#Later looks up all fives faces only for a small town article to come up with their... death certificates?! Wtf?!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 121

There’s several de-aged Danny prompts, but what about de-aged Jazz. Most agree she’s very liminal after all, so who's to say ghost things won’t affect her too? 

So imagine with me, Jazz gets hit with something, and she is now child; maybe even baby. Danny panics, flees with his emergency bag alongside the other three in Team Phantom. So now they’re four teens with a very small child on the run. Four teens and a small child who have run into several heroes. 

Heroes who are all very concerned. 

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #de aged jazz #Question is if Jazz has her memories or if she is now small child all the way or if it's a mix #Tucker Sam Val & Danny are all freaking out because how do you take care of small liminal toddler #Okay actually they should stop freaking out apparently she's even more empathic now oh no #They keep stopping at towns and cities for supplies while visibly running from something #A person thinks they've kidnapped the child at one point and gets bit by said child for their troubles #Later looks up all fives faces only for a small town article to come up with their... death certificates?! Wtf?! #Honestly they could all be mistaken for some sort of aliens on the run too #Danny is straight up half ghost #Jazz is liminal enough to be effected by ghost tech #Val is literally half fused with ghost tech #Sam was straight up possessed by the ghostly primordial being of plantlife #Tucker can use ghost magic and has used reality bending before and is a ghostly ruler of an egyptian realm in the zone so #they all definitely look Off in some way or the other

[whoacanada]

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight. 

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

[savoies]

Remember Those Days - Dylan Holloway.

Summary: Dylan forgets your anniversary and slowly remembers.

Word Count: 1.7k 

Warnings: mentions of sex and maybe a few bad words.

A/N: This fic went through about five rough drafts until I finally came up with one I liked. It was supposed to be an angst fic but hey we deserve something cute every once in a while, enjoy!

taglist: @hartsyhart ​ @nhlpetey ​ @mitch-slap @frostythegoalman @ryanssuzuki  @aria253264 ​  @josty ​ @kaitieskidmore1 ​ @kiedhara ​ @laurenairay ​ @teenagekook ​ ​ @alxvlasic ​ ​ @hockeyallthetime ​ ​ @barzy-baby ​ ​ @officialgritty ​ @bowenbyram ​ @mems06 ​ ​ @joshsandersons ​  @connormcdavo ​ @maattamatthews ​ @pierreslucdubois ​ ​ @selenophileangel @boqvistsbabe @ana-maa @stars-canucks

tagging some friends: @npatrickz ​ @bestestbenn ​ @heybarzy @tkachuk-yeah @cozycozzy ​ @2manytabsopen .

(*credit to the gif owner*)

Today was your third year anniversary with Dylan. Honestly after a few years today your anniversary date was just spent at home doing whatever your heart desired together. Well today it seemed as though your boyfriend's heart desired to be with his friends.

“Babe I'm gonna hang out with the boys, I'll see you later ok.” he said as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. 

“Oh ok, but you’ll be home before six right?” you asked. 

“I was planning on coming back around ten, just depending on what we do, why do we have plans?” He asked, raising his eyebrow questionly. You shook your head no and let him walk out. You didn’t want to be one of those significant others that made a big deal out of it. You knew he was forgetful. I mean last week he had forgotten where he had left his phone the night before. You were used to this. At least you thought you were. Looking back at your time together Dylan had never forgotten any special dates. He had remembered all your firsts together down to a t.

Your first date.

First dates. Stereotypical to be an awkward time between two people to decide if they like like eachother or not. Well for you and Dylan that was not the case. Most sixteen year olds would go out to the movies or go down to the carnival in town (if there was one). But not you and him. Having grown up as acquaintances you were used to having him around. Honestly kind of surprised when he had asked you out but I mean hanging with Dylan was always a good time. It was a simple gesture and quite frankly you weren't sure how to say no. You had just gotten off of school and since both of you lived so close to each other he just decided to walk with you instead of asking one of his friends for a ride. 

“Hey Y/N wait up.” you turned around to be faced with the smiley blonde haired boy that you had grown accustomed to.

“Hey Holloway, whats up.” you spoke up as you kept your eyes trained on the ground. 

"You busy tonight?” he said as he nervously grabbed the straps of his backpack waiting for a response.

“Well considering I have homework but i'm pretending I don't then no i do not, why up for a late night adventure?” You looked up at him with a smirk. When you guys were younger you would sneak out of your rooms and go on adventures around the neighborhood until your parents would call you up and ask where you were.

“Actually kind of, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over later?” he shot you a small smile hoping that you would get the hint of him asking you out.

You thought about his words as they registered in his mind. If this was a dinner with his parents then your family members would have known as well. But he was asking you specifically which meant only one thing. “Oh uhm like a date, I mean yeah uhm sure.” you smiled back at him. I mean how bad could it be. Being in a small space with one of the cutest and nicest dudes you knew, yeah not a big deal at all. 

Later that night as you went over to his house you did not suspect what was about to go down. This wasn't a basic date and I think that is why you remember it so well other than the fact that it was with Dylan. You guys spent the whole night cuddled on the couch watching hockey game reruns and just talking about life, and not one single moment did he make you feel uncomfortable. 

Your first kiss.

Kisses are supposed to be magical. First kisses are usually awkward and yours was both. It was late one night and both of you sat on your porch after a date just looking at the stars and enjoying each other's company before you had to get back inside. Maybe it was a in the moment thing or the fact that you really really enjoyed your time together but next thing you know both of you were leaning into each other. Which of course for it being your first kiss something has to go bad. Somehow both of you made a wrong move or something and next thing you know Dylan’s bottom lip was bleeding.

“Oh my god Dylan I am so sorry.” You spoke up as you tried looking for a napkin or something.

“Honestly if my lip had to bleed everytime i kiss you I can handle it.” he looked up at you softly.

“Oh my gosh you are literally bleeding and you're using this time to make moves on me.” You laughed.

“Hey, it's working right?” he laughed as you hit him on the shoulder and waved him goodbye as he walked back home.

First I love you.

I love you. Honestly seems like everyone makes those words a really big deal. Some people saying don’t say it back if you don’t feel the same way, others saying try to refrain from it as long as possible. For you and Dylan it had been about ten months into the relationship. Him being away at one of his many hockey games. He was anxious. Honestly the most anxious you had ever seen him like this. Some scouts were going to be there and he had to make a good impression which of course you weren't worried about but he was. He had called you saying that your voice calmed him.

“What do you want to talk about?” you questioned.

“Literally anything other than this game.” He let out a breath he had been holding.

“Well I had a burger today from that place you like.” You randomly blurted out.

“Wait are you serious, how rude of you not to wait for me.”

“Don't come between me and my food.” Both of you continued on talking about each other's day until his coach came into the locker room.

“Ok Y/N I have to go wish me luck.” He sighed.

“Good luck Dyl you got this, I love you.” And before you could stop yourself from saying it those three words that seemed so powerful slipped out of your mouth first. I mean you didn't expect to say it first. Or even say it so soon. You knew it was true and had felt this way for a while but you didn't think you'd fall for him so soon. 

“What what, dId you, can you repeat that.” Dylan spoke up as a huge smile grew on his face. Honestly he was planning on telling you tonight but it seemed as though you beat him.

“Ah fuck it, I love you Dylan Holloway now go kick some hockey player butt.” You smiled on the other side of the phone call.

“Holloway, get a move on.” His coach yelled.

“Ok babe I have to go, I love you.” After that night he brought back a win and both of you laid in bed together exchanging the three words back and forth with huge smiles on your faces.

First Anniversary.

Honestly if people had told you that one day you would be going out with the boy a few doors down you would’ve told them that they were crazy. But one year later you were still going strong. And doing the same thing you did for your first date except this time with chocolate. Lots of chocolate. It was sweet. Dylan having had practice earlier in the day and texting you many times throughout the day on how he thought it was crazy how someone like you could date someone like him. He came home tired and all you did was lay in each other's arms as you played with his hair and both of you slowly drifted off to sleep.

First time.

First times. Scary could be one word for them. Opening up to someone on a vulnerable and exposed level can be one way to see it. Another way to see it is giving yourself entirely to the person you love. 

Draft day. A special day in many hockey players' lives. The day that will basically decide their future for them. It’s like the game life. Picking a career and a salary except for them is someone else doing it for them. So here Dylan was waiting and waiting as they called names and teams. 

You were a few doors down following the live draft deciding that it was better if he got this special moment with his family and you guys could spend time together later. 

As your boyfriend's name appeared on your screen you jumped up and down your room. Dylan having exchanged hugs and done the whole post draft interviews he came over. As he walked into your room you jumped into his arms. 

“Dylan, I'm so proud of you.” you whispered in his ear.

“I love you.” He replied as he softly but needingly kissed you. As one thing led to another both of you were on top of each other exchanging messy kisses with the door closed. Hands all over each other as articles of clothing were scattered across the floor. 

Waking up from the events of the past night brought a smile to your face as you laid in your boyfriend's arms with your legs intertwined. 

~~~~

Dylan had come back home as soon as realization hit him. How could he have forgotten. You were sitting on the couch watching some random reality show that was playing. 

“Hey Dyl, why are you back so soon?”  you asked on why he was six hours earlier than he had said. 

“Y/N baby fuck i messed up. Shit im so sorry.” he came over and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Dyl baby it’s ok, I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” you smiled.

“Wait so I forget our three year anniversary and you're completely fine with it?” He asked.

“Remind me what we did for our first year anniversary.” You looked up your boyfriend.

“We sat in my room and watched hockey games.” He looked at you trying to see what you were getting at.

“And how long did that take?”

“I don’t know like three hours?” He questioned.

“So what's stopping us from doing it now, come here.” you said as you wrapped your hands around his taller figure. Both of you laid together for the rest of the day all your cares washing away.

#ari speaks #hockey boys #hockey #im rereading this as im getting it ready to post and im falling in love with it all over again #dylan holloway x reader #dylan holloway #team canada x reader #team canada #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl fics #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey fic #hockey fics #hockey blurb #hockey blurbs #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

[writer-panda]

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

Chapter 1  -|-  Previous -|- Next

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

-----------

As she hanged up, Marinette rushed to the doors and let her mother in. The previous night she spent mostly on working with Kwamis to prepare. Most were in agreement that she needed to act and not leave her kitty’s fate to chance. Tikki protested for a bit, but in the end, she saw that there was no changing Marinette’s mind and joined in on scheming. Except she had no way of tracking Adrien. Not… until she received the call!

Except now her mother entered. Sabine greeted her daughter by giving her a bone-crushing hug. 

“I was so worried! When the police called I couldn’t just sit there and wait!”

“Maman. It’s alright. I’m okay. See?” The girl did break away from the hug and smiled.

“I know. But I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Maman… Adrien’s been kidnapped.”

“I know.” Her mother’s expression didn’t reveal any emotions now.

“I… he’s been miserable ever since that wedding mess, and now this.”

“I know.” Again, nothing. 

“He’s my friend.”

“Not the love of your life?” Sabine questioned with a bit of amusement in her voice.

“No. He doesn’t need another fangirl. He needs a friend. Someone who can support him. I… I wasn’t a good friend before this…” She didn’t reveal that she wasn’t a great partner either. Chat hid things well, but from time to time his shell cracked. She should’ve seen the signs. She could’ve done something. Or at least do something with Lila. She had connections and Lila deserved a lawsuit or five. 

“Oh, sweety. You were a great friend. You are a great friend. I’m happy to see you’re not about to chase after some misguided love, but after friendship.”

“I know I’m only… wait, what?” Marinette.exe stopped working. If the problem keeps repeating itself, please contact customer service or the nearest Kwami. 

“When I was fifteen, I dropped out of… school to explore the world on my own. It wasn’t until a few years later that I met your father.” Sabine said in a bit dreamy voice like she was reminiscing. “We had several adventures across Europe before finally settling down in Paris.”

“But… Papa’s a baker.” Marinette protested. “I thought he was always a baker, like his father.”

In response, her mother chuckled. “No. Your father had much more in common with your Nona than with his father. I met him when he was fighting in an underground cage-fighting club.”

“Whoa…” Marinette’s eyes widened. That was a story she never heard before. “So how did you two got together?”

“I will tell you some other time. The point is, I know that even if I took you to Paris with me, you would’ve run away to look for your friend.”

“Maman!” For a moment, the girl wanted to protest. But then she decided that there was no point. “Yes… you’re right. But I can’t just let it happen! If the police find him, he will end up back with his father!”

“I know. And what’ll you do about it?” Her mother had this mysterious smirk on her face.

“I guess… I need to be the one to find him. I will get him situated somewhere safe. Maybe stay with him for a bit. He’s smart. And a quick learner.” He mastered being a superhero faster than I did.

“Good. Then you have my blessing.” 

“I can’t just abandon-” Marinette.exe stopped working again. Contacting the customer service might be in order. Technically, Sabine kept hinting about it. Practically, Marinette would miss a clue even if she was holding a gun to its head. “I have your what now?”

“You can go. Save him. Find yourself. And maybe kick some asses while you’re at it.”

“Most parents would be worried sick about their not-yet-adult children running off to an adventure.”

“You wanted to know how I met your father. The answer is I was the first to beat him in that cage.” Sabine’s smirk was replaced with a serious expression. “Of course I will worry, sweety. I’m your mother. But holding you back now will not help you. You’re a strong young woman and to be fair, I’m not sure how we could hold you down. You have steady access to the rooftop and two years of parkour training.”

“What now?”

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice you sneaking off through the balcony?”

“And you didn’t even tell me?” 

“It would be hypocritical of us.” Sabine defended. “And if the worse came to happen, I had several… souvenirs from our travel around the world.”

“Thank you, Maman. I promise I will come back; And call you often. Well, maybe not too often.” Marinette already dashed to start packing. 

“Of course you will. And don’t get into too much trouble. I would hate to have to go and find you.” Sabine threatened with a bright smile on her face. 

“I’ll try, Maman.” The girl was only half-listening now. She couldn’t waste any more time. She learned how to trace the call about one-and-a-half years ago when she was still a bit ‘stalker-ish’. 

Sabine watched her daughter with amusement. So many memories returned to her now. Youth mostly well-spent if someone asked her. The ‘mostly’ part came to bite her just that moment as her phone pinged. She quickly checked the message and frowned. 

“I’m sorry, my little cupcake, but I need to go check it. An old friend turns out to be in town.” 

“I’ll call you later!” Marinette called from where she was furiously working on her laptop. 

When Sabine left, the kwamis swarmed her immediately.

“Your mom is so cool!” one of them cooed.

“And she’s one bad-”

“Roaar!” Tikki scolded the tiger kwami. 

“What’s the plan, pigtails?”

“Adrien’s call was made from within Gotham City. He’s still here for now. I also managed to track him to Burnley.”

“Didn’t that mercenary you called mention some Lawton?” Trixx offered.

“Yeah. I did try to search him up, but the only one with that name that I managed to find is Zoe Lawton. Wait. There is more!” She beamed up. “An old article in some Mexican newspaper.” She clicked on the link and read it aloud for her co-conspirators “Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot, was recently arrested after an assassination of a small group of smugglers. It is yet unknown if it was a hit or was it personal.” The article went on, but there was nothing more of interest.

“So the guy’s a mercenary too? That’s good. He’ll bring Adrien to you.”

“Not so fast. I remember hearing about him. Deadshot is one of the few mercenaries who try to keep some resemblance of a code. He’s also noted to be soft around children.”

“Isn’t Adrien almost an adult though?” Kaalki asked rather uncaring.

“Have you met the guy? He’s a literal ray of sunshine!” Plagg protested.

“So… he won’t deliver him and won’t return him.” Seeing that some Kwamis didn’t understand her logic, she clarified, “I don’t think that if he learns how Gabe treated his son he will be in any hurry to return him.”

“That makes sense.” The little being all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the alternative?”

“He could adopt him,” Ziggy suggested.

“Please.” Marinette dismissed the idea. “He’s not Bruce Wayne.”

“He could smuggle him out of the country.”

“No. Everyone’s looking for him.” Roaar countered. “He would try to lay low somewhere.”

“Burley is large and full of potential safe houses.” Marinette started to think. “But there is also a large concentration of organized crime. Alone, we would have a hard time, but if we got them to help…”

“Is it wise to involve more criminals into your schemes Marinette?” Tikki asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube. To catch a bird you need wings. To catch a criminal you need crime.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“What’s the worse that could happen? I will go there as Seamstress. I won’t even appear in person. Right, Trixx?”

“You can count on it.” The fox kwami grinned.

“But… but…” Tikki wanted to scream her head off. Why did the previous guardian choose a juvenile criminal for her holder. Marinette used to be such a sweet girl. Where did Tikki go wrong?

---------

It was dark when an eerie mist filled one of the less-than-legal clubs in Burnley. From among the smoke, a figure entered. She was wearing a godet-type black dress with a side-cut that reached to her belt. The dress was overlayed with a very visible deep-blue corset that pronounced her blue eyes. It had some intricate laces on it. She also wore a puffy-sleeved blazer (also black, but with a dark blue finish) with large and very pronounced cuffs. Around her neck was a white double jabot fixed to a choker with a large black gem surrounded by diamonds. Her long deep-blue hair was let loose and hung over her shoulder. A simple black-and-white domino mask hid her features.

As she marched, one of her legs shifted the fabric to reveal she was wearing dark-blue socks reaching above her knee and black leather boots. A knife was strapped to the right one and several leather strips around her thigh and knee suggested she had more weapons on her. 

One of the men whistled.

“Looks like the entertainment arrived, boys!” Several cheered at that shout. At least until the man who dared to say it ended pinned to a wall with a rather large needle holding his jacket in place. It was also uncomfortably close to his jugular. 

“I’m not entertainment.” The Seamstress hissed. 

“Then you’re not invited.” Several men got up, many were holding now-empty bottled which they turned into impromptu weapons. 

“You will help me find what was taken from me.” She demanded.

“Yeah? Or?” One of the men laughed before charging at her. 

What followed next was perhaps the strangest carnage Gotham City has seen in years. The Seamstress danced between the attacks with almost unnatural grace and agility while stabbing the attackers in various places with large needles. None of the hits were life-threatening and most would heal within hours. The wounds were meant to incapacitate with minimal long-term damage.

By the time she reached the far end of the bar, almost every man was laid out on the ground groaning in pain or scrambling in fear.

“I am not asking. You will be rewarded for your obedience.” She then disappeared into the back alley. One brave/foolish enough who still had some fight left rushed after her, only to find the place completely empty. 

On the rooftop, Marinette let out her breath. She didn’t use any miraculous for that one, but she kept Plagg’s ring on. Chat Noir wasn’t seen in some time, so it would’ve been easier to explain that the ring was stolen by a criminal. She would really need to thank her mother for all the training she forced on her ever since the Akumas started to appear, as well as the lessons during her childhood. Those were all only the most basic grunts tonight, but she got their attention. One of them would run to their boss. There, she could actually do what she planned. 

--------

Just like she predicted, some of the less injured guys left the bar in hurry and drove their bikes to another part of the district. They disappeared into a three-story building. The windows were boarded, but some light seeped through on the top floor, so that is where she climbed. Indeed, by hanging on the edge of the window sill, she was able to hear the panicked screams inside.

“...and then she just disappeared! It was like that damn Bat, only much more terrifying. She was so small, and yet there was this… this… aura of power.”

Thank you Chloe for being queen B. Marinette stifled a laugh. Mimicking Chloe was the right choice. 

“Probably another one of his useless brats.” The boss dismissed them. Marinette decided that it would make the best impression if she contradicted him right now.

She wondered for a moment how to enter the armored building. She could rip the boards away and enter that way, but she was aiming for ethereal, not brute. In the end, she pulled a pair of glasses and put them over her mask. 

“Kaalki. Would you please help me break into headquarters of a criminal organization to scare them into serving me?”

“How many sugar cubes is it worth?”

“Ten. No more, no less.” Marinette had a small window of opportunity. 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

“Kaalki! Full gallop!” The light enveloped Marinette. When it died down, she was still in her outfit, only now the blue accents were brown instead. The gem on her neck held the symbol of a horse miraculous. “I love magical clothes. So easy to maintain the image.” Marinette muttered before a blue portal opened before her and she entered.

Inside, the five men (two who came to report, the boss, and his two guards) watched as the blue portal opened before them. The mist started to pour through it as well as through the boarded window. A figure calmly stepped inside.

“I didn’t expect the Gotham criminal organizations to be so… cliche.” She commented. Two needles sailed through the air and pinned the guards to the wall. Her horseshoe weapon waited patiently on her back should she need to use it.

“Who… who’re you?”

“Me? Oh. I’m The Seamstress. I had business in Gotham, but a fool dared to double-cross me. I need to find him.”

“Why… W-why shou-should w-we help… help you?” One of the guys from the bar asked.

“Oh. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you’ll help me.” She informed. “I’m about to make you an offer you shouldn’t refuse.” 

The boss was now shaking. Damn city with its damn overpowered supervillains. They think they can simply run things as they want. First Red Hood took out most of the top brass of the underworld and then this? Working on his father’s farm was sounding more and more appealing. Then there was the shouldn’t. The reference to the classic movie was not lost, but she said shouldn’t. Not can’t. Once more he remembered how Red Hood took over. Submit, or die. This was the same. She clearly wouldn’t hesitate. He liked to think he could see those things. 

“I’m waiting.” The lady growled. “I’m not used to waiting.” Channeling Chloe is actually fun here. 

“Fine. You can have my seat. I’m going back to dad’s farm. Just let me go and you can have them.” The boss stood from his seat and motioned for her.

Marinette.exe is not responding. Do you want to execute the process? Not yet. 

She managed to keep enough cool to smile and take the seat, although she didn’t even register what was that. 

She would panic later. For now, tracking Adrien. “I need to find where Floyd Lawton, also called Deadshot, is hiding with my… asset.”

“It… I will see to it, Boss… lady.” One of the guys from the bar nodded very fast before rushing out of the room.

“I… will bring you the list of current assets.” One of the guards informed and walked somewhere. They were used to aggressive takeovers. This was their third. Boss change, guards remain. This was honestly the first time the previous boss managed to escape with his life. 

Meanwhile, Marinette finally realized what just happened. She really wanted to hit her head on the desk, but she was too afraid to show any signs of weakness. Why did she end up in this mess again?

----------

Sabine Cheng was waiting for her plane back when an airport guard approached her.

“Lady Cheng?” Sabine’s blood froze for a moment, but she refused to show any outward reaction at her past codename. “There is a man who wishes to discuss some… past debts.”

Damn it. And here she thought that bald bastard would forget about her. He had several more suitable people. He knew the risks of angering her.

Then again, she knew not to anger him either.

“Lead the way.” Her face was stone cold as she stood up. 

Inside a comfortable private lodge sat a blad man in a suit more expensive than the yearly revenue of her bakery. 

“Ah… Lady Cheng. I’m so happy you could’ve joined us.”

Sabine looked around and noticed that there was another man there, standing slightly in the shadows. A man she came to despise just as much as Luthor. Standing there was Gabriel Agreste.

“I can’t return the pleasure, Luthor.” She snarled, not letting her gaze drop from Agreste.

“Figured you’d say that.” The billionaire laughed. “But it doesn’t change that you came.”

“Be quick. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“About that.” Lex smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be on that plane. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sadly, my calendar is full for the foreseeable future.” She retorted coldly.

“Then you will clean it. Unless that is, you want me to tell my good friend the president about your little assignment for me twenty years ago. If I recall, your pardon didn’t cover that particular crime.” The man chuckled.

The only upside of this whole situation to Sabine was that Agreste finally realized exactly who she was. Or at least how dangerous she was. The deal she made ensured that Lady Cheng disappeared from everywhere but some people’s memory. To her dismay, Lex didn’t forget. And he still had that damning evidence.

She also knew exactly what was the job.

“I don’t do jobs involving kids, Luthor.” She seethed through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t matter, but she hoped it would at least give him a pause.

“Adrien Agreste was about to be married. I think that can calm your conscience. He was all but adult.” That despicable man dismissed her concern, as she predicted.

“I’m a little rusty. Don’t you have someone younger? Someone who would actually want to do this?” Sabine deadpanned. She kept true to the deal she made for her and her husband’s pardon and didn’t do any… extracurricular work.

“Alas, the fact you’re unwilling is why I need you. You see, the client, whoever they are, picked Agreste Jr. as a target in a… battle royale of sorts. It quickly stopped being about the ludicrous money reward. It’s now about proving who’s the best. And they won’t stop until they deliver him to that mysterious Seamstress.”

“So what do you want? I’m sure you could’ve bought some of them to drop the glory part.” She really didn’t want to do this.

“I offered to pay five times the price, but most of the competent ones want a shot at whatever that job is. A mysterious benefactor with no history, nonexistent in any database in the world, paying a small fortune for a simple job and offering further work? Doesn’t it sound familiar?” Lex reclined in his chair and smiled.

“One job only. I want everything you have on me. And ten times the bounty.” She noted his discomfort. “Don’t give me that look, Luthor. You can afford it. My daughter’s about to start a university.” Sabine turned to Gabriel. “I must thank you for the idea. Homeschooling really helps when one is gifted.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Lex grumbled. If he didn’t know the quality of her works, he would’ve laughed at the price. Except he foolishly revealed that he was desperate.

“Oh, I’m sure we can.” Sabine smiled. She was like a cat that just caught a mouse.

#maribat #miraculous #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb x dc #dc #DC comics #dcu #batman #Hit on the groom

[ediths]

What I Wish Just One Person Would Say To Me

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You’re always going to support Harry’s dream, no matter how much it can hurt you at times.

Warning(s): It’s sad overall, so beware of that

A/N: hello again loves!!! @trulylight requested: hey, can you please write something with harry styles based on the song “what i wish just one person would say to me” by LANY? I hope that I did your ask justice!!! I’m not sure exactly what you wanted, of course, but this is how I interpreted the song!!! Okay tbh I don’t really know how I feel about  this :(( but I’m gonna post it anyway and I hope that someone enjoys this!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | Request - Guidelines | Come Talk to Me!!

Reblogs help a lot and are greatly appreciated!!

*

You and Harry have been dating since before everything in his life flipped upside down. Since the ripe old age of fifteen, you’ve been able to call him yours. Alongside his mother, you encouraged him to take the chance with the X Factor. You distinctly remember telling him that the worst they could do is say no, and regardless of the outcome, you’d be there to support him with any and everything that he wanted to do.

Turns out that going on that show was the best thing for him. The band was formed and he turned into an international pop star overnight. At first, you had been worried about what would happen with the two of you. You couldn’t see where you fit into the equation of his new life. You knew just how many people had begun to want him, and you constantly found yourself wondering when the breakup call was going to come. You hated thinking things like that, but with him constantly climbing up in the world, there seemed like less and less of a chance of the two of you staying together.

Harry had other plans for the two of you, however. He shut down those thoughts the moment that he found out about them. He assured you that there was no one else for him, that there was nobody he would rather have. He promised you that no matter where he was in the world, he was yours and you were his. And although it probably shouldn’t have, his words easily brought you peace.

Now, ten years later, you’re not sure what life would be like if you weren’t directly connected to Harry Styles. Life has been a rollercoaster, with plenty of ups and downs, but there’s nothing about it that you would change. Regardless of how many bad days there were, you get to come home and spend your time with the man that you’re head over heels in love with, so really, there’s nothing that can bring you down. 

Harry’s kept your head up for years, even when things felt like they were too much to handle. When there were articles about you that weren’t very flattering, when the hate messages started, when he went on tour and you felt like you were alone in the world, he still managed to find a way to make you feel better. He was the rock that kept you grounded in this hectic lifestyle. 

Even though your life can be an absolute mess at times, there’s no one else you’d rather spend it with. There’s no one else that you’d want to navigate this crazy world with.

There’s just something about Harry that makes you feel complete and secure. There had always felt like there was something missing in your life, but the moment Harry waltzed in and stole your heart, everything felt complete. 

There’s nothing more in this world that you could ask for. All you want to do is spend the rest of your life with him. Not a day goes by that you don’t yearn for the ability to just be around him every day.

In the life that you live, however, that’s not realistic. Being around Harry every single day isn’t something that’s achievable. You may be the love of his life, but music and touring? That’s a major part of his life as well. 

Sometimes it’s hard, not being able to have a “normal relationship” but after you think about it, you’d never want what people think of as a normal relationship over the one that you already have. 

You’re well aware of the fact that Harry can’t just stay with you all the time. He needs more than that to truly be happy, and you’re okay with that. It’s hard sometimes. It hurts more often than not to be away from him for so long, but you’ve become so used to it that you don’t even question it anymore.

You’ve always known that Harry needed more than the small town that you grew up in to be happy. He’s always been too big for that place, and you simply can’t try to hinder the opportunities that life throws at him.

No matter how much pain that him being away for months at a time causes you, there’s no way that you could just give up on him. You’re here for everything, for better or for worse, so you’re not just going to up and leave because things are a little hard on your end. 

You went through this for five continuous years while he was in One Direction, so there’s no doubt in your mind that there’s a way for you to get through it for a few months to a year. It’s not like he completely drops off the face of the earth when he’s gone. The two of you still talk on the phone and text each other. There’s never been a day go by where you didn’t hear at least something from him.

The both of you try your best to be as close to each other as possible, regardless of the fact that he’s normally in another country while on tour. 

As you’re sitting on the bed next to Harry, he’s packing for his next tour. This time, though, he seems to be more worried about the months to come than you are.

“Look, love, anytime you need anything, I’m just a call away, okay?” He turns to look at you and the desperation written on his face makes you want to curl up in him and never have him leave.

“Harry, I’ve told you for the last time, I’ll be fine.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“I know, I just feel bad for leaving you again.” A soft smile graces your face at his words.

“I’ll be perfectly okay, baby. I’ll be right here watching you take on the world.” He moves closer to you and wraps his arms around you.

“I know you’ll be okay, but I also know how much you hate being alone for months at a time.” 

“Hey, listen to me, okay? It’s the same as any other time you’ve been on tour. I’ll hold down the fort at home while you go out and live your dream.”

“I don’t want you to have to stay here all alone though, dove. Doesn’t seem fair.” You begin running your hands through his messy ringlets.

“What about it isn’t fair? I have a job here to do, just like you have a job to do. Yours just requires you traveling around the world.” 

“Just seems wrong to leave you here.”

You sigh. “Listen, you have to go on tour, there’s nothing that can change that. I’m fine staying here as long as I know that you’re coming home at some point, okay? I’m happy that you get to do this.”

He pulls back from you for a moment, planting a light peck on your cheek before burying his face back into your neck.

*

It’s been three months since Harry left for tour, and as much as you truly are happy for him, you were having a progressively harder time with being completely content with the entire situation. The longer that he’s gone, the more you seem to lose your way without him with you every day. This happens every time that he goes on tour, regardless of how long that he’s gone. For the first few months, everything’s jumbled up and it’s hard for you to completely adapt to him being gone.

He’s only been gone for a fraction of the time that he has to be, but you can’t help but feel like it’s been years. Every time that he’s home for an extended period of time and then leaves again, it hits you hard just how much that you love him. He’s everything that you’ve ever wanted and everything that you’ll ever need. Being without him feels like torture, and you silently wish to yourself every day that he could have a career doing what he loves, but without having to leave so often.

As soon as the thought comes into your mind, though, you quickly rid it from your thoughts. He’s living his dream and you can’t be anything but happy for him.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind doesn’t stop others from taking root in your brain, though. The most adamant one being that you wish he’d just run back home to hold you and comfort you, even if it was only for the night.

As much as you wish for it, though, you know that he can’t just do that. So instead of holding him as you fall asleep every night, you fall asleep holding his pillow as he talks you to sleep over the phone.

*

Okay so I’m not sure how to feel about this but I hope that it’s good!!! 

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*

#Zoey Writes #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles #hs

[wthcew]

JayTim, flirting, falling in love and cuddles and JJ Tim who gor adopted by Harley and Ivy pretty please??

Sweetie, you just jumped on my train of JJ fics, I hope you don't mind that I added a little bit of smut

I'm so sorry it took me that long to write it, I hope you like it!

_____________________________________________

30 days

_____________________________________________

The first time he heard about it he was under the ground. He felt like he was choking, his helmet somewhere unknown and with it his communication with Oracle. He isn't talking to B (not after he chose the fucking Joker over him) but he does help Nightwing sometimes, and oh, did he wished right now that he would have never let Dick in his safehouse.

Nightwing and Red Hood were about to bust a drag ring, but the thing is, it was an ambush, so now they're both under ground, Hood's leg impaled to the ground by an iron pillar from one of the walls that exploded and that they're buried under, his helmet in an unknown place and 'wing trying to call for help.

Jason tried to slow his breath but being under ground is bringing back bad memories (He can't breathe, he's locked, and all he want right now is his dad-) of being six feet under and he's hysterical- because everything is hurting and broken and half his face are burned and he can't breathe so please, please he just want his dad, "please dad come save me"-

He's so gone into his mind, letting his panic control him that he's flinching away when Dick touching his shoulder, but it's pulling him out of his head (and just when did the tears started to spill out of his eyes?), and Dick is looking at him, the whites lenses of his domino mask are gone and instead Jason's getting those blue eyes that are full with concern.

"It's okay Jay" Dick smiled at him, a small smile that somehow made Jason believe that it's okay. "B and baby bat are on their way right now," Dick's hand found Jason's and he squeezed it in reassuring. Jason returned the squeeze. "We will be fine"

...

"Did someone ever told you about the kid who almost killed Joker?" Dick asked after couple minutes of silence, when Jason's breath is under control and he isn't so much as hysterical as he was couple of minutes before.

Jay turned his head to Dick, "No" his voice was hoarse, too hoarse for his own ears but Dick didn't seems to mind, he just nodded his head and smiled softly at him.

"He was thirteen years old back then, Joker took him, when Babs still was Batgirl" And at that moment Dick's comn beeped and after five minutes they were out of the ground, Bruce and Damian next to Dick, checking if he's fine while Jason took his helmet, the hole in his leg isn't that bad and when Dick looking at him the Red Hood already swing away.

_____________________________________________

The second time he heard about it was because he wanted to, he was curious and he wanted to know what happened to the kid, what made a thirteen years old kid almost kill the Joker.

So, he was on his couch, his leg bandaged and a cup of hot tea on the coffe table, his laptop open and working and the reading lamp's orange light made his shadow look like some villain from kids cartoon.

It's hard to find anything about it but he is (A bat) Red Hood, if he wants to he'll find out what happened back then. And he want to.

So Jason cracked his fingers and started to work.

The seconds became to minutes that became to hours of work and clicking on his keyboard, it's hard to find anything because apparently this whole story is shushed and all Jason gathered until now came from a video of the news report and all they said there was that Joker broke out of Arkham and decided he wanted a son, kidnapped some unlucky kid and deleted the boy's personality with electrical shocks until he becamed Joker Junior, and then he kept torturing the kid until the Batman and Batgirl found the kid, broken minded and holding a gun to Joker's head.

It was quite the story, but Jason didn't know what happened later, who the kid was or what happened to him.

But he will, just to know if the kid's okay. Or to ask why he hadn't pulled the trigger..

So he kept digging, looking for anything that may conect to the story. And that's how Jason found himself reading article about Jack and Jent Drake disowning their only child Tim Drake. The kid was only thirteen back then, and all he took before he took off from the face of earth was a stuffed Kola and a camra.

And it may be his curiosity about this because he don't remember the kid and apparently they were neighbors or the JJ thing but he knows that he'll find Tim Drake.

_____________________________________________

Jent Drake died two years after she disowned Tim in a car crash, her husband got depressed and started looking for Tim to reown him but then he met Dana Winters.

There was some love story there that Jason wasn't really that interested in reading but in the end they married and left Gotham, never coming back. And the most annoying thing is, that Tim was never found.

But he did found out that there was some kid that helped Harley and Ivy sometimes, he had a faded red hoodie and faded green jeans.

The hoodie's hat always hiding his face and from the little Jason saw, his skin was more white than normal human skin.

Jason couldn't find a lot of photos of the kid but he did find one of Harley hugging the kid.

Jason looked at the photo, it was fuve years old, when Tim desperate and all the JJ thing happened. The way he held himself was familiar to Jason, something deep in his mind, memories that he couldn't remember, but it was there, and Jason knows that this Tim kid is JJ who is also somehow Harley's kid.

_____________________________________________

"I need your help"

"Oh that's nice, what aby 'hey Babs, how was your day? Did Dick pissed you off and going to sleep on the couch tonight? Can you please help me with this thing?'"

Jason smiled, shifting the phone that was pressed against his ear "What did Dick did?"

"He was a dick"

"How was your day?"

"What did you wanted help with Jay?"

"Clown boy"

"Hmm?"

"Joker Junior"

A sharp breath "What about him?"

"You know who he is?"

"We found him after he took a dip in the acid, and he was dressed like the Joker, too much make up, green hair, purple suit, couldn't recognise him"

"But you know don't you?"

"Batman doesn't know"

"Well you're Oracle not Batman. It's simple question O, you know? Yes or no?"

"I know"

"I think I know too"

"Who do you think it is?"

"Tim Drake"

"..Yes it's him"

"Why didn't you told Bruce?

"He's a good kid"

"He's with Harley now"

"Tim isn't bad"

"Babs, if he's Joker Junior and he's with Harley he can't be that good"

"Jay, Harley and Ivy gave me the tip to find him and Harley took him in after his parents disowned him, he may be stilling sometimes or helping Harley and Ivy but he is good"

"You kept tabs on him?"

"He's smart, he may have lost a lot of his memories because of the Joker and he is crazy but he have support"

"Does Bruce know you're helping hiding him?"

"No, and he wouldn't. Not until Tim decided that it's fine"

"You're in contact?"

"We're just talking, I'm sending him puzels and riddles and it's helping him keep clean mind"

"Can I talk to him?"

"I can't tell you where he is but I also can't stop you from doing this"

"Thank you Babs"

"Not a problem Jaybird"

_____________________________________________

It was a week later that Jason walked into a small unnoticed coffee shop.

The design of the place gave him a feeling of happiness, like it was some kind of home.

He looked through everyone there, couple next to the window, three old ladies sitting in a table for four, chatting and laughing, couple of collage students sitting with something to eat and something warm to drink and typing on their laptops, and on the farthest side of the coffee shop, in a table for two, sat a teen, his hands paler than any human skin, his long hair hiding his face, a coffee cup in front of him and his legs shacking.

"Hello! Can I help you?" A cheerful voice called from the cashier desk, he put on a smile on his face and turned to see a black haired girl, with a big smile on her face.

"Yeah, do you have Eral Gray?"

"We do! Anything else with this?"

"No, thank you"

"Okay, just a minute"

When he got his cup he paid the girl murmuring a "Thank you" and walking to Tim.

When he sat down in front of the teen, icy blue eyes looked at his face, and his breath hitched when he saw the little cuts on at each end of his mouth, creating a smile.

"Hey" Jason said, smiling at Tim.

"Hey.." Tim's voice almost didn't reached his ears and Jason's smile grew wider when Tim smiled at him. A shy little amazing smile.

"I'm Jason"

"T-Tim"

"Nice to meet you"

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted tea"

"You aren't scared?" Tim's eyes looked a bit insane when he said the last word, his smile grew wider and he leaned closer to the table. The cuts on his face and his pale skin made him look like Joker but there was also something else there, something in his eyes that said 'Pleas don't be scared' and Jason swallowed and forced his nerves to calm down.

"No, you actually seems nice"

Tim blinked once.

Twice.

And then his smile became nicer, less dangerous and more shy. He relaxed and took a sip from his coffee.

Jason smiled, sipping from his own cup while making a note in his head to be careful with this one.

They drank a couple more cups together, chatting about nothing in particular and when Tim excused himself and left, Jason found a paper next to the cup.

He opened it because of his dammed curiosity and bis breath hitched.

'Ha ha ha'

_____________________________________________

It was in the middle of the night, the streets lamps flickered on and off every couple of seconds, and the stars were hidden in the sky, behind the clouds.

His parents just left the town. Without telling him. Again. And it's fine, he can't be mad at his parents for leaving him -he is, like his mother says, rotten child- all the time.

But sometimes he wonders if he'll ever be good enough for them to stay. If he'll ever be good enough so his mother wouldn't need to hiss his name through clench teeth and his father to hit him.

Maybe he would never be good enough..

In those nights when he wonders about it, he goes to a walk. It's always makes him calm and shuts his mind down. It's leaving him with the feeling of wholenesses, like some how the wind that hit his body in cold sharp hit is welcoming, or the cold of the night is like his stuffed Kola -the one he got from Bruce Wayne In a gala that his parents hosted when he was four and since then he hides it from his parents and hugging it when he need comfort- or like the silence out here is better than the silence inside the empty house.

And maybe, just maybe hr would see his heros.

And as Tim kept walking he could barely hear this cursed laugh, followed by the soft like song-

Mary had a little lamb

Little lamb, little lamb

Mary had a little lamb...

"Cutie pie?" His mama's voice rang, it was muffled but it was still there. "I'm hearing laughing, it's a good joke?"

A knock on his door "Sweetheart?" His laugh grew and his eyes burned, tears dropping from his eyes.

"Timmy?"

He hugged his legs to his chest, laughing and crying and this song is stuck in his head and he can't stop it and-

"Mary had a little lamb"

Mama's hands are around him, hugging him and petting his hair "Shhh shh shh, everything's fine baby, I'm here"

He can't breathe and the song is on full volume in his head but mama's here and mama is safety, she's safety. He's safe. Safe

_____________________________________________

"What the hell were you thinking?" Oracle's voice rang through the comn in his helmet.

"You need to be more specific than that O"

"Tim blocked me, Selina is mad at Bruce because one of his kids hurt her niece, Harley and Tim are nowhere to be found and Selina and Ivy are planning something"

"I didn't hurt Tim and I don't know why you told ma all the other stuff"

"Hood, Tim's smart, maybe too much smart but his mind is broken, he's crazy and genius"

"Okay and..?"

"He wants to go -and I’m quoting him- Boom he always wanted everyone to know that he's Harley's kid, and I always made him take more time, think about it more the fact that he blocked me means that I can't tell him to sit back anymore"

"You can remove it though"

"I did, and he just throw his phone away"

"So I broke him?"

"No, Joker broke him you just set him off"

"Shit"

"Yes. Shit"

_____________________________________________

"Wohhooo" Was shout out to the sky as Tim set in shopping cart, Harley -in her rollerblades- holding the handles of the cart, and they're both 'driving' down a road, laughing.

The air hit Tim's face in the best way he could have ever imagined and he laughed so hard that his cheedk burned, and maybe he ripped his stiches oncr again today but he dosen't care.

He is happy. So, so happy, like he was with this hot guy in the coffee shop, before his meltdown.

But right now, right now it's all this.

His mama and him, having fun, his mom and aunty kitty somewhere doing her own thing and everything's okay.

He laughed again as they started to speed up, the wind throwing his hair in any direction possible.

After a few minutes they cane to a stop, his mama's smile is so loving and he hopes that his smile is loving as well.

"Come on sweetie, let's do it" Harley smiled as she gave him the lighter, he jumped out of the cart and lit the lighter, his eyes sparking as the fire started spreading.

Tim and Harley walked away because they're crazy not stupid.

There faces lit up as the fireworks blew and flew to the sky.

Harley hugged him from behind and he relaxed into his mama's touch, watching the fireworks becoming to words that are shining over Gotham's sky.

30 days

_____________________________________________

"Hey Hoodie" A cheerful voice called from behind him.

Red Hood turned around, a gun in his hand just to be met with Tim's lovely smile.

"Chill, chill" The teen said, holding his hands up "I'm not going to hurt you"

"What do you want?" Hood asked, lowering his gun.

"We have never met have we?" Tim said, his smile calm

"I don't think so"

"No, but I did met Robin"

"So you met the Demon"

Tim frowned "No. The second one."

"Don't know him"

"Red Hood can't meet Robin II"

"And why's that?"

"Robin II's dead, dad killed him" Tim shock his head "I don't like dad, I liked Robin II and dad did it because it's funny. It's not!"

Tim looked so frustrated, his eyes big and he's looking at Jason like he hope that he would understand that and, something in Jason change, his face are softer under the helmet and-

"Okay Tim, I know you aren't the Joker."

"I didn't met *you* but we did met, I know Robin and I know Jason and now I know Red Hood?"

"You know who I am"

"No, no no no!" Tim looked him straight in the eyes, like he could see his face behind the helmet "You're Red Hood now, you were Robin and you always were Jason but now you Red Hood, I don't know Red Hood!"

"Okay, okay, relax, you don't know Red Hood, that's fine"

"I need to know Red Hood"

"Why?"

"Because I need Red Hood to help me"

"You need help?"

"Yes"

"Okay, but why Red Hood?"

"Because.. Ummm because- Because of Dad! I need Red Hood to help me kill dad"

To kill.. the Joker.

To kill the Joker.

The Joker dead.

'Yes'

"I would help you, Red Hood and Jason, okay?"

Tim nodded "Yeah, okay."

The sky started to glow and they both looked up, looking at fireworks that formed

29 days

_____________________________________________

It was so logical and simple that Jason almost laugh.

He sat next to Tim in some small safehouse, looking at Tim up and down as he was solving Sudoku.

They're waiting for the others to decide exactly who will go in and kill this son of a bitch and aho will make sure that everyone else will be present in that day.

They are waiting for Tim's small family, and Jason smiled at the thought of this family, he once had one and then he died and he was replaced by Stephanie Brown who is now Batgirl so they're fine now. But he doesn't have this family now, all he have are some blurred memories.

Tim let out a little "Yay" with a cute, small giggle that made Jason smile.

"Hey!" Tim suddenly said, looking at Jason with big eyes, Jason looked around him, trying to find something that would make Tim look panoco "What-"

"Are you hurt?" Tim's voice was soft and caring and Jasom heart might have skipped a beat, "No?"

"Than why do you have split lip and bruise on your jaw?"

"I've got into a fight, it's not serious" But Tim was there in seconds, his worry eyes looking at Jason's jaw and just wow- Jason swallowed the lump in his throat when Tim's slender finger touched his lip and-

"I've the best thing to help!" Tim pulled away and his finger caressed Jason's lip in a way that made Jason hold his breath.

And in the next moment Tim putted a chocolate bar in his hand, smiling at him "It help!" He said and Jason huffed a laugh, mentally shacking his head.

"Thanks Timmy" Jason said an smile on his face, opening the chocolate and cutting a line.

It was milk chocolate with pop candy and it was amazing, Jason hummed as he ate it, looking at Tim solving a new sudoku.

After the meeting (if it even can be called that) Jason took the rest of the chocolate bar, just to have something sweet after patrol tonight.

_____________________________________________

Jason stripped from his Red Hood gear, stretching his hands out and poping his back.

He took a quick shower and pulled on a sweat pants and grey hoodie from the deep of his closest 'Maybe it's time to do the laundry'.

Jason smiled as the sky were lit in 25 Days and turned the lamp off.

His lip tickled as some kind of reminder that Tim touched him there, he looked so worried and that just warmed Jason's heart.

And that amazing chocolate- maybe he will have to get hurt more just to have it.

He closed hid eyes, ready to fall asleep and then it hit him-

Oh.

Oh.

Oh shit.

He- he have a crush.

_____________________________________________

The sun was in the middle of the sky when Jason woke up, blinking into the darkness because the blinds are close.

He groaned as he stretched his body, still in the bed under the warmth of the fluffy blanket. The sleepiness still has her claws clutching on him and made Jason wonder why the hell his bed isn't as comfy whenever he's trying to sleep but is when he tries to wake up.

He almost fell asleep again, but the *Bam! Bam! Bam!* on his door made him jolt up from the bed, the gun that he hides between the mattress and the bed in his hand, walking to the living room without making a sound, looking through the peep hole.

He huffed in relief, opening the door looking at Dick who smiled at him. "You woke me up you asshole"

"Sorry little wing" But Dick didn't sounded sorry at all and that just made him groan.

Jason followed Dick to the kitchen after Dick let himself in, the door closing behind them.

"What are you doing here?"

"I can't visit my little brother?"

"Not your brother" Jason turned around to the pantry to take out a tea bag just when Dick flinched from the words as if they're physically harming him.

"You're my brother, even if you don't see it like that"

"Dick."

"No! You're my brother, I count you as my brother" Dick snap and Jason would lie if he said that that didn't touched his heart, even if it's not true because in the end Dick have his new little brother and also a sister and it's really is fine that Jason isn't part of his family. It is.

So he didn't reply to it, just let Dick think what he wants to. "Do you want to tell me why you actually came or what?" He asked as he started to boil water.

"I wanted to talk to you"

"About?"

"You said you'd this case, how's it going?"

Jason took the teapot off the gas, pouring the hot water to his glass, "I didn't told anyone that I've a case"

"Well no but Babs told me"

"Babs don't know, and she would have asked if she wanted to know" Jason took a sip from his cup and turned around to glare at the older man "What it really is about?"

"Bruce saw you with Harley and Ivy and their kid and he wants to know what you all doing"

Jason saw red for a moment and them took a calming breath, a long sip from his tea and walked his way toward the island, putting his mug down and glaring at his so called brother.

"So you're here on a mission?" His voice was cold and full with venom.

"N-no!"

Jason raised an eyebrow "You just said it"

"I don't care what B wanted, I came for my brother"

"Damian isn't here"

"Jason!"

"What? You want me to say that you didn't came because Bruce said something on me? You don't want to know what I'm doing with Harley, Ivy and their kid? Ah? That's what you're telling me?"

"I-"

"Ha! And you just said we're brothers!"

"We are Jason"

"No! You have your own little family, I'm not part of it, never was!"

"You are! You always were and you always will be!"

And at that moment Jason saw green, throwing his mug down on the island, the shatterd flew everywhere and the hot water started to drip down to the floor.

And as a last resort Dick yelled "TIM DRAKE!"

It made Jason blink, and look at Dick, "What did you just said?"

"Tim Drake, it's this boy Joker kidnapped, Harley and Ivy's kid"

"How do you know this?"

"Well, family of detectives and all"

"What do you want?"

"Is he threating you?"

"What? No!"

"Jay, you can tell me the truth"

"Oh I can?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Okay so fuck off"

"Wh-what?"

"The truth is that I want you to fuck off and don't ever come back. Bye."

"..Jay.."

"I'll throw you out of the window"

"Okay, okay. But.."

"Go!" _____________________________________________

Tim sat on an air conditioner motor that was on the roof of a building, his legs tangling down, one shoe red with zigzag lines on it and the other one yellow with glitters. His pants in a fading green colour and a black-blue t-shirt. And Jason just looked, glad that his helmet hiding his face as a stupid smile crossed his face.

"Hoodie hood!" Tim's cheerful voice made Jason's smile wider, and Tim pushed himself of the air conditioner motor, when his feet touched the roof his yellow shoe started to sparkle with light, like little kids shoes.

"Hey clown kid" Tim smiled, something sweet and beautiful that made butterflies fly in Jason's belly.

"I don't like this helmet today" Tim said, his hands touching lightly at the sides of the red helmet.

"And why's that?"

"I can't see your hair. I love your hair!"

Jason smiled, Tim was just... just.

"Thanks baby clown, I love your hair too"

"Baby clown?"

"Yup"

"I like it"

"Good"

Tim took Jason's hand in his and started walking them to the air conditioner motor.

They both sat down, Tim's hands now in his lap and Jason opened his helmet, setting it next to him.

Tim looked at him, his blue icy eyes glinted and a small smile on his face. Jason looked right back at him, the blue-green eyes looking like some amazing place that kids are being told about in fairy tales.

Jason don't know who moved first, or what exactly happened. All he knows is that Tim is sitting in his lap, Tim's hands in his hair and Jason hugging him close. There mouths pressing against each other's. Tim's mouth have this amazing chocolate taste, a hint of coffee and Tim.

In the dark sky above of them, the fireworks draw the 18 days.

_____________________________________________

Jason is happy. Like really truly happy. He couldn't stop smiling this stupid love sick smile since the kiss.

He met Tim every patrol and those small kiss were the best, 10/10 would definitely do again.

Tim's cute and smart and he seems to really like Jason which is amazing because Jason really like him too.

None of the Bats came to annoy him, and everything is just amazing. For once in his life everything is just good.

His grapple gun shot to the next building and the cold wind never felt better. As Red Hood's boots hit the roof a "Hey there, love bird" greeted him.

"Cat," He called back, doing a small '*hi*' with his hand "'sup?"

"We need to talk"

"About?"

"Tim"

Jason sat next to her, his legs tangling down from the roof, "You here to give me the talk?"

"Not the talk you think about, I'll that to his moms"

"Then what talk?"

"Are you serious with him?"

"For now.. for now yes" he said with a bit hesitation.

Selina nodded "That's good for me"

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome sweetie, anyway you nrrd to be careful with Timmy"

"I know that, I wasn't born yesterday Cat"

She huffed a laugh, "Oh I know that sweetie, but you still need to know about Tim's past"

"Isn't he supposed to tell me about it? In his own time?"

"He will, I'm going to tell you only things that he won't because it's a trigger for him"

"The torture?"

"Yes, the torture, and what lead to his kidnapping, and it'll give you an idea yo what his parents were like"

Jason looked at her in the eyes, seriousness burns in them. "Okay, let's hear the story" _____________________________________________

His parents left again, it has been hours since the screaming stopped, his cheeks were wet from tears and his eyes red.

He was hiding in the closet, his hands holding his stuffed Kola close, his left arm is numb except for the cut on it, but it's a small cut and he deserved it. He isn't supposed to talk back to his father.

The dry blood on his arm itched and he needs to treat the cut, but he don't want to move. The closest is a safe place because mother and father can't get in.

New tears slipping down his face and he hugs the Kola tighter.

_____________________________________________

When Tim woke up his neck hurt and his left arm felt like a million fire ants stung her.

He opened the closest door, stumbling out of there holding the Kola in one hand, dropping it on his bed and walking to the bathroom, pulling the first aid kit from under the sink, treating his wound with a hiss of pain.

A quick glance out of the window and he knows it's in the middle of the night, and his parents were supposed to stay home for more couple of days but once again they just left the town. Without telling him. Again. And it's fine, he can't be mad at his parents for leaving him -he is, like his mother says, rotten child- all the time.

But he doesn't have something to do now, and his arm's fine, he can go out and see Batman, and maybe Robin too. Though Robin isn't around a lot now, maybe something happened... _____________________________________________

The streets lamps flickered on and off every couple of seconds, and the stars were hidden in the sky, behind the clouds.

The cold wind hit him merciless, but it just made him smile, he loves the winter. It always made him feel better with himself.

His camera clutched in his hands, his black stocking cap falling on his eyes every couple of minutes, and yes it may be annoying but it's also letting him something to do, because tonight he can't find Batman...

What the hour anyway? Maybe he's late and Batman's back in the cave...

And then he could hear it, some quiet voice singing.. Maybe a kid.. What if the kid need help?

"Hello?' he called out, moving closer to the voice, he can hear the words now.

"Mary had a little lamb Little lamb, little lamb Mary had a little lamb..." _____________________________________________

He cried out, pain strobes through all hid body, tears on his face and blood run down his chine and neck

This psycho laugh making him shiver and try to run away. This hateful song in the background..

And this voice.. "Come on Little Lamb, be a good son for little old me, and tell me. What's. Your. Name?"

"T-Tim"

He screamed as he got electriced again. _____________________________________________

He is shacking, scared out of his mind, tears rolling down his face. And it doesn't stop.

He can barely breathe, the electrical shock isn't stopping. And Tim is honest to God scared.

He don't know what's next to come, he can't actually believe it's happening and everything- everything hurt.

He can feel himself leaving his body, his heart- _____________________________________________

He woke up, everything is hurting again and the fucking Joker is looking at him, this psychotic smile on his face-

"Welcome back my Little Lamb"

-And this horrible song again

"Mary had a little lamb Little lamb, little lamb Mary had a little lamb..." _____________________________________________

"What's your name?"

"Tim!" _____________________________________________

"What's. Your. Name?"

"Ti-" _____________________________________________

"Your name?"

He don't even* know *anymore, and it's really frustrating... _____________________________________________

He is laughing. A manic good laugh. Happy laugh.

He's happy because he remembers who he is and it's funny- why did he forgot anyway?

"What's your name?"

"JJ!" _____________________________________________

He laughed as his dad cut his face open do he'll always smile. He laughed as dad throw him to the acid. He laughed as dad painted his hair.

He laughed and he laughed, and laughed and laughed-

But it's not funny anymore- dad isn't here and his hair is black... JJ scowled at the mirror, dad don't like his hair black. He like green. Yes, green hair and purple suit, and red- red, red, red blood. And it's funny- everything funny so hr laughs, but the mirror- The shattered glass flew everywhere and it's so funny that he can't stop laughing-

"Timothy!" Mother's standing by the door, she looks horrified.. it's not funny anymore- it's not-

He can't breathe, he stumbles backwards, tears rolling down his face and he. Can't. Stop. Laughing. _____________________________________________

One night he heard his mother and father talking. It's not fine, but what is fine anymore? He's finally Tim but he's also JJ and it's so confusing.

"I can't look at him anymore Jack, he is pathetic!"

"I know Janet, don't worry"

Tim chokes a whimper. _____________________________________________

The next week Ivy and Harley found Tim trying to drown himself and took him in... _____________________________________________

Jason took in a deep breath, his eyes wet and his heart ache for his little clown.

"It's..."

Catwoman gave him a small smile, "A lot? I know. Those are once of the memories Tim still have"

"I'm- I can't even-" Cat smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder.

The words 13 Days shined in the sky above them.

_____________________________________________

"Hood" Oracle's voice filled his helmet.

"O, how many times do I need to ask you not to hack my helmet?"

Oracle completely ignored him "How's Tim been?"

Jason swallow, he forgot that Babs is actually one of those people who really care about Tim (and him. Because Babs amazing).

"He's been good, happy" Just like Jason. It's like they feel the same thing. He can see Babs smile in his mind at that, like something changed in the weather just because of what he said, and it pulled a smile in his face.

"That's good, how are you?"

"Same as Tim"

And now he can hear her smile when she talks "I'm happy to hear that."

"How are you O? Does Dick head annoying you? 'cuz I can beat him if you need"

O snorted, "Two days sleeping on the sofa and he'll be begging for my forgiveness"

Jason laughed. And they kept talking about nothing for two more minutes, before Babe had to go.

And that's when Jason shot his grapple to another roof and went flying in the sky, the feeling of happiness all over his body.

But it all stopped when hr heard it.

It came straight out of his nightmares, something from his deepest fears.

This manic laugh. Joker's laugh.

And no just no. Thete's no way this stupid fucker got out again.

He dropped to the ground with a thud sound, looking for the fucker but instead seeing a group of teenagers, kicking someone on the ground.. someone who couldn't stop laughing like the Joker and his heart stopped beating for a second when he realised who it is.

A shot noise ripped through the air and the teens stopped, looking back at the red hood holding a gun at one of them.

All he needed to do wad to say "Go. Away" and the teens ran away, leaving Tim on the ground, hugging his legs to his chest, blood and tears mixed together on his face, and he couldn't breathe because the laughing wouldn't stop.

Jason hurried to him, helping him to sit up and uncurl himself, unable to look over Tim's face since he wouldn't let him.

"Tim, sweetie, my baby clown," Jason kissed his cheek, hugging him close to him "It's me, remember? Red Hood"

And at that Tim's head moved, looking up at him. Eyes full of tears and his face twitched in this manic smile, blood dripping down from the now open cuts in his chicks to his chin.

"Timmy babe, can you hear me?" He received a small and hesitate nod that he took as yes.

"Can you give me your hands?" He asked, showing Tim his gloved hands. The smaller man put his hands in his, feeling the fabric.

Tim relaxed, his eyes fixed on the red helmet, the tears stopped rolling down his face.

The laughing quiet down a bit, but still were there.

"You remember me, right? We are friends, hell I'm hoping even more than friends"

Tim nodded, but Jason wasn't sure what he was agreeing with so he just kept talking.

"We have this amazing plan, because you are my little smarty boy right?"

Tim could take in a breath and that was good, he wasn't laughing anymore but he also didn't talk exactly, just watched Jason and every couple of seconds squeezed one of his hands (never the both of them together for some reason).

"Hell I even kissed you that night and it was the greatest thing in the whole world baby clown"

"No." Tim's tiny voice waved on the air.

"Hah?" If Tim didn't like Jason like that... It would be ok, he will be heart breaked for a few days but he would be fine at the end... Somehow.

"I kissed you" Tim said, looking at him with this witty little smile that Jason grew to love so much.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah" a small smile tug on Jason's lips, and their lips met. It was amazing just like the first time they kissed, and it sent sparkles down Jason's body.

And after a minute he let go, both of them taking deep breath.

"Come on baby clown, let's go to my home"

Tim took his hand and he pulled him up, hugging the smaller man.

The words 7 Days exploded in the sky exactly when they reached Jason's apartment.

_____________________________________________ 

Waking up with Tim by his side is amazing.

The smaller man was curled next to him, a hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt. The long black hair messed up but still so beautiful. Tim's face relaxed, a samll smile on his face.

Last night Jason gave him one of his own shirts, and the younger basically swam in the white shirt.

Jason looked at the paler than normal skin that was now available. It was in the same colour of the shirt.

He pulled Tim closer to him, kissing the beautiful man's forehead and closing his eyes.

Immediately going back to the welcoming blackness of sweat dreamless sleep. _____________________________________________

The next time he woke up was because Tim wasn't next to him.

Jason didn't know exactly why he woke up because of that, but the moment Tim's weight left his body his eyes snapped open, meating beautiful blue eyes.

Tim smiled at him, a sleepy smile. His hair a whole lot of mess and Jason's heart beated faster as he smiled back.

The sun was already in the middle of the sky and the clock on the wall said it was already one A.M.

"Mornin' Jay" Tim whispered.

"Morning baby clown" _____________________________________________

They ate together, silence surrounding them in the most comfortable way.

Jason couldn't exactly point it out but something about Tim made him.... just feel whole. Like he didn't felt since he woke up six feet deep.

Both of them were in Jason clothes and Jason found out that for some unknown reason, white looked better at pale skin.

And Tim.. Tim was the most beautiful human he saw. His blue eyes, his black long hair, and this perfect smile. Jason started asking what he fucking did right to get this angel. _____________________________________________

He didn't knew how it happened but Tim's hot wet mouth was on him and he was practically in heaven.

His hands gripped the black hair and pulled slightly, making Tim moan and himself gasping as the moans vibrate on him.

He was definitely in heaven and this angel between his legs was the most perfect thing to ever happen to him.

"Oh God" he said and moaned Tim's name, his legs shacking.

"Tim I'm about to-" and with that he came down Tim's throat, the angel swallowed it and looked him in the eyes, giving him this beautiful smile. And well, Jason might die happy this time around. _____________________________________________

This night he hugged Tim closed to him, the smaller man hugging him back.

Outside the words 6 Days colored the black sky with pink, green and yellow.

_____________________________________________

It was simple. Very simple, and Jason did it already so why the hell is he freaking out?

Harley and Ivy started a riot somewhere in the city while Catwoman helped them in Arkham and said that she's going to take care of the security. So from there they were alone.

And it wasn't like he didn't knew the plane by heart, it's just that it really is happening. He's going to kill the Joker. They're going to kill the Joker.

And it's not a dream. The mother fucking clown is going to laugh for the last time. _____________________________________________

Each floor has a minimum of two guards, thanks to Killer Croc Arkham was down six guards, so floors 1-3 only had one guard each during the day (Because Gotham’s criminals are all geniuses and think that night is the best time for a breakout).

So doubling up only happened at night on these floors until the guards either recovered or replacements were vetted and hired.

Floors 4-5 had double guards at all times and floor 6 was more storage and extra holding cells than anything else right now.

Thanks to Harley and Ivy's riot there weren't a lot of guards where they were, everyone waiting to catch the two. Catwoman didn't lied about helping them from afar as every door opened to them without problems. _____________________________________________

The elevator doors opened at the fourth floor, Jason noted that there weren't any guards around, wondering what Catwoman did as he heard the muffled noise of an alarm from the floor above them.

Jason walked to the guard station and peeked in to see two men slumped over and unconscious. From the looks of it they have been knocked out, 'help from afar ha?' he thought to himself, smiling a little. Looking over at Tim, the little clown being too quite for so long, the teen smiled, his skin somehow more pale than normal, and his gun at hand. Jason nodded to him and Tim did the peace sign.

They followed a hallway around behind the booth and came up on a large metal door. They waited couple of seconds and the door opened, revealing another hallway with another large metal door several yards down. There were three such doors in their's way and each one opened and closed behind them, making them closer and closer to the goal.

Jason paused and took a deep breath before the final door. This is it. This stupid clown is as good as dead. The door opened.

And there was the Joker, laying on a thin metal like bed that was bolted to the wall.

All that stood between them and the Joker was a wall of bulletproof wall with several inches thick with small round air holes cut evenly to allow air to flow into the (if it could even be called that) room.

The Joker slowly rolled off the bed when he saw them, and came to stand in front of the clear wall, a sick smile on his face. “Well, well, well, what have we here? Visitors? Oh, I know you!" He said as he looked at Tim, his grin getting wider "You're my little lamb. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!”

Jason's heart started to beat faster, looking at Tim's hand gripping the gun so tight that his fingers turned whiter than usual.

"I'm not" Tim said, his voice quite.

"What did you said little lamb? Talk louder for papa"

Tim smiled, a small smile that made Jason question if he's going to follow the plan or not.

And of he really think about it, he was never told about this part of the plan... How will they kill the Joker?

"JJ?"

"I'm not a fucking lamb you old fucker" Tim said and shoot.

#jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #the joker #joker junior #Tim Drake #harelyquinn #poison ivy #Selina Kyle #fluff #angst #falling in love #this is so long #JayTim #thanks for reading #it took me so long because i got adiccted to anime

[softlass27]

an ibhfc version of emmerdale's first pride (plus another one in the future) to make up for this week's upcoming episodes with aaron and the village's resident kayaking creep

AO3 link here

Pride 2021

“Right, that’ll be £7.99, please.” Victoria pushed Aaron’s lunch towards him.

“Cheers.”

“Oh, almost forgot!” She grabbed a brightly-coloured collection tin that was sitting on the end of the counter. “We’re taking donations for the Pride festival if you’ve got any spare change?”

Aaron frowned. “What Pride festival?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Charles is organising it.”

“In the village?”

“Yeah, he says it’s mad that we’ve not had one before. Apparently it was always a big event at his last parish. He’s not wrong, really, it’s about time we did more than your mum sticking a bit of multi-coloured bunting up behind the pub each June.”

“Huh.”

“Think you’ll go? It’s next weekend.”

“I – ”

“From what Charles and Ethan said, it should be fun,” Vic spoke over him, hands waving animatedly. “There’s music, food and games, all sorts! It’s family-friendly too, so you can bring Seb. We can go together if you want? I was planning on meeting up with Matty and Amy but – ”

“Vic, stop for breath would ya?” Aaron huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I'm up for it.”

*

On the morning of the festival, Victoria let herself into Mulberry Cottage and cast an appraising look over Aaron. He shuffled uncomfortably.

“What?”

She gave a quick wave to Seb, who was sitting on the sofa, and looked Aaron up and down again. “That’s what you’re wearing, is it?”

He glanced down at his black t-shirt and jeans. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! Except, well, it’s not very colourful is it?”

“You’ve known me, what, 13 years? When have you ever seen me do colourful?”

“But it’s Pride!”

“So?”

“Oh come on, you have to get into the spirit of it. Speaking of which – ” She rummaged in her oversized handbag and pulled out a small, light blue article of clothing, passing it over. “I saw this in town and I couldn’t resist.”

As Aaron unfolded it, he realised it was a child-sized pair of dungarees with a bright rainbow stitched across the chest. His mouth quirked upwards.

“Alright, that’s pretty cute.”

“I know, right? Should’ve got something for you too, you big grump.”

The retort Aaron was about to give her was cut off when he felt tug on his trousers and looked down to see Seb standing next to him.

“Is that for me?” He asked, looking at the dungarees with curiosity.

“Yep, Auntie Vic got them for you to wear to Pride today. What d’you say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’d better hurry and get ready, though, or we’ll be late!”

Seb grabbed Aaron’s hand and started tugging him towards the stairs. “Daddy, come on!”

Although he was a little young to quite get what Pride was all about, he’d been full of beans about the whole thing ever since Aaron had told him they were going to a party, especially once he’d found out Isaac and Dotty would be there, too.

“Alright, let’s get you changed.” He looked back at Vic and rolled his eyes. “I’ll get changed, too.”

She grinned at him.

*

“Did you and Robert ever go to Pride?” Vic quietly asked as the four of them made their way to the field where the festival was being held, Seb in his new dungarees and Aaron in the one green t-shirt owned (“It’s a colour that’s on the flag, Vic, that’s as good as you’re getting.”)

“Nah.” Aaron shook his head. “Never got round to it. We used to talk about maybe going to the one in Leeds or something, but somethin’ always came up. Then we'd always say we’d go the next year but… ”

But we ran out of years.

“Yeah.” Vic’s face fell a little and she squeezed Aaron’s hand lightly. “But we’ll have a nice time, won’t we?”

“Daddy, there’s music!” Seb called from where he was walking just in front of them. They could indeed hear the sound of upbeat pop music blasting through a speaker as they got closer to the festival. “Hurry!”

“Coming, mate.” Aaron called after his retreating back, smiling at his enthusiasm. He sighed and squeezed Vic’s hand in return. “Yeah, we’ll have a good time.”

*

Considering Emmerdale’s tiny size, the village’s first Pride event had a pretty good turnout. The festival was full of so much colour and noise that Aaron ended up hoisting Seb up on his hip, slightly wary of losing track of him in among the chaos. The three of them wandered around for a while, taking in the party-like atmosphere and watching Charles and Ethan both make heartfelt speeches on the small stage that had been set up.

At some point Marlon called Victoria's name and she went over to catch up with him and April, leaving Aaron and Seb to carry on exploring alone. The little boy seemed to love it so far, taking in the sights and sounds with increasing delight.

“You wanna get your face painted? Aaron asked, pointing to a tent where Matty and Amy were emerging hand in hand, both of them covered in body paint.

Seb clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

They made their way inside and sat across from a girl who looked barely 20 and was covered head to toe in paint and glitter.

“Hello.” She smiled brightly at Seb, who predictably turned under the attention bashful and tucked himself against Aaron’s chest. She tilted her head down to catch his eye. “What’s your name?”

“Seb.”

“Nice to meet you, Seb, I’m Freya. Do you want some rainbows?”

Seb nodded shyly and sat as still as a three year-old could while she carefully painted a small pride flag on each of his cheeks, Aaron holding his waist to stop him from squirming too much under the tickle of the brush.

“There, all done.” She brandished her brush towards Aaron. “Are we doing your face as well?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

“Yes.” Seb smacked a palm on Aaron’s cheek enthusiastically. “Rainbows for you, too!”

Aaron sighed. The things he did for his son.

“Alright. Do your worst.”

When they emerged from the tent five minutes later and bumped into Vic again, her eyes lit up with glee.

“Aaron Dingle with glitter on his face.” She fumbled frantically for her phone. “Don’t move, I need a photo.”

“No, don’t – ”

“Moira!” Vic ignored him and called over his shoulder. “Both of them, can you believe it?”

Aaron turned around to see Moira coming towards them with Cain just behind her – Cain whose cheek was adorned with a rainbow flag identical to Aaron’s. He let out a snort that had Cain’s eyes narrowing dangerously at him.

“Not a word out of ya.”

“Wow, how’d they get you?”

“This one made me.” Cain gestured to Isaac, who dropped his hand to run towards Seb, the two of them immediately chasing each other in circles around the adults' legs.

“Come on, you two!” Moira was stood next to Vic, both their phones held up. “Smile!”

Neither of them smiled, but they let them take a couple of snaps.

“Perfect,” Moria smirked down at her screen and turned the phone so Aaron could see a photo of himself and Cain both with matching scowls and rainbows on their faces. “This one’s going on the fridge.”

*

“You have fun today?” Aaron asked Seb as he carried him home.

Seb’s arms were wrapped loosely around Aaron’s neck and he could barely keep his eyes open, exhausted like most of the other kids in the village. The daytime part of the festival was over, only the child-free people sticking around into the night to keep drinking and dancing.

“Mhm,” Seb hummed tiredly, head flopping around on Aaron’s shoulder. “C’n we do it again?”

“If they do another one next year, then yeah. We can go again.”

He unlocked the door to Mulberry Cottage one-handed, depositing Seb on the sofa and carefully easing his shoes off. He glanced at the photos on the mantlepiece, Robert’s smiling face looking back at him. Aaron straightened up and moved to stand in front of them, adjusting one of the frames slightly.

“Finally went to Pride,” he said quietly. “Can you believe it?”

Just wish you could’ve come with me.

****

Pride 2025

“Morning!” Vic let herself into Mulberry Cottage, Harry in tow. “Happy Pride.”

“Happy Pride!” Seb shouted back from where he was fiddling with Molly’s rainbow-coloured leash (a purchase he’d talked Aaron into making from one of the stalls the previous year).

“Hiya.” Aaron jogged down the stairs. “Thought you’d be goin' with Ryan this year. He’s got the girls, right?”

“Yeah, we're spending the day together but I told him that me and Harry would meet him there. Us lot always go to Pride together, I’m not breaking tradition now.” She gave Aaron’s blue jeans and red t-shirt an approving nod. “Wow, red and blue this year. Really pushing the boat out.”

“Shut up, you.”

“Where’s that brother of mine?”

“He was just dropping some stuff from the cafe off at the festival, cakes and sandwiches an’ that. Said he’d come back before we set off, though.”

“Well he’d better hurry himself up, I don’t wanna miss whoever Ethan’s got opening the festival this year. And it’s Robert's first one, we can’t be late!”

“Alright, keep your hair on.” Robert appeared in the doorway, nudging past her to come inside. “You can’t be late to a festival, Vic, they’re sort of all day things.”

“You get the food sorted alright?” Aaron asked, shoving his wallet and phone into his pockets.

“Yeah, Jimmy and Nicola are all set up. They’ve roped Angelica into helping out, poor kid.” Robert ruffled Harry's hair before grabbing a bottle of suncream from the coffee table and kneeling down in front of Seb. “Right, suncream on then we can go.”

“I can do it myself,” Seb protested, batting Robert’s hands away from his face.

“Hm. See, I believed you when you said that at the beach the other weekend and we ended up coming home with you looking like a lobster. Keep still.”

Seb sighed and let Robert rub suncream all over him with only a bit of squirming, giggling when Robert finished by poking him sharply in the ribs.

“Dad, not on my t-shirt!” He said, smoothing a protective hand over his new rainbow-striped top. “Don’t get it dirty.”

“Alright, you big fusspot,” Robert teased, kissing him on the head and rising to his feet.

“Leave him alone, you’re no better,” Vic said with a tut. “Right, come on. Chop chop!”

She opened the door to let both Seb and Harry run outside, following closely behind them. Aaron picked up Molly’s leash and held out a hand to Robert.

“Ready?”

Robert grinned and took it.

“Let’s do it.”

*

The thing about Charles and Ethan was, they always had to one-up themselves. Aaron had no idea how they did it, but every year they somehow managed to increase their budget enough to make Emmerdale Pride bigger and better until now, four years on, the first festival they held looked tiny in comparison. Huge crowds of people swarmed the village, taking in the countless stalls, games, music, drag acts and and live bands playing all day. There were even a few rides this year.

As they made their way through the madness, Aaron gave Robert a quick nudge.

“Okay?”

They were only in the village and they knew a lot of the people there, but there were still some days where Robert and large crowds didn’t mix well. Thankfully, it seemed that today wasn't one of those days, as Robert shot him a small smile and nodded.

“I’m good.”

“Dads!” Seb shouted, running back to tug both their hands. “Can we do the face-painting first?”

Robert let out a mock groan. “Do I have to?”

“If I’m not getting out of it, neither are you,” Aaron muttered.

“Doesn’t have to be rainbows,” Seb said to Robert, shrugging matter-of-factly. “You can get the bisexual colours if you want?”

Aaron watched Robert’s eyes widen ever-so slightly in surprise, before he nodded and let Seb lead him towards to the face-painting tent.

*

After a few hours of exploring and mingling with the other villagers, Aaron and Robert collapsed with a couple of pints at one of the picnic tables, both of them in need of a breather. They’d picked a spot in the shade, keeping half an eye on Seb playing with a group of other kids while they listened to the band currently playing on the stage. Molly drank from the bowl of water they’d put down on the grass for her, before jumping up into Robert’s lap.

After sitting in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Aaron took a long, cooling gulp of his pint and looked away from Seb to glance at Robert. His husband was absently stroking Molly, watching the festival with a slightly pensive look on his face that made Aaron’s brow furrow.

“You alright?”

Robert blinked and turned to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If you're tired, we can go home, y'know.”

Robert gave him a reassuring squeeze on the wrist. “I know. Honestly, it's nothing, just... ” He trailed off and stared once more at the festivities around them. “Could you ever have imagined anythin’ like this in the village when we were growing up?”

That was an easy question to answer.

“No.”

Aaron knew for a fact that the teenage version of him would have never imagined in his wildest dreams seeing the village transformed this way, decked out in bright colours, full of people like him, every resident open and accepting. And he knew the idea would’ve seemed even less likely when Robert was a teenager.

“Bet your dad’s rolling in his grave.”

Robert barked a surprised laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

They watched the party for another couple of minutes, then Robert nodded towards where Seb was tackling Dotty in an overly-enthusiastic game of tag.

“I’m glad that he gets to grow up in this version of the village,” he said softly. “Whether he turns out to be straight or gay or bi – whatever – I don’t want him to ever be scared of being different, like you an’ me were back in the day.”

“Don’t say ‘back in the day’, makes us sound ancient.”

“Well if you keep complaining about your back aching every time we – ”

“Oi!” Aaron gave his shoulder a punch, before trailing his hand down his arm to link their fingers together as they both watched Seb. “Yeah, me too. It is different for him, he knows he can be whoever he wants here. No one’s gonna have a go at him over who he does or doesn’t fancy. And he knows we love him no matter what.”

“Course he does.”

Robert grinned warmly at him and leaned across the table to press his lips to Aaron’s. The two of them kissed lazily until Molly jumped up between them to lick at both their chins and they broke away with a laugh.

“Can't go more than five minutes without needing attention, can you?” Robert pulled her back into his lap, scratching her behind the ears until she settled again. The pink, purple and blue stripes on his face were smudged from where Aaron’s thumb had just rubbed over his cheekbone.

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Piss off.”

Aaron drained the last of his pint and put the glass to one side, resting his elbows on the table. “Good first Pride, then?”

“Great first Pride.” Robert quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’ll be even better if we carrying on celebrating at home. Y’know, once the kid’s in bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Think we've got a bottle of champers in the fridge; I say we crack that open, take it upstairs and then – ”

“Daddy!” Seb ran up to them, grabbing Aaron’s elbow with a pleading look in his eyes. “Can we go on the dodgems? Isaac says him and Uncle Cain are going on.”

Aaron groaned and stretched his arms over his head. “Right now?”

“Yeah, we have to get them!”

Aaron huffed a laugh and dropped his arms. “Well in that case.” He paused and turned to Robert. “Unless you’d rather have a go?”

Robert shook his head rapidly. “Nah, me and Molly are good here, we'll save the table. Go crash some cars, boy racer.”

“Come on, then.”

As they headed in the direction of the bumper cars, Aaron looked back to see Vic appearing at Robert’s side, looking a little tipsy as she sat down next to him. By the time they were standing in the queue for the ride with Cain and Isaac, he could see the Sugden siblings had been joined by Ryan and his girls, plus Diane and Harry, all of them piling onto the table and surrounding them. Robert was laughing at something Ryan was saying, eyes crinkling. When he saw Aaron watching, he shot him a small wave. He looked happy and content, and the sight of it made something warm settle in Aaron's chest.

It wasn't his first Pride, but it was the best one he'd had so far.

“Dad,” Seb piped up, grabbing his attention. “It's our turn”

“Alright, let’s show Cain and Isaac how it's done.”

#ibhfc #the pride ep hasn't even aired yet and i already felt the need to do a fix-it fic #my writing #robron

[horribletestsubject]

Fic I just wrote based on These Two art pieces that I’ve drawn and THIS POST by @body-utensil-travels-terrain

———

You’ve spent your life being told you couldn’t. Now there’s a voice telling you that you can.

You remember it distinctly. You were fourteen at the time, just really starting to figure out what you wanted to do with your life (it certainly isn’t what society expected from you— but then, society doesn’t expect someone like you anyway, does it?) when you first heard her voice over the radio in your living room. The words she said resonated with you, the promise and ambition that she spoke with. It was almost like she was talking directly to you.

You do your research. You study hard. You tinker away at things in your garage, supplementing your studies in your own way. And five years later, after you’ve graduated, you put in your application.

A letter arrives a few weeks later, emblazoned with the circular symbol you’ve kept in your mind’s eye all this time, and bold lettering on the front— Aperture Science Innovators. It’s addressed to you. You open it, and your fingers tighten around the smooth paper— “congratulations” it says. You’ve been accepted. At the bottom is Her signature. You trace over it with your fingers. Delicately, as gently as you’d handle an irreplaceable machine part.

Two weeks later your bags are packed and you’re boarding a flight to Detroit. The attendant greets you. You hold up your boarding pass and get on. You land a few hours later. Getting a cab would be too complicated— people don’t like to take the time to read, and most can’t speak the way you do. So you walk to the train station, it’s not too far. Just an hour or two. You’ve walked further before.

Flat fields flow by endlessly as the train rattles down its tracks. You lean your head against the window, watching the hues of gold rush by, blurring on into infinity.

The sun is gone when you pull up outside a strange little town, surrounded by chain link fence. You fish through your bag for the packet you’d been sent— and pull out the temporary ID you’d been given. You show it to the gate guard. He lets you in. A man is waiting to show you your dormitory. You shake your head at his offer of a tour— you’ll explore the place yourself tomorrow. There are a few days before you’re actually needed for orientation.

The room is small and plain. A bed, desk, and dresser, and a small closet. That’s alright. You don’t need much. You hang up your few articles of clothing and tuck your shoes next to the door. The bed isn’t soft, but it isn’t hard. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from your travels.

The next few days are spent wandering. Visiting the little shops, the stations. Peering into labs where you can. Climbing over fences (they could never keep you out) before quickly retreating as a security guard passed. You don’t want to get in trouble before your internship even begins. You wonder if you’ll see her. But you only hear her voice in announcements as you trigger motion sensors throughout the complex.

When work actually starts, it’s tedious. Getting coffee. Taking documents to the shredder and the incinerator. You don’t usually see the labs. Or, well, much of anything. It’s just a lot of running here and there, back and forth at your superiors’ beck and call. It’s tiring. But you do it— after all, you want to be here, you want to do this— and you never give up.

It’s a few months before you see her— before your internship takes you to the main complex. Now you’re checking inventory, sorting mail, sorting records (and chucking the casualty lists into the incinerator as instructed). Occasionally they’ll call you in to fix the coffee maker or the refrigerator.

You hear her voice once, muffled— she’s talking to someone, to a group it seems, just outside the room you’re in. You look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse. Rosy cheeks and bright-red lips, wavy dark hair flowing around her shoulder, a smile on her face (manufactured, you can tell with just this glance that she’s concealing so very much), a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

Your eyes lock for just a second, and the corner of her mouth creases, dimpling her cheeks. Your heart races— that, that was a hint of a true smile. Warmth flushes your own cheeks and you tear your gaze away. Suddenly shy— much shyer than you’ve ever been before.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Not yet. Not until you start seeing her more. Not until her smiles become more frequent and pointed. Not until her gaze lingers on you a little longer than before each time. The fluttery feeling doesn’t go away— and you’re determined more than ever to reach her.

Of course, it happens sooner and easier than you think. She starts requesting you specifically to bring her her coffee. You take a red pen and draw a little smiley face next to her name before giving it to her. When you come up to her office, there’s a sticky note left on the monitor, in that oh-so-hard to read yet absolutely beautiful cursive of hers. At the end of it is a smiley face, so much more elegant and less childish than yours. You keep the note. On her next cup, you add a heart to the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. You start responding to her notes with little notes of your own, your rounded, sometimes scratchy handwriting a stark contrast.

The notes are never there when you get back. You like to think she kept them. You’re pretty sure she did.

A year after you arrive, your internship is over, and you’re up for a promotion— junior mechanic. Probably still more of the same, but you’ll be getting a salary now (not that you really have any use for it since Aperture provides your housing) and you’ll have a permanent place. But you’ll see her less. You’ll miss that, of course— but you’re finally moving beyond your station, moving up in the company.

The day before your internship ends, you get another note. “Wanna get coffee together tomorrow?” Your heart leaps. You scribble out your answer just beneath her writing.

You’re sitting across from her at the cafe table. The cafe serves the same stuff as the cafeteria, but it’s decorated more quaintly, and always costs more for some reason. Maybe because there’s sunlight coming through the windows.

“So, headed up the ladder,” she begins after the two of you sip your drinks (well, she sips her drink, you’re too caught up in the crimson of her lips). “I guess I won’t be seeing as much of you now.”

There’s something behind her cheery voice, a sadness that you’ve caught glimpses of before, a wistfulness deeper than her words. You look up, catching her gaze for a moment and nod in response.

“Well, this is nice. Maybe we should do this more often. Once a week, at least? Or you could come over to my place. We could spend time together. As friends, or something.” With that, she gives you a wink. Your cheeks flush bright red.

You catch the implication right away. Your hero, your inspiration— and now here you are sitting across from her at a cafe while she all but outright asks you out.

You thought you’d be excited for things to grow beyond the notes and the gestures. But you feel different than that. After the initial jolt, the initial flutter, you look back over at her and you see the chasm yawning out between the two of you. The mountain she’s perched on, the valley you’re standing in. Your scratchy print against her elegant cursive, your short, bitten nails against her sharp manicure, your messy ponytail against her shiny waves. You look down at your simple intern’s badge, then over at her emblazoned one. She doesn’t even have a title listed— everyone knows who she is.

You’re miles apart, even if you might have seemed to be closer.

You stand up, your throat knotting up as you shake your head. You can’t look at her now, but you can practically feel the disappointment in her face as she murmurs “oh.” You want to explain but you can’t, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. The last thing you want is to turn Her, your idol, the one who makes your heart flutter, the reason you came here in the first place, down.

But you can’t do this now. Not yet. Not until you’ve reached the top of the mountain. Not until you’re close enough for her to reach out her hand and pull you the rest of the way up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says.

You pause, halfway to the door. You turn back just enough so that you can glimpse her, and give a tiny nod.

After that you throw yourself into your work. Up to senior mechanic, then technician, then engineer— you’re working on Aperture’s new technology now, its most important projects. But you’re still not close enough. Into the test chambers you go at the CEO’s behest, defying death and physics at breakneck speeds, trusting in the tech you’ve helped create to ensure your survival.

Sometimes you look up and see her watching from the observation room, the tell-tale flash of red. You don’t look too long.

The CEO falls ill. He leaves a disturbing message. You try not to think too much of it— you’re almost there.

Your superior fails a test. You’re not surprised. Not hurt, not sad. It just happens and now you’re in the upper echelon. Now you’re at the top— now, you can reach out to her again. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. You can be equals now.

You go to her office. She isn’t there to answer the door. “Don’t you remember Mr. Johnson’s last request?” They say to you. You tried to block it out, but you remember.

You use your pass on a high security door. It opens. Your name is emblazoned too now. Just like hers was.

Before you is a massive operating system. On the screen reads a message: “transfer complete. transfer successful. writing data : do not disconnect subject.”

She’s lying inside a tube-like compartment. A transparent coffin. Wires hooked up to her. Eyes closed. Lips still ruby red.

You reach out and touch the glass. There’s no response. There won’t be a response.

This technology is untested. This is the first human-AI interfacing project Aperture has conducted. There’s only a fifty percent chance it will work, and even if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. You’ll never clasp her small hands inside your own calloused ones, tuck your head against her shoulder, press your lips against hers.

You’ve finally reached the top of the mountain. Finally reached her. But it was too late. When you crested the summit, she was already gone, and there was only a spatter of crimson left behind to show that she was ever there at all.

#portal #fanfiction #portal fanfic #portal fanfiction #chell #chell portal #portal chell #caroline portal #portal caroline #chelline #cheroline #chell x caroline #portal au #intern chell #intern chell au #my writing #cinna writes #might edit and post to AO3 at some point #but for now have the rough draft

[talkfastromance4]

A Luke&Lily Christmas oneshot

Hey ya’ll, I’m sorry it’s been so long that I’ve written for our favorite girls. I haven’t had much inspiration and when I do get an idea and start to write, I just think it’s horrible. Anyway, this is some holiday fun.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: mentions of difficulty in conceiving, family fluff and some uncle love

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated :)

• • • •

 Christmas at the Hemmings’ household is always full of joy, music, and a little chaos. With Lily being in first grade she was in the Christmas concert at school where the children sang songs. She practiced around the house with Luke who would sing along with her and help her with the motions that the music teacher instructed. 

With the holiday cheer also came some holiday downs. You and Luke had been trying for another baby ever since Posy turned two in May but you’ve had no luck so far. You and Luke both had tests done and everything came back normal, the doctor said stress can prevent a pregnancy and you have had a stressful time at work lately. You’ve had to take on filing for more cases which resulted in less time at home. 

Luke tried to ease your stress away with his touches and kisses but it was your mind that was all wound up. You had a million thoughts racing through your mind on what needed to be filed, when court dates were, when deadlines were coming up and now to add on Christmas? 

Thankfully, Luke was more than happy to help you decorate the house. He even bought three sets of gingerbread kits. 

“We can have the guys come over and make them with the girls,” he smiled proudly. 

Lily and Posy loved decorating the tree and placing their handmade ornaments on the branches. Posy was still too small yet so Lily was lifted in Luke’s arms to place the angel on top of the tree. When the decorating was done, you all made hot cocoa and snuggled up on the couch to watch the old claymations of Christmas shows on the tv. Lily loved the Jack Frost story and Posy loved watching Rudolph. 

It’s the night of Lily’s concert and you have just fastened on her black shoe with the bright silver buckle. She has on a pretty red velvet dress and a green headband to tame her curls from her face. You gaze at her for a long moment, tears pooling in your eyes at how big your baby girl is already. 

“Why are you crying mama?” Lily asks, touching your cheek.

“You’re just so big, sweetheart, mama forgets sometimes,” you smile through your tears. “I’m okay, don’t worry.” You give her a kiss on the cheek then take her hand walking out of her room to Luke and Posy who are in the living room. 

He’s dressed Posy in a cute green dress with red tights. She looks like the cutest little elf. 

“There’s the star of the night!” Luke exclaims upon seeing Lily. she smiles bashfully at her stepfather then runs to his arms. “You look like our angel on the tree, my sweet.”

“Dadaa!” she giggles squeezing his shoulders the best she can. 

“What do you think, Pose? Should sissy be on the tree, hm?”

“Yeth!” Posy claps her hands together with a big smile on her face.

“No one is going on top of the tree,” you scold with a smile. “We need to get going, babe so we aren’t late.”

“Can you go get yours and Posy’s coats?” Luke asks Lily who nods and skips away to the mudroom. Her black shoes clicking on the floor. 

“You look pretty enough to put on the tree,” Luke hints, rising from his knees to stand in front of you. He skims his finger over the swooping neckline of your white sweater that shows off your shoulders. He traces the snowflake pendant perched perfectly between your collarbones. 

“I don’t think so, mister,” you poke his nose playfully and he pulls you against him. He has on your favorite green silk shirt of his, you can never take your eyes off him when he wears it. 

“Can I put you on me instead?” he asks, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. “Later tonight in bed?” 

You sigh at his touch, the vibration of his voice makes goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“Maybe...if you’re nice,” you preen tilting your head so he can attach his lips to your skin. 

“I’m always nice. You’re the naughty one, lovie,” he chuckles.

“We’re ready!” Lily announces proudly. 

You and Luke break apart then laugh at the mismatched gloves and lopsided hats on your girls. You praise them for their efforts but put the proper articles on each girl before heading into the car. When you arrive at the school, you walk Lily to her classroom where Mr. Glass (her teacher) is settling the kids down.

“Okay, we’ll be in the third row with your uncles,” you tell Lily. “Make sure to smile and have fun, okay?”

“Okay, mama,” she nods. You stare into her eyes, your eyes, knowing she’s nervous but trying not to let it show. 

“You’re going to do such a good job, my sweet. Sing loud like we do at home, yeah?” Luke hugs her and kisses the top of her head. 

You stroke her cheek lovingly one more time, say a quick hello to Mr. Glass and walk towards the auditorium where Ashton, Calum, and Michael are already sitting in their seats. 

“Is she nervous?” Calum asks watching you shuffle past him to your seat.

“She’s not nervous,” Ashton shakes his head then takes Posy from Luke’s arms. “Hi little one, you look like the cutest ornament.”

“Is she nervous?” Michael asks peering around Ashton.

“She is, but she’ll be fine,” you smile. Luke grabs your hand and kisses it.

“Will she see us from here? We should be in the front,” Calum shakes his head eyeing a family of five in the first row. His eyes follow their movements as if he’s plotting a plan to switch. 

“It’s assigned by grade, Cal,” Luke laughs. “She’ll be able to see us and she’s going to do great. Don’t worry.”

The lights dim and the audience claps as there’s movement behind the red curtain. The ages are from kindergarten to fifth grade. The curtains open as the kids file up on the stands, you spot Lily right away walking behind her friend Roman. She and Roman have been best friends since kindergarten and they have many play dates. His parents, Trina and Sophie, are wonderful people who you’ve also become closer to. 

You and Luke spot them across the aisle, each of you waving happily. 

When everyone is in their place onstage, the music teacher comes in front of them and introduces herself and explains how hard everyone has worked on this performance. She turns around and the music starts and Luke sets up his camera on the small tripod that fits perfectly on his knee. A promise he made to Cory and Ella to record the performance because they were out of town on a trip they couldn’t refund. 

The songs they sing are the usual ones you’d expect at an elementary concert. The younger kids had bells for Jingle Bells, and the young ones did their hand motions to Away in a Manger. A favorite that had all of the kids excitement was Rudolph’s song. You kept your eyes on Lily the whole time who sang and smiled anytime she caught your eye or Luke’s or one of her uncles. 

When the performance was over, they all took a bow and you screamed as loud as you could for Lily. She was beaming. 

Lily found you in the crowd easily, hugging your legs then running into Calum’s arms who was already telling her how she was the best one up there. Trina and Sophie stopped by to say hello before they took Roman out for ice cream. 

“Are we going for ice cream?” Michael asks and Lily laughs.

“Noo, uncle Mikey. We’re having hot cocoa bars!” Lily exclaims. 

“We have a hot chocolate spread at home,” you correct with a smile. 

Back at the house, the guys help Lily and Posy make their hot chocolate. Michael lets them put whipped cream on his nose and Ashton has Posy in his lap helping her drink her own cup. He blows on each spoonful before placing it in front of her. 

“Sophie told me she and Trina were looking at donors again,” you tell Luke quietly near the stove. You put in the sugar cookies with Christmas trees on them for everyone to eat while drinking hot cocoa. 

“Really? That’s great for them, Roman’s going to make a great big brother,” Luke smiles then notices your demeanor.

He knows it’s been tolling on you not being able to conceive. It’s been hard for him, too but he’s eased up a little after finding out there wasn’t anything physically wrong with either of you that prevented it. He’s happy that you’re on an eight day vacation over Christmas and New Year’s. It will be a time to relax and be with family. 

“Hey,” he cups his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “It’ll happen for us. We’ve been going a little crazy over it, but we can breathe and let it happen when it’s meant to.”

“I know, you’re right. I just can’t believe stress is making it this hard,” you huff tossing the oven mitts on the counter. 

“I’ve got some ideas to help get you out of your head,” he grins leaning in to kiss you. He tastes like sugar cookies and chocolate. 

Suffice it to say, he definitely found a way to make your head spin later when the girls were put to sleep. 

**

“Okay, we’re going to be on teams and post on social media who wins the best gingerbread house,” Luke explains.

Calum and Lily are on one team, each of them wearing a Santa hat while Ashton and Posy are a team wearing reindeer antlers. Michael couldn’t make it tonight, he and Crystal were on a last minute trip before Christmas arrived. You and Luke were on a team together. 

“Is this timed?” Ashton asks, already calculating his house with Posy. 

“No,” Luke laughs, “the girls are only six and two, we can take our time.”

“You’re going down, Ash,” Calum says, filling up his bag of frosting. Lily is kneeling on her knees on the chair watching him. 

The gingerbread house making is filled with lots of laughs and stealing of treats from Posy. 

“No, Po, we have to have a chimney on our house!” Ashton giggles snatching the chimney pieces form her small fingers. 

“Eat, Ashy!” she laughs reaching for it again.

“We can do it after we’re finished, little one, I promise,” he rubs her belly. 

Calum and Lily planned together quietly on their end of the table. You love watching the girls interact with their uncles. The guys are so patient with them and love spending time with them. You’re really looking forward to your eight days off of being with your family and friends for the holidays. 

When you were all finished you took plenty of photos of the houses and the creators of them. Luke posted the houses to his instagram story with polls on who was the best. Christmas movies were part of the agenda as well.

**

A week before Christmas, Posy had a high fever that lasted for three days. You desperately wanted to stay home with her but it was crunchtime at work so you made sure to cuddle her as soon as you were home. Her small body was so hot to the touch but you held her in hopes she would sweat it out. 

“We should take her to the doctor,” Luke tells you quietly as you feed her more liquid tylenol for children. 

“If it’s not down by tomorrow, we will,” you nod touching her forehead. It’s clammy but not as hot. “I’m hoping it’s going down.”

Luke sighs in exasperation watching you rock Posy in your arms. You’re humming to her and tracing the features of her face, a tactic that always soothes her. 

“I used to get sick around this time, too,” you tell him when her eyes close. 

“I hate seeing her so miserable.”

“Me too. We’ll watch her fever...her glands don’t feel that swollen. She hasn’t thrown up, right?”

“Only that time I tried to give her medicine,” he blinks slowly and you see the circles under his eyes. 

“Get some sleep, honey,” you tell him. “I’ve got her.”

The next day, her fever did break and you and Luke were so happy. Lily made sure to bring home a picture she drew at school in hopes it would make Posy feel better. Posy got over her fever just in time for your Christmas Eve party. 

Friends and family were gathered in your house with lots of food and music to bring in the holiday cheer. Cory and Ella watched Lily’s concert beforehand with Lily sitting on Cory’s lap. As more guests arrived, Cory was acting a little strange. He kept glancing at you and Luke while he held Posy in his arms.

“Are you okay?” you ask him finally taking Posy from him. She was starting to get fussy and hungry. 

“Yeah, um… do you mind if I say something to everyone?”

“No, go ahead…” you say giving him a look. 

He pulls Ella to the center of the living room, Luke sidles up next to you checking on Posy then nods to Cory.

“What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know but we’re about to find out.”

“Everyone? Sorry, this will be quick,” Cory begins. He takes a deep breath then turns to Ella. “On our trip, I asked Ella to marry me.”

There’s gasps and cheers from everyone, yourself included as you look to Ella’s hand. Cory has just slipped on her ring, was he hiding it until this moment? 

“And right after I asked her…”

“I told him I was pregnant!” Ella smiles pulling an ultrasound photo from behind her back. 

There’s more cheers and congratulations. You’re the first one to give them a hug and to welcome her officially to the family. Others are swarming the happy couple with questions about how he asked and when she’s due. You handed Posy off to Ashton then disappeared out by the pool to get some fresh air, Luke wasn’t far behind. 

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” he says, pulling you against his chest. You breathe him in deeply, letting his scent calm you down. “It’s okay…”

“I’m happy for them, I really am,” you sniff. “I love Ella, she’s wonderful and they’re going to be great parents but I--”

“I know, it’s hard,” Luke sighs, kissing your head. “We won’t give up, okay? I know it’ll happen, I can feel it.”

**

On Christmas morning you’re woken to Lily and Posy jumping on your bed screaming about Santa and presents. You and Luke give them hugs and kisses as you wake up trying to get the sleep from your eyes. 

“How about some cocoa while we open presents?” you ask.

You make the cocoa with the help of the girls while Luke brews a pot of coffee for you and him. It’s six in the morning and it’s going to be a long day of driving and opening presents at other houses. Luke snaps photos while Lily and Posy open their presents. Lily claims to love each one and that it’s exactly what she wanted. 

Luke loves the gifts you gave him and you couldn’t wait to wear the dress he bought you for the day. After breakfast, you all went over to Cory and Ella’s to open presents and you discussed her pregnancy a bit more. After the initial shock, you were excited to see her through this journey. She asked tons of questions about morning sickness and headaches. 

“Are you planning on finding out what you’re going to have?” you ask. 

“I don’t think so. We want to be surprised. You’re sure you’re okay with this, Y/N?” Ella asks, her eyes full of worry. 

“I’m more than happy,” you assure her, “you’re a part of the family. And, I might be biased, but Lily will be the best big sister to your baby.”

“Posy will too,” Ella smiles, “I don’t want her to feel left out, in my mind, they’re both big sisters.”

“You’re right.” 

After Cory and Ella’s you went to Michael and Crystal’s house for more presents and a big fancy dinner of ham and all the fixings. You started to feel a little dizzy towards the end of the meal and went to sit down on the couch. Luke came by rubbing your temples in concern but you told him it was probably just the rush of the day.

Later that night while Lily and Posy placed their new stuffed animals in their beds to sleep with, you were piling their presents in order when another wave of dizziness struck you. You sat down and held your head until it was time to say goodnight to the girls. 

“You sure you’re all right?” Luke asks as you crawl into bed. 

“I’m fine. Just a busy day,” you sigh collapsing onto your pillow. “Speaking of...are you doing anything right now?”

“Going to bed?” he laughs.

You swing your leg over his waist so you’re straddling him. 

“How about doing me?” 

Luke is eager to get you out of your pajamas and under him. Lips and hands explore familiar territory as he rocks his hips into yours. You have to fight to keep your moans quiet as he makes your head dizzy in a completely different way. 

The rest of your vacation was full of lots of relaxation and spending well deserved time with Luke and the girls. You played games with Lily and even took the girls ice skating. By New Year’s Eve, you were feeling a little drained and the thought of alcohol made your stomach turn. There was a babysitter watching Lily and Posy while you went to a rooftop bar for the countdown of the new year. 

You had a blast but in the back of your mind, something was nagging at you to get a pregnancy test. You shared a kiss with Luke at midnight, giggling when his hands squeezed your ass. On the way home, you asked to stop at the drugstore making an excuse you needed more aspirin. 

Once home, you charged for the bathroom and took the three pregnancy tests in the box while Luke talked with the babysitter and paid her. You wait anxiously for the three minutes to be up. When your phone’s alarm sounded, you looked at each one. Each one had the word ‘pregnant’ on the stick and you stared stunned. 

“Lovie? Are you sick?” Luke asks, knocking on the door. 

Too excited to wait, you whip the door open and exclaim “I’m pregnant!”

“You’re--what?” he asks, jumping at the loud burst of the door opening.

“Look!” You drag him in the bathroom pointing to the tests. “I’ve been dizzy lately and feeling queasy...this is why!”

He stares at each test individually, his lips forming the word ‘pregnant’ three times. He lets out a whoop and kisses you. 

“I love you so much. See, I told you it would happen when it’s meant to. What a way to ring in the New Year.”

“Happy New Year, baby,” you smile up at him cupping his cheek.

“Happy New year,” he smiles then places his hand on your belly, “baby.”

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#dad!luke #luke&lily #luke & lily writing #luke fluff #luke hemmings writing #luke hemmings fluff #dad!sos

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story , so I have changed a decent amount of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy this one. )

~~~

“Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?” Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn’t the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. “It’s one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking.” She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom’s upper pocket. “Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside.”

“I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?”

“It’s ten extra Crowns.” The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk’s clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn’t react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. “We’ll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don’t have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse.” Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. “Thank you.”

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. “How’s Arya going to–”

“Shut up. Not here.” Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It’s little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

“Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?” The boy asked, stretching tiredly. “Don’t tell me she’s going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us.”

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, “Open that.”

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. “Well hello.”

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. “How the hell did you just–”

“Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it.” Eragon backed away from the window as the woman ‘hopped’ into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. “Don’t gape. I parkoured most of it. It’s forty bloody feet up, even we can’t do that.”

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. “Did anyone see you?”

Arya shook her head. “No. If they did, it was at a distance.”

“Good thing we had you switch clothes.” The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, great. I’ll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I’ll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I’ll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still.”

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. “I might have an idea.” He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. “We’re pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag.”

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn’t want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. “Here! This could at least cover your ears. It’s not perfect, but it’ll be good in a pinch.”

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, “Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies.” And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

“Who wants to shower first?” Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. “Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done.”

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. “Ah, I don’t care. I’ll go first if you don’t want it, Brom.”

“All yours.” The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. “Feel free to shave. There’s a razor in there, fuzz face.” Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. “Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you’re at least out of easy sight.”

“Was planning on sleeping there anyway.” She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. “Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. “You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one.” She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. “So, um…you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don’t they know you’re an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can’t you just go as is?”

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. “They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional…remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur’s crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second.” Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. “So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave.”

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don’t trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?’ He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you, though? You’re helping them, and you’ve fought for them. Don’t they respect that? Haven’t you at least tried change their minds?”

Arya leveled her gaze with his. “Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I’m sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves.” She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. “Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can’t let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I’m okay with that.”

“Don’t give the boy any ideas.” Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. “And no getting him drunk. Unless I’m there. Then, well…we’ll see.”

Arya waved him off. “I know, I know.”

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. “Alright, who’s next?” He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

“You’re up, kid.” Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya’s arm. “When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I’m putting that lightly.”

The elf chuckled. “Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I’ve gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It’s been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point.”

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. “Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!” He lifted his head slightly. “Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room.”

“I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda.” Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

“–nds the economic report. Here’s Karl Yorgisson with the day’s news.”

Brom snorted. “Told you.”

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. “Shush, I want to hear this.”

“Thanks, Jason.” Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. “Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–”

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. “Well, that’s good. They’re not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can’t inform the general public about us or why they’re searching for us.”

“Attacked Gil'ead my arse.” Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. “I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don’t need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period.”

“Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can’t cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion.” Arya pointed out. “Besides, they’ll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden.”

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. “Wait…. You’re telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?”

“Never happened?” The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. “Of course they never happened! We don’t send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there.” She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. “Honestly! It’s too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!”

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. “Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?”

“That is different.” Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. “We weren’t attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I’d prefer it if you didn’t make quips about it.”

“I apologize.” Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. “It was in bad taste.”

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. “Apology accepted. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Murtagh shrugged. “Eh. Natural response.” The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon’s off key humming, and country music. Then, “What’s a frin br… fyrn bri….”

“Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language.” Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. “Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term.” He jerked his chin in Arya’s direction. “If I’m not mistaken, that is.”

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. “Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Arya’s jaw tightened slightly. “Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory.” She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

’Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.’ Murtagh’s heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he’d probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.’ The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

“Oi. Don’t sleep yet. You have to do laundry.” Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn’t even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, “Then wake me up when it’s ready to be done.” and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn’t take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

“I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep.” She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man’s reaction.

“Can’t have you wandering around out there.” Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. “If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast.”

“So I’m pretty much useless at this point in time?” Arya asked dryly. “Dear me, I’m in a room where I can’t leave. Out of one jail and into another.”

“Don’t get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh’s and maybe the angst will wear off.” The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. “Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?”

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. “Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?”

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, “Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there!”

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. “I’ll be done in a minute!”

“Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!”

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. “He’s a teenage boy. He needs his alone time.” She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. “Better he do that in there than when he thinks we’re all asleep.”

“He should have thought of ’alone time’ before he left Carvahall.” Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. “And trust me, you don’t get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind.”

“Poor Saphira!”

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“You could have just told me to hurry up.” The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. “Aye, but then you wouldn’t have actually gotten out right when I asked.”

“Well, I wasn't–” His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. “I wouldn’t do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?” Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

“Hey, I’m not saying anything.” Arya put her hands up. “What you do in the shower is none of my business.”

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. “You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh’s.”

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn’t seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

“You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to.” She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon’s general direction. “If you…um…if you don’t want to sleep on the floor we could…you know, split sheet.”

Eragon’s ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. “Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout.” The Rider mumbled a ’good point’ and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf’s dark eyes. “Is Saphira doing alright out there?”

“Yeah. She’s asleep.” Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. “I think she’s a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she’s been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night.”

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya’s lips as she turned another page. “I think we’ve all earned a little rest.”

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira’s sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. “Yeah.” He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. “G'night, Arya.”

“Good night, kid.”

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh’s bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

“Take as long as you want.” Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. “I’m sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep.”

“I’ll try not to destroy the entire hotel’s hot water supply.” Arya grinned wryly as she stood. “I’ll wake you if anything concerning happens.”

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

“Heads up.” Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. “Good night, Arya.”

“'Night, Murtagh.” The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph’ of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon’s left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh’s borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

“What the bloody hell is happening?” Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. “From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they’re setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak.”

Murtagh’s muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. “Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–”

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. “What’s the alarm about then?” He checked that Zar'roc’s hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

“They’re trying to lure us to the emergency exit.” Brom growled. “Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her.”

'There won’t be anything to see if I eat them all.’ The dragon hissed in response. Eragon’s jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I’ll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.’

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh’s swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. “How are we getting out?” The younger Rider asked. “We can’t go out and we can’t go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can’t carry four people.”

“Theta Rescue.” Arya grabbed Eragon’s backpack before he could pick it up. “Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.’” She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

“Only if you’re up for it.” Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. “It’s quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won’t help.”

“No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets.” Her head cocked to the side. “They’re sweeping the floor below us.”

“Theta it is.” Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. “Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. “What are you doing?”

Arya flashed him a grin that didn’t reach her now flinty eyes. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don’t wiggle.”

“Wigg–” Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman’s carry. He only had time to spit out a quick “Oh Sweet Sara–” before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?’ She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.’ Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I’m going to hear about this later, aren’t I?’

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You’re just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.’ With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.’

'Yes ma'am.’ Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse’s hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #saphira #Brom #arya #murtagh #modern inheritance lore #hotel pit stop #sleeping arrangements #older mic stories #like from the dA days #everyone gets a very much needed shower #also introducing Common Elvish and other regional dialects!

[justactsupernatural]

Table for 5

He never stood a chance, not when they were offering him a world of happiness, even if only for one meal. His brothers and him sold their souls to McDonald's.

Based loosely in that one post-credit scene in The Avengers where they are eating shawarma but Thunderbirds.

----------------------------------

It had been a long rescue, like, 17 hours long kind of rescue. The flood, and subsequent mudslide, had hit the town at around 6pm, and IR had first arrived on the scene probably an hour later.

With a disaster of that magnitude, and all the Tracy boys on the Island (with John having come down from Five for the day) it was only natural that they all piled up on Thunderbirds One and Two to answer the call.

And now, hours later, they were tired, sore, covered head to toe in mud and hungry. Very. Hungry.

Which was why the McDonald’s that was just about to enter their flight path on the way back home was perfect.

“C’mon Scotty, there’s even a giant field in front of the place that’s perfect to land the Birds!” exclaimed Gordon, trying to convince the oldest Tracy to let them land and eat a burger or two (or five) in the fast-food restaurant.

The discussion had been taking place for the last five minutes, with both the youngest Tracy’s trying to win over their oldest brother with the promise of greasy food, while the second oldest and middle Tracy’s rolled their eyes and chuckled when the situation deemed it necessary.

“No Gordon, we have to get back home in case another rescue comes in and you know it” Scott said, because someone had to be responsible in this family and it might as well be him, even if sometimes he just wished he wasn’t mature enough to know that throttling his water-loving brother was not acceptable in this year and age.

“But Scott-“ said Alan, before being interrupted by the feeling of Thunderbird Two landing and his middle brother’s voice “I’m sorry Scott, but we’re hungry and tired and we are going to stop for a burger at McDonald’s, you’re welcome to join if you want”.

The whoops and cheering of Alan and Gordon, and the little smirk that John was trying to hide behind his hand and failing told Virgil that he had made the right call, and hearing Scott’s long-suffering sight before he voiced his agreement only proved that even responsible big brother wanted to eat.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 He never stood a chance, not when they were offering him a world of happiness, even if only for one meal. His brothers and him sold their souls to McDonald's.

Scott knew they shouldn’t be doing this, that videos and pictures of them, covered in mud and looking like they just took a dive in a swamp were going to be on the internet before they even sat down, but PR was the GDF’s problem and they deserved this break.

The moment they entered, the smell of oil and fries and food and the look on his brothers faces just kind of proved that point. Sure, everyone was looking at them like they were aliens, and the ones that weren’t were outside taking pictures and videos of their ships, but right now they couldn’t care less.

Joining the line at the cash register they started looking at the menu and discussing what to order, throwing the occasional idea to just order one of everything and to hell with it. After probably what was a too long time for such a discussion, Scott took everyone’s orders and let the others go find a table.

After standing in line for probably five minutes they were next, and the employee, despite her awestruck face and shocked behavior, took their order in stride.

“Hi, could we please have 3, no wait, 4 Big Macs, 3 cheeseburgers, 2 BBQ Crispy Onions, 1 Chicken Tenders, 6 large black coffees, 8 large curly fries, 5 milkshakes, 3 vanilla, 1 chocolate and 1 strawberry; 2 Caesar Salads, 1 Happy Meal and 10 apple pies. Oh and 1 vanilla scone. Thanks”, he said, looking from the menu to the wide-eyed guy and his fellow wide-eyed coworkers and giving them a smile.

The cashier smiled back and uttered a small comment on how their order would be delivered to their table as soon as it got out. With another smile, Scott took off towards his brothers and their table to wait for the food.

The establishment was medium sized and there were quite a few customers, so they had to grab one of the few tables big enough for them and all their food, an 8-person table in the middle of the place.

When he got there, he gave each of his brothers a large soda paper cup and went to the soda machine to serve his, not the healthiest thing to drink but meh. His brothers followed him and served themselves before returning to their table.

“Well, I don’t know you guys, but I think we deserved this after pulling that long ass rescue” said Gordon before taking a sip of his soda. “Language” said Scott while grabbing a napkin and passing it to John, who was trying and failing to clean a smudge of dry dirt in his left cheek.

“I love how you always criticize us for our language Scotty, like you weren´t in the Air Force and have definitely heard or said worse” commented Virgil, prompting a laugh out of Gordon and causing Alan to choke on his coke.

“Alright, I’m going to the bathroom” said John while getting up and patting Alan’s back, who was still choking on his coke and wheezing for breath. Virgil stood and followed his redhead brother to the bathroom; seeing the flash of a camera go off out of his periphery vision, Gordon sighed before turning to look at Alan.

“What the hell Allie just breathe, it’s not that hard!” Alan glared at the aquanaut while taking a gulp of his soda and managing to take a deep breath without choking, and then reaching up to his shoulder and unclasping his chest plate, letting it fall on the chair next to him. At the questioning looks he just shrugged his shoulders and said “What? It gets claustrophobic after a while; you try wearing that thing for 17 hours in a row and then we can talk”.

Scott blinked once before turning to look at John and Virgil’s figures, making the trek back from the bathroom; when his brothers were close enough Scott realized that Virgil had the top half of his uniform around his hips, the blue sleeves tied around his middle to keep the whole thing from falling, his flannel and white undershirt the only clean thing in sight.

He thought about making a comment about how they were supposed to respect the uniform and be presentable while in public or something like that, but that would be a lie because, like all his brothers, Scott had left his baldric in One and it’s not like keeping their uniforms would help to ‘keep their image’ when they were all sprawled on the plastic chairs at McDonald’s.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 45 minutes and probably too much food to be healthy later, they were all silently looking at nothing, all trapped in their own thoughts to pay attention to what was happening around them.

Picking at the leftover milkshake in front of him Gordon spoke up, “Do you guys remember that time, back at the farm, when we tried to sneak out in the middle of the night to get ice cream and Grandma found us because we wanted to take the car and none of us could drive so we tried to push it out the driveway and ended up slamming it against the wall?”.

Four pair of eyes turned to look at him before Alan burst out laughing, Scott, John and Virgil chuckling softly. “I remember that it was YOU who tried to sneak out and we were just trying to stop you” said John, pointing at Alan and Gordon with a look that clearly said ‘cut the bullshit’, and raising an eyebrow when the aquanaut only smiled.

“Meh, tomato tomahto;” chuckled Gordon before throwing an arm around Alan’s shoulders and pulling him close “we did good that night Allie and we shall forever remember how you got us out of trouble with your quick thinking and adorable baby cheeks”. The young astronaut slapped away Gordon’s hand when he tried to pinch his cheeks.

“Get off me Gordo, and if you ever try to do that in front of people again, I’m tying you to Three and taking you to Jupiter and leaving you there”. Hissed Alan while shoving off his brothers arm and straightening in his chair.

“All right, that’s it, let’s go” said Scott while signaling to the waitress for the check and turning to his brothers “we should be getting back and it’s going to be a long trip”. He took out his credit card and handed it to the waitress before smiling and telling her to add a generous tip; taking his card back he got up and signaled for his brothers to follow.

Groans and sights followed but they all got up and gathered the multiple trays to take to the trash in their way out, leaving the table almost as not quite spotless as it was when they arrived. The cameras, flashes and whispers followed them all the way to the parking lot before they crossed the street and walking towards the Thunderbirds.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 It really wasn’t a surprise, but Scott had thought the message would have been sent an hour ago, not just now.

Colonel Casey: Scott Carpenter Tracy you better have a good explanation for this.

Right under the text was the picture of a news article, the headline reading:

INTERNATIONAL RESCUE SAVING RESTAURANT FROM GOING BANKRUP: TRACY BROTHERS SPOTTED AT MCDONALD’S ORDERING ENOUGH FOOD TO PAY FOR THE RESTAURANTS EXPENSES OF AT LEAST A YEAR

Oh well, thought Scott, we probably did anyway.

#alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s R&S - Stunning Young Idol (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (惊艳的少年偶像领���人物) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event��which will unlikely come to EN🍒

Context: An article in a Japanese magazine

Cancelled Kiro R&S:

> top experimental subject (by another user)

> stunning young idol ♡

> youthhood

> heaven’s home for children (by another user)

[ Chapter 1 ] 

Our interview with Kiro went very pleasantly. No one who attended the interview disliked him. Even our photographer, who has always been averse to young male idols, was full of praise.

Come to think of it, it’s no easy feat for this child to maintain such a transparent and innocent heart in an industry where crooks mix with honest folks. Readers who know him are definitely aware that he debuted in France at the age of six.

Back then, he accepted an interview in Paris for a television program. His tiny frame was seated in the large sofa, his legs not long enough to touch the floor, and were dangling in the air.

Many people were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find this precious video clip. It was only through the recording Agent Savin sent that we could obtain this young and tender moment of Kiro.

Although the video clip has already been kept by Kiro’s agency and not accessible to the public, I can disclose it slightly through this interview.

The person who interviewed Kiro was Eva Saidel, a French female singer who was tremendously popular for a time. The beautiful Eva had asked Kiro if he could perform a song for her. Young Kiro nodded, obedient and filled with a gentlemanly demeanour as he responded, “Yes ma’am.”

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

Kiro performed Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”. It wasn’t surprising that he liked Beethoven - all pianists definitely like Beethoven.

Saidel asked if he knew how to play other instruments. He replied by saying he also knew the violin, but was afraid that his neck would become crooked if he kept practising it. Everyone at the scene started laughing. Ms Saidel laughed excessively as well, and it was evident that she liked this child very much.

At the time, Kiro was wearing an adorable checkered shirt and a small, adorable hat. He even wore an official-looking tie. His cute appearance was sure to attract the attention of many.

A large proportion of Europeans knew of a mixed-race child who spoke fluent French, and would occasionally appear on the television to sing for them, or play classical pieces. They also gradually knew that his name was “Kiro” - this was a stage name he called himself when he debuted.

Eva Saidel, who had once interviewed him, liked him very much. Kiro said that he would always remember Ms Saidel’s luxurious and spotlessly white mansion. He would sit on the sofa in the mansion and listen to the old albums played by Ms Saidel.

Saidel also hired an incredibly renowned celloist from France to teach Kiro how to play the cello. I think many people don't know about this period from his past.

As of today, Saidel is already in her sunset years, and still remains in contact with Kiro.

When Kiro held a concert in Paris last month, the first person he invited as a guest was Saidel. He also played the song “Träumerei” using the cello she gave him.

“Back then, it was as though I returned to my childhood years. Ms Saidel is very kind, like a mother. She is extremely giving towards me.”

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

After junior high school in France, Kiro listened to Ms Saidel’s advice and studied in a high school in California. The intelligent Ms Saidel predicted everything - Kiro’s talent would be discovered very quickly.

After one performance, he was signed on with the renowned Warner Music Company. At the time, he was in Year Three, but never forgot his homework, and even entered Berkeley University with stellar results.

By the time he was in Year 4 (in contrast to Japan, high school in America spans four years, while elementary school spans five), he had already formed a band and was touring in various places. Warner Music is an experienced company with incredible foresight, and they allowed Kiro to return to France to begin his music career.

The number of fans Kiro had in Europe was astounding. The women in Europe found his mixed-race looks and his breathtaking voice unforgettable. Their concerts drew large crowds, and it would sometimes be difficult to obtain tickets. 90% of the females were there for Kiro. Such attractive force was rarely seen.

Actually, when we were interviewing Kiro, we could also feel the charisma he exuded. It’s a kind of magic which renders people unable to resist.

With just a smile, he easily won our hearts.

We have no idea why that’s the case. Perhaps it’s because he’s Kiro. 

-

On the topic of whether he gleaned anything from his four years in Berkeley University, Kiro spoke without reservation and commented that he felt a lot of stress as there were many elite students. Hence, he had to fork out even more effort than usual to face each examination.

When he was in Year Three, Kiro continued touring with the band. He disclosed that he used to do his homework on the plane. When his band was touring the entirety of Europe, his band members would spend their spare time exploring the picturesque towns while Kiro would be holding his books and revising in the hotel.

When we asked why he was so hardworking, he replied by saying that he didn’t want his professors to stop liking him because of a drop in his grades.

In reality, every teacher who has met him like him very much. But because of this, Kiro always remained in fear. From beginning to end, he felt that the love and care from people was akin to smoke - surging at first, but dissipates gradually.

-

[ Chapter 4 ] 

Kiro told us that he had felt very scared when he made the sudden decision to return to China after graduating from university. After all, there were many excellent artistes in China, and he was afraid that he wouldn’t receive love from fans.

But reality is always unexpected. His act of returning to China to develop was extremely correct. It allowed people in Asia to notice his radiant light. The artiste from China that the media in Korea likes reporting on the most is Kiro. Every now and then, he would cause a sensation there, but they would be for issues that aren’t important.

In Japan, he truly stirred a sensation through “Three Kingdoms”, a movie he was in half a year ago. He played the role of Sun Ce.

“The History of the Three Kingdoms” enjoyed widespread popularity in Japan.

This movie adaptation of “Three Kingdoms” was incredibly well received in Japan, and everyone was enthusiastic about the contents of the movie.

Even now, Kiro can recall how life was like with the cast and crew. in order to play the role of Sun Ce, he had to dye his golden coloured hair black, wear headgear, don extremely thick armour, and he had to put on brown contact lenses. His headgear was very cumbersome and heavy. If it hadn’t fit, it would have squeezed and pressed on his head, turning him into a “Flat Kiro”.

In the process of filming “Three Kingdoms”, his favourite scenes were the ones where he was on a horse, because the horse could help share the weight of his armour, and the horse would always end up gasping for air. His most deeply etched memory was when he didn’t control the amount of pressure when riding the horse, causing it to toss him onto the ground. His chest was almost trampled by the horse, and he almost lost his life.

He rarely shares this incident with others. “It’d be so embarrassing if other people knew about it,” he laughed while telling this to us. Even now, I can still remember his brilliant smile. “The agent gave me a scolding after he found out about it. The director and assistant director also said that I had angered the horse, which is why it took revenge on me.”

Afterwards, the crew and cast from “Three Kingdoms” specially came to Japan to promote the movie. During that time, “Three Kingdoms” ranked number one in the box-office ratings. And this was even though Kiro didn’t have many scenes in the movie - he only made an appearance for ten minutes.

But because of this short opportunity, movie fans in Japan started to know of Kiro. Looks like our meeting with Kiro was also destined.

He said he could never forget the image of how numerous fans rushed to Haneda Airport to receive him when the crew and cast just arrived in Tokyo.

Kiro confessed that he had never thought that he’d receive such a large fanbase in a foreign country.

The enthusiasm of the fans in Japan caused him to feel extremely flattered. And his trip to Japan this time was no exception. There were even more fans who received him at the airport than before.

Precisely because of this astounding attractive force, Kiro became a superstar who could perform in the Tokyo Dome. 

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

At this point, I think everyone has some basic understanding of this adorable boy. He isn’t just a pretty face (even though there are many such artistes nowadays).

I highly recommend his latest single, “Ash”, which has a somewhat heavy metal rock music style. But he has recently started shifting towards pop music, and has clearly stated that he would spend even more time on music, and would temporarily reject a few invitations to variety shows or television dramas.

This means that for now, we might not see an invigorated Kiro on television screens. Fans will definitely grieve over this, but there’s no need to be too upset, because Kiro will bring a new album to us. During the interview, he revealed that the first song in his new album would be a heavy bomb!

The composer who was involved in producing this song also noted that this song could potentially alter what “popular music” is in Asia.

So, let’s look forward to the surprises this youth will bring us, and letting us know from this interview --

That we should never underestimate this youth.

The concert at the Tokyo Dome will commence a week later. Although tickets have already been swept up, there’s no need to feel discouraged. This magazine still has a lucky draw activity for fans. We will select three lucky readers and give out three front-row tickets to the concert at the Tokyo Dome. More information can be found on our official website.

-

Other cancelled R&S: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc kiro #more! love! for! our! little! sunbeam! #cncancelled

[aion-rsa]

Squid Game Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/3hK2j99

This SQUID GAME article contains MAJOR spoilers.

For a series with a relatively well-worn premise, Netflix’s Squid Game sure does manage to pack a lot of surprises into its conclusion. It does this in large part by recognizing that the series’ success hinges not so much on who wins the game, but on how they win it and what it all means. Like the show’s beginning, much of Squid Game‘s final hour is set outside the world of the arena—this time, a year following the events of the bulk of the show. Let’s break down what happens in the Squid Game ending…

Who Wins Squid Game?

While the meat of Squid Game‘s conclusion comes outside of the game, the final round—Round Six, the series’ original title—is effective. In a callback to the series’ opening scene, which shows kids playing the titular “squid game” as Gi-hun explains the rules, the final two contestants must face off in the children’s game. It’s especially fitting (and depressing) that the final two contestants are Gi-hun and Cho Sang-woo, as the two grew up in the same town and used to play squid game together as kids. More than that, Sang-woo has been deemed a success by society (well, up until that embezzlement part) and Gi-Hun, a failure. By pitting these two against one another in Squid Game’s final contest, and making it very clear who the more humane human is, the series is calling into question the metrics by which we measure status and worth in our world.

As Squid Game progresses, the competition has become more and more encouraging of inter-contestant violence. This is especially true for the final round, in which Gi-hun and Sang-woo are allowed to use force to beat the other person—even to their death. It’s about winning the squid game or making it so your opponent can’t win the squid game… or anything else. It’s barbaric and raw and, for a moment, it seems like Gi-hun may succumb to the kind of desperate brutality that has claimed so many in this game.

After an ugly fight, Gi-hun manages to beat Sang-woo to the ground and make his way to the circle drawn in the sand that, should he step inside, would mean his victory and Sang-woo’s death. He almost does it, too—he is so angry with Sang-woo whom, over the course of the game, he has realized is willing to kill in order to secure his victory—but, in the end, human life is worth more to Gi-hun than any sum of money. It’s what Kang Sae-byeok reminded him of right before she died (at Sang-woo’s hand). We all have the capacity to do both good and terrible things. Gi-hun may have a good heart, but, more impressively, he is able to act with it.

This is exactly what Gi-hun does, realizing that he doesn’t have to choose money over human life. One of the three rules in the game allows for the competition to be canceled should a majority agree to end it. The group enacted it after the first round before deciding to re-instate the game shortly after. To the surprise of the VIPs watching from their gilded booth, Gi-hun walks back over to Sang-woo and asks him to leave with him. To end the game. Sang-woo seems to consider it, reaching out for Gi-hun outstretched hand, before he instead takes the dagger buried in the ground next to him and plunges it into his own neck.

Why does Sang-woo do it? Perhaps he is too ashamed of what he has done, both in the arena and outside of it. Or maybe he can’t stand to face his mother and others without the money. Perhaps he does the math and realizes, at this point, the only way to get the money to his mother is to make sure Gi-hun wins it and helps out the woman he’s known since he was a kid. Maybe he’s just tired and traumatized. Probably, it’s all of the above. Whatever the reason, Sang-woo kills himself and Gi-hun wins the game. In the end, though, I think it’s clear that no one actually wins Squid Game.

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Who Dies in Squid Game?

It might be easier to list who doesn’t die. None of the game’s 456 contestants make it out, save for protagonist Gi-hun and old man contestant Oh Il-nam (more on that later). Ali is tricked by Sang-woo into giving all of his marbles in Round Four, and is killed by the soldiers. Han Mi-ryeo succeeds in her promise to kill gangster Jang Deok-su when she grabs onto him and throws them both off of the glass bridge in Round Five. Kang Sae-byeok, the North Korean woman looking to get back to her brother, is killed by Sang-woo in the lead up to the final round.

Notable deaths in the series conclusion that take place outside the arena include Hwang Joon-ho, the police officer who infiltrates Squid Game pretty damn effectively, only to be killed by the Front Man, aka his own brother. And also Gi-hun’s mother, whom Gi-hun finds dead upon returning to his apartment after winning the game. Presumably, she died from complications to her diabetes, which is shown to be very serious in the second episode.

Joon-ho’s Brother: Who is In-ho?

In the eighth episode of the season, “Front Man,” Hwang Joon-ho makes it off of the arena’s island with evidence of the game. He is hunted down by the game’s Front Man and his goons. Joon-ho tries to call for back-up and to send he evidence he has gathered to his police chief, but is unable to due to cell phone poor service. He is cornered on a high, rocky cliff and asked to surrender by the Front Man, who reveals himself to be Joon-ho’s own brother, In-ho.

In Episode 5, “A Fair World,” Joon-ho discovers that his brother was a previous winner of Squid Game—in 2015, five years prior. Somehow, In-ho went from being a winner to being a main controlling force—probably in no small part because, as we see from how Gi-hun responds to winning, it is not easy to get past the extreme trauma of Squid Game. In-ho is so committed to his role as the Front Man that he shoots his own brother, when Joon-ho refuses to surrender to him. Joon-ho, who spent the entire season gathering evidence of Squid Game, falls to the water below, presumably to his death and presumably with all of the evidence he has gathered.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Who Runs Squid Game?

This is a complicated question because we don’t truly understand the scope of Squid Game. When Joon-ho infiltrates the records vault underneath the Front Man’s rooms, he finds evidence of years and years of games like the one we have been watching play out. Discussion amongst the VIPs also suggests that the game is being played in different locations around the world—this could mean that multiple games are happening simultaneously or that they happen throughout the year in different locations. We know from the labels on the (honestly very well organized) records that there are multiple games every year.

Logistically, the Front Man runs the game with the help of the workers, soldiers, and managers—aka the dudes in red coveralls. In the final episode, Oh Il-nam, aka Contestant 001, is revealed to be the Host of the game, and implied to be if not the person who runs the entire gambit, then one of the people who is in charge. He gives more of the game’s backstory from his deathbed…

Why Did Oh Il-nam Play Squid Game?

We find out in Squid Game‘s final episode that Oh Il-nam, the older man Gi-hun befriended in the arena and whom we all thought died in the marbles round, actually survived the Squid Game. This is because he is one of its creators. He chose to play the game after years of watching it because he had been diagnosed with a brain tumor that caused him to reflect on his life. As he tells an understandably very angry Gi-hun from his death bed a year following their Squid Game, he wanted to feel like he did when he was a kid, playing with his friends and losing track of the hours.

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This is pretty fucked up. To Il-nam, the game truly was a game: something to pass the time and make him feel alive when regular life wasn’t doing it for him. Of course, Il-nam wasn’t like any other player. When he lost to Gi-hun, he wasn’t killed. The Front Man may espouse the equality of the game, but it isn’t a fair competition—it’s rigged for the uber elite, just like the outside world. Il-nam’s survival proved that, if it wasn’t already obvious. His desperation wasn’t like the other player’s because he knew exactly what was going on and had an out, not only from the game but from the kinds of desperate situations that the other contestants found themselves in outside the arena.

When Il-nam is dying on Christmas Eve in the corner of a mostly barren office-tower floor, he tells Gi-hun that the very poor and the very rich are the same in that living is no fun for either. Somehow, Gi-hun doesn’t strangle him then and there. He also doesn’t strangle him when Il-nam reveals how Squid Game started: basically, Il-nam and his rich friends were bored and joyless, and decided to create the games as a way to have some fun. This legacy continues with the Squid Games of today, as demonstrated by the VIPs, a group of (seemingly mostly American) rich men who sip whiskey and tell jokes as they watch desperate people die in the game they bet on. To them, human life has lost all meaning, and, because they have an exorbitant amount of wealth (which is to say power), these are the rules others must also play by.

Gi-hun is extraordinary because he refuses to play by those rules. Il-nam tells him that he deserves the money, because that is the logic he and his ilk have lived under—as if anyone deserves the kind of immense privilege that must always be built on others’ exploitation and suffering—but Gi-hun refuses to spend it. Il-nam tells him that no one will stop for the man passed out on the side of the frozen road, and Gi-hun takes that bet. And he wins. What sets Squid Game apart from so many of the stories in this genre is its ability to balance the ruthlessness and injustice inherent in the premise with a stolid belief in the capacity for goodness. The system is rigged for people like Il-nam, who suffers no consequences for his actions. but there will always be people, like Gi-hun and the person who went to get the cops to help the man on the street, who care and who act on that caring.

No doubt this plot twist will be a divisive part of Squid Game discourse. Personally, I could have done without it. Gi-hun’s relationship with Il-nam is one of the best dynamics in the entire show, and one that underscores the series’ central theme of how important it is to value humanity, even when the system you live in does not. Episode 6, “Gganbu,” is the best hour of the entire season in no small part because of how Il-nam and Gi-hun’s contest to the apparent death plays out. To backtrack on that for a final-episode plot twist that doesn’t add much thematically to the story feels like a mistake. That being said, there is enough that works about this scene and episode for Squid Game to remain an overall rewarding watch.

Gong Yoo’s Cameo: Why Does Gi-Hun Change His Mind?

Il-nam’s deathbed confession seems to kickstart Gi-hun’s life. He dyes his hair red like a K-pop idol. He finds Sae-byeok’s brother and leaves the boy (and half of his winnings) with Sang-woo’s mother. Though it seems like Gi-hun intends to return to them following a trip to visit his daughter, who has moved with her mother and stepfather to Los Angeles, this all changes when Gi-un sees something on the subway: the same man (played by Train to Busan‘s Gong Yoo) who recruited him for Squid Game is playing ddakji with a man. Gi-Hun abandons his luggage and dashes to the platform where Gong Yoo’s salesman character is working to recruit another desperate soul. Gong Yoo has already boarded a train by the time Gi-Hun makes it to him, smiling through the glass door. All Gi-hun can do is grab the Squid Game calling card from the latest recruit, and command him not to play the game.

Or is it all Gi-hun can do? When he is on the airbridge to board his plane to LA, he takes out the calling card and dials the number, telling the voice on the other side: “Listen carefully. I’m not a horse. I’m a person. That’s why I want to know who you people are, and how you can do these horrible things to people … It wasn’t a dream. I can’t forgive you for everything you’re doing.” Like the person who stopped to help the man on the street, Gi-hun refuses to accept the status quo, if there is anything at all he can do about it. He has wealth now and, rather than accepting complicity in a horrifying system as a condition of that power, he is risking it all. He is stopping for the man on the street.

The post Squid Game Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2VOBuJ4

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[funkymbtifiction]

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/annehelenpetersen/millennials-burnout-generation-debt-work

Although it isn’t, I could swear this was written by me. I deeply relate to these issues and the descripted anxiety and paralysis when it comes to these “adult” tasks. Do you think it’s merely a generational problem or are these traits related to MBTI?

(I’m not a psychologist, so take everything I say at the end with a grain of salt. I love to read and think and ‘fix’ things, so I have lots of thoughts about this.)

This phenomenon is something I have thought about and discussed, whenever I heard accusations against millennials. The short answer is there’s no particular MBTI type that causes this feeling of inadequacy by comparison, but I would say social dominants and Enneagram 3s suffer from it the worst (I suspect the person who wrote the article is a social 3, since the emphasis is all on success, achievement, paying attention to their social media feeds, and trying to compete on that level).

There’s a lot to unpack in that article, so I’ll just hit a couple of things – the tendency to avoid unnecessary, small, unpleasant tasks is a simple lack of motivation, follow through, and even a level of personal irresponsibility. It’s also a facet of not possessing self-love, because a person should do unpleasant or boring things out of self-love (because doing this now will reduce the guilt and anxiety of leaving that package on the table for the next six months, because I am a person who keeps their commitments, because this thing simply needs doing, and it doesn’t matter if it’s boring or tedious or not). If you do something immediately, you no longer have to think about it, or feel anxiety about doing it. Rip the band-aid off and do the boring “adult” stuff, so it’s no longer looming over you.It doesn’t matter what you feel like doing. Just do it.

Okay, as to the entire mindset of the millennial generation… it comes from a lot of things. Parents that made a great deal of money gave the next generation expectations above and beyond what is feasible. The brutal truth is, most of our parents did not live in a five room house when they were 20, they had a crappy little apartment and barely made the rent. Yet for some reason we expect to get out of college, find a job that pays a hundred thousand a year, and buy that house—whether we can afford it or not. Things cost way more for us than they did for our parents, also—instead of 6 grand for a house, it’s 300,000 grand.

There is enormous social pressure to attend college, even though most jobs do not require it; this means the value of a degree is less, because everyone and their cousin now have the same degree. It used to be that trade schools were more the norm, or that you simply grew up working in your father’s business and assumed you were going to take it over from him at some point. Only a few people with specific ambitions went to college for a short amount of time, with an end result in mind, and it, again, cost less because fewer people were attending and driving up the prices. College is an extremely expensive place to “find out what you want to do,” instead of already knowing what you are going to do, and getting an education IF it is necessary for your career. (For the record, you can often get higher paying job obtaining trade skills such as working as an electrician or a plumber, with less cost and way less debt.) So most millennials come out of college with a hundred grand in student loan debts. They assume, because they grew up in a society that told them how special they were, that they can get an amazing job and make all this money and pay back their loans and buy that enormous house—but they are all competing for the same job everyone else wants.

Or they were raised thinking they were special, so the rules do not apply to them, and that their feelings matter. In a nutshell: they do not matter. Your boss will not care if you felt like coming to work or not. You will come in and do what you are paid to do, or you will get fired. It doesn’t matter if you feel like cleaning the cat box or not. You need to clean it, because your cat deserves a better life. It doesn’t matter if you feel like exercising or not. If you do not do it, you will gain weight and face a health problem later in life. Adulting is learning to do the things that need done, whether or not you feel like doing them.

Now, let’s think about the social networking component, because it is an enormous contributor to “the problem” this generation faces. Back before college became the norm, and before the internet was accessible to everyone, society on the whole lived a much smaller life. You grew up, you dated someone from high school, you worked weekends in a local store or business, you got a more permanent job, you got married. It was a no-brainer, because everyone did it, most people knew each other, and socializing was done in person, rather than online, through community gatherings, church groups, BBQ’s, and town events. You weren’t aware of all the things you “should” be doing, or could “own” or even the fun other people were having, and as a result, people did not over-think as much. The internet has opened up a thousand options and the millennial thinks they should carefully consider all of them, because they do not want to make the same ugly mistakes their parents made.

Most of their parents have had multiple marriages and maybe even several sets of kids with different partners. They experienced what all young people do—periods of debt and poverty. But they “lived” life, and the millennial is “not” living life—they are more cautious, more fearful of making a life-shattering mistake, and more fearful of experiencing pain, suffering, and loss of the lifestyle that many of them were privileged to have, which was comfort. Their parents provided everything they needed, and got them used to a certain standard of living, which raised their expectations about what they must earn to match it. Going without is not possible in their mind; they have to achieve more than their parents, at a younger age. But… instead of the 5 options their parents have, the millennial has 10,000. Who should I date and marry? Well, it could be the person next door… but what if I’m missing someone BETTER? Should I try online dating? Swipe through 8,000 people? How do I decide? Where should I get a job? Who should I work for? Should it be in this state or somewhere else? Can I find a job that pays me a lot but doesn’t eat up all my free time so I can have fun? Or will I feel trapped??

Less is more, and all our society has, is more – too many choices lead to what psychologists call “choice paralysis.” The point where someone doesn’t know what to choose, so they choose nothing. It can be as simple as deciding you want to watch something, logging on to Netflix, and seeing 250 possibilities, being unable to decide, and turning it off… or not knowing which of the 60 people to respond to on the dating site… or which of the 20 degrees you want… which causes people to shut down completely and avoid decisions altogether.

Faced with too high of and unreasonable expectations of their own self-importance and worth (brought on by the “everyone is a winner” culture), unfeasible standards that are much too lofty for partners (we don’t know how to just choose a person and tolerate their flaws, we want the RIGHT person, so we keep on looking endlessly at times, and don’t want to settle, leading millennials to being the generation who isn’t getting married young), incredible debt tied to college degrees and expenses, and choice paralysis on everything from our pizza toppings to Big Life Decisions… is it any wonder that we (I am one of you, just barely; I’m a bit older than most of you) don’t do anything?

There is a solution to this problem, though. Minimize your life. Make it real instead of abstract. Stop living it in your head, and do it in your body. How? Minimize your choices. Practice making them. Do the thing you don’t want to do, first, to teach yourself responsibility. Make your world smaller. Consider a smaller life with more freedom and free time in it. Cut social media down considerably. If Facebook tracking you, hording your information, and making a “file” on you troubles you, pull the plug. You are not missing anything. Consider what works better—an impersonal tweet or a conversation with a person in the flesh. Start by making small decisions, and lead into bigger ones. Learn to lower your expectation and set realistic ones. The odds are, the person you pick to be with isn’t any better or worse than if you tried out 50 other people. Living in a tiny apartment for 6 years is nothing to feel ashamed about, it’s how MOST PEOPLE start their life. Cut the things out of your schedule that you do not need, and focus on what matters. Family time should not be on your “to do” list. Watch Dave Ramsey videos on YouTube to learn how to budget your money. Get rid of the social media account that make you feel envious, or like your life should be “more” than it is. Most of the time, life is just life. It has tooth aches, bad tuna sandwiches, flat tires, and Christmases that aren’t as magical as you wanted them to be, and that’s… life. If you can’t tell the difference between Instagram “I took this photo 70 times to impress you and then airbrushed it” and “real life,” get rid of it altogether.

A lot of this anxiety and paralysis, we bring on ourselves. But we can also choose to do something good for ourselves, and … make decisions. Small ones that can lead to big changes.

#question #mbti #self help #self worth #love yourself #millenials #submission

[anathewierdo]

Show, Don’t Tell

A Supernatural Fix-It fic.

Pairing: I tried to at least hint at Destiel. Also Sam x Eileen because I can and it’s been fifteen years since Jess died so sue me if I don’t want Sam paired off with a blurry wife.

Word count: 6560

Because one of the most important rules of storytelling is to show, not just tell. 

So this is basically 15x20 but with family.

Better late than never, right? Sorry it took me so long to post this. I hope you guys like it :)

Like, reblog and comment if you want. I found this was very therapeutic for me. I hope it gives some comfort to y’all.

Dean reaches to the nightstand lazily, snoozing his alarm. Like the day before, and the day before that and the day before that, he stares at the ceiling for a moment. 

It still feels so surreal. 

He’s free. 

He’s free. And so is Sammy. And so is everybody. They did it. 

His chest still aches when he remembers everything they lost along the way.

With a small shake of his head and a plastered on smile, he sits up. A bark shakes the remaining sleepiness out of his system and he opens his arms in invitation. His smile grows genuine at the feel of Miracle. He balances them a bit, letting out a rough “good morning” at his canine friend.

He’s tasted victory before. In the form of Cas coming back from the Empty back when Jack first came to their lives. He tasted victory briefly every time he kept Sammy safe. He tasted victory in small amounts with friends and family and whenever a hunt was well done. 

The victory that came from defeating Chuck was lacking, though. 

He pushes that emptiness aside. 

Everybody who could, had come back with the snap of Jack’s fingers. And that’s a whole lot better than none of them come back at all.

So he squishes Miracle once more. He can’t change anything anymore and that’s just how it is. At least he’s not alone. 

He gets up, puts over his dead guy robe and whistles so Miracle will follow. 

The smell of eggs and bacon is nice. The laughter that comes from the kitchen is even better.

Sam and Eileen are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the stove. Eileen, like Dean, is still in her pajamas while wearing Sam’s robe. Sammy’s wearing a gray shirt and black sweatpants. He’s back from his morning run.

At the sound of Dean walking in, Sam turns around; Eileen follows suit at seeing Sam’s actions and waves hello at Dean. 

Breakfast is a happy, relaxed affair. Dean can’t keep himself from smiling proudly at the two nerds across the table. They’d grown inseparable as soon as they’d found each other again.

He has dish duty and of course he smuggles Miracle all the scraps even after serving him his actual breakfast. After that, he gets dressed (totally cleans up his room… not) and hits the library. Miracles sits by his side as Dean pets him and scrolls through the net, jumping between job hunting and searching for actual hunts. He barely notices Sam sitting in front of him when a particular article catches his eye.

“Dean?”

“Huh?”

Sam gives him a questioning look. “Did you find anything?”

Dean looks back at the screen. For a moment, he wants to say no, forget about the article and move on looking for a job. But no, he’s still a hunter. The Big Bad may be gone, but the Winchester brothers’ job isn’t… Also, he may have seen another article from the same town with something interesting, and he could use a distraction.

“Yeah, I think I found something.”

Not even an hour later, they’re saying goodbye to Eileen and Miracle, promising to be back home in a few days time. 

=================

Dean is positively giddy by the time they roll into town. He had to convince Sam to do this, arguing how they got time before they would crash the crime scene for clues and eventually, he finally got the okay (not that it would’ve made any difference). He parks Baby right before the pie festival and stares in awe as he gets out of the Impala. 

Sam stands right beside him, taking in his reaction. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“This is my destiny,” Dean proclaims, watching all these people walk around eating apple, cherry, coconut, pecan– oh god they have fried pie. Sin or not, distraction achieved. “It’s just so beautiful.”

“Are you crying?”

“No. Yo– You’re crying.”

Sam scoffs, chuckling. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m gonna get some pie.”

“Right,” Sam nods, amused.

It just feels so good to say it. He’s already walking towards the festival with a big smile on his face. “I’m gonna get me some damn pie.”

And with that, Dean tours. He forms in line to the pie truck, ordering one piece of each flavor, then goes around with this big white box asking for a piece of each pie in the festival. 

He finds Sam again a few minutes later, sitting by himself on a bench and looking towards a family with longing. Dean doesn’t doubt it: he’s daydreaming about him and Eileen having that someday.

“Found ya,” Dean sits beside him, glaring daggers at a stranger who almost crashed into him and put his pie at risk. “What’s wrong?”

Sam straightens his jacket. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“No, come on. You got that face–,” he motions with his free hand. “That, that’s Sad Sam Face.”

“I’m not Sad Sam,” he mocks. A couple of seconds go by with Dean still looking at him. Sam sighs. “I’m just– I’m just thinking about Cas, you know? Jack. I wish they could be here.”

Dean feels as if a bucket filled with freezing water had been dumped on him. The ache in his chest comes back with a full force and suddenly he wants to bail and beeline it to the bunker until he can hug Miracle again. For a moment; for a sweet, brief moment, he’d been distracted enough from the loss.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “ Yeah, no, I–I think about them too.”

“What happened?” Sam speaks again, carefully. “You said he saved you, yeah, but… what happened?”

“It’s like I told you and the kid, alright?” Dean snaps, then closes his eyes as he relives everything in a hurtful, awfully quick memory. “He summoned the Empty. The Empty got there and took him and Billie and by the time I realized what had happened they were– he was gone. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t do anything.”

Sam has the decency to not say anything. 

“I told Claire the same thing,” he adds, once he’s calmed down enough. “If we don’t keep living, his sacrifice and Jack’s sacrifice won’t mean anything. Cas saved me, Jack brought everyone back, we saved the world.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just miss them.”

“Yeah, we all do. I certainly do.”

He’s not in the mood to talk about it anymore. He doesn’t want to remember anymore how he just stood there, paralyzed with fear and shock as Cas sacrificed himself for him for the last time to go to the only place Dean can’t save him from. He’s gone. 

So he stabs his damn pie and takes the first bite, pretending the deliciousness of the dessert is enough to distract him when a full piece gets shoved into his face. Dean licks his lips. Coconut pie. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” Sam laughs.

Dean gives him a bitter smile. Deep down, he’s thankful for the sudden distraction.

=======================

They introduce themselves to the policewoman as agents Kripke and Singer from the FBI. The dad’s throat was torn and he’d been stabbed. The mother’s tongue had been ripped out and she was the only one left after the attack. The kids were taken.  

The policewoman had looked at them curiously. “I didn’t know homeland security took home invasion cases.”

“Oh yeah, we’re full service,” Dean answers with a bitter smile.

As they talk more, Sam asks if the mother had been interrogated already, if she had seen something. The policewoman nods, taking out a piece of paper from the folder in her hands and showing Sam and Dean the drawing of a smiling skeleton.

“She drew this when asked if she saw the attackers,” she explains further. 

Dean nods distractively. When the policewoman is called into the house, he turns to Sam.

“I recognize that face.”

“Yeah, me too. Just don’t know from where.” 

They sweep around the house looking for clues and thank the people working the case for their time before asking for the coroner’s report. With the files in hand, they leave the scene and go just out of town so they can regroup.

They’re leaning against opposite sides of the hood of Baby. Dean’s going through dad’s journal while Sam goes through the file they were given and extending a map of the state.

“Found it!” Dean announces. “Dad came across these things in ‘86. He was working a string of kidnappings involving seven children along the 77. Mark these up: Akron, Canton, East Sparta,” he listed. “He didn’t find much, but one of the witnesses described this.”

He turned the journal around, showing Sam a more detailed copy of the face their witness had drawn.

“Alright, so Dad knew about this case–”

“Yeah but he didn’t find much. Guess he thought this was some major crime thing, not a monster.”

“So, the victims–”

“Kids were taken; the adults that weren’t drained had their–”

“Their tongues ripped out.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah… You know what this is? Mimes.”

Sam scoffs. “My money’s on vampires.”

Tongue in cheek, Dean nods, giving it a thought before his face lights up at a breakthrough. “Vamp–mimes! Son of a bitch, man.”

Sam knows this Dean. The Dean that gets silly when he’s down, the one that smiles and attempts to make him laugh so he won’t notice. Dean’s distracting himself; and Sam, just this once, is gonna let him. They both lost Castiel, but Dean’s the one who was closer to the angel. At least this time Dean’s not putting his life at risk.

“Okay, so if the pattern holds, then the next town they’re gonna hit is Canton.”

“And they’re gonna target a family that lives outside of town, isolated and with kids between the ages of five and ten,” Dean supplies.

“Alright,” Sam puts the cap back on his sharpie. “So, who in Canton fits that bill?”

===========================

The Maxwell’s from Canton fit the bill. 

The brothers camped out near their house until nightfall and stayed hidden. The vampires would arrive soon. They had to. The Maxwell’s were the only ones who ticked off all the requirements of the pattern their dad had collected. 

So when a white van pulled up to the main entrance of the house, Sam got his gun ready and Dean pulled his machete out of its case.

Three vampires came out of the van. Two vampires were beheaded not ten minutes later and the third one had been shot in the head with a bullet soaked in dead man’s blood.

They interrogate him, threaten to kill him slowly to get him to confess where’s his nest and if he’s being honest, Dean doesn’t care for a hot minute if the guy talks or not. He gets to decapitate another vamp and whether he’ll do it slowly or quickly doesn’t matter because he will find that fucking nest and he’s gonna bring those kids home so help him Jack. 

The fact that he might have been itching for a hunt while at the same time wanting to stay cooped up in the bunker for the rest of his days is irrelevant.

Vamp-mime #3 ends up talking and, like he promised, Dean makes his demise quick. Sam makes an anonymous call to the Canton police department to report the bodies and they’re out of there, Dean drives as fast as he can through the highway and towards the location of the nest. 

He guesses that if the three goons don’t make it back to the nest soon they’ll either flee or look for their missing members. Both options involve them leaving the nest, so neither option is good. 

His conversation from earlier that day with Sam replays in his memory. Over and over he hears himself saying if we don’t move on, all that sacrifice will have been for nothing. He’s right. He’s right and he should move on. He should leave the past in the past and come to terms with the fact that whatever he wanted to say to Cas won’t ever happen because Cas can’t hear him anymore. He couldn’t say anything and now he’s stuck living in a present that is good but that is incomplete.

Dean’s come to that realization several times in the couple weeks since they defeated Chuck, yet his heart still breaks each and every time. There is so much he wanted to say to Cas and Jack. 

‘You are family, Jack,’ is one of the many things he wants to clear up for the kid. 

He drives and drives until Sam turns him to take a turn and they stop outside of a seemingly black, old-looking barn.

“You think this is the place?” Sam asks as they get out of Baby.

“Well, old and abandoned place in the middle of nowhere that looks like it came out of a bad horror movie…” Dean nods. “Yeah, I think this is it.”

“Great.”

They go to the trunk and it feels… ominous, somehow. On top of everything going on in his head, he’s now remembering his father and that vamp hunt he took them in ‘05. The hunting world changed for him that time, he had a feeling it was about to change again. 

And because he feels like throwing shit at mimes, he takes the throwing stars, giving Sam a cheeky smile. He gets a shake of the head and bitch-face number 10 in response.

“No.”

“We’ve never used them, come on,” Dean pleads. “Just this once.”

“No way.”

“I never get to do anything fun,” he grumbles, scouring through the trunk. “Where’s the rest of the dead man’s blood bullets?”

Sam motions his gun, “we ran out. I have the last few.”

“Seriously?!” 

Sam gives him an apologetic look. “I’ll shoot, you take a machete. And we take these sons of bitches down together, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean grumbles, pointing the machete at his brother. “But you’re in charge of making more when we get back home.”

“Fine.”

They go in. Dean with his machete, Sam with a gun in his hand and a machete in the other. 

Suddenly, a milk run hunt is not so easy anymore. There are another four vampire mimes, all ready and waiting for them to make the first strike. Sam makes sure to get the kids out of there, telling them to run as fast and as far as they can, that him and his big brother will follow in a bit to help more. 

The fight goes by quick. Sam shoots a vampire, but he loses his gun when another one gets too close and knocks the gun out of his hands. He swings the machete at the attacking vampire and beheads him with a clean cut.

Dean beheads another one, and together they take down a third one. 

They exchange a confident look. Almost there. 

Suddenly, another two vamps pop out from the back entrance of the barn. The Winchester brothers swing, but a hit at the back of his head leaves Sam unconscious momentarily, rendering Dean outmanned and, soon after, defenseless. 

Sam wakes up to Dean pinned down by two vampires, the third one with a raised machete. 

He doesn’t have time to think. He reaches out for his previously discarded machete and beheads her. 

The action gives Dean enough time to stand his ground once more. 

Each brother targets one of the remaining vampires. They’re bruised and battered and Sam’s a little dizzy, but he ain’t gonna let these vamps win. 

So he fights, he stands his ground miraculously and eventually gains enough upper hand to behead his vamp. As the head falls to the ground, there’s a grunt and the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. 

What Sam expects to see is a vampire hurt, or even better, beheaded.

What he finds is his brother pinned against a wooden column; the vamp pushing him further against it. 

“Dean!” He panics, tackles the vamp to the ground and fights the thing until he can behead it. Which he does with gusto. 

Sam finally lets himself breathe as that last head hits the ground. Feels his wounds and the slight pain caused by the vampires but overall, he’s okay. Barely scratched, taking his standards in consideration. 

“Sammy,” Dean calls softly. 

Sam turns, giving his big brother a tired smile that fades instantly at seeing Dean still pressed against the wooden column, tense, with his face contorted in discomfort and pain.

He’s in front of him in a second. “What’s wrong?”

Dean tilts his head to the side, motioning behind him, “I don– I don’t think I’m going anywhere, Sammy.”

White hot panic begins to course through Sam’s veins as he reaches behind Dean and feels the blood dripping from his back and soaking his clothes. He takes his hand a little bit more up and to the side and suddenly he can feel the protuberance of a rebar sticking out the column… now buried in his brother’s back. 

“No no no, we can fix this,” Sam begins to say frantically. “Lemme just get the first aid kit. I’ll take you out of here. We just gotta get you down. It’ll be okay. We’ll patch you up.”

He tries to push Dean away from the rebar, barely moving him but causing Dean to scream in pain and Sam can’t do anything but freeze.

“Fuck! No, Sammy. No nononononono don’t move me. That–,” Dean coughs. “It feels like this thing is holding me together right now.” Sam steps back, hands hanging at his sides and looking heartbreakingly mad at himself for not being able to get Dean out of this. Dean moves his head slightly, forcing Sam to look him in the eye. “I can feel myself fading, Sammy. I–I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Sam insists. “Let me call for help, let me–”

“Sam– Sam!,” Dean cuts him off. “Sta–Stay with me,” he pleads. “Stay with me, please.”

Dean sees his brother struggle for a moment before he nods faintly. “Okay, yeah.”

“Listen to me,” he begins. “You get out of here and you get those boys someplace safe, okay?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, motioning between them. “We are going to get them someplace safe.”

“No, Sammy. I– There’s no time. Fuck– this thing– you move me and I’ll die, alright? Just,” Dean coughs again. This time, he decides to ignore Sam’s flinch as he tries to focus, to stay just long enough to say it all. “Just stay with me for now, please.”

“Stop! It’s gonna be okay, just–”

“Sammy I ain’t happy with this, but it’s happening. And we can’t stop it, alright?” He gives his little brother a pained smile. “At least I got to save people and hunt things one last time with my brother. Family business.”

“Dean, stop this.”

“No. There’s some things I wanna say, okay?” He pleads. “There’s some things you need to know.”

A white hot flash of pain courses through him and Dean groans, closing his eyes for a moment. He hears Sam sniffle.

“First,” he opens his eyes and flashes a cocky, loving smile. “We had one hell of a ride, man.”

“I will find a way,” Sam stutters, eyes frantic. “I’ll find a way. You’ll come back.”

“No no no no, no bringing me back, Sammy. That always ends bad and we’ve had enough of Big Bads, ya hear me?” Dean coughs. “No bringing me back. Promise me. Swear it.”

Sam opens his mouth to do just that just to placate his brother, but stops. There’s nothing grand, nothing good, nothing positive about this situation. It sucks. It utterly sucks because Dean is right here and he can’t help, he can’t take him off that rebar he can’t cure him he can’t call Cas–

“I’m so proud of you, Sammy,” Dean continues, promises ignored for now. “Come here,” he keeps coughing. “Remember when I came to get you from Stanford?”

Sam nods, stepping closer to Dean, who places a hand on his shoulder while mumbling ‘let me look at you’.

“I thought you were gonna tell me to get lost o–or–or get dead and– anyways. You– you turned out great, Sammy. I’m so proud of you.”

Dean’s difficulty to speak increases with every passing second and Sam grows frantic at the sheer reality of this. He’s watching his brother die and this time– with Jack saying he wouldn’t be a hands on God, with Cas gone, with the promise he hasn’t made yet…

He won’t be able to bring Dean back. 

Sam’s eyes fill with tears and suddenly it feels like he’s forgetting how to breathe. He can feel himself shaking, frantically shaking his head as the first tears begin to fall.

“I can’t do this alone,” he pleads again.

Dean sounds so confident in his response. “Yes, you can.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want to.”

“You won’t have to,” Dean assures. “You have– You have D–D–Donna a-a-and Claire. Kaia. J-Jody. B-B-Bobby. Eileen. Garth. Our friends. Family. You’re not alone, Sam. I swear.” His voice grows softer the more he speaks. “I’ll be right here,” he pats Sam’s chest. “E-Every step of the way. I promise. We are not- not alone, Sam– Sammy. Not anymore. Not for a while now.”

Sam is biting his lip hard now, trying to breathe normally, trying with all his might to contain his sobs, to keep the tears at bay. Nothing works. The tears still roll down his cheeks. His breath is still raggedy and broken. His body can’t stop shaking and it only gets worse as he sees Dean begin to cry too. 

“Tell me– Tell me you’re gonna be okay,” The oldest Winchester begs. “Tell me it’s gonna be okay, Sammy.”

 The words pierce right through Sam’s soul. He doesn’t think he’s ever done anything quite as hard as looking at his dying brother in the eyes and forcing himself to speak in the most reassuring way possible. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Dean,” his voice cracks and shakes and his face is fucking soaked but he pulls through. “I’m gonna be okay. It’s okay.”

Dean smiles. It’s a pained, wobbly and grateful smile. “I don’t wanna go, Sammy,” he confesses in a desperate whisper as another tear rolls down his face. “I don’t– tell them I said goodbye. That– that I– fuck.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam repeats, more for himself than for his brother this time. Dean’s grip on his shoulder is wavering and so Sam decides to step in closer, hugs Dean as carefully as possible without moving him. “They know. It’s okay. You can go.”

Dean gives a shaky sigh and suddenly his face is resting against Sam’s shoulder.

“Bye, Sammy,” he whispers.

This time, Dean sighs calmly, slowly, as his hand falls from Sam’s shoulder and his body sags between his brother and the column. 

He’s dead.

Whatever self control Sam had left is shattered as he shakily hugs Dean closer to him, burying his face against his now dead brother’s shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably, calling out to him, begging for any kind of miracle to appear and make Dean breathe again.

Nothing changes. 

Not after thirty seconds. Not after a minute. Not after five minutes. 

Still crying and with shaking fingers, Sam pulls his phone out and texts Eileen, sending her their location and asking her to please come help. 

After another couple minutes, Sam takes Dean off the rebar and cries harder at the sound of his flesh tearing a little bit more against the metal as he’s freed from it.. 

It’s with a heavy heart that he realizes he can’t stay here. There are two boys hidden outside that need him. 

He lays Dean down and promises to come back as soon as possible.

=============================

By the time Eileen arrives at the barn, Sam’s taken the boys home.

She finds him inside the old barn, sitting besides Dean’s body, crying, sobbing, shaking. It doesn’t take her long to put the pieces together and for her eyes to fill with tears. She slowly makes her way up to Sam, who startles at the feel of her hand on his back. He stops crying for a second, thinking they might be in danger again, but only cries harder at the sight of Eileen and drags her into his arms, hugging her as tight as he can, desperate for comfort.

“It’s okay, Sam,” she tries to assure him a couple times. It doesn’t work. And it doesn’t feel right to say something like that when her sort of brother-in-law is lying dead beside them. The more she’s there, the heavier the loss feels and soon enough she’s crying just as hard as Sam, aching in pain for the loss of Dean, but more so because of the pain Sam is feeling. Her assurances quickly morph into her trying to say ‘I’m here, Sam’.

Because that she is certain of. She’s not leaving Sam. She’s right here for him.

They get rid of the vamps’ bodies together, neither wanting to be alone for the time being. Once that’s done, they put Dean in the backseat of Baby and they drive home.

==========================

It takes less than a day for everybody to come for the funeral.

Sam and Eileen spend the rest of the night making phone calls to all of their friends and family. Jody, Donna and the girls are the first ones to show up. Claire is clinging to Kaia’s hand tightly as she tries to keep her sobbing under control. 

Every time someone shows up, Sam can’t help but think back at something Dean said that time he was supposed to blow up Amara with the soul bomb. 

‘I want a big funeral, you hear? I’m talking open bar, all you can eat kinda thing.’

By the time the sun begins to set, everyone is there. Sam finds himself thinking that Dean was right: he’s not alone, they do have a family. And their family is mourning his loss, their loss, with him, together. 

Garth brought his family. Bobby and the hunters from Apocalypse World came. Charlie and Stevie came. Someone got a hold of Jesse and Cesar Cuevas and apparently they got on the first plane they could find all the way from Mexico. Even Rowena is summoned, and people are even more surprised when she shows up. Dean’s pyre is surrounded by everybody that ever loved him, everyone they considered family that still lives. 

Miracle and Eileen are by Sam’s side when the pyre begins to burn.

They watch as the body of Dean Winchester burns, but they hold on tight to the fact that they’re not alone. 

Ironically, the bunker is bursting with life after the funeral. 

Everyone was invited to stay the night and said night is drunk away with stories, tears and memories of Dean. The mourn of his loss becomes a celebration of his life. 

A couple of days later, after everyone is gone, Sam roams the bunker’s hallways. Eileen does everything she can, but it’s painfully obvious that staying here is not doing Sam any good. Too many memories, too many years, too many reminders of what’s gone. 

They sit down, they talk, they cry in Dean’s room… and they come to the conclusion that it’s time. 

They arrange things with Bobby and his hunters, giving them the bunker’s keys. They pack up everything they can take and with Miracle following right behind, they say goodbye to their home.

It hurts Sam more than he thought it would, but the bunker’s not being abandoned, it’s being opened for the hunter community to continue to fight the good fight. Except this time, he won’t be in the front lines. 

They take Baby with them. Sam is driving, Eileen is sitting shotgun and Miracle is laying in the backseat. He takes Eileen’s hand in his. She signs ‘I love you’, Sam says it back. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Eileen says. 

“I know,” Sam answers. 

This time, he believes it.

============================

Dean wakes up (and this is a weird thing to say) standing. The sun is shining warm and beautiful on his face and he’s surrounded by a gorgeous mountain view. 

There’s no immediate pain and after a full minute, nobody has come out to mock him and tear the fantasy down, so he assumes he’s not in hell. 

Thank– No. Not Chuck. Thank Jack, he guesses. 

There’s a building to his right and so he walks, curious. When he reaches the front, he’s surprised at the sight of Bobby, their Bobby, sitting on its porch, drinking a beer and smiling warmly at him.

“What memory is this?” He asks, taken aback. He looks up the building and his breath hitches. Harvelle’s. They’re at Harvelle’s. 

Bobby chuckles, “it ain’t, ya idjit.”

“Yeah, it is,” he insists. “Last time I heard, you,” Dean points at Bobby. “were in heaven’s lock-up.”

“Was,” Bobby agrees, getting up. “Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“That kid of yours happened,” he smiles. “He came in and– he fixed it. Everything. Heaven ain’t just your memories anymore. He– He tore down the walls,” Bobby explains softly, excitedly. “Everyone can go see everyone. See, a few miles from here,” he points over a mountain, “is Rufus’ cabin. He got it with Aretha. Your folks have their own place too, nearby.”

“So everyone–”

“You can see them, visit them,” Bobby clarifies. He opens his arms in invitation. “It’s good to see you, son.”

For the first time since he got here, Dean breaks into a big smile and steps into Bobby’s hug, holding on tightly. “Same goes to you, old man.”

“Shut up,” he jokingly scolds. Bobby pulls away from the hug and motions to the roadhouse’s entrance. “Come on in. There’s some people who’d like to see you.”

They step into the bar and Dean is once again taken aback not only because of the view, but because of all the joyful screaming that fills the air as soon as the door opens.

Everybody’s here.

Charlie, Ash, Jo, Ellen, even his mom… Dean’s smile widens even more at the sight of Kevin, who’s apparently not a condemned soul roaming the Earth anymore. Old friends, recent friends and family him and Sam lost along the way… even Frank is here.

Something is still missing tho, but Dean reminds himself bitterly that there’s nothing he can do about Cas, so he leaves it alone and basks in the sight of his friends.

He hugs everybody. He screams in joy and cries in joy and he’s just so damn happy at the sight of everybody. 

“Jack did all this?!” Dean asks, once he’s gotten his happy tears under control.

“Not on his own,” Ellen answers. “Castiel helped.”

The world freezes for Dean.

“Cas… Cas is dead, Ellen,” the words feel awful to say, but they’re true. He saw it happen. “He- He’s gone.”

“No, idjit,” Bobby intervenes. “Cas helped Jack do this. This,” he motions around them. “Is the heaven we needed. Dean, it’s the heaven you deserve. And they did it.”

“What ‘bout Sam?” he asks, suddenly scared. “When he gets here, he’ll have this, right? He’ll see all of you?”

“He will,” Charlie speaks this time. “This is heaven now. Time works… differently, here. Sam won’t take long. So, what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean nods, because what else can he do? 

Cas is alive. 

Cas probably knows he’s here.

“I gotta go,” he says. “I have an angel to talk to.”

He walks back to the roadhouse’s entrance, but stops before opening the door. Dean takes one more look at everyone, smiling. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Go find your angel, Romeo,” Charlie whoos loudly.

“Shut up, Charlie,” he calls back, stepping out of Harvelle’s.

As if heaven couldn’t be more perfect, Baby’s parked outside. Dean’s smile grows even more at the sight of her. 

He gets inside, turns the keys and closes his eyes, savoring the sound of Baby’s roar. He turns the radio on and Carry On My Wayward Son begins to play.

He doesn’t know where exactly he’s driving, but he knows who he’s looking for. Assumes that heaven will guide him to Cas somehow.

Dean doesn’t know how time in heaven works, but he’s certain he lost track of it. After a while of driving, he stops at the side of the road upon looking at Miracle barking like crazy at the Impala, his tail wagging a mile an hour. 

He continues to drive with Miracle riding shotgun until he arrives at his destination. 

Castiel looks tense, nervous, but he’s still smiling as Dean gets out of Baby.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean can’t find words enough to express how much he’s missed him. 

“You stupid, dumb son of a bitch,” he croaks, then brings Cas in for what must be the biggest hug of his existence. “You were gone too damn long.”

The ache, the pain, that emptiness he’d been feeling ever since Cas had been taken by the empty, disappears. 

He doesn’t let Cas go.

=============================

Sam’s life is good. 

Him and Eileen never get married. Not legally, at least. They’re it for each other, they know it, but Sam is legally dead and still wanted in some states, so they can’t get married in a traditional way. 

Instead, they have a ceremony with their friends and family. Sam’s favorite picture from that day rests over the chimney, where he’s kissing Eileen’s cheek.

They name their first child Dean. Sam had been nervous to suggest it, but Eileen had taken one look after giving birth to their son and simply said, “hi, Dean”. Sam cried like a baby, murmuring sweet nothings into her hair while pressing his hand (that was signing ‘I love you’) to Eileen’s chest. He swore he’d be a better job than John ever did in raising his kids. He keeps that promise.

Dean grows, so does their family, so does the family business. 

Their home is filled with pictures of their friends and family. Some of Sam with Jody and the girls, eating out or hanging out. Some were given to him, showing his brother Dean smiling and being and living with their family. 

Dean Jr and his siblings hear endless stories of their super cool uncle from everybody their whole lives. They all wish they could meet Uncle Dean.

Time goes by, life goes on. Sam never gets used to the giant hole his brother’s absence leaves in his soul.

Him and Eileen grow old together. Of course they teach their kids sign language.The hunting world is somewhat still part of their lives. They used to take on small, very few cases, but little by little they just don’t anymore and one day Sam looks around as he’s doing some research to help a huntress in Minnesota and holy crap, he did get out after all.

Sometimes he visits Baby, even goes for a drive with his kids if he’s in the mood. But mostly he just sits and remembers a life besides his best friend, his brother. He prays he’s okay. He hopes he can hear him. He hopes Dean is proud.

Decades go by, his children grow and he loses a part of himself when Eileen dies. His condition gets worse and with time, he finds he can’t climb the stairs and one day he wakes up and he’s in a hospital bed in his living room. It’s insane. 

He’s old now. 

More time goes by and one day, it just happens. He feels it coming and damn, he got lucky his son Dean had come visit because he did not want to be alone for this. 

He holds his son’s hand, tries to be reassuring and wonders if this is what Dean felt like all those years before at the barn. 

“We’ll be okay, dad,” his kid tells him. “It’s okay.”

Sam smiles at the feel of his boy’s hand in the shape of the ‘I love you’ sign being pressed to his chest. He makes his own hand move to cover his boy’s.

Suddenly his grip fades, his smile fades, his eyes close. He draws his last breath. 

Sam follows his reaper to whatever destination comes next.

===========================

Dean loves having Cas riding shotgun as they drive through heaven. Miracle is sitting in the backseat for most of the drive, sometimes trying to jump over to the front, much to Cas’ amusement and Dean’s panic.

They talked. They keep talking along the road but for the most part, unfinished business aside, Dean is pretty fucking happy. He got Cas back. He knows now Jack is perfectly fine. Cas even told him Jack sometimes drops by to visit. He can’t wait.

They drive and drive and drive and Dean won’t ever get tired of seeing Cas so happy. 

They arrive at a bridge. Dean decides this is a good place to stop. He motions for Cas to follow, gets out and opens the backdoor for Miracle to jump out too. 

“I just felt like taking in the view,” he explains.

Cas only nods and follows him to the edge. Dean wouldn’t be able to tell how long they stood there, leaning against the metal, taking in the view of the mountains and the river running below them.

Suddenly, there’s a change in the air. 

Dean’s face breaks into a huge smile. 

Heaven was perfect, but it just got even better. 

He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Heya, Sammy,” he croaks.

Now he turns, and yeah, his little brother is right there, all teary eyed and happy. Looking like not a day had gone by since the last time they saw each other.

“Dean,” Sam greets softly. 

Dean gives a quick look to Cas, who is standing behind and petting Miracle as he smiles at their reunion. Dean looks back at his brother and he can’t contain himself anymore.

He hugs the crap out of Sammy.

Team Free Will is finally back together.

They get back into Baby after admiring the view for a little more and Dean tells Sam everything there is to know about heaven with Cas’ help. 

They make plans to take him to Eileen, to visit everyone. To make their lives up here in heaven. 

Dean has the biggest smile on his face as he looks in the rearview mirror and sees Cas smiling at him just as big in the backseat with Miracle. Sammy’s in his usual place: shotgun.

Heaven was perfect before, Dean thinks. But it’s finally complete now.

THE END

I hope you guys liked it... I know this was certainly therapeutic for me.

Take care of yourselves, keep fighting. And remember that no matter what we were given, family don’t end in blood. 

I’m not tagging anyone because... just because. But I hope that y’all like this :)

#dean winchester #supernatural #Season 15 #15 x 20 #destiel #deancas #Sam Winchester #sam x eileen #15x20 fix it #dean winchester is happy #Supernatural Fan Fiction #dean #happy ending

[dadsbongos]

A Notice

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Klaus Hargreeves/Reader Warnings: dead Reggie Summary: How did Klaus and his wife get together? ~~~

A note came back with her dog at noon on a fittingly sunny Sunday in late June.

(Y/n) held up the note to her face as she gently pat her plump dog’s side, sending Scratch off to the kitchen where he could pester her mother for lunch scraps. Her brows furrowed at how odd it seemed - words scribbled in a multitude of colorful markers ranging from bright red to murky brown.

“‘Your dog’s pretty fat, I’ll walk him for you if you want! For like two dollars anyway. Oh, this is your neighbor, Klaus, by the way!’”

She turned to the living room, where her little brother and father were watching television together, “Do we have a neighbor named Klaus?”

Her father hummed, squinting at the bright screen, “Those Hargreeves’ kids have wild names. Probably one of them,” he looked to the squirming four-year-old beside him with a wide grin, “Do you know, Owen?”

The small boy shook his head quickly, leaning his head into the man’s chest, eyes still stuck on the television. (Y/n) nodded, walking into the kitchen where her mother was cooking, “Do you know the Hargreeves? The kids’ names, I mean.”

“I believe there’s an Allison in there,” the woman murmured, still facing the stove, “Maybe a Ben… but I know one of them goes by Five. A little weird if you ask me but…” she trailed off.

“Oh,” (Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line, “I’m gonna go over there and just check it out.”

“Why?”

There was no response, not when the tween was already at the front door shoving her shoes on. The woman shook her head with a light giggle, “Henry, your daughter’s going over to the neighbors!”

“Your daughter too, Miriam!”

That was all (Y/n) heard before she was rushing down the sidewalk towards the biggest house on the block. The biggest house in town, more likely. She pushed the gate open, cringing at how it creaked under her palm before coming up to the door. Clanging the heavy door knocker against the wood, she waited with the note in hand for someone to answer.

After a few seconds, a boy no older than she had answered. He quirked a brow at her before moving to slam the door, “We’re not buying anything.”

“Oh no, I’m not selling,” she instantly blurting, bringing the paper to his attention, “Does anyone named Klaus live here? He left this attached to my dog’s collar.”

He huffed, clearly disinterested in conversation as a whole, however, he gave her a tight-lipped smile and held up his index finger, “Just a moment.”

And promptly slammed the door shut in her face, she flinched at the rude move. (Y/n) blinked up at the manor, taking quick notice to how eerie it seemed from the outside - she wondered how the interior looked as well. A few seconds later, the comically large door opened, a new brunette boy peeking through.

“Hey, you got my note!” he pointed at the paper in her hands, “I’m glad it was you and not some weird old guy.”

“You… you didn’t know who it would be going to?”

Klaus looked to the sky, as if in thought, before shaking his head, “Not really.”

“Wow,” (Y/n) breathed out, placing a hand over her stomach, “I think that just took a few years off my lifespan.”

“Five says I have that effect on people,” he leaned on the wedged-open door, “So, do you need a dog walker or sitter or both?”

A note came back with her little brother at three in the afternoon on a rainy Tuesday in mid-March.

“Sissy?” Owen’s quiet voice called from the hallway, one hand clutching a crinkled piece of paper by his side while the other fiddled with pieces of his hair. 

(Y/n) looked over from her textbooks, no longer as invested in the Russian Empire of the seventeen hundreds as before. She spun around in her desk chair, giving her baby brother a sweet smile as he stepped into her room. Owen held up the paper, placing his rather sticky hands on his sister’s thighs, trying to hoist himself into her lap by himself.

She quietly chuckled before setting the parchment aside and picking the first-grader into her lap, cringing when she felt at his hands, “Oh, you mister, are going to have to wash those mitts.”

He whined, burying his face into the material of her nightshirt in protest to the mere idea of getting up and washing his hands.

“Fine, fine, not now,” she rubbed his small back, picking up the paper.

“‘You should come to our hangout spot, not the shack the other one. The secret one around midnight. This is your friend, Klaus, by the way.’”

Of course, it had to be the rickety old treehouse in the field by their neighborhood - at midnight. Let’s not forget midnight. (Y/n) huffed, pulling herself up by the splintering wooden planks acting as a ladder, though what worried her was the lack of Klaus-like noises. Usually, he would be eager to make his presence known to her whether it be by offering a hand or his loud, shrill giggles at whatever the ghosts were saying now.

Eventually, she managed her way up, finding Klaus sitting oddly still and silent. She reached for his shoulder, finding no pleasure in the way he flinched before whipping around to meet her. However, rather than a pale, cold corpse positioned to look like her friend, she was met with crooked, off-white teeth on full display. 

Klaus turned around, taking the girl’s hands in his, “I know I’m not the guy your parents would dream of you dating but- “

“Woah, woah,” she felt winded, looking to the side briefly, “Are you- are we?”

“(Y/n),” he breathed out, getting onto his knees in a mockery of a proposal, “will you do me the honors of taking you out on a date?”

A tiny giggle escaped from her, she pulled him down into a hug, “Yes, I’d love to.”

A note came back with her father at five in the afternoon on a cloudy Friday in early December.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Owen muttered, leaning against the fridge as his sister whisked eggs.

(Y/n) paused to glare at her little brother, “How does someone whisk eggs wrong?”

He gestured to her hands, “The way you’re doing it.”

The front door to her childhood home opened, the woman sighed, shaking her head, “Dad, I told you to let me know when you’re going out for a run! Scared me half to death when I couldn’t find you this morning.”

“Sorry, little lady,” Henry grinned down at his daughter, ruffling her hair before taking the bowl of raw eggs with one hand, “Your boyfriend asked me to give this to you.”

Another note. She took it with a quiet mumble of her gratitude, not understanding why her boyfriend of almost a decade - starting around fifteen years of age and still going strong into twenty-five - had to use a note rather than his phone to contact her. Though, she supposed the nostalgia was appreciated while they visited their home neighborhood.

“‘You should come by Griddy’s in like half an hour! You know, for old time’s sake. This is your boyfriend, Klaus, just so you know.’”

Klaus was a lot of things, spontaneous only scratching at the surface of that word bank. Of course, it was in the back of her mind that he’d invite his siblings, but she didn’t really expect it to happen. (Y/n) gave the four other Hargreeves a small wave before joining her beau at the smooth beige counter.

“I thought you guys only saw each other for funerals and weddings?” she murmured, tacking on a small laugh when it felt strange not to.

“Well,” Klaus reached into his coat pocket, “I suppose they make an exception for proposals now.”

“For what?” she gasped, watching, completely stunned, as he stood and took her hands in his own.

Klaus thrived off of attention, so it shouldn’t have baffled her that the eyes on them only encouraged his actions. He grinned wildly, not too unlike a maniac, “I always thought you were the foxiest little thing on the street ever since I saw you. Then, you became the sweetest little thing but now…” he let go of her only to open the velvet box and show off the ring inside, “I want you to be my every-little-thing.”

“Oh, sweetie,” (Y/n) cupped his cheeks, nodding, “Of course!”

The peeping adults, and some children who followed their parents’ example, gave over a round of applause. Agnes smiled at the newly engaged couple, making an announcement about a round of free donuts for the patrons. As it died down, Ben gave Klaus a pat on the back - well, the sentiment was appreciated even though his hand just went through the living man’s body.

He giggled, not willing to admit how nervous he truly was, “I didn’t think that’d work as well as it did.”

(Y/n) pulled his head closer to her lips, kissing his forehead before releasing him, “If there’s anyone I’d want to marry, it’d be you.”

Klaus brought up a hand to fiddle with the sleeve of his fiance’s shirt, a bad habit he partook in during occasional nervous fits, “Even if that anyone was an ex-junkie?”

“If I wanted to marry anyone,” she repeated, tone much firmer than before, “it’s you. Ex-junkie and all, babe.”

“That was just adorable,” Klaus snorted, leaving her sleeve in favor of watching Agnes come toward the family with plates of donuts in hand.

A note came back with her husband at eight at night on a rainy Saturday in late March.

(Y/n) was nestled into the couch of her and her husband’s home, with the heater broken there was little to nothing keeping out the creeping cold of March’s spring-winter amalgamation. The front door slammed open, alerting the woman until Klaus ran into the living room. He was holding up a torn-out article from the day’s newspaper, winded from rushing over to the house.

She stood, taking the paper before leading her poor, exhausted husband to the couch. Sitting beside Klaus, (Y/n) looked over the article while rubbing his back, “Oh my God…”

“I know!” Klaus wheezed, though despite the usually horrifying news he was smiling as if he’d just been told something uncontrollably amazing.

As awful as it was to say, (Y/n) didn’t feel bad about her upcoming disregard for her father-in-law’s life, “Do you think he left you anything?”

“‘SIR REGINALD HARGREEVES: DEAD!’”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” the woman murmured, stopping her husband from entering the manor, “I know he was an awful person and I just don’t want you to feel forced to come here.”

“I want to be here,” Klaus whispered, turning to his wife, eyes wide, “Gotta make sure the old man’s really dead!”

She chuckled, pushing the door open, “Wouldn’t you be able to see him?”

“Not sure,” he shook his head, looking around the main hall, “I think hell has delayed seance service, sweetheart.”

Just as (Y/n) went to make her own joke, a voice called out to them from the staircase, “Klaus, (Y/n), what a lovely surprise.”

Diego, of course, the little optimist that he was. (Y/n) gave her brother-in-law a tiny wave, “Good to see you as well, Diego.”

A warning came with her time-traveling brother-in-law.

“What- what- what do you mean?” (Y/n) shook her head, her hand intertwined with her husband’s, “The world can’t just end like that! Shouldn’t there be signs, like all the animals acting weird or extreme weather?”

Five paused, narrowing his eyes at his sister-in-law, “You know, it’s funny. I’m from the future, I can remember the tiniest details of my life before getting stuck, and I’m smarter than all of you combined but still…” he walked towards the woman, “I have no clue who you are or what you’re doing here.”

“Woah,” Klaus intervened, “don’t be so rude to your sister-in-law, little Five. She’s just trying to help.”

Of course, he knew that. Five remembered meeting her. He saw her. In the past, obviously, but in the future as well. He saw her there, in the rubble of the Umbrella Academy with her husband - dead. Eyes peeled open in horror, it was haunting to look at. To look at all of them, really.

Walking corpses stained into the individual wrinkles of his brain.

“Whatever,” Five huffed, turning to leave the room, “I don’t have time for this.”

Klaus came closer to his wife, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone, “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be,” (Y/n) took his hand from her face, intertwining their fingers, “Assuming your brother isn’t coo-coo, he’s under a lot of stress.”

But there was no way he wasn’t crazy. The world couldn’t just end so abruptly, right?

Right? 

#The Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader