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crismakesstuff · 7 months

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new invincible oc!

cele grayson aka celestial !

(they/he/she)

Cele was an artificially grown viltrumite that was apart of a secret project to help repopulate viltrum. They were the only baby that lived through the full gestational period and didn’t die after their birth. They were born august 6th, 1999

Cele was made by taking the DNA of a woman who had died during the scourge virus and of nolan grayson. It was done without his knowledge, he never knew about these experiments as they were only known about by the highest ranking viltrumites. The whole project being personally overseen by grand regent thragg who wanted to find a way to effectively create purebloods without having to mix them with other species.

They spent their early years constantly observed and studied. Days consisted of near endless experiments and exams. They were treated more like a lab rat than an actual person with all their actions under heavy supervision, monitored by thragg who was the only viltrumite they were allowed to interact with during this time. When their powers manifested at the age of 7 training immediately began. Personally taught by General Thula, they came to see her as a pseudo mother figure during this time.

At the age of 14 they were officially made a solider and allowed to go on missions with other viltrumites. At 19 they were put in charge of a planet that had anomalies that defied physics. After a year of being left mostly to themselves the stress finally began to eat away at them and their mental health took a sharp decline. One day during a visit from the generals a gravitational anomaly opened up a miniature black hole that seemed to only pull them in at first, later devouring the entire planet with her. The generals barely escaped and witnessed the entire thing believing cele to be dead.

Instead they were spat out into the multiverse from a white hole and spent the next few years surviving on their own and trying to learn how to use their new powers. When they suddenly were spat back out into their universe, they were instead in the Milky Way galaxy instead of the Andromeda galaxy. Remembering that the other viltrumites told him that their father was on earth they headed there.

Only to find out he had just left a few weeks prior after a huge fight with his son, mark. Now they have to adjust to life on earth while they hide from the empire out of fear of being found.

Themes:

With Cele i wanted to really explore the idea of “What you were made for vs. What you want to be”. As well as the trauma that came with their upbringing and them coming to terms with the lack of self worth they tend to feel and the martyr complex he develops from this trauma too.

Another major theme is the “found family” trope. Cele from a young age has always looked for parental figures and people they can feel close too since they were little but their first pseudo parents (thragg, thula) barely treated them as a true person with autonomy. When she comes to earth and meets mark and debbie they begin to really learn what a family should be. This gives them the courage to begin making friends on earth and letting people into their lives.

Powers

Viltrumite Abilities

Superhuman Strength: Cele has strength of a well trained viltrumite of their age allowing them to perform extreme feats. (One such example was when they held up the upper half of a mountain by themselves on earth during a major disaster. Scientists calculate the mass held and then placed back was anywhere from 200-400 tones)

Superhuman Speed: Cele can move at extreme speeds both on foot and in the air. Allowing him to travel around any space with extreme ease. They can fly from the earths surface to the moon in a matter of minutes. They also are capable of traveling through space on their own.

Superhuman Stamina: Due to her smart atoms Cele’s body rarely tires and is capable of physical exertion for long periods of time without becoming fatigued.

Superhuman Durability: Cele’s tissues are extremely durable to the point of almost invulnerability. While they can be damaged by other viltrumites or beings stronger than her they can withstand damage that would vaporize and easily kill a normal human. Able to withstand falling from a planet’s atmosphere onto its surface, nuclear weaponry, the surface of stars and are now invulnerable to black holes.

Flight: like any viltrumite they can manipulate the atoms around them which allows them flight. They are able to reach light speeds when flying but only do so in space.

Superhuman Equilibrium: Cele has a very enhanced sense of balance. However this sensitive process which takes place in their ears means that like any viltrumite, they could be harmed by a specific frequency which would incapacitate them and make them unable to even fly or stand upright.

Superhuman Senses: Cele possesses acutely enhanced senses. Such as hearing, smell and sight. This can also lead to them becoming easily overstimulated, especially when they arrive on earth.

Accelerated Regeneration: her body can recover from injuries at an extreme rate. Even capable of regenerating full organs, nerves and bones. As long as their heart isn’t severely damaged they can and will heal.

Decelerated Aging: like all viltrumites they have an extremely long lifespan. While they are only currently 24, they will appear the same for many centuries. Viltrumites live for many thousands of years, their own father Nolan is over 2000 years old and appears middle aged.

Non-Viltrumite Abilities

(manifest after the black hole accident)

Pocket dimensional void (PDV): Cele can access their own pocket dimension which they refer too as the "void". It is a black oxygen-less miniature dimension that is seemingly endless, although it hasn't been measured. It is mainly used by cele as a sort of infinite storage space, any item placed in here that is not an animal of some kind will stay in the exact same state as it was when placed inside. They also use it asa place to safely decompress and calm down at times.

Dark Matter Portals: Can create portals made of dark matter. These portals can either open up to the PDV or function as traditional portals that teleport an individual from place to place. If too many are opened at once and/or kept open it can quickly tire out cele and even cause them to pass out. It's one of the things that can truly exhaust them.

Gravitational Invulnerability: They are impervious to the gravitational pull of any black hole and seemingly unaffected by them where anything else would be pulled and stretched into its singularity. It is unknown if cele can fully enter into a black hole again and what would happen

Celestial Body Connection: a new manifestation that sometimes suddenly means they feel the power of whatever celestial body they are nearest too. They have no control over this and currently it means they can become completely overwhelmed with the strength of these ancient creatures that are far more powerful and knowing that herself. Perhaps one day they could harness this power but for now it remains more of a hindrance

Singularity: the creation of a very specific type of portal that is a miniature blackhole. No other portals can be active when this is done. Extremely unstable ability thatcan leave cele seriously wounded. The singularity is a writhing, bubbling ultra-condensed amount of gravity that takes a massive amount of strength and energy to control. Only done in space as to not bring harm to any celestial bodies immediately nearby because if it was done directly on top of them it could possibly begin to immediately pull in the planet or star.

-The longer cele does this the more they lose control of it. Once their sclera turn black and their irises begin to glow it means he will be left seriously injured. Their eyes will remain in that state (except their irises will no longer glow) until they are fully healed.

Inspirations

Ellie Williams: while I will say there’s no main inspiration for cele. I do draw a lot of their personality and behavior from ellie. The struggle to survive and stay alive that that then clashes with having to try and “fit in” when arriving in Jackson is something that very much mirrors Cele’s experience with arriving on earth. And cele like ellie has very little issue about hurting/killing others if it means it helps them get to their goal. The world has made them a bit jaded and awkward but there is still much love underneath that

Rei Ayanami: I mainly pulled from the idea that rei was made to be a tool for NERV and taught to be loyal and obedient no matter what. As well as the aesthetic of the lighter hair for cele, they were made to be tool for the viltrum empire and to further its goals. So when they are pulled into the black hole into the multiverse and then spat back out and they head to earth, this all crushes their world view. They learn they aren’t some weapon or tool to be fought over but rather a person with their own agency

Gwen Stacy: I am mostly pulling from her character arc in the spiderverse films. Focusing on identity and trying to find who you are both as a hero and a person, and opening yourself up to people to let them in again.

If you made it all the way to the end thank you for reading! If you have any questions about cele please send it all to my ask box! 💜

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scarletfire03 · 3 months

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Reading the combine overwiki and being confused as hell.

Can someone please explain how on earth gordon:

Went to innsbruck in somewhere between 1997 and 1999

Got obsessed with teleportation n stuff and went to MIT after being at Innsbruck

Got his PhD in theoretical physics in 1999 (somehow managed to do a bachelors, a masters and a PhD within anywhere from 3 years to less than a year since its ambiguous) (also at a young af age depending on when hl1 takes place.)

Was for some reason at innsbruck again according to the interview follow up letter on may 5 200-

Am i like reading the wiki wrong or what

#half life #gordon freeman #random rambles #hl1

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incorrect-hs-quotes · 1 year

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Dave: as someone around for 9-11 and the “NEVER FORGET NUMBER #1 GREATEST TRAGEDY EVER IN HISTURY” response to it i am in thrilled and invigorated by the fact that younger people just make amogus memes and tikiok nonsense about it. a huge chunk of america cared more about it than any entire genocide and thought you would cry learning about it. they hoped it’d make every generation patriotically angry forever and ever and want to join the military. instead you photoshop the towers into squidwards house and shit. never stop lol

Karkat: I’M PHYSICALLY UNABLE TO TAKE 9/11 SERIOUSLY, ENTIRELY BECAUSE MY GRADE 9 ENGLISH TEACHER WAS BIZARRELY OBSESSED WITH IT. WE BASICALLY HAD AN ENTIRE UNIT ON 9/11. WE WATCHED THAT DOCUMENTARY FROM THOSE STUDENTS THAT WERE DOING A DOCUMENTARY OF FIREFIGHTERS AND WOUND UP GETTING THE ONLY FOOTAGE OF THE FIRST PLANE HITTING. WE DID A NOVEL STUDY OF A BOOK ABOUT SOME KID BEING IN ONE OF THE TOWERS FOR TAKE YOUR KID TO WORK DAY AND HIM AND HIS DAD SQUEEZING PAST THE WRECKAGE OF THE PLANE TO ESCAPE IN TIME. WE WATCHED THAT NIC CAGE MOVIE OF HIM BEING A FIREFIGHTER DURING 9/11 THAT GETS STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR SHAFT WHEN THE PLACE COLLAPSES. I AM DEAD FUCKING SERIOUS, WE HAD TO MAKE UP FICTIONAL PEOPLE THAT DIED IN THE ATTACK, WRITE AN OBITUARY FOR OUR 9/11SONA’S, AND THEN WRITE AND DELIVER A EULOGY AS THEIR GRIEF-STRICKEN PARENT. AT ONE POINT IN THE UNIT THE TEACHER CLARIFIED THAT SHE HADN’T PERSONALLY LOST ANYONE TO THE ATTACK, NOR WAS SHE ANYWHERE NEAR NEW YORK WHEN IT HAPPENED. SHE NEVER BOTHERED TO ASK IF ANY OF US HAD ACTUALLY LOST SOMEONE IN THE ATTACK, WHICH KIND OF SEEMS LIKE A THING YOU SHOULD DO BEFORE MAKING US INVENT FICTIONAL VICTIMS TO GIVE EULOGIES FOR. THE UNIT BEGAN WITH HER DEMANDING TO KNOW WHERE WE ALL WERE ON THE DAY OF THE ATTACK AND WHAT WE REMEMBERED, AND SHE STARTED CRYING WHEN WE TOLD HER THAT 1. WE WERE TWO YEARS OLD AT THE TIME AND COULDN’T REMEMBER SHIT FUCK, THE CLOSEST THING WAS ONE OF THE OLDER KIDS KIND OF THOUGHT THEY REMEMBERED BEING VERY CONFUSED AT ADULTS FREAKING OUT OVER THE TV BUT THAT COULD HAVE BEEN LITERALLY ANYTHING, AND SO THIS MEANT THAT 2. WE WERE THE LAST CLASS SHE WOULD EVER TEACH THAT COULD POSSIBLY REMEMBER 9/11. PROBABLY DIDN’T HELP THAT SOMEONE POINTED OUT THAT WE WERE THE CLASS BORN IN 1999, SO IN TWO YEARS SHE’D HAVE STUDENTS THAT HADN’T EVEN BEEN BORN DURING 9/11. THAT MAY HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO THE TEACHER CRYING OVER THE WHOLE THING.

Karkat: WE’RE ALTERNIAN.

#submission #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #dave strider #karkat vantas #mod terezi #imperialism is hone hell of a drug and it's one i'm glad to see people getting out of their system

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only-angel-28 · 8 months

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1999, part two

oh my gosh this ones a long one im sorry💀💀

i hope you like it and lmk if i should change anything/parts you liked!!

warnings: swearing, shitty boyfriends, angst

1999, part one

1999, part three

1999, part four

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ ༝

*ding dong*

I hopped up off the couch with a huge grin on my face and rushed to the door.

“Hey!” Dean laughed as I all but jumped on him laughing myself, “Hey, I’ve missed you!” I say.

Dean has been a family friend for a decade now at least. We've always been best friends and mostly everyone at school thought that we were dating long before we actually were which is why it was strange that my family would find me and Dean dating, ‘a joke’. I remember when I had first told them and they straight up laughed in my face. After that interesting conversation, Belly and I had another one in our room.

“Are you sure about him? I mean Dean’s nice but…”

“But what?” I asked

“But he's just not… I don't know I wouldn't have expected you to go after some perfect guy like Dean, I didn't think that was your type.”

What Belly had said had me thinking and overthinking for weeks after.

“M’sorry I’m late…” Dean smiled apologetically at me, “Traffic was shitty.”

“No worries, you made it just in time for the bonfire. Belly and the boys already left to set it up about an hour ago so it should be in full swing by now.” I smiled up at him with my arms wrapped around his neck as he pecked my nose and muttered a simple “okay.”.

We make our way to the beach in Dean’s jeep and arrive at the bonfire in about fifteen minutes.

“Can you see them anywhere?” I ask Dean as we look out at the huge group of tipsy teenagers trying to make out any figures that we recognise.

“Uhmm…yeah, right there!” he says pointing far off in the distance to what looks Belly and Steven, already fighting.

We make our way down and meet Belly and Steven focused on a game of beer pong. God, I haven't seen them that focused since…to be honest I don't think I've ever seen them this focused.

“Huge bets must be on the table otherwise there's no way these two crackheads would be this focused,” I say to Dean. His reply gets cut short by a voice saying,

“Sure as hell are, they’re debating what we all should do tomorrow; surfing or shopping”.

“Oh! Dean this is Thérèse! And this is Jere” I say smiling at my childhood friends.

After a couple of ‘hey how’s it going’s are exchanged, they all end up joining Steven and Belly’s surf or shop debate. Thérèse doesn’t even look at me when I try talking to her and I only get one-word sentences as answers.

Thérèse and I have been friends almost as long as Belly and Taylor. We were really close as children but grew apart as she lived here in Cousins and Belly, Taylor and I didn't. We still kept in touch and tried to call each other as often as we could, she knew everything about me. Things got weird when I told her about me and Dean. She didn't call me, left me on delivered or read and just stopped talking to me altogether.

I hang around them for a bit until I get uncomfortable and decide to take a walk.

“Hey I’m gonna go for a walk, okay?” I say to the group.

A couple of ‘yeah sure have fun’s are heard until Dean speaks up.

“What? Why would you wanna do that?” he runs a hand through his hair but refuses to look at me and focuses on the beer pong instead.

“I don't know I'm bored I wanna go for a walk?” I say back, surprised at his weird behaviour.

He looks at me as if I just grew two heads and says, “Well then if you didn't want to spend time with me why did you invite me here in the first place?”

“Dean calm down it's not that big of a deal it's just a walk,” I say raising my arms up in defence.

Why was he being so weird?

“Dean it's okay just let her go.” Thérèse smiles at Dean.

“Fine. Whatever. Do whatever you want.” he runs a hand through his brown hair again and focuses on his beer pong shot again.

Belly, Jere and I share confused looks before I turn around to walk, Steven being too occupied cracking jokes with Dean and some girls around them to notice a thing.

I need to clear my head.

I walk until I'm far from anyone at the party and sit down on the sand, looking out at the sea.

It starts to get windy so I tuck my knees against my chest and stare out to the ocean, trying not to think of anything, or anyone for that matter.

But trying not to think about it just makes me think harder.

Why was Dean being like this?

All weird and controlling…

And what’s up with Thérèse?

I've apologised countless times and I don't even know what I did wrong…

“Here.” A voice breaks the soft gusts of wind and soothing crashes of the water against the sand. And my thoughts.

I look up and see Conrad looking down at me with his hand stretched out in offer of the faded red zip-up he's holding.

I tilt my head to him in question.

“You look cold.” he says looking at my arms covered in goosebumps.

“Oh…thanks.” I laugh softly accepting the hoodie and putting it on being engulfed in his cologne. I pat the sand next to me and offer for him to sit.

He sits next to me in silence as I put my head on his shoulder, both of us staring out to the water.

“How’s Susannah? I didn't get to talk to her much before mom stole her away.”

Conrad and I softly laugh as he says, “She's doing good. Cancer’s almost gone.” he says, putting a smile on both our faces.

We sit there for a while in silence, letting the crashes of the waves and the gentle breeze of the wind calm us down from all the commotion going on in the distance.

“Hey Con?” I ask softly.

“Hm?” he gently hums back.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

There's a short pause before Conrad takes a breath in and says “Yes, Of course. I'm fine.” he says with a smile, but the shakiness in his exhale tells me otherwise.

“Are you sure?” I press on trying to get him to break so he can tell me what's wrong.

Another pause.

He turns to me and smiles and says, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Before I can respond, he reaches his hand out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and looks at my eyes.

Some say the eyes are the windows to the soul. In Conrad’s case, they might as well be holding up big bright signs that say how he's really feeling.

Conrad might be able to put up a happy façade in front of anyone but three people.

Susannah

My mom

Me.

If his body language doesn't say anything then his eyes do, they always do.

And right now his eyes looked glassy. Soft. Hurt.

“Con…” I start to say until my voice gets interrupted by another much deeper and louder one.

“Y/N!!” Steven runs up to us, “Oh hey Conrad good thing you’re here too, GUESS WHAT?”, he screams in front of us.

“Ugh, Steven stop screaming my head hurts.” I mumble as Conrad asks “What?”

“WE’RE SURFING TOMORROW YEAHHH!!” he roars happily

“I’m guessing you won beer pong?” I say.

“Hell yeah, Belly and Dean ate my dust!” he boasts

Jeremiah and Belly had caught up with him now and sat alongside Conrad and me as Steven tried reenacting his win.

“So how’d he actually win? He couldn’t have done it himself, guys drunk as shit.”, Conrad says laughing along with us as Steven trips over his own feet.

“I helped him.” Jere says in a low voice not to take Stevens's joy of his delusions away.

“Hey where’s Dean?” I ask Belly as Steven finishes his (horrible) acting and sits with us exchanging embarrassing stories of me and Belly with Conrad and Jeremiah.

“Uhm, I’m not too sure I think he said he was going to go look for you after we finished. Thérèse said she’d help.”

Thats weird.

Steven had already found me and he could’ve just called me if he was worried?

And why would Thérèse want to help? last I checked she hates me.

Whatever.

“I’m gonna go find him.” I said, getting up and brushing the sand off my legs.

Conrad looks up at me as I leave. His eyes don’t leave my back as I walk away and I can feel them slowly burning a hole through my back to my heart.

I take my phone out of my back pocket and call Dean.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three…

Four…

Five…

I hang up.

I try calling him again.

One…two…three…four…

I see Dean’s jeep in the distance and what looks like to be him in it. I keep trying to call him to see if he’ll pick up.

I run to the car, open the door and say, “Hey why aren’t you-”

I get cut off as tears fill my eyes and hurt fills my heart.

Dean’s phone is on the passenger seat constantly vibrating as he’s in the driver making out with Thérèse.

“What the fuck Dean?!” I shout as Dean and Thérèse finally break away from eating each other's faces.

Ew.

“Oh! Uhm…hey babe! Thérèse and I were just talking…” he slurs as Thérèse puts her arms around him and starts kissing his neck.

“Thérèse what the fuck get off him!” I say blinking back my tears refusing to cry in front of them.

“Why should I? I’m a better kisser anyway. Did you really think Dean came all the way down to Cousins to visit you?” she says with a sick smile as she spreads her lipstick around Dean’s neck and collar.

“You know what forget it. You two assholes deserve each other. Don’t bother to come back in the house to get all your stuff Dean, it’ll be out on the front yard.

I turn away before they get a chance to see my tears and walk down to Conrad’s car.

I take my phone in my hand and shakily call Conrad after blocking Dean and Thérèse off everything.

“Hey where are you?” he answers.

“Connie can you…can you drive me home please?” I say sniffling.

“What? Where are you? What’s wrong” he says in an alarmed voice and I can hear him getting off the sand and telling the others he was going to take me home.

“Just…Please drive me home Con…” I say desperately.

“Okay yeah sure, where are you y/n?” he asks in a more controlled voice.

“I’m next to your car.” I say sniffling again.

“Alright y/n/n I’m nearly there, don’t go anywhere okay?”

“Okay.”

Two minutes later and Conrad finds me leaning on his car. He comes up to me and immerses me in his arms, softly shushing me as I sob in his chest.

“Shhh.” he tries to soothe me and runs his hands through my hair.

“Come on. Let’s go home.” he kisses the top of my head as my cries die down and opens the car door for me.

The drive home is almost silent except for the faint noise of the radio playing and my sniffles. Conrad reaches out and holds my hand in a red light. I look at him and he softly smiles in assurance.

When we finally reach home I go straight to my room ignoring Mom and Susannah’s calls of worry. I sob into my pillows as I hear them knocking on the door.

“Y/n honey? What’s wrong can we come in?” they ask. I love them to death but I don't want them right now.

I want Conrad. I need Conrad. I always have.

It's as if they can hear my thoughts because in two seconds Conrad opens the door, comes straight in and sits on my bed next to me.

He doesn’t say anything but brushes the hair out of my face looking at me sadly.

“Wanna tell me what's wrong now? Laurel and Mom are worried sick, they might tear my head off if I go back out there without an answer.” he says quietly making me laugh a bit.

He wipes away my tears with his thumbs and says, “Hey where’s boy toy?”

I look up at him questioning, “Boy toy?”

“Yeah, that boyfriend of yours. Jere called him Boytoy he said he was kinda weird. Did he do something to you?”

I sniffle and silently pray that my voice doesn't give out as I speak, “He uhm…I went looking for him and I saw him with Thérèse they were uhm. They were making out in his car.” I tell him everything, how I found them, what I said, what they said, all while trying to blink back more tears and clearing my throat so it doesn't break anymore.

“That's fucked up I’m so sorry Y/n.” he says softly.

“Wait hang on, Thérèse? Wasn't she your best friend?” he looks at me with furrowed brows.

“I mean I thought she was but after I told her about Dean she just… I don't know she just switched up.”

“Doesn't matter about her she was always a toxic friend anyway. And this Dean seems like a pussy too. I’m sorry but I'm glad things are over with you two, Jere told me how he shouted at you on the beach earlier.”

“Yeah he was really insecure,” I laugh with Conrad. “He said he was jealous of you and Jere when I saw him the other day.”

“Then why are you crying lovie?” he says so softly I barely hear him.

“I don't know, I guess I'm not crying over him… I think I'm crying over the fact that no one really cares. I don't know it’s stupid.” I stare down at my hands, embarrassed by my choice of words.

Hold me close and say you care

‘Cause I'm in love with your brown hair

Conrad wraps his arms around me and puts one of his hands under my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

“I care.” he simply says. The look in his eyes could make my knees give out in a second if I wasn't already sitting down. I take a deep breath and try to brush his comment away. There's no way he can just

come back and say he cares when he hasn't bothered to answer my calls or read my texts in almost a year. There's no way I'm doing this again with him.

I try changing the subject by bringing my hand up to his hair and running my fingers through it.

“I love your hair Con.”

He gently takes my hand away from his hair and repeats himself.

“I care Y/n.” he says staring into my eyes. He lets go of my hand and brings his to the back of my neck leaning in close.

The way you touch me is a curse

And I'm not willing to let it all

Hurt

His lips brush against mine sending electric shocks through my body but I refuse to let it go any further. He doesn't get to do this.

I pull away from him as fast as I can and make distance between us.

Physical distance. Since he has the emotional distance covered I might as well take over and finish it with physical.

“No don’t do this Con.” I say shaking my head as I pace around the room blinking away more tears.

“Don’t do what?” he says confused by my actions.

“Don’t play dumb Conrad you know what I mean.”

“Y/n what are you talking about? I-I'm sorry I kissed you I just… I thought you liked me.”

“No Conrad don't.” I say looking up at him through glassy eyes, trying to shake away the anxiety slowly creeping up at me.

“Don't what?! Are you even going to tell me what I did wrong, can you just talk to me?!” he says angrily, standing up from the bed too now so we're both staring at each other from the ends of this room. This God-forsaken tiny room with the walls closing in.

“Can I talk to you?! Oh Conrad that's rich coming from you.” I sneer angrily at him.

How can he of all people say that to me?

“What the fuck are you talking about, what did I do?” he says, his voice growing louder with every word.

“What did you do?” I laugh, “No Conrad let's talk about what you didn’t do. You didn't answer my calls for a whole year, you didn't answer my texts for a whole year, you weren’t there when I needed you Con, you weren't there when mom and dad got divorced like you said you’d be, you completely ignored me for a whole fucking year Con you can't just make it all up by saying you care and kissing me, you can't do that Con not when I've always been there for you, not when I've always cared for you and loved you for this long Con you can’t, you can’t, you can’t!” I finish, out of breath as Conrad looks at me with a hurt expression on his face.

“I…” he starts off but I hold my hand up to him to tell him to stop talking.

I don't want to hear what he has to say, I can't. I close my eyes and say “Please just go away Conrad.”.

When I open my eyes again he's nodding, trying to hold back tears in his gorgeous blue eyes. I look away before a tear can fall from them.

One tear from his eyes, one word from his mouth and I know I’ll go running back to him. But I can't, I refuse to after how he hurt me.

Watch your mouth and wash with soap

'Cause I just hate the way you spoke

Green eyes make everything feel numb

And I'm not willing to give it all up

He closes the door silently behind him and I crash into my bed, sobbing into the jacket he gave me.

And I'm not wasting time again

Closure instead of sex

And I'm not wasting time again

You said I fucked up and ruined your life

But little did you know you ruined mine

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ ༝

well that was a journey🤡🤡

lmk what you think and please feel free to request anything on my bio even things for part three!! (no smut please)

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #fanfic #fics #tsitp #tsitp conrad #belly conklin #steven conklin #jeremiah fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher angst

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syntia13treeman · 19 days

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Case files 10.02

what I think happened in:

Case 10.02, the case of "The Trapdoor Opens" or "Releasing ancient evil – a guide."

One might say it's cheating, making a file for an event that technically isn't a case yet, in that it hasn't been noticed and recorded by OIAR. (Yet). Buuuuuuut… I don't care. :)

So. What we know: Nearly 25 years ago, in December 1999, a paranormal research facility in Manchester, Magnus Institute, burned to the ground. Reportedly, there were no survivors.

However, this might not have been true. Let's put a pin in it for the moment.

On a dark and rainy night on 09th of March 2024, two OIAR employees (on their own time) entered the ruins and conducted a very soggy and inefficient search.

The instigator of the expedition, Samama Khalid, as a child was part of some (rather shady) program for gifted children conducted here. His hazy-yet-unsettling memories of the place had resurfaced recently, and he was determined to find some answers. The resident voice of reason, Alice Dyer, assisted him by way of holding the umbrella and trying to talk him out of the whole thing.

Before she succeeded, the following things happened:

Sam found a mystery key among the debris.

Sam successfully (eventually) broke through the door to an old office (probably owned by someone named Archibald. Ha ha.)

Sam was not careful enough walking around the rotten floor, and part of it collapsed under him.

Sam did not fall into the hole, thanks to quick reflexes of Alice, who pulled him back.

Sam did, however, drop the hard-won key into the newly created hole.

Sam gave up, and agreed to leave.

And now we return to our pin. Because down below the rotten floor of the office, something did survive. It heard the key falling down. It managed to find it, and fumbled in the darkness to fit it in the lock. It unlocked the padlock. It opened a trapdoor. It breathed free air for the first time in decades.

After 25 years of imprisonment, the Ę̴̊̆R̶̗̟̝̒͛̈́̍R̵̛̯͍̠̗Ö̴̮̤́́R̴̞͍̲̞̐̓́͠ͅ ̸̡̫̣̟̏̊̇̍͜ ψ walks free.

Unnoticed by all, a lonely tape-recorder hidden somewhere in the office keeps spinning its tape.

Thus concludes the thrilling Saturday Night adventure.

I... Have Questions. Not many, but pressing ones.

The most pressing one is WHY did you crazy kids go to explore literal crumbling ruins at night? Urbexers do it for 'vibes' and 'clout' (and they don't always come back with the same number of eyes they went in with), but why would you? What made you think it was a good idea to look for clues in the feeble light of torches? Why? Just… WHY? (And why a work night? Did you take a day a night off? Are you exploring on company time? Couldn't you wait till Sunday morning?)

Another good one: does Alice really believe this is a dead end (haha) and can't be bothered with it, or is she dragging Sam away because she knows something's there, and doesn't want her baby shrimp anywhere near it?

And finally – what did they just unleash on the world? My first thought was "one of those gifted kids did not make it back home," and that's as far as I'm willing to let that thought go for the moment. Another one was: "what magical monstrosity did they create in the Artefact Research"? And another: "holy shit, it's been 25 years. How sane is ERROR after all that time (assuming it was sane to begin with)? (I know there are clues on RQ's backstage page, where the casting calls dwell, but going there feels like cheating, so I won't. Today).

#the magnus protocol #tmagp case files #tmagp case 10.01 #tmagp 10 #the ERROR #ep. written by Jonathan Sims #ep. written by J.S.+A.J.N #Samama Khalid #Alice Dyer #tmagp

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meilunye · 3 months

Text

✧.* redemption

✧ Fandom: Reverse: 1999 ✧ Ship: Vertin/Schneider ✧ Word count: 7,1k ✧ WARNINGS: Major Character Death (it's Verneider, bros.) + Alternate Universe (Spies)

In the ugliest corner of a town about to be destroyed, spy Vertin finds something she wishes to save.

“It is true what they say…” Regulus glanced up at the building in front of her. The neon light silhouette of a woman in lingerie was sitting on top of the club’s name, as proof of what kind of place it was. “Sometimes, you can judge books by the cover.”

Wrapped up in her white coat at her side, Sonetto sighed. “At least you are not the one who has to investigate inside.”

“Happy to leave this to you!” Regulus exclaimed, her voice unbearably loud for the silent street they were walking. “Wouldn’t accept this kind of task if they paid me by the minute.”

Fully aware of how the debate about salaries and responsibility would end, Vertin seized the opportunity to step in between the two. “Let us go then, Sonetto. The sooner we start…”

“...The sooner we finish.” Another sigh shook Sonetto’s shoulders. “Alright. Lead the way.”

— Ф —

The inside of the club was… pretty much precisely how Vertin expected it to be. Velvet armchairs and couches ran along the dark walls, with colorful lights in all the shades of pink and red illuminating the room. In the farthest corner was a wooden stage. Behind the half-closed feather curtain, Vertin could peek at metal poles and cubes scattered everywhere.

An excellent starting point to find a wealthy creep.

When the request for help first reached the agency, Vertin couldn’t hide her surprise. They were the top-notch spies of the country, only deployed for the most serious of matters— international espionage, pursuit of essential subjects, elimination of political opposers… How did an anonymous sender discover their address, and why would they dare approach them with such a silly demand?

It comes without saying that Madame Constantine’s immediate response was to crumple the letter in her palms and toss it to the trash can. Vertin insisted they’d take on the case, applying enough pressure on the woman’s mind until she achieved her goal.

Not that she was overly enthused about catching some middle-aged pervert preying on naive teenagers. Although the idea of punishing such a ruthless monster was delightful, she was more interested in the identity of that anonymous and in their motives.

“The main show won’t begin for another thirty minutes.” Sonetto read the sign at the entrance aloud, sighing right after. Out of all spies, she was the worst candidate for that specific mission, given her purity of heart. It was a shame indeed that she happened to be Vertin’s most trusted companion.

Vertin took a seat on a velvet couch in the farthest corner. “Let’s wait here and observe.”

After ordering a drink to pass as regular customers, the two girls sat back and stared at the incoming and outgoing patrons. Their ages varied steeply, ranging from high schoolers searching for a night of high to old business people close to retirement. Boys and girls alike chimed in to grab a drink at the counter or look forward to the event onstage.

“Do you see our suspect anywhere?” Sonetto asked. Her glass was still untouched.

Vertin ran her gaze around the room once more. There were no traces of a man bearing a scar on his cheek anywhere, nor someone suspiciously covering their face. “It appears not.”

“Should we leave, then?” Despite the flawless lying skills in her curriculum, Sonetto seemed to forget how to conceal her eagerness. She was dying to escape. “If our objective was to investigate him, but he didn’t come—”

“It is far too early to throw in the towel,” Vertin cut her off. She took a long sip of her drink to pause dramatically and emphasize her next line. “He could show up later during the night. Besides, since we traveled all the way here and Regulus and Druvis are still out there handling their tasks, we might as well learn more about this place.”

Unable to offer a valid rebuttal, Sonetto simply pouted.

And true to her word, Vertin spent the next hour studying the area. The building was theft-proof, probably to safeguard the preposterous amount of money the owners raked in every night thanks to their dancers. No air vents, no blind spots in the camera surveillance, and no nooks and crannies to hide in.

The only way to catch their suspect would be to lure them somewhere private. The bathroom was the most trivial option, yet not the best choice: what would they do after killing the man? If they poisoned him with cyanide, they’d need to carry a limp body through the club. If they stabbed him, the pool of blood would give them away before they’d manage to leave the premises.

“I have an idea,” Vertin said after a long moment of quiet. “There is one way to trap our target in a private space and, perhaps, plan an escape route before we’re found out.”

Sonetto’s grey eyes barely lit up. “And that would be?”

“Dressing up as dancers.” Vertin’s tense smile showed her embarrassment in suggesting such a shameless thought. “They host private shows in those secluded rooms in the back. If they have a window or any sort of vent, we could—”

“Slow down, Leader...” Sonetto shook her head, so vehemently that Vertin feared it might fall off. “It is unlike you to disregard the obvious flaw in your plan. We do not possess the skills of a dancer, first of all, and… How can we be sure our target will book a show with us and not some other patron?”

A fair objection indeed. Vertin pressed her lips together, unsure how to improve her faulty scheme. Did they have no choice but to act outside, in the open, with so many potential witnesses? It was against a spy’s work ethic.

Just as she was about to open her mouth again, the lights went off. Pink neons and warm spotlights all moved to the center of the stage, where the curtain was slowly opening.

“They’re starting,” Vertin said.

Sonetto rolled her eyes. “Leader... Why do you look excited to see this show? It’s dancers in a nightclub.”

Yes, Vertin knew what sort of dance they were going to perform. A tango made of seduction, movements meant to entice the audience, and likely lewd sounds and poses. It wasn’t out of desire that Vertin wished to witness the event; it was merely a curiosity, having been raised in a conservative environment.

The dancer came forward from the backstage, drowning in a thick layer of fog. Donning frilly dresses and high-heeled shoes, they began performing one sexy gesture at a time, hurrying between the two ends of the stage.

The choreography was clumsy. Vertin knew that technical perfection was definitely not the primary goal of the dance, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if those movements studied to showcase flesh like food on a silver platter weren’t harmful to their spines.

A gunshot echoed through the cheers of the crowd. Vertin stiffened, her fight or flight reaction triggering immediately— her hand darted to the gun in her pants, while she squinted her eyes in search of the shooter.

Much to her surprise, a petite girl held the smoking gun, her white and wine-red skirt twirling in the neon lights as she crossed the stage, parting the group of dancers in two halves.

“Bang,” she whispered. Her voice was soothing, barely audible, were it not for the suspended silence lingering in the room. Then, just as suddenly, the public broke into a loud uproar, cheering the newcomer.

From her striking entrance and the aura she gave off, the girl must be the lead dancer of the nightclub. Her feather dress was gorgeous, carefully designed to expose as much of her skin as possible while not resulting in vulgarity. Her eyes seemed to sparkle— Vertin was captured by those unfamiliar hues of red.

“Her moves are… so perfect,” even Sonetto commented, out of breath. “She’s wasted in a club. I’m convinced she can perform on the stage of a proper theater.”

Vertin would agree, were she able to find her voice. It had died somewhere in her dry throat, along with her memories of how to form a meaningful sentence. That girl’s dance was… hypnotizing. She couldn’t rip her eyes off her.

The girl danced, guiding her fellow crew members while hoarding all the attention. As the final touch, she pointed her gun at the audience again. The red dot on the muzzle showed its true nature of a toy, as did the dazed expression on her face.

“Who’s going to die tonight?” she cooed, rhythmically swaying the gun from left to right, then left and right again, in slow motions. “Ah, how to decide…”

Sonetto caught Vertin’s attention again. “Everyone is staring as if this was the biggest honor of their lives. Do you think a prize is at stake for whoever is chosen?”

“Might be.” Vertin shrugged. Not like there was a large variety of rewards a nightclub could offer, anyway. “We don’t need to know this information for our mission.”

At last, the cane pointed in Vertin’s direction.

She held her breath.

“Bang,” the girl hummed.

Vertin glanced around, despite being sure she wouldn’t see anyone else. They had picked the farthermost table for a reason, and isolation now came at a steep price. She was the chosen person in the audience. All eyes were on her.

Their gazes met. Behind the smug grin curving the girl’s lips, behind her conceited motions and statuesque pose, behind her rehearsed script, Vertin saw something strange shimmering in those red irises. A message. Something only she could decipher.

“Our lucky guest of the day!”

The owner himself came to greet her, the sudden appearance drawing a soft gasp out of Sonetto’s lips. To think two spies had let their guard down in a crowded room, whilst in the middle of a job… they would be in for severe punishment if Constantine ever found out.

Before Vertin could utter a syllable, the man seized her wrist and raised her arm to the sky in an imaginary toast. “Congratulations, congratulations! Our dear Schneider has chosen a favorite for tonight.”

Schneider… A pseudonym, for sure, in that time and place. A stage name, perhaps? It didn’t fit the girl’s gentle nature at all.

“Sir, kindly lower your voice,” Vertin muttered.

“Why would I?! This is a time for celebration!” His laughter was loud and obnoxious, like the mischievous murmurs of a thousand critters in the woods. “What prize shall you wish for, my honored guest?”

Ah, so there was a prize to be won. What could Vertin ask for? She didn’t want anything that the nightclub could offer. Her dreams and hopes, albeit faint, were far beyond the materialistic world.

She glanced over at the dancer again. Still immobile in her stiff pose, the gun pointed at Vertin, she seemed to be sore all over. Vertin felt pity for her— she should allow her the mercy of a break by answering the question, at least. “Would a private show be alright?”

“Leader?!” Sonetto shrieked.

Disgruntled groans rose from the neighboring tables, enveloped in the darkness. Vertin realized that her request would stir some trouble: given her popularity, how many suitors did Schneider have? How many perverted desires did she have to hear and, hopefully not, satisfy?

“A private show…” The club owner failed to conceal his disappointment. “Ah, I see, I see. We live in a free country, you know! Girls can love whoever they please!”

Vertin rolled her eyes. “That is not—”

“But, you see, we need Schneider’s approval for this,” he interrupted. “While it is true that our dancers love and live for their audience, some private shows can get rather… feisty. And, my esteemed madam will surely agree, consent is vital in this world of roughness and violence.”

Another eye roll. “Absolutely. However, it is not within my plans to—”

“So, Schneider…” The man turned to the stage again. Despite his courteous smile, a dangerous light flickered in his eyes. Almost like a silent threat. “What do you say?”

Vertin chased her gaze again. She was not born with an expressive face, Constantine said. And, well, she wasn’t the brightest when it came to voicing her thoughts tactfully (or at least, Regulus and Sonetto firmly believed so). Still, she prayed that the seriousness in her would at least tell Schneider: “You’re safe. I won’t harm you.”

The dancer’s smile trembled at first. But genuine relief washed over her when she tilted her head to look at Vertin. “I have no objections, Sir.”

“Marvelous! Excellent! Another customer was satisfied.” The man gave two energic pats on Vertin’s back, his palms slamming against her ribcage. “Follow the corridor and open the first door on the right. Schneider will join you soon.”

Vertin sighed. “...Thank you.”

When she raised her head once more, Schneider was gone. She must be preparing for the next part of the night, Vertin assumed. The show resumed without her, and the enthusiasm in the crowd was rekindled.

Only Sonetto’s mind was still troubled. “What are you doing, Leader?” she asked, the exasperation clear in her voice. Was it only that, or perhaps mixed with a tad of jealousy? Vertin had been aware of her feelings for some time. “We didn’t come here to have fun. Our purpose was to investigate, not to—”

“This is unlike you, Sonetto. Calm down.” Vertin forced herself to be firm and steady, like the rock to lean on Sonetto needed. Regardless of their ages and individual goals, they were meant to look after one another as childhood friends. “I will check firsthand if those inner rooms suit our plan. Furthermore, I’ll remind you that the agency seeks new members to hire.”

Sonetto averted her gaze. “And you believe… a dancer from a nightclub is a valid candidate?”

“Sometimes, the rarest stones are hidden under the mud and rubble.” Constantine once told her those words. Vertin hardly bothered recalling her quotes, but this one had always stuck with her for some reason. “I will be back shortly.”

Sonetto did not seem convinced. She dared not protest, however, and gave up the fight with a resigned sigh. “I trust your judgment, Leader,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me hanging for too long.”

— Ф —

Impatience was not a flaw Vertin typically possessed. However, nervously seated on an uncomfortable leather sofa in the red velvet room, she couldn’t help but feel fidgety. Half an hour had passed since she was granted a private show, yet no traces of the dancer could be seen.

Even though Schneider did look like the type of performer who needed a long time to prepare for the show, what with her perfect make-up and her expensive choice of clothes and jewelry, Vertin believed the gazes they had shared in the night club cleared any doubt about the true nature of their meeting.

She had already memorized the private rooms' map and located the air vents and bathroom windows. With nothing left to do but twirl her fingers and wait, Vertin’s patience was running thin.

Just as he was about to leave and ask the owner whether he had scammed her, the lights went off. A softer glow of candlelight and pink neon lamps enveloped the room. And on the opposite side of the room, a door opened slowly.

Vertin swallowed.

Announced by a thick cloud of citrusy perfume, Schneider waltzed towards her, donning nothing but her revealing feather dress and red guns in her hands. She bridged the gap between them, winking at Vertin as she slammed her high-heeled boot on the table.

She was putting her best on display, indeed. Had Vertin said nothing, the two would have probably indulged in a proper private show before getting to the serious business. It was a tempting offer…

Alas, Sonetto was right: there was no time to waste.

“You can save your dance for another occasion,” Vertin cut her off, her voice hoarse. Damn, what spell had Schneider cast over her? “I came here to discuss important matters with you.”

No reaction could be read on Schneider’s face. The faint glimmer of disappointment in her eyes was the sole hint of how she felt. “Bene.” She dropped on the sofa facing Vertin, crossing her legs. “I am all ears, o’ mysterious miss from out of town.”

“First of all…” Vertin struggled to condense her thoughts into words. Small talk and introductions were not her strongest assets, and tasks she usually left for Regulus to handle. “How did you end up here? You don’t blend in with the environment of this club.”

Schneider chuckled. “Oh, my lord. Straight to the point, eh?” She rested her gun on the table between them, caressing it softly with her fingertips. “What can I say to you, my honorable guest? One has to do what they must to provide for their family.”

“Why don’t we make a deal? You tell me more about yourself…” Vertin also crossed her legs, copying the dancer’s pose. “And, if I deem our conversation satisfying, I will have a wonderful opportunity for you. You get the full payment for this show regardless of the outcome.”

Schneider stood still for a long time, seconds stretching into minutes. She seemed to ponder the opportunity thoroughly, even if Vertin was fairly sure she had no better options for the near future. “Why do you wish to know more about me?”

The first, vital rule of the agency was to never speak of its existence to anyone who was not a potential member. Sure, Vertin had utmost faith in her judgment when recruiting new spies, but one couldn’t be too sure. It was too soon to trust Schneider light-heartedly.

“I have my reasons,” she kept it vague. “I’m not expecting a speech dating back to your birth. I simply want to assess something.”

Schneider flashed a tense smile. “Va bene,” she conceded. “I have a large family. It is me, my mamma, and my twelve older sisters back at home… Quite a handful to keep the boat afloat. And, as the youngest, my career paths were not very varied.”

“I disagree.” Vertin shook her head. “Age does not matter when picking a career of your choice. I was also deemed too young for my job, but this didn’t stop my mentor from training me since childhood. Why did you end up in a shallow nightclub, when you look so refined?”

Another giggle flowed past Schneider’s lips. It was a sweet and earnest tune, albeit tainted by a tinge of discomfort. The kind of melancholy that the agency excelled at preying on. “Dancing and playing with guns are two things I have always cherished,” she explained. “My tasks are simple and pay well. Plus, if I take on this burden, my sisters will be spared.”

“...I understand.” Her attitude was perfect for the agency’s purposes. With such a spirit, Schneider would be a wonderful spy: she seemed to be someone who would dispose of any enemy gracefully and see her innocence as a price to pay for the greater good. “Are you a believer, Schneider?”

“My mamma is a devout woman.” Schneider’s smile cracked. Perhaps it was an unhappy topic for her. “As for me… I worship the lord in my ways.”

Religion and Bible. When Vertin had retrieved the letter from the trash bin, her keen eye had caught a few details. One, some of the lines were direct quotes from the Scriptures. Two, the paper smelled like ripe tangerine.

Nobody among her coworkers and higher-ups was overly fond of fruit. Schneider’s brown hair, on the other hand, bore a faint aroma of citrus fruits. If she merged this realization with the letter “S.” signing off the message, then…

“We have taken charge of your request,” Vertin said out of the blue. She lifted her bag from the floor and tossed a tattered notebook onto the table, next to the red pistol. “My honorable customer, Miss S. My name is Vertin, and I have come to clarify the task you wanted us to perform. May I know why you wish to get rid of one of the nightclub’s most loyal patrons?”

A wide range of emotions crossed Schneider’s face— a striking contrast with the composed indifference she had kept up until now. Confusion, realization, stupor… She wore her heart on her sleeve when she wasn’t busy pretending.

Once it returned, Schneider’s smile was more confident. “Since I started working in this place, over ten young dancers have vanished in unknown circumstances, only to be found dead a couple days later,” she said. “Nobody can see the connection— or, well, everybody keeps pretending not to. Before going missing, they all performed a private show for Mr. Barnes.”

A serial killer with a knack for strip teases. Scum, if Vertin had to voice her opinion, yet unfortunately not out of the ordinary. “So, you sought our help to dispose of him. Pardon me for my boldness, Miss Schneider, but I deem you capable of wonderful tricks with your gun. Any reason you’re not taking direct action?”

“A reason…” Schneider’s gaze landed on the weapon. “I might sound selfish, my lord. If I stained my hands with the murder of a customer and were to be caught, I would be thrown in jail and lose my main source of income. Who would provide for… my mamma and sisters?”

The brief pause caught Vertin’s attention. Whatever, she could inquire about it later. The clock was ticking, and the allocated time for the private show was soon to run out. “I understand,” she nodded. “You want an outsider to shoulder the responsibility. Divine punishment, almost. As if I was your lord.”

“But the Lord sits enthroned forever,” Schneider started quoting, her voice devoid of any emotion. “He has established his throne for justice, and he judges the world with righteousness; he judges the peoples with uprightness.”

Sighing, Vertin opened the notebook at a bookmarked page. The yellowed paper was cluttered with notes, scribbles, and taped-on dried flowers. Her pride and joy: the compilation of her notes from the tender age of four until today.

“We are working on your case.” Vertin’s tone grew hastier, her nervousness growing the more she spoke, and the arms ticked on the wall clock. “By “we”, I mean a group of trusted coworkers and me, not the agency. My mentor deemed the case far too trivial to deserve our attention.”

Schneider failed to mask her hurt. “Capisco. I had no big expectations when I sent my parcel, if that makes my dear lord feel better.”

“Our time is running out, Schneider.” Vertin slammed her open palm on the notebook. “I can’t brief you properly on the context, but I require your trust. The reason nobody stopped us from handling this case and neglecting bigger ones is that… your city will vanish soon.”

A confused frown bent Schneider’s forehead. “Vanish? How so?”

“A war will break out.” Vertin’s instincts screamed against her decision. Divulging key information was akin to a sin. Constantine’s punishment would leave a deep scar on her body and soul. “Explosives will turn your city into a wasteland. My main goal was to save you from despair, before you…”

Silence fell heavy between them. Schneider wasn’t dumb. Surely, she could finish the sentence on her own.

“Before I met my tragic end,” she said through gritted teeth. “That is unfortunate. Cazzo, life has its favorites after all. But tell me, my lord who seems to hold the keys to the future… If what you say is true, does Mr. Barnes also die?”

Vertin skimmed through the pages of Miss Matilda’s prophetic tale, in search of the short list of survivors the woman had compiled. She read through it carefully. Below the names of politicians and lucky men who owned bunkers, stood the name Timothy Barnes. “Hm, no. It appears he was lucky.”

Although Vertin didn’t speak Schneider’s mother tongue, there were few doubts about the nature of her next sentence: loud cursing, and a little whining in between. Her frustration was perfectly understandable to Vertin, despite her usual detachment from the people she helped.

“As a pious woman, my mamma would warn me against this kind of prophecy. Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world.” Schneider quoted another verse. “Much to her disappointment, though, I beg to differ. Is this fate set in stone?”

Vertin smiled softly. “Not necessarily. We cannot rewrite the history that led to this moment, nor prevent the city from being destroyed. What we can do is save a few people from their demise.”

“At what cost?” Schneider promptly quipped. “No favor comes without a price. And especially not favors this big.”

What a wise girl. Vertin drew an empty form from the end of her notebook and placed it on the table along with an old pen. “By filling this in, you will become a member of our agency. My crew and I will vouch for your entrance among our ranks,” she said. “You will acquire a… more entertaining job, and a safe haven for your mother and sisters.”

Vertin clasped her hands tightly together, nails creaking one against the other. How hypocritical of her to criticize Sonetto for her lack of professionality, when she had violated at least a hundred rules within a minute.

“All of my family?” Schneider inspected the form with a suspicious glare, not trusting its contents. “It’s veeery big, my lord.”

Vertin was done playing games. “All of it. Nobody is left out.”

“Not even dancers and strippers.” Schneider scoffed. “I suppose everyone deserves redemption, in your superior eyes.”

After a few moments of hesitation, she picked up the pen.

— Ф —

The wind rose high on the docks that morning, almost a foreboding of what was to come. The seagulls shrieked as they waltzed through the clouds and disappeared from view in the light of the sun.

Despite the early hour, not many people were around. Even the guards were in lower numbers— well, the majority of their troops was likely busy downtown inspecting the corpse of Mr. Barnes, a renowned businessman famous for his wealth and attitude of a casanova. Nobody had a reason to hurt him, the public would say. He was a tad obnoxious, perhaps, but a loving father and husband nonetheless.

There was so much the world did not know. He may have cherished his wife and daughters, but he was also chasing strippers in a nightclub and venting out his anger on their bodies. He was a kind man; he prayed at the church, yet had stained his soul with more than just one murder.

“Vertin,” Sonetto called out from the deck. “It is time. We must leave.”

Vertin turned around to glance at her crew. Her companions had boarded their private ship at dawn, and busied themselves with preparing the vessel for the journey. Only Vertin had lagged behind, idling around the port in search of something.

Of someone.

Where was she?

Vertin sighed. “Five more minutes,” she insisted. The crowd was scattered and sparse. The one person she wanted to meet was nowhere to be found. “We can afford a brief delay.”

The ship horn went off, ripping the silence of the port. Some birds cried from above the funnels, startled by the sudden loud noise. Their time was about to run out. The city would be destroyed within two hours, and they had to move to a safe spot before it happened.

Something hit the back of Vertin’s head— she turned around, immediately met with Regulus’s angry pout. “Stop spacing out! Maybe she decided not to come!” she whined. “She might prefer dying in a bombing than surviving, starting anew, and facing the humiliation of her past.”

The possibility was realistic. Regulus was not speaking in vain, indeed. If they stayed back to wait for Schneider a second too long, they would also die in the tragedy. The agency would suffer an irreparable loss, not to mention the guilt that would haunt Vertin in the afterlife.

“Perhaps,” Vertin shrugged. “I want to trust the spark I saw in her eyes.”

But the clock ticked, and so did the life of the city shorte. The church bells sang a tune to mark the passing of noon. Even the seagulls ceased their noise. It was… too late.

With a heavy heart, Vertin walked up the gangplank.

“My lord.”

Vertin spun on herself so fast, that the wind fiercely slapped her cheeks. Schneider was there— in the flesh and bone, donning her beautiful feather dress and a sorrowful smile on her lips. She held a purse in her grasp, where the luggage should have been.

“You’re here.” Even her monotone voice could not conceal her happiness within. Her heart thumped in her chest, to the rhythm of the waves at her back. “You always appear at the very last second.”

Schneider smirked. “An artist, much like a mistress, should always have a striking entrance.”

“I see.” Vertin glanced around the port. Nobody stood at Schneider’s side, nor resembled her looks in the slightest. “What about your family?”

In her childhood, Vertin had been a troublesome kid. She ran from the orphanage, often sneaking out of the windows at night and climbing down the balconies. She pulled pranks on Constantine and skipped her training when she felt blue or lazy.

Whenever she was caught lying to save face, Constantine would repeat the same motto, a saying from the old world. “Your sins will find you out,” she simply said, writing down the punishment she had come up with. “No use making things up, my dear Vertin. The truth cannot be concealed forever.”

Her mind darted back to those memories. To the mornings she spent in Constantine’s office, nervously biting on his nails while waiting for the verdict. To the afternoons she had to stare powerlessly at the locked door, when they locked her in the toolshed for breaking the rules. To the nights she cried herself to sleep, promising she would be a good girl who doesn’t lie… only to spiral back into sin on the very next dawn.

Because, for the first time in her life, Vertin stood on the opposite end of the office desk.

“My lord, I am sorry,” Schneider said, her voice cracking. “I lied to you.”

Vertin furrowed her brow. “What did you lie about?”

“My family.” Schneider wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. Was she tearing up out of sadness or regret? “They’ve all been gone for a long time. It is only me, myself, and I.”

All of the puzzle pieces snapped back into place at last. The despair of a young woman on her own in the wicked world, easy prey of wealthy pimps. The impossibility to leave her current situation, simply out of fear of ending up on the edge of a street. The desperate attempt at summoning a powerful agency to break her shackles.

And the risky, crazy freedom that Vertin’s offer must have been in her eyes. The chance to begin anew, at the price of a few lives to take on behalf of Constantine’s schemes. A laughable sum to trade for gold.

Mistaking her silence for disappointment, Schneider kept rambling. “The true reason I reached out for you was… revenge. Nothing noble or pure as you were led to believe,” she muttered. “My sisters and mamma worked at the nightclub too. The thirteen victims of Mr. Barnes... all bore my same surname.”

“He paid for his crimes. Your wish has been fulfilled.” Vertin offered her an open palm. “Come with me. There is nothing left for you in this doomed city.”

Hesitation shone vividly in Schneider’s eyes, her gaze fluttering between Vertin’s alluring hand, the ship behind her, and the sun over the horizon. Was she going to turn down the proposal and choose death, after all?

Thankfully, she held Vertin’s hand. “Lead the way, my kind lord.”

“Gladly.” Vertin pulled her on the plank. “We will teach you a new way to live.”

— Ф —

Far away from the light pollution of cities and beacons, the night sky was stunning on the open sea. The hundred hues of the galaxy and the million stars scattered about enveloped the ship fully, turning the main deck into a breathtaking panoramic viewpoint.

How many words had they exchanged in the past few hours, and what time was it? Vertin couldn’t recall ever talking as much as she did that evening with Schneider, sitting with her legs crossed and a bottle of wine by her side.

It was indeed Schneider who smelled like tangerines. She carried dried peels in her pockets and purse to keep them fresh at all times. She also loved feathers and their ambiguous fragility, which she believed to represent her situation well. And, also, Schneider was fond of stars.

Vertin hung from her lips, gathering each and every drop of information like a thirsty pilgrim in the desert. She took mental notes of Schneider’s preferences, tastes, likes, and dislikes. She crossed out of her mental list the topics they already discussed, and furiously brainstormed to find new ones.

She was greedy. Schneider made her curious in a way she didn’t know was possible. It was an undying hunger for more details, more superficial small talk that yet filled her chest with warmth. “Is this what it means to feel at home?” Vertin thought. Something she was not accustomed to.

“The landscape from the agency’s rooftop is awesome, although the beauty before our eyes right now is unrivaled,” Vertin said, dreamy. More than on wine, she was drunk on happiness as she spoke her mind freely. “I will take you there. We can share another bottle of Chardonnay and use Miss Matilda’s telescope to peek at the paler stars.”

Schneider’s dejected smile never faded. It was printed on her lips, like an indelible mark. And Vertin wasn’t sure of its cause— perhaps, she felt guilty for what had befallen her home. The burning smoke trails could still be seen above the shore where the city once stood. “I’m looking forward to it, my lord.”

“Don’t call me that,” Vertin shook her head. “Just Vertin is fine. We’re all equals within the agency.”

Schneider chuckled. “I am not an official member yet. Plus you are my savior. It is only natural for me to call you my lord.”

Sure, if that's what she desired. Except being referred to with such a highfalutin title spread uncomfortable heat across Vertin’s cheeks. She cleared her throat with a cough. “We should head to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

She remembered with horror the bureaucratic procedures to accept new spies. The physical tests came first, followed by the mental fortitude quizzes, which Vertin was sure Schneider would ace. The rest was an exhausting nightmare made of forms to fill in, stamps to attach, questions to answer…

“Before we head below deck to rest…” Schneider stood up and pulled her dress down to cover her thighs. “May I bless you with a short performance? You didn’t get to see me dance last time.”

Right, she didn’t enjoy her private show. And well, it might have been just because of the wine, but damn if Vertin felt like watching Schneider shine. “Go ahead.”

The performance was flawless, as expected. Schneider’s body seemed weightless while she spun around in her feather dress, the pale light of the moon reflecting in her crimson eyes. She swirled and twirled, crafting an intricate choreography with her elegant movements, one after the other.

Vertin was mesmerized, completely lost in her awe. She swallowed thickly, not recognizing the knot of tension blocking off her throat— had a woman’s lips ever been so inviting? So glossy and soft, luring her in?

With a final bow, it was a wrap. Droplets of sweat glistened on Schneider’s forehead and shoulders, dripping down her collarbones. When she tilted her head up to look at her audience, the smile on her lips was finally genuine.

Schneider pulled out her trustworthy gun from her garter and aimed it at Vertin’s face. “Bang, bang, bang,” she chanted playfully, pretending to shoot her. “Did my lord enjoy the show I put up solely for her?”

“It was fantastic,” Vertin commented, her throat dry. “You’re… truly a great dancer, Schneider. A shame the wrong eyes were cast on you this entire time.”

Breathless, Schneider dropped back at her side, her shoulder brushing against Vertin’s as she giggled again. “Grazie. The praise feels outwardly coming from you.”

The atmosphere was perfect. Following the lead of an instinct she wasn’t aware she possessed, Vertin closed the distance between their mouths. Schneider’s lips were soft and moist, with a faint aftertaste of chapstick.

The more she kissed her, the more passion she poured into the movements of her tongue, the more Vertin’s shyness melted. She pulled Schneider closer, holding her by the waist as she deepened the kiss, more and more, and more.

“Everything is perfect now,” Schneider whispered when they parted for air, a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Thank you for sending me off so sweetly, my lord.”

Vertin scowled, instinctively chasing her lips again. “Sending you off?”

“My deepest apologies.”

The following seconds were a blur. Everything happened so suddenly and so quickly, that Vertin couldn’t process what was happening until it was too late to put a halt to it.

Schneider hopped on her feet again, approaching the side of the deck at a concerning speed. She grabbed the taffrail with both hands and took a deep, sharp breath. Then, she climbed over it.

— Ф —

“My deepest, most sincere, and heartfelt apologies, my lord.” She looked at Vertin from above her shoulder, tears in her eyes. “I have lied to you again.”

She vanished from Vertin’s sight, swallowed by the tides underneath. Not a sound rose from the waves as they welcomed her in their cold embrace, her soul leaving the world silently. And just like that, Schneider was no more.

“What…” Vertin stuttered, her heart unmoving. “What?”

When she clenched her fists to pull herself up, the noise of crumpling paper caught her attention. A note had been swiftly placed in her palm— how cunning of Schneider to fool even a spy’s reflexes.

“You, Lord, are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to you. Although I did not forge these words, I feel every syllable in my bones,” Vertin read out. “Your offer was truly the greatest act of kindness I have ever hoped to receive in this decaying world. Alas, I am sorry to disagree with you, my lord: some of us, perhaps, do not deserve redemption.”

Tears landed on the paper as Vertin was reading. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her sleeve, determined to read Schneider’s final message before accepting her disappearance.

“I accept the fate that was cast upon me. If my city has to be wiped away, I believe it is Heaven’s will to purify it from its corruption. And, if I die a nobler death after showing you the performance I owed you, I will hopefully be allowed to join my mamma and sisters in the afterlife.” Two words were scribbled in red ink on the corner of the page, in Schneider’s native language. “Ti amo.”

Ti amo… I love you. Love. Yes, maybe… That had been Vertin’s first taste of love.

And it was gone, like a feather in the wind.

“Schneider, you—” Unable to hold her grief any longer, Vertin just broke down in loud sobs. “Why would you leave like that?!”

She clasped the yellowed paper close to her chest, as if she could hug Schneider in a similar fashion. Where was her body now, and where her soul? Was she resting peacefully on the ocean floor, making the abyss shine with her pure heart?

“I couldn’t even say it back…”

The note smelled of tangerines.

— Ф —

“What is taking her so long?!”

Regulus’s whines tore the silence to pieces once more. Druvis sighed, not sure how to deal with her antics anymore after making her shut up a dozen times. She did have a point: four hours had passed since they had disembarked the ship, and yet no progress had been made in their march back to the city.

“She’s honoring Schneider’s memory,” Sonetto reprimanded her with a glare. “Leader spent the entire day and night painting feathers in red ink.”

Regulus gasped. “So that’s why the light was on all night! I thought I was going crazy!”

“Be patient, Regulus,” Druvis said. “Although Vertin is accustomed to loss, it was the first time I ever saw her cry. Schneider’s death has taken a toll on her spirit.”

Sonetto couldn’t hold back a peal of fake laughter. “Indeed. It seems the Leader has been shot through the heart.”

The final feather landed on top of the others, gathered in a messy pile of white and red. The wind was sure to scatter them across the valley when it would rise— everything according to Vertin’s plan.

“Goodbye, Schneider.”

She kept her eyes glued to the makeshift tombstone she had cut and carved with her own hands. Even the hole under it had been dug and refilled with nothing but elbow grease and willpower. A bearable effort for a great cause.

Of course, Schneider’s corpse was never retrieved. It wasn’t sought, to be fair: Vertin ordered the sailors against it, refusing to desecrate her resting place. It was fine. The little bird had chosen where to end her flight.

Crafting her a symbolic tombstone on the hilltop was Vertin’s selfish desire to have something to pay respect to whenever she left on a mission. It was her oath, a decision she made in the aftermath of that night.

“Oh, right. Before I forget…” Vertin placed a tangerine on the moss under the headstone. Someday, once the trees she planted have grown, the ripe fruits will turn Schneider’s memorial into a scented paradise. “I hope you are happy now. Send my greetings to your mother and sisters.”

A gust of wind combed through her hair. Vertin giggled under her breath, choosing to interpret it as Schneider’s mischievous response. What would she say, if she saw her mourning on an empty tomb? She would quote some verses from the Bible, surely.

“Bang bang bang,” the breeze seemed to say.

Vertin stood up.

#meifics #reverse 1999 #verneider #major character death #the italian curses are very much real LOL

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the-monkey-ruler · 8 months

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Is samba de amigo inspired by jttw or maybe even lmk?

It looks like Samba de Amigo was made in 1999, about a 20-year difference then when Lego Monkie Kid came out. If anything perhaps LMK was inspired the game... but probably not too this is a Japanese rhythm game that takes place in Brazil(?)

But if there is anything Xiyouji inspired could show something...

I do have to say that this guy Amigo def has drip. Even calls himself The Great Maracas King. Funny enough he does have a strong connection to the Sonic universe but I don't see anything else of him having Sun Wukong references.

And looks like this guy Yamigo was with the 2023 addition to the game series. But evil counterparts are nothing new either so I can't give the evil twin trope credit to a series. Actually funny enough looks like Yamigo was adopted by an evil deer which does remind me of Mei Hou Wang 2009 series. But I don't see anywhere that says these are inspired by Chinese media at the moment, they don't even have a pig character or a fish character, my man Bajie and Wujing have no Maracas counterpart.

I could be wrong if anyone knows if like a developer team said something please let me know but right now Imma say these are not inspired by Xiyouji.

#anon ask #anonymous #anon #jttw #journey to the west #ask #suggestion #Amigo #Yamigo #samba de amigo #again if im wrong and there is someone out there showing 'hey this is xiyouji inspired' please let me know #I dont have all information at my fingertips #but right now i dont think so

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brunchable · 2 years

Text

2319 Chapter 4 : Stephen's Lullaby || Young!Stephen Strange × F!Reader.

Word count: 6.3K Genre: Innocent Love, Diary Entries, Fluff. Warning: Writing this chapter got me SQUEALING OKAY? Special mentions: Donna Strange, Victor Strange, Eugene Strange. A/N: This story is inspired by the Korean Drama called "2521" Once again I have taken one of my favorite scenes/dialogue from the drama in this chapter. I highly reccoment listening to the song I linked somewhere in this chapter.

***Strictly to not post, translate or copy my works to other websites!!***

Masterlist || Previous

June 21 1999 — The Car ride to St. Claire Mountain

After getting into the backseat of the car, you look for a place to sit. You are unsure if it would be best to seat behind Donna, directly behind Stephen, or somewhere in the centre. Anywhere you sit, you feel him. He’s everywhere. Everything is Stephen. That is how it works when a person finds themselves being attracted to another person. He’s nowhere, then suddenly he’s everywhere, whether you want him to be or not.

It makes you wonder if you’re anywhere near him, but the thought doesn’t last long. You can always tell whether a man likes you or not, and Stephen most certainly does not fall into the category of being drawn to you. Because of this, it is imperative that you find a way to stop whatever it is that you feel whenever you are in his presence. When you're barely getting enough time to concentrate on work and school, the last thing you need is a ridiculous infatuation with a man. You reach inside your bag and take out a paperback book, and then you start reading it.

Stephens turns on the radio, and Donna lays her seat back and kicks her feet up on the dash. “Don’t wake me up until we’re there,” she says, pulling her cap over her eyes.

You glance at Stephen, and he’s adjusting his rearview mirror. He turns around and looks behind you to back out of the spot, and his eyes briefly meet yours.

“You comfortable?” he asks. He turns around before getting your answer and puts the car in drive, then glances at you in the rearview mirror.

“Yep,” You say, making sure to tack a smile onto the end of that word. You don’t want him to think you’re upset that he came, but it’s hard for you not to appear closed off when you’re around him, when you’re trying so hard to be. He looks straight ahead, and you look back down at your book.

Thirty minutes pass, and the movement of the car accompanied by your attempt to read is making your head spin. You set the book down beside you and readjust yourself in the backseat. You lean your head back and prop your feet up on the console between Donna and Stephen.

He glances at you in the rearview mirror, and his eyes feel like they’re hands, running over every inch of you. He holds his stare for no longer than two seconds, then looks back at the road. I hate this. You have no idea what’s going through his head. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t tease. His features give the impression that he is always concealing his emotions behind a wall of armour, as if he does not want the outside world to know how he really feels.

When you are still looking at him in the rearview mirror, attempting to figure out who he is, he casts another glance in your direction. You feel a twinge of embarrassment at having been caught staring at him and turn your attention away from the window. However, that mirror is like a magnet, and you'll be damned if you don't bring your gaze right back to it.

As soon as you glance back into the mirror, so does he immediately after. You turn your head and glance back out the window again. You are about to go on the journey that will go down in history as the longest journey you have ever taken. You make it three minutes, then you look again. Shit. So does he.

You smile, amused by whatever game this is both of you were playing. He smiles, too. Stephen smiled too. Stephen turns his head to look at the road again, but his grin doesn't fade for many seconds. You are aware of this, since you are unable to tear your gaze away from it. You want to snap a photo of it before it vanishes for good, yet doing so would be quite weird. He brings his arm down to the console in an attempt to rest it there, but your feet are blocking his way. You push up on your hands.

“Sorry,” you say, as you begin to pull them back. His fingers wrap around your ankles, stopping you.

“You’re fine,” he reassures you, his hand still wrapped around your ankles. You can't take your eyes off of it. Your thighs begin to squeeze together, a halt forms in your lungs, and you feel a tightening in both of your legs. You had to chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Donna Strange speaking, please leave a message and I’ll try my best to call you back ASAP. *Beep*

“Hey, you’ll never guess what I found listed in the real estate market. . . it’s our old house back at Devonport, I’m thinking of buying it—I’m on my way there right now. I'll let you know how it goes later alright? I’m driving. Bye.” Stephen chucked the phone on the passenger seat after hanging up, when he recognized the spot where he first met you.

He vividly imagines that memory to life as you yelled at him to wait for you as he drove by the spot. After seeing your photo he wonders how you've been coping but his pride was stopping him from making the first move.

Stephen drives past the Devonport sign and from there he could see the peaks of St. Claire Mountain, still thriving with life just as the last time he laid eyes on it. The town felt smaller than he remembered, it reckons it's because he's accustomed to the city life that he forgot how relaxed and peaceful this town was.

Stephen entered the upper-middle class neighbourhood, and though the streets looked similar, there were a couple of houses that had been rebuilt. When he saw the white house with a dark tiled roof, he knew he was home. He pulled up his Lamborghini in front of the house and killed the engines—he had arrived half an hour early just to make sure he got a good parking spot.

"Mom we're on our way okay? Just calm down, Lindsey's going to be fine—Sweetheart do you have Lindsey's meds?" You walk out of the house with Sasha shadowing closely behind you, "Yes! We're getting in the car, don't rush me, do you want us to get into an accident?"

Stephen saw you through his rearview mirror while you helped Sasha get into your Tesla SUV. Stephen got out of the car just as you quickly back out of the driveway and sped away, leaving no time for Stephen to catch up as he jogs towards your property.

"(Y/N)!"

You gave Sasha your phone and didn't notice Stephen as you quickly drove away to go to the hospital.

"Mom, there's a man who looked like he wanted something." Sasha noticed Stephen from far away at the side mirror.

"They're probably just people looking for donations, they'll leave a leaflet." You flatly replied because it was the least of your concerns.

Stephen sighs disappointedly and heads back into his car. You looked very stressed out by the looks of it and now that he thinks about it, it's probably a good thing you didn't see him. Stephen glanced back at his old house and saw himself arguing with Eugene in the garage while he fixed something in his motorcycle.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

July 1st 1999

"Can you explain all this Stephen?" Eugene threw a couple of letters on the tool desk angrily. Stephen turns around clueless about what his father was talking about, he grabs a dirty towel and wipes off the black grease that stained his hands.

"What’s that?" He asks and points at the letters.

"Well why don't you take a look?"

Stephen gets up and grabs the envelopes, pulling out the letters that it contained. It was his notice of suspension in college as well as his dropping grades. Stephen grimaced and closed his eyes.

"A Suspension?! You have got to be joking with me! Not to mention your grades! What the hell has gotten into you?!" Eugene yelled out of pure dissatisfaction with how Stephen isn't taking his studies seriously, "Now I see why you arrived back home early because you got suspended. Jesus! What do you do in university huh? Drink and hang out with your friends, get into fights? Having fun when you should be making a great future for yourself!"

Stephen lowered his gaze, trying his best to bite his tongue and keep his cool, "So I beat up some guys that bully freshmen on campus, so what?"

"So what? So what? Is everything about getting even for you? I guess you must be feeling pretty good about yourself right? Am I right or wrong?" Eugene scolded Stephen some more and Stephen kept quiet, "That’s what I thought."

"And your grades. . . You're goddamn grades! How can you explain that?! Me and your mother work tirelessly to—"

"I NEVER WANTED TO BECOME A DOCTOR ALRIGHT?!" Stephen finally erupted after keeping it in for three years. Out of shock, Eugene slapped Stephen for speaking to him in such a way.

"You will finish what you have started—I will not have you experience what your mother and I have gone through to provide you and your siblings food in your stomach and a warm home to go home to." Eugene replies in a low intimidating tone after having slapped his son.

"Okay then I guess you leave me no choice but to never be happy with my life." Stephen retorts to Eugene who didn't want to hear one more word and bumps past Stephen to go inside the house.

After a while of standing in one place, frozen and trying to calm himself, he notices you standing by the garage with a container of cookies in your hand. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose because by the expressions on your face, you probably witnessed the whole ordeal.

"How long have you been standing there?" Stephen asks, eyes glistening in the dark before quickly turning away and returns back to take a seat to continue fixing his motorcycle.

"I-I'm sorry. . .I didn’t know I—"

"You don't need to apologise." Stephen replies in an apathetic tone, glancing at you and then the container, "Is that for Victor?"

"Y-yeah. . ."

"Just leave it there, I'll give it to him when I go inside."

You awkwardly cleared your throat and cautiously walked closer to him. The cold aura he was giving out could cut like a knife and though you wanted to say something to comfort him, you felt like it would make the humiliation worse. You place the container carefully on the table, glancing at Stephen hoping he would address you first but he just kept working on his motorbike.

"I'll see you later." You muttered and slowly backed away.

"See ya." Stephen replied without a glance to your direction.

Playing with your hands anxiously, your mind battled with your hard whether to ask him to go for a walk with you or not. Behind you, Stephen finally sends a glance in your direction as you walk off slowly.

You whirled around and slightly stepped back, surprised that Stephen was already looking at you before you even called out his name, "Stephen?"

"(Y/N)."

"Do you want to go for a walk with me? Maybe get some ice cream?" You ask, still playing with your fingers and swallowing hard, anxious about what his answer will be, "We don't even need to talk about it. . . if you don't want to."

Stephen remains quiet, his blank expression makes it hard to decipher what he was even thinking about. He gets up, wiping his hands on the towel that hung over his shoulders then takes the container of cookies before heading inside his house.

You stood there clueless and confused—slightly embarrassed for even bothering to ask, "I'll take that as a no then?" You press your lips together and turn to walk away, mentally facepalming yourself. The moment you stepped on the sidewalk, Stephen went back out, wearing a dark beige unbuttoned long sleeve over his white t-shirt.

Stephen ran after you, catching you mid stride and said sarcastically, "Well thanks for waiting."

"You didn't say anything so I thought you didn't want to." You looked up at him and he just chuckled, "Let's go to Gelato Messina because it's the closest—and it's my treat because I believe, I still owe you one." You suggested looking straight ahead.

Stephen nods, "Sounds good to me."

You and Stephen walked side by side the footpath which fits you both quite well. Yours and his arms both on either side of you not knowing where to place or what to do with them. You look down each time the back of his hand accidentally grazes against yours and the thought of wanting to know how his hands would feel overwhelms you. Would his fingers fit perfectly between the spaces of your hands? Would he hold it tightly? Leave kisses at the back of your hand?

"What are you thinking about?" Stephen asks, noticing how deep in thought you were just now.

You snap out of it and tucks your hair behind your ear, "Nothing. just my life in general." You glance up at Stephen, who was watching you think.

"So when did you start figure skating?"

"When I turned Six."

Stephen smiles endearingly, "I know you probably have a love-hate relationship with skating right now, but I'm really curious to see you skate."

"You didn't watch the Olympics last Winter?"

"Nope. Didn't have a T.V. in my dorm."

"That's sad."

"Yeah. It felt like a penitentiary rather than a university."

You chuckle softly, "Now I'm scared to go to university if that's the case."

"You'll have Donna, you won't get bored—how's your painting going by the way?"

"Great. I think it should be done in a couple more days. . .if I don't get distracted." You gave him a side along glance because by distraction you meant him and Victor always making a racket while they play video games in his room during the day.

"Sorry. . ." He chuckles, "Why don't you paint in the front yard and get some sun? If we're being too loud. That's what Donna does when she wants some peace and quiet when reading a book."

"I don't know. . . It never crossed my mind I guess—but I'll definitely do that now."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You and Stephen shared a large cup of gelato while sitting by the window, opposite from each other. He's done nothing but make you laugh ever since you sat down with him—which no other you've dated in the past was able to do.

"Well, me and Donna had a huge fight and I needed to get revenge so what I did was, I wrap a fish with duct tape and then hid it under her car's passenger seat and within twenty-four hours her car smells like death—it was hilarious because she endured it because I made sure she'll never find it." Stephen stifles a laugh at the memory of his successful plot of revenge while trying to get a spoonful of ice cream.

You covered your mouth and gaped at him, "You’re kind of evil. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve done this before."

"Oldest trick in my book." He laughs more but then soon calms down, "I shouldn’t be even having fun right now. . ."

Stephen suddenly remembers and feels guilty especially after his father flat-out told him that he shouldn't be having fun until he's more successful in life.

You look down and then smile at him sincerely while you reach to touch the back of his hand, "So? It's not everyday. We can do fun stuff together from time to time."

Stephen lifts his gaze, not expecting that sort of reaction from you, "What if I don't want to?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "You still have to~ you don’t have a choice."

"Why?"

"Well. . . I'm against you when you said to your father that you will never be happy in your life. If you say it like that then you're literally bringing life into your words—but you already said what you said. So how about we do this as a counterattack?"

Stephen says nothing but eyes every part of your features intently, anticipating every word that was to come out of your lips.

"From now on, everytime you hang out with me, you can be happy and keep it a secret." You send him another very endearing smile and then lean against the table whispering, "When it’s just us two, let’s be happy when we’re together, though temporary. This can be our little secret."

You took your hands off of his and lifted your pinky finger up, urging him to lock his with yours.

Stephen nods with a small smile on his face and locks his pinky finger with yours. He held your gaze with eyes that somehow reassured him. He felt the connection in the pit of his stomach, a warm, coming-to-life tingle.

I wanted to be able to tell her everything, and if I had been able to, maybe things would have turned out differently for us, and maybe I would be there with you right now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, "I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything," maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't pull it off because I had repressed too much and buried it too deeply within me. And now I find myself over here, rather than there. . . with you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the time both of you had finished it was dark and compared to the chatty exchanges both of you were having on the way and being in the parlour, this walk back home was quiet—you swear you could hear each breath and heartbeat you make. You still walked side by side from each other—you walk by an empty playground and Stephen points at the swing.

"Want to go on the swing?" He asks randomly.

"Yeah why not?" You snap your head, probably too eagerly as you've been waiting for him to talk.

"Last one there's the rotten fish under Donna's car seat!" Stephen lightly pushes you aside and bolts towards the playground, not even giving you a chance.

"Hey!! That's cheating! Cheater!!" You ran after him but your little legs were no match compared to his.

Stephen reaches the swingset and pants while laughing at the same time, "You push me because you're the loser."

"Wow, you're such a gentle man." You say sarcastically and you pivot behind him before giving him a light push and Stephen barely even swings.

"Oh come on, (Y/N), surely you can push better than that." He twists his head and body to look at you.

You scrunch your face and push him harder away from you, grunting, "You’re heavy you know!"

"That's much better! Push me harder until I tell you to stop." Stephen insisted and you happily obliged, pushing him again and again until he was high up into the air, "Alright stop!"

You step back anticipating what Stephen was going to do, he swung his legs to keep his momentum before unexpectedly jumping out of the swing, "Oh my god!" You covered your mouth as Stephen landed on the ground, you rushed to be by his side and roll him to his back. His eyes were closed and you shook him, "Stephen!! Hey!! Wake up!! Stephen!!"

After hearing your voice crack out of panic, Stephen couldn't help it anymore and burst out laughing at your reaction while he sat up. You frown at his unfunny prank and hit his arm, "That’s not funny!!"

But that didn't stop Stephen from laughing, "Oh damn, I'm bleeding." He lifts his arm as he sees the blood streaming down his forearm.

You release an exasperated sigh, "Will you stop laughing? You're hurt!"

"It's just nice to know that I'm still human." Stephen reaches for the crown of your head and shuffles it before getting up and walking towards the timber modular to take a seat on the steps. He removes his long sleeve, leaving him with only his white tee and hands you the piece of clothing.

"Stop worrying (Y/N), you're with future Doctor Strange. This little cut is not going to kill me." Stephen reassures you, "Now I'm going to tell you how to tie this on my arm so that it applies pressure on it alright?"

"Okay," you nod and listen carefully to his instructions on how to tie a pressure bandage, without a pressure bandage. You tie it as tightly as you could and you look up when he stops telling you instructions. Your eyes lock for two seconds, and then you quickly look back down at his hand. He’s not looking at his hand at all now. He stares at you, and you do your best to ignore the way he’s breathing. You can’t tell if his breathing has sped up because of how close you're standing to him or because his arm was hurting.

Two of the tips of his fingers are touching your knee.

Three.

You take another deep breath and focus your attention on completing his makeshift bandage. You can't.

The choice to do this is intentional. This is not a graze that occurred by chance. He is touching you because he desires to be touching you at this very moment. His hand slides behind your leg, and his fingers trace around your knee before coming to rest there. He leans forwards and rests his forehead on your shoulder as he sighs, and he uses his hand to exert pressure on your leg. You have no idea how you managed to stay standing up until now.

“(Y/N),” he whispers. He says your name painfully, so you pause what you're doing and wait for him to tell you it hurts. You wait for him to ask you to give him a minute. That’s why he’s touching you, isn’t it? Because you're hurting him? He doesn’t speak again, so you remove the pressure of your hand.

“I think it's stopped bleeding,” you say, uncertain. He doesn’t release you, so you don’t back away from him. His hand slowly begins to slide up the back of your leg, all the way up your thigh, around to your hip and up to your waist.

Breathe, (Y/N).

While maintaining his head-to-body contact with you, his fingers find a firm grip on your waist, and he draws you closer to him. Because you need to grab onto something to keep yourself from falling over, your hands naturally find their way to his shoulders. It's as if every muscle in your body suddenly forgot how to perform the function it was supposed to. You are still standing, and he is still sitting, but because he has pulled you so close, you are now positioned between his legs. He moves his face away from your shoulder in a very slow motion, but you are unable to look at him because he is making you so nervous that you cannot look at him.

You feel him tilt his face up to look at you, but your eyes are still closed. You squeeze them a little tighter. You don’t know why. You don’t know anything right now. You just know Stephen. And right now, you think Stephen wants to kiss you. And right now, you're pretty damn sure you want to kiss Stephen.

His hand gently travels up the entirety of your back, eventually coming to rest on the base of your neck. It seems as though his hand has imprinted itself permanently on every part of you that he has touched. It seems like he's got his fingers at the base of your neck, and his mouth is no more than a half an inch away from your jaw. Because you are so close to him, you are unable to tell whether it is his lips or his breaths that are brushing against your skin. You feel like you're about to die, and you cannot think of a single thing in this entire universe that could be able to help you.

He tightens his grip on your neck . . . and then he kills you. In other words, Stephen kisses you. You can’t tell which, since you're pretty sure they would feel the same. His lips against yours feel like everything. Like living and dying and being reborn, all at the same time.

Holy shit. He’s kissing me.

You don't even remember how it happened, but his tongue is presently inside your mouth, gently caressing yours. However, you don't seem bothered by it at all. You are completely fine with this. He makes an attempt to rise, but his mouth continues to be on yours. He moves a few steps and twists you till the timber wall of the modular that is behind you takes the place of the hand that was on the back of your head. Now he’s touching your waist.

Oh , my God, his mouth is so possessive.

His fingers are splayed out again, digging into your hip. Holy hell, he just groaned. His hand moves from your waist and glides down to your leg.

Kill me now. Just kill me now. He lifts your leg up and wraps it around him, and then he presses against you in such a beautiful way that you moan into his mouth. The passionate kiss is cut off all of a sudden. Why is he pulling away? Don’t stop, Stephen.

He brings your leg to the ground while simultaneously hitting the wall next to your head with his palm as if he requires the support to remain standing. No, no, no. Keep going. What are you doing?!

You try to look at his eyes again, but they’re shut. They’re regretting this. Don’t open them, Stephen. I don’t want to see you regret this.

While the two of you stand still and quietly, he places his forehead against the wall next to yours while still leaning against you. You are both attempting to get air back into your lungs. After taking a number of long, slow breaths, he pushed himself off the wall and turned around. It's a good thing you didn't see his eyes before he opened them, and the fact that he's turned his back on you right now prevents you from seeing the apparent regret on his face. You stuck to the wall. You think you'll be there forever. You're part of the timber now. That’s it. That’s all you are.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. His voice is firm. Hard. Like metal. Like a sword.

“I didn’t mind,” you say. Your voice isn’t firm. It’s like liquid. It evaporates. He wraps his wounded hand, then turns around and faces you. His eyes are firm like his voice was. They’re also hard, like metal. Like swords, slicing through the ropes that held whatever slender strands of hope you had for him and for you and for that kiss.

“Don’t let me do that again,” he says. You want him to do that again more than you want to be painting right now, but you don’t tell him that. You can’t speak, because his regret is caught in your throat, "Let's go home." He urges you with his head before walking ahead of you.

What. The. Hell?

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You are at a loss to determine how you feel about Stephen or about that kiss. If he didn't feel attracted to you, he wouldn't have even bothered to kiss you. Sadly, that is enough for you. You don't give a damn if he likes you or not. You're only concerned in piqued his interest in you at this point; you can win his love at a later time. You close your eyes and make another attempt to get some shut-eye, but it's clear that this is a fruitless endeavour. You roll over onto your side and turn to face the window in your room, which is covered with a curtain. You do this just in time to catch a glimpse of the light coming from Stephen's room. You decide to get up and grab your sketchbook because it's not like you're going to be able to sleep anyway.

You opened your window slightly to allow some fresh air in, the moon was placed perfectly between the mountains cooling the air to a perfect fall temperature. You take a seat back on the window nook, and almost immediately, the unanticipated sound of a guitar travels across the yard that divides your house and Stephen's residence. You peek out the window and see Stephen playing the guitar while sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and the instrument at an angle between his legs. He presses it to his heart and plays it while he keeps his eyes closed the entire time.

🎶I will be your friend, but love you in my soul~ I'll never feel another way, just thought I'd let you know You've knocked me to the floor since the moment I saw you~ Every minute, every hour, if you'll have me, I want you.🎶

When you observe him, you may find that you unconsciously hold your breath, and you may not even be aware that you are doing so until you find yourself struggling for air. He is that captivating to look at. Did he write that song? I certainly have not heard of it before.

Stephen has always had a deep appreciation for music. He has been playing the piano and the guitar for as long as he can remember. Despite the fact that he has never shown anyone his compositions, he enjoys the process of writing music. Even more recently, two years ago, he changed his major to music education. His plan is to be an elementary music teacher and when he told his father about his aspirations, Eugene said, “A life of mediocrity is a waste of a life,” A life of mediocrity. Hence why Stephen returned to study medicine because he sick of hearing it from his father. Stephen finds that more amusing than insulting, since his father seems to be the most dissatisfied person he's ever known.

He looks at you in a way that suggests he can read your mind, and then a wry grin gradually spreads across his face. While he keeps looking at you, he never once stops the song he's singing. The eye contact causes you to flush, and as a result, you lower your arms, place your notebook back on your lap, and cast your gaze downward at the page. You despise the fact that he has just caught you staring at him with such intensity. It's not that you did anything wrong; it's just that it must have been strange for him to realise that you were watching him. You raise your head once more and see that he is still looking at you, but this time he is not smiling. You feel your heart start to race as a result of the way he is staring at you, so you quickly avert your gaze and concentrate on drawing in your sketchbook.

"Hey Stephen?" Victor peeped as he walked into Stephen’s room rubbing his eyes, "Can I sleep here?"

"Yeah, sure bud." Stephen gets up from his bed and sets his guitar down on the side while making space for Victor. He gets up and goes towards his window and writes something on a piece of paper.

Good night.

You squint your eyes and nod, mouthing, "You too."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Oh will you stop being such a worry wart? I'm fine, it was not even a severe heart attack." Lindsey scolds your mother as he tries to relax with Sasha in his arms on the comfortable looking hospital bed.

"A heart attack is a heart attack, Lindsey. You know mom had trauma when my father passed away because of a heart attack." You scold Lindsey on behalf of your mother.

"Okay fine, sorry but really, I'm fine. You guys heard what the Doctor said about the angiogram results! I got healthy arteries."

"I'm going to become a heart doctor when I grow up and take care of you, Lindsey." Sasha snuggles herself closer to the man.

"Oh kid. . . You know how to get an old man all teary." Lindsey leans his cheek on Sasha’s head after giving her a kiss on the forehead, "See, this is a blessing in disguise. Sasha now wants to be a Doctor because of me."

Vanessa shakes her head and glances towards you, "You hear that? Your daughter wants to become a Doctor."

"It's good to have ambitions. . ." You simply reply.

"Anyways. . . Did you know the house next door is for sale?" Lindsey informs you.

"Oh really? That's good I guess?" You answer with your eyes pasted on your phone.

"Do you maybe want to buy it? So you guys have a place here?" Vanessa suggests and you stifle a laugh while shaking your head.

"No."

"Why not?" Sasha asks.

"Because we don't need another place, we don't even come here often."

"You can try, I mean Sasha’s been loving it here. She even asked Lindsey to take her out hiking at St. Claire Mountain."

You slowly turn your head towards Sasha, eyeing her suspiciously, "Oh did she now?"

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

July 4 1999

You and Donna were trying to beat the heat of the afternoon by hanging out in their front yard under a large willow tree located in the front lawn. The time was around three in the afternoon. It has been a few days since the St. Claire University Fraternity moved into the house directly across the street from Donna's. She mentioned the fact that her boyfriend from a long distance, Robbie, works there, and as if it were meant to be, Eugene was placed in the Devonport PD, which is the reason why they moved here.

After the night that Stephen kissed you, you didn't know how to act normally with him anymore, and the fact that he promptly displayed his regret that night, you took that personally after thinking about it every time you went to bed. Maybe he realised he saw you as a little sister, that's why he regretted it.

"You see that, dark brown haired boy?" Donna gives you a gentle tap on the side of the arm and points with her eyes while she is lowering the sunglasses she was wearing. When you turned your head to look, you noticed that the members of the fraternity were assisting one another with the cleaning of the house.

"That's Robbie." She lightly squeals and discreetly waves at her boyfriend.

"Does your family know?" You look around and lean close because Stephen was out helping his mother tend to her plants.

"No, only you—So don't mention anything alright?"

Stephen has been glancing a couple of times towards your direction because:

1.) You and Donna haven't stopped giggling since those boys next door got out to work around their frat house.

2.) He can't believe you're out with his sister wearing nothing but your light green satin bathing shorts and bikini top.

3.) The fact you haven't spoken to him after he kissed you and instantly regretted it when in truth he regrets nothing.

Two of the college boys decided to cross the road to introduce themselves, and both of them were attractive young men. They didn't dress sloppy like the typical jocks that Stephen gets into fights with at his university; instead, they wore nice clothes.

"Good afternoon, ladies." Robbie pulls out a charming smile and winks at his girlfriend, "You must be (Y/N), Donna has told me all about you. I'm Robbie and this is my friend, Sebastian." Robbie stretches an arm out and you accept his hand shake.

"Nice to meet you, Robbie." You smiled and then took Sebastian's hand to shake it as well.

"No way, are you the (Y/N)? Swan on Ice?" Sebastian's eyes widened as he recognized you from watching the winter olympics.

Robbie furrows his brows from confusion and takes a look at you again, "Oh wow! It is you! Congratulations on bringing the gold medal home."

"Thank you—I didn’t know people even knew me. . .I mean Donna didn't." You chuckle.

"Well. . . I just pretended I didn't because I'm not sure if you’re comfortable with being recognized." She shrugs and bats her eyes innocently.

"Mind if I have a seat?" Sebastian points at the spot on the grass beside you when Stephen sprayed his hose deliberately towards the two younger males, causing them to jump out of the way while you and Donna scream for getting wet.

"Oops sorry, I think I left that spot of grass right there." Stephen sprays the hose again on purpose until the boys have backed off enough to the cemented sidewalk.

"What the hell Stephen?!" Donna snaps and glares at her brother for being a cockblocker.

"Are you girls lost? Because last time I checked, our pool is in the backyard. Why don't you go out back instead of showcasing yourselves in the whole neighbourhood? It's inappropriate." Stephen says sternly, almost sounding quite pissed off. Donna harrumphs and takes her books and water bottle, "I'm talking to you as well." Stephen looks at you when you don't get up soon enough for his liking.

You heaved a sigh to follow Donna to their backyard.

"See ya later, (Y/N)!" Sebastian sends you a big wave and Stephen sprays him with water again and waves him off to go back to his house, "Dude!"

SERIES TAGS: @goldencherriess @lokislov3 @strangesweetheart @mydearalmira @veryladyqueen @seasonofthenerd @artsherlocked @bobateadaydreams @classicrebound @holygalaxyprincess @dumbbitch04 @sobeautifullyobsessed @winsteria @allie131313 @gaitwae @sherlux @the-royal-petals @keistange @omgstarks @evelynrosestuff @withalittlehoney @strangeions @gwephen @cemak @patbrdac @siredlust @downtownshabby @nicoletk @lilithskywalker @youcantseem3 @samisubi @strangelockd @bloodyxsaint @lady-harvey @paola-carter @jotaros-bara-tiddies

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #doctor strange #stephen strange x you #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch x reader #dr strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfic

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sfb123 · 1 year

Text

I Know Places (Happy Birthday Burns!)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Drake x Alyssa

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Alyssa Devereaux, who belongs to the birthday girl @burnsoslow

Summary: In a prequel to last year's birthday fic, Riley notices some odd behavior from Drake and is determined to find out what he is hiding.

Song: I Know Places - Taylor Swift

You are the only person on the planet who could get me to drop a Taylor Swift song anywhere. That's how much I love you.

Rating: PG (a couple of swear words)

Word Count: 2,703

A/N: Happy birthday to my wonderful friend @burnsoslow. You are so sweet, and funny, and thoughtful. When I came to Tumblr however long ago, and started obsessively reading your stories, I never, in a million years, thought that I would actually be lucky enough to call you my friend. I'm sitting here trying to put together words about how much having you in my life means to me, but I'm not sure they even exist. I just love you so so much, and hope that you spent today partying like it's 1999! 😘

A/N 2: No pre-reader, so you get what you get. If it sucks, and the grammar is terrible, that's all on me. Godspeed.

Tags: This is my first run with the new tag list, so if you're not on here but would like to be added, just let me know!

Liam and Riley sat on the couch in his office, reviewing their opening remarks for the Five Kingdoms Festival that would be happening the following day. A knock on the door pulled their attention away, Liam called for the visitor to come in.

“Well, well, well,” Riley said as Drake entered the room. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Drake rolled his eyes and approached the pair. “Hello Brooks.” He walked over to Liam, who was now standing. “Hey, Li.”

“Drake,” Liam shook his friend’s hand. “It has been a while.”

“Yeah,” Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been pretty busy lately.”

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Riley suggested, noticing that something was off with him. “Eleanor has been asking for you, she misses her Uncle Drake.”

Drake’s expression softened. He hadn’t been spending as much time with Eleanor as he usually would. She had just become a big sister, and he knew how hard it could be going from being an only child to having to share attention with a younger sibling.

“I really wish I could…” He trailed off, his eyes darting between his friends. “I promised Savannah I’d go up to Ramsford tonight. But I’ll be at the festival tomorrow. I’ll take Eleanor for some cotton candy or something.”

“Sure, she’d love that.” Riley agreed.

Drake said his goodbyes and exited the office. Once he was gone, Liam and Riley settled themselves back on the couch, Liam lifted his wife’s legs to rest across his lap.

“That was weird, right?” Riley asked.

“Not really,” Liam shrugged as he slipped off her shoes and began rubbing her feet. “Drake and his sister are close, of course he would want to have dinner with her.”

Riley sighed at her husband’s response. “You know, for someone who was trained to read people, you can be awfully thick sometimes.”

Liam’s movements stopped as his head snapped in her direction. “Excuse me?”

“Come on Liam, he was being so dodgy! He couldn’t give us a straight answer about where he’s been.”

“To be fair,” Liam began. “We never asked him for one. Besides, Drake has always been a pretty private person, if he wanted us to know, he would have told us.”

She returned her feet to the ground, retrieving her shoes and putting them on. “Ugh! You’re so bad at being nosy!” She groaned. “Let’s go, I miss our babies.”

Regina had offered to watch Eleanor, and the newest edition to the royal family, Prince David, while Liam and Riley worked on the final preparations for the festival. They left Liam’s office and met up with Regina to pick up the kids before returning to their quarters for the evening.

***

After dinner, and a few rounds of Candy Land, it was time for Eleanor to go to bed. In an effort to help her with the transition from only child to big sister, her parents decided to take turns putting her to bed each night ensuring she had some quality one-on-one time with each of them. It was Liam’s turn to tuck her in, so Eleanor said goodnight to her mother and brother and walked hand in hand with her father to her room.

Liam sat on Eleanor’s bed, his arm wrapped around her, holding a book in front of them. Eleanor was learning how to read, so as they made their way through the story, Liam would pause, pressing his finger against the words, encouraging his daughter to read along, and helping her as she went.

“... and they,” he pointed to the next word and nodded encouragingly at her.

“Lived happ… happy…”

“Almost, princess. Happil…”

“Happily!” She exclaimed, Liam chuckled at her excitement and kissed the side of her head. “Happily ever after!”

“That’s right! Good work, Eleanor!” Liam pulled her close, kissing the top of her head before closing the book and carrying it to the bookshelf. “Now, I believe we have one more item of business,” he made his way to the collection of stuffed animals that were gathered in the corner of her room. “Who would you like to keep you company tonight?”

Eleanor’s eyes traveled through the crowd, her index finger tapping against her lips as she contemplated her selection. Her movements halted, and her smile grew upon making her decision, “Hunny Bunny please.”

“Excellent choice.” Liam turned to the pile searching for the golden rabbit. He moved the other animals around, trying to locate it. “Hmm… she doesn’t seem to be here.”

“But where is she, Daddy?” Eleanor looked at her father with tired, sad eyes.

“I’m… well, I’m not sure, princess. Where do you last remember having her?” He made his way around the room, looking anywhere Hunny Bunny could possibly be hiding.

“I… I don’t know.” Eleanor replied through her sniffles. “Daddy, please find her.”

Liam looked up at his daughter, her eyes were beginning to water, and her chin was trembling. He knew between Eleanor being tired, and wanting her toy, a meltdown would be inevitable if they didn’t find this rabbit.

“Oh Eleanor, don’t cry.” He rushed to his daughter’s side. “Why don’t we ask Mommy if she has seen Hunny Bunny?” Eleanor rubbed her eyes as she nodded at her father. He kissed her on the forehead before going to the door. “Riley, love, could you come here for a moment?” He called down the hallway.

Riley entered the room to find Liam consoling a crying Eleanor. “What happened here?” She said as she approached the pair, placing a comforting hand on Eleanor’s back. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“We can’t find Hunny Bunny.” Eleanor cried before falling into her mother’s arms.

Riley looked up at Liam and she could see the worry in his face. “Okay, it’s all okay. Let’s just calm down here. She has to be somewhere, she didn’t get up and hop away.”

“When do you remember seeing her with it last?” Liam asked Riley as she continued to console her daughter.

She racked her brain, thinking back over the past couple of days, trying to picture everywhere they went, when it suddenly hit her. “Ramsford! She wanted to show Bartie, so she brought it when we were there for lunch the other day.” Riley put her hands on Eleanor’s shoulders and pulled her back gently. “Eleanor, I’m going to go call Uncle Max to see if Hunny is there, okay?”

Eleanor nodded as she rubbed her eyes. Riley stood from the bed and pulled her phone out of her back pocket as she stepped into the hallway.

“Hey Riley!” Maxwell greeted her on the second ring.

“Max, thank god! We have a bit of an emergency.”

“What’s wrong? Who’s coming for the throne now?”

Riley chuckled at his response, which helped ease her concern about the issue. After everything they had been through, if the worst thing to happen to them is a lost stuffed animal, then everything was going to be just fine. “It’s nothing like that. Eleanor can’t find her Hunny Bunny. I think we may have left it there.”

“Oh yeah, she’s here. I’ll bring it tomorrow when we come for the festival.”

“Actually, could you just give it to Drake? I’m sure he won’t mind dropping it off on his way home.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Max? Are you still there?”

“I’m here, but Drake’s not.”

“But he said he was having dinner with Savannah tonight.”

“Nope, he hasn’t been by in a couple of weeks actually.”

“Man, I knew he was being shady!”

“Wait, what do you mean? What’s going on?”

“I’ll fill you in tomorrow. For now, please please bring Hunny Bunny with you tomorrow.”

“You bet, see you then!”

Riley hung up the phone and took a deep breath before returning to her daughter’s room. Without Eleanor’s stuffed animal of choice, it was going to be a long night.

***

The next day, the royal family walked through the crowd greeting people, and exploring everything the festival had to offer.

“I get what you’re saying,” Riley said to Liam. “But he’s not just not telling us stuff, he’s straight up lying to us. That’s not a Drake thing.”

Liam looked at his wife thoughtfully. “That’s true. As much as he’s kept to himself, I’ve never known him to lie to me.”

“So, we can confront him and ask him what’s going on?”

“Uncle Drake!” Eleanor’s excited shout pulled Liam and Riley’s attention. They looked ahead and saw Drake approaching them.

“Hey, kiddo.” Drake smiled as he lifted Eleanor into a hug.

As Eleanor and Drake greeted each other, Liam and Riley had a conversation with their eyes. Liam pleaded with Riley not to confront him, to which she agreed.

“So Eleanor, how would you like some cotton candy?” Drake asked.

The princess’s eyes went wide as she turned to her parents for permission. Liam and Riley chuckled at her hopeful expression. “Mommy, Daddy, please?” Eleanor begged. “I’ll bring some back for baby David.”

“That’s very sweet of you, princess,” Liam leaned in, kissing his daughter on the cheek. “But babies can’t eat cotton candy.”

“That’s right, baby girl,” Riley added. “So why don’t you just go ahead and eat extra for your brother?”

Eleanor cheered and jumped up and down in excitement. “Come on, Uncle Drake!” She grabbed his hand and rushed him toward the food vendors.

A while later, Riley was mercifully pulled away from a conversation with Hakim and Joelle Theron when David started crying from his stroller. She excused herself, and once she was out of their earshot, she thanked her son profusely for his timing.

“Riley! Riley, wait up!” Maxwell called as he rushed to catch up with his friend.

“Diaper emergency Max, no time.” She replied, just as he fell into step with her.

The pair stepped into the palace and into a small sitting area. As Riley set up a makeshift diaper station on a nearby table, Maxwell bounced on his heels behind her.

“Riley, you’re never going to guess what I saw?”

Riley recoiled back as she opened David’s soiled diaper. “Ugh, it can’t be any worse than this.”

“I think I know what’s going on with Drake.”

Riley turned to face Maxwell. “Spill right now, Beaumont.”

***

The next day, as the Royal Council meeting let out, Liam caught Drake before he could slip out, and invited him back to his office for a drink. As soon as they walked in the office, Liam’s desk chair slowly turned, revealing Riley, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Welcome, Drake.” She said as she rested her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers in front of her.

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. When he and Riley talked about confronting Drake, they agreed that they would speak to him rationally. His wife appeared to have other plans.

“What’s up with you, weirdo?” Drake asked at Riley’s dramatic display.

Liam invited Drake to sit before stepping to the bar cart and making two drinks. He handed one to Drake before stepping around the desk and standing beside his wife. “Drake, we wanted to talk to you. To make sure you were alright.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He responded. “Why would you ask?”

“Because you’re a big fat liar!” Riley blurted out. Liam placed a hand on her shoulder at the outburst as Drake’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Drake,” Liam interjected. “The other night, when you told us that you were going to Ramsford, Riley spoke with Maxwell, and he told her you hadn’t been there.”

“Hold on,” Drake stood from his chair. “You guys are checking up on me?”

“Not intentionally. We lost one of Eleanor’s toys, and I called Maxwell to find it.” Riley crossed her arms over her chest. “And don’t try to turn this around on us.”

“Love, stand down.” Liam leaned down, kissing her on the cheek before turning back to Drake. “Drake, we’re just worried about you. You know we don’t mind that you keep to yourself, but it’s not like you to lie.”

Drake let out a deep breath as he fell back into his chair, finishing off the rest of his drink. “I’m sorry you guys. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just needed some time to myself for a while.”

“Well that’s another lie.” Riley scoffed, Drake arched a brow at her. “You have a girlfriend!”

Drake’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. “How did you…”

“Maxwell saw you canoodling at the festival yesterday.” She responded. “What’s wrong with her? Why don’t you want to show her off? Does she have an eyepatch? Pegleg? Hook hand?”

Liam and Drake both froze and stared at Riley curiously.

“What the fuck, Brooks?” Drake finally broke the silence.

“Love, I don’t think Drake is seeing a pirate.”

“Sorry, Eleanor’s been on a real Peter Pan kick. I’ve got pirates on the brain.” She shrugged.

“Riley, can you give Drake and I a moment alone?” Liam asked.

Riley stood from the chair, and moved to leave the office, pausing before she opened the door and turning back to her husband and her friend. “I just want the chance to be there for you the way you always have for me.” Before Drake could respond, she was gone.

“I’m sorry, Drake.” Liam apologized as he sat in his chair. “I didn’t mean for this to be an attack on you.”

“It’s alright,” Drake shrugged. “And for the record, I’m sorry I lied to you guys.”

The pair sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Liam finished off his drink and stood, tilting his chin toward Drake’s glass. He nodded, affirming that he wanted a refill. Liam took the glasses and took them to the bar cart.

“So,” Liam began as he refilled their drinks, “What’s her name?”

“Alyssa, Alyssa Devereaux.” He said. Even with his back to his friend, Liam could hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re happy?” Liam asked as he handed Drake his drink.

“I am Li, she’s amazing. I never expected to fall as hard as I did.”

Liam nodded as he returned to his seat, placing his drink down in front of him. “Why wouldn’t you want to share that happiness with your friends?”

Drake shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, it’s just,” he trailed off, trying to find the best way to explain what he was feeling. “This whole world, the court, nobles, all that, it’s a lot. I know what it can do to an outsider, I wanted to protect her from it.”

“That’s reasonable, I understand wanting to protect someone you care about, you know that.” Drake nodded in response. “But Drake, if this is something that you see as long term, it’s an inevitability that you will need to start introducing her into this whole world. As much as I know it pains you to admit it, you are a part of the court.”

“Yeah, you’re right. There are just so many things that could go wrong. I don’t want to lose her, Liam.”

Liam smiled, he had known Drake his whole life, and he had never talked about a girl like this. He had it bad, and it was painfully obvious. “Why don’t you ease her into it. She doesn’t have to dive into it all at once.”

“What do you mean?” Drake asked.

“Introduce her to people that will be at court functions ahead of time. That way, she will have allies to turn to if she gets uneasy.”

Drake arched a brow. “Allies like the king and queen?”

“If you’re going to have allies, it doesn’t hurt for them to be at the top.” Liam grinned sheepishly.

Drake let out a deep breath. “I guess I can’t keep her hidden forever.”

“Wonderful!” Liam exclaimed. “You should bring her by for dinner this weekend. Just a small, unofficial get together. We’ll do it in our quarters, Riley will cook. Completely informal, just your friends meeting your… girlfriend?” Drake nodded, confirming Alyssa’s title.

“I guess that sounds alright. I mean, if it’s just you guys, I can’t imagine what could go wrong.”

Permatag:

@3pawandme @alj4890 @busywoman @charlotteg234 @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @differenttyphoonwerewolf @emkay512 @foreverethereal123 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @imashybish @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @secretaryunpaid @sincerelyella @theroyalheirshadowhunter @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Liam:

@amandablink @custaroonie @jared2612

TRR:

@21-wishes @ao719 @belencha77 @burnsoslow @lovingchoices14 @the0afnan @xpandass420x

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