#he got all misty eyed and was like 'oh how quickly these moments fade away...'

[starlightblueninja]

Ciao! can I please request headcanons for the bayverse turtles with a gender neutral S/O where they’re hanging out one day and they have music playing on shuffle, but then the reader suddenly starts crying because they used to listen to that song all the time when they were little and it just hit them right in the childhood? Comfort ensues 👉🏽👈🏽 please. and thank you.

Hey!

Thanks for the request! This took a little while because it’s my first one and I wanted it to be nice UwU and I enjoyed playing around with the bois being comforting since I’ve never really done that before. Hope you enjoy 💙♥️🧡💜💚 @sleeplessdreamer14

Leonardo

You’re laying on the couch reading while Leo’s doing katas about ten feet away. Every now and again you’ll look up at him, smiling as his practiced movements resemble a dance. Mikey left some playlist running in the background on his boombox before disappearing to make food, and normally music with lyrics makes it difficult for you to read but you were only really half paying attention to the book. You almost enjoy watching Leo practice more anyway.

The music barely distracts you, at least until you hear that… familiar intro. The rest of the world kind of fades away as the song takes you back years.

Nostalgia clogs your senses, eyes watering before you know it and a lump forming in the back of your throat as you try to hold back from crying. You close the book in your lap and let the music fill your senses. It’s been a while since you’ve heard this one. Memories resurface and you try to simply blink away the tears, but it’s inevitable, they fill your eyes until your vision is watery.

“Hey,” you look up to see Leo sitting down next to you, his eyes filled with concern but voice gentle and comforting as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb, but… this song just… takes me back,” you respond quietly. “I used to listen to it a lot when I was younger.”

You wipe your eyes with your free hand just as Leo takes your other hand in his. His warm, strong, big hand in yours makes the tears easier to swallow. You squeeze his palm reassuringly and he moves a little closer to you before you continue talking.

“It reminds me of the places I used to go and the friends I used to have, feels like a lifetime ago, when things were less… complicated.”

Leo perfectly understands the wish for things to be easy, and he understands how it feels to not want to carry responsibilities. He knows what it’s like to have a weight on your shoulders. And so, instead of telling you it’s dumb or offering simple platitudes, he presses a kiss to your knuckles and nods in understanding.

“I miss it,” you say simply.

“If it’s any consolation,” he starts. “I’m glad that you’re here now.”

You look up at him with watery eyes but you’re wearing a crooked smile at his remark. The song still plays on in the background but right now you’re more focused on the way the terrapin kisses your forehead and buries his face in your hair. You feel his inhale taking in your scent and you smile against his collarbone, relaxing against him.

Yeah, you still miss your old friends and family, when things were easy and you bore less of the world on your shoulders. But for now you have him, and really, what else do you need?

Raphael

Raph’s got his workout playlist on while you sit next to him, bantering back and forth with him as he does his routine. The music is a surprisingly varied mix, you didn’t expect to hear the couple of 80s pop and early 2000’s girl band songs that you did. You teased him a little about it at first but it was all well meaning.

You don’t really notice what song is playing until about halfway through the first verse. You know this song too well. It’s been a long time since you last heard it, though, and maybe that’s why it affects you the way it does now. Raph had been saying something, but his voice kind of fades away as your focus shifts to the music and the memories it brings back.

Flashes of your childhood flit past your mind’s eye. The good, the bad, the in between, and all the other things you thought you had forgotten about. You don’t even realize there’s tears in your eyes until they’re falling, running hot trails down your cheeks and it’s too late to try and hold them back.

“Hey, hey baby, what’s wrong?” Raph must have noticed you go quiet since now he’s kneeling in front of you with so much concern on his face. “You okay? ‘S it somethin’ I said?”

“No! No no no,” you’re quick to reassure him and he relaxes, but only minutely since it’s clear you’re still upset. “I-It’s stupid, don’t worry about it.”

“‘Ey, don’t say that, whatever it is, it ain’t stupid,” his hand sets itself gently on your knee.

“I just used to listen to this song as a kid a lot, takes me back.”

He’s sat down in front of you now, cross-legged just as you are so your knees are touching his, “That ain’t stupid.”

His hand brushes away the tears from one side of your face, your own hand coming up to dry the other side before you lean into his warm touch. The way his hand cups your cheek comforts you immensely.

“Feels stupid to cry over it.”

But he knows what it’s like to miss the innocence lost with age, so he pinches your cheek lightly and playfully in disagreement, bringing a smile to your face even as you push his hand away.

“I can turn it off if ya want,” he offers gently, and you hesitate before shaking your head no.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine,” you respond.

“Whatever ya say, shorty.”

And with that you two are right back to your usual lighthearted teasing. He leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before he goes back to working out, the memories fading away to make room for the new ones you make with him. He makes sure to remember exactly what song it is, though, and you don’t consciously pick up on this fact but you never actually hear it from any of his playlists again after that moment.

Donatello

You two often sit in peaceful quiet. Donnie will work on his projects, you sitting there on your phone or working on your own stuff, occasionally handing him various tools when he needs them. He’s often got something going on in the background, usually podcasts or heavy music when he’s alone, but always soft music when you’re around so he doesn’t miss if you say something to him. Like now, with him under the truck fixing something and you sitting cross-legged a few feet away playing a puzzle game on your phone. You’re waiting patiently for him to be done. Bed time for you two was about an hour ago now but you know how important this fix is for him and that it should really be done tonight. So you don’t press the issue but you are ready to sleep.

You don’t often notice the music he’s got playing unless it’s a song you really like or dislike, it’s just some shuffled Spotify playlist that he thinks fits the vibe of today. But you notice immediately when that song starts playing. It’s so familiar to you, after listening to it so much in the past, that it would be shameful not to recognize it now.

Your vision goes blurry as your focus shifts away from your current self. You’re reminded of the past, the radio in your old house, your parents, the way they always had the same station playing in the house and in the car and at cookouts. You’ve heard this song so much now that it immediately throws you back into the past. It happens so fast you might as well have whiplash, but you just get misty eyed instead.

Your bottom lip trembles, warm lines running down your cheeks soon after and Donnie notices quickly that something is up when you don’t respond to his request for the torx screwdriver. He slides out from under the truck but you don’t even notice at first. The music has all but consumed you now.

“Y/N? Darling, what’s wrong?” He’s immediately at your side, a large hand gently on your bicep pulling you back to reality.

You look up at him but realize that it’s a little hard to see him with the way the tears have pooled. He can’t help but think that, even though he hates hates hates seeing you upset, that those tears make your eyes glisten so beautifully under the lights.

His other hand not on your arm comes up to brush the tears away as he repeats the question now that he’s got your focus.

“I used to listen to this song a lot as a kid,” you supply an answer softly, gaze falling from his. “Just makes me sad… I dunno why, I guess it just kinda hit me. Sorry.”

“No, no, dove, don’t apologize,” he says. “I understand and you’re alright, I’ve got you here, now.”

His sugar sweet words and oh so gentle hands comfort you. You offer a watery smile before moving into his arms, letting him wrap his arms around you. You return the hug the best you can with his shell in the way, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder, and he can feel the way more tears fall from your eyes and onto his skin. He doesn’t mind though, he simply holds you. He enjoys just holding you even if he’s never admitted it out loud before. He likes knowing he can be there for you.

And he may not fully understand how your memories attached to this song make you upset, but he understands the pain and will do anything to make you feel better.

His hands run over your back, soothing trails on your shoulder blades over your shirt. Then he’s reaching for a remote he set nearby to turn the radio off. He doesn’t even need to ask you anything to know when you want his hands back on you.

“You’re the best,” you say when your gaze has fully refocused and the tears have calmed.

“No, actually, I think that’s you,” he responds, before pressing a kiss to your hair and deciding to bring you to bed, putting off the truck repairs for grumpy morning-Donnie in favor of treating you like a queen now.

Michelangelo

You and Mikey will play a video game together quietly with music on in the background. Sometimes you’ll lay on his chest and watch him play, but in times like this, when the week has been rough and you both need some quiet down time, you lay on opposite ends of the couch with your legs tangled together playing a multi-player game that relaxes both of you. Tonight it’s Minecraft, and though you both like the music of the game, you’d both agreed on having a playlist on too.

You’re mining out a coal deposit in the game when you hear that song come on the background. Mikey notices faster than any of his other brothers would that something is off. He can practically smell how the air around you sours.

Childhood memories flood back to you as you recognize every line of the song as it plays, pulling you back and away from the now. Good memories give you life vests in the flood, bad memories tie weights to your ankles. You’ve paused in the game, your character just staring at the block wall. People, places, events, all of it suddenly overwhelms you as the music plays.

Mikey is on you in seconds though, throwing himself into your arms as soon as he notices that there’s an issue. You’ve got a lap-full of buff turtle man pulling you back into the present.

“Babycakes, you smell grump, what’s wrong?” He says while littering chaste kisses across your face.

He doesn’t even give you the time to get truly upset, let alone start crying, as he’s so in-tune to your emotions that he’s always right there to comfort you.

“I’m okay, baby,” you responds, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Just… thinking about childhood stuff. This song reminded me of it.”

“This song?” He says, suddenly jumping up.

You don’t know where he’s going but can see the humor practically dripping off of him. He storms up to the boombox, blatantly glaring at it. While watching him poke the speaker a few times like he’s threatening one of the many criminals he often fights, you can’t help but smile. He’s so lovely, and always knows how to make you laugh.

“You!” He snaps at the machine like it’s sentient, the same song still playing. “What’d you say to my girl, huh? Punk? Wanna act like a tough guy now? Too late, fella.”

You laugh as he jabs his finger at the skip song button and it changes to something different. You like this song, Hopeless by Khalid, Mikey likes it too. His attention is recaptured when you laugh at his antics. He smiles at you before making his way back over to the couch, crawling easily back into your arms as you continue giggling.

He kisses you before booping your nose, “Don’t be sad about the past, cherry tomato, we got the whole future ahead of us.”

“Cherry tomato?”

“Yeah,” he says, offering no further explanation as he relaxes on top of you with his controller, easily shifting back into the game.

He’s quick to go from one thing to another, but you can tell he’s truly there for you when he continues to lay his head on you, announcing that he’s coming to find you in-game. Every now and again he presses a little kiss to your stomach or chest, wherever his lips meet in that moment. Your confusing and bittersweet past is left buried under your love for your beautiful, caring, protective terrapin.

#tmnt 2016 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt oots #leonardo #donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph 2016 #tmnt raphael #leo tmnt #donnie #raph #mikey #hurt/comfort #minor angst #? #we’ll go with it #out of the shadows #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #donatello x reader #michelangelo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #raph x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #emotional support

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Do you think Lee could ever be poly? Like in relationship with a man and woman at the same time? I know it'd be pretty taboo back then, but they could pull it off as a married couple living with his friend I suppose

🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

I AM THIRSTY FOR THIS OH MY GOD (okay, I'm making this is Lee Sandwich cause my tiny brain finds that to be the ideal poly relationship for the Lees? Idk. This is soft and adorable and to better answer your question, I think Lee could be in a poly relationship, but it needs to proper threeway where all three of ya want all of ya.)

Making a Lee Sandwich

You and Lee are happily, adorable, kinkily married. Livin' ya best lives in Brewer Heights.

One day Lee gets a call from an old friend, some guy called Lucas, who is gonna be in town for a while. Has had a shit break up and needed to get away from it all.

You immediately tell Lee that this Lucas can stay in your guest bedroom because "that's what good friends do. Don't be such a grumpy ass."

This leather jacket wearing hippie fella shoes up two days later and tries to hug your lights out. Lee pries his hands off you, but you kinda like how openly affection the guy is.

Lee and Lucas have a few beers and you make dinner. The evening goes smoothly and while your doing dishes you hear the hushed whispers and tired laughs of old friends. It makes you happy to see your husband happy.

That night when Lee fucking rails you into the mattress, he's more demanding, grabbing you hard enough to bruise and urging you to scream his name despite your house guest.

Just as your about to cum he sticks his thumb in your ass and all your thoughts are suddenly filled with a desire to have two bodies on you, two cock splitting you half. You cum harder than you ever had. Everything fades away when you finally cum.

Holy shit, honey. Never seen ya that deep before.

You don't tell Lee right away what gets ya there.

Lucas Lee is a complete ass it turns out, but it's nothing you can't handle. Quickly just dishing back whatever he serves you and Lee can't stop fucking laughing whenever you make the other man speechless.

It's on a Friday, when he's been there for almost week, when the three of you are having drinks around the kitchen table late at night that things get interesting.

C'mon, doll, what's Lee got that made ya wanna marry him?

You tell him it's the gun and big dick that make it worth it.

And when the laughter dies down, you get a little misty eyed, and just say that Lee really gets you. He's understanding of your needs and you his. You're a team.

Well at least it sounds he can last longer than he used too. Used to cum the moment I put his dick in my mouth when we where foolin' around.

Lee visible flinches and Lucas won't look you in the eye after the words slip out.

You just snort and say you've trained him well.

The night wraps up pretty quickly after that with both men downing their beers and rushing off to bed, leaving you to finish your own drink and clean up. Giving you some time to think really.

Lee is pretending to be asleep when you enter your bedroom.

You slide into bed naked and wrap your arms around him, pushing your front into his back and squeezing his soft belly slightly.

You tell him then what got ya so deep the other night. Tell him exactly what you were thinking about. And tell him if you couldn't have two of him, you'd want it to be Lucas.

If you were going to trust anyone to treat you the way you deserved, it would be someone Lee trusted with his life.

Your husband makes slow, sweet love to you that night with a tear in his eyes.

God, fuck, you're so fucking amazin', love you, love you baby, you ain't ever leavin' me, ya hear? You're my best girl, no matter what. Love you love you love you...

So on Saturday morning you shove Lee and Lucas out the door first thing, and tell them to get breakfast in town and have a chat.

They don't come back until dinner time. Like animals.

When the front door closes with a slam, you hear a familiar moan and a new whimper.

Or maybe the whimper was you, hearing your husband riling up the other man in ways you were all too familiar with.

You make a very loud clatter in the kitchen and tell them both to stop necking in the doorway like teenagers.

Both of them are flushed when they find laying out dinner.

Lee swoops in kisses you real fierce and passionate, like he hasn't seen ya days.

Lucas just smirks, lips still a bit bruised and wet.

"C'mon I expect kisses from both my men when they get home."

And kissing Lucas, tasting those damn candies your husband is always hiding from you on his mouth, makes you giddy and unbelievably happy.

#sloth asks #a sloth writes #the lee sandwich #lee bodecker #lucas lee #polyamourous

[sassyhobbits]

everything i wanted (ONS oneshot)

here it is! the promised celebratory One Night Standards oneshot! I hope you all enjoy this. I know I had a fun time writing it! thank you all for the love and support for this story, also with your patience since i havent been able to get out as much writing as i would like like recently! <3

masterlist

~~~

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius had never known that joy could come in the form of a person until she welcomed her daughter into the world.

Eliora was a new bright light in both Aelin and Rowan’s life, who brought them new levels of happiness with each passing day. Aelin couldn’t have been more blessed with her daughter. Eliora was a jubilant child, with wide, curious eyes that matched her mother’s and a sweet, gummy smile she flashed from time to time that made both of her parents positively melt.

Most importantly, Eliora was healthy. Although Aelin’s pregnancy had been rather easy, the birth was less so. It was something Aelin had prepared herself for, knowing her own mother had a difficult time giving birth as well. So, when Eliora was born perfectly healthy and Aelin healed from the tumultuous birthing process, both she and Rowan knew that some of the gods had been looking out for them.

That had been four months ago. Four months of raising their daughter, of getting used to being parents, no matter how exhausting it could be. Aelin wouldn’t change it for the world.

Aelin smiled down at her daughter as she wiggled on the bed below her, sticking a tiny fist into her mouth. She was getting her changed into a pale-blue dress that Lysandra had found and insisted it would look wonderful on Eliora. Aelin wasn’t even surprised that her friend had taken to styling her baby as well as the princess.

“Don’t you look so beautiful?” Aelin cooed, pinching Eliora’s little feet, making her flash a wide, toothless smile. Aelin laughed before grabbing a bow that matched her daughter’s dress, slipping in over her silvery-blonde hair that was getting thicker by the day. She looked positively adorable, perfect for the day.

The day of Lorcan and Elide’s wedding.

Aelin was so incredibly happy for Elide, that she had found love. Although Aelin and Lorcan had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, once Aelin realized how much he truly cared for Elide, things had gotten easier between them.

And now they would be married.

Aelin had already prepared herself for the day, wearing a silky, pale-pink midi-dress that Lysandra had sent her way and a pair of sensible, strappy heels. She didn’t bother to do much with her hair, knowing the Eliora often managed to grab handfuls of it whenever it was in reach. Any efforts would have been quickly undone.

“Are you two nearly ready?” Rowan called from the conjoining sitting room, a good-natured sort of exasperation in his tone.

“Having a hot wife takes time, Rowan,” Aelin hollered back. “I wouldn’t be complaining if I was you.”

Although she couldn’t see him, Aelin could picture him scoffing out a tiny laugh and shaking his head. He wouldn’t want to be amused, but he would be anyway.

She heard footfalls coming her way, and soon enough Rowan walked through the threshold. Instantly, a bright smile lit his face, as it always did when he saw the two of them together.

“You look beautiful, Fireheart,” he said, coming to her side and pressing a quick kiss to her temple, a broad hand resting on the dip of her waist. He looked down at Eliora, and his face softened even further. “You both look beautiful.”

“I can’t get over how perfect she is,” Aelin commented, squeezing her daughter’s chubby thighs. “Every day, it just blows me away.”

“Me too.”

They stood there for a few moments, gazing down at their daughter as she looked wide-eyed up at the two of them. Aelin felt as though she could watch her for hours. But, she didn’t have the time for that today.

“I suppose we should get going,” Rowan sighed. “I think it would be bad form if we were late.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Rowan leaned down and scooped Eliora into his arms. Aelin always loved the sight of her massive husband holding their tiny daughter. The first time he had held her, she had promptly broken into tears. Even now, seeing her family, always had her on the verge of crying once again.

But, she controlled herself. She didn’t want to ruin her makeup before the wedding.

The ceremony was being held at the palace out in the gardens. It was a perfect day for an outdoor wedding. The mid-spring air was warm and pleasant, the sky a brilliant blue with a few fat clouds floating across lethargically. The air smelled heavily of the sweet flowers blooming from every corner of the palace’s expansive gardens.

The wedding wasn’t a huge affair, kept mostly to friends and family. There were a few rows of white seats lined up before the altar that was situated beneath an arc of white roses. Some of the seats were already filled up. Aelin said hello to Elide’s parents. Her mother, Marion, apparently hadn’t been able to stop crying all day. Elide’s father, Cal, had been doing his best to console her throughout the morning, though Aelin could tell he was getting a little misty-eyed as well.

She and Rowan went towards their seats near the front, finding some of their companions already there. Lysandra’s face lit up in a comically large grin once she laid eyes on Eliora in Rowan’s arms, immediately standing and reaching out to take her. Lysandra’s own baby bump was just beginning to show, nothing more than a tiny swell under her green dress. Lysandra and Aedion had taken to commandeering Eliora from time to time, saying they wanted to give Rowan and Aelin some alone time. Aelin knew her cousin and his wife honestly just wanted some extra practice with babies before their own came.

“How are you, sweet girl?” Lysandra cooed, taking Eliora from Rowan and bouncing her on her hip. “Don’t you look so beautiful in the dress Auntie Lys got you?”

“She is the cutest baby in the world, isn’t she?” Aelin agreed, leaning into Rowan’s side.

“For now, at least.” Aedion shrugged before kissing the top of Eliora’s silver head and placing a hand on Lysandra’s stomach.  “At least until my kid gets her.”

Aelin gaped at her cousin. “Shut your traitorous mouth!”

Fenrys then arrived, clapping Rowan’s shoulder in greeting. He looked as if he were about to strike up a conversation before he laid eyes on Eliora being bounced in Lysandra’s arms. His attention was then instantly diverted. Aelin’s daughter was always quite popular when she was in a crowd.

Rowan’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. Aelin’s heart was full as she watched her friends and her daughters, took in their laughs and their smiles. What a wonderful family she had amassed in these years.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” Rowan murmured.

“Just… how lucky we are to have all of this. How much I love them all… and love you.”

He smiled before leaning down and pressing a long, lingering kiss to her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you too.”

Aelin would have liked to linger in the moment a bit longer, but they were interrupted by Fenrys’ obnoxiously loud laughter. He had managed to steal Eliora from Lysandra and slip his sunglasses on to her tiny face.

“Check out how cool she looks!” Fenrys announced with a bright laugh.

“Oh, no,” Aelin muttered, shaking her head. She quickly strode towards Fenrys, taking the sunglasses off of Eliora’s head and shoving them back over the lord’s eyes. “Get those tacky things off my daughter’s perfect face!” The princess took Eliora back firmly into her arms, the toddler releasing a stream of nonsense baby-babble, to which Aelin nodded seriously. “You’re right, sweet girl. Those frames are so last season.”

Fenrys gawked in offence, head swiveling towards those around them. “They are not last season! Rowan, tell her they’re not last season!”

Rowan didn’t even bother to respond, looking towards his friend dryly. Once Fenrys realized he wouldn’t be getting any support from the prince, he looked towards Lysandra and Aedion for backup. But, Lysandra could only shrug apologetically.

“Sorry, Fen. They are last season.”

Fenrys continued to sputter in protest while everyone else began to drift to their seats, the beginning of the ceremony nearing.

Aelin took a seat between Rowan and Lysandra, holding Eliora, who was taking in the sights around her, on her lap. The band settled into their position, taking their instruments from their cases. Aelin was more than excited to see Elide. She and Lysandra had helped her pick out her gown, but the effect of seeing her now, with her hair and make-up and veil, was sure to make Aelin cry.

“I can’t believe they’re getting married,” Aelin remarked.

Lysandra snorted softly. “I can’t believe Lorcan is taking Elide’s last name.”

“Hm… Lord Lorcan Lochan. It had a nice ring to it, right?”

They giggled amongst themselves, but their laughter faded once a towering figure appeared on the altar, followed by a heavily robed priestess. Aelin had to admit that Lorcan Salvaterre cleaned up well. His tux was cut to him perfectly, long, black hair shining as it fell down his back. The most striking difference was the lack of the scowl on his face.

“Did I look this nervous on our wedding day?” Rowan murmured into Aelin’s ear.

“Which one?” she asked absentmindedly, straightening the bow on Eliora’s head. “Our first one, worse. I could have sworn you were about to piss yourself.”

“And whose fault was that?”

“Your meddling cousins that didn’t give me time to respond after you decided to confess your love out of the blue on the night before the wedding.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Eventually, Eliora appeared to grow tired of the view from Aelin’s lap, reaching out towards Rowan. Aelin handed her daughter to Rowan, who was very content to be held up against his chest. She was a true daddy’s girl and had Rowan wrapped around her little finger.

A few more minutes passed before a hush fell over the crowd and the musicians began to play. It was a serene, lilting song, and old Terrasenian lullaby. Aelin’s mother had sung it to her in her youth and now she sang it to her own daughter.

The crowd rose to their feet, looking down the aisle. Aelin already had a too-wide grin on her face, throat clogged up with tears she was trying to keep at bay. Rowan, ever the observant one, noticed and shifted Eliora into his left arm, freeing his other hand to hold Aelin’s tightly. She dared a glance at the altar, finding a surprising amount of emotion displayed on Lorcan’s face. He looked so, so happy, and so very in love. Aelin couldn’t imagine a better person for Elide. She knew Lorcan would love her until his last breath, would use every day in his life to make sure that Elide was happy and content.

Aelin looked back down the aisle just in time to catch the first glimpse of Elide.

She was a breathtaking bride. Elide wore a stunning gown with flowing, gossamer skirts and a bodice covered in delicate, lace flowers. The sleeves were long and gauzy, drooping from her pale shoulders and swaying in the spring breeze. Her hair was twisted up in an elegant coronet, white flowers tangled within her dark locks. Her veil drifted behind her, trailing her by a few feet. The tears sprung from Aelin’s eyes not long after that.

Elide's dark eyes, gleaming with unshed tears, were pinned on Lorcan. Aelin knew the grin she wore was solely for the man waiting for her at the altar.

Elide stepped closer to where Rowan and Aelin stood. The bride took her attention off her future husband for one moment to look towards her princess. Aelin only beamed through her tears, mouthing I love you.

Elide mouthed it back before her gaze caught on Eliora is Rowan’s arms, sending the baby a wide smile. Eliora took a break from sticking her tiny fist in her mouth to send a little smile of her own back.

Elide looked back down the aisle, back towards Lorcan and her future, and she did not falter.

The crowd all lowered themselves into their seats as Elide came to a stop before Lorcan.

Aelin rested her head against Rowan’s shoulder as the priestess began to speak, uttering ancient words that had been tying people together in Terrasen for centuries. She simply couldn’t get over how happy, how deeply in love, Lorcan and Elide were. Aelin was fairly certain the two were barely listening to the priestess, too absorbed in one another to be bothered with the rest of the world at the moment.

The time came for them to read their vows. They reached out, taking one another’s hands firmly. Elide went first. Even from where Aelin sat, she could see her friend swallow hard, no doubt trying to stop herself from crying.

“Lorcan,” Elide began, voice a bit wobbly with emotion. “I’ve never known how happy I could be until I met you. Everyday, you manage to show me new levels of bliss. Marrying you is a blessing I once hadn’t even known I needed. Now, I know I wouldn’t give you up, what we have, for the world. I love you with everything I am, Lorcan Salvaterre.”

Aelin swiped at the tears dribbling down her cheeks, Rowan wrapping his arm over her shoulder and tugging her closer to his body.

It seemed Lorcan needed a few moments to compose himself after Elide’s speech, chin tucked to his chest. He sucked down one more deep breath before facing the woman before him once more, dark brown eyes glimmering.

“Elide Lochan, you’re the love of my life,” he began. Aelin could tell how hard he was working to control his voice. “I truly don’t know what I did to deserve you. You are the brightest light in my life, the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me. I thank whatever god took pity on my miserable ass and let me walk into your life. I promise to do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman on the planet, to love and cherish you for the rest of my life. You… gods, I love you so much Elide.”

Aelin’s heart melted as she listened to Lorcan’s vows, eyes flickering up to Rowan. Even her normally stoic husband had misty eyes.

The priestess looked back and forth from Elide to Lorcan, a serene smile on her wrinkled face. She finished the ceremony, speaking the same words that had bound Rowan and Aelin three years ago.

“I’m honored to announce,” the priestess said grandly, “that under the eyes of the gods and of Terrasen, this man and woman are now wed!”

With that, Lorcan took Elide’s face into his hands and kissed her soundly. The cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, everyone rising to their feet once more for the newly-weds. Lorcan seemed reluctant to stop kissing his new wife, but he eventually pulled back and they faced their audience.

Aelin couldn’t be more excited to see where life would take the both of them.

…

The celebration following was still held in the gardens, no one wanting to put such a beautiful day to waste. They ate and drank and were happy, celebrating all the love that was in everyones’ lives.

As the day wore on, some people left, leaving only the closest of Aelin’s friends and family behind. They were scattered around a few tables, finishing off drinks and snacks as the sun began to set below the horizon.

Aelin was enjoying some girl time, finally finding some time alone with Elide and Lysandra. The boys were all sitting around together, drinking beers and entertaining Eliora.

Lysandra leaned back in her seat, absent-mindedly stroking the swell of her stomach. “I can’t believe we’re all married now.”

“All of us except for Fenrys,” Elide pointed out.

Aelin shrugged. “He’ll be hitched soon enough. He and Ress have been dating for like, four months now. They really like each other.” It was true. Everyone could tell they were already ridiculously in love with one another. Aelin was ecstatic to see two of her friends so happy with one another. They were so cute it was sickening. “I can’t believe we’re going to have another baby around here soon!”

Lysandra hummed and looked fondly at the little life growing inside of her. “It’s going to be hectic, but I’m so excited. I don’t know what all these boys are going to do with two babies to spoil.”

As one, all three of them looked towards where the boys were. Eliora has been passed from Aedion to Lorcan. He held the babe at his eye level, his normally grumpiness nowhere in sight, even as Eliora dragged her sticky hands down his face. He could only smile.

“Oh, gods,” Elide squeaked, face quickly screwing up as she began to cry.

“Elide, honey, what is it?” Lysandra asked, placing a hand on Elide’s thigh. “I know it’s so cute to see the boys with babies, and I certainly cried the first time Aedion held Eliora, but you’ve seen her and Lorcan together plenty of times and have never cried.”

“Oh, it’s just these damned hormones,” Elide sighed.

Aelin blinked, looking at her friend quizzically. She slowly raised a brow. “Hormones?”

Elide’s eyes flickered back and forth between Aelin and Lysandra, nibbling at her bottom lip for a few moments before she conceded. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?!”

“Sh!” Elide hissed, casting a quick glance towards the boys, but none of them had noted the outburst. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“How long have you known?”

Elide smiled sheepishly. “Two days.”

“Oh, Ellie, you couldn’t have waited until today to find out?” Aelin asked melodramatically. “Now this was a shotgun wedding!”

The girls burst out in laughter, Elide’s wiping away the tears that had escaped from her eyes. She looked towards Lorcan once more.

“I just don’t know how to tell him!”

“There is no how,” Lysandra said. “Just tell him! Gods, go right now!”

“Really?”

“Yes!” cried Aelin and Lysandra in unison, making Elide laugh some more.

Elide sucked down a deep breath, but on a brave face, and pushed to her feet, eyes locked on her new husband. She gave a firm nod. “Alright. I’m going to tell him.”

Aelin and Lysandra clapped and cheered quietly as Elide strode purposefully over to Lorcan. She placed a soft hand on her husband's arm, muttering something to him that Aelin couldn’t hear from where she was sitting. Lorcan nodded, handing Eliora back over to Rowan, whose head immediately whipped towards Aelin as if to say, What did you two do?

Aelin only held her hands up in defense. Not my fault.

Aelin and Lysandra waited until Elide and led Lorcan a respectful distance away before making their way over to their husbands. They looked towards them in question.

“What’s happening?” Aedion asked.

“Elide’s telling Lorcan she's pregnant.”

“Elide’s pregnant?!” Fenrys gasped. “Shotgun wedding!”

"That's what I said!"

"Shh! You're being too loud!"

They quieted down, watching as Elide and Lorcan conversed. They saw Elide take Lorcan’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze before she rested it over the bodice of her gown, on her stomach. Lorcan blinked once, and Aelin saw him mouth, Pregnant? To which Elide nodded.

Lorcan beamed, sweeping Elide up in his arms and twirling her around. Everyone heard her bright laughter and she threw her arms over Lorcan’s shoulders and kissed him deeply.

Aelin joined with their other friends in clapping and cheering for the couple once again. Lorcan eventually put Elide back down on her feet, the pair looking towards the crowd with too-wide grins on their faces. Instantly, some of them headed over towards where the newlyweds stood to congratulate them properly, but Aelin hung back with Rowan.

“Three babies in the palace at once…” Rowan breathed heavily. “We’ll certainly never be bored.”

“Certainly not,” Aelin agreed, looking at Eliora in her husband’s arms, who released a mighty yawn. It seemed the day had thoroughly worn her out. Aelin stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to Rowan’s lips before doing the same to Eliora’s forehead. Her daughter looked to her with wide, sleepy eyes. “You're going to have so many new friends soon!”

Aelin looked over to her companions, watching as they all laughed and smiled and embraced. There was a warm fondness in her heart as she took in the sight.

Aelin took Eliora into her own arms, holding her against her chest. She kissed her daughter’s cheek again, simply because she could, before smiling. “You’re going to have such a wonderful family, too.”

#ONE NIGHT STANDARDS #my writing #rowaelin #elorcan #tog

[sweetlilpaulie]

Never Leave Me.

Request for time travel reader, telling the boys about the future.

Reader X John (it was never specified, but I wanted to do John, cause, well... it’s John)

Caution: Language

Enjoy, my cuties.

P.S. Not to get confused, she’s been with the boys for a few months now, so she knows them pretty well.

~~~

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, we like to dream about what life would be like had we done something different, or said something that we held inside. Maybe, even daydream of the possibilities that we know will never happen. I admit to have fantasized on many occasions, to have been born in a different state, with a bigger house and adoring people on my sides, maybe even in a different time.

Funny, I guess I never thought that I’d end up here. Those very daydreams coming to life. To be honest, I still have no idea how I got here, and if the boys ever found out well... I don’t know what I’d do...

“(y/n)!”

Startled, I turned around, quickly shutting my notebook and placing it under a pillow. 

“H-hey.”

Paul smirked.

“What cha been up to in this room for so long ay? Coulda had a whole orgy by now.”

Blushing furiously, I frowned at him. 

“I was...writing, you silly goose. What cha need?” 

Well, John’s been waitin for ya, he won’t say why, says it’s a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Well, alright then.”

Paul and I walked down the stairs into the studio apartment’s tiny parlour. 

John was lounging lazily on the loveseat, his head drifting dangerously downward.

“Oh, Johnny!” chirped Paul loudly.

John’s head snapped up.

“Took ya long enough!”

He grinned, standing up.

My breath hitched. 

Every time, even now, his face always made me stare in wonder. And each time, I have to remember.

He’s alive. 

And he’s mine. 

“Like what you see?” he smirked at my awestruck face.

Not wanting to stroke his ego further, I crossed my arms and cheekily replied “No, but you do.” 

It was then, Paul cleared his throat. 

“Save that for the bedroom, ay? I’m still here, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are ye still doin’ here? Sod off Macca.”

Raising his hands defensively, he left the premises. 

Turning back to me, he smiled once again.

“Come ‘ed. ‘ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Grabbing my hand he pulled me out the backdoor and into the yard. 

I gasped in surprise.

White rose bushes were planted on every side, a tall elegant fountain sitting in the middle.

“You said you wanted a garden...so ‘ere ya are.”

There were cobblestones joined together to create a pathway towards the fountain. By the fountain, was a small table and two chairs, a bowl of strawberries, and a tea set were lying on top of the table.

“All...for me?”

“Yes love, all for ya.” he nuzzled my cheek.

This all keeps getting better and better.

“Well, let’s not keep the grub waitin, shall we?”

He guided me towards the table. Sitting down, he poured some tea in the cup along with a bit of cream and a spoonful of sugar. Stirring it all together, he passed me the cup and saucer. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes in delight.

“Earl Grey, you remembered.”

“How could I forget?” 

Opening my eyes, John had his on mine. My heart started beating faster once again.

“(y/n), the truth is...” he looked down, biting his lip slightly.

“...I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I could open my mouth, he quickly added “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but, I dunno, I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for...oh dear God, that sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’m really not that kind of guy, I don’t want you to think I’m that sort of guy, look...”

“John.” I raised my eyebrows, and he went quiet.

“I should probably tell you something...”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then worry “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little forward, but...please, don’t think I’m gonna push ya in any way, if you don’t love me back I’d understand...”

“JOHN!” 

He shut up once again.

“Good God, Lennon! Calm down. The truth is I love you too.” his eyes widened and a grin spread on his face “Hold up mister, I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else is there you need to say?”

“Uhm...okay, y’know how I told you my parents were in Canada, and that they worked in a small town that nobody knows?”

“Yes?” his eyebrow raised further yet. 

“That’s...not...entirely true.” I bit my lip. His face only urged me to continue. “Uhm, they actually, aren’t here.”

Too vague. 

Before he could share his inner demons, I quickly added. “They’re not dead. They just uhm...well, they aren’t here...yet.”

“ m’afraid I don’t know what you mean love.” 

“Look, I’m gonna sound crazy, It’s absolutely wild, and you may think I’ve lost it, trust me, It’s hard for me too. Do you understand?”

He nodded mutely, still giving me a puzzled look.

“I’m not from here.”

He rolled his eyes at this “I know that much ya yank.”

“No, well yes...but, not from this...time.”

I took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t born in 1944. I was actually born in 2001.”

It was then he started laughing.

“Good one, (y/n). Still don’t really see the punchline though.”

I slapped my forehead. 

“I thought you might think this was a joke. But, I’m being serious.”

He light smile faded, and turned to a frown.

“Whaddya mean you’re from 2001? Hasn’t even ‘appned yet!”

“I know...I’m from the future.” 

He stared at me blankly for a long time. Then crossing his arms and giving me a skeptical look he finally spoke.

“Prove it then.”

After many months of hiding the technology, I finally pulled out my phone. I tapped on the screen several times to reveal my home screen. 

“Wha- the bloody ‘ell is that?” 

“It’s a phone, love. Look.” I tapped on my Spotify app.

“You boys have been working on a new album with all originals correct?”

“Y-yes, you know this.”

“But you are keeping it a secret, not even I’ve heard the music.” I smirked. “Or at least, you don’t think I have.”

I tapped once more on the screen revealing A Hard Day’s Night album. 

“We haven’t even...”

“Named it? Oh, I know. Check this out. Y’know the song the Macca brought to your house yesterday? And I love her?” I pointed to the screen, and viola it was there. I played the song. His eyes widened in shock.

“We haven’t even finished...”

“Yeah, next week George Martin is going to ask for an intro, and George Harrison is gonna come up with something that will make the song.” His mouth was gaping, he couldn’t believe his ears “Don’t believe me? You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask him yourself, and you’ll know it’s true.” 

At this point, John knew she couldn’t be lying.

“How...?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea. But, here I am, with you, with the Beatles! And it’s a dream come true!”

“Wait...” He quickly interrupted “You said you were born in 2001. That’s...decades. Are we really that famous?” I could hear the anticipation and excitement in his voice. 

Biting my lip, I nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a hit.”

He grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t get too cocky Lennon. You might just fall off your high horse.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Uhm...”

You’re gonna get assassinated. 

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Really?”

“Well, you marry this crazy lady.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s ‘er name?”

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

“Alright then. What else?”

“You grow a beard a few times.”

“Really? I’ve always wondered what’d that’d be like.” he looked up thoughtfully. 

I giggled at his inquisitive look. 

But my joyful moment soon subsided. I finally remembered the truth of the future. 

A world without Lennon.

I should tell him. Of course! If I tell him, he’ll know not to step anywhere near that man! He needs to know!

“Erm...there is one more thing.”

He smiled at me “Yes, kitten?”

“You...” I couldn’t help but stare straight into his orbs once again. 

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here with me.

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“(y/n)? You still here? I know I look good, but maybe you could not get distracted one tiny second?”

I blushed again, and cleared my throat. “Well, this isin’t really something you wanna hear but...”

“But?”

“Uhm, well, you’re dead.”

He looked down at the ground in slight disappointment. “Of course. We all die eventually.”

“Yes, but with you...” before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my eye. “...you could have lived so much longer...had it not been..”

I choked. Tears continued to stream.

“Love, s’alright. I’m still here. Hey, look at me.” He laced his fingers with mine. 

“Y-you were assassinated! That bastard shot you four times! You did nothing wrong!!” I sobbed wildly, mascara streaking on my cheeks. 

He was appalled, but continued to comfort me.

“S’alright love, now that I know, I’ll make sure to not be where I was that day, yeah? You’ve saved me! I’ll be alright! Doll, please don’t cry.” He wiped away my tears with his handkerchief. 

I looked up at him with relief in my eyes. “You’re gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be ok.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

In that moment I had finally realized. 

He was here.

He was alive.

And he loves me.

~~~

Lol, this ended up being more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ll admit to getting a little misty eyed as I wrote this up.

Again, thanks to my computer, which died on me...again... this story is finally out now. Hope you enjoy! 

L.M.

#Beatles #John Lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #time traveler

[artnerd1123]

Among Us: CR3WM8TS

Updates Required (part 2)

——————————————

With the ship launched and crew settled, it’s time to get to work. Which, for Bunbun, means updating. How smoothly that goes depends on the crewmates in charge… Bunbun’s hoping she’s in good company.

Featuring appearances by Junior, Laser, and Rose!

Among Us archive/askblog Fic chapters post

——————————————

Ok so originally I wanted to keep all this together, but decided it’d be better to chop it into pieces. That way I can keep my momentum, keep posting for y’all, and still intro y’all to the crew as things get moving! 

Yes, I’m aware this chapter is coming out 3 days after the last one. I do not control the will to write but my motivation knows no bounds rn! Enjoy the fruits of my hyperfixation labor lskjfsdf

                                                   ===+===+===

Mission Log 4

Ship Model: SKELD D34-H120 Designation: SUPPLY TRANSPORT, EXPLORATION AND DOCUMENTATION OF SECTOR G PLANETS Crewmate Count: 9 Crewmate Colors: DARK GREEN, WHITE, PURPLE, DARK BLUE, YELLOW, RED, LIME, BLACK, PINK

Location: SECTOR F Ship Status: IN TRANSIT Course: PLANET 326-OCE-894 - SECTOR G Systems:

Navigation: COURSE INLAID / STABLE / UPDATES NEEDED

Engines: UPPER - ONLINE, TANK 0.98 / LOWER - ONLINE, TANK 0.97 / ALIGNMENT UPDATES NEEDED

Reactor: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

O2: STABLE

Electrical: CALIBRATOR OFFLINE

Communications: ONLINE / UPDATES NEEDED

Shields: ONLINE / FUNCTIONING OPTIMAL

Weapons: TEMPORARILY OFFLINE  / FUNCTIONING N/A

Security: CAMERAS ONLINE / ALL FUNCTIONAL

Administration: MAP OFFLINE - UPDATES NEEDED / CONNECTION SECURE / SHIP FILES UP TO DATE / ALL CREW ACCOUNTED FOR

Medbay: EQUIPMENT OFFLINE - UPDATES NEEDED / FUNCTIONAL / CREW FILES UP TO DATE

Supplies: FULL

Storage Chutes: CLEAR

Vents: CLEAR

Notes: Many systems functioning on reserve power temporarily, as updates are needed. PINK identified systems in need of updates. PINK has commenced updates under DARK BLUE supervision. Updates still in progress. RED has been admitted to medbay for minor injuries. Other crew performing normal activities.

                                                  ===+===+===

The soft thump of boots on metal accompanied two crewmates as they meandered down the hall. Bunbun trailed after River, taking a look at her task list. The tasks from Reactor and Security glowed green. Five other tasks still remained white. More updates in one day than she’d prefer, sure. But she’d had a nice send off by the reactor monitor. Lemon’s kind words were only a minute behind her. And, if Lemon was right, she and River were off to meet his son. Hopefully he was just as friendly. 

River reached upper engine first. If his disgruntled huff was anything to go by, it meant there was company. He got himself settled near the doorway as Bunbun caught up to him. She stepped into the room nervously. Amid the hissing and noise of clunky machinery, she could just hear someone shouting. It took her a minute to locate the source- half hidden by the steam, a crewmate in a lime suit was waving near the system monitoring panel. Bunbun waved back hastily, moving closer to make out their words. “-ey! Hey! Over here!” the crewmate called, waving steam out of their face. “Got it! I’m here!” Bunbun shouted back. Squinting, she did her best to swipe away some of the steam, stopping next to the stranger. From the shock of red hair she saw through bits of fog, she had a feeling he was Lemon’s son. Though she did wish she could see him better. And hear him better. It was so loud and so misty in here. “One sec! Let me just- set this thing on low for a minute-!” He coughed, tapping at the monitoring panel. “All good! You do what you need!” Bunbun replied.  Soon enough, the clanking and roaring of metal died down to a low rumble. The mist cleared out as the noise quieted. Once it faded, Bunbun got her first good look at the crewmate. He had a bright green suit- lime, as HQ called it- and a brown paperboy’s cap. His large square glasses were still unfogging with the room. He had a smattering of freckles across his peachy skin, especially over his nose. The square of gauze taped to his cheek had a couple dark fingerprints against it. Oil, if Bun had a guess. As she’d noted before, his hair was just the same shade as his father’s- though it was longer and more tousled. He took off his glasses to polish them, giving a glimpse of dark blue eyes, and a brief glance at heavily pierced ears. He was definitely on the younger side for a crewmate. If she had a guess, he was out doing field work for space academy. He flashed a nervous smile at Bunbun, fidgeting as he pushed his glasses back on. 

Ah, she knew that look. Seems she’d found her fellow timid crewmate.

“Er- hi, sorry about that,” he chuckled sheepishly. “Things get pretty hectic in here, a-and i’m not used to other people doing engine maintenance…” “It’s ok,” Bunbun said, “I know how that gets, believe me.” “Eheheh, right… I’m, uh Lemon Junior by the way. But you can just call me Junior.” Holding out a hand, Junior tried for a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, uh…?” “Bunbun,” Bun replied, taking his hand for a gentle shake. “I take it you heard about the updates I need to do?” “Yeah, uh, I did,” Junior nodded. “Lemon sent me up here to help out after we finished refueling.” Gesturing to the panel, he looked to her uncertainly. “If, um, I’m allowed to ask… what kinda updates are you… y’know… gonna do…?” Bunbun was sensing a theme with the engine monitors on the ship. “Just a couple things to make alignment reports more accurate,” she explained. “The engines are a little old, so giving them an update just lets the records be more accurate. Helps HQ make sure they won’t need any big fixes.” Junior nodded along as she spoke. Relief shone on his face. That made Bunbun relieved too. Any soothing she could offer in the ways of tech was nice. “Yeah, ok. That’s ok. You can, um, do what you need to,” he sighed, stepping back. “Just let me know when you’re done updating here.” “Of course!”

With that, Bunbun settled in, once again, to take care of the software. She could feel Junior watching her as she worked. It wasn’t… horrible. It didn’t feel like how river watched her. More like those curious interns she encountered sometimes. A glance over her shoulders said Junior was keeping more of an eye on the screen. He looked away quickly when he saw her watching, looking like a kid caught with the cookie jar. He must have an eye for software, she thought fondly. Kid after her own heart. She moved to the side nonchalantly to give him a better view as she worked. She could see him smile out of the corner of her eye. One of her own tugged at the corners of her mouth. Maybe they could talk code later. That would be nice. Across the room, River was grumbling to himself. When he wasn’t staring holes in the wall or his fellow crewmates, Bunbun could hear him shuffling around impatiently. Engine aligning just took a little longer. The patch would have to be replicated exactly, after all. Can’t be too careful. River’s grumbly restlessness was more of a nod to his lack of patience. From Junior’s nervous fidgeting, he’d taken notice. “... um… you can wait outside… if you want…” Junior called hesitantly, looking to River. “Can’t,” River said bluntly. “Oh- why?” Junior perked up. “Did you need something?” River shook his head with a grunt. “Gotta watch the newbie.” “Er… oh.” The lime-suited crewmate seemed to deflate a little. “Ok. Just. Thought I’d offer,” Junior mumbled. “Whatever,” River snorted. Bunbun just bent her head lower over her tablet. The green upload bar ticked forward at a snail’s pace. Though the process only took a minute or two, it was still the worst part of working with tech. Not to mention the sooner she left, the sooner she could get River out of Junior’s hair. He was fidgeting with his hands enough that she knew he was self soothing. C’mon, c’mon… almost there… she begged internally. 

When the green finally filled the bar, she let out a long sigh. “Ooookay, upper engine’s all done,” she reported. “Thank the lord,” River drawled, exasperated. “All of it?” Junior blinked. His face lit up with awe. “Sheesh, that was fast!!!” “Well, yeah,” Bunbun chuckled, hiding a smile, “I wouldn’t be so highly recommended if I was slow.” “Fair ‘nuff, fair ‘nuff.” Humming contentedly, Bunbun turned back to the system monitoring panel. Oh yeah, she’d definitely talk code with him later. For now, she leaned forward to study what she’d just done. Now came the tricky part. Reuploading the exact same fixes on the other engine. How to go about this…? “Hey, Junior?” She asked, waving her crewmate over. “I have a quick question before I head out.” Junior tilted his head to the side, hat nearly slipping off his head. “Head out?” he echoed. “Well, yeah, I’ve gotta do the same thing down at lower engine. I just wanted to know if-” “Oh! Oh, nonono, lemme save you the trip-” Junior broke in. Rushing to her side, he reached for the manual alignment slider. “Y’see, I figured out this little loophole awhile ago- just a sec-” Bunbun watched with increasing confusion and concern as he expertly centered the slider, eyed the screen, and gave the slider a rather rough slam with his fist. The monitor sputtered a minute, and so did she. What was he doing? Where had her work gone??? “Wh- what did you-?” she managed to squeak, falling silent as her tablet made the distinctive thrum of a task finish notification. The screen stabilized a moment later. Junior pulled back, looking quite pleased with himself. “Aaaaaand- there!” he chirped, smiling. “I just sent your code down to Lower Engine. No need to walk down yourself.” “... how in the world did you… find that?” Bunbun wondered, baffled. “I-it’s an old system,” Junior replied meekly. “It was a bug my dad found out on accident awhile ago. We just found a way to make it useful.” “... huh.” Bunbun nodded thoughtfully. Useful bugs. An old idea, sure, but it worked just fine here. “Fair enough. Thank you!” “‘S no problem, glad I could help,” Junior beamed. “You ready to go now?” River called. “My legs are gonna give out if I stand here much longer.” Bunbun and Junior shared a look. They may have properly met a few minutes ago, but… well. They’d both seen enough of River. “Coming, coming,” Bunbun sighed. Waving at Junior, she plodded after her dark blue crewmate. “Hope the engines behave for you and lemon!” “Thanks, miss! Hope the systems behave for you too!!!” 

Behind her, the engine slowly started roaring back to life. Its noisy growling echoed off the walls as she followed River once again. It might’ve just been her optimism, but she thought the sound was smoother now. Meanwhile, River seemed to have chosen a path for her this time. They were headed straight to Medbay. The noise didn’t necessarily decrease as they approached. It just changed from machinery to voices. Bunbun could only make out the conversation once she got close. River had parked himself outside of the door, looking inside a bit warily. Bunbun hung back uncertainly. What was he waiting on? “Will you please sit still?” a voice begged, clearly exasperated.  “I’ve been sitting still for five minutes now!” another whined, equally as annoyed.  Curious, Bunbun edged around River to peek in the room. The medbay looked as it usually did- four beds and equipment in the back. The scanner and computer monitor looked a little old, sure, but they’d been polished so well they looked new. Movement from the back right bed caught her eye- it was the source of the voices. 

Sitting on the end of the bed was a crewmate in a red suit. Her pack was leaned against the footboard, a pair of red and black headphones sitting atop it. Both objects nearly got kicked over as the crewmate squirmed. Her straight dark hair was cut a little above shoulder length, a long swoosh of it nearly covering her right eye. Her brows were furrowed over her earth-toned gaze, expression quite put out. Her skin was a tannish beige, with plenty of bandages littering her face. Evidently, she was not a stranger to Medbay. A black choker was visible as she shifted again, grumpily trying to free her hand from another’s grasp. It’d been stripped of its glove, revealing some painful, blue tinted blisters. The one hanging onto the crewmate’s hand was wearing a white suit. Her long coppery hair was partly tied up in two buns, the rest of it spilling fluffily past her shoulders. Her bangs hung so low they almost covered her olive green eyes. Of course, the heart shaped glasses she wore did a better job of that. Bunbun admired how they matched her earrings, though- pink hearts adorned the crewmate’s ears. A flower pin was rooted near the right side of her head. She looked somewhat annoyed by her patient, but not angry. She was doing her best to maneuver her gently, giving her all the care of an electrician fixing sparky wiring. 

“Five minutes isn’t enough for me to examine your hand,” the one in white pointed out. “Rose, babe, come on,” the one in red groaned, “it’s nothing serious, just a little plasma burn!” “You may think so, but you’re not the medic, are you?” White retorted. “But- I- you-” Red sputtered. White raised a brow. After a minute or two of stumbling over excuses, Red’s shoulders slumped. “Ghhh. Fine,” she grumbled, “have it your way.” “That’s what I thought,” White said smugly. “Now, about that hand of yours…” 

A knock from the doorway drew everyone’s gaze instantly. River hadn’t moved from his spot, though his hand was now raised. He rapped his knuckle on the doorway a few more times. “Hey. Rose. Laser,” he nodded to white and red respectively. “Mind if we come in?” “Oh! River! And- you’re Bunbun, right?” Rose asked hesitantly. Bunbun nodded, giving a tiny wave. “Er, yeah. That’s me.” “Well, I wasn’t expecting either of you today!” Rose said, head tilted. “Come right in. I’ll be finished here in a little bit.” “Just don’t take the bed next to me,” Laser huffed at River. Rose gave her a look, and her patient stuck out her tongue. 

River walked almost cautiously into the room, going over to stand by the left side beds. He stood straight and proper there, hands by his sides. Bunbun trailed after him. She got herself comfortable leaning on an empty bed close to the group. Rose busied herself wrapping Laser’s hand in some gauze. The two whispered to each other- something about dinner plans- as she worked. Once all was said and done, the medic straightened back up. “Now! What can I do for you two?” Rose asked them warmly. “Nothing for me today,” River replied, nodding in Bunbun’s direction. “I’m supervising Bunbun. She can give you more details.” Bunbun blinked a bit at the sudden and calm introduction. That was the most polite response she’d heard River give all day. It honestly caught her a bit off guard. Scrambling to compose herself, she held her tablet close to her chest. “Um- yeah, I’m just g-going around the ship to update some systems,” she explained timidly. “Your ship is a little out of date, but i’ve got plenty of patches and software updates to help out.” “Ah! I was wondering when HQ was going to send someone here,” Rose sighed softly. “About time, if you ask me,” Laser snorted. “We’ve been needing someone to help this bucket of bolts for lightyears.” Rose gave laser a little pat in agreement. Even River seemed to nod, albeit he rolled his eyes a little. “Yeah, so, I’ve just got a couple updates to do in medbay. I’ll try to be quick, but… y’know. No guarantees,” Bunbun continued. “That’s ok! And entirely understandable.” One finger tapped her chin thoughtfully, her gaze bouncing around the room. “What needs to be updated in my little corner?” “Ooone sec-” Bunbun mumbled, opening her task list. There were two tasks listed in medbay. “It looks like just your scanner and computer monitors? If that’s alright?” “I don’t see why not,” Rose hummed. “Go right ahead, miss. Let me know if you need anything.” “Will do, thank you,” Bunbun replied. She’d hardly taken a step towards the monitors, though, when Laser broke in. “Whoa whoa whoa- hooold on a sec there-” Laser burst, holding up her hands. The action made her wince, but she made no other signs of pain. “You’re here for updates, right?” “U-uh-” Bunbun stammered, confused and alarmed, “y-yes-?” “Are there any updates assigned to Weapons or Shields?” Laser pressed. “Let me… check…?” Bunbun said warily. Looking down at her task list, she gave it a quick scan. Surprisingly, they were both absent from her tasks. Huh. Well, that’s odd, she thought. Out loud, she answered Laser’s query. “No, there’s n-nothing for Weapons or Shields.” “Yes!” Laser whooped, pumping her bandaged fist. An action she immediately regretted. Hissing in pain, she still managed a wide grin. “I told you guys updating your stations often was a good idea!!!” “You did say that, didn’t you, firecracker?” Rose chuckled softly, a gentle smile on her face. “Mmmmhm…” River hummed, lips pressed tightly together. “W-well, it does keeps the systems running up to HQ code, not to mention upping their efficiency,” Bunbun explained timidly. Laser gestured to her enthusiastically. “You! I like you!” Laser grinned, “cuz you get it!!!” “Don’t mean to interrupt, ladies,” River spoke up- almost gently, giving Bunbun another momentary bluescreen- “but Bunbun does have a job to do.” Luckily, Laser and Rose’s voices snapped her out of it. “Oh. Right. She does, doesn’t she?” Laser echoed. “Sorry bout that, Bunbun.” “Indeed she does,” Rose agreed. Smiling apologetically, she nodded towards the scanner and monitor. “They’re all yours for as long as you need, Bun.” Giving the two a grateful nod, Bunbun strode towards the scanner. “It’s no problem,” she replied, pulling up her code. “I’ll be done in just a tick…”

                                                 ===+===+===

The updates in medbay took much longer than expected. Around thirty minutes in total. There was a lot to get to. Not only did Bunbun find herself tripping over incorrectly stored files from previous medics, but the outdated medical system kept trying to override her new input. The whole thing was confusing, frustrating, and very difficult to work with. 

Fortunately, she found herself in good company. 

Rose’s level head and gentle tone helped keep her distress down, and she knew all the work arounds for the computer. Laser offered plenty of encouragement. River, to his credit, actually stayed quiet. He added input only once- when a security bypass code popped up. Other than that… nothing. He just sort of. Stood there. It was odd. But Rose and Laser were enough to distract Bunbun from it, and enough to keep her on task.

When she finally pulled back from the equipment, the other ladies gave a little cheer. “Good job, hon! It’s running like a model made yesterday,” Rose beamed. “You wrangled the hell out of that code!” Laser grinned. “That’s a perfect job in my book.” “Thank you, thank you,” Bunbun laughed, waving a hand. “You’re too kind- both of you!” “We do our best,” Laser winked. “Anytime!” Rose hummed. “... yeah. Glad you got that figured out,” River finally spoke up. Bunbun gave him a quiet nod of thanks. Was he just… warming up…? She really hoped so. Shifting in place, River jerked his head towards the door. “You ready to head out, Bunbun? Just a couple more stops.” Bunbun paused. Holding up a finger, she flipped up her tablet. Both the tasks she’d had for Medbay now glowed green. Perfect. She nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m good,” she replied. “M’kay. Let’s get a move on,” River sighed. “See the rest of y’all around.” He turned to go, pace a little slower as he left the room. Bunbun waved over her shoulder to Laser and Rose. The two smiled and waved back, free hands gently entwined as they gave their well wishes. The sight left Bunbun smiling all the way down the hall. 

The more of her crewmates she met, the more at home she was starting to feel. It was… nice. Really nice. A good assignment so far. She hoped it’d stay that way.

#cr3wm8ts #au:c #among us oc #bunbun among us #river among us #junior among us #laser among us #rose among us #among us #yes i went crazy went stupid and did most of this in one day #what of it #slkjflksflskfsdlkfjsl #anyways yea here's this #will have crew files up somewhat soon #ish #probably tomorrow #arty writes

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.VIII (Finale)

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai​. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.VII

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, well, well well well well well well well well!” Bill’s voice echoed from Gideon’s mouth. “Good to see you again, beast, you’re looking good.”

“You,” Dipper snarled. “You’re the one who cursed him.” “Hey, hey, you’re not as dumb as you look, Pinetree.” Bill taunted. “You’re gonna pay for that!” Dipper suddenly broke from Stan’s hold and charged at Bill, but when he raised his hand, the boy suddenly floated and couldn’t move. “What?!” “Possession and curses aren’t all I can do.” Bill shared boastfully. He suddenly fell back and rolled as a giant claw left-hooked him in the face. Dipper fell face-first and was assisted up by his sister, free from Bill’s spell. “RUN!” Stan shouted back at the kids as he moved towards Bill swiftly, but neither Dipper or Mabel moved. “You think you can defeat me?!” Bill cackled maliciously. “I’m the Master of the Mind! The Demon of the Nightmare Realm! You’re just some unwanted monster! A disgusting creature! You’re vile! You’re foul! You’re flawed!” “Also CUTE AND FLUFFY!” And Stan pounced for the kid, but Gideon suddenly floated in the air. “Maybe you can fight me, but they can’t.” Bill snarled and dove for the kids. “NO!” The three rolled down onto another balcony and Bill had Gideon’s hands around Dipper’s neck, choking him. Mabel elbowed him off of her brother and Bill had no issue hurting a girl, so he punched her and they began to fight. Bill quickly kicked Mabel away and Dipper hurried to her. Bill clapped his hands together and made a long dagger appear between his palms, grabbing it and ready to fight. “Let’s get this over with.” Dipper buried Mabel’s face into his shoulder and he stood in front of her protectively. He closed his eyes and winced when Bill suddenly moved forward, but no pain came to him and he heard a loud, agonizing roar. He looked up to find Stan between the kids and the enemy, and Bill had stabbed him. Stan had taken the dagger for Dipper and Mabel. “NO!” The kids screamed and hurried to his side and he fell on one knee, his paw clamped over his wound, trying to ignore it and face a bigger issue. Bill dropped his dagger, which disappeared once it hit the floor, and laughed, first a low chuckle but then an ear-splitting cackle. Something gold emerged from Gideon’s body and the boy fell, unconscious. Bill, kicking his legs and holding his triangular body, laughed down at the suffering mortals before him. “Oh ho, this is just too perfect!” The demon declared. “What’s even better than killing those kids?! Killing Stan! Now the curse will never be undone and Sixer will be gone soon enough! Good job there, beast! Thanks for making my job es… AAAAAGH!” Stan had gathered the last of his strength and punched Bill right in the face. Because Stan was directly connected to the curse, he could touch the demon in a way no one else could. Bill crumbled under Stan’s knuckles and the echo of his horrible scream rang through the night. Stan gasped for breath and fell back, completely drained as so much blood was leaving him from his side. Dipper and Mabel gasped in horror, shaken from their shock of Bill’s demise, and were at his right side. Mabel, the closest to his head, petted his cheek and the side of his face. “Stan? Stan?!” She begged, his eyes closed. The old beast forced his brown eyes open and they sparkled up at the kids. “Hey,” He grunted. “You’re back.” “We told you we’d come back.” Dipper said shakenly. “We couldn’t… this… this is all our fault.” “No,” Stan firmly pushed that notion away, his breath staggering as he winced in staggering agony. “No… it’s okay… it’s better th-this way…” “Don’t talk like that.” Mabel scolded and cupped his furry face with her little hand. “We won’t lose you… we can’t lose you. You’ll be okay. We’re all here now, it’ll all be okay.” Stan smiled at her hope, the kind of hope he wished he had, and as he struggled to breath, he lifted a shaking paw up to her to return the kind gesture. Mabel held his hand up to the side of her face and let a tear fall on his thumb. Stan combed her hair gently with his claws and, despite being at Death’s hand, despite the pain, despite the end being so close, he was happy. He chuckled weakly. “Heh. Looks like I was good for something after all.” Mabel shut her eyes and held his hand even tighter. Dipper blinked hard, refusing to cry, and then looked back down at his friend. Stan closed his eyes with a smile, and then his breathing stopped. Mabel dropped his hand and stared, tears rolling down her face. “No… no…” She frantically tried to wake him up, to bring him back. “No, no, no!” Dipper watched in horror. He was so overcome with grief and shock that he seemed to shut down. As his twin desperately tried to be hopeful and tried to find a solution, he knew that, once again, he would have to be realistic and make Mabel see the cold, harsh reality. Finally, she looked up at her brother’s own wide-eyed, grief stricken face. “It-It’ll be okay, right? Right? He’ll be okay… right?” He was the smart one; if he could somehow see a possible way for this to all work out and for Stan to be okay and for them to be a family… Dipper somehow found it in him to shake his head, a tear escaping his eye. Mabel, shaking, collapsed on Stan’s still chest and clang to his shirt and fur for dear life, sobbing in agonizing grief and pain. Dipper cried and hugged his sister with a trembling arm around her shoulder, his other grasping Stan’s shirt. “You can’t go, you can’t!” Mabel cried. “You just c-can’t…” Her voice cracked halfway through her pleas. She was heartbroken and tired. Dipper swallowed, and together they whimpered, “We love you,” preparing to say goodbye. Dark clouds rolled over the skies. Dipper and Mabel both cried unashamed over their loss. Neither of them had any idea what to do, so they just stayed there and sobbed over Stan’s limp body. They didn’t even notice a bolt of sparks falling down. Or the next. Or the next two. But Dipper thought he heard something and glanced up as more silver and gold magic fell from the heavens. “Mabel,” He lightly shook her shoulders. “Mabel, look.” She forced herself to look up and she gasped at what was happening. Even more unhindering, Stan’s body slowly began to rise. Dipper dragged Mabel back and they watched with tears in their eyes as Stan’s blood-soaked cloak wrapped around him and he became engulfed in golden light. Terrified, Dipper and Mabel held each other, worried that his body might be taken away. When the light vanished, the maroon cloak was free of blood and a man wrapped in it was being set down carefully, the magic fading away. The kids noticed, though his back was to them, that this man had pale skin and long, gray hair, and was in Stan’s ripped white shirt and torn dark pants. The mysterious man slowly made his way to his feet, as if he was moving his body for the first time in his life. He stared and flexed his hands and arms, clutched at his stomach, savoring everything. And then suddenly he turned around. His brown eyes were bright, not at all faded like his hair, and his eyes immediately locked on Mabel and Dipper. The boy tightened his hold on his sister, still traumatized and very paranoid. The man moved his mouth, struggling to form words, his jaw shaking, until he finally spoke one word. “Kids?” They knew that voice. No one else had that voice. And the look in his eyes, his warm brown eyes, the same ones he had. As he stared at them with shock, wonder, disbelief, awe, and love. There’s only one person it could be. “STAN!!!” He got on one knee and let the kids hurl themselves into his strong arms. With each child on his shoulder, crying their hearts out, Stan held them tight and grinned with shut eyes, savoring this moment. He chuckled warmly and just having him here and alive was all Dipper and Mabel could have ever wanted. So much so that it took them a minute to fully understand what had happened. Dipper lifted his head and wiped his tears away. “But, how?” He breathed. “How is this possible?” Mabel turned so she could see Stan’s face, but she kept her cheek on his shoulder. “Turns out we messed up Bill’s message.” Stan said with a warm smile. “He didn’t say anything romance.” His eyes moved down to Mabel, who was looking at him misty-eyed. She was still crying. Stan smiled at her and tried to make her feel better with a comforting look. The little girl smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek, cupping the side of his face, feeling his five o’clock shadow and long hair. Stan smiled and rested his cheek in her hand, his eyes closed, but then his eyes popped open and his hold on the kids loosened as a sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “STANFORD!” Stan hurriedly put the kids down and then ran into the castle for dear life. Dipper and Mabel gasped and tried to follow, but they just couldn’t keep up with the old man fueled with so much adrenaline. Ford had turned back into a human a few minutes ago, but after going thirty years without using a body at all, he found he had no strength and was too clumsy to function, so he chuckled helplessly at himself and trusted that Stanley would be there soon. Until then he relished in the feeling of breathing, of seeing and hearing properly, of the wonderful feeling of a night’s breeze in his hair. Moses, how he had missed it all. And, somehow, Stanley had done it. The door was thrown open and without a single door Ford was suddenly pulled up and thrown into a bone-crushing hug, but he just laughed, delighted to hear his own voice again but even more delighted over his brother’s touch. His twelve fingers clung onto Stan’s shirt and his twin buried his face in his shoulder, shaking. What had happened since Gideon picked the journal up was all an excruciating haze to him, but none of that mattered now. Ford finally felt like he had his brother back. He took note of Stan’s heavy, breathing. Ford just held onto his dear twin and said into his ear, “I love you, Stanley.” Stan sagged a little, making them both sag since he was mostly holding them up. “I love you, too.” Ford isn’t sure if Stan believes him, so he repeats himself and then Stan does the same. This goes on for a few minutes, with an occasional “I’m sorry” sprinkled in. Stan moaned this even more woefully. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” Ford insisted upon, his speech muffled by Stan’s ripped shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how much I love you years ago. Then we wouldn’t have had to go through this.” “It’s fine.” Stan’s own voice is hard to hear through Ford’s brown jacket, “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” Ford tightened his grip around Stan, his voice taking a hard edge to it. “You’re wrong. I was the one who was tricked. You were the one who tried to clean up the mess I made.” “Yeah, well...” “You’re both wrong!” A voice interrupted and the brothers loosened their hold to look at the door. They found Mabel and Dipper standing at a distance. “It was neither of your faults, you dum-dums! It was the evil triangle’s fault. Geez, I thought adults were supposed to be smart.” She said with a roll of her eyes. “She’s right, you know. “ Dipper smiled at them, a teasing gleam in his eye. It was unclear which statement, exactly, he was referring to. Stan and Ford stared at the younger pair of twins for a moment. Then, a low chuckle escaped the eldest, growing into laughter steadily, while the younger brother shortly followed suit. Soon, both were laughing against each other, barely keeping themselves sitting upright. Finally, Stan spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess… yeah. I guess you’re right, kid.” “Of course I’m right!” Mabel grinned, hands on her hips. “I’m always right!” Their laughter quieted and the old men noticed the grand distance between themselves and the children. Stan motioned a hand for them to come up to them while Ford smiled shyly, excited to be formally introduced to them. Dipper and Mabel slowly walked towards them and Stan took each of their little hands with one of his own and also took Ford’s. He had his brother lay his hand out flat and he put the kids’ hands on his. “Kids, this is the author of the journal, my brother.” Mabel and Dipper soaked in his appearance. He was definitely Stan’s twin, but he had his own unique differences. His hair was charcoal gray, shorted and fluffier, and had a gray stripe in the middle of his hair. He had a gold-rimmed monocle over his right eye, his eyes were also a soft brown, and he had a cleft chin. He wore shiny black shoes and fancier clothes, decked in a brown coat with a red scarf tied around his neck. Mabel and Dipper looked down at their held hands and saw that this man had six fingers, just like the journal. They grinned excitedly and Mabel even kissed his hand before leaping into his arms and nearly knocking him over, but Stan luckily had a strong hand on his brother’s back. “Ford!” Mabel cried out in joy as Dipper hugged him, too. “You’re back!” Ford chuckled wetly and blinked away his tears. “Thanks to you two. Thank you so, so much.” The door burst open and Soos stood there, chubby and grinning as a human again. “DUDES! Look at us!” Wendy was soon by his side, a beautiful redhead, and cheered, “You guys! You won’t believe it! Everyone’s back! Pacifica, Candy, Grenda…” “Abuelita!” Soos called and ran to his grandmother, who was sitting in an armchair and taking a nap. “Soos! Mi precioso!” Stan helped Ford up to his feet as the kids got off of him. They held his hand again and they all just stood together, overcome with joy and happiness and love. ~~~~~~~~~~ Almost immediately after the curse was lifted, the two sets of twins fell asleep in front of the fireplace in the lounge, too exhausted from the day’s events to do anything else. Stan was so tired and focused on Ford and the kids that he didn’t even change out of his torn clothes first, but no one cared at all. Everyone’s hands touched in their sleep. Mabel and Dipper held hands, and they had their hands over Stan and Ford’s. Stan had his arm over Mabel, used to hugging her and Dipper when they snuggled together over stories by the fire days ago, while Ford had his arms wrapped around Dipper, almost using the boy as a teddy bear. He desperately needed to feel the comfort of human contact that holding someone brings. Ford had sat somewhat awkwardly because he was not used to having a body again, but no one minded. Mabel and Dipper both used Ford’s arm as a pillow; poor Ford would feel it in the morning, but again, no one cared. Against pillows propped by on a couch, Stan kept an arm wrapped around his brother. Even in his exhausted state, he had the need to keep him safe. In the days to come, slow adjustments had to be made. Ford required a lot of assistance, learning how to use his body again, but Mabel was only happy to teach him how to eat and Dipper assisted in walking and Stan was a little too quick to picking him up and carrying him. Stan and Ford invited the kids and Fiddleford to move in with them permanently and they joyfully agreed. Ford and Fiddleford made fast friends and soon little explosions of experiments gone wrong from the study would become normal. But that was all in the future. For now, they only rested and dreamed. Right now, Dipper was remembering a distant memory. It was bedtime, and he and his sister at five-years-old were stubborn and didn’t want to go to sleep, but Grandpa Shermie only chuckled and told Fiddlford he could handle it and was left alone with his grandchildren. “Come now, my shining stars.” Grandpa Shermie said as he picked up Mabel and put her in the big bed she shared with her brother to keep the nightmares away. He combed her hair. He took in a deep breath and sang a song Ma used to sing to him and his brothers a long time ago. “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto, never easy, but we try. Sometimes our happiness is captured, somehow our time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts and always will.” At the same time Dipper was having his pleasant dream, Stan was having his own. Ma was brushing his hair with her fingers and then scooped up Ford to put him in the top bunk as she sang. “Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone. But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. Maybe some moments weren't so perfect, maybe some memories not so sweet, but we have to know some bad times or our lives are incomplete. Then when the shadows overtake us just when we feel all hope is gone, we'll hear our song and know once more our love lives on.” ~~~~~~~~~~ The next evening, Stan found himself panting as he awoke. He felt sick to his stomach and his head was spinning. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm down. In the neighboring bed, Ford was already awake, staring at his hands on his lap. He looked up at Stan with a concerned look. The younger twin sighed and looked away in shame. A small, timid knock was at the door. “C’min.” Stan called. The door opened and the masters of the castle smiled to find two children and a pig wishing for their company. They could tell by the look in Dipper and Mabel’s eyes that they must have suffered a nightmare, too. Stan smiled and opened his arms. At once, they ran into his hold and got under the silk covers. Stan squeezed them and tolerated the pig at the foot of his large bed. Mabel looked over at Ford and freed a hand for him. He smiled, honored that they wanted to include him, and he climbed into the bed, as well. Snuggled together and slowly sinking back into their sleep, Mabel began to mutter a lullaby under her breath for her boys. “How does a moment last forever? How does our happiness endure? Through the darkest of our troubles. Love is beauty, love is pure.” The elder twins exchanged looks as Dipper began to whisper with his sister. “Love pays no mind to desolation. It flows like a river through the soul. Protects, perceives, and perseveres, and makes us whole.” “Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone.” Stan and Ford sang quietly together, making the kids look up at them with astonishment. “But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. How does a moment last forever?” “When our song lives on.” The kids sunk into the adults’ comforting hold and soon they were all sound asleep. THE END

Dedicated to @artsycrapfromsai​.

#GF #gravity falls #disney #batb au #beauty within the fallen #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #THANK YOU #thank you all so much for reading and supporting this fic #I'm so thankful for all of you #please leave a comment on what you thought

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

.

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

.

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

[fourletterworld]

Getting Lost - Was a Big Brother

Cody, Myself, and four of our best friends hiked the fantasy trail of Big Sur, some 7 miles up into the sky. As night approached, we tucked down off the trail into a small camping area and safely lit a fire near a stream. Here we pumped drinking water into our bottles through a filter. I remember feeling so physically tired, it was the only feeling in me. We made dinner in flame light then made our tents in spotty shadows. It was cold, and we'd fallen asleep quickly.

  The next day was crisp and beautiful. We'd made breakfast, coffee and tea and talked a while before heading out to walk off the path into the wilderness. We jumped across the creek where boulders stood out of the shallow depth. After the six of us got across my friend Bob passed out micro doses of mushrooms from a cloudy plastic bag. We chewed them up and continued walking into the trees along the creek. Nothing of note crept into my head, but I have a snapshot of looking back at my friends through the trees and seeing sunlight spill through the canopy onto the green forest floor. There was an Irish glow among the rich tree bark and moss.

  Someone mentioned that it looked like we were in an old Skittles commercial. Slow unconscious laughs built as we smiled half-lucidly at one another.   The effect began to slow some of us down until we stopped at a clearing and briefly sat. Cody and two others decided to keep hiking while I stayed with the other half.

We talked for a while and observed everything within eyeshot. I felt the stillness of a tree growing through my head. The misty sounds of nature began to strike out with colors of awareness. Suddenly I was conscious of the bird calls, and not in the ordinary way when their beauty serves as the backdrop to one of my moods. Instead, I heard their sounds as though they were strangers with first names I didn't know. They were communicating primal information with the worry of survival in their tone. They weren't having a pleasant day in the wild, they were locked in the grind of their reality. I felt sad for their consistent stress. The concern to live up to nature's expectations is so much to put on a creature. It wasn't their fault.

The plants around me gently moved in a soft breeze. Their limbs reached up to the skylight like a baby wanting its mother. They were as alive as starfish, having fixed themselves to the trunks of larger somber giants. The distant sun sat and burned like a far away look. A look that only time will snap someone out of. This sad poem is why we fall in love, I thought. It all hurts with the innocent anticipation of a loose tooth not ready to come out.

After a time of being unusually quiet in the presence of others, I crept away by myself down to the trickling stream we'd been following. In some sort of dreamy trance, I gently touched my face as I looked down into the water. There was a troubled curiosity in my tremendously large pupils. It was the little kid unwound inside of me; the one I'd twisted hard into a man.  Currents pulled at my reflection like smeared paint clinging to an image. Shards of light formed on the folds of water like cuts.  

The tired old question walked through my thoughts: "who am I?" This time, it didn't feel like the ethereal philosophical question. It was more like I was trying to make sense of the thing I saw reflecting in the water: The dark pool-eyed organic machine, the adult and the teen, the arrested development, the ill-defined aged of an angst ridden masculine spirit.

I've applied stereotypes to myself my whole life: being a punk rocker, a musician, an artist, a romantic, a good person, a drinker, and all sorts of things that maybe I'm not. They're all just lines of rope I've thrown out which I follow after to see where they might lead me. Being a big brother was something more than that. It was beyond me and rooted in the physical world. It was an anchor that'd dropped down as soon as Cody was born.

  These thoughts swam through that river until concern began to gather and pulled me back into the moment. I'd begun to feel some kind of tension pulling at the line between Cody and I. He had hiked away and was possibly too far from me, and I started to wonder if he was okay.

  "Hey guys! How long have they been gone?!" I shouted up the small ravine. "They're fine D." my friend Dave called, probably anticipating some psilocybin anxiousness. His assumption that I was paranoid was warranted, but I felt rational in my fear and knew it couldn't be articulated under scrutiny. I walked a short way in the direction the others continued hiking and looked. I didn't see anyone so I began calling Cody's name with my loud voice into the wilderness. I heard the emptiness of the hills as my voice faded through them, and a terrorizing feeling of finality landed. The fear was rooted in the possibility of never getting him back.

  What if they'd eaten more mushrooms than I had and got confused and lost? I was worried for all of them, but I was responsible for my brother. The anchor was somewhere beneath dark water and I didn't know if the rope had been torn. I began making all sorts of promises to some God that I never kept. I started to feel the knot in my throat.

  There was darkness growing in the mountains. Tall pine shadows loomed and collected over the retreating fragments of sunlight. The pleated hills began to look treacherously prosaic, as if no new word would ever come out of its ravine. It would never unearth my little brother or anything else ever again.   I called again, deep and loud, and like a miracle transmission I heard Cody faintly calling back just as loudly from somewhere off in the trees. His voice, when he yelled, sounded just like mine.

"Oh, fucking Christ, thank god", I sighed.

Moments later he'd walked through the trees. Bleach blonde hair and emerald rimmed owl eyes, smiling at the corners. Cody came to me for an instinctive hug. "I'm sorry Dust" he'd said.  He could hear the fear in my voice even at its highest threshold of volume.  

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," I replied as I hugged him tightly. Later, shrouded in twilight, I sat next to him at the fire. I tried to express how tangibly worried I was for him. I’d felt him extracted from my life in that moment, and how terrified that made me.

  I'd gone on longer, exhausting my point.  The mushrooms hadn't completely waned and the panic continued to play, but the cause for fear was so present it was like I had suddenly felt through the material of time. I’d somehow grasped the shape of that fucked up day that waited for me years ahead. I had no way of aligning that sort of rationale at the time, but in hindsight it’s the best way to explain the reality of that scare. It never felt like it was in my head.

  Cody listened, patient and contemplative with a lit cigarette. At some point he interjected, "Yeah, but Dust, I'm fine. Everything's okay. Everything was always okay the whole time. You were just worried over nothing".

He said this smiling, as though to model what emotion we should had both been feeling in that moment. He then leaned in and wrapped his arms around my shoulders and I took his two clasping hands with mine and closed my eyes. He saw the concern but not my fear, but I knew I had to concede in expressing my worry for him. I'd always have to learn when it was okay to get my point across and when to let life be life. I had to let go of control.

  I've always had problems with control because it eludes me. My life has always been out of my control. Not really caring to embrace my strengths and desiring my weaknesses has put huge cracks throughout my being. My self-hood is like broken up continents, and my goal is to form it all back into Pangea. I move something to the center and something else floats away. It's like I don't have room for the whole being I want to be. I fall in love, I become dependent. I find peace, I become boring. I get inspired, I become manic. I have fun, I lose my way.

  And I don't want balance. I see balance like a constant sacrifice. I want the choice to be all in, on one side or another, the good and the bad all at one time. I want the full glass now and no glass later.

  That is, I had my mind made up in this way until Cody passed. Once I lost him, these fragmented continents weren't just staid floating islands. Gravity suddenly shut off, and they lifted from their watery globe and suspended in disorientation. I'd seen all parts of myself lift from the anchor of my brother and carry out above me and into the atmosphere. Now there is no center to draw things back into, and there are some pieces leaving my weak gravitational field forever. I lay in bed afraid of this new upheaval, not knowing my feelings anymore, and watching them continue to go and go and go.

  They've been ripping away from me so consistently and slowly over this last 16 months that the pain has become ambience. My spirit has been tuned to the lowest universal frequency of heartbreak. The longest waves of sadness.

  But I keep it together. All of life is too short to let anyone else get tangled in this chaotic orbit of mine, and I think I've become just strong enough to keep it in during the day. Meanwhile this slow-moving shrapnel drifts along, finely opening new aspects of a heart I'd never known. There are things that feel possible in ways that surprise and sometimes shock me. There are days now where I get out of the shower and rub away the fog on the mirror and remember looking into the water. Now it isn't a question of who I am, but who am I becoming, and will any of this ever land again? Did the universe set my heart so it can heal in alignment or is my true nature lost in some ethereal flux?  

There's an animal body looking at me and the human has been knocked into a daze. The eyes in the coal mine sockets remind me of those prosaic hills, with the person behind the wheel having retreated inward to crippled shadowy memories. They don’t hold anything to the same beautiful standard any longer. It’s all become possible with nothing inside of myself to protect anymore. The gate has been left wide open and as I stare at my eyes I wonder if I'll ever really come back again.

[spacegaywritings]

The Wonders of Sleep (5/5) “Meet the Queen”

Summary:Virgil usually knows how to take care of others but at some point, someone needs to take care of him too. It is hard to top the Queen of Self Care :tm: in his own business.

Tags: little pet snake “Deathbringer”, POF included, eventual anxceit, fluff, domestic fluff, tea party, kidnapping mention, mention of 411 (if kidnapping and conspiracy/alien stuff scares you PLEASE do NOT look it up!), accidental deadnaming, ex-paranoia Virgil, reconciliation, softness, family to enemies to ..friends?, food, momceit vibes, Janus Classy “Deceit” Sanders, crying, tears, mentions of past friendship/familial relationship, mentions of betrayal, hurt, slight patton/virgil angst, hurt and COMFORT, making up, sleepy talk (if you are triggered by babyspeak and it is really sensitive, maybe this could be too much!)

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Tumblr : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 you are HERE uwu! . Ao3:      1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / all. Story under the cut (Word count: ~5k)

Janus gently nudged his little snake.

 “Deathbringer, come help me here.”

 The little snake obediently slithered over the kitchen counter and quickly wrapped around the little bit of space on his wrist that was neither covered by his lemon gloves nor by his coal sleeve.

 “Look what a good little snake you are”, he cooed.

 The side gently pushed his nose against the smaller snake’s snoot, letting their scales collide for a short moment. The snake bleped at him and he stuck out his tongue in return.

 “Yes dear, I am absolutely not excited either.”

 A small smile appeared on the side of his face that looked just like Thomas, just like about any other side there was for him.

He glanced at the door for a bit.

 “He will totally be late. He is the kind of person to be late to meetings rather than ditch them in a sudden bout of panic.”

 Scaled fingers brushed over his apron. Deathbringer let her tongue snap against his wrist and pulled just a bit closer, her silverish body slithering slowly. It was such an act of art, Janus could not help himself but watch for another moment.

 “Thank you, Deathbringer.”

 The snake seemed to squeeze her little eyes together in a little squint. She pushed against hist gloved hand.

Janus hummed and picked up the oven mittens. A few biscuits could be seen on it. He walked them over to a decorate plate. It was shaped like a little snake, much like his logo. It read “Eat the Rich.”

 A sense of peace came over him and settled in his light heart. It was some sort of happy singing within him even though outside he was not singing, just humming to the slow songs he played.

 One by one, he arranged the biscuits on the new plate while Deathbringer slithered down to push the mugs into place and pull the little porcelain white box of sugar cubes closer. It had a little lid which made it look like a box. The lid was flouncy while still made of nothing lighter than fabric at all. It would not float yet pretended to be able to.

 Sometimes it was just about pretence, he thought to himself.

 A fade sound knocked at his ear. It was so silent, it felt like the demand to please make a sound if he just allowed him to, if he gave the sound the authorisation to actually make noise, do what it would do.

 “Ah, Virgil. You arrived just in time. Sit down, have some tea.”

 The snake boy returned to the tea pot which was happily brooding and boiling inside. His steps were so light, Virgil could have sworn he was flying.

 Was this a crazy tea party?

No, this was not Remus. This would be proper.

In fact, it would be so proper, Virgil even put on his purple dress shirt - despite wearing his oversized, heavy jacket. It was a part of him not even a Janus Classy Deceit Sanders would be able to change with his rhetoric delights and shape-shifting abilities.

Virgil’s choice of clothing was deeply rooted in his function as anxiety. Much like Janus dressed according to his own tastes and needs. According to how he felt he should carry out any and all work regarding Thomathy’s selfish whims and moral dilemmas. This was the misty-eyed veil Janus swore to be “nostalgia”. He wish he could say that it meant nothing to him and let him feel nothing but Virgil was basically allergic to lies. He was a police dog for deception.

A rough ground to stand on when you call yourself a Master of Deception yet try to rekindle the flame of intimacy with a fellow side.

 “I am not on time, I am early, snake”, he dryly commented but still took off his shoes and slipped into the room in comfortably loose pant. Black as the faded eye shadow covering the bags underneath his tired and swollen eyes. Black like his soul, if he had one. It smelled freshly baked like when he spent time with Patton. The air was warm and sweet like a welcoming hug.

He was so glad nobody tried to touch him, though.

 “You are in time for a man who knows your punctuality precedes the estimated time of whenever people ask of you to come around. If I had asked you to come early in the morning, you would ditch your night and camp before my room to be on time.”

 The anxious trait mumbled something into his collar, his face falling into a darkness as one of his eyebrows rose.

Janus turned around, tea pot in hand and his human eyebrow raising up in competition.

 “Don’t be dramatic, now. I am teasing you. Not everyone is out to get you.”

 Virgil bit the insides of his cheeks instead of answering. Deceit vaguely gestured towards the laid table and approached the space with his white, spheric teapot in his gloved hands. He held it like a precious little treat in his mitten-ed hands.

 “Is it black?”

 Anxiety slipped into a chair far away from Janus. He was very much across the whole table. Lethargically, he took in the pain of the sight that was the empty chairs around the table as Janus let steaming water flow into the cups. He seemed so enraptured by the sight of dry leaves twirling in a storm of heat, the water flowing in and turning a darker shade of colour almost upon impact.

Little swirls of orange, no, orange-red, came from the leaves. They danced with the flow of water and easily fogged the inside of the mugs with a deep colour much like the sunset.

 “It is spicy like you, Virgil. You will love it, I promise.”

 Virgil had not noticed Janus’ yellow glove (it was just the one curled around the handle of the heavy pot) emerging from the wide cave of oven mittens. Something about looking at the slow, ginger acts Janus committed gave Virgil a sense of tranquillity deep inside of the core of his very existence. ”..Do you really?”

 Janus blinked.

He was glad he had set the pot down already. His little snake curled back around his left and tugged the remaining oven mitten off his right. All the while, his solid eyes stared into the deer orbs of Virgil who looked at him like a child asking their parents why they yelled at one another so much.

 Something in his chest seemed to rumble. It was soundless but he could feel a shift, he could actually see before his internal eye just how a piece of him clicked together.

Nostalgia did not sounds so bad anymore when it came from the meek, innocent voice that was Anxiety - or.. Paranoia, back then.

 His voice got soft. He was soft. He was soft like the butter he had put out long ago. His feelings would form dents if touched a bit harder than brushing against them.

“Of course I do. If I invite you, I will respectfully treat you as my guest. I do not harm guests, Pa- Virgil.”

 The other side flinched and looked down for a moment. The floor was wooden. What type of person had a dark wooden floor in his room?

Virgil chew on his lip as if to devour it like a candy bar after a long, hard day of hardships and strains.

 “Virgil.”

 Anxiety repeated it as if to enforce the point that was his existence.

The other nodded as he pushed his little tea mug over to his guest. The once white mug appeared to turn transparent in heat. The mug slowly faded in colour from bottom to the top and revealed the darkening liquid inside the steaming mug.

 “I know. I am - Apologies, Virgil”, he admitted softly. His voice was a little pat on the back, a gentle squeeze to the shoulder and the sympathetic smile only Janus’ human side seemed to be capable of.

“I assume that the old times get to me. “

 His eyes cast downwards for a big and he picked up his tea to busy himself. Deathbringer curled around the mug and stuck her tongue out at the colourful display. It must have looked like an aquarium of enormous fishes to the little boopnoodle.

Deceit sat down, still looking at his tea and his hands only.

 “Do you ever think back of how things used to be?”

 Virgil’s teeth lifted from his lower lip. His shoulders seemed more hunch before and maybe this was the reason his eyes seemed so much darker and hurt than before.

 “I ...would like to think the past is in the past.” The anxious trait swallowed heavily.

“I am sick of thinking everyone will hurt me if I turn around for too long, Janus.”

 Virgil took the tiny mug into his hands and blew away the steam. Maybe he hoped to blow away more than just this but his thoughts were hidden in the thick skull of his stubborn exterior.

This was about the only thing sweet enough to remember that it washed away the bitter glue-like taste in Janus’ mouth.

 “We all made mistakes. I, for once, admit to be imperfect. I always told you we are all -”

 “Fallible. Yeah. I know.”

 Virgil slumped further into his chair. It was dark and wooden like the floor. Even darker. Yet, it was not dark enough to eat him like a black hole. After all, some people conspired that individuals were sort of “kidnapped” by the force of a black hole. Not that this was a cut-and-dry theory but it was a thought to explain things like Missing 411.

 He took a deep breath. Janus drew in his share of oxygen.

 “Ja-” “Vir-”

 Virgil blushed and frantically brushed and pressed his fingers against the mug which wandered from one palm into another sleeve-covered hand.

 “Oh.”

 He whispered so silently and gently rubbed one of his hands against his thigh. The other hand was wrapped around the mug, a fingers looped through the handle.

It was so warm and so comforting despite the smell stinging in his eyes and nose.

Virgil sipped a bit at it and felt the steaming temperature rinse his mouth with new heat. There was pain cutting into his tongue and a comfortable amount of burning heating up his mouth. As he swallowed, he could feel the hot liquid seep into his brain and tickle it. It was so warm and tingly.. it made him dizzy in a really nice sense.

Like a good bit of sleep or maybe a hot bubble bath.

 It almost made him smile.

 Almost.

 Janus put one leg over the other and blinked at Virgil.

 “You can go first.”

 On his tongue, the name “Virgil” burned itself into his speech.

He had to let go off the past and move on to “Virgil”, realise that it is okay to be more like Patton and less like him.

 Repression can be very bad indeed.

He could hear the scratchy voice that could only belong to a presence as special as Remus.

 “Okay”, Virgil pronounced slowly. He rolled his lips together into a tight line. It felt like hours before he took the word once more. At least this is what it seemed like to Janus.

“I want to stop.. stop being so hurt about you.”

 He blinked for one moment, just one moment, into Janus’ direction before he stared into his mug again. It was steamy and it made him tear up ..it was actually spicy as Deceit had informed him before.

His tongue clicked into the silence.

 Deathbringer silently slid over to the teapot, unbeknownst to Janus’ as he paid attention to Virgil more than anything else in this world at the moment. If someone was to ask him whether he paid attention to Thomas and his needs at the moment, he would have to lie himself out of it as always. Not that he cared about this.

He cared about the right now at this moment.

 “I.. I want to forgive you, Janus. I was.. um, unfair to expect you to know it all and to rely on you for all there was concerning Thomas and it did not help him or me or you or anyone of the sides.”

 His fingers were tightly wrapped around the mug. If he did not know better he would assume he was trying to choke the tea which looked dark red by now.

It was ad bloody as this whole endeavour.

 “Virgil -”

 “No! I - I was really unfair and I know I am not fully at fault because this is not how this works, this is not how anything in this world works at all. I just.. When I saw you help Patton like this without being bitter about anything because it was for Thomas, I thought I could just stop feeling so upset about you but I still... I am still mad because of everything because I expected you to get great and you were not but this is my problem and it is bullshit to put this onto you.”

 Janus’ eyebrow wiggled into a strict zigzag. He slowly leaned over the table, just a bit. The distance between him and Virgil did not decrease but something changed as he squinted at the anxious side like his eyes needed a seeing aid.

 “It is not as if I have made things easy for you - or the others, for that matter.”

Deceit fumbled with his gloves, his fingers grabbing at one another without actually succeeding in anything. There was no outcome other than repetition.

“I wanted to apologise for being an ..”, he hesitated for a moment as he fished for the right word to say in this exact moment, “a rather insufficient role model and self-declared instructor for every single one of you.”

 His left hand gently stripped his right off the lemon shell of his glove and put it aside with such a slow precision, it seemed like an old tradition that needed to be carried out with the utmost care and attention. At the same time, it appeared to him as the most simple of actions yet it was graceful just as about any action Janus performed.

Even words were more elegant coming from him. This was what it meant to be a snake: slithering and sliding around everything and everyone. Never too much, never too little.

 Janus was the definition of walking the tightrope and testing his limits. He was a Master of Balancing rather than Deception. But oh well, this was just Virgil’s opinion on that matter.

 “Yeah, good for you. We done with this now?”

 Virgil reached for the sugar box and picked one of the cubes to merge it into his dark pit of spicy tea. It burned, tasted of nothing but memories.

What was that again? Trauma was nothing but spicy memories. Heh, yeah. This was really some sort of aesthetic Anxiety would subscribe to. It was so strange to encounter how, every now and then, Janus knew so little about him - and then sometimes, so much more than Virgil seemed to realise about himself.

The deceptive side shook his head.

His state could best be described as pensive.

Deceit’s right thumb brushed over the mug, slowly tracing along its thin rim.

 “We are all growing. This is good for us. It means Thomas is growing and listening to us can help him grow more and we all can be a bit..”

He swallowed. His tongue prepared to unleash a word so strange to his usual way of expressing himself verbally. It was a laborious chore.

“..better.”

 He dared to look up at Virgil, their eyes meeting. They were so similar yet so different. While Virgil’s were so light and changed with his emotions flickering like a candle in the wind of interactions, Janus had two different orbs. One was rigid and never-changing while the other was heavy, deep and darker -  like his room’s wooden floor.

 Their rooms really were reflections of their functionality and their “personality”.

 “You started taking care of the others more, I have seen. Is this part of your growth?”

 Virgil’s shoulders tensed at the comment but he slowly flexed his back as if to pretend this was why he had moved his shoulders in the first place. He covered up the flinch by putting it into the context of shifting into another position and becoming “more comfortable”.

Anxiety hummed in agreement.

He retorted to drink the rest of his tea.

 “You said I can get rid of you all if I give it my best. Did you mean that?”

 Janus quirked up the eyebrow on the human side of his face.

 “Is this why you tried to be there for the others? You want to get rid of me?”

 He was sitting in his seat, his legs moving so left could cross over right now. It was just a little bit of squirming on his part but he could feel his legs trembling. The feeling to his feet was already lost.

 “Why would I wanna take over the job of a liar?”

 Virgil shifted, adjusting his collar.

This tea made everything so hot. It was so spicy it burned him.

Or was he burning him? His body felt so hot.

This was not a nice bubble bath anymore, it was a sauna.

 “I know you can speak the truth but you are here to lie to ..protect Thomas if need be. Whenever that would be or whatever. I don’t like lying. It makes me anxious. If I replaced you, I would be in contrast with myself and split.”

 White teeth dug into his pale bottom lip once more. The right side of his lip had to suffer much more. It was chapped, slightly crimson in little rivulets of blood breaking through the damaged skin.

 “Where is the fun in taking over Remus’ baby sitter? I only ..”, Virgil cleared his throat, “I wanted to help them.”

He fumbled with his mug before finally giving up on whatever goal he had with his constant, aimless finger dance around the porcelain which slowly turned milky again. The transparency faded along with the precious magic of being here once more.

At least.. in part.

 “Help them? What do you mean?”

 Virgil growled but Janus held up his hands in defence.

 “I am only curious. You don’t have to answer to me at all. I supposed you would be open for a talk considering you came here on your own accord. You even asked me to let you come.”

 He pulled off his gloves.

The straining intensity of yellow found the sturdy table. It drew Deathbringer to not slide into the teapot as planned. Instead, she guided herself over to the strong colour without anyone paying too much mind to her. She slowly slithered into one of the gloves, effectively splitting the pair. With her new shield, she clumsily moved across the table to start her long, extensive journey.

 Meanwhile, Janus conjured up the messy excuse of a hurried note. It was a piece of paper, lined dark black on innocent white. The piece had ripped edges, indicating it was forcefully removed from a greater object such as a notebook or a journal. Knowing Virgil, it had to be something personal.

The handwriting was dark blue - no, not Prussian blue. The shade was darker, muddier than even Logan’s tie. It seemed so unruly and hurried that several swears ruined the legibility of the few words that were not completely crossed or blanket out with excessive streaks of more dark blue.

 “Did you already forget about this? Logan said a lack of anxiety leads to weaker memory. Surely, you must be aware of how and when you let this come to me. You left it right in front of my room not too long after I was accepted.

 Virgil shook his head with a force of a storm but looked away dejectedly.

Lips parted only to close again and then, much like a goldfish’s mouth, opened up again without making even a single sound.

 “I -I.. I heard of.. I heard from Patton that you would join us from now on. He said you were good and t-trying to help Thomas.”

The name came out like a judgement.

“We talked and you ca -came to our meetings and to our talks and when we spent time or ate-ate and Patton said it is okay because you make sure he does not hurt Thomas.”

 A barrier of tears rose in his eyes.

There was still barely any eye shadow darkening his appearance any further. Still, the feelings in his eyes strained his facial features and forced wrinkles and shadows onto his young looks.

Anxiety was one of the most recent sides. While he had always been there, he was the one to most rapidly develop and change again and again.

Once he was the pure instinct, then he was anxiety, then paranoia - to only name a few stages of development he had gone through. It granted him with a lot of mistakes and extreme thinking but at the same time it gave him the untouched innocence of a new person, a beginner.

 He was so untainted.

Virgil was pure - well, he used to be.

 “I thought Patton could never be wrong and now I am here again and fuc-..fuck!”

 He grabbed the mug hard. His knuckled turned white while all colour flew to his face. A blush of wrath spoiled his appearance and angry tears spilled down his cheeks.

 “I befriended the most innocent of sides and he still hurt me and Thomas - he still messed up so much and betrayed me!”

 Janus twitched in his seat, a certain.. a knowledge was sparking within him.

But before he could leave his seat and jump over to Virgil, the anxious side flinched, a loud sob breaking from his throat and distorting the peace of the room-

The calming background music was gone. No more soft beats and slow rhythms lead gentle voices to create the illusion of safety. The bubble was burst because he cried it away with his ferocious tears and stubborn feelings.

 “I - I ... “

 He helplessly let go off the empty mug and let it slide into his lap. On the side, he could see just a little hint of yellow and an instinct deeply buried inside of him leaned his head into said direction just to see there was no Janus. No. There was a little glove falling into his direction like some fucking drunkass piece of furniture in a weird shit show Remus would direct. ”Wha-”, he started, ready to jump away when the glove fell over itself and its opening revealed itself to Virgil. A little boopnoodle inside crept out of the squeak yellow means of transportation and bleped at the old friend.

 His tears were soaked up.

 “Deathbringer..”, he whispered in amazement.

His voice was broken like his heart.

 Shaking fingers picked up the mug and abandoned it on the table with little care. It barely stood still - a slightly sharper angle and he would have tilted it enough to tip it over.

The primary goal was in sight. It was not the half-transparent mug. It was the little silver friend sliding over to him and happily sticking out her tongue at him.

His hands formed a little bowl he offered to the friend. She gladly accepted and pushed herself off the edge of the table to fall into the safety of his warmth.

 “You still have her..”

 A weak smile pulled at his lips.

It was half-hearted and betrayed by the storm of feelings left in him. He was drained but the emotion was genuine. Janus could see it in his eyes. The life turned back into it.

 “I missed you so much, little one. What did you do, little crime snake? Did you try to steal Jan’s glove? You tiny law-breaker, you!”

 He giggled, the drying tears long forgotten. Occasional sniffles disturbed the soothing atmosphere that settled onto the room. It was like the sky after a storm in Janus’ humble chamber.

Deathbringer excitedly curled into herself so much, she rolled over once more and tumbled against the root of his thumb before sticking out her tongue just a bit, just for a moment.

 Virgil hissed.

Deathbringer hissed.

Janus silently hisses into his mug.

 It was involuntary! He swore by his name!

The deceptive side did not mean to draw the attention back to him but it had happened with a slip of his own split-tongued mouth.

The sharp sound filled the room, cutting through it like a high-precision master preparing sushi after decades of experience and routine.

 The anxious side lethargically looked up. It was so slow, Deceit could have sworn it took a great amount of effort from him. His eyes were sparkling but they were so, so tired and old. They aged with the amount of energy he had put into neglecting himself and working to keep Thomas up and running at all times - in every aspect of his self.

With every side he could talk to.

 “Virgil.”

 The side ducked, holding Deathbringer close who booped his thumb with her little head as she curled around the digit.

 “Let me take care of you. Again - just this once. As a star, if you want to look at it as some sort of trial phase. We can stop if you do not enjoy it or if it feels wrong, does not help you - whatever reason is sufficient for your precious mind.”

 He licked his lips, finally tasting a bit of ...hope? It was so sweet and consolatory that he did not dare to identify it as something he had deprived himself of ever since the other had left. It was too good to be true but the heat of the moment had him submit to the feelings of dreaming, of nostalgia The warm familiarity of what used to be coaxed him into the mindset that maybe.. just maybe.. things could switch back up if he played his cards right and opened up his heart.

 “I.. I... Janus, I am scared”, Anxiety admitted. He brushed his unoccupied index over the little snakey friend. Gaze focused on her and only her, he barely heard Janus starting to reply to him until he cleared his throat, making him snap out of reality at once.

 “Well, Virgil”, he started anew, the other side’s name rolling off his tongue like a special treat, “when are you not?”

 The anxious trait shrugged.

 “When was the last time you felt scared of something - scared for Thomas, perhaps?”

 Janus got up, circling the table a bit before he arrived next too Virgil. Deathbringer flicked the tip of her tail at her lovely papa and snuggled her head against Virgil’s thumb where she was wrapped around.

Gingerly, Janus pulled the chair next to Virgil closer to himself, his eyes on his guest only. He was scanning him for anything out of the ordinary - well, or anything remotely like Virgil that would alert him enough to change his actions.

 The guest was watching the deceptive side but did neither flinch away nor display any signs of discomfort.

No hissing, no fumbling.

Even the eye shadow was still missing. There were so many feelings but the black refused to spread at all. The mandatory amount of minimum blackness covered his eyes a tad but that was about it.

 He nodded towards him and cuddled into his seat as Janus seated himself next to him.

 “Um.. Thomas wanted to start a new hobby but he is in his thirties and he can get hurt and did you see him jump? He is not physically the most fit and, you know, a bit clumsy and such. It does more harm than anything to start exercise so late in life because it is bad for the joints and-”

 Janus rose one hand, cutting him off.

 “I think I get your point. Not that I have to agree or disagree with you on that matter. The point is that this was just this morning when Thomas looked up videos and it was only about a little idea he had for one workout. You are unsettled by any change there is.”

 The punk pouted at the snake, a gruff glare in his eyes.

 “... I guess-”

 “If even the idea of a new workout scares you, maybe you just worry a bit too much.”

 Virgil looked up at him.

Replacing the glare, there was a softness in his eyes. It was akin to a plead.

 “Let me take care of you. Let me help you worry less. I will listen, I will retreat if you just say what you need, what you think.”

 It was Janus’ turn to give him a begging look.

 “Let me do my job, Virgil. You know I am good at it - even if I am bad at other things. Let me be who you were for the others during all these weeks ever since you were accepted by them.”

 The anxious side slowly glanced at him and before averting his gaze. He stubbornly looked at the snake as if to ask Deathbringer for advice.

The loyal baby simply rubbed the side of her face against his thumb’s underside. She did not even think about going back to Janus yet she kept sneaking glances at him.

 “umhugmeplease”

 Janus blinked at him.

 “Excuse you?”

 The guest grumbled into his jacket and pulled his knees closer, swollen eyes gleaming with upcoming tears.

 “h..hu...hug me.”

 Janus Classy Deceit Sanders quirked his head just a bit. He leaned in, closing in on Virgil who was blushing furiously.

 “With all my arms?”

 Virgil hissed at him.

He fully hissed at him and simply got up and plopped himself down onto his lap.

 “...all of them, idiot..”

 Janus gently wrapped the glory of his six full arms all around Virgil’s upper body and held him close.

The younger side curled up into his arms and buried his face in his neck.

 “I missed you, Jan”, he purred out silently.

 The addressed side chuckled and tenderly hold him closer. A big sigh came from him and he used one hand to brush through Virgil’s messy hair.

 “I missed you, too. I - I am sorry for letting you cry again.”

 Virgil made a soft sound in return. It was like a snort but about three times less intense. He shook his head and snuggled closer to his friend.

 “Shut up, I cry all the time - so what?”

He slowly pulled back just enough to look at Janus.

“It.. you’re there now, aren’t you?”

 Janus nodded and relished in the warmth of their hug for a little longer. He had missed Virgil’s hugs. They were the warmest of all hugs due to his big jacket. It was even more special considering Virgil was not always in a hugging mood. He was the person to be vigilant and one step away from either fighting or fleeing since he was in charge of managing fears and reacting or identifying dangers as such and consult other sides as needed.

Essentially, he was a protector who was always looking out for literally everyone but himself - but at least he had Patton.. well, not really. He had Janus back. That was the real support he had needed. (To be fair, Patton was nice sometimes but pushed everyone too far. Logan did know to look after Anxiety but did not always understand the comfort he needed...and Remus only now came back to him in a way he did not feel scared of being close to him.)

 Janus was the care they all needed.

 Finally, they got it . Even Virgil received care.

 The other carried him away to the couch and snuggled up with him. Deathbringer curled up on Virgil’s cheek as the other finally succumbed to being taken care of himself.

At last, most sides were taken care of.

 “I’m proud of you for caring so much, Virgil”, Janus started, his naked hands still hugging him close while Deathbringer proudly re-claimed the anxious trait as little spot to sunbathe on. Few spots of sun rays sparked through the spaces between the loosely closed blinds.

 “m..you’re jus’ happy ‘m here”, Virgil argued, already half-asleep.

His voice was muffled by not only his jacket but also his sleepy state.

 Deceit had to smile at the adorable little scene.

 “I could never be happier than knowing you are safe and cared for, Virgil.”

 The anxious side cuddled closer into his myriad pairs of arms.

 “Shuddup.. jus’ nap w’f me”, he demanded weakly. The stubbornness was real even when he was barely awake.

 Janus chuckled lowly but complied. His hands removed his cape and let it slide down his back. The hat followed and was quickly put aside.

He snuggled into the comfort with Virgil and drew a blanket over them.

 This was mutual care.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanficion #fanfic fluff #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfiction #janus sanders #ts janus #ts deceit #deceit sanders #sanders sides virgil #virgil sanders #patton mention

[delicrieux]

pairing: kane x f!mc

fandom: playchoices, the elementalists

summary: she joins him.

warnings: uh… age gap i guess??

words: 2.8k (and i oop-)

author’s note: i thanos snapped. so a lot of people wanted to join kane so im giving that chance now with a dash of good old fashioned manipulation and sum romance. is kane still the villain? oh yea. does he actually like the mc?? up to you. i left this on a very pb like dramatic cliffhanger. will most likely not have a continuation unless TE disappoints me again lol ALSO! i recommend reading foreverland first.

tags: @tilliesmarshall - @somegdchoices - @lastfirstcupcake - @peach-space -@magicpijama - @zodiacsign1

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Weeks passed and there was no word of him, not a hushed whisper in the night, or even a gentle caress of spring wind in the morning. He had faded into smoke, melted into the world, into everything and nothing, and she couldn’t feel his presence and it frightened her more than she could admit. Her friends talked and joked and even Atlas came around to the idea of their mother – it is no doubt due to (Name)’s perseverance and exuberant energy – and her grades were up and all was just so swell except that he was missing. She knew she warned him against writing; she knew that showing himself would be terribly stupid. Yet she still expected him to just pop out from a corner one day and swoop her into his arms while they laughed and the whole world was nothing but chaos around them. That didn’t happen.

Nothing happened. She began to wonder was their encounter that night even real.

And then one morning she awoke early, too early, in a perplexed dream state that urged her to leave the dorm. The sun was rising, golden-orange and pretty, and her room was glowing in gentle spring colours, warm, soft, the contours of it blurry, misty even. In clumsy, sleepy steps and rubbing her eyes she stalked to her door, opening it, intending to get a glass of water, though as she stepped through the threshold a deep, inky darkness greeted her, and tiles were replaced by tall tickling grass and the night held two alien moons in it. The air was fresh and a breeze danced around her unruly, playful, familiar, though seemingly ancient. She stood at the foot of a hill, a faraway figure sitting at the very top watching the stars. (Name)’s heart jumped to her throat and she climbed closer, though she was slow and heavy as if someone was forcing her away.

But in the twin moonlight she saw the stranger’s face. Disbelieve washed over her like a freezing wave of seawater.  The woman resembled her and Atlas, her eyes, melancholic and dazed, gazed somewhere beyond this world. She did not see (Name) standing just ways below and her lips moved softly, her voice carried by the wind, “You absolute fool, wayward.” Her voice struck cord within (Name), “I cannot believe you would…do such terrible things. I almost do not want to believe them.” Theia tilted her head down to the earth she sat on, her gaze forlorn and her hand moving to touch the grass, “I almost don’t, old friend. “ A ghost of a smile played on her lips for the briefest moment before her face scrunched into worry, “I was going to tell you. Someday. I figured I had all the time in the world to do so, but I suppose that I…” She trailed off, “I saw…I know…I…One day you will meet two very beautiful and capable women. A day far far away from now. I don’t know how, or why, or if my visions are true, but you will. And once you do I want you to remember this. And I want you to promise me that you will do everything in your power to protect them. To never hurt them. And to bring them back to me.”

The wind blew past, ruffling her hair, as if in response to her request. Teary eyed she smiled, and her smile could have rivalled that of the sun, “You are the last person I should trust with this, Hurricane. But you are the only one I do.”

(Name) blinked and she found herself in her dorm, standing still by the couches, the clock ticking in her ears. She looked around, heart hammering in her chest, sweat collecting on her forehead, yet there was nothing that resembled her dream. Her mother’s face lingered in memory before it too became a ghastly blur. Just her voice, bell like and endlessly pleasant, foretold of …what? A prophecy? It was a silly thing to believe, but did she have a choice in the matter? She decided to tell Atlas once the girl awakes.

But something kept her from opening her mouth. At breakfast she stole glances at her sister, and she appeared as indifferent as she always did. And as their group was leaving, the last group to exit, and her friends continued onwards while she glanced back behind her, confusion making her frown. In her seat sat a letter which’s parchment she could not mistake for anyone else’s. She smiled with an exhale of bated breath, quickly exclaiming how she forgot something and rushed back before the doors closed. It sounded fake to her the reasoning. But no one suspected anything. Not now, nor when she came back from foreverland, either.

She hid the letter in her room and hid it well and continued her day as if nothing happened.

All went wrong in evening.

(Name) pales at the sight – Shreya stands tall and angry, her hands grasping Kane’s letter, eyes set ablaze from hate. She holds the letter up and (Name)’s eyes follow it, “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” Her voice is of contained anger, hot and harsh. (Name)’s expression must betray her because Shreya drops the letter onto the coffee table bitterly, crosses her arms over her chest, “I knew it.” She states, “I knew there was something wrong. I knew it since you came back from ‘clearing your head’. I knew you were hiding something, but this…” She shakes her head, momentarily struck by sadness, “I thought we’re friends. I thought you trust us…Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Shreya—“

“I get it. You know, I get it. He’s charming. And powerful. And yeah, he could use a makeover or ten, but I get the appeal.” She continues as if not hearing her name being called, “But he’s dangerous. And he’s vile and wicked and he is using you.”

(Name) holds her hands up in defence, successfully shushing her worried friend, “It looks really bad, I’m aware. But please listen to me. He’s really…not what you think he is.” Her eyes travel to the letter, a small, fond smile slipping on her lips as she takes a seat on the couch. Shreya continues to watch her, “He’s silly. And he likes to laugh. And he tells me the truth. He is the only one that tells me the truth.”

“He is manipulating you, you absolute dumbass.” Shreya cries in frustration, plopping down next to her, grabbing the letter and waving it in front of her eyes, “He is trying to turn you against us. Did you forget that he invaded the school? Nearly choked our professors? Hurt Atlas? Did he magickally forget to explain himself for all of that, or did you wilfully chose to ignore it?”

“He made a mistake. I know. But it’s different for him. Shreya he is…not of this world. Alma isn’t, either. You think she would think twice about enabling someone if they got in her way? They are something different all together. They see the world differently. They see the bigger picture.”

“Then don’t involve yourself with them. Either of them. They both give me the creeps.” She adds, more to herself.

“All Alma has done is frighten us. She forbade me to learn illusionary magick and she made me practice Blood magick in order to save Atlas because she almost killed her.” (Name) catches Shreya’s gaze, locks it fiercely.

“But Kane isn’t a valid option.” Shreya’s hands land on (Name)’s, squeezing softly, her eyes struck with worry, “I’ve seen that look before. You used to look at…” She whispers a name, near breathless, glancing away, “…the same way. And I’m not stupid. I know this runs deeper than friendship.”

“I…” (Name)’s voice dies in her throat, her odd dream resurfacing, “I think we…I think we were meant to meet.”

She tells Shreya of the morning she awoke to find herself trapped within a memory. Of how she saw her mother perched atop of the hill, telling stories of times that were and times that will be. All the while Shreya listened saying nothing. Her eyes were guarded and anxious and she had trouble believing it was not just another trick meant to weaken (Name). Alas, she caved in with a sigh and shoved the letter into (Name)’s hands.

“Open it.” She mutters and notes how (Name) smiles gratefully at her, fingers working quickly to peel off the wax. Shreya watches over the girl’s shoulder before she falls back into the couch, disappointed. (Name) glances at her, “Can’t read it. The letters swim.” She comments bitterly.

“Oh…” is all (Name) utters dumbly, “Guess he was serious when he said he doesn’t like sharing.”

“What?!”

-*-

The game of Thief was going great, as great as it can go faced with such a competent albeit pompous foe. One second the world was ablaze and she was having trouble breathing, ash dyeing her skin grey, as Griffin shouted commands, Zeph laughed somewhere hidden, the enemy team’s flag safe in her grasp. But then the scenery morphed and momentarily she was short of breath; the fire and the scorching air turned damp and cool and gravel stuck to her skin.

The sky is dark here, where ever this is, and she quickly jumps on her feet, on guard, ready to defend or attack – depends on what kind of game the Frost King deems necessary to play. But something is…off. She turns around and the fields sway from wind like sea at midnight. The road to nowhere continues onward into ambiguity, swallowed by fog. Though in her line of vision she sees a silhouette, one that approaches in a lazy step and she already knows who it is. Kane emerges from the mist like a wayward God, powerful and breath-taking. For a heartbeat she thinks it is an illusion; twisted, sinister, made to confuse her and she tightens her hold on the flags. But then an idea dawns onto her: she knows of no one perfect at illusionary magick from the Gildegraive’s team, nor should they know of who Kane is. She exhales unevenly, her heart jumping to her throat from excitement.

She is, despite the misconception, not an idiot. He would not pluck her from a game, even if he desired to see her so desperately, and the look in his eyes – violet, gem-esque, so pretty – betrays of something, though what she only has a hunch of. She knows why she is here and strangely enough she does not mind, “You need it.” She says before he can open his mouth. “The Sun Crystal.”

Normally he is easier to read, or perhaps he built that image for her, though now she is unable to know what he is thinking. Perhaps it is her new found taste for the finer, grander things, or the ever present want for a bit of mischief, or maybe she finally realises just how powerful she is, but she gives him a smile, feathery and genuine, “I’ll get it.” She says in a sing like tone, making him freeze, “I’ll get the Sun Crystal for you. That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? You didn’t even send an invitation.” She wags her finger at him, “Tsk-tsk-tsk. Naughty.”

To her relief he laughs, “You are too clever for your own good, (Name).” When he composes himself, a proud smile curls on his lips and he motions for her to approach him, which in a spring, quick step she does, “Though I must admit, I figured we are past proper invitations.” She falls into his embrace, and he hugs her tightly, “That would be…entirely too predictable, no?”

She tilts her head upwards, locks his gaze with her own, “If you think I will ask you to take me out to the movies, you are entirely mistaken.” She leans in, captures his lips in a teasing kiss, “That would be no fun.”

“No, no fun at all.”

“They will know I disappeared, though.” She lectures as they break apart, which she is not entirely fond of, “You picked a terrible time.”

He hooks a loose strand of hair over her ear, pinching her chin playfully, “You are the master of illusions now. Or have you not been practicing? Tsk-tsk-tsk. Naughty.” Her cheeks flare up with heat, and her throat shakes, mind drawing blank. She glares at him and he laughs again, with his arm motioning to the vast fields, “All yours, my dear.”

She has doubted herself many times. She has questioned her choices, though all of that seemed to change quite a while ago. While she can’t pin point when did this confidence started to grow within her, she feels none of her previous dark thoughts clouding her mind. With a steady breath she locates her magick – the sun, so foreign in this bleak, eerie place – and it glows within her, seeps through her skin, smells like flowers and pollen mixing with light summer breeze. Her eyes close and she concentrates, imagines herself, her every quirk, every awkward smile, every languid movement. And when she opens her eyes again, a mirror image of her stands just ways away, the resemblance uncanny and if not for the blank look trapped within her eyes (Name) would think that Atlas jumped into this world wearing a different hairdo.

(Name) looks at Kane, who regards her clone mildly impressed, seizes her up and down for any errors. (Name) smacks his chest; he raises a brow, “…Jealous?” He asks amused.

“In your dreams, Hurricane.” She misses the slight narrow of his eyes at the nickname, now focusing back on the illusion, “Can you…send her-me-…it back?” Her simulacrum is gone with a snap of his fingers. She turns to him, frowning as he watches her with an inquisitive gaze, “What?”

“Why did you call me that?”

All the tension in the air seems to dissipate and she feels a bit like her old self again, energetic and giddy, “Oh! Well, about that, I actually had this really weird dream about my mom and stuff and she was calling you all sorts of names like Wayward and Hurricane and I guess it just slipped my mind is all.” She explains in one breath making him snort. She stops to catch her breath, now thoughtful, “She also mentioned that…she knew you were going to meet me. And Atlas. Us both.”

“Ah.” He nods in agreement, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her closer, “I do recall Theia and her prophecies. Most of them were laughably untrue. Though…This one…Always had the feeling it was destined to happen.” He finishes in a lower, honey-coated tone.

“Then…does that mean--?”

“Yes. We are unavoidable.”

This time he kisses her and her eyes shut obediently, overtaken by his raw desire and the scorching heat of his touch. The world goes in vertigo; the air contorts from cold to warm and fragrant; instead of harsh gravel she feels feather-soft sheets tickle her skin pleasantly, his weight resting atop her. Her hands run in his hair and his hat yet again helplessly falls off, forgotten somewhere by the foot of the bed in this unfamiliar, dream-esque place. His lips roam to the side of her jaw, then her neck, and her eyes snap open as her whole body tingles. The ceiling spins and bites her tongue when he finds a particularly sensitive spot. She can feel him smile, enjoying this perhaps too much. Her fingers tug on his locks and he releases a sound that is low and dangerous and boundlessly delicious.

“The game will end soon.” She reminds, breathless, alluring, arching into his touch like a helpless flower. He merely hums against her skin, not too interested, “Do you want the crystal or not?” She wonders aloud, if only to tease him.

“I want you.”

He halts his movements suddenly, and fear stills her beating heart: had he taken her taunting seriously? She almost wants to whine, but when he finds her gaze his eyes twinkle with mirth, “Alas, you are a terrible tease.” He whispers, his lips grazing the side of her cheek, “Don’t take too long.”

She is plunged yet again as if into water, and her body goes in shivers once she finds herself back at Perderghast, terribly confused and undeniably hot. Irritation picks at the back of her throat in bitterness, yet time is of the essence, and he always was impulsive. She falls into step, at first somewhat slow and then picks up pace, lastly rushing to the Sun-Att classroom with a wicked grin. She wonders if her friends had figured out that the one occupying her spot is nothing but an illusion, or had it already melted? Will they be angry? Will they laugh? She would laugh. Then again, she had acquired a bizarre sense of humour recently.

She reaches the classroom and throws the door open, stumbling in and shielding her eyes from the blinding light. Her smile is immediately wiped from her face.

“Alma?” She questions, uncertain at first, her eyes narrowing with suspicion at the looming figure of the Blood Source watching (Name) with a displeased, ruthless look, “What are you doing here?”

thank you for reading! xx

#the elementalists #playchoices #pixelberry #choices: stories you play #choices imagine #the elementalists 2 #kane #kane x mc #te #te2 #the elementalists x mc #te atlas #shreya mistry #zeph hernandez #griffin langley #beckett harrington #more like bucket #sksksksksk #aster d'yew #playchoices fanfic #imagine #imagines #one shot #angst #imagine being so disappointed at a chapter that you rewrite it #it was supposed to be more dramatic but i was tired #SIGH #yeehaw

[wwereaderinserts]

Those Blue Eyes

A/N: I’ve decided to try branching out a little more, so have a Finn fic!

Pairing: Finn Bálor x Reader

Word Count: 1,400

Summary: After several months apart, Finn plans a night in for you both, but he has another plan behind it all...

Finn’s back home for a few days after being on the road for months on end, and he’s insisted on making dinner for you both this evening. At first, you questioned it. You can’t recall him making dinner from scratch like this before, but that’s probably down to the fact that he’s a very busy man. But, you can’t complain. He’s made your favourite dinner, and he’s even gone to the trouble of properly setting the table, lighting candles, and even playing some background music for you both. It’s very...romantic, to say the least.

“You know...you never mentioned you were this good of a cook. Finn Bálor, you dark horse.”

You chuckle, flashing a smile at your boyfriend while you continue to dig into your dinner. Finn simply smiles and shrugs, momentarily setting his cutlery down on his plate to take a swig of his drink that’s currently sitting in a glass on the table cloth.

“What can I say, sweetheart? ‘m a man ‘a many talents.”

Finn hums, catching your eye, and despite there being only candlelight illuminating the room, you notice a certain gleam in his eyes. You smirk, earning a wink and a raise of the glass from him when he sees that the penny has finally dropped with you. In response, you raise your own glass, outstretching your arm across the table to him. Then, Finn mirrors the gesture.

“May as well call for a toast, right?”

You hum, smiling. Finn gives you a brief nod, and both your glasses chime when he gently clinks his against your own. Before you can proceed with proposing a toast, Finn beats you to it, and he does so with a grin.

“To bein’ reunited, even if s’only for a few days. To us.”

Saying cheers, you both drink in comfortable silence, save for the background music. You pay more attention to everything this time around, and you think about all the trouble he’s clearly gone to in order to plan this all out.

You had no idea that he’d gone food shopping yesterday when you’d gone to meet a friend for lunch, and it was obvious that he’d quickly got to work with the cooking and every other detail when you’d gone out to run a few quick errands earlier today. You aren’t complaining. Absolutely not. You love that he’s planned something so nice out for you both, but you still can’t help but wonder why, even now.

“...Babe? Can I ask you something?”

Setting your glass down, you cast him a smile from across the round table, only to offer him some form of reassurance that it’s nothing for him to worry about. Though he’s bemused, Finn nods and sets his own glass down, then, he props his elbows up on the table, tenting his fingers and resting his hands against his chin.

“‘Course ya can.” he smiles, “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“I was just wondering...what made you want to set this all up? Don’t get me wrong, I love that you did, but...what’s the occas-...oh my god, did I forget our anniversary or something? Shit! No, I can’t have-”

As you trail off, Finn laughs a little. So, that’s some sort of relief. He’s not upset, so you clearly didn’t forget your anniversary, and you know you haven’t forgotten his birthday. You’re still completely clueless, so you give him the opportunity to offer you some idea.

“‘Ya didn’t forget anythin’! I jus’ did it ‘cause I just wanted to treat ya. S’not often I get the chance t’ cook for ya, so...t’ought I’d make the most of it.”

Finn smiles and leans back in his chair, growing quiet for a moment. You’re smiling at what he’s just said, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind. Though, you wait and see if he speaks up to address it first, so you don’t try prying it out of him.

“Actually, uh...there’s somethin’ else, too. Like...another reason behind all’a this.”

Now, you’re seriously confused. If you didn’t forget an anniversary, and it’s neither of your birthdays...what’s he got in mind here? You nod, straightening up in your seat, and you will him to continue.

“...Oh? What is it?”

You ask, and Finn clears his throat, though he doesn’t speak for another moment or two. He appears to be mulling something over, and no matter how badly you want him to speak his mind already, you wait patiently, despite the knots that begin to form in the pit of your stomach.

Finally, Finn smiles, and he slides the palm of his hand across the table, stopping an inch or so short of yours. Then, he slips his hand over yours, and he gives it a light squeeze, and you perceive it as one of reassurance that this is nothing bad, only positive.

“...I love ya. I don’t get ta tell ya enough, ‘least not like this, anyway. Not face ta face, y’know?” Finn smiles, and he gives your hand another squeeze, but slightly tighter this time, “But I’m not done. I got way more I wanna tell ya!”

You chuckle at that, and already, you feel yourself growing emotional. Sappy texts, voicemails, and phone calls from him are one thing, but Finn getting sappy right before your very eyes? Your heart can’t handle it.

“(Y/N), before we met, I t’ought I had everythin’ I could ever want. But I was wrong.”

Finn pauses. Then, his soft gaze meet yours, and he lightly strokes his thumb over the top of your hand. He sighs, contentedly, and you can’t contain the smile that’s bubbling on your lips for much longer.

“I didn’t have you.” Finn’s other hand makes its way across the table, taking hold of your free one, “An’ I know s’not easy wit’ me bein’ on the road a lot, but now I know what life is like wit’ ya, how can I do anythin’ other than spend the rest of it by your side?”

He studies your reaction for any sign of his words dawning on you, and, surely enough, he’s met with an expression of pleasant surprise on your behalf while you replay the words over and over again in your head.

At first, you’re sure it’s wishful thinking. A dream, even. But the sight of Finn slowly raising up out of chair, fishing something out of his pants pocket, and propping himself down on one knee right in front of you, that tells you that, yes, it’s very real.

“You’re the most beautiful, most intelligent, funniest person I know. You’re my today, my tomorrow, my yesterday, an’ my forever.”

Now, you’re getting misty eyed, and he hasn’t even popped the question yet. You don’t even attempt to blink back tears. When they threaten to spill, you simply allow it, and when you speak, your voice is merely a whisper.

“Finn, ask me.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), would ya make me the happiest man alive? Will ya marry me?”

He asks, opening up the small box he holds in his palm to reveal a rather impressive - not to mention expensive - looking ring. You’re no expert, but judging by the look of it, you want to say that it’s a platinum band. You aren’t sure precisely how many carats, but you do know that it’s arguably one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you’ve ever seen.

Crying tears of sheer happiness, you push your chair back and drop to your knees, unable to nod your head fast enough to get your answer across to him. Finn gently raises his hand to your face to brush the tears away, then, he pulls you in for a tender kiss that lasts until you both absolutely have to draw back for some air.

You giggle to yourself, and you cast your eyes downwards to look at your hand while he’s slipping the ring onto your finger. Finn flashes you a megawatt smile, and you mirror him, not letting the smile fade, even when your cheeks begin to hurt.

“So…’m takin’ it that’s a ‘yes’?”

Finn asks, and you nodd, framing his face with your hands while you go to pull him in for yet another kiss.

"I couldn’t turn down those blue eyes, could I?” you giggle, then, you affirm, “...Yes. That was a thousand times yes.”

#finnxreader #finn balor x reader #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe oneshot #wwe fanfiction

[freelancer-chronicles]

Click to read ANOTHER story, we have been blessed

Tendrils of fog crept in past the curtains on the bar door. There was no keeping the stuff out when the season came. Max found it worse than the oppressive darkness or the skorpions, which at least had the good sense to stay out of her bar. It was a bad time to be doing business, and a lot of wiser heads wouldn’t try with so many bad omens about, but in Max’s experience deals wouldn’t wait. You seized opportunity when it appeared, no matter how grim things around it might be.

She watched the men across from her as they studied their cards. It was never a good idea to take your eyes off Regulators for too long. Especially if you were a Regulator yourself. Cheating fellow Regulators was almost a sign of respect. Almost. This deal was taking too long, Max felt, there were too many risks. Not least of which was that her wife Lena would get tired of waiting for her to come home and send someone to collect her.

“I’ll raise you twenty.” The older man, one of Zhim’s negotiators, smirked at Max. He was down too much coin to make a comeback. Max figured he was trying now to lose with the most panache.

The younger Regulator groaned and laid his cards down on the table, “This again? Fine. I’m out.” He was from Heliost, representing the new boss there, and trying to make a good impression. Not quite succeeding, Max thought, but trying.

“Vin, you haven’t got twenty left to raise.” Max leaned back against the booth and looked pointedly at the paltry couple of coins in front of the older man.

“I’ll write you an I.O.U.” Vin shrugged, unconcerned.

“You won’t,” Max countered him firmly, “Not when Zhim already owes me for a strider full of javelin parts.”

Vin frowned, “Dusty would’ve taken my marker.”

“Which is how Dusty lost this damned bar in the first place. You can’t wager what you can’t lose.” She watched him try to palm a card he’d just pulled from his boot. “And you’ve got nothing. New management, new rules, Vin.”

“But still no sign on the door. That can’t be good for business.” Tenzin, the younger Regulator spoke up, “Are we done here? I want to get back to my strider before the roads are full of skorpions.”

“I like you, Tenzin.” Max nodded at the young man, “You’ve got sense.”

Tenzin started to get to his feet and Vin waved at him to sit. “This hand’s not done.”

“Sure,” Max shrugged, “Let’s see if that ace you had in your boot’s enough to save your pride.”

Laughing at the older man’s chagrin, Tenzin rose and half-bowed to Max. “You’re sharper than Dusty, that’s for sure.”

“That’s why I’m still alive.” She smiled and waved for him to go.

“Give my regards to Lena,” Tenzin said, “I’ll contact you about the goods when I’m back in Heliost.” He left.

Vin eyed her across the table. “Tell me something, Max. The hit on Dusty’s strider – Was that you?”

Max laughed sourly, “With all the coin that slippery bastard owed me? He could never afford to die.”

The old Regulator grunted, getting to his feet, “So it was the curse again? Bad business there. Zhim’s worried. More than a dozen new owners for this place in the last few years.” He flipped over his cards, a hand full of nothing, plus a stolen ace, and caught Max’s eyes. “Fort Tarsis is too important to change hands so often.”

“Tell Her Glitching Highness I agree with her.” Max waved for Vin to go, and watched the older man shuffle out the door to be swallowed by fog.

Max rose from her booth, gathering up cards and the notes that sealed the deals she’d been closing. The last patrons of the bar, a trio of Freelancers reeking of Fortuo Brew and unwashed javelin padding, ambled towards the exit telling each other the same story for the tenth time about Lucky Jak fighting some sort of carnivorous plant as they left. Max pulled the gate down behind them and viewed her empty bar.

The fog brought in business – plenty of people in Tarsis opted to fortify their bravery with the aid of a drink or two – but more customers meant more to clean up. The fog played tricks on her eyes, making the Freelancers’ table look like the scene of a grisly attack. Spilled drinks pooled like blood in the dark, swirling light, dripping slowly from the edge of the table onto the floor. She sighed, calculating how much time she had left before Lena started to worry.

“Amal, take inventory,” Max said, grabbing a rag and a mop from beneath the bar. “If we’ve got to restock something, I want to start looking for it now. It’s not like we’re getting anything quickly in this weather.”

“Just leave it to me, Max!” Amal’s official job title was, “head bartender,” and while Max did employ three bartenders, he was easily the least in-charge of all of them. Privately, Max had given him the promotion so Amal would stop pestering the other bartenders with questions during work hours. Amal cheerfully took several old, dusty bottles down from the shelf to examine the contents, then paused, squinting suspiciously at the far corner. “Hey, I think those Freelancers left something behind. Can you grab it? Maybe we can still catch them.”

Max pushed aside the partly drawn curtains draping the corner booth. Amidst the bottles and pools of swill on the tabletop sat an old, threadbare newsboy hat. Even calling the thing a “hat” bordered on optimistic. Whatever color it had originally been had long since faded to a sickly taupe. The brim was spattered with irregular dark stains. As she examined it, Max got the slightest whiff of stale silver. A chill ran down her spine, and on impulse, she felt inside the band and found a hidden pocket with four playing cards and an IOU too smudged to read.

“Max? Should I try to catch those Freelancers?” Amal asked, half-hidden behind bottles.

“Don’t bother. It’s not theirs.” Max walked over to the bar and dropped the hat in the trash. She returned to the corner and started mopping up the pool of swill from the trashed table top with a rag.

“Shouldn’t we put it in the lost and found?” Amal sounded shocked, “The owner might come back looking for it.”

“It’s Dusty’s,” Max shrugged, “No way he’s coming back to claim it.”

“The curse.” Amal whispered. From behind her came the sounds of several bottles clattering into one another, followed by Amal letting out a string of horrified, “Whoops! Oh! Crap!” as he tried and failed to catch any of them before they fell to the floor. Max winced, but a glance back at Amal told her that at least none of the bottles had broken.

“Amal.” Max said dryly, “Try not to wreck my bar.”

The flustered bartender tripped coming out from behind the counter. “How? How could it be Dusty’s hat? He died months ago. Where did it even come from?” He gathered the dropped bottles and held them all in his arms like a moonshine bouquet.

“How should I know? Glitched crap happens all the time around this place.” Max cleaned the worst of the mess from the table and started mopping the floor around it. The air stank of unwashed lancers who’d spent a little too much time out in the darkness. She tried not to breathe. Without the dark pools of drink, the place looked less like a crime scene, but the tendrils of mist rising off the floor still made the dark corners of the bar look like something out of a half-remembered dream.

For a moment, Amal was quiet except for the clinking of glass as he moved bottles back and forth from the shelves. “Still,” he said, “It was Dusty’s. Maybe we could’ve… I dunno, not thrown it away?”

“It’s just a hat. We’re not building a memorial for a hat.” Max put away the rag and mop. “Finish cleaning up out here, will you? I’ll take care of the books.”

“Right. Of course.”  

~

Max entered the back room and closed the door behind her. It was hard to tell where the floor was through the fog swirling around her feet. This really was the worst season in memory. She winced, thinking of Lena at home alone. Her wife could make hardened Regulator bosses crumble with a look, but lived in terror of the dark. Their apartment always had a light on. At least one. Sometimes several, but with this fog... She was just settling down to count the money when Amal shrieked, “Max!”

She ran out to the bar. “You all right? What’s the matter?”

Amal pointed a shaking finger. “It’s back! It came back!”

Max followed Amal’s terrified gaze to the table near the gate. The old, threadbare hat was hanging on the back of a chair. “Very funny, Amal.”

She walked over and picked the hat up with a sigh. It was undoubtedly the same hat. The same smell of Dusty’s favorite drink. The same playing cards in the band, the same bloodstains. Max put it in the trash bin a little more firmly this time, as if maybe it just hadn’t gotten the point before.

“Take the trash out, would you?” she asked, returning to the back room.

It was darker in the back than Max remembered. The fog reached with its misty tendrils up the walls and curled around the sconces on the wall, dimming the lights. It swirled around her desk, and the cashbox, and the deck of playing cards she’d left there. Max waved it away, annoyed. “I’m not playing with you,” she muttered.

She heard heavy footsteps and the clanging of the gate as Amal took the trash out to the fort’s incinerator. At least that was done with. Max sat down at her desk and opened the cashbox. The sooner she finished this, the sooner she’d be home with Lena. Half an hour later, a series of thuds and whimpers from the bar told her Amal had returned. Max looked up from the books and rubbed her eyes. It was getting hard to tell where the floor and walls were anymore. The back room had been almost entirely swallowed by fog, leaving just the faint lights of the sconces. She rose unsteadily to her feet and started to feel her way towards across the room when a bloodcurdling scream came from the bar.

Max ran to the door and stumbled out to find Amal sobbing wordlessly by the front gate. She strode over and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Amal! Get ahold of yourself.” Max gave the terrified bartender a shake and he met her gaze, eyes wide with terror.

“It’s back again! I threw it in the incinerator, Max, what if it wants revenge?” Amal’s voice cracked on the last word.

Max looked around, puzzled, saw the bar, and felt her heart sink. “It’s a hat. Even you could take it in a fight.” She grabbed Dusty’s hat, crumpling it in her hand, and shoved it in the trash can. “Go home, Amal. I can deal with this, all right?”

“But Max!” Amal started to object but was interrupted by a loud knocking sound. Max and Amal stared at one another for a moment in confusion. The knock had come from the door to the back room.

Max took a deep breath. Glitched shit happened all the time, she reminded herself. It didn’t mean anything. “Go home. I’ll lock up.” She took a step towards the back room door.

“No!” Amal shrieked, desperately throwing himself in her path and waving his arms. “It’s the curse, Max! Don’t answer it!”

“Amal,” Max tried to make her voice soothing, but it came out weary instead. She had never been good at soothing. “It’s not the curse. Curses don’t knock. Go on home. It’s been a long day.” She stepped around Amal and opened the door.

No one was there. For a moment, Max wondered what she’d expected. She felt a chill run down her spine, looked down and saw the hat on the floor. Behind her, Amal began wailing like a child with a skinned knee.

Max shut the door.

“All right. You’re going home, right now.” She took Amal firmly by the shoulders and turned him toward the gate.

“But you’ll die!” Amal sobbed, “If I leave the bar the curse will get you, and I don’t want another boss!” He stubbornly clung to Max, preventing her from walking him out.

“That’s sweet, but it’s also the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Max said as firmly as she could. She managed to drag Amal a few steps toward the exit.

Another loud knock came from the back room door.

What was left of her nerve snapped. “We’re closed!” She shouted in the general direction of the back room, and without missing a beat, she herded Amal out the gate, pulling it down behind him.

“Max?” Amal sniffled sadly, standing in the entrance.

“I’m locking up. Watch yourself on the damned steps.” She waited for Amal to disappear from the little semi-circle of light the spilled out of the bar into the fog.

Once Amal was gone, Max walked slowly to the back room and stood before the door. Heart pounding in her chest, she stared at the handle, trying to calm herself enough to open the door, and growing increasingly angry with each passing moment that she found an ugly old hat so terrifying. This was Amal’s fault. Stirring things up that shouldn’t be stirred. She reached out and opened the door.

The hat lay silent and still on the floor.

She stared at it for a long moment. Max took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then picked up Dusty’s hat. She brushed it off, which did nothing whatsoever to improve its appearance, turning it over once in her hands.

“All right,” she said, glancing around at the empty room, “Fine. We’ll cut a deal.” She walked across the room and hung the hat up on a hook.

It stayed there. It was, after all, a hat.

Max realized after a moment that she was holding her breath and slowly released it.

“We good?” She asked the empty air. When nothing happened, she nodded, satisfied, and switched off the lights to go home. Lena was going to kill her.

Special thanks to Neil Grahn, Ryan Cormier, Cathleen Rootsaert, Jay Watamaniuk, and Karin Weekes

#Anthem #Anthem game #Season of Skulls #Regulator Max #Amal #bartender Amal #LORE #Anthem stories #I ALMOST MISSED A STORY #AGAIN #Princess Zhim #for repeated references #notes: we should all be telling ghost stories #amal is adorable #the phrase newsboy hat is very important to me #Mary Kirby

[lorumipsum-03]

Storybook Assassin-Short Story 1

I let out a deep breath and stare up at my latest adversary. We have been in conflict since early yesterday morning and the battle is showing no signs of ending soon, if ever. I take a step back and wonder, how much stuff can possibly fit in one closet? It’s not even a big closet. I set the box of books I had been moving and check the time: 9:02. I don’t need to be at work until ten, so I (regrettably) still have some time left to clean. Once again I plunge into the jungle that is my closet, looking for the treasure that is The Adventures of Weed Wacker and Binary. Volume 4. 1985. I tug out another beat up looking box labeled Misty’s princess stuff. Misty is my sister, she’s 8 years old and a pain in the butt. I move to set the box down on my bed, but before I can put it there, the bottom gives out. Knickknacks and toys from two years ago spill out all over my already crowded floor. I scramble to clean them up, but don’t really get far. You know when you go to clean out your clothes and sort of end up wearing them all? That’s pretty much what happened to me. So, instead of putting them back in the box I end up wearing a crown, veil, weird little princess cone hat, and an elegant red king’s robe. That’s when I notice the wand. It’s about a foot in length and made of a translucent, glittery, purple material, that I assume is plastic. It has been taken out of its packaging, but unlike all of the other toys in the box it is not battered or broken. I think nothing of it and pick up the wand, cold to the touch. I lean back in my chair, and jokingly point the wand at nothing, and give a half-hearted “Bippity-Boppity-Boo.” To my complete surprise a swirling blue portal appears on my wall. I let out a very undignified yelp and drop the wand, which lands on my foot before falling to the floor. That’s way too heavy to be plastic. Now, to answer the question, what’s inside that portal? I have no idea what to expect, so I grab a bag that I normally bring when I go camping with my family. Inside it I have toilet paper, duct tape, two bottles of water, a compass, Swiss army knife and a notebook with some crayon pencils. As an afterthought I grab my phone, I probably won’t get service, but one can always hope. When I slip my phone in to the front pocket of my shorts I get a glimpse of the time: 9:40 AM. Shoot, I’m going to be late for work if I go exploring. Should I go? I know I have a couple vacation days left, but I don’t know If I’ll make it back through the portal. Then again… there’s also a portal to another freaking dimension. Aw, screw it. I grab my phone to call in and ask for today off. I dial the number, it rings twice before cutting off, the ring replaced by a voice. “Jane Black, Rainy Day Comics, how can I help you?” “Jane, it’s Clara, I need to use one of my vacation days.” “’mkay, may I ask why?” “Found a wand while cleaning, made a portal, gonna find out where it goes.” “All right, I’ll buy it. Bring back something cool to show me.” The dial tone sounds and I slip my phone back into my pocket. All right, I guess I’m doing this. I take a deep breath (in case I end up underwater) close my eyes, and step through the swirling blue circle. Oh boy. I step out into a peaceful, sunlit forest. It’s warm and bright, bluebirds and cardinals chirp in the branches, and the grass is soft under my feet. You’re kidding me. In my excitement I forgot my shoes. I spin around to run back into the portal and grab them, but the portal is gone. I pause to bang my head against a tree for a moment before holding the not-plastic wand in front of me and shouting the incantation that brought me here. “Bippity-Boppity-Boo!” Nothing happens. I try again, nothing. I slump down, and glare at the wand for a bit before pushing myself up and heading south. I tuck the wand in my back pocket, seeing as it’s not doing me any good right now, and resign myself to a long walk to the next town. I don’t get far. About five minutes into my quest for civilization I run into two of natures most feared and hated creatures: cops.  As soon as I see them, I freeze and step on a conveniently placed stick. Snap. The cops take that moment to notice me. As they turn to face me I notice they both have translucent wands with black handles that look like they fade to red and patches on their chests that read Magic Patrol in a flowy script. I quickly turn to face them straight on, trying to hide my wand, which I’m probably not allowed to have. If I can hide my wand from them and if I can convince them to take me to the nearest town and if they don’t put me in jail, maybe I have a shot of finding out how to get home. If I can get home. “Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there,” I say. They both raise their right eyebrow simultaneously. Dang, I wish I could raise one eyebrow at a time. “I appear to be lost,” I continue, “could you two point me to the nearest town?” They don’t answer, instead they turn toward each other, and one of them takes out a little glass tablet. One of them taps it and a hologram pops up. A shining blue map of the forest with two silver blips for the cops, and one red blip, that I gather must be me. That’s probably not good. “Miss-” one of the cops begins before the other one cuts him off. “Look here lady, you’re under arrest,” he barks in a loud gravelly voice. Before I can react, the calm cop- the one who spoke first, is behind me and my wand is in her hand. Then the loud cop takes the tablet and scans the wand first, then me. He turns to his assistant and growls “this is the wand we’re looking for. The girl isn’t from here, she’s of no consequence.” And with that, they run off, jump into their car, and leave. Now, unless I can get that wand back, I might be stuck in this weird fairy-tale land forever.  

I give up. I’ve been walking for about five hours, and it’s dark. I think time works differently here, but that’s not really surprising, given I’m in an alternate dimension. My feet hurt, I’m sweaty, I drank one of my bottles of water, and still no sign of a settlement of any kind. I sink to the ground against a ridiculously large tree, whose roots make a pretty comfortable nook. I’m glad it’s warm, because I don’t have a blanket. I tuck my bag under my head and put the Swiss army knife next to me, just in case. I can see slivers of the sky through the leaves, and it’s filled with stars. That’s not something you can see at home. I fall asleep with the tree guarding me, the stars twinkling, and the crickets singing.

I wake up to the sound of twigs snapping, and the soft sound of breathing. Breathing that is not mine. My eyes shoot open, and I find myself looking into a pair of violently green eyes, about six inches from my face. I scream and kick the green-eyed intruder in the gut. He flies backward and ends up sprawled on the grass, I jump up and grab my Swiss army knife. “Who are you?” My voice comes out creaky and riddled with sleep, not as threatening as I’d like. Green-eyes scrambles backwards into the tree opposite mine and puts up his hands. Now that he’s further away and I can get a better look at him, I realize he looks familiar, but I’m not sure where I’ve seen him before. He’s dressed in creamy white shirt with golden epaulettes and buttons, and red pants with shiny black riding boots. His hair is black and looks like it was smoothed back earlier, but now it’s ruffled up from the wind. Then it hits me. “Prince Charming?” He sets his hands down and nods. I shove my less-than-ideal weapon in my pocket and plop to the ground. I just kicked Prince Charming, the Prince Charming in the stomach. If I wasn’t in trouble then, I certainly am now. Oh, well. I’ll try to make the best of it. “Think you’d mind giving me a ride to the nearest town? To my surprise, he doesn’t. He stands up, and offers me his hand before realizing I had already got to my feet. I introduce myself and he introduces himself. Prince Chad Charming LII, he says he’s not that far from town and would be happy to give me a ride. I gratefully accept and off we go to find his horse.   It’s a pure white stallion with beauty uncommon in a horse, and I honestly don’t know what else I expected. We climb on, him in front with the reins, me in back clinging to the saddle for dear life. It takes us the better part of an hour to get to town and when we do, it’s a picture-perfect storybook village. Although, at second glance, it doesn’t look quite so picture-perfect any more. I can see handmade patches on almost every roof, and a good portion of the houses look like they’re about to fall over. The butcher is arguing with an old lady over a scrap of meat while everyone else looks around hollow-eyed and hungry. This whole trip has just been one giant train-wreck. That makes this the perfect time to start an awkward conversation. “So… What’s a prince doing gallivanting around in the woods, miles from his own kingdom?” For a second I think he’s not going to answer, but then he squints, like the reason is embarrassing, and starts talking. “Well, Princess Amethyst is hosting a ball tonight, to celebrate the finding of her wand, and me and my family were invited. We normally don’t like to have anything to do with the Amethyst’s, but finding her wand is a big thing, so my parents think we should be there. And, well, I didn’t have a date. So I went off into the forest to look for one, because my family has had luck with finding damsels in distress in the woods before, and I thought if I could find one, I’d get a date to the ball.” The wand? Could that be the one those cops took from me? “Why is finding her wand such a big deal?” I say, carefully steering the topic away from finding a date for the celebration.  The prince looks a little put-out, like he thinks I would offer to be his date. No. “Well, in magical families, it’s a tradition for the firstborn to get a wand, or a spell book, or something like that when they turn sixteen. The princess’s wand, which had been her great-grandmother’s, was put on display in a museum. It would remain there until she came of age and claimed the wand. But, about three years ago, the wand vanished. Just, gone. Like it had never been there. They reviewed all the security footage and found nothing. We were all resigned to its loss until yesterday night when, the royal guard caught its energy signature about ten miles north of here. Now the princess is eighteen, and ready to claim her wand, even though some may not wish it.” I hmm softly under my breath, if there was a way to get home I may have just found it. “Why wouldn’t some people want her to get her wand?” I ask. “She doesn’t seem so bad.” At this the prince whips his head back and gets this weird look in his face. “You’re not from around here, are you?” I shake my head and mutter something about being from a kingdom across the sea. The prince sighs and starts to explain. “The Amethyst family has always been a little… harsh. They let their country fall into poverty as they grow richer and richer, there’s never enough food to go around, and they can throw you into jail for the smallest reasons. The princess is the worst of them all, even without a wand, and with the king and queen getting old…” he trails off. “The whole country is worried about what she’ll do. It just doesn’t seem right to stand around and do nothing, but my kingdom has bigger worries.” He sounds sad, I can see why. It’s a pretty bad situation the Amethyst kingdom has got itself in. That’s when I get an idea. Time to play hero. “I assume the wand will be present at the ball?” “Yes.” I crack a small smile, this could be my ticket home. “Do you still need a date to the ball?”

I grimace, this was a bad idea. This was not worth it, I wish I was still in the woods. I have just walked through the doors of the Amethyst castle, in a smooth, bright blue dress. The prince is next to me, and his parents are right behind.   They were overjoyed see their son had brought me back, and immediately stuffed me into a bath, did up my hair, and jammed me into the dress. With high heels. Though I must admit, I do look pretty dang good, blue works well on me. I look around, hoping the wand is in plain sight, unfortunately, I can’t see it. The prince, luckily hasn’t quite figured out what my plan is. I don’t know if he’ll be mad or not, but his parents certainly would. This is so illegal. My plan is simple, find the wand, get the wand, kick the princesses butt, and get home. Easy. I keep looking around trying to catch a view of the princess or the wand. After circling around the ballroom twice I finally realize, I don’t know what the princess looks like. I am the best at planning, I blatantly lie to myself. I turn to the prince and ask him what the princess looks like. “She’s right over there.” He says and points at a girl a little taller than me, with long white-blond hair that fades into lavender at the ends, and a dress to match it. And she’s holding the wand. Unfortunately, at that moment the music starts. I need to dance. I don’t know how to dance. I have to get away. I spot the princess slip her wand to a servant, if I can get over there, I can grab the wand and get out of here. The prince is looking away now. This is my chance. I take a deep breath, and slip into the crowd. Making my way over is harder than I thought, and half way through I have to press myself against the wall to take a breather… there are so many people it’s hard to think. That’s when the prince pops up beside me. “Fancy seeing you here,” he quips. I swallow, this is not going my way. “Ho-” he cuts me off. “I don’t need your footwear to recognize you, you know.” I smirk at that, but he doesn’t lift a lip. “Tell me what’s really going on.” I can’t do that. He’ll never believe me. “I’ll believe you.” “You were right when you said I wasn’t from here. But I’m not from another kingdom, I’m from another universe. A universe where all this,” I wave my hands around, “is fictional. I found the wand and somehow opened a portal to your world. I tried to get back and couldn’t, and then the Magic Patrol took the wand away. Then you came, and when I figured out about the wand I thought I would talk to the princess and have her zap me back home, but when you told me how awful her and her family was I knew I had to do something and I…” I pause to take a breath, there are tears in my eyes and a very confused look on the prince’s face. But then the confused look turns to determination, and he holds his hand out to help me up from the floor which I didn’t realize I had fallen to. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll help you.” I start to open my mouth to thank him, and he cuts me off. “But, when we open the portal back,” if we open the portal back, “you’ve got to show me this world of yours, deal?” “Deal.” We shake hands. It’s time to kick some princess butt. I run around the left side, and the prince takes the right. If I can get halfway up the staircase I’ll be right above the princess and her servant. From there I can drop onto the servant’s head and wrestle the wand away. From there the prince will help hold any attackers back as we escape. After that we’ll go… somewhere, I’m not exactly sure where, but the prince says he knows some people who can do magic, and might be able to get me home. I hope he’s right. I tap my way up the stairs, being careful not to make too much noise with my stupidly loud high heels that I can’t even walk in. I almost trip over my dress twice. Why did I think I could do stairs? How am I going to land on someone’s head while I’m in a dress? I take my shoes off and decide to figure it out as I go. I reach my destination without further incident, and peek over the edge of the ivory railing. I’m right above the servant with the wand. The prince is at the front of the crowd, and he gives me a thumbs up. Then the princess starts talking. “And now, for the main event,” the princess says, her voice sounds like wind chimes and crystals. She grabs the wand off the plate it’s being held on and brandishes it. It starts glowing red. She starts glowing black. There’s some screaming. Time to go. I grab the top of the railing, and scoot my feet back as far as I can without falling over. If I get enough momentum I can catapult myself over the edge in one smooth move. I pull my arms forward and push my legs upwards as I launch myself past the railing. It occurs to me while I’m in midair, this was a really, really bad idea. But then I don’t have any time to think, because I just crashed onto the plate the servant is holding. I slam into the ground, the servant crunches on top of me. Yes I mean crunches, his nose cracks pretty hard against the floor and starts bleeding I’m not much better off. Pretty sure I’ve broken my tail bone. Princess Amethyst screams and turns to face me. The wand is still glowing red, as are her eyes and holy heck that’s creepy close up. She points the wand at me and opens her mouth to scream something, I scramble backwards as a bolt of energy flies from the front of the wand, just barely missing me. I continue to crawl backwards as she continues shoots at me, but luckily, she has terrible aim. I try to catch the prince’s eye as I move past him, I give my head a desperate jerk, trying to tell him to circle back around and tackle the princess. All the other guests are screaming and storming the doors. The princess aims a blast at my head, and I go flat as the bolt zooms over my head. I really wish the prince would come help. The prince comes and helps. He hurls himself into the princess and grabs her around the waist, effectively bringing her down to the ground. The wand is knocked from her grasp, and I watch as it clatters across the floor. I lunge and grab it. Oh jeez, I grabbed it. What do I do? “What do I do?” I yell at the prince as he struggles to keep the princess on the floor. “How should I know?” He yells back. “Just try something! Turn her into cheese or something.” Oh, turn her into something else. But not cheese, I have something more…fitting in mind. I raise the wand and it starts to glow green. “Amethyst!” A bolt of light soars from the wand, and strikes the princess right in the chest. It starts turning into crystal the moment it hits. She screams death threats and vengeance as she freezes. In less than a minute it’s over. The prince rolls off of the newly crystalized princess and groans. “That’s the last time I go looking for damsels in distress.” I laugh, I can’t help it. It’s not particularly funny, but after the day I’ve had, I need a laugh. Now I can only hope when the prince says he knows people he’s right.

The prince knew some people. He got me out of trouble with the Magic Patrol, covered up most of the chaos with the fight and figured out how to get me home. I ended up taking back a spell book to show to my boss. It’s pretty cool, and I’ve even learned how to float things (Including myself). I couldn’t manage to take the wand home though, something about it being a priceless heirloom.  All and all, I’m pretty happy with the way this adventure turned out, I’ll just need a break, and some new shoes before my next one.  

#writing #my writing #short story #fantasy #original #magic #fairy tale #enjoy

[sheslostinreality]

Mine: Finale (Part 3): “You Are the Best Thing That’s Ever Been Mine”

A/N: After three days and just shy of 2,000 words, part three is here! I hope everyone’s enjoyed reading this series... I’ve also included an epilogue as a bonus. Message me for anything :) Much love x

Part One: “We’re Taking On the World Together”

Part Two: “We’ve Got Nothing Figured Out”

“Three-month-old female,” one of the EMT in the ambulance spoke into a walkie-talkie, “unable to breathe. Had an allergic reaction to a prescribed antibiotic. Stand by for drop-off.”

“Oh God,” you cried. Tears welded up in your eyes at the sight of your baby daughter with an oxygen mask over her nose, IV needles inserted into her tiny arms, and the sound of her small gasps of air. Rosy’s skin was pale, her green eyes closed. The only part of her moving was her stomach.

You buried your face into Harry’s chest as he enclosed his arms around you. Muffled sobbing came out of you while Harry was completely silent. It took every bone, every muscle, every nerve in his body to keep himself from falling apart. “She’ll be okay,” he managed to choke out.

Rosy was undressed and left only in her diapers. One of the EMT men took an antihistamine and injected it into Rosy’s left thigh. You squirmed at the sight. You felt every needle they put inside Rosy. Everything your daughter felt, you felt.

Around 4:30 in the morning you arrived at the hospital, just minutes after paramedics received your call. The sky was still dark and the air cool and misty. The ambulance doors swung open, and Rosy was transferred onto a stretcher and taken into the emergency room by a team of nurses. You and Harry jumped out of the ambulance and followed quickly. The nurses took Rosy through a set of double doors.

“I’m sorry,” a male nurse said, stopping you in your tracks. “You have to stay here.”

“We’re her parents,” you tried to look through the small rectangular windows of the double doors, the sight of the stretcher fading.

The male nurse shook his head, “We can’t let you in at this time. We’ll keep you posted. Please have a seat, and wait here.”

“It’s alright, luv,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Okay, we’ll wait here,” he told the nurse, “Please make sure our daughter’s alright.”

The nurse nodded then entered through the double doors.

“Baby, let’s take a seat,” Harry suggested. He motioned to the empty chairs at the corner of the emergency room.

You must have looked a mess that morning. Your eyes bloodshot from crying for hours—first after your big fight with Harry then again inside the ambulance. Pieces of your hair was falling out of your already messy bun. Harry didn’t look great himself. Exhaustion was written all over him. Dark circles formed under his eyes. He threw dirty clothes on just before paramedics arrived.

A few individuals waiting in the emergency room eyed you and Harry, probably wondering why you both looked familiar— or Harry, at least. Granted, they had bigger problems to worry about than where they had seen the curly haired man before. But at that moment, he definitely looked worse in person.

Media vans began to pull up on the streets.This was the last thing you needed. The rest of whole world judging your poor mothering skills. As if your husband wasn’t enough.

“Mum,” Harry said, holding his phone to his ear. “Mum— We’re at the hospital.”

“What!” You heard Anne yell through the phone. You couldn’t decipher the muffled words that followed after.

“Rosy had an allergic reaction. She couldn’t breathe,” Harry explained to a frantic Anne. “No, we didn’t… yes, bu’—… I don’t know, Mum.” Harry shut his eyes and rested his head on the wall. He listened to his mother speak, responding with a mixture of “Mhmm,” “Yeh,” and “I don’t know”. “Alrigh’, see you soon,” Harry finally said before hanging up.

“What did she say?” you asked Harry.

“Mum, Robin, and Gemma are on their way,” he said. “Luv, about what I said earlier, I—“

You stood up from you seat. “I’m going to take a walk,” you said abruptly before walking outside of the emergency room. “Could I join you?” Harry tried asking. You shook your head. “Alone,” you added. Harry nodded and watched you at you go. His head fell to his hands, tears finally breaking through him. “Christ,” he cursed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. He felt completely defeated.

The two things he valued more than anything were drifting farther and farther away from him.

Harry sat alone in the emergency room for a while, sunken into his seat. “Harry!” Anne cried out when she caught sight of her son. The three of them rushed to Harry. Anne hugged him first and placed a kiss on her his cheek. Gemma hugged her brother afterwards, then finally Robin. “Be strong, son. Our Rosy will be alright,” Robin kept positive and was in high spirits.

Harry returned a small smile. “Where’s Y/N?” Gemma asked as she looked around the room. “She went for a walk,” Harry replied. “Alright, I’m gonna go find her,” Gemma said before taking off.

You were sat on a bench behind tall bushes, hidden from the view of photographers. You closed your eyes and took a long deep breath, inhaling the cool morning air. “Hey sister,” a voice said. Your eyes opened and you saw Gemma in a tracksuit sit beside you. She pulled you in for a tight, long embrace. It was a quiet gesture that said what you needed to hear.

“What are you doing here by yourself?” she asked.

“Just thinking,” you answered.

“‘bout what?”

You sighed. “I dunno— maybe I’m not fit to be a mum. This is all my fault.”

The corners of Gemma’s mouth dropped into a frown. “No!” she exclaimed. “How could you say that!”

“Harry and I had a bad fight,” you told her. “It got me thinking.”

“Ohhh, that makes sense now.” It made sense to her why you and Harry were separated. It was a rarity. “What are you fighting about?”

“I’m not fit to be a mother,” you told her honestly. “I feel like it’s my fault Rosy’s sick.”

“No, Y/N. You’re wrong,” Gemma affirmed. “You are an excellent mother to Rosy. And an amazing wife to my brother. None of this is your fault.”

“Do you mean that?” you asked Gemma.

She nodded assuringly. “One hundred percent. You are selfless, Y/N. You always put your family before yourself. I can see the love you have for Harry and Rosy. You take such good care of the both of them,” she told you, “This is not your fault. This is no one’s fault.”

The two of you sat in silence as you tried to convince yourself that Gemma was telling the truth. Maybe she was right, you thought.

Inside the emergency room was Harry and Anne sitting beside one another, having a similar conversation. Harry had opened up to Anne about the fight the two of you had. Harry was stricken over with guilt for the pain his thoughtless words caused you. He didn’t mean any of it and would do anything to take it all back.

Anne’s eyes welded up at the sight of her son so devastated. “Some things you can’t prevent,” she told Harry, rubbing his tense shoulder. She reminded him perfect parents didn’t exist. “When your sister was born, your dad and I made so many mistakes,” she said chortling. “You would think by the time we had you, we’d have it all figured out. But we didn’t. It’s a lifetime of learning.” Slowly but surely Anne’s comforting words made Harry feel better.

“Make up with Y/N, Harry,” she concluded. “Rosy doesn’t need her parents fighting. What she needs is her mummy and daddy together on one team. It’s hard to get through this alone. You and Y/N need each other.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, mum,” he said, pulling his mum into an embrace. “I love you, Harry,” Anne said. “I love you, too, mum.”

“Harry.” His head shot up at the sound of your voice. He saw you standing a few feet away, your arms link together with Gemma. Anne stood up. She greeted you with a smile and a hug. “Hi Sweetheart,” Anne before turning to Gemma. “Let’s go look for Robin? He went searching for a vending machine.”

Gemma nodded at Anne’s suggestion. The two left, leaving you and Harry with some privacy.

“Harry, listen, I—“ Harry rose to his feet and pressed his lips on yours, cutting you off. His kiss was strong and passionate. His hands snaked around your back, pulling you closer to him. “What was that for?” you giggled as he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything I said earlier. None of that was true. There’s no other woman I would rather have be the mother of my children than you. You are incredible. You have done more for me and Rose than I could ever ask for. You’re my rock, Y/N.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. “I’m sorry, too. For what I said,” you told him. “I love you and I love our family. With all my heart.”

Harry leaned down and kissed you once more, softly this time. “I love you, Y/N Styles,” he said.

“I love you, too.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Styles?” a voice said, interrupting. Your heads whipped to the direction of the voice. In front of you was the male nurse from earlier. Once he saw he had your attention he said, “We ran blood cultures and monitored her vital signs. We have her on an IV and the doctor prescribed her a different anti-biotic. She’s responding well.”

“Oh thank you, God,” you and Harry both said in relief.

“We admitted her into a room. It’s all precautionary. We would like to keep her here for a few more days to keep an eye on her. Would you like to see your daughter?”

You and Harry nodded and the nurse led the way. He took you through a series of hallways, left and right turns, until you reached the pediatric unit. Rosy was in a little room, laying inside a box crib just big enough for her. She regained color back into her skin, her breathing regular and consistent. You saw her little fingers twitching as she slept. She had small needles attached to her still and fluids hung beside her. A heart monitor was taped to her chest and a tube for oxygen to her nose.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the nurse said before stepping out of the room.

You walked towards Rosy, slipping a finger underneath her small hands. You felt a small grasp. Harry was standing beside you, and arm around your waist and his lips to your temple.

“Mummy and Daddy are here, baby girl,” you said to a sleeping baby. “We love you so much, Rosy.”

A little sleepy mumble came out of Rosy’s pink lips bringing a smile to both your faces. Harry leaned over the crib. “You and your mum, Rosy, are the best thing that’s ever been mine. I want you to know that I will love you for as long as I love. Get well soon, my little bug.”

Epilogue 

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles preferences #1d #harry styles #1d one shot #1d preferences #1d imagine #1d blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #d1d os mine3 #dipitin5sauce one shot

[claroquequiza]

McHanzo Week, Day 2: Star Trek AU

Here’s my contribution to Day 2 of McHanzo Week: Canon Divergence || AU! I went for a TNG/DS9-era Star Trek AU!

McCree plunked down on the bar stool and gave his best dazzling smile. “Hey there, we haven’ really been introduced, have we? Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. I’m one of the Survival Strategies instructors. Yer Hanzo, right?”

 He had spent no small amount of time calculating this approach, trying for what he felt would get the best reaction. What it got was no reaction, less than no reaction if it were possible. McCree’s smile faded a little into something more thoughtful. One of those types, eh? Silent, stern, wrapped up tighter than an Academy cadet during final exams?

It had taken him a long time to appreciate those types. It had been one of the stickier points of contention between him and his mother over the centuries--Jesse liked to do most of his listening in flowing conversations--but the El-Aurian had long since learned that there was value in listening to silence. He settled in, leaning against the bar and beginning to nurse his drink as Hanzo pointedly stared into his own glass. 

Not that he didn’t know anything at all about the mysterious being currently sitting at his side at the bar. It was impossible not to hear the rumors that swirled around the striking Klingon who had seemingly shown up out of nowhere to take a position as a combat instructor at the Academy, despite not having served in Starfleet, or any fleet at all as far as anyone knew. It didn’t seem to matter; the cadets had quickly learned that Hanzo was a force to be reckoned with, even for a Klingon. White-faced freshmen and starry-eyed tactical officer hopefuls alike were constantly milling outside the office he shared with one of McCree’s closest friends, Fareeha Amari, which she had reported to McCree with pointed exasperation. Both cadets and Academy personnel were bombarding the far more approachable Egyptian lieutenant with questions about the mysterious Klingon, questions which she refused to answer with an eye towards professional conduct.

McCree had gotten much better results with the El-Aurian method, by simply listening to her. None of the other instructors or professors knew that Hanzo spent most of his free time on the Academy’s holodecks, for example, having already worked halfway through the most rigorous combat training programs--the ones McCree had helped design. Or that, despite his classes’ focus on close quarters combat and battlefield tactics, his true speciality was marksmanship, one of McCree’s true loves. Or that he had come by his position at the Academy through a chance encounter with Admiral Amari, who had apparently scooped him up and shipped him off to the Academy from some backwater planet in the Neutral Zone within a day of meeting him. Fareeha had looked very chagrined to let that piece of information drop, looking at her glass of synthehol suspiciously afterwards. McCree preferred to credit his listening skills, honed over the centuries. You heard all sorts of things if you listened hard enough, after all.

If nothing else he heard about Hanzo had piqued his curiosity, a personal recruitment by Admiral Amari would have done it. McCree had been personally recruited himself, once.

That first night, McCree learned little more than what everyone else had, sans Fareeha. Hanzo spoke only to order more to drink, in a tone that was imperial yet oddly courteous. He continued to ignore McCree outright, which McCree easily accommodated by asking no new questions. He took the enforced silence as an opportunity to study the Klingon, taking in how he was perhaps the most casually dressed Klingon he had ever seen, wearing nothing of the battle-ready gear that seemed to define the species in every space, public or private. The leather motif was still there, but much softer and of much higher quality than he saw on most Klingons, dressed in a black fitted jacket with matching trousers that were meant for comfort and aesthetics rather than a fight. The jetblack hair that started above his prominent forehead ridges was gathered back into a relaxed ponytail that sat at the base of his neck. And, for the first time in Jesse’s long life, he had met a Klingon with facial piercings, through the thick bridge of his nose and several through his bottom lip.

What tickled McCree most, however, was that if one were to step back and study the Klingon’s body proportions, without being able to see how he towered over McCree’s considerable stature, he would have seemed far shorter. He seemed almost wider than he was tall, even if the breadth of his shoulders and arms and torso and legs were completely muscle, which the leather accentuated perfectly.

Oh yes, McCree would be interested in listening to this man even if he had heard absolutely nothing about him previously.

When Hanzo stood to go, swaying ever-so-slightly from so much drink, he met McCree’s eyes for a moment, just long enough for a considering look before he swept out of the bar and disappeared into the misty July San Francisco streets. McCree was not the only one to watch him go; this bar was favored by the great majority of the Academy’s personnel, and McCree could see he was not the only one watching the Klingon closely. Professors Winston and Oxton, the Chronology specialists, were quick to intercept him and demand to know if he had managed to pry anything out of him. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, prompting Oxton to huff and complain, “I’ve never seen you sit so still and quiet for so long! I was betting with Winston that you’d met him before and had some secret code going on!” McCree could only throw his head back and laugh.

The next week, Hanzo appeared again, alone at the bar in the same spot. McCree slid back onto the stool, this time with only a murmured, “Hello again,” as a greeting before settling in again. He drained his bourbon (a syntheholic variant, regrettably) with a flourish before peering at Hanzo’s drink.

“Get me some o’ the same, if you would, please,” he called over to the bartender, who glanced at Hanzo before mouthing your funeral as he turned away to grab the deep red glass bottle.

Apparently Hanzo thought the same, because he felt the need to give him a word of warning.

“Klingon beverages are not the faint of heart.” His voice was deep and roughened with disuse, but there was still that strange courteous overtone, and even an edge of mirth. He still didn’t deign to look at McCree, preferring to gaze with laser-like intensity at his drink instead.

McCree gave him a lopsided smile. “Don’ you worry none. I prefer a little bite to my liquor.”

Hanzo looked at him sidelong. “You will certainly find that bloodwine bites back.” McCree only had time to chuckle before the bartender returned and set his order down. McCree picked it up with a little flourish and knocked back a good swallow.

And immediately started hacking and coughing.

Through his fit, he could see Hanzo smirking, the bastard.

“How predictable,” he murmured as he sipped at his own bloodwine before setting it down and reaching over to McCree and taking his glass away as he thumped at his chest with a closed fist, trying to alleviate the river of fire burning down his throat. He was still smirking when McCree finally managed to breath again, no small amount of tears leaking from his eyes.

He did blink in surprise when McCree motioned at his glass, still held in Hanzo’s enormous hand. “You cannot be serious.”

“Haven’--had a--drink like that--in a century--or two,” wheezed McCree as he reached out and swiped the glass out of Hanzo’s grasp. “It’s--sweet, but--hell of a--kick. Might become--my favorite--in a year or two.”

The Klingon stared, impassive, for a few seconds before he threw his head back and laughed, deep, bellowing, barking laughter that made the rest of the bar start, from the sudden noise and the way the Klingon cut it off, though the smirk remained. “Well, then. That will give me time to find and import some chech'tluth. Then you will know what a drink with bite truly is.”

The rest of that evening was spent with McCree working his way through the rest of that single glass, sniffling and coughing throughout, as Hanzo merely observed and maybe even enjoyed the show, if McCree wasn’t imagining the small but persistent sparkle in his eye. He got up after he reached a similar level of inebriation as the week before, but this time he did bid a quiet farewell as he strode away. McCree couldn’t help but smile. A victory was a victory.

The next week, Hanzo did not arrive until well after McCree. McCree took up his now-usual spot even when he saw that Hanzo wasn’t there, and he felt a rush of satisfaction when Hanzo slid into place beside him. Satisfaction--and more than a little relief which had him smiling. After such a long life, he recognized the signs.

“Greetings,” said Hanzo. He raised an eyebrow at McCree’s drink, some clear and blue concoction. “You are wise to pace yourself.”

McCree grinned. “Pacing myself? This here is Romulan ale. They just re-legalized it--gotta get it now before they realize their mistake.”

Hanzo sniffed. “It was illegal here, perhaps, but out in the Neutral Zone it is quite popular, since the Romulans themselves are next door.”

“Well, then, get yourself a glass and see how the bootleg compares with this legal stuff. Gotta know if I’m gettin’ my money’s worth.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow haughtily, but he waved the bartender over and ordered more of the same. McCree grinned. Whatever stories this man had to tell, McCree was well on his way to hearing them. But, as Hanzo sniffed at the blue liquid in his tumbler in his giant hand before knocking it back and exposing the long, muscled column of his neck, McCree could admit to himself that he might become as interested in the man himself as his words.

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #star trek au #my fics #today's excerpt #McCree is Guinan's son btw #that's one reason he wears a hat all the time in this AU #and Hanzo got a discommendation because he killed Genji #except Genji was found and assimilated by the Borg before he gets released by Hugh #Zenyatta is another former Borg who escaped the Collective #Gabe was a member of and betrayed by Section 31 #Jack and Ana are looking for him #and that's all I got thus far

[peri-the-writer]

I accidentally gave this a super cheesy ending and I’m 100% not sorry enjoy!

Some days Jesse really didn’t mind her job. She never could quite say she loved it, even on the good days, but there were certainly times when she really didn’t think the whole hero-adventurer thing wasn’t so bad; sometimes you could even call it fun. Today was not one of those days.

Today Jesse absolutely hated her job. It wasn’t so much that Jesse minded helping people; there was very little she wouldn’t do to help someone in need (something that would eternally vex her friends). It was rather the monsters that came with those pleas for help that Jesse really minded, and this particular occasion came with far too many for her tastes, and strong ones at that.

Maybe she wouldn’t be so annoyed by the whole thing if it hadn’t been caused by one man’s extreme carelessness. An alchemist and makeshift apothecary in the small village half a days ride from their own had been experimenting with potions, much like Ivor had a tendency to do, the stark difference being the fact that this particular man used mobs as his test subjects.

It was clear that this man hadn’t meant for things to get so out of hand, but all the good intentions in the world couldn’t stop the mutant zombies and and skeletons from breaking out of their containment and terrorizing the nearby innocents.

Things had started off relatively well, all things considered. The monsters were strong, but they’d faced things that were decidedly much worse. The whole fight was going rather routinely, each of them taking on mobs and dispatching them with relative ease. 

The trouble came when it seemed like Petra would be overtaken. Three of the overpowered mobs had her surrounded and while fighting normally wasn’t a problem for her, Petra looked like she was starting to struggle. Jesse never wanted to assume that Petra, or anyone else for that matter, couldn’t handle themselves in a fight, but even the best fighters could get caught in tough situations.

Mind made up in less than a second, she was about to rush to Petra’s aide whether she really needed it or not, when a knock from behind stopped her plan before it could even begin.

The hit came seemingly out of nowhere, and it was hard. It was so hard that it sent Jesse flying into the nearby wall, her head slamming into the solid stone making her world go black in an instant.

When Jesse came to, everything was hazy and she couldn't quite recall what had happened, but something was definitely different. It took her a moment to remember the knock to her head, but the distinct lack of pain was suddenly the most confusing part of it. Either she's been out for a long time or Ivor had somehow given her one hell of a healing potion.

Things were slowly becoming less hazy and more details came into focus, things like the fact that her head was resting in what she could only assume was someone's lap and someone, presumably the person she was using as a pillow, was running their hand gently through her hair.

Finally opening her eyes, the sight that greeted Jesse was not quite what she'd been expecting. It was not the alchemy lab where they'd been fighting or anywhere in the temple, and yet it was oddly familiar, though she couldn't place why.

Everything was put into perspective when she turned her head upwards to greet the last face she ever thought she'd see again. She was home. Not the temple, or her treehouse but home with the face of her mother staring lovingly down at her.

"Am I dead?" It was the only thought that would come to her now as she lay there in shock. After all, it seemed like the only logical explanation she could come up with suddenly being face to face with a woman who'd been dead for the greater part of her life.

"Not yet my beautiful girl. It seems like there are quite a few people who don’t want to let you go yet.” So if she wasn’t dead, was she dreaming? It certainly didn’t feel like she was dreaming. 

Sitting up to face her mother Jesse furrowed her brow as she tried to sort out what was happening. “So if I’m not dead then what is this? Why am I here? Why are you here?”

Simply smiling gently, Jesse’s mother brushed back a stray bit of her daughter’s hair as she spoke, answering but not really answering any of the questions she’d asked. “I have so many things I want say to you, and so little time to say it.”

“Say what? And what do you mean so little time?”

“I want to say how proud I am of you, sweetheart. I never wanted to leave you, especially when you were so young. Things were so hard for you after that and still, you grew into such a remarkable woman, a hero just like I always knew you could be. I remember when you used to run around telling me you were going to be Gabriel the warrior when you got bigger.”

“How could I forget after the time I snuck out of my room at night to go fight monsters. That was the only time I ever remember seeing you get really mad and boy did I deserve it.” They both laughed at the memory, glad for a bit of levity before they both go too misty-eyed.

“You always did have a knack for getting yourself into trouble, didn’t you? Oh but you’ve come so far since then.” Gently stroking her daughter’s cheek, Jesse’s mother smiled. “You’ve done such great things and I know you’ll do so many more.” As if she’d willed it, Jesse suddenly started to feel herself being pulled into the realm of unconsciousness once again.

“Wait...” Things were fading quickly now as Jesse felt like she was being pulled into a state of sleep, even as she tried to fight it for a few more moments of clarity.

“Don’t fight it sweetheart, it’s alright. There are people waiting for you, people who love you. We’ll see each other again someday. But for now there are people who need you around for a while longer.” Jesse couldn’t keep her eyes open now as she slumped against her mother’s shoulder, but she could hear the smile in her voice. In the last moments before the darkness claimed her again, Jesse could feel her mother press a kiss to her head and her subsequent words, soft as they were. “I love you, Jesse, never forget that.”

The next time Jesse came around the first thing she registered was the pain suspiciously absent when she first ‘woke up’. It was much harder to pry her eyes open this time, but when she managed it she was greeted with a much more familiar and expected scene.

Immediately Jesse could tell that she was in one of the infirmary beds, the infirmary being a sizable room in the living quarters of the New Order’s temple with a handful of beds for the inevitable times when more than one than one or even all of them were hurt to some degree. This time it looked like she was the only one who needed to be here, but she was by no means alone now.

Sitting in a chair on one side of her bed was Lukas with his journal open to a blank page as if he had intended to write something but never got around to it. In a chair on the other side of the bed was Petra, much to Jesse’s great relief, with her arms crossed and looking incredibly unhappy, in the usual Petra fashion. Then there was Olivia on the floor leaning against her bed and Axel facing her, leaning against the bed next to Jesse’s. Every single one of them was sound asleep.

The only conscious person besides herself appeared to be Ivor who was currently too busy fussing with his potions to notice that she was awake. “So you decided not to join the group nap, huh Ivor?” Her voice came out quieter than she intended with a slight rasp to it, but it was more than enough to get his attention.

It was clear that Ivor was trying his best to look stern but the surprise and relief on his was much more apparent. “It’s about time you rejoined the living, Jesse. You’ve been out for days you know.” He informed her, answering the question she’d wanted to ask before she even had to ask.

“We’ve got to keep you busy somehow, right?” 

Ivor scowled in response as he leaned over her, checking bandages that Jesse hadn’t even realized she had yet. “For a group who’s supposed to be heroes, you all certainly know how to get yourselves into mess after mess. I’m the one who has to fix you up when you get hurt, would it be too much for a little consideration?”

Jesse couldn’t help but laugh at that, which she quickly learned didn’t help her pain any. Her helmet-less head may have taken the brunt of the damage, but the rest of her armor only did so much. The pain must have showed on her face, because Ivor wordlessly left her side, returning with a healing potion that Jesse knew Ivor wasn’t going to let her get away with not taking.

Sure enough he helped her into a sitting position and put the potion into her hands. “Drink,” he instructed her, this time with a much more effective stern look. Normally she’d try to argue but considering how bad she’d been and how bad she still felt, for once she complied. 

Once he was satisfied, Ivor removed the empty bottle from her hands, setting it on the nearby table and Jesse wasted no time slumping back into the pillows. “So I’m guessing from the gang of uninjured people in the infirmary that I scared everyone pretty bad, didn’t I?”

“Damn right you did.” To her surprise it wasn’t Ivor who answered but Petra now quite awake. “And you better not do that again, got it?” Despite her arms crossed for emphasis of just how serious she was, a tiny smile worked it’s way on to Petra’s face.

And Jesse smiled back, both relieved that Petra seemed to have made it from their previous fight at least relatively unhurt and that she didn’t seem too mad at her for getting herself knocked around. “Got it.”

“Everyone else is gonna want to know you’re awake. You think you can handle all of us at once?

“Isn’t that what I do on a daily basis anyway?”

“Fair enough.” Petra conceded with a grin. She leaned over the arm of her chair to shake Olivia’s shoulder. Olivia slowly blinked awake, taking a moment to fully awake up. 

Once she realized why she’d been woken up though, she wasted no time jumping up with the full intent of hugging her now awake best friend. In her excitement though she accidentally woke Axel with an unintentional kick in the shin. This did nothing to stop her from all but tackling Jesse in a hug as soon as she was up. “You’re okay! We’ve been so worried.”

Axel wasn’t too far behind her being very quick to bear hug his small friend a little too hard, not that she had the heart to tell him that. “Oh man, dude, it’s so good to see you. Not that I was worried or anything, I totally knew you’d be fine.”

Realizing that there was only one person left asleep, Axel’s face turned to a devilish grin as he grabbed a pillow from a nearby bed, lobbing it straight for Lukas’s face.

Lukas sat bolt upright in the chair upon impact, flinging his journal and pen off behind him somewhere, forgotten while he searched frantically in the moment of panic for the culprit. “Who, wha-” His panic was cut short when he laid eyes on Jesse, now propped up and trying not to laugh rather than the concerning state she’d been in the last time he saw her. “Jesse! Oh man is it good to see you up.”

Jesse looked around at her friends’ faces, all some mixture of joy and plain relief and her mother’s words echoed through her head. Whether it had been a dream or not, it was true that what she’d said. There were people here who loved her and she loved them, the crazy mismatched group of people they were.

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm fic #mcsm Jesse #mcsm Lukas #mcsm Axel #mcsm Ivor #mcsm Petra #mcsm Olivia