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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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cqlfeels · 3 years

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@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

#drinking game #take a shot every time i say 'finally'#this post refused to let me get to the end of it lol #i think because i'm extremely salty about fanon stage mom meng shi #(to not say tiger mom meng shi which crosses into outright racism. but i'm giving people the benefit of the doubt)

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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 3 years

Text

jester began falling in love with caleb in episode 103.

not any earlier in my opinion, and not later, either.

there's two elements to why i believe e103 is the turning point.

(1) the first is caleb's actions and jester's responses to them during the night they all sleep by the waterfall—his support of her idea to sleep underwater, his conversation with her after her commune with artagan, and his casting of programmed illusion in the dome.

(2) the second is the way her behavior toward caleb pivots around e103. before e103 is a noticeably different beast to how she begins to treat him after e103—the attention she pays him, her efforts to hold more standout interactions with him, and a dramatic swell of emotion and thematic meaning in these scenes’ respective subtext.

the rumblecusp arc is the point in which jester’s character growth, and caleb’s efforts to unconditionally support her, really begin to shine. throughout the complex growing pains that jester and artagan's relationship was experiencing, the one person who truly takes a moment to offer her support without any agenda or judgment is caleb.

(e103, 1:22:55, bold mine)

CALEB: You okay over there?

JESTER: (tearful) Yeah, I'm fine. Just—I'm just drawing.

CALEB: Maybe didn't go as well as you were hoping?

JESTER: Um... In some ways it went better. But no.

CALEB: I can't speak for him. But you do have us.

JESTER: I know.

CALEB: So whatever you land on, Jester, we'll make it happen.

JESTER: (shaky laugh) I have to figure out what I want to land on.

CALEB: That is the, uh—sticky wicket, isn't it?

JESTER: Yeah. Everything's confusing.

CALEB: Maybe... Maybe we sleep on it, it'll make more sense in the morning.

JESTER: Yeah. Yeah. Thank you, Caleb.

CALEB: I didn't do anything.

jester confesses that her commune with artagan didn’t provide the answers she was hoping for—that he knew about the curse on the island—and caleb doesn’t remark on what that seems like. he deliberately avoids speculating on why artagan is doing these things because “he can’t speak for him.” he doesn’t assume anything about what she might choose to do and explicitly leaves that choice up to her. jester vents briefly about how difficult the choice is, and caleb offers her reassurance, a reminder that some time will make things clearer. he doesn’t suggest solutions.

unlike fjord or beau, caleb doesn’t ask her to voice outright whether artagan is being a good friend. he doesn’t continually question his character and imply any personal opinions to her or what he thinks she should do. instead, he asks whether she’s okay. he listens. and he offers unconditional support.

this is consistently the stance caleb takes in the rumblecusp arc. and it’s not discussed much, i think, exactly how monumental that was to jester.

(hold on, this is a long one.)

jester is a young woman who grew up sheltered and wants to define herself outside of that shelter. for her, this campaign has essentially been a coming-of-age journey (talks for e76-77, 14:12). she is deeply sensitive to whether or not she’s respected because she’s aware of how her personality and general lack of experience makes others think she’s naive, immature, or incapable (talks for e79, 31:51).

it’s also incredibly evident that her relationship with artagan is unique. in e105 (1:15:01), jester tells the m9, “he really got me through a lot when i was younger, you know? and he was all i had, really.” he was her best friend from childhood in a home where she spent most of her time hidden in a single room. when she was younger, the few times she left the chateau, she was bullied by other girls (e110, 3:34:59). her best friend, though? her best friend was a god. a god with an incredible sense of humor, an aggrandizing attitude, and adoring respect for a young girl in a difficult situation who had as wonderful a personality as him. in every way that matters, artagan’s friendship undoubtedly saved jester’s life.

and she is so, so aware of this. she cares for him deeply, trusts him unconditionally, and is determined to be there for the one person who had been there for her when no one else was, not even her mother.

the renegotiation of this friendship after artagan revealed his full identity was clearly extraordinarily difficult for jester. she was having to reevaluate her entire relationship with the being that pulled her through a childhood of isolation and misery, question his intentions with her and whether they could even remain friends at all. and this was amidst her arrival at a dangerous island with her other friends to help him clean up his mistakes.

asking her to make a judgment on artagan before she’s ready to do it on her own, while managing some high expectations at the same time—not only is it a lot of pressure, it’s frustrating and painful. jester did not want to judge artagan without giving him his fair due and a proper conversation. knowing that her new friends dislike her old friend, besides being hurt by it, distracted her. she had to both defend him outwardly and interrogate him internally. and if she tried to explain how important artagan is to her, a lot of vulnerability would’ve been necessary when she was trying to be a leader and seem competent and capable, instead of a child who needs patronizing guidance.

this latter point is exceptional. because jester lavorre is so vulnerable when it comes to how much she thinks her loved ones respect her and consider her a valuable, equal, and trustworthy individual. and it’s difficult to feel like you’re being valued and trusted when people are repeatedly questioning you about a person and a relationship that they don’t understand in a way that, despite genuine concern, comes across as them doubting your own judgment of one of the most intimate parts of your life.

in this precise moment in e103, caleb is the only person who acknowledges—to her in person, even—that he doesn't have any place in judging her relationship with artagan. that it’s not what she needs from him or anyone else. that he’s content waiting for her to reach a decision. that he will respect that decision.

and jester can believe him. caleb’s done nothing but remain consistent on this stance. he repeatedly supports her choices to run travelercon, trust artagan, and come to his aid.

when other party members question artagan's legitimacy, caleb is the one who almost always speaks up to support jester (some examples: e61, 30:43 / e77, 49:17 / e95, 1:09:17 and 1:15:24).

he actively and enthusiastically offers his magical talents to her to provide for the event preparations. he has a whole conversation with her in e91 (beginning 1:53:41) where he expresses his immense respect for her and her personality, explicitly validates her faith in artagan, and shows her a tangible example of how he wants to help her during the upcoming travelercon. when she suggests some ideas, despite their arguable silliness, caleb takes them at face value and openly admits his lack of expertise in this area (e91, 1:58:35).

when they first arrive at rumblecusp, he directly reassures jester about the ‘travelercon 3000’ banner she leaves on the wrong beach by mentioning that he can make her a new banner (e101, 48:18). once preparations begin in earnest, caleb expends spells very freely, including ones of higher-level, to produce whatever jester requests.

in e103, he hears out her idea of sleeping underwater and gives it equal consideration in spite of other party members trying to shoot it down. the first time she suggests it (36:23), caduceus comments against it and no other party member acknowledges her except for caleb, who agrees with her quietly while the others move on. the second time jester suggests it (46:08), veth comments against it and caleb steps in to openly agree that it’s a good idea, even after fjord and beau join veth in being dubious.

compare these active, consistent moments of support and validation from caleb to similarly active and consistent examples of the other attitudes that manifest during the rumblecusp arc, in contradiction to people’s apparent claims of trust (one such claim of trust: e95, 1:00:21).

plainly insulting artagan to jester as if it’s a given, such as fjord’s “he’s generally full of shit, right?” (e107, 49:42);

fjord, beau, and caduceus’s conversation about “not ruining jester’s big day,” yet distrusting artagan to the extent of planning to keep her from being alone with him, preparing to attack him should he try to sacrifice 200 people for some speculated unknown ritual and/or hurt jester, and discussing all of this behind jester’s back (e108, beginning 15:41);

caduceus’s said shift to distrust of artagan because of a semi-disturbing conversation that jester was equally a part of (e107, beginning 20:40);

and the discussion right before jester’s commune with artagan where beau questions if artagan sent them to rumblecusp knowing of the memory problems, without regard for their well-being (e103, 29:40).

the unfortunate assumption being made by these party members’ repeated questioning and protectiveness of jester is that she cannot be trusted to have good judgment. despite their familiarity with some of the context of her relationship with artagan (especially after e105), they disregard her repeatedly-expressed support of him. they indirectly disrespect her ability to judge for herself whether someone is dangerous to her or her friends. they don’t acknowledge jester’s own role in creating dubious situations and instead direct all their negative feelings and sense of fault to artagan, minimizing her agency.

the e108 conversation is a dense microcosm of how the party perpetrates these assumptions throughout the rumblecusp arc as a whole. without qualm, they discuss deliberately controlling jester’s time with artagan to ‘protect’ her and their willingness to kill the evil image they’ve constructed of him, and dodge jester directly asking them what they’re talking about—even though it is a known given that the m9 would defend her with their lives with or without any prior discussion. the purpose of holding this conversation isn’t to make sure that jester is safe. like caduceus near-explicitly says, it’s to “feel better knowing” that “anybody else was on board with this” (20:26 and 18:57)—to validate their unacknowledged distrust of jester’s judgment with each other, behind her back.

and as laura has said: jester, with her very high wisdom, tends to know what’s going on even if she acts like she doesn’t (talks for e79, 32:39).

in e103, when jester is crying because she’s found out that artagan did know about the island’s memory problems, caleb doesn’t show any sign of taking this as proof of artagan's ill intent. what he does instead: he offers compassion for her pain with zero judgment. he promises to support her, no matter what she ultimately decides to make of this information. these are offers of safety and trust, ones that jester desperately needed.

then—caleb creates a programmed illusion of the m9’s lives. and it’s beautiful.

in comparison to all the analysis prior, this moment is straightforward. jester is an artist. she paints, draws, and creates, and she loves doing it. moreover, she loves making art for other people. though she doesn’t get many chances to do so, the mural of a flowery meadow that she paints for yasha’s room in the xhorhaus is a perfect example. similarly, she enjoys the art she makes when defacing other people’s property—altered signage or statue of the platinum dragon painted in rainbow—in part because they’re gifts to the traveler. she loves making those she loves happy.

happiness and love to jester is overwhelmingly about emotional intimacy. i’ve talked about this to some degree in a previous post about jester’s jealousy. please refer there for in-depth explanation. in brief, though, she puts value on how deeply she knows a person; how often she’s been able to be there for them. this is the love she learned from her mother and from artagan, and how she continues to love once she’s older.

caleb’s arcane rendition of the m9′s lives floating around the inside of the dome is a display of exactly this kind of love. not only is it art crafted from his magic and imagination and love—it’s blatant evidence of how much he cares for every member of the party and where they’ve come from. he remembers their stories and hangs them in the air in hopes that it’ll help them resist the memory erasing. he moves the memory of yasha and zuala in a meadow over to yasha’s pillow-side so she can watch it until she falls asleep. he creates a memory for vilya of her, her husband, and her daughter, listening to and respecting the emotional gravity of what she’s confiding in them.

only a few minutes after jester’s disappointing commune with artagan and her conversation with caleb, she walks into the dome and sees this art. she laughs and stares in wonder at all the memories (e103, 1:46:08). when beau points out the humorous memories of fjord being attacked by turtles so they can all laugh, she tells caleb with equal awe and joy, “wow. this is amazing, caleb” (e103, 1:47:04).

...of course, as lovely and meaningful as these back-to-back moments were for jester, it's not quite evidence of her starting to fall in love with caleb around this time.

that’s where the following episodes come in.

[id: three screenshots of messages sent in a discord channel by the user “prim” (the op). all are timestamped to friday, august 28, 2020, the day after the live premiere of e107. the first has an additional timestamp of 12:53 PM, the second 1:03 PM, and the third 1:30 PM. they read:

honest to god though i don't know if it's just the shipper brain that is making me think laura is trying to roleplay jester beginning to reciprocate caleb's feelings [...]

like........ the golden dick hunt teasing is definitely on par with jester's past shenanigans, but the compliments have been Catching My Attention bc it's honestly not normal for jester to compliment caleb of her own volition like that, just as a one-on-one "i appreciate you" reassurance

and i'm thinking less about the spells from last night's episode (although how much jester was emphasizing the compliments made me go "awwwww") and more of the moments like jester telling caleb "that was impressive" after getting cad out of the tunnel with beau's help

but laura is absolutely a shipping troll with jester this campaign so i'm here like "I'M MAYBE 80% SURE I'M BEING FUCKED WITH BUT IT MAYBE HOLDS UP????" [...]

basically laura keeps doing things that make the alarm in my brain go off and i don't know if i'm picking up something legit or if i'm projecting my hopes, like the recent pattern of compliments from jester LOL

/end id.]

i’m not going to lie, if i try to list every single receipt like i otherwise prefer to do in these metas, i think we (and especially i) would all lose our minds. so while i’m about to provide a lot of citations, they genuinely are just a few possible examples that will mostly be within the dozen episodes after e103.

the more important detail that can be observed from this is that e103 is a turning point.

prior to e103, jester does not particularly go out of her way to interact with caleb. by and large, most of their direct interactions are either initiated by caleb or prompted by the context of a general party conversation. the majority of other moments that could be referred to as ‘widojest’ are of caleb’s evident feelings. beyond early campaign days, jester rarely teases caleb about sexual topics while insinuating things about her own sexual life at the same time.

after e103, laura and jester begin to go out of their way to interact with and intertwine jester’s time with caleb.

the rate of jester’s compliments and enthusiastic gratitude to caleb skyrocket (some examples: e104, 30:36 / e107, 16:49 and 1:11:28 and 1:12:15 and 3:10:39 / e110, 15:58 and 3:37:24 / e111, 36:15 and 38:41 and 50:58);

several mature jokes/flirtations she makes involve both caleb and herself (examples: e107, 1:16:17 / e110, 1:18:07 / e115, 1:52:53);

she deliberately and specifically engages caleb in full-blown interactions, such as the conversations during the tour of her childhood bedroom (e110, beginning 1:11:38), hanging out with him on the icebreaker ship (e112, beginning 3:45:29), and the reading of der katzenprinz (e115, beginning 1:52:43);

as well as the expansion of more extended ‘conversations’ like their motif of dancing (e108, 13:39 / e109, 2:54:14), their parental relationships (e110, 20:44 and 3:38:41 / e115′s der katzenprinz / e121, beginning 1:52:12), and polymorph shenanigans (examples: e107, beginning 2:58:41 / e117, beginning 1:13:55 / e118, 43:57).

thrown in are additional background details that further tie jester to caleb, such as her determination to recover caleb’s amulet after their defeat of vokodo (e106, 25:33), the knowing comments on his purchasing of paper (e109, 22:32 / e111, 1:25:49), her deliberate choice to ride whaleb during the avantika chase (e113, 2:32:28), her retrieval of caleb’s coat when he’s attempting to remove the necromantic emerald (e115, 1:30:56), and her deliberate reference to der katzenprinz to iver (e120, 3:05:14);

and simply everything about the tower. it’s another example of the art and creativity caleb produces with his magic to make his loved ones happy, which jester acknowledges at least twice (refer to the e111 compliments). contrarily, jester also makes note of the signs that this tower shows less love to caleb than she thinks he deserves, in keeping with her value of emotional intimacy (e115’s der katzenprinz / e122’s floor 8, room 1).

the reading of der katzenprinz in e115 is arguably the pinnacle of these examples. it’s intentionally initiated by jester. she both takes the step to visit caleb's room and indirectly requests him to read the story to her. laura’s implication that she remembered this subplot because of beau’s reading of a very romantic letter from yasha is particularly suggestive. the story itself incorporates many similar characters and themes that are present in jester’s backstory: the lonely, sheltered boy and his single working mom as jester and marion; the dubious cat prince who ultimately gives the boy freedom and confidence as artagan; and the deep love between the boy and his mother because of how they only have each other, which compels a powerful being to have compassion and thus set the boy free so that they can be together. very similar to both jester’s depth of relationship with her mother and her pleas on artagan’s behalf to the moonweaver’s celestial servant.

and the post-story conversation—caleb’s confiding of its importance to him because of his mother. jester’s open willingness to compare the cat prince to artagan, knowing that caleb respects their friendship and has treated artagan fairly. jester’s lingering, repeated looks toward caleb while smiling and holding her copy of der katzenprinz to her heart.

with all this dramatic expansion of the emotional and thematic intimacy between jester and caleb beginning to roll down the hill after e103—in brilliant contrast to their more muted, less reciprocal dynamic before this episode—e103 is more than likely the turning point of jester’s feelings. and based on the events and context, it was caused by the combined emotional appeal of caleb’s offer of unconditional support and his display of love for his family in the programmed illusion of memories.

#cr #critical role #cr meta #widojest #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #by popular demand #inb4 the wrap-up #prim post #prim says some things #readmore #long post

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (6/10)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

“As an employee you’re entitled to sick leaves.”

Entitled. It didn’t necessarily mean he needed it. Levi allowed himself a sequence of motions, some reassurance that his body was still functioning as expected

He raised his shoulders up then rolled it back, stretching his neck, bending it to one side then the other. It did wonders to help send a rush of energy through his still exhausted body. It served as a reminder, he was strong, he was functional. “I don’t need a day off. I’m fine, ” Levi said.

Erwin raised one eyebrow, giving him a once over. If he had narrowed his eyes anymore or wrinkled his nose, Levi could have given in. Other parts of his body were still reeling from the ordeal from the beach and he was sure he could fall asleep if someone just laid him out on a sofa.

Erwin though was a man of the office, a staunch professional. When it came to work and productivity, he leaned on the side of ‘being productive.’ He took Levi’s word for it. “If you are feeling anything, just anything out of the ordinary, take the day off. Feel free to just leave me a note, and I can have Petra or Eld handle the rest of the testing.”

The word ‘testing’ didn’t do much to convince Levi to rest though and maybe Erwin knew that. Levi slammed the door behind him hard enough to have him preparing for a lecture from Erwin about door slamming manners.

He waited in front of the door, gripping the doorknob from behind him for a good few more seconds.

“We could start working next week?” Hange appeared right next to him. More specifically, she had accompanied him to Erwin’s office that morning, settling for just loitering outside the door, providing a perfectly valid reason for the internal question ‘ did she hear his conversation with Erwin?’

“It’s a Tuesday and it’s not a holiday,” Levi answered matter-of-factly.

“Well, don’t companies have sick leaves?”

“They do.”

“And you were in the hospital just yesterday.”

“I was in the hospital under observation,” Levi clarified.

“After almost drowning,” Hange added.

“Just because the doctor prescribes a few more days of bed rest, doesn’t make it an almighty rule.” It was evidence that maybe a day off or two would have definitely made the difference. That slightly caustic exchange had Levi’s head spinning. He found himself having to squint just to even feign eye contact. “Besides, why are you here anyway?”

“To work on the love alarm. Don’t you think it’s better if we work closely with each other?”

“Not this early into the whole process. We could have talked through email.” Levi attempted to walk ahead. His office wasn’t too far from Erwin’s a good few flights of stairs below. With his head slightly spinning and his legs feeling like jelly, Levi went for the elevators.

It was as if Hange was on a mission to flaunt her ability to speed up her pace. She walked next to him then a few feet ahead, turning back at him. And she had been that way since that morning.

Levi gave in. “Okay, so what parts of the planning process merit a meeting today?”

“Well, I’m worried for one.”

“There are many meetings that could have been an email and I think you lecturing me about not taking a sick leave is one of them.”

“Yeah, and there’s more...” Hange trailed off, giving him a good look from head to toe. Levi liked to believe she just couldn’t find the right answer to whatever implicit question he introduced at that moment. “I’m sorry about yesterday, and the day before.”

“That could have been an email.”

“I know Zeke gave you shit about being carried by me and having to be saved by me...”

Levi stifled a cringe. A bridal carry to be specific. “That could have also been an email.”

Hange huffed. “Fine. I get if you want to be so pissy about this but let me be selfish. I didn’t join Zeke on his business trip and it’s because I felt guilty. About you almost drowning, about you being forced to play golf and almost losing all your money over a few games. It was shitty okay. And for my own peace of mind, please let me join you at work, and maybe just help you make some progress with the alarm, even just a bit?”

There was nothing much else his muddled brain could come up with in that moment of silence. “Okay,” Levi said, with a tone that could have easily been seen through. It was in fact, not okay.

“Why? Is there anything else you’re busy with?”

Levi sighed. “Making sure that damn love alarm gets tested for the next release.”

***

Anticipation had the tendency of piling stress much higher than the stress was actually worth. For many people, they only realize how much of a simple task something can be when they’re actually doing it.

When work would pile up, stress would pile up. When Levi’s brain was working at half capacity, while trying to balance responsibilities and a guilty Hange in tow, he was barely thinking about work yet still attempting to the best of his meagre abilities.

When the work was finally in front of him, the workflow tracker out, the whole ordeal of anticipating a workload had turned out to be anticlimactic. Maybe he had just gotten used to days leading up to releases being particularly stressful. After all, it usually involved early morning sanity checks, junk food and a stressed out team.

Usually. They had some good releases and the one that day seemed like a good release. Of course it would be a less stressful release. It was under testing for months and it had been pushed back a week already. The QA work was almost over. To be just a little more certain, Levi filtered his workflow tracker to staged tickets and to tickets tagged ‘ready for release.’

“So, how does this pre-release testing work?” Hange asked, leaning forward. She had taken the liberty to pull one of the chairs to the corner towards and sat beside him.

“I’m working,” Levi said coldly.

“Oh, but you said you needed to test the love alarm.”

“Yes, the team is testing it. I’m making sure everything gets tested.”

“So how do you make sure everything gets tested?”

“Well… There’s this tracker here, I assign tickets for testing and when people say it’s tested they click QA passed and I see it here. Then if anything urgent needs testing or anything doesn’t seem to work, I help out and try to fix it,” Levi said, he opened his drawer dropping one of his test devices on the table.

“So you could have gotten a day off,” Hange asked, seemingly knowingly.

Levi glanced at the dashboard to seeall tickets were tagged as ‘Ready to Release.’ the others having been done a week back. He was too lazy to check the event history and there was no need to. The necessary work had been finished.

Maybe he could have taken the day off. He wasn’t admitting that though. “So tell me, what are your plans? We’re getting the money soon according to Erwin but you’re the mastermind behind this.” Levi swiveled his chair behind him, grabbed his whiteboard eraser and cleaned out some of the useless notes from the next release.

Half way through cleaning it up though, he stopped. There might be something you’ll need there. He cursed himself for even erasing some of it to the point of incomprehensible.

“You wanna just use the workflow tracker? Like the one on your computer?” Hange suggested.

“No, this is fine…” Levi racked his brain for those numbers and he settled for just writing the notes just much smaller below the release notes to the side with the larger font.

It looked messy. It looked ugly. And his dominant meticulous side would not stand for it. In one swift motion borne out of frustration, Levi swiped his white board eraser over the whiteboard five times, more than enough to wipe it clean.

“Was there anything important there?” Hange asked.

“Just a cleaner version of what we have in the tracker,” Levi said with a slight huff. He would rather Hange wasn’t reminded of whatever could have been there.

“Well, you wanna brainstorm on the whiteboard?”

“It’s blank now.” Levi gestured for Hange to go ahead.

“There’s actually not much to brainstorm on my end,” Hange said. Still, she walked a little nearer, grabbing the marker from Levi. She drew a heart. “You used biological markers to determine love right? That’s how you made the application. If you could assume love based on biological markers… maybe you can break it down and do it similarly for feelings right? I work with psychotherapy and I thought your application might have the potential to be tweaked in the context of assessing emotion Just to give therapists an idea of how their patients feel….” Hange trailed off. She drew a small diagram under the heart, a sad face, a happy face then a blank face. “I mean we have the technology for it already right? Most phones now are capable of more complex biometrics, that’s what the love alarm is taking advantage of.”

Levi hummed. The diagram made it look just a little too easy. “And how do you think we can break down the application?” He knew the answer. Testing Hange though had been a tempting option.

Hange looked back at him, a confident grin on her face.“Yeah, you have the data already? And you created models or algorithms. Maybe you can extract part of those data sets and we can cut it down… to ‘happy,’ to ‘sad’ etcetera. And you can use what you have to make other types of alarms, like a happy alarm, a sad alarm. Right?

“We have the technology and the hardware to pull that off I guess. It’ll just be a matter of making a model, logging data, and coding. Doable with the right resources.”

“But it should be easier since you already have some of the work done with the love alarm.”

“But it won’t be as accurate at first. It took us five years to get the love alarm to this level of accuracy. I can’t even guarantee it’s completely accurate,” Levi said.

“What about it takes time?”

“We use an AI algorithm.”

“Artificial Intelligence,” Hange said.

Levi nodded. “It’s a machine learning model. We give the model data as an input and data as an output and the more data you put into it, the more experience the machine has and the better the machine gets at figuring out what the correct answer is . We give it the biological data, the input and we give it the output, the anonymous test results and some formulas, and overtime, the machine starts to figure out for itself what love is.”

“So you can’t actually break down the application to do it for you?”

“We can but it will be a pain. Might as well just create a new model.”

“Will it take as long as the love alarm?

Levi shook his head. “We have the necessary APIs, the hardware. We can buy more server space but we will have to create a new model.”

Hange raised one eyebrow. “Okay, that’s a good start.”

“I’ll just have to make a plan, see how much more resources we need and send them off to Erwin.” Levi opened an a blank document and pushed Hange’s seat closer to his. .

“Wait, I’m curious though…” Hange started. She tapped one finger on her chin. “How does data processing work?”

***

Levi never considered the server room to be anything interesting. It was after all just a conglomeration of headless computers, wires and lights.

A very important conglomeration. After all, a fire or a faulty pipe would be enough to destroy millions of dollars worth of data.

He only allowed her one peek, just opening the door wide enough for one eye to see through for just a few seconds long enough for Hange to let out a hushed breath. “Our company handles a lot of applications and some of the servers supporting these applications are housed here,” he explained.

“And the data?”

“They’re housed here. Sometimes we use cloud servers too. Sometimes caching servers and everything is processed here then sent to the application." Levi kept his words simple.

"Billions of points worth of data…" Hange's voice deadened to a whisper.

"It takes time for the data to come, the machines to learn. We started off with manual loading the data, then testing. It took a lot of work to get this much data, enough for the application to work as expected."

"And you continue to get the data I'm guessing."

Levi shrugged. "During quality testing, during actual app usage. As long as someone is using the application and complying to their biometrics being gathered by the application, we get data. That's how all applications work."

Hange hummed. Her mouth curled up into a smile. "So let's say… when I turn on the application, you can collect my data right?"

"The servers are always on, they're always collecting data. It needs the data after all to ring the alarm right?"

"Then how do we check the data?" Hange asked.

Levi leaned on the door, shutting it with a click. "When we need it, I'll extract your data on my end, then maybe I'll extract mine. To be honest, I don't think they'd give many answers though."

"Serotonin, Oxytocin, Dopamine, Body heat. There's a lot to see from those numbers.” Hange pointed a thumb to her chest. “This is my specialty.”

"Then I guess we're going to have to make sense of it together."

Hange nodded. "So what are we waiting for? Let’s work on it over lunch.."

"Don't get too hasty. We're gonna have to make a research plan."

***

Hange already had a research plan on hand and she had been working on it for a while. A twenty page document with just a section filled with bullet points and comments.

There were points Levi had to fill out himself. Still, it wasn't too much work. "You came prepared," he said.

"What can I say, it's my pet project," Hange scrolled down towards the end of the word document.

"Zeke seemed excited about it, I thought it would have been his at first."

"If this works out, his hospitals will be the first ones in the country or even the world with this type of technology. If it's sure money, it'll be easy to convince him. Besides, I have my ways." Hange gave Levi a sly smile, soon concealed by the cup between her lips.

She was in a better mood. They were out for lunch in a more seemingly relaxed position and Levi saw opportunity.

It's better now than never. "How does he feel… about the developer of the application spending a little too much time with you?"

"It's part of the research process and I need to talk to a developer, not an investor. Besides, he has other investments," Hange said nonchalantly, too nonchalantly that it was almost unsettling.

"With what happened at the beach." Just the quick recall was enough to send blood rushing to his face. He wondered if outwardly he did look a little red. He bit his lip and looked away. From his peripherals, he could see Hange though was just a little too focused on his laptop screen.

Hange could have spit out her tea. "Are you still thinking about the bridal carry? I didn’t think it was too big of a deal. I could have sworn you were unconscious."

At first, Levi could have sworn he was unconscious too. Zeke had mentioned it just a little too many times though that Levi was starting to generate his own phantom memories of the incident.

"Sorry about the CPR though. I probably bruised a few ribs.”

He remembered the CPR just a little too quickly. Or maybe it had been the bruises reminding him. Levi ran his hands over his chest, feeling a slight twinge of pain in response. "Hey, you did it to save my life."

Hange shook her head. "Or maybe I was panicking. It didn’t look like you were breathing but everything was moving too fast and---” She was digressing.

“What does Zeke think about it?” Levi pressed.

“Why do you care so much about what Zeke thinks about it?” Hange asked. She had raised her tone, maybe only slightly. It was firm, almost abrasive that Levi regretted it.

“Zeke is an investor, one of the richest men in the world. I’m spending too much time with his partner. Then back in the beach---”

“Zeke is always busy and honestly, I’m grateful for any other relationships I can make outside this,” Hange argued. “You know, life, building relationships, these things don’t end after marriage. Sure, Zeke and I committed to a relationship but I think I should still be able to find joy in connecting with other people. Marriage isn’t supposed to tie anyone down, stop them from experiencing life. People in relationships are supposed to grow freely together.”

Maybe Levi had been thinking too hard about it. Or maybe Hange was just a little too laid back. “What do you think about the love alarm ringing?”

“It happens. Besides, I’m not too worried. Love is a choice,” Hange said. “Commitment is a choice. I think I remember sending you a book about that.”

“So you don’t believe in our product,” Levi challenged.

“I never said that.” Hange started to stir at her cup, just a little faster. “You can choose to love someone, to commit to them, to be patient with them and to ride out every single problem with them but there is the feeling aspect right? That’s what the love alarm measures, or that’s what I’m suspecting.”

Levi nodded.

“So the fact that it rings with strangers or just randomly, shows that it measures attraction right?”

“Hormones, movements, pace…” Levi listed them out as just another appendix in their dialogue.

“I wanna understand… where do feelings fit in all this.” Hange put her hands up in defense.. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Zeke, I married him. He’s a good man. And I wanna make whatever it is between us work for a good long time but as someone who works with human psychology, emotions, as someone who’s seen relationships succeed, relationships fail and some that are just so-so. I wanna know, how much of it is emotions, how much of it is volitional commitment. And this type of research, with the love alarm… I think it can teach us things. Emotions are fleeting but there are emotions that stay for a long time and maybe they make being loving and being patient easier---” She slammed her hands back on the table. “Am I making sense here?”

Levi only realized then he had been biting his straw and had barely gotten anything out. “I’m trying to understand and I think I’m kinda succeeding? GIve me a few more seconds.” He looked away, silently grateful for the good view of the shopping streets from the second floor of the cafe. The cafe was a good balance of loud and soft, filled with whispers and conversations yet still calming and relaxing if he focused on that part in particular.

“Have you really, never been in a relationship?” Hange asked, seconds or even minutes later.

“No.”

“And you told me, you’ve never made the alarm ring for anyone.”

“In my five years of testing, no,” Levi said.

“What made it ring with me?” Hange asked. “ Have you ever theorized that?”

“It could be a bu---”

“Let’s assume the application is working properly.” Hange pressed. “Do you feel anything different? When you’re with me?”

Maybe he did. Levi was tempted to look back the moment Hange had ended that question with her tone of voice higher than a second ago. Her eyebrows furrowed, her gaze fixed on his. Levi had to admit, he didn’t want to look away again.

So he looked away. “I should be asking you that question. Your alarm rang too. Do you feel anything with me that you don’t feel with him?”

***

They carried the conversation elsewhere, somewhere where the walls didn’t echo, somewhere where there wasn’t anyone within a good ten meters away. Somewhere they could have sworn nobody would be listening.

It was a silent agreement, consisting of nodding and pulling of hands and it ended with them in the park, a little past noon on a Tuesday.

“Do you feel any different when you’re with me?” The question was exchanged once again, in a park bench towards the center, after seconds of checking surroundings. It came in variations of it, in stutters, between clearing throats.

When it came to recovering eloquence, Hange won without a fight. “If I tell you, will you promise to at least try to tell me?”

“Try.” Levi was economical with his words. He made certain though to consolidate all the discomforts of such a pressing topic to that one word.

Hange took a deep breath. “It’s funny because we just met right? But sometimes, I randomly think of you. When I come home to find the cleaner cleaning out the room, I think ‘Levi would probably like a clean room.’ When I was drinking coffee this morning, I thought of how you didn’t get your tea time and today, I was excited to see you. But I’m excited to see Zeke too… So maybe I’m just lonely because he left so suddenly for a business trip. Were you excited to see me?”

“Not this morning,” Levi said. That had been easy enough to let slip out. It wasn’t a lie after all.

“Oh. Then maybe my theory is wrong.” Hange said it too quickly, her voice much softer.

That had Levi feeling a tad guilty, at the same time more motivated to find some way to cheer her up. “But I was excited to go to the country club with you and when I saw you with Zeke by the pool, I felt weird.”

“Weird?”

“I kept looking, but I wanted to look away…”

Then there was silence. He was watching Hange and she wasn’t opening her mouth to speak. In the silence, he found reason for a segue. It could have been too sudden or it could have been a natural progression. Levi was easily imagining the scene by the pool as he stared at the empty streets, he thought it natural, and at least appropriate. “You and Zeke really get along huh?”

“Now yes.”

One syllable, one slip of the tongue had Levi alert.“Now?”

Hange shook her head. “Now. As in, we get along but at first, we didn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “ Zeke and I have known each other since college and he confessed to me in our senior year before graduation. We dated for a few years after that.”

“You chose to date him, even when you didn’t like him.”

“Sure he doesn’t give the best first impression, he’s a little extra, if you know what I mean, his head gets a little too big sometimes. My parents and friends said it would be a good idea to just try it out. He was the heir to one of the biggest companies in the country and he isn’t a bad person per se so I opted to try it out and over time, I got to know him, we got closer and he proposed to me a few years ago, I said yes… and here I am, married.”

“Married.” Levi looked pointedly at her. Hange had leaned back and hung her head back, staring at the sky above. She had said that last part with a little too much breath, and too little voice.

Hange gave him a wry smile. “Well, I honestly thought it was too early to settle down. I would have wanted to finish my PhD first, maybe travel a little more, meet more people before we get married but we’ve been dating for years, Zeke was insistent and....It seemed like a good choice. What was there to lose? He’s a good man. We were familiar with each other and besides, just because we’re married, doesn’t mean life stops right?”

“You tell me. I’ve never been married. Some people are asking me when I plan on settling down.”

“I guess we’re on two ends of the spectrum. You might end up marrying late. I married too early.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with why the love alarm didn’t ring?”

Hange shrugged. “Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. The thing is, I don’t want love to be a feeling because just bending over backward to however I’m feeling means that I’m not really free right? I want love to be a choice. I chose to marry Zeke, I chose to commit to him and regardless of what a computer says about love, I wanna be able to decide for myself how I feel, who I love and how I love.”

***

A few clacks of the keyboard. The click of the mouse. Then the computer whirred to life again, a few swishes among them.

“So, all I have to do is type out a query here on the server management studio and I’ll be able to extract whatever data we need,” Levi said. “So what email do you use for your love alarm?”

“Wings of freedom…” Hange didn’t finish. Instead she slipped her phone next to Levi, the screen open to the settings page.

[email protected]

Levi stifled a smile. “Don’t you have a more professional sounding email?”

“I like using pseudo emails for making accounts for weird things.”

“Nice to know our product counts as a weird account to you,” Levi said.

“Well, I was testing the product out before I even pitched it to Zeke. I wouldn’t want anyone to have gotten information on me.”

“Then I guess, that was a good choice.” Levi slammed the enter button and the screen froze for a second before the export box appeared.

“Yeah, I’d expect a company like yours will collect data.”

“I’m sure we have a tiny box saying ‘you comply to having your data gathered when you use the product.’”

“You did,” Hange admitted.

“Then you can’t complain about me having access to the location, the hormone levels, the heart rate and all other pertinent information of [email protected].”

“What email do you use?”

“I extracted that too,” Levi said. He opened his own application and slipped his phone to Hange.

“So you are using a pseudonym too.”

“Of course. I test the product. I need multiple emails,” Levi said.

“Sure, [email protected]. You really had to go for something tacky like that?”

“Well, no one got the username yet,” Levi said. He was quick to digress. “I extracted our biodata from the day we met and when we tested the application. It’s gonna be exported as a data file and just open it using excel or something and do what you need to do.”

“You’re a gem, Levi,” Hange said.

“Just don’t touch anything else. I’m gonna take a break first,” Levi leaned further back on his chair, grateful for Erwin’s suggestion that he got a reclining chair then. “Maybe I should have gotten a day off. Eld told me, support is quiet today and the release has been ready for a while. Nothing much else to do.” He went for his ebook reader next to his desk and held it above him.

It flashed open to the latest page.

The room was silent save for the clack of the keyboard and the whirring of the monitor. It was an odd position to be in but Levi found it was much easier to focus on words when all he had behind the reader was the white ceiling. If he tried a little harder, he could also pretend the clacking of the keyboard wasn’t at all, Hange.

He was tired. He was exhausted and the ordeal from a few days ago still bubbled at the back of his mouth. Surprisingly, the words had shifted so easily into sceneries, emotions, investment and Levi was thinking too hard about one Mr. Collins and his engagement to the protagonist.

“Levi!”

Levi was pulled out of that very comfortable stupor by one rash voice and as he looked up to see Hange smiling, he realized, maybe it had been his own emotional investment at that damn book that got him a little cranky at the wake up call. “What? How long was I reading?”

“Fifteen minutes at least,” Hange said. “I found something interesting with the data. Did you know, that when the love alarm rang, our hormones were low, our body heat was low, our heart rate wasn’t high. Would you know why it still rang?”

“I told you, after a certain point we don’t know. It becomes an algorithm. The computer figures it out for itself.”

“But we’re going to need that data when working with other emotions right?” Hange pressed. “I’m gonna take note of this.”

“Do you think the love alarm still works as expected?”

“It could. You told me yourself, billions worth of data points. How could they be wrong right? But this is nice to know, you know. Just looking at the data here, is somehow reassuring.”

“Reassuring how?”

Hange shrugged. “Well I’ll do a little of my own testing and will contact you when I come up with anything.” She looked at the clock on her phone. “Then we could schedule a visit to one of Zeke’s hospitals and have a talk with the staff, maybe they could give some feedback on the working plan.”

“You’re gonna leave?” Levi sat up, putting his ebook reader down on the desk next to him. Hange had started to rifle through her bag and that got him alert.

“Why? You want me to stay a little longer?”

“I never said that.”

“You said you were busy with work this morning and now you want me to stay?” Hange challenged.

“Well it turned out there isn’t much work to do anyway. We get the changes live by the end of this week and we work towards the next release.” Now that Levi did think about it, the job was pretty repetitive and Hange’s pet project had somehow added color to the whole experience. “But you can leave if you want to,” Levi added a second later. Just in case, she did get some sort of hint that he wanted her to stay.

That last sentence did the exact opposite. Exactly how? Levi didn’t have much time to ponder it. By the time, he had even attempted to read through the protagonist’s response to her suitor, Hange had already pulled her chair right next to his, close enough for him to be feeling slightly warmer. Then, warm enough for him to pull away. “What the hell?”

“I was just wondering what you were reading.”

“You could have asked. Were you looking?”

“No.I wasn’t raised to look over people’s shoulders when they read.” Hange said matter-of-factly. “Actually, I was about to ask what you were reading when you pulled away so fast.”

Levi sighed. “It’s one of the books you sent over in that drive folder.”

“Ooh, which one? Scott Peck?”

“I read though that already until I realized the author cheated on his wife.”

“That doesn’t make his words any more invalid. Love is a choice,” she sang. The amount of times he had heard that since he even read the book maybe even the most melodious tone grating. “So what book is it?”

“The novel, Pride and Prejudice.”

“Oooh, which part are you in?”

Maybe Levi had let his guard down just a little. He probably tilted his reader a little bit towards her. Those minute details might have been enough though to have Hange pulling closer towards him, looking over at whatever he had been reading.

“I’m a slow reader,” Levi explained.

“Well, it’s a classic. Hange said. This time she was looking at him again. “I swear, I think it shaped my own idea of love. think there’s a lot to learn about love and marriage the way that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy fall in love---”

“Wait. Stop.” Emotional investment in the book had Levi vulnerable. He only realized it then when he felt his mouth twitch, his eyebrows raise just a little higher. He found himself dropping the reader on the desk in front of him again, a retaliation at that ringing in his ears and the uncomfortable drop of his stomach. Spoilers were surprisingly painful things. “Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth… They end up together?” He managed to let out.

Hange nodded hesitantly. “Yes, it’s in the title. Mr. Darcy is pride and Elizabeth is prejudice.”

“You’re talking about the asshole Darcy right? Ten thousand pounds a year asshole Darcy?”

***

To hell if Hange looked just a little uncomfortable. Maybe more than a little. “I swear I thought everyone knew. Pride and Prejudice is a classic and it’s so talked about that---”

“I thought she was gonna end up with Mr. Wickham,” Levi admitted. It was difficult to wipe that grimace off his face, to the point that he had worn it almost as a medal while escorting Hange down to the lobby.

“Hey, I’m sorry…” Hange said. Her attempt to make amends though was grating.

Levi sighed. “It’s fine. This is a sign anyway, I need to do something more productive with my last few hours of work. I have a few more hours in the office, I’ll probably check on the team first. Is someone picking you up?”

“I messaged already,” Hange said glumly. “You know, I thought we could hang out a bit first.”

“Just focus first on getting an appointment with the hospital. To be honest, I really think I do have some work to check on.”

“Hey, I’ll make up to spoiling you okay?” Hange said. She had tried to curl her lips up to a smile, to widen the grin on her face. It had come out as something wry.

He found some solace at least in realizing he wasn’t the only one a little too bothered by those spoilers. He could have sworn it had never affected him that way before. But it’s just spoilers. He reminded himself. “I’ll get over it. Just focus on your work.” Still, it was difficult to enunciate words, it was difficult to even look at her. “Who’s picking you up?”

“Probably a chauffeur,” Hange said. She opened her phone again. The white glare of the screen reflected on Hange’s eyes and Levi was seeing stars in them again. Stars that somehow breathed life into her dead half smile of a while ago. “I can go from here.”

“Wait what?”

“Zeke’s picking me up at the gate. He said he wanted to try one of the restaurants at the nearby shopping street,” Hange explained.

Levi’s mind was an aggregate of unintelligible emotions. Do you want me to escort you out? Of course you don’t, I practically kicked you out. When there were things he couldn’t understand, maybe the right thing to do was be professional about it. “I’ll wait for your reply on the hospital visit. I’ll do what I can with the working plan and hopefully we could come up with something by Friday.”

“That would be cool. I’ll make sure to message you.” Hange wasn’t looking at him anymore and Levi had been perceptive enough to notice that her voice slowed just a little, the volume much softer than a second ago. Her mind was elsewhere.

Then suddenly, she was talking again, her voice a stark contrast from a second ago. “Zeke! I’m so glad to hear from you. Levi and I were just working on the application just now… And we have some great ideas…”

He never heard what Hange said after that. If he closed his eyes, and focused just a bit, maybe he could have but the ache in his chest was overpowering and he found it most convenient to blame the spoilers at first.

Hange walking away. Hange mentioning Zeke. Those were moments of clarity.

Darcy had reminded him a little too much of Zeke. Elizabeth, a little too much of Hange. When he walked back up to the room, back scrolled back to the scene at the ball, the scene with Mr. Wickham, he let out a laugh.

Fiction was supposed to be comforting and somehow with his own emotional investment in the story, he had hoped for an ending where money didn’t win. And he was scrambling for it long after Hange turned the corner way past the entrance.

Back in the office, alone with the reader on hand, he thought about it a little more.

I swear, I think it shaped my own idea of love. think there’s a lot to learn about love and marriage…

“A lot to learn huh?” Love and marriage which ended with a rich abrasive asshole?

There was definitely a lot to learn. Marriage could be for money. Love could be learned.

To commit, to love was a choice.

And Levi didn't need to read the whole book to be reminded of what he had already figured out.

Levi checked the table of contents, then the tracker at the bottom, he was barely thirty percent into the book, a very long book. Or maybe he was just a slow reader

After a few more minutes of staring, he managed to stumble upon the stone cold conclusion that it was a waste of time.

He quickly deleted the book, muttering to himself for a second longer that it was a good decision. Then he walked to his team's office, laptop tightly on hand. When he was looking left and right, when he was looking through his workflow tracker again on his phone, he found an out.

After all, he shouldn't have the time to ponder Hange's own ideas of love when he had an application to maintain and investors to please.

***

Levi ended up leaving work earlier than expected. It was a total lie to think there was any work needed to be done. Exhaustion clambered up quickly, a special kind of exhaustion at slogging through a day of work less than forty eight hours after being discharged from the hospital. An exhaustion that came with having spent a good hour lying to himself and to his subordinates that they had anything else to do before the release.

"Any support queries?" Levi asked. It felt more like a formality.

His subordinates had already started to pack their bags for the day.

"Nothing too urgent," Petra answered. “Nothing that can be finished in ten minutes either..”

“Leave it for tomorrow,” Levi said. As much as possible, he preferred to be the only one having to do over time.

“Sir, do you have any idea when we would start working on that new request by Mr. Jaeger?”

Levi’s answer was calm and straightforward. “We’re currently working on a plan, me and Hange and as soon as we get it approved, we can have a meeting about it.” And exhaustion made acceptance all the more natural. “You’ve all been working hard the past weeks leading up to the release. Stay low or take leaves if you need to, I’ll handle making sure everything goes live on time.”

Greetings were exchanged after that. Thank yous, sighs of relief and Levi wondered how hard the past few weeks have been, only for the release to have been delayed over Zeke’s request. Somehow, Levi felt some responsibility and guilt over such a ‘bug.’ Whether it was actually a bug or it was his own shortcomings as a human which caused the test to end that way, whatever musins he had about them, did nothing to placate the guilt as he watched their relieved faces, their much calmer faces.

The next day he woke up to emails, requests for leaves that week which he immediately approved. One week of calm, one week long enough to have it go live that weekend. Then Monday would be the post release sanity check.

He’d use the week to plan, to coordinate a little more with Hange. He opened his phone to see her number just on top, just like it had usually been recently. He had decided not to open her message until he got to the office.

Business is business. He thought to himself. The banner had given hints to the message but there weren't many hints to the context of a date time.

5/15 3:23AM. Check my body heat, serotonin levels, dopamine levels….

Less than a minute later, Levi was on the phone rattling numbers.

“So they’re high,” Hange said. “High numbers are a sign of love.”

Levi could have sworn he had heard the smile in her voice. “Why? Did something happen last night?”

“Zeke and I had a late night. It was the most fun we had in a while.”

Before Levi even noticed it himself, his mind was racing, asking questions. If Zeke had the love alarm on, would it have rang? And soon, it was clamoring for answers he knew he could never give.

Zeke’s own love alarm wouldn’t be on and even if it wasn’t on, it didn’t send data the same way Hange’s did. All he could do then was settle for speculation. “Maybe there is a bug then Hange. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the data. We’ll turn on your love alarm again when we visit, let’s try it again.”

The call ended amiably and Levi was a little more sluggish soon after. He lay his phone back on his desk and turned on the love alarm.

As expected, no hearts appeared. One hand on the keyboard next to him, he typed out a query and pulled his own data. His own hormone levels were much lower than 3am Hange’s. He opened the data Hange had analyzed just yesterday. The hormone levels were still low.

He clicked on the settings on his application, back at the dashboard then pressed the home button and sighed. “Some developer I am, can’t even figure out how my app works anymore.”

Then he thought something he hadn’t thought in a while. Maybe going for something as complex as love from the start wasn’t such a good idea.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Text

Okay, here we go! Imma do my liveblog of The Hunger Games, Chapter One, for #THGagain :

I’ll put my thoughts underneath the cut so I don’t clog up the dash 🥳

Okay but right off the bat, Katniss says her mattress cover is rough 🥺. I don’t know, this just made me sad all of a sudden.

So okay, but the fact that Prim had a bad dream and climbed in with their mother? I don’t know if that indicates that Prim still sees their mother as a source of comfort whereas Katniss can’t let herself feel the same way or if it’s just because she didn’t want to wake Katniss.

Maybe it’s supposed to be that Prim is too naive to understand that their mother is mentally fragile? Since in Mockingjay, she says “I know there’s only so much mother can hear,” or something like that, as a way to prove she’s not a little kid anymore sooo. I don’t know. Just some thoughts.

Katniss is shady towards mama right off the bat 🤣. Katniss is shady no matter what though. It’s what makes her narration sound like a teenage girl.

If Katniss is so anti-social though, who’s telling her her mother was once beautiful?

As a cat lover, I take offense to Katniss’ insults to the poor one eyed furball 😭.

So coal miners are also women? I suspected as much but I didn’t realize it was explicitly stated? So if Katniss’ life had gone differently, would she have become a coal miner?

So none of the houses in Twelve get electricity outside of a couple hours a night? Or just in the Seam?

I always forget that Katniss had nightmares even before the games 😔😔😔. Nightmares of her father “being blown to bits.” She has a vivid way with words.

Her father made her bow 🥺🥺. I knew that. I just thought I should mention it again. She uses the bow her father handmade throughout the series 🥺.

Also she says Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to “the few of them who hunt”. A few is more than two. Who else besides Katniss and Gale go hunting?

I like that she randomly starts mumbling to herself 🤣🤣🤣

Once upon a time, Katniss was outspoken apparently. But she mentions that she has to hold her tongue even at home because Prim may repeat her words. I don’t know why, but Prim seems immature for twelve years old. At twelve, in today’s society, you’re going into sixth grade. A sixth grader should know how to keep a secret or hold her tongue.

Gale says she never smiles but in the woods but isn’t that the only place they really spend time together? 🤣

“I kind of liked that lynx but I liked the money I got for it’s pelt more” 😂😂😂

An arrow inside bread. How fortuitous 😭😭😭

I do love that Katniss’ first introduction of Gale is “he could be my brother”

“But we’re at least not that closely related” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

“Katniss, get off your cousin”

Even though the merchant class is smaller

Meaning they’re even more inbred

And Katniss is half merch-

Okay I’m done with this line of thinking 🤭😅

So backwoods 🤣

So did Mrs. Everdeen’s parents disown her? Or what? Do they still own that apothecary shop? Does Katniss occasionally walk by her grandparents in the town square? Like I’d like more context here, Suz 🙃

Aww, I always feel so bad for Katniss when she talks about her mother abandoning her 😭😩🥺

“But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type” me either. Me either 🤧.

This may be why I so closely relate to her when she’s angry.

And why when people in the book say she needs to be more forgiving (ala Haymitch) I’m like “no”

I’m sorry but on second glance (more like 8th glance because I’ve read this chapter since I was 16) it’s so obvious Gale was hitting on her here 😅.

She’s oblivious 🤣🤣🤣

As she should be 😆

So later on, in the second book at least, Katniss definitely has some high respect for Hazelle Hawthorne. But here it seems to be like she’s implying Hazelle and her own mother are useless without her and Gale, and like they wouldn’t be able to provide for themselves. Maybe Hazelle just wasn’t fleshed out to Suzanne when she wrote the first book, the same way the love triangle you can tell if you look is sort of just tossed in there in the first book too? Anyways, just a thought.

That line about Prim being the only person Katniss is certain that she loves is sweet (it’s actually one of my favorite lines in the series) but it’s also so shady at the same time 😅😅😅. Like girl, you’re not sure if you love your mother or even your best friend (in a platonic way)?

Katniss makes a point in mentioning it took a long time for her and Gale to become friends. And I feel like that has been simplified a lot along the way, but it never really sounded to me like Katniss and Gale were besties for as long as most people think. The movies are a lot to blame for this, I know.

I don’t actually think Katniss is truly jealous here of the other girls wanting Gale? I feel like if she were she would have unconsciously insulted the school girls who were into him instead of just outright saying she was jealous, just not for romantic reasons. But who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️.

It was already mentioned earlier but I think Suzanne made a continuity error here, when Gale and Katniss mentioned fishing at the lake. The lake is a place Katniss explicitly mentioned in Catching Fire, to be private between her and her father. She even specially said she never took Gale there. I feel much better about my own writing continuity errors now.

Okay, both Katniss and Gale are so dumb. I would never prepare a feast for after the reaping. They’re just jinxing themselves. I have OCD really bad no one come for me.

I like how The Hob is a black market that’s literally just sitting in broad daylight 🤣🤣🤣.

Katniss just referenced being attacked by dogs... um I’m sorry, do we have no fear of rabies in this universe? 😭😭🙃🙃😐😐😅😅

Katniss : “me and the mayor’s daughter aren’t friends, we just hang out all the time at school, eat lunch together, sit by each other and are always partners. But weren’t not friends.” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I like the mention of hair ribbons for the rich girl. This is just the fic writer in me seeping into my reading.

Gale and Madge’s little dispute ...

I see why they get shipped together 😅. They’re both just taking swipes at each other here.

Awww, Katniss sticking up for Madge, even though Madge is the privileged one 😭. Katniss has such a pure heart.

The entire point of the Madge/Gale interaction though was just to set up the class divide explanation in Katniss’ head to the reader.

But my Peeta centric heart also picks up on the comments in Katniss’ head of how unlikely it is to be chosen at the reaping when you’re a town kid.

In other words, Peeta had a slim to none chance of being chosen and still was.

Now I think of it, so was Prim...

That was just an unlucky reaping for the kids without tesserae 🙃

Also it reminds me of every fic I ever read that mentioned a conspiracy in the reapings and how the kids aren’t actually chosen at random but anyways I digress

I feel Gale though, with the whole idea of knowing something isn’t this person’s fault and there’s nothing they could do but still being so angry at them because it isn’t fair that you have to suffer and they don’t.

My anger issues are really showing 😅😅😅.

Honestly though, if Katniss is saying Gale on a normal day is rational about the class divide not being merchants faults, then clearly his issues with Peeta later on really were just of jealousy and not because he was a merchant vs Seam.

I just feel like I’ve seen that around and I’m not really convinced

In my interpretation of the character, Katniss’ reasons for not sharing in Gale’s rage comes from exhaustion after a lifetime of powerlessness. Some people (re: females more often) just get worn out about the things they cannot change and can’t even let it get inside their brain because there’s nothing they could do about it.

I mean, she is a more understanding person than Gale but I feel like so much of her character is already so tired right from chapter one.

Okay, just a pointless rambling thought

“Where something pretty” these children are so shady 🤣🤣🤣 that’s a line I would say though

The fact that her like 42 year old mother still fits in a dress she wore at like 20 is really a testament to how hungry they are 🤧🤧🤧

Okay but I’m not trying to pick on her mother, but when they were starving, why did either she or Katniss sell the fancy clothes from her apothecary days? I’m nitpicking I know. I’m a nitpicker.

Also good for Katniss trying to forgive her mother.

God knows how hard it is for me to try and forgive people.

Literally, God knows.

I like that Katniss didn’t disagree with Prim saying she’s beautiful, just that she doesn’t usually look this way 😂😂😂.

I just know my sister wouldn’t let me not take tesserae if this was us. She’d be like “you’ll be fine, four entries? Please. We can have more food for an entire year, don’t be selfish.” 😅😅😅

I feel like noting that Katniss and Prim’s age gap isn’t that significant? Four years? That’s not that large. Not even at 12 and 16.

They herd these children off like they’re .... pigs going to a slaughter... 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss casually stating “I could be shot on a daily basis” 😐😐😐

Katniss and Gale agreeing they’d rather be shot than starve is honestly so sad but lowkey sounds like something two teenagers would say. They should have put dialogue like this in the movies.

I didn’t even remember District 12 has 8,000 people.... why’d I think they only had 3,000????

I need to update some of my fics with this information

Katniss just said “televised by the state”. I’ve never heard her call any region a state before?

I like that Katniss calls Effie’s grin scary and white, because tons of people (i.e me) whiten our teeth in today’s society. And to Katniss and probably all of Twelve that’s creepy. I think it’s weird to Europeans too but l digress.

Also do the people in this district brush and floss, they never seem to mention it in the books, ya know?

Honestly the idea of the hunger games sounded cooler without Songbirds and Snakes telling us it was just some dumb guy’s idea that no one ever thought would come true.

Aww, sugar is a delicacy 🤧🤧🤧

I knew already that but lemme fully feel that sentiment for a moment okey

Umm I’m sorry, did Mayor Undersee just casually state Lucy Gray Baird’s name every year and we never knew it? Did Snow just allow this? Seems suspish

Also the idea of Katniss being her distant relative and hearing the name and not knowing the connection... and yeah, anyways. I got wayyyy ahead of myself and off track sorry

Why would Haymitch hug Effie? I’m sorry, but Hayffie having a secret affair at some point in all the years they worked together seems more likely than I thought.

I mean, Katniss never mentions Haymitch hugging anyone besides her and Peeta when they just almost died, are about to die or that one time Katniss was sobbing because she thought Peeta was gonna die.

You know what though? I like that at this moment, when the name is about to be announced, Katniss worried about herself. She spends so much time worrying for her sister, babying her sister, mothering her sister, she deserves ten seconds of worrying for her own safety.

Of course, said sister is the one chosen. Ironic considering the whole encounter with Madge.

Okay, I think that concludes my thoughts for chapter one of The Hunger Games!

#thgagain #I’m not tagging anything else because this is so long I’m so sorry if anyone tries to read this mess 😅😅😅😅😅🤧🤧🤧🤧

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path-of-my-childhood · 4 years

Text

How Taylor Swift Directed a Music Video During the Pandemic

By: Christopher Rosen for Vanity Fair Date: July 31st 2020

Oscar-nominated cinematography Rodrigo Prieto explains what it took to create one of the most high-profile projects produced during the global health crisis thus far.

When cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto talked to Taylor Swift on the set of the music video for “cardigan,” he wore not just a mask, but a face shield as well. So did the project’s assistant director, the production designer, and anyone else in the select group of collaborators who worked closely with Swift on the video, which dropped last week in conjunction with her surprise new album, folklore. Prieto told Vanity Fair this week:

“It was one of the first jobs that we started shooting during the COVID times. So a lot of preparation in the very beginning was figuring out how to actually be able to film this, with all the requirements of how to take care of all of us and, of course, take care of her and be safe and all that. Being one of the first shoots to happen, if, God forbid, someone got sick, that would be bad for the whole industry. Let alone, of course, getting sick. But suddenly it’s like, ‘Okay, now we have to shut down filming.’ So that was another thing we all talked about. We’ve got to make sure that we all adhere to all these policies.”

Conceptualized and shot in a few days, the video for “cardigan” takes place across three locations: a secluded cabin that looks ripped out of Greta Gerwig’s Little Women adaptation, an enchanted forest, and a roiling stormy sea, where Swift is shown adrift and clinging to a piano for dear life. But all three locales were created in a soundstage in Los Angeles, Prieto said, to account not just for the visual effects needed to produce such imagery, but to avoid the possibility of a leak.

“We realized we had to do it indoors because otherwise, someone would take a photo.”

The secrecy around the video extended to the shoot as well. While under normal circumstances, an artist would play their song during production to provide context for the visuals, Swift had mapped everything out to the second beforehand, Prieto said. As a result, the shoot was free of music.

“I had heard it myself, but it was a very, very private, a very secure little thing. So that’s why I knew where the scenes were happening, but the crane operator and everybody else wasn’t really privy to it.”

Prieto, who has worked with Oscar-winning filmmakers like Scorsese, Ang Lee, Alejandro González Iñárritu, Spike Lee, Cameron Crowe, and Oliver Stone, might seem at first glance like an unexpected collaborator for Swift. But the pair connected earlier this year on the video for “The Man,” which Swift directed herself, the first time she received a solo credit as director for one of her videos. Speaking now, after their second pairing in the last six months, Prieto said:

“I really like it when a director like Taylor has a very specific perspective and yet, she’s always listening to what others have to say and she’s asking, ‘What do you think? Do you think this is good? Do you like it? Do you have a different idea?’ And sometimes we would propose something different perhaps, and if she didn’t like it, she would say so, and fine. It’s not that she’s asking for an opinion because she doesn’t know what to do; she’s asking for an opinion to hear what the collaborators have to say. And if she likes that idea better, she’ll go with it. In that sense, she doesn’t have this sort of fragile ego where she’s trying to be the director, [like] the director has to do always what the director thinks and is a little dictator. She’s not like that.”

Working with Swift, he said, did point a way forward for the industry at large as it grapples with how to restart production amid the pandemic.

“I’ve come to realize - because I did the shoot and I’ve done some other couple commercials as well - that it’s possible because everybody’s very conscious of this and everybody wants to keep working. There are a lot of protocols that are in place and that I’ve seen that are being done on every set. I think we’ll just have to keep remembering to do all these things. So far I haven’t heard of anybody getting sick. We’ll try to keep it that way.”

#rodrigo prieto #interview #quote #about taylor #taylor swift #cardigan #mv director #vanity fair #folklore album #folklore era

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

#su #su future #greg universe #andy demayo #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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huttons · 4 years

Text

Dancing Alone || Tyson Jost

word count: 10.6k

summary: Avery hasn’t been close to her parents in a long time, so moving to Denver to be closer to her sister wasn’t that hard of a choice to make. There she meets Tyson Jost, who somehow manages to sneak his way into her life and change her life in ways she would never expect.

author’s note: this was written for @antoineroussel as part of my follower celebration! I hope you enjoy it :’) also ty to @darthsuboptimal for being my beta for this <3

warnings: dealing with homophobia (specifically homophobic parents), mainly towards the end of the imagine

~ ~ ~

“I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.” — Khaled Hosseini

Avery had the chance to move anywhere she wanted to, start over fresh in any large city. But in the end, she decides to go to Denver to be near her oldest sister. The thought of having someone there to support her after graduating university is too tempting to turn down. Besides, Luna offered for her to stay in her apartment as Avery found a place to live.

“How did you manage to get so many clothes?” Luna groans as she brings in Avery’s last suitcase.

Avery snorts. “I honestly have no idea. But I swear half the coats came from Joan because she said I’d need them coming here.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Luna sighs. “At least you’ll have the summer to prepare before winter comes.”

“I guess that’s good,” Avery says, looking over all the things she has to unpack now. “God, I’m not looking forward to doing this all over again when I find my own place.”

“Maybe we’ll hire a moving company,” Luna jokes. “But no thinking about that now, I just got you here.”

Avery smiles. “Yeah, I guess you’re stuck with me for a bit.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, okay? Dinner will probably be around 6 or so, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. That should give me enough time to get mostly sorted.”

After Luna leaves the room, Avery sighs. Knowing that things won’t unpack themselves, she decides to start with her clothes. She gets lost in refolding everything and trying to figure out an organization method for the dresser and closet. Even though it’s headed into the middle of summer, Avery makes sure to hang up her winter jackets first, knowing that they’ll come in handy sooner than she’d like.

Before she knows it, Luna is calling her into the kitchen for dinner. They mostly start talking about Avery’s drive over from Portland, and confirming that Avery got everything sorted before making the move. It’s everything that she was expecting Luna to check up on, being the most organized out of the two.

“Now, you said you had an interview lined up?” Luna inquires, curious.

“Oh, yeah, it’s at this local plant shop. I’d basically be helping their marketing and sales, then helping up in the front on occasion. Nothing too fancy, but it sounded like fun,” Avery answers. “Better than going back into retail full-time at the very least.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Luna sighs. “Do you want any practice or some help with your outfit? Or did you already get it sorted?”

“I think I’m good,” Avery says hesitantly. “I feel good about it, anyways.”

“Alright then, but if you change your mind tomorrow, let me know,” Luna replies. “Because-”

“There’s never any shame in being too prepared,” Avery finishes. “I know.”

Luna laughs. “Good to see you still have me memorized.”

“Of course I do,” Avery snorts.

The rest of the night passes easily, and Avery enjoys every second of being back with her sister. It was hard going to university so far away from her family, but she wanted the freedom that it provided. After the initial homesickness had passed, she knew that she had made the right decision, as it allowed her to become more confident in herself in a way that would have never happened with her parents around.

When Avery’s interview rolls around, she feels nervous and a bit flustered. Sure, this might not be the job she imagined getting right after graduation, but it would still be something she’d enjoy. There was a reason she chose to major in plant biology at least.

As Avery walks into the shop, she’s greeted by the slightly humid air and freshly watered soil. It feels relaxing, a small reminder of her university’s greenhouse. She almost forgets that she’s here for an interview, and not to look around at all of the plants.

“Are you Avery?” someone inquires.

Avery turns around and sees an older woman, dressed in casual clothing. She smiles and nods in response.

“Yeah, that’d be me,” Avery replies. “And you’re...Helen?”

“You’re correct. Now, come and follow me to the back so we can talk in peace.”

Avery follows her back, and isn’t surprised by the tiny office area in the back. It’s mostly filled with compost and other plants, and a small table just in the corner. She notices two small rooms off to the side, but they don’t take up too much space. Helen takes a seat at the table, so Avery takes the chair right across from her.

“I know this isn’t much, but we’re doing the best we can,” Helen says. “Now, I wanted to ask you about your school, especially since it isn’t marketing based.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Avery replies, nervous.

Over the next forty-five minutes, Helen questions Avery on a wide variety of subjects. While quite a few have to do with the main functions of the position, she also asks about Avery’s knowledge of plants. That’s when Avery starts to feel a bit more in her element and feels more confident in her answers.

“Well, it was awfully nice meeting you,” Helen says. “I still have a couple other people to meet with, but I’ll let you know any decisions in a week or so.”

“Thank you so much,” Avery replies. “I hope you have a great rest of your day.”

As she exits the shop, she feels like there’s a weight lifted off of her shoulders. Avery feels like she did as well as she could have, especially given the circumstances. When she gets back to the apartment, Luna left out a small spread for lunch with a cute post-it note left on top. Smiling, Avery tucks the note into her pocket to hold onto.

Luna comes back later that night with Indian takeout, knowing that it’s Avery’s favorite. After they get their plates sorted, they head into the living room to watch sometime on Netflix. Nothing gets brought up about the interview, Luna knowing that Avery will mention it when she’s ready. She doesn’t say anything until after she’s eaten most of her food.

“I think it went well,” Avery says quietly. “Like, I felt good during it, but I don’t know if I was who she was looking for.”

“Just means you’ll get the chance to look for something else that might be better,” Luna replies easily. “I know you’ll find something soon.”

Avery sighs. “I hope so.”

A few days go by, and as Avery waits to hear back from the plant shop, she starts to settle more into the apartment and Denver. She’s only visited Luna here a couple of times, so Avery tries to make a list of places she wants to visit. The thought of starting her life here is exciting as it is terrifying, but she hopes that it pays off.

Before she knows it, Avery gets a call from Helen saying that she got the job. Helen wants her to come in the next week to start learning the ropes on how the shop is run. Avery feels overwhelmed, but is excited that she managed to get the position. It makes Denver feel just a bit more like home.

“Looks like I’m really stuck with you now,” Luna jokes after Avery tells her.

“How unfortunate,” Avery replies, smiling softly.

By the time her first day of work rolls around, Avery feels a bit more settled into life in Denver. As all first days are, she’s completely overwhelmed with all of the information she has to take in, but she knows it’ll be worth it. Helen seems wonderful, as well as the other people Avery meets throughout the day.

Avery is a little surprised that she gets her own office, but she supposes it makes sense if she’ll be spending a lot of her time in the shop. Even if she does have to spend a lot of time up in the front working with customers, it’ll feel nice to be connected to part of the community. Besides, Avery knows that she doesn’t do well spending too much time by herself.

As the summer passes, Avery finds herself settling in more and more into Denver. Everyday she’s more grateful that she moved here instead of going back home with her parents. Sometimes she wonders if Luna already figured out why she wanted to get as far away from their parents as possible. It wouldn’t be a surprise since Luna still calls them on occasion, but she never says anything to Avery.

They make it all the way until October before Luna gently brings up the holidays, curious as to what Avery’s plans are. On the surface, it’s a simple question, but Avery really knows what Luna is trying to get at.

“I mean, I was hoping to stay here. I don’t really want to go back home,” Avery says reluctantly. “And before you say anything, there’s no way mom and dad didn’t tell you about what happened.”

“They tried to, but I told them I wanted to hear it from you first,” Luna replies. “And you don’t have to tell me now, though it would be nice to have some context.”

Avery sighs. “It’s just...it’s really nothing, and I blew it out of proportion, but things have been weird ever since. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Luna gives her an encouraging look, but doesn’t say anything, knowing that Avery will say as much as she wants to.

“Well, they found out that I was dating a girl, and mom totally freaked out on me. She started crying because she felt like I couldn’t trust her with something like that and started guilt tripping me,” Avery explains. “It only got worse when I told her that she wasn’t entitled to know that I was bi. And dad obviously backed her up on all of this.”

“That...sounds like something they would do,” Luna says. “But they were okay with it, right? Or…”

Avery shrugs. “They refused to talk about it after that, and I got mad that they seemed to act weird about it. Mom just said it was because I said she didn’t need to know, so she was going to pretend like it isn’t a part of me.”

“I’m starting to understand where this is all going. I think they’re just not sure how to handle you not being straight, but that’s not your problem. That most definitely explains why mom keeps asking about your dating life when she calls.”

“Are you serious?” Avery groans. “I’m still trying to find friends, much less someone to date.”

Luna laughs. “That’s what I keep telling her. Like please, I’m still your only non-work friend and you’ve been here for almost four months now.”

“How else am I supposed to make friends though?” Avery exclaims. “Nobody told me it’d be this hard to make friends.”

“Welcome to adulthood, my dear sister,” Luna says, smiling brightly. “Now, back to the original subject: holidays. I was thinking about going home if I could get the time off from pediatrics, but if you’re staying here, I’ll stay here.”

Avery frowns. “You don’t have to stay here just because I’m going to be here.”

“Please, I’m not going to make you stay here by yourself.”

“I’ve done holidays by myself before, I don’t mind doing it again this year,” Avery points out.

Luna rolls her eyes. “Look, you’re here now and we’ll make the most of it, okay? I’ll probably have to work either Thanksgiving or Christmas, but I don’t want you to be completely alone.”

“Thank you,” Avery says quietly, smiling a little bit.

She knows that it’s probably only a small concession on Luna’s part, but Avery appreciates it anyway. It’s been a long time since she’s done anything special for any of the major holidays, so she feels excited in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Over the next few weeks, Avery starts to settle into a routine at the plant shop. The days pass quickly, and she feels more confident in her decision to come to Denver. She starts to meet more people through her work as well, and it feels nice to be able to find other people to talk to besides Luna.

It's early Monday morning, a time where Avery normally focuses on doing some work out in the front, when she meets a new customer. He comes in looking a bit frazzled, and he gives Avery a slightly panicked smile when he sees her.

“Hi, welcome in! Is there something I can help you with?” she inquires.

“Uh, yeah, I was hoping you could help me with a floral arrangement. It’s a little last minute but I need it as soon as possible,” he explains. “Oh! I’m Tyson by the way.”

He sticks out his hand, and Avery shakes it, laughing a little.

“So...what kind of arrangement are we looking for? Something for your girlfriend?” Avery asks.

“Oh, no, it’s for my mom,” Tyson replies.

“Any idea what kind of flowers she likes?”

Tyson blushes. “No, I don’t. But she really likes purple?”

“I’m sure I can get something together. We’re kind of limited since these are the last of our flowers for the season, and we only keep fresh flowers for our arrangements.”

Avery leads him over to a case that only has a few bouquets left, and there aren’t that many flowers that bloom this late in the year. She lets out a sigh when she spots the gladiolus, knowing that it’s a great plant to have, even if it doesn’t last extremely long after being picked. Still, if this is a last minute thing for Tyson, it probably doesn’t need to hold perfect for too long. After grabbing it out of the case, she holds it in a way to show it off.

“You’re lucky that we had people growing these flowers this year. They normally don’t go into any arrangements since they bloom so late into the season,” Avery explains. “But we have a couple others that might work, I just figured this was a good first shot.”

“No, this should be perfect,” Tyson replies. “How much?”

“Should be about $50,” Avery answers.

Tyson nods, so she takes that as confirmation that it’s a good price. She leads him over to the register and rings him up. After she hands him the bouquet, he heads off with a bright smile, and looks slightly less panicked. Avery doesn’t think much of it at the time, but she does note that he was kind of attractive.

The following week, around the same time, Tyson comes in again, looking just as nervous as the first time. Avery gives him a small smile as she saves her work and comes over to help him.

“Did your mom like the flowers?” Avery inquires, genuinely curious.

“Oh! She loved them, said they were really pretty,” Tyson says.

Avery smiles. “Good to know that I haven’t lost my touch then. Now, what can I help you with today?”

“My sister said she wanted something too. Not an arrangement or anything, but a house plant? I don’t really know where to start though,” Tyson replies with a small frown.

“Does she have any plants already?”

“No, not that I know of. So...something easy to take care of I guess. And maybe something that doesn’t need a ton of sunlight because I don’t know how much she gets in her apartment. Also something that I can ship in the mail?”

“Maybe a snake plant? I have some relatively small ones that might be able to ship well if you pack it right,” Avery replies. “And they’re pretty easy to care for, even if they need a little bit of sunlight.”

“That sounds great,” Tyson says. “Um, if I bring it by, could you help me pack it?”

“I - sure?” Avery replies, uncertain.

“I can pay you for it, I just don’t trust myself to do it on my own,” Tyson says, laughing.

“No, don’t worry about paying me for it. Just make sure you bring packing supplies and a box that the plant can fit in.”

Tyson nods happily as Avery goes to grab one of the smaller snake plants. She’s not totally certain how well it’ll ship, but she hopes that she does good enough. And if Tyson is so intent on paying her, maybe she can convince him to spend his money on priority shipping instead. The quicker it gets to his sister, the better.

“That’ll be $15,” Avery says after ringing up the plant.

“Perfect, thank you. Are you going to be here later this week?”

“Yeah, I’m here Monday through Friday, although I might be back in the office and not up front. Just ask for me.”

“And...what’s your name?”

Avery blushes. “Oh, my name’s Avery! Sorry, I didn’t realize I never introduced myself.”

“No, you’re fine. Thank you so much for helping me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Avery replies, shrugging.

Tyson makes his way out of the store, and Avery lets out a big sigh. She knows that small things like this are important when running a small business, but she can’t believe that she agreed to package a plant for some random customer. At least it’ll be something interesting to help break up her day.

On Wednesday, Remy comes to her office, letting her know that Tyson has come by asking for her. It might be against shop protocol, but Avery tells him to just send Tyson to the back, figuring that it’d be easier to do this in the back. When Remy comes back, he’s leading a slightly confused Tyson, who’s holding the plant, a bunch of newspapers, and a box.

“You can set everything down here,” Avery says, pointing out the lone table. “I can help you get everything sorted much easier than in my office.”

Remy gives them a curious look, but lets them do their thing.

“Thank you so much,” Tyson says. “I feel dumb not being able to do this on my own, but I know I’d find a way to mess this up. And I really don’t need another reason for Kacey to make fun of me.”

“I’m guessing Kacey is your sister?” Avery asks. “And I mean, I feel like she’s going to tease you anyways. That’s what sisters are best at, aren’t they?”

Tyson lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m guessing you have sisters?”

“Just one older sister. She’s actually the whole reason I came to Denver. Wanted to be closer to her.”

“That’s nice,” Tyson says quietly. “I moved out here for work.”

“Denver’s not a bad place to end up.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

They keep up the small talk as Avery helps Tyson pack up the plant. She’s almost certain that he could have done this himself, but she appreciates the company and change of pace. They talk a lot about their favorite parts of Denver, and by the time Tyson heads out, Avery has a long list of places to check out.

“I really appreciate this,” Tyson says before leaving.

“It’s really no problem, but I’m glad that you stopped by anyways,” Avery replies.

When Avery arrives back home, Luna gives her a look, knowing that something is up. Avery might have mentioned Tyson a couple of times to her, and attempted to be casual about it. As much as she doesn’t admit it, she also knows that Luna knows her best.

“Tyson came in today,” Avery sighs, knowing she should just get the subject out of the way.

“And?” Luna asks.

“And nothing. I just helped him like I said I would.”

“Okay…and?”

“We hung out in the back and talked a little bit. I swear it was nothing, we were just talking about some of our favorite places here in Denver.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Maybe you’ll get to see him again.”

Avery groans and flops down on the couch. “Nothing’s going to happen, Luna. First of all, he’s a customer and second of all, we’ve hardly interacted! I don’t even know what he does for work or what his last name is.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun.”

“Ugh, please remind me why I’m still living with you?”

“Because you love it,” Luna replies, smiling brightly. “Anyways, if you insist that it’s nothing, I’ll drop it. I just get excited for you.”

“I know you do, but I promise everything is going well. I haven’t even been here six months yet,” Avery points out.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Thankfully, Luna drops the subject, knowing that Avery moves on her own time when it comes to meeting new people. Besides, Avery thinks that she won’t be seeing Tyson anymore, unless his sister insists on him getting her another plant. Even then, it’s no guarantee that he’ll want to see her again.

Turns out, she doesn’t have to wait too long to have her questions answered. It’s only a couple of weeks later when Tyson comes into the shop with a couple of other people. Avery assumes their friends by the way they’re joking around with each other. When Tyson sees her, he smiles brightly, and seems to blush, but Avery brushes that off as nothing.

“Nice to see you in here again,” Avery says. “Who are your friends here?”

“Oh, this is JT and Alexander. We work with the same company,” Tyson answers.

“That’s fun,” Avery replies, noticing that JT and Alexander are giving Tyson weird looks. “So, anything special that you’re coming in for? Is your sister demanding more plants already?”

“No, uh, actually no,” Tyson replies. “Um…”

“Did...did you want a plant? I’m sure I can find something that works well with your schedule,” Avery says.

“He wants to ask you out on a date,” JT blurts out.

“JT,” Tyson hisses. “I was going to ask you that, but not like that, I swear.”

Alexander rolls his eyes. “Please, you would have never asked her out.”

“Uh…” Avery says awkwardly. “Can I speak to Tyson by himself please?”

JT and Alexander at least look a little bit ashamed of themselves, and head out of the shop. There’s a few moments of silence where Avery and Tyson just kind of look at each other, neither quite sure what to say.

“So, uh, I’m really sorry about them,” Tyson apologizes. “I brought them for moral support, not to actually do that.”

“No, it’s...well, it’s not really okay, but I get it,” Avery replies.

“I’ll leave if you want me to, I really didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“Let’s meet at that coffee shop you were telling me about. I get off work at 4pm today, so I shouldn’t take too long to get there. You can have one redo,” Avery says.

“Okay, that should work, I promise it won’t be so weird,” Tyson replies gratefully.

After he leaves the shop, Avery lets out a heavy sigh. She’s not totally sure what to make of what just happened, and tries to let it sink it. Despite what it might come off as, it’s not like she’s opposed to going on a date with Tyson, it just felt like a weird situation to be put into, especially since she’s still getting to know him.

Once she clocks out and locks up the shop, she makes her way over to the cafe. There’s a small part of her that wishes she could have had the chance to change, but her apartment is too far for that. It’s also a little bit annoying having to carry around her work bag, and while Avery is sure nothing would happen to it, she doesn’t want to leave it in the shop.

When she gets there, she doesn’t see Tyson yet, so she goes and orders something before grabbing a seat in the corner. At the very least, there’s a little bit of privacy since the chairs aren’t right next to anyone else. If he’s going to insist on asking Avery out properly, she doesn’t necessarily want anyone else overhearing.

Thankfully, Avery doesn’t have to wait long after grabbing her drink and sandwich for Tyson to walk in. He smiles brightly when he sees her. Instead of going to order something for himself, he sits next to her.

“Do you not want to order anything first?” Avery inquires, frowning a little.

“No, I ate not too long ago, so I’m fine. Besides, I probably shouldn’t be having caffeine this late in the day, I have an early morning tomorrow,” Tyson explains. “So, uh, before I try to make up for earlier, I wanted to tell you something I think you should know first.”

“Ah, is this when you tell me that you’re a serial killer?” Avery jokes.

Tyson laughs a little, noticeably nervous. “Um, no. I’m actually a professional athlete? I play hockey for the Avalanche here. It’s why I moved to Denver in the first place.”

“That’s...pretty cool. Except for the fact that I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

“I kind of figured since you didn’t know who I was, but I also didn’t want to assume.”

Avery shrugs. “I mean, that’s a pretty big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Tyson replies, blushing a little bit. “So, um, I was planning on having this cute speech and everything to make up for earlier, but I kind of forgot it?”

“Please, you don’t need a whole speech. That’s a little much, don’t you think?” Avery snorts.

“I suppose so. I just felt bad. And I also felt bad that JT said that while you were at work, I know that puts you in a weird position. Although I guess me asking you if you want to get coffee sometime isn’t much better,” Tyson replies, frowning a little.

“At least I know you a bit more than your friend,” Avery points out.

“That’s...also true,” Tyson sighs. “Well, since we’re already here, would you like to get dinner sometime? Like...as a date?”

Avery laughs a little. Despite knowing that this was a very real option, it still feels a bit unreal being asked out. Before the nervous excitement completely takes over, she remembers that she needs to give him an answer.

“Yeah, I think I can do that. I’m off most days after 4pm and I don’t work the weekends,” Avery replies.

“Maybe next week? If you give me your number, I’m sure we could figure something out.”

“Sounds good.”

After exchanging their numbers, they hang out for a bit longer, before Avery says she could be heading back home. She didn’t tell Luna about this, so she knows that her sister is probably wondering where she’s at. As they head out of the cafe, Tyson stops awkwardly, not quite sure how to say goodbye. Avery rolls her eyes, and pulls him into a hug. He holds her tightly for a moment before letting her go.

The second Avery walks back into the apartment, Luna is bombarding her with questions. She knows that her sister means well, so she lets it all slide and explains what happened.

“Oh, that’s exciting,” Luna says with a wide smile. “I can’t believe you didn’t know he was a professional athlete, though.”

“You know I don’t watch sports. Although I guess that’s going to have to change if this date goes well,” Avery sighs.

“Please, I’m sure it’s going to go great. You just have to have a little bit of faith,” Luna says. “And I honestly can’t believe you got a date before finding non-work friends.”

“I don’t see you having non-work friends and you’ve lived here longer than I have,” Avery replies, squinting her eyes a little bit.

Luna sighs dramatically. “I suppose you’re right.”

Over the next couple of days, she and Tyson text constantly, both wanting to get to know the other person better. She knows that they’re probably doing this a little bit out of order, but it is nice that she knows what Tyson wants out of this. Otherwise, she knows that she would probably be left a ball of nerves, wondering if it was going to turn into anything else.

It’s a couple weeks before Tyson officially asks her on a dinner date, and Avery feels good about it. Sure, she still feels a bit nervous, but if she’s learned anything, it’s that Tyson always finds something to talk about and keeps the conversation rolling. So at the very least, there won’t be too many awkward silences.

Tyson insists on picking Avery up, wanting to make sure that the whole night goes perfect. He’s right on time at 5pm, and smiles brightly when he sees Avery walk out of the apartment complex.

“You look great,” Tyson says. “Way to make me feel underdressed.”

Avery rolls her eyes. “I’m sure your shirt cost more than this whole outfit.”

“I don’t think so,” Tyson replies, looking a little bit concerned.

Avery laughs a little. “I was just kidding.”

Tyson blushes as he opens the door for Avery. She smiles softly in thanks, and then they’re off. As he drives towards the restaurant, she notices that it’s in a nice part of downtown, although she’s not that surprised. When she was looking the place up to check out the menu, she made note of how nice it was. It might be an attempt to impress her, but she’s not complaining.

Once they’re seated, Avery takes a quick look around her, and starts to feel a bit out of place. She does her best to take it all in stride, though.

“You’re doing good at trying to impress me,” Avery jokes.

“Really?” Tyson asks, obviously a little bit stressed.

“Yeah, not too shabby. But you really don’t need to do this, I promise.”

“I know, I just still feel like I need to make up for my friends.”

Avery laughs a little. “Consider it made up then.”

Thankfully, dinner goes well, both of them enjoying talking in person. Avery finds herself feeling more comfortable as the night goes on, and loves how easy it is to get along with Tyson. He just makes everything feel simple, and it’s endearingly earnest. By the end of the night, she feels content in a way she hasn’t felt in a while.

“I had a great time tonight,” Avery says.

“So, that would be a yes to a second date?” Tyson inquires hopefully.

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” Avery answers, smiling brightly.

As Tyson drives Avery back to her apartment, there’s a lull in the conversation. The silence is comfortable, and she doesn’t feel the need to fill it. When he parks his car in the apartment parking lot, he smiles at her again.

“I’m really happy you had a good time,” Tyson says softly.

He quickly kisses Avery on her cheek, then blushes deeply.

“Yeah, I’m excited for round two. Maybe you can invite me to one of your games,” Avery jokes, blushing just as hard as Tyson.

“Oh, you’d want to come?” Tyson inquires, hopeful.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s your job and everything. Has the season already started?”

“No, but we have a preseason game here next week if you’d want to come? It’s on Wednesday. And maybe you can bring your sister so that you have someone there with you.”

“Yeah, that would actually be amazing.”

“I’ll leave you tickets.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I’m sure Luna and I could figure something out,” Avery insists.

“It’s really not that hard for me. Besides, I want to make sure you get good seats.”

“Okay,” Avery says softly. “Can I make sure Luna is free first, though? I want to make sure before I commit to anything.”

“Of course,” Tyson replies. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Tyson,” Avery says as she heads out.

When Avery gets back up to the apartment, it’s quiet. She groans, forgetting that Luna has an overnight shift tonight since she agreed to cover for a coworker. This just means it’ll be a day or so before Avery can ask about the game since Luna will crash as soon as she gets back to the apartment.

All through her shift the following day, Avery just feels herself thrumming with excitement from the previous night. Helen even remarks on it, joking that she can feel Avery’s emotions from the other side of the store.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” Avery apologizes. “I just had a good night last night.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be a date, now would it? I’m old enough to recognize that look on your face anywhere,” Helen says, smirking.

Avery flushes immediately. “Uh, you might be right.”

“Why don’t you tell me about him? They must be pretty great to get you all flustered.”

And so this is how Avery ends up spilling all of the details to her boss. Helen listens patiently, asking only a couple of questions. Before she knows it, almost an hour has passed.

“I - oh, sorry for taking up your time,” Avery says. “I didn’t mean to talk for that long.”

“We can always finish whatever we have another time. Nothing replaces a good conversation, does it?”

“No, I suppose not. I just didn’t even know I could talk that long about him.”

Helen laughs. “Sometimes people take us by complete surprise. Tyson seems like a good person, and I’m glad you met him.”

“Yeah, me too,” Avery says quietly, with a small smile.

When Avery gets back to the apartment that night, Luna is obviously just waking up. She’s still wearing her pajamas, and is only barely put together. Not like Avery can blame her, she can’t imagine having to work overnight in a children’s hospital.

“How do you feel about takeout? Nothing we have here sounds good,” Luna asks groggily. “And I just want something that’ll actually last a few days.”

“That sounds good. Does Indian work? I can call to put in our order.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

An hour later, the two of them are curled up on the couch together watching some sitcom. Avery waits a little bit to bring up her date with Tyson, knowing that Luna needs some time to be at full processing capabilities. Besides, it’s not like she gets much time to just hang out with her sister all that often anyways.

“Wait, you had your date last night, didn’t you?” Luna inquires after she finishes her good. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, uh, it went a lot better than I was expecting. He was really great and I just felt like we got along well,” Avery says.

“So I’m guessing there’ll be a second date?” Luna teases.

Avery blushes. “Yeah, you’d be right.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Luna says softly. “Whenever I’d talk to you while you were in uni, you always sounded so tired and angry. And I hope you’re happy here with me.”

“Of course I am,” Avery replies. “You’ve been nothing but amazing, and this is home now.”

Luna smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

Their conversation lapses into silence and Avery reflects on it. It’s true - Denver has become her new home and she’s truly happy for the first time in a long time. This is one of the first times she hasn’t had to think about her parents and worry about how they were going to criticize her next. Meeting Tyson has only been an added bonus so far, she would love her life just as much even if he hadn’t waltzed into it. Speaking of Tyson, she also remembered about the game next week.

“So Tyson was wondering if you’d be free next week to go to a game,” Avery says, trying to be casual. “He knows I wouldn’t want to go by myself.”

“I could maybe swing it. What day is it?”

“Next Wednesday. Is that too soon?”

Luna ponders it for a quick second. “I could probably swing it. I get off work at 5pm that day, so we’d probably get there right on time, if not a little late.”

“I’ll let him know,” Avery replies, smiling.

“Does this mean I get to meet him?”

“I guess so? We didn’t work out plans for after the game.”

“I better get to meet him. I want to see if he passes my arbitrary rules.”

Avery lets out a surprised laugh. “I’ll let you know what he says.”

It’s not much later that Avery decides to go to bed, calling it an early night. Before she knows it, her alarm is blaring, and she rolls out of bed to get ready for work. Once she gets to work, she sends Tyson a text, letting him know about the game, as well as the fact that Luna wants to meet him afterwards. He doesn’t respond right away, so she sets to work on updating the store’s website.

While she’s on her lunch break, Avery checks her phone and sees that Tyson texted back. He apparently got the tickets sorted, and the game doesn’t start until 7pm, giving her and Luna just enough time to get there. He also explains that as much as he’d love to meet up after, he usually heads back home right away to go to bed.

Well, just means you’ll have to meet Luna some other time, is what Avery says back.

I’d love to meet her :) maybe we can get lunch on one of her days off or something

That’d be great!!

Avery smiles softly, happy that Tyson wants to meet Luna. Even though she knows that she’s made it clear that Luna is important to her, it’s still nice knowing that Tyson understands that. She’s still unsure of telling him why, but she knows that conversation can wait a while. It’s a heavy topic for someone she’s only gone on one date with, and Avery isn’t in a spot where she feels comfortable talking about it.

Before she knows it, Avery and Luna are making their way into Pepsi Center. The energy is wild, and it’s hard to not get swept up in it. Even though she knows that she won’t get to see Tyson after this, she’s still excited to watch a game. She and Luna looked up as much information as they could so that they could understand as much of the game as possible. And while Avery knows that it’s a preseason game, she still hopes that the Avs do well.

“Well, this is quite a first game,” Luna says breathlessly, as they sit down.

“It really is,” Avery laughs. “I guess it’s a good chance for us to try and understand everything we learned this last week.”

“I sure hope so,” Luna replies, smiling.

Once the game starts, Avery and Luna get swept up in the electric energy running through the arena. Despite not fully understanding some of the calls, they both have a great game. Tyson doesn’t play too much, but every time he gets on the ice, Avery makes sure to cheer a little bit louder. By the time the game has ended in a win for the Avs, she feels totally ramped up, and she knows it’ll be a little while before she falls asleep.

“That was amazing,” Avery says. “I have no clue why I didn’t do this before.”

“I mean, it might have been a little hard in Portland. Do they even have any hockey teams?”

“I...don’t think so.”

Luna laughs. “Well, now is as good a time as any, I suppose. Hopefully Tyson can get you more tickets during the season.”

“I’m sure he won’t have a problem with that.”

Avery makes sure to send Tyson a quick congratulatory text, as well as a selfie she and Luna took earlier. She pockets her phone, knowing that he won’t respond for a little while. The ride back home is fairly quiet, both trying to soak in the game. It feels a little surreal, but it’s definitely an experience that Avery will remember for a long time.

Once they get home, they stay up to watch some TV to try and calm down a little. Before Avery knows it, she feels herself start to fall asleep. The only thing that gets her to move is not wanting to wake up on the couch in the morning.

“Ugh,” Luna groans as Avery gets up. “Why is moving so hard? I didn’t even do anything.”

Avery snorts. “Come on, you’re going to hate yourself if you sleep on the couch. It’s comfy, but not comfy enough to double as a bed.”

“You’re right,” Luna sighs, rolling off the couch. “I think my age is finally catching up to me.”

“Please, thirty is hardly old.”

“Wait until you’re my age, Avery,” Luna threatens, jokingly.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

When Avery flops down in bed, she checks her phone, smiling when she sees that Tyson replied. It’s not much, but it’s still nice to see. She just sends a heart in response, and falls asleep almost instantaneously.

The following morning, Tyson comes into the shop, looking much more awake than Avery was expecting. Still, she smiles brightly, not having expected him to come by the shop today.

“This is a nice surprise,” Avery comments.

“I just wanted to see you since I didn’t get the chance last night,” Tyson replies. “I’m glad you and Luna had a good time, though.”

“Yeah, she’s already badgering me to go to more games,” Avery laughs. “I wouldn’t be complaining either, though. It was really fun.”

“So, uh, I was wondering if you’d want to get dinner again sometime?” Tyson inquires nervously.

“That’d be really nice,” Avery replies. “Somewhere a bit more casual, though. You don’t need to try and impress me.”

“But what if I want to?”

“Oh, well, I guess that could be arranged. Not this time, though.”

Tyson smiles. “Okay, that sounds good. I have to go soon, but I just wanted to stop by while I was in the area.”

After he heads out, Helen comes in only a few moments later. She gives Avery a questioning look, probably knowing exactly who Tyson is.

“Was that who I thought it was?” Helen inquires, smiling deviously.

“Uh...depends on who you thought it was?” Avery replies, flustered.

“The boy you were telling me about, of course,” Helen says. “Only you didn’t mention that he was a professional athlete.”

“I mean, I didn’t even realize it at first,” Avery says, a little defensive. “I just thought he worked a boring office job or something.”

Helen laughs. “Well, I’m glad you seem to be doing good for yourself. You seem much happier than when you first started working here.”

“Probably because I am happier,” Avery replies, shrugging. “I feel like I finally found my place here, you know?”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Now, let me see those updates you’ve made to the website. You set up things for local online ordering, right?”

Avery is grateful for the change in the subject, and walks Helen through all of the updates. Online ordering was something new Helen wanted to do this year for the holidays, and Avery was more than willing to help with figuring out the logistics of it all. Hopefully they don’t get too overwhelmed, but there’s enough people working at the shop to at least help a little bit.

By the time the end of the day rolls around, Avery is ready to go. She’s looking forward to a relaxed night to make up for how exciting the previous day was. Much to her surprise, Tyson is waiting near the entrance, obviously waiting around for Avery to finish locking up.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Avery says. “No game tonight?”

“No, we just had practice earlier today. I was hoping to take you to dinner, though, if you’re free,” Tyson replies.

“I suppose I can do that.”

Tyson smiles brightly and starts walking down the sidewalk. It takes a moment for Avery to catch up, still surprised at him showing up unexpectedly like this. As they walk towards wherever Tyson has picked for dinner, he keeps brushing Avery’s hand. She smiles a little before deciding to hold his hand.

“Oh,” Tyson says quietly.

“Do you...not want to hold hands?” Avery asks, a little concerned.

“No, no, this is nice,” Tyson replies, obviously trying to not smile, but his hand tightens around hers a little bit more.

Avery tries to hide her smile as well, but fails. “So, where are we headed?”

“Uh, just this restaurant me and some of the guys go to on occasion. It’s a super chill place, but we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m more than happy to go. I was just curious.”

Tyson lets himself smile then, and continues to walk towards the restaurant. Once they get there, Avery notices that it’s very much a retro burger type of place. It seems like a fun place, and completely different from their first dinner together. They’re seated fairly quickly in a small corner of the restaurant.

“They’re used to us stopping by, so we usually get the more secluded tables,” Tyson explains after the waiter drops off their menus.

“Oh, that must be nice,” Avery comments. “I’m sure it’s hard to go out sometimes.”

Tyson shrugs. “It’s honestly a hit or miss. Like we’re not popular by any means, but we’re still kind of well known.”

“Still, any guarantee of privacy must be nice. Or, you know, the illusion of it at least.”

The rest of the evening passes just as quickly as their first date together. Avery finds herself laughing more often than not, and she just feels content by the end of the evening. By the time they leave the restaurant, she finds herself not wanting the evening to end. She’s enjoyed her time with Tyson so much, and she values it more knowing how busy he is.

“I’m really glad you came by,” Avery remarks as they start walking towards her car. “Tonight was a lot of fun.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Tyson says softly. “I was, uh, wondering if you’d want to make us official? Like boyfriend and girlfriend type of thing.”

“Oh,” Avery says. “Yeah - I, yeah, that would be great.”

Tyson smiles brightly. “Okay, that’s...that’s good. Do you mind if I tell the guys?”

“Uh, no? Should I be worried that you’re asking that?”

“I don’t think so? But it might mean JT and Alexander randomly stop by the shop to meet you on a more official basis.”

“I think I can handle that. That means you need to meet Luna, though.”

“I’d love to meet her, you know I would.”

Only a few moments later, they find themselves standing by Avery’s car. She knows she should probably head back to the apartment, but she finds herself not wanting the evening to end. Tyson seems to be the same, not letting her hand go. He hesitates for a moment before going to kiss her cheek.

“I’ll see you soon?” Tyson whispers.

“Yeah, of course,” Avery says.

He lets her hand go and smiles softly before walking off to his own car. Once Avery gets into her car, she sighs deeply. In all of her imaginations of what Denver would be like, she could have never predicted Tyson. It feels a bit surreal, but she’s still happy with how things have been going lately.

When she gets back to the apartment, Luna is already passed out, leaving Avery to assume that she has an early shift at the hospital tomorrow. This makes her think about finding her own apartment, knowing that she’s stayed with her sister longer than intended. Even though she knows that Luna doesn’t mind her staying in the apartment, Avery also knows she should start looking for her own place. She’ll miss being around her sister all the time, but she also knows that this isn’t permanent.

The weeks start to pass, and before Avery knows it, it’s well into the holiday season. The shop is busier than either her or Helen would have expected, but it helps the days go by quickly. Tyson’s schedule also ramps up, so they don’t see each other as much as they’ve wanted to. It also means that she hasn’t had the chance to introduce him to Luna yet, given that Luna is also extremely busy this time of year.

The business also keeps Avery from thinking too much about her parents. Neither of them have tried to contact her, although that’s not too much of a surprise, given the previous few years. At this point, it would surprise her more if they actually tried to reach out at this point, which is why Avery feels shock seep through her when she sees her mom calling her.

“Hello?” Avery answers tentatively.

“Oh, it’s good to hear from you again,” her mom, Jane, says. “I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up or not.”

“You caught me at a good time, I guess,” Avery replies, trying to not sound too rude.

“Well, I just wanted to see what your plans were for Christmas. I know Luna is working, and I don’t want you to be all alone,” Jane says. “And it’s been so long since your father and I have seen you.”

Avery tenses up. “Luna and I made other plans, mom. It’s too expensive to buy a ticket right now anyways.”

“I’ll pay for your ticket,” Jane offers.

“I’m really okay. I’m going to stay here with Luna.”

“Avery, I don’t think you quite get what I’m saying. Your father and I have decided that it’s time to make amends and you should be coming to see us. It’s been a long time since we’ve been a family.”

“It’s not my fault you got mad that I’m not straight,” Avery spits out.

“Honey, this can all be fixed. Just because we don’t approve of the same things you do doesn’t mean we still aren’t family.”

“We’ve already settled this! This is exactly why I haven’t been home in fucking years!” Avery exclaims.

Jane sighs. “Look, you’re really being too over dramatic about this. We can put everything aside for just one day this year.”

“No, I really don’t think we can.”

“Honey, we’re trying our best, okay? I don’t know what else you want from us.”

“I wanted you to love me, mom. I really don’t know why that’s so hard! And you’ve had so many other chances to fix this, and I’m not going to pretend like nothing is going on.”

“Your father said you would be inconsiderate, but I really hoped for better.”

“I really don’t see how I’m the inconsiderate one,” Avery says bitterly. “Look, I’m not coming home and I probably won’t ever come home. Not unless you genuinely get over the fact that you can’t love a daughter who isn’t straight.”

“Avery, you take that back right now!” Jane yells. “Your father and I still love, despite everything.”

“You know what, I’m fucking over this! Don’t call me again,” Avery spits out.

With that, Avery hangs up without bothering to hear what her mom has to say. Jane calls her five more times, and sends countless texts, leaving Avery to ignore them all. She wasn’t expecting to feel so angry over her mom calling, but it’s hard to not feel that way after everything that’s happened. After everything - the screaming and yelling, followed by years of silence - have only led Avery to feel bitter when thinking about her parents.

When Luna comes home, Avery is laying face first on the couch, and doesn’t bother to move. A few minutes later, Luna is tapping her shoulder, and hands over a cup of tea. Smiling a little, Avery sits up and takes it. It’s a small gesture, but she knows that Luna is doing what she can.

“Want to talk about it?” Luna inquires. “Mom left a million voicemails and texts, but I didn’t bother to look at any of them. I knew it’d probably be something dumb, especially considering we haven’t had a real conversation in a very long time.”

“Just...she wanted me to come home for Christmas, said I shouldn’t be spending the day by myself,” Avery explains. “Told her we already had plans together.”

Luna snorts. “God, I can’t believe the audacity she has. But it doesn’t surprise me too much that she tried to convince you to come back home and act like nothing happened. Probably getting asked too many questions now that you’ve graduated.”

“Look at me, continuing to shatter the perfect family picture she’s always wanted,” Avery jokes, despite the exhaustion coming through.

“Why don’t you go to bed? I don’t mind doing dinner by myself, and you probably need the rest.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she sighs.

The next few days feel weird, with Avery being caught between the chaos of work and the intensity of Jane not leaving her alone. She knows she should probably block Jane’s number, but she also doesn’t want to think about the shit that’ll start up. Thankfully, Luna doesn’t make her talk about beyond what she wants to say, knowing that Avery will talk when she’s ready to.

Tyson swings by the store one day on Avery’s lunch break with food in tow. She hasn’t seen him since her fight with Jane, so she does her best to act normal. Even though Avery knows she can tell Tyson anything, she still feels nervous telling him about it. Right now doesn’t feel like it’s a great time either, not with how little they’ve been able to see each other.

“I missed you,” Tyson says softly, before giving Avery a quick kiss. “Mind if I eat with you?”

“You know I don’t mind,” Avery replies, smiling. “So, what all have I missed?”

“Not much, if I’m being honest. I decided to fly my family down for Christmas since that’s easier than me trying to visit them. The three day break is just too short,” Tyson explains.

“I’m glad you get to see them,” Avery says.

“What about you? I know you said Luna is working.”

“We just decided to work around it as best we can. Family is, uh, too busy to visit.”

Tyson frowns. “That’s a shame.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Luna is going to be here, and that’s good enough for me,” Avery says, shrugging.

“Maybe we can do something on Christmas Eve. Luna isn’t going into the hospital until late, right?”

“I don’t want to take up your family time. You only get three days with them.”

“Yeah, but I think it would be nice, especially if it’s just going to be the two of you.”

“I’ll ask her tonight if you’re sure.”

“I’m most definitely sure. And I know that they’d all be happy to meet you,” Tyson says, smiling. “I know my mom and sister have lots of plant questions, anyways.”

“Oh, well, I can definitely help with that,” Avery replies, laughing.

During the rest of lunch, Avery does her best to make sure Tyson doesn’t notice that she’s feeling a little off. She doesn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing up her mom. It doesn’t feel right, and it’s not really something she feels ready to bring up quite yet. Eventually, she’ll have to say something, especially as their relationship gets more serious. For now, though, it can wait a little bit longer.

When Avery gets to her apartment complex, she grabs the mail before heading up to her place. As she sorts through the mail, she notices a letter addressed to her from an address she hasn’t seen in a long time. Her blood runs cold, knowing that this is just another attempt from her mom to reach out. Even though Avery knows better than to open it, she does it anyways once she gets to the safety of her own room.

Dearest Avery,

You must know that what I do is purely out of love for you. Every sacrifice your father and I made for you to have a better life was because we love you. You’ll always be our daughter, even if we aren’t comfortable with all of your choices. All we want is to see you during the holidays and reconnect, and become a family once again.

There is no need to be angry over one conversation so many years ago. It’s not healthy to be bitter over this, especially when it concerns family. Ignoring your father and I will not make anything better. So please come home, and we promise there will be no talk of any past choices.

Love,

Your mother

As Avery finishes reading the letter, she feels tears streaming down her face. Despite everything, her mom still can’t understand why she feels so angry. It’s always been about ignoring the reality of the situation and pretending like things never happened. This is the final straw, though.

It hurts, but she can feel herself come to accept that it’s time to truly cut her mom out of her life. There was always a small part of Avery that hoped that things would get better, and it would probably always be there, no matter how much she wants it to disappear. But the likelihood of that happening now isn’t worth keeping any line of contact open.

“Avery?” Luna asks quietly, poking her head into Avery’s room. “What happened?”

“Just...mom sent a letter,” Avery answers softly, holding the letter out.

Luna skims through it quickly, frowning. “Well, glad I have even more reason to never go home again. At least I have you to do holiday stuff with.”

“Yeah, that’s not too bad, I guess,” Avery says. “Oh! That reminds me. Tyson wanted to know if you wanted to do Christmas Eve with his family this year.”

“He wants to do Christmas with us? Doesn’t he only have like...three days off?”

Avery smiles as she wipes away the last of her tears. “Yeah, he said that he wanted to spend time with us and he knows that it’s just the two of us.”

“I guess I can’t say no to that,” Luna sighs. “But are you seriously okay? This is a lot.”

“I really am, I promise,” Avery says. “I’m angry, but I swear I’m okay.”

“If you say so,” Luna replies, frowning.

“Look, I get to spend time with you, Tyson, and his family,” Avery says, smiling and laughing a little. It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to do proper holidays, you know?”

Luna gives her a look. “I haven’t seen you smile like that in a while. It’s a good look on you.”

“I mean...I - he just makes me happy,” Avery replies, flustered. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

“If he doesn’t mind, then yeah, it would be really nice,” Luna says. “You know, it’s a shame that the fire alarms here are so sensitive, otherwise I’d suggest burning the letter.”

Avery lets out a sharp laugh. “That would definitely be satisfying. I guess we can just throw it in the trash.”

“Not as satisfying, but I suppose it works,” Luna sighs dramatically.

EPILOGUE

Spending Christmas Eve with Tyson’s family was better than anything Avery expected. It’s been so long since either she or Luna have spent any holiday with their family that both of them feel completely overwhelmed. Even though Tyson said that they didn’t need to bring anything for dinner, they still brought a couple of pies for dessert, feeling like it’s the least they could do for intruding on family time.

“How many times do I have to keep telling you that you’re not intruding?” Tyson says, rolling his eyes. “I want you here and my family is excited to meet both of you.”

“I know, it still feels like a lot, though,” Avery replies quietly.

“Is Tyson bothering you too much?” Kacey asks, walking into the kitchen. “Because if so, I have plenty of questions about the plant you sent me.”

“Oh, sure, I can do my best to help,” Avery answers.

Talking with Kacey helps calm a lot of Avery’s nerves, managing to fall into familiar territory. She’s not sure how much time passes, but before Avery knows it, it’s time for dinner. Surprisingly, she and Luna are folded into conversations fairly easily. As much as she might not want to admit it, Avery missed having dinners like this, being surrounded by people she truly enjoyed the company of.

Before Avery knows it, she and Luna are headed back to their apartment. The whole day felt wonderful, and she knows that it’ll be something that she remembers for a long time. Despite that, she knows that for most people, a dinner like that is unremarkable because their family has always been there for them. She knows that Tyson falls under that umbrella, and she doesn’t think he’d notice how wistful Avery felt the whole night.

However, he does bring it up when they’re making dinner in his apartment only a week later.

“So, um, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but was everything okay during Christmas? You just seemed...not sad, that’s not the right word. I guess you just seemed a little bit off,” Tyson says.

Avery shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s just been a while since I’ve done a family dinner. I didn’t go home during the holidays in university and I wanted to stay with Luna this year.”

“And you didn’t go home...because you didn’t want to go home? Or it just didn’t work out that way?” Tyson inquires.

“I didn’t want to,” Avery whispers. “My mom and dad...they’ve been angry about me being bi for a long time. They said it ruined their family image, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Shit - why did you never tell me?”

Avery sighs. “I was planning on telling you, the time just never felt right. It’s such a weird thing to say and bring up. Like surprise, I don’t get along with my family! And I guess I felt like you might take it the wrong way as well, even though I know you don’t care.”

“I wish you would have told me so that I could have been there for you. We’re in this life together now, and I want to do whatever I can to make things better for you.”

“I’ve just been hiding it for so long that it’s weird to talk about,” Avery chokes out, holding back tears.

“Babe,” Tyson whispers, before pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m here for you no matter what. You don’t have to say any more, not until you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Avery replies softly. “This is a nice hug, but you should let go, otherwise the veggies are going to burn.”

Tyson lets out a laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

When he pulls back, Avery smiles softly. Even though she knows Tyson would take everything in stride, it still feels nice knowing that he’s there for her and isn’t forcing her to say more than she wants to. One day she’ll tell him the whole story, but that can wait for another day. For right now, she wants to just enjoy this moment here with him.

#tyson jost #colorado avalanche #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #mine #fic

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Voyager. Now that’s a kettle of fish. Obviously watch/enjoy whatever you wish, but I do recommend also checking out SFDebris’ reviews of the episodes (he’s the rwde of Voyager). He is a lot smarter and more eloquent than me.

Putting these two asks together since my thoughts on both are all jumbled!

Now, I want to emphasize that I’ve only watched the first 16 episodes (Season One + Season 2 premiere), so idk if Voyager is going to go seriously downhill later on, but right now I do really like it. And not in a, “Lol yeah compared to the other crap on it’s good, I guess” way, but in a completely honest, “It has its flaws, but is overall a solid, compelling show with lovable characters” way. Out of curiosity I watched SFDebris’ review of “Phage,” though I’m afraid I didn’t agree with it. The only part were I was like, “Yeah okay” was pointing out that they had the Doctor using a keypad when he supposedly wasn’t solid, but that’s precisely the sort of continuity error that, in an otherwise strong show, I’m willing to shrug off. For all the major points, it sounds like SFDebris is concerned primarily with the show he wants Voyager to be, rather than the show Voyager actually is. Which I know sounds familiar--I’ve heard that criticism leveled at my own work: “You just want RWBY to be a totally different show”--but the difference is that Voyager is a part of an established franchise, following three other TV shows, an animated series, and a collection of films. It’s not an original show (like RWBY) that can take itself in any direction the story may need/claim to want (again, RWBY). It has a brand and those established characteristics seem to be bumping up against SFDebris’ critiques:

Hating Neelix as a character - You’re supposed to hate him. Or at least find him frustrating (I don’t personally hate him) because that’s what all the characters are grappling with too. From Tuvok forced to have an awkward conversation while Neelix is in the bath to Janeway dealing with him taking over her dining room, Neelix’s conflict revolves around how others learn to accept him. Star Trek as a franchise is about “Infinite diversity in infinite combinations.” Voyager begins with the problem of how the trained Federation officers are supposed to work with the more violent Maquis. Difference doesn’t just create “Wow, you’re so amazing!” reactions, it also includes frustration, disagreement, and outright hostility. Creating an outsider character with a kind heart but incredibly overbearing personality is a great way to test the other characters’ convictions. Do they actually care about all life in the universe? Or do they only care about life when they personally find it palatable? Having Neelix around is a great reminder for them--and the viewer--that just because someone annoys you at times doesn’t mean they’re any less worthy of love, respect, and companionship. It also doesn’t mean they don’t have something to offer: he keeps the crew fed even if his cooking is horrible, he provides information about this area of space even if he sometimes gets it wrong, we roll our eyes at the “Morale Officer” stuff, but Neelix does provide much needed perspective for characters like Tuvok. If Neelix made fewer mistakes, stopped bugging the crew, became a “cooler” character for the audience to root for rather than be frustrated by... a lot of the point of his character would be lost.

Frustration about discoveries not carrying over to the next episode - AKA, the crew finds inanely powerful, alien tech and then (presumably) never uses it again. This would indeed be a big problem in a serialized story (like RWBY) but Voyager maintains much of Star Trek’s original, episodic nature. Though we have continuity in the form of them inching towards home and evolving as characters, the world still resets to a certain point at the end of each episode. This is what allows Star Trek to explore so many different questions and have so many different adventures. If you demand that serialized continuity--this character needs to have an arc to deal with this traumatic experience, the crew has to follow the thread they just discovered, our Doctor needs to do something with the new tech they just found--then you lose the variety that Star Trek is known for. Instead of a new story each week (or, occasionally, across two weeks) you’ve got a single story spanning months. Neither form is better or worse than the other, it’s absolutely a preference, but there’s a very specific, structural, intentional reason why the characters “forget” about the things they’ve discovered and, at times, experienced. Unlike Ozpin forgetting that he has a nuke in his cane for seven volumes, or Ruby forgetting to use her eyes at crucial points, Star Trek deliberately sets things aside to ensure there’s room for new ideas and questions next episode.

Janeway doesn’t kill the Vidiians to get Neelix his lungs back - No Starfleet captain would. At least, not during this period of Star Trek. Sisko has development in that regard (making morally gray choices), but that’s built into the heart of the show from the start: he’s on a station, not a starship, that is jointly run by the Federation and the Bajorans, and built by the Cardassians. The rules of the Federation always had a tenuous hold there and Sisko as a character always pushed the boundary of the Federations expectations (Q: “Picard never hit me!”) Janeway, in contrast, is 100% a Federation captain and, more importantly, has explicitly told her crew that they will be operating as a Federation vessel, despite being so far from home. That’s the conflict between the officers and the Maquis. That’s why Tuvok accepts the alien tech in “Prime Factors,” recognizing that Janeway can’t. That’s why Seska is a compelling antagonist, pressuring the crew to abandon their ideals for survival. The series (or at least that first season) revolves around questions about identity and whether they’re willing to give that identity up now that they’re out from under the Federation’s thumb. Overwhelmingly, they choose not to... which would make murdering the Vidiian a complete 180 for her character. We’re not necessarily supposed to agree with Janeway’s choice, we’re supposed to acknowledge that murdering another sentient being is not some simple choice to make, especially when you’re a leader devoted to a certain set of ideals. We’re supposed to recognize the challenges here (many of which SFDebris doesn’t acknowledge) like how you’re supposed to keep a prisoner for the next 75 years when you’re already struggling to feed and take care of the crew you have, or the fact that they claim to take organs from dead bodies and this was a rare time when they couldn’t. (It’s only in “Faces” that we learn this is complete BS and they actively kidnap people to work as slaves and then be harvested.) The frustration that Janeway doesn’t act here stems from wanting her to be a character who is, fundamentally, not a Star Trek captain.

Granted, I only watched one review, but that’s what the whole thing felt like: wanting a series that’s not Star Trek. Something without a token, challenging character, without hand-wavy science, that’s more serialized, and doesn’t adhere to a “do no harm” code. (I just started “Initiations” and Chakotay asks a vessel to stand down three times, while actively being attacked, before finally retaliating and then he tries to reestablish communications and then he warns them about their engine and then he beams them aboard his shuttle. That’s what Star Trek (usually) is: that idealized love of life, even when that life is actively hostile). And like, that’s obviously fine! As you say, Flawartist, “watch/enjoy whatever you wish,” but just based on this one review I wonder if SFDebris just wants something other than Star Trek.

I think one of the reasons why I feel passionately about this (beyond my love of context and recognizing when shows are actively trying to accomplish something specific) is that I went through this with DS9. For years I heard about how horrible the show was. It’s trash. It’s a mess. It’s not TNG, so don’t even bother. Or, if you do, be prepared for disappointment. There was this whole, strong rhetoric about how silly it all is--Star Trek is, by default, silly, so supposedly only the Shakespeare loving, archeology obsessed captain is sophisticated enough to save it--and then... I found nothing of the sort. I mean yeah, obviously Star Trek is silly as hell (that’s part of its charm), but DS9 was also a complex, nuanced look into everything from personal agency to the threat of genocide. There’s so much wonderful storytelling there... little of which made it into my cultural understanding of DS9. And now I’m seeing the same thing with Voyager. When I did some quick googling I was bombarded by articles saying how bad it is and now I have an ask comparing it to a show I don’t think has even a quarter of the heart the Star Trek franchise does. Which is is not AT ALL meant as a knock against you, anon. I’m just fascinated by this cultural summary of Star Trek: TOS is ridiculous but fun if you’re willing to ignore large swaths of it, TNG is a masterpiece and that’s that, DS9 is bad, Voyager is bad, and to be frank I haven’t heard much of anything about Enterprise. It’s weird! Because I watch these shows and I’m like, “Holy shit there’s so much good storytelling here.” Is it perfect? Not on your life, but it’s trying in a way that I can really appreciate. It’s Star Trek and Star Trek (at least at the time) meant something pretty specific. Criticisms about divisive characters or idealized forgiveness feel like walking out of a Fast and Furious film and going, “There was too much driving and silly combat. Why didn’t they just fix the situation in this easy way?” Because then we wouldn’t have a film about lots of driving and silly combat! If you make all the characters palatable, make Janeway harder, extend the impact of all the discoveries, remove the ridiculous science that doesn’t make any sense... then you don’t have Star Trek anymore.

#star trek #ST #mymeats #flawartist

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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tagged by @rose-blooms-red

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Only going with Batfam fics since that’s the fandom I share with Ro, and like, I’m ridiculous and work on literally dozens of WIPs for years at a time in fits and starts, in the idea of occasionally finishing one and posting it in completion which works great in theory but never seems to work out that way in practice OH UNKNOWABLE UNIVERSE, INEXPLICABLE ME.

Which means my Batfam WIP folder, as in fics that are actually in existence in bits and pieces because non-linear writing FTW (dubious), is already ridiculous enough as is. Keep in mind this is the accumulation of like....literally five or six years of adding content and writing stuff here and there. But yeah, also keep in mind like, I’m just ridick. Thing you gotta remember is I write primarily for me, to just get things out of my head. Like, I do really like external validation too, but I’m very very weird in that like, I have tons of stuff people have never read, original and fic-wise, and its not like...because I don’t want people to read them, its just......Things Happen and then they don’t and....yeah. This has been a presentation of Deep Thoughts, By Me. Let’s just say management is aware of the issue and its being worked on.

SERIES

KINGS OF THE SKY (aka that one where Jason doesn’t die, one-shot installments)

Weapons of Choice - Dick POV during his Robin days

Teachable Moments - Jason POV when he calls Dick after the Felipe Garzonas case and everything jumps ship from canon

Blood of the Covenant - Jason POV while Dick’s recovering from the Church of Blood storyline, plus enter The Adoption Issue

There are other later installments that make sense to me but wouldn’t make sense to anyone else without the in-between pieces, so just leaving them out even though whole ones are entirely written ahfishflahfal

BURY YOUR DEAD, LAY THEM DOWN, LET THEM REST (aka Ric fix-it series, plus addressing Lots More, one-shot installments)

Tell Me Your Secrets, I’ll Make You A Ghost - Duke POV with Dick pre-shooting, plus with Cass in near aftermath

You Can’t Take It With You, But Don’t Leave It Behind - Cass POV immediately following previous one, Interlude-ish

The Dead Don’t Live Here Anymore - Ric POV, bonding (slowly and awkwardly and very very dysfunctionally) with Jason and Cass at the same time, hello powderkeg, meet match

The Good Die Young and the Bad Aren’t Dead - Jason POV investigating things hinted at in the previous

Welcome To Purgatory, We Hope You Like Your Stay - Tim POV confronting then awkwardly teaming up with Damian who has Plans re: these Nightwing impostors

Life After the End of The World or What the Hell Are We Even Supposed To Be Doing Now - Jason POV confronting Cass about the secret she’s been keeping re: Dick but its not what he thought it was

A Ghost, A Zombie and a Dead Guy Walk Into A Bar - Ric POV, with Cass and Jason again

The Long Dark Night of Richard John Grayson - Ric vs the door keeping his memories locked up tight

Two Houses, Built In Shadow (aka that one where I build a rival family of villains/antiheroes to act as the Batfam’s foils)

Smoking Guns and Smoking Mirrors - Dick POV and Babs POV, introducing Dick and Babs’ counterparts - 3 chapters plus epilogue

Werewolves of Gotham - Jason POV, introducing his counterpart, 5 chapters

Ghosting the Machine - Tim POV, introducing his counterpart, 3 chapters plus Interlude-y epilogue

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil - Duke then Steph then Cass POV, three long-as-fuck-dear-god-what-was-I-thinking chapters

Providence - Bruce POV, introducing his counterpart, seven thankfully much shorter chapters (its all relative, shut up)

Queen’s Gambit - Dick POV then Cass, pinning down the identities of the rival fam before they can figure out theirs first, format to be determined as everything written for this part is an incomprehensible mishmash of paragraphs out of context hahaha I do things smart

Way Down Deep Where The Sun Don’t Shine - Jason POV, the climax and denoument, five chapters plus epilogue

MULTI-CHAPTER STANDALONE FICS

They Never Said Saving the World Would Go Like This - that epic saga of Dick and Kyle

The Spy Who Forgot To Come In From The Cold - the Spyral + amnesia fusion fic

Ghosts of Graysons Past - John Grayson makes a deal with his old buddy Boston Brand to save his son from his fate at the hands of the Court of Owls, and Jason gets roped into riding shotgun via ‘so apparently I can see dead people now, but not all dead people, just SOME dead people, the really really loud ones’

99 Views To A Kill - that Dick and Boone Vengeance Academy AU

Been There, Done That - Dick fosters then adopts a kid being fucked over by the system in ways eerily similar to his own past, aka does the Bruce Boogie and projects like whoa

The Vienna Game - the Batfam versus a global criminal gang with secrets upon secrets and unveiling some of theirs in the process

The Brothers (Most) Grim - that one where Jason is thrown by Dick being a mob enforcer then supervillain as he prepares to make his return to Gotham, Things Then Do Not Go According to Plan, Dammit Dick

The Patron Saint of Robins - the one where Dick doesn’t forget but everyone else still does

Shadows Cast - that one where Jason becomes Flamebird and he and Dick focus on abused kids in specific

Hunt the Dark - that one where Dick learns some magic in the in-between Robin and Nightwing time, which comes in handy when Jason’s return from the dead is accompanied by some unseen supernatural predator stalking the ghost that got away

SHORT(ish) MULTI-CHAPTER STANDALONE FICS

First, Do No Harm - aka the one where Dick saves a fairy and the fairy’s a little shit about it

We’ve Only Got Nine Lives, Let’s Waste Not A One - aka the one where Dick and Selina bond over something and Bruce has no idea what it is and its driving him nuts - not cute, very angsty, I am sorry

The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side of the Tracks - aka five times Dick taught a sibling how to trainsurf plus one time they reminded him he gave them good stuff to go with the bad

The Boy in the Red Hoodie - years later, Dick realizes the kid he taught a few self-defense moves during that brief time he ran away in Robin: Year One wasn’t really named Peter anymore than he was really named Freddy

Once Upon A Time In Gotham - that de-aged to a teenager fic

Forget Us Not - Jason and Dick are revisited by reminders of a case they worked on together when Bruce was ‘out of town’ years ago while Jason was still Robin

The Centuries Can Wait - that one with Amelia Crowne versus William Cobb over the course of generations

ONE-SHOTS THAT HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR NOT BEING DONE, WHAT AM I EVEN DOING (oh right, I guess technically I have SOME excuse for fanfic not having been the biggest priority in my life for a few years but look I am Drama, hear me wax rhapsodic whilst emoting most verily)

Where Other Leaves Did Fall - Dick POV, Dick discovers relatives from Amelia Crowne’s side of the family, aka his grandfather had a half-sister he never knew about

Point of Origin - Jason POV, fall-out from the Bruce mindwipe reveal in Identity Crisis and how it might have made his relationships and way of interacting with Dick and Jason in particular like...swerve

Two Wings and a Prayer - Dick POV, Court of Owls wingfic, look, I am me, you had to know there was a wingfic in here somewhere

Sitting In Darkness, Still Waiting On That Dawn - Jason POV, Dick dealing with the revelation of his family’s history re: The Court of Owls

Tell Me No Lies - Jason POV, despite the years and the death between them, post-UTRH, Jason still knows his brother’s tells, and his brother knows his....its why they’re avoiding each other

Witness to a Crime - Cass POV, that thing where you notice things no one else does, but not always knowing what they mean

We’re Just Not Gonna Talk About These And The Passage of Time, That Asshole

Born Under a Bad Sign - and its sequel. They still exist! In theory!

By Lost Ways - oh yeah, I was supposed to get back to posting that huh, I should do that, okay, righteo, that’s a mea culpa my dudes

Tagging anyone who wants to be tagged lol, cuz I suck at this but if you see this and are inspired to do this as well, you can totes blame me for the tagging!

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 11: Defiance

CW: Creepy/intimate whumper, captivity, references to pregnancy, conditioning, restraints

(See the Fillis Angst Parade AU that I wrote with @whump-tr0pes for context on why Daniel Michaelson’s father is doing all these mean spicy things to Finn Dunham. As always, I am immensely grateful for Athena letting me be mean to her OCs!)

This takes place before Finn agrees to be Patrick’s plaything and during Ellis’s pregnancy.

Finn knows when the man of the house is home, because someone will hear the sound of the car in the driveway, engine rumbling like some terrifyingly large contented cat, and everyone suddenly tenses up. Finn watches from their place polishing pristine antique silver with narrowed eyes as the household staff around them suddenly goes backs straight, chin up, working hard.

Finn might, too, if they were a paid servant and not a fucking prisoner. They don't bother to change a damn thing about how they stand. If anything, they let their shoulders hunch even more, slouching with obvious purposeful anger. They let their teeth grind together against the feeling of the cool metal shackle welded onto one ankle, the scrape of the heavy chain that connects it to a hook in the wall.

There are hooks in all the walls in every room here. Not that Finn’s seen much more than kitchen, formal dining room, casual dining room, and one of their living rooms. One. Of five. Finn has provided medical services to families with children who had to live in fucking clapboard shacks but oh, the Michaelson group has five separate living rooms in one single house. And they have multiple houses.

There’s a beach house, they’ve been told, where they could be sent if they need to be even more alone. They know what that means… it means further from Ellis, who they haven’t seen since they were captured. It means further from any chance of… of anything.

There’s this house, and a beach house. There’s a third house in a neutral territory they use for business negotiations. There’s a fourth - a fourth goddamn house - somewhere deep in the northern woods. Deep in anti-Syndicate territory.

Corrine Michaelson had laughed when she showed them where it was on a map, her fingers curved over their shoulders like claws. Like a bear trap, she’d murmured, as Finn’s stomach dropped. We close on your kind from both sides, when we want to.

Why are you showing me this? They had known the answer. Weren’t even sure why they’d asked.

Sure enough, Corrine’s sharp red fingernails had dug into the nape of Finn’s neck as she answered, because you’re never getting out of here alive to tell anyone.

So, four houses. And of course, there’s the ‘small’ summer estate where Daniel Michaelson lives, separate from his family, but close enough to be controlled.

All this space, and Finn has seen so little of it. They saw more of Danny’s house in three days than they’ve seen of the Michaelson’s mansion in… they don’t even know how long they’ve been here.

They hate the Syndicates more every single time they have to dust the same damn side table, make careful note of all the hooks in the walls, the ceiling, the subtle ones that you could bring up out of the floor.

They lost count after eighty-seven hooks and they haven't even been allowed in a third of the immensity of this house. And they're not counting the basement, with entirely different hooks that aren’t just made for connecting chains and restraining… prisoners? Playthings? What even do the Michaelsons do with all those hooks?

They know what Corrinne does with the hooks in the basement, at least. They’ve had to try and save people after she uses them, sewing up injuries and feeding IVs with the woman breathing down their neck and counting the seconds, killing anyone they can’t save before the arbitrary time limit is up.

Finn is becoming better at emergency triage every day, and feels all the lives they couldn’t stabilize fast enough weighing on their back, staring back at them through the silver they polish during the day.

They’re trapped in a mansion built by monsters, and they have absolutely no idea how they will ever get out.

The ankle cuff seems ridiculous. Finn’s not going anywhere - not while Ellis is here, somewhere upstairs where they can’t get to them. But the Michaelson family sure as fuck doesn’t take any chances. Finn hasn’t even seen Danny - not in the entire time they’ve been held here, not since they’d escaped, before they’d stumbled into a Michaelson trap and…

“Oh, here’s an interesting scent.” Fingernails scraped over Ellis’s stomach, like claws that didn’t quite break the skin, as Ellis thrashed and kicked and spat curses right back in Corrine Michaelson’s face.

Only Ellis and Finn had been flat-out captured - bad fucking luck, but Ellis had been sick for days and Finn had taken their eyes off the road at just the wrong second. They’d swerved, lost control on the gravel that ran along the shoulder of the road, went into a ditch. There’d barely been time to get Sam and Isaac piled into the other car with the others, and Finn and Ellis had ended up surrounded while the team got clean away.

They’d been certain they’d just be tortured for information, Finn forced to their knees on the ground with cold metal pressed against the back of their head and Ellis held by Michaelson syndicate scum like a ragdoll until Corrine’s chin had raised. Finn had been so sure the next thing they’d see was a Syndicate holding block, and the last thing they’d see would be their own blood on the floor.

It was only later, in retrospect, that Finn realized the Michaelson matriarch, rather than taking the time to think over how to kill them, was scenting the air like a fucking wolf smelling prey.

“Patrick, love, come over here and tell me if this is what I think this is.” Corrine’s hand had pressed flat to Ellis’s stomach.

Ellis, pale in the darkness, had spat in her face. Corrine’s lips pressed together into a thin line, sparking disgust as she wiped the spittle from her cheek.

“What is it, darling?” Patrick had circled around behind, and Finn had struggled and kicked and fought and cursed but it hadn’t done them any good. They’d had to watch as Ellis was held still so Patrick could lay his hand just below his wife’s, touching Ellis like they weren’t a person at all.

Patrick’s teeth had flashed bright white in the dim evening light. “Oh, Corrine, congratulations are in order,” He’d said, with pure gentleness and joy. “This little rebel is with child.” His eyes had been dancing, sparkling even, as he turned to look down at Finn. “Yours, I presume?”

“Go to hell,” Finn had snarled, heart pounding. “Get your fucking hands off of them!”

“So yes, then.” Patrick looked at Finn, lingering a little over the lines of their face, in a way that made Finn’s skin crawl. “Lucky you. And lucky them, to get to bed you.”

“Fuck off.” Finn’s stomach had dropped to somewhere near their knees at the interest, the fascination, thick in Patrick Michaelson’s voice.

Corrine ignored the exchange, smiling back at her husband. She would have looked beatific and saintly if it weren’t for the bloodlust raging in her eyes. “How wonderful, Patrick. You know what this means…”

Patrick sighed happily. “I do, darling, and it’s wonderful. We’re going to have a baby.”

Finn hadn’t quite understood, at first. Not until they saw the blood drain from Ellis’s face. “Over m-my dead body,” they whispered, and Corrine Michaelson laughed.

“Yes, silly mother, that would be the plan.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Ellis, turning to look at the guards who had circled around them. Too many guards, too many guns, no escape.

“Put that one with my things,” Corrine said smoothly. Her eyes scanned over Finn, then. “What about this one, love? Kill it? I don’t need it.”

Someone handed Corrine Michaelson a handgun - they couldn’t see who - and she pressed the cool barrel against the center of Finn’s forehead. Finn had felt the first real panic, then. Their life meant so fucking little to her. They would die without ever meeting their child, wouldn’t be there for Ellis, who would go through… whatever Corrine Michaelson had planned… alone.

Patrick looked over just in time for Finn to whisper, “P-please, no,” just in time to see the tears in their eyes.

Patrick’s breath caught, and then he had flashed that brilliant, charming smile again. “No, I don’t think so, darling. I’d hate to waste that body on an early grave, wouldn’t you?”

Corrine’s head tilted, scenting Finn, staring down at them with cold eyes. Between the chill of Corrine’s appraisal and the heat in Patrick’s gaze, Finn cringed back. Patrick’s eyes only burned brighter. “Look at you, you pretty thing… No, I’d like to get a closer look...”

Corrine pulled back the gun and Finn let out an involuntary sob of relief.

“I love you,” Ellis said, intensity in their dark eyes as Finn looked up. “No matter what happens, Finn, I love you, okay?”

“I love you, too.” Finn had struggled to their feet only to feel a blow against the back of their head that sent them sprawling, insensible, back to the ground.

Finn’s eyes had closed to the sound of Ellis screaming their name.

Their eyes had opened to a basement prison cell, and Ellis nowhere to be seen.

Now, they clean silverware on the ground floor of a sprawling mansion knowing Ellis is somewhere so close - just upstairs, just up the stairs and down the hall - and yet impossibly distant, thanks to the chain on their ankle, the locked door.

Does Ellis still scream for them, wherever they are? And Finn just can’t hear it? Are the bedrooms soundproofed?

Finn lives a life of constant neverending adrenaline and tension. They are woken before dawn to help prepare breakfast, kept on their feet through the day without breaks, either taken downstairs to administer medical aid to prisoners or up here cleaning and cleaning and fucking cleaning. The exhaustion - mental and physical - makes them sleep dreamlessly like a corpse, every single night when they’re locked into their tiny room. They are the only ‘servant’, so far as they can tell, who isn’t a paid employee.

The only slave, if they’re honest. Or hostage. But you can’t be a hostage if there’s no one to make demands, to, right? No one is here to save Finn, or to bargain for them. No one but Patrick Michaelson, whose eyes follow Finn through every room like slime running down their back, like a hand between their legs.

For the first couple of months, Finn had wondered if they’d be brought to the basement one day only to see their team - Isaac and the rest - held in the cells, for Finn to fix and fix and fix until they can’t be fixed anymore. But there’s no one.

Every day, the balance between relief that the team hasn’t been captured and a horrified understanding that no one is coming to save them gets a little more one-sided.

The other servants are all paid, and come and go between work and home, and Finn… Finn isn’t like the rest of them at all. When Patrick and Corrine Michaelson are not at home, the staff is relaxed, casual, joking and chatting with each other as the day’s work gets done. They don’t talk to Finn - they’ve all been told not so, although no one will admit it.

Finn is sure it’s purposeful - an isolation tactic with some larger purpose meant to wear them down.

Joke’s on you, assholes, Finn thinks, working the special cloth deep into the grooves of the silver until even the barest hint of tarnish is gone. I don’t want to talk to any Syndicate trash in this house anyway.

They’re just fine being alone with their thoughts. Alone, it’s easier to stay clear and hold themself together. Alone, they can try to keep planning for some nebulous future escape, one that comes alongside the partner they know is here, somewhere, but aren’t allowed to see. No, Finn wakes up alone each morning in a back room behind the kitchens on a narrow cot with a single lumpy pillow and a thin blanket.

They eat what they’re given, when they are led out into the kitchens to start their workday - usually some kind of oatmeal porridge, every once in a while an egg or something - and the day is full of chore after chore after chore. At first they fought, and spent whole days in that single dark little room on the cot.

Five steps to one wall, four to the other, just a cot, a toilet, a sink, and dull brick walls. They lasted two weeks, maybe, that way.

Maybe less. Hard to tell.

That had lasted until the screaming from the basement, and Corrine coming to Finn’s room to flatly state they could help her provide medical care to the rebels down below, or allow them to die, and it would be on Finn’s head if they did.

They gave up the fight, then. Now, they take the chores, because at least it lets them see something other than bare walls and the stupid fucking kids’ TV show pillowcase they have on their stupid fucking captivity pillow. They are taken down to the basement at least once a week to give first aid to tortured prisoners who will probably never see the outside of that basement again, but at least the prisoners talk to them.

They’d never forgive themselves if they let them simply die, if there’s even a chance some of them might be rescued. They never recognize anyone - the Michaelson territory has its own anti-Syndicate groups fighting for a better world. Finn is starting to doubt that a better world is even remotely possible, but that might just be the constant captivity and isolation talking.

Ellis is upstairs, and their stomach must be starting to round out by now. Has it been four months? Less? Maybe more and they’re five or even six months along? Finn’s heart twists at the knowledge that they’re missing the changes, that Ellis must live through them all alone, wherever they’re held. Ellis feels the baby’s kicks all alone, will go through each checkup with the doctor the Michaelsons keep on-call alone, will give birth alone, alone alone alone.

Finn, meanwhile, will continue to work, and eat, and sleep, and scream... alone.

They’re not even sure if Ellis knows they’re still alive.

One of the servants gave Finn copies of some of the sonogram photos from the last checkup - Finn sometimes sees the doctor having the machine brought into the house, and it hurts not to know what they’re saying to Ellis, not to be able to sit there and hold their hand.

They’d had these stupid… ideas, about how this might work. About sitting next to Ellis in an office, holding their hand, the two of them meeting eyes and smiling and saying to each other, the baby looks like you, or maybe just the baby looks like a smashed grape with fingerprints, or…

No. Whatever those appointments look like, they happen somewhere upstairs, and Ellis stares down the Michaelsons and the doctor perfectly fucking alone.

Patrick and Corrine never tell Finn a fucking thing.

But… but at least someone here has a fucking heart. One old servant, been with the family for years, she says, who brings Finn sonogram photos printed in secret. They’ve hidden those photos under the cot’s thin sheets, slipped between them and the plasticky mattress. A suggestion of light and shadow, barely human in shape but still Finn had known the moment they saw exactly what they were looking at.

The baby - their baby - looked more like some strange child’s drawing of a frog or a teddy bear than it did a developing human. But the servant had known how to show it all to them, had pointed to each shadow one by one and explained what it meant.

“And this,” she’d said, taking Finn’s hand and folding their fingers so only the index finger remained, pressing Finn’s own touch to a series of small light spots that seemed to sort of line up, “is the spine. Just how it should be. Straight as an arrow.”

She’d moved on to the next photo, the next. Naming them all. Heart. Kidneys. Fingers. Toes. Given Finn an impish smile when she noted that the baby was a girl.

“You can see the little nose, if you look just right at this one…”

It was the nose that broke Finn.

The baby, the one that grows inside the love of their life and the one that will be raised to believe her kidnappers are her family, has Ellis’s nose. The profile was unmistakable. Finn had had to send the servant away then.

They had cried, curled up on their cot clutching the photos of the tiny life that they had helped to create and might never know, for hours. Until the pillow was damp, until they felt emptied and wrung out, until they had no tears left. And then, because hell doesn’t give a shit if you need a good cry, they had gotten up the next day right on time to be put to work again.

Now Finn stands, watching the servants scatter to their places as the head of the household servants calls out that Patrick is home.

Finn holds a single spoon up - the silver shines so well they can nearly see their own face reflected in it like a funhouse mirror. Stretched out around the edges, blurred, just a smudge of skin tone and shadowy eyes. They might need a haircut.

Funny how it doesn't matter one solitary bit if they get one. No one they care about is ever going to see them to notice.

The team must be far away, by now - if it’s been months with no rescue, they must have understood there wasn’t any way to get Finn or Ellis out of this. Not this time. Maybe they’ll link up with another team, come back with stronger numbers. Maybe not.

Somehow, Finn doesn’t think they’ll stop trying. They’ve just started to doubt whether or not it’s possible.

Finn's hint of a smile is bitter and bleak as they listen to the sound of the front door opening and closing, the booming, lilting Irish brogue of Patrick Michaelson ringing through the entryway, echoing down the hall, straight to the formal dining room where Finn has been chained for polishing duty.

"Dinner menu, Mrs. Verona?" Patrick asks, not yet visible to Finn but his voice seems close. Just on the other side of the wall. It’s strange and something Finn can’t quite understand, but there’s an odd warmth that curls inside them whenever they hear his voice. They get the feeling that they understand what it means to be a moth and see a light shining through a window. "Corrine will be taking hers in the basement tonight."

Finn's lips thin. They’ll be dragged down with a first aid kit later, then. Lovely. High Queen Bitchison McBitch the First will be dining in the torture chamber, how fucking classy.

"Tonight is smoked oyster for the first course…"

Finn tunes it out after that. It doesn't matter what comes after the oysters, what the second or third course is. It doesn't matter.

Finn is going to be fed what they are always given for dinner. They’ll be handed a bowl full of whatever is scraped off of the fucking bastard's plate - or his monster wife's, all mixed up together. If they finish every bite Finn won't eat at all. Dregs of wine served from half-empty glasses, and Finn’s given no water until they drink Patrick’s leftover wine or whiskey.

One night they were fed a nearly-full glass of both and ended up drunk and morose alone in their little room, and it had to be on purpose, it had to be.

Is it degrading? It might be, if Finn even gave a shit any longer. All they really care about is somewhere else in this house, locked up. Finn wonders, idly, if Ellis has broken anyone’s nose yet. Their smile relaxes, just a little, when it occurs to them that the answer is almost certainly yes.

“I wasn’t aware my little captive finds polishing my silver so entertaining,” Patrick says from the doorway, and the smile drains from Finn’s face, immediately. They hadn’t even heard him move. “You know there are other things of mine I could have you polish.”

Finn swallows back the disgusted curse that they have ready on their tongue, too aware of the armed guards that are always just a few steps behind Patrick Michaelson, entirely too aware of how much it hurts when those guards are given the order to beat them.

“N-no thank you.” If their voice trembles, it’s from holding back their hatred. But Patrick smiles, anyway, as he moves into the room with perfect self-confidence, a man whose presence takes up every inch of the room right to the walls, leaving Finn feeling almost breathless. Like Patrick sucks out all the air until he’s the only thing left to breathe.

Patrick isn’t exceptionally tall, or broad, but still everything about him seems outsized. He fills Finn’s mind with distinct clarified hatred. It was Patrick they’d seen first, when they woke up after their capture. Patrick was the first to come down into the basement to look at Finn chained and gagged in one of their little torture cells, beaten and bloody. It was Patrick who had dragged a finger slowly up Finn’s stomach and chest as they struggled, watching them with delighted amusement. Patrick had shoved a hand down their pants just to watch the blood drain from their face in a sudden terror of what they thought might come next.

Then he’d simply turned and ordered the guards to make absolutely sure Finn did not die. They have more than pretty hair I’d like to see a little more of, don’t they?

Patrick was the one who had had Finn moved to the kitchens and kept in the tiny room.

Corrine looked at Finn and saw nothing but a pair of hands she could use to provide first aid to dying victims until she discarded them, but it was the way Patrick looked at them that really, really made Finn want to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Fair enough, love.” Patrick doesn’t move to leave, though, only leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of himself, watching Finn with perfect focus.

“I’m not your love.” After a pause, Finn looks up, swallowing. They keep their eyes narrowed, cover up the nervous flutters of real fear with anger, defensiveness. Remind themself that Ellis is somewhere in this house… at least, they hope so. “Can I… help you?” Their eyes flick to the two armed guards standing on the other side of the door behind Patrick.

Neither of them so much as blinks.

In a better world, Finn thinks, those men might have fought against the Syndicates, and won. Instead they’re all trapped in this world, and the two men have flat eyes that stare right through Finn and hands that never leave the guns they wear on their hips.

“Actually, I think you can.” Patrick smiles at him, all warmth and light, and Finn shudders, just a little, at the way there’s a strange need in them to step closer to that smile. “Sit for dinner with me tonight. I have an important subject I would like to discuss with you.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Finn wishes that their voice sounded stronger, but the words come out almost weak. A token protest.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had to,” Patrick answered with gentle good humor. “And that wasn’t a request. You will join me for dinner, and I will speak to you about Ellis.”

Finn, lip curled back from their teeth and ready with a new insult, froze. “What about Ellis?”

“Ah, see, there’s the prickle of interest I was looking for. The mother of my child-”

“They’re the mother of their own fucking child, and mine,” Finn snapped. Patrick only smiled wider in response, and Finn inwardly groaned. Damn it, that’s what he wanted, was to rile me up. Why do I always let him do it?

“The mother,” Patrick repeats, continuing as if Finn hadn’t spoken, “is having a few concerning health troubles, lately. If you want to know more-”

“Health troubles?” Blood rushes in Finn’s ears. They are aware, very suddenly, of every possible pregnancy complication they’ve ever read about or even heard mentioned in passing, the way that stress can cause serious problems, and is anyone on earth more stressed than a pregnant person held fucking hostage by fucking Syndicate monsters who want to steal their baby? “I-I’m a… I have some medical knowledge…”

“I know, Finn. Just think of what help you could be to the mother, if you had the option, hm?” The smugness that wove into his voice, the way it deepens Patrick’s lilting Irish brogue, has Finn nearly ready to try and break the chain off their ankle so they could choke Patrick to death with it.

Not that they were entirely sure he could die.

“What…” Finn swallows, aware with a sickening flip of their stomach of the weight of Patrick’s eyes as he watches their throat move. “What do I have to do to… see Ellis?”

“Oh, we’re negotiating, now, are we.” Patrick speaks in a voice like a purr, low and rumbling. Finn felt it on their skin like a film of something thick and suffocating, standing perfectly still as Patrick moved away from his position in the doorway and walked towards them. He paused, just to their side, and Finn’s eyes lowered without their consent to stare down at the cloth in one hand, the silver spoon in the other.

For a moment - just a second - they are sure they’ll feel Patrick’s lips move against their ear.

Then the Michaelson patriarch moved slowly around them in a half-circle. His guards stepped into the room as well, watching Finn with a cold gleam. They’re watching Patrick play with his food, Finn thinks, lifting their chin again, willing it not to tremble. They’re enjoying this.

“I’ve been-”

Patrick’s hand settles on their lower back and Finn goes quiet, feels their spine suddenly stiffen in response. He’s too warm, too much, and Finn would rather die than let him do what they think comes next but they’d rather live than leave Ellis here, trapped alone.

So their fingers go white-knuckled on the spoon and the polishing cloth, their chin lifts even higher, and they try to remember that dignity and pride aren’t what keep you alive when the Syndicates have their eyes on you.

“I’ve been good,” Finn whispers, blood rushing to their face, tears pricking hot at their eyes. For Ellis. Just to see Ellis. Please let me see Ellis. “I can help treat the pregnancy.”

“Do you think you can?” Patrick’s hand presses harder into Finn’s back, forcing their hips to bump forward into the table. Finn’s eyes widen in panic, heart beating fast in their chest like it wants to run from this as much as they do.

The watching guards smile, nearly as one.

Patrick is going to bend them forward onto the table and fuck them right here, isn’t he? And Finn could fight but all their body does is feel suddenly horrifyingly cold.

“Yes,” They whisper, to answer his question. When his other warm lands, just as warm, just as heavy, on Finn’s shoulder, they have to bite back a sob.

For Ellis. For Ellis for Ellis for Ellis-

“That’s good to hear, little Finn.” Patrick’s teeth graze at their ear, and a shudder runs through Finn’s body, shivering want from their scalp through their toes. They don’t want anything like this, they hate this man more than they’ve ever hated anything on earth, but the soft hot breath of his whisper against their ear is horribly, unbearably good. “Tell me you’ll be a well-behaved, polite, pliant little medic for me.”

Finn closes their eyes, takes a deep, shaking breath in. They can’t throw up all over the table no matter how badly they want to right now. They can do whatever it takes. They can do whatever they have to do, for Ellis. “I can be good-... a g-good medic, for you.”

“Say you’ll take good care of my baby, little Finn.”

“I’ll-” Rage burns away the odd constriction they feel weaving around them, slowly but surely, like Patrick is spinning ribbons to wrap them up that they can never unwind on their own. Finn has a strange image of a maypole with children dancing around it from some movie they saw years ago. “I’ll… take good care of my baby-”

“That’s not what I told you to say.” Patrick’s lips move to graze their jaw, and the silver spoon in Finn’s hand drops with a clatter onto the table top. They stare at the guards, who only grin back, guns on their hips. “Tell me it’s my baby, Finn, and have dinner with me. Then you can see Ellis tonight.”

She’s not your fucking baby, you fucking monster, you piece of fucking shit on a shoe, you-

“Fuck you,” Finn whispers with vicious intensity. Suddenly, Patrick pulls away, and the air is full of his scent and a sense of something verdant and green just over the horizon. There is a half-second, with revulsion in their blood and fear in their pulse, that they would still follow him to the end of the horizon to see it.

Then the moment is gone, and they wonder with a whole new level of panic where the fuck that thought came from.

“Fair enough. I have an heir and have raised many children to adulthood,” Patrick says amicably, waving one hand in a dismissal. “We’ll simply monitor the mother and see what happens, I suppose. Here I thought you might actually want to see them, but I see I misjudged you.”

No matter what happens, Finn, I love you, okay?

I love you, too-

“Wait!”

Patrick stops just before the doorway, looking over his shoulder. There’s a smattering of gray in his close-cropped black hair, a hint of it in the rakish stubble that never quite leaves his jaw and chin. Crows-feet and wrinkles, here and there, only seem to make him seem ruggedly handsome. The deep brown of his skin has what feels like an impossible sense of warmth, like bright sun is always shining on it even on cloudy days.

He’s a monster, he and his wife both. They hunt down people like Finn and Finn’s team and kill them or use them up and then dispose of the bodies when they’re done. Ellis and Finn are just the newest toys in the toybox, and they have no idea how long after the baby is born the two of them might be allowed to live.

“Yes, Finn? Did you have another insult to fling my way?” Patrick’s eyes sparkle with amusement. The bastard knows exactly what Finn is going to say.

“It’s-” The words stick in their throat, tar that coats their vocal chords and fills their lungs as they fight to breathe around the humiliation, the anger, the pain. “It’s… it’s your baby, Patrick. Not-... the baby is yours.”

“Say it again.” Patrick turns to face them, but doesn’t move closer this time.

“It’s your baby.” Finn’s lips feel numb. It’s a lie but what if it isn’t now? Is she still going to be their baby if they’re dead before she can form a memory of them? Is she still their baby if Corrine and Patrick teach her to hate the rebels, to hate the very people who made her?

Is she a Michaelson or a Dunham or-

“Again.”

Finn closes their eyes, tears trickling down their cheeks. “It’s not my baby,” They whisper. “But yours.”

My daughter. My baby. Ellis and I made her together, she’s supposed to be a symbol of hope, you fucking bastard, how dare you make me lie about her before she’s even born, how dare you-

“Good. Not my will but thine be done. Not that I’m Catholic, but the sentiment fits. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Patrick snapped his fingers, and his two guards moved on Finn at once. They flinched, but one guard grabbed their hands by the wrists to pull behind their back, and they fought every instinct that told them to fight back, kick or something, and let the handcuffs be closed around their wrists. They let the chain be unlocked from their ankle.

They let the guards lead them to stand before Patrick, who takes their chin in his rough warm fingers, and lifts it so they looked him in the eyes. For a second they expect him to say, get on your knees. What comes out instead is, “Do you like smoked oysters, little Finn?”

“I-I… does it matter?” They sound almost as thrown off as they feel.

“Mmmn. I guess not. You’ll eat them anyway or I’ll choke you on them. Let’s talk about the issues we’re having with the mother over dinner. I’ll have your kit brought up from the basement and let my wife know she’ll have to send for our personal doctor if she wants care provided to the rebels tonight.”

His hand slides around behind Finn’s head, grips into their hair to force their head back as he leans in and takes a deep breath. His smell, cologne and the green hills, floats around Finn, soaks into their skin and settles deep within their lungs. They find themself leaning in to Patrick’s scent - and then recoiling back as the disgust hits them all at once.

Why would they lean into it? And why can’t they stop thinking he looks so fucking handsome?

Patrick hums, looking them over. “I want something pretty to look at tonight. And you’re definitely a pretty one, aren’t you? I could stare at you all night.” He chuckles, tightening the grip on their hair until their knees buckle at the flash of pain and something infinitely more shameful, and then he pulls away and walks back out the door. The guards shove Finn to get them moving right behind him, and they stare at Patrick’s broad back in his perfectly tailored suit as they scramble to get their balance and walk fast enough to keep up.

They are redressed in a suit and tie themself, dressed up like a doll, placed in a chair with their hands cuffed down to watch Patrick eat. They are forced to say that Ellis is carrying Patrick and Corrine Michaelson’s baby again and again, until the words are nearly numb to them. The words are hollow and they are damnation.

They are a test of what Finn will give up to have Ellis, however briefly, just for a second, for any moment at all.

The answer, of course, is that they’ll give up everything. They’ll give anything.

Later, when they are brought handcuffed and forced to their knees - when they can see Ellis but not touch them, lay their head to their rounded stomach but not put their hands there to feel their own baby kicking, they wonder - briefly - if it’s going to be worth the cost.

Then Ellis runs their fingers through Finn’s hair and it is, it is worth it, it will always, always be worth whatever they must give to have Ellis, the baby, to grasp on to the threads of what’s left of their family and world.

The next night, they serve Patrick, Corrine, and Ellis their dinner in perfect silence - they will only be allowed to see Ellis if they don’t speak a word. Except for four.

They are forced to say it’s not my baby, to Patrick’s glowing, proud smile, before they are given permission to kneel next to Ellis’s chair. Close enough for Ellis to brush their leg against Finn’s shoulder. Nothing more than that.

Long before they offer themself to Patrick to get some small shards of mercy, he is already breaking them. Before he brands them, before they are tied to his bed and cry out his name and beg him, screaming, to stop and for more, they were already a toy, a plaything. It’s only the way they are played with that will change when they give up the very last bits of themself they have left.

For Ellis, and for their baby, Finn Dunham can and will give up anything.

Patrick Michaelson knows it.

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript @burtlederp @raigash @sableflynn

#whumpober2020 #no. 11 #defiance #captivity #restrained #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #honor bound au #ash whumps athena #defiant whumpee #angry whumpee #forced to betray #pregnancy tw #captured #whumptober 2020 #daniel michaelson's au #fillis angst parade

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs - Harold x Reader (Adore)

Cruel Summer / Magnets / The Next Best Australian Record

GIF CREDIT: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: I know I said I was kinda finished with these two as far as I thought safe to take them. Oh, but this song I haaaaaaad to...

So here’s another one on the list of ‘how long does it take you to write a fic’. I decided I was writing this on 8th October (when I wrote my plot notes. at like 11pm) then I wrote and finished it on 10th/11th. Whereas sooooome stuff gets stuck in my drafts for like 6 months. And honestly I really don’t know how I do it. There’s a fic on my side blog that I turned around in 24 hours, which is another thing entirely but I am the most inconsistent writer! 😅🙈😬 I don’t know how you all put up with it, to be honest, but I’m glad you’re all here!

Ah shit we being and ‘end’ with Taylor again?! Ah well, can’t be helped!

Disclaimer: Adore/Adoration not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: With Harold now divorced things get a little easier for a while, but you shouldn’t expect things to remain so un-convoluted for long, especially when you receive an invite to Tom’s wedding...

Words: 6418

Warnings: Sexual connotations / Sexual Pre-Amble / Swearing

_______ Make sure nobody sees you leave Keep your eyes down Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times ---

Life all seemed a little easier after his divorce. You still had to be careful, that much was certain, but it didn’t feel like a full affair. The only attachment either of you had was each other. For you it felt like a weight was lifted - a worry. If you only had to worry about what your friends and the University would think if they found out, all that really mattered was being careful on campus. Surprisingly easy; longing glances in class could have meant anything (didn’t they all already know you had a massive crush?), but that ‘catch you later’ smile on his face was the best new thing. Not every night, but a few of them you would spend back at his place. It felt like a real relationship now, you’d found something meaningful. Now you could spend time with him off campus, you seemed to get even more careful on it. It wasn’t the only place you could touch him, hold him, kiss him anymore. You’d been concerned about him leaving you. The age gap in itself would give him more than enough reasons. But he didn’t; Harold stayed. And eventually it wasn’t just belief that he wouldn’t leave you, you knew he wouldn’t. So another year at university ended, and this summer was the first you’d spent between Sydney and home. Obviously, Harold wasn’t going to be coming back. And far be it from your parents to stop you from going back to see your friends. They were just glad to see you happy, and having your own adventures. And you did get to have adventures, even if you never left his house. Summer bled into another year of university, important as your final one, strange in every social context you could possibly think of. Unusually tough to balance – and it made you only too glad to immerse yourself in your class work rather than your relationship. One of the blessings of Harold being that much older than you and having been there before (and heck as if he didn’t know about stressed and struggling university students), was that he understood and let you get on with what you thought was important. You still saw him, just not as often, and it affected nothing between you. Tom wanted to see more of his father, again that was understandable to you, but it was weird to see him kicking around Sydney and occasionally in your classes. On the instances you did bump into each other – and none of them very compromising, that you made sure of – you were civil. But there was never anything more to it than that, until Mary. Your first thought should obviously have been ‘I guess his girl back home didn’t work out’. Instead it was more about things becoming even more convoluted. Harold had come to you with the great idea that, as a final year and preparing to take that leap into the world of acting, you could mentor the lower years on your experience. Your mentee met your ex-boyfriend, and the next thing you knew they were dating. Harold thought it was hilarious, you weren’t so sure – but were at least prepared to see the ironically funny side. You certainly neglected to mention it any time you talked with her though. You weren’t sure you could get through a conversation without ‘Oh yeah and by the way he’s a cheater…’ Highly inappropriate! As you did start to consider your future seriously, the path you found yourself on came from an unexpected place. A new friend – a guy in class who you knew of, but had never really worked with. Stuck together for one of your many final projects, this wasn’t just about developing a few scenes – but a whole two-person stage play. It was like a light bulb moment, how well your energy and creative process and thinking matched. On the same page from the first moment, you weren’t sure which one of you had suggested doing this past your final year, but it seemed like the most logical thing in the world. As expected, Harold was nothing but supportive. Even joking that you’d get your work finished and produced before any of his. Before you hushed him with kisses and let him know how much you believed in him. Adding to your mad year, Harold also moved house – still beach front, modern and pretty. But it maintained a nice rustic aesthetic. Polished wood and steel. He whisked you up to see it before he’d even bought it – because apparently you got a say in things like this now. ‘Why? You’re the one living here.’ ‘I want you to still want to visit me.’ ‘I’d visit you if you were in a 1 bedroom flat with peeling paint and a leaky kitchen sink, you know that.’ ‘Yeah but, maybe it won’t always just be my house.’ You hoped he didn’t expect to be met with anything but joyful screaming at that. The very last thing – as if everything else wasn’t enough - was the final year production. Gruelling auditions were worth it once you got the main part, opposite your future business partner. It was nice, it was going to give you a taste of the future, a trial run. Harold unfortunately was in charge of the second years instead, but he brought Tom over to help manage it – no prizes for how he met Mary. Still, you went along to watch and support. Wondering how exactly you could make him a piece of the puzzle… proud of him and his vision. It made you nothing but excited for that original work of his to be complete – it would be nothing but an honour for you to star in it. Yet it also meant that he didn’t get to see yours until it debuted, and somehow having him on the front row provided you with a confidence boost. And that little wink he gave you as you took your bows gave you all the hints you needed about where your night was going… You wouldn’t lie to yourself anymore, Harold was everything you had always wanted. *** You gave it almost exactly a year after you had finished studying before you ‘came clean’ to your friends. Oh, you were never going to tell them the full details, and you certainly weren’t about to tell your parents everything: just that you were with someone, and you were happy… really happy. In your opinion that was all that should have mattered to them. Your friends were all incredibly shocked at first, but then supportive, and they instantly brought back some of their old favourite jokes ‘Holy shit! Good marks eventually DID get you in his pants after all!’ The truth was not the official line: You had met in a café like total coincidence just to catch up, once… twice… turning into a fair few times… turning into chemistry. Still totally weird, still with that age gap that made everyone (and you meant everyone) caution you, still this ‘he was your teacher once-!?’ that hung around. But not the truth, not that this had been going on so much longer than that. A story that you were both happy with – because no one ever needed to know the full story. And Harold was right about his house; although you had a small apartment across town you hardly stayed there – you spent all your time with him at his. You didn’t want to call it yours, didn’t dare speak the word ours until he did it first. But it always hung there, unspoken… Soon enough your friends grew to love him. How different things were out of the classroom, the conversations and interactions between them. Them all telling you that they finally got it – and then understood why, upon you meeting up again, why you’d hooked up. Which only had you pitying them for not seeing how gorgeous and amazing he was in the first place. There were a lot of shared evenings that happened around his house, where he’d let you invite your friends over but stayed well out of the way. Harold also let you invite them to his birthday though, and after the initial celebrations he and his friends stayed inside, whilst your friends stayed out on the porch. There was a chill in the air, but the fire was still going and you were all huddled together under blankets. As one by one his friends left and you were still sitting out giggling and sipping wine and beer, Harold came out to check you were all okay. Because he cared about them as much as you did. It made you love him even more, if that was at all possible. They probably loved that they could wind you up over this more than anything else, but that was fine for you, you knew it would take time for them to get used to the idea, although the tide was already turning; it was weird but they were also loving it. No one had left, somehow in all this madness you’d kept everything. It all seemed a little too good to be true sometimes, so you made sure to count all your blessings.

Harold’s play still wasn’t finished; he always said he was almost there, but seemed to be taking an age to edit it all – he’d let you read nearly everything but the conclusion. “Why? Won’t I like it?” “I just want it to be the final-final version before you read that. I guess it’s more… thought provoking than satisfying.” So he kept you guessing. You’d become more of a stage actor than you’d ever expected… perhaps eventually you’d commit yourself to film and TV too. You’d done a few here-and-there episodes but nothing concrete. But it was the dynamic between you and your writing partner – who, if you were honest, was quickly turning out to be your best friend – that kept you in stage work. You’d started a small production company to write and produce these plays and they were pretty successful. But you’d also been included in other, sometimes large scale, productions. And, yes, as ever, Harold was front row for as many of these as he could be. You spent your spare time as you had before, tangled up with him, reading or writing together. With always the promise of: ‘Once I finish I’m casting you in this!’ and any time the school did a production, well… it was your turn to be front row for him.

*** Your joint influence on the people in your lives became more apparent, and also came as a surprise. To you at least. And your question was tentative even if you knew the answer already. “Harry… did you… get an invite to Tom’s wedding?” He pointed up to the fridge upon which was stuck the invite; very pretty, clearly there had been a lot of thought put into this and you would think a lot of effort would be put into such a wedding. You crossed the kitchen to look at it: Plus One, interesting. “Does he know?” “He knows I have somebody but not who, why?” By now he’d caught the piece of card you were holding in your hands, and you held it up. “I didn’t expect to get one myself, but here we are. I mean if I was going to be included at all, maybe I’d be on my parents one, but-” “Oh! Mary’s influence?” “Perhaps. I haven’t told her anything either, but why me? I’m his ex and I’m friends with her… but not very good friends.” “Family friends, maybe that’s it.” “A courtesy invite? I suppose it could be. But it’s not like my parents knew you and Roz that long, I didn’t grow up there like Tom and Ian-” You thought better of it and held that thought. You scored the invite with your nails, “Do you… want me to go?” Harold tilted himself back slightly, folding his arms, “Why? Are you thinking of not going?” “It’s not that, it’s that my parents are going. They’ve already discussed it with me, I’m certainly not ready to out this. And I don’t want you to spend your son’s wedding worrying about that. It’s a big day for him and you!” “Would you go anyway?” “Harry-” “It shouldn’t be about me.” “No, it should only be about you! Yes, I would like to go, but not if it makes more sense for me to stay away.” “Then accept and come.” You blushed gently, “Is that what you want?” “Of course I do. We can play it safe, geez, the last time we were around your family was when this started and was at its most dangerous. It’s not an affair anymore, you’re not my student anymore. If something happens then it happens, but look at you. You’re a star in your own right now, you’re an adult and your life is your life!” “It’s the family friends thing, they will go crazy. Even with the story line we made up, I doubt they’ll speak to me ever again.” “Do they know you’re seeing anyone?” “They’re vaguely aware.” Vaguely was certainly the operative word – more because you certainly expected for talk to get back to them that you had a relationship. You’d never made it sound serious to them, but you told them a little to sate their curiosity. “Well then,” He walked forward, cupping your face, “we’re on the same page and we’ll be fine.” “If you say so.” “I do, don’t you trust me?” You giggled, before leaning forward and grazing your lips to his, “No offense, but that’s a stupid question!” *** You were right, there was a lot of effort put into the wedding. There were less guests for the ceremony, but from what you’d been hearing there’d be quite the after party. As you were on your own invite, you also got the perks of a separate room to your parents. You didn’t hang around the wedding party when you arrived – you weren’t about to turn up here and make yourself a nuance - and it gave you time to relax and prepare yourself for tomorrow. You’d have to try to be on your very best behaviour, no matter what Harold had said, you didn’t want there to be any incidents. Your dress was in a colour that flattered you, covered in little appliques of your favourite flowers, sensible heels in the same colour. The opportunity to do your own make-up and hair; though you kinda missed having backstage stylists… The idea was simply to follow Harold’s lead, considering this was Tom’s wedding. He greeted you with familiarity; his ex-student who he’d seen in many a production since you’d graduated. He even seemed to indicate that you had in fact met up a few times just for general interest catch ups. To which Harold also added ‘maybe I’ll get you in to talk to my students sometime.’ Your parents did ask how exactly it was that you’d leave this detail out. ‘It’s just day to day stuff! You don’t tell me every time you see your friends-!’ Now, ‘friends’ wasn’t a word they questioned. You knew you weren’t going to get to sit next to him, but your family was sitting behind him and that was adequate, he might have only glanced back a couple of times, but they were enough to have you beaming. The ceremony was sweet, smooth sailing; they really did look in love. It gave you pause for thought – was that how you looked at Harold? Still? You’d been together a while now, but then you supposed so had Tom and Mary. Maybe that was just a wedding effect – after all, was there a more romantic day for two people? You also smiled a lot, it was such a lovely occasion to behold, even the atmosphere – like everyone was finally in the place they were meant to be. Which, considering the convoluted way this had all started that fateful summer, was fairly incredible. Harold placed his hand delicately on the small of your back, as you both left the chapel. “Don’t want you to think I don’t think you look beautiful…” You nudged him gently, “If you’ll let me return the compliment.” He chuckled, “No.” “Yes! I mean that’s got to be one of the main reasons I’m here!” His cheeks turned pink and he looked a little bashful, removing his hand from you, far enough away from everyone else to sneakily lace your fingers behind your back instead, “But I mean it.” “Thank you, that’s very sweet… Yet I’m hardly the main spectacle. It’s all stunning and her dress is flawless.” “I don’t disagree, it’s very lovely. We have the rest of the day and the party yet.” “Well alright, I know you’re privy to everything.” You smiled, “I’m just happy you’re involved.” “Hmm. It’s humbling.” “You’re his father!” “He’s spent more time with Roz. Tom didn’t have to ask me.” “Well, I suppose you can’t change my opinion… As long as you know my opinions of you!” “Oh.” He let you go as you approached the drinks reception and winked, “Yes, I would think I did!” The drinks reception and dinner afterwards had exactly the same set of increasingly hilarious conversations. You weren’t always in ear shot of each other, or in the same social circles, but everyone wanted to know about the people you were respectively dating. You were a couple of drinks in, and became much more willing to open up – to the point where you were positively gushing about him. You gave your partner no name, age, or any of the questions they were asking that would be more revealing, but were more than willing to tell the rest of the story. And when you heard him being asked roughly the same questions - and sometimes you were standing together at these points - he was doing exactly the same thing. You were surprised one of you hadn’t broke out in a beaming smile or had glowed in sweet embarrassment yet. And yet it did make you feel so happy that Harold was happy to talk about you in the same way, and every so often you’d catch each other’s eyes and you would smile just like that. There was something about both being in on such a secret; you were happy you’d decided to come and be here – even if you weren’t with him, you were most definitely with him. You didn’t approach Tom and Mary until a little later but they were both so happy to see you. And you congratulated them with about as much enthusiasm. “First up you both look gorgeous! And this wedding is so beautiful… oh my gosh, you guys!” You hugged them both tight. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you both!” “Hey,” Tom nudged you, “What’s this I’ve been hearing about you, though!? Get him married.” “AHaha-” You excused yourself from your laugh, “I mean I dunno I… maybe.” You quickly turned the conversation back on them, “You both look so joyful, and so great together. Enjoy it, alright.” You pointed to Tom, “Extra enjoy it for me, I’ll see where I go.” “Oh, I will!” He grinned, hugging you again. You wondered if he ever had told Mary that you’d dated. You supposed it wasn’t the relationship with him you needed to worry about so much. Mary pulled you back to her, “Thank you, so much!” “Oh, you were always star material…” you squeezed her tight, “But you’re welcome. Maybe we’ll get to be in a production together soon!” “I’ll hold you to that!” She giggled, wishing you well as you let her go. You breathed a sigh of relief as you made your way back to your parents, all’s well that ends well…

***

It was a little later, after the first dance, and when everyone was moving around the party freely: everything now in full swing and at least a few of them having already having had too much alcohol, that you realised your assumption was wrong. Some people here weren’t having a good time. You were alright to sit alone and observe for now. You’d known what you were getting into. Ian, best man and from what you’d been told by Harold the one to start this whole ball rolling, was sitting around rather dejectedly. You’d watched him intently for a little while, and he seemed to be getting confrontational with just about everyone – including your man. Now he just appeared to be sulking. So much for us all being more grown up now… Eventually you’d clearly stared at him long enough to have caught his eye, and you offered somewhere between a sympathetic and fed-up smile. Attempting to give an air of ‘yeah man, I know the feeling!’ considering you were also sitting here alone, but his face just scrunched into an even bigger frown as he huffed, crossing his arms before looking away. Okay then, sorry I tried! You weren’t left alone for much longer than that, as Harold wandered over. “Hey, you doing alright over here?” “Yeah, fine.” You waved off Ian, just in case he’d seen any of that brief exchange, “Just taking some quiet time.” “Well, that’s an awful lot of quiet time…” He held his hand out for yours, “Come on, come dance.” Your eyes immediately widened, and you looked from his hand to his face, “With you!?” “No, with someone else – yes, me!” “Harry, I don’t think that we should-” “I want you to enjoy yourself… c’mon.” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and praying this wasn’t the worst idea you’d ever had, as you placed your hand in his and he pulled you up. “Think of it as like… a father daughter dance.” “Oh no, you just made it worse.” His laugh was embarrassed, “Oh, yeah I guess I did, didn’t I – sorry!” Harold didn’t try to make it romantic, although clearly because it was between you it was, and you supposed it was something a little reminiscent of ‘father of the bride’. Well, no one else – not even your family – was dancing with you, so why the hell not? Still you voiced the question. “Should we be doing this?” To which you were only presented with your own question: “Shouldn’t we really be beyond caring?” You couldn’t help but laugh, “You been drinkin’?!” “Not that much, give me some credit!” Oh, the want to pull him closer, your wish to lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes as he swayed you gently on this dancefloor. To look into his eyes like you really wanted to, and were using all your self-control to make sure you weren’t. For him to just wrap you in his embrace right now. It didn’t happen, and you didn’t expect it to, but it hurt a little. Still, here you were and he was ‘holding’ you – it was as close as you were going to get, and you savoured every single second of his skin on yours. Eventually you did actually get to dance with your father and then some younger ‘gentlemen’ (though, whether you’d call them that…) cut in and you let them dance with you the way you wished that Harold could. At least you were enjoying yourself, to you that was the most important thing. But, you ended up back over by the drinks table with your actual other half, observing the party once more, and you broached the subject of the catalyst. “What did Ian say to you?” “Huh?” He turned, bottle half way to his lips. “I mean it looked like he was getting a little irate.” Harold just looked confused, so you sighed with an eyeroll, “Earlier!” “Oh.” Then he laughed, “Well clearly he’s the least happy person at this entire wedding, and he ironically said this was all my fault.” Your eyebrows raised, “Sorry!?” “Well I did take Mary to Tom’s 21st. So, I guess… that’s where they became a little more serious.” You snorted, “Holy shit. The wedding is your fault!? But what’s wrong with the-” you looked back out to the guests and then it clicked, “Everyone was growing up… You think they ended all the affairs at home?” He gave you a face to say he agreed with your deduction, “I’m glad we didn’t get the memo.” You only laughed, “I don’t think I would have agreed to the memo!” “Now we’re on the same page-!” **

You were standing outside on the patio, admiring the stars and lit scenery, when Tom caught up with you again. “Can I ask you something?” “Yes. And you just did.” That had him laughing, and you only slipped into chuckles too, he still liked how fast you were at quipping. Suddenly you were transported back – what would this have been if it didn’t become such a mess. “Your boyfriend…” “Mhm.” You straightened to the edge in his voice, and although Tom was looking at you seriously there was a hint of playfulness to his voice. “How long have you been together?” You couldn’t tell if he’d figured you out yet. “What if I said, it’s the same guy that I first mentioned to you in that massive argument we had?” He leant back against the railing, breathing out heavily. “I feel like I should have… figured it out before now.” “Considering I don’t know what you’ve figured out – you want me to help?” “It’s my dad, isn’t it.” It wasn’t even a question. You were a little affronted by his tone: “You don’t have to make it sound so creepy. In fact, if you want me to bring up glass houses…” He was a little taken aback that you’d just admit it, “Shit, you knew about-!?” “I told you I did. Yeah, that’s how this all started, you and Ian and…” you waved your hand and then pointed at yourself, “Only I stayed with mine… Geez, I’m sorry.” “Sorry?” He laughed, “Why?” “He’s… your dad. That’s not why I dated you, it’s just how it happened.” “You don’t have to explain!” He waved his hands around, “He’s happy, you’re happy, you’ve spent a lot of time together today, I have observed, and it just… I dunno, I guess it clicked. Everything he’s said about – well you – but his other half, and everything you’ve said.” “Oh, damn, is it obvious?!” “No. I just have all the pieces, don’t I?” “You’re… a little too cool with this.” “I told you we were cool before.” Tom’s look was significant, “We’re still cool. And I’m not gonna go telling everyone, until you’re ready to go do that yourselves. Besides,” he nudged you with a smile, “you seem to have enough dirt on me!” “Uh, I would never. You go off and enjoy your married life to an amazing woman, you idiot!” “I’ll do my best – but I’m never gonna call you mom!” “I’m just glad I’m older than you!” You folded your arms with a grin as he left you, with a wave, before turning back, “Why’s that!?” “The likely inevitability of grandbabies. I’m just gonna have to be the cool aunt or something!” You didn’t think you’d heard anyone laugh so loud in a long time. ***

It continued to get later, although the party was still going on and you could hardly take it anymore. You’d watched him move around in it all day, and now all you wanted was that suit on your hotel room floor, or his. That single button he’d undone and the slacked nature of his tie was nowhere near enough for you. But it was hard to let him know that when you couldn’t just go over and grab his hand; you had to just rely on glances and hope that he got it. And clearly he did, as he crossed the room back to you. Although instead of telling you that he was ready to go, he came with a cautionary tale. “We need to be careful about this.” “And your suggestion is?” “Well, we have to stagger when we leave, but you might want to say goodbye to people. Because your parents will notice you’re gone.” “Oh, your son isn’t gonna notice you’re gone, huh?” It was then Harold decided to tell you he’d seen your conversation with Tom, “Well he knows, doesn’t he.” It wasn’t a question, and you were stuck on how to respond, “I didn’t hear, but I saw you two. Is there anything you want me to say to him?” “…Well, that’s between you…” You lowered your eyes, “I didn’t tell him, he guessed.” “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” Harold couldn’t touch you, so his nickname made you look up. “I’ll talk to him, maybe not tonight… You go, I’ll watch you, wait for me.” You nodded and he gave you a gentle wink before you both headed in different directions. You had one more drink before you started to play the tired card – although really you were far from it – and said goodbye to your parents, a few of the others you knew here, and finally bride and groom before you headed off. Outside of the reception room the hotel was cool and quiet (you supposed it was pretty late) and you could take a breather, sliding out of your heels on the steps it felt so good to be back on the floor. You wandered slowly up the corridor and across hotel reception, you weren’t exactly sure whose room you were heading to, but nearly everyone was on the same floor and you were all certainly on the same wing. You were just finding your way up the steps on the other side of reception when you heard the footfall of smart dress shoes behind you, and turned to Harold saying a goodnight to the receptionist who had pulled night shift. He continued his pace as he caught you, turning up the corridor but not before turning back and wishing you a goodnight. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow: who were you keeping up appearances for now? Hotel staff? You shook your head and turned, finding him back at his room, apparently having trouble with his key.

“Would you like some help?” You slipped yourself between him and his room door. “If you would be so kind.” “Not sure I was talking about your room key…” You smirked, prising it from his hand, waiting for the beep to pull him to your lips by his tie, you stumbled backwards into the room as he pushed the door. Harold waited until it had closed to pull you into him, hands into your hair. It felt so good to have him touch you again, and you realised how much you’d yearned for it all day, as his hands moved down your neck and shoulders to your back, he continued to pull you closer. “God, I love you.” You almost whimpered it – kisses leaving you breathless, and you weren’t sure if that was because of the whole wedding atmosphere, or that you hadn’t had even a single chance to tell him face to face in nearly two days. But he needed to know, urgently. He chuckled, nuzzling your face with his own, “I love you too.” Your breath still caught every time he said it, even now. After having to wait so long for his first, there wasn’t anything any less special about it a hundred, a thousand, a million times later. He was still nothing ever but delicate with you, guiding you across his room to the bed before his hands collected on your shoulders again. Harold took a step back, the low level lighting set the perfect mood, but he moved his body so the moonlight could shine on you through the still open curtains. “You are so beautiful.” His fingers gathered under your chin, to keep you from shying away from his eyes as your own hands collected on his chest, ready to push his jacket down his arms. “You truly are.” As if he didn’t already affirm this nearly every day of his life, and Harold kissed you again. “Me?” Your instinctive reaction to flirting was always to nervously joke, “You look in a mirror, lately?” Harold shook his head before his lips traced yours again and he let you relieve him of his jacket, you were quick to unfurl his tie too. You stilled at the buttons of his shirt because his hands were back on your shoulders again and you relaxed your stance, releasing his lips to watch him push the straps of your dress down, guiding his hands across to the slight zip, he ghosted you a kiss in thanks before he let your dress fall to the floor. This time as you caught his collar to run through the buttons you kissed him harder, pushing your body into his – encouraging him to touch you and moaning into his kiss as you did so. His shirt was off quick and joined your dress as he deepened the kiss and you wound yourself around him, enjoying the taste on his tongue. Your kiss continued to get hot and heavy as your hands shot to his belt; he was no longer of the persuasion to stop you on bedroom thresholds, opening his body up for you to relieve him of it and undo his suit pants. Relenting as his hands caressed your back, finding your bra clasp; you always felt so fragile under those large hands of his, but all Harold ever did was take care of you. He lifted you gently from the floor and laid you both back in the sheets, kicking off his pants as he did so. You remained locked in your kiss as he caught you in an embrace, pulling your panties slowly down your legs, your breathing was a little shallower, at the friction of his hips against yours. You could hardly wait for him now, eagerly reliving him of his own underwear. “Shh shhh…” Harold gathered your hands in his, breaking the kiss and you whined, making him chuckle, “Darling, we have all night…” “…Harry…” The way you whined his name was delightful and that flicker across his eyes that he couldn’t control had you craving more of him, “please.” And you knew he wouldn’t deny you if you asked politely. “All night.” He repeated, and all you hoped was you weren’t going to be too loud when the other guests retired to their rooms for the evening. Hooking your leg over his hips he made sure you were completely comfortable before he entered you. You held him tighter, trying to stifle your moans in his skin. But he groaned gently too, and it was an exquisite little sound. In the comfortable quiet before you moved together, you kissed him gently again, reaffirming what you’d said before, “I love you.” Free to tell him all night now, you weren’t about to waste any opportunity. He rubbed his hands over your skin, sweet and delicate, “Darling I know… I’ve known that for a very long time.” He caught your lips once more, “I only hope I remain deserving of such love.” You weren’t sure why he occasionally said things like that to you, maybe sometimes he felt guilty about the whole thing, but you would only ever reassure him. He was deserving, and you knew he would always remain that way.

*** It was very early morning when you awoke, too much excitement in the air – even in the aftermath of the wedding - for you to sleep. You stood out on the balcony, watching the watery sky as the sun began to break through. Harold was content to watch you from the bed as you were draped in his shirt and the bed sheet, looking out towards the ocean. There was always something about all these ocean views… He stood and half-dressed himself before joining you, he almost didn’t want to break the silence and how serene everything was. Harold opted instead to simply stand with you, caressing your exposed skin, stroking the small of your back delicately. You wore a soft smile, and although you weren’t looking at him, he knew that he was where all your focus stayed. Eventually you tilted yourself, so your head rested against him – and the noise you made was of content. The silence remained for a long time, because there was nothing for either of you to say. Why say ‘I love you’ when you’d spent your night showing each other how in love you were, and how much you appreciated the opportunity to be with each other… There was something even more beautiful about you in the afterglow, but Harold wasn’t sure he could handle just telling you that yet. There was something about the time of day, about the time you’d just spent with him, all the joy that surrounded the wedding that made you speak honestly. Something had weighed on you for a long time; it wasn’t a bad weight, just a muse you were almost too scared to voice. But after everything, right now felt like the best and only time to say it. So you did. “Is it crazy to want this... for me to wish this could be us one day?” You couldn’t look at him for fear of becoming so embarrassed that you’d stammer ‘forget it’ and run from the room. That perhaps all you would see in Harold was hesitation, and it might break your heart in two right then and there. You assumed his answer; that he would chuckle at you, and be as lovely with you as ever but tell you not to be so stupid – this wasn’t to be your fate. That wasn’t what Harold said, and the silence didn’t hang because he didn’t know what to say, but because what you’d voice demanded the gravitas and respect of a real answer, a thought out answer. He took a breath, looking out to the sky as you were, before smiling and taking your hand, pulling your body into his embrace and kissing the crown of your head. He kept his voice low and gentle, as delicate with you as ever. Why had you expected anything less? “No. I don’t think it’s that crazy at all.”

---

Thanks so much for reading 😘🤗

#This is strangely reminiscent of the Doug Peterson thing I was going to write the second part of so I'm 99% sure I'll be writing that soon!#I actually had to change the sex scene cuz I was like /isn't that what you were gonna write for Doug/ /oh shit you're right!!/#Because this isn't technically parted I might come back to them #but I feel done with Harold for now...#I miiiiiight pull up Amanda's idea eventually if I ask nicely and she lets me!#I really like that one and it goes with that hilarious meme #Lol everyone in my head rent free and Harold and Elias just slipped under that radar and laughed at them all.#Harold #Harold x Reader #Adore #Ben Mendelsohn #193 #Laina

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