a hurry- he had told his mother that he would be staying over at the school library with Bill, so she couldn't even call in to keep tabs on his whereabouts. Eddie hummed to himself quietly as he looked around, still despising the cold and whiteness, but maybe he was slowly starting to warm up to it. Just maybe.

As he arrived at the opening, Eddie took a deep breath in and walked to the same stone he had been sitting on yesterday. Just as he was settling down, he heard a familiar voice behind his back, and he whipped his head around to find the same boy from the previous day standing there. He was wearing the same, all too chilly summer clothing, the same bulky glasses, and the same mischievous smirk. Eddie exhaled slightly and looked at him annoyed, crossing his arms. "You can't just do that, you fucking scared me!"

The boy laughed and moved to sit down next to Eddie and patted his knee, making Eddie blush more than he would've liked to admit. "Sorry, and I most certainly will do it again!"

He huffed, annoyed at Richie's remark, but he wasn't angry, not like he would've been in some other situation where someone else had said that. Instead, he had to hold in the laughter that was bubbling up inside of him. 

Yeah, maybe Eddie could learn to like winter one day. He just may need a little help from a certain winter spirit to get there.

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 1x07 The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

I love this episode!

Poor Graham. He doesn’t feel anything my poor child.

Not cool Graham!  

It’s interesting that kissing Emma gave him his memories back. That’s some powerful Saviour magic!I guess she could’ve broken the curse by getting the whole town to kiss her xD.

Not okay Regina.  

I wonder if, at the time Regina comforts her, Snow knew Regina wanted to kill her. Later on she guesses that Graham was sent to harm her, so she probably does. She might even know that Regina was responsible for her father’s death at this point. My poor child is so sad and desperate for comfort that she accepts it from Regina, even though she probably knows the truth.

Graham is a sensitive boy. He’s a Hufflepuff and I can’t be convince otherwise. But I can see him as a Gryffindor also.

Since he was raised by wolves, I wonder what his relation to that wolf is. A brother maybe? As a Jungle Book fan (the vhs version) I would have loved a flashback of Graham being raised by wolves. How do wolves raise humans? I wonder if that’s ever actually happened.

All this from kissing Emma? That’s some intriguing magic.  

I wonder what made Graham so feverish. Perhaps it was the shock and confusion from having inexplicable memories or maybe it was some sort of side effect from gaining memories without the curse breaking. Or maybe it’s the whole idea of having two lives in your head, like Tilly or Jefferson.

And it’s wild that the wolf appeared just when he was regaining his memories. I guess that’s because he kissed Emma. There’s something more to that wolf, I’m sure of it. I think it was the same one that stopped Emma from leaving. Maybe it’s a symbolic thing.

I’m so obsessed with MM’s outfits!

Poor Graham looking slightly bananas over there.  

Why on the planet would Rumple be gardening in the middle of the woods? If Graham wasn’t preoccupied, he probably would’ve been super suspicious. Oh yeah, he’s burying his dagger!

Rumple is definitely trying to wake people up. First David and now Graham. He probably wants to recruit them so that they can help wake Emma up but he has to do it from afar.

Graham and that wolf are a freaking brotp. Look at them! The wolf is adorable.  

I’m wondering if touching that wolf would’ve brought back anyone else’s memories or if it would just work on Graham because of his connection to it, in which case, does touching an object or animal they had a connection to in the other world help bring back their memories or do they have to kiss Emma first? I guess it doesn’t work on all objects because MM is wearing her ring, but just a thought.

It disappeared! It’s a magical, teleporting wolf!

MM must be so confused with what Graham is saying.

Maybe the Huntsman doesn’t have a name, since he was raised by wolves.  

I love this interaction between Mary Margaret and Graham. She’s so caring and they seem to like and care about each other. She would have been a great mother-in-law if Graham and Emma ended up together.

It’s an interesting side effect of the curse that no one remembers meeting anyone. I think another side effect is that they don’t notice time passing, since no one aged for 28 years. They must have found it strange that Henry was aging but no one else was.

That broken “Have I ever hurt you.” Hurts my soul and she’s so reassuring afterwards.

Damn, he looks so handsome in that armour. I may be in love.

Poor Snow. She has such a self-sacrificing, kind soul. She must’ve been so scared.  

Don’t hurt her!!

Thank goodness. Good boy, Graham! Doing the right thing. I wonder if Snow ever used that whistle. If she did, he may not have come because the Queen had his heart.  

Graham would have made a good step-father if he’d gotten to be with Emma. They seem to get along really well.  

Henry’s so clever figuring this all out from the book. He could’ve made a great therapist.

So the wolf is Graham’s guide. Maybe it’s Emma’s guide too, since it stopped her leaving or maybe it’s a way of saying Graham is her guide. He asked her to be sheriff, which was another step towards breaking the curse. Maybe that’s part of the reason she wears his shoelace.

Poor Graham, he doesn’t feel anything and no one understands. He’s not making any sense to anyone but, as my Nanna would say with her Jamaican accent, “Him a’ tell the truth!”  

Gremma moment! Look at her reassuring him that he has a heart and he’s so scared. Such a sweet moment <3.

That’s clever of the curse to give him a heartbeat. Or maybe people somehow have a heartbeat when their hearts are ripped out.

That moment when she sees the wolf and realises, he may be making some sense after all.

Emma’s good to help him find his heart, even though she thinks he’s making no sense.

What is that symbol on the vault. It looks like it’s either antlers or trees.

That letter just shows how truly selfless Snow is. It’s tearing Regina apart inside.

Emma trying to calm poor Graham down as he searches <3

Graham standing up for himself. Such a powerful moment for him.

Ouch! That was a hard punch from Regina. The force of it even knocked Graham down as well!

No! I’m gonna lose my baby soon!  

Look at him helping Emma with her cut <3. And their smiles!

I wonder if Mills was Regina’s surname in the EF. I’ve always assumed it was but the curse could have added Mills to her father’s coffin.

No! Don’t hurt Graham! Don’t take his heart!

Oh dear.

The Evil Queen is so terrifying.

Look how happy Emma is. And she lets her guard down and kisses him <3. She trust him <3.

Gremma kiss!

His memories! Everyone’s gonna have to kiss her!

Oh snap! Don’t do it Regina!

Look at him cry! And her smile! The way he holds her head!  

It looks like it breaks a part of Regina to crush his heart.  

No!! Graham!!

Poor Emma, just when she allowed herself to trust someone. This hurts my heart! She’s terrified!

[alicentsstark]

Emails Through Family Pt 2.

NOTES: That took a long time to write, my apologies folks! Hope you guys like it, enjoy it guys! :3 @disneyevilprincessblog

Shego was sure that if she heard Athena ask if they were there yet one more time, she would either ducktape her mouth just or melt it shut. 

She was driving wearing a green leather jacket, a black on her way to her childhood home. Athena and Eric came along to finally meet, in Eric’s words “Mama’s family”. The young boy wasn’t wrong and it didn’t help her nerves. With a death grip on the steering wheel, she followed the GPS soothing voice tell her to pull up to their destination. 

Athena and Erice looked like two gold retrievers, looking out the window excited about anything. Shego, on the other hand still had a death grip on the steering wheel even after parking the car. She looked at her makeup in the rearview mirror. She scrutinized her look, from the green leather jacket, black and white striped blouse with black ripped jeans.  Her hair was safely tucked into a bun, as she grabbed her bag. Putting on her sunglasses, the trio walked up to the driveway. Eric and Athena went up ahead while Shego surveyed her old neighborhood. It looked the same, just the way she left it. 

“Sasha Go?” She froze, her head swiveling towards the middle-aged looking woman. Oh no. Ms. Rojas looked at her, the same way she looked at her since she was little. Judgment as harsh as any Latina woman would towards children that she considered in her words, “Hijos or Hijas de Lucifer.” 

Once, in a bold retaliating move, Shego shot back with, “If Lucifer’s my dad then that must suck considering your his wife.” 

It earned her a month’s allowance and she had to write a full page apology to Ms. Rojas. She still thought the old bat didn’t deserve it, so she never sent it. Just told her parents that it got “lost” in the mail delivery. 

“Oh mija, how are you?” She said in a kind but a judgmental voice. She eyed her and then spotted Athena and Eric. “Are these yours?” The way she stated it made it seem that it surprised her that she could have kids. Shego gave her a smile, her teeth showing. 

“Si, this is my oldest Athena and my youngest, Eric. Guys this is my old neighbor Ms. Amaya Rojas.” She wondered if she should just knock on the door and chuck the kids inside, leaving the older woman behind. “I would love to chat Senora but my mom is-”

“Ah si. Well, go, see your parents. This was a good surprise to see you and your children.” The old woman said in a snide voice before waving at the children. Shego gave her a smile before roughly dragging Eric and Athena up the steps to her old house. 

“Bruja de mierda,” She muttered under her breath as she knocked on the door. Shego could still see Ms. Rojas peeking from her rose garden. Shego was about to call her out when the door unlocked and swung opened. 

Facing her was her dad. 

Jason Go was a tall man, with dark brown hair and ivory skin. Their mom used to joke that he could be the “male version of Snow White.” His hair now was peppered in silver greys at the temples, with lines across his face. But he still looked the same that last time she saw him. His blue eyes shined when he noticed who it was, a look of utter surprise and pure joy. 

“Sasha.”  His face broke out into a grin as he pulled her into a hug. She didn’t respond, a bit in shock over how she was being received to even speak. She buried her face into his shoulder, he still smelled like wood and roses, probably from the candle that her mom liked to have around the house. After while they pulled back and his eyes flickered over to the kids. “These must be my grandkids, eh?” Shego nodded before she introduced them. The older man hugged both kids, Athena grinning like an idiot all the while. 

They stepped inside and she swore it was like she was a teenager. The house still looked the same, it even had the same scents! Roses with some Mexican food cooking. By the way, it smelled, she concluded that her mom must be making flautas de carne or taquitos.

“Soledad! Looks who’s home!” Her dad’s boisterous voice announced her presence to the other occupant in the room-the one person that Shego was a bit terrified to see. Her mom. Yep, she was home alright because the fear of her Mexican mother was one thing she definitely forgot before now.

Her mom, Soledad Bracamontes was a pretty tall person. She was a few inches taller than Shego, making her the short person between her family members (too many short jokes and a lot of discussions as to why she shouldn’t punch Henry or Miles when they crack said jokes.) Soledad someone that Shego was terrified to see once again, as her mother’s back was turned on her. Her mother was wearing a long black skirt, a blue shirt and her hair was looses, with greying hair, as Shego could see it. 

Jason went to her, and Shego internally braced herself. She braced herself for her mama’s words, yelling at her. God, she could face Kim Possible or cops but when it came to her mother, she was terrified. Then again, Mexican mothers are a terrifying force to be reckoned with as Shego has learned since she was a child. 

Soledad turned around, her eyes locking first on. the grandkids then flickered to Shego, staying there. 

Shego turned quickly to Athena. “Hey, why don’t you guys go in the backyard. There might some stuff to do there.”

Athena started to protest, “But I wanted to-”

“Right now Athena Lipsky. Take your brother outside and I need to talk to your abuelos. Now.” She said giving Athena her ‘Set You On Fire or Do It’ look. Athena smiled and grabbed Eric, hauling him out of the room and to the backyard.

The door was closed shut, they could hear Eric yell loudly “Look a tree house! Mom never told us about a tree house!”

“So,” Her mom began. Her clipped yet stern accent making her have flashbacks of days Shego snuck back home to get caught. “You finally came back and with grandchildren.”

No yelling or shouting, it was calm with anger simmering underneath. “You came back.” Her voice cracked and Shego felt a lump in her throat, as tears prickled her eyes. “You have a family and left us behind.”

“Mami,” She said. Shego didn’t reach out scared that her hands would burn her mom, considering her powers. She could feel the fire wanting to be released but Shego held on to the control she was taught at a young age since the comet hit her and her siblings that day. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I won’t apologize as to why I left. The team-Henry, it wasn’t what I wanted. I had to go. I didn’t mean to hurt you Mami, believe me, but I needed to go.” 

It was quiet with the three of them, only interrupted by Eric’s loud voice proclaiming that he was now King of the Treehouse. It tugged a smile onto Shego’s lips, one that her parents spotted. Soldedad’s eyes softened making Shego relax, it would take a while for their relationship to go back to what it once was but maybe, this was a start. Who knew robotic kids could be a blessing to repair a fractured relationship with her parents? Go figure. 

“Wesley told us that you and your husband moved Middleton with the kids' couple years ago.” Her dad commented. Shego almost choked on air back peddling her dad’s words of “husband”.

That little-, Shego thought. She was going to fry her brother the next time she saw him. 

“Yes,” She said trying to make them believe that she and Drakken were married with two kids. “Well, we decided a change of scenery was well for the kids.”

Yeah, if you call breaking him out of prison a change of scenery, she said inside her head. 

“Pues,” her mom began having that look that only Shego could describe as the Don’t-Fight-Me-On-This look. It was the same stubborn look she gave to Shego when she got in trouble mouthing off to Mrs. Rojas. She really did feel like she was a child all over again. “We would want to meet him.”

“Mami no-” She began only to be cut off by her mom.

“Sasha Roberta Go, queremos estar en tu vida otra vez.” Her eyes were pleading with her. It terrified her that her mom wanted to be part of her daughter, the same girl that left them without a trace. She wanted a do-over, one that Shego thought was impossible since that day. “Eso es lo que queremos.”

“Do you really?” It came out with a bite she didn’t mean to direct towards her parents but it slipped out. 

Her parents looked taken aback, her dad having that same stubborn look she got whenever she was ready to fight. Her dad took a deep breath before looking into her eyes. 

“Is that what you think Sasha?” His voice was quiet but firm at her. Shego’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach as she looked at her dad. She felt like a child about to be lectured by her parents, which in a way, she was. “We’ve never thought that way since the day you left. All we could think was why? Why did you leave us?”

“I’m sorry.” Was all she could offer them. 

Apologies in both languages. 

After a while, all three of them went quiet trying to figure out what to say next. Her dad let out a chuckle, as both she and her mom looked at him. As he chuckled, Jason pointed to a big picture on the entrance to one of the halls that lead towards Henry and Mile’s old rooms, if Shego remembered correctly. 

On it was a picture of herself, when she was around seven years old in a white dress, her hair curled, which looked very stiff along with the uncomfortable looking crown of white flowers that was on her head. She had in each hand a candle and a bible. A smile graced her seven-year-old self’s lips, as the picture was taken, she was frozen in time. 

Shego remembered that day. How she complained to her mom about the crown that dug into her scalp along with her hair which was stiff from all the hairspray Soledad put on it. 

Jason looked at her smiling. “I remembered that day, how you told your mom if instead of wearing the hairspray you could have it in a high ponytail.” 

Shego snorted. “Yeah, because the crown was making my scalp bleed and the hairspray was making my hair feel like it was frozen.”  

Soledad rolled her eyes. “I do not remember that at all,” she said which made both father and daughter laugh. Her mom would always do that whenever she was being reminded of the communion fiasco of her twin children. Miles and Shego’s communion went south from her setting her communion dress on fire (or trying to, just to get out of wearing the itchy thing) and then Miles grabbing a fist full of the towering chocolate-vanilla cake, eating it and hiding the evidence bathroom before they left to church hours before the party and only after those things went down, both twins got bored of the party, deciding to go “missing” for a couple hours. They went to hide in another room with their presents and some of the goodie bag candies, eating while opening their presents. Their dad found them passed out, chocolate smeared around their mouths and clothing with opened bags of presents. He had to carry both the twins to the car, with Henry laughing about what the twins did and how much trouble they would be in once they woke up. It was a communion that would be talked about within the Go family, usually to annoy their mom. Now it was brought back to heal, irony if Shego could see that. 

“We want those memories again with you Sasha.” Her dad said. Shego still stared at the picture of her seven-year-old self, not knowing about the life she would have now. If she told her past self that, she would get powers years later, along with her siblings fighting crime as a team and later joining forces with a mad scientist as a villain and having two robotic kids. Her past self would have called her a crazy lady to her face. 

It was out there, her parents wanted to go back to being a whole family. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Shego turned around and noticed two figures. Wesley and Miles. The youngest child of the Go family looked back and forth between his older sister and their parents before a smile graced his face. “Te dije.” He said smugly. 

As he approached her, Shego lightly punched him in the arm, just like he used to do to her. “Shut up.” 

They would have time to talk later, having Wesley gloat in her face. She’ll give him that. Now her attention turned towards Miles, her twin and once, partner in crime. 

“Hey”

“Hey”

They looked at one another before Miles scooped her up into her arms, hugging her to death. He was taller than her by couple inches. “Good to see you, Sasha.” His smile couple practically split his face in half. Shego grinned back. 

 He looked older but still the same, if that made any sense for Shego. It did. Looking at her parents and her siblings, Shego realized that even though they shared blood, they were still somewhat strangers with Shego returning with two kids. It was the self-doubt creeping back as she smashed it. But they still welcomed her, well four out of five so far. 

“Good to see y-” He was about to say before looking past her towards Athena and Eric who seemed to have walked inside the house. “Who’s the random kids?”

He turned towards his parents. “Did you adopt them?” He said in Spanish. Soldedad shook her head. 

“They're my kids, you idiot.” She said. “Athena, Eric this Miles, your older uncle.”

“Second oldest Hermanita,” Miles said with a smile. Shego rolled her eyes. “By twelve minutes,” She shot back. Miles waved his hand as if trying to wave away her words. 

“Your twin, right?” Athena asked Shego. She confirmed it by nodding her head. Miles looked at the kids before turning towards his sister.  

Out of all her brothers, Miles was the one she was closest to. While Wesley adored Henry, it was the twins who were the one who seemed to bond. They were twins, after all, they did almost everything together to the point where they got on Henry’s nerves with their antics. Now, they were here, face-to-face. 

“What made you want to come back?” He asked her. 

 “I missed my family.” No truer words could have been spoken out loud from her and they rang true. 

 “Welcome back.” Were the only words Miles said before asking Athena and Eric, “Ya wanna hear some embarrassing stories about your mom?”

“Yeah!” They both cheered making Shego glare at her twin. Miles merely cackled before going to get one of the many family albums that her mom kept. No doubt she kept them all. 

It felt like she was back home and that’s because she was. 

“You tired them out.” Was Drakken’s comment when Shego entered the lab with Athena dragging her feet and Eric hoisted over Shego’s shoulder. Athena went to bed saying goodnight of the adults and after Shego tucked Eric in, she went straight to the kitchen to get herself the bottle of chardonnay. When she left the kitchen, glass of wine in hand, she sat down on the couch Drakken occupied. The older man had a mug of coffee, as he looked at his plans for some world takeover. She sat next to him, pulling her legs on top of his lap. 

“How’d it go?” He asked, drumming his fingers on her right thigh leg. Shego took a sip before answering. “Well, they want to get to know the kids and they want to meet my husband,” She answered in a sickly sweet voice. 

Drakken sputtered into his mug. Shego merely hid her smirk as she greedily took another sip of her wine. 

Drakken finally looked at her, flustered and red. It was a good look on his face, Shego had to admit, besides the muscle from the old band shirts he usually wore. She tore her eyes away from the muscles to his face. 

“They think I’m your husband?” 

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t correct them?” His tone sounded to become smug and she rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t.” 

Drakken merely grinned before shaking his head. “So when are we having your parents over? Or is it the whole family?” 

“Four out of the five. One of them is still up in the air on the date.” She said. “Don’t worry, they’ll just want to know about your work, what you do and when we met.”

“So, we’re going to need a cover story basically?” He said. “Yep, but only my two brothers know the truth.” 

She had pulled Miles aside and told him everything. It took him a while to stop laughing because “Sasha mothering two robotic children” was just the most hilarious thing ever that he heard. He promised to keep the secret safe which she knew he would. 

Drakken still drummed his fingers on her thigh as he thought. “So when did we get married wife?” He gave her a mocking grin, one that was similar to Eric’s whenever he did a clever joke. 

“You pick the date hubby.” She said sarcastically. “Maybe I will,” He muttered. 

It was ironic considering they slept in the same bed and Eric called them Mama and Dad, neither of them correcting the young boy. They were a family, one that her mother picked up on and Shego could see that no matter how much she tried to deny it. 

So, she went on, telling him about the plans and what they would say when the day came to introduce themselves as the Lipsky-Go family and how to make sure Eric didn’t say anything that would scream “evil villains’ to her parents. Maybe a promise of candy and movies? That usually worked with him. 

For now, the two adults sat there in comfortable silence, knowing full well neither of their kids wasn’t yelling or trying to get their attention. Just them, plotting. 

It was her family, one that drove her crazy. But they were hers, just like her blood family.  

[sprnklersplashes]

A New Hope (3/?)

AO3

They half-run back to the town hall, not wanting to spend too much time outside. Henry keeps glancing behind them, a protective hand on Hope’s back, worrying that another ogre, or something worse, could be rearing behind them. The air is too still, too silent, though that could be because none of them want to talk about what happened until they’re safely inside. Still, not even birds are flying above them. Henry wonders if the curse, or spell, or whatever it is that’s happened to the town, has affected the animals too, and makes a mental note to check the animals on his grandfather’s farm later.

He keeps rubbing his sister’s back, small circular motions to keep her grounded. She tries not to let on that she’s been affected badly by what she and Robin just pulled off but she’s paler than normal and light purple bags have formed under her eyes and she’s leaning more and more on him by the minute. He wraps his arm tighter around her and she takes the hint and buries her face in his jacket. Part of him wants to pick her up and carry her back, the same way he used to do after long days chasing her around a park when she was a kid, but he doesn’t. She won’t stop walking and he knows it’s to protect Gideon’s feelings more than her pride; Gideon would never let himself forget it if he knew Hope was hurt. Plus, he seems to be taking most of Robin’s weight.

Lucas jogs ahead a little and reaches the town hall a few steps ahead of them. When he pulls the door though, it doesn’t budge. He frowns and tugs it again, harder this time. When Henry catches up with him, he can hear the shaking metal against metal of the door scraping against the frame. Still nothing. Lucas frowns and takes a few steps back before running up and kicking it, which only sends him stumbling back and muttering a string of curses under his breath.

“Try knocking,” Gideon says helpfully. Lucas nods, sweeping his hair out of his eyes and shaking his wrists, trying to save what dignity he can.

“Alex! Philip, Mel!” he calls, knocking on the door. “Open up y’all, it’s us!”

Behind the door, the sound of chair scraping, locks unlocking and wood hitting the floor is heard, dragging on for thirty seconds, then a minute, then another minute. Under other circumstances, Henry would be laughing at this. He does raise an eyebrow, and when Robin groans into Gideon’s shoulder he does suppress a smile, despite Hope smacking him weakly on the shoulder.

Finally, the door opens to Alex, who looks relieved at the sight of them, until she sets eyes on a pale and panting Robin.

“What happened?” she asks as they file in.

“Uh, ogre, magic, pretty sure it disappeared,” Robin explains. Gideon sits her down in a chair and Alex kneels down next to her, looking from her girlfriend to the rest of them. Robin takes her hand and squeezes it gently, telling her something Henry can’t make out. Alex smiles slightly and kisses her forehead.

Henry helps Hope into another chair. She takes in deep breaths and clutches the edge of her chair tightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pushing her hair out of her face. Her skin is cool and clammy and he winces.

“I’m fine,” she says. She moves to push his hand away but ends up wobbling herself, grabbing his shoulder for balance. “I’m fine.”

“You’re an awful liar,” he tells her, which doesn’t marry well with the fact she’s stubborn as a damn mule. Hope looks over her shoulder and Henry follows her gaze. Gideon is standing over with Lucas, pressing his joined hands to his mouth, looking at Robin. Then he looks over at Hope and Henry can see his face fall. Hope sees it too.

“I will be fine,” she says. “Just get me some water and a cookie and…” She closes her eyes and buries her fingers in his jacket. “Make the world stop spinning for a second.”

“I can do the first two,” he promises, making her laugh. He gets up and runs to the tiny kitchen in the town hall. He had first encountered it when he was eighteen, volunteering at a Christmas fundraising bake sale. Honestly, he had had no idea it had even existed until then, but now he’s glad he does. He takes out two plastic cups and fills them with water before checking the cupboards. There’s got to be a packet of cookies around there somewhere. Chances are they’ll be a little bit stale but Hope and Robin are going to need some sugar. He finds a packet, slips them into his jacket pocket and lifts the two cups. When he turns to go, Gideon is standing in the doorway, looking at the floor, his feet crossed, his hair hiding his face.

“Hey, Gid,” he says gently. He lifts his head slightly, guilt written all over his face. He’s always been one to wear his emotions all over his face.

“Are Hope and Robin okay?” he asks. Henry runs his hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly and sighs.

“They’ll be okay,” he assures him. “A little bit of sugar and rest, and we’ll never know anything happened.”

“But something did happen,” he points out. He clenches his fist tightly. “I shouldn’t have pushed them like that.”

“Hey, hey,” Henry replies softly. “Look, Gideon, you did what you had to do. You saved us from… whatever that was.”

“I know,” he mutters, his tone utterly deflated. “But Hope and Robin could’ve been hurt.”

“You could have been hurt too,” he reminds him, kneeling down to eye level with him and gripping his shoulder softly. “But you weren’t. And they’re fine too.” Gideon tucks his chin into his chest, trying to avoid Henry’s eyes, but Henry takes him chin gently and tilts his head up. “Look, Gid, this was impossible. You were the only one who thought of a plan back there. Don’t worry about Robin and Hope. Heroes tend to get a few scratches along the way.” Henry rubs circles on Gideon’s arms. “Come on, kid, don’t beat yourself up.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding to himself. “Okay.” Henry smiles and stands back up. He knows Gideon isn’t convinced; he takes on more blame than he should. Gideon sometimes seems far more mature than sixteen. But right now, there’s stuff to do and he knows he can’t convince him otherwise. He just hopes Gideon can work it out for himself.

“Here,” he hands him a cup of water and two cookies. “Give that to Robin. I’ll take care of Hope.” Gideon smiles and takes them. “And really, Gideon, try not to think too hard on it. We both know if you didn’t think of something, it would have been Hope charging at it with a sword herself.”

That, finally, gets a real smile out of him.

                                                                                                               *****

Robin lets out a long, steady breath. The cookie Gideon brought her must have magic in it, she thinks, because its starting to make a world of difference, clearing her head and letting her form coherent thoughts and sentences with more than five words. The world is still tilting slightly and her legs feel like lead just sitting down, she’s not even going to chance trying to move, but she’s starting to feel more herself.

Although, with the way Alex is sitting next to her, brushing her hair away from her forehead and holding her water and helping her drink, she must look far worse than she feels.

“I’m not dying, Alex,” she reminds her with a smile. A time crosses her mind when she was sick last year, just a few weeks after she and Alex started dating, and Alex had gone full-on mother hen mode, texting her during school hours and climbing through her bedroom window to check on her.

The stand off between Alex and her mother had been pretty amusing to watch.

“I know,” she replies, touching her forehead for the second time in the past three minutes. “Just making sure.”

“Yeah I know you are,” she replied softly, taking Alex’s hand and running her thumb over her knuckles and trying to smile.

“You okay?” she asks, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Fine,” she says. She shakes her head for just a moment, but the movement makes her dizzy and she grabs Alex’s shoulder with her free hand. “Remind me not to do that again.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she half-laughs. She frowns and looks up at her, her eyes scanning her face. “Rob… you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” she repeats. “Just tired.” Alex raises one eyebrow, silently communicating ‘I’m tired too, tired of your bullshit’. She looks around them at the rest of their little group. Gideon, Lucas and Philip sit in a little bunch in a corner, lost in their conversation. Hope is sitting on a chair a few rows in front of her; Henry sits in front of her, holding one of her hands and talking to her, while Melody stands off to the side, playing with the hem of her skirt and casting longing glances at Hope when she thinks no one is watching her.

Poor girl.

Robin looks back at Alex, whose eyes are wide and who is giving her an encouraging smile, the kind that makes her feel like she can open up her heart and let everything out. Relieve the weight that’s pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe.

“It’s just… That was hard,” she admits.  “Using all that magic…” Alex nods. Late at night, over the phone and in person, Robin’s magic has come up a lot. How it’s nowhere near as strong as her mother’s, or even Hope’s. She can amuse her friends by making roses bloom or making things disappear and sometimes pushing herself to “poof” as Emma calls it food into her room, but they both know she pales in comparison to every other magic user in Storybrooke.

“Of course it was hard,” Alex insists. “Heck, even Hope is wrecked after that.”

“You know what I mean, Al,” she sighs. “This whole magic thing… it’s still hard for me.” Alex nods again. She doesn’t say anything but she kneels up and kisses Robin’s forehead.

Maybe that made her feel a little better.

“Hey,” Robin says, tapping Alex’s shoulder to get her attention. When she looks at her, Robin moves and kisses her lips this time. Alex hums in contentment for a brief moment before pulling away, sooner than Robin would have liked. Although, she is starting to get dizzy again. Still, she pouts.

“Get better first,” Alex orders. “Then we can do whatever you want.”

“Is that a promise?” Alex laughs and kisses her head.

“It’s a promise.” She gets up and sits on the chair beside Robin, wrapping her arms around her. Robin wriggles so that she can rest her cheek on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, closing her eyes against the rhythm. Alex traces patterns on her back and arms, almost making Robin forget that her mother is lying in a coma a block away and that the street outside has been demolished by an ogre.

It briefly crosses her mind that it’ll be hard to hug Alex like this if she’s in LA in two years, but she lets that thought go, wanting to put it aside until this is all over.

                                                                                               *****

“Hey, Hope.” Hope looks up and sees Melody standing next to her chair, kicking the ground in her patent shoes and moving ever so slightly so that her skirt swishes gently. “How are you feeling.”

“Okay,” she says, and it’s not untrue. She does genuinely feel better, a lot sooner than she expected too. Her head is clearer, she’s not feeling dizzy anymore (although she hasn’t tried standing yet and that could very much change everything), and she finds it significantly easier to breathe. She’s never used that much magic before, and as exhausted as it made her, she has to admit the after effect is kind of amazing. She feels stronger somehow, like she could do it again. Her body hums with magic, her veins warm and fizzing.

“That was really cool,” Melody says. “What you did out there. Pretty brave.”

“It was nothing,” Hope says, lacing her fingers together. “I mean anyone else would have done the same.”

“Nah,” Melody corrects her. “You’re kind of a hero.”

Hope feels everything stop. Her heart, every other person in the town hall, everyone else in Maine, probably everything in the whole world. Nothing else matters for about five seconds, only the fact that Melody just called her a hero.

“T-thanks,” she mutters in response, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, it wasn’t just me. Robin was there and it was kind of all Gideon’s idea, but…” Melody smiles, dimples in her cheeks, and sits down on the seat in front of her, leaning on the back of the chair. She taps her fingernails on the chair, chewing her lip. Her big brown eyes start looking sadder and Hope remembers everything that’s happened since that morning. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” she asks, surprised. “I mean… I’m fine, but I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But everything’s been kind of crazy since we got up this morning. So, how you holding up?” She laughs at herself. She sounds just like her mom. Melody huffs out a laugh and ducks her head slightly so that her ponytail falls over her shoulder, half hiding her face.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “This has all just been so weird. I keep thinking it’s a dream, you know?”

“Thinking or hoping?” Hope asks. She smiles but doesn’t answer.

“It has to work out, right?” she asks. “It always works out for the good guys.”

“I guess,” she says. “My grandma would say good always wins.”

“My mom says that too,” Melody says. “She says to just do good things and the world will give good things to you. But I guess she was kind of wrong.”

“What makes you think that?” she asks. Truthfully, she’s never been one hundred percent convinced about her grandparent’s philosophy of ‘things will work out’. She’s discovered she tends to be more of a cynic and guesses she gets it from her father.

“Because this is happening,” she answers. “This isn’t a good thing.”

“Yeah… ever notice how bad stuff keeps happening to the heroes first?” she asks. “I mean what’s up with that?” If Ariel’s philosophy was true, then nothing bad would ever happen to heroes; they’d live forever sitting on cotton candy clouds and drinking champagne or whatever from diamond glasses while riding on unicorns. And they wouldn’t have problems talking to pretty girls. Or have to deal with ogres or comatose parents.

“They win in the end though,” Melody reminds her.

“Yeah, I guess,” she sighs. “Just after a whole lot of pain.”

“Hey.” Mel reaches out her hand and Hope hesitates for a moment before taking it. She expects her to shake her head and tell her that she was just pointing to something on the floor behind her, but she doesn’t. She just keeps holding her hand and making Hope’s heart skip a beat. “I think we’ll get through this with minimal pain.”

The bluntness in her statement, the ridiculousness of it all, makes Hope burst into laughter.

“Minimal pain,” she echoes, giggling. “That’s optimistic.” Melody laughs back, small but bright.

They keep holding hands like that until the feeling Hope can only describe as buzzing fades away and Mel’s arm begins cramping and she pulls her hand away, smiling shyly. Hope curls her hands in her lap, looking at her bitten and worn fingernails, the splatter of paint on her palm, left from this morning when she was just worrying about her painting and nothing else.

“I hope you’re right,” she says. “Gideon sometimes says I need more of what I’m named after.”

“I think you’re smart,” Melody tells her and it makes Hope’s head snap up. “I mean, the way you see the world. The way you look at stories, how you notice stuff like how bad stuff happens to the heroes first.”

“Oh, thanks,” is all she can say. “Henry says that every story needs villains and bad stuff, otherwise it wouldn’t start and there’d be no story in the first place.”

“Do you believe him?” Melody asks. Hope looks over to where her brother is sitting against the wall, his eyes on Gideon, who is in his own group with Lucas and Philip.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Thing is, stuff like this isn’t stories. It was real life. For our parents and now it is for us.”

“Wow,” she whispers. “That was real deep.”

Hope hides her face behind her hair, but she’s smiling, the butterflies in her stomach taking off. Although, she thinks as she presses her hand to her stomach, that might not just be butterflies.

“Hey, is anyone else hungry?” Philip asks, addressing the whole room, and Hope honestly wants to hug him. “I’m starving.”

                                                                                                *****

Of everything they’ve seen so far, an empty, silent Granny’s is the most startling. Their footsteps seem to echo on the linoleum, the sound bouncing off the walls. Granny’s always feels like the heart of Storybrooke, and even on the most quiet days they could count on Leroy drinking coffee at the bar or Archie coming in for a pastry after closing his office. Right now there’s only them. They don’t ever remember feeling so small in here.

They slide into a booth; it’s a tight fit with seven of them, but they make it work, even if it means Melody gets squished against the wall. At least for the couples of the group it’s not an unfamiliar situation. Henry takes a chair from one of the tables and seats it at the edge of the table.

“So… do any of you know how to work the stuff here?” Robin asks. “Because I sure as heck don’t.”

“Did you just say ‘heck’?” Lucas asks, snorting, thinking about how much she can swear when she wants to. Robin raises her eyebrow at him, somehow wordlessly conveying the message ‘yes I did because there are children here’.

“Can’t be too hard,” Henry says, getting up and going to the kitchen. After a brief, non-verbal discussion involving looking around the table, all of them get up and follow him. They move as a group, still tense from the previous ogre attack. Being left alone isn’t a very appealing thought right now.

“Wow,” Philip remarks as they step into the kitchen, into Granny’s world of heavy metal machinery and silver trays. It’s big enough and has three large ovens built into the silver walls and two three doors, one marked ‘dry goods’ one marked ‘fridge’ and one marked ‘freezer’. “This is… now what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?” Alex asks.

“Not sure,” he replies as Henry begins looking through the dry goods cupboard. “Ever watched MasterChef?”

Henry emerges from the dry goods store with a triumphant smile on his face, three bags of pasta, a tub of some kind of sauce and a bag of celery.

“Uh… are you sure you can make something with all that?” Hope asks, wrinkling her nose.

“You realise I’ve lived on my own for over a decade?” he asks, kicking the door closed. “I’ve got this. Give me half an hour and a bit of love and patience.”

Sure enough, nearly thirty minutes later, they’re all sitting at the bar, eating tomato-sauce covered pasta covered with chopped celery, and it’s not as bad as Hope thought it would be. In fact, it actually tastes pretty good, which is odd, considering her brother has rarely cooked for her ever since he set fire to a chicken and her dad banned him from the kitchen under the guise of not wanting him to stress himself.

“You don’t make it like Granny does,” she points out, making Henry roll his eyes.

“I know, but she keeps her recipes in a locked and bolted box in her room.

“You should have gone for it,” Lucas says. “Maybe it would have woken her up.” A laugh ripples throughout the group, but they fall silent. Lucas’ remark reminded them of what they’re really up against and how damn helpless they all are.

“So what should we do now?” Philip asks. They look from one another and then all look to Henry, like he would have all the answers. When Hope was younger she used to believe he did, and maybe a part of her still does.

“Um, okay…” he says. “Well, we should set up a base. Try to work out what we’re facing.”

“Okay, so where?” Robin asks, pushing pasta around her plate.

“The library,” Gideon says firmly. “It’s got everything we need, right? Books, lockable doors.”

“And access to the mines,” Henry adds. “Just in case we need to make a quick getaway.” He looks to the rest of them, hoping for some sort of reaction. “Sound good?”

They all murmur some form of yes with quick, small nods.

“I think we should suit up as well,” Robin adds. “Get weapons, just in case. You never know, Mr Ogre might come back. Or one of his friends.” Everyone turns to face her. Hope finds herself surprised by the suggestion, but then again, it’s not entirely unreasonable. In fact, she’s surprised no one thought of it sooner. Still, the thought of having to defend herself doesn’t sit well with her.

“Robin’s right,” Henry agrees. “Right, let’s go get whatever we can and then meet at the library.”

“We’ll need other stuff too,” Melody adds. “Like, sleeping bags and stuff. And toothbrushes. And fresh clothes…”

“Do you think we’re on vacation here, Mel?” Lucas asks.

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Henry says. He pushes himself off his stool and straightens himself up, putting his hands on his hips. An image of their grandfather from the storybook comes to Hope’s mind. “We’ll go back to our own places and grab whatever we need. Pack light and meet in the library in half an hour. You all have your cell phones? Call if anything happens. Also, we’re using the buddy system.” Robin and Alex join hands as they jump off their seats. Meanwhile, Gideon looks over at Melody, who looks at the floor, and back at Lucas.

“Henry, can you grab my stuff from my room?” he asks. Henry frowns but nods. “You know what I need. Melody, I’ll go with you.”

“You will?” she asks, smiling.

“Sure. They can manage without me for a bit.” He looks back over at Lucas, who is already standing with Philip, and they both nod at him.

“Okay, half an hour,” Henry repeats.

He and Hope leave first, his hand on her back, and run out into the deserted streets. Wind blows throughout the empty town, blowing discarded rubbish around.

They reach their house soon, Hope’s sneakers creaking against the floorboards. She feels Henry’s hands on her shoulders as they cross the threshold.

“Okay, go get packed,” he tells her. “I’ll get my stuff and Gideon’s.”

She runs up to her room, her footsteps loud on the wooden stairs, her hand trailing along the baby blue wall.

Once in her room, she dumps the contents of her schoolbag on her bed, scattering old tests and her pencil case and candy wrappers and drawings. She looks up and checks the clock on her wall. 1:30. This time 24 hours ago, she was sitting in math class, pretending to be watching a movie while she was playing tic tac toe with Ariana, the girl sitting next to her. The girl who was in a come because she was born in the Enchanted Forest.

She hurries and stuffs another jacket, a few pairs of underwear, her brush and her pyjamas into the bag. After a moment’s hesitation, she takes one of her sketchbooks, the one with the most blank pages, off the shelf and slides it in, hiding it among the clothes, and a pack of pencils. Then she gets logical and tosses in her phone charger before closing it, shaking it to make sure it’s not too heavy. Just in case she has to run with it.

Satisfied, she moves to the foot of her bed and opens the white painted wooden box at the bottom of it, moving extra blankets and old stuffed animals until her hand hits woods. She struggles but succeeds in lifting out the long rectangular box and opens it to see a silver cutlass sitting on red velvet, complete with leather sheath. Her parents had given her it for her last birthday, her dad declaring that now she was in high school, she was old enough to learn how to fight. She hopes that the few sword lessons he had given her would come in handy as she straps it around her waist, wishing now that she’d joined the fencing club in school.

She puts her bag on her back and leaves to meet Henry, the cutlass tapping against her leg.

She passes her parents’ silent room as she goes and her blood runs cold. She looks over in the direction of Gideon’s room; straining her ears and just about hears Henry moving about in there. He could be in there for at least a few minutes.

She presses her hand against her parents’ door and slowly pushes it open. Inside, their room is exactly the same as they’d left her; her parents still wrapped up in each other, still breathing slowly, so slowly that she could be tricked into thinking they were dead.

She swallows the lump in her dry throat and creeps in, forgetting about the door behind her. She inches closer towards the bed, wiping her sweaty hands on her overalls, her eyes beginning to sting. She falls to her knees beside her mom, her hand wrapping around hers. It’s cold and makes her wince. Her breathing nearly falls in rhythm with her mom’s, her lungs apparently refusing anything other than the bare minimum. She reaches out with her other hand and brushes Emma’s hair away from her forehead while the tears start running down her cheeks.

“Please come back,” she whispers desperately before she kisses her mom’s forehead.

She doesn’t know what to expect. If Henry couldn’t wake her, why would she? Still, she allows herself to, for a moment, live up to her name.

There’s nothing. No rainbow, no wind, no warmth. Her mom continues lying there, dead to the world. Dead to her.

Hope presses her hands against her mouth to muffle her cries. Her whole body shakes, she pulls her knees up to her chest and gasps for air, choking slightly in the process. She wants to curl up on the floor and keep crying until there’s nothing left inside of her. Or until her parents wake up. One of the two.

“Hey,” a soft voice whispers behind her. She feels her brother’s arms circle her and pull her against his chest, sitting her on his legs and resting his chin on her head. She feels the pressure of a kiss on the back of her head and all through it, she keeps crying. “I know, I know, kid. I know.”

They sit like that for who knows how long, Hope crying and Henry kissing her head and telling her that he knows, that it’ll be okay, that he’s got her. She clings to his arms, taking comfort in the only alive, awake thing in the room other than her.

“We have to go,” he tells her gently. “We said meet in half an hour.” She nods numbly, still sniffling but the tears on her cheeks are almost dried. “Come on.” She lets Henry lift her to her feet. And take her by the hand, leading her down the stairs like she’s five not fifteen.

“Wait,” she says just before they leave. She quickly checks her reflection in the hallway mirror. Red eyes and a pale face and spiky eyelashes. “I don’t look like I was crying, do I?”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you if you did,” he says, neatly avoiding the question and opening the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

The town it still deathly quiet outside as they run down the porch steps and into the street, but it doesn’t last. A low rumble echoes through the air, and the hairs on the back of Hope’s neck stand up.

“What is that?” Henry asks. He looks to the sky, but Hope looks out at the street, down towards the town line. Something inside her tells her that’s where the trouble is.

She’s proven right a few seconds later; out in the distance, she sees something shooting up against the sky just as the rumbling gets louder.

“What the hell?” Henry asks, more to himself than to her.

“It’s out at the town line,” Hope says.

“Just when you think today can’t get freakier,” he mumbles. “Let’s go.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Come on, you know they’ll be checking this out too,” he tells her. He’s not wrong. She can’t imagine any of her friends will stand back and stay safe while this is going down. They pick up their paces and break out into a run towards the town line. Hope’s heart pounds both from running and fear as they get closer and closer to whatever is going on at the damn town line.

Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than an ogre. Could it?

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X18 - Selfless, Brave, and True

Hey, reader! And WOOD-n’t you know, August is here too!!!!

So while we’re all here together, let’s talk about this episode! Under the cut we go!

Press Release While Mary Margaret goes off on her own in an attempt to come to grips with what she did to Cora and how her deed has affected her, she stumbles upon August, who has hidden himself away from the others and is completely made of wood – ashamed at the actions he has taken in life; and Emma is shocked when Neal invites his fiancée, Tamara, to come to Storybrooke. Meanwhile, before the curse was cast, August is introduced to a man of magic who may be able to prevent him from turning back into wood – but at a steep price. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness This is one of those episodes where the events of it are good, but can’t really be picked apart and discussed in specific segments like I usually do (Besides, the “Insights” make up for it this time! XD ). I like both of the stories and their use of character. I’m admittedly a sucker for episodes where a character makes a decision in one part and then ends up on the opposite side of the proverbial equation in the other, and this one was done pretty well! It’s a simple type of character development, but it honestly gets the job done. August is built to be just selfish enough for the episode’s purposes, but his fear of dying was an appropriate choice as to make his cowardice and selfishness never take him over the line of detestability. Additionally, while I take issue with one aspect of it, I think August’s redemption works well through his sacrifice as death was something he feared so much and was capitalized on well enough in the flashback, and his reward is well deserved. In both segments, Tamara works as a twist character and while I get tired sometimes of those overly mysterious characters who dodge most every question like a banana peel in Smash Bros, I think they did a good job in making The Dragon likable enough. If I had to complain about something, I just feel like the twist that makes August change his mind about leaving should’ve been more character based and closer to the theme of being selfless, brave, and true. As it is, it’s just seeing a photograph, and that’s not really all that revolutionary to someone who was content enough to run away earlier despite knowing what Tamara could do. It exposes nothing about his morality. What I would’ve done is have Tamara also take the string from the Dragon. It would’ve tied (GET IT?! TIED XD ) back to who August was and his father. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -Phuket? More like “fuck it.” Aren’t I right August, ya beach bum? XD -”I’m turning into wood.” Given your previous position, I guess the wood that goes around comes around! ;) -David, you sure that snowbells are the best flowers to give Snow to cheer her up? Because she literally just buried her friend with them a few days ago. Maybe you oughta go with tulips or a nice rose, perhaps? -Also, David! You look hoooooot in that shirt! Fuck the sausage and eggs! I’d be content enough with that big slab of meat you call a bicep! ;) -Ooh! I love that bit of indirect tough love advice Emma gives David on Snow’s behalf! It’s a nice callback to their friendship! And it works! AND Snow relays that advice to August later on! -”None of it will matter?” I’m with Snow, David. Shit’s not that easy. -”Please. Give me time.” There might be some in that breakfast he cooked. Just saying. -”She should be here at any minute now.” Neal, give Emma some notice! A text, at least! -”This town is turning into a theme park.” I’m about 1,000,000% sure no one who runs a Disney park is reading my cute little web reviews, but if you are, PLEASE make Storybrooke a theme park or even just a street in Disney World (And then get me free tickets as a thank you for the idea!) -I can NEVER hear Jennifer say “where I’m/you’re from” again without thinking about that fucking blooper! XD -”She’s bringing bagels.” To be honest, I’d be sold here too. New York bagels are objectively the best and I pity every one of you who has never had one. You poor souls! -Mary Margaret: Keeper of the best coping mechanism EVER since 2013 (?) -*August shows up* I’ve heard of Woodsman in this series, but this is ridiculous! -*August fucking stabs himself with a scalpel and is chased* What the fuck did you expect to happen?! -*August gets pulled into the supply closet* August was ready to throw down! And look at his hands. Is that cultural appropriation or did he actually learn how to fight in Phuket? -August is so well sanded! Either Gepetto didn’t get paid NEARLY enough or August did some grooming! -August ships SwanFire! Who knew? ...Besides everyone who paid more attention than me during the original airing of the episode, that is? XD -Tamara brought the fucking goods! Your revealed villainy aside, you’re a fucking champ! No wonder I liked you! -Awww! Henry let Neal keep the book! <3 -Btw, WHERE THE FUCK IS RUMPLE? Unghh. One thing I wish we had more of this season was more Papa Fire moments. I mean, the guy just got his son back AND avoided death. I feel like he should be knocking on Neal’s door every day to talk to him and his absence at this point is really noticeable. I know we see them together in the next episode, but it’s not enough. Yes, Neal still holds a lot of resentment, but in the last scene they were together, they had a moment of kindness and Rumple’s the type to jump on that like a toddler on a trampoline! -Tamara, I know you’re acting, but you’re giving a 10 and you need to pull that back to a 6. Hell, precisely BECAUSE you’re acting, you should pull it back just a touch! -”I have a soft spot for little kids in trouble.” Awwww! </3 -”If I were you, I’d try the fish -- blackened soul.” That was a fucking good one liner! -Damn, Tamara! Give you some ominous music and a glare and suddenly, out goes the cuddly and in goes the scary! -Dragon, don’t dodge the question! Goddd, don’t be one of those annoying types of mysterious characters!! -”Because what he was is what he is.” Blue! THIS is why everyone thinks you’re shady! -Tamara. Do not pull out the giant envelope of cash in public, and then LEAVE it out! Look, I love August, but he’s about as shady as the underside of the branches he was carved out of! -”For someone who spent his entire life running, you should be in better shape.” XD Great quip, Dragon! -”Are you two trying to steal the magic from Storybrooke?” How did you reach that conclusion? I mean, I get that Tamara’s shadier right now than weeping willow by the equator at high noon, but there’s a jump in logic here that I’m missing. Like, as far as you know, she likes magic. She cured her cancer with it! It makes sense when August finds out the truth, but it would only work when he discovers it. -Regina, who the hockey sticks do you think you’re fooling by playing dumb?! -”Mary Margaret. What are you doing? He’s apologizing.” Emma, he literally just told your mother that the thing she’s spent so much time blaming herself for (Possibly from the moment you were born) was orchestrated by him. She’s allowed to be angry. I feel like both you and I would have a harsher reaction if we were in her shoes! -”That wasn’t me.” Jesus, people! YOU ARE ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY! YOUR LACK OF ANGER IS MAKING ME ANGRY! I mean, I get that Snow knows she would’ve done the same thing, but she didn’t. Marco did, and that condemnation for it was well warranted. -I DO like how responsible Marco’s being for his actions and the effect that it had on August. That was SO needed! -OMG! THE TASER!!! XD -Damn, I wish we saw what The Dragon’s real form was. -Tamara, you’re a sneaky little asshole, but damnit you have a nice car. -The CGI for this episode must’ve eaten the budget like a kid eats a happy meal. -How the fuck did the Blue Fairy get there so quickly! Hell, maybe you ARE shady! -I actually like that we see that selfish side of Neal in the last flashback. It shows both how the world has changed him AND how the Stiltskin’ cowardice curse has left some bits in him as well. -Tamara! I’m supposed to hate you! Stop being so snuggly! -”I promise I will never lie to you again.” ...I’m sorry, Emma. I’ve gotta do it. *deep breath* Suuuuuuuuuuure, Emma. -”It had started to blacken because of what I did.” ...I guess I’m supposed to believe that she redeemed herself after the Maleficent stuff. -”But it [redemption] cost him [August] everything.” Yeahhh...no. He seriously went from what was probably a pretty miserable life to a fresh start. -I kind of wish Greg and Tamara ended up being recurring villains. We’d get the villain ship I always wanted and they could be curb stomped all the time! XD Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Tamara - Tamara’s shown up! I actually love her first episode as a villain. Yeah, the taser is corny, but if that puts you over the top, then I have to ask just what show you’re watching! But onto the character herself, she’s incredibly intelligent with how she deals with people. Within ten seconds of seeing Neal, she knows how to play him like a fiddle and her time with August in the present shows the insight she’s gained about him in their one encounter. Hell, she sort of won the day, and all without using a hint of magic! Emma lying to Henry - Finally! This arc is over! I gotta say, this was a hard (Albeit well done) arc to watch. It’s never easy seeing your favorite character get antagonized, no matter how justly. That having been said, as there was no reference to the lie before Emma brought it up right before the final apology, I can’t help but wish that it was either brought up once more in this episode or done in the last episode where it had more thematic prominence. Favorite Dynamic Snow and Emma. As I pointed out in my “Insights,” Emma’s motivational speech to David and heard indirectly by Snow is the thing that bounces her back to life and that sentiment carries Snow throughout the rest of the episode. It’s such a small moment but it speaks so well of the bond that the two of them have built up over the seasons. I like the way that Emma inspires Snow, of ony for how funny it is to see her listen to “My Reputation” while shooting arrows for stress relief. And suddenly, the toaster scene makes so much sense... Writer Kalinda Vazquez and Robert Hull are here for their swan song of the season (Try saying THAT five times fast!) and they both do a pretty decent job here. The dialogue, story, and character choices fit well, and while there were some aspects I wish were handled better, they did an amicable job. Rating 8/10. Once again, I don’t find that there was a lot to say about this episode, but it was quite a good one! It was an entertaining watch with a nice new setting for the flashback, and characters that fit together to convey a great story! I found it to be pretty funny at times and it got me excited about what’s to come! And can you really ask for more out of an episode? ...Well, yeah, but it’s good enough! XD ()()()()()()()()() Thank you so much for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales. Sorry this wasn’t a super long or in-depth review, but I can only work with what I’m given. Anyway, if it’s not too much trouble before you go, I’d like to ask you for a little help! A couple of days ago, it was announced that the finale won’t be broken up for the final week of the Season 2 posts, and I want to know if you want me to do two separate reviews, or one mega-ultra-super-chocolatey-magical-sugar-spice-and-everything-nice review! It will be a LONG review, but if you think that these two episodes beLONG together, please let me know so I’ll know what to do when the time comes! You can leave a reply here or send me an ask or send me your thoughts by carrier pigeon. Really, it’s all good!

Next time...whoo. My cotton shirt is making me soooo hot! I’m going to change into something...lacey. ;)

See you all then.

Season 2 Tally (157/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (39/60) Jane Espenson (35/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (31/50) David Goodman (24/30)* Robert Hull (24/30)* Christine Boylan (17/30) Kalinda Vazquez (28/30)* Daniel Thomsen (18/20)* * Indicates that their work for the season is complete Operation Rewatch Archives