#To get me to wear the socks that will instantly take my kneecaps

[ghost-thot69]

This is a old fic I made I think about a month or so back and it’s pretty much self indulgence so don’t mind me as I casually slide this here

A Proposal (June Marie Heisenberg x Jeff The Killer)

Warnings: none really, except for the occasional swear and some fluff

“Ow! Son of a—“ Jeff groaned, him accidentally poking his finger with the pin he was going to put on his suit jacket. This was never his thing, dressing up fancy, doing all sorts of fanciful things. He was more laid back and casual, however there was one thing on his mind that kept him from absolutely loathing looking like some sort of mafia boss in the white tuxedo Trender made for him. His girlfriend, the only reason he’s still alive today, June. She loved this sort of crap, looking like a Princess in fancy dresses, dancing, running around the halls of the mansion barefoot while wearing said flouncy dresses. Normally, thinking about this would make Jeff sick, but not tonight. Tonight all he had on his mind was her. And for good reasons, he specifically had planned for this day 5 months into their relationship.

Brushing off those thoughts for now, he placed the pin on the flap of his jacket and tied his hair back into a slightly messy ponytail. He looked at himself in the mirror before scoffing.

“Nope, god this is so stupid.” He hissed, before undoing the ponytail and just letting his hair down. He thought it looked slightly better than whatever it was before.

“God I hope things go as planned. Months and months of saving up money and it all comes down to this.” He muttered, turning his attention to a picture of him and June, their arms wrapped around each other while in a photo booth. He smiled, picking it up and staring at it some more. “It’ll all be worth it tonight.”

Smile has bust the door open, him barking out excited yelps and spinning around to get his attention.

“Time to go dad!” He barked, gently tugging on his pant leg gently.

Jeff laughed and walked outside his room to the ballroom, him quick to notice that it was decorated head to toe in all sorts of frivolous looking things. Splendor and Gifters work no doubt. The others were already there, eating, drinking, talking and dancing. Ben, thinking it funny the basically rig the dance floor to look like some sort of rave.

He sighed, not interested in it all. He was about to take a seat at one of the tables all decked out in white tablecloths and intricately placed confetti that looked like stars and odd spirals. Jeff played with them uninterested until he had heard the faint sound of heels tapping the ground. For some reason this alerted him to look up at the stairs. And there she was, his beloved little Junebug, holding onto the railing as she slowly made her way down the stairs. She was breathtaking, dressed up in a black and blue asymmetrical dress that was adorned in blue roses and crystals. Jeff was literally holding his breath as he gazed up at her.

June had caught him staring at her from across the room before perking up instantly, her now bolting it down the stairs, her heels clapping fast and loud as she did. She had made her way to him, instantly wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Jeffo!” She purred, nuzzling her face into his neck and his chest playfully.

Her cute little nose nuzzling against his neck tickled him instantly, but in a good way. He laughed softly before gently pushing her away, hands placed on his shoulder lovingly. “Princess.” He teased, hugging her again even tighter.

June was definitely in a good mood, her eyes were sparkling as she stared up all the decorations. “It’s so pretty!” She mused, her face beaming.

Jeff just had a goofy grin on his face, admiring her up and down. “Yes you are-“ he muttered.

“Huh?”

“Wh- I mean! Yeah it is-“ he said with an awkward laugh. He shook his head before sighing, tenderly placing an hand on her waist.

June smiled up at him, noticing he was being more gentlemanly than usual. “Do you wanna dance?” She asked him, bumping his side with her elbow lightly.

Jeff snapped out of whatever daze he was in before nodding and taking her hand In his and leading her to the dance floor. June smiled at him, admiring everything about him. His eyes, his face, his fluffy black hair. Even the way he would awkwardly shuffle away when he was trying to be nicer to people. Being with her changed him for the better and he wanted her to recognize that everything she does, every little kiss and hug means more than the world to him.

They got to a comfortable spot on the floor and turned around to face each other.

“Damn, even with heels you’re really short-“ Jeff laughed, causing june to blush. She playfully hit him on his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah alright whatever.” She huffed.

Jeff smiled and grabbed her by her waist and held her close to him, making her stand on his feet so she could at least reach his shoulder. “Better?”

“Yeah, much actually. You’re now in kissing range~” June mused, smothering his cheeks in small pecks.

He laughed and gently nuzzled her nose into her cheek. The music had started, the two smiling at each other before slowly swaying side to side with each other. It felt like, in that moment they felt like they were the only two there. When he looked into her eyes, everything melted away, all the fear he’s known, all the regret, it was all washed away with a feeling of comfort.

He was snapped out of his daydream by June gripping onto his shirt lightly, her looking away, blush staining her face.

“S-sorry I thought I was gonna slip.” She laughed.

Jeff grinned before lightly leaning over her, bending her over, the two face to face. “You know I’ll never let you fall~” he purred, inching his face closer to her, making her cheeks flush a darker shade of pink. This always amused him, he loved to make her all flustered.

June closed her eyes as he laid his lips on hers, her being washed away with a instant feeling of bliss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers though his hair.

They pulled away after a while, then taking in deep breaths while looking at each other lovingly before giggling to themselves.

Jeff helped her back up before taking her hand and tilting his head to the side, telling her to follow him to the balcony.

She furrowed her brows some in confusion as to why he’s taking her out there, but she shrugged it off, them making their way out.

“What’s up panda bear?” June asked, tilting her head.

Jeff couldn’t look at her at the moment, he knew damn well that he it took one look at those big blues and that sweet smile, he’d crack. Instead he took in a deep breath and gripped the railing.

“Do you…remember the time when we first met? I threw a knife at your head and you hit me in my kneecaps and almost crippled me?” He asked, him not bothering to turn around to face her.

June laughed, raised a brow and then smirked. “Pfff, yeah how could I forget?” She the rubbed her arm, now looking more concerned. “Jeff what’s this about?” She asked in a worried tone.

Jeff took in another deep breath before speaking again. “Ever since that day, I honestly hated you. I couldn’t stand how you just went against everything I stood for. You were loud, obnoxious, too playful for my taste,”

June looked down at her feet, tears began to well up in her eyes. “O-oh.. I see…” she muttered.

“The more I began to spend time with you, the more I honestly wanted to either kill you or shove a dirty sock in your mouth.” He said, shaking her head. “That’s why-“

“Look Jeff, I get it. I understand why you wanna break up with someone like me-“

“WAIT WHAT NO!” He squealed, him rushing towards her to grab her hand before tripping on his own shoes, a jewel incrusted small box falling out of the inside of his jacket. “Ah fuck-“

June had saw the box and drew in a long breath, her eyes staring at it widely.

The both of them had be bright idea to reach for the box at the same time.

“I got it!” They both chimed in, them swan diving to grab the box and the bumped their foreheads together.

“Ow!” They huffed, then looking up to each other to see if they’re alright, the box slipping from junes fingers. They both reached for it again, hitting their heads together once more. They stumbled over each other, shaking their heads and giggling softly to each other. Jeff took the box from her hands before rubbing his forehead. “Sorry lemme just-“ he laughed, getting on one knee and taking her hand in his.

“That’s another thing about you, you never did let people ever finish their sentences.” He laughed, his smile causing June to laugh as well.

“As I was going to say, the more I spent time with you, the more I wanted to either kill you or gag you. But, that was until I got to know you, ACTUALLY know you. And what was underneath that goofy and vulgar persona was a girl who just wanted to care for people and wanted to be cared for but she didn’t understand why people did stick around because they never lasted long. When you opened up to me that day in that smelly old abandoned house, I actually got the see you. I got to know you. You had helped me through a lot of things, overcoming and accepting what had happened to my family when I was still in denial, you understood me what it was like to be bullied and you..well you just changed me.” He said, those moments of them together flashing through his mind.

“And so, I want to keep changing, for you, and for me. Cuz if there is a future without you in it, well, I wouldn’t want to keep on going on.”

June was already speechless, her eyes watering. “I-“

“June Marie, will you..will you marry me?” He asked, him smiling as bright as ever, opening the ring box to reveal a beautiful sapphire and Ruby ring inside.

June didn’t even need to think twice about answering, she already had him tackled to the ground and kissing his face and neck all over. “Yes!! Yes!! Literally a thousand times yes!” She squealed, her barely containing the happy laughter.

Jeff was ecstatic, him throwing his arms around her and kissing her back. The two shared a romantic and passionate moment on the balcony before June had broken up the kiss.

“Alright, how about we get out of this stuffy ballroom, get to your room and you can show me the meaning of getting ‘deflowered’ if you know what I mean~”

Jeff grinned, him picking her up bridal style and planted a long loving kiss on her collarbone.

“Sounds good to me, sunflower~”

#aaaaa #pls don’t mind me #self indulgence babey #June marie heisenberg #jeff the killer #fanfic

[wordtotherose]

#1 for the kiss prompt? Also i wouldn’t mind some more routine kisses as that casual domestic shit really gets me hahaha. Love your writing !!

This is set in my ‘Together We’re Golden’ series and features some of my ocs from there, you don’t need to have read the series to understand though. Thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

1. breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths & 7. routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing 

Crowley hadn’t expected just how tired he would be when looking after their god-daughter for a week. Mrs Scott was currently in hospital with her wife who was recovering after having her appendix removed. The Scotts had arrived on their doorstep with Anthonia half-asleep in Mrs Scott’s arms, red-hair farmer. Crowley had taken the child from her and here they were a day later having just dropped Tony off at school. Aziraphale had made her twice her normal amount of lunch, she was rightly being spoiled by them. 

Crowley is sorely tempted to go back to bed, school mornings were cruel in how early they required people to wake up. But Aziraphale is tugging him by his hand to the sofa so Crowley follows. The angel pushes him onto the cushions, where he lands with little grace, and then sits in his lap, already removing Crowley’s glasses. Crowley lets him, dropping his hands to the angel’s thighs and his head against the back of the sofa.

“How do they do this every morning?” Crowley whines, closing his eyes against the sunlight streaming in behind him. 

“Practice, my dear,” is Aziraphale’s simple response.

There are fingers trailing over Crowley’s throat and then his collarbones. He doesn’t bite back the flicker of a smile in response. “Too tired to do any metaphysical shenanigans, angel. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for that, ever,” Aziraphale says, resolute. “And so am I, anyway. I just…like touching.”

“Oh well,” Crowley tips his head back up to grin at him full-force, “in that case, go ahead.”

Aziraphale smiles back and leans in for a kiss. Crowley leans forward into it. Lazy and slow. They kiss until the house phone starts to ring in the kitchen and Aziraphale pulls away an inch, keeping close enough for their lips to brush both by his own free will and the hand Crowley has against the nape of his neck.

“It could be the Scotts,” he murmurs but doesn’t make any move to actually get up and answer the thing. 

“What a romantic thing to say right now, love. Thanks,” Crowley teases, breathing in Aziraphale’s affectionately exasperated huff in another kiss.

The phone stops ringing eventually and Crowley can feel Aziraphale relax again, his fingers starting to trail up Crowley’s chest, wandering as they always do with the love of finding comfort in touch. Then it starts up again. Aziraphale tenses so much he pinches Crowley’s side accidentally. Crowley groans in annoyance and prods the angel.

“Come on, we ought to get it.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.” 

Aziraphale follows Crowley into the kitchen.

“Hello?” Crowley kicks his feet up onto the table, pulling the landline’s wire taught in order to stay sitting at their table; Aziraphale smacks his ankle and Crowley drops his feet to another chair instead. “Who is it?”

“Is this uh,” there’s the sound of a mouse being clicked and paper shuffled, someone murmurs something in the background, “oh, right sorry. Is this Mr Fell speaking?”

“No, he’s busy.”

“Right, who’s this then?”

“The name’s Crowley,” Crowley says a touch too cheerfully, Aziraphale raises his brow at him in question so he shrugs back. “And who might you be?”

“Mr Ward, I’m the headteacher at–”

Crowley sits up, holding his hand out to fight off Aziraphale now reaching for the phone. “Is Tony alright? What’s happened?”

“Crowley, give me the phone,” Aziraphale hisses, Crowley shushes him.

“There’s been a lick of trouble, is all. She says her uh parents are out of town, unavailable to come in?”

“They’re in hospital, yeah.” Crowley says, not liking the man’s tone one bit.

Aziraphale in turn has given up, thankfully, trying to take the phone and instead has pulled Crowley’s feet back up onto the chair. He’s tying the shoe laces of the boots he’s just miracled onto Crowley’s feet in an effort to get them on their way quicker.

“Anyway, we have here that you’re her godfather?”

“We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Oh, you’re bringing your wife?”

Crowley and Aziraphale look to each other at the same time, both absolutely baffled and not even faintly amused considering they’d dropped Tony off at school scarcely an hour ago. “No, I most certainly am not. I’m bringing Mr Fell, he’s just become available.”

“Oh.” 

Crowley hangs up the phone. 

***

They do in fact get there in five minutes with no-one worse for wear. Not even Aziraphale is of the mind to complain about Crowley’s driving. 

“Do you think she’s alright? Why didn’t he say what the matter is? Surely that means it’s bad!” 

Crowley waits on the pavement for Aziraphale to catch up with him before replying.

“You’re fretting, angel. She’ll be fine. It’s Tony, when is she ever not fine?”

“Often, Crowley! Often! You know how she hates being told off, oh I hope they’ve not confiscated her bracelet. Then what is she meant to fiddle with to keep calm?”

That is a fair point and one that makes Crowley spit out his next words through gritted teeth. “We’re going to be having some serious words with them if they have, trust me.”

They get to the office before Aziraphale can lend his own ominous threats to the pot. Crowley holds the door open for Aziraphale to pass by, knowing that they’ll want to play to their strengths to intimidate the staff. The headteacher is waiting for them. A dull grey suit and white shirt. Slightly greasy, short blond hair. Aziraphale marches right up to the man, all business and none of the gentleness that the angel normal exudes. Crowley saunters up behind him, slightly slower, and clasps his hands behind his back as he hovers over his angel’s shoulder. He glares through his sunglasses at the man who, appropriately, looks a little knocked off-centre. 

“Mr Ward, I suppose?” Aziraphale asks and then barrells on without waiting for an answer. “Where’s Anthonia?”

“And you must be Mr Fell. I talked to your friend on the phone.” 

Ward holds out a hand for Aziraphale to shake. Aziraphale doesn’t even glance at it. Crowley feels a surge of pride, letting his lips tick up at the corner. It seems to unsettle the headteacher further. Good. 

“Anthonia.” Aziraphale repeats.

“Just this way.” Mr Ward drops his hand and leads them through to a small office. 

A little sign on the door reads ‘Headteacher Ward’ in a slightly cursive font. Mr Ward walks in and sits behind his desk, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale to see Anthonia sitting in a too-big chair all on her own. She looks up for a brief second to see who they are before looking back down at her shoes. She smiles at her swinging legs, fingers deftly working along the opposite hand’s, pinching the ends of her fingers on her left hand and then vice versa over and over. Aziraphale isn’t the best with kids but he will be damned if he doesn’t protect his god-daughter so he takes up a defensive stance between the teacher’s desk and Anthonia. He keeps his back to Ward. 

Crowley on the other hand is great with kids and instantly drops to Anthonia’s level in a crouch, schooling all simmering anger off his features and lowering his sunglasses down his nose. Anthonia doesn’t look up to meet his eyes but she’s still smiling that little relieved grin. She taps his kneecap with her foot twice and then leaves it there.

“You alright, lil’ flower?” he asks softly, slowly covering her ankle where her sock covers with his hand; he squeezes when she doesn’t pull away.

She nods, eyes flicking up briefly to land on his lowered sunglasses then back down. “Yeah.”

“Wanna tell us what happened, petal?” Aziraphale asks, dropping a hand onto Crowley’s shoulder where Anthonia can see, her smile grows, her shoulders relaxing a little more.

“Got yelled at by Miss Jackson.”

“What for?” Crowley again.

“Didn’t wanna work with Megan and them lot.” 

Crowley breathed through his flare of anger. Aziraphale did not.

“Is this true, Mr Ward?” Aziraphale snaps, his hand leaving Crowley’s shoulder as he turns around. 

“She shouted at another student and then refused to complete the assigned work, yes. It was a planned english lesson where students were assigned groups to work in to create a piece of persuasive writing. She refused to sit with her group and then yelled at Megan and Miss Jackson when her wants were not catered to.” Mr Ward crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair in a decisive manner that reminded the supernatural beings in the room of a certain archangel. 

“They always make me do all the work! And they’re mean to me!” Tony spoke up, clenching her hands into fists and glaring over Crowley’s shoulder for an impressively long time whilst she spoke.

“Stop talking back, your disrespect will get you into much more trouble!” Mr Ward snaps back.

Crowley gives her ankle another squeeze before letting go. Sliding his glasses back into place he stands to face the man.

“Am I correct in my understanding that there have been multiple recorded incidents of bullying from Megan?” he asks.

“They’re little girls. There’s always falling outs.”

“No,” Aziraphale says, “that’s not what he’s asking.”

Mr Ward rolls his eyes subtly before answering. “Yes, there are recorded incidents.”

“And yet Tony was still assigned to the same group as her tormentor? You see nothing wrong with that?”

“They’re children, Mr Crowley. They’ll get over it in a week and be best friends.”

Crowley tamped down a derisive snort. “I’m going to take her home, Zira. You okay to stay and sort this out?” 

Aziraphale’s smile was beatific in its sincerity. “Go for it, my dear.” 

Crowley didn’t even think about it before he tilted his head down for Aziraphale to easily press a kiss just above the bridge of his sunglasses. The wave of hate-fueled wants that rocketed off Mr Ward at the domestic affection between them was both a punch in the gut and not a surprise at all. 

“Just wait for me to get home before you call the Scotts,” Aziraphale carries on, completely oblivious.

Crowley glares at Ward. “‘Course, angel.” 

Anthonia has already gathered up her coat and bag, brought with her which suggested that they’d been planning on sending her home before Crowley had even suggested it. He waits at the door whilst she gives Aziraphale’s arm a grateful squeeze. 

“Come on, Tony, we’ll video call your mums when Zira catches up with us, yeah?” 

Another wave of very different want rolls off Ward at Crowley’s mention of the Scotts and that is not acceptable. He holds a hand out to motion for Tony to stay in the doorway, which she does, smart kid, whilst he takes the steps at a slightly inhuman speed to stand in front of Aziraphale. The angel, also incredibly perceptive when it comes to Crowley, rests a supportive hand between Crowley’s shoulder blades and lets him take the lead. 

“You got something on your mind there, Ward?” Crowley asks, voice low and dangerous. 

Mr Ward frowns. “I have no idea what you’re on about?”

“Is that so? Because, you see, we were told of how accepting this school was. How welcoming it is to families of all sorts.” Another conflicting wave of ‘want to teach these men just how wrong they are’ mixed with some very dehumanising thoughts about the Scotts. “We were told all about your school’s wonderful support but, you see, I’m not feeling it. My fiancé is not feeling it. My god-daughter is not feeling the support.”

“I can assure you that we are a perfectly accepting–”

“You see, Ward, I don’t take kindly to anything that you’ve been thinking in the past few minutes.” Crowley takes a step forward, drawing himself up to his full height and pushing his glasses onto the top of his head to reveal his slitted eyes. Aziraphale has put two and two together and is at Tony’s side at the door, ready to go. “I don’t think the Scotts will either, when I tell them. So. I wouldn’t expect to see us coming back. Any of us.”

Ward splutters, face red with embarrassment and anger. Crowley smirks, sets his glasses right and spins on his heel to face his little family unit. Anthonia looks up at him with unadulterated joy, she always finds it a lot easier to hold eye contact when he has his glasses on but she’s also picked up along the way that it’s a defensive thing to wear them. He offers a hand to her as they walk towards the exit. She takes it and holds her other out to Aziraphale who stammers a ‘thank you’ like he’s just been awarded a medal. 

#ineffable husbands #good omens #my writing #prompted fic #anon prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #tw: homophobia #there's a lil homophobia in here but it's in no way condoned

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT fic: Time & Tide (prologue)

In 1985, a Time Master grabs young Lisa Snart for the Refuge...but there's no way she's going anywhere without her brother.

And years later, when Miranda and Jonas die and the Time Council refuses to do anything, Rip Hunter turns to his oldest friend… 

It occurred to me, while I was writing chapter 3 of "Secret Santa," that if the Time Masters took unwanted kids like young Michael the cut-purse to become future Time Masters--then in another time and place, they could have taken the Snart siblings for the same purpose.

And then the idea wouldn't go away. It demanded to be written. So, here's a prologue to what's shaping up to be another multichapter AU epic. ;) What's another WIP among friends, right?

Please note that this will have CaptainCanary in later chapters ('cause it's me). Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta. Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

It was, like so many other things, Lewis' fault.

Lisa hadn't been so loud, really. She'd just forgotten herself, in excitement over some game she'd been playing with the new doll she'd gotten for Christmas (Len having scraped together enough to hit a sale at the five-and-dime) and her voice had gotten just a little shrill, as the voices of small girls are wont to do. She was only 5, after all.

Lewis, nursing a hangover and planning another doomed-to-failure heist, had snapped. He'd roared into the room, grabbing her by the arm (Len would later find bruises in the shape of his fingertips there) and dragged her to the door, where he'd shoved her out into the January cold in only her pink leggings and My Little Pony sweatshirt, nothing on her feet but slipper socks, too shocked to even scream.

Leonard, who'd been trying to study for a science test, ("Whaddaya doing that for? Not like they're going to give a dummy like you a diploma anyway," Lewis had scoffed) had just started in from the kitchen when he'd seen the scene unfold in front of him. Thinking fast, he'd grabbed both their coats from the kitchen chairs, and darted out the door after her, ducking the blow Lewis aimed his way.

The door slammed shut behind him. He'd heard the lock shoot home.

Lisa had just stared at him, her big blue eyes filling with tears even as she started to shiver. Len, refusing to think of just how bad this could get, had bundled her into her coat, cursing himself for not snatching her boots. After a moment's thought, he'd pulled off his own shoes and made her step into them, glad for once that they were really too small, lacing them up as tight as he could.

Then he'd stubbornly grabbed Lewis' work boots from the back step and pulled them on. He'd get smacked for the theft, no doubt, but time enough to worry about that when they got back inside. It was cold out, tonight, the coldest night they'd had so far, and he knew he had to get them under cover, especially Lisa.

He liked the cold, himself. He'd be OK, he decided with all the false bravado a stubborn 13-year-old boy can muster. He just had to get his sister to safety.

The garage wasn't heated and wouldn't do much good. The neighbors either ignored the Snart kids as much as possible or were the bleeding-heart sort who'd call CPS if they were given a reason. While he'd do that to get Lisa safe and warm as a last resort, Len had heard too many horror stories about foster care and was far too cynical at this point to believe otherwise. Plus, if they were returned to Lewis after that, there'd be hell to pay.

Lisa, shivering despite the coat, wouldn't make it far, but there was a convenience store at the end of the street. With any luck, the friendly young clerk would be working, the one who didn't mind two kids loitering around to keep warm and who occasionally even gave Lisa penny candy—and not the jerk who'd called the cops on Len before (he hadn't even taken anything!) or the motherly sort who seemed to think he was a danger to the little girl so tightly clutching his hand.

All they needed was some luck and some time. Eventually, Lewis would leave, or pass out, and Len could take them back home, pop the lock (at least his father had taught one thing that was useful), and tuck Lisa into bed. Lewis probably wouldn't even remember.

His luck wasn't the greatest. But that's the only idea he had, right then.

In one timeline, the store might have been closed due to a power outage. They might have died out there, all of Leonard's resourcefulness failing in the face of the deadly temperatures, falling snow, and neighborly apathy.

In another, the friendly clerk might have been working, might have turned a blind eye to the kids huddled at the store's one table, maybe even turned up the heat a little and pushed a few "damaged" bags of chips their way.

In yet another, maybe one of the other two clerks called the police. Maybe they recognized the Snart kids. Maybe one held a grudge against Lewis Snart, and decided to hang his oldest kid with his very first misdemeanor charge, a charge that would soon be compounded by one of Lewis' heists gone wrong and land the boy in juvie at the ripe old age of 14.

Just maybe.

But in this one, a nondescript man returning from a simple mission in 1985 Central City sees the small brown-haired girl wearing her brother's shoes while that same brother, standing in boots nearly up to his knees, studies the interior of the store through the iced-over windows.

There's a half-healed bruise on her cheek, and she's skinny and underfed in a way the man understands all too well, from a part of his personal history that's been nearly forgotten. He hesitates only a moment, then nods to himself, detouring toward the child, a ghostly figure appearing out of the snow to loom over her.

Lisa Snart doesn't see him until it's too late.

He snatches her expertly, one arm around her middle, the other clamped over her mouth. No need to use the knock-out device, he figures. No one will see him in this snow, and all he really has to do is get her back to the ship. Then he can double-check her role in the timeline, make sure they're in the clear.

But there's a lot he doesn't know about this little girl. And the important thing, at the moment, is this: Her brother taught her to fight dirty.

Lisa's eyes go wide, but she's only startled for a second. Then, she chomps down on the man's hand with vigor, following the bite with a determined backward kick to his kneecap. It connects and, while it doesn't hurt that much, combined with the bite it's enough for him to lose his grip.

Lisa sucks in a breath and screams.

"Lenny!" she wailed. "Lenny! Nooooo! My bruh-bruh-brother!"

The older boy's head whips around instantly, a look of horror overtaking his thin features, and stumbling in the snow, he charges toward them. The man, cursing, takes a step back…and slips as Lisa kicks at his knee again. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a device, tries to thumb it into what he, in his own mind, calls the "dazzle" setting—one made to distract its target just long enough for a hasty escape.

Maybe it's because Lisa kicks him a third time, still shrieking although there's no one else around to hear her. Maybe it's his own subconscious as he looks into the boy's panicked face. Or maybe it's fate taking a hand.

But for whatever reason, the device slides right into the "knockout" setting.

The kid looks right into it as it flashes…and pitches face-first into the snow, lying still, snowflakes immediately starting to scatter over his dark, curly hair, burying him where he lies.

The girl tries to howl again, but the man has his hand back over her mouth again, and muttering to himself, uses the device on her next. She sags immediately in his arms, letting him catch his breath and figure out what, in the Vanishing Point's name, to do next.

If he leaves the boy in his threadbare coat and too-big boots here in the snow, the child will almost certainly die. And the man has no way to tell where he fits in the timeline, if this is the next mayor of Central City or just a petty thief. And truth be told, the way the little one had cried for her brother had touched even his weathered old heart.

There's only one logical thing to do.

He grabs the skinny teenager, too.

"The regulations provide for taking unwanted children to train up as protégé Time Masters," he says mulishly an indeterminate amount of time later. "And these two were definitely unwanted."

"One child!" The other man in the room with him whips around, anger in his eyes before he smooths his expression. "Taking siblings raises the chances that someone will notice…"

"By the time I had them back to my ship, they'd already vanished from the timeline," the man retorts. "No one cared, no one bothered to look for them…"

He's interrupted by the third man in the room, who takes an ingratiating tone. "But you have no idea what lay in store for them before that."

The first man shrugs, narrowing his eyes. He's never liked the leader of the Time Council, nor his chief lackey. This is just solidifying the matter.

"Taking one and not the other here would have caused more trouble," he says coolly. "The brother might have been blamed…"

"What do we care? This…"

"He stays."

At that definitive statement, all three Time Masters turn to stare at the tall woman who's standing nearby, facing the windows. Her eyes are fixed on the gangly teenager who's watching his small sister run across the lawn of the Refuge in the sun. The girl had bounced back from her "kidnapping" with the resilience of the young, especially since this place was warm and comfortable, and her stomach was full of good food for the first time in a while.

And her brother, after all, was there besides her.

"But…"

"Madam Xavier…"

"He stays." Mary Xavier turns on them, her eyes implacable, her demeanor cool. "This one is special. "

Druce stares at her another moment, then shakes his head. "He's too old. He'll remember too much of his former life. Won't be malleable."

"Of course, you'd have a problem with that," the first man retorts, anger entering his tone. "I…"

But Mary holds up her hand, interrupting them again. "One of the rights I have as the caretaker of the Refuge is the right of refusal, balanced by the right of acceptance," she says simply. "And I say he says."

The leader of the Time Council draws himself up to match her. "Then we can put back the girl." Druce's eyes are cold. "One at a time. That is the rule."

Mary shakes her head dismissively. "The girl stays too. They're stronger together."

"She's an attachment."

"And you know how I feel about that, Zaman Druce." Mary Xavier turns away, dismissing the leader of the Time Council as if he were still a haughty boy in the Refuge. "They stay. Both of them."

Druce blusters and Druce threatens. And in the end, Druce leaves.

So does the nondescript man. But he, for one, saunters out of the Refuge with a smirk on his face, whistling an off-key tune, snitching a cookie from the kitchen just as he had as a boy.

He pauses for just a moment before getting back in his time ship. "Good luck, kid," he mutters. "Give 'em hell."

Leonard and Lisa Snart will never see him again.

"Leonard."

The kid in question doesn't jump at his name. He'd seen the woman coming, out of the corner of his eye, and tensed just a little, prepared for whatever she was going to say or do to him. Lisa may think this place is wonderful, the answer to a small girl's prayers, but he's far more cynical, far less willing to trust.

(Even if their kidnapper had brought them here on a ship like something out of Star Wars. Len had tried very hard not to look impressed when he'd woken up.)

Mary, who'd purposefully let herself be heard and seen to avoid startling her skeptical newcomer, sighs to herself as his expression closes off. But after a moment, she smiles a little.

"Leonard," she repeats gently. "Come with me. I have someone I'd like you to meet."

The boy's eyes dart to where his sister is running after her new playmates, under the watchful eye of one of the older children. She'd cast off the chains of her past far better than he, although Mary knows from long experience that some of those issues will still be there, ready to cause problems at the most unexpected times.

"She's fine," Mary tells him. "She's safe here. I promise you that." She pauses. "Far safer than she would be at your…former home."

She nods as he sees him digest her last sentence. "Come with me."

This time, he does.

They walk slowly through the old house, the woman slowing her steps on purpose to allow the boy to look around, to see the genuine contentedness on the faces of the other children they pass. She can understand his caution, can understand it very well considering some of the backgrounds her charges come from. But the sooner he settles in, the more ready he'll be for the trials to come, and all the things he needs to learn.

Finally, after a slow circuit through the house and a trip up a flight of stairs, they enter a room that's comfortable, sunny and lined with bookshelves. She sees Leonard's eyes light up at the sight—followed by immediate caution as his gaze falls on the other boy in the room, one just about his age, who hastily puts down his book and bounds to his feet at the sight of them.

The other boy, nearly as thin as Leonard and a few inches taller, has a sharp face and a shock of brown hair. His eyes are bright and intelligent as he approaches them curiously, and Mary puts a hand on Leonard's shoulder, feeling the hesitation there. He's not someone, she thinks, that's ever had many friends. Too much the outsider, too much the pariah.

Well, perhaps that will change.

"Leonard, this is Michael, my foster son. Michael, this is Leonard—who will also be my foster son. I think…" She smiles for a moment, eyes turned inward, then shakes her head. "I think that you have a lot in common."

The boys stare at each other a moment, a shared background of caution and distrust of their peers (and adults) uniting them.

Then Michael, who's at least had the benefit of years of affection at the Refuge, sticks his hand out. And after another moment, smiles.

Leonard, after a moment's consideration, reaches out too, and shakes it.

And smiles, very tentatively, back.

#time & tide #legends of tomorrow #snart siblings #leonard snart #lisa snart #captain canary #in the future

[corystssides]

Having Kittens

Words: 2109

Summary: “The thought of kittens was enough to distract Patton from the worrying thought that there was fear breeding more fear in the mindscape.” Fluff, I think.

Warnings: mild panicking, some yelling, mild injuries from animals

Tags:@yep-another-fander, @softlogic, @literallylogic,  @tssanderssidestrash, @diplomatic-arsonist, @saltequeen, @fallingineternity, @satisfied-sanders-sides, @vixenneko, @the-strange-universe-of-cake, @fangirlfiles1, @winds-and-stardust, @the-laarmy, @pfftwhatnoimhuman, @gaysaxaphone, @mira-jadeamethyst, @frustratedwaffle, @romananalogicality

The early morning peace was broken by Anxiety. Logan was mildly surprised. Usually he was asleep until at least 10 am.

“PATTON!” Virgil was yelling. “PATTON WHERE ARE YOU?”

Logan wondered if Patton had played some sort of prank on Virgil. The two emotional traits were rarely at odds enough to yell at each other otherwise.

Virgil whipped around the staircase and slid right into the couch, tumbling right into Roman’s lap and knocking the book out of Logan’s hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Where’s Patton?”

“What’s going on?” Roman asked. Virgil was noticeably not put together for interaction with other people. He was wearing boxers, socks, and his unzipped hoodie, like he’d rolled out of bed in a hurry. He wasn’t even wearing makeup!

“Did I hear someone yelling for me?” Patton asked, stepping out of the kitchen.

“Patton!” Virgil said, instantly off the couch. “Today’s the day!”

Patton was just as confused as the rest of them, Logan was glad to note. “The day for what?” he asked.

“Come on!” Virgil said, grabbing Patton’s hand. “Or we’re going to miss it!”

With no further explanation, Virgil dragged Patton down into the mindscape.

The two remaining traits stared at the spot where they had been, then looked at each other. Then, as the smell of something burning hit them, they jumped up and sprinted for the kitchen. Apparently Patton had been making pancakes. Logan quickly took charge, removing the offending pancake before it actually caught on fire. Roman put more batter in the pan. When Logan looked at him, he shrugged. “We have no idea how long they’re going to be gone. We might as well finish making breakfast.”

“Valid point,” Logan said. The two settled into the breakfast making process, wondering what Virgil had gotten so worked up about this morning.

Virgil and Patton popped up in Virgil’s room. There was a creepy, high pitched wail coming from somewhere in the room. “Uh, kiddo?” Patton asked, eyeshadow already appearing and getting darker by the second. “What exactly did you bring me here for?”

“Shh,” Virgil said. Then, quietly, “She’s behind the couch. Be quiet though, don’t scare her.”

He tiptoed over to the couch and laid down on the floor so he could look behind it. Patton joined him curiously. It was dark behind the couch, but he could just make out the outline of something black. It appeared to be the source of the noise.

“What is that?” he whispered. He was apparently not quiet enough because suddenly two glowing red eyes were glaring at him. He shivered in fear, considering leaving. Instead his hand made its way into Virgil’s, clutching tight.

“She’s a Fear,” Virgil said. “And she’s about to have kittens.”

The thought of kittens was enough to distract Patton from the worrying thought that there was fear breeding more fear in the mindscape. “Kittens? I didn’t know Fears looked like cats.”

“This one does, so the babies probably will too, at least for a little while.”

The Fear had started glowing in more places than just the eyes now. There were jagged lines now crisscrossing her body and glowing red like lava breaking through the surface. In fact, Patton almost thought it was lava. The Fear was steaming, and it seemed to be melting from the inside out.

“Is she supposed to do that?” Patton whispered worriedly.

“I think so,” Virgil replied.

Then, the Fear came apart. Patton screamed a little. She melted into six different pieces, five black, one white, all glowing red at the edges. Once they stopped glowing, Virgil pulled a flashlight from off the couch and pointed it at the pieces of the Fear.

The pieces had now formed into six somewhat kitten-shaped beings. The black ones had red eyes and little bitty teeth, but the white one had piercing blue eyes and large fangs that poked out of its mouth. No doubt the white one would look intimidating when it got bigger, but even the large teeth couldn’t cancel out its cuteness. Patton found himself “awww"ing.

Patton reached out to pick up the white one. "Careful with that one,” Virgil said. “That’s a Hope. They bite and don’t let go.”

Mindful of that advice, Patton picked up the Hope. It growled at him, sounding more like a chihuahua than a cat. Then, it happily curled up in his lap. Virgil looked shocked.

“Are you going to keep them?” Patton asked, hoping that the answer would be a definite ‘yes.’

“No,” Virgil said. “They belong in the wild parts of the mindscape. I don’t even know how the mother got in here.”

“But they don’t have parents! How will they survive out there?”

“Trust me, they’re self-sufficient,” Virgil said, getting up and moving to a different part of the room.

“What are you doing?” Patton asked.

“Putting pants on, now that I’m not in a rush to find you. Plus I need more pockets.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I’m going to take the kittens to where they belong.”

“And you’re going to put them in your pockets?”

“Well how else would I carry them?” It was not lost on Virgil that all this kitten talk was making Patton’s eyeshadow get lighter and lighter.

“In your arms, silly!” Patton said, picking up the white one in demonstration. How he remained unbitten, Virgil didn’t know.

“Did you miss the part where they bite?”

“They’re kittens. It’s not like they can–ow!” Patton quickly snatched his hand back from one of the Fears that he’d been attempting to grab. It had bitten him hard enough to pierce skin, and Virgil saw Patton’s eyeshadow suddenly get darker and darker.

“Nope, time to get you out of here,” Virgil said, grabbing his hand and pulling him right back into the common room. Then he disappeared again to get the Fears.

The fear that had suddenly infected Patton subsided, though his heart was still going way too fast. Now it felt like the end of a rollercoaster ride rather than a hundred thousand spiders coming for him. Patton managed to take a few breaths and calm himself, petting the Hope as it curled up on his arm.

“Ah, Patton!” Logan said, spotting him. “…What is that?” he asked, spotting the Hope.

“It’s a Hope! Isn’t it cute?”

“It sure is…something,” Roman said, leaving Logan in the kitchen and joining Patton. “A Hope, really? I’ve never seen one look anything like this before.”

He picked it up by the scruff of its neck to examine it, and almost dropped it when Virgil popped back in, pockets full of screaming and hissing little demon cat things.

“And what do you have?” he squeaked indignantly.

“Fear!” Virgil said, grabbing one and holding it right up in front of Roman’s face. “Wanna see?”

Virgil smirked as Roman stumbled back. The Hope sank its claws into his arm, and Roman yelped. It was mostly from surprise; after all, Roman was the trait whose realm encompassed hopes and dreams, so the denizens of said realm couldn’t really hurt him. He’d still given Virgil an un-princely reaction that he could make fun of though, which annoyed him to no end.

Roman glared at him. “Whatever,” he said. “I shall be taking this back to my realm, where it belongs.”

“Can I come too?” Patton asked excitedly.

“I would like to go as well,” Logan said. “For scientific purposes.”

The three of them looked at Virgil. “I have to take the Fears to the Nightmare Realm,” he said. “I doubt Princey wants them running around in Tinsel Town.”

“Well then, the logical direction is going to the Nightmare Realm first, and then to Roman’s realm,” Logan said.

Neither Virgil nor Roman were expecting that. Roman recovered first. “Of course!” he said exuberantly. “A quick jaunt into the Nightmare Realm, and then off to the palace!” There was a confident grin on his face.

Virgil looked at them like he couldn’t believe that they wanted to go with him. Even Patton, still clearly unnerved from being bitten by a Fear, voiced no dissent.

“Sure, whatever,” Virgil said, trying to sound like he didn’t care one way or the other if they joined him.

“Then off we go!” Roman said, taking charge and sinking into the mindscape. Everyone else followed. The pancakes were left forgotten on the counter.

Roman already had his sword drawn when the others showed up. The Nightmare Realm had a habit of being dangerous, and he wanted to make sure that the others would be protected. The Hope was perched on his shoulder, glowing softly in the darkness.

Virgil appeared and immediately started taking the kittens out of his pocket and setting them on the ground. He had just dropped the fourth one and picked up the last one when it bit him. He gasped a bit in pain, which made the others look at him worriedly. He grit his teeth, refusing to succumb to the sudden urge to sprint and hide from the others, and hissed out a slow breath. Then, realizing the Fear had discovered shapeshifting and had coiled around his wrists like ropes, Virgil slammed his wrists down onto his kneecap. The Fear squealed and melted off of him. It was fine. He was okay.

Something roared.

Virgil’s instincts took over. He sprinted away as quickly as he could. There was a shout behind him, and he tried to go faster. Then, something tackled him, and he fell.

The ground was surprisingly soft, and hard to get any traction in, but Virgil fought despite the ground moving with him. Whatever this thing was, he wanted it off of him. It had his arms pinned to his sides and it was laying on top of him, but he did his best to thrash and squirm anyway.

“Virgil!”

“Verge!”

“Anxiety!”

Wait. He knew that voice. It was…Princey. Roman.

“You have to stop squirming so I can get off you. Can you do that for me?”

His voice sounded…strange. Not as pompous. Almost…caring? Still, Virgil stopped moving, and the weight that was crushing him disappeared and his arms were freed. He got up too quickly, accidentally slamming the back of his head into Roman’s face. Both of them reeled back in pain.

It was very bright here. Virgil squinted, trying to adjust. Someone handed him sunglasses, which he quickly put on. He was in some sort of white room with a huge glass door leading to a balcony. And he was on a bed. One with a red comforter and pillows. The light streaming in through the windows and door was painfully sunny. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a desk with a chair, all mahogany and all beautifully crafted. Logan was sitting in the chair, Patton on top of the chest of drawers, and Roman, clutching his nose dramatically, was on the bed next to him.

“I loog bedder in doze dan you,” Roman said irritably. Ah, the usual voice was back, if somewhat hard to understand at the moment.

“Where are we?” he asked, finally calming down to his usual state of nervousness.

“Da mind palaz,” Roman said. Then, pain subsiding, he stopped clutching his nose and wiped away the tears from getting hit in the face. He sniffled, and said, “But it’s my part of the mind palace, not the part that I made for Thomas and then he never used.”

“Where’s the Hope?” Virgil asked.

“Uh…” Roman looked around quickly, stood up and looked around the room, looked at the others, who shrugged, then frowned. “It must have run off when we arrived. Not to fear, though, they’re very self-sufficient.”

“Are you okay?” Patton asked Virgil. “You got bitten.”

Virgil looked at his hands. His wrists had definite bruises on them, and there were black marks in the shape of a bite on his left hand in between the thumb and forefinger, but he wasn’t bleeding. “I’m fine,” he said.

“That’s good, kiddo. I was on the verge of worry.”

Everyone groaned.

“Since everyone is alright, I’d like to propose going back to the common area,” Roman said. “There are some pancakes just sitting there getting cold, and cold pancakes aren’t nearly as delightful as warm ones.

Everyone agreed, and moments later they were all sitting with some lukewarm pancakes in front of them. And if anyone noticed that Logan kept accidentally speaking in couplets, or that Patton was extra punny, or that Virgil almost joined in singing with Roman at one point, no one said anything. The rest of the morning was far more peaceful than the beginning.

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #my fics #also if you can't read what roman said when he got hit in the nose #he says #i look better in those than you #meaning the sunglasses #idk if any of you needed the translation but just in case #posted aug 1 2017