#still too small of a fish to have a designated tag apparently

[fishcemetery]

The Something Something Mansion – what a great game it was! I'm still not over the Library Candle Thing's story and everything that came with it

Such a shame Flash died and took everything to the grave

(and an obligatory hello to an odd server person in these lands)

#thelibrarian #thelibrarianyt #librarianyt #still too small of a fish to have a designated tag apparently #part of communal effort in keeping this twink dancing for everyone's amusement #art #artists on tumblr

[luffyrose]

Ghost in a Birdcage - DC x DP AU

I got a name for the Au! I am referencing the song Rule #4 Fish in a Birdcage as the title. I thought the song actually fit this whole au pretty well so yeah :D

Anyway, I told y'all I was working on stuff and part of it was this (plus the memes, which I'll share later) as well as thinking of a design for my Danny in this AU. I have a few ideas, but I'll probably work on the story itself before actually solidifying it.

Here's a little bit of sadness and softness from the past in this AU. Idk if this will be put into the main story, but it's just a general short story that is canon for this au.

~~~~~~~

GiaB AU Taglist: @markus209 @olivethetreebitch @chrysanthemum9484 @blackroserelina @avelnfear @edgyboi10000 @lokiaddams @samgirl98 @phoenixdemonqueen @iceknight-of-sun @autumnwulf @chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 @thegatorsgoose @nikki-pondtheauthor @jaxinkh @paper-bag-boy @dxrksong @lesling123 @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @gmkelz11

(As a lil side note the tag list is gonna be on any writing I do for this au, if I make other posts about it I'll leave it to the tag for people to find. Not including a link to the Ao3 when I do make the fic or one-shot series itself, taglist will be there too :D)

~~~~~~~

Small sniffles filled the room. Jason's gaze shifted toward his little brother, a frown overtaking the anger that'd been apparent on his own face. Danny, his precious little brother, was laying on the mattress on the ground beside him. Turning and scooting closer, Jason's hand lightly landed atop slightly wet and messy curls.

"Danny, are you feeling better?"

He could see the younger open his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by coughs. Along with the coughs, a loud clattering noise came from the door that had been locked from the outside. Gritting his teeth, the instant yelling from outside telling them to shut up making him look toward the door. Really, almost three years, and Catherine still couldn't accept that a toddler was going to be loud. Danny wasn't even loud on purpose! Huffing in silent rage, Jason's eyes fell back on his little brother.

Danny was staring up at Jay, his eyes wide in slight fear at the yelling, but he knew his brother would protect them. He was very small, almost 4 now according to Jason! But he was also very smart. His brother told him that a lot, especially when he hid away when the yelling or fights started. Danny liked to be smart. He didn't like seeing the other with new injuries though, but Jason let him put bandaids on them, and then he would take them out to the library.

The library was nice.

Catherine, that's what Jason always called the angry lady, didn't like to go in there. She didn't like to go anywhere with them, but Jason liked to take him places so it was okay. They didn't go places when sick though...so why was Jason getting some of his stuff?

"We're gonna go to the library buddy."

Seeing the smile that crossed the kid's face, the tension in his shoulder's loosened, but with the loud rattling of the door and cursing, they were right back to how they were before. Getting up quickly, he shoved what he could into a little bag and helped Danny up, the small boy coughing again.

"CALEB DANIEL TODD I SWEAR WHEN I GET THIS DOOR-"

Jason didn't let Danny hear the rest of it, carefully getting them both out onto the fire escape. He knew Catherine had been...less than ideal. His father was worse. But now with Willis gone, she didn't hold back. Half the time she wasn't home, the other half the time Jason was keeping her away from Danny. Sometimes he wished she just wouldn't come home, or that Danny wouldn't be in danger because she did.

So he made a plan. He was gonna get Danny a better home. A safe one. Except, when he'd gotten sick and wasn't getting better with the cold medicine he stole, Jason's plans didn't matter so much anymore. Danny needed somewhere to get better, but he needed a way to do that first. He'd found a way...though he didn't like it.

Carrying the younger on his back, the backpack slung over his front while a star blanket Jason had actually bought for once was draped over them both. Danny was watching the people they passed by, a small but nervous smile on his face before he inevitably hid his head in the crook of Jason's neck. "Jay Jay..." The elder hummed, feeling the smaller hands tighten for a moment after. "Is Cat-rin gonna be mad at you again?"

Slowing for only a second, Jason scanned the area before looking at his brother. Danny was too smart for his age, and Jason knew it was because of their stupid 'parents'. "She's not gonna have the time to be mad at me..." He trailed off, the lump in his throat stopping him from saying anything else until they were already in front of the Library. Slipping through the door when a young adult couple was leaving, too distracted in their conversation to notice the two poor kids, they made their way to a small dusty nook.

The nook itself was filled with old books that most no one wanted to read, and the librarian who'd seen them reading there tended to leave them be. Setting Danny down, Jason held up a finger, turning to go get some better books from elsewhere. A small sneeze made him chuckle, knowing his little brother hated how dusty it was when they hadn't been back for a while. Slipping through the isles he got himself some bigger books, and a few picture books for Danny. He knew the kid would read one or two before asking for Jason to read him his books, so he'd started picking light-hearted stories or classics whenever the two came.

Making his way back and sitting down, Jason passed the smaller storybook about stars to his brother, watching Danny's expression almost glow at seeing it. At first, Jason let himself be absorbed in his own book, the only thing other than it he paid attention to being the gentle pressure that was Danny leaning against him. It was after a little while that Jason realized Danny hadn't started to bug him like usual. Looking over from his own book, he saw Danny staring at one of the pictures of a constellation.

"Do you wanna learn more about the stars?"

He'd jumped, but Danny had nodded after a moment. Something was bugging him, Jason could tell, but he wasn't about to push it. Instead, he smiled and grabbed one of the nearby books. It was a much older book, more of a journal really, but it held a bunch of sketches of the constellations. So the two sat there, whispering to one another in the privacy of the little nook. Jason was glad he knew some astrology, and Danny was so genuinely amazed, that he could ignore the lingering pain from old injuries that hadn't had time to heal.

Feeling a small tug, Jason looked toward Danny, frowning slightly when he saw small tears. "Jay Jay...are you gonna go somewhere?" He could feel the pit in his stomach knot even more at that, staring for a moment before a wobbly smile tried to cover his face.

"...What?"

A sniffle caused the smile to fall. "Danny, hey, buddy, I'm not going anywhere...I- I'm gonna find somewhere better for you though. Somewhere where you'll get to feel better and not be afraid." Looking down as Danny's small tears covered his face, he gently used his sleeve to wipe them away, knowing he would never have the heart to lie to him. "That's not gonna happen yet though...and when you have a nice home, I'll make sure to visit. We can read and look at constellations too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll do everything I can to try and keep that promise, alright?"

"Promises are hard to keep..."

Jason felt a sigh escape his lips, putting the book fully to the side and pulling Danny in for a hug. "They are...but just because they are doesn't mean that I won't try my best." Holding onto the younger, he felt the tears soak through the shirt on his chest, ignoring it. After Danny had stopped crying, he moved the boy back, hands on his shoulders. "If I can't keep my promise, you can get back at me." The small gasp from that made him laugh.

He seemed almost offended that Jason had said such a thing. "I don't wanna!" Jason tried not to laugh more, ruffling the younger's hair. "If you don't" —he was clearly thinking deeply about a suitable punishment— "then you have to help me." A proud smile formed on his face. With a slight smirk, Jason pulled the other back onto laying on his chest.

"Help ya with what?"

"With family."

It was quiet for a moment, Jason's fingers twitching for a moment before he started messing with Danny's hair. "How so little mans?" Danny seemed even more confused, pursing his lips as he kicked his feet some. Watching him with a small smile, Jason couldn't help but think this was the reason he'd survived so long. Danny was the one good thing in his life that had no strings attached. He was fine with that...but he needed Danny to be alright, even if it meant not being right there.

"You gotta help us have a BIIIIGGGG family. With more sib-a-lings!"

There was a snort from the older, ruffling Danny's hair. "You said it wrong you little dingus." Danny's own laughter erupted from him after a moment, swatting Jason's hand away. "But sure. If I break my promise, then I'll help you get a big and nice family." The toddler seemed to absolutely beam at that. "However! I still get to be the best brother-" Danny giggled at that, "and if anything is ever wrong you come to me, no matter what. Alright?"

With a happy nod, Danny's hair was once again ruffled up by Jason, the laughter filling up the small area they were in. Even when a few older ladies glanced over, not a word was spoken to the two. And when the librarian found both boys sleeping...well, if she gently readjusted the blanket they'd brought and let them sleep it was between her and the other librarians.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dc #dc comics #dcmultiverse #danny phantom #danny fenton #jason todd #GiaB AU

[paintedkinzy-88]

Have u heard of the leviathantale au by @skumhuu ? If u have, what r ur opinions abt it and how do u think ur dragon balance au would react?

I… I have no idea what you’re talking about *scrambling to hide many many bookmarks, chaotic discord rambles, and small doodles—*

Fbsjfb Y e s, I have heard of leviathantale and follow everything that has to do with it very closely... ;w; Sku is a huge inspiration to me, writing and drawing wise, and it’s an amazing AU. Honestly the reason why I fell in love with BSP+Dream so goddamn hard. And kinda the inspiration for those merskeleton drawings Oh So Long Ago, though they were based on freshwater fish instead of ocean lmao.

But yes, I adore it very much, am constantly refreshing that tag on AO3. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ As for the dragos reaction…

It’s mostly confusion lmao, but probably a lotta intrigue too. Honestly Leviathantale is pretty similar to their situation, just a mermaid version?? And they deal with AUs a lot, so it’s likely not a huge shocker to learn about, but still interesting at the very least.

Drago Ink would be the one that’s utterly enthralled by them, askin all the (intrusive) questions and gettin all the answers, but that’s mainly just his general interest in AUs and character design as the Protector. He definitely gushes about how he and Error are “destined for each other even in other worlds.” … Then harasses Blue a lot cuz “look, omg, the fishy BEI trio are so cute, Blue, look at them, ERROR WHAT IF WE—“

(Error shuts that train of thought off very fast wheeeeze)

Reaper thinks it’s hilarious, and is also pestering Geno about how they’re “destined” for each other fbsjfbsk Geno be his Treasure through and through, no matter the circumstances. But he’s also probably super cocky about how dope Leviathan Reaps looks, like goddamn. 👀👀 The two would get along well together, I’m sure XD

After the initial intrigue, Noot’s is pissed, because now his boys have EVEN MORE reason to call him a fuckin octopus, cuz apparently it’s TRUE in other worlds (and they definitely start making kraken jokes when he’s especially pissy). He’s also probably highly fixated on the merCross. His instincts going haywire for that poor fishy.

… Killer definitely makes a comment on how Dream’s just as sparkly and bright no matter the world, which flusters the boi quite a bit. XD

#I’ve always wanted to draw for leviathantale #beyond the little squid doodle I did for last Inktobertale… #They’re designs are just incredible ahhhhhh #ONE DAY #asks #undertale #undertale multiverse #dragon balance au #leviathantale

[cozyenigma]

Forget Me Not

(Lemme dust myself and this lil fic off, it’s been a minute!)

Request?- Yes!

Summary- There’s no goal and no exit. Hopefully someone comes along before this place becomes your tomb.

Tag List- @cookielover0001010​ , @swag-droid , @watchoutforfrostbite​

Warnings- None

You had no idea where you were.

It wasn’t the ‘whoops, wrong turn’ kind of lost; no, this was the deep, bone chilling realization that you had no idea. No idea where you came from. No idea where you were going. Even though you told yourself not to panic, it was hard to keep your breathing steady as you wandered and hoped in vain for an exit.

Why were you here? It was becoming increasingly apparent that there was no one around for miles. The harsh sun beat down on you as you wandered through the faceless ruins. Had you passed that column before? Everything was unfamiliar but it all looked the same. Sun bleached rock and ruined structures surrounded you on all sides, towering above your head.

Could you climb over top of the walls? The creeping vines along the rocks offered some handholds but they just snapped under your weight. You had nothing to show for your escape attempts other than scrapes and bruises.

Maybe you were researching the place? You seemed to have dressed for the excursion in loose fitting but sturdy clothes. The boots had seen some good use too. Needing something more concrete, you emptied the contents of the small bag you had with you onto the ground. Food and water, probably enough for a day or two. First aid kit that had already been opened. Flashlights, camping stove, change of clothes. Everything suggested that you had prepared to be here. Nothing to suggest for what.

Searching through the various pockets didn’t bring you any answers. No map, no phone, no ID, no clues. Your pockets ended up being similarly fruitless, completely empty with one exception. From your back pocket you fished out a small, tarnished circle of silver and gold. It hadn’t been taken care of as whatever design was on it was nearly worn away entirely. It had a neat little seam going around the outside that was difficult to get your nails under. Though the hinges had almost seized up entirely, you were able to pry it open.

It was a compact mirror. The surface was dulled by grime to the point you could hardly make anything out. Still, you could see a couple of your own features reflected back at you. That fact that you didn’t recognize what you saw was… disconcerting to say the least.

You didn’t recognize the compact either but… Something about it felt important. Not knowing what else to do with it, you closed the compact with some effort and stowed it in your pocket again.

Navigating the place was even more difficult now. It was practically a maze and whatever sense of direction you’d had before was gone with that little distraction. Afternoon came and went. The sun was hot and oppressive overhead and sweat dripped down into your eyes.

“Oh cmon,” you groaned as you rounded another corner just to find more ruined architecture.

What you wouldn’t give for some water.

Thoroughly exhausted at this point, you sat down at the base of the wall and tried to rest. The bag you had with you was frustratingly empty. What the hell were you doing out here with only a few pieces of lint packed away? You took a breath, leaned back against the hot stonework behind you and closed your eyes.

You could curse your past self and the mystery you were in now later. Right now, especially with no food, water or supplies, this was turning into a matter of survival. If you didn’t find a way back to civilization before nightfall your chances were slim at best.

As you were trying to figure out what to do, you heard a voice. You blinked, sat up, and listened intently. It was far off, too far to make out the words, but it was clearly another person. They sounded frustrated, desperate.

The sudden surge of hope was nearly dizzying. Were they looking for you? It didn’t take long for it to curdle into something a bit more fearful. And if they were, was it better to be found by them or try your luck on your own?

Before you could think that over too much, the voice started to get clearer. They were shouting a name over and over again at the top of their lungs. The sound seemed to echo off the crumbling walls and made the place feel even emptier than before. You didn’t recognize the name. Though that… probably didn’t mean much at the moment.

You were getting to your feet when the man came into view. He was in the middle of shouting again, turning the corner and searching with a hurried glance. Those eyes passed you by the first time and then a double take. The man either knew you or happened to be a very good actor judging by the look on his face. He nearly dropped in relief. You almost wanted to trust him outright, just at the thought of someone looking at you like that.

“Darlin you gave me a heart attack, god,” he breathed out as he ran up to you. The smile on his face was a little tight around the edges as he looked you over, hand resting easy on your arm. “Really banged yourself up huh? Can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but draw back a bit from the man and his casual touches. His expression went pinched, concern starting to cover up any relief he wore.

“Darlin?”

Okay, lets break it down. The man either knew you or could convincingly act like he did. He seemed to be dressed for an adventure like you were though the cowboy hat and the whip seemed a bit much. There was always the possibility that he was tricking you of course. You were reasonably certain that you didn’t hit your head so he either didn’t know about your memory loss, knew and was lying about it, or knew and had caused it. Much as you wanted to trust him you had trouble letting your guard down.

Maybe you could test the waters a bit, see how he reacted.

You swallowed, forced your parched tongue to make words. “Who… who are you?”

It was a point in his favor that he looked appropriately horrified. “What? Shit, did you hit your head?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as he tried feeling for a head wound that wasn’t there. Or at least you were pretty sure wasn’t there.

“No I just- I’m fine! I just don’t know you,” you said, trying to push him back. “Or anything about this place.”

Seeming to get the hint, he took a step back. Did he cross his arms because he was thinking or to keep his hands to himself?

“What do you remember?” He asked, tone grave enough it set you on edge all over again.

“Ah…”

The fact that you were coming up with nothing, absolutely nothing, longer than an hour or two ago… You hadn’t stopped to think about the why. Not with your immediate survival being the more pressing concern. That, impossible as it seemed, was still easier to deal with than the sudden horrifying blankness where you were sure a whole lifetime used to be.

Your silence was answer enough for the man. He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shoulda known something was wrong when I found all your stuff…”

“What?”

Wordlessly, the man took of his pack which seemed to be full to bursting. Crammed inside was food, clothes, climbing equipment, everything you might need for a long, challenging hike. Everything that you didn’t have.

“Recognize any of it?” He asked, handing you a canteen. You hesitated to drink it, taking a cautious sniff before the man snatched it back and took a few gulps. “There. It’s yours, so its safe. I found all of your things on the ground a mile or two that way,” he pointed behind him.

Gingerly you took the canteen and held it close to you. The cool metal in your hands was a welcome reprieve. “I didn’t think I brought anything…”

When you finally took a hesitant sip you nearly drained the thing in a few gulps. Even with it dripping down your chin you still felt desperately thirsty. Before you could even ask the man was pressing another, presumably his, into your hands.

“I wouldn’t have let you. I started to think somethin happened so I’m just glad I found you.” His eyes do another quick pass over you. “Try and remember. Did you see anything weird? Did you touch anything?”

You were shaking your head before he even finished. “No I don’t… wait.” As you were patting your pockets you felt something hard and round. The man’s eyes narrowed as soon as he saw it. “It can’t have been this thing… can it?”

“Never say never in this line of work, darlin. Lucky for you, I happen to know my fair share about cursed objects,” the man took a piece of cloth out from his bag, carefully folding it around the object without actually touching it. A quick knot and it was safely bundled up. “Right, I’m gonna hang onto this just in case. In the meantime we need to get you outta here.”

Offering a hand and an easy smile, he waited for you to take the invitation. The possibility of him causing your memory loss seemed less and less likely but was it really okay to trust him?

“You never told me your name, yknow.”

A smooth laugh as he puts his hand to his chest. “You gotta be the only person to need a second introduction. Name’s Illinois, pleasure’s all yours I’m sure.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. It was exhausted and half delirious at this point you were sure but it felt… familiar. The affronted look on the man- Illinois, apparently- just made you laugh more. When you finally took his hand it was warm and calloused. Lucky for you he seemed to know his way around an adventure or two.

—————-

Later, in a quiet hotel room:

“You’re never gonna let me live that down are you, darlin?”

“I forget literally everything and you break out the whole ‘pleasure to meet me’ line?”

“You’re doing this on our anniversary?”

“Hey, I’m allowed! I even got you a cursed relic, I know those’re your favorite.”

“One I can’t even look at unless I wanna forget what my own handsome face looks like.”

“Uh-huh, so you’re saying you want a tie for next year then?”

“Didn’t say any that. Tie would be much less interesting but I think I’d prefer you and your pretty lil head intact, darlin.”

#illinois x reader #illinois the adventurer #illinois ahwm #writers of mark #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #My writing

[pastel-odette]

Revenge- A Banana Fish Fanfiction

This is a fic written for @emi-joanna. Sorry it took so long, I started work and college this past month. I hope it's as angsty as you requested!

(tws are properly tagged as tw _____)

“Eiji! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”

Eiji came rushing out of the house, locking up before making his way to the car. “What took you so long?” Aslan asked. Eiji opened up his satchel to reveal various snacks and sweets. “I had to grab the essentials,” he said with a smile. Aslan chuckled. “You really think we’re gonna need them?” “Yes!! During last year’s shrine visit you whined and whined about being hungry, so this time I thought I’d come prepared.” “How do you even remember that?” “Magic, my love. Now enough questions! Let’s go already!” It had been seven years since the couple had moved to Izumo. The first year had been the toughest. Despite being months out of the hospital, Aslan had still been reeling from the attack from Lao. The realization that even after Dino was dead, even after he thought he was finally free, someone still wanted to kill him had hit him extremely hard. He had felt foolish for thinking he would ever be anything other than what Dino made him. To hunt and be hunted, was that really all there was left for him? He had almost wished he hadn’t survived. He didn’t even understand why he survived in the first place.

The decision to move to Japan with Eiji did not come easy. Almost every part of him was screaming at him to abandon that hope that he could ever have a normal life. The physical distance made it seem more unattainable, too. However, Eiji was persistent. He would text every day, and call as much as he could. He was determined to make sure Aslan saw their original plan to move to Japan through.

Eventually, Aslan caved in. He said goodbye to New York, and started a new life with his soulmate. It wasn’t until he laid in bed that night, Eiji sleeping peacefully next to him, that what he did hit him all at once. An entirely new country with nothing to protect himself with.

For a while, they stayed at the Okumura family house. Eiji’s father was still in the hospital as he learned, so it was just the two of them, Eiji’s mother, and his sister. He felt surprisingly welcomed, like he was truly part of the family. It was strange to him to meet people so truly kind and hospitable upon first meeting. It wasn’t long until it started to feel like home.

But it still didn’t feel safe. He would lay awake at night, Eiji beside him, terrified of every little noise he heard. On the rare occasions where he did sleep, he would have terrible nightmares, and when he would jolt awake he would reach for a gun that wasn’t there.

The Okumuras noticed how fidgety and cautious he was. So, they installed a security system in their house. They did everything, big and small, to help him adjust to this new life. When Aslan and Eiji moved out into their own house, they took a lot of these things with them. The security system, the protective charms, the little statues of gods that could protect them. It stunned Aslan how… good he felt to be living this life.

Izumo is where Aslan had found peace and happiness. “We’re here,” Aslan said.

They made their way through the rows of trees together, surrounded by other people also dressed for the chilly weather. Some wore their traditional kimonos, some wore more casual winter clothes. As they approached the torii gates they saw a familiar person standing there. “Mari!” Eiji shouted as he waved to his sister. She waved back as she walked up and gave them both a tight hug. “How are your studies going?” Aslan asked with a soft smile. “Well, just as tough as last year. But I’m glad to finally be visiting again!” She beamed.

When Aslan moved to Japan, Mari was right there alongside Eiji to greet him. She was thrilled to meet him, and sympathetic when she realized Aslan had lived a much different life than her and her brother. It wasn’t long until she felt like his own sister. When she moved to Tokyo for college, he nearly cried with how proud he was.

“You’re not wearing mom’s kimono this year,” Eiji pointed out.

Usually, Mari would wear a deep blue kimono with a stunningly complex design depicting a soaring phoenix and a gold-colored obi. It was passed down through many generations until it was owned by their mother, and now her. Now she was wearing a pale yellow kimono with a much simpler chrysanthemum pattern and pink obi with a chrysanthemum obidome to match. Mari gave a sad smile. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I just didn’t want something so… connected to her anymore. So my friends took me shopping and I found this. Don’t worry though, I didn’t throw away the other one or anything. It’s still in my closet.” “I think it looks good. Suits you,” said Aslan. Eiji nodded his head. This time, Mari beamed.

Being the very first day of the New Year, the temple was crowded with all sorts of people. The chozuya was completely packed, and it took them a few minutes before they were able to purify their hands. Ash always wondered if his hands could ever be truly pure, but he tried not to think about that as he poured the water. It was supposed to be a day of celebration and good luck. He didn’t want his thoughts to ruin that.

Every year, Aslan wished to the gods for protection. Protection from violence, from grief, from assault, from everything that made his life miserable for so long. This year was no different. However, there was something else this year he needed extra luck for. He prayed for that too.

Next, they went to exchange their omamori. Aslan chose the protection charm, as he did every year, and Mari chose the education charm. Usually, Eiji would get the protection charm just as Aslan did. This time he chose the success charm. “What goal do you want to be successful?” Mari asked.

“This year, I’m determined to have my own photo gallery.” It was a goal he had for a while, but this year he was going to have the luck of the gods on his side.

Finally, they needed to pull their o-mikuji.

“I’m a little nervous,” Mari jokes. Most of the time she had negative fortunes. However, this year, she would apparently have a future blessing (and small luck in her romantic relationships). Aslan was given half-blessing with lots of luck in travel. Then it was Eiji’s turn.

“Curse…”

“Well, it could be worse,” Aslan said, “at least you’re not super-mega-cursed.”

Eiji just sighed and folded up the paper.

“You’re not gonna read the rest of it?” “Nah. Not really a point.”

As they left the shrine, Eiji trailed behind and sulked.

Aslan gave Mari a nudge.

“You talk to him, you're the psychology major. I’m no good at this stuff.”

Mari nodded and went to walk beside Eiji.

“Listen, if it’s just a regular curse, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s mostly just little everyday inconveniences. The worst I’ve experienced with just a regular curse is that really bad breakup I had with Yui.” “With who??” “Hush, Aslan, this isn’t about you. Anyways, I don’t think you have anything to really worry about.”

When they get to the parking lot, they have to part ways. Mari made plans to go visit some of her old friends, and Aslan and Eiji had to return home, as they were going to host dinner that night.

When Aslan and Eiji arrived home, they were greeted by a very excitable golden retriever. They had gotten him about a year ago, when he was just a year old, from a local shelter. Even then, he still acted a little bit like a puppy.

“Hey, Bud,” Aslan said as he knelt down to pet Buddy. The dog jumped up to lick his face.

“Should we start dinner now?” Eiji asked as he put down his stuff and made his way to the kitchen.

“You can. Might as well. Just in case someone comes early or something.”

“You can’t just spend all afternoon petting Buddy, you know.” “I know, I know! I’ll help you in a minute.”

Buddy didn’t seem to mind all the extra attention he was getting, though. But eventually, Aslan had to go help his partner.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” asked Aslan as he put on his apron. He didn’t always help in the kitchen, his skill level was limited to basic survival foods, but over the years he got better and better at it. It felt very domestic, to cook alongside someone.

“How about you start on the datemaki? I’ll make the ramen.”

Aslan nodded, and they both started getting their ingredients. The kitchen was large enough that they could work around each other comfortably, and it wasn’t long until the kitchen started to smell delicious. Buddy noticed this, and trotted over to beg for treats.

“I have nothing for you,” Aslan said. Still, Buddy sat beside him, wagging his tail and giving him an expectant look. Aslan tried to ignore him as he started to whine, focusing on mixing the ingredients together.

“Here, Buddy!” Eiji called the dog, waving a large bone. Buddy instantly jumped up and ran over, wagging his tail furiously. Eiji then gave him the bone, which Buddy took to the living room happily.

“There we go, that’ll keep him occupied,” Eiji smiled. Aslan couldn’t help but smile back.

They continued cooking nonstop into the evening. As time went on, the more dishes they completed, and the more it started to look like a full meal. However, they were still pretty far from done.

Aslan sighed as he stretched. There was enough time to just take a tiny little break, he thought. He leaned against the counter and looked over at Eiji. His partner seemed distracted by something as he stared off into space.

“Hey.”

“Ah!” Eiji jumped, fumbling the bag of flour he was holding before dropping it on the counter.

“Ohhh no!” he exclaimed. Aslan chuckled slightly before helping his partner clean up the mess.

“Looks like your bad luck has officially begun.”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Eiji said as he smacked the other with a floured towel. Ash looked down at his arm then back up at Eiji with a smile.

“Really? You wanna start this?” He dipped his thumb in the flour before smudging it across Eiji’s cheek.

“You’re on!”

And that’s how it started, a full-blown flour war.

Nothing was spared. Flour was thrown, smudged, and flew everywhere. The counters, the floor, their clothes, their skin, their hair and skin, all of it was covered in at least a thin layer of flour.

It was stupid, it was childish, they had wasted an entire bag just making everything dirty. But they didn’t care. It was fun. They were having fun and messing around together. At that moment, they weren’t thinking about having to clean up and get back to cooking, they just thought about each other.

The couple just laid on the floor together as Buddy sniffed around them before licking Aslan in the face.

“No, Buddy!” Aslan squealed, pushing Buddy’s face away. The dog just wagged his tail as his owners helped each other up.

“You’re a mess,” Eiji laughed.

“Speak for yourself! You’re even dirtier than me! Go take a shower, I’ll clean this all up.”

Eiji kissed Aslan’s floured cheek before going to wash himself and his clothes.

Once everything was all clean, both of them included, they had to work faster in order to get everything done by the time their guests would arrive. Occasionally, though, they would look over at each other, and laugh silently before getting back to work.

Eventually, they had a complete New Year’s Day dinner. Eiji set the table while Aslan arranged the food into the boxes.

“Well, I’d say it looks pretty good,” Aslan said.

“We make a pretty good team!” Eiji shouted from the dining room.

When everything was all set for their guests to arrive, they high-fived to celebrate their hard work. It was the first time they cooked for New Year’s all on their own, and it was the first time they would be hosting.

The first to arrive were Ibe and his wife, Namiko. They met shortly after he returned to Japan, and she was a very kind woman, the kind that got along with all her neighbors and would check in on them from time to time. The couple greeted their hosts warmly with hugs and a bottle of sake.

Buddy was thrilled to have guests, and quickly ran over to receive pets from two of his many favorite humans.

It wasn’t much longer after that when Mari arrived, and the party officially started. Chatter filled the house as they ate. They talked about everything that had happened during the past year, everything they accomplished, and everything they hoped to accomplish this year.

“Well, I have no complaints,” Ibe said, “We traveled a lot this year for work.”

“It was great! So many fun new places we visited,” Namiko said.

“Mine was just another normal year of classes. I made a new group of friends, and they’re really great," Mari said through a mouthful of food.

“We adopted our dog,” Eiji beamed. Buddy was resting in the living room. After a while of whining for food, he had finally given up, and they knew if they mentioned him by name he would come over and start begging again.

The party went on late into the night as they continued to chat and drink. Everyone’s spirits couldn’t be higher as they celebrated the past and welcomed in the future, giving a toast for good luck. Eventually, though, the night had to end. They said their goodbyes to each other, and the guests went home, leaving Aslan and Eiji to clean up.

Aslan felt content as he washed the dishes. It was a great night, surrounded by people he loved. Seven years in Japan. He hadn’t felt like Ash Lynx in so long. He felt like he had control over his life.

A partner, a house, a dog, a legal job, friends, a little sister. The old ladies on his street fawned over him as if he was free from sin. The local coffee shop knew his face and order by heart. Nobody feared him, they were all friendly towards him, and treated him as if he really was normal.

Oftentimes it felt unreal. But as he sat on the couch, Eiji nestled into his side, he knew it was.

“Thank you,” Eiji murmured.

“For what?”

“For helping out today. For everything you do. You’re so good to me.”

Aslan smiled softly.

“I should be the one saying that to you.”

“How about we’re both good to each other?”

“Yeah,” Aslan whispered, “I can agree with that.”

The next few days of the New Year were spent with Mari. The plan was for her to go back to Tokyo on the fourth, when the holiday was over, so they wanted as much time with her as they could.

During the Japanese New Year, businesses are closed for the next three days. They couldn't go to restaurants, shops, or the market. So mostly, they just spent time at Aslan and Eiji’s house. Watching TV, playing board games, and video games on the SNES they got a few years back. They could also go to the beach.

Izumo was a coastal town, with cliff sides to the north, and a long, thin strip of beach to the west. When the three of them stepped out of the car, they were glad they brought thick coats, as there was a cold breeze.

“Come on Buddy!” Eiji said as he opened the car door. The dog jumped out of the car, wagging his tail happily.

The beach was an important place in Izumo, something Aslan had learned shortly after he moved. On the northern shore of the beach, there was a very large rock with a small shrine on top, too high for humans to reach. Every October, the gods would come to Izumo, and convene at the beach and its shrine.

Aside from it being a spiritual place, the beach was also just beautiful. It reminded Aslan of when he was younger, when he and Griffin would run across the sand and splash in the waves. Sometimes, when he and Eiji would take a walk along the beach, they would see children or a family, and he would feel a bit of nostalgia.

Now, he walked this beach with his new family.

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky. They were only planning for it to be a relatively short walk, and would return to the car not long after the sun fully set. It was just nice to get some fresh air.

The trio walked in silence, aside from Buddy’s pants, until Aslan broke it.

“You know, Mari, you got a pretty interesting fortune this year,” he said.

Eiji caught on to what he meant. “Yeah! Are you excited for it?”

“For the future fortune? I guess so. It’s better than I get most years,” she said.

“No no, I mean about your romance fortune,” Aslan smiled.

Mari became slightly flustered, glaring at the couple. They just laughed in response.

“You should really get back out there again,” Eiji teased, “You’re not still heartbroken over Yui are you?”

Mari lightly punched her brother in the side.

“Of course not! That was the beginning of high school! Butt out of my love life!”

“But you, dear sister, are the one that butted into my love life when I went to America.”

“I shall have you know, dear brother, that I have matured since then. Besides, the charm I gave you worked, didn’t it?”

Eiji looked over at Aslan with a smile and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah. It did.”

The sun had begun to set at this point, halfway across the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, soft pinks and reds across the sky. The three stopped to admire it, Buddy sitting beside them.

“I think this is a moment worth capturing,” Eiji said. He got the polaroid camera from around his neck. They all posed close together, Aslan picking up Buddy so he could be in the shot, with the sunset in the background.

“Smile!”

Click.

The photo printed slowly, and Eiji shook it so it could develop faster.

It showed the four of them, happy in smiling, in the place they loved so much. They waited for the sun to set fully before returning home.

Instantly, the photo went up on their wall.

Unfortunately, the fourth eventually came, and Mari had to leave. At the train station, they said their goodbyes.

“Be sure to write!” Eiji said as she waved.

“I always do!”

With that, the train doors closed, and she left Izumo. Since it was the first day of the new year that businesses were open, Aslan decided he might as well go run some errands.

“See you at home,” he said as he pecked Eiji on the cheek.

“Mhm, see you.” Eiji waved goodbye to him.

The first stop was the coffee shop. Why not, right? It was a very cozy little shop and the majority of the patrons were locals and regulars. When the barista noticed him, he smiled.

“The usual?”

Aslan nodded, and the barista got to work. The coffee shop was relatively small compared to those in America, and it was warmly lit. As Aslan sat at the counter watching the barista he felt the chill of the mid-winter weather.

“Here’s your coffee,” the barista said as he placed the mug in front of Aslan. Most people see Aslan as the type of person to drink straight black coffee. And for a while, he was. As soon as he was “old enough” to drink coffee, he would drink it without sugar or creamer. It fit the persona he had and made him seem more mature to those around him. Now he didn’t care about any of that. He made his coffee super sweet. Tons of sugar, tons of creamer, because that was the way he actually liked it.

Usually, he would take the time to stay and chat with the barista for a bit. He was a funny and friendly guy, most of the reason Aslan liked this coffee shop in particular. However, today he had the odd urge to get home as much as possible. Maybe it was just because of the chill, he thought.

The next stop was the grocery store. They only really needed things to replace what they had used to cook dinner on New Years, including the flour that they had wasted.

He absentmindedly went through the small store until a voice called out to him from behind.

“My dear Aslan!”

He turned around to see his neighbor, Mrs. Tanaka. She was an old woman, kind as can be like almost everyone else in the neighborhood, who loved to garden in her front lawn and chat him up whenever she saw him. Aslan greeted her back and smiled.

“How have you been? How’s Eiji? Did you have a good new year?”

“Everything is good. How was your trip?”

The two chatted for a bit, catching up on things that happened since the last time they talked. Most of his neighbors he could strike up a conversation with just like this. It was the kind of neighborhood he could see himself and Eiji growing old in. It was a weird thought, to grow old with someone in a small town, but it was right.

They said their goodbyes, and Aslan continued shopping as normal.

When Aslan came home, the front door was unlocked. Huh. Maybe Eiji just forgot. However, when he opened the door, he was met with a horrible sight.

There lay Buddy, unmoving, in a pool of blood.

Aslan dropped his bags and rushed to his dear pet. He picked him up gently as tears began to fall.

How did this even happen? When? Why wasn’t he here to stop it?

That’s when he saw it. The wound on Buddy’s neck. A bullet wound. Someone… shot Buddy. There was no way. He was supposed to be safe in Japan. He was supposed to be safe with Eiji. Eiji... “Eiji!” he shouted. No response. He shouted again. The house was silent. Aslan gently placed down Buddy’s body. He had to make sure Eiji was okay. Eiji had to be okay, right?

Aslan crept through the house silently, listening for any sounds that might lead him towards Eiji or the intruder. As he approached the kitchen, he saw a pot on the stove bubbling over, so he turned off the stove. This whole thing must have happened fairly recently. A knife was also missing from the drawer.

Finally, he made his way to the bedroom.

What he saw terrified him.

Eiji. Sprawled across the floor, next to the open closet doors as if he had been pulled out, a knife in his hand. A bullet in his forehead. His eyes were wide open, and his cheeks were stained with tears.

Ash fell to his knees. This couldn’t be happening. Eiji couldn’t be dead. He was dreaming, he was hallucinating, this was some kind of joke. What separated him from his old life now? What stopped him from being Ash Lynx again?

Ash sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. His love had been murdered. The bastard shot his dog, too. Why? He didn’t do anything. Neither of them did anything. It wasn’t fair.

He reached into the closet and pulled out a small box. Inside was a silver engagement ring. He picked up Eiji’s greying, cold hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.

“I know that we could never get married legally. But I still wanted to think of you as my husband. After all we had been through, didn’t we deserve that much?”

Eiji didn’t respond. His glossed-over eyes stared at nothing. Ash closed them.

“My soul will always be with you.”

--------

This might turn into a chaptered fic

Thank you to @syanara for betaing!

Tag list: @mycatshuman

#banana fish #banana fish fanfiction #ash lynx #aslan jade callenreese #eiji okumura #tw death #tw murder #tw guns #tw animal death #tw dog death

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe  Chapter 4

 Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count-3,045

Warning- Mentions of car accidents.  Possible swearing. Slight angst. Fluff.

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo​.  The square filled for this chapter is presents.  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.   This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist   The next morning you were in the kitchen looking through ads when Dean came down.  “I was wondering what do you think about doing our Christmas shopping together?  I thought it would be fun to tackle the stores together?”

“I usually just do Visa gift cards, or regular gift cards.”

“Do you remember how you were saying you can’t recall the last time you really enjoyed Christmas?”

“Yeah, you really think going to the mall is going to help me feel..”  He paused looking at you with a smirk, “Christmassy?”

“I think going and seeing all the festive decorations could help.  One afternoon, we can make it fun, I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“So you’ll go?”

“Yeah, we can give it a shot.”

“I’m going to help you do it right this year.  We can go to the mall after your shift tomorrow.”

“I can hardly wait,” he grumbles as you leave the kitchen. 

Dean’s shift started earlier today, he headed in just before noon.  They started off busy before things slowed down.  They were called out for two car accidents, the light snow falling today causing some problems.  Dispatch also had them at two nursing homes.  The first resident was fine and back on their feet before they and the paramedics left.  The second was a fall and the poor guy wasn’t happy about having to go to the hospital to be checked out further.

When things calmed down later Dean was sitting in the common room with Sam and Benny. Those two watching the game, Dean going through paint samples.

“What are you trying to figure out now?”  Sam wanted to know.

“Which color is going to look best in the dining room. I picked up some new color swatches on the way in.  I have a light green, pale blue, a really light grey, or a cream.”

“Which one does the design genius living with you like?” Benny questioned.

“She thought maybe a light green would go with the trim in there.”

“I’d go with what she likes so you don’t have to redo it in a year or so.”

“What’s being redone in a year?”  Bobby asked walking in.

“I hope to have sold it by then.”

“Dean’s trying to pick a paint color, we told him to go with what Y/N picked so he wouldn’t have to redo it later when everything is all done and she doesn’t like it.”

“Yep, need to keep the women happy.”  Bobby agrees.

“How’s the girlfriend doing while we are on that subject?”  His brother wanted to know.

“You’ve all lost me. Still don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Are you sure about that Chief?  You do spend a lot of time with her.  You trust her opinion to remodel your house.”

“What was your excuse earlier about not going out with us tomorrow?  Oh right you have plans with Y/N, like a date.”

“What was going on the other day when you couldn’t come over and watch the game with me and your brother? Pretty sure you were with her again.”

“How many dates are you going to have before you realize you are dating?”

“Are you two morons done?  We aren’t dating.  I trust her opinion, because she’s good at this.  Still selling the house when I’m done.  She just wanted to get a tree for the house, so we picked one up and decorated it that night.”

“It really took you a couple hours to pick up a tree, did you carry it home.”

“No, we went to a tree farm, not a tree lot.”

“Hold up.  You actually went and cut down a tree for her?  You wouldn’t do that for me. We always went to the tree lot and just grabbed one.  You are more gone on this girl than you think.”

“You are reading too much into a simple tree, Sam.”

“What are you busy doing when the shifts over?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Apparently Christmas shopping.  She thinks it will be fun to do it together.”

“You, Dean Winchester are going Christmas shopping?”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“I wasn’t sure you knew what a mall was, I’ve been getting a gift certificate from you for years now.”

“And I’ve had enough of this conversation, I’m going to go clean the truck or something.”

Dean walked out to the sound of the guy's laughter.

When his shift ended the next day Dean headed home to shower and change so he would be ready to head to the mall with you.  You were in the living room sitting with the dogs when he came down.

“I’m ready if you are.”

“I’m good to go.  I’ll see you babies later.”  Giving the dogs each a little hug you got up to follow Dean to the truck.

As you are entering the mall Dean turns to you.  “I realized I haven’t told you lately, thanks for your help with the house.  I might just be able to sell it sooner than I thought.  I really appreciate all you have been doing.”

That caught you off guard.  “Oh yeah, no problem.”  You had gotten wrapped up in staying with him you kind of forgot it was temporary, and that wasn’t really his home.

“That’s really great.  You didn’t just fix a house this time, you created a beautiful home.  Some family is going to be incredibly lucky.”

Dean nods, sneaking a glance at you, “Yeah they are.”

“Alright, who’s on your list?” You were eager to change the subject.

“My brother and his girlfriend, Jess.  Bobby, he’s the Fire Chief.  Cas and Benny, you met all them at the station when you found Miracle.”

“Okay.  Any ideas on what to get?”

“Gift cards.”

“No.”

“Then I don't know.”

“You’re helpful.  What is your brother’s girlfriend like, what kind of things does she like?”

“Um, she’s a nurse.  She likes my brother.  I think she likes the beach.”  This might be harder than you thought. 

“What about any of the guys?”  

“Sam likes Jess, and healthy crap like green shakes. He’s always bringing some into work. Benny wants a girlfriend.   Cas, who knows.  He’s a little different some days.  He does like to sit and think, and bees. He’s a tad obsessed with them.  Chief likes, um his job, family, Miracle.”

“Okay, so where do you want to start?”

“That store sells gift cards to multiple places.”  He points to a big store behind you. 

“The next time you’re at work I’m going to paint the living room hot pink if you mention gift cards again in the next hour.”

Dean starts to open his mouth but isn’t too sure how serious you are, so he shuts it again and rethinks what he wants to say.  “What do you need to get?”  He asks instead.

“A gift for my sister and brother-in-law, then a few friends.  I have a thought for your brother if you want to hear it?”

“Sure, what are you thinking?

“The bookstore might have a recipe book for different health drinks, maybe we can find a little smoothie maker so he could make them fresh at the station instead of bringing and storing them.” 

Dean thinks about if for a minute, “He would actually probably like that, although I hate to enable his bad habit.”

Laughing at his jab at his brother you head toward your destination.

The book store is your first stop, while there you browse through the shelves to see if anything else catches your eye.   Finding a book, The Buzz about Bees, you show it to Dean who puts it in the cart for Cas. As you were heading to the check out, Dean started laughing at a book which caught his eye.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have to get this for Bobby, it’s Tori Spelling's autobiography.”

“Um, okay. That’s a random gift.”

“Bobby is a closet fan.  Big fan actually.  Not very many people know.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”  Maybe you should have let him get his boss a gift card.

At the sporting goods store he found some fishing gear for Benny who likes to spend time on his sometimes girlfriend boat.  Dean figured they were due to get back together soon. 

While there you found part of your sister's gift.  You got her an extra magazine for her off duty gun, and a new cleaning kit.  The woman loved her weapons. 

Heading to the next store you came across some Santa hats and antlers you made Dean try on with you and take some selfies.  He grumbled about it at first but he did seem to have fun with it, making silly faces in the photos. 

With your hands full you took what you had out to the truck so you didn’t have to carry it to the rest of the stores.  The fishing gear was a little big to lug around.

Coming back inside Dean suggested a quick stop at the food court for a snack before hitting more stores.  

You grabbed your drinks of choice and a couple of cookies and sat down for a few minutes. Dean was complaining because none of them sold pie.  The mall was starting to get busier and people were hustling everywhere.  

“Do you enjoy shopping and all this craziness?”  Dean asked, drawing your attention away from people watching.

“Generally no.  I’m a get in get out person.  My sister and I used to try and go together, but she’s busier with work and she has Doug to go with.  I’m used to doing most things on my own now.   It’s better if you have someone with you, which is why I thought we could have fun with it.”

“I will admit, this hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be.  You did make it fun. Thank you for that.”

“No problem,” you give him a small smile and go back to drinking your coffee. 

The next stop was the pet store for some treats for your favorite four legged friends.  You passed stockings on the way in and went to pick one up.

“Dakota needs a new stocking, does Miracle have one yet?”

“No, he doesn’t have a stocking.  I don’t think I even have one.”

“Well, we need to remedy that for the both of you.”

“Of course we do.”

There weren’t many stockings left.  They were on one side of a middle aisle display, the back side had various balls and kongs.  The few stockings that  were there were on the back of a shelf behind some toys.  You had to move the toys out of your way to pick through the stockings.  With one arm full of squeaking toys you used one hand to look at the stockings.

“Do you need help?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Uh huh.”

You found two white and red stockings you liked so you were pulling them out, when your elbow hit a toy still on the shelf, trying to use your arm to keep it up on the shelf you missed the toy and hit the display instead.  Apparently you used more force than you meant because the display you were looking at tipped backward and hit the one behind it.  This sent various balls and kongs bouncing to the ground. 

Dean was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed watching, “Now do you need help?”

“It appears so.”

Other people in the store did their best to avoid your mess while the two of you cleaned it up.  Getting the last toy back on the shelf you pick up the stockings and turn to Dean.  “What do you think about these?”

“I think we aren’t going to go through that again just so you can pick out a different one. So let’s go with those and head out before you knock over the display of canned food.”

“You don’t want to clean that up too?”

“Let’s save that one for the next time we’re here.”

Sam’s girlfriend was a little harder than you thought since you didn’t know her and Dean wasn’t much help.  You ran with his comment about her liking the beach and picked up some scented lotions and bath bombs along with hand cream.  Being a nurse her hands would be constantly washed and most likely very dry.

In a men’s store you found a new tie for your brother in law to go with the briefcase organizer you found for him. 

You found a mug that Charlie would get a kick out of.  You also came across a Hermione Granger bobblehead she would like. 

You had picked up a couple small things for your old coworkers, Claire and Kevin.  You did miss working with those two. 

There was one more person on your list, but it was hard with him right next to you.  

Dean’s shopping was done, he had picked up some little things to complete Bobby and Cas’ gifts.  

Browsing the picture frames as you walked by you saw one you had to get. 

 You had the perfect picture to put inside.  Dean had texted you a picture from the station one day of him and Miracle.  Miracle was wearing Dean’s firehat, both were in front of the fire truck.

You passed Santa in his village the mall had put up.  “Are you sure you don’t want to ask Santa for anything this year?”

“I told you Sweetheart, he and I are extremely close.  I’m good.”

“If you say so.”

“I think you need to go see Santa though.”

“What me?”

“Yep, you keep trying to send me so why don’t you go tell him your wish.”  Dean stood there smirking at you, fully believing you wouldn’t do it.

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’re going to go up there?”

“Yep.”  You went and got in line behind a group of young children, who all turned to stare at you.  Oh this wasn’t awkward at all. Dean had walked off while you stood in line waiting your turn.  A part of you thought about walking away and telling Dean you had gone through the line already when he returned. 

“Got you something.”  Too late, he’s back.  He was handing you a bag and trying to hold back a smile.

Warily you took the bag and opened it up, chuckling when you saw what was inside.  “I’m going to guess I’m supposed to wear this up there?”

“You know it.”

Dean stood next to you in line as you waited, when you were the next one up, you took the elf hat he gave you out of the bag and put it on your head.  “How do I look?”

“Like Santa’s perfect helper.”

Heading up you were fairly certain Santa was looking for a child with you, and finally realized there wasn’t one.  “Ho ho ho, what can Santa bring you for Christmas, miss?”

While in line you had been thinking about what to say when you go up here.  “I have a friend over there who has had a rough time of it over the years.  He’s lost his Christmas spirit and the belief in happy endings.  I wish he could find that again.”

“Well, that’s some Christmas wish.”  He looks over at Dean who’s smiling at the two of you.  “It looks like someone is already working on bringing that Christmas spirit back to him.  Santa will see what he can do to help.  Is there anything for you?”

“Not unless your workshop is looking for another elf.” 

Giving you a candy cane he wishes you a Merry Christmas and sends you off.

“So what did you ask Santa for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“I think you are confusing Santa with birthday wishes.”

“Either way, I’m not telling you.  You can ask Santa since you are so close though.”

Dean just shakes his head at you.

Behind Santa was a Christmas shop and you dragged Dean inside with you to find him a stocking.   Holding up a Grinch stocking he shook his head, next you tried Superman.

“I’m sorry you have me mistaken for someone else, I’m Batman.”

You looked around.  “You aren’t the only one.  Sorry, Batman is all sold out.  There is Batgirl though.”

“I’ll keep looking.”

“Pink snowflakes?”

“I’m really starting to doubt your decorating tastes now.”

You laughed at that and went through a few more stockings.

“What kind of crazy is on your stocking?”

“It’s the same one I had growing up, classic red and white with my name in glitter.  It looks like that one over there.”

Dean walked over where you had pointed and looked at those.  “That’s what I want too, I don’t need flashy or cartoons.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

Finishing your shopping you were on your way back to the truck to head home.  After unloading the packages in the living room Dean headed for the kitchen.

“Are you good with ordering pizza for dinner?”

“I can make something up really quick.”

“I know you could, but I thought we had to wrap all that stuff we got today.  I figured we didn’t need another mess.”

“If you want that’s fine with me.”

You made sure to take what you had for Dean up to your apartment before you came back to start wrapping anything else.  When the pizza was ordered Dean did his best to help you out.  You were surprised by how well he did.  

“You buy gift cards for people, I wouldn’t think you had practice with wrapping.”

“We have to wrap all the donated toys for the kids every Christmas, so I get my fair share of practice with that.  Bobby wouldn’t let us hand out sloppily wrapped gifts to the kids.”

The two of you took a break from wrapping when the pizza arrived then went back to finishing it up. When the presents are wrapped and under the tree Dean builds a fire and you go off to make some popcorn.  When you come back the stockings are all hung over the fireplace.

  The two of you get comfy on the couch with another Christmas movie playing while you enjoy the fire and the sight of the tree and gifts around you.

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 5

Tags-@winchest09  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean  @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29  @igotmadskills  @440mxs-wife @paryl @supernatural-love14 @krazykelly @anotherspnfanfic @bobbie3939 @deanwinchestersnightmoves @winchestergirl2 @thoughts-and-funnies​

#fire fur & mistletoe #spnchristmasbingo #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #supernatural #christmas

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 5

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Some of you predicted this was coming... although I hardly tried to hide it.  This is the longest chapter so far because once you get the fish going, he never shuts up.  Most of you know I adore Scott; some of you probably know my favourite brother relationship is Scott&Gordon.  If you didn’t, this fic is probably going to make that very obvious.  I have plans for these two...

Also, trying to sort out TAG’s timeline is a headache and I ended up fudging a lot of it.  Please just roll with it because I spent far too long agonising over this before giving up and throwing this out into the void.  It’s fiction.  It doesn’t have to make sense.

<<<Chapter 4

The problem with plans was their tendency to go wrong. Finding his way back to the infirmary was no challenge – the white building made for a clear target, and the trail was clear enough to Scott’s eye.  Getting back inside was no issue, either.  The window was left ajar, simple enough to silently pull open and slip through.

Finding Other-Gordon perched on one of the chairs, one of Scott’s bracers in his hands, was not part of the plan, and he mentally cursed himself. He’d escaped from the infirmary, so it would be obvious to anyone with a brain cell that he’d return that way, too, especially with his gear there.  Gordon had many brain cells, which he frequently used in unorthodox ways, and Other-John had even warned him that Other-Gordon was crafty.

“Welcome back,” the ginger greeted him calmly.  “The others are on a mission.”  Scott swiped the gear from him, carefully running his hands over the remote control units to make sure they were still intact.  He didn’t know their range, and doubted that even Brains had managed to make something that could get signals through multiple universes – especially as his comm unit failed to do so – but he was still cautious about activating them.  Just in case.

“I saw.”  Technically he’d only seen One’s launch, Two’s runway presumably out of sight from Other-Scott’s hiding place.  “Power plant meltdown.”  Other-Gordon’s gazed briefly flicked to his wrist, where Other-Scott’s watch still sat.

“Has John found your brothers?” he asked, and Scott shook his head.  “Ah well, no news is good news, right?  If John can’t find them, they’re still safe at home.”

Unwilling to engage in further conversation, he scooped up the rest of his uniform, tempted for a moment to put it on for comfort’s sake but discarding the notion, before glancing at the map in the watch face and heading out of the room.

“You’re not going to put that back on, are you?” Other-Gordon asked him, following.  Scott ignored him, following the hallway almost to the kitchen, where Other-Kyrano was doing something with the odd contraption in the middle of the floor, before making the right turn towards the stairs.  “Father’s in the lounge.”  For someone who had been almost silent the entire time up until then, Other-Gordon was suddenly making a lot of noise.

“I’m not going there,” he told him firmly.

“You’re stealing Scott’s clothes.”  Other-Gordon didn’t bat an eyelid.  “I’ll help.”  Scott wished he was surprised, but it was a Gordon thing to do.  “Here, this way.”  Unlike his father, Other-Gordon had a preference for the stairs, which suited Scott just fine.  He had no issues with elevators, but the one at the end of the hallway was another example of the different technology.  Stairs were far more trustworthy.

Last time, Not-Dad had guided him quickly and firmly into the lounge, but Other-Gordon strode ahead after reaching the top of the stairs, away from the door to the lounge, and turned into an extended corridor with six doors all set into the right-hand side.  These, according to the map in his watch, were six equally-sized rooms, all with smaller rooms set into them.  The second one from the far end contained the flashing blue light indicating that it was Other-Scott’s room.  Presumably, that put the rest of them as the other four brothers’ rooms, and probably Not-Dad’s room.

“My room,” Other-Gordon waved vaguely to the door immediately in front of the branch of hallway they’d just left.  “John’s is that one.”  He indicated the door next to his, at the end of the corridor, before continuing to walk.  “Alan’s, Virgil’s, and here we are!  Scott’s.” He pushed open the door with no hesitation and strode inside.  Scott checked the watch face again.  It agreed with Other-Gordon, so he followed.

Even without either guides, he wouldn’t have had any problems identifying the room’s owner.  Images of various, fast, planes decorated the walls – many unrecognisable to him, but unmistakable in their theme regardless.  Blue was the prominent colour, edging its way around the room and various screens and alcoves set into the walls.  The bed linen was also blue.  Towards the far wall, the en suite took out a reasonably small chunk of the room.

Other-Gordon didn’t wait for him to adjust to the reality that yes, this room felt like a room he could see himself having, heading over to a closet door and throwing it open.

“Clothes,” he announced.  Scott was slightly concerned at just how nonchalantly the younger man was rummaging through his older brother’s room, although, he was a Gordon. His Gordon was probably just as likely to do that.  Well, that was one of the hazards of younger brothers, he supposed.  Thoughts like that just made him remember just how far away from his own younger brothers he was, and he stepped forwards to the closet to look at Other-Scott’s wardrobe before he started dwelling over things he currently couldn’t change.

Clearly, his counterpart liked rollnecks and shirts. There was quite a collection of them, ranging from simple mono-coloured designs to rather louder, patterned, offerings. Scott dismissed the rollnecks immediately, hunting through the shirts until he found a mono-coloured one that felt like it might be some sort of cotton, rather than silk.  Silk was for special occasions – business meetings, and formal events he attended only because he had to.  The selected shirt was some sort of yellow-brown colour, not his first choice but apparently the only blue Other-Scott owned was in the forms of rollnecks and cardigans.

Ignoring Other-Gordon’s presence in the room, he shrugged off the by now muddy pyjama top he’d woken in and pulled the shirt on, leaving the top buttons undone and rolling the sleeves up until it mimicked his preferred style at home.  There were no jeans in sight, so with some reluctance he found the least-smart pair of pants, which were at least dark blue, and in concession to company retreated into the en suite long enough to shed the pyjama bottoms and pull them on.

“How long have you been wearing those underpants?” Other-Gordon asked him when he emerged, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“There is a line,” he said firmly.  “Unless there are some new, unworn ones lying around, I’ll stick with what I’m wearing, thanks.  Now, shoes?” Other-Gordon pointed to the next door over, sitting himself down on the bed and letting his feet rest on the headrest. Scott paused, the position familiar.

“Your back bothering you?” he asked.  Amber eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“How do you know about my back?” Other-Gordon asked slowly. Scott yanked open the indicated door and glanced over the various shoes in a growing state of despair.  No sneakers.  How could there be a Scott who didn’t own any sneakers?

“Hydrofoil accident,” he said.  “Four months in hospital.”

Other-Gordon let out a noise that sounded almost like a hiss, which Scott ignored as he poked at the shoes dubiously.  What was with all the smart shoes or sandals?  Did Other-Scott have nothing in between?

“Scott wouldn’t have told you,” Other-Gordon mused out loud. “Nor would John.  You haven’t spoken to anyone else.”  He sighed.  “Your Gordon, too?”

“When he was sixteen,” Scott confirmed.  “Finished his career in W.A.S.P. before it even started. They said he’d never walk again.” Other-Gordon made a noise of agreement.

“They said that about me, too,” he said as Scott finally accepted that a pair of sneakers were not about to materialise and, as with the pants, grabbed the least-smart pair of shoes and a random pair of what felt like cotton socks.  “I guess they were wrong.”

Scott let himself smile.  “Gordon’s got the gold medal to prove it.”  Remembering the accident, and the months of pain after it, hurt. Remembering the moment Gordon stood on the first place podium, gold medal around his neck and American national anthem blaring out all around them barely two years later filled him with pride.

“So do I,” Other-Gordon said, watching him pull on the shoes and tie the laces firmly.  “Father’s going to have a fit if he sees you looking like that, you know.” Scott glanced down at himself, light brown shirt still unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to three-quarter length, untucked over dark blue slacks and a pair of black shoes.  It was almost just like home.

“I don’t see the problem,” he retorted.  Other-Gordon eyed him dubiously.

“Well, it’s your funeral,” he conceded, stretching out and shifting into a sitting position.  “I’ll show you the guest rooms.”  Scott gathered up his uniform and waited for him to stand, leading the way out of the room and closing the door behind them.  “Dad’s room.”  Other-Gordon gestured to the last door on that stretch of the corridor, and then headed down the hallway opposite, stopping at the first door.  “Kyrano got this room ready for you.”

Right by Not-Dad’s room.  Scott sighed but entered the room.  It was a nice enough room, the same size as Other-Scott’s with a queen-size bed, en suite, and even a veranda he could step out onto.  The view was impressive, with palm trees and craggy rocks co-existing harmoniously, and the shimmering ocean behind.  No view of the pool, he noticed, not quite sure how he felt about that.  Sure, his room at home didn’t directly overlook the pool, but he could at least see if he looked in the right direction.

He located a closet and placed his uniform inside, out of immediate sight of curious individuals.  No doubt Other-Brains would want to examine it in detail at some point, and if Scott wanted the best chance of getting home, he would have to allow that, but that would be happening under his supervision.  Just in case the remote controls were still active.

“Do you want the rest of the house tour now or later?” Other-Gordon asked him.

“Now works for me,” he said, glancing at the watch on his wrist. It still showed the map, a flashing blue light signifying Other-Scott’s room.  How did he turn that off?  It had served its purpose now, and Scott was used to maps being easily dismissed if they didn’t automatically vanish.

“Third dial,” Other-Gordon said, gesturing to the same knob on his own watch.  “That’s basically the ‘stop’ button.”  Scott glanced at him, wondering if he was really that easy to read, before pressing the end transmission button Other-Scott had shown him.  Sure enough, the map vanished and the analogue clock face stared back at him instead.  “Thunderbird Two won’t be far short of the danger zone now, so Dad’ll be busy in the lounge for a while yet.”

That sounded like a perfect time to explore the rest of the house, and the hangars, too, if he could wrangle it.  Thunderbird One had appeared to be reasonably close to his own; he was curious about the other Thunderbirds.

“So what else do you have here?” he asked, heading for the door, and Other-Gordon was quick to catch up.

“Well, you know the bedrooms and the lounge,” he said.  “If we keep going round there’s another guest room next to yours.”  He nodded at another door, set further down the hallway.  “And that is Brains’ main lab opposite.”  That drew Scott’s attention.  Somewhere in there, the scientist was looking for a way to get him home.  If Other-Gordon hadn’t been with him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist entering, Other-John’s caution to not interrupt him discarded.  As it was, he had company and Other-Gordon wasn’t showing any inclination to enter it.  Indeed, he was already carrying on down the hallway, past the other guest room. Scott jogged to keep up.

Another door marked the end of the hallway.  Other-Gordon pushed it open.

“Rather a narrow hallway, this one, but it has a gorgeous view of the ocean,” he said, stepping through and turning a corner to reveal a corridor – narrow, just as Other-Gordon had warned – and lined with windows.  The view was indeed beautiful, but Scott’s attention was caught by the runway protruding from the beach much further below them.  He could just about see the end of what looked like a row of palm trees on either side.

Other-Gordon stepped closer to him, following his line of sight before making a noise of amusement.

“See something familiar?” he asked.  Scott nodded.

“Seems like there’s more similarities than differences between Thunderbirds One and Two so far,” he commented.  It was easy to visualise the trees bowing backwards as a green behemoth travelled between them.

At least, he was assuming Thunderbird Two was green in this universe.  Thunderbird One’s colourings had been identical, anyway.

“It’s not just for Thunderbird Two,” Other-Gordon told him. “The domestic jets use that one, too. It’s where I launch Thunderbird Four if Virgil isn’t giving us a lift, too.”

“Thunderbird Four?” Scott asked.  “You don’t have an underwater tunnel for your island launch?”

Amber eyes flickered with interest.

“Underwater tunnel?” Other-Gordon returned.  “You have an underwater tunnel?  How do you get Four there from the Pod?”

Scott mentally translated pod to module.  Different yet similar terminology was a nuisance, but it was a nuisance he was going to have to get used to if he wanted to get home. He refused to consider the idea that he’d be stuck here forever.

“Magnetic grabs and pulleys,” he said.  It was a rather over-simplification of the complex mechanism Brains had set up in order to get the submarine quickly and efficiently between Module Four and the nicknamed ‘squid tank’ she otherwise settled in by Thunderbird One, but with the difference in technology – and the fact that Scott didn’t fully understand the nuances of that particular A to B journey anyway – he saw no point in explaining further.  After a moment or two of silence, Other-Gordon clearly hoping for a little more detail, the ginger man sighed.

“Well, this is what I think you’re really after,” he said, turning away from the sea and heading further along the corridor.  What he was really after?  Scott followed, intrigued as Other-Gordon rotated a large vase ninety degrees only for a section of wall to slide back.

Okay, so yes, this was what Scott was really after.  Thunderbird One’s hangar looked different without the ‘bird inside, a large square hole where she normally sat.  Trailing off down beneath the walkway they were stood on – the same one as earlier, Scott could see the lamps in the wall further along – was a slope.  Scott assumed that headed in the direction of the pool.

The fact that their Thunderbird One was literally stored in the villa still felt odd to him, especially with no sign of any of her sisters nearby.  Where was Thunderbird Three, towering above them?  The landing pad for the space elevator, sharing One’s gantry?  Thunderbird Four’s little tank, the little yellow sub bobbing happily beside her larger sisters?

It felt wrong, his Thunderbird stored all alone – even if she wasn’t his Thunderbird, strictly speaking.  Other-Gordon fell back, letting him walk over to the lamps.  The route was partially blocked by a large metal tube snaking down and away, and it took some manoeuvring to pass it.  He couldn’t see where it led, but he could probably make an educated guess.

“What about the others?” he asked, and Other-Gordon raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want to see the other hangars?” he asked, in a voice that told Scott that Other-Gordon had no intentions of being his guide there. In fact, with the ginger man between him and the door they’d come through, Scott realised he’d been cornered. Even though he was closer to the other exit, Other-Scott’s own access point, that lead to the lounge and Not-Dad, and a situation he was not interested in facing just yet.  He scowled.

“What do you want from me?”

“Answers,” Other-Gordon said, at least having the grace not to deny the trap now that Scott was aware of it.  He really needed to get his head in the game; he couldn’t afford to be making slip-ups.

“Well I want those, too,” he retorted, crossing his arms and fixing the shorter man with a hard look.  “Particularly about how I’m getting home.”

“John’s given you all the answers we have on that front,” Other-Gordon said calmly.  Scott knew that, but it didn’t do much for the frustration that he was stuck away from his family, with no way of letting them know where he was – or even that he was still alive.  “I want to know about you.”

Scott’s brain screeched to a halt.  Him?  He’d been expecting a grilling on his home, his family, his own International Rescue.  Other-John had already done some probing, and Other-Brains would doubtless be after every scrap of information that could help him solve the puzzle, but information on him?

“Why?” he asked, back-footed, cornered, and hating every moment he wasn’t in control.

“Because I want to know exactly who we’ve got living with us until we can get you home,” Other-Gordon said bluntly.  “You’re like Scott, which was apparently enough to have you two trying to punch each other’s lights out once already, but you’re also not like Scott.”

“That’s not what your John said.”  On the one hand, Scott was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought there were some differences – cowering from his father being the immediate one that sprang to mind, never mind fashion sense, although from Other-Gordon’s attire, it might just be that fashion was different in general – but on the other, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be micro-analysed by a too-sharp ginger.

“I’m not John,” Other-Gordon pointed out.  “I also don’t have the luxury of hiding in space while a stranger with my brother’s face appears and throws my family for a loop.”

“Throws your family-” Scott started, fully prepared to remind him that his family would be out of their minds, but Other-Gordon talked over him as though he wasn’t talking.

“You’ve already punched my brother, broken my Dad’s nose, and then also got into a shouting match with my Dad,” he reminded him.  “I don’t know what your family’s like, but here, Dad’s word is law.  No-one talks back to him like that.  Not us, not Kyrano, not his friends.  So where do you get off disrespecting him in his own home?”

It wasn’t rage Scott saw in amber eyes glaring up at him, not budging an inch despite the height difference putting him at a natural disadvantage.  Not entirely. There was curiosity there, and a healthy dose of suspicion.  Annoyance, and maybe even a hint of compassion, buried right at the back. Scott was reminded of his own outburst, sometime earlier, in that very same hangar, and knew he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

Other-Gordon didn’t mention it, however, remaining stock still and pinning Scott with the intensity of his gaze.  Behind him was the escape to the lounge, and the very man he was determined to avoid.  Other-Gordon blocked the other way out, and Scott wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d be able to get past him.  Gordon could match him just fine – Other-Gordon looked to be older, a little wiser.  Almost certainly stronger.

Besides, Scott was tired of running away.  In order to get home, he knew he needed to co-operate, and while Not-Dad was high on his list of individuals to avoid as much as possible because Other-Gordon was right, he would keep clashing with the man as long as he tried to act as Scott’s superior, he wasn’t a coward and had no intentions of starting to be one now.

“You heard what I said earlier,” he started.  “My father’s gone.  You’re not an idiot, work it out.  What would you do if yours vanished without a trace?”  He didn’t want to talk about it.  He could barely talk about their Dad and the Zero-X with his own brothers, let alone strangers who knew nothing.  It was easier to fall into the tried and true big brother mode of making them reach the answers by themselves, even if the man standing in front of him wasn’t one of his brothers.

From the sharp look Other-Gordon sent him, he’d seen through the façade.

“Scott would take full command.”  It seemed like he’d be humoured anyway.  “And he’d be terrible at it.”  Wait, what? Scott squinted, trying to work out who the insult was aimed at and why.  “How long ago?”

That was unexpected.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve seen Scott when he’s been left entirely in charge,” Other-Gordon said.  “Dad tore into every decision he made when he got back. Didn’t agree with any of it, even though Scott was trying to follow what he thought Dad would have done.  You aren’t fumbling for approval, but I bet you were to start with.”

What would Dad do? It was an instinctive mantra at this point.  Other-Gordon was wrong; he still wanted Dad’s approval, he wanted to know he was doing things right.  Should he have pulled Alan from school?  Should he have let Alan join the team so young?  Were the changes he’d made in the eight damn years since the Zero-X the best things he could have done?

If Dad came back, would he be proud of him?  Or would he be like Not-Dad, and tear into all his decisions?

It was that line of thought again, and he trampled it down firmly.  He couldn’t think like that.  Not now, not ever.  If he started to doubt, if he started second-guessing himself…  No.  He had to look forwards.  Always look forwards, never back.

Other-Gordon was watching him like a hawk, and Scott wondered how much of what he’d been thinking had been visible on his face.  The ginger didn’t give him any clues, simply standing and waiting for him to talk.

“Too long,” he admitted. “Eight years.”

Other-Gordon’s poker face broke for just a moment, shock flitting across his expression before he slammed the walls back up.

“Geez,” he muttered under his breath, before he frowned.  “Your International Rescue’s been operating for eight years?”

“IR did their first rescue just over eight years ago,” Scott confirmed.  Six months Before, with Dad, Kyrano and Uncle Lee doing the heavy lifting while Scott and then John assisted around college.  Five years out of operation, until they were all old enough – except Alan, who was too young but snuck in anyway.  Three years since they’d taken up the reins again, with him at the helm.

Other-Gordon looked like he had several questions.  Scott didn’t want him asking any of them.

“What about here?” he asked, challenging Other-Gordon to try and turn it back into a one-sided interrogation.

“Three years,” the man admitted, but the calculating look was still in his eyes and Scott wasn’t sure he liked it.  Something along those lines must have shown in his face, because all at once, tension leaked from the other man’s shoulders.  “You do realise we’re on the same side, here?”

“You’re the one that started interrogating me,” Scott snapped back, and Other-Gordon raised his hands in mock-surrender, just like Other-John had done earlier.

“Were you going to tell me anything if I didn’t?” he asked, and Scott had to admit that no, he wouldn’t.  A thought struck him and he glared at the shorter man.

“You’d better not tell anyone.”  The only thing worse than telling them himself would be having them gossiping about him behind his back, putting together bits and pieces with no guarantee of finding the right answers.

“Tell them what?” Other-Gordon challenged.  “That the reason you’re so snappy is because you’ve been single-handedly looking after your family for eight years and being separated from them has you on edge?  Or that Dad’s got you off-kilter because secretly you still want approval from yours but know you can’t get it?”

For the second time that day, Scott’s knuckles found the wall of the hangar, and protested loudly at the treatment.  He’d realised Other-Gordon was getting something more than he’d outright said, but hearing the thoughts he’d been determinedly burying even from himself thrown in his face by a stranger with his brother’s eyes was more than he could take.

“Geez,” Other-Gordon muttered, stepping closer and taking hold of his outstretched fist.  “Are you always this self-destructive?”  Scott tried to pull his hand back, but the other man’s grip was strong.  “You’ve gone and wrecked Tin-Tin’s bandaging; she won’t be happy about that.”  Scott scowled and tugged again; Other-Gordon let him pull free that time.  “Scott.” It was the first time the man had referred to him by name and he met his eyes.  “We’re going to help you.  Remember, we’re International Rescue, too.”

Scott glanced sideways, at the empty hangar that usually housed Thunderbird One – not his Thunderbird One, but Thunderbird One regardless.  Earlier, he’d been too overwhelmed by everything to properly appreciate what that meant.  Two conversations later, it was starting to sink in.

“I guess that’s true,” he admitted.

“You guess?” Other-Gordon demanded, but there was a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes that stole Scott’s breath all over again.  He’d known he was this universe’s Gordon, but with the serious face and wrong colour hair, it hadn’t really hit.

With his face lit up like that, he wondered how he could have ever looked at the unknown ginger man sitting between him and Other-Scott in the kitchen what felt like hours earlier and dismissed the niggling familiarity.  This man, ginger hair and older age aside, was definitely Gordon.

“You okay?” Other-Gordon asked, and Scott’s shoulders slumped.

“I miss them,” he admitted.

“Of course you do,” Other-Gordon said, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “If there’s one thing I bet you and my Scott are definitely identical in, it’s being a ridiculous smother hen.”  Despite everything, Scott had to grin ruefully at that.  “Come on, let’s get something done about that hand of yours before Tin-Tin spots it.”

Other-Gordon turned and climbed around the large metal pipe without waiting to see if Scott was following. Scott watched him go, noticing that he was just as nimble as his Gordon, and frowned.  Should he not be letting Gordon go out on missions after all?  Or was Other-Gordon actually perfectly fit for duty, and Not-Dad was grounding him for no good reason?

“If you had the choice,” he started, mouth running ahead of his brain, “would you go on more rescues?”

Other-Gordon stopped and turned to face him again, amber eyes searching.

“Why?” he asked. Scott met his gaze evenly and waited. Other-Gordon grumbled something under his breath about there being two of them now.  “I’d go on all of them, if Dad let me.”  The bitterness that crept in told Scott everything he needed to know.

“No reason,” he shrugged, casting one last look at the empty space where Thunderbird One lived before heading for the door himself.  Other-Gordon made a noise of protest, a little brother’s my big brother is being annoying again noise that made something go tight in his chest, but he didn’t let it show.

“Seriously?” Other-Gordon grumbled a little louder.  “You don’t think I believe that, do you?”  Scott shrugged at him, and amber eyes narrowed.  “Just because you look like my big brother doesn’t mean you get to act like it!”

“I’m acting like me, not him,” Scott informed him airily, falling into the familiarity of brotherly banter, even if this wasn’t his brother.

“Well just because I look like your brother doesn’t mean you get to act like I am,” Other-Gordon continued, not at all deterred.  Just short of the door, Scott stopped suddenly.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Other-Gordon insisted, although there was something ever so slightly different in his voice, a note of uncertainty as though he’d realised he’d said something wrong but wasn’t sure what.  “Just because I look like-”

“You don’t,” Scott cut him off, turning round to face him.  Other-Gordon blinked, mouth half-open a little like a fish before he closed it again.

“I… don’t?” he asked. “But… you and Scott are near enough identical, and you said Dad looked like-”  He cut himself off before he could finish that sentence; Scott was grateful for it.

“You don’t,” he admitted. “I can tell you’re him, but you don’t look like him.”  No, that was a lie.  He had the same high cheekbones, the same angled jaw, the same eyes.  It was just the hair and the fact that there was no question he was a man, not a teenager just crossing into adulthood, that made him look different.

If it was just Other-Gordon, he’d wonder if the man had dyed his hair – Other-Scott was also older than him, although he didn’t want to ponder on what that meant for timeline continuity – but Other-John and Other-Virgil also had the wrong colour hair. Other-Brains, Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy also looked notably different, and Tin-Tin was not only visually different but had a different name as well.

“That’s strange,” Other-Gordon mused.  “Is it just me?”  Scott shook his head.

“More like it’s only me and your Scott,” he said.  “And your father.  Everyone else is different.”

“So if someone other than Scott had come in, you might not have attacked them?” Other-Gordon asked, almost dryly.  Scott shrugged.

“Who knows,” he replied, although privately he doubted it.  It didn’t matter what the other party looked like if his brothers were at stake.  Other-Gordon sent him a small grin, before brushing past him and opening the door.

“Still, you’ll have to tell the others that,” he said, strolling back along the narrow corridor. Scott followed, ignoring the pain shooting through his knuckles.  “I know the fellas are keeping an eye out for anyone else that looks like us while they’re off base just in case, but if they don’t know what they’re looking for they might miss something.”

He was right, and Scott nodded.  He hadn’t realised they were all looking, not just Thunderbird Five, but it made sense and there was a rush of gratitude at their efforts.

“Talk to Virg once he’s back,” Other-Gordon continued.  “That’ll be the easiest way to make sure we get it right.”  They skirted the lounge door with Not-Dad’s voice emitting from it, interspersed with Other-Scott’s tinny speaker-voice reports and traipsed down the stairs again – a route that was rapidly becoming familiar as they once again headed for the infirmary.  “But come on, what does your Gordon look like?  He’s gotta be handsome, right?”  There was that grin – that Gordon grin – again, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“I’m the wrong person to ask about that,” he scoffed, watching Other-Gordon pull a disgruntled face, and managing a small grin of his own.  “His hair’s blond, and…” he trailed off, not sure how to put it into words. As far as basic descriptions went, there wasn’t any other big differences, just lots of small things Scott couldn’t even put his finger on exactly.

“And..?” Other-Gordon prompted, although he was tugging at his bangs – falling in front of his forehead, rather than swept back like his Gordon’s – and trying to look at them, no doubt trying to figure out how he’d look blond.  Scott shrugged helplessly.

“I’m a pilot, not a novelist,” he pointed out.  “It’s not the big things, it’s the little ones.”  He frowned.  “How old are you?”

“How old are you?” Other-Gordon shot back, releasing his hair in favour of pushing the infirmary door open and pointing towards a chair.  “I’d say you’re younger than Scott, except he’s not going grey yet.” Scott scowled and resisted the urge to touch his temples, where he knew the accused hairs were most prominent.

“I asked first,” he pointed out, and Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.

“Twenty-three, now sit down or I’ll get Tin-Tin to redress your hand.”  Tin-Tin had seemed like a sweet enough young woman, but if she was being used as a threat – and Scott knew a threat from a sibling when he heard it – then she was no doubt more Kayo-like than first impressions betrayed. Scott sat.  “Why?”

“That would probably explain the rest,” Scott muttered, trying to work out what his Gordon would look like in four years’ time.  The same age as Virgil, which meant Other-Scott, and probably Other-John as well were older than him.  He consoled himself with the fact that with Not-Dad around, they were probably under less stress, hence the lack of greys.  “Gordon – my Gordon – is nineteen.”

“So I look different because I’m older?” Other-Gordon surmised, unwrapping the old bandages and pouring something that stung like disinfectant on his swollen and once again bleeding knuckles.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m twenty-seven,” Scott admitted, and Other-Gordon blinked.

“Not twenty-six?”

“Why would I be twenty-six?” Scott asked, taken aback.  Other-Gordon frowned and opened a fresh roll of bandages, carefully but efficiently rewrapping his hand.

“Well if your Gordon is four years younger than me, you should be four years younger than Scott, right? Scott’s thirty.”  It was Scott’s turn to frown.  Clearly there were more differences than just technology, and his gut coiled unpleasantly, not sure it liked the implications.  “What are your other brothers’ ages?”

“What are yours’?” he retorted, and Other-Gordon raised an eyebrow at him as he tied off the bandage.

“I asked first.” Typical younger brother, turning his earlier words against him.

“John’s twenty-five, Virgil’s twenty-three and Alan’s fifteen,” he said.  “Yours?”

“Your Alan’s-”

“Yours?” he repeated firmly, cutting off any comments about his youngest brother and International Rescue.  He knew fifteen was too young; he didn’t need to hear that from an alternate universe’s version of one of his own brothers.  Other-Gordon gave him a look that said the topic was not dropped, but answered anyway.

“John’s twenty-eight, Virg’s twenty-six and Alan’s twenty.  Seems like the difference is me and Alan,” he observed.  Scott didn’t miss the intent in his voice when he said the youngest’s name, but ignored it.

“Seems like it,” he agreed instead, checking over the bandaging despite knowing it was professionally done.  Other-Gordon was sharp, too sharp, and once again their conversation was veering into territory Scott would rather it didn’t.  “That seems like something Brains should know about,” he said, and once again ignored the look the younger man sent him.  Other-Gordon knew exactly what he was doing, and Scott got the uncomfortable feeling he was once again being humoured.

His dislike of being humoured didn’t outweigh his determination not to talk about things like Alan’s young age or Dad’s crash, though, so he suffered through it with a glare.

“We’ll tell Brains when he comes looking for more information,” Other-Gordon said out loud. “Surely your Brains hates being interrupted mid-flow, too?”  He did, but that had never stopped Scott from doing it when it was an emergency, and anything relating to getting him home qualified in his books.

A hand landed on his shoulder, Other-Gordon leaning down slightly to meet his eyes firmly.

“I know you want to get home, but don’t take it out on Brains,” he said, his grip tight. “Brains will find you once he’s finished processing the data he got from your arrival.”  Scott scowled, glancing away, and the other man sighed.  “I can stop asking questions if that helps.”

That would help. He met Other-Gordon’s eyes again and relaxed at the sincerity he saw in them, nodding.  Other-Gordon scrutinised him, although what he was looking for, Scott didn’t know, before letting go and taking a step back.

“Normally I sit in on the mission,” he informed him.  “We can go to the lounge if you want, or there’s the games room if billiards or chess is more your speed right now.”  The offer to continue evading Not-Dad was clear.

“And if I want to be alone?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you want to be alone, I’ve shown you your room,” Other-Gordon began.  “But I don’t think you do.”  Didn’t he?  Scott wanted time to let it all sink in, mull over all the information Other-John and Other-Gordon had bombarded him with and figure out what it all meant for him and his chances of getting home.

He caught sight of his useless communicator, still on his wrist, and remembered curling up against a boulder, begging and screaming for it to connect with another universe. Maybe Other-Gordon was right; if he was alone again he’d go back to focusing on what had happened.  Dwelling, his brothers called it immediately before they did something outrageous to get him to stop staring into nothing, brain stuck in a loop of past events.

Looking back, letting himself think about what had happened always threatened to drive him crazy. It had been that way since the Zero-X, and held true even now.  Especially now, when events defied all probabilities.  He sighed.

“It’s been a while since I last played chess,” he said by way of an answer, and Other-Gordon cracked a grin.  Chess would keep his mind focused, especially if Other-Gordon was half as good as Gordon or John; if he was, Scott was in for an inevitable thrashing.

Other-Gordon at least had the grace not to say ‘I told you so’, simply straightening up and offering him a hand, which he accepted, pulling himself to his feet.

“The games room’s this way,” he gestured, leading the way out of the infirmary and then further along the hallway, to a brightly lit room dominated by a billiards table.  Various chairs and small tables dotted one side of the room – spectators for the game, or perfectly positioned for a quiet game of chess in the corner, as Other-Gordon withdrew a chess set and placed it on the table.

“White or black?” he offered as Scott stared at it.  A proper, wooden chessboard with real, hand-carved pieces.  He picked up a white knight and stroked its mane, feeling the indents of the carved hair with the pad of his finger.

“White,” he replied after a moment.  Other-Gordon watched him closely, but as promised didn’t ask.  Scott shrugged, folding himself into the comfortable chair and placing the piece back where it belonged.  “It’s been a long time since I last used a wooden set,” he volunteered.  “Gordon’s the only one that owns one and no-one’s allowed to use it until they beat him.”

“You haven’t?” Other-Gordon asked – despite his promise otherwise, but Scott knew he had opened himself up for that one.  Talking about something as mundane as chess didn’t hurt as much as their previous conversation had.

“Not since he got that board,” he admitted.  “John and-” he caught himself, not wanting to mention EOS and open that can of worms for debate.  “John’s the only one that has; they play whenever he’s down from Five.” Other-Gordon’s eyes flickered in interest, catching the slip, but to his credit he didn’t ask.

“White goes first,” he reminded him needlessly, and Scott picked up the knight again, leaping it over the row of pawns.  Other-Gordon hummed in interest before nudging a pawn forward.  Scott recalled that particular opening as Gordon’s favourite to use, a win in five moves unless their opponent knew the counter. It might have been a while since he’d last had the time to play – and the inclination to probably lose to Gordon – but Scott still remembered the counter, moving his knight into position.

Other-Gordon laughed, seeing his experiment foiled, and switched tactics.  Scott got the feeling he’d just passed some sort of test.

The game went much as he suspected it would – while he wasn’t bad at chess, he was out of practice and Other-Gordon was very, very good.  He held out for a while, half an hour maybe, but eventually the inevitable conclusion of his King toppling occurred and he bit back a laugh, laying down the piece with good grace.

“You’re not too terrible,” Other-Gordon commented, collecting up the mass of white captured pieces and handing them over.  “Some practice and you might even be a challenge.”  He winked, and Scott groaned good-naturedly, trying hard not to think about why he didn’t get much practice before that ruined his mood.  “Again?”  What were his other options?  Billiards, or sitting in on a mission with Not-Dad.  It wasn’t exactly a difficult decision.

In answer, Scott pulled his King upright and set up his forces again.

Chapter 6>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #long way from home #tsari writes fanfiction

[sharekowa]

Kankandara

When I was in Elementary School I was a naive hick, and fucked around with my buddies A and B a lot. We had a turbulent life.

A and I’s families had given up on us, but B’s mother was always taking care of him.

She was super strict about it, but she still did a lot of stuff for B.

B and his mother had a bad fight sometime in Middle School grade 3. He didn’t tell us what it was about, but apparently he hurt his mother psychologically.

After leaving his mother in ruins, his pops came back.

B’s pops immediately understood what had happened and went up to his wife, ignoring B.

Her clothes and hair were in tatters, and she was spacing out, staring at the floor with eyes like a dead fish. B’s pops looked at her and spoke to B.

B’s Dad: “You little shit, you became the kind of guy who could trample all over someone this much, huh? Why can’t you understand how much your mother cares about you?”

He was holding his wife, and was not looking at B at all.

B: “Shut the fuck up. Should I kill you, motherfucker? Huh!?”

B had no intent of listening to his pops.

But his pops didn’t react to this threat, and apparently kept talking calmly.

B’s Dad: “...You...you think there isn’t anything that can scare you, don’t you?”

B: “Nope. If there is, I’d fuckin’ like to see it!”

His pops was quiet for a bit, and then spoke.

B’s Dad: “You are my son. I know very well how much your mother worries about you. But if you can only hurt her in response, I have an idea.

I speak not as a father, but as a human, a third party.

I’ll be upfront, I only tell you this because you have proven you don’t care if you die. If that’s fine, listen to what I have to say.”

B apparently felt an intense energy from these words, but provoked him anyway saying “Whatever, fucking tell me!”

B’s Dad: “You know that place in the forest that is restricted? Go in there, all the way to the back. You’ll understand the rest when you’re there. Try going crazy like you did just now, if you can.”

The forest B’s pops was talking about is at the base of a small mountain where we live. It’s kind of like a sea of trees (jukai).

You can enter the mountain normally, and the forest as a whole is normal, but if you go in, there’s an area that is restricted partway through.

Specifically, it’s like if you drew a small circle inside a square, and were told not to go in the circle. It’s basically a super small part of the forest.

The restricted area is surrounded by a fence around 2 meters high, with thick chain links and barbed wire. The whole fence is tangled with layered white paper (like a unique shide), with a ton of bells of varying sizes attached.

Shide (paper used to designate sacred areas in Shinto)

It’s so weird that it’s just a small part of the forest. The fence itself is strange. Basically, I can sum it up as being extremely weird.

Also, on specific days, I’ve seen priestesses gathered around the entrance, but I didn’t know what they were doing because those days the whole area would be restricted.

There were lots of rumors flying around, but the most common one was that there was a brainwashing facility for a cult. It’s a pain in the ass to even get there, so I barely heard of people even going that deep into the forest.

B’s pops didn’t wait for B to reply, and took his wife upstairs to the second floor. B immediately left his house and met up with me and A who were waiting for him. That’s when we heard about what his dad told him.

A: “A father saying that much to his son? Must have been bad.”

Me: “It’s rumored to be a cult facility right? I guess he’s telling you to get caught and brainwashed. You could say that’s scary but...what are you gonna do? Are you gonna go?“

B: “Of course I’m gonna go. It’s probably bullshit.“

Me and A  tagged along out of curiosity, so all three of us were going to head there.

We used different tools. I think the time was past 1:00 midnight. We arrived with high spirits, entering the forest and shining the ground before us with the flashlights we had brought.

The path is one you can hike with light equipment. We always wore jikatabi so it was easy for us to walk, but there was almost a 40 minute walk to get to the area in question. However, before even 5 minutes had passed since we entered the forest, something weird happened.

Jikatabi shoes

Around the same time as we got in and started walking, we could hear a sound coming from far away.

The still of the night emphasizes the sound. B was the first to notice it.

B: “Hey, you guys hear something?”

We strained our ears upon these words, and yep, we could hear it.

We definitely could hear it faintly from far away: the sound of dry leaves being dragged, and the sound of branches being snapped.

Since it was from a distance and so faint, we weren’t really scared.

We didn’t think it was a person -- there’s gotta be animals around here. Reassured, we kept going.

I stopped paying attention to it after thinking it was an animal, but after around 20 minutes of walking, B noticed something again and stopped me and A.

B: “A, can you walk ahead a little bit?”

A: “What? Why?”

B: “Just do it, dude.”

A, looking confused, walked ahead and then came back to us.

Seeing this, B developed a thoughtful expression.

A: “Hey, what is it?!”

Me: “Yeah, explain!”

After we said this, B said “Stay quiet and listen veeeery carefully,” and walked ahead like he had made A do, and came back.

After he did this 2 or 3 times, we finally realized what was happening.

The faint, distant sounds were moving when we did.

When we start walking, the sound starts walking, and when we stop the sound stops too.

It was almost as if it knew what we were doing. I couldn’t help but feel a bit colder. There is no light aside from what we have. The moon is out, but it was almost entirely blocked by the trees.

We have our flashlights on, so it’s not strange that whatever it is knows where we are. But we have to squint to even see each other even though we are walking together.

What are they doing with no light on in this darkness? Why are they moving the same way we were?

B: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Is someone following us?”

A: “It doesn’t feel like someone’s getting closer. It sounds like they’ve been at the same distance from us as earlier.”

As A said, for the 20 minutes we had been in the forest, the distance between us and the sound hadn’t changed at all.

It wasn’t coming closer or going further. It had maintained the same distance the whole time.

Me: “Are we being watched?”

A: “Seems like it...If it’s a cult or something, then they probably have weird devices and stuff.“

Judging from the sound, it wasn’t multiple people, but just one person following us the whole time.

We stopped to think a while, and decided it was dangerous to try to figure out the source of the sound. Being careful of our surroundings, we decided to keep going.

As we kept going, the sound stuck to us, but I couldn’t care less about a damn sound when we finally were able to see the fence.

...Because the appearance of the fence was even weirder than the sound.

It was the first time seeing it for all three of us, but it exceeded our imaginations.

At the same time, a thought that hadn’t crossed my mind before suddenly occurred to me.

I am a skeptic about ghosts, but even I couldn’t help but think that there is something unreal beyond that fence.

Not just anything either, but something extremely fucked.

Wait, so it’s a place with that kind of legend...?

For the first time since we came into the forest, I started to think we were in a dangerous place.

A: “Are you telling me we have to rip this and go in? No matter how you look at it, this ain’t normal!“

B: “Shut the fuck up man, don’t be pissing yourself over some shit like this!“

B yelled at me and A, who were scared upon seeing the weird fence. B used the tools he had brought and started to destroy it.

The sound of the insane amount of bells ringing was louder than the sound of him tearing it down.

But since we hadn’t imagined it would be like this, the tools we brought were too weak. Or rather, the fence was unnaturally strong. It didn’t even move an inch, so I wondered if it was made with special materials.

In the end, we had to climb it, but because of the chain link that was pretty easy.

But as soon as we got off the fence, I felt strongly that something was wrong.

I guess it was maybe claustrophobia? I felt short of breath, like I was trapped in a coffin.

A and B seemed to be feeling the same, and we all hesitated before moving more. We had already gone past the fence, though, we couldn’t stop now.

As soon as we stepped forward to keep going, all three of us realized something.

The sound that had followed us all this time had stopped as soon as we crossed the fence.

To be honest, it was so freaky that I couldn’t care less, but I was even more freaked out by what A said next.

A: “Hey guys...what if...they were in here the whole time? This fence, at least from here, has no gate...maybe that’s why they couldn’t come closer...?”

B: “Nah, no fuckin’ way man. The place where we first noticed the sound moving can’t even be seen from here. There’s no way they would know what we were doing from the moment we got into the forest.“

In normal circumstances, B would be right. The restricted zone and the entrance to the forest are pretty far part.

I wrote that it’s around a 40 minutes’ walk earlier, but we weren’t walking slowly and the distance itself is pretty long.

But as soon as the thought crossed my mind that it might not be something from reality, I couldn’t deny A’s words.

Unlike me and A who had felt a definite danger since we first saw the fence, B was suddenly very determined.

B: “I don’t know if it’s a spirit or what, but if it’s like you said, doesn’t that mean it can’t leave this fenced area? it’s not much of a big deal then.“

Saying this, we went deeper.

The fence of the opposite side of the restricted area was starting to come into view. We found something strange after we walked 20-30 minutes after crossing the fence.

6 trees were surrounded by a shimenawa, and those 6 trees were enclosed by 6 ropes, making a hexagonal space.

Shimenawa, which are used to designate sacred places in Shinto.

There was official-looking shide, unlike the ones on the fence.

And in the center was something like a money-offering box from a shrine.

As soon as we saw it, all three of us were speechless. Me and A were starting to panic - things were really getting dangerous.

As dumb as we are, we vaguely know where and for what shimenawa are used.

The reason why this area is restricted must be what we are seeing.

We had finally arrived at our destination.

Me: “This has gotta be what your pops was telling you about.“

A: “You can’t go wild here, man. It’s obviously a bad idea.“

But B didn’t lose his determination.

B: “It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s something bad. Let’s try checking out that box! Maybe there’s treasure inside.“

B ducked under the ropes, entering the hexagon and approaching the box.

Me and A were more worried about what B might do than the box, but followed him anyway.

The box was covered in rust, perhaps because it was left outside and got rained on.

The upper part is a lid, with mesh so you can see inside, but there’s a plank under the lid so you actually can’t see anything.

The box also had something wild written on it in chalk. Probably family crests or something, but each side of the box has multiple symbols and they are all different. No two were the same.

Me and A tried our best not to touch it, but B didn’t care and touched it. We cautioned him to be gentle as he investigated the box.

It seemed to be anchored directly into the ground, so even though it wasn’t that heavy, it couldn’t be lifted.

After examining the box closely to try to see how to open it, B realized that the just the back side comes off.

B: “Yo, just this part comes off! We can see inside!”

B removed one side of the box, and me and A peered inside from behind B.

Inside the box, there were four plastic water-bottle shaped jars, with some kind of liquid inside. In the center of the box, toothpick-like sticks around 5 centimeters long with their tips painted red were arranged in a weird shape. ／＼／＼＞

This kinda shape, made of 6 sticks. Just the four places touching are painted red.

Me: “What the hell is that? Toothpicks?”

A: “Yo, the water-bottle things have stuff inside. Gross.“

B: “We came all this way for some water bottles and toothpicks? I don’t get it.“

Me and A had just lightly touched the water-bottle shaped jars, but B took one of them in his hands and started to smell its contents and stuff. Once he put it back, he reached out to touch the ／＼／＼＞.

The toothpick stuck to his fingertip for a second, maybe because he was sweating, and the shape was messed up when he let go.

That moment...

Ring rring! Ring ring!!

The bells were ringing with incredible force from the opposite direction from where we had come -- beyond the hexagon, around where I could barely make out the fence.

At this we all screamed “Aaah!”, scared shitless. We all looked at each other at once.

B: “Who is it, goddamit!? Don’t fuck with me!”

B started running in the direction of the sound.

Me: “Dumbass, don’t go there!”

A: “Yo B! It’s dangerous!“

As we readied ourselves to scramble after him, B stopped in his tracks. He was motionless, with his flashlight still facing in front of him.

“What, are you fucking with us?” As me and A sighed in relief and rushed towards him, B’s body started to tremble.

“H...hey...What’s wrong...?”

As I said this, we both instinctively looked towards where B’s flashlight shone.

B’s flashlight shone around the roots of one of the many trees huddled together.

From its rear, a woman’s face was peering our way.

Showing just half of her face, she seemed to be unbothered by the bright light and was gazing at us.

She was grimacing, showing all of her teeth, and her eyes were hostile.

“AAAAAARGH!!!!!”

I’m not sure who screamed, but at that moment we turned back and ran.

My mind went blank. It felt like my body was making the best decisions it could.

With no time to even look at each other, each of us scrambled desperately towards the fence. As soon as I saw the fence, I jumped it with all my might and climbed it with force. When I got to the top, I jumped off and tried to immediately run for the exit.

A, perhaps confused, is having trouble climbing the fence and isn’t coming.

Me: “A! Hurry up!!”

B: “Yo! Hurry the fuck up!!“

Me and B didn’t know what to do while we waited for A.

Me: “What is that thing!? What the hell is it!?”

B: “I don’t fucking know man, shut up!“

We were completely in panic mode.

Just then...

Rring! Ring ring!

The bells shook deafeningly loud, and the fence started to shake.

What the... Where is it coming from!?

Even as me and B panicked, we checked our surroundings.

It was coming from the opposite of the entrance: from the direction of the mountain. The sound and the shaking of the fence got more and more intense as if it was coming closer.

Me: “Oh shit, oh shit!”

B: “You still haven’t climbed yet!? Hurry up!!”

I knew our words were only confusing A more, but there was no way we couldn’t warn him. A scrambled up the fence with immense concentration.

The moment A was about to reach the top of the fence, me and B were not watching.

I was shaking violently, sweat pouring out all over my body, unable to make a sound.

A noticed and looked at where we were looking.

The thing was on this side of the fence continuing towards the mountain.

I had thought it was just a face, but it was actually a naked torso with six arms.

Using those arms it grabbed the chain link and barbed wire skillfully, its mouth still in a wide grimace. It was coming towards us like a spider crossing its web. Immense fear filled me.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!”

A suddenly jumped from above, crashing onto me and B.

This woke us out of our stupor, and we got A up immediately and booked it for the entrance to the forest.

We can’t look back. I just looked forward and ran and ran with all my strength.

It shouldn’t have taken 30 minutes running at full speed, but it felt like I had run for hours.

As the entrance came into view, I could see people in the distance.

No way...all three of us screeched to a halt, quietly checking out the silhouettes.

We couldn’t tell who it was, but it was multiple people. It wasn’t the thing.

As soon as we confirmed this we started running again, and ran right into the group.

”Hey! They came out!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...They actually went past the fence!?”

“Heeey! Run and let the wife know!”

The gathered people ran to us, abuzz.

All three of our minds were blank and we were so spaced out that we couldn’t immediately understand what they were saying to us.

Then we were put in a car, and even though it was around 3:00, we were taken to a gathering hall that is used for events.

When we got inside, my mother and big sister, A’s pops, and B’s mother were there.

B’s mother aside, my mother who I hadn’t even had a decent conversation with was crying. A told me later that his pops’ facial expression was one he had never seen before.

B’s mom: “Everyone was okay...! I’m so relieved...!“

Unlike B’s mother, I was hit by my mother and A was hit by his pops. But, we both received kind words unlike any we had heard before. After each of us had spoken to our families, B’s mother came to talk to us.

B’s Mom: “I am very sorry. This is my husband’s fault, and by extension also my fault. I am truly so sorry...! Really...”

She bowed many times.

Even though she’s from another family, a parent acting like that in front of her child was an unpleasant feeling.

A’s Dad: “That’s enough. Everyone was okay, see?“

My Mom: “Yes, exactly. It’s not your fault.”

After this, most of the conversation was between the parents, and we were just spacing out.

Probably because it was late at night, and it felt like a wrap after everyone checked in on each other. At this point, we didn’t get any explanation and went our separate ways home.

Around noon the proceeding day, my big sis violently woke me up.

When I opened my eyes, her face was so tensed that it seemed like a continuation of last night.

Me: “What the fuck is your problem?”

Big sis: “B’s mother called. Shit’s going down.“

When I took the phone and answered, B’s mom was yelling in a way I had never heard her do before.

B’s mom: “B...B is acting strange! What did you do last night, up there !? I thought all you did was go past the fence!?”

It seemed like I wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with her, so I hung up and headed to B’s house.

A had apparently got a similar phone call, and both of us went to talk to B’s mother. Apparently, after B came home last night, he suddenly started screaming that all of his hands and feet hurt. He collapsed with his arms and legs outstretched, maybe because he couldn’t move due to the pain. She told us that he stayed in that pose and thrashed around complaining of pain. Whenever his mother tried to do something to help, all he did was yell “It fuckin’ hurts” and they couldn’t understand each other. She tried her best and was able to carry him to his room, but since he was still in that condition, she wondered how we were doing and had called us.

After hearing this story we immediately went to B’s room, and could hear him screaming all the way from the stairs.

”It hurts, it fuckin’ hurts!” on repeat.

When we got in the room, as expected his arms and legs were outstretched and he was flailing around.

Me: “Hey! What happened!?”

A: “Pull it together, man! What is wrong with you?”

Even when we talked to him, B just yells “It fuckin’ hurts” and didn’t even make eye contact with us.

What’s going on...? Me and A couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

We went back to B’s mother for the moment, and she asked us with a tone strikingly more quiet than earlier.

B’s mom: “Tell me what you did there. That will tell me everything I need to know. Last night, what did you do there?“

I of course knew what she wanted to ask, but I couldn’t answer well because I loathed having to remember what had happened in order to tell her.

Or rather, the fact that I saw that thing was so dominant in my memory that I had completely forgotten to think about what was the cause of it all. B’s mother clarified, asking us “Not what you saw, but what did you do?” She seemed to be indicating it.

After B’s mother told us this, we tried our damnedest to remember last night and search for a possible cause.

If the question is “What did we see?” then we should have been in the same condition as B currently is.

But even if the question is “What did you do?” We took basically the same actions towards that thing.

We touched the box too. We also technically touched the water bottle-shaped things. The only thing left is...the toothpicks....

Both of us realized. It’s the toothpicks. Only B had touched those, and he even moved their shape. He also didn’t put them back. We communicated this to B’s mother.

Then, her expression began to change and she started to shake.

She suddenly took out some paper from a drawer and dialed a phone number while looking at it. Me and A could only look on.

After she spoke to someone on the phone for a while, B’s mother came back to us and spoke with a shaking voice.

B’s mom: “If you boys take the approach of going over to their house, they can see you immediately, so go on home and get ready right now. I will speak to your parents for you, they will prepare you even if you don’t tell them anything. Come here again the day after tomorrow.“

I couldn’t understand what she was saying. We were gonna meet who, where? She ignored us when we asked for an explanation and sent us home immediately.

We both went straight home, confused and doubtful, and were told “You have to go there” without asking us any questions.

Two days later me and A went with B’s mother to a certain location, still completely in the dark on what was going on.

Apparently B was taken there the previous day.

I had thought it might be someplace far, but it was not only a different city, but a different prefecture. We rode the Shinkansen trains for a few hours, and then drove from the station for a few more. We were taken into a picturesque village in the depths of the mountains. We were shown to a mansion on the outskirts of the village. It was old and huge, and even had a separate building and storage house. It was impressive.

When B’s mother rang the doorbell, a middle aged dude and a girl came to greet us.

The middle aged dude looked Yakuza-esque, kind of scary-looking and wore a suit. The girl was a little older than us, wearing white traditional Japanese clothes and a red hakama. Basically, she wsa dressed as a shrine maiden.

As they greeted us, we found out that the middle aged dude was the girl’s uncle. He had a pretty common surname, but the shrine maiden girl had a confusing name that sounded like “aoikanjo” (this is how I heard it, at least).

Though I said they greeted us, it was apparently different from common understandings of a greeting.

I don’t really get it, but basically her family’s true identity is something we are not allowed to know.

In truth, neither of us knew anything about her or her family, but for here to make things easier I’ll call her Aoi.

We were taken to a huge ass traditional Japanese style parlor with tatami floors, and they started talking to us in a super serious tone before I could even understand what was happening.

Uncle: “Your son is currently resting. These kids are the kids who were with him?”

B’s mom: “Yes. It seems like these three went to that place.”

Uncle: “I see. You, can you tell us what happened? Where did you go, what did you do, what did you see, as detailed as possible. Can you do it?” I was surprised at him suddenly asking us a question, but me and A were able to soomehow tell the middle aged dude the events of that night.

However, around the part of the toothpicks, he suddenly said “Hey, what the fuck did you just say?” in a very deep and serious tone. We couldn’t understand what was happening and got even more confused.

A: “Y...yes?“

Uncle: “You motherfuckers, you’re not telling me you moved those things!?“

He yelled at us with such energy that I thought he might grab me. Aoi stopped and started to talk in a voice so quiet and weak it was like a mosquito’s cry.

Aoi: “In the center of the box...small stick-like objects should have been placed in a certain shape. Did you touch them? By touching them, did you change the shape even a little bit?“

Me: “Ah, um...we moved them. I think the shape changed too.”

Aoi: “Do you happen to recall who changed the shape that the toothpicks were in? Not who touched it, but who changed the shape.“

Me and A looked at each other, and told her it was B.

Seeing this, the middle aged dude sat back and sighed, and said to B’s mother: Uncle: “Mother, I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think your son can be helped. I hadn’t heard in this much detail, but if it’s his symptoms another cause might be possible. I didn’t think he’d had moved the sticks.”

B’s mom: “No..this can’t be...”

She probably had more to say, but B’s mother looked away as if she was swallowing her words.

We couldn’t say it, but we felt the same way too. What does it mean that B can’t be helped? What is he talking about?

Even though I wanted to inquire this, my voice wouldn’t come. Seeing the three of us like this, the middle aged dude started talking, sighing along the way. Finally, we were told something about what we had seen.

Its common name is Narijara or Naridara, but in older times it was called Kankanjara or Kankandara. Apparently there’s a lot of names for it depending on the person’s age or familial background.

Currently, the most common name for it is just “Dara”. Special families like the dude’s call it the Kankandara. It’s a story close to myths or legends.

The villagers of a certain village were plagued by a giant man-eating snake. They requested its removal from a shrine maiden’s family who had hereditary various powers as the children of kami. The family accepted the task and sent a particularly powerful shrine maiden to defeat the giant snake.

The shrine maiden earnestly fought the giant snake, as villagers watched from their hiding places. However, the snake got her in a passing moment and ate the bottom half of her body.

Even then, the shrine maiden used various powers to protect the villagers and fought the giant snake with all her might.

However, the villagers saw that she’d lost half her body and decided she would never win. They proposed to the giant snake that they would like the safety of their village in exchange for the shrine maiden’s life, as a human sacrifice. The giant snake was annoyed by how powerful the shrine maiden was, so it accepted. It made the villagers cut off her arms so she was easier to eat, and consumed the shrine maiden who had become like a Daruma. With this, the villagers got a short period of peace.

Later, it becomes clear that someone from the shrine maiden’s house had came up with this plan. At this time, there were 6 people in her family. The changes occurred suddenly.

The giant snake suddenly disappeared, and people started dying one by one in a village that was supposed to not have any more enemies.

They died in the village, in the mountains, in the forest. Everyone who died was missing either their right or left arm.

18 people died, including the 6 members of the shrine maiden’s family.

There were 4 people who survived.

The middle aged dude and Aoi explained it to us in turns.

Uncle: “I don’t know where or when this story’s from, but that box has been moved locations periodically and appeased ritually.

The person managing it changes each time. There’s a bunch of house crest-like symbols on the box, right? Those are the houses that have contributed places for the appeasing until now.

There’s a gathering of people from families like ours who oversee it, and that’s where it’s decided. There are occasionally idiots who volunteer, though.

Anything about the Kankandara is not shared with people who aren’t in charge of it. Locals are just told it has some negative history attached to it, and the managing people give locals someone to contact in case something happens.”

When we tell people, the contacts, people from families like us, are there, so people understand just from that the nature of the negative history. The current contact isn’t us, but since it’s an emergency we were contacted yesterday.“

Apparently, B’s mother had called somewhere else the day before yesterday, and whoever she talked to took B here and entrusted him to these guys after talking.

B’s mother had already called there while we were in the forest, and had heard some of the details.

Aoi: “Usually, the Kankandara is moved among mountain or forest locations. I think you saw it, but the 6 trees and 6 ropes represent the villagers, the 6 sticks the shrine maiden’s family, and the 4 jars in the corners represent the 4 survivors.

The shape that the 6 sticks create is that of the shrine maiden.

Why this is how it is dealt with, or even just how the box is set up, from when...including my family, I do not think anyone currently knows any more than what legends say.”

However, the most commonly told theory is that the 4 who survived researched all about how to calm an angered spirit at the shrine maiden’s house, and created a unique format as a result.

The bells on the fence were the only part following the formula, and the chain link and such were put by the current manager.

Uncle: “There are a few people from my family who have exorcised the Kankandara in the past, but all of them died within 2, 3 years. Just suddenly, out of the blue.

The person who caused it almost always doesn’t make it out either. That’s how hard it is.“

Even after hearing all of this, us three were still completely behind. All I could do was just sit there blankly.

However, the situation changed again.

Uncle: “Mother, I think you have an idea of what a dangerous thing the Kankandara is. I said it before, but if he had just not moved the sticks he would have been fine. But I think this time, there’s nothing we can do.“

B’s mom: “Please, is there anything you can do? It’s my fault, I beg of you, please.”

B’s mother didn’t back down.

It wasn’t her fault no matter how you looked at, but she made it her responsibility and lowered her head, asking over and over. She wasn’t crying though, she looked like she had made up her mind somehow.

Uncle: “We also want to do something. But if he moved the sticks and saw that thing...

You guys saw it too, right? You saw the shrine maiden who was eaten by the giant snake. You saw her bottom half, right? And you understood the meaning of that shape?“

”...What?”

Me and A couldn’t understand his words. Bottom half? I thought we only saw her upper half.

A: “Um...lower half? I did see her upper half, but...”

Haring this, the dude and Aoi were visibly surprised.

Uncle: “Hey hey hey, what are you saying? You moved that stick, right? Then you should have seen her bottom half.”

Aoi: “The woman who appeared in front of you didn’t have the bottom half of her body? Then, how many arms did she have?“

A and I checked with each other and answered: “She had 6 arms. 3 on each side, but no bottom half of her body.”

Hearing this, the man leaned forward again, putting the pressure on us and getting real close.

Uncle: “You’re sure? You definitely didn’t see the lower half of her body?“

Me: “Y...yes...“

The man turned to B’s mother again and smiled, saying:

“Mother, we might be able to do something for your son.“

At this, B’s mother and us all held our breaths and paid attention. The man and Aoi explained what he had meant.

Aoi: “There are 2 actions that can cause the priestess to become enraged with you.

What you cannot do is change that shape that represents the priestess. What you cannot see is the priestess who is depicted by that shape.”

Uncle: “In truth, moving the sticks means you’re done for, because that means you have to see her. But somehow, for some reason, you guys didn’t see it. It should be visible to everyone, not just the person who moved the shape, so if you guys haven’t seen it, then B must not have either.“

Me: “What do you mean, we didn’t see it? What we saw...” Aoi: “Of course, it still was the priestess herself. However, it wasn’t the kankandara. She must not have had an intent to take your lives. She appeared not as a kankandara but as a priestess, so that night must have been her having fun.” The priestess and kankandara are the same, but also different, apparently.

Uncle: “If the kankandara didn’t show up, then the thing attacking that kid must be doing it for fun, like Aoi said. If you leave it to us, we will probably be able to do something about it in the long term.“

I felt like the tenseness in the air had suddenly dissipated for the first time.

It was enough to just know that B could be saved, and B’s mother’s face at this time was incredible. It was a smile that showed how much she had worried for B over the past few days and how that anxiety had suddenly got off her shoulders. The man and Aoi saw her reaction and the atmosphere became more relaxed, and suddenly they started acting like normal people.

Uncle: “We’ll take that kid in officially. Mom, we’ll explain things later. You two should be purified/exorcised by Aoi and then go home. Try not to be too reckless from now on.“

After this we talked a little bit about stuff related to B. His mom stayed and we got purified and went home.

I don’t know what they did since their family had a tradition where we couldn’t meet B. I don’t know if he was treated as having switched schools or was still in the school system, but I haven’t seen him since then. Apparently he hasn’t died or anything; he completely recovered and is living normally somewhere.

By the way, B’s father never showed his face once throughout the whole ordeal. I don’t know what he is thinking.

Me and A calmed down pretty fast.

There were a lot of reasons, but the biggest was B’s mother’s appearance. There’s a bit of an epilogue. Things were probably the hardest for her.

I felt like I was forced to think about what being a mother is like. And after this, both my and A’s parents started to interact with us bit by bit.

All of this combined, and we stopped doing dumb shit naturally.

In terms of other stuff we were able to figure out, the priestesses who convened on specific days were from the families who gave us advice.

Even though the Kankandara was already seen as dangerous, it is considered something close to kami. A giant snake was the kami of the mountains or the forest, so once a year they dance sacred kagura and offer norito prayers.

Also, we heard sounds after we went into the forest because the Kankandara is basically like, kept in a cage. The hexagon and box thing are like seals for it, so if we hadn’t moved the sticks or changed the hexagon, it would’n’t have shown itself. The place where it is appeased is decided by specific numbers defining the area within a limited part of the mountain and forest. Generally, it can’t leave that area, but if it’s surrounded by a fence, then it can crawl around on the outside of the fence like we saw.

This is all we found out. Apparently it’s been moved from where we live. I don’t ever want to go back there again so I haven’t checked, but after almost a year passed from what happened, people came to remove the fence, so it’s probably somewhere else now.

#creepypasta #horror #spooky #scary #japanese

[dragonsaphirareads]

Passing Notes

Day 13 of @tsshipmonth2020 Fluffuary

Ship: Intrulogical

AU: High School

Word Count: 3312

Summary: Logan takes an elective science course his senior year, and ends up sitting next to his friend’s crude, immature brother who insists on passing him notes every class period. Eventually, Logan realizes the hidden message he’d been missing.

(Like listening to podfics? You can listen to this oneshot on my YT channel here!)

“I still can’t believe you took a science class instead of a free period! You’re such an overachieving nerd!” Roman exclaimed as they stood around Logan’s locker. Patton elbowed him in the side as Logan rolled his eyes.

“He’s allowed to do whatever he wants with his schedule!” Patton defended.

“I know, but we could have all had free time together! And now we’re split!” Roman whined. Logan wasn’t fazed, all too used to his dramatics at this point.

“We already spend hours together after school for drama, I think you’ll survive an hour and a half free period without me.” Logan said, checking his written schedule once more for the room number before slamming his locker shut. “But if you truly want to see me more, I’m sure you could go get your schedule changed.”

Roman shook his head a little too quickly while making a face, and the other two snickered at him. Patton glanced at the clock hanging in the hall and frowned. “You’d better get going Lo, you’re gonna be late!”

Logan checked and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll see you two after school.” They waved as he headed off towards the science hallway, thankfully arriving with a few minutes to spare.

Every spot at the lab tables had a small slip of paper folded into a tent on it, and looking closer he saw they were name tags. Right, he’d heard that this teacher was a fan of arranged seating charts, especially at the beginning of a new semester. He found his name and was thankful that it was at the front of the room. Sitting in the back made it harder to focus, mostly because the students sitting back there didn’t usually care to be in class.

He took his seat and set down his notebook and pencil case, as well as the script for the spring musical that he still needed to read through. As other students came into the room, he flipped it open and skimmed the first few pages.

A minute later, the bell rang and the teacher walked into the room, welcoming them and introducing himself. Then, as he was passing out copies of the syllabus, the door opened and a disheveled, very familiar face waltzed in.

“Sorry I’m late!” He announced, and the teacher just sighed, shaking his head.

“Just... take your seat, please.” He told him, pointing at the only open seat... right next to Logan. The young man grinned, happily bouncing over to him and slamming his stuff down on the table. “Quietly, Remus.”

“My bad!” Remus sung, not at all apologetic. He then turned to Logan, still with that wide, slightly unhinged grin. “Hi Logan! Didn’t know you were taking this class!”

“Hello, Remus.” Logan greeted neutrally, suddenly feeling a small pang of regret at not taking that free period after all.

He wasn’t exactly strangers with Remus, but he wasn’t close to him either. Their interactions boiled down to the few times he and Patton hung out at Roman’s house and Remus was there. Roman didn’t exactly get along well with his twin, so he tended to spend time with his friends elsewhere.

As such, Logan didn’t know much about Remus. He knew he was loud and crude, disruptive in class, extremely creative with his language, and he was friends with Virgil and Ernest, two other seniors who were part of the drama department.

Logan wondered if the teacher had possibly placed them at the same table for a reason, since Logan was an “overachieving teacher’s pet”, according to Roman. Perhaps he thought he might be able to encourage Remus to focus.

Unlikely, considering the other kid had already pulled out his notebook and started doodling. Logan shrugged. If he was drawing, he would at least be quiet. He opened his own notebook, making notes of anything important the teacher said about assignment deadlines or test dates, ignoring the loud scratching of Remus’s pencil beside him.

That is, until there was a loud rip of paper and a moment later, something hit Logan’s elbow. He stared at it curiously, then up at Remus who had gone back to his doodling, a corner of his notebook paper conspicuously missing.

Logan grabbed it and put it in front of him, debating whether or not to open it or just throw it away. Either way, he would save it for the end of class. He wouldn’t let Remus distract him.

Two more folded paper pieces hit him over the course of the class period, and each time Logan took it and placed it carefully in the pile in front of him. He could feel Remus getting frustrated at him, but he didn’t let that bother him.

Once the bell finally rang and class was over, Logan stuffed the notes in his pocket to deal with at a later time. He grabbed his things and left the classroom while Remus was called aside by the teacher, heading to his locker.

Roman and Patton met him there, having already gotten their stuff from their own lockers.

“So!” Roman said, leaning against the neighboring locker smugly. “How was your class?”

“...Interesting. Were you aware that Remus was taking the same class?” Logan asked, and Roman blinked.

“Huh? No? Wait, he is? Are you sure it wasn’t someone who just looked like him?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You two are identical twins, Roman. I’m very familiar with what you look like, and I had a very close view because the teacher put him next to me.”

“Aww shit, that sucks! I’m so sorry Lo, was he annoying?”

“Well, he was quiet, for the most part. He did keep passing me these notes, though.”

Patton tilted his head, curious. “Notes? What do they say?”

“Probably something gross.” Roman grumbled.

Logan pulled the ripped pieces out of his pocket, holding them in his palm. “I didn’t read them during class, so I’m not sure what they say.”

His friends each grabbed one, unfolding them as Logan finished packing his backpack. When he pulled it out of his locker and turned back, they both had odd looks on their faces. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, well... there’s nothing written on them!” Patton said, trying to be chipper. Roman rolled his eyes, showing Logan the paper.

On it was a pencil sketch of... something. Logan couldn’t actually tell what it was supposed to be - some kind of catlike creature, maybe? But it also had fins like a fish, and horns...

“Hmm.” Logan hummed, and Roman crumpled the piece in his hand, huffing.

“What the hell?! He’s so weird, you should just toss ‘em Lo, don’t encourage him by taking them.”

“Maybe you could just tell him to keep them? They are well drawn, he should draw them in a sketchbook so he can look back at them!” Patton suggested.

Logan shrugged, shoving his own shred of paper back into his pocket while Roman wasn’t looking. Sure, the drawings were strange, and they didn’t seem to be based in any kind of reality, but they were fascinating all the same. It was clear Remus had a talent for drawing - the shading on the horned cat/fish creature made it look almost real.

“We should be going - Mr. Sanders wanted us to be there early today.” Logan changed the topic, and thankfully his friends allowed it. The three of them walked down to the auditorium together, quickly forgetting about Remus and his strange behavior.

All of them except for Logan, who couldn’t quite push from his mind the excited, child-like glee in Remus’s eyes when he had passed that first note across the table.

~

It became a routine after a while. Logan would go to his fourth hour class, Remus would come in late and immediately start drawing in his notebook, occasionally passing the notes to Logan, who would stash them in his pocket. He didn’t throw them away - as disturbing as some of the sketches could be, Logan could tell that Remus wasn’t trying to gross him out. What he did want though, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He wasn’t sure, that is, until Logan was sitting backstage one day watching the actors run through the show and he pulled out one of the notes to examine it. It was some kind of tentacled monster, most likely inspired by their recent lectures about deep sea life. Again, Logan had to marvel at the technical skill behind it. Both of the Prince twins were incredibly talented, apparently, because Roman had his art hanging up all over his room and had been displayed in the school several times as well.

Something shifted behind him, and a voice spoke beside his head. “Is that Remus’s?”

Logan jumped, folding the note quickly and turning to look at who had snuck up on him. Ernest, the head of costume design, who had a knowing smile on his face.

“What did you say?” Logan asked, playing dumb. He was a little embarrassed to be caught staring at the note, even though logically he knew he had no reason to be. Ernest rolled his eyes, pointing at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

“That note. It’s from Remus, right?”

The stage manager quickly glanced out on stage, gauging where his friends were. He really didn’t want either of them to walk in on this conversation, especially since they had advised him to simply get rid of the sketches. Thankfully, neither of them would be on his side of the stage for a while. Logan sighed.

“Yes, it is. He’s been giving them to me during class. I’m not certain why, though.”

The costume designer snickered. “Maybe he wants to impress you with his incredible drawing skills.” He said sarcastically.

Logan slipped the note back into his pocket. “Well, they are incredible, in a technical sense. He has a very impressive grasp of anatomy and shading.” He tried to speak neutral about it, lest Ernest get the wrong idea.

The other hummed. “I wouldn’t know. He doesn’t show his drawings to anyone.”

At that, Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “What? But he’s been doing this for nearly a month now... and I never asked for him to show me his drawings.”

Ernest pressed his lips together tightly, but it wasn’t out of anger. There was something else behind it... “I dunno, Logan... you’re smart, I’m sure you can figure out what’s going on in his weird little head.”

“But you’re his friend, aren’t you?”

He laughed, walking away. “You think he tells me anything?”

Logan huffed, turning back to what was happening on stage. He did know - he had to know. Ernest was acting too suspicious to not know what was going on in his friend’s head. But clearly, he wasn’t going to tell him.

He tried to put it out of his head, but something was bothering him. Ernest had known the sketch was Remus’s, which told him that he must have seen Remus’s drawings at least a few times in order to recognize it. But if Remus was as secretive as he sounded with his sketches, then that would be difficult.

So maybe he wasn’t that secretive. Even so, there was something weird about what had been happening every time they were in class. He wasn’t an artist, but he knew Roman, and he knew that Roman was protective of his sketchbook, and almost never ripped anything out of it. If he did draw something for someone else, it was on a dedicated page that he tore out.

He threaded his fingers through his hair, frustrated. It didn’t make any sense, but then again, Remus had never made much sense to him.

Tomorrow he had science. He vowed that he would watch Remus a little closer, to try and figure out why he was exhibiting this extremely odd behavior.

~

Logan got to class early, pulling out a book and skimming it as he watched other students filter into the classroom. Then, for the first time since the beginning of the semester, Remus actually arrived three minutes before the bell rang.

As always, the other student shot a wide, toothy smile his way before cracking open his notebook, noticeably thinner than it had been a month ago, and sketching immediately.

Logan watched him out of the corner of his eye, just in case Remus noticed what he was doing, and what he was seeing didn’t make any sense.

For his sketch, Remus didn’t start with any kind of skeleton or outline, which Logan would have expected. Instead, he drew a distinct shape, and was working out from there. But it wasn’t a circle or square, like he would have thought..

It was a heart?

Logan eventually abandoned his facade of reading as he watched Remus draw, expanding the heart into a head shape, adding too many eyes and a wild mane that masked the starting shape.

By the time he was done and tearing out the drawing, it was fifteen minutes into class and Logan had done nothing but stare at Remus’s hand as he drew. He had to force himself to look forward as Remus folded it and tossed it his way, immediately starting another. Once again, he began with a heart, but this time it was much smaller and ended up turning into a nose.

Why was he drawing hearts? Was that just a part of his drawing process, or was there something more to it? Did it have to do with how he would tear out every drawing and give it to him?

Should Logan respond, now that he knew this? Remus had been giving him these notes for over a month now, and he’d never said a word. Would it be rude to mention it now, especially since he’d only noticed it because he was watching over his shoulder?

He couldn’t tell his friends. Roman didn’t like his brother and Patton was wary of him as well. And he didn’t know Virgil or Ernest well enough to approach them with something as big as this, although he had a feeling they were both in on whatever game Remus was playing.

While he was pondering, the bell rang and he broke out of his trance to see Remus bouncing out of the classroom, with three more folded notes sitting in front of him. Logan shook his head, blinking rapidly to wake himself up. As he was gathering his things, he heard the teacher call his name. “Hm? Y-Yes?”

The teacher’s eyes were concerned. “I noticed you didn’t open your notebook today. Do you need me to move you to a different spot?”

“Huh? No, why would you?”

“I saw you watching Remus this class. You’re a very bright student and I want to make sure you’re not being distracted.”

Logan shook his head quickly. “No, no, I’m not. I’m just not feeling very well today, I’ll be better next week, I promise.” He couldn’t get moved now - not when he was so close to figuring out this puzzle!

The teacher hummed, accepting his answer. “Alright then. Don’t hesitate to tell me if you think you’d benefit from a seat change.”

“I won’t, thank you.” Logan agreed, rushing out of the classroom and towards his locker where Roman and Patton were waiting. He made up an excuse of needing to ask a question about an assignment, shoving the notes deeper into his pockets. They didn’t question him, letting him know that Mr. Sanders had gotten sick and that rehearsal was canceled.

Never had he been so thankful that their director had a penchant for getting sick often. Logan ran up to his room as soon as he got home and pulled the notes from his pocket, throwing them onto his desk onto the sizable pile already sitting there. He took a seat and grabbed a permanent marker, then began opening them up one by one. In each one, he looked for any heart shapes. And as he went through, he found at least one in every single drawing he had been given by Remus. In one, a drawing of a two headed dragon, the creature had heart shapes spines trailing down its back.

A heart on every single one. No two drawings were the same besides that simple fact. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before - with them traced in marker, they looked so obvious.

He wanted to ask what it meant, but he knew the answer was obvious. Now the only question was what he should do now.

Logan pushed the handdrawn notes away, reaching for his own notebook and cracking it open. It was time to plan, something he did best.

~

Tuesday, he was ready. His heart was racing the entire day, he was both excited and nervous for what he was going to do. Once he did it, he knew things would change. But after hours of planning over the weekend, he was certain it would be for the best.

Finally, it was fourth hour. Again, Remus came to class on time, and again, he started drawing for Logan. It was difficult for Logan to pay attention, but he managed to take decent notes and avoid looking over at Remus. Instead, he kept his eyes on the clock in the corner.

A minute before the bell would ring, he put his plan into action. Logan turned to a fresh page at the back of his notebook and he did his best to tear out a piece discreetly so Remus wouldn’t notice. He jotted something down quickly, and just before the bell rang he nudged it over to Remus, making sure he saw it.

The other student blinked, grabbing it slowly as if it was some kind of illusion, and unfolded it carefully. Then he got an odd look on his face, and he glanced up to see Logan smiling at him as the bell rang.

“Logan?” Remus spoke, the first thing he’d actually said to him all semester since that first day.

“Meet me outside?” Logan asked, holding his things with one arm. Remus nodded vigorously, slamming his notebook closed and swiping all of his pencils into his bag in one swoop.

“Do you mean it?” Remus exclaimed as they stepped outside and stood to the side.

“I want to understand you, Remus.” Logan clarified, looking quickly at the crumpled note in the other’s hand. “You’ve been giving me these notes all semester, and it took until last Friday to understand why.”

“You took forever!” Remus complained playfully. Logan pursed his lips.

“Why didn’t you simply tell me, if you were so impatient? That would have been much faster, and you’ve never struck me as shy.” Remus huffed at the suggestion, crossing his arms.

“Roman told me he didn’t want me ‘messing with’ his friends, so I decided that as long as you talked to me first, he can’t get mad at me!”

Logan opened his mouth to argue that flawed logic, then decided against it. “I see.”

“So, do you mean it?”

“Do I mean what?”

“Don’t mess with me! You gave me a note with a heart drawn on it Logan, I obviously mean do you like me?! Do you have a crush on me like I’ve had one on you for literally years?!”

That took Logan aback for a moment. Years? Really? “I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to say I do, Remus.”

Remus’s face fell, but Logan wasn’t done. “I believe now is the time you offer to spend some time with me so I can learn more about you.”

“Are you... asking me to ask you on a date?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, and Remus laughed.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you! Ok, well then, will you go out on a date with me Logan?”

“Why, of course. It’s about time!”

#intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #tsshipmonth2020 #saphira writes #saphira writes ts

[riverbanksquid]

--MODS (ver. 1.16.4 ~ 5 only)--

EASY; OBVIOUS

better third person (TEST THIS 🚨)

wool to string wool tweaks is better ✅

tameable rabbits ✅

more flower bushes ✅ + custom mod for more small flowers 🔲

string lights ✅ (In-game book with recipes/tutorial?⚠️)

botany pots ✅ (learn recipes ⚠️)

invisible armor (actually 1 utility armor slot and 1 visible armor slot but same thing) ✅

NEW

added camels ✅

added chimneys ✅

bell noise when fish on fishing line ✅

can sleep slightly earlier (before stars show up) ✅

better caves, better mineshafts, and stronghold saver ✅

DID NOT add better portals because no they aren't ❌

supplementaries ✅ (hanging signs, notice boards, item shelves, fireflies, etc.; life is good)

added endermail (endermen will deliver packages for you) (do test this one 🚨 it's hard to do in creative)

added flower doubler ✅

added "kelp acts like bonemeal" ✅ (note: only one of either kelp or bonemeal will grow a vine and I forget which 🚨)

added "eggs hatch when they despawn (but only on hay bales and also only when there are fewer than X chickens around already)" ✅

added sleeping bags (skip night without setting spawn point) and hammocks (skip day) ✅

added ability to use banner pattern on bed ✅ (test this 🚨)

added tea ✅ (are the teapots and stuff placeable though..?? 🚨)

BIG DEAL; CONSIDERING

create ✅ (disabled ugly ores and custom stone types in worldgen; they aren't needed to make water wheels which are ALLLLL I care about 📝)

quark (some. mob variants, maybe vertical slabs, oddities for item pipes, etc) ✅

mcmmo 🔲 (pros: taming. cons: I don't actually even like mmos)

inventory tweaks quark has everything we need actually ✅

tree felling ✅ (serilum ver.) (it's so good) (NO AUTO-REPLANTING)

lava lamps ❌❓

ON THE LOOKOUT

one person sleeping makes night be over (check which version this became a thing in) QUARK HAS ✅ BUT TEST IT THOUGH 🚨

always show coordinates and ONLY coordinates (no F3 PLEASE) (Resource pack I got for this seems not to be working. Alt: serilum's gui compass. 🚨) 🔲

immortal neutral mobs (incl. bees) Does not appear possible with any currently existing mod. However, friendly fire prevents damage to pets and I have added passive endermen to prevent aggroing our very tall friends, which should mitigate this as much as possible. ✅ WATCH OUT for cats and rabbits though, that is very much still a massacre waiting to happen. CROSS-TEST WITH RABBIT TAMING 🚨

mooblooms & moolips ✅ CHARM HAS REALLY GOOD ONES

dog variants ✅ betterdogs. Con: to get specific dog type, name of type of dog must be in nametag name, which is mildly weird. Pro: fuck it !

legible signs. (editable signs also?) ✅ vanilla tweaks and quark, respectively.

feathers + leather without killing mobs ✅ charm "chickens drop feathers passively" rule, plus combination of "rotten flesh to leather" & all-paper books.

renewable saddles + name tags ✅ saddle recipe + nametagtweaks. (note: I think I actually have more than one thing installed that adds a nametag recipe but whatever. do test both of these though 🚨 also horse armor?)

more stars/more interesting night sky 🔲 (I hate texture packs. maybe I have to fucking make one)

candy colored texture packs and shaders 🔲 (I DUNNO, YOU GUYS)

BETTER STAINED GLASS? ?? also glass slabs, stairs, etc. might have to do this myself 🔲 (absent by design may add the shapes, as would glasscutter if it were ever updated to 1.16. try absent again now that optimization mods are working? the stained glass though, I do actually have to fucking do myself; nobody understands my aesthetic tastes apparently. CROSS-TEST ABSENT W/ QUARK'S FRAMED GLASS BLOCKS? 🚨)

GOING CONCERNS

proximity chat (found a voice chat mod that might work. to test. 🚨)

teach everyone how to screenshot

NEW PROBLEMS

"In Control!" does make mobs noticeably less lively if you're not within a couple dozen blocks of them. BUT the performance increase is VITAL... play with settings.

Charm (I think?) villager adjustments COMPLETELY fuck up the village near spawn. (Solution: maybe just turn them off... they're not that good. Also, may be able to get away with JUST turning off lumberjack and leaving beekeeper on. Test savanna and extreme hills villages with these rules.)

Better Caves fucks up the cool tunnel I wanted to make next to the ice spikes but I might just worldedit it into submission lol

Quark mob variants are OKAY. I do actually need to test 🚨 whether quark and charm can both have them enabled at the same time and have that like. work. Because charm's are slightly cuter in general but I like quark's purple cow hsjdjfjf

Chimney mod is cool but oh my god I have to 🔲 turn the amount of smoke particles it generates down

QUARK CANDLES ARE MADE FROM TALLOW AND NOT BEESWAX FOR SOME REASON... but charm's only come in one color. also neither of them cluster like the ones from 1.17!!! I HAVE COMPLAINTS 🔲 (solution: different mod OR custom mod OR crafttweaker)

also quark's blossom trees are a cute idea but they're ugly. fix? 🔲 AND fix the decorated paper wall and lantern.

related: macaw's doors has sliding paper doors. pros: MANY MORE DOORS, TRAPDOORS, WINDOWS. cons: choice paralysis? cluttered recipe book?

🔲 STILL DO HAVE TO PUT MORE FLOWERS.. IN IT..THE GAME.

wooden axe is the wand tool for worldedit and so does not work as an axe. I'm pretty sure there's a way around this but I think it's funnier to just ban the use of wooden axes specifically. unhinged server laws. also yes I want everyone to have access to worldedit. yes I will murder and kill them if they use it to be rude. we live in a society

the nether is still ugly. there's not really anything I can do about that though

🔲 Limiting factor on arrows is now flint, which is annoying to get, so maybe do something about that too.

🔲 also I totally have not found a good lead recipe so that too

🚨🔲🚨 and finally: this post is now way too long so I have to work on making a coherent file that lists included features, and another that lists stuff I'm still looking to add remove or change. NOT EVEN I WANT TO READ ALL THIS !!!

#rbserver

[romewritingshop]

Wake up Parker! - Chapter 8: Plans for the Future?

Relationship: Peter Parker x Tall Older Reader (Peter is 22 and Reader is 26/27)

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 1173 (This Chapter)

Summary: Peter Parker is a student in the city of Brooklyn. He’s lazy, spoilt and he procrastinates a lot. He meets a woman named (Y/N), She’s recently moved to Brooklyn for an independent life. Something Peter is fascinated by. Over the course of a few months, Peter needs to realise that he has to grow up and become responsible for his life.

Tagged: @bggerbtch​

WAKE UP PARKER! MASTERLIST

It took (Y/N) a few weeks to renovate the apartment. After going through the rental agreement and signing the papers, apartment 12 became (Y/N)’s. Peter brought his friends Michelle, Ned and Betty to help (Y/N) to decorate. Peter had so much fun. (Y/N) was also enjoying the hard tiring process and she made sure that Peter did the heavy lifting. They cleared up the cobwebs in the apartment and repainted. The walls were a nice marigold colour and the wood floor sparkled. The first door on the left of the apartment was (Y/N)’s bedroom. The bed had purple duvets and fluffy blue pillows.

(Y/N) laughed as Peter tried to show off his strength by bringing the box of (Y/N)’s bed up the stairs. It was hard work but Peter’s excitement motivated (Y/N) to finish the renovation. Peter built the bed frame, with the help of instructions. There was a white wardrobe adjacent to the door and (Y/N) had set up a really cute window seat just opposite to the bedroom door. The bathroom looked much cleaner and she bought a nice floral shower curtain. As soon as you stepped through the front door of the apartment, you’d see a filled bookshelf behind a small round dining table with four chairs.

(Y/N) remembered the day her trunk of mementos came to her door. It had her things from her bedroom in her family's house. Fairy lights, picture frames and a lot of books. Peter’s face was funny as he seemed distraught by the amount of books (Y/N) had. To the right of the apartment, (Y/N) had a green sofa which doubled as a bed. Opposite that was a TV. A small cosy living room and the kitchen looked much nicer with green painted cupboards. This was (Y/N)’s apartment and Peter felt joy that he had been a part of the renovation process. He felt honoured that (Y/N) wanted his help to make the dump a home.

Peter smiled as he remembered the decorating at (Y/N)’s house. Peter was stuck at this party his parents’ were having. Apparently, the security AI had been finished and it was ready to launch. F.R.I.D.A.Y was the name of the A.I. Morgan's idea. Mr. Stark was having a party to celebrate the launch, in the house. Everyone was dressed in glamourous suits: The men were in black and white tuxedos and the women wore rainbows of dresses. Peter was the only one who had dressed down. Staying in dark blue denim jeans and grey shirt with Dastardly and Muttley on the front.

Peter had just come from day out with friends and couldn’t be bothered to change. He spotted Mrs. Stark in a nice blue silk dress and he approached her, apologising.

“Sorry, I’m late, Mrs. Stark.”

“It’s fine Peter. Hurry up and change before Tony sees you like this.”

“Too late.”

Peter and Pepper turn to see Morgan in a pink tulle dress and a floral pink hairband. Morgan looked like a flower girl at a wedding as she stomped to Peter.

“Dad’s already seen you and he’s not happy.”

“Right. I’ll go change.”

It was too late for Peter to go as Mr. Stark was approaching the three of them. Followed by a bald man and two women.

“Pepper, this is Adrian Toomes. We used to work together at S.H.I.E.L.D security before the company shut down."

Pepper smiled and shook Adrian's hand.

"Adrian, this is my wife Pepper, daughter Morgan and son, Peter."

Morgan and Peter politely greeted Mr. Toomes, who smiled and patted Mr. Stark's shoulder.

"Tony, you should've told me it was a casual party. I would've dressed down like Peter."

The Starks' awkwardly smiled at Adrian's comment and Peter rubbed his neck nervously. It was an unnecessary comment but luckily Mr. Stark managed to clear the air before the awkwardness settled.

"Peter just came from a training course at my company, which is why he's a little undressed."

Peter inwardly thanked Mr. Stark for making an excuse. Peter was going to change but he didn't have the opportunity to. Mr. Toomes gave a nod as he turned to introduce his wife and daughter. "I see. This is my wife, Doris and that's my daughter Elizabeth."

Elizabeth was dressed in a simple blue dress and her hair was accompanied by a small hairband. She was pretty and a little taller than Peter. Mr. Toomes was telling the Starks and Peter, how successful his daughter is.

"Liz just got back from England. She was getting a design degree at Oxford University. She's brilliant! I told her to join my company, but she says she is still thinking. This generation, I tell you. They want to be independent. Don't you think so?"

Peter couldn't care less. Liz seemed nice and pretty but Peter just wanted to be somewhere else. Pepper nudged his arm a little and Peter snapped back into the conversation. Turns out Adrian was asking him something. 

"So, Peter? Made any plans for your future yet?"

"At the moment, Mr. Toomes, I'm going through an internship at Stark Security -"

His phone began to ring as Peter fished his phone out from his pocket. It was an unknown number and Peter was a little curious. So he turned to the Toomes and Starks, excusing himself before disappearing to the hallway of his house. Mr. Toomes watched Peter disappear and turned to Stark.

"Seems to be a busy man! So, Tony, your son's all grown up now, huh? Do you think he's ready to take over your business?"

Tony grimaced slightly as he glanced towards Peter's direction. There was a point where he wanted Peter to lead the company on with his advice. But recent events have proven Peter as irresponsible and unreliable. Always disappearing during the day and coming home late at night. He watched Peter talk on the phone and smile. Tony carefully worded his answer.

"Who knows? He's also still thinking. But enough of our kids. Let's talk business."

Peter had disappeared into the hallway and he answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello! Hey, it's (Y/N). I finally got a phone and I saved your number from when we finished renovating."

"Hey! How've you been?"

"I've been great. What about you?"

"Okay. Just bored at the moment. Mr. Stark's throwing a party."

"Aw. Well I guess that means you can't come to my house for a little hang out?"

"Are you kidding me? I'd rather be at your place then at home. Give me ten minutes, I'll be over."

Peter hung up the phone before letting (Y/N) respond. He glanced around cautiously, ensuring that no one was watching him. He grabbed the car keys from the kitchen and walked out the front door. Taking his dad's car and driving to (Y/N)'s apartment. Anywhere else was better than Mr. Stark's party.

CHAPTER NINE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker tom holland #bollywood #bollywood au #indian movie au #indian movie #indian au #bollywood crossover #marvel #marvel cinematic au #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu au #wake up sid #wake up sid au #wake up sid!

[gallowsghost]

Puppy search @mnemosys

She started cackling once he joined her by her side, lowering the book now at the same time before using her freehand to open it. Specially, the red worn ribbon that was dangling from it, aside from the other worn pieces of material that book marked other things - but it was apparent this was the more important one. “I still like to ask and make sure that you do want to tag along, even though y-you’ve said it many times—“ She was short of smashing the book right into her face as a form of face palm, but she shook it off with a soft snort. “Yes, we can go be swampy and seek out the dream puppy. I... Really don’t know what she is though, neither name but we are still going to see her.” Snickering softly, she parted the book before settling her attention down on the two pages. Although, it might’ve been hard to see and let alone understand, the page was completely scratched with ink and hardly decipherable looking intricacies of symbolic designs - even then were foreign. To some degrees.

She glanced to Shiro briefly before moving her hand to gently pat the top of his head before eyes returned the book, parting her lips - but instead of proper words and her recognizable tone, came an arrange of ghosting whispers that pitched something disembodied like. Her focus was elsewhere for the moment, while the uncanny words tumbled fluently but with little clarity, her freehand took a grab for the hanging ribbon, slipping it free from the crease of the book. It’s crimson tinge lost to the void violet hues that crawled up its threads from partial to digits, illuminating it gently until most of it was lost under her boot once Ezme bent over to step on the partial tip of it before she abruptly reefed forward and dragged it out from under her boot in an upward whipping motion, reeling backwards with a trailing of blackened mist once the illuminating hues vanished from the ribbon.

Parted from floor to the hanging air, was a clean, ethereal blue gap that parted the narrow entrance for them but the air that slipped between was stale compared to the atmosphere now.

“Smooth as butter-“ Ezme cackled before taking the first step to skinny up and edge herself inside just partway, before her freehand came up to push away at the opposite edge. Ezme was pushing the entrance open better - like a weird way of holding the door open until it settled. “As annoying as it is to do it like that, it’s much quieter.” She shook her hand, the hues dissipated with a black falling mist before she leant over to snatch one of his with a smile. “We might have a bit of walking and unwanted company, but other than that I got this.”

Saying so, she jerked him close to her side before said hand released to scoop around him. “I don’t control where it goes though, but hopefully it landed us close to the structure. It’s not too hard to miss but if you’re far, it’s going to suck.” Ezme huffed gently, but there was no agitation in the undertones of her voice. It was still enthused, she was more than happy to finally get around to dragging him in here - aside from the dangers. Once the doppelgänger tugged him along by her side, her arm tightened a little more around him after pressing on from the split gap and into the stale atmosphere.

It wasn’t hard to tell this place was littered and meant for the dead and decrepit. The ashy, bone sharpened ridden ground and soil to uncanny larger bone structures that littered - carcasses of varying sizes lost to the ash or strewn. To nothing but black cobbled - old building proportions lost to time in this timeless place, even the fauna didn’t look too appealing, the sky had its own take on a few shimmering beasts that were small but looked an awful a lot like weird fish almost, that had little to no recognizable parts to what they’d known. The bigger ones paid no mind. But just as an environment had its smaller life— there was a lot more to see.

As soon as Ezme was about to say something, a weird high pitched squeaking and squealing filled the air - earning Ezmes attention completely to look down at their feet. Overgrown pill bugs were trying to run away from them from beneath the ash, emerging and some of them balling up into a solid, almost skeletal shell and hiding away. They didn’t move very fast, but their screaming was harmless and had only the doppelgänger staring at them before glancing to Shiro.

“I had a name for these things- so did some of the others, but I completely forgot. They are harmless though, but loud...” Giggling to herself, she moved away just so she could try to pick up one of the balled up ones. At least some were smaller, reminiscent of a basketball. “They just want to run and hide. Isopod lookin’.” Ezme scooped one up into her palm as best as she could while her freehand held open the book. “This place might look dead but it’s teeming with lots of life of its own, although it’s glooming looking. Some of it can be vibrant. Although the atmosphere can get grossly dark and contrasty, it’s not too hard to see.” Saying so, Ezme lifted her head up to look around while placing the pill-like bug back on the ground. “Markers...” She hummed, squinting.

#mnemosys #{fhghvn here we go pill buggy}

[shadowofadalekmightdeactivate]

Three Purple Butterflies

(A/N: ACK PUNKS ARE HARD TO WRITE It's really only called "Three Purple Butterflies" because the song reminded me SO much of @asofterfan‘s punk Patton (what sense I could make of it, anyway). The writing kind of deteriorated, which I'm not happy about, but I'm posting it anyway so I can finally say I wrote with the punk!Sides. I want to do this again, but my god it should not be that FUCKING hard) (TRIGGERS: Abuse mention, bruises, swearing) (Ships: Platonic Logicality, platonic Analogical, platonic Moxiety) SUMMARY: A month after making friends with the school’s most familiar punks, Patton still hasn’t given Virgil a well-deserved hug. An odd happening at his house gives him a different idea.

Patton at first couldn't fathom why Virgil didn't like hugs. Elliot liked them, Thomas liked them-heck, even Logan let the pastel punk hug him! So why didn't Virgil...? "Patton, focus," Logan's voice snapped him back to the present. "I will not bail you out if you get tested on this." Patton groaned, dropping his chin into his hand. It felt like Logan had been helping him through Math for hours-or at least to the point his mind was starting to wander. He checked the time and saw it was only 7 PM. "Can we take a break, Logan?" He asked, looking up hopefully at the British punk in front of him. "So that, um...My mind can come back to this with a fresh outset?" Logan stared him down, then sighed, causing Patton to internally cheer. "Fine," he snapped. "A short break. We've barely been at this for an hour."

"Thank you, Logan!" Patton almost lunged across the table to hug him, then thought better of it and went around it. Logan patted his back in return, distracted by his phone. Patton's mind instantly wandered back to his gothic friend as he walked back to his chair. Virgil had struck him as odd ever since he made friends with him last month-soft spoken, quiet in nature, mostly spoke with his eyes. If Patton was honest, the boy was adorable, and he really really REALLY wanted to hug him and show him the appreciation! But Logan had said he had to work up to hugs with him. Fair. Logan's soft sudden intake of breath caught Patton's attention. "Logan?" He asked, reaching across his family's kitchen table to take his friend's hand. "Are you alright?" Instead of answering, Logan suddenly started packing up his stuff. "We'll continue this lesson over voice chat," he said, his voice hiding a sense of urgency. "I have to go. Now." "But why?" Patton stood to help Logan with his stuff, backing off when the teen waved him away. Logan paused when his bag was full, then his shoulders fell and he looked up at Patton. "I...May need your assistance." "Anything you need, I'll help!" Patton chirped. His friend smiled slightly, briefly tapped away on his phone, then left it on the table as he headed to the kitchen. Patton couldn't help snooping, but Logan never left his phone alone like this. He must have left it on in plain sight for a reason. Glancing over his shoulder, Patton picked up the phone. It displayed a series of texts between Logan and Virgil-the latter of who was evidently atrocious at typing. Careful not to scroll up too much-he didn't want to invade any more of Logan's privacy-he read the texts already on screen.

L: She's asleep? V: i think so L: I'm on my way. V: thx lo L: Change of plans. Come to Patton's house. V: ok?

Patton put the phone down as quietly as possible. Who was "she"? Where was Logan going? Why did he want to wait until "she" was asleep? Was Virgil safe? Was he at a bad friend's house? But Patton was pretty sure Virgil didn't have a friend with the pronouns she/her. Unless he was talking about Remy? But why would he want to leave her place? Besides, Remy was they/them today. Unless they changed their mind? Or Patton read the necklace wrong? Green tag means they/them, right? The pastel punk's head spun with worry, causing an ache in his chest. He saw Logan enter the room again and forced a smile... Only for it to fall again when he saw Virgil. "Virge...?" He asked weakly. The goth punk shared a look with his friend, who nodded. He took a deep breath. "Hey...Patt..." He mumbled. "Virgil what the heck happened you look like you got hit by a rogue tree look at you eye!!" Patton rushed over to his friend, carefully taking his chin and brushing purple-dyed hair aside to see the bluey-black mark over his friend's eye. The ache in Patton's chest bloomed to a squeeze. "What happened??" He asked, looking from Virgil to Logan. Virgil grit his teeth, taking Patton's hand and easing it off his chin. "It's fine, I just...Wasn't looking where I was going...Ran into a tree." If there was one thing Patton was good at, it was reading lies. Living with a little brother made him fairly proficient at it. He stared down Virgil, making the goth punk wilt under the shorter teen's glare. "Really," Patton said. "A tree that's female, I presume." Logan flinched. Virgil shot him a glare and the two seemed to have a non-verbal chat before turning back to Patton. "I, uh...Didn't want mom to worry...So I tried heading to Logan's first. But he'd said he was here, so..." Patton glared at Virgil. Virgil stared back. That was his story, and he was sticking with it. The pastel punk knew when he was beaten and raised his hands in surrender. "Alright...Come with me. I'll show you where the cold presses are." The goth punk followed agreeably, sitting on Patton's kitchen counter as the latter fished around his family's freezer for an ice pack. The taller punk seemed more relaxed than earlier, playing with his sleeves and humming a tune to himself. Patton smiled slightly, maybe Virgil's situation wasn't as bad as he originally thought? He closed the fridge, put the ice pack to the side and took Virgil's hands in his. "How're you feeling, kiddo?" Virgil paused. Patton watched fear, anger and sadness flash through his eyes before they returned to neutral. "Okay, I guess," he mumbled. "Eye still hurts. Ice pack?" "Oh! Right!" Patton grabbed it off the counter next to him, pressing it to the goth punk's black eye carefully. Virgil managed a small smile, bringing his hand up to hold it there carefully. Patton grinned. Progress! Logan decided to put a stop to Patton's math tutoring session (score), claiming that Virgil-sorry, movies were more important at the moment. Patton instantly dragged out enough blankets to make a fort with and the three curled up on his couch to watch some Doctor Who. Patton often looked over at Virgil and Logan, their hands naturally resting together-Logan's on top of Virgil's. The goth punk had his head on Logan's shoulder, making snarky comments about the show they were watching and Logan shooting him down each time. They soon dragged Patton into their arguments, which continued until the three fell asleep.

The next day at lunch, Patton had an alternative to hugging Virgil in greeting. He almost ran through the halls to their lunchtime meeting spot, eager to try it out. It was hard to  miss the two punks unless you weren't really looking. Logan was usually yelling at someone about the history teacher's tripe if he wasn't leaning against the wall, which usually made it hard to sneak up on him and surprise him with a hug. Didn't mean it would stop Patton from trying, however! Today was no different. Patton found the blue-haired punk giving some girl what for over...Whatever she'd said that lit his friend's absurdly short fuse (Patton loved Logan, but he really needed to dial back his anger). Patton used the distraction to slam-hug Logan suddenly. "Omf-Patton-?!" Logan squawked at the impact, making Patton giggle. "I missed you~!" He chirped. Logan rolled his eyes and patted his head, using his other hand to shove him off. Patton turned to Virgil, who backed off, startled when Patton just took his hands and bounced up and down with them. The goth punk smiled slightly at the bouncy movement-something Patton barely registered at the moment since he immediately turned to scold Logan about raising Hell in the middle of the hallway. The three punks goofed off in their school's library during lunch, Virgil egging Logan into ranting about history to Patton and then throwing a pencil at the latter when he refused to share a brownie. Patton proceeded to steal it and made Virgil chase him down to get it back. Logan just shook his head when the two teens returned panting and laughing slightly. "Just for that, I'm butchering the next tattoo I design for you," Virgil huffed. Patton stuck his tongue out at him, too winded to argue any further. He repeated the new greeting at the end of the day, something Virgil apparently expected seeing as he was more relaxed about his hands being grabbed this time. Patton bounced home happily, humming to himself. It wasn't a full hug, but it was a start.

#redhead writes #punk au #punk Patton #punk Logan #punk Virgil #Sanders Sides

[geminislegacy]

featuring: lizzie saltzman, hope mikaelson, william flynn, landon kirby. tagging: @ofindcmitability​ @chosenlonely​ @frcmashes​ summary: four teenagers go on a double date, then go back to salvatore to get tipsy and play a magical card game. it ends in a foursome. ( yes, actually. ) hizzie & landwil ensue. warnings: nsfw & ugly formatting. 

landon kirby

he can't remember whose idea it had been, but whoever decided the four of them should go on a double date clearly hadn't anticipated the amount of chaos that could unfold. things started out fine; appetizers were ordered, small-talk was made, but somehow star wars gets brought up and suddenly tongs are flying, soup splashes everywhere, and they're kindly being asked to leave. he's still wheezing as they get back to the salvatore school, parking his car in one of the designated spots. it only stalled out once on the way back so he's in decent spirits. he kills the engine, slips the child locks on so no one can escape. he'll salvage this evening if it's the last thing he does. " so that was terrible. " it's blunt, to the point. maybe it would seem a little less funny if he could stop chuckling. " ... but maybe it's not a complete write off. this whole, uh, double date thing. " he clears his throat, drums his hands on the steering wheel. " i think we have monopoly. maybe candyland, but i think that one has pieces missing, so ... "

william flynn

it had been will' s idea. not actually on purpose but rather something accidental brought up and then brought into fruition. he liked hope, loved landon and lizzie. he wanted to get to know hope more, wanted to see how lizzie and landon got along. plus there was also the fact he's never had a outing with friends like this. so yeah he was a bit excited, yes he had some high hopes. he should have not had such high hopes. the night started alright but things... progressed. he hadn't given much thought when landon brought up star wars but lizzie had. tongs went flying and so much soup.... and for the first time in his life will had been asked to leave somewhere. it was kinda thrilling. at least landon was blunt about it. "what's candyland?" he found himself asking. monopoly sounded a bit familiar at least.

hope mikaelson

she thinks it all started with star wars. everything was fine before landon decided to ( endearingly, in her opinion ) bring up star wars. from there, tongs were thrown and soup was spilled. although, the latter was the fault of the fact she thought it was funny to antagonise her boyfriend. she was chewing ice, they were having a friendly argument about a fictional universe, what could go wrong? famous last words that apply, evidently, even to olive garden. they were asked to leave for causing a disturbance, and her boyfriend had shoved breadsticks in her pockets while she chugged down the last of her drink. ( she left the ice, for fear a further fight would break out in the car and kill them all. in her and landon's case, again. ) turning to look at will as her laughter fails to die, " it's a board game. it's basically like snakes and ladders with candy. " that's far from the best, or most accurate description, but it's the one he's getting. turning back to her boyfriend, she suggests, " we could play monopoly. " although, if they were trying to salvage the night, she doesn't think a game famous for ending even the strongest relationships is their best idea.(edited)

lizzie saltzman

this sucks. she can't help but think that it does. the idea was doomed from the start. what good could come out of bringing landon along for anything? a forethought proven to be eerily true later on, when he went on a star wars tangent and flared up lizzie's rage. she might have overreacted ( yes ), but when they got kicked out of the restaurant, it was him she blamed, obviously. now very much sulking ( she's the only one who hasn't laughed one bit ), she makes sure to slam the door of the car on her way out, arms folded over her chest as she takes off toward the school already. " great idea, landon. let's save our bonds from eternal damnation by playing monopoly. " it's a sharp remark, though one that serves its useful purpose. her arm reaches for will's and she intertwines them. it's cold. " luckily for all of you losers, i am a society game expert. josie and i won a packet of enchanted cards at a magical fair once. " and that's when a smile curls her lips.

landon kirby

there are a few questions he wants to ask: first, how will's never heard about candyland ( right, the trauma. don't ask that ) and what exactly a society game is. is it a society game because you play with other people ? is it a brand ? these are questions he has but won't ask, primarily because he thinks he doesn't want to see the look on lizzie's face when he does. while they're civil-ish for the time being, he thinks they're just One Bad Day away from total chaos. he's seen the killing joke, thank you. he has no desire to see that kind of ending. their room is the closest, so he ducks in to grab the game. it's only when he digs it out from under the bed that he blanches; shit. right. he forgot. the only version of monopoly he owns is star wars monopoly. the alarm bells go off in his head and he hastily shoves it back under the bed. " huh. i can't find it. " he straightens, raises a bottle of champagne that was tucked in behind it. he thinks it's his, stolen from the motel when he left. if you can call it stealing, really, when the owner's been MIA for weeks. " so those enchanted cards. " he counters, looking between the rest of them and the booze. " what are the chances you still have those ... ? "(edited)

william flynn

it seemed to always be star wars that set lizzie off. though, funny enough, star wars was what landon seemed to enjoy the most. will saw it right on his face in multiple occasions. he hadn't expected hope to chew ice and he didn't mind it, but then lizzie sent back her fish and it was one thing after another. he just wanted to enjoy his mozzarella sticks in peace. and oddly enough, landon still smelled like those breadsticks. "shoots and ladders... ?" he didn't know that one either, no. he barely knew monopoly. he hadn't seen landon's room before, or hope's too apparently. who knew they shared. briefly he thought of the fact he'd share a room with lizzie one day. he kind of looked forward to that. actually, he looked forward to it a lot. "enchanted cards?" his interest was peeked ( though he did remain holding interest for a board game ). amusement played at his face as lizzie spoke of her expertise. "i wouldn't doubt you." a nod of his head to landon's words, he hoped lizzie still had em. such cards sounded interesting.(edited)

hope mikaelson

it takes one glance at the board game landon is hurriedly shoving their bed to realise what a bad idea it was. " enchanted cards could be fun. " she doesn't have any more tongs to throw at his head but the school is literally filled with deadly weapons. and honestly, even if he'd come back, she doesn't feel like taking that chance today. landon produces a bottle of alcohol, and she doesn't know if that makes things better or worse. ( if anything, for all their sakes, she hopes it's better. ) so begins the trek through to the twins old room, still a little scarred by the fact that she once found lizzie halfway to death in it. ( the floor may be clean but it still makes her feel uneasy. ) somewhere between her fixation on the floor and the search for the long-lost cards, lizzie explains the rules, something about a combination between never have i ever and truth or dare with consequences. ( okay, so it might be for the worst. ) " so, we're basically playing roulette. " with less severe consequences but she thinks the comparison still stands. to her surprise, once they're all sitting down to it, it's actually fun.(edited)

lizzie saltzman

she hopes bottles won't become a recurring theme in her life. ( she thinks as long as she's aware, they won't be. ) hence the slight cringe as landon waves the champagne around. but, at the same time ... these are all people she trusts. yes, even the mop-headed hobbit. underneath his nerdgasmic, stuttering, irritating demeanor, there is a very good person ( hope wouldn't love him otherwise ). so, she decides she wants to have fun. they all deserve it; and she won't be the rain to fall on this parade. a few glasses later and she's already properly ditzy. and laughing even. because, as it turns out, the enchanted cards are fun. it helps them get to know each other better, even if it's little things. and the dares and punishments are just as fun ( except this one time she gets punished by having pepper up her nose for 5 minutes because she skipped on a dare to wear her ugliest clothes for the rest of the night ). it's her turn to pick a card - and she's wheezing as she does this. everything is so ... colorful, and warm, and wonderful. even if the floor feels like it's slippery beneath her and her vision a blur of sensations. " alright, okay, let's see- " a clear of her throat. " never have i ever, uhhh, " a pause, to squint at the text, " ohhhh. kissed someone of the same sex. welp! " she throws her arm in the air and puts down a finger. " been there, done that. no dares for me. yay! "

landon kirby

the more he drinks, the less this game stresses him out. maybe it's the added consequences ( of which, he's never taken well ), or the fact that some of the questions leave him squirming. never have i ever had a sex dream about someone i shouldn't have, for example, leads to a terse whispered comment about ms. frizzle from the magic school bus and no, he does not want to talk about it. so by the time lizzie gets to this particular question, he's a warm kind of tipsy -- his hand having somehow, maybe instinctively, fallen into hope's lap to draw circles on the inside of her thigh. it's comfortable, a word he never thought he'd associate with being in lizzie's presence. it's ... kind of nice. " yay. " he echoes, cracking a smile. " i mean, yay for you. not yay for me. i haven't. " he frowns, motioning for her to hand the card over. better to know what he's in for now, before he has a chance to think too hard on it. he's not in this sinking ship alone; hope and will answer the same. if they go down, they're going together.

" so if you haven't kissed someone of the same sex, " he reads aloud, " ... rectify that immediately or suffer the plague. " he blinks, reads it a second time just to make sure he's understanding it correctly. " uh, i'm betting this is metaphor and not an actual plague. " he says it slowly, uncertain. " not sure it's work the risk though. " he straightens, cheeks flushed ( whether it be from the champagne, or the reality of what this means ) as he clears his throat. " i guess this means, uh, we should probably ... " he makes a wild gesture with his hands, hoping someone else will say what he's struggling to convey.(edited)

william flynn

there is no world in which william flynn didn't partake in alcoholic beverage. it was his bread and butter ( that was the saying right? ). so when landon had the bottle in hand he was by no means rejecting it. " roulette, i know that one." of course he did, of all things, he knew the most dangerous variant. he wondered if any of them would even be surprised by that. he kept his eyes on his fiance as she read out the card ( though he didn't totally understand the rules of the game ). he felt a slight buzz but he was always able to hold his drinks well, so accustomed to them and all. as lizzie read he couldn't help but be interested. past experience was a topic they had yet to breach after all. he chuckled ( a little louder and more full then his usual one, that was the buzz ). "yay." will echoed, a word that sounded weird upon his lips. still, he meant it. good for lizzie. he couldn't say the same applied to himself after all. he had to answer the question too, right? "uh... no. not yet." probably, not ever. given the fact that his ever was set with lizzie saltzman. not that he was against it, he simply was happy with lizzie. "the plague." he repeated dryly. then, landon went on. and will felt for him because what if it WAS the actual fucking plague or some shit? he looked to lizzie ( it didn't need to be spoken out loud because it was obvious the outcome, the only way to avoid the consequences ). a look to determine if she was OKAY with what would possibly be the outcome of this game, that she was alright if he offered landon the only means of escape ( the only means of escape for them ALL technically ).

hope mikaelson

the further the game progresses, the better she feels. sure, it's amusing and ( somewhat ) wholesome teenage fun but she's allowing herself to have it. it's all progress, at least, she hopes. it also might be helpful to her to remember she's always been a lightweight, and that champagne is what made the room spin at fifteen years old. but ... well, irrelevant. ( oh, she's drunk. ) the card comes up, and landon mentions the plague, and her inhibitions lower enough to tip her cup and chime, " yay, " in unison. " but i haven't either. " not for lack of wanting to, but desire has taken a backseat for a long time. she turns to lizzie, and then to landon, and then back to landon. because it seems obvious to her that they aren't going go out and find strangers to kiss ( and because, again, she's drunk ). " i guess it's you and me. " " unless you're still basking in the victory of getting out of this . " she makes a gesture around them, or more specifically, between her and will and landon. as far as she stands, it doesn't have to be anything. good, clean, wholesome fun between hormonal teenagers. what could go wrong? ( so, so many things. )

lizzie saltzman

she doesn't know what to expect out of this question. actually, she's pretty certain she doesn't expect anything ( she's kind of whooing in her little bubble of ditzy joy ). " oh. " for some reason, though, she doesn't expect that. well, she does for will, obviously. but ... oh, well. no point in dwelling on it too much. " we should probably ... what? " she's just poking fun at landon's obvious hesitance. " make use of our numeric advantage and not get infected with the plague? " someone had to say it. her eyes then dart toward hope, pulling a face when she appears to mock lizzie's apparent victory. which means nothing, in hindsight. she's drunk, but not that drunk as to not understand what's going on. her gaze rolls away and now toward will and she reads in his eyes that they're both thinking the same thing; ALL of them are, actually. instead of giving him a reassuring smile, or look, or nod ( as she normally would ), she lifts her hand - and does an OK sign. it feels more ~FUN~. there's agreement on both parties, it seems. " don't worry. i'll save your ass out of this, mikaelson. you're welcome. "

landon kirby

he's glad someone's picked up what he's putting down. it feels ... silly, maybe. he thinks he might be delirious, that the awkward laughter that accompanies his shrug might be a result of said delirium. in truth, he's probably just tipsy; it's happened all of twice, maybe three times — his memory's foggy on that one, so he's not overly familiar with the concept. a quick exchange with hope, silent communication with their eyes ( he knows her, and she him: they're on the same plague-less page ) confirming that — yes, they're doing this. he is ... weirdly nervous. maybe because this is will, his best friend, and maybe partially due to the pressures of knowing eyes are on him. he's suddenly grateful for the mints he'd swiped at the restaurant, having chewed through a handful on the car ride back. he fumbles with where to put his hand for a second, shifting slightly as he steadies it against will's shoulder. he's not sure if he should say something, it's not like there's precedence for this, but decides — fuck it, he'll wing it. he leans in and presses his lips against will's; soft, almost curious ... like wading into the ocean and testing the temperature with your toes. it's nice, he decides. very nice.

william flynn

so hope was the same as him, as was landon, both things were oddly reassuring. it reminded him despite his many setbacks that came from, well, his... past that ultimately some experiences he didn't have... they were normal not to have. something which was appreciated to have knowledge of. lizzie made a joke, a smile hung off his lips at it ( of course he was gonna laugh at her jokes, they were always funny. it was almost remarkable how they always landed so easily. ) lizzie did the OK sign and that meant much of everything. he needed her okay, he needed to make sure this was okay. there was an anxiousness that came about, almost alike when he kissed lizzie the first time but also so utterly different. that had been his first kiss, ever, and it'd been perfect. at least, in his eyes. now this kiss? not his second one, but his second person ever. first boy. only boy he'd ever even consider doing it with, actually. there was no one else that came to mind that he trusted, not a single person. at least, not one that he wasn't related to nor felt like a father to him. landon was a singularity. before he could make a move, landon beat him to it. if lizzie was fireworks then landon was falling snow. not sparks but beauty all the same. soft lips, not intense and passionate but rather safe and warm. his hand slipped up, maybe it was instinct, to touch upon landon's cheek. something to steady him ( because right now, in the midst of all this, how could he remain steady? ).

hope mikaelson

she looks at landon, and he at her, and she realises they agree. they'd rather avoid the plague, if at all possible, and kissing their best friends isn't the worst fate. ( she knows lizzie's pretty, she has eyes. ) she catches her boyfriend lean into will out of the corner of her eye, and she decides that isn't something she particularly wants to see. ( being in agreement and actively watching are different things entirely. ) because she's happy , and she's drunk, and it's lizzie, her next move is easy. all it takes is a few glances over lizzie's face, down to her lips, before she moves forward with a smile still on hers. she decides, remarkably quickly, that she likes it. a lot. lizzie's softer than landon and it makes her forget she's just doing this to avoid the plague. her fingers move to lizzie's neck, inhibitions successfully lowered. it's nice. it makes her feel warmer than just the evidence of alcohol in her bloodstream does. ( she thinks that, in some reviving part of her brain, she's probably kind of always wanted to kiss lizzie. drunk mind, sober thoughts. sue her. )

lizzie saltzman

in normal circumstances, this would have taken a lot more out of her. some fussing, some mussing, and lots of antics that stretch beyond the limit of normality. but, right now ... right now she's just content. that's the word for it. slightly ditzy, slightly less prone to her slight ocd. the one thing that stays: nerves, funnily enough. maybe like this, with all her barriers lowered, she's a lot more aware of her anxieties ( but also very prepared to ignore them ). this is how she hesitates - and doesn't take the first step ( bold moves, saltzman ). but it's lucky, because hope does. and the smile lingering on her face already soothes anything. their lips connect and it's different, and slightly weird, and also safe and comfortable. she feels fingers at the back of her neck and, suddenly, lizzie realizes she's not running away from a dark plague, but kind of ... enjoying this. kind of. an understatement. ( little puberty lizzie saltzman is leaping that hope mikaelson is kissing her. ) they can stop there ( ? ), but ... why? it's an opportunity. might as well make it right ( and since this is hope's first girl kiss, she thinks she wants it memorable ). it's automatic, but her arms move and hands end up by the sides of hope's face - and there's an attempt at a deepening. or, well, how the fanfics put it: some tongue wrestling.

landon kirby

out of the corner of his eye, he detects movement: he thinks hope's the one that moves first, but he doesn't turn his head to look. he's a teenage boy so of course there's appeal to seeing two girls kiss, but he thinks the appeal is significantly less when one of them is your girlfriend. the thought is funny, almost draws a laugh from him -- likely would have, too, if will's hand hadn't come up to brush his cheek. that has him feeling some type of way; like someone's come up from behind him and shoved him full tilt into the water, no easing. it's jarring at first, the flash of emotions - the adjustment, but you adapt. he shifts forward on his knees, a little closer as his hand shifts; it curves against will's neck, fingers tangling in his hair. it's a little awkward, a little uncertainty in his actions, but then his lips part and suddenly the uncertainty is gone. his breath catches slightly, lips pressing a bit more urgently to will's this time. they bump noses when he adjusts the angle but it's a quick recovery; insistent but not demanding. firm but not rough.

william flynn

he heard the sounds behind him, but there's little temptation to see the girl's lip locking. it wasn't jealousy, he trusted lizzie and ( remarkably ) he trusted hope as well. it was rather lack of interest, or to be more accurate, being a bit too consumed with what was going on before his eyes rather then next to him. after all, it wasn't everyday you had your first kiss with a boy, nor with your best friend. he wondered if he moved too fast, if he should have pulled apart with the finish of the kiss ( when did a kiss finish? ) however no. landon shifts and will moved in adjacent. landon's touch upon him wasn't like lizzie, but it didn't mean a bad thing, just something different. thoughts to pull back became lost, rather he felt more swept into the kiss then before. his other hand tucked against landon, a firm grip on him to keep himself upright ( otherwise he might unbalance ). their lips disconnected only for an instant, a memory to breath. and then, he connected them once more.

hope mikaelson

she decides to drown out the sound from across the room early ; almost everything registers deafening to her now, and she doesn't want to lose herself to the rest of her senses. so she decides to lose herself to kissing her best friend instead. ( it's a tug of war she's learning to win. slowly. ) it's different, that's starkly obvious. but it's nice. lizzie's hands shift to the sides of her face and her breath catches. she isn't sure what finds her first. her other hand, pressed palm flat to the floor, moves up to find its way into lizzies hair. if she were any more herself, she probably would have ended this long before she decided she was obsessed with kissing. period. but, honestly, she doesn't care. she briefly backs away, because even if she doesn't ( technically ) need to breathe, she assumes lizzie still does. and then, because the few nagging inches between them are bothering her and her self control is evidently wavering, she presses her lips to hers again. it's a little too hard and a little too fast for the sake of a dare.

lizzie saltzman

somewhere in this room, will and landon are sitting around too. probably caught into their own little CPR session. she knows that, yet at the same doesn't. it's not on her mind; because she's eternally confident in what she and will have, but also because she cannot, for the life of her multitask. she only has space for ONE happening - and she chooses to make that the feeling of hope mikaelson's lips. and it's a very nice feeling. probably because it's hope, who once upon a time was pushing everyone away - and who now is pushing against her ( metaphorically, for now ) in a lip lock. she feels a hand tangled in her hair and it sends some kind of lightning bolt up her spine. when there is break ( that lizzie is thankful for, breathing wise ), she kind of wishes there wasn't. there's some sort of bubble inside of her and it hasn't burst. it probably won't anytime soon either. they're kissing again, suddenly and sort of harder. it's bewildering. somewhat questionable, really. but it's really nice. they're full blown making out now ( not what the card wanted, guys ) and she finds one of her hands traveling to hope's shoulder, clawing at the fabric of her shirt -- subconsciously, of course.

landon kirby

multi-tasking has never been landon's strong suit. he's the kind of person who constantly gets sniped in video games because he's focused on the targets in front of him, his attention unable to divert and check the rest of his surroundings. so to say that he's relatively unaware of what's going on around him would be an understatement. his focus is on will, or more specifically his lips. that being said though, he's tipsy but not drunk; there are dregs of rational thought that pilfer through his consciousness. it's only when he realizes he's curled the fingers of his free hand in the front of will's shirt, half in his lap in a bid to get closer, that he realizes there is a line. there's a line that maybe he shouldn't cross, that maybe they need to re-evaluate before it gets scuffed out completely. .

so he pulls back. he's a little short of breath, a nervous smile on his face as he clears his throat. he doesn't look at the girls; doesn't need to see what, or how, things have gone for them. he reaches for the champagne and takes another drink, practically draining the bottle as he does. a little liquid courage never killed anybody. besides, he's ... curious. a little too curious. ( there's a part of him, a tiny sliver, that thinks this is probably good: healthy. he knows hope is his forever, the love of his life, but they're 19 years old. he's seen skins, okay. he knows people experiment. they try things when they're young, a little stupid, just because. he trusts will -- even trusts lizzie -- so if this is something they all want ... well, maybe there's something to be said about that. ) " what are we doing ? " a question searching for answers as he tugs on his lower lip with his teeth. finally he chances a look at lizzie and hope --- needs to see if they're on the same page ... or at least, the same book.(edited)

william flynn

lizzie saltzman was soul mate. will never gave much thought to attraction to others after her, never need be. yet in this moment... for the first time perhaps ever, he felt it. an attraction to someone who had moppy dark hair rather then flowing blonde. who was a bit shorter rather then the same height. with skin that wasn't soft but warm all the same. it was different then he knew but it wasn't unwelcomed. no, not unwelcomed at all. the way landon pulled him closer... will pushed against the floor below, gaining some leverage and pushing for more. ( he hoped more was okay ). landon pulled back and that nervous smile, while nervous, was oddly assuring. "i'll take one of those." he finds himself speaking as landon reaches for another drink, of course it'd go right through him ( he had a heavy tolerance after all, one that came with so much experience ) still the burn was all too nice upon his throat. landon asked the question and will, despite his own haze that came from fucking hormones and desire--- it was the right question to ask. a question that needed to be asked. "i want.." what did he want? will wasn't even quite sure. so, his eyes fell onto the two girls beside him, hoping to have some guidance dropped to his lap. ( he wanted landon, and he didn't know if that was natural or right or even okay. he didn't know what to do with this ).

hope mikaelson

the periphery awareness of landon and will has long since faded, because lizzie's kissing her harder, and faster, and a little explicitly. ( that, of course, would be the pot calling the kettle black. ) and there isn't a single part of her that wants to complain. lizzie's hand comes to claw at her shoulder, and she leans further into the other girl in response. she's in the process of moving to work her legs around lizzie's waist when her senses don't stop her. ( clearly, they're traitors. like her brain. she's having them both tried for treason when this is over. ) perhaps she's too comfortable with this .... whole arrangement, but she knows that ( drunk or not ) she could only ever do this with someone she trusted. she knows she loves landon, and for the first time her life, she knows he loves her too. she isn't worried about a little harmless ( albeit inappropriate ) making out with her best friend. ( what an odd time for rationality to pull through. ) the only thing that gives her pause is the sound of voices from by them, and she remembers where she is. she uses all of that harrowed tribrid strength behind her to pull herself off lizzie. even if her teeth grazed lizzie's lip before she did so. ( a parting gift, everything's a traitor. )

lizzie saltzman

while she's definitely no stranger to some kissing sessions, including with girls, she can't say she's had the pleasure ( literally ) of mixing the endeavor with the lubricant effects of some alcohol. she's feeling heated, like every movement and gesture does a lot more than what it would do normally. it's the champagne - or maybe it's hope mikaelson, years ago the object of some begrudging affections that lasted a few days. currently, her best friend ... and the one aggressively making out with her. but there's still something left in her brain and senses. she's feeling a wave of uncertainty, maybe even anxiousness, and it successfully blankets the mindless desire. now both hands are on hope's shoulders and she makes an effort to tilt her head backwards ( and away ). they get off each other, but not without the feeling of hope's teeth leaving a lingering mark on her bottom lip ( it stuns her for a moment, makes her feel ... things ). voices are heard and when she whips her head around, she finds landon and will, seemingly looking just as dazed and confused. " uh... " the question is processed a bit too slow and she nervously rubs a hand to the back of her neck. " what... do you want to do? " it's also a question for herself, to be honest. she doesn't look at hope, funnily enough. because she kind of ... thinks she knows what she wants. " because, i mean, it's - it was a first, right? " some aimless hand gestures. " and there are probably others ... " this time, for ALL of them. " so, you know ... " a small pause, then a groan, and she jumps to her feet ( albeit a bit wobbly ) to steal a bottle of champagne and chug some more of it. " ugh, do i have to do all the work here? figure it out yourselves. do what you want. "

spoilers: everyone did what they wanted.

[ HIZZIE TRANSCRIPT. ]

[ LANDWIL TRANSCRIPT. ]

#* transcripts. #* with → hope. #* with → will. #* with → landon. #merry christmas

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 17

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin 

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Violence, death (background character), wee bit of fluff

A/N:  Y’all are the most patient readers a writer could ask for. Like you literally just send me nothing but love and support and never get rude or pushy like I know some folks have to deal with. Tbh I feel so lucky to have all of you in my pumpkin patch. 

I know it took a while but Budapest... well so many things start happening here and that’s all I’m gonna say. 

I hope it was worth the wait! 

Tags are open!

January 2008

Budapest was cold as fuck in the winter. Miserably cold. The kind you swear just makes you stupid because you feel sluggish and irritated constantly.

Or… maybe you just tried to convince yourself of that because it would make the absolute shit show this job had spiraled into easier to stomach.

“Hey!” You scream out into the empty corridor from your tight cell. “Y’all won’t get shit outta me if I freeze to death.” Silence is your only answer. You send your sixth sense out to try and find anyone but come back empty. You’re either completely alone or they’re just too far away.

Groaning you huddle against the cold concrete wall, shivering. You were a tough bitch but… three days of this shit with next to no food or water was getting very old… and maybe a smidge more dangerous than you anticipated.

With nothing else to do you run over everything in your brain, hoping backtracking will lead you to some kind of solution.

This gig was low level, small crime syndicate looking for a way to infiltrate their larger rival. Honestly, standard stuff. You took it because you wanted something quick to kill time while you plotted out your next move. The more you dug though, the more you realized the syndicate that hired you was like an iceberg and you were apparently the fucking Titanic.

On the surface they were small, unassuming, nothing immediately indicating danger in any way. Only once you were drowning in the freezing water did you start to see the scope of something much much larger. The rival you were supposed to be looking into had nothing on these guys.

So far you had found threads leading to everything from paramilitary groups in the Balkans to human experimentation and trafficking. Each thread led to something new but what you couldn’t find was who the hell was spinning them. Sure, these groups were good enough to sort of stand on their own but they were far too stable to be doing so. There was a source point somewhere, you just couldn’t fucking find it.

Being able to suss out even the toughest answers was your thing. When you couldn’t it drove you crazy. And maybe it made you a little reckless. If you had been sensible you’d have walked away, or at least just done the job you were paid to do. But no, you couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“And now you’re gonna freeze to death in a fucking cell in Hungary.” You say out loud to no one.

You can see the sunrise through the window at the end of the hall, thankful that you can at least track the time you’ve been here. Your head is foggy from hunger and dehydration. How many days was it before you die from lack of water…

Hours pass and you let yourself drift off, unable to dissect the situation any further. After a bit, you hear someone… running. Your eyes creak open to see a burly man at the door to your cell.

“Get up!” He hisses in heavily accented English.

“Why?” You drawl. This is clearly not the response he was anticipating.

He tosses a black cotton sack into the cell, “Put it on if you want to get out of here. If not I leave you to starve.” You note the gun in the front of his waistband, unsecured.

“I’ll die of dehydration before starvation but,” you slip the sack over your head, “whatever.”

With a grunt, he opens the cell and jerks you to your feet. His fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arm as he pulls you from the cell. Under the hood, a smirk curls your lips.

You raise your hand to your mouth, feigning the sound of a yawn. Then, you blindly reach up for the man’s face. When your fingers feel the stubble you force your power into him. Images flash but you try not to hold them. You don’t give a fuck about his information you just need him down.

He cries out and stumbles to his knees, flinging you away from him. Immediately you rip the sack off your head and spin to face him, his nose is bleeding but he’s not dead. You run at him and land a hard kick to his face, sending him to his back and pluck the gun from his belt. Before he can attempt to regain any balance you fire one shot into his head.

The crackle of a walkie-talkie meets your ears. You fish the device from the dead man’s pocket.

“Heinen?! What’s happening? We need to move now. Where is the asset? Heinen, come in!”

“Cheers, Heinen.”

You have no clue where to go but you can’t just sit here and wait either. Carefully you make your way through the building, all senses on high alert. There are a few other empty cells and some storage rooms. Cautiously you head up a shallow flight of stairs, aware that you could be met with a gun to your head at any moment.

It's quiet… they likely didn’t waste many resources to guard one unsuspecting woman. You can just make out the front of the building, afternoon light streaming brightly through the barred windows when you begin to sense others. They’re outside… blocking your damn exit.

You’re trying to sort out how the hell you’re going to get out of here when something like a small explosion sounds outside. There’s a cacophony of curses from the men. Distant shots meet your ears.

The front door clicks open and three men stumble inside as bullets ping off of the thick glass. Immediately you duck down a short hall and into the doorway of a reeking bathroom.

“How the fuck did they find us!?” One of the men bellows in German.

“Does it fucking matter?! You, go find that lazy fuck Heinen, maybe we can use the woman.”

Over my dead fucking body, you think. The third man grunts something you can’t quite make out and you sink further into the stink.

“Heinen!” He yells out, “You better not be fucking that bitch!” You can’t deny the sick satisfaction that rises in you.

Another small explosion rattles the glass and you try to think of who the hell is firing at these guys. Regardless of who it is you curse them because they are making a shit situation so much fucking worse.

After several minutes you hear the walkie in your pocket crackle. Fuck. Frantically you shut the device off, breath caught in your throat. Suddenly unbothered by the rotten sewer stink you retreat to one of two stalls and press your back against the wall.

You can just barely hear the other two receiving the news that Heinen is dead. A beat passes and one of them, the second man to speak earlier you think, calls out, “Remember alive!” Small victories you guessed. Though… alive could sometimes be worse.

It takes a while for the two men to finally head down the hall to the bathroom. Anxiety and fear swirl in your chest. You let it. The feeling rising, getting worse and worse, threatening to cut off your air supply with panic. You allow yourself think of every terrible thing they could do to you, let yourself be inspired by the things men like them had done to you…

This is still new, still something you’re feeling out, but when the men finally make their way to the bathroom you release your emotions like a wave. An almost numb sense of relief floods your body, your mind crisp and clear.

One of the men begins to wheeze in a panic attack. You peek around the stall as the other man turns to his companion, flustered and unsteady himself. This is the only window you’re going to get. Aiming you fire at the man with his back to you, planting a bullet in his neck.

Gurgling he hits his knees. The other screams, his own emotions mixing with the ones you slammed into him, causing him to truly lose it. You fire as he bolts catching him in the back.

As you stalk out you look down at the man you hit in the neck, flopping like a fish, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. Without a second thought, you kick his head hard to the side. A sick popping noise and he stops moving.

Slowly emotions trickle back into you, your body seems to warm with them, heart starting to pick up a rapid tattoo rather than the calm steady thrum from after your release. Good. This wasn’t over. Once again you try to pull on anything that will make your emotions rise, fears, memories, the whole lot. When a bullet hits the wall beside you, you don’t have to try anymore.

Blindly you fire back down the hall and fling yourself behind a desk. Another shot ricochets of the top and you flinch. Balling up the terror rising in you, once more you force it from your body.

There’s nothing for a moment. You notice the commotion outside seems to have quieted. A muffled sob comes from your left and then the thud of a punch. You don’t dare move.

The sound of shuffling meets your ears. Just barely you lean around the desk. The third man isn’t as offset as the other two had been but he’s certainly dazed. You fire at him and miss. He takes cover and fires back, just barely grazing your arm.

Before you have time to register the pain there’s a blinding flash and the door falls in with a crash.

Your ears are still ringing, dust and smoke filling the air, as you lean to see if the men are still there. The third man pops up to fire toward the door and you take your shot. You don’t even wait to see if it lands before crouching once more.

A bullet hits the wall in front of you before you hear a bevy of shots ring to your left. You’re almost ready to try forcing this new wave of emotion out… not quite though. Without aiming you fire behind you, trying to get a feel for the direction of this new threat.

Instead of being met with bullets an arrow plants itself in the wall, a light pulsing near the tip. You have absolutely no time to think before the flash bomb goes off.

Temporarily you’re blinded, ears ringing, and immediately in the shock the emotions you’d been planning on weaponizing flee from your body. You lay, stunned, and drained behind the desk. All you can manage to think in your stupor is that arrows were significant.

Something soft, warm, and somehow familiar presses against your lips. Automatically you feel your mouth open in response, returning the kiss. That warm thick feeling of love snakes through your limbs. Slowly your eyes open, still out of focus from the flash but it’s Natasha.

“Y/N?!”

“Am I dead?” You ask as she pulls away.

A tense laugh bubbles out of her, “Not yet baby.” Gently she helps you up, leaning you against the wall.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Clint says collapsing next to you. “Didn’t know it was… well, you.”

His thigh is bleeding you note, “Pretty sure y’all just saved my ass. So we’re square.” You look over to see the man your shot in the bathroom seizing from one of Natasha’s Widow’s Bites.

“Friend of yours?” Clint asks catching your stare.

“Fuck no.”

“Then what the hell’re you doing here, Y/N?” His stare is intense.

“Could ask y’all the same thing.”

“Come on babe,” Natasha gives your hand a squeeze.

“Personally, I was being held in a cell downstairs.” Nat and Clint exchange a look. “Your turn.”

“We were tapped to take out this syndica-”

“Nat…” Clint’s voice holds a warning.

“What? If she’s here she probably already knows more than we do.”

“Likely true.” You agree.

“Anyway, they were getting their hands in some high-level stuff. S.H.I.E.L.D. thought it would be best to weed them out before they got too big.”

You snort, “For being one of the world’s foremost intelligence agencies, S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to miss a lot.”

“What’s that mean?” Clint’s brows raise.

“Lot’s,” you groan a bit pushing away from the wall. “Can you walk?”

“Yup,” he stands, slowly.

“I’ll happily give y’all the skinny on everything. Let’s just get the fuck outta here.”

Natasha glances at the man on the ground groaning. “Sounds good. First though… wanna help us out?” She flashes you that sultry smile you can never say no to.

“Fine.” You kneel next to the man’s head and lay a hand on his forehead. He’s mostly unconscious but you can pull information from him anyway. Though he doesn’t have much.

When you’re done you stand, “Got it. I say leave him, he’s no one.”

They agree and you take the guns off the other man and the three of you make your way via back alleys to the rundown hotel they’ve set up in.

“Budget cuts?” You ask, plopping down on the creaking bed.

Natasha laughs, “Cover.” She pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and you catch her hand, kissing her leather covered knuckles.

Clint clears his throat. “I’m gonna shower. When I’m done, Y/N, you’re going to give us the rundown before-”

“Clint-”

He cuts Nat off. “Look, I almost took more bullets today than even I’m comfortable with and I’m not about to lose my pension because Fury thinks I’m sheltering a fugitive. No offense, Y/N.”

“None taken.”

“Good.” A smirk curls his lips, “I’ll make it a long shower though,” he winks and closes the door to head to his room.

“He doesn’t think you’re-”

“Honey, I know.” She sits beside you and kisses you hard before you push her off. “God knows I fucking missed you but… I’ve been in a cell for three days. I really need some water and a shower myself.”

“Oh! Shit! Yeah.” She blushes a bit and you can’t help but smile.

She stands but you tug her down for one more kiss, “I love you, Natasha.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

That water is the most amazing thing you’ve ever tasted. Once you’ve downed two bottles you both get in the shower. 

Cramped though it may be feeling her skin next to yours, hearing her gasps as you make her come, it’s feeding you more than any meal. Hours ago you thought you were about to check out. Now, this… Fate was a funny cunt, you’d give her that.

When Clint knocks you’re on your second protein bar, the only food Nat had in the room. You tell them about the job, what you’d found out, how you couldn’t find the source point. As you run everything down you can see the wheels spinning in both their heads, connecting your info with what S.H.I.E.L.D. had given them.

“Guess that’s why they sent us in,” Clint taps his fingers on the table thinking. “Thought we could take this one out and scare whatever bigger entity is actually running shit.”

“Nah,” you can’t buy that. “Taking them out will just drive the rest deeper underground. If they thought this group was the source point maybe…” Or maybe taking this group out was a message to the other satellite groups you found… Something churns in your gut but you can’t name it… yet.

“Maybe we got bad intel.” Natasha chimes matter-of-factly. “Not the first time.”

“Not the first time?!” You don’t try to hide your frustration. “How many times have you been sent into a gunfight with shit information, Natasha?” Your blood boils at the thought.

“Babe… I’m a spy… Shit happens.”

“Shit doesn’t have to happen. Not if your intelligence people-”

“You’re the best intelligence person there is and you ended up in a cell.” Clint’s voice is level but there’s a hint of reproach. “It happens.” You shake your head and stare at the wall, unwilling to argue.

“Well,” Clint sighs, “we still have a job to do.” Natasha nods in agreement. “You want in Y/N?”

“Hell yes.” You’d be more than thrilled to burn the assholes that kidnapped you.

Burning them… isn’t really how things go down.

-

“By the way,” Clint is huddled next to you behind the smoking hulk of a car while the assholes shooting at you reload, “if I die here, I’m going to haunt you.”

“Why me?!” You pop up and let loose a few well-placed shots to flush some of them out.

“Because I need to fucking blame someone!” He nocks a bomb arrow and aims for the now repositioning attackers. It goes off, taking out two of them.

“Nice.” You bump knuckles before fleeing for new cover.

“Also,” you crouch next to a reeking dumpster, eyes on the roofs above you, “blame your boss. He’s the one with bad intel.”

The two of you head up a rusty fire escape and look at the roof across the street where Natasha is fighting two men. She’s holding her own well enough but still. You lift your gun, gauging if you can make the distance.

“I got this.” Clint pushes your hand down and a shock arrow flies from his bow, lodging it in one of the men’s backs. This distracts the other man and Nat kicks him off the roof.

“Thanks!” She yells. Your coms are busted.

Five hours and a hell of a lot of collateral damage later and the three of you limp bloody and bruised to a rendezvous point they’d been sent earlier.

From the outside the building looks like a long empty shop front, windows looking into nothing but a dusty abandoned space. As soon as you’re in the front door though it’s clear this place is reinforced like a fucking bunker. The steel door clangs shut, the windows are clearly some kind of tech as they don’t even exist from the inside of the space. The interior is actually clean and sterile with a few uncomfortable chairs, cots and some kind of med station toward the back.

Sighing Natasha pulls you into her arms. Both your lips are bleeding, faces bruised, you just can’t be bothered enough to care. You took those fuckers out, none of you died, and she’s here in your arms.

“You two are gonna make me barf.” Clint collapses into one of the chairs.

“Oh come on,” Nat smiles at you. “This wasn’t so bad.” He doesn’t respond, just flicks her off.

“Well,” a familiar voice chimes from the back of the room, coming from an unseen entry point. “That was a mess.” Nick Fury looks you all up and down with one judgmental eye.

“Jobs done though.” Clint doesn’t bother to stand.

“Yeah. With how much damage.” His gaze holds yours. You feel your back stiffening in defiance. “Any chance you’re the reason what should have been a simple clean up almost took out a quarter of Budapest?”

“Aww, you must think I’m something real special to be worth grenade launchers.” Natasha squeezes your hand in warning. “But no. This would have been messy regardless because whoever fed you your intel doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It was no small syndicate and with a whole hell of a lot more firepower than these two were prepared to handle.”

“Honestly, Fury,” Clint limps over to your side making the three of you a united front, “if Y/N wasn’t here to warn us what we may run into we’d likely be dead.” Natasha nods in agreement.

Silence hangs while Fury processes. “Huh. Well, I guess a thank you is in order.”

“Oh, more than a thank you will be in order,” he looks taken back by your tone. “I’m thinkin’ you’re gonna be obliged to cut me a fat check after the intel I’m gonna hand you.” You can feel Natasha’s stress but Fury looks amused.

“Any chance we can negotiate? I do have a budget to think about.” He actually almost smiles.

“Well… you could pay… or you could take it as a goodwill gesture and pull back on the terms you laid out at Barton’s place.”

Now Fury does smile, “As if either of you listened to me anyway.” You return his smile. He was good. 

Natasha looks like an embarrassed teenager. He laughs, “I may have one eye but I see everything, Romanoff.” He turns to stride back, “Get cleaned up we’ll talk after.” He disappears into a previously unseen room.

“Told you he’d warm up,” Clint says with a smile elbowing Natasha.

Even if you’re on decent enough terms, sitting across a table from Nicky Fury is intimidating. His presence effortlessly commands respect in the way only someone who’s more than paid their dues can manage. You’d likely never admit it but you genuinely liked this man and despite not being able to read him… you maybe trusted him.

“And you’re sure all these factions are linked in some way?”

“Positive.” You hold his gaze, unwavering.

Sighing he stands and paces the small conference room a few times. You remain seated, staring at the assorted diagrams and notes you had whipped up to demonstrate what you knew to be true. Something big lurked in the shadows…

“Look,” his voice is low, heavy with something you can’t quite name, “I’ll deny this if you ever tell anyone but we could really use someone like you and-”

“No.” Hearing those men refer to you like you were nothing more than a tool to be used had been a reminder that you didn’t need. You’d never be someone’s dog again, no matter how good they seemed.

“Not even gonna hear me out?”

“It’s nothing personal but… I just can’t.”

“Not even if you can have a nice set up with your girl?” You glare at him, angry that he’d use her against you. “I may not necessarily approve as far as national security is concerned but it’s clear you two have something.”

“Not even for her.” You gaze is ice. Not wanting this to continue you let the mix of terror and conviction burning in your veins seep from you just a touch, trying to aim it right for his chest. Fury coughs, expression surprised, to say the least.

“I can’t… I won’t be on a leash. Plus… I need to follow this through. Something about it…”

“Understood.” He rubs his chest setting down and a small bit of satisfaction sparks in you. “How about freelance?”

“Well, now you’re talkin’ my language, sir.”

His mouth ticks up just a touch. “You find any information that may be a threat to American citizens, involve my organization, or my people you come to me. No one else.”

Your brows raise. “Don’t trust your own?”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

You nod in understanding. “That it?”

“And I may have a side project come up soon that I think you’d be good for. A little initiative… Nothing solid yet but may be worth considering in time.”

“Alright. You got a deal.”

Both of you stand and shake. Before you can open the door though Fury’s hand reaches out holding it closed. You turn to him, questioning.

“You ever read Moby Dick?”

“Um… yeah?”

“When you’re hunting monsters remember, it’s easy to become an Ahab. Don’t let it happen.”

You nod somberly, dread suddenly curling in your stomach.

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight @jeromethepsycho​ @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2 @alphalesbianwolf @sxph-t @marvelb00kwolf @itsqueenofchains

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel fic #queer fic

[laurasinele]

Magpies

Prompt 4: “I know you didn’t ask for this”

Fanfic from: the Harry Potter series

Tags: preslash Drarry, epilogue what epilogue, heavy dialog, seven years post Battle of Hogwarts, ofc, Harry & Draco’s friendship, mental health, guilt

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of war, mentions of death

Ao3

Outside the window a couple of magpies were fighting over an apple, effectively distracting him from his reading. Not that he was very focused to begin with. One of the birds had picked a rotten apple from the orchard ground and the other was trying to steal it. They cawed angrily and flopped their wings in ampulous, threatening motions while clashing talons. Draco was engrossed by their belligerent dance, open book forgotten on his lap.

The hinges of the reading room door screeched as it opened. All the elfs in the Manor had left to work at Hogwarts or the Ministry immediately after Draco informed them of that possibility, so there was no one left to oil the joints nor announce visitors. Not that there was any need. The only visits he got regularly were Ministry’s agents on Ministry’s business or his designated/volunteered auror, checking weekly on the conditions to his house arrest. Mother wasn’t allowed to leave St. Mungo’s and his aunt Andromeda, who was trying to forge a family bond with him, was always sensible enough to owl before coming. By the works of the DMLE, the doors and floo system would not open for anybody else. 

Aware of this at all times, Draco didn’t pause his keen observation of the magpies’ strife. It was Friday after all, and Auror Appleworm made always her appearence on that day at the time of her best convenience.

“I would have prepared lunch for us both, had you come half an hour earlier”, said Draco as he rose and put the book aside, still looking out the window.

“Thank you Malfoy, I’ve already eaten”. 

Malfoy startled at the male voice, and then startled again when he realised who it belonged to. He turned slowly, disbelieving, his aristocratic training supplying a small surge of nonchalance thanks to which he managed to pocket his hands and look calm. 

“Excuse my surprise, I was expecting Mrs Appleworm, as usual. To what do I owe the pleasure, Potter?”

Harry remained near the door, politely waiting for an invitation to sit. His auror robes were impeccable, their maroon bringing back to Draco’s memory their quidditch matches.

“Mrs Appleworm’s daughter went in labor this early morning. She is going to take some months away, although we are trying to convince her to retire and enjoy her grandchildren. Septuplets”, he added at Draco’s curious expression. 

“Oh, my. I thought she wasn’t due until next month. I trust they are all healthy and well”

Harry nodded, “I paid a visit on my way here. They are all well and Agnes and Mr Appleworm are over the moon”.

“I’ll have to remember to send them a present”. 

An awkward silence settled between them while Draco reigned his nerves and Harry looked around the room, taking in the elaborate shelf-cases, the light upholstery and drapes, and the yellow wallpaper. It was nothing as he remembered the Manor. 

“I made some changes”, offered Draco, guessing Harry’s train of thought. “Now that I am the only inhabitant I figured I could make this house, eh, more welcoming. Please, do sit down”, he finished gesturing towards the armchair next to his, by the other side of the window. “And please excuse my manners earlier, I was caught in two magpies fighting over a piece of apple in mid flight right outside the window”

Harry looked perplexed at that confession and a small smile graced his face while he approached the window. “They don’t look like fighting now”, he said as he spotted them through the window, resting atop of an ornamental stone cornucopia, grooming each other. 

Draco followed Harry’s pointing finger and he couldn’t contain a delighted exclamation upon finding the two birds. 

“They must have learnt to share, then. Now, what can I do for you, Auror Potter?”

--

They fell in a comfortable routine. Every Friday at precisely 2 o’clock, Harry appareted outside the reading room door and knocked before entering. Draco would put aside whatever book he had picked from the list the Ministry had provided as one of the conditions to keep him out of Azkaban and, after the compulsory questions and tests, they’d settle in an easy conversation that could go on until dinner time. Draco would always politely extend an invitation to stay and Harry would always politely refuse. They’d talk about quidditch, muggle culture —a big part of Draco’s assigned readings—, recent news, what were the Manor’s elfs up to…

Over time, more than seven years if he wasn’t mistaken, Draco had struck a sort of friendship with Mrs Appleworm. He had started to forgive himself for his acts of war and his past arrogance upon learning how she saw him. A veteran auror and elderly mother, when she looked at Draco Malfoy she saw an abused child never too rotten to mend. Draco might not think as benevolently about himself yet, but he was willing to get there someday, which was a huge step forward from the self-deprecating, self-harming depressive state Agnes Appleworm found him in. This days he barely indulged in regret and sadness and fear. He stayed firmly attached to calm and apathy. 

After five weeks of Mrs Appleworm leave, eagerness joined those two main emotions. Draco found himself eager for Friday afternoon well early in the week, and Saturdays and Sundays were usually filled with a peaceful sensation akin to happiness. It felt good to face Potter once a week for a few hours. It gave his before and after a certain continuity. They never talked about school or the war, not even a passing mention, but the fact that Harry Potter existed, and acknowledged Draco’s existence, made all the memories and every movement away from them and past his prior ways, somehow more real. 

That afternoon, however, Harry’s dark mood was all over the place, making it impossible for Draco not to ask if everything was alright. 

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing important. I just had a tough session with my therapist last evening”, said Harry with an apologetic smile. 

“A therapist? Like a muggle psychotherapist?”, Draco couldn’t refrain to ask, surprised as he was. Harry scoffed.

“A muggle psychotherapist, actually, yes”. 

Draco made a very polite, very English face of understanding and promptly looked through the window in search of and urgent change of topic, for he could not possibly fathom a non-personal, prim and proper way to continue this conversation. Providence delivered in the form of two magpies landing on the windowsill. 

"Oh!", softly exclaimed Draco, inexplicably delighted. "Would you look at that!" 

"Are they the same two?" 

"I couldn't tell…"

Both young men fell silent, watching the birds. They had landed side by side with a fraction of a second between them. They had looked around with that avian sort of movement that made most corvids look offended, and then started to skip all along the windowsill, apparently without purpose but very pointedly ignoring each other. 

After a while, Draco could not take the ominous feeling that scene had sparked in him, and turned to Harry, who was still transfixed by the magpies' bizarre dance. 

"Should I ask? About your therapy". 

Harry smiled as if he had been expecting the question, and didn't say anything nor looked away from the birds for a little while. 

"Why, Malfoy, what would you ask?", inquired Harry, finally looking at him with a placid expression, devoid of any hostility Draco might have anticipated. At this, Draco shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly and gave a spontaneous response that seemed to be aching to be spoken.

“What is it for. Although I can imagine. How is it going. Or whether it helps or not”. After a very brief pause he added: “How are you”. 

Harry laughed softly, throwing his head backwards. He covered his face with his hands and sighed. 

“I am fucked”, he declared meeting Draco’s gaze. “I’m a child soldier with PTSD, abandonment issues, identity issues and claustrophobia. I’m an abuse victim and have a deep distrust towards any authority figure. This, added to my natural tendency to bend rules results in ‘severe misanthropy and incapability to work within a hierarchy’”, he said, signing in the air the quotation marks before dropping his hands on his lap with mild frustration. “Every fatherly figure I ever had aside from Hagrid and Arthur Weasley is dead. All my friends are war heroes with similar issues, so we barely talk about normal stuff. So to avoid feeding each other’s neurosis we barely talk, full stop. My adopted family was so invested in actually making me one of them that they unconsciously pushed a relationship that ended up feeling unsettling close to incest and finished awkwardly and dramatically, distancing me from them. Oh, and right when a single month had passed without the press pestering me, tomorrow the Prophet is going to be all about me being queer because the guy I met at a muggle gay pub last Friday happened to be a squib, and he knew exactly who I was. So, uh, yeah. I’m fucked”.

Draco’s eyes were wide in shock and concern. He hadn’t known what to expect when he had enunciated the hypothetical questions he would make, but he was pretty sure he’d have been shook even if he had imagined the half of what Harry had just said. 

“I am deeply sorry, Potter. I shouldn’t have brought the subject up”.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t wanted to”.

“Nevertheless, it is none of my business”.

Harry scoffed, this time a tad irritated. When he spoke it was patent that he was trying to refrain from lashing out completely onto Malfoy:

“How is this not your business? My psychopathic tutors certainly aren’t, but all the rest? My parents’ death? Voldemort’s return? The war? You were a part of it ever since you were born!”. Draco only managed to mouth like a fish, watching as Harry grew more and more indignant. “You conspired and helped to set on the battle at Hogwarts. At a bloody school!”, he boomed now. “You put a cursed necklace on a student! You let the Deatheaters into the castle! You were a bloody little soldier just like I was!”.

Draco rose from his seat, trembling with rage and shame: 

“I didn’t have a choice, Potter! I was born into it! I didn’t ask for any of it. I didn’t ask for this!”

From his armchair, Harry was looking up at him, at first with defiance. Upon hearing this, watching Draco looming over him, eyes wet and breathing deeply, his features softened. 

“I know you didn’t ask for this. It was uncalled for. I am on edge since I knew about the Prophet, but that’s not an excuse. I am very sorry for yelling at you and bringing up the past. For the record, I think you’ve already done more than enough to repay your debts and change your ways”. 

Draco was still staring, still looming, still breathing heavily and holding back his tears with all his power. He stood there for a few beats, and then he sat back down slowly, not taking his eyes off of Harry. A few moments of silence elongated between them, faces flustered, bodies tense, eyes locked. Finally, Draco relaxed into the backrest and spoke calmly:

“I never knew you were mistreated as a child. It’s an abomination”.

“I never knew you would be learning about muggle culture willingly”. 

“It’s part of my sentence”.

“Hermione told me you wrote her like six feet of an apology letter and asked for books, music and films”, shot back Harry with a mischievous grin. Draco rolled his eyes, mocking annoyance:

“You can’t keep secrets anymore”.

“Not between Hermione, Ron and I, no”.

They smiled at each other with something warmer than the pleasant politeness that had grown between them during the past weeks. Harry broke eye contact first to look out the window. Draco kept looking at Harry, letting the list of his presumed flaws sink in. They both spoke at the same time: 

“The magpies are gone”.

“Did they know?”.

Harry looked at him, seeming at loss.

“Sorry, who knew what?”.

“The new head of Muggle Relations and her husband. About you being queer”.

Harry avoided Draco’s eyes and bit his lower lip. “No they didn’t. If I don’t tell them today, they’ll find out tomorrow and they’ll be pissed I didn’t tell them. Luna Lovegood was the only one that knew besides my therapist. We had a one night stand some years ago. In the afterglow we were talking about this and that and I told her I liked guys. She said that people is people no matter what they pack, and love is love. Honestly we were high and I’m derailing. You’re the third person I tell this and I’m not getting any good at it”. 

Draco smirked. He rested his elbow on the armrest and his face atop his open palm, his little finger tracing the corner of his smile.

“I used to think I was asexual. Many honorable wizards were by birth or choice. Something to do with amplifying magic with your ‘life drive’”. Harry stifled a laugh and Draco smiled wider. “I used to think I’d marry Pansy Parkinson, or Millicent Bullstrode or one of the Greengrasses, force myself to produce one single heir and dedicate my life to study potions and being a socialite. Then I saw Cedric Diggory on a broom”.

Harry gaped, completely pleased with this piece of gossip, and maybe also with the fact that he and Draco Malfoy were talking about Hogwarts and it was not a sensible topic.

“Cedric whispered in my ear that I should bath with one of the clues for the Triwizard Tournament and I still get the chills when I recall it”. 

“He was stupidly handsome”, murmured Draco looking away, suddenly aware of the cause of Cedric’s death. “And stupidly brave. Like you”. He looked back at Harry just in time to notice he was flustered. He told himself it was because they’d been talking about Cedric. 

“I have to go soon. I have owls to send”, stammered Harry standing up to take his cloak and leave. Draco stood to see him out.

By the door they stopped and looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to do. In the end Draco offered his hand and said:

“Thank you. For telling me all that. And acknowledging that I’ve changed. And volunteering to be my counselor. I know nobody else beside Agnes was willing to come here and not beating me up”. 

Harry ignored Draco’s hand, his earnest look of gladness invading all of Draco’s range of sight. He pressed his lips together and dove for a hug. It was a tight, deliberate embrace, oozing sincerity and the true, deep affection that only likeness invokes. Draco wrapped his arms loosely around Harry, completely dazed by such gesture.

“Thanks to you”, whispered Harry on Draco’s ear. “For trying, getting there, and leveling me all the way up to here”. He stepped away and out the door, and a muted snap confirmed that he was gone until next Friday.

Draco stood there, the chills running through his spine. 

#fictober19 #fictober day four #fictober day 4 #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fandom #pre-slash drarry #pre-slash #ewe #epilogue what epilogue