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sweetpeaownsmyheart · 4 years

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I think I’ll call you cupcake (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Hi guys!! This is my first piece of writing so feedback is always welcome as well as constructive criticism! Also I want to give massive thanks to @riverdaleimagines1 who inspires me so much and also gave me confidence to post this! I love your work and will continue to gush over it to you whenever I can <3

Word Count - Around 4000

Warnings - Some mild language

Summary - Sweet Pea meets a girl who may be too much for him to handle. Both parties soon learn that people sometimes aren’t always the hard person the show on the outside.

-----

When living near the border of the North of Riverdale and the South, you grow up with 2 rules.

1. Don’t go out at past 11 unless you’re with enough people to fight off an angry mob

2. NEVER cross the line without protection unless you want to be, well, dead meat?

Well you grow up with these rules, if you live on the Northside, rumours are that on the south it’s always go out past 11 to scare Northsiders and turn them to, well, dead meat.

So, as you wander home unarmed and alone at 11:30, taking the shortcut through abandoned streets, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach and you wished you had taken Betty’s offer to stay the night.

While you were certainly no damsel in distress and knew your way around a knife and human anatomy enough to do some damage, it didn’t lighten the situation. With your phone reaching its last couple of percent and a chill forming in the air. Your desire to be home, safe and warm, was increasing as well as your pace – so you made the decision to cross into the Southside taking a shortcut over an overgrown bridge.

You didn’t believe the rumours of course. You were from a rare brand of Northsiders who genuinely didn’t care about where people were from and didn’t stereotype however that didn’t stop your fear as you crossed the bridge to a land which was still relatively unknown to you despite your friend, Jughead, living there. Although he only became your friend when he recently moved back to Riverdale high bringing all the serpents with him, you were very close to him.

‘Stupid and Reckless’. That’s what your dad would call it. Coming home late with no protection, no weapons and taking the shortcut through the southside? Yes, ‘Stupid and Reckless’. You could practically hear the words leaving his mouth even though home was a distant thought at this point, your mind more focussed on weaving through the streets preying you remembered the way jughead showed you last time you walked with him.

You knew your dad hated the shortcut, despite living on the northside, he didn’t hate the southside either, he just didn’t like the thought of you getting hurt, but it was serpent territory and being friends with Jug had its advantages plus the streets are usually deserted at this time of night anyway. So, you continue to walk keeping a tight grip around yourself to try to maintain the heat that was seeping away as a steady rainfall began.

At that point, slowly becoming more cold and wet, you really began to regret your decision not to have an impromptu sleepover with Betty. You debated your decisions. You could keep walking home or you could turn and go back to Betty’s. Both options would take about the same time and neither sounded particularly enjoyable knowing it would take you at least 25 minutes to reach your destination even if you ran.

A third option came into mind but was quickly replaced by the sound of motorbikes approaching. You were frozen to the spot (literally because the rain had you shivering and metaphorically because your brain couldn’t process what was happening) but as the bikes rounded the corner nearest to you, you jumped out the way, falling and scratching your hands on the rough ground.

As the bikes drew nearer you noticed the iconic serpent on the jacket and felt a bit more at ease despite not knowing who was under the helmet, at least these guys had morals and you hadn’t had an unfortunate run in with some ghoulies who decided they wanted more terf. Your anxiety spiked and then declined as a bike pulled to a stop beside you and the driver was revealed to be Jughead as he removed his helmet.

‘Y/N?’ He questioned getting off the bike. ‘What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight. You must be freezing, are you freezing? Come here.’

He fired off more questions barely breathing between and not giving you time to answer before smothering you in a jacket he pulled from the back of his bike and pulling you up from the ground. Then he became quiet and looked at you expectantly.

‘Huh?’ You were confused having barely heard his questions over the sound of rain hitting the ground.

‘Are you okay?’ He practically shouted back at you.

‘Yeh, yeh, I’m fine! I was coming back from Betty’s and decided to take the shortcut and then my phone was close to dying and it started raining and I couldn’t quite remember whether I had to turn left of right but then I heard motorbikes and now you’re here. And by the looks of it my hands are bleeding, but I’ll be fine once I get home.’

Jughead almost giggles as you get caught up in telling your story, but he quickly gains composure and grabs your wrist to look at your damaged hands. ‘They’re covered in dirt Y/N/N and some if it is IN your hands, come on I’ll get you cleaned up and take you back home in the morning’

‘Jug you really don’t have to, I’m almost home anyway and my dad thinks that I’m coming back so I really should go’

‘Y/N really? You need medical attention! I’m not just letting you go home without it because I know that you won’t do it yourself. Please just come with me, I’ll text yo..’

At that moment, the sound of another motorbike fills your ears and it too pulls to a stop besides you and Jug. The guy on the bike removed his helmet and you could swear a ‘holy fuck’ left your mouth which was met with a cocky smirk on the unknown guys face, although that may have just been him.

‘Who’s this Jones? Another one of your Northside girlfriends? Didn’t peg you as that type.’ The boy said with a scowl as he took note of your hands still in Jugs.

‘Piss off Sweet Pea, she’s just a friend.’

‘Yeah whatever Jones, I should have known that 2 northside princesses was too much of a miracle for you to swing…’

‘I do have a name you know.’ You piped up only to be ignored by the 2 boys. Jughead pushed you behind him when he saw Sweet Pea’s attention turn to you as you spoke.

‘What Jones? Scared we will corrupt her like we did your other one?’ Sweet Pea remarked noting the harshness that had appeared in Jug’s eyes and staring him down.

‘Damn, you could cut the sexual tension here with a knife.’ You say attempting to alleviate the awkward silence. It didn’t work. ‘Well if you do decide to jump one another I think I’d prefer to be going actually. I’m cold and wet and frankly can’t stand the amount of testosterone here.’ You say stepping out from behind Jughead and turning towards him. ‘Thanks for the jacket Jug I’ll give it back to you tomorrow yeh?’ you say before quickly making your escape.

As you began walking away you could hear hushed arguments behind you but were unable to make out the words until Jughead called your name.

‘Y/N, hey wait up.’ He shouted jogging up behind you. ‘your hands, they’re still bleeding. Please just let me clean them up.’

‘No Jug, I’m fine really. I just want to get home.’

‘And I want to clean your hands. Quicker you agree, quicker I can get you somewhere warm.’

You narrow your eyes at him but eventually reply, ‘fine but only because I know you’ll have a tantrum if things don’t go your way.’

At that point, the mysterious boy, he was called Sweet Pea if you remembered correctly, returned to your view with a questioning look on his face which quickly morphed into the pretentious smirk which he wore before.

‘What’s wrong with the princess, got her head too far up her ass to accept help from a snake like you? Not surprising for someone who thought it would be a good idea to come on our terf flaunting her northside self’ He asked harshly.

Jug went to reply but at that point you had had enough of him speaking for you so you cut him of turning to Sweet Pea and darkly responding, ‘you would know wouldn’t you?’

For a flitter of a second a look of shock passed over Sweet Pea’s face before it was replaced once again by harsh eyes and an unwavering stare which pushed you to continue.

‘Well you spout all this bull about how us Northsiders spend all our time judging you guys and looking down at you, but you, well you do the same to us.’

‘Y/N now is not the time please lets just go’ Jug whispered in your eyes grabbing your arm trying to get you to his bike. But you pull away and continue.

‘You’re such a hypocrite. Every time I see you around school you’re glaring. You can’t stand to be around people who aren’t from the Southside, but you don’t even take any time to get to know any of us. We’re not all horrible people you know. We don’t all hate you because of where you’re from you know.’ You get closer to him as you speak pointing accusingly at his chest. ‘We aren’t all made of money and good grades, some of us work hard for it so you can piss off with your superiority complex cupcake.’ You finish with a sickly-sweet smile.

You’re barely apart, staring up at him. Both of you are breathing deeply at a loss for words. You stop for a second and for the first time really take in the boy’s face. His brow is furrowed, and you want nothing more that to reach you and smooth it. His eyes are still dark and stare into your soul. The smirk that was still present on his face did not however reach the cold eyes but if you really looked you could see understanding, confusion and hurt? You’re stare morphed into a look of panic.

In different circumstances, you could have admired him forever but as quick as you were there, you were gone. Stepping back from Sweet Pea and turning to Jughead who offered one word to you.

‘Shit’

-----

You weren’t an idiot. You knew the reputation that Sweet Pea held. You noticed how he was never without one bruise or another and how even bulldogs would whimper when he walked past. You were aware what he could do to you so last night after your out of character outburst you ran. You ignored Jughead’s calls behind you, you ignored his phone calls later that night as you were cleaning your hands and you proceeded to ignore the voicemails that were left on your phone.

So, as you walked into school the next day, with bandages around your hands, hood up and headphones in, you wanted nothing more than to be at home. Slipping through the hallway you kept your head down and eyes on the ground dodging people and getting to your locker with no trouble.

As you reached your locker you look up and are met with the kind eyes of Betty who you wondered if she knew about the events of last night. Evidently not as she asked what had happened to your hands. You passed it off as an accident, which it was if you really think about it, but elected to avoid the topic of how it came to be and why you were practically hiding compared to your normal outgoing self.

Your mumbled explanation was cut short as Betty exclaimed, ‘hey don’t look now but one of the serpents is staring you down.’ You froze. Your will to disappear was stronger than any words that may soon be sent your way by him but as you turn your head to confirm your suspicions on who it was, you were surprised to be met with a blank stare rather than one filled with hate.

-----

As the day went on, your overwhelming sense of dread lessened, and you went back to your normal self. You were no longer looking over your shoulder in fear of where the tall serpent was instead focussing on your friends and classes.

Betty, Veronica, and you were sat chatting in the student lounge at lunch that day when Jughead walked in and straight over to you. You quickly scouted the room for any other students and were met with the sight of Toni and Fangs approaching – lucky for you, Sweet Pea seemed to be elsewhere.

‘Y/N, what the hell. Why didn’t you answer me, I was so worried. You should not have left. you know how dangerous it is on the Southside. If something had happened to you what would we have done’ Jughead began ranting and pacing in front of you. You kept your eyes cast downwards ignoring the gazes of your friends which filled with worry as Jug continued. ‘And what were you thinking? You shouldn’t have said that. You really shouldn’t have.’

At that moment, Fangs, who you knew vaguely through your friends interrupted Jug. ‘Wait. You’re the girl who insulted SP?’ You held your breath waiting for the impacts of last night’s events but instead were met with laughter. ‘superiority complex, cupcake’ he choked out between giggles.

‘Damn girl, you must have a lot of guts to go up against Sweet Pea.’ Toni continued.

‘Wait, you insulted Sweet Pea? Do you have a death wish?’ Betty seemed exasperated yet still trying to maintain her cool. You shrugged in response before getting up.

‘Well Beanstalk will probably be here soon and as much as I love being subject to glares and I certainly wouldn’t mind taking the role of Jack and climbing the hell out of him, I think I’m going to head out. Bye guys.’ You say before turning and leaving hearing the distinct laughter and then voice of Fangs in the back – ‘She called him Beanstalk’.

-----

You had finished school for the day and were just heading out ready to walk home when you spotted Sweet Pea by the school entrance. You quickly did a 180 and began heading back to the other end of the corridor but you had already caught his eye and he began following you. While last night you were pent up with anger and had the support of Jughead behind you, now you were alone with no idea how events would play out.

‘Hey, Y/N wait.’ You heard from behind you. There seemed to be no malice in the words, yet it still caused your stomach to turn. ‘Y/N please just wait.’ He was louder now and probably gaining on you so you decided to bite the bullet and turn around.

‘What do you need Sweet Pea. As much as I’m sure you love my company, I do have things to do.’ You try a sweet approach hoping he wasn’t too angry.

‘Got somewhere to be?’ You nod slightly. ‘The exit is that way not this way.’ He had seen you making an escape then. You remain silent. He continues.

‘You’ve made quite a change since last night. What no comeback? Not going to insult me anymore’

‘If that is all you have to say I think it would be better for me to go.’

‘Wait no. Sorry. It is not like me to apologise, I don’t do it, you tell anyone, and you will receive hell princess.’

‘Wow hell of an apology that was.’ you respond sarcastically before turning to walk away again, you were now done with his attitude and all thoughts of what he could do to you were gone.

He looks at your retreating figure quizzically before calling after you. ‘I’m sorry I was a dick okay I just don’t like people coming onto our ground and flaunting their worth to us.’ You cut him off.

‘Flaunting our worth? Flaunting MY worth? You know nothing about me. So, don’t you dare paint me as the bad guy for taking a bloody short cut when walking home. You’re the one who insulted me, I just told you the truth for once in your goddamned life. Accept it, move on.’

He seemed quiet and his response shocked you to the core, almost whispering he apologised once again. ‘I am really sorry. It wasn’t fair on you. I just like to get a rise out of people like you because you’re so different than me. And I knew it would mess with Jughead. I didn’t expect you to respond that way.’

‘I can tell you don’t do this often.’ You respond with a raised eyebrow finally looking him in the eye. ‘Tell you what, let’s just put it behind us, start a fresh. No judgement. But I swear to you if you so much as put a toe out of line, your life will become a nightmare, cupcake.’ You send a quick playful wink his way before walking past him and out the door.

As you reach the school gates you hear his voice again behind you. ‘Wanna go to pops?’

‘Now that is how you apologise.’ You say with a hint of a smile

-----

A month later you were sat next to Sweet Pea, in Pop’s, his hand resting on your thigh and you head leaning on his arm, laughing at something ridiculous Fangs said to the point of tears. Over the month, you had grown to love the group and once you got over the initial awkwardness fit in perfectly. You became Toni’s best friend and Fang’s confidant yet the place you held with Sweet Pea was as confusing to him as it was to you.

You always left him with a kiss on the cheek. Your hugs lingered longer than ‘friends’ should, there was reluctancy to let go. He often found himself playing with your hair. At Friday movie nights, you’d be passed out with your head in his lap by the time the 3rd movie started. And he didn’t move you. He would look down at you with a gentle smile on his face and resume playing with your hair.

It went passed the limitations of ‘friends’. You were more than that. You were like soulmates.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Fang’s barking a laugh. Reaching up, you rubbed your eyes and gazed around the table looking for something to distract you from the feel of Sweet’s hand on you, his finger tapping a beat.

Your eyes caught Toni’s over the table, and she gave you a knowing look before dragging you up and to the bathroom.

‘What is it T?’ You say

‘You looked like you could use a break from your thoughts, what is it this time? Thinking about the names of yours and Pea’s future children?’ You blush.

‘Toni no! I was just thinking is all. About how we are, how he acts. Just wondering if it’s just me.’ Toni lightly hits the side of your head and responds

‘Of course, it’s just you. Are you blind? Do you want me to go out there and ask him who else he looks at like that or holds like that? Come on girl, get a grip.’

‘Sorry Toni I just worry is all. We’re from different worlds, and we don’t judge each other but people judge us and I just… well I just worry.’ You say looking down. ‘And besides nothing has happened between us so I don’t think I need to start planning the kid’s names yet.’ You say adopting a jokey tone to hide your confusion.

‘But it will, trust me.’ She responded before walking out the bathroom.

-----

And it did.

A few days later at movie night, with Fangs and Toni, you’re leaned up against Sweets, his arm around your shoulders and your head resting on his chest. His fingers were absentmindedly drawing on your back putting you into a hazy, tired state (not surprisingly as it was nearing the end of the 2nd film). Noticing your sleepy state, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, ‘You tired Princess’. The name had now adopted a loving tone as opposed to the one of disdain he originally used with it.

You mumbled out incoherently prompting him to ask again and give your back a light tap – ‘I’m fine cupcake, wide awake.’ You respond still mumbling but enough for him and the others to hear, the use of the nickname causing Toni and Fangs to turn from the movie and giggle before Fangs asks, ‘why do you call him ‘cupcake’ anyway?’

Still half asleep, you turn up to look at Sweets before mumbling, ‘Because he is so sweet, get it?’ Before settling back on his chest and closing your eyes, reaching out to his free hand, and intertwining your fingers nonchalantly.

You heard the laughs and teasing from the others, you felt Sweets grip tighten around your shoulders and his thumb grazing across your knuckles. But with your eyes closed you couldn’t see the look of pure adoration in his eyes and the dusting of pink across his cheeks.

-----

It was at the end of the 4th film of the night that you were woken from your slumber to say goodbye to Toni and Fangs and get ready to leave yourself. You felt cold no longer leaning against Sweets but didn’t want to cross any boundaries by asking to stay the night. Luckily, the decision was made for you.

‘It’s late and I’ve had a couple beers and I don’t want to drive – do you want to crash here?’ You hear from behind you just as you closed the door as Toni left.

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to impose; I can drive myself and bring back the truck in the morning if you want?’

‘Like hell you can drive. You look more tired than you did after you and fangs pulled an all nighter to watch Disney films.’

‘How nice of you,’ you say teasingly approaching him, ‘maybe you don’t deserve the name Cupcake.’

‘No princess I don’t. You should have it!’ He responds.

‘Okay then beanstalk!’ you quickly respond before darting off to his bedroom giggling with him chasing after you.

‘Say you’re sorry and I am not a beanstalk.’ He says cornering you. You quickly mutter back those words looking for an escape. ‘Now say I deserve the name cupcake.’ You didn’t want to admit that so dart past him.

His arm catches you at the last moment and you both fall to the floor giggling. Led next to each other, in that moment, giggling like kids, you had never felt more complete. As your laughter died down and you fell into a comfortable silence, you turned to look at him. He looked content, like all that was happening in the world didn’t matter, just being there with you was enough for him.

‘I could stay in this moment forever you know’, he said in a whisper, too scared to break the silence and too scared to meet your gaze.

‘I don’t know about you, but I think I would be missed.’ You respond, not sure how to deal with his candidness.

‘I’m serious.’ He finally turned his head to look you in the eye. You were closer than ‘friends’ should be and were reminded of the night you met him when you were this close but under different circumstances. In that moment, your lips met. It was a soft kiss, gentle and quick, but it was filled with all the emotions that neither of you could voice. As you pull away, your eyes are filled with adoration that no one could rival.

‘I’ll stay in this moment with you then’

With that you both break into wide smiles and you settle down next to him once again, your head rested on his shoulder.

‘Hey sweets’ you whisper after a couple of minutes silence.

‘yeh princess.’

‘I think you do deserve the name cupcake’

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale imagine #riverdale x reader #riverdale one shot #sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea one shot #riverdale sweet pea #riverdale fluff #my writing

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years

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An Animorphs AU, just because. The idea hit me and I rolled with it.

The black hole looms on every side, swallowing the horizon. Elfangor presses cold-numb fingertips against the Time Matrix. Loren’s floating beside him, the thing inside Alloran watching them both with terrible intent. He thinks get me out of here. Thinks I want to go home. His last thought, before consciousness closes away from him in a black void, is of his family. His scoop. A wish flower. A hologram. Hope.

A being like nothing Elfangor has ever imagined sees the andalite aristh. It sees inside his mind.

And it laughs.

Elfangor comes awake on the med table of an andalite fighter. Not what he had expected, or intended. There’s no sign of the humans, or of Alloran. Instead, three andalite warriors stand over him.

«Vitals are normal. Heartbeats are synchronized, but elevated,» the female warrior says. She has a kit of medical supplies slung over her shoulder, and she’s watching Elfangor with the kind of naked curiosity that directs all four of her eyes his way.

«Thank you,» the captain says. «That’ll be all for now. I’ll let you know if anything changes.»

There’s no doubt that he’s the captain. Nor that the other male warrior is the Tactical Officer. It’s clear from the way that the medic salutes with her tail blade as she walks out the door, and from the slight tilt that the T.O. gives in return.

That’s all Elfangor knows. How he got here... Where here is...

«Please identify yourself,» the T.O. says. The use of please doesn’t disguise the sharpness of his tone.

«Aristh Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul,» Elfangor says. «Formerly of the StarSword, although my most recent posting was aboard the Jahar. Sir, where are the aliens who were with me?»

The captain and the T.O. exchange a glance, just a single stalk eye each. «What was the nature of this mission, P— Aristh Elfangor?» the T.O. asks.

There’s something they’re not telling him. It’s obvious there’s an entire conversation happening in thought-speak right now, one to which he is not privy.

«We found two aliens that had been kidnapped by skrit na,» Elfangor says, because he can’t exactly refuse an officer’s direct request. «Arbron — my fellow aristh — and I were supposed to help Prince Alloran return the aliens to their home planet.»

«Then the Time Matrix was on Earth when you found it?» the captain asks.

Elfangor freezes. He didn’t mention the name of the planet the aliens had come from, and he definitely didn’t mention the Time Matrix.

Several other details hit all at once. The captain — if he even is a captain — looks barely older than Elfangor himself. The T.O.’s posture is too close, too casual, and the captain is allowing it. Neither one of them has introduced himself yet.

Elfangor has been trusting the captain automatically so far because — he loathes admitting it — because the captain has the same accent as Elfangor’s hometown and the same cowlick in his fur as Elfangor’s own mother, and Elfangor is so desperately homesick that he seized upon these hints of familiarity without ever thinking about why.

«Just answer the question,» the T.O. says. The captain places a gentle hand on the T.O.’s arm.

«Sir. I...» Elfangor rolls to stand, taking several steps away. He salutes with his tail blade by way of apology, and then quickly drops it in submission. His hearts are pounding. He could be anywhere. Anywhere. «The humans who were with me...»

«They’re both safe on Earth,» the captain says. «As is Alloran.»

Elfangor’s main eyes shut in shame. «Sir. There’s something you should know about Prince Alloran.»

Again, the captain and the T.O. exchange a glance, definitely whispering to each other in thought-speak. «Yes?» the captain says at last.

«I failed my prince,» Elfangor says, opening his eyes, «and I failed my entire people. Alloran has been infested by a yeerk called Esplin nine-four-six-six.»

«Oh, good,» the captain says. «We were hoping you’d say that.»

Elfangor has jumped back, clear across the room and crouched with his tail blade snapping at the ready, faster than conscious thought. He’d thought that Alloran’s paranoid mutterings about traitor andalites were just that, but now—

«Hey, hey, sorry, there’s no need for that.» The captain holds up both hands in placation, a strangely humanlike gesture. «It’s cool, Elfangor, it’s all cool.» Now he even sounds like a human. «I only meant that we’re glad you told us. It means we can trust you.»

The captain takes a step forward. Elfangor tenses to strike, and he stops moving.

«When I said Alloran’s safe, I meant that he’s no longer a controller,» the captain says. «The yeerk inside him has been neutralized.»

«Who are you?» Elfangor demands, not lowering his tail. «How do you know all this?»

Again, the captain and T.O. look at each other.

«Stop doing that!» Elfangor snaps, too overwhelmed to care about etiquette anymore.

«We were just deciding whether it would distress you less, or more, if we were to answer your question,» the T.O. says. «And also debating the merits of calling Prince Estrid back in here so that she can sedate you for your own well-being.»

«Menderash is telling the truth,» the captain says. «You taught me everything I know about tail-fighting, and half the Academy besides. So if you chose to fight your way out of here, I doubt either one of us would be able to stop you.»

«What...» Elfangor feels his tail lower slightly from sheer confusion. «What...»

«You’re on board the Dome ship Intrepid,» the captain says. «Twenty-three standard years have passed since the mission you just described. Our Tactical Officer is Prince Menderash-Postill-Fastill. My name is Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.»

Menderash leaves them alone. Before he does, he presses the palm of his hand very briefly against Aximili’s cheek, an andalite kiss between lovers. Elfangor gets his third or fourth shock of the past five minutes. Normally a warrior, even the significant other of a captain, wouldn’t dare to show affection so openly.

Aximili registers him staring, of course, and tenses.

«You’re... not like other captains,» Elfangor comments awkwardly.

That gets Aximili to smile, eyes crinkling in a way that strengthens the resemblance to their mother. «I served under two war-princes, both of whom taught me well. One was considered wildly unconventional by andalite standards.» He tilts a stalk at Elfangor. «The other one wasn’t an andalite at all.»

Elfangor blinks. «Things really have changed while I was gone.»

«Not that much, it would seem. Prince Jake is...» Ax makes a see-saw gesture with one hand, still strangely human in his mannerisms. «The War Council does not officially recognize his position. Any warrior who has ever seen him lead tends to hold a different opinion. Alloran himself risked a challenge against a superior officer on Prince Jake’s behalf.»

«Alloran.» Elfangor’s head is going to fall clean off if things get any more confusing. «Challenged an officer. For an alien.»

«In a way, it’s all your fault.» Aximili’s smile turns fond. «You’re the one who gave Prince Jake — and four other humans — the ability to morph.»

«I... why?»

«The yeerks were on Earth,» Aximili says simply.

And yes, that really does explain it all.

«The Electorate officials were angry at first,» he continues. «But you did so much good for the war effort, it wasn’t long before they were putting up statues and naming Dome ships in your honor.»

Elfangor laughs, but stops abruptly. «I’m dead, then.» They don’t name Dome ships after living warriors.

Aximili goes still, realizing his error too late. «Not before ensuring victory over the yeerks,» he says at last. «You died honorably, doing battle to your last—»

A shudder wracks Elfangor’s body. Of course there’s no escaping the war. Of course not. Of course they’ll make him fight and keep fighting, down to the very last heartbeat. No end point. No reprieve. No other way. Just a killer. Just a tail blade and a trigger finger, and nothing in between.

Even after death, they wouldn’t let him be. Named their war machines after him. Taught their children to kill and die in his name.

«Elfangor...?»

«I’d like to be alone, if that’s all right,» he says.

Aximili nods. He salutes briefly — one war-prince to another, this time — and leaves.

The next time they talk, there are a million questions. Elfangor doesn’t know how he got here, or why he showed up without the Time Matrix. Aximili can’t explain anything Elfangor saw before losing consciousness, but he does have more firsthand experience with time travel than Elfangor himself. Haltingly, in fits and tangents, Aximili does his best to catch Elfangor up on everything that has happened in the years he missed. Some of it makes no sense — Elfangor was a nothlit, and then he wasn’t — and some of it, like Arbron’s rebellion against the Yeerk Empire, fits perfectly.

Aximili gives Elfangor the free run of the Intrepid, and finds him a spare room to get him out of the med bay. Warriors salute as they pass and call him “Prince Elfangor,” or “sir.” The official story as recorded in the ship’s log is that he’s a castaway aristh rescued from a damaged fighter. But the other warriors figured out Elfangor’s identity the moment he appeared unconscious in the middle of their dome, and now gossip follows him everywhere: he’s a war-prince. A relic. Most importantly: he’s Aximili’s little brother. Yeah, the Aximili.

«Am I a prince?» he asks Menderash once, in a moment of weakness.

Menderash has been teaching Elfangor how to pilot. Ten years ago, Menderash learned how to pilot by watching Elfangor. They both try not to think about this too hard.

«Why would you ever think that you are not?» Menderash says, and then, «Eyes, Prince Elfangor.»

Elfangor sighs. He has once again allowed his eyes to drift away from their proper position — one on the altitude, one on the engine lights, two on the viewscreen — to look down at his hands on the controls. «I barely have any flight experience, for one,» he says. «And the person who killed all those yeerks, won all those battles... He’s not me. Not yet, and now not ever. I think not, anyway.»

Menderash considers. «You’re asking if our experiences make us who we are, or if we are born the way we will always be.»

«Um, yes.»

«I have no idea,» he says immediately, «but if you don’t stop accelerating into every takeoff like you’re being chased, then I will throw you out of the airlock.»

Elfangor flushes. «Are you this mean to Aximili?»

«You mean when we’re alone together?»

And now Elfangor is flushing even more, half-hoping the floor will open and swallow him.

Menderash laughs. «If I am, then I suppose you’ll have to throw me out of the airlock.»

«I’m a powerful war-prince, I guess.» Elfangor dares to glance over at him. «So you had better treat him right.»

«Eyes, Prince Elfangor.» Menderash is still smiling, though. «I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.»

There are a lot of long conversations with various authorities. The Andalite War Council’s official opinion is that Elfangor might be the real deal but that they still refuse to acknowledge his existence, and will consider anyone attempting to use Elfangor’s identity an act of treason. The Electorate defers to the War Council’s insistence on Elfangor’s death, but the representative they get on the phone asks for Elfangor’s autograph anyway. The Galactic Union of Sentient Species has entirely too much interest in time travel, and also in pretending that time travel doesn’t exist and therefore Elfangor doesn’t exist.

«What are they so afraid of?» Elfangor asks Aximili, after their seventh or eighth attempt at contacting a real authority meets a dead end. «I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone about the Time Matrix, and I mean it. If I just said it was a sario rip from the Jahar’s engine exploding, no one would ever have to know.»

Aximili looks Elfangor over, clearly deciding how to explain something he worries Elfangor is too young to understand. «I believe they’re most afraid of you being yourself,» he says at last.

«What?»

«You are a person,» Aximili says. «You love human rock music. You have more tells than a ten-day aristh when you tail-fight, and nevertheless manage to win every fight in spite of, or perhaps because of, your unconventional technique. You almost whacked your own stalks on a low branch yesterday while feeding in the dome. You fell in love with a human. You snore.» He looks out the viewscreen, sighing. «Elfangor... War-Prince Elfangor... is a legend. A Dome ship. An inspiration. A statue in our shipyard. Prince Elfangor isn’t clumsy, or nerdy, or anything. Because he’s not really a person at all.»

Elfangor digests that for several minutes, staring out at the stars. He thinks he’s a little afraid of this legend. That he’s afraid of the implications, if the legend really was just a guy like him.

Elfangor doesn’t ask what are you going to do with me. Doesn’t tell Aximili I want to go home. Aximili knows, and he can’t do anything about it. He has an entire ship to run, and almost a hundred warriors to look out for. Babysitting an aristh is no job for a captain, especially not one on perhaps the most dangerous mission left to the entire Andalite Navy. They’re hunting an entire ship’s worth of morph-capable controllers, dodging norshk pirates, skirting the hairy edge of kelbrid space. The other warriors on the ship, even Aximili, seem to consider the whole thing a grand adventure, and everyone seems to expect that Elfangor will want a piece of the action. Elfangor wants to be done with the war. It already killed him once, destroyed his life a dozen times; he wants nothing to do with chasing the last of its ragged edges.

Almost a week later, Aximili drops a call invite to Elfangor’s quarters. It’s a z-space comm link between the Intrepid and a distant planet.

Elfangor feels a chill of unease when the link lights up. One holo shows Aximili, but the other shows a male human with dirty-blond hair and soft grey eyes.

He doesn’t need the identifier at the bottom of the screen. He knows who Tobias is, and Tobias knows him. They stare at each other, at a loss.

«Why don’t you explain what you were telling me,» Ax says at last, breaking the moment.

“Oh yeah, funny story.” Tobias shifts, shoulders hunching. Birdlike. “Prince Elfangor’s still legally dead. But Alan Fangor, Yale graduate, former Microsoft programmer, resident of the state of California? We looked into it, and that guy’s still got a Social Security number, a bank account, and a slightly-expired driver’s license. He owes some back taxes, but we could handle that.”

Elfangor looks at him and Aximili both. «You’re suggesting...?»

“Only if you want to,” Tobias says quickly. “And only for as long as you want. And obviously there’s no reason you would want to. It was just a suggestion.”

I want, Elfangor thinks, to be anywhere — anywhere at all — that isn’t a sunsforsaken battleship.

He looks at Aximili. «How far are we from Earth?»

In the shuttle on the way down to the planet, Elfangor thinks he can see some of his own bad influence. Aximili’s piloting technique is atrocious — he looks at the controls, ignores warning parameters, uses incorrect commands — and yet the inter-atmosphere transition and eventual landing are some of the smoothest Elfangor has ever experienced. Aximili is talented, even more so for being halfway self-taught.

There are over a dozen humans standing on the landing pad when the ship sets down in the courtyard of the military base, but two step forward from the crowd. Up close, Tobias looks to be about Elfangor’s own age in human years. The woman beside him is familiar and yet not, wearing the middle-aged version of Loren’s features. Elfangor feels his knees lock, and almost stumbles in the doorway. He’s not sure he can do this.

“Ax-Man!” Tobias says. “Only gonna be gone for six of our months, huh?” He spreads strong human arms. “You haven’t forgotten what an Earth month is, have you?”

Aximili steps past Elfangor, rushing to perform a human embrace with Tobias that involves briefly squeezing their arms around each other. «You are at greater risk of such an error than I am, my friend. You know perfectly well that the delay was unavoidable.»

“We’ll overlook it this time.” Tobias smiles. “Anyway, welcome to Zone 91, a place that you have definitely never been before under any circumstances.”

«Of course not.» Aximili is smiling as well. «Entering Zone 91 without the proper human authorization would have been illegal, and also ill-advised.»

Shorms, Elfangor thinks, watching them. He’s surprised by a pang of envy. They’re so clearly family to each other, his son and his brother, and he’s only just met them both.

Loren’s watching them both from across the way. The longing on her face, he realizes, is just the same.

There’s paperwork. A surprising amount. The human authorities are apparently willing to tolerate his existence on Earth, but only after a frustrating amount of documentation. Tobias opts out of all of it, simply disappearing into the sky above during a moment of distraction.

It’s strange, doubly so, when Elfangor remembers that Tobias is demorphing rather than simply morphing to become a bird. He’s heard what everyone says about nothlits on the homeworld — and he’d believed it, too. Believed that Arbron was better off dead than taxxon. And yet Arbron had outlived him by over five years. Had done more to end the war than Elfangor himself had ever accomplished.

And Tobias is... Not what he’d expected, once he’d gotten over the triple surprise of you have a son — he’s an alien — he’s a nothlit. Tobias acts as ambassador between the hork-bajir and human authorities. Tobias has lives in two worlds — three? Four? He has a house in a human city, and a meadow out in the wilds. He becomes an identical copy of Aximili and they race each other across the desert outside, arriving wild and breathless as children while Elfangor and Loren take the far more sedate ride back to civilization in the Army transport Jeep.

For the first time — or maybe the second — Elfangor thinks he can see the appeal in giving up andalite shape forever.

Tobias becomes human again once they’re dropped off, morphing with the same breathtaking speed that Aximili demonstrates. He leads them through the downtown of a city that has skrit na hawking exotic wares on street corners, gedds shouldering through its crowds, hork-bajir hopping between the roofs of skyscrapers, andalite tourists clustered outside an establishment called Krispy Kreme. Elfangor looks in all directions at once like a tourist himself, startled that such a place could exist.

“Alientown, California,” Loren comments, when she sees him looking. “Not its real name, but that’s what everyone calls it.”

«We don’t have anything like this. Anywhere in the galaxy,» Elfangor says. «Not where — when — I come from.»

“Blame the Animorphs,” she says, raising her eyebrows at where Tobias and Ax push ahead. “Although I guess Alloran was pretty instrumental in negotiating the treaties as well.”

Elfangor shakes his head. He’s never going to stop being surprised, he’s concluded. He’ll just have to get used to a state of perpetual shock, because this is his life now. Or he’d like it to be.

When they reach the house, Tobias barely have time to pull the front door open before two different quadrupedal aliens rush outside. Loren laughs as the larger one rears back and starts licking her face. Tobias dives to catch the smaller one, scooping it into his arms. “Dude, Dude, we’ve talked about this,” Tobias croons, cradling the creature. “You eat birds, birds eat you, it’s a bad deal all around if you don’t stay inside. You’re an invasive species, bud. And also really easy to spot from overhead.”

“Down, Champ.” Loren gently shoves the other animal back onto all four paws. “You know, I had to have an entire mostly-civil conversation with my skeevy sister’s even skeevier ex to get you that cat,” she tells Tobias. “And this is how you repay me, by teaching my dog bad manners.”

“He’s retired.” Tobias buries his chin in the cat’s fur. “Bad manners and lapsed training are his prerogative.”

“Sorry,” Loren tells Elfangor, shooing both him and the dog inside. “It’s not normally this...” She shrugs. “Chaotic?”

“Since when?” a different human asks, as they step inside. She’s female, if Elfangor reads her hair and clothing correctly, and moves around using a wheeled apparatus with a small motor.

“This is Kelly,” Loren says. “And Erica —” A different human waves from the next room over — “And Elena’s visiting her boyfriend last I heard, but she’ll be back soon, and she also has a dog.”

“I’m with Kelly on this one,” Tobias says. “Never not chaotic.” He smiles at Elfangor, still holding the furry cat-thing. “We didn’t mean to start a collection of stray Animorphs and veteran pets, honestly.”

Loren brings Elfangor through to a room that has screened windows on three sides opening onto their backyard, most of the human furniture pushed to one side. “The room’s yours for as long as you want,” she tells him. “We put Ax out here, but he’s away a lot, so it’s yours. Everyone else tends to go in and out, so I’m afraid there’s not much quiet, but...” She shrugs. “Welcome.”

He’s a long way away from the scoop where he grew up. He’s half-forgotten already what he’d wished for, shaking palms pressed against the most powerful machine in the known galaxy. He’s in a strange house, a strange city, surrounded by aliens.

«Thank you,» he says, and, «If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay.»

#animorphs #animorphs au #elfangor #Ax #Aximili #precious cinnamon bun #aximili esgarrouth isthill #elfangor sirinial shamtul #long post #animorphs ficlet #loren fangor #tobias fangor #emohawk #time matrix #andalite chronicles #LOOK I JUST REALLY WANTED MORE AX AND ELFANGOR INTERACTION OKAY #I DIDN'T REALIZE WHEN I STARTED WRITING THAT I WAS COMMITTING TO CALLING HIM AXIMILI FOR A WHOLE DAMN FICLET #AND THEN IT HAPPENED ANYWAY

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sleepnginstardust · 5 years

Text

Werewolf boyfriend and girlfriend (part 1/??)

I really enjoy the short stories by @momolady @monsterywriting and @monstersandmaw. So I wanted to write something that hopefully would live up to some of their amazing writing. Fair warning I don’t have anyone who’s able to proof read for me so I’ve as best as I can to make sure that everythings okay. Let me know if y’all find anything! This

Castle Hill, the sign was almost too perfect. When I was first looking at places to move this place hadn’t even occurred to me than someone I know of brought a listing to my attention.

“I know you’re thinking of moving to a less populated place, wouldn’t want anyone to bother your writing now would you!” The little jab at my writing career was annoying, but kind of spot on? I had been stuck in a rut for my second novel in my series for a while and while I don’t mind living in a densely populated area. The noise and just all of the people get to me after a while. It takes more energy for me to head to the corner bodega than it should. So I had been looking for a house in a small town that was within at the most a three-hour drive from the city.

The listing my acquaintance had posted on my facebook was for a house in the small town of Castle Hill. Bigger than what I needed but still cheaper than owning an apartment in the city. So I booked a viewing.

The realtor I talked with was surprised when I contacted them, he said something about not a lot of newcomers to the town. Never a good thing to hear if I ever wanted to sell the house again. I vaguely remember asking a few more questions. Something about the community college that was in the town and I asked about a motel or an AirB&B in the area.

The realtor laughed, he said that there was a small Bed and Breakfast in the area and that he could give me the number if I was serious about wanting to see the house. It was odd when he asked me again if I was serious about seeing the house. When I said I would be up at the end of the week to see the house, he hesitated and said that he looked forward to someone so obstinate.

So I drove the three-ish hours, it took to get to Castle Hill, the drive was gorgeous. The busy city by the bay slowly gave way to winding roads through farmland. Slowly the farmland gave way to rolling hills and soon the hills became forests. The trees were small at first then slowly growing larger the farther I drove.

By the time I reached the town sign, I was truly in a forest. There were small clearings here and there, in fact, the town was built in one such clearing. The town sign showed the edge and while it was a large clearing tree still peppered the area causing a rustic feel that I remember from my childhood spent in the mountains.

Quaint wooden walkways were in place of the concrete sidewalks I was used too. It made me feel like I had moved back in time. The Old Fashion buildings made everything, even the modern day coffee shop seem like it had all been there for years. As I drove past I saw, a butchers place, a florist's and a small hardware store.

The small crafts store was something that drew my eyes, it's bright exterior showed only a small portion of what was inside. As I made my way through the more suburban portion of the town I started to notice all the families. Naga men and women with their clutch of young, I saw a small satyr with a stunning woman and three children jumping up and down. I saw a beautiful Centaur woman with an equally stunning woman and a small centaur girl jumping around them.

As I pulled up to the Victorian house a woman not much older came out to greet me. She stood tall and proud which honestly made me feel a bit like a slob. especially after driving the three and a half hours it took me to get here.

"You must be Abigail, I'm Kara. It's so nice you are able to join us. I'll show you the room." As she took me through the house I looked at all the old photos slowly morph into newer ones. I felt like I was walking through a carefully preserved museum.

"Okay, is this a family home? I'm seeing photos from the 1880's 1870's at the earliest." Kara paused for a moment and looked back at me while giving a small smile.

"I'm surprised you noticed, most people just assume that I find old photos in antique stores or something like that." I looked down with a small blush on my face. History was one of the few things I enjoyed. Feeling a little embarrassed I muttered something I don't remember.

"My family has been in this area since the early 1860's. This house itself was built around 1904 right after the large earthquake that struck San Francisco." Kara showed me the house along with many more photos of the town from the early days.

The house itself was beautiful. Old but wonderfully kept wooden floors and antique looking wallpaper throughout. Each room was its own separate room. The furniture in each room seemed like it had been made especially for each room. The dining room had a large table with what seemed like 14 chairs.

She showed me the kitchen with its cozy dining nook where Kara explained that she served both breakfast and dinner there if I would want to join her. I couldn’t turn down such a wonderful woman so I readily found myself agreeing.

Finally she led me up the stairs and to the upper story where opened the door to a decent sized bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. The entire room smelled lightly of lilacs, which normally would bother me but with how light the sent was it didn’t bother me.

She carefully bowed out and put a key with rose shaped key fob attached on the nightstand. Slowly I dragged my battered carry on bag onto the almost pristine white luggage stand. I carefully pulled out my small makeup bag and a small toiletries bag. I put away the small amount of clothes I brought with me and debated whether to keep the sweater in the bag or with me. I pulled it out just in case.

After that I freshened up in the bathroom. I reapplied bits of my foundation and added a translucent setting powder over the top to cover my greaseball forehead. I pulled out my favorite lipstick and put that on instead of the tinted lip balm I had been wearing most of the day. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that this was going to be the best I was going to look for the day.

Grabbing my laptop bag I made my way down the stairs. As I hit the downstairs landing I heard Kara talking with another person. I slowly made my way into the sitting room where I had heard the conversation coming from. I pulled short before the doorway and knocked like the sheepish person I am. I looked and saw Kara sitting down with two people both in firefighters uniforms. Not the heavy kind but the lighter kind that they wear while on duty.

“Look I know I’ve been here for” I checked my phone. “An hour, but I promise I haven’t set anything on fire. That I know of.” The Female firefighter snorted, and the male one had this stupid grin. One I kind of wanted to punch off of his face. Sort of.

“Oh Abigail This Anita Galassia the Chief Firefighter for the town.” The man made a disgruntled noise and Kara made soothing motions. “And this is Anita’s Second in command Nathan Fraye. They were checking in on me, one of my neighbors had a bad fall (she’s pregnant with her first child) and they wanted to assure me that if anything happened they would be here lickty split.”

“Wait, firefighters still do that? Sorry my local firefighters live an hour outside of the city and hardly know anyone.” Anita and Nathan hadn’t stopped looking at me even while Kara had been talking and I started to feel the anxiety creep into my brain. I felt like I had been cornered by two wolves, and my flight or fight feelings started to kick in. “Oh I forgot, I’m heading down to that coffee shop. You didn’t say anything about wifi and I have a few things I need to send in to my editor.”

“Oh my gosh Abigail I am so sorry! I do have wifi. I know I have the information around here somewhere. If you still want to go to the cafe I can have the password for wifi when you get back.” I nodded, feeling my anxiety kick it up a notch and my heart rate go up. I gave a small wave and started to turn around.

“Abigail right? Did you want us to take you down there? The fire house is close by and it wouldn’t be out of our way.” I turned back around looking at Anita’s earnest smiling face.

“Ahh no thanks I drove like three and a half hours to get here and a short walk would help get the cobwebs out of my brain before I have to edit like six chapters.” Anita’s face fell a little and she nodded.

“Understandable, maybe we’ll see you there. They have some good pastries.” I was still feeling like a cornered deer. So I put on my most brilliant smile and nodded. Waved again and made my way out of the room. On my way out I heard one of them mutter to Kara “She’s cute.”

“Don’t get any fucking ideas horn dog” was all I heard as I quickly made my way out of the house and onto the small sidewalk through the neighborhood. Walking past the houses on my way towards the town center made me realize how many families were here. Like I had seen kids playing before but I only saw three or four of them. Now I was seeing whole groups of them.

In the 15 minutes I had been walking towards the coffee shop I started feeling invigorated and almost inspired. I say almost because as I was passing the local park, I noticed a small group of kids playing. I stopped for a moment and stared. As I watched the children playing I felt a small pang in my stomach. I wanted children but with my busy schedule I couldn’t even fathom having children. I quickly shook my head and started walking again.

Or well I would have if I hadn’t have run into something. Thankfully I didn’t fall over, I just happened to bump into them. I muttered sorry and started walking away.

“Are you okay?” I looked up and realized that the person that I bumped into was someone who could probably bench press me. Again my flight or fight response kicked in.

“Oh I’m fine, sorry for bumping into you.” I gave a small wave to the person and thankfully he took that to mean that I was fine and he thankfully left it at that.

“I’m pretty sure your new in town, if you need anything stop by the local newspaper, I’m Fred, I run it and can help you if you need anything.” Still feeling a little nervous. I nodded and started walking away. I could swear I could feel him watching me as I got farther away.

I started loosening up the farther I got away from the park. I kept my head down and I started counting the squares in the sidewalk. I started looking up when my anxiety started slowly going away. It was another ten minutes to the coffee shop and I was thankful when I noticed that it quiet. I made my way up to the counter and placed an order for just a pot of black tea and a plain scones.

“So are you just visiting or maybe just passing through?” I looked up at the orc girl behind the counter, and tried to figure out why she was asking.

“I’ve got an appointment to see a house tomorrow.” I said in a slightly dead tone. I had hoped the orc girl would take a hint and just leave it. But she was young and wanted to be nice. I think.

“Oh that’s awesome, we don’t really get a lot of new people who’d want to move into a town out in the middle of nowhere. Do you have some sort of business you’re opening up?” She started finally gathering my things as she had been talking and I tried to repress the urge to snap. I know I should watch my temper but damn I was really not in the mood to talk

“I’m a novelist. I need a more quiet area so I can focus a little better on my novel.” At that the girl looked up from filling the small pot of tea. “Hey watch out or yo-”

“Fuck!” my warning came a little too late as she poured boiling hot water over her hand. I put my laptop down on the counter.

“Are you going to need burn gel? Use room temperature water by the way.” The Girl looked at me, I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. She switched over the water temperature and pulled a red bag from under the register.

“Sorry I just realized where I had seen you before. I’ve seen your instagram, you have like a million subscribers.” I had the decency to be embarrassed. I knew I had a few subscribers here and there but I didn’t realize that people would actually recognize me.

“Yeah that’s me I guess.” The girl had remade the teapot and started heating up the scone. I grabbed my bag and saw a table in a corner that faced the street. I pulled out my laptop and looked around the table for a place to plug in. I found one a smalle ways away but still close enough to plug in my laptop.

The girl brought me the scone and the teapot with a murmured sorry. I nodded and took the pot and the scone laying them down on the table. I poured the tea and started nibbling on the scone putting some lemon curd on. As I settled down I opened the email from my editor with the edits he’d like to see and I sat down and started to write.

Writing had always come easy to me, easier than dealing with people at least. With writing I had control over everything, what people said, how people reacted, and honestly it was way easier to deal with things that I put onto paper. My first novel happened that way.

It had started as a way to deal with the fact that I wasn't what people wanted me to be. So I wrote a story about it. Fiction of course, because who would want to read an autobiography about a no one. And it sold, stupidly well. Then I was told they wanted a second book, and a third. So I rolled with it.

Now that I was working on the second book in the series I realized I really enjoyed writing. So here I was 200 miles away from my apartment and my editor trying to finish the last bit of editing before the book went to publication. Listening to the barista girl talk animated with someone.

I heard the clink of someone setting a ceramic cup down on a wooden table. Looking up with a scowl on my face I recognized the two firefighters from Kara’s place. My scowl deepened making me look like I was going to punch someone. Trying my best to ignore them, I went back to work.

”Wow and I thought I was scary when I'm mad.” I ignored the voice of Nathan as put in some rework to some dialogue. ”hello did you hear me?”

”yes i heard you, yes I am ignoring you. I have a few things to finish before my book goes to printing next month.`` I looked up to stare at Nathan who had this bewildered smile on his face. Anita sat down next to Nathan and punched his arm.

“I told you not to bother her, yet here we are. With her about to rip your throat out.” Anita gave a small snort.

“I wouldn’t rip his throat out, that’s too messy. I’d poison him, less blood that way.” I said not even missing a keystroke. I heard someone choke a little, and the sounds of someone thumping on someone’s back. The more I got into writing the less I noticed. I was almost finished with the final couple of revisions when I saw a hand in front of my computer screen. Blinking a bit I looked up.

“Sorry to bother you but you haven’t looked up in two hours and we were starting to worry.” I looked at the clock on my screen and realized I had been at the coffee shop for three hours. It was closing in on Six O’clock and I needed to get back to Kara’s. I looked back up to Nathan.

“Aw crap, I’ve got to get going, thanks for checking in.” I saved what I was doing and closed my laptop. I unplugged the charger from the wall and started shoving it and my laptop in my bag. I shut my bag and stood forgetting I had been sitting for a long period of time. Of course I would get dizzy after having nothing but scones and tea since last night.

As I steadied myself I felt a hand on my shoulder and stiffened. Looking back I saw Anita and Nathan both looking concerned? I didn’t know anything about these people and still they had concern for me. I had no idea why people like them would be concerned but here they were showing concern anyway.

“I’m fine, just haven’t had decent food since yesterday. I’m heading back to Kara’s where she promised a good home cooked meal. I think.” I raised my hands in defeat and walked over the counter. The Barista was looking between myself and the two behind me. “Can I just get a cup of water, need to stay hydrated you know.”

She handed me the cup and I waved to Anita and Nathan and left. As I popped outside I realized how cold it had gotten in the three hours I was there. I shivered a bit realizing that not everywhere was in the 80’s during September. I started walking back the way I came as the street lamps came on. I looked up and noticed that the street lamps were some old time looking ones with the fake flicker light bulbs.

I walked quietly by the stores with bright interiors. As the stores gave way to houses I started feeling like something was watching me and I started getting nervous. I started walking faster and as I was walking past the park I looked over. Two sets of glowing eyes stared back at me and I nearly screamed.

Needless to say, I walked faster back to Kara’s house and as I saw the lights on I quickly made my way inside. Not running mind you, but close. As I opened the door and slammed it shut my heart was racing. Kara came through the door to the kitchen and looked at me up and down.

“Abigail you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I nodded, not paying attention to what she was saying as she led me into the kitchen. The smell of what seemed to be chicken and something else came to my nose. She took my bag and put it on a hook next to the door over some aprons. “Okay, tell me what happened”

“I- I don’t know, I was walking back from the coffee shop and I started feeling like I was being watched. Which by the way is terrifying because the last time that happened I was nearly killed. Well I started walking faster, not running because then that lets them know you know they’re watching and when I passed the park I look up and somewhere past the park there where these eyes. Two sets of them, and well I started panicking and now my anxiety is throu-” She didn’t let me finish my sentence as she engulfed me in a hug. I tensed up waiting for the whole “You shouldn’t be so cautise” talk I’ve heard from many different people. Instead she just rubbed my back in soothing circular motions.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’ll talk to a few people to see what we can do. Now we need some food if you can stomach it. I know sometimes anxiety can be a real monster.” As she said this my anxiety dropped a little enough where I wasn’t hyperventilating. I was still having issues seeing, and I knew from experience that tunnel vision took a while to go away. I started to tremble so much so that my knees finally gave out. Kara grabbed me before I could hit the floor thankfully. She manhandled me into a chair at the table and gave me a glass of water.

“Maybe I should call the fire department for you.” Hearing that all I could think about was the look of pity from Anita and Nathan I would get and my stomach dropped. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head no.

“P-p-please don’t I have medicine in m-my b-bag.” I pointed to my laptop bag, and she hurried over and searched the front bag finding the small bottle of anti anxiety medicine. She brought over the bottle and handed it to me. I opened the bottle and took out a pill and put it in my mouth and drank the glass of water. I put the glass of water on the table and put my head between my legs.

“Do these attacks happen often?” I turned my head to look at her and nodded slowly.

“They were manageable most of the time, but there was this incident about five months ago? I don’t know. Anyway they become worse almost to the point where I couldn’t leave my apartment.” Kara nodded her head and started making a plate of food. I watched her bring a chicken thigh onto a plate before I spoke up. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat that, I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. Besides I can make you something easier on the stomach. How about some soup and maybe a grilled cheese?” I looked at her perplexed, this woman had known me four maybe five hours and she had treated me better than my own mother. The tears came faster than I realized and when Kara looked back at me from the freezer where she was pulling out what looked like homemade soup, she gasped.

“Hey, what’s wrong, do you not like chicken noodle, I think I have some leftover Minestrone from last week still,” I started crying harder, trying to make sure the sound wasn’t loud so the neighbors didn’t hear. “Oh dear, what’s wrong, you can talk to me.”

“N-n-n-not e-even m-m-m-my own m-m-mother cared, she just cared that I wasn’t making money for her anymore.” At this Kara stopped put the soup down on the counter and walked over to me.

“Abigail I’m going to tell you one thing about this town. If you do end up taking buying a house here know one thing. We look after our people no matter what. You’ll never have to worry about walking home alone. If you’re ever sick we’ll look after you. If for whatever reason you’re gone for long periods of time we’ll look after your yard and feed your cat if you have one. We care for our people, you won’t be alone unless you want it.” As she said this I started crying even harder this time not caring who heard. Kara just kneeled down and rubbed circles in my back. After a couple of minutes my tears started winding down and the fuzzy feeling of just having a long cry started creeping in.”

“Now Abigail let’s get you some soup, a nice grilled cheese and some more water okay?” I nodded and watched her refill the glass I had from earlier. She gently placed the water in front of me and I hesitantly picked it up.

“I’m sorry for the breakdown there, It had been a while since I had one and I never expected to have one here.” I sniffled and looked around for some paper towels or maybe a paper napkin. Kara was looking at me as she warmed up a thing of soup in a sauce pot. I looked down at my knees very interested in my knees.

“Amelia you don’t have to apologize, most people don’t hold half the things inside them that you probably do and they still break down.” She flipped a sandwich over in a pan on the stove top & stirred the soup. “Honestly one of the hardest things in life is being strong enough to understand that you don’t always have to be strong.”

I sighed, maybe I knew I was due to break down but I had been hoping that maybe I would be able to get through the final draft of my novel and purchase a new house before I had one. Wishful thinking I know, but I had hoped. Rubbing the back of my neck I knew I should say something but all I was able to do was nod and hang my head. I heard the clack of bowls and plates. The rustle of silverware followed.

I bowl of steaming soup was placed in front of me. MInestrone I realized, and a plate with a grilled cheese cut in half was placed next to the bowl. Kara refilled my glass with more water and set it down in front of me.

I looked up and saw her sitting down in front of me with the same thing. I looked at the counter with the beautifully prepared chicken, and rolls.

“I’m sorry, I ruined your dinner.” I looked down feeling like a child who had ruined Christmas for their family. I heard a small sigh.

“Has no one ever told that not everything your body or mind does is something you can control.” I looked up at her then back down quickly. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about all the times as a child I wet the bed only to have my mother slap me for waking her and make me sleep in urine soaked sheets as “punishment”. Kara honestly looked like the type of person to hunt down my mother and punish her.

“If it didn’t come up in my mothers “Parenting for Narcissists” book then she probably forgot.” Kara let out a bitter laugh and I picked up some of the sandwich. I carefully dipped it in the soup and pulled out. The soup tasted perfect, as I expected. The sandwich had a decent cheese to bread ratio. Not that I was expecting anything less.

“I haven’t known you for long, maybe a day or so at this point, but there’s something I don’t get. You seem to be hurting a lot and from what I can tell, what ever drove you to come here terrified you so much that you decided to leave everything you know behind. Why?” I looked down thinking about what had happened, and how people I thought to be my friends acted afterwards.

“I guess I’m prying huh? You don’t have to say anything I know you’ve only been here for less than 10 hours. So finish your soup and go to bed, maybe take a bath. Since you’re the only one here the communal bath has a nice big tub.” I nodded and I finished my sandwich and soup I got and went to go put my dishes in the sink. “Don’t you even dare, just go take a bath and relax.”

“Kara? Thank you.” Kara waved her hand at me and moved to gather the dishes. I left to her too it.

#werewolf boyfriend #werewolf girlfriend #exophilia #my writing #monster lover

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 30

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Thursday (very, very late)

“I have something for you,” Malcolm murmured, kissing her ear.

“Huh?”

He’d cleaned up the worst of the mess they’d made, and now that the sweat had cooled and dried, they were snuggled together under the blankets, her back to his front, their arms entangled and folded together beneath her breasts. Thoroughly sated, warm, comfortable, and happy, she was almost asleep when he spoke.

He rolled away from her, and by the time he came back she had turned to face him, pillowing her head on her arm as she watched him. His hands appeared, one clenched around something, and her breath caught. “What-”

“Rose,” he cut her off, not unkindly, “you… you are a breath of fresh air. You-”

Unable to help it she yawned, face scrunching with the size of it- it seemed to go on forever, and by the time it was over, he was biting his lip, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Mhmm, you’re not,” she promised, snuggling closer, “but I’m exhausted. My husband had me up ridiculously early to watch the sunrise this morning, then he shagged my brains out.”

“Sounds like quite the catch.”

“He is.” She grinned up at him. “And I’m going to return the favor and blow his mind- well, something- as soon as I’ve gotten a kip.”

Malcolm hummed. “Well, I’ll let you get to it, but first- I’ll save the drawn-out romantic speech for when you’re more awake, but…” Holding out his clenched hand in front of him, he turned it over and opened it to reveal a ring, with a decent sapphire stone set in gold. It was beautiful, and delicate, and she loved it.

“Oh, babe,” Rose gasped softly. “That’s wonderful.”

“Do you really think so?” Surprisingly shy, he held it out to her. “If so, I want you to have it. If not, there’s plenty more in the family vault, but- I wanted you to have this one. I’ve wanted you to have it for… a while.”

“Are you sure?” She took in carefully, holding it up to her eye to examine it better. “It looks old. Not in a bad way, just in a valuable way.”

Her husband slid his hand over her waist, pulling her closer. “Yes. I didn’t give you an engagement ring, because… but now that our feelings have been resolved, that it’s all out in the open, I want you to have a pretty ring to show off.”

Rose looked down at the simple gold band she’d been wearing for the last week, and felt her heart melt. “I’m very happy with the ring I already have,” she told him softly, “because you gave it to me. I think this will be a perfect addition.” Then she handed it back.

“Wait, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she held out her left hand to him, grinning. “Go ahead, put it on me. ‘S only right.”

He did, carefully guiding it up her finger and over her knuckles, settling it at the base of her wedding band before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing both rings gently. “Perfect.”

“I agree.” Bringing her hand to her face, she admired how they looked together – like they belonged next to each other. “That wasn’t necessary, but… thank you.”

“You deserve the world,” he shrugged one shoulder. “A ring- a family heirloom at that- is nothing.”

Smiling, she leaned forward, kissing him sweetly. “Let’s get some sleep,” she sighed against his lips. “Then when we wake up, I’ll thank you properly.”

He kissed her back. “No thanks necessary.”

“Oh, I think it’s very necessary.”

Friday (very, very early)

Yawning, Rose padded back to bed from the loo, on her way eyeing the clothing strewn across the floor, abandoned where it had fallen. At first glance it would be impossible to mistake what had happened, and she felt awkward at the idea of the maid finding them like that. Sending a longing glance towards the bed, she quickly gathered up the items and piled them on the chair so they didn’t look quite so much like victims of torrential passion – as they had been.

Climbing back into bed, she snuggled down next to Malcolm in the hopes of falling back asleep, but it was soon clear that that wasn’t going to happen. Her mind was wide awake, and a heat low in her belly begged for relief. Grunting in frustration she opened her eyes, taking in Malcolm’s profile in the moonlight. In his sleep he’d rolled onto his back, one arm bent above his head, the other across his chest. The sheet had slipped down to his hips, and she licked her lips at the slight tenting occurring there.

Glancing back up at his face she found him sleeping soundly, and debated whether or not to wake him up. On the one hand, she saw no reason they should both be awake just because she couldn’t sleep. On the other, if they were awake anyway…

Malcolm drifted towards consciousness, hazily aware of a wet warmth on his stomach. Stretching his arm out beside him, his eyes shot open at realizing he was alone in bed, Rose’s side cool and empty. He didn’t have to wonder long, though, before solving both mysteries at once – his wife was stretched out on her side perpendicular to his waist, drawing shapes on his stomach with her tongue as she propped herself up on her forearms.

“Good morning,” he rasped, threading his fingers through her hair, eyes following the tip of her tongue. “Having fun?”

“Technically, it’s not morning,” she replied with a grin, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his navel. “But, I figured you wouldn’t mind. Tit for tat, and such.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest with a mere, “Oh?”

Her grin morphed into a smirk, and she tugged at the sheet covering his hips; it didn’t move, just pressed down against him, accentuating the tenting happening there. “I mean, if you’re up for it.”

“I could probably be persuaded to be a team player,” he drawled. “For the right price.” Anticipation had heat pooling low in his belly, but he was enjoying the game- he loved how playful she could be, how she brought that same quality out in him. Sex with Rose was fun, in a way it had rarely been throughout his life.

“Is that so?” Freeing one hand, she trailed her fingertips along his length over the sheet, making his obscured erection bob and his stomach clench. “I’ve been known to broker a fair deal or two in my day.”

He stole her abandoned pillow, using it to prop himself up to better see what she was doing- and what he desperately hoped she would be soon. “Rose.”

Rose snickered, and he flushed at his inadvertently-whiney tone. “Yes, dear?”

She drew the sheet away from him, and he helped kick it down to the end of the bed, far out of the way. The cooler air of their bedroom felt wonderful on his heated flesh, and he watched with pleading eyes as she examined his length, abruptly realizing that though they’d been intimate a handful of times now, she’d never really seen him- not like this, and he eyed his sometimes-errant member with suspicion. Don’t ruin this for us, he warned it- no need to remind her that he was officially closing in on ‘middle age’.

Apparently, though, he didn’t need to worry.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, making him twitch in response. “Lovely. Really.” Leaning forward she flicked her tongue against the head, drawing a sigh from him. “And big. Who knew you were hiding this in your trousers all those years?” Her tongue darted out again, and he sagged back against the pillows, hand returning to her hair and combing through the loose strands, gently untangling them.

He let her tease him for far longer than he would have liked, her soft kisses and licks doing nothing but making him ache for her, despite the sensual beauty of the visual. She was on her hands and knees next to him, breasts hanging freely. His eyes lingered along her smooth side, taking in the pert bum wagging slightly in the air with her movements. She was the epitome of art, and were it not so personal and he so possessive, he would insist that her likeness should hang in any of the great art museums in the world, so anyone and everyone could marvel at her sheer, erotic beauty. Eventually, though, the tension became unbearable, and he shifted restlessly on the mattress, his focus narrowing to the imminent pleasure.

“I’m starting to think you’re all talk.”

His beautiful bride looked up the length of his chest to meet his eye, gaze taking its time to peruse the view on the way. “Is that all men think about?” she asked, biting her lip, unable to hide her smirk. “Getting their cock sucked?”

“It is when a beautiful woman promises to do so then doesn’t.” He arched his eyebrows. “You’ve made your husband a promise, Mrs. Tucker, and I expect you to see it through.”

She laughed. “Mrs. Tucker. I like that.” Her fingers wrapped around him, starting a lazy glide along his skin. “You know, this is only fair, after how you tortured me last night.”

“Tortured you?” he said indignantly. “I didn’t know orgasms were considered torture. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Arching one eyebrow up at him, she dipped her head and finally, finally, slid her lips over the head of him, sucking lightly as her tongue explored him.

“Guh.”

Her chuckle was almost silent, but the vibrations from it were amazing over his aching flesh, and he grunted, fingers tightening in her hair. It had been a long time since his last relationship (if one could call it that), and to be here, with the woman he’d quietly loved from afar for so long, still felt dreamlike. He hoped he never lost that feeling.

Rose pulled her hand and mouth off of him then, grinning at his involuntary protest. “I’m just making myself comfortable,” she soothed, shifting around to settle herself between his thighs, kneeling over him. “I suggest you hold on.”

This time, when she lowered her mouth to him, it was without any of the languidness of before- taking half his length in on the first pass, she began a seemingly-complicated rhythm of bobbing and sucking, her hand pumping the parts her mouth couldn’t reach, all of which worked to short-circuit his brain and send him spiraling towards the abyss.

“Oh, Rose,” he groaned, fisting the pillows next to his head, trying to keep himself from spending too quickly. “So good. Too good.” The suction she was able to generate was incredible, his eyes rolling back into his head in delight.

In response she just took him deeper, his tip bumping the back of her throat twice before she pulled off, coughing. “Okay, can’t do that,” she giggled, breathing deeply. “How do you want to…”

He had to fight to open his eyes, especially once she returned to sucking at his head. “Ngh.” Thought was difficult, all his senses focused on the pleasures of her mouth, but he decided he didn’t want to come alone. “Fuck me.”

“You sure? I can-”

Malcolm reached for her, catching her hand and using it to pull her up his body. “Please.”

Straddling his hips, she rose up for a moment to line him up before sinking down onto him, taking all of him in one go. “Mhmm.”

“Yes,” he grunted, gripping her hips and starting to thrust up. “C’mon.” She started slow, her movements more of a rock then a thrust, before she leaned forward, bracing her hands above his shoulders and dipping her head to kiss him. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, drowning in pleasure. “So much.”

“I love you too.”

She wormed her tongue into his mouth, flicking it against his own as her hips began to pick up speed, rolling over him in a delicious counterpoint to his own thrusting. Letting go of her hips he wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her against him, as his right hand slipped between them, finding her clit and rubbing it desperately.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rose keened softly, head bowing as she rode him harder. “Mhmm, yeah.”

“Come, Rose,” he pleaded, rhythm stuttering as he fought to hold on, waiting for her to catch up. “Please.”

“Hang on.”

He stopped instantly, and panting for breath, she shifted over him, straightening up and setting her hands on his chest as she got her feet under her. His limbs trembled, unsure how much more he could take, but she tossed her head, hair flying behind her, and opened her eyes.

“Okay.”

And then she was riding him, all finesse lost in favor of chasing release. For a moment he forgot to start moving himself, captivated by her beauty- her sweat-slick skin shining in the moonlight, the building pleasure on her face, her breasts bouncing with the force of her movements.

“Malcolm,” she whimpered, and he sprang to life, one hand returning between them to pleasure her, the other reaching up to pinch and twist a nipple just the way she liked.

She broke with a sob, freezing above him, head thrown back, body shaking with the strength of her release, before collapsing down onto him. Rolling her onto her back and settling above her, he hooked one knee in the crook of his elbow and began to move. It only took another half-dozen or so thrusts before it was his turn, gasping her name as he finally found sweet release, sagging down to cover her body with his own.

“I love you,” she whispered, face buried in his shoulder.

“I love you too,” he sighed, enjoying the looseness in his muscles and peace in his heart. Nothing in the world felt better against his skin than hers, wrapped up in each other as they were, and he couldn’t have left her in that moment for anything.

She pressed a kiss to his clavicle, one arm weakly wrapping around his waist. “We’re gonna have a brilliant life.”

“Fucking right we are.”

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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emperorsfoot · 5 years

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Finally got around to posting chapter 20 of “Genetic Composite”. Can’t guarantee the quality of this chapter. But I hope it’s at least fun.

...

Hordak gasped when he felt a clawed hand wrap around his ankle and pull him out from under the console he was working on. A halo of wires that he was working on ripped out with him.

Snarling, Hordak sat up to glare at the one who dared bother him.

Catra.

He froze.

“Hey, Hordak.” She said in a taunting tone that somehow made his skin crawl. “You’ve been taking a while, with nothing to show for it.”

Something in the back of his mind set off an alarm. He was in danger here. One misstep could end him. End him before he ever had a chance to see Entrapta again and demand his satisfaction. Never mind getting home and seeing Prime. Catra had the upper hand. Hadn’t had the upper hand since the portal was opened less than a month ago.

“It has not even been one month of this planet’s lunar rotations.” He reminded her. “One cannot expect instantaneous results. Not if you wish a job done properly.”

He said this, remembering full well that he had often demanded instant results from those under him, regardless of the difficulty of the task. Hordak cast his brain around trying to remember if Catra was one such underling he demanded immediate results from and he was alarmed to realize that he could not recall.

Her lips curled into an unforgiving sneer. “I’m giving you until the end of the day.”

“End of the night.” Hordak argued, irrationally negotiating for more time knowing full well that he did not have the upper hand in this situation. “I work best in the dark.”

That unforgiving sneer morphed into a humorless smile. Almost malicious. Like she were laughing at some cruel but secret joke that only she knew. “Until the end of the night.”

She held his eyes for a moment longer. Mismatched yellow and blue, holding bioluminescent red.

Hordak looked away first. Admitting submission.

Catra smirked with a nod. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She walked away.

Hordak watched her leave, waiting to the count of ten after the bridge door closed behind her to move. He didn’t exactly know what he had to do, but he did know that he couldn’t remain with Catra. He didn’t know the desert like she did, upon arriving in the Crimson Wastes, Hordak quickly learned that all of the reports he’d received on it were inaccurate, if not all out wrong. So, running aimlessly into the dunes was not an escape, it was just a different kind of sentence. What he needed was help.

Loath though he was to admit it.

Needing help meant he was weak.

But, as a treacherous scientist he still had conflicting feelings about once said, ‘Everyone needs a little help sometimes.’

Hordak hadn’t been able to figure out the former She-Ra’s message. It was very apparent to him that he needed the sword for that. However, every ship had a distress signal. That would be simple and straightforward. The kind of thing that even an untrained passenger could activate in a panic-stricken stupor.

The only technology on this miserable planet capable of picking up on a First Once signal was the equipment in his own Sanctum –which may or may not still be functioning- and the Princess Alliance. Hordak already knew that the chances of his own people picking up and following the signal in a meaningful time were slim to none. Not to mention, there was no reason for a Horde soldier to answer a distress signal in the first place. If a being was begging strangers for help, then they were too weak to be worth giving help to.

The Princess Alliance, however… they were soft. Their hearts bleeding for the disadvantaged and the needy. They would answer a distress call. All the more so, since this distress call would be coming from the former She-Ra’s ship. Even if they didn’t necessarily want to help, they would at least want to know what was going on at so important a place.

Once they arrived, obviously, they would never help him.

But former-Force Captain Adora and Catra might distract each other enough that Hordak could commandeer whatever vehicle they came in to simply just drive out of the Crimson Wastes. The two women were rather obsessed with each other, he’d noticed. What better distraction was there for Catra but Adora!

It was the best plan he could come up with on such short notice with such little time.

…

The command room door slid open to reveal that Entrapta had already returned. Dak paused before entering, wondering if they even should, or if they should continue to ‘give Mother some time’, as Micah suggested.

But then Entrapta looked over her shoulder to see who had just come him. “Oh. You’re here.” Her expression was cautiously curious. “Adora say’s you’re also good with tech. Come in and give me a hand with this.”

With nothing else to do, Dak shrugged and did as they were told. Imp resting on their shoulder, their ever-faithful companion.

The command room was much changed from when Dak ran out of it just a few hours before. The consoles and screens that had been inactive and inert before, were now booted up and running, blazing with warm soft light. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the change. The bioluminescent glow of their sclera dimming to not overstimulate the hybrid’s retina.

“Come in, come in.” Moving on her hair, Entrapta crossed the space to the door and wrapped a tentacle of hair around the child, pulling them off their feet and all the way into the control room.

Imp squawked in protest, falling off Dak’s shoulder when she yanked the hybrid off their feet.

Both Dak and Entrapta ignored him.

“This is the most complete First Ones outpost I’ve ever seen!” She continued, not looking at the hybrid as she spoke, but still keeping her hair wrapped around them as she moved. “If I’m gonna study it, I’ll need a lab-“ she cut herself off abruptly, stumbling over whatever word she was about to use. “An intern. I’ll need an intern. Since Adora says you’re good at tech, I was thinking you could be my Lab Intern.”

It was all the hybrid could do to just stare at their mother. Just a few hours ago, she couldn’t even be in the same room as them. Now, here she was, wrapping her hair around them and carrying them around the room as she explained things, speaking a mile a minute, and asking them to work along side her on a shared interest.

“I can take apart and put back together the robots in your Locked Room.” Dak informed her, to give an idea of their level of knowledge and skill. ‘Good with tech’ could mean any number of things and Dak did not want to endanger this tentative connection with their mother just because she and Adora had different ideas of what ‘good with tech’ meant.

Entrapta paused, not quite understanding for a moment. “’Locked Room’? Oh! You must mean my Lab! I keep it locked when I’m not in there. So, you managed to get in huh? Not bad, not bad. All my robots are my own design, but they run off First Ones power crystals, so you’re at least familiar with that much First Ones tech. Good. Good. And I’ve been told that you fixed Imp when he was offline for a bit. Imp is a very sophisticated AI from another dimension.”

Not knowing how to react to all this –for lack of a better term- praise, Dak only flushed, feeling suddenly very self-conscious. “I don’t know what all the things are called, so I can’t explain how I fixed him. I just took a look inside and connected the pieces I thought fit together.” A shrug. “Then Imp woke up and was fine.”

They did not feel the need to share the detail that they were the one who broke Imp and caused the android to go offline in the first place.

“Fascinating.” Entrapta was not looking at them. “You’re a natural prodigy with technology. Hordak, that is, the original Hordak wasn’t as clever as that. He was well educated, obviously, but not intuitive like that. That must be my genetic contribution manifesting. There is a long standing debate over whether intelligence is more strongly determined by environment or genetics. This would make a strong case for genetics.”

Once again, Dak didn’t know what to say in response to that, so they just didn’t say anything. They were just glad Mother wanted them around now.

It seemed no response was necessary because Mother was still talking. Explanations tumbling out of her mouth a mile a minute. She was exhibiting all the energy and passion that came across on her recordings. This was the version of Mother Dak was hoping to meet and they were happy Mother was recovered from her shock of meeting them enough to be this version of herself around them.

“Now that Adora’s got this place up and running, there’s so much data to go through!”

In a bit of a daze, Dak gave the now well-lit and functioning command room a more thorough examination. The consoles mostly all seemed to be on some kind of ‘waiting’ screen, although Dak could not be sure as they couldn’t read the Frist Ones language all the tech was programmed in. The central display screen, however, the one that took up almost the whole front wall, was displaying what might have been a map. It was mostly blank, but it had the latitude and longitude lines of a map. There was a spinning status wheel in the center of the screen as if it were trying to load something, or processing something, or scanning for something. Then every so often the status wheel would be interrupted and a message would flash on the screen, probably informing them of the results of the scan, although Dak couldn’t read it.

“What are we looking for?” They asked. Dak wanted to help Mother and make her like them, but they also needed to know what Mother wanted if they were to try and do it.

“Looking for?” Entrapta was momentarily confused. “We’re not looking for anything in particular. We’re just looking for knowledge! A better understanding of the First Ones and their technology.”

Wriggling in their mother’s hair enough to free one arm, Dak pointed a taloned finger at the main display screen on the front wall. “What’s that doing?”

Entrapta followed their finger with her eyes. “Oh. That. Adora set it to look for Eternia, but Eternia’s not here, so it just keep saying ‘Not Found’ then trying again. It’s in a bit of a loop.” She laughed happily. Technology could be funny.

Dak didn’t know what ‘Eternia’ was or how it might be important to Adora, but if it wasn’t within range of the scanners then it wasn’t relevant at the moment. What was relevant was that Mother wanted to learn more about First Ones tech and she was giving them an opportunity to work with her. Dak did not want to disappoint. They wanted to impress her. They wanted to contribute meaningfully to her research. “What if we set it to scan for other things?”

Turning her attention from the screen, Entrapta blinked at the hybrid, almost as if seeing them for the first time. Then her lips pulled into an excited smile and she clasped her hands together. “Like more First Ones tech! We could map out every single First Ones outpost, settlement, communications array, beacon, and base on the whole planet!”

She let the hybrid down out of her hair and turned to the nearest console, trying to recall her own rudimentary knowledge of the First Ones language. She could read a little. She wasn’t fluent. Certainly nowhere near as fluent as Adora. But she understood enough –she liked to think.

Dak could not reach the First Ones writing. They had been just barely beginning to master the Dryl dialect of Etherian basic when they ran away from home with Bow and Adora. First Ones language was beyond them. But they hoped that the suggestion was enough of a contribution that Mother would start to appreciate them.

Moving on their own hair, Dak came up beside Mother to get a better look at what she was doing. They didn’t recognize any of the characters or symbols on the keys she was typing, but she seemed to and that was the important thing, they supposed.

Imp came back to rest on top of the hybrid’s head to likewise watch Entrapta work, feeling oddly nostalgic. Seeing the hyper and overly excited Princess flit about a lab, with a sparkle in her eye, while a Horde clone looked on in mesmerized confusion. …Imp didn’t realize how much he missed master until this moment. He had been focused on master’s heir this whole time. He never had the chance to pause long enough to wonder what happened to master. Unlike Hode –whom Imp witnessed the fate of- he never saw what happened to master after the Princesses got in. He was in the corridors, covered in foam, locked out of the Sanctum, and master was in the Sanctum with the portal. Imp had no idea what happened to him.

“Look at this!” Entrapta interrupted their thoughts. “There’s a First One’s communications array in the Whispering Woods, in the village of Alwyn! And a First Ones stronghold, also in the Whispering Woods. Lot of First Ones tech in the Whispering Woods. Huh. Must have been a favorite spot of their’s or something.” She tapped her chin with her hair, filing the detail away in her mind for later study. “Ah! Here’s all the First Ones tech that keeps being unearthed in my mines back in Dryl. There’s the outpost in the Northern Reach. And over in the Crimson Wastes there’s-“

She cut herself off suddenly, staring at the signal the display was projecting.

Dak blinked glowing eyes at her. They certainly couldn’t decipher what was being projected on the main monitor. They didn’t understand the significance of the Crimson Wastes’ signal being different from the others.

“That’s not the same signal I picked up from the Fright Zone.” She said, not speaking to Dak in particular, but informing the air around them. “I need to get Adora! She’s better at reading First Ones than I am.”

Entrapta dashed from the room, leaving Dak to wonder what was going on and hope that they were not somehow being an annoyance to Mother.

Without air vents, Entrapta had to run through the halls and corridors like a normal frantic person. She found Adora sitting with Sea Hawk, as the latter was telling King Micah the story of when he first met Glimmer.

“…so then she just looks me dead-ass in the eyes and says ‘set your ship on fire’.” He was saying. “That was the moment I knew I belonged in the Princess Alliance.”

Sea Hawk paused, expecting Micah to laugh at that part. But the old man just looked confused. Like he didn’t quite understand what was supposed to be so funny. Like there was a generational gap that just couldn’t be crossed.

Entrapta interrupted them.

“I need Adora!” She announced, wrapping her hair around the younger woman and pulling her off her seat.

She carried Adora back to the command room, the rest of the group following after them. Equal parts confused and concerned. Scorpia caught up with them along the way and joined the entourage.

Dak had no moved from when their mother left. They didn’t want to risk pressing a wrong button or messing something up.

Entrapta dragged Adora to the center of the room and pointed to the central screen. “What is that?”

It took the other woman a moment or two for her brain to catch up with what Entrapta was asking. Dak realized very early on that while Adora was one kind of smart, that did not actually make her intelligent. On some things, she could be a little slow.

Finally, “That’s a distress call.” She gasped, leaning forward. “And it’s coming from Mara’s ship in the Crimson Wastes!”

“Mara’s ship!” Bow joined the group just a little bit after Scorpia had. “Is someone attacking Mara’s ship!?”

“I donno.” Adora admitted. “But we have to go. Mara was the last She-Ra before me. We can’t let her ship fall into enemy hands!”

“A First Ones’ ship?” Entrapta’s mind at first jumped to a water craft, or perhaps a floating land ship like one of the skiffs the Horde utilized. Those were the only kinds of ‘ships’ on Etheria. But then she remembered when Hordak was telling her of his turbulent origins, he mentioned ‘…with only his broken ship…’ and he was from another dimension where his people possessed technology that allowed them to travel between worlds. First Ones technology was so advanced, they must possess the same ability. The First Ones ship was a ship that had traveled to Etheria from another world –from Eternia! Entrapta had to see it! “Take me with you!”

Bow and Adora exchanged a look.

“I donno…” Adora had her misgivings.

“She might be able to help me fix the parts of Mara’s message that were damaged in the crash.” Bow pointed out.

Adora did want to know Mara’s full message. “Okay, Sea Hawk can get us back to the mainland, I imagine Micah will want to head back to Brightmoon, he can drop Dak off at Dryl on the way. We’ll take Entrapta and make our way to the Crimson Wastes.”

“Not going back to Dryl!” Dak protested this plan. They had only just met their mother, she was only just starting to give them attention. They did not want to be separated from her again. Dak glanced at Entrapta. “I want to see the First Ones ship too.”

“But it’s dangerous!” Scorpia protested. It really felt like she was the only person on the planet concerned for the child’s safety.

“Oh, Dak can take care of themself.” Adora assured her. The hybrid might be young, inexperienced, and naïve. But if they could move through the vents and ducts of the Crypto Castle, climb the outers walls, leap onto flag poles, bash flying deamon androids in the head, and leap-tackle warrior trained Jungle Tribe hunters, then they could handle themselves if things turned south in the Crimson Wastes.

Micah opened his mouth to agree with Scorpia. The Crimson Wastes were no place for a child.

But before he could say anything, the child in question cut him off. “I’m not going back to Dryl.” They repeated. “Not until Mother wants to go back. I’m going to see the First Ones ship with Mother, and you can’t stop me.” A pause. “Imp will help!”

Still perched on the hybrid’s head, the deamon gave a squawk of disagreement. He would not be helping master’s heir get themselves killed. What was it with these Horde clones and self-destructive decision making? First Hode, then Hordak, now Hordak Second of Their Name. It was almost like the drive to satisfy their wants was stronger than their drive to remain alive.

There was a beat.

Then Bow let out a sound half-way between a sigh and groan. “I mean… if they would beak two intruders out of their own dungeon and bludgeon original-Hordak’s flying minion, fly across the Growling Sea, and break into a Horde prison… why would we expect them to go back home where it safe for this?”

Dak smiled. They liked Bow. Bow just got it. Bow was probably Dak’s favorite adult thus far.

Imp chittered something rude under his breath.

As if the matter was settled, Dak grinned. “Are we ready to go?”

…

Hordak wasn’t working on the bridge consoles anymore. He wasn’t even trying to scrub and repair the former-She-Ra’s message.

He was shaping bits of metal and other scrap found around the ship into rangs, wing-shaped blades, pronged on one side, smooth on the other, like the wings on Horde banners, meant to be used as throwing weapons. Hordak was not a master of them. He preferred melee combat weapons like the force-pike or the quarter-staff. But they were his mentor’s favored weapon and Hode was a master of them. So Hordak had tried to become at least proficient with them back when he was still a Force Captain working under the late Lord.

He could not beat Catra in hand-to-hand fisticuffs. She was younger, more agile, and healthy. While he had become old for a clone, was slower than he used to be, and suffered failing health. In a straight up fight, Catra could beat him easily. Hordak needed weapons.

It only he’d had the wisdom –and discipline- to keep in practice with the throwing blades. It had been literal years since the last time he trained with them.

…

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

Zero-Zero-Three did not look away from practicing his katas with his force-pike when Red Hord entered the gymnasium. It was only a fool that allowed themselves to be distracted on the battlefield. There wasn’t a single hitch, or skip, or pause in his motions when he answered the Lord –the other Lord, he was a Lord too now, although it had not been made official yet. It would not become official until Horde Prime announced his elevation and his name.

They were making their way to Capital Core for Prime to make the announcement from Horde World, the center of the Empire. Zero-Zero-Three was a passenger aboard the Leather Vest, Lord Red Hord’s flagship.

“I have been considering several.” Zero-Zero-Three replied diplomatically. “I will never understand how you could have chosen your name so quickly in that moment.”

Red Hord walked the perimeter of the training circle. Watching Zero-Zero-Three’s movements and studying his technique. “Have you never thought of what kind of name you would choose before now?” He asked. “Did you not fantasize about rising to the cabinet from the moment you hatched from the tank?”

“I never thought I’d live long enough.” Admitted Zero-Zero-Three, feeling odd confessing to someone other than Hode. Hode knew about his defects. Hode understood. Red Hord did not know. Red Hord could not understand.

“Is that why you jumped to defend Hode when he didn’t want or need it?” Asked the other clone. “It was stupid, and if Hode had been literally any other Lord, he would have punished you severely. But you didn’t care, because you expected to die anyway.”

In that moment, at Horrin’s trial, Zero-Zero-Three had not even thought about dying. He had just wanted to protect his Lord. An older clone whom was the best superior officer Zero-Zero-Three had ever worked directly under. His own safety –never mind his life- didn’t even enter into his mind.

Completing the final kata in the set, Zero-Zero-Three paused.

He tried not to think about Hode too much. He was still angry at the older clone for demoting him and leaving him behind without explanation. Then the old man just had to go and die, so that not explanation could ever be given. Zero-Zero-Three resented him for that. But, hand in hand with that resentment was a strange and uncomfortable kind of regret. Hode had been the best superior he ever worked under and he died far away. Zero-Zero-Three wasn’t there with him when it happened. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t get to wish him farewell before the older clone went to join the All High Host.

Perhaps he paused too long, because Red Hord walked past the training circle and opened the weapons cabinet on the far wall. “Do you know any other weapons.”

“I am programed the same as all clones.” Zero-Zero-Three sounded almost insulted. “I know all the weapons the Horde uses.”

“But are you good at them?” Red Hord clarified.

Zero-Zero-Three paused to consider. “I’m good at the arm-mounted cannon, and throwing rangs.”

“Well, we won’t be firing arm-mounted cannons inside my ship.” Red Hord announced. “So, throwing rangs it’ll have to be. Let’s have a match.”

He pulled out a case full of twenty four standard issue, polished, and honed rangs.

It was standard contest rules. A few warm up rounds where all they had to do was stand still and throw at the practice targets. After the warmup, Red Hord hit the switch to run the training program. Moving targets now. Alternating gymnasium lights for distraction, panels opening in the walls to place objects in the way, or automated weapons that forced them to dodge or defend while still trying to make their shots. The program rising in difficulty and intensity as time went on.

“You know,” began Red Hord, never taking his eyes off the targets. His hands deftly plucked rang after rang off his belt, and flicked them at the targets with the skill of one who used the weapons often. “It’s not just your own name you’ll have to think of. You’ll also get to name your own capital ship.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Zero-Zero-Three didn’t have to think about that. He already had something in mind for what he always thought would be a suitably intimidating and strong name for a capital ship. “Monstron, is what I’d name my flagship.”

Red Horde scoffed. Still not taking his attention off the training program they were running. “That does not follow the naming scheme for Imperial command flagships.”

All Imperial command flagships, that is, ships that belonged to the Emperor and his cabinet Lords, all followed the same naming scheme as the Velvet Glove. [Textile], [item]. The Velvet Glove, the Leather Vest, the Vinyl Hood, Lycra Pant, and Linen Cloak. So, Zero-Zero-Three had to come up with a name for his flagship as well as himself.

“Did Hode ever tell you why he named his ship the Vinyl Hood?” Asked Red Hord as he executed an unnecessarily complicated dodge and throw move, and still managed to hit the target.

Zero-Zero-Three did not want to admit that, no, Hode never did tell him why he named his flagship the Vinyl Hood.

“Something that’s hooded is hidden.” Explained Red Hord.

He said it so heavily, as if there was more meaning to the statement than just ‘hoods equal hide’. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t understand the significance and he fumbled a dodge in his confusion. A long pole folding out from the wall and catching him in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and he staggered backwards, determined to keep his feet under him. The last thing he wanted to do was collapse in front of one of the cabinet Lords –one of his fellow cabinet Lords, he was one of them now.

Shutting down the training program, Red Hord stared at him, studying. “Hode didn’t tell you anything.”

The words stung. Zero-Zero-Three liked to think he was special to the older clone. At least, Lord Hode seemed to invest unnecessary amounts of time in trying to educate him on culture. Poetry, fiction, sculpture, illustration, and music. But not in how he chose the name for his flagship. Or where he came up with his own name. ‘Hode’ was just ‘Horde’ with the R removed, right? At least, that’s what Zero-Zero-Three always thought. But now that he was learning that he didn’t actually know his Lord as well as he thought he did, Zero-Zero-Three was beginning to question that too.

The other Lord was still giving him a weird look. Zero-Zero-Three almost couldn’t decipher it. “You really don’t know about Hode.”

All this heavily weighted talk about the old clone with veiled significance that he didn’t understand was really starting to irritate Zero-Zero-Three. “Hode was a cabinet Lord, I was merely his Force Captain. He was not required to tell me anything.”

“Of course.” Nodded Red Hord. He was a cabinet Lord too, and was also equally not required to tell his subordinates anything. He circled the perimeter of the room, collecting the throwing rangs from the targets –and the walls just off from the targets, one of them needed to work on their aim. “You know, no one has seen Lord Hode’s deamon since he died. We’re all very interested to know what happened to it.”

Zero-Zero-Three frowned. “When Lord Hode demoted me to Territory Captain and then left me there, he still had his deamon with him.”

“I know.” Red Hord nodded, depositing the rangs back in their case and closing the weapons cabinet. “I wasn’t asking you where it was. Just mentioning that it was interesting that it was missing. Fascinating robots, the deamon-class android. Horde Prime meant them to be sort of administrative assistants for his cabinet. They had the same level of intelligence as a fully formed clone, but with much more memory storage, and the ability to record audio files. It would have made them perfect for relaying messages and communiques between the cabinet without danger of interception by enemy rebels. But all the cabinet used them for was to spy on and undermine each other.”

That must be why none of the other –current- cabinet Lords had deamons of their own. When Zero-Zero-Three was still newly hatched, he remembered another of the cabinet Lords besides Hode having a deamon. But when that Lord died, his deamon was decommissioned along with his flagship and never seen again.

Red Hord moved to exit the gymnasium. “Imagine what kinds of recordings and files Hode stored on his deamon.” He left. “Think of a decent name, and practice more with those rangs. Your aim is terrible.”

…

Everyone piled into the Dragon’s Daughter. Adora, Bow, Entrapta, Scorpia, Swift Wind, Imp, Micah, Dak, and of course, Sea Hawk. It was a little cramped on the deck, but not so much to prevent Sea Hawk from sailing it. There was some awkward squeezing between horse posterior and elongated scorpion tail, and uncomfortable bending and kneeling to tie off the main sail and make sure the boom didn’t swing around the bash anybody in the head.

But after they were out of the harbor and out on the water, things settled down.

There was an awkward moment where everyone was sort of staring at everyone. There really wasn’t much sitting room. Unless they didn’t mind sitting on the taffrail. But that ran the risk of them falling off the boat. Sea Hawk and Adora were the only ones brave enough. Feeling a bit claustrophobic, surrounded by so many people, Entrapta used her hair to lift herself up the mast, finding a more comfortable seat in the crows nest.

“So…” Bow began, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Usually, when we sail with Sea Hawk we have songs.”

“I’m not allowed to sing my song anymore.” Announced the sailor.

From out of nowhere, Bow produced his violin. “But we know more than one song, don’t we.”

With musical accompaniment, Scorpia reprised her song ‘Twiddle’.

“Saber had her lovers, they came in at every door, “You could even say that she was really quite a whore. “But when she needs some pleasing, she knows just where to go “I grab my good friend Madam Rouge and we go down below.”

After she finished the final chorus of her song, Micah, wanting to get in on the fun volunteered a song from when he was growing up in Mysticor.

“Sixteen books on magic spells, “Stacked below the cloak of elves. “And sixteen books on magic spells, “So elegantly bound. “And I know I could not say why, “On this summer evening.”

When Micah was done, however, the deck lapsed back into an awkward silence. No one really knowing what to say to anyone else. It wasn’t like all of them were friends. Scorpia and Imp were former Horde. Technically, Adora was too, but she was also a Hero of the Rebellion, same as Bow. Micah was an old Rebellion leader, but hadn’t been seen for twenty years. No one on the boat had ever actually met him before coming to Beast Island. No one really knew where Entrapta and Dak stood. Entrapta seemed to hop the lines as if she were playing jump rope, and Dak made it abundantly clear that they stood with their ‘mother’.

“Hey, Entrapta, you know any songs from Dryl?” Scorpia shouted up the mast at the older woman.

Lifting her welding mask, Entrapta looked down at them, almost confused. One would think no one had ever asked her what kinds of songs her country had before. “Well, there was one song my robot-parents used to sing for me…” She confessed. Tapping her chin with her hair, it look her a moment to recall the lyrics. Then she started snapping her fingers, the glove muting the sound slightly.

“Do, do, do, woah… Arrow of entro~opic time. “Oh, arrow of entropic time. “If you made a scrambled egg tonight, “There’d be no return to yoke and white. “And when it’s fried you, can’t go back to raw food. “Structure decomposes ‘til it’s gone. “Hots spots cool and entropy grows on. “My lab was cleaner, now looks like Mantisours been there. “Not my fault, blame it on entropic time.”

She petered out as she realized that the others were not enjoying her song quite as much as they did the others. All except Dak. They appeared to be gazing up at her, hanging on every lyric. They, at least, appreciated a bouncy do-op song about science. Entrapta appreciated them just a little bit more.

Imp jumped up on Swift Wind’s back and screeched for everyone to pay attention to him now. He wasn’t just a highly advanced AI and audio file and data storage unit. He had music in him too! Hode made sure to save some song files to him.

“I am not a stage.” Swift Wind informed the flying germline. He might have bucked a bit to get the wined troll of himself. But he couldn’t do so without kicking someone else, they were so cramped on the deck of the ship. So, the horse ruffled his wings and resigned himself to being Imp’s sounding platform.

The deamon opened his mouth and began a recording he never thought he’d ever find a relevant moment to play.

“Are you recording?” Came a voice that sounded remarkably like Hordak’s but… not quite Hordak’s. There was a bit of feedback and a squawk that sounded a bit like Imp’s own voice answering the speaker. “Well, blink or something. I can never tell when you’re recoding. Anyway…”

There was the sound of a few strings being plucked experimentally. Then the plucking melted into an almost haunting melody. Then the voice that sounded like Hordak, but couldn’t possibly be Hordak began to sing.

“If we should lose the fight, “Light’s Hope burns ever brighter. “One hundred days and nights, “Engines, pistons form a choir.

“If blood should stain the skies, “As waxing stars re-ignite. “From Despondent dark they rise, “And strike a chord of steel and light.”

“Nobody wants to hear your crapping Horde songs!” Micah cut him off abruptly. He swatted at the little deamon, whom fell off the horse’s back.

Imp gave an indignant squawk. It wasn’t a Horde song. The Horde had no songs. It was a rebel song. From a rebel world. Taught to Hode by a rebel leader.

Clearing his throat, Sea Hawk drew everyone’s attention to him. “Land’s coming into view. I just wanna confirm, I’m just dropping you guys off close to the Crimson Wastes, and then Micah and I are continuing on the Brightmoon alone.”

Adora and Entrapta nodded.

As She-Ra, Adora could not let ship of the previous She-Ra fall into enemy hands.

While Entrapta was fascinated and excited to study a First One’s craft that could travel between worlds.

Bow, Dak, and Scorpia were tagging along with them for their own personal reasons.

Sea Hawk was going to make sure King Micah finally got home to his daughter.

#hordak #catra #entrapta #king micah #scorpia #bow #dak #imp #swift wind #entrapta/hordak #entrapdak #entrapdak kid #clone baby au #songs #a song of steel and light

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justanotherwannabeclassic · 5 years

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Awhile ago, I made a post on Tumblr discussing that we never saw see Steve find or emote about Sharon's miscarriage, and how I was basically writing a fanfic in my head to deal. A few people messaged me asking for me to post that fic, so here we are. (Also lol @ me for writing fic for a story that’s 12/13 years old.)

Push Away the Unimaginable

Steve finds out about the baby. (Captain America V. 5)

He finds out from Sam — a pure accident on Sam’s part, born from the assumption that Sharon had told him when the two had discussed everything that had occurred since she had pulled the trigger and he had gone down, down, down.

(He doesn’t use the word ‘death’, doesn’t like the shadow of guilt in her eyes, doesn’t ever desire for her to shoulder blame.

Besides, death implies peace, and his time gone was anything but.)

“Honestly, it’s just good to see her to really smile again, you know? Between what happened with you and losing the baby, I never thought…”

What Sam says next, Steve cannot tell. It’s as if the entire world blurs around that moment as he processes the words “losing the baby”. Three words, enough to upend his world and drastically restructure the way he has thought about the past year.

Sam registers this — Steve’s surprise must be apparent — and his face morphs into a mixture of worry and regret.

“Shit, I thought you knew,” he says. Sam does not reach out and place his hand on Steve’s shoulder in comfort as her normally might, an act — a lack of — that Steve appreciates as he continues to digest the sudden revelation.

He’s learned a lot over the past few months. Friendly faces have taken over his shield. There have been secret invasions and the fall of SHIELD. This is what knocks the air out of his chest.

Perhaps the reason is because Sam has inadvertently reminded him of a life that has once again slipped through his fingers, a future that he wants so desperately, but can never have.

“What happened?” Steve asks, when his tongue no longer feels like lead and he stops tasting bile in his throat.

“That’s not my story to tell. You’re going to have to talk to Sharon about that, but don’t be too upset at her, okay? She did everything she could,” Sam tells him. “Go to her, Steve.”

And so Steve does, an apology on his lips that Sam waves off.

(What did he do to deserve such good friends?)

He makes his way back to Brooklyn, back to where he knows Sharon will be. He doesn’t pay attention to which route he takes, too busy turning over recent revelations and past conversations.

He recalls the scar on her belly, the one he didn’t recognize that night he laid her out bare on their bed for the first time since he’d returned. She had tensed when his fingers had ghosted over the jagged line, and when he asked, she told him with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, “I got into a few scrapes while you were gone. But don’t worry, I lived.” He hadn’t pressed then, his mind too foggy with arousal and the desire to make her feel loved. So he let it go, and continued his quest down, down, down until she was grasping the sheets and gasping his name as she fell into a sweet oblivion.

Steve realizes now he should have been more perceptive.

He can roughly pinpoint about when the baby might have been conceived, and doesn’t entertain the possibility that it might not have been his — his heart can only break so much. Back when he had been on the run, when a target had been on his back and she’d been the bait, they’d been sloppy, so very sloppy with when and where and whether to use anything at all. Protection had been the last thing on his mind during those stolen moments, when all he wanted to do was feel and fuck and hold onto the only thing the world he was sure of anymore.

(Her, it has always been her. Even when they weren’t together Sharon has always maintained that special place in his heart.)

Sharon is on their sofa when he returns home. Her cheeks are ruddy, and when Steve’s gaze catches her red-rimmed eyes, he realizes she knows why he came home so soon.

“Sam,” she says by way of recognition, her voice brittle and oh so sad. In that moment, Steve also recognizes that the bounds of Sam’s loyalty have extended beyond Steve himself, now encompassing Sharon in a way that he could never touch.

(The past year has been hard on them all, and Steve is so, so glad they didn’t have to wage a war with grief alone.)

He crosses the room quickly. His heart clenches when Sharon flinches the moment he sits by her side. She’s always been so strong, so resolute when it has come to her encounters with him. Steve can’t deny that the move hurts, but he understands it all the same, all of their past conversations about children and parenthood racing through his mind.

He takes her hand in his, threads their fingers and presses a kiss to her knuckles with the hope that she will relax against him, that she might be able to finally trust him with this.

“I’m not— I’m not mad,” he says, because he needs her to know this. Heartbroken, perhaps, and feeling so incredibly helpless, but not mad.

“I love you,” he says next, because he thinks she needs to hear that too, because he believes it with all his heart, and he doubts anything could ever change that. Not even this.

She turns to him, eyes searching like she doesn’t quite believe him, and that breaks his heart, as well. He’s fought many battles and overcome an untold number of obstacles, but Steve Rogers still struggles with erasing her doubt in his love.

(Sometimes hates Nick and SHIELD leaving her behind, for throwing her into a situation that forced her to throw up these walls.

Sometimes he hates himself for believing them.)

“I love you too,” she finally replies. She takes a deep breath, before continuing. “It’s why I…”

“Didn’t tell me?”

“Wanted it so badly,” she finishes. “I didn’t deserve it, but it was all I had left of you. And you wanted kids, I know you wanted kids so badly. I felt like I owed you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he stresses, because the last thing he wants is for her to feel as if she is indebted to him.

She shakes her head. “For the briefest moment, I allowed myself to picture it, you know? How ridiculously blonde it would be.”

“Very,” he agrees, allowing himself to picture it for a moment, a small child with Sharon’s eyes — he loves her eyes — and a crown of golden hair. A knot forms in his throat.

“And then...and then…”

And then she tells him. She tells him about taking the test, about how she wanted to die. She tells him about used a pawn by Faustus, about trying to escape and believing for the briefest moment that Burnside had actually been him. She then tells him how she learned what they wanted to do with their child, the torture it would experience in those monster’s hands. It’s why she fought. It’s why—

“You must hate me.”

“I hate them, and maybe myself, but not you,” he says instead, because that it what he honestly feels. Rage boils in his belly as he thinks about Faustus, the Skull, and his daughter. Hates that they took this away from him, from Sharon, and the trauma they put her through.

Steve hates that she experienced it because of him.

It’s not the first time that the shield has done a number of his personal life. He’s lost loved ones because of it, but this is a special kind of hurt. Sharon had been a target because of her proximity to him, brainwashed to hold and aim an gun at the man she loved and to pull that trigger, forced to weigh the life her unborn child against inevitable torture.

“Don’t hate yourself for this. There was nothing you could have done.”

“Exactly. There was nothing I could do.”

“And that’s because of me.”

“Because of them,” he replies, falling back into the same circular argument they’ve been having since his return, whether or not she should carry the blame for her complicity it his apparent death. He wonders if they’ll still be having this debate when they’re old and gray. “Regardless, that — that doesn’t matter right now.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” he says softly. He rakes his free hand through his hair and sighs. “I just wish you would have felt comfortable telling me, that’s all.”

Because that hurts too. Not as much, but he can’t ignore the sting that he had to learn this from Sam. A dark part of him can’t help but wonder what else she might not be telling him, a thought he pushes away because is neither the time nor place to think these things.

“Because you knowing or not knowing doesn’t change what happened. You’re home. I didn’t want — I just wanted to focus on being happy while we had the chance to be.”

“I don’t want you to compartmentalize your happiness for mine,” he argues.

“Steve, for the first time in a very long time, I’ve been happy,” Sharon insists, and Steve can see it in her eyes that she is being honest. “And ‘forget’ is the wrong word, but I had been distracted from thinking about it, you know? Until…”

“Until today.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. Perhaps he had misjudged in his decision to go to her, to ask her about what Sam had said. Perhaps she didn’t need his wallowing.

“Hey, you know what you said about compartmentalizing my feelings? That goes for you too, buddy.” She gives him a teasing sort of smile, the first one Steve has seen since walking into the room. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was only trying to protect you, and selfishly, me.”

“I know.” This is something the serum couldn’t have prepared him for, he thinks. Steve untangles their fingers so that he can wrap his arms around her, and pull her against his chest. “And I still love you.”

“Good,” she replies, snuggling closer to him. He can still feel the dampness of her cheeks even though his t-shirt, and he tightens his hold. “What now?”

I want to kill them all, he thinks.

“I want to hold you for awhile, if that’s okay,” is what he says.

He feels her nod. “It’s okay.”

So they sit, and as Steve is soothed by the warmth of her body and the rise and fall of her chest, he daydreams of the child he might have had, the one that was lost and oh so loved.

#stevesharon #staron #s writes fic

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ramheavenandhell · 5 years

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Rick and Morty Forever and One Hundred Years – Chapter 4: There is a reason

AN: So, after much debating whether I should make this the next chapter or not, I finally decided to just post this. Also, sorry for the long wait. I'll try to get the next update out faster (even if I can't make any promises). Warnings: still Rick/Morty slowburn, a little angsty

Rick and Morty Forever and One Hundred Years – Chapter 4: There is a reason Morty felt, in one word, groggy this morning. After the mostly positive impression that Rick had made on his family – at least on his mother – he was able to convince Beth to spend some time with Rick outside of school again. Of course, the woman agreed to it under one condition and that being that he had to finish his homework before he would be allowed to go and see his best friend. Since this offer was a rare opportunity – and thankfully Rick's new call divert was surprisingly working and had kept his parents from finding out that he was still skipping school – Morty had worked the entire Friday afternoon and evening to finish said task even if he would have preferred to spend the time differently with watching a movie or something similar to that. Truth be told, he had pulled an all-nighter to get his homework done, seeing that Beth had insisted on checking it and Morty was sure that she would not be satisfied if he got it wrong. So, he was super tired and nervous right now, venturing downstairs to present his completed work to his mother. Needless to say that most of the time that he had spent on this was wasted on trying to catch up with the topics that he had missed in school thanks to being absent. He vaguely thought that he should have tried to ask Rick to come over and help him with this. After all, it was his fault that Morty was lagging behind in his classes and he was sure that his mom wouldn't have minded if he would have kindly asked in advance. The brunet nervously cleared his throat as he watched his mother read over what he had written without showing any changes or some kind of readable emotion on her face. "This looks okay." She finally said and smiled a little. "See, Morty. If you just put a little effort into it, you can do so well." Morty bit back on commenting that it was more than just "a little effort". "So, can I go see Rick now?" He asked excitedly. "Of course. Just be back before dinner." As he sprinted out of the parlor, he could hear his dad complaining again. "Beth! We really shouldn't let him see this hooligan again! Besides Morty is still supposed to be grounded! You can't just go and make exceptions whenever he asks! That way he's never going to learn—" The rest was thankfully cut off as Morty closed the front door after himself. If he could avoid listening to another one of his parents' arguments, he gladly took the chance. He practically ran all the way to Rick's garage, happy to see the other again even if he had just seen him yesterday. For some odd reason it always felt longer when they were apart though, but that was something that the brunet wasn't willing to ponder about now. "Hey, Rick!" He greeted his friend who was like usual hunched over his workbench. The spiky-haired boy looked up at him. "Hey, Morty. You're earlier than I expected. I thought you were supposed to finish your homework first." "I did finish my homework." Morty replied indignantly. "That's great, Morty." Rick replied absentmindedly, already turned back to his project again. The brunet huffed a little at the easy dismissal of his friend, but with curiosity winning out, he joined the other at his workbench. "You're still working on the design of your improved portal gun?" "Nah." Rick replied as if that was ages old news. "I've put that one on ice for now and am back on the space cruiser again…" Morty made an agreeing hum as he took in the blueprints that the other was working on. At the moment, the focus seemed to be more on the technical side than the design as Rick had only finished to draw the bottom part of the vehicle yet. "I'm still missing a shit ton of parts, but I've got at least something to work with here." The blue haired boy commented as he finished scribbling down some last notes on the margin of the paper. "C'mon, Morty. You can help me with this." The brunet perked up like a puppy and was eager to assist. Over the course of the next hours, the boys disassembled the car and Rick rolled on his creeper underneath it while ordering Morty to fetch him one part or another tool. This went on relatively smoothly until the yellow-shirted teen failed to fetch him one part that he requested. "Look harder, Morty. It has to be on the shelf." Rick's voice was slowly filling with frustration the longer Morty failed to get him that item. "I'm telling you that it's not here. There's all sorts of junk on your shelf, but nothing that looks like what you described me to get you." Morty fired back. "If you don't believe me, you can come over here and look for yourself." With a sigh of annoyance Rick rolled out from under the car and stood up. "How hard can it be to just—" The boy stopped mid-grumble as he saw that Morty hadn't lied and the needed object was indeed not where it should be. He began to hum in thought as he tried to remember where he could have left it. "Ah, fuck!" Rick cursed, as he finally seem to remember. "It's in my room at home…" With a heavy sigh, he walked over to the safe that stood underneath his workbench and opened it. While getting out a big wad of cash, he said, "C'mon, Morty. Guess we're gonna have to go shopping so I can build another one." "Why don't you just go home and get that one? I'm sure it's not going to take as much time as building a new one, does it?" Morty asked back. "Or, yeah, I could just do that, I guess…" The brunet blinked at the unenthusiastic response and noticed how Rick had averted his eyes. If he wouldn't know any better, he'd say that his friend was avoiding going home. After storing the cash in the safe again, Rick walked past the other boy and said, "You wait here, Morty. I'll make it quick." "Can't I come with?" "Uh, no." Rick turned to him and lifted one side of his unibrow as if questioning him. "I just told you to stay here and wait for me, didn't I?" "Oh come on, Rick. I invited you to my home last week so don't you think it's only fair that I can come over to yours, too?" Morty knew that he was kind of treading on thin ice here since no one was ever invited over to Rick's home or even knew where he lived. Not even his so considered besties, B.P. and Squanchy. However, the mystery was too intriguing for the boy to just back down now. After all, when would he get a chance like this again? "Well, my parents don't like me inviting anyone over, so…" Rick scratched at the back of his head. Morty was quick to reply. "Then I'll just wait outside!" "Why can't you just wait here for me?" "It's going to be boring waiting for you here." The brunet replied with a cute pout. Rick looked like he still wanted to protest, struggling with words, but nothing that made sense came out. Maybe he was just imagining it, but Morty thought for a moment that he could see a slight flush on the other's cheeks. "Fine." Rick finally give in with a loud huff. "But you're gonna have to wait outside." "I will." Morty replied with a bright smile, happy to have won the other over. Since Rick quickly turned around, the brunet wasn't able to see Rick's red face. "Whatever. Let's just go." He mumbled and sighed once more listlessly. Morty more skipped than walked next to Rick as they made their way to the genius's home for a few minutes. That was until the other rolled his eyes and told him to cut it out. With a slightly dampened mood, the brunet looked around to where they were going. The sight of clean apartment blocks in a slightly nicer area gave way to grey and dirt as they came to a shabbier district. As if that wasn't enough, the sun was covered by clouds and it began to drizzle before slowly turning into a heavier rain. Both boys began to run the last few feet until they reached the door of an apartment complex. Morty studied the structure that looked old and in need of repair as Rick unlocked the door. As he wanted to follow inside after his best friend blocked him. "We agreed that you're waiting outside." "Are you serious? It's pouring! Just let me wait inside. I'm going to stay down here. That shouldn't be a problem, right?" Morty couldn't believe that Rick would seriously let him wait outside in this rain. The other sighed before he finally gave. "Okay. But you gotta stay down here." "Yeah, I just said that I would, Rick." Morty watched Rick climb the stairs till he was out of sight. With nothing better to do, his ears followed the noises of his best friend, listening to each step that he took outside of his field of vision. The sound then stopped and morphed into a shuffled walk before it stopped once again and the jangling of keys could be heard. Even over the noises of the rainstorm outside, Morty could hear how the door clicked open. He was a startled as suddenly the questioning voice of a woman could be heard, which became muffled a second later as the door swung shut again. Had that been Rick's mom? For a moment, there was only the pitter-patter of the rain that knocked against the door as Morty continued to wait and look around the dirty hallway. He was jerked out of his boredom as he could hear that voice again, but this time it was sounding enraged and screaming even though he still couldn't tell what she yelled. Gulping heavily, he wondered if it was Rick's mother or just another tenant next door, but he was sure that this was the same voice that he had heard before and if his ears hadn't played tricks on him then it must have come from his friend's apartment. As he suddenly heard crashing sounds as if things were being thrown around, he became alarmed. Despite what Rick had told him, Morty's worry drove him to climb the stairs, his ears guiding him as he followed the sounds of the ruckus. At the third floor, he stopped and tried to pinpoint, which door was the right one. An especially loud noise coupled with the nameplate, which stated "Sanchez" above the doorbell, confirmed to Morty that he had found the right apartment. Nervously his index finger began to hover in the direction of the bell button, knowing that Rick won't be happy if he did this, but too worried for his best friend's safety to just stand around and do nothing. However, before he could reach it, the door was suddenly flung open and Rick almost ran straight into him. Probably more out of reflex than anything, the spiky haired boy pulled him down and Morty could only stare in disbelieve as an half-empty bottle flew over their heads to smash against the opposite wall, its alcoholic contents – if the smell was anything to go by – leaving a stain on said grey wall and floor. "I've told you to wait downstairs!" Rick hissed and dragged Morty with him, his hand holding tightly onto the brunet's smaller one. "Richard Sanchez! You get back here this instant!" The female voice bellowed after them. As Morty turned around, he was only able to take in a glimpse of the woman. She had long, red hair and from what he could see in that brief moment, she was actually very pretty. "I'm not done talking yet! You're a good for nothing just like your lousy father!!" Morty wasn't able to make out much of the rest of what she yelled as the echoing in the hallway and the noises of their hurried footsteps obscured it. As Rick abruptly stopped though, Morty almost face planted and threatened to fall down the rest of the stairs if it hadn't been for the strong grip of his friend. Only now did he even briefly stop to think that Rick was holding his hand and the thought made heat rise to his face. Finally looking up, Morty registered the reason why Rick had so suddenly stopped in his descend. A man stood across from him, wearing glasses, a light blue shirt, cravat and holding a briefcase. He looked like your typical blue-collar worker. The brunet was able to feel the tension in the air as the two males stared at each other. Then the man looked the other way and continued to climb up the stairs, moving past Rick as if the boy wasn't even there. "Rick? Was that your—" Rick didn't let him finish the whispered question as he began to pull him along again. "C'mon!" Morty had a feeling that this man could have probably been Rick's dad. His unnaturally looking light blue hair that matched the shade of his best friend's spiky mane, certainly led him to believe that. However, seeing as the other was unwilling to talk about it, the brunet decided to drop the subject. As they backtracked to Rick's garage again, the storm having calmed down to a light drizzle, Morty used the time to think about what had just happened. He always complained to his friend about how bothered he was about his parents' constant arguments and Rick had often reacted with understanding towards it or in the same way as Summer by stating that they should just get over it and divorce already. In all that time, Morty had never bothered to think that his friend could possibly be in the same position as him – if not even worse. It made him feel like a shitty friend. He should have been able to catch onto that sooner. Now everything made sense: the ratty mattress in the garage, Rick refusing to invite people to his home or even letting anyone know where he lived, Rick's avoidance to go home and pick up that thing which's name he had already forgotten again. Rick really was right when he always told Morty that he was slow and he felt so stupid for it now. By the time that the rain had completely stopped and the sun began to peek out behind the wall of clouds again, Morty decided to break the silence that hung between them. "Hey, Rick?" Rick hummed in acknowledgement. "Um, first of all sorry for not listening to you…" Morty began. "Yeah really, Morty? I told you to do one thing. Just to wait downstairs. Why can't you ever fucking listen?!" the other reprimanded. "I was just worried about you." Morty admitted in a small voice. He honestly had been and from the look of things not for nothing. Rick only sighed and decided to let the subject drop again. "Hey, Rick?" Morty started anew. "What is it?" Rick sounded annoyed, probably hoping that the other wasn't going to plan asking about what had happened back there at his apartment. "Why are you friends with me?" "Huh?" The question took the spiky-haired boy by surprise. "Why are you friends with me?" Morty repeated the question. "You're pretty decent at following directions, I guess." Rick replied without looking at the brunet. "At least most of the time." He added as an afterthought. "Wait! Is that it? You only see me as a good henchman?" Rick sighed and looked at him again. "It's more than just that Morty." "What is it then?" "It's for entirely selfish reasons, Morty." Rick said and averted his eyes again. Once more, silence accompanied them on the way back to the garage while the brunet tried to figure out what his friend had meant with that.

The teens were back to tinkering on the car and aside from Rick asking Morty to fetch him one thing or another again, there wasn't much conversation going on between them. Morty hated it, but whenever he opened his mouth to say something, he closed it a second later again. It was very apparent to the boy that his friend didn't want to talk about his parents with him and trying to ask about what Rick had meant when he asked about their friendship would also only lead straight into a wall again because the other wasn't going to elaborate on that. Morty had honestly just been wondering if Rick had seen some similarities between them and therefore decided to befriend the shy brunet that no one else was interested in. Maybe he just wanted to talk about his problems with someone that would understand him because they were in the same boat. "Hey, Morty. Get me a beer. A cold one." Morty sighed. As much as he wanted to tell Rick no or voice how much he disliked his friend's unhealthy habit, – or wasn't it actually a coping mechanism now? – he already knew by now that it was pointless and would only end with the genius blowing up in his face and then getting the beverage himself. So, the brunet complied and plucked a can from the mini fridge before handing it to Rick who wheeled from underneath the car and sat up on his creeper. Morty watched how Rick's long and nimble finger hooked into the lug and manipulated it as he opened the can in two fluid motions, the stupidly mundane task somehow a fascinating spectacle to watch, almost as if it was surreal. The small hissing sound of air escaping the container was like a start signal and the teen still continued to watch almost as if he was hypnotized how Rick's lips kissed the lid as he tipped the can and began to drink. Only the satisfied belch that was followed by bits of spittle dripping down the spiky-haired boy's lower lip, which was quickly wiped away again, broke Morty out of his stupor again. That was gross! Probably better though because his mind had started to drift in a weird direction, as he was just about to imagine what it would be like to be a can… "Ah. That's much better." Rick commented before he took another sip. Morty's brows crinkled. "Can you please keep low on the beer today, Rick?" The other almost spit out his drink. "C'mon, Morty! That's my first can today. You don't have to start acting as if you're my mom or something." That statement made the brunet's frown deepen. After today, he really couldn't appreciate that kind of joke. "Apropos mom, didn't yours tell you to be home before dinner? You should probably be going now." He motioned vaguely with his arm in the direction of the clock that hung on the wall. Morty's eyes followed that motion and also examined the time. "You're right. I need to go now." The boy was about to leave when a sudden thought struck him. "Hold on! How do you know that my mom said that to me?" Rick looked at him with big eyes as if he was shocked by the question before he covered it up with a grin. "You told me when you got here, dummy." "No, I didn't." Morty protested back, though he did rack his brain, trying to remember if he had said something to that degree. "Then how else would I know about it?" Rick replied cooly and took another sip from the can. "Rick? Did you—could—have you planted cameras and microphones in my house?" It was out in the open now. Morty's biggest suspicion laid bare for his friend to either deny or confirm. Again, Rick answered him with a bug-eyed stare. "What the hell, Morty? Dude, that's something that only a creepy stalker would do! What do you take me for?" For a moment, there was only silence as Morty let the answer run slowly through his brain, going through every winding and touching every single brain cell once. Rick lifted the side of his eyebrow as if nonverbally asking again if Morty was really serious about this. "Oh, okay…" The brunet finally answered and felt ashamed of himself again for making such accusations against his best friend. Of course, Rick wouldn't do something like that. He probably really just forgot that he had told Rick that his mother wanted him back home before dinner when he got to the garage. "See you on Monday then, Rick." He bid his goodbye in a still small voice. "See ya, Morty." The other replied. What Morty had completely failed to see though, was that Rick hadn't actually denied or confirmed his question…

AN: Hands in the air if you were jelly of Rick's beer can for a moment!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

#rick and morty #ram #rnm #rick #tiny rick #morty #morty smith #rickmorty #rickorty #rorty #rick/morty #au #slow burn #fanfic #fanfiction #hopesfanfictions #angst

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jswdmb1 · 5 years

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King For A Day

“Well the way that we're living,

Is all take and no giving,

There's nothing to believe in,

The loudest mouth will hail the new found way”

- XTC

The State of the Union and the Democratic response will be on tonight and I will not be watching (I’ll actually be at the Loyola game where you should be too!). This is not some sort of meaningless protest but rather a part of honoring a commitment I have made to myself not to waste any given day. This also has nothing to do with any personal dislike I have for the current president or anyone else in office as I haven’t paid attention to one of these addresses in years (if ever). It’s a pointless exercise that somehow became a tradition that nobody ever wanted.

The Constitution only requires that the president report back to Congress from time-to-time on how things are going. This was back in a time when that type of report would have been necessary due to the lack of technology we have now that allows everyone to keep tabs on everybody. It was also because of the legitimate separation of branches of government existed where Congress and the executive branch generally stayed pretty far apart. The State of the Union was typically a written report and basically served as an inter-office memo to keep the two branches updated on their activities and that’s about it.

At some point in the 20th century, this changed and the address became delivered by the president in person at the invitation of Congress. If you really want to know who, why, when that happened feel free to GTS (I don’t know and don’t do research here). The television era turned the address into a political spectical that somehow morphed into a sacred tradition of our democracy. That, of course, never was the intent of the framers of our Constitution and they certainly wouldn’t approve of an administrative provision becoming a partisan showcase. Besides, with the advent of 24/7 information using technology that the founding fathers could have never imagined, the whole point of providing a status update has become obsolete. This is true with much of the way we govern, which brings me to my real point - we need a Constitutional Convention.

When our Constitution was drawn up, the writers were incredibly prescient and put in safety valves for updating it when needed. They were way too smart to believe that they could get things perfect, and certainly did not intend for the document to turn into the equivalent of Moses getting the commandments on two stones. Parts of the Constitution were left vague for this purpose, or were unintentionally created ambiguously, so that future leaders would have the flexibility to adapt with a future no one could possibly predict. These safety valves would ensure that the democratic ideals that upon which they founded our nation would stay intact no matter what changes around it take place.

The first one everyone knows is the Constitutional amendment. Congress can propose an amendment if two-thirds of each chamber approve it. It then goes to the individual state legislatures, and if thirty-four approve it (also two-thirds rounded up for you math junkies), then the Constitution is amended. This, of course, was used immediately for the Bill of Rights. Over the past 200+ years since the passing of the Bill of Rights, there have been only seventeen more amendments with two of those cancelling each other out (the prohibition of alcohol and the subsequent repealing of said amendment). If you had started a pool among the original members of the first Constitutional Convention about how many amendments there would be in the next 250 years, I’m guessing none would have gone for just 27. They probably would have envisioned hundreds going through by this point in time.

Now i am not suggesting that amendments are too hard to get passed. The mechanisms put in place were designed to make it difficult to adopt frivolous or partisan changes to the basic structure of the government the framers designed. This has largely worked (prohibition being the exception), and the amendments passed so far have been appropriate. The problem is that the partisan divide that a two-party monopoly has created makes any potential for an amendment to ever occur again almost impossible. Remember, when the constitution was drawn up, there really weren’t political parties, or at least they did not exist in the form we see now. At best, the framers likely assumed there would be many parties out there and cooperation among them would occur avoiding any one or two taking firm control. Of course, that did not happen, and it has led to the constitutional amendment becoming impotent.

So then how do we get progress accomplished without the ability to change with the times as our forefathers intended? An easy answer would be the rising of at least a third-party (if not more) that would break the stranglehold the Democrats and Republicans have over our current government and force some bipartisan efforts to make or change laws that are for the better of the majority of Americans, not just a few that have the power and/or money to lobby Congress. I have not totally given up on this notion as I think the weight of internal pressures will break apart one if not both major parties at some point (my bet is that the Republicans go first simply because they have strayed so far from their core ideologies). That may take a while, though, and we cannot sit around and wait. Fortunately, the founders gave us another safety valve.

Without congressional approval, two-thirds of the states (again that is thirty-four) can call for another constitutional convention. Impossible, you say, but think about it. All that is being passed in this case is to have the convention itself not what happens there or what is discussed. While thirty-four states may not agree on the reason why this needed, that is not relevant. There could be competing motivations from states on complete opposite ends of the political spectrum that come to the same conclusion that a convention is needed. Supposedly, twenty-seven states have passed such a request (again, I don’t research so I don’t know if that is true). If seven more states go with this notion, then one is happening whether Congress wants it or not. And, the president has no say in this whatsoever. It is very likely he/she would not be allowed at such an event (in the accounting world, we call this an internal control). This becomes a much less far-fetched scenario compared to the long-shot that an individual amendment would have in this environment.

What would be discussed at a constitutional convention? Well, that is up to the participants, but I think the focus should be on a re-balancing of power among the branches and reducing the consolidation of power a few old, rich, white men have accumulated, which is holding government hostage for the rest of us. Items to explore would be reducing the power of the executive order, instituting term limits (including for the Supreme Court), and revising or eliminating the incredibly outdated concept of an Electoral College. Two other issues that need prioritization are campaign finance and gerrymandering. My guess is that a guy like Thomas Jefferson would throw up if he saw a map of my congressional district and the money that was spent to get it that way. While none of these topics will get settled easily or quickly, some forum is needed for the debate to occur. As the recent shutdown showed, the current government is not a place for any sort of healthy exchange of ideas to take place. Even well=meaning and intelligent politicians (yes there are a few - in both parties) have no shot at making a difference due to the stranglehold of their own party leaderships. A convention would give at least those folks an open forum to get ideas on the table.

What are the chances of this? I really don’t know. Even if they are low, it is our only shot. If our country was a football game, we are down seven with the ball at the fifty yard line with three seconds left. The only play to save the game and go to overtime is a Hail Mary pass. While the odds of completing one of those is very low, we have to at least take a shot or the game is over. The impacts of the most recent shutdown were real and hurt regular Americans deeply. Without change, that is a preview of what life is going to be like in this country if we continue to allow the current stakeholders to keep consolidating power, money and influence to advance their self-interests at the expense of our freedoms as we know them. A while back I wrote a post hoping I’ll be alive to see the country celebrate its tricentennial. I now have a more modest goal of seeing this government survive to its 250th birthday. A nice present for that celebration would be a constitutional convention to go along with the tall ships and fireworks that will inevitably be trotted out (that will be in 2026 if your really have to ask). We should start working now at lobbying our state politicians to push for approving a convention. I have no idea if Illinois has already passed such an amendment, but I’m going to ask my representative in the state house to look into it (remember she owes me a favor after stopping by my house during her campaign and interrupting my afternoon game shows). It all sounds crazy (hey, that’s my calling card), but we have no choice. If we don’t try this,then it is the football equivalent of taking a knee and ending the game. I don’t think anyone at that first convention wanted us to do that, and I, for one, will do my best to not let it happen.

Cheers,

Jim

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baneismydragon · 6 years

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Secret Santa #2

@professaurus I am your backup Secret Santa! (Sorry for the late posting its been a crazy day! I had meant to have this cued up this morning! Anyways, here is some Ladrien fluff for you @mlsecretsanta gift! I hope you enjoy!

Ladybug was rather proud of herself as she raced across the Paris rooftops on Christmas Eve. Her visit to the children’s hospital had been a complete success, and since she had made arrangements to surprise her parents with a romantic night out of dinner and the theater she didn’t even have to worry about anyone noticing her absence.

It was a shame Chat Noir had been unavailable. It might have been nice for the two of them to hang out during her unexpected free time.

Oh a whim she headed over towards the Eiffel Tower, thinking perhaps it might be nice to put in an impromptu public appearance while she enjoyed the holiday decor. However, she paused when she saw a lone figure slumped against the interior wall of the Agreste mansion.

Her heart sped up as she changed directions to take a closer look. Sure enough, her instincts had been correct.

Leaning against the stonewall was a tuxedo clad Adrien Agreste. He looked tired, his expression drawn. She doubted he had been outside long, given his lack of coat and how cold it was outside. He seemed consumed by the shadows of the barren courtyard with its unforgiving stone marble, a stark contrast to the bright light pouring from the windows of the house. The sounds of the party echoing in the distance- the strains of a small chamber orchestra, the chatter of guests and the soft chiming of glasses as the wealthy and elite of Paris celebrated another year of prosperity.

Adrien stood, alone and silent, lost in his own thoughts.

She landed quietly on the snow covered ground behind him.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

He turned around, surprised and alert.

“Ladybug! I wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off, giving her a slow head to toe glance and clearly biting back laughter. “I um, like your outfit,” he said holding a hand in front of his mouth to hide his grin.

It was in that moment that Ladybug remembered that she hadn’t bothered to change out of the themed costume she had made for her hospital visit. Her eyes widened in horror. The Red and white trimmed capelet frock coat complete with holly embroidery and silver bell accents might have been alright on its own, but she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to live down knowing that her crush had seen her sporting large, bell covered reindeer antlers.

“It was for charity,” she blurted, positive that her blush was visible even with her mask, “Chat dressed up last year, but he couldn’t go this time so I figured I should keep the tradition alive.”

Adrien’s smile morphed from one of amusement to one of infinite fondness. “I think that your partner would feel very honored if he could see you right now.”

“So,” Ladybug said hoping a change of subject would distract her flustered emotions, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Oh. That. I’m hiding actually. These Galas are extremely boring if you are under the age of 40.”

“They can’t be all bad.”

“The last conversation I had was with a 75 year old dragon woman about the decreased stock value of Florentine lace and whether or not it was time to bring ruffles back into fashion.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I said, ‘I’m not sure, what do you think father?’ and then snuck away when he started pontificating about the shocking overuse of A-line silhouettes in bridal wear.”

Ladybug laughed. “Well I can see why you would want to escape from that.”

“Besides, the company is better out here anyways.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and grinning.

They stood for a minute in companionable silence, both looking at up at the sky while sneaking glances at the other.

“So-”

“So-” They both began, laughing at their shared reaction.

“You go first,” Adrien said bowing slightly and waving his hand for her to speak.

“What all do you do at these famous Galas?”

“You mean aside from hiding?” Adrien teased. “Mostly it’s just a lot of idle gossip and empty flattery. Sometimes a drawn out political debate if you are particularly unlucky. The food is usually excellent though, so I highly recommend sticking close to the buffet tables if you ever have the misfortune to attend.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ladybug laughed. “Of course now I will be scared to come even if I did get invited.”

“Oh, well in that case I take it all back. These parties are the highlight of the season, full of the best and brightest- please come save me from my boredom, I am begging you,” Adrien said clasping his hands together dramatically and giving her an exaggerated pout.

“Well with an endorsement like that how could I refuse?” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“No,” Adrien sighed even as he fought back a smile, “as much as it pains me, I will be the bigger person. Run away. Run away and save yourself.”

“Come on, I am sure it wouldn’t be so bad. Unlike you I’ve never been to one of these elaborate parties. It might be nice to get to dress up in a beautiful gown and dance and drink expensive Champagne.”

“You would be stunning,” Adrien said softly.

Ladybug felt her cheeks flush as her eyes locked on his. “Why… why do you say that?” she breathed.

“Well, if you look this amazing with antlers on your head, I can only imagine how spectacular you would look in an actual gown.”

“Oooh,” Ladybug moaned even as she blushed, smiling, “you just had to see me in these stupid things!”

“It is a sight I am going to cherish to my dying day.”

The looked at each other before they both burst into another round of happy giggles.

From inside the house the lively music slowed into a melodic waltz.

“Would… would you like to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand, his cheeks stained pink and his eyes not quite able to meet her own.

Ladybug nodded, her voice caught in her throat as she placed her hand onto his.

He pulled her in close, his other hand wrapping around to settle on the small of her back as he swept her into the steps of the waltz.

They didn’t speak, simply allowing themselves to be caught up in the magic of the moment. The soft strains of the music seemed to weave with the winter wind as a gentle snowfall sparkled in the sky around them.

They danced around the terrace, their matching blushes shrouded in the shadows of the night as they twirled to the soft melody coming from the house.

When the song ended, they stood frozen, neither willing to break the moment.

A strong gust of wind caused them both to shiver. Adrien chuckled lightly, finally letting go of her and wrapping his arms around himself. “I should probably get headed back inside. I hadn’t meant to be out here this long.”

“We certainly don’t want you getting sick,” Ladybug said, smiling shyly up at him and toeing the ground, “although if your nose gets too red I can always loan you my antlers.”

Adrien laughed again, a full happy sound that warmed her to her very soul.

“Well it’s good to know that even if I am sick you will still come to my aid My…” he coughed, his face flushing again as he turned away embarrassed.

“What?”

“Nothing.” “No, what were you going to say?” she asked curiously.

“I meant to say,” he stammered, “I am glad you will still come to my aid, my- my hero.”

“Oh,” Ladybug said, feeling oddly disappointed though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “Well, that is my job. You know, saviour of Paris and all that!” She gave him a lopsided smile.

He nodded, turning to look back towards the house as the musicians started up a particularly lively tune.

“Well, I should get going.”

“Right.”

“This was… it was really great to see you,” he said. “Thanks, for stopping by.”

“Of course! Anytime,” she said, her hands clasping against the fabric of her coat.

He smiled at her again, giving her a quick wave as he turned to head back towards a side entrance into the house.

“Adrien?” she called.

He turned back questioningly, and before she could over think her decision she ran forward and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It was hurried and brief, barely enough to feel the sensation of his slightly chilled skin against her lips. She pulled back, ready to throw her yo-yo out and run away as quickly as possible, but she found herself trapped by a hand at the small of her back.

Adrien stared at her for a moment, his eyes full of wonder, but before she could utter any sort of explanation or apology he leaned down, and this time captured her lips with his own.

Time seemed to stop.

Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into the kiss, feeling the pressure of his mouth- so much warmer than his cheek had been. It was a chaste kiss, neither party brave enough to push for more, but it was still dazzling, breathtaking, everything she had ever dreamed it would be.

He pulled away after a few seconds, his other hand coming up to caress her face as he gazed at her with undisguised adoration.

“I..I hope that was…” he stammered, “I mean, I didn’t mean-”

Ladybug raised a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Merry Christmas, Adrien,” she said, smiling at him with every ounce of love and affection she possessed.

He grinned back, catching her hand in his own and placing another delicate kiss to the tips of her fingers.

“Merry Christmas Ladybug.”

#mlsecretsanta #ladrien #christmas fluff #romance #I hope you like it!

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