#but i couldn't stop thinking about the mushroom prompt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

breninarthur · 1 year

Text

I tried to save a draft of this to edit on desktop, and tumblr decided to completely erase it from existence instead!

For @dadrunkwriting, @syrupwit sent me the prompt "Clover (safety, protection from evil)" from the Plantober 2022 list, for Kallian/Alistair or Kallian & Duncan.

So here's both!

In which Kallian lies dying in a field somewhere.

1,054 words. Positive ending.

❀ ❀ ❀

As Kallian lay coughing up blood in a field of weeds and wildflowers, all she could think about was how differently she'd expected her death to go.

The clanging of metal on corrupted metal still rang in her ears, but distant, as though in a faraway theatre she couldn't get into. She could hear the darkspawn's freakish war cries. She could hear her friends, but they were speaking some language she'd never learned.

Kallian thought she would go out in a blaze of glory. Loghain would cut her head off in front of jeering noblemen. The Archdemon would swallow her whole in its great maw. She would push someone out of the way at a crucial moment, and a horde of demons would rip her apart; the battle be remembered forever.

But this was no grand fight. There were no armies, no innocents to save. They had been attacked on the way to Denerim, taken by surprise, and Kallian had been stabbed unceremoniously.

Of all people, she thought of Nelaros. Did it mean something that she was dying in the same way, run through with a sword? She wondered if death had moved this slowly for him too.

Kallian heard a bark, and she almost laughed. She loved dogs. They were never officially allowed pets in the alienage, but that never stopped her from naming all the strays. It was nice that one had come to see her off.

There was a whine, much closer and clearer than anything else, and through the numbing pain, the blood, the tears; Kallian knew him.

"Ci–" she tried, but her voice was a sickening gurgle, and it hurt too much to try.

There was a puff of wind, and she forced her head to turn. Ciarth had plonked down next to her, whimpering as he looked at her with sad brown eyes. He'd placed a gentle paw on her arm. She wished she could feel it.

She wanted to say something, to tell him it was okay, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she dragged an armoured hand to scratch weakly at his cheek, and gave him a bloodstained smile.

As she did so, she noticed that between them; there was clover.

❀ ❀ ❀

"So, you can just... eat everything you find, basically?" Kallian asked, only half sarcastic as she frowned at the dandelions Duncan held.

He sighed.

"No. Remember what I told you about deathroot," he said with all the airs of a long-suffering teacher.

"Only the flowers!" Daveth piped up triumphantly.

"Never the flowers. Only the leaves," Kallian corrected, and waited for approval.

"Yes. And field mushrooms?" Duncan pressed with a raised eyebrow.

"Not the ones that smell funny," Kallian and Daveth intoned together.

A corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile exactly, but it was the closest they'd gotten from the Warden so far on their journey to Ostagar. She'd take it.

"What about this?" Kallian asked, pointing at the patches of emerald green that grew around them here and there.

Duncan followed her gaze, and bent to pick one of the little plants.

"Clover," he said, twirling it in his fingers. "Good to eat."

"That's it?" she prodded. Usually there was a cautionary tale, preparation details, or at least a pre-emptive apology for the taste.

"Yes," he said, before pausing. "In Rivain, some believe it protects you from evil."

He stared at it for a moment longer, seemingly lost in a memory. Kallian and Daveth traded a look. This was probably the most personal thing Duncan would ever say to them, which was saying something, really.

"We should get moving," Duncan suddenly continued, as though nothing had happened, tucking the clover into a pouch on his waist. Without waiting, he turned, and kept walking.

The recruits hesitated. Looked at each other again. And hastily plucked their own clover.

❀ ❀ ❀

Didn't do much good for them, Kallian thought, stirring another coughing laugh. Ciarth whined again.

Something was different. Stomping boots weren't so far away. Her blood felt it coming.

Suddenly or slowly, she didn't know anymore; Kallian was helpless at the feet of a hurlock. She couldn't move, and even if she could she suddenly felt as though there was no point. It was too late for her now.

She dimly registered the fact that Ciarth hadn't moved either. Strange. He normally gave his all to protect her, to protect any of them. So why had he come here just to watch her when their friends were still fighting?

Panic set in. She turned towards him again, looking for blood. Where was Wynne? Kallian couldn't reach her poultices. The hurlock would kill him right after her.

No, no, no.

The mabari had been through so much. A dead owner, the taint, the whole fucking Blight. And she'd put him there. Ciarth could have had a nice little retirement somewhere. Kate and Bevin's cuddly bodyguard. Roaming free with the Dalish. A study buddy for Dagna. Anywhere but here.

The darkspawn lifted its sword in slow motion.

She was going to die.

Just as the monster was about to plunge its blade into her heart, it disappeared from view.

Alistair had charged into it, shield-first, knocking it clean off its feet. With his show of strength, more darkspawn gathered, but Alistair was singularly focused on keeping them away. He barged and slashed, spun and shoved and kicked, stabbed and pummeled and protected. As usual, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Twelve hours or five minutes, it took however long it took. When he was done, he dropped to his knees next to her. He screamed something, and pressed his hands into her wound.

Kallian saw red robes in her narrowing peripheral vision, and leather too.

Clover. Fat lot of good that had ever done anyone.

No, she thought, as another pair of hands replaced Alistair's, bare and ice cold. She looked to Alistair, who hadn't moved too far away, trying to smile at her through his tears.

The familiar buzzing of Wynne's magic sung in her skin, and Morrigan's green light shone near Ciarth.

Alistair stroked her hair. He was speaking, but his words were still fuzzy. She laughed anyway, because he'd probably said something silly.

His autumn brown eyes were the last thing she saw before she passed out.

I've got my own clover.

#dragon age #aliwarden #tabris #alistair theirin #dao #kallian tabris #duncan #ciarth #dog #my writing #kallian x alistair #kallian a duncan #dadwc #q #op

11 notes · View notes

fuckyeah-dragrace · 1 year

Note

hi my love 💍💍 how about a secret santa prompt forrrrr jasco? or ooooh if you wanted to branch out maybe cam/willow ??

i love you kisses smooches <3<3

ooo this looks like lots of fun and cam and willow sound interesting!! ahh this got longer than I thought it would

“Alright, let’s pass out these gifts.” Kerri said, clapping her hands together and starting to grab the presents under the small Christmas tree.

“Willow, this one’s yours.” Jorgeous handed the wrapped box over to her. She was talking with Orion but accepted the gift, feeling the weight of gift in her hand. She started unwrapping the present and opening the box, pulling out a few sets of mushroom earrings.

“Sweet! Perfect for your new piercings, Will.” Daya nudged her shoulder, the blondes Santa hat lopsided on her head from Boscos excessive batting. “Who’s it from?”

“I don’t know. There wasn’t something to say who gave it.” Willow said, pushing back some hair. Everyone let out sounds of disappointment as Willow got up, saying she wanted to try on her earrings. She made it down the hall and to the bathroom, leaving the door open as she took out her old studs. She picked a red set of earrings and started trying to get them in her piercing but couldn't.

Camden was walking down the hall, grabbing something from her bag in Kerri's room and passing the bathroom. She slowed to a stop outside of the bathroom, hearing Willow mumble to herself in a slightly agitated tone.

"Are you alright there?"

Willow turned her head and noticed the redhead, blinking and bring her hands down from her ear. "Yeah just trying to get these new earrings in." Camden stood taller, looking down at the counter and seeing the jewelry strewn about, carefully but still in slight disorder.

"I see. Would you want some help? It's a little easier with help." She offered.

"Actually, that would be amazing if you could." The brunette smiled at her. Camden came into the bathroom, taking the earrings from Willows hands, totally not noting how soft her palms were against her fingertips. She brushed some of her brown curls and had a hand gently tilt Willow's head towards the bathroom light.

It was quiet in the small space, the girls breathing dwarfing their thoughts. Willow watched the concentration on Camden's brow in the mirror. Her blue eyes focusing on her ear and sliding in the metal and backing.

"One down." They switched sides and Camden brushed her hair out of the way again, her fingers grazing just barely against her face but still enough to make Willow blush a faint pink, easily hidden by the makeup Kerri insisted on trying on her.

This time, it seemed to take Camden a little longer, a slight tremor in her fingertips. Willow glanced over at her just as the metal slid in, tugging the still tender piercing. She hissed and her hand held onto the counter.

"Sorry darling." Camden says softly, her fingers gentler (if that were even possible) against Willow's earlobe.

"It's fine, you didn't mean to." She responded quickly, eyes darting to Camden and seeing her blue ones. Both inhaled at the eye contact, Camden's fingers stilling. They stayed like that for a moment, looking into each other's eyes and breathing in unison. Camden got the earring in smoothly and brought her hands away from Willow's ear. They stayed still again, silencing filling the space between them and looking away from each other. Camden's heart beating loudly and Willow fighting the growing heat on her cheeks.

"Your pretty." Camden says, breaking the silence.

"What?" Willow asks, pulled out of her thinking and looking at the redhead.

"I-I mean they look pretty. The earrings. The earrings look pretty. On you. They earrings look pretty on you." She corrected quickly and cursed under her breath, a pink coming into her cheeks that Willow thought made her look so pretty in the florescent bathroom lights. She looked down at the ground and Willow smiled, looking at the redhead's hand on the counter. She rested her hand on top of hers and smiled at the nearly breakneck speed Camden whipped her head down and up to look her in the eyes.

"You are too. You're very pretty, Cam." Her pale lips quirked up for a moment and Willow smiled wider now. "Thank you for the earrings."

Camden's cheeks flushed scarlet and her mouth dropped. "How did you know it was me?"

"You're not very secretive when it comes to online shopping. And I sit behind you in psych." She chuckled, seeing Camden turn even more red than Willow thought possible.

“Oh my god!” She groaned. “I’m so sorry, I completely ruined the surprise.”

“Don’t be upset. It was still a really amazing gift, Camcam.” She took Camdens hand in Jets and squeezed it gently, getting the British girl to smile at Willow. “To make it even, I got your gift too.”

“Really?” She looked at Willow and chuckled lightly. “What are the chances.”

Willow shrugged and shifted closer to Camden. “Maybe it was like, fate or whatever.” She hummed and nodded, silence settling between them again, this time warm and inviting. They stayed there for a few more moments, their hands together on the counter, fingers laced together before Camden spoke up.

“We should probably head back.” Willow blinked, nodding and waiting to see if Camden would let go first. She didn’t and neither did Willow. They opened the door and walked down the hallway, bodies close enough to hide their entwined hands.

“There you guys are. Come on! Jasmines been waiting to open her gift.” Bosco said, leaning lazily over the edge of the couch.

“And you made her wait? How cruel of a girlfriend.” Camden teased, sitting down next to Angeria. Willow went back to Orion, going back to talking. She looked across to Camden and the redhead glanced over at her, eyes catching each other. Willow smiled softly and Camden did in return, her cheeks a full shade of pink.

“So you like the earrings, Will?” Daya asked, twirling the new drumsticks in her fingers.

“Yeah,” She said. “Best gift ever.”

#for thecollectionsof #lady camden #willow pill #camillow? is that the name?#camillow it is

10 notes · View notes

daydreamingnightscreaming · 7 months

Text

October Prompt #9 - Ravens

The witch sat on the porch one early morning, sleep was not well to her. Her cottage was small, cozy, enough space for her to cook, practice spells and potions, and not feel like she was overly cramped. The outside was caked in moss, mushrooms, vines, and her yard was acres of forest with a lake near by. She wrapped her arms around her middle as she stared off into space. "You aren't listening to me at all, are you?"

The witch jumped and turned to the raven sitting on it's perch, "I am so sorry, Melinda, how rude of me", the witch bowed her head to the bird.

"Are you sure you're alright? You didn't sleep again, did you?" The bird tilted it's head.

The witch sighed, "No, and yes that makes three nights in a row, I can't keep my mind from racing."

"Over the man you saw the other night?"

Melinda didn't even need to open her mouth for the witch to hear her. As her familiar, they could speak telepathically, though the witch preferred to use her voice to respond.

The witch blushed, "He was beautiful, wasn't he?"

"Aye, but we've secluded ourselves for so many reasons, do you think it'd be safe to have a man, human for that matter, near us?"

"He doesn't need to know what we are, Mel. What do you think, should we have some fun?" The witch patted the birds head gently.

"Aye, alright. I'm staying close by just in case though", Melinda bobbed her head up and down.

With a snap of her fingers, the greenery caked cottage flourished in flowers and bright colors, the witches outfit changed into a long sleeved and warm dress with her shawl around her shoulders. Her beauty redefined and her hair curly and down to her waist.

She lifted her foraging basket and smiled, "Let's go get us a man, Melinda."

Melinda cawed in agreement and followed along as the witch made her way into the village market.

The moment she stepped foot into the market, the entire village noticed her. Whispers of her beauty and pale skin, no one even noticed it was the same young witch who distanced herself many years ago. She lifted up apples, smelled bread, and as she was about to look at some pumpkins she bumped into a chest.

"Aye! I am so sorry!" that's when his blue eyes caught her golden ones. There he was, the man she saw snooping around the forest a few weeks ago, the one her mind couldn't stop thinking about.

He stared at her, mouth agape, "Oh, I am so sorry m'lady!" He couldn't stop staring, "my, miss, you are absolutely stunning." he surprised himself by speaking his mind aloud, "I-I, please forgive me, how forward of me ma'am," he took her hand and kissed it, "M'name is Phillip."

The witch blushed and couldn't hold back a smile and giggle, "Hello, Phillip, my name is Esther."

"May I help you with your errands today, Esther?" Philip smiled.

"That would be lovely, sir, thank you", Esther perked up.

The two spent the day talking, laughing, and simply enjoying each other. Philip carried her overflowing basket, filled with her necessities and goodies. They made their way back to her cottage and she thanked him for his kindness.

"You have made this day so wonderful, dear Philip."

He seemed to get lost in her eyes every chance he could get, "Aye, anything for a beautiful woman such as yourself."

After a moment of staring into each others eyes, with casual glances down to each others lips, "Would you like to come inside? I could make us something to eat?" Esther suggested.

"Oh, uh, I would love that," Philip agreed.

Making their way inside, Esther made sure to make it seem such as a simple sweet cottage. Her spell made the inside bright with colors and inviting. Philip took a seat as Esther started gathering everything she needed, filling her cauldron - I mean, very large pot - with water, lighting the fire, and started chopping veggies.

Philip couldn't take his eyes off of her. He was seeing stars every time he was near her, any time he lightly touched her hand, got an inhale of her scent. She was perfect.

Esther glanced over and caught him staring, blushing, she continued to prep her veggies. Philip then stood, made his way into the kitchen, grabbed her by the waist, spun her around, and kissed her feverishly. Esther squeaked in surprise but soon gave into the kiss, it was messy, wet kisses, tongues fighting for dominance, hair being pulled, lips being bitten and then Philip took a step back. His skin was pale, his lips turning blue, he couldn't breathe. He looked at her with pleading eyes for help. All she did was stand there and watch him as he collapsed to the floor to his death. That's when rustling feathers caught Esther's attention.

"Well that didn't last as long as the previous one," Melinda stood on Philips dead body.

"The last one was a gentleman, until he wasn't. Philip's mother should have taught him, you don't kiss a woman on the first date. Especially in her own home, even then, stranger danger? Please", the witch snapped her fingers and everything went back to normal, "has your family eaten today?"

Melinda shook her head.

"Aye, give me a bit and let me get this going."

After about an hour of cooking the witch sat at her porch once again, eating her stew. Melinda flew up on her perch, blood on her beak, "Thank you, my friend."

"Aye, Melinda, I'm glad I have you to lean on after every heart break," both the witch and Melinda burst out laughing, "Now go on, I don't want the smell of rotting flesh out here in the morning."

Melinda flew over to her family, who were pecking and swallowing pieces whole of Philips flesh.

0 notes

defiledtomb · 2 years

Note

Hey there! Was kinda curious: what if one day Id physically brushed against MC and realized they could feel them, warmth and all, and smell their scent? Like, their senses came back but it was limited only to MC? This while things are still tense between them (Sorry this is such an Id-centric question, but their situation is kinda... unique. ALSO, please give Oma all my love, she seems like a sweetie~)

:D I'm so happy Id visits your thoughts enough to prompt this question! And hello, what a gorgeous scenario, that Id can only sense MC. A soulmate kind of thing :') I love it!

In my head, Id can sense other things eventually, once they learn to categorize and identify what it is they are feeling. There is no doubt in my mind that what Id senses from MC is foundational to their new perspective; they would be drawn to MC's warmth and connect their scent to positive feelings. If MC doesn't romance or befriend Id again, I'm sure it would lead to a lot of conflicting feelings!

I think when Id is visiting MC they are very overwhelmed but keeping it buried inside, though the memory of feeling MC with all senses will stick with them for the rest of their life!

Also a quick drabble under the cut because I couldn't stop thinking about this. Mist!Id without armor, discovering that they can sense MC:

The first thing Id hears is the humming, vibrating the air around the small meadow they have drifted into, caressing the still sleeping flowers awake. This is the golden hour -- Id’s mass of mist shimmers in the glow of morning sun, floating over the vegetation, rustling the leaves. Silently, they sweep over high grass towards the source of the sound.

A heaviness sets over Id as they spot MC; tendrils of sunlight dance across their skin, over the curve of their jaw. Id watches silently as MC hunches over a patch of mushrooms, foraging. An old sailors song rests easy on their lips, hummed softly for themselves. Id drifts closer, careful, planning for mischief.

Just as Id reaches a tendril of mist towards MC’s worn shirt, they snap their shape back, stars exploding throughout their soul, their mass, their body. Id can sense it now; flesh, heat, the breeze caressing skin, the scent -- the scent. Id assumes the shape of a person and slumps down behind MC, still unnoticed. Dragging their translucent hands over their face, Id heaves a breath as they smell it again -- it comes from MC, concentrated bliss enveloping everything Id knows. Should know. It’s been so long. Overwhelming sensations crawl throughout Id’s form, forcing them to hack on a sob.

“Who goes there!” MC shouts, brandishing their knife.

Id slips away quietly and quick, the sensations falling away the further they get. They won’t tell MC what happened today.

Id is sure they are trembling, vibrating throughout as they drift aimlessly back towards the thick of the forest.

No, they won’t tell today. But they wish they could.

#idren/ida #ouroboros-if #aa thank you for this ☺️ I love your thought! I can tell you that Id's senses #are a huuuge part of their romance route #:>#but now I want a soulmate AU with this!!! :sobs:#in another world #(I'm gonna use that tag for AU drabbles)#interactive fiction

106 notes · View notes

stonerjesusbaby · 3 years

Text

Felix, Rime, and Sage headcanons!

The Prompt: The LL boys coming home to their s/o and bringing them an item that reminded them of their s/o

characters: Rime, Sage, and Felix

warnings: none. I mean. there is a lot of stupid men collecting stupid shiny things. Author's Note: yes I do take headcanon requests! I probably should've specified that in my pinned. I am also pretending Rime isn't evil and he's just a deer boy and nothing else <3 Also ignoring sage's new plot line because I'm in pain. (he might be a little out of character too and for that I apologize) gn!pronouns

Rime

Rime doesn't usually leave for long periods of time.

this time was different though. As he just started dating, it was quite difficult this time.

how was he supposed to leave his darling alone when they barely foraged for themselves :(

The hug goodbye practically convinced him to stay home but he knew he couldn't do that.

However, he persevered and left like he was supposed to.

On his trip, he found many things he would keep for himself.

like, little mushrooms, unusual leaves, strangle sharp rocks, you name it.

On his way back, Rime found a bright purple crystal. He hadn't done much research on crystals and their meanings but he knew you liked them.

Of course, rule of nature... if there's one, there's more.

Rime ended up walking home with his pockets full of shiny crystals. Each one varying of shape and colour.

So when his beloved hugged him when he returned home, they were surprised to hear a few chimes from the crystals knocking against each other.

Rime opened the door to hear the instead rapid tap of feet running towards him. A smile rested on his face as he opened his arms. Almost immediately did he feel the embrace of his darling. Unfortunately, he also heard some of the crystals in his pockets bash together. They pulled away and tilted their head. Their eyes spoke the command before they could even think about it. Rime reached into his pockets and presented his dear with the crystals. "I heard you mention that you like studying these... things so I found some on the way home. The purple ones remind me of you."

Sage

Sage is one to leave frequently for work.

You don't like how he leaves all the time but

on the bright side, he brings back a bunch of interesting things.

this man.

this man collects shiny rocks for you.

if it catches his eye, he will grab it to show it to you.

Granted most of them were dirty rocks he found shiny and on the side of the sidewalk and you can't even scold him for it.

you want to scold him but every time you get ready to, he talks about how it's glow reminded him of you.

It warms your heart every single time he says it. He's an idiot but he's your idiot.

Every time he comes home with something new, you can't help but imagine his tall figure scurrying around the dirt, looking for similar objects.

If only you knew that is literally what happens.

Sage opened the door, trying to be sneaky. He wanted to surprise his beloved this time. Last time, they were waiting for him by the door and he couldn't start hiding everything he found for them. Sage shut the door softly behind him and his figure stalked into the shared bedroom. His cheeky smile appeared once he realized they were asleep. Sage was very excited about this. It was the perfect moment for everything! He started to sneak towards the bed, holding one of the rocks. Sage set it down on the nightstand and then dug into his bag for the pouch he kept the rest of the rocks in. He should've known that he was being a little too vigorous in his shirt when he heard his dear shift in the bed. Before he could stop, he felt arms around his waist and a face pressed into his torso. "I thought you came home tomorrow." they muttered against his skin. Sage chuckled and stroked their hair. "couldn't wait to get a bite of me, huh?" He teased. "Anyways, move, I have something to show you." They pulled their head away and Sage put the little rock pouch in their hands. At this point, They already knew that there were rocks in the bag they were handed and laughed at him. here we go again...

Felix

He doesn't leave for long.

when he leaves, it is never for work lmao.

He does take short little walks outside maybe once a week.

just like sage, he's going to collect shiny things.

however, he tends to collect flowers more than stupid shiny rocks on the side of the road.

He gives you his favorite flowers along with others he found along side his walk

and yes he definitely picked these out from a neighbor's yard, leave him alone.

flowers are everywhere in the house at one point.

in pots, on the shelves, in the bedroom. everywhere.

like, it's almost alarming how much he brings home

and each day he's just like "these reminded me of you, dear :>"

Felix approached the door of his home, trying to rearrange the flowers in hand. He did this at least once or twice a week. He would go out for a walk and come back with assorted flowers that he found growing. Most of the time, it was a hellbent search for black Hellebore flowers and once he found them, he would just pick up whichever one he found. Most of the ones he picked up were bright and vibrant. It seemed like they just bloomed. As he walked home, he would smile to himself. Oh, how the colours reminded him of his dear barista. What wonders they have done to him to change his way of behaving. Opening the door, Felix could find himself immediately swooning. They weren't even doing anything worth swooning over. They were asleep on the couch... Felix chuckled to himself and strolled over to the sleeping figure. he threaded one of the brightest flowers he had in his hand so it would rest on their ear and kissed their cheek. He'll let them awake to their gift instead.

#ardenwrites #fictif last legacy #last legacy #fictif #fictif felix #fictif rime #felix escellun #last legacy felix #rime solano varela #fictif sage #sage lesath #last legacy sage

70 notes · View notes

augment-techs · 2 years

Note

"I wish you would write a fic where... Coinless Skull meets up with Billy’s ghost.” Something like @felonious-glitch ‘s art???? I’ve wanted a fic from that for so long

For the record, this involved another prompt, too, but I accidentally deleted it. It includes Soulmate AU~

The red string. The first words. The timers. The sounds. The colors.

Billy felt like those all would have been easier to handle when he was alive; and he didn't change his mind after he was dead.

Grid Ghosts, those who remained more real than other spirits on planets with unfinished business or a grudge or an extreme kind of denial, who stayed to help other Rangers as much as they could in almost unnoticeable ways; Grid Ghosts still experienced their soul-ties and what those meant.

Flowers and weeds, mushrooms and moss, poison spores and algae: when Billy was alive, he was never sure exactly who his soulmate must have been to experience so much and give him so much to think over once these bloomed from Billy's own skin.

And then he died and watched what happened more than anything before he figured out the small ways he could help.

Then he knew.

Many people mourned the loss of Kimberly's fall to Drakkon--especially, and perhaps unsurprisingly, Bulk--and barely held themselves together in the week that followed.

But the same day Drakkon snared her was the same day Billy got his answer about his soulmate.

A daisy and dogwood bloomed from his chest above his heart, brought up and pointed out to him by Jason in passing by with a couple Red ghosts that stepped over from Somewhere Else, going to look in on the Coinless and the doctors trying to keep civilians alive, Zordon waiting for them and giving one look Billy's way that spoke volumes in his silence.

Billy had stared and thought and touched fingers to the blooms that he hadn't had in the months since his death (usually he simply found himself covered from head to toe in black or toxic blue algae, sometimes a vermillion mold as well; it came and went in bursts and he was rather disconcerting to look at for many of the other Colors when it was in full force) but found so strangely familiar in the moment.

On an instinct he couldn't fathom the source of, he went to see how Zack was doing rather than Trini and Bulk.

His first thought when he found Zack speaking to Skull in hushed tones, Zack sitting down and looking almost horrified while Skull remained standing, looking determined, was that they had both gotten so tall and he was never going to know if he might have grown with them.

But the self-pity was shot to hell when he actually understood what was being said and the dogwood encompassed the daisy--both falling towards oblivion and setting into the ether of the Grid when Skull told Zack there was no argument; replaced by dandelions and goat's beard when Zack agreed in terror of the future.

Skull left out the back, taking nothing with him but the clothes on his back; the weapons he left with Zack, the future he left with everyone else.

He didn't stop to tell Bulk what was going on.

He only paused on his walking towards the Palace, halfway between being able to change his mind and sealing himself to chance and fate, to stop off at the crumbling ruins of the Command Center.

Skull stood over the place Billy had died, some of his blood still soaked in the ground turning it to look like rust.

He tucked himself down over the color, palm flat the to earth, and cried without sound and tears enough to fill a teacup. Ridiculous words like, "I should have been there," and "If there was any way," and "If we could have swapped places," and the worst of all that would have made Billy vomit if at all still possible, "I wish I could have told you."

Billy was terrified as Skull wiped his eyes and marched onward. Horrified still more when he looked down at his chest to find all the wrong things.

Water lettuce that sulked once they reached his shoulders. Pumpkins that started small, but filled to a great heaviness so they dropped around him like rotting vessels of filth. Velvet smooth algae in the color of blood that danced across his skin in a wave before unfolding into curdled mushrooms of so many varieties--none of which held onto him for long as he trudged after Skull (no, no, no; Eugene) like nothing less than a poltergeist out of some macabre fairy tale; dropping his soulmate's emotions after him like a motley trail that lacked breadcrumbs.

He hated knowing, as time and tide came upon their world, that the seeds he dropped would grow into the first trees, flowers, fruits, weeds that the Grid had ever experienced. Would not vanish like they would if he was still alive, but continue to flow with the Grid energy, provide some variety that the other Ghosts did not know could exist.

They would all think it beautiful. A gift for their eyes alone, something to hold onto between dimensions other than a vastly Colored emptiness or the waking dream of the living world they could never touch but only experience between moments.

Zordon and Jason from Billy's world, the slowly growing number of Tommy Olivers that Drakkon kept running through to prove his own worth, the other Rangers that got in the way or crossed the dimensions because their Colors allowed it so. They all thought the trees that glowed in Reds, Blues, and Yellow were a gift. They all thought the flowers and weeds that shuttered in Greens and Pinks were a gift. They all thought the moss and mushrooms in their Blacks and Whites were a gift.

But Billy, in his never changing misery and grief for the living, and the Colors in their shifting forms that found him after incidents of watching Skull be traumatized and debased for the Cause; they knew better.

Gifts and Curses often wore each other's clothes.

His death was not a good one.

While Jason and Zordon went to greet Zack after his dancing fight for reanimation with Black, happy and proud and ready as mothers with their newborns to hug the Coinless leader, all the other ghosts were experiencing a terror and worry that they rarely felt as entities of a force beyond their true knowing.

In waves and shaking fractures, in onrush and sliding, Billy could not stop the never-ending growth; the result of Eugene grieving Zacks' loss, and buying time for the Ninjor and Zack and all of their friends and allies from other worlds, and fighting a losing battle for his own life.

Seeds and saplings, spores and wind-sweeping blooms, pollen overgrowing, petals in their multitudes falling, falling, falling and growing en masse around Billy's feet with each unsteady step he took in following around what amounted to Eugene's last show.

It was terrifying, and beautiful; so many of the Mastodon and Saber-Tooth sentries going down with swift kicks and one-two punches, weapons landing at their sides and beneath them in unconsciousness. The few Tyrannosaurus sentries available to Finster-5 doing their best to parry and counter staff movements, with blades so sharp and eyes alight, but Eugene was nothing if not resourceful and focused and...

Billy was so proud of him, even unto the end of the dance, where the little monster of an artist-turned-cyborg waited until he was just out of reach and used a flash bomb.

It wouldn't have even taken that much--Eugene had suffered trigger migraines all of his life from things as simple as a florescent light shining too pale and terrible in a grocery store.

Still, Billy cried at the feeling--without seeing--of a clutch of skeleton flowers forming at the crown of his head, bursting like a shot of water into full bloom, scattering to take their place among the wild ivy and nettles at his ankles as Eugene blinked too long, the light agonizing in his cerebral pain, and went down with fists and knives and metal rods aimed true.

Probably the only reason he wasn't beaten to death underfoot was the one Black Sentry--who remained at the door in the back, who kept his hands at his holstered weapons and shook like a burning husk of a house--mentioned to Finster-5 that perhaps there was information to be had.

"Maybe Lord Drakkon still has use for him yet, sir."

Billy knew that voice. He'd been with Eugene in death too long not to know every face he'd come across, every villain in the tower, every poor soul chained to a special kind of hell they'd found themselves in because they'd succumbed to the foolish belief that Drakkon would ever give anything, even scraps of human comfort, without their name written in their own blood forever and ever.

From the way three pure Black Diamond apples formed and fell from from his ribs, landing soundless and so fragile on the remains of all emotions grown in the last little while, Eugene knew, too.

(Adam tried his best, he did; and Billy didn't doubt both he and Eugene forgave him in all things once Drakkon had Eugene walked his way, had him on his knees, face in hand, smiling to hide the fact that Eugene's belief in his friends really did scare him in a way he probably hadn't felt since he was still young and innocent.

Both forgave Adam, if for nothing else, because he was the only person in hell that made an effort to keep Eugene's broken and cooling body off the floor.)

Eugene's Augury Bloom was very different from Billy's.

In life and in the line of sight to all, still growing against the backdrop of ruined buildings and the sky that still opened wide to sunlight on restless days, Billy's last plant grown from Eugene's broken heart at the moment of Billy's death was the beginning of a ceiba tree. Small and innocent looking once upon a time, in the two decades since, it had grown into an absolute behemoth that made Billy truly appreciate why the Mayans believe it to be sacred among the dead.

Because Billy was a Grid Ghost at the onset of Eugene's death, the end result could not be seen by the living.

But the Colors that supported Billy in all the years of his haunting, save Orange and Red who had told Billy to be patient and wait as they gave Skull their challenge and tests so that he might return to the living once Drakkon ran aground of his own mistakes, could appreciate the bough that launched from Billy to remove itself and take root in the Grid itself.

As the shock wore itself into something numb, mind still spinning and horrified at the sound Eugene's neck had made, Billy sat and waited and watched the Augury Bloom grow much stronger and faster than it ever would have in the living world.

A yakusugi, or Japanese Cedar, that survives in poor environments, survives high altitude and heavy rains, resistant to rot from the resin it produces.

Finding a spot inside the bower the tree provided, back to the bark and eyes unfocused as he still remained in shock, Billy couldn't help thinking how fitting it was for Eugene "Skull" Skullovitch.

He didn't notice his own Color depart from watching, looking up and vanishing out of Billy's awareness as silent footfalls approached, unbelieving and too hopeful.

"...Bones?"

There were no shadows in the Grid, but if there were, he was sure one would have passed over the vines and nettles, dandelions, apples, clover, common fleabane and orange mushrooms, all before settling over Billy's visage.

As it was, Billy instead felt his heart in his throat, the feeling he'd become accustomed to before moss and algae came up from bones to tissue to skin, but without completion.

He found his feet as a booted pair stood before him, eyes traveling along white and Red and long legs accented by a uniform cape and one arm hung limp as it was squeezed by trembling fingers and--

Billy had to tilt his head to look Eugene directly in the eyes. He'd gotten so tall...

Years and years of waiting and hoping to say something, anything, to him again, and Billy couldn't stop shaking.

There were small lines of grey in Eugene's hair; there were shadows under his eyes from so many nights spent in pain or terrified; there were small wrinkles that came from the stress of simply living. There were scars that Billy had seen and traced without touching under the suit that remained because the Grid willed it.

His eyes, though. Those were still...

Billy had raised his hand to...to touch...or confirm the man was standing before him as nothing more or less than himself; but it remained still between them, raised and stretched out and terrified to be wrong--

It would figure that Skull would be brave for the both of them.

A hand much bigger than he remembered, big enough to cover Billy's entirely in a closed palm, wove their fingers together as his other hand found its way to Billy's cheek; thumb grazing across cool skin under his eye (he'd done this when they were little, too; to wake Billy from a nap, to pull him away from papers scattered as he fell asleep doing homework) and palm cradling his jaw perfectly.

Eugene smiled and Billy was suddenly completely unaware of what he was saying as he crashed hard into Eugene's chest, crying without tears and winding thin arms around his soulmate--and, oh, they were, they were, they were--as Eugene wrapped him in a hug, equally fierce, but passionately gentle with his cape blanketing the both of them in their embrace.

Billy only stopped his aimless, seemingly neverending barrage of words and apologies and promises he wished could be kept when Eugene took a breath shuddering and deep and spoke kissing into the part in Billy's hair.

"It was all worth it to see you again, Billy. Everything is worth this."

#boom! comics power rangers #world of the coinless #shattered grid #mmpr #ggpr #billy cranston #eugene skull skullovitch #mighty morphin comics boom! studios #go go power rangers #ask fill

6 notes · View notes

naomana · 2 years

Note

Hello, could I request "You don't have to hide your tears from me." for salie?

Full prompt list here

"You don't have to hide your tears from me." Sam/Paulie

Follow up on this and this story

TW: mention of drug missues and selfharm

Almost a year have passed. And it was difficult year. Sammy fell into addiction quickly, but getting out of it took a long time. He had Paulie by his side almost all the times, but when Paulie had to leave him alone, that was the time Sammy relapsed. And they both hated it, but couldn't do anything about it. Just pick up the pieces and start again.

Like falling of a bike. Brush of your knees, or prodded arms in Sammy's case, and get on the bike again.

The first time Paulie came back to Sammy in state of blissful nothingness, just laying on the bed looking like shit, he was upset. And maybe disappointed. But helped him up without a word and cared for him, because he was all he had left. Nothing was, and nothing ever will be, the same without Tommy.

It was like somebody turned off the lights. It was bearable during the day, all the noise and daylight. But nights. Awful. Couldn't see anything.

Paulie opened the door and caught a glimpse of Sammy walking towards the bedroom. Was he holding something? Paulie panicked, dropping everything he was holding, rushing after him.

"Sammy?!"

"Paulie? You're back early." Sammy was surprised to see him. He was squeezing something in his hands and Paulie forcefully made him open them. His eyes landed on little pocket watch Tommy gave him for his birthday. His shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief.

"Sorry. I thought.."

"What? That I'm about to snort something?"

Sammy squeezed the watch again and Paulie rubbed his upper arms, before pulling him for hug.

"I'm sorry. I know you're trying your best. I'm just too worried for you."

"I did think about it." Sammy admitted and buried his face into the embrace. He bit his bottom lip, holding his tears.

Paulie pulled away from him to see his face. He looked just like a year ago, hurt and broken. And he hated the fact there was little to nothing he could do about it. Just being there and keeping him in line. Ironic that Paulie, the good old party animal, was the more responsible one this time.

He noticed the tears gathering in his eyes and how Sammy tried to stop them from coming. He just caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead.

"You don't have to hide your tears from me Sammy. I'm not mad. You thought about it but didn't do it, right?"

Sammy stopped trying and let the tears roll down his cheeks. The closer to the anniversary of Tommy's death it was, the worse he felt. The more he wanted to use everything at once and just not feel or think anything.

Paulie was wiping off tear after tear, before he pressed his forehead against Sammy's.

"You're doing really good sweatheart. Tommy would be really proud of you, you know that?"

"He'd be disgusted.. disappointed." Corrected him Sammy through his sobbs and Paulie placed firm kiss on his lips, stopping him from talking any more nonsense.

"No. He would look at the good things, like he always did. He'd be happy for you trying."

"Am I dead already? Tommy's gone and you are being sensible, sober and right?" Sammy chuckled softly through his sobs, making the smile on Paulie's lips grow like a mushrooms after rain.

"That's my old Sammy. Picking on me just because.. Look we will get Tommy some nice flowers tomorrow and have a bottle or two with him."

"He'll be thrilled. Two guys, sitting on his grave with bouquet and booze." Sammy shook his head, little smile playing with his lips.

"Oh you know he will fucking love it." Paulie smooched him with giggle and went back to the door, picking up all the things he just dropped. Nothing was broken and he just carried on while Sammy was holding the pocket watch, looking at little picture of Tommy inside.

Maybe he'll see him again one day. And sure as hell he didn't want to tell him how fucking misserable he was after his death, even though he was. No, his sweet good Tom would love to know he was able to move on and carry on living. And so he was doing just that, just for him. And maybe Paulie. Because that idiot would surely jump of the closest bridge if Sammy was gone too.

#mafia definitive edition #sam trapani #paulie lombardo #sam x paulie #tw: drug missuse #tw: self harm #mentioned

13 notes · View notes

snowstark · 4 years

Text

Everyone Needs a (Baby) Day Off

Peter goes into little space for the first time since he and Bucky talked about it, and Bucky takes extra good care of him.

a little!peter x daddy!bucky story by @buckettbarnes and @snowstark

you can also read it here on ao3

Peter has been feeling a little out of character all day, like he needed to let himself relax in his headspace for some time. He hasn’t for a while, so he figures it’s a good idea to make himself comfortable and feel physically small at the same time—by wearing his boyfriend’s much bigger clothes. He wiggles himself into Bucky’s favourite hoodie, then sits down on the bed for a while as he starts to relax; feeling much better with nothing to do and the scent of Bucky’s favourite hoodie surrounding him.

Bucky is surprised to find the house extra quiet when he came home. Usually, Peter has the TV switched on and it would be playing an animal documentary—Peter loves those. But the television isn’t on and Peter isn’t sitting at his usual spot on the couch.

So, Bucky makes his way upstairs. He checks his room and smiles when he sees Peter sitting on his bed, drowning in one of his hoodies. Bucky's clothes are too big for Peter, but that never stops him. "Baby, I'm home!" he says brightly, entering the room. "I was wondering if you want to get takeout for dinner tonight?" He pauses when Peter stares wide-eyed at him. "Doll, what's wrong?"

Peter doesn’t realise how long he’s been laying there until the bedroom door opens; he could only stare at the other man, a little nervous to admit what’s going on in his head. “Hi... Hiya.” The smaller boy says after a moment, rubbing his rosy cheeks with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Bucky’s home!” Peter squeaks out, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Bucky smiles at that. Peter is so darn cute. "Yeah, I'm home, honeybun." He approaches and sits down next to Peter. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, he asks, "So, about that takeout... are you up for it?" He waggles his eyebrows teasingly. "I know you couldn't stop talking about how good that pizza place was last time." He stares quizzically at Peter. "Are you okay, baby?"

Peter moves aside for Bucky to sit with him, leaning into the kiss and reaching out to take his hand with both of his own. “Um... Yep! Pizza.” He nods and then looks at Bucky again, meeting his eyes. “I’m good, da— Bucky.” He goes pink again and tries to hide his cheeks with the hood of the sweater. “Can we get juice, p’ease? Apple?”

Peter is feeling shy, especially for his first time being in littlespace around Bucky. He doesn’t want to just come out and say it, of course, but he doesn’t feel like acting big to hide it. Not feeling rational, he decides the best way is to keep quiet; hoping Bucky will pick up on it by himself.

Bucky narrows his eyes; he hasn’t missed the way Peter is stumbling over his words, or the way his cheeks are going red. But he doesn’t want to push Peter; he knows that he’ll tell him if he wants to. "Yeah, honey, we can get juice. Let me order now." He pulls out his phone, relieved that mobile orders were a thing, while keeping an eye on Peter at the same time. He’s acting odd, all shy and squeaky, and Bucky is going to get to the bottom of it. Offering his hand, he says, "Wanna go downstairs and start getting ready for dinner? It'll take about fifteen minutes. We could wash our hands and stuff before it arrives."

While Bucky is ordering, Peter stares over his boyfriend's shoulder, poking at his phone to add dessert to their dinner for tonight. Once they’re done he stands up and nods. “Mhm! Wash hands, gotta clean.” He takes Bucky’s hand and practically drags him out of the room. “Oh! Gimme a second, gotta—” He stops speaking entirely in favour of padding into his own room.

Peter returns less than a minute later; holding a stuffed bear Bucky once won him on a date. “All done, wash hands.” He repeats, heading for the stairs.

Bucky grins when he sees the stuffed animal in Peter’s hands. Then, he falters a bit when he sees how small Peter was looking. Could this be...? Bucky shakes his head. Peter will tell him if he wants to, he reminds himself once again. For now, he would just keep going with the flow.

Peter is staring down the stairs.

“Wanna hold my hand?” Bucky offers cautiously.

The little watches the stairs for a moment, psyching himself up to go down them— usually he’d slide down on his butt to avoid falling. He looks at Bucky and nods, relieved that he offered. “Yes please, don’t wanna fall.” He reaches out and grabs the older man's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go!” He giggles and begins to walk down, taking it one step at a time just in case he slips. If Bucky wasn’t around he totally would’ve done it sitting; it’s way more fun that way.

Bucky overlooks Peter’s actions with amusement, keeping a close eye on him in case he accidentally fell. He couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Go wash your hands, baby,” he says, ushering Peter to the washroom. “Make sure your stuffie doesn’t get wet. Da— I’ll join you in a moment.” He hopes Peter hadn’t caught his near slip-up; he isn’t sure how he’d react. Peter seems very shy at the moment. Suddenly, he wonders if Peter would ask for help in washing his hands too— that would definitely be an indicator as to how he is feeling.

Once they reach the bottom Peter is happy to let go of Bucky's hand, running towards the washroom. He sets the stuffie down on the closed toilet and then glances back at Bucky, expecting him to come inside too. “Um...” He bites his lip briefly. “Bucky? Wanna do— wash together, please?” The boy questions. At least that way he can copy the other man's actions.

Bucky smiles. “Yeah, honey, we can do it together,” he agrees. Peter looks very timid, standing there with the most adorable puppy eyes. There’s no way Bucky can say no to that. So they wash their hands together, Bucky gently guiding Peter’s hands to the soap bottle. “Gotta make sure we’re squeaky clean before we eat,” he tells him, even going as far as to gently tickle his hands with his own.

Peter's smile brightens and he begins to wash his hands with Bucky's help, giving a soft giggle at the tickling. “You’re so silly!” he exclaims; making sure his hands really are clean before they leave the bathroom.

When they’re finished, the smaller boy picks his stuffie back up and Bucky leads him to the dining table, where Peter sits. “You don’t wanna watch some TV until the food gets here?” Bucky asks, though he notices how content Peter looks.

“Um... No thank you,” Peter says, swinging his legs under the table as he places his bear in his lap. It would be a total giveaway if Peter asked him to put cartoons on, anyway. He loves to watch Winnie the Pooh.

Bucky shrugs. “Okay. You tell me if you change your mind.” He gets his phone out to check how much longer the pizza will take while keeping an eye on Peter at the same time. With every passing second, it becomes more and more clear that this is exactly what he’d suspected—Peter is feeling little. Bucky refuses to acknowledge it first though; they would go at Peter’s pace and if that means pretending that nothing out of the blue is happening, that’s exactly what they’ll do. Thankfully, the pizza arrives sooner than expected and Bucky leaves to fetch it.

Peter sits there waiting the entire time, stuffed animal pressed into his chest. He hums a soft tune to keep himself occupied, tapping his fingers on the table. He really wants to colour, but feels too shy to ask Bucky. He’s missed him all day, and just wants cuddles and pizza before he settles in for bed.

Once the pizza has arrived Peter watches Bucky get out plates and- oh dear, a glass cup. There’s no way he can handle drinking out of that right now... “Hey- um, Buck..? Could I please have my special cup? With... with the lid.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch. Nodding, he says, “Of course, baby. Do you want anything else, hm?” He goes to fetch Peter’s sippy cup, smiling to himself. He has to admit, Peter is even more adorable when he’s feeling little.

The boy smiles when Bucky doesn’t dismiss him, truly thinking he’s getting away with hiding his headspace.

Bucky returns and moves to set it down in front of Peter, and then stops. Right, juice. Peter isn’t going to be drinking oxygen. He’s glad when Peter has a pleased look on his face, and he prompts once again, “Anything else before we start eating, honeybun?”

He gives his stuffie a squeeze as Bucky sets his cup down and hums quietly. “Kiss!” He says very seriously, making grabby hands for Bucky to lean down to him.

“Kiss,” Bucky agrees with a chuckle and obeys. Then, he puts a slice of pizza on Peter’s plate and says, “Eat up, honey.” He eyes the slice of pizza, seeing the mushrooms and onions and green peppers on it, waiting to see how Peter will react. It’s not a secret that Peter favours regular cheese pizza over any other type. He doesn’t say anything more though, just busies himself by getting a slice for his own plate.

He gives him his kiss, then turns his attention to his pizza. A frown forms on his face immediately, and he eyes it nervously. “Pizza...” he mumbles before quietly picking the vegetables off of it, grimacing slightly, “not my favourite kind.” He pouts.

Bucky tuts at that, deciding to push a bit. "No, baby, you need to eat your veggies too. They're good for you, yeah?" Bucky gently tugs Peter's hand off of his pizza and places the vegetables back on it, taking note of the slight pout on Peter's face. "Don't you want to be all big and strong and healthy?”

Peter looks at him and shakes his head gently. “N-No... No, I don’t want to, please...” he says in a soft voice, trying not to get upset, “I don’t want them, Buck... Just cheese.” He looks at his pizza, frowning again.

Bucky hesitates. He doesn’t want to push Peter, but he also doesn’t want to let him run rampage. “Okay, sweetheart. How about we make a deal? You have 3 pieces of veggie with each slice of pizza you have. If you do that without complaining, we can have ice cream for dessert.” Personally, Bucky thinks it’s a very good deal. Trying to convince Peter, he takes a big bite of his own slice, making sure to munch on the veggies as well. “See, baby? Yummy!”

Peter looks at him again and shakes his head gently. “I don’t want them, Daddy, I just want cheese!” he says, then realises what he let slip, and he goes bright red. “No...” he whispers and moves to grab his stuffie, hiding behind it. He really didn’t mean to! He just feels so passionately about not eating the veggies on his pizza, he forgot to think about his words before they came out of his mouth.

Bucky freezes for a moment. Then, he quickly moves back into action. “Hey, sweetheart, doll, it’s okay.” He gets up and moves to hug Peter. “You know I can be your Daddy whenever you need me to.” He sees Peter go even redder—he hadn’t even known that was a possibility—but he pushes on. “C’mon, honey. The pizza’s really yummy. I don’t want to have to tell you again.” He hopes that’s enough to calm Peter down from both his embarrassment and stubbornness.

Peter peeks out from behind the stuffed animal when Bucky wraps him up in a hug, making sure he doesn’t look angry at all. He can’t help going impossibly red, feeling very embarrassed about his slip-up. “Um... Can I jus’ do peppers?” he asks, trying to compromise. Mushrooms are way too yucky for him right now. “And cake for dessert?”

Bucky lets out a hum. "Green peppers and the onions, baby," he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Then we can have cake for dessert. Deal?" He holds out a fist for Peter to fist bump to seal the deal.

He glances back at the pizza, deciding mushrooms are way better than onions. “Um... Pepper and mushroom?” he suggests, then fist bumps Bucky anyway so that he can’t change his mind. “Cool, you gotta take all the onion off! I don’t wanna do it. Icky!”

Bucky stifles a snort of laughter at that and takes the onions off. “Here, baby, how’s the pizza lookin’ now, hm?”

Peter hums. “Not lookin’ the best but ‘s okay,” he says, then opens his mouth for the slice

The older man holds it up to Peter’s mouth, wanting to hand feed him but also see his reaction to being coddled. “Good boy,” he cooes when Peter obediently takes a bite, blushing.

Peter goes all red at a Bucky’s coddling, chewing carefully. It’s totally not his favourite pizza, but it’s okay. “Daddy, you take bite!” He exclaims, wanting to make sure Bucky really is enjoying it, and he’s not making Peter eat veggies just for fun.

Bucky laughs at that, unable to help but smile fondly at his baby boy. Peter is just too adorable. “Okay, baby,” he agrees, even though he has his own slice right there in front of him. He takes a bite, then offers it back to Peter. “Now you, baby. It’s all yours; don’t want you going hungry at night.”

Peter claps his hands when Bucky takes a bite, smiling brightly. He reaches for it and quietly begins to eat by himself, somehow managing to get sauce on his face and hands, and peppers on the table. But it’s no big deal to Bucky anyway, because he cleans everything up right away.

The cake is both his and Peter’s favourite and Peter clearly enjoys it as well judging by the cake smeared on his cheeks.

“You done eating, honey?” Bucky asks, and when Peter nods in response, he says, “Okay, great.” He glances at the clock. “I know it’s a bit earlier than usual, but what do you say to having bath time now, hm?”

Peter enjoys the rest of dinner, even if he does get cake over the hoodie he stole from Bucky. He reaches for him when he’s finished, hoping Daddy will pick him up. “Bath time? Bubble?” He asks, not objecting to it. “Can I play with toys, Daddy?”

"Yeah, you can," Bucky agrees. "C'mon, lemme carry you." He easily hoists Peter up onto his hip, holding him securely while going upstairs. "What kind of toys do you want, sweetheart? Boats, fishies, and duckies?" He suggests, trying to remember all the bath toys they had.

Peter wraps his arms around Bucky, letting his head rest on the other man's shoulder as they head upstairs. “Boats, please,” he says, feeling calmer now Bucky’s treating him exactly how he wants to be when he’s small. “They get lost in bubbles. He murmurs to him, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“They get lost in bubbles, huh.” Bucky chuckled at that. They entered the washroom and Bucky reluctantly set Peter down on the closed lid of the toilet. “Okay, honeybun, lemme just get the tub all filled up for you. You wanna wear your comfy jammies to bed tonight?” He and Peter usually both slept in just their boxers, but he figured that if Peter was feeling small, he’d prefer pyjamas—maybe even the onesie they had. “Or do you wanna wear some of Daddy’s clothes?”

Peter blushes when his feet touch the floor, pulling them up so he doesn’t have to feel the cold tile. “Ummm..” He pauses to think, a small frown on his face. “Can I have my onesie? The bear one, you know it.” He plays with the hem of his pants, feeling shy for asking. It was rare he asked for his onesie, but he found it so very comforting to wear.

Bucky smiled. “Sure thing, buddy.” He added the bubbles into the bath and watched with Peter as they foamed and rose. “C’mon, clothes off and into the tub! Time for you to get squeaky clean.” Bucky helped a blushing Peter out of his clothes.

The boy lifts his arms for Bucky to take off his shirt, smiling up at him. “And can I have story?” He reaches down to take off his socks, putting them in the laundry basket. Once he’s undressed he’s blushing properly, trying to keep himself warm. “I get in, p’ease?” He nudges him.

Bucky helps Peter into the tub, holding his hand and letting him settle into the warm water. “Yeah, you can have a story as long as you’re a good boy and listen to Daddy when I say bath time is over,” Bucky replies sternly, but there’s a fond smile on his face that’s definitely not going away any time soon. “What kind of story are you thinking, hm?” He pops in Peter’s bath toys too, watching as the boy squeals and tackles them with his hands. He decides to let Peter play a bit before actually getting him all squeaky clean.

Once he’s in the bath Peter warms up, the heat of the water flushing his skin a healthy shade of pink. He listens to daddy before shrieking, grabbing his boat out of the water and quickly diving it back into the bubbles— he completely forgets to answer the question, too focused on his extremely cool submarine. He spends a while splashing with his boats in the water, mumbling to himself as he plays and making the noises of the horn. At one point he splashes a little too much, and water slides over the side of the bath onto Bucky's clothes and the mat on the floor. He looks up at Daddy and goes all pink. “Sorry...” He mumbles.

Bucky grimaces at the mess, but feels rather thankful that most of it got on his clothes instead of the floor—it would certainly be easier to clean up. “That’s alright, honey,” he says, reaching out and gently brushing Peter’s wet hair off of his forehead. “But I think it’s time to get out of the bath now—or else most of it will end up on the floor!” he added teasingly.

“Do I gotta get out?” Peter pouts a bit. “I’m playing, Daddy...” He looks at his boat, hair flopping onto his face again. “Promise I won't splash! Then I play more, right?” He holds his fist up for Bucky to bump it, assuming that’s how they make deals now.

Bucky wants to fist bump Peter back, but he hesitates. He had told Peter that he had to listen to him, but Peter is looking up at him with those adorable puppy eyes... no, Peter would have to learn. He shakes his head firmly. “No, baby, you gotta get out now. We need enough time to clean up so that we can read a story before it’s bedtime. Remember, Daddy said you have to be a good boy for that, remember?” He gently takes Peter’s fist and brings it back down to the water.

He frowns, but reluctantly nods. “Okay, Daddy.” He says, sounding a little sad. “Hoodie towel?” the boy suggests, setting his fist down. “And I can play before bed, not bath?” He stands up with Bucky's prompting, not wanting to be naughty. Peter lets the older man wrap him up in his special towel, the hood pulled up over his head.

Bucky gives him a quick kiss on the cheek as praise for behaving. “Hoodie towel,” he agrees, already getting it out. It’s a cute frog hoodie towel, easily one of Peter’s favourites when he’s feeling this way. As Bucky dries him off, he hums. “Maybe a little bit, because you were such a good boy during dinner and bath time. But no TV, okay, baby?”

Peter stands still while he’s dried, humming in response. He likes it when Bucky dries him, he’s so gentle, making sure he pats instead of rubs. “Uh-huh, ‘cause ‘m good, dada.” He reaches for him once he’s all dry, towel still over his head to dry his hair a bit more. “Jammies! I’m gonna be a bear.” He giggles and rests his head on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky smiles. “Yeah, you can be my baby bear,” he agrees. He carries Peter to their room and sets him down on the bed. Then, helping him into the onesie, he asks, “Do you wanna play a little bit now before the story? Or story and then bed?” He secretly hopes that Peter chooses the latter; he’s feeling rather protective over his baby and wants to make sure he gets a good night’s sleep.

By the time Bucky has helped him into his onesie and he’s zipped up, he’s feeling much warmer. Peter isn’t really interested in playing anymore; slipping into his headspace further with his best jammies on. He shakes his head a little. “Story then bed, Daddy,” he murmurs, rubbing his face with the sleeves. “Can i haf’ a milk bottle?” the boy asks, hoping Bucky will feed it to him before he goes to sleep.

Bucky smiles. Peter is such a good boy. “Of course, lovely. You must be a mind reader; Daddy was just about to suggest the same thing. Do you wanna come down with me or start picking out a story and gettin’ all comfy?”

He clearly stops to think about it for a moment, before holding his arms out to Bucky. “Wi’f Daddy,” he says, letting the other man lift him onto his hip. He wraps his arms around him, a shy smile on his face. “I’m bear.” He giggles and tucks his head into the crook of Bucky's neck.

Laughing, Bucky nods and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, my baby bear. Was today a good day, hm?” He heads down to the kitchen and begins to fix up Peter’s bottle, warming up the milk so that it’s even more relaxing for him. Peter is absolutely adorable right now and he can’t stop smiling.

“A good day...” he says, letting himself cuddle into Bucky and hold onto him as he makes his bottle. Once it’s all done, he takes it from his hands, being careful not to spill. “Story now, Da? Wan’ the one wi’f um... The three bears?” he suggests, legs swinging a little as they go back upstairs. He’s feeling much sleepier after his play time and all the food.

"Okay, sweetheart. Very good choice." Bucky kisses the top of his head. "Such a smart little boy." He enters the room once again and sets Peter down on the bed with his bottle. It doesn't take long to fish out the story. He makes sure to get Peter all comfortable in bed, tucked in nice and warm.

The boy smiles at the kiss and lays down when Bucky sets him on the bed, getting comfy with his bottle and his stuffed animal. He looks up at Bucky, shuffling over. “Sit here, Daddy.” He says, letting him sit down. Once he’s comfy and sipping from his bottle, he leans his head on Bucky to listen to his story.

When he sits down on the bed and begins to read, Peter lets out a content hum. "Here's the story of the three little bears..."

Bucky isn’t even halfway through before Peter is asleep, snoring softly in his arms.

Bucky stops and looks down at his baby boy, grinning. So he had been tired! He gently sets down the book on the nightstand and slowly, quietly moves off of the bed, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy. He would join him in bed later; it was still a bit too early for him. He turns off the lights, stiffening when Peter stirs a bit, but sighs in relief when nothing else happens. "I love you, baby boy," he whispers, and leaves the room with the biggest smile on his face.

#winterspider #bucky x peter #bucky barnes/peter parker #little!peter #daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x peter parker #bucky/peter #agere #fanfic #fanfiction

152 notes · View notes

deliverydefresas · 3 years

Text

another aeroplane, another sunny place

AKA, the final bonus part of shape of you that wasn't posted here, but on wp. very much inspired by michael bublé's song 'home' back in 2017 that i finally finished writing a while ago. technically it can be read as a standalone os since that's how it was originally written as, but it also makes sense in the sofy universe. (just like another os i will post sometime next week that i *also* posted on wp but not on here)

ANYWAYS feel free to ignore if you've read it already, since i'm mostly just posting it here in case i need to reference it later!

may be surrounded by a million people i still feel alone, i just wanna go home

oh, i miss you, you know

He'd been on the road for eight months now.

He was grateful of all the success the Rollerband was getting; a worldwide sold-out tour, thousands of records sold, a renewed signing contract for another three years. He knew he was lucky, and he couldn't deny it.

Career-wise, he was happy, living his rock-star dream. His personal life was a whole different thing.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. And it was true, honestly. If he thought he loved his girlfriend before, he knew for sure now that he was ten thousand kilometers away. However, what they don't tell you, it's how hard it can get when such a distance is formed. He hadn't talked to Ámbar, like really talked, in two months.

Their relationship had gotten to an only-texting communication, with hello's and goodnight's texts received every day. The phone calls had reduced to once a week, if that.

It hadn't started that way, though. The first three months consisted of daily three-hours-long video calls, with the occasional visit if uni and her schedule allowed her, then they passed to a one-hour daily cellphone call... now they were lucky they even remembered to put 'i love you' at the end of their texts.

He didn't like it, not one bit. He knew where they were leading; he'd seen it first with Jim and Nico years ago (which was a reason he tried not to date anyone seriously), and then a few months later with Delfi and Pedro. Simón didn't want that for Ámbar and himself.

He checked the time; almost midnight where he was, so it'd only be around 7 PM in Buenos Aires. Her uni classes ended at three, so either she was at the J&R or doing homework.

Deciding he didn't have anything to lose, he pressed 'call' on his phone. Five rings later, she picked up, her beaming face appearing on his screen. Gosh, how he'd missed her.

"Aló, Simón?!" Her voice sounded a little breathy, but overall excited. He had to smile when he heard her. "How are you? I miss you," she sighed wistfully on the other side of the line. The hand she wasn't using to hold the phone went to her hair, twirling a lock away from her face.

"I miss you too," Simón answered, a small smile gracing his lips, "I'm coming home soon, only a couple of weeks more, little gem."

"It feels like too long, but at least it's sooner than eight months," she mumbled, sighing again, "how's Spain? Didn't you have a show tonight?"

"Spain's great, full of life," he remembered the crowd, screaming and singing along, "the show ended an hour ago. I'm feeling a little homesick, I guess," he admitted, "I wish I was there with you."

"Don't," she reprimanded him, shaking her head a little, "you'll be here soon, enjoy tour life while you can."

"That's the thing... I'm not enjoying it anymore." Ámbar went still at this. If it weren't for the tenue sound of music she was listening on her side and that he could hear through the phone, he'd have thought it's freezed on him; when he realized that wasn't the case, he continued. "It's been too long. I miss our bed, I miss waking up next to you, hugging you, kissing you... I miss our dog and I miss our friends. This life... it feels so empty, little gem." He wasn't ashamed to say he was close to tears. He loved touring, giving concerts in different parts of the world, meeting fans all over the globe... those were heavy pros. Simón just wished he'd have more time for his family.

"Don't think like that, Simón, please." She begged him, the little tremble in her voice gave away her emotions, her face had barely moved. Simón knew it was more for his sake than for hers. "I miss you too, so much it hurts sometimes. But this is your dream, love, this is what you've worked so hard for; don't let homesickness stop you from finding joy in what you love the most."

"I'll try, I promise I will. I just... I don't know..."

"I get it, I'm the same sometimes. But you must understand; we're not them, Simón." Her voice turned softer, understanding, and soothing. He loved that about her, that she seemed to know what to say and how to say it without a prompt given. "Do you know why they didn't work out? It's not because they loved each other less, or because the distance was too much. It was the pressure of feeling that if they weren't near each other, if they didn't talk to the other 24/7, their bond would break. It was too much, and it ended up leaving them strained."

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to talk to me anymore?" he joked, his smile growing as she rolled her eyes.

"You're an idiot." She deadpanned, changing her position on the bed to recline her back on their bedrest. "Seriously, though, do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yes, love. I know I shouldn't care too much about how much we talk as it does not define our relationship but what can I say? I miss you." She grinned at him.

"I miss you, too. I'm always a call away," she promised him, but then she frowned, "unless I'm at class, then sorry, you'll have to talk to my voicemail."

He laughed, "I see how it is, a boring class is way more important than funny me. How's everything over there? How's my princess?"

"Always." She winked at him. "Everything's fine. I had lunch with my mom today, she made mushroom lasagna, I told her already that mushrooms taste like nothing, but she swears they're flavorful; I might go visit my dad tomorrow as well; he's been bugging me about having dinner with him and his family," he absentmindedly scrunched his nose at the mention of the fungi, he hated them, "Toppy is here, I can put you on speaker so you can talk to her, if you want. I can't promise she'll answer, though, she's been giving me an attitude lately."

"An attitude? You're rubbing on her, aren't you? When I get home, I'll come back to two Ámbar's instead of one." He teased her, earning a huff from his girl. "Let me talk to her, I bet she doesn't even recognize my voice anymore."

"You've always been her favorite, she will." She replied softly, and then it was quiet for a couple of seconds, while she took off the earphones' plug from her phone. "Okay, you're on speaker now. Toppy, babe, come greet daddy." Simón waited until he heard a 'thud' – followed by Ámbar adjusting her phone's camera so he could see both his girl and their pet- to speak again.

"Toppy?" Not a sound.

Before he could get sad he got no response, Ámbar spoke. "She's smelling my phone, talk again." She sounded amused, so Simón complied, cheerier this time.

"How's my favorite puppet doing? I heard you're giving mommy a bit of trouble. What happened to my good girl?" He wasn't done with his first question when the barking started, his pup's little whines sounded almost as if she was reprimanding his absence.

"She's missed you." His girlfriend exclaimed over the barking, chuckling at the way Toppy's tail swat rapidly.

"I miss her too." He sighed again, "I miss you both a lot."

"Just a few more weeks." She reminded him, her smile and tone wistful as she tried to contain the pup's wriggling body. He had to smile at that.

"Just a few more weeks." He echoed, the underlying promise loud to their ears. "I love you."

"I love you too." She paused for a second, before speaking again, "now please go to sleep, you look like you died a week ago." Simón laughed at that, but he knew better than to fight her when she was trying to take care of him.

"I'll call you tomorrow, alright?"

His words were met with a grin. "Not if I text you first. I love you so much, Simón."

"I love you more, little gem. Take care, okay? I'll see you as soon as I can." She sent him a kiss through the phone, before disconnecting the call. He stared at the screen for a couple of minutes, before the 'low battery' notification popped up and he had to charge it. The call left him feeling much better, so he decided to go to bed already.

Just a few more weeks ran like a mantra trough his mind, soothing his fears and anxiety. Just a few more weeks and I'll be home.

#simbar #soy luna #my simbar ff #my sl ff #simón álvarez #ámbar smith #sofy #mine #queued #(obvs the image of the line break isnt mine i found it on google images so the credit goes to whoever created/owns it)

9 notes · View notes

fountainpenguin · 6 years

Note

Question Meme: (Ignore this if you don't want to answer all these....) 1, 2, 3, 28, 31, 33, 40 (sorry i couldn't pick one)

40 Questions For ‘Fic Writers Meme

#1 - Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Gradual character development spread across a piece with deepened, believable worldbuilding. You know, I often say I’m not into romance, but here’s the thing: A nice long, serious slow burn does a person good. I’ll happily accept romance if an author can really get me into the minds of the characters and make me want their relationship to develop as much as the characters do.

It’s shallow romance that rubs me the wrong way. Give me two characters who honestly, truly care about each other to the point where they’ll sacrifice something they love, or even be willing to let each other ago if it means the one they love will be happy. I love that. But if you’ve got one character who will pitch a fit rather than let their love be happy with someone else, you’re really working uphill with me.

Worldbuilding doesn’t have to be as deep and complex as my ‘fics tend to get, but I do love to see how different authors expand the same world in different ways. I’m not a big fan of horror and for some reason I just can’t get into sci-fi. I enjoy fantasy and biology.

Really, I love anything that doesn’t contradict canon. AUs? Eh, sometimes, but they’re not my favorite. I like behind-the-scenes, between-the-lines, believable futures, and backstory pieces with some nice worldbuilding. And some complex characters who don’t always make the best choices and then have to suffer the consequences for their actions. Yes. ‘Fics like those are very nice.

#2 - Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

A queerplatonic relationship that’s happy, healthy, and long-lasting. You would think I would let my aro/ace children be happy, but alas, ‘tis not to be! You could say I like to squash zucchinis. I am self-projecting my own insecurities. I made Bennett a horrible person to show the “worst possible relationship with an aro/ace who wants a sexless marriage” so that the hopes and dreams of the other aro/ace characters look more reasonable by comparison. I do that a lot.

Okay, I lied. I can think of six “official” queerplatonic relationships we will see in my FOP works, and one of them actually does have a happy ending. I mean, probably. I haven’t written it yet, so who knows?

Spoiler alert: Mario and Peach are the OTQP and I’m going to milk it. What can I say? I call ‘em like I see ‘em and canon literally gave us a plumber who’ll collect 120 Power Stars in return for cake, and a princess who turned down his hand in marriage after all the times he’s rescued her, but adores him anyway.

#3 - Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole?

“We pretend to hate each other but secretly we’re both in love and will one day in the heat of the moment spontaneously confess our romantic feelings and form a mutual, caring relationship without any further character development.”

I don’t know if it’s because I’m a very serious, honest, straightforward person (being INTJ and all), or if it’s because I’m asexual, or if it’s a combination of both (or neither), but I can’t stand huge plots about people refusing to admit that they like someone. Love has always been a logical thing to me. I was sixteen before I found out sexual attraction was a real thing. I don’t really understand it, but I guess it’s possible to have physical feelings for someone even if you don’t logically want to? And you can’t stop yourself or turn it off? I honestly don’t know how that works, which is why the “I wish I wasn’t physically attracted to you” trope has infuriated me since childhood. I just didn’t get it.

Even before I realized I was asexual, I would have discussions with my mom about how if I ever had a crush, I would openly admit this to my friends if they asked. I wouldn’t protest or deny, as I see so many media characters do. Then it turned out I’m incapable of feeling physical attraction and I get friendship squishes instead of romantic crushes, so that happened.

As a general rule of thumb, you should trust the characters I write if they say they aren’t attracted to someone. If they like someone, they’ll tell you so. If they don’t, they’ll tell you that too. And if they’re confused, then it will be very clear that they’re confused. No means no. I’m very strict about that. Don’t read into it looking for signs that they’re being secretive even to the reader. They are not. I emotionally cannot bring myself to do that.

#28 - Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oooh. I’m going to say that Shaddic takes the cake on this one. If you’re a Total Drama fan, or even if you’re not, then “Daddy’s Characters” will break you deliciously like very few fanfics will. “Before and After” is just a step behind it. The emotion captured by these ‘fics is incredible, and I highly, highly recommend them if you’re into evil villains who are undeniably and yet realistically cruel. Both ‘fics revolve around Mike and his multiple personalities (“Daddy’s Characters” revolving around adult Mike and Zoey, married with a daughter and with twins on the way, coping with something horrid that lands a distraught Mike in prison, and “Before and After” being the trauma-filled childhood backstory ‘fic).

Shaddic characterized everyone perfectly. So horribly, painfully well. Ugggh, I love it. My gallery has Identity Theft on the way, which will revolve around Foop and Hiccup and some multiple personality trauma, but it won’t be as beautiful as Shaddic’s work. They’re honestly worth a read if you ever have the time one day, even if you aren’t a Total Drama fan. You really don’t need to know the show to enjoy them. And enjoy them (and suffer) you will. In all my years, I’ve never seen an evil villain portrayed so… villainously. Love it.

I’m also a fan of SelanPike- partially for sentimental reasons, I suppose. I remember reading her Mario ‘fics over and over eight years ago, and I still read them today on a regular basis. Crazy how time flies. They’re just ones that I love going back to. As most of you know, I tend to fall in love with background characters. Fawful, Kamek, and Doopliss fit those qualifications- and coincidentally, those three are Selan’s favorites too! Technically, it’s because of her that the 130 Prompts project came to be. I always loved her 100 one-shot challenge, and that’s sort of how I eventually decided to write my own.

I really admire Selan for her characterizations. Her Kamek portrayal is my all-time favorite. So is her Fawful, her Doopliss, her Bowser, her Bowser Jr, her E. Gadd… she’s just a master of character. Even her freaking Jojora is spot-on. I mean, talk about background characters, am I right? Ha. Her writing is excellent and she has some fun plots. I always enjoyed drinking up her fanart and reading her comics on her deviantArt too. Still do. She has such a fun, bouncy art style. Her 8-page comic about Fawful attending school in the Mushroom Kingdom after Kamek hits him with the truant officer threat gets me every time.

I highly recommend “Until Tomorrow” (Her post-“Superstar Saga” ‘fic about Kamek and Fawful attempting to revive Cackletta so Kamek can kick her butt in a magic fight and Fawful can get the mother figure he refuses to call his mother figure back), and her famous ‘fic “On My Own” (about Fawful coping with Cackletta’s death and eventually working his way up the Koopa Kingdom social ladder). “Fragmented Spectrum” is a wonderful, tense, horror-ish ‘fic as well, with my absolute favorite Bowser Jr. portrayal. Plus, I love the rivalry between Kamek and Fawful seen in “F.S.” with Fawful trying to draw magic circles that he decided must be 100% perfect to count as circles, and Kamek not even knowing how to deal with him and his technology brain. Beautiful.

Check out the rest of her gallery too. Her two FFN fandoms are Mario and Invader Zim. She isn’t active there anymore, but her ‘fics are worth the read. I will say that I’m not a fan of her ‘fic “Everything You Ever” because I feel that Cackletta was way too sweet and nice for an evil villain in that one. But then again, I haven’t read it in years, so who knows. I’m not crazy about Selan’s Peach portrayal either, but that’s where my third recommendation comes in.

GuardianM1234 is a recent discovery of mine, and she does not disappoint. I’m a big fan of her ongoing ‘fic “Smoke” (which updates twice a month right now and is nearing its climax). It’s basically the story of Peach and Bowser growing up, and the development of their relationship from being fairly friendly as children to their complex relationship as adults. I’ve never seen Peach portrayed so perfectly, and I adore her. Never thought I would, but I do. Guardian also has a very unique take on Mario that’ll really make you squirm.

I love Guardian’s writing because she pits characters in emotionally-difficult situations and lets them learn and grow. They make bad choices, but she demonizes no one. Not even Bowser. Plus, Bowser has a little sideplot with Clawdia going on (the canon mother of the Koopalings if you know your deep hidden lore, though since the Koopalings were recently ruled “not Bowser’s children” by Nintendo’s “official” canon, I don’t know if she will be their mother in “Smoke” or where Guardian is taking this ‘fic). Basically, what I’m saying is, Clawdia and Bowser roastfest. Be there. They crack me up. And Guardian’s TOADSWORTH is perfection. Please give that old boy his gossip.

Plus, Daisy takes Bowser shopping for wedding dresses once and he bribes her with a six-pack of soda. Nice, short chapters with a few pleasant hints of worldbuilding slipped in, and a LOT of character. Guardian is still somewhat new to fanfiction, but she’s very sweet and she would adore some reviews if you do read her work. If you love her stuff, give her a shout-out! She’s great.

#31 - Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I fall halfway between this one. The answer is, sort of both! For my main fandoms, I have one rule: I don’t contradict canon, unless canon contradicted itself and I was forced to pick a side. Origin gets so deep into biology and Knots into culture that they feel more like original works than fanfics sometimes, because I’ll flesh things out as much as I want to. So that’s sort of a liberty I take with canon. But I never contradict canon if I don’t have to. I always comply.

It’s a puzzle. I love connecting dots behind the scenes. I love forcing everything that’s canon to be canon, even if it looks like it contradicted itself. If I can solve a plot hole, I try to. I will make ridiculous backbends to fit colorful Anti-Fairy eyes, Crocker’s ebb and flow of wealth, Miss Idaho’s “rare genetic condition that prevents her from aging,” Mary Alice Doombringer’s random abilities, and Girlfriend the cat’s sentience into Riddleverse canon, and I’ll love every second of it. I only cut a piece of canon out if I feel like I absolutely have to. It’s fun.

I can definitely enjoy reading ‘fics that stray from canon, and might even write them on occasion. But the reason why I write fanfics is because I loved the canon and I want to see it expanded, not taken away. I’d like to publish my original works someday, so if I’m not sticking close to source material, why would I write a fanfic that I could publish as an original work instead?

For the same reasons, I’d rather read a fanfic that expands on canon than eliminates it. When I fall in love with something, I fall in love with its world. I like ‘fics that blend worldbuilding aspects in with the plot they’re writing, even if it’s a short one-shot. I don’t love reading something that feels like its writer just inserted the names of popular characters into their otherwise original work so that people would read it. I want to have the little details and feel convinced that these are the characters (and the world) that I love. Personal preference.

In some cases, I default to realism over canon, such as by giving Cosmo the ability to recognize faces. In my psychology classes, I’ve learned that sometimes during investigations, police will show pictures to people and ask them to select the face that matches the one they were shown earlier. People pretending to be mentally handicapped in some way will often get the answers wrong on purpose in an attempt to maintain their facade, while those who are actually mentally handicapped will get them right. Just a nitpicky thing I do.

So I often favor realism over canon in certain ways, even if it possibly contradicts canon a bit. I respect canon and try to stay true to it as much as possible because I enjoy doing so, but I don’t consider myself 100% beholden to it, especially considering how many different contributors there can be to a project over the years. I do my best, but enjoying what I write comes first.

#33 - How do you feel about crack?

I can enjoy the occasional way-out-there thing, but I prefer serious stories in general.

#40 - Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Well, you didn’t give me a ‘fic you wanted to see an alternate ending to, but I do have a few short pieces I can share. You see, the “That Was Then” Prompt (the Jay Rhoswen and his studies about Anti-Fairies one) wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. Here is how it was meant to go:

Rhoswen scooted back hand over hand along the counter, his feet skittering in the vapor. What in the name of dust was he doing? He shouldn’t be looking at his wife’s counterpart more than at his wife! He shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts at all!

Anti-Shylinda placed her palms to his cheeks and gazed into his eyes. “No talk,” she whispered, and when she leaned forward, those burning lips closed over his.

As for whether that Seelie Courter chose to kiss the anti-fairy back once she’d started to draw away? Well… You ought to look to the term “Rhoswen syndrome” to answer that.

I didn’t like the idea of Anti-Shylinda being the one to make moves on Jay, so I scrapped it. Not only that, but the whole piece is written as snippets from Rhoswen’s journal now, so the voice here no longer fit the narrative.

At the end of the first chapter of Frayed Knots, “String Theory”, Anti-Cosmo cuts off the tips of his ears. I was originally going to expand the scene as follows:

Blood spattered the floor. With a hiss through my teeth, I withdrew the knife and dabbed the blood up with my sleeve. The stone might stain.

Recalculating, I dragged my stool over to the sink. The angle was awkward, but at least my blood would wash easily away. There, I slit off the tip of my ear, cutting carefully around my first canetis ring. Then I mirrored the action on the other side. Both rings bounced across the stone with a clink, click, clatter.

I uncurled my tongue and set the knife aside. Then I took the severed tips of my ears and held them to my head again. It took three agonizing minutes, but the smoke that filled my veins stretched out and wound around my fingers. It absorbed my ears and pressed them into place again. Full, soft, and whole. I fingered the gashes mother’s piercing clamp had left behind. Apparently, even regeneration couldn’t heal injuries left by an unenchanted tool. Useful information to know.

The canetis rings disappeared into my pocket. Then I got up and pushed open the window. I took a running start, dove out, and unfurled my wings.

However, I kind of liked leaving the chapter on the cliffhanger of “Oh my gosh, what did he just do to himself???” I also couldn’t include a sink in the castle in a time period when there is no indoor plumbing. Then I decided that I would rather give Anti-Cosmo permanent gashes in his ears he had caused himself, rather than ones caused by his mother, to always remind him (and everyone around him) of that day he stood against Anti-Fairy tradition. Kind of a shame to delete the scene since I like how it gave us information about smoke and Anti-Fairy healing right from the start. I might recycle it later.

Actually, if we’re talking about the original version of Knots, everything was supposed to be different than what it was. Here is another deleted scene that was originally planned to be the opening scene of Knots:

“Mum, I’m nine and a half minutes old. I’m not a baby anymore. Come on, please? You let Anti-Robin leave home to get his wand when he was only three!”

“You weren’t even born yet. How can you possibly know that?”

“He told me about thirty seconds ago, right before you came in here.” I grabbed my mother’s skirt in two tiny fists. “Mum, I’m going to be the only pup in the colony without a wand. What about our image?”

She wavered visibly, running her thumb along her staff. “Well…”

Father peered over his spectacles and frowned. “Now, wait just a minute here, Anti-Florensa. He’s just a pup. You can’t send him into the woods to gather the materials for his first wand all by himself.”

“But it has always been our family’s tradition,” she sniffed. “It’s not as though he’ll die. On the contrary, I’m more concerned about him killing valuable plants with his acid. Anti-Cosmo, you’re drooling again.”

I wiped my mouth. “Sorry, Mum.”

I really loved the “I’m nine and a half minutes old- I’m not a baby anymore!” idea, especially since there aren’t many times when you’ll have the chance to use it. As you can see, Frayed Knots was going to begin with baby Anti-Cosmo leaving his manor home alone to obtain his first wand.

But overall, in the end, I decided that it was more important to show the importance of smoke in Anti-Fairy culture, and we ended up with the scene we have now. Also, I really wanted Anti-Cosmo to grow up never knowing who his father was until several years after Anti-Robin had died, which meant I had to scrap or replace this scene in some way anyway.

The “Mama’s Boy” Prompt was actually written with the manor idea in mind, and I believe Anti-Florensa even uses the word “manor” in it. I added an author’s note to that piece several months ago mentioning that “Mama’s Boy” is semi-canon for now until Frayed Knots is finalized. A lot has changed.

Some other deleted scenes from the early plans of “Anti-Cosmo lives with his family in a manor near the Castle, and they are nobles but not royalty” include:

“I got something for you, kiddo.” Anti-Robin flicked an aluminum medal across the table that read #2 Son. I grinned.

“This is for me? Thanks! I love it!”

He tilted down his glasses. “You say, ‘Thank you, Father, for this generous gift.’”

I repeated the words, and he tousled my hair. “Now, go do second son things.”

“Yes, sir! I will! Thank you, Father!” With the medal swinging from my neck, I trotted happily off.

and

I clung to the frame of his office door, beating my wings to keep myself from staggering forward. I knew better than to cross the threshold, even though there was nothing I wanted more in the universe right then than to throw my arms around his waist and squeeze him in a hug. The bruise Mother had left on my arm hurt even more now than it did in the kitchen, somehow. My eyes slid back and forth across his desk.

“Where are you going?”

Anti-Robin calmly placed another folded shirt inside the suitcase. “Back to Anti-Scarlett’s.”

“With your other family?” I asked. “With her kids, Anti-Xavier and Anti-Tom?”

“Yes.”

“Why can’t I come with you? I want to meet them.”

“It’s a dad thing.” He closed the suitcase with two clicks and turned around. His eyes were steely calm, his frown very firm. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

and

“ELEANOR!”

Anti-Robin and I grabbed our mouths and looked at each other, gaping with our eyes. Mother was over 150,000 years old. Her real name wasn’t supposed to be said out loud.

Father slammed a newspaper on the table, then stepped back and crossed his arms. “Might I inquire what the meaning of this is, ‘dear’?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, not looking up from the end of her staff. She studied its base, then ran her polish rag across it again.

“Anti-Bryndin had the green fairy locked up, and I know you’re behind it.”

So, don’t feel too sad that Anti-Cosmo grows up without a dad in my works! It wouldn’t have been the best relationship anyway. Besides that, now that I’ve had time to think about it, this Anti-Robin portrayal isn’t that far off Ambrosine, and I’d rather H.P. and Anti-Cosmo had fathers with very different personalities.

If you have a really sharp memory, you may possibly remember seeing that medal around Anti-Cosmo’s neck when I drew my late-night FOP/Moana doodle dump that one time.

I also have oodles of scenes deleted from Anti-Cosmo’s visit to Winkleglint’s estate, since originally Scarletfeather was supposed to show up and Anti-Cosmo panicked when he couldn’t stop Scarletfeather from luring Mr. Thimble away. I could have filled another entire chapter with what happened during that study abroad week, but in the end I decided they were mostly self-indulgent and not important enough in the grand scheme of things to justify leaving in.

I’m skimming through my files of deleted scenes and I forgot I had this one too. Anti-Cosmo wasn’t supposed to have his intelligence test proctored by Ambrosine originally, as I was going to send him to this mental hospital facility. I decided against it, but here is a terrifying scene that we almost got. So, it’s technically an alternative ending too:

Dr. Gabriel handed me a piece of bark marked with the word Failed. “Don’t get cocky. Everyone has their limits.”

Failed? That lout outright failed me? I dropped the bark strip and looked up as Dr. Gabriel spread his wings. With a few sharp beats, he flew out of the pit. I chased after him, searching the platform above me with my eyes. So I couldn’t fly, and I was short, but I could make that leap-

“Oof!”

Or… perhaps not. I slid back down to the floor and landed on my rump. Never one to be deterred, I leaped back to my feet. Something to boost me, something to boost me… Oh! Snatching up his forgotten broom, I backed against the opposite wall, and then ran forward. I shoved the handle of the broom into the corner offered by the platform and the floor and launched myself into the air. Yes! Yes! Ahahaha! I hurtled out of the pit and went rolling across the ground. Dr. Gabriel spun around, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Please,” I begged him, climbing to my feet again. My broken wings batted feebly behind me. “I want to gain a Fairy education. Level with me, doctor. You don’t want Anti-Fairies filling up your precious conservative school. And I don’t want Anti-Fairies filling it up either. True, we Anti-Fairies are known for our memories, but I like to feel special, and I shouldn’t want to chance anyone stealing my thunder away from me. You let me in, and I won’t breathe a word about your biases against my people.”

Dr. Gabriel studied me with idle coldness, clutching his tablets to his chest. He drifted a few steps backwards along the corridor. “Anti-Cosmo, your genius is entirely creative. You’re severely behind in your knowledge of technical skills, and you lack basic common sense as well as a sense of self-preservation. Because of this, we can’t recommend you be placed in any advanced programs. You’ll need to stay where you’re at.”

The corners of my mouth twisted into a frown. Then a sneer. “Frankly, Dr. Gabriel, I’m not particularly fond of that option.”

With that, I yanked out the can of forget-a-cin I’d nicked from his pouch when he’d been turned the other way. Dr. Gabriel had time to look horrified before I mashed the button down. My eyes were squeezed shut, but even so, the world around me lit with white. I let the empty canister fall to the floor and opened my eyes again to find the nervous fairy glancing around in bewilderment.

“There,” I said. “I’ve just put a block over this memory of yours. I do hope no one else would care to challenge me, or I will be forced to perform the same trick on them. Now, I demand that you, good sir, will have me enrolled in all the classes of my choosing. Is that understood?”

Dr. Gabriel’s wandering eyes finally latched onto me. His shoulders shivered, although he possibly didn’t remember why. He bobbed a bit lower in the air. Then his wings fell silent altogether, and he leaned his back against the wall. He slid down to the floor. “S-security! Security?”

His voice was too weak for anyone who wasn’t an Anti-Fairy to hear. I sighed. Covering my eyes again, I made a signal with my other hand. “Oh, dear. I do apologize. I really never do this, you must understand. It’s so messy.”

If he hadn’t been so hazy from the aftereffects of the forget-a-cin, I’m sure Dr. Gabriel wouldn’t have let me get away with as much as he did. As it happened, I walked right up to him and lay my claw against the karmic pouch on the left side of his neck. He yelped, but I knocked his clumsy hands away from me without any real effort. I braced my hand against my hip.

“I really never do this. It’s vile and crude. So sorry, I really am. But then again, well, perhaps I’m really not.” And with that, I sunk my fangs into his neck. Blech. He tasted of old mutton.

Dr. Gabriel screamed. He twisted, his shoulders rapidly seizing up. I rolled my eyes and kept my fangs embedded until his coughs turned to silence and he had frozen in place, as still as a stone statue. Only then did I wrench back my head, bringing the coils of his karmic weave along with me. Most of them were blue, but here and there a pink one surfaced, or a yellow. As the colourful threads of his life whisked above us, I stood back and traced one claw beneath my eye.

“Anti-Fairy tears consist mainly of sulfuric acid, of course. And I daresay you hurt my feelings quite a bit back there, didn’t you?”

Forcing myself to cry came as naturally as forcing myself not to cry always had. I captured the burning tear on the end of my claw and, very slowly, held it out towards the paralyzed fairy sitting against the wall. For several long seconds, I let him see it glistening there. Threatening to drip down on the place where I had bitten him. Which was still bleeding.

“I never do this,” I said again, truthfully apologetic. “It’s messy and you’ll be rather cross when you wake up, assuming you wake again at all. But it is true that I am crying, and here you are, lying so very still. We’re standing rather close, aren’t we? So close that I could touch you.”

Lacking the ability to move, all Dr. Gabriel could do was sit numbly, his mouth gaping. I lowered my claw towards his neck.

“But it’s only a single tear, isn’t it? Why should a fairy care if he made an anti-fairy child cry? No, a single tear cannot hurt your conscience. A single tear may sting your skin, perhaps, but it shouldn’t cause any long-lasting problem so long as no liquid in your body is particularly warm. Oh, wait…” Here I feigned surprise, and brought my claw a mere centimetre from his karmic pouch. Green liquid trickled down his neck. I smiled. “Why, internal Fairy body temperature borders on the boiling point, does it not? Oooh, I’d hate to see what happens when that acid comes into contact with your blood. I’ve heard it’s prone to such catastrophic explosions.”

There was, of course, no reply. Sighing, I withdrew my handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the tear from my claw.

“No, but I suppose I’m a gentleman, so I shan’t leave you comfortless. As I told you, I really never do this. I’m all boasts and bluster, really. That’s all I really am. Let’s get you cleaned up, lad.”

I was just wiping away the last drops of acid from his stunned face when the door opened behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find Anti-Jolene floating there with a clipboard in hand. She took in the threads of wild karma and my kerchief, and looked at me with her ears cocked forward.

“So… How is it going?”

I sighed and tucked the handkerchief away. “Dr. Gabriel and I have just finished, painfully. I say, are business deals with Fairies always so messy?”

She smiled a thin smile. “It would behoove us to find a neutral party who could settle things between our two races more easily, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll be cleaning karma out of my fur for weeks,” I muttered, and went about gathering up his tangled threads so I could stuff them back inside his soul.

He was one messed up kid in this draft, that is for sure. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll find a place for this scene in the current version someday, if I ever need to send an older Anti-Cosmo to a mental health facility. For now, however, it’s deleted.

“This Is a Box” was actually supposed to end differently as well. And of course, so was “This Is Halloween.” Every once in awhile I’ll have a piece get away from me and end the way it wants, but most of them end the way I plan from the start.

Thanks for all your requests! I really appreciate your curiosity!

#Anon #asks #riddleverse mention #Ace Penguin #Mushrooms and more #FAIRIES!#Reading recommendations #130 Prompts #ridwriting #The bat with the hat #Bat cube and associates #Frayed Knots #Ask box games

1 note · View note