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vintage-squid · 4 years

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Vulture Culture

Summary: Remus loves living in his little cabin in the woods with his two gorgeous, snarky partners. Coming home from another scavenging adventure to Virgil and Janus being their wonderful selves, Remus has a very important question to ask them.

Pairing: Virgil/Janus/Remus Rating: G Warnings: Animal bones, use of scavenged bones for art, a whole truck load of fluff

Huge thank you to @rosesisupposes for beta’ing for me!

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“Ohh honey-bunny-bums! I’m home!”

The front door slammed against the wall, echoing through the house as Remus stomped inside, a wide grin spread on his face and his backpack heavy over one shoulder. Bracing the toes of one foot against the heel of the other, he aggressively yanked his feet out of his boots, laces still tied. He haphazardly tossed his jacket and toque over the back of the nearby armchair - on top of other outdoor outfits that had already received a similar treatment. With much more care, he set his bag on the floor.

“We’re in the kitchen, Re!”

“And I swear to the gods, your boots better not be on your feet when you get in here, because I am not mopping up after you again!”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to get your knickers in a twist,” Remus snorted, grabbing his backpack by one strap and slinging it over one shoulder. He made his way further into the house, following the sound of his loved ones' voices. “I’m still wearing socks, though, so no peeping at my toes for you! You’ll have to wait ‘til later for that treat.” Coming around the corner into the kitchen, Remus gave an exaggerated wink to his partner standing on the step-stool by the window.

Virgil rolled their eyes, shaking their head and setting aside the small scissors they had been using to tend to their plants. “I offer to give you a massage one time for your sore feet, and suddenly I’m the one with the foot fetish, I see how it is.”

Smirking, Virgil turned to face Remus, but before they could hop off their stool, a pair of burly arms cinched around their middle and swept them into the air.

“Remus!” They shrieked, dissolving into laughter as their boyfriend held them close and spun them around the room.

“I’ve got a Virgil!” Remus hollered, bouncing them both as he giggled. Even in play, Remus was cautious not to spin too fast and actually upset Virgil’s nerves; it was a delicate balance, one he had perfected over the years. Both of them were snickering breathlessly when Remus finally came to a stop and set Virgil’s feet back on the floor, though his arms remained snug around their chest. The pair faced Janus, who was smirking at them with a raised brow.

“If the children are done playing in the kitchen where I am currently working over a hot stove?” Despite her tone, Janus’ smile softened fondly as she flicked her wrist to cut the heat. The fire witch stepped forward and planted a smooch on Remus’ nose, her hand following quickly to cup his face and smooth her thumb over the boisterously grinning chub of his cheek. “Welcome home, possum. I’m glad to see you’ve returned safe and sound, and not covered in pond scum.”

Remus only grinned wider and hugged Virgil a little closer, much to their grumbling delight. “The grime feels so good, though! Oozing between your fingers and squelching when you bend your knees! Come on, you have to admit that my skin was so soft for, like, a week after I fell in last time!”

“I will admit to nothing, other than that you smelled like a rotted fish for that week too,” Janus retorted. “I still think you did that on purpose; there’s no way a water witch wouldn’t be able to bathe himself properly to get rid of that odor.” Pushing up onto her toes, she pressed a tender, lingering kiss to his lips. “I, however, much prefer your natural musk.”

Leaning in to Remus again, Janus yelped as Virgil suddenly grabbed her by the front of her shirt and tugged her into a searing kiss that made bursts of colour flash behind her eyelids. Melting against their mouth, she gripped Remus’ forearm with one hand while the other ran through Virgil’s long hair over and over, dragging them back for more when they tried to pull away. When the pair finally parted, panting heavily, Janus couldn’t help the lazy satisfaction that settled over her when she was greeted with Virgil’s smile.

“What?” They asked innocently. “You gave Remus kisses, and I wanted some attention too.”

Janus rolled her eyes, thumb tenderly rubbing the back of their neck. “So needy, I swear.”

Remus snorted, gently depositing Virgil into a dining chair and scooping his bag off the floor where he had left it in favour of his favourite tiny plant witch. “You’re one to talk, mixter-”

“Ah, she/her now, darling, changed about an hour after you left this morning. I just haven’t had the mind to swap out my necklaces while Virgil and I have been working in here. Sorry, possum,” she murmured, fiddling with the sparrow’s skull resting at the hollow of her throat from a braided rope.

“Well, princess,” Remus adjusted smoothly, kissing the top of Janus’ head and petting over the buzzed side of her hair. “First off, you have no grounds to complain about me being needy, Miss clings-with-all-four-limbs-every-night. And secondly,” his voice softened, “you never have to apologize for expressing whatever gender feels best for you, ever. Okay? Do you want me to grab Trip for you?”

Laying her hand - slimmer than his, but still larger than Virgil’s - atop Remus’, Janus nuzzled into the calloused warmth of his palm. “I would appreciate that, possum. I think I left her on the smaller bookshelf in the bedroom.”

“Anything for you, dandelion. Lemme take Kee, too.”

Obligingly, Dee lifted her hair, long only on the right side of her head and curlier than a pig’s tail, to allow Remus room to remove her current necklace. She glanced up, feeling a tingle down her neck that had nothing to do with her boyfriend’s wandering fingers. Virgil was seated at the table across the kitchen, their cheek propped on one fist, a dreamy haze over their normally snarky features.

“See something you like?” Janus asked with a snort.

“Only the loves of my life,” Virgil replied, grinning wider when Dee scoffed to hide her fluster. “Ohh, you thought I meant you two? No, no, the coffee machine and a bag of chips are on the counter behind you, babe.” They cackled as both their partners squawked in indignation, hiding their wide smile behind their sleeve.

Janus rolled her eyes, stepping away from Remus and lightly kicking the leg of Virgil’s chair before sitting across from them. “Ha ha, you’re so funny, V.”

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you recognized my true genius.”

“Alright you gaggle of gossiping gophers,” Remus cut in, dropping his bag on the table between them. “Why don’t you have a look through what I found today while I get Janus’ necklace and change into something a little more cozy.” He exaggerated a wink at his partners, taking their snorting laughter with him as he swaggered off in the direction of the bedroom.

Virgil and Janus shared a look before diving for the ties on the bag. Janus worked the flap open, allowing Virgil to reach their hand in for the first discovery. Their eyes lit up, with a sparkle that had nothing to do with the green magic flowing through their veins, as they pulled out a neatly tied bundle of watercress, the pale roots intact and cleaned of any potentially parasite carrying soil.

“Ah! Where did he manage to find this!? I’ve been needing more since that doe and her fawns have started coming by,” they murmured, bringing the bundle up to their face and inhaling deeply. “Mother Earth, there is no better smell in this world.”

“And of course you’re selflessly going to plant it all outside in the pond for our little ungulate neighbours without keeping some as a snack for yourself,” Janus drawled while reaching into the bag herself.

Virgil finally looked away from the watercress to smirk at their girlfriend, plucking a plant free from the bundle and nibbling on it like a rabbit. “I never said anything of the sort.”

Heart throbbing fondly, Janus snickered and pulled out the next of Remus’ finds. Her fingers wrapped around a small burlap bag and she squealed. Pulling it out, she eagerly opened the drawstrings and carefully dumped the contents onto the tabletop: a grey, spherical rock, seven small vertebrae of assorted shape, and three colourful, river-polished stones. Janus cooed, smoothing the tips of her fingers over her new treasures, eyes wide with wonder and ideas for her latest art project.

When she looked up to share her excitement with Virgil, they were already rifling through the next of Remus’ gifts, a collection of plucked flowers spread out across their side of the table. Their wide smile softened as they glanced up and made eye contact.

“Reme really went all out today, I can’t believe some of these blooms he managed to find at this time of the year!”

“I wonder what we did to deserve such a spoiling?”

“You two were absolutely perfect, that’s what.”

Virgil and Janus perked up, turning to look at their returned third. Both seated witches felt their stomachs lurch with affection as Remus stood in the doorway dressed, for once, in a clean shirt the same colour as his intelligent blue eyes. It was buttoned up only halfway, his burly chest exposed to the warm air of the kitchen and his partners’ hungry gazes. Both hands were held suspiciously behind his back.

Virgil recovered first, trying to appear nonchalant by tousseling their fingers through their shaggy bangs. The effect was betrayed by the glowing vines that had begun to creep up their forearms like living tattoos, pulsing in time with the rapid fluttering of their heart. “Whatcha got there, possum?”

Biting his lip, Remus couldn’t stop himself from breaking out into a wide grin as he shrugged one shoulder in a not-answer. “We all know that Janus is usually the sappy one among us-

“Hey!”

“So, I’m sorry sunshine, but I’m about to borrow your role for a second.”

Virgil and Janus exchanged a glance as Remus paused again to exhale slow and deep, almost as if he were running through one of Virgil’s breathing exercises. What could have made their fearlessly boisterous possum so uncharacteristically nervous? Their attention snapped back to their third as Remus stepped forward, stopping at the head of the table between the seated pair.

“Most of the people I meet in my life haven’t been overly enthusiastic to meet me in turn. Lotsa people don’t want to put up with my magic or my brain, or really anything about me, and even among those who do, most of them just don’t really get me, y’know? But... but you two...”

Remus looked from Virgil to Janus, love welling in his eyes like the rising tide he so adored. His hands tightened on the objects still hidden behind his back.

“You two not only understand me, but you encourage me to be myself and are actually fucking comfortable being around me? Like, holy shit. I don’t even have the words to explain to you what that means to me - and I usually have no problem describing anything! Like how some sharks are so gluttonous they will gorge themselves and then throw up everything they just ate so that they can keep eating! Isn’t that so cool!?” As he got more and more excited, his shoulders began to hunch and roll in a mimicry of his usual out of control gesturing. Somehow, he managed to hold onto enough sense of mind to keep hidden his hands, and the precious cargo they held.

Janus leaned forward, tapping one manicured nail on the table to draw Remus’ attention back. “C’mon, possum, you can tell us all about vomiting sharks after you finish our surprise speech.”

Shockingly, a faint blush coloured Remus cheeks. He cleared his throat and glanced to the side with a sheepish grin. “Ah, right.” Looking back to the loves of his life, Remus set his shoulders square and dropped down to one knee, delighting in his partners’ gasps and widening eyes.

“What I was trying to say, is that I love you two so fucking much, and I wanna spend the rest of our lives together. So…” Remus brought his hands out from behind his back and held them up.

In front of Janus he presented a gaboon viper’s skull, meticulously cleaned with the top few vertebrae still attached at the jaw hinge so the mouth could remain propped open to show off the elongated upper fangs. The larger bones were intricately carved with runes for love, protection, and strength all twined together. Looking closer, the grain of the pattern wasn’t rough, as it would be if the markings had been made with a knife, but smooth and even like a stone polished by the endless waters of a river.

Cradled in his left hand for Virgil was a delicate crested gecko skeleton. Every minute bone was present, complete down to the tiny claw tips on each foot. With the tail slightly raised, and the front right foot lifted in step, the tiny skeleton looked like it was moments away from coming to life and skittering up their arm. Only the skull was large enough for the carved depictions of hyacinths to be visible - Virgil’s favourite flower. They had always favoured constancy, after all.

“Will you marry me?”

Though Virgil covered their mouth with both hands, it couldn’t hide the smile crinkling the corners of their watery eyes. Sniffling, they nodded rapidly. “Y-Yes! A million times yes!” Reaching out to cup the fragile skeleton in their hands, they brought it up to their face to briefly admire the little bones. By the time they had carefully set it aside on the table, Janus had already slid out of her chair and into Remus’ arms on the floor. She was pressing kisses all over his face, and the snake skull was resting on the countertop above them.

Quickly dropping to their knees and squirming their way up under Remus’ free arm, Virgil joined Janus in covering their third in smooches. The flurry of joyous affection softened as lips finally met in languidly. They traded off, kissing what they could of the other two when their lips were free.

Both smaller witches suddenly squealed with laughter - though they would aggressively deny it later - as Remus cinched his arms around their waists and rolled to his feet, easily hoisting them up and spinning them around.

When he finally slowed to a stop, Remus was speechless at the sight of their flushed cheeks and wide smiles.

“I love you both so much,” he whispered.

Janus smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek once more with a loud smack of her lips. Virgil was quick to mirror her on the other side, tucking their face into the crook of Remus’ shoulder and neck afterwards with a content hum.

“We love you too, possum.”

“Always and forever, Reme.”

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Janus' pronoun charms are three necklaces, each a different skull on a rope chain that Virgil braided. Sparrow skull - Kee - they/them Salamander skull - Trip - she/her Squirrel skull - Riz - he/him

#virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #anxceitmus #nonbinary virgil sanders #genderfluid janus sanders #witch au #squid scribbles

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aiorevelations · 3 years

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A Number, Not a Name: Part 15!!

Present-day:

Beads of sweat trickled down Jason’s forehead as he frantically worked to decrypt the file. He had been working on it for nearly an hour and so far he’d had no luck. Every time he’d get close to cracking the code, there'd be some phrase of letters left that didn’t make any sense. He knew he was running out of time and had to hurry. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and kept going. Another minute passed, then five minutes, fifteen minutes. Jason intensely scrutinized and analyzed every letter, trying to come up with another possible code pattern that would decrypt the file.

Okay…looks like it’s a Caesar Cipher. Shifted down by twelve….please dear God let this work.

Jason quickly typed another command on the laptop and anxiously waited. His heart began to race as all the incoherent phrases began to transform into actual words and sentences.

There in front of him was Dalmar’s plan, outlined step by step. His plan for running for higher offices. Building his network and support bases. Acquiring more weapons. And ultimately seizing power. Even more importantly, the location of the weapons was laid out in the document.

Jason felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he’d deciphered the pattern yet kicked himself that hadn’t cracked such a simple code sooner. He figured his nerves had got the best of him but he couldn’t help but be angry at himself. He’d lost a great deal of time, time he couldn’t afford to lose. Jason suspected Dalmar or one of his men had encrypted the file manually as it was amateur work. A skilled professional or person with a knowledge of computers would have used encryption software such as AES which would have converted the plaintext contained in the file into ciphertext. Rendering it impossible for Jason to decrypt the file without entering in a specific password. He picked up his pen, pressed the top metal bottom on the side, and snapped several pictures of the file.

From the looks of this the weapons should be located…in a bunker a few miles north of here. He quickly encrypted the file again, excited the file, and closed the laptop. He picked it up and inserted it back into the drawer just as he'd found it. He placed the pen back in his pocket. Jason closed the office door and headed back down the tunnel shaft. Now that he had the intel they needed all they had to do was make it through the rest of the gala. He already had been gone a great deal of time and knew that the longer he was gone the greater chance he’d be caught or that Dalmar would be suspicious of him and Tasha. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

…..

The black limousine made its way down the winding road that encircled Dalmar’s estate. As they drove Dalmar pointed out to Tasha the various structures and amenities that graced his home. The guest house, its exterior resembling that of the main house with an assortment of glass, wood, and chrome. The tennis courts and lavish swimming pool. And the rose garden, all the flowers coming together in a rainbow of color and releasing a sweet scent into the air.

Inside the confines of the limo, Dalmar placed his arm around Tasha and pointed in the direction of the greenhouse. “And over there is the greenhouse.”

“My goodness, I’ve never seen such a large one before.”

“My mother, loved plants, especially flowers. I suppose I inherited that love from her.”

“I never would have guessed that you would have such a fondness for flowers.” Tasha teased.

“Their strength yet delicateness is something to behold. And of course their beauty.”

Tasha forced a smile. “I’ve never met someone who has spoken to me… or makes me feel the way you do.”

“Beauty is meant to be appreciated and treasured. You, my dear, are a shining jewel.”

Tasha stood there frozen, speechless, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or-“

“No, no. It’s just I’m used to guarding...my feelings. Taking things slower…but being here with you…it feels different.”

“I’m glad.” Dalmar smiled and took Tasha’s hand. “This has been one of the happiest nights of my life.” The car suddenly came to a stop, causing him to release Tasha’s hand, for which she was relieved.

“We’re here.” The chauffeur announced.

Tasha peered out the tinted windows of the car yet didn’t see any structure or buildings in the distance. She turned back to Dalmar. “Here?” she asked, a quizzical expression on her face.

“You’ll see.” He grinned. Tasha and Dalmar exited the limo and walked to the front of the car.

“Right this way.” Dalmar motioned in front of him. The two of them began making their way forward through the woods. Tasha found it somewhat difficult to walk as her heels kept getting bogged down in the ground. She did her best to conceal it from Dalmar. The last thing she needed was for him to offer her his hand, holding it once had been more than enough for her.

Soon they arrived at what appeared to be an electrical substation. They reached a metal fence, all over which were signs posted that read “Danger. High voltage.” Dalmar entered a passcode into a security keypad and a metal gate rolled to the side.

“After you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

They went through the entrance, the gate closing behind them. After walking to the control house, Dalmar typed in another code on the keypad located on the door handle. “I believe inside you’ll find something that you’ve had your eyes on.” Tasha felt her heart begin to race as the door unlocked and Dalmar turned the handle.

Tasha stepped inside the room, followed by Dalmar. The lights flashed on showing a stairwell a few feet in front of them. At the end of the stairs, there was a hallway, with a metal door located at its end. Dalmar punched in another password on the keypad. Tasha heard a metallic click and the door slowly slid to the side.

Tasha let out a small gasp as they entered the concrete bunker. From the floor to the rafters, the room was filled with an assortment of weapons. Machine guns, automatic rifles, ammunition, surface-to-air missiles, and even a few tanks. “Wow,” she said softly in awe. “This is incredible.”

“Even better than you imagined?”

“Yes.” She slowly spun around to get a complete view of the room. “Other girls like flowers or chocolate. A trip to Tahiti,” she laughed, “but me…this is my life, right here. My happy place.”

“I can see that.”

“From the moment I met you I could immediately tell you were a man with great ambition. And in my line of work I’ve met many people with the same fire in their eyes…but somehow, it’s hard to explain, I knew you were different.”

“Different, how so?”

“Others may have had the same ambition as you but I felt in my soul that you were destined to become something. To do great things. To leave your mark on humanity. Many aspire to such things but few accomplish them. I believe, with my whole heart, that you are among the few.”

“I’m glad to hear you believe so. I for my part have always held that I would be among the great men of history. These past years I’ve dedicated all my time and resources to this goal and now I’m on the eve of achieving it.”

“The eve? You’ve said many times now that you’re on the eve of your dream becoming reality. That your goal is about to happen soon.”

“Yes. I have.”

“The question is when exactly is ‘soon?’ It’s such a relative term. For some it’s a few years, others a couple of months, or perhaps even a few minutes. When is it for you?” Tasha pressed him for more details. “If you decided to tell me…” she took a breath, “not only about when you intend to enforce your plan but its entirety, it would mean the world to me. To know that out of all the billions of people in this world I was enough…for you to completely confide in.”

“You can be very persistent. When you want to be.”

“I try my best.”

“I’m sure by now you’ve heard of my political party the KLF and my run for parliament.”

“Yes. I am aware.”

“Initially when I announced my run to be a member of parliament I did plan to win power by legitimate means. Start at the bottom and work my way up so to speak.”

“I assume eventually becoming prime minister.”

“Exactly, but as time has passed I realize that I can’t wait. I have to act now. This country is at the brink of collapse, of being internally ripped apart until it fails to exist. It is hard to believe now but centuries ago this country used to be one of the shining jewels of the world. Trade and the economy flourished. Money poured into the nation. The military was one of the most formidable forces on earth. Most importantly power was centralized in the hands of the Sargis family. But over time the country was stripped of its former glory at the hands of upcoming nations, as they attacked Krudia again and again. The Sargis dynasty crumbled and the economy is nowhere near as prosperous as it once had been. Recently, due to famine and political instability, the country has fallen into economic ruin. Looking at a map today, compared to other countries, Krudia is merely a speck of land. But hundreds of years ago it was nearly ten times the size it is today. My goal is to restore Krudia to its former glory and in the process be immortalized in history. The only way for that to happen is by force as many unfortunately are against radical change.”

Tasha crossed her arms. “I can’t imagine why. Unless they enjoy starving to death.”

“In my eyes, they’re merely a nuisance.” He scoffed. “One that won’t exist for much longer. Next week, once your weapons have arrived, I plan to establish myself as the new president of Krudia.”

“I knew you were ambitious…but this. I never dreamed I’d do business with a future president.”

“Thanks to your weapons. All my goals for this nation will become reality. The nations surrounding our borders will be forced to comply with my wishes. To surrender the land that originally was part of Krudia. Nations will be forced to their knees and to fulfill my demands. Otherwise, they’ll be obliterated. With me as its leader, Krudia, not only will be restored to the height of its power but become the greatest nation on earth. Imagine me as its leader and…you be my side.”

Tasha found herself taken aback by his words. The way Dalmar mentioned threatening nuclear destruction without even a second thought sent chills up and down her spine. In some ways when dancing and dining the evening away it was easy to forget who the man was who stood in front of her. A deranged and disgusting psychopath. She swallowed, trying to find the words. “I-I can’t imagine it.”

“The thought, it’s a lot to take in isn’t it?”

“It certainly is…but as I said before you are destined for remarkable things.”

“Now is there anything else…you want? Anything at all you can think of, just name it.”

I really have this guy wrapped around my finger. At least I was able to use it to my advantage. “Just one thing. Another dance…with you.”

“There’s no music.” He stretched his arms out.

She shook her head. “Not here. Back at the main house.”

“As you wish, mi corazón.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Which part? Mi corazón or as you wish?”

“Both. But especially as you wish.”

Dalmar and Tasha each laughed as they headed back towards the stairwell. As she climbed into the car, Tasha felt a sense of relief wash over. She’d gotten the information they needed. All she had to do was keep up her cover, despite how difficult it was increasingly becoming. She hoped Jason would be back at the house by the time she and Dalmar returned. That is if he had not run into any trouble. Tasha quickly silenced those thoughts for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. She knew thinking about Jason being caught, without knowing if that was actually true, would do neither of them any good. As they settled back in the car Dalmar once again wrapped his arm around Tasha. Tasha inwardly rolled her eyes, her annoyance with Dalmar’s enchantment with her growing every second. It’s good. You can do this. She told herself. Just so long as he doesn’t propose.

…..

Jason quietly made his way through the tunnel into the lab report room. In front, he could see the door that led to the hall, off of which was the stairwell. That stairwell led to the first corridor, beyond which lay the door to the outside. The last thing he needed was to get caught especially after all he’d done to get this far.

As Jason began to exit the room a piercing shriek filled the room, followed by a succession of agonizing screams. It had come from the door on the left side of the aisle, the room he had seen the two security guards enter earlier. Jason then heard words come from a man, who sounded as though he was in excruciating pain. “Please stop. I won’t speak out against Dalmar again. I swear.”

“I’m afraid once is one time too many” came another man’s voice, that sounded like Tarek.

He could only imagine the horrifying scenes unfolding in that room. Jason knew that in becoming an agent he would see and hear horrific and tragic things, see the worst sides of people. Every day in training new agents were debriefed on this issue and how to respond. How not to let it affect them or their actions, but to continue to carry on with their mission. Their instructors would ask them what was more important. Saving one person at the expense of the entire operation or choosing to save more lives by keeping their cover intact? For Jason that was a question he didn’t want to answer. Losing one life was one too many. However, in this world, you had to put aside your own beliefs and values for the sake of national security. At least that was what he’d been told by his superiors. He couldn’t do what Jason Allen Whittaker would do. He had to do what 1131 would do. Jason knew that right now he had to push his thoughts aside and press on. No matter what, Dalmar could not carry out his plan. He had to succeed on this mission, failure wasn’t an option. Even still it took every ounce of his willpower to not intervene.

Jason suddenly froze, in the doorway, as he heard the sound of a gunshot. He then saw the door across from him begin to open. Frantically he ducked back into the lab report room, praying he hadn’t been spotted. He pressed as close as he could against a wall and stood as still as possible. From across the hall, he saw Tarek and three other men, two of them the same guards he had followed, exit through the door. Two of the men helped to drag a man's bloody and mutilated body out of the room. As they dragged him through the hall on the ground his blood smeared all across on the concrete floor. A brutal testament to the pain and unspeakable suffering he had endured.

His Grandpa Harold would tell him that there are moments in a person’s life that would come back to haunt them. Fill them with what-ifs and doubts. Make them wonder if they should have done more or made a different choice. As he exited the warehouse Jason knew this was such a time. He was no longer a little boy with an innocent view of the world. This moment had reminded him once again how cruel and heartless people could be. How much evil there was in the world. All Jason knew was he had to bring Dalmar to justice. No matter what it took.

#AIO #AIO Fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #Adventures in odyssey #jason whittaker #tasha forbes #jason and tasha #adventuresinodyssey

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hadestownmodern · 4 years

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Thrift Shop Birthday

It’s Reeve Carney’s birthday so this came out of me today instead of my actual adult work, whoops -Danielle ------ On the first birthday Eurydice spends with Orpheus, she wakes up with a nervous energy. She hasn’t known him long, but feels the strange complexity of their relationship called for some kind of celebration on her end. It isn’t simple; what do you get the person who’d confessed his love to you the night you’d met-who’d convinced you to stay?

She’d settled on an idea-one little inkling. He’d mentioned a jacket she wears-oversized, warm, comforting. She’d told him she’d thrifted it and he’d nearly jumped with excitement, asking question after question about her favorite places to go and what it’d been like. This man, with his completely eclectic style, had only been once or twice. Eurydice vowed to change that.

They’d started out their morning at a smaller shop settled awkwardly between a bank and a chiropractor with walls of little trinkets, coffee cups and vases and statuettes with seemingly no purpose at all. He’d taken his time, looking through each of them with quizzical interest.

“Who do you think was the last person that had this?” He’d asked her, holding up a figurine of a porcelain duck wearing a sailor’s hat. Eurydice laughs, taking the figure from his hand to examine it further. It’s sturdily made, with some sort of etching on the bottom to claim its ownership-Dottie written in expansive cursive.

“This woman definitely collected these; had a big shelf of them,”

“Oh!” He lights up at the notion, “She spent hours looking for them. ”

“She was very rich-she definitely paid someone to make them because she couldn’t find any more.”

“And her family used to try and make them, too, but those didn’t end up like this one-those were Play-Doh, but the good thing about her is that those were her favorite. I think she has this whole collection of Play-Doh ducks somewhere because she wouldn’t give them away.”

She hands the duck back to him and he turns it over, tracing the etching on the bottom with a warm smile before putting it back on the shelf. They continue this game, a back-and-forth storytelling of ordinary people living their ordinary lives. Somehow, still, the stories are laced with a fantastical mystery, a beautiful what if that lies within the effortless pace of his narration.

Eurydice stops them to buy two pretzels, to slow their pace as they walk from block to block. The weather’s turned quickly into its first signs of winter; grey sky, bitter air, crowds thinning in a way that only a city native’s eye can take notice of. She laughs to herself as he dangles his hand in the space between them, fingers flexing and retracting, nervously brushing against hers.

“You can hold my hand, Orpheus.” He fits her hand in his and she can feel the hesitation, as if he’s afraid she’s going to change her mind. She does-taking her hand away for only a moment. She loops her arm around his instead, presses against his side.

They walk for a while, filling the space between them with snippets of conversation. Orpheus and Eurydice lingered on the line of polite, we just started dating conversation and talking like they’d known each other for years, volleying between stories of movies they’d seen and how they felt about the world as a whole, then back to which colors were the most aesthetically pleasing. The pauses within are filled with Eurydice against his side, pointing out places with rude storeowners or cats on their windowsills. Then, she stops at a narrow door, brings him up a flight of old wooden stairs to an ornate looking door with a bell that rings when she opens it.

The room is a sprawling mass of clothing racks, of hats and scarves hung on the walls. She turns to him, hands him a simply made greeting card with twenty dollars stuck inside. Orpheus attempts to give it back, shaking his head. She pulls an identical bill from her own pocket and shoves his back toward him.

“This is all part of the birthday, Orpheus. This is the best thrift store you’ll find, my favorite place in the whole city. You’re lucky, I don’t usually want people to know about this place. But you seem like you’ll keep my secret.” She holds his hand, squeezes it once before stepping back from him.

“Buy me an outfit, and I’ll buy one for you. It can be anything you want, but it has to stay within the twenty dollar limit.”

“Okay,” He’d laughed at her chaotic spirit, pocketing the $20 bill.

“Orpheus? The only catch is that when we’re done, we have to wear these out to dinner later. Choose wisely.”

He nods, taking his job very seriously as they part ways at the entrance. Moving through the women’s section he can barely find anything, peeking over the racks to search for the top of her head bopping along, wandering between aisles with a calculated grin. He wonders what her angle is as he holds a few choices out in his hands. This section doesn’t seem to suit her, with its prom dresses and old work blouses. He breezes into the men’s section, hoping to find a hint of inspiration.

“Hey, no peeking!” He hears her voice from two aisles over, where Eurydice hides her choices behind a rack of coats.

“Not peeking, just…looking for you!” He stammers through his words, flipping through the rack of tacky Hawaiian shirts with a smirk.

Eurydice holds a finger in the air, looks at him through teasingly narrowed eyes before turning her back to him, thumbing through a rack of clothes he can not see. His hands catch on strange fabric-thick, imposing-and he takes a moment to hold the garment in question up to the sky before grinning and draping it over his arm. Different, unique. He can’t wait to see the look on her face when she’s presented with it.

They go back to his apartment immediately afterward, their garments wrapped up in the canvas bags they’d brought to the store. They sit on the floor with their legs crossed,

“Orpheus…what the fuck is this?” The garment is heavy on her lap and she’s laughing as she holds it up, watches it unfurl. She shakes her head, holding the firefighter’s jacket against her body. It dwarfs her small frame, hits slightly past her knees.

“I only had three dollars left afterward” He shrugs. “You can put whatever you want on to go with it, I just felt like this was the best idea.”

“Oh no,” She drapes the jacket over her shoulders. “This is perfect.”

“Open yours,” She urges, pushing the bag toward him. He picks it up from the bottom, weighing it in his hands. It seems far heavier than hers had, even with the weight of the jacket. He pulls a pair of pants out first-jeans, seeming normal until he unfurls them. There are small patches of scrap fabric handily sewn in random places, tiny enough to draw notice only when looking close enough. The back pockets are also covered, but in a more blatant fashion. The cross-hatched fabric that had been chosen is slightly bold, creating a style all their own. He nods appreciatively as Eurydice shifts in her seat, brimming with anticipation.

There is an old band tee next, a graphic of a cowboy hat and text reading Thift Shop Cowboys. They’d toured, according to the three dates on the back of the shirt, all in Nebraska. Then, a button from the same band-it was a combo deal, we got lucky. There is a flannel, green and yellow and impossibly warm, fabric that feels invitingly soft between his fingers. A complete outfit; Eurydice grins in triumph when he points this out, shrugging.

“I had money leftover too, but you’ll have to wait to see how I spent it. Come on, get dressed, I’m starving!”

They’re quite the pair as they walk hand in hand down the street, Orpheus in his charmingly off-beat alternative outfit and Eurydice in her big jacket. Before they can enter the little diner she’d chosen Eurydice pulls an old, worn looking camera from the middle of her bag.

“Hold on,” She instructs, pulling him to the edge of the sidewalk closest to the building. “Take a picture with me.”

She fiddles with the old camera-another thrift shop treasure she’d fussed over until it worked just good enough to take a picture after jiggling the buttons a few times. The photo prints out instantly, and Eurydice waves it around as it develops, looking at it only briefly before laughing. They both sport confused faces, quirked eyebrows and half-opened mouths as they figure out how to work the vintage machine. They take one more, this one a different moment frozen in time. Shoulder to shoulder, their cheeks are pressed close together, Eruydice’s eyes closed as Orpheus has his eyes turned toward her. Both pictures make a return to her backpack, treasured.

The diner is full of eclectic decoration-old postcards, framed photos with seemingly no purpose…as if a thrift shop had come to life in the place. They sit on the same side of a big corner booth by the window, watch the foot traffic go by as they order milkshakes and fries. They keep the food between them, taking sips from each other’s drinks and dipping their fries in. Eurydice can’t help but keep herself close to him, feet tucked under her knees, head on his shoulder. Occasionally his head falls onto hers, stays there as he keeps his arm around her, reminds himself of the hefty fireman’s jacket with a laugh.

She only removes herself from his side to rifle through her backpack, taking out one of the photographs and a pin. Her tongue darts gently, quickly between her lips in concentration before she becomes animated once more, looking around before sticking their photograph to the wall.

“Eurydice!” He squeaks. She shakes her head while admiring her handiwork.

“Nobody will even notice, Orpheus. And then when we come back? This is our booth.”

They walk home in contented silence, full of comfort food and bliss, shielding each other from the biting cold as their pace quickens. The warmth of his apartment is a welcome thing, Eurydice hanging the fireman’s jacket on the coat hook and making her way briskly to the kitchen counter, where she pulls a small bundle from the front pocket.

“Ok, last thing.” She instructs him to sit on the couch. “Hold out your hands.” He feels the small weight drop and looks up at her in question, wondering what the newspaper-wrapped bundle could be. Eurydice watches with a tightness in her chest, an inner voice wondering if this is something stupid-silly. As his eyes widen, his grin reaches from ear to ear, her doubts are instantly quelled.

“No way.” He laughs as he holds the gift in his hands, looking up at her in disbelief. “This is incredible.”

“I thought he might need a new home.”

“Eurydice,” He rises from the couch, wraps her in a tight hug and kisses her gently. “Wait.”

He bounds over to the small shelf holding his record player, with the most narrow little shelf at the top. He puts the gift on the little lip, just above the record player, a near-perfect display.

“There’s something missing.” He gestures to her backpack, a silent request, and then delves in. When his handiwork is finished they stand in front of it together, Orpheus kissing the top of Eurydice’s head. Each time he chooses a record for years to come, Orpheus feels his heart warm at the photograph of their confused faces and the porcelain duck with a sailor’s hat.

#hadestown #hadestownmodern #orpheus #eurydice #young orphydice #every day pre-baby is going to be written because there's not many and they're my favorite #danielle writes

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serenity-writes · 5 years

Text

Hide and Seek (IkeSen Masamune)

What’s better than a scavenger hunt on your day off? One that promises a very sweet reward.

A merry Christmas to the most awesome and spectacular @canismajorflowershop!! I consider myself lucky that we’re friends and am so happy to have had the honor to write this fluffy fluff for you ♡

In the morning, Masamune awoke alone. He rolled over, seeking the heat of his beloved but was met with nothing. No weight, no sweet scent, nothing. “Kitten?” His eye was open by the next second. He pushed up, a slight panic settling into his stomach as he found himself the sole occupant of their futon. She hadn’t mentioned having any sort of previous engagement, so where the heck was she?

Then Masamune noticed a white letter balanced upon her pillow, with a familiar scrawling script that spelled his name. Ahh… His girl was up to no good, was she? He smiled, curiosity and amusement replacing his surprise as he picked up the letter.

Dear Masamune,

Sorry for not giving you your morning kiss in bed today. But I promise, you’ll still get your kiss! You’ll just have to find me first.

I’ll give you a hint. It’s not an angel but…

Love you always!

Your kitten.

Closing the slip, Masamune let a laugh fill the empty space. Of course. Leave it up to her to find some way to keep things interesting on this spring day. When had she even planned this? “I’ve been teasing her too much. She’s learned how to keep a straight face,” Masamune said to himself as he got up, walking to his day-clothes to change. “But I’ll find her. I always do.”

His first stop was the very top of Azuchi castle. He definitely wasn’t an angel, but Masamune was searching for the devil king, Nobunaga.

“Masamune. What, do you have nothing better to do on your day off than to work?” Nobunaga greeted him curtly, barely looking up from the Go board he mulled over. Then a cocky smirk spread over his lips. “If you don’t satisfy your princess with some time together, then I’ll be taking her back.”

Masamune laughed heartily, knowing his lord’s words to be in jest. “Actually, I’m here because of her. Is there a letter or something for me?”

“I’ll give it to you if you best me.” Nobunaga swept a hand over the game, his smirk only growing wider. “A good general must set an example for his men. In war, and in Go.”

Masamune settled down into a cross-legged position. “You’re on.”

Twenty minutes later, Masamune walked out of Nobunaga’s chambers with a loss. But Nobunaga had been gracious enough to give him a ‘loser’s concession’, and so he carried the second white letter.

Masamune,

I hope Nobunaga didn’t give you too much trouble! Though he probably did. Hehe, sorry.

Next hint! What’s sour on the outside, but sweet on the inside?

Yours forever.

“Well, lass, that one’s too easy!” Masamune exclaimed, startling a nearby maid as he hurried off to see Ieyasu in his room.

Lord Tokugawa let out a huff when Masamune interrupted his reading. “You shouldn’t drag me into your useless games.”

“C’mon, it’s a bit of fun. What’s the harm?” Masamune remained ever undaunted by Ieyasu’s prickly exterior.

“The rest of us have actual work to do.” Ieyasu began to rifle through the stack of books on his table. “Though I suppose you’ll be busy enough soon…” He added in a quiet voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ieyasu extracted the letter, handing it over to Masamune without a second glance. “Here. Go.”

“Don’t you have some sort of challenge for me to get it?”

“Nope. Couldn’t be bothered. Leave.”

Masamune laughed, clapping Ieyasu on the back. “Alright, alright. Thanks!” He strolled off, wondering how his princess got Ieyasu to agree to this in the first place. She was magical, that one.

Masamune~

Ieyasu just handed it to you, didn’t he? I tried to make him promise to do something special but… Oh well.

Onto the next! You’ll probably want to bring some food when you go see him…

Kisses.

Masamune decided to heed her instruction. He whipped up something quick and tasty for his friend before he headed over to Mitsunari’s room. Or, as she sometimes referred to it, the second library.

“Mitsunari? Are you awake?” Masamune knocked three times, really only for formality’s sake. “I’m coming in.”

There was Mitsunari, sitting as still as a statue in front of a veritable mountain of books, occasionally flipping a page.

“Hey.” Masamune didn’t really expect an answer, but the rice stew he’d prepared had to be eaten. So once again, he seated himself in front of his friend. He scooped wooden-spoonfuls of the delicious meal and held it close to Mitsunari’s lips. It was endlessly amusing when Mitsunari opened his mouth, chewed exactly ten times, then swallowed, ready for the next bite. They continued on in this manner until the bowl was left empty.

Like clockwork, Mitsunari’s hand reached into his kimono and suddenly, Masamune found a white letter being thrusted at him. Challenge… passed?

“Thanks, Mitsunari!” There was no reply, only a slight nod that Masamune could have imagined entirely as he pushed to his feet. “I’ll see ya later.”

My love,

I wish I could take credit for the automated machine Mitsunari, but I really can’t.

Here’s the next hint: He’s the midnight guard of the stars, standing ever vigilant against thieves!

You’re getting close to the end!

I can’t wait to see you.

Stars? This one had Masamune stumped. He scratched his head as he tried to think of who it could be. The only thing he could really conjure up was an old god or some sort of ancient deity. Who would steal the stars in the first place?

“Hey, hey, give them back!”

“Nope, gotta catch me first!”

Two kids ran past the warlord, practically bowling him down in their haste. They were popping things into their mouth, frantically chewing on the colorful bits of candy and—OH! Sugar stars! They only had one resident thief in Azuchi castle, and he had one loyal retainer who kept him in track (or at least tried).

Masamune practically sprinted to Hideyoshi’s door, thoughts of the love of his life on his mind. His morning kiss was fast becoming a late-afternoon kiss, and damn it, he was getting impatient. His lips felt too lonely without her to warm them.

“Masamune!” Hideyoshi was one step ahead of him, clearly waiting for his arrival in front of his room. “Quick, we have to go to the kitchen!”

“The kitchen?” A bewildered Masamune had no choice but to follow the hurried Hideyoshi down the hallway again. “Why?”

“We just had a shipment of konpeito come in, and I know Lord Nobunaga is running low! I have to hide it from him first!”

But alas, when they slid open the kitchen door, Nobunaga already cradled a full container of the colorful candies. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it in the slightest. “Hideyoshi. You’re too late.”

“Lord Nobunaga! You can’t eat all of those candies! What about your health?!” Hideyoshi tried to grab the sugar from his lord’s arms, but Nobunaga’s battle-trained instincts were a force to be reckoned with. He side-stepped Hideyoshi’s hands and past Masamune. He was gone, fleeting with his new treasures.

Hideyoshi heaved a heavy sigh, shooting Masamune a look of resignation. “Sometimes he’s just like a child. But I suppose he would have gotten the candy sooner or later.”

Masamune could only laugh at Hideyoshi’s semi-pout. “Eh. Kids are tricky like that. Just hafta try your best.”

“Even though we failed… Here you go.” Hideyoshi handed his friend the next letter. “Enjoy.”

Masamune only needed one glance at the words to figure out where to go. Where else but the place where they had first shared a sweet kiss? He saw her silhouette by the river a mile away. He spurred the horse on as he raced to her, heart palpitating in excitement. “Kitten!” He yelled, and watched her turn, a smile blooming across her gorgeous lips.

He leapt off his horse, finishing the journey on foot as he took her in his arms. “I missed you so damn much,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

But she stopped him with the final letter.

“Huh?”

Her grin only grew bigger. “Just read it.”

Hi, love.

I hope you don’t mind that I sent you running all around today! I wanted to make things interesting and give you some practice... Everyone wanted to help out and share in the festivities (even Ieyasu, just a little bit). So why all the secrecy and games? Well. Ask yourself this:

What is our greatest wish?

Hint: it’s come true.

He dropped the letter.

His eye filled with hope as it met hers, then darted down to her stomach. Then everything came together. All the symptoms, all the nausea, the tummy aches. “No,” he whispered, acutely aware that his hands were trembling. “Really? Is it… really?” He reached out, touching her belly with shaking fingers. “Please. Say yes.”

“Yes. Masamune. We’re going to be parents!”

He swept her into an embrace and squeezed with as much strength he could muster before he remembered that he should have been delicate with his love. But his lips were far from gentle as he finally stole hers with a kiss. He poured every drop of happiness into his touch, wishing he could give her half the joy she had just brought to him.

“I can’t believe it.”

She wiped away the tear that rolled down his cheek with a kiss. “Well, you’d better, because you’re going to be a dad.”

“Dad.” Masamune repeated the word, as if testing the weight of it on his tongue. “Dad. I’m going to be a dad.” Another deep breath, a fresh batch of silent tears full of hope and happiness. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Then he knelt, pressing a cheek against her stomach. “Hey, can you hear me in there?” He rubbed so tenderly her heart swelled. “Even if you can’t, I’ll tell you every day. I promise—I’m going to love and take care of you forever.”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen masamune #date masamune #fluff #ikesen fanfiction #i loved writing this #can you pick out all the parenting examples in the scenarios?#i tried to make it subtle ahaha #fluffy fluff fluff is the best to write #love you tasha!!!#merry christmas!!! <3 #my writing

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years

Text

Red Right Hand X

—

The wind was cold and whipped painfully at her cheeks as she strode through the wild grasses and between the stones around her. The gravel crunched underfoot as the blonde woman made her way to the small, nondescript marker in the back corner of the yard.

Her father already stood before it, hands in his threadbare pockets and a scarf wrapped to cover the lower half of his face from the blistering cold wind.

Joanna barely restrained herself from running to him, but the overwhelming desire to clutch at the other was surrendered to immediately. She pressed her face into his chest, the scent of fire wood and horsehair flooding her reminding her of home, for a long moment as they just held each other.

“What’re we doin’ ‘ere, Joey darlin’?” “This is where we gain so much more than just than just ten percent, Da.”

The young girl pulled back from her father, brown eyes meeting hazel, and gave a shake of her head and pointed to the cold, solid ground.

“In there, there’s a treasure far of more worth for us than any horse takin’s.” “How do you know?” “Because the man on the stone is in London right now, on the Shadows payroll, instead of six feet down beneath us ‘ere.”

The possiblity had never crossed her mind that she might actually be able to uncover where the stolen weapons of the Faceless Shadows could be. She had felt her ears prick months ago at the idea the dark haired man had machine guns that were due to be sent to kill and stomp down her people, but she had simply thought it an interesting tidbit rather than something she could ever uncover. Ever take for her own.

However the previous afternoon she had been working through balancing the ledgers for the middle Visyak brother, somehow able to do the math quicker than the hot tempered man and possessing nicer hand writing as well, when the opportunity had presented itself.

“Jeffrey, how am I supposed ta help if I don’t know what half these numbers mean?” “Anything you don’t know, just ask.” “Okay, well firstly what is this ten pounds a week goin’ ta London for? It’s just left blank.”

Jeffrey had approached and leaned over her shoulder, hands pointing at the blank line above her own finger with a frown.

“Hmm, where’s it going in London?” “Somewhere in Crystal Palace.” “Oh, that’s for Amon-” “Amon? …didn’t he die a few months back?” “Smoke and mirrors, sweetie, just smoke and mirrors. A pelt of sheep’s brains and a convincing fall was all it needed and now Amon’s been in the city setting up for our next expansion.”

The man had paused in his speaking, drawing a drag from his smoke and flipping the pages back so he could point out the address and where the payments began immediately after the others death.

“Pretty sure we needed to up the price too, given he’s babysitting our sister in the city too.”

Joanna shook the memory from her head of the scared boy’s face when she first met him, and of the strangely sombre but not distraught way the youngest Shadow brother had behaved after his friends death. It had been too early to understand the nuances and she had not thought to revisit the matter once she understood Jackson further.

“So what are me and the boys due to be diggin’ up, Joey?” “Twenty six military machine guns and ammunitions.”

Her father stared at her at that, eyes boring into her as if trying to determine if she was lying, joking or speaking truthfully at that.

“How'dye know that? Who told you ‘bout there being guns down in this grave?” “I got told from th’ horses mouth itself that they had acquired some rattlers a few months ago. And found out ‘bout the faked death yesterday. ”

William Harvelle ran a hand over his hair several times as he looked between her and the soil, making the young woman shift uncomfortably. Perhaps she had over estimated her father’s hatred for those starting to invade their home, or his dedication to the cause. Or perhaps he doubted her honesty or fact finding.

Ducking her head, Joanna pulled her coat closer around herself as she moved to run a hand over the top of the tombstone with a pile of different rocks resting atop it.

“This could change everythin’ Da, if we can get them out of the country and back to Ireland and the army…” “We could also be arrested in this fuckin’ land and never see your Mam again.“

The comment about their yearly visits to the small graveyard in Cork made the girl shake her head.

“This is bigger than some fear, Da. Mam would understand.” “Understand she might, but Joey, she wouldn’t want ye throwin’ your life away gettin’ involved in what I’ve been doin’.”

It had been a long standing argument between father and daughter since the girl had lost her mother and then further still after the attack on the small community they had travelled in. William Harvelle may have been known in England as one of the finest horsebreeders in the isles, however back home he had a reputation for being able to source anything and everything, from clothing and potatoes to hand grenades and rifles. It was a reputation he had been fighting to avoid gifting to his headstrong daughter too.

“Da, you can’t shelter me forever. I’ve already seen too much a this world as you know… I’m not your little girl no more.” “Darlin’ girl, you will always be my little one. Growin’ up won’t change that one bit.” “Well you should still listen ta me. This could change everythin’.”

Joanna stared up at her father pleading with him to trust her. It would be bad enough their desecrating what appeared to be a grave site by exhuming the guns - if there was a real person in there, then the light of God was likely to turn it’s back on them soon enough.

“Da, this could change everythin’…” “Okay, Joey, okay.. I’ll get the boys ‘ere and we’ll start as tomorrow.” “Could… Could you bring one of 'em for me back at me flat before you move out?” “Why would'cha need a machine gun, darlin’?” “I don’t want ta leave them high 'nd dry since we’re takin’ the rest.”

She could feel her cheeks heating up as she requested the one to be left behind. She did not understand what made her ask, but the rumours of trouble between gangs starting up and the potential thought that the few men who’d treated her nicely may be outgunned when they lose their secret cache made her want to shudder.

Looking up into the thoughtful, and then knowing, look on her father’s face, Joanna could feel the judgement rolling off of him. The judgement for letting herself get caught up in feelings or thoughts that could derail everything. The judgement she’d directed at herself ever since the church a few months ago.

“Alright, my darlin’, I’ll leave them the one gun for that one, so long as you come to me when the fightin’ starts and come on home. We can always collect it again when we come back for the last payment.”

Tucking her face into the warmth of her father’s jacket again to hide the pleased look on her face, Joanna nodded her agreement to his demands.

She did not need to remain to see the fall out between her Shadows and the others. She could not see the violence of mindless death here as well as at home, she could not face it again or her heart may just finally burst like her father’s had eight long years ago.

—

“Excuse me, sir, if ye could make your way out when you’ve finished your pint your next drinks’ll be on the ‘ouse…” “Sorry mister, but we’re closin’ early tonight…” “No more drinks tonight, Ash, you’ll have ta come back tomorrow night…”

The girl ran around the room, shooing off those who were not connected with the gathering that was forming at the small pub that evening. Michael had thought it best to gather all those who operated under the Shadows payroll together to speak the once on the coming storm. Jeffrey had the barmaid scare off those not involved as the strike of the hour approached, and followed her around handing out drinks to those who were arriving and would stay for the meeting.

As the clock struck ten that night, the final few men arrived slipping through the doors before the previous barman slid the locks in place on the doors. This meeting would not be interrupted and Michael was determined to ensure all knew the expectations of each before anyone would leave.

The tall blond made his way to the second stair towards the upper storage areas of the pub, empty glass left behind him on the bar counter to be refilled while he spoke. He waited for the room to fall quiet, the odd murmur and greeting still being made but not sufficient to distract from his words as he surveyed the group as a whole. It had taken many years, and they had lost many of their closest friends and supports in that time, for the Faceless Shadows to grow from five friends running amok on the streets of Birmingham at the turn of the century into an almost legitimate organisation. With those ranging from book keepers and enforcers, to those who simply shared information and look outs, to those that worked supporting the families of those they had lost, to those that worked in the barges, those that worked on the trains, those that worked in the police force, those that worked in the hospital, those that kept their hands clean and those that did not. Looking over the amassed number filling the bar as it was, Michael felt a small swell of pride at what he had created - and the dark gnawing of the hole deep inside him that could only be fed by creating more seemed to bite harder.

“Gents..” His voice was not particularly loud, however it managed to bounce around the room and draw the last voices to silence. Michael cleared his throat once before begining again. “Gents, this has been a long time coming and I appreciate every one of you for your unwavering support and loyalty these last years since we managed to return from that horrible business in France, in Germany, on the continent.”

He paused as a general round of cheers came to that, allowing the foot stomping and claps to die down before he continued.

“Since that time, we have built this organisation into a truly impressive being, stronger than any one individual, any one family, any one calling. We have joined together to start down this path towards history.” Michael rubbed his hands on the inside of his pockets as he spoke, the number of eyes upon him would be enough to make anyone nervous however he simply felt a numb, cold chill as he thought of the pain and suffering he was about to draw upon them all. “And some day shortly, that history will continue and grow further - first with the removal of our rivals here in Birmingham, and then the removal of our rivals through the North.”

“Fuck tha Black Eyes-” “-Bloody Catholic cunts-” “-down with the lot of ‘em-”

Various shouts interrupted his next part to the speech, a round of calls and jeers about the other factions bouncing about the room. He could see Jeffrey and his small group of enforcers throwing back shots as each person shouted an obscenity related to their rivals. He could see the tall blond police officer, the only one to appear from the force itself that night but in place to let the others in on the information afterwards, in the back corner beside the short dark haired barman sharing an impassive look between them. He could see the bright blue eyes of his boy crowding near the staircase itself, but he would not dwell long on the boy having snuck his way into the meeting just yet. He could see Jackson smoking by the door to the private back room, eyes unfocussed and simply staring rather than listening to the information that would only not surprise him.

“In the coming week, we must be prepared to do what must be done - we have heard talk that the Catholic bastards and the Black Eyes have joined forces to bring the fight to us. We knew there would be… retribution eventually from the move at Cheltenham, and especially after the death of the previous Catholic leader.” Michael let out a small sigh at that, eyes glazing over where he could see the blonde barmaid glaring back at him at that comment. There was no need for her resentment to still exist. “However, they have made a fatal flaw in their decisions, in bringing the fight to us. To our streets that we know and control. To our very doorstep.”

A round of cheers came up at that as well from those around his brother, while those who mostly operated the every day and less violent roles in the group shuffled uncomfortably. Michael knew the feeling, he had once been as uncomfortable with the violence necessary - but that was when he was still weak. Now, he and the Shadows would not show weakness in the face of danger.

“Those of you who do not need to participate, you will be told and your tasks will be to secure your houses, your neighbour’s houses, and your neighbour’s neighbours. When the trouble starts, majority of you will be operating as such - protecting yourself, yours and those beside you. This is the most we will ask of you, to ensure our city, our people, remain safe throughout.”

There was a hum of relief and appreciation that rippled across the crowd. A suggestion from his mother - to ensure that the general populace would not be impacted - in order to avoid issues afterwards with innocents being harmed seemed to resonate well.

“Those of you participating, you would know who you are and myself and the other boys will speak with you. They will come for us here, they will approach through the city and plan to circle us as a whole. We will have you in position from tonight onwards, and you will need to remain as such and prepared for any moment.” Michael sighed slightly as he thought over the number of coins it had taken to clear out the streets bordering the pub to be able to hide his men in plain sight. “Jeffrey will cover the tactical plans with each man once you are in place, but we expect to take them by surprise when they come. To fire upon them from before and behind as they attempt to dislodge us.”

Shifting his feet, Michael noticed movement from the corner of his eye and accepted the drink held out to him from the boy at his shoulder. Swirling the dark contents around the glass itself, he found himself staring back at the depths like they would give him the last words. A cough from somewhere, towards the side back of the room and a gesture from the cougher got him moving again. Holding the glass aloft, Michael raised the drink in a toast. “So men, let us drink to what our futures hold for us. To the success and glory we will meet. To-”

“To the Facelss fuckin’ Shadows.”

—

London from Crystal Palace was not like London from the Mayfair or the Savoy the few times she had ventured to the capital before. London from Crystal Palace was like living above everyone else - the highest place in the city and views that stretched on for miles. The palace itself shone brightly at the top of the road she was staying on.

Every morning she and her companion would walk along Chruch Road up to the Crystal Palace itself, around the grounds and then back to the small townhouse they were staying in. By the time they returned, the redhead girl who worked cleaning and preparing the house in the mornings would have breakfast sat on the small table in the main room of the house.

After breakfast, Shada would find herself curled up on the chaise before the front window with a book or a cross stitch, waiting for something, anything, to happen. The curly haired man would follow her into the room and sit quietly at the kitchen table. The few times she would look over at him throughout the morning, she would see the boy with his head buried in his hands or shaking to himself if a horn would blow outside or a car back fired down the road somewhere.

The afternoon would be spent in the small back courtyard when the sun was shining, the pair of them would have tea and scones or finger sandwiches. There was a small vegetable patch that the man would dig his hands in, muddy and brown by the end of the afternoon, and work the soil over ot tending the vegetables growing there. Shada would watch, relaxing back in the sunshine. If the afternoon was wet and raining, she would take a brolly and head to the main street nearby to stretch her feet alone for once. There was a small haberdashery, and a bakery with beautiful French-style pastries, that she would frequent. It gave her a brief window whereby she could pretend that she was back at home in Birmingham, princess of the underground and free as a bird.

She never made mention of the shadow that would follow her, lurking near the doorways when she entered the stores, and then setting off at ten paces behind her the whole way back home. She could pretend he was not following her like the lost puppy he was, that she was able to travel where she liked as she liked, and that her brother hadn’t commanded she be accompanied every where she went.

Nights would be a quiet affair, sitting nearby the fireplace, red wine in one hand and another book in the other. Sometimes she would talk the other into playing cards, sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table and the deck spread between them. Rumy, bridge and poker being her preferred games; though sometimes he would instruct her in a strange game which used the instructions card and Joker. Sometimes he would actually withdraw to his room and leave her to her reading and letter writing. Those nights she would work on letters to her brothers and mother, advising how her days were proceeding.

She would finally make herself ready for bed and leave to her bedroom around ten each night; however she never removed the outter dressing gown until well after two in the morning. Every night between her retreating to her room and that time of night, Shada would hear the door down the hallway creak open, feet thud heavily along the squeaky floorboards, and shuffle downstairs. It would take until almost one before the crying would begin, and once she would finish the last page of the chapter she was on, Shada would put her book away. She would pad her way downstairs, and talk the whimpering man back up to his room with half a bottle of whiskey to fall asleep with.

Sundays they would walk to the church rather than the palace, but otherwise the last two weeks had followed the same routine each day. It had become almost quaint to her the way that life had fallen into a domestic haze, whereby each day blended to the other. Before she knew it, three weeks had passed.

—

It was the boy’s seventeeth birthday. A brilliant year for some and a horrible year for others. Six years earlier and he would have been conscripted and sent to die in the muck, mud and cold of the fields of France.

When his own seventeenth had come, his mother had baked a cake so large he had not seen one to the same size since. His father had given him a pocket watch with his inital engraved elegantly on the outside. His younger brother had remained scarce - a true gift in that. His elder brother had treated him to a few rounds at the pub, Mott’s Moat, on Green Street. His friends had brought several nuibile and beautiful girls to dance and talk with them. One of the girls had let him do her in the bathroom stalls. One of the pub-goers had taken offence to something he had said and started a fist fight on the streets outside. All in all, he had had an amazing day for his own.

Jeffrey clapped his nephew on the shoulder as he brought him into the pub with a cheery wave towards the blonde behind the bar for bottles to be brought through. He thought he heard her mutter about his drinking the profit away, but thought nothing of it, the girl always complained. Ian looked around in surprise as he was guided towards the back private room, though that was not too surprising as he was rarely allowed to join his uncles in their meetings at The Fort. His grandma had only recently allowed him to join the Tuesday family meetings at home, and his father had refused him entry to the men’s meetings thus far.

“Come on kid, we’re going to get you right and sloshed before moving the party on.” Jeffrey crooned quietly, grabbing the bottle of whiskey slid through the cubby hole with a wink at the barmaid. Joanna was always so fun to flirt with, especially as she leant into the space to stare at the younger boy sitting awkwardly on one of the benches.

“What’re ye up to, Jeffrey?” “Why, sweetie, I’m taking my nephew out to celebrate his birthday.” “Oh? How old are ye, kiddo?” “Uh… seventeen ma’am.” “Barely still a kid then, aye. Not far off meself actually. Well, happy birthday and let me know if you boys need anythin’ else, Jeff.”

The girl’s friendly greeting and chat to the nervous kid made him want to smirk. It was clear she was bemused by his choice to bring the boy drinking, and the boy ws perplexed at not being ignored or spoken over the top of. Jeffrey grabbed the glasses left as well and poured the both of them a large pour of the drink.

“Well, there you have it Ian. Not much a kid any more. And part of that is what we’re going to get up to tonight.” “You know I have had whiskey before-” “Clearly. This is just to warm the both of us before we go visit some very friendly friends of mine.” “Friends?”

“Whores, Ian. We’re going to go give you a night you’re not going to forget…” Jeffrey let out a laugh as he clapped the boy on the back, downing his own drink before pouring his own and gesturing for the other to do the same with his. The boy coughed a bit as he swallowed, and then spluttered at his uncle’s words, blue eyes blown wide. “ I mean, unless we get through enough here. Then you may just end up forgetting it.”

“I’ve… I’ve had girls before, Uncle Jeff.” “Just Jeffrey now, Ian, you’re about to start joining the adults this year.” “Oh, yes, Jeffrey. I’ve… I had a girl I drove about if you know what I mean.” “Figured so, what with that pretty flop of hair on your head and your being a fucking Visyak. But tonight isn’t just about what’s between a ladies legs, boy, it’s about so so much more.” “Uh…”

The boy gulped down another three drinks in the next half hour as Jeffrey continued to pour them. Soon enough the bottle was empty and the elder found himself lurching to his feet with a laugh. “Come on, lets go get your dick wet.”

The flush on the boy’s face as they left at that made him laugh even more as Jeffrey guided the pair of them along the wet cobble streets. There was the scent of spices and chili in the air, the sound of squealing animals and the horrible chatter of the Chinese town laundry workers as they made their way towards the personal favourite whores of Jeffrey’s. The ladies were more beautiful than the other working girls around the city, and they poured top shelf spirits if you slipped them an extra coin or two.

Making their way down the back alley way towards the red lighted door, the old man in place as always out the front, Jeffrey could hear the young dark haired boy gulp as he adjusted his shirt and jacket. When the boy went to smooth down his hair, Jeffrey let out another laugh as he finished his cigarette. “Ian, boy, they don’t care what you look like. All that matters is what is in your pockets, and tonight? Your pockets are going to make them drool.”

“Sure thing Un- uh, Jeffrey.” “Thats right kid. And we’ll get you Cynthia if she’s free.. even if she’s not, we’ll get you Cynthia. Maybe June too. You like blondes or brunettes?” “Uh.. blondes?” “Good answer!”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Jeffrey reached into his pockt to withdraw the two coins for the entrance fee for the old man right before the door slammed open and into his side.

“Oi! You fucker!” “Oh, sorry si- huh, it’s you.”

The trio of men exiting drew up short, voice of the one apologising pulling up short as the lot got a good look at one another. Sargeant Sam Winchester, the giant dark haired man of the Birmingham police brigade, had pulled back from apologising as he held the door open for his companions to move through. His brother, Chief Inspector Dean Winchester, and their cousin, Constable Christian Campbell, exited through the door and drew to their full heights as they stood almost toe to toe with the dark haired Shadow and his confused looking nephew.

“Did you boys enjoy our last meeting?” “You mean watching your beaten ass get dragged through the pecinct? Yes, yes we did.” “Doesn’t seem very fitting of your office to admit it though.” “None of us have our badges on at the moment.”

Jeffrey found himself staring off against all three officers as Ian drew a step back at the approaching men. Three against one was not always the best odds, however as he ran an eye over the rumpled clothes and roughly smoothed hair, he figured he may just have more energy than the lot of them put together. Hand sliding into his pocket that held his razor blade, he watched carefully as the biggest threat of the three, the older Winchester, reached his own hand into a pocket for a weapon on too.

“Heard you boys all been having some extra padding to your pockets lately.” He found himself stating quietly but filled with humor as he flicked his eyes between the three and the door behind them. “Given where we’re meeting, I guess my sources are right. Enjoying working for that cocksucking angel-obsessed mess, Winchester? The poofy Scotsman, Campbell?” Jeffrey grinned wickedly as he spoke, shifting his feet backwards less to give ground and more to free space for himself. “Not sure what you’re doing though, little giant - which cock are you taking?”

All three men growled, the skinny Campbell one letting out a round of obscenities as the trio each removed knives and switch blades from their pockets. Jeffrey matched in kind with his own straight razor before a noise behind him caught all four men’s attention.

Ian was only two steps behind his uncle, staring between the four older men with a look somewhere between uncertainty and arrogance. His stance was not completely awful, nor was the positioning of his fists - not quite by his sides as if he was unprepared, but not quite forceful enough to instigate an attack.

“You gentlemen mind if I talk to my nephew before this begins - it is his birthday after all.” “Yeah, send the kid on his way, Shadow.”

“That’s for him to decide,” Jeffrey quipped back, turning to his nephew again. He ran an eye over the boy again before withdrawing a knife from in his boot. Twisting the blade over, he held the handle out to the younger boy. Ian’s eyes flickered between it, his uncle, the three out of uniform officers and the old man reclining on the bench beside him. “Ian, you’ve got three choices right now - you can be a boy, and run back home. You can be a man, pay the old geezer and go see Cynthia. Or, you can be a Shadow. Your choice.”

The boy’s eyes widened even further and Jeffrey abstractly wondered if he was part fish from the way his mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. It was only a moment though, before the boy reached out for the handle with a firm nod of his head.

“I’m a fuckin’ Shadow, aren’t I?”

—

The only consistency she had been able to rely upon in the last month was the Tuesday Family Meeting. The three brother’s and her grandson all sat around the small table, talking shit and complaining about various aspects of the business as any other Tuesday would do. Eleanor was not buying the peaceful setting the group was attempting to deliver thought.

She had heard about Michael’s inspirational speech at The Fort after their last Tuesday meeting. Eleanor had been glad to hear from one of the ladies down the road who had heard it from her daughter who had heard it from her beau who worked on the barges for her boys’ that Michael had followed her instructions to position the safety of the city citizens as a high priority.

Then in the early hours of Friday morning she had been woken up by the sound of Jeffrey and Ian crashing their way into the kitchen - bruised and bleeding on her lace doilies. They each still wore the marks of their escapades on the boy’s birthday, Jeffrey with a split lip, broken fingers and a gash across his eyebrow to jaw line, and Ian with two black eyes, a broken nose and having almost lost a tooth. She had heard there was an altercation with some off-duty officers from Robert, and barely restrained from choking her son for dragging the younger one into his fighting ways.

She had not heard Jackson being up to anything particularly concerning that week - however that barely meant anything, as her youngest was particularly skilled at hiding his trail and keeping things quiet. She had not heard of his spectacular find until he told her himself. That she had heard nothing did not settle her nerves.

“Well, if we are done here?” “Yes, about time we started work and got the doors open.”

The group moved about through the post-meeting routines, putting away dishes and leftovers into the pantry for use later in the week. If Shada had been there, she would have made up sandwiches for the lunch break then and there, but nobody wanted to step into the role. To admit they were missing one of their own.

As Jackson moved to the doors that separated the family quarters from business, there was a loud clink noise that froze all three of her sons. Turning around, Eleanor approached where her youngest had not moved the doors any further, staring at the floor in horror.

“What’s going on, Jacky?” “Ma, get Ian and get out of here now.” “What?” “Everyone get out now!”

The shouted instructions got all three sons to move immediately, the eldest grabbing his own boy’s shoulders as they sprinted towards the front door to the street. Eleanor looked in confusion as Jackson grabbed her arm and pulled her along himself as she stared at the silver metal pin on the floor. “Is… Is that-”

Her words were cut off as the family poured from the building, only to be chased by the licking flames as the building was engulfed in a loud bang and fire. The explosion sounded dreadful in her ears, noise ringing as she flung herself to the street beside the others. Hands over the back of her head, she tried to breathe, tried to be calm, tried to ignore the licking warmth that spread from where her door was.

Eleanor can’t find her way to the feet until Michael had his hands under her arms and was lifting her from the ground. Her legs seemed to shake and not want to work as her son wrapped her up in his arms. She could see the flames and smoke billowing out the open doorway and beginning to creep out of the upper windows all along the four joined and knocked together rowhouses that made up their home and head quarters.

“What..what happened?” Her voice quivered as she finally managed to support her own weight, hands digging harshly into Michael’s shirt as she stared at their home going up in flames and smoke. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“There was a grenade on the door handles, when Jackson opened the doors it pulled the pin, Ma. Someone broke into the work room while we were having out meeting.” “Must have been the Black Eyes - that is their type of move, to blow up women and children.”

The venom that came from Jeffrey’s voice as he joined his brother to explain would have made any weaker woman’s blood run cold, but instead, it fueld the flames boiling through Eleanor to match those destroying the home she had raised her children and grandchild in. The heat of her anger surging through her as she pulled out of the grip of her sons. Both men looked as furious as she did. Turning, Eleanor could see Jackson brushing the ash and soot off of Ian’s back and hair with a frown of his own.

As she brushed her own skirts off, Eleanor could hear the sound of voices calling and their neighbours pouring out of their own houses with buckets of water and hoses alike. The city and those that lived there pouring out to help their Shadows.

Even as buckets doused the flames, it could do nothing to the flames of war and vengence burning deep within the older woman. As she took up a bucket from the elderly lady next door, Eleanor threw the water over the burning wood of her front door thinking to herself that war had finally found its way to her doorstep.

—

Tuesday nights were usually relatively quiet, not being at the end of the work week for most to want to drown their sorrows or celebrate a week well completed, not being at the start of the week whereby drinking away the pain of work starting again. Tuesday nights were when she would usually play a round of cards against those two boxing organisers between pouring pints and shots, or she would go through the lines of the ledger reconciling the weekends book balance before Jeffrey could do it wrong.

She had been playing cards against Garth Fitzgerald IV and Ash Miles when the family of five had poured in - eyes fierce and fury clear on their faces. Joanna had moved to get to her feet before Jeffrey gave her a shake of the head and a wave of his hand to return to what she had been doing.

Looking at the two curious looks around the table with her, all three shared a shrug and continued their game of poker - small match sticks on the table for chips after the girl had accused them of trying to get free drinks five weeks previous. As they continued their game, Joanna found her eyes drawing to the closed private room more frequently than to the cards in her hand or on the table.

“Now, Beth, this isn’t fun.” “No fun at all.” “A distracted player just makes for bad sportsmanship after all-” “-which we would hate for you to accuse us of, sweetheart.”

Joanna rolled her eyes at the pair, glaring slightly at the blond taller one at the endearment. She had found both men to be exceptionally entertaining and relaxing to spend time with, though never when she was not on the clock. Nor would she get through a conversation without needing to shut down the flirty tone or comments from Ash at some point.

“Sorry then boys, I feel like I won’t be much fun to play against tonight-” “No I suppose not-” “-definitely not, what with the rumour of the morning-” “What rumour?” “Why, you didn’t hear it from us-” “-no, not from us. But there was a fire-” “-an explosion really, a bombing even if you like that word-” “-over at the Shadows headquarters. Whole place went up in smoke-” “-heard it was either the Catholics or Black Eyes, part of that whole… war they’re starting.”

“What…” The blonde’s eyes widened as the two talked back and forth, her eyes darting between them as they spoke before they'd even switched control of their sentences. Joanna's brow furrowed as she flicked her gaze yet again over to the private room as the door opened and the older woman of the group departed with some old, bushy bearded man with a hat still on inside. She caught a glimpse of the three brothers still remaining in the room as the door closed behind between them again.

"Huh, look at that. Looks like Michael finally gave his blessing." "About bloody time. That copper has been waiting six years now, almost seven by my count."

Joanna rolled her eyes at the back and forth as she pointed back at the table, "Get your heads back in the game while I get mine, would ye?"

The trio continued their game, matches moving around the table with ease and jokes and stories of the recent history of Birmingham flowing from both men as they drank more and more.

It was another hour before the eldest and youngest Visyak both emerged and left the private room, father and son with the same cold set face as they exited the pub. Joanna lost that hand.

As it neared midnight, her fellow players finally stood up.

Garth gave her a wave as he headed to the door to the room himself, knocking and then smiling as the taller Shadow emerged with a grin.

"We've set up a match tonight, special circumstances for that asshole and a few of the, uh, gents he had a disagreement with to have a proper rematch." Ash remarked as he helped her clear off the table, even going so far as to help carry their empty glasses over to the bar. Joanna had thought she'd have made a friend in the leery man had they met under different circumstances. The taller blond bumped her chin with a fist gently as he drew her attention back from staring after her boss and Garth's leaving backs. "You going to be alright here alone tonight? Think you've got an almost empty house."

She followed the trail of his eyes over her shoulder to where the only remaining patron was turning to go back into the Shadows room.

"I'll be fine, thanks." "Don't say I didn't ask. He's got no where else to go so I'd imagine you're going to have a hard time getting home tonight, sweetheart."

Laughing the other off, Joanna sent him on his way as she rounded the bar to start stashing away elements for the night. No other patrons had entered the building, and as she withdrew the cash drawer, she locked the front entrance before moving to the back office and store room. It took her another half an hour before she had the cash stored away, the ledgers filled out for the night, and the back of the bar restocked and prepared for tomorrows opening. Jeffrey never bother to stay on top of things, but having watched Harry’s process originally, the blonde did not deviate from what was not broken.

As she finished up the last of her preparations, Joanna gave a sigh before finally approaching the closed door to the small private room the only other occupant was hidden behind. She knocked gently, and then just pushed her way inside at no response.

The sight that met her made her laugh. The dark haired man was laying across the top of three smaller tables pushed together. His suit jacket was off and bunched under his head as if to mimic a pillow, while the long grey jacket he almost always wore when he first entered the building was thrown over him like a blanket. His eyes were closed, and if it were not for the small twitch of his lips at her laughter, she would have believed him asleep.

Approaching the table, the blonde bent over the other, hovering closely to his face for a moment before she poked him in the cheek with a finger.

“Wha-” “Sorry, Jackson, bars closed. You’re goin’ ta have to pack up and go home.” “Can’t, Beth, got blown up.” “Hmm that’s unfortunate. Well, regardless you can’t stay ‘ere.” “You realise I own this place, right?” “Mayhaps, but you still can’t do that.” “Beth, you get going home. I’ll be fine here.”

Jackson finally sat up right as they talked, one hand rubbing over his mussled hair while he fought back a scowl at her continued teasing. She knew it was not the right time or the right way to be teasing him, but she could not help herself watching him struggle to hold back a growl.

“I don’t think so, Jackson.” Joanna said, leaning against the table next to him as she tilted her head as if thinking over his words and options. As he moved to stand, she found herself resting a hand over his with a small smile, her voice dropping quieter in the empty, silent pub. “I guess you’ll just have ta come home with me.”

There was a pause as they stared one another down, brown in blue, before the other matched her smile.

In moments they were out the door, locks in place behind them, and making their way along the dark stone streets of the city in companionable silence. Joanna could not hear if he spoke to her, the thrill bubbling in her making the thud of her heart beat flood through her ears. His hand kept brushing hers as they walked, occassionally she would reach out and tug him one way or the other towards the small rented flat she had taken all those months ago. Her lease was intended for two years, however she knew that after this week, she would be gone and the room back to vaccant again.

She held her finger to her lips as they entered the front foyer of the house block she was in, before leading the other up the stairs and into the two roomed flat. Her bathroom was small and functional - more than she was used to living out of the caravan with her parents her whole life before, and something she was truly going to miss - while the rest of the flat was made up of the one room. Small kitchenette with a stove and cold drawer, a tiny island of cupboards to make a work surface butted up against the end of her bed along one wall, while the small fire place and one large, comfortable yet worn chair sat beside it and her small closet. Other than that, she had nothing to make the space feel more homely, no pictures or artwork, no book shelves or vases of flowers. Nothing to draw the eye, to interest the mind, or to pack and take with her when she left aside from her clothes.

No one else had set foot in the flat since she had moved in. Her landlady did not visit, she had no friends to visit, and her father was on the move half the time she had been in the city once he felt comfortable that she was alright. Joanna was used to living only with the necessities and light for travel, however as she watched the dark haired Shadow look around her empty flat, she suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed. Like he could see how empty her life was by the emptiness of her flat.

“Can I fix you somethin’? Tea, somethin’ stronger?” “What are you having?” “I’ll be puttin’ the kettle on for a tea.” “Tea it is then. Would not want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

Joanna felt her cheeks flame as they talked, watching the other’s eyes flash to the one bed in the space and then back to her again. As he caught her eye, she found herself flushing more at the way the blues seemed to be swallowed by the black of his pupils in the low light. Flustered, the traveller turned to put together a pot of water on the small oven cooktop before moving to stoke the fire into life. Anything to keep her hands busy and her eyes off of his.

The man appeared to look around her room once more before gesturing at the lone arm chair in the room. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, be my guest.” “Your guest, yes. And where did you mean for your guest to sleep in your... quaint lodgings, Beth?” “Perhaps I did not intend for you to sleep.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, eyes widening slightly at the slight look of shock and then shifting into a look hotter than the fire she was prodding. Joanna felt the blush creep back on her face as she stood again, the other jumping to his feet in response out of good manners or out of something else, she could not be sure.

“Maybe we should have something else, while waiting for the water to boil.” “Maybe we should.”

Joanna looked up at the other, suddenly closer in the small room than she had felt they should be but whether it was her moving to him or him moving to her she could not say. They were magnetic, opposites drawing into one another and unable to stay away. And then her hands were on him, fingers in hair and lips on lips, drawing him in, drinking him in, drowing in him.

The moment was fleeting, but followed by more as he held her tightly in return, arms around her waist or her jaw. As she pressed into him and drew him into her, feet shuffling in a twisted dance through the room until the back of her legs found the edge of the bed. Until they were laying against eachother, exploring one another through fabric, and then through skin as layers slid from them both.

Pulling back to breathe, Joanna heard the other sigh against her neck, lips trailing kisses along the white expanse. The name she was wearing like a mask, the name that burned for her to hear like this. She jerked back a bit, hands grasping his face with care as she stared into the liquid fire looking back at her.

“Not Beth...” “What?” “Joanna. My first name’s Joanna.” “...Joanna?” “I’m in hidin’ remember.”

She thought for a moment that it would stop there. That revealling she had hidden her name from him would break the spell hathat was holding them in this space, in this time, in this feeling. That he would pull away like he should have months ago.

Instead, the Shadow whispered her name to himself, thumb stroking across her cheekbone as he looked into her eyes. Whispered her name three times, as if tasting it for the first time; before he nodded and leant back in for her mouth. The next moment he was at her neck again, her name rolling from his lips against her skin making her flush.

The tea was forgotten from that point on. Hands ran across planes of skin untouched and unloved on both for some time, wiping away the pain or isolation that coated each of them as they explored eachother.

His fingers had glanced over the scarring on her stomach - the one eternal remnant of what drove her to where she was now before the attack. The burns left behind from the fire that had stolen her mother from her eight years earlier. The fire whereby the two travellers had been caught in the middle of a gun fight between the rebel forces and Englands soliders, bullets tearing through Joanna’s shoulder and her mother’s stomach and lungs, before they had hidden themselves in a building. A building that was eventually set alight without their knowledge and the burning rafter that had fallen across the both of them painfully, before the mother pushed her daughter from beneath it to escape. The rafter that had continued to smoulder and smoke, drawing away the mother’s breath as the twelve year old had struggled to drag the dying woman free. His touch smoothed away the marks for her, replacing it with soft skin and warmth she could not really feel any more.

Her hands had circled the stab wound in his side, the bullet hole in his arm and the tight knots of muscle in his neck from the weight of the world above him.

Wiping away those pains and memories alike, they shed those pasts together as if anew, before they joined together. Joanna found herself gasping and close to crying as they moved as one, hands grasping his hair and back as she fought to forge the memory in her mind. Where the other was able to let go and open themselves to the moment, she found herself regretting the moment immediately. Not for the act itself, but for the finality of it. This would not happen again, this would never be repeated once he knew the truth of what she had done.

And as they clung to eachother after, kisses and gasps together, she could feel the battered and scarred cracks on her heart tear open again, unseen and unknown, as she lay her head against his chest for the rest of the night.

---

#AU stories #peakyverse fic

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the-firebird69 · 3 years

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You too Tommy Allen is small and you never transport anybody that's wrong everything to do generals like every meeting of it cramps after his sit here infected with something you're such an a****** then they turn into the a****** this is funny because you lose tons of your people some reason

I said it was a great night we opened up the breach yesterday near Tallahassee and he's almost out and Miami is opened up this morning it's massive and it's being filled constantly gigantic and so many idiots out there and we killed off like half the state because we can shut up about us clear nothing the waterways and what we said was it's an emergency it's coming down here silently with the rivers and they said we don't want it to be cleaned out it's not our problem and we said it is our problem move out if you don't like it and they start screaming why we're doing it by the way we can't hear anything space so we're going to the door and tell him I'm going to have to hold it down you're going to take care of and say why you're doing your job I'll do mine get off my property stuff like that so one thing I said no just stood there like he says I didn't know because I'm going to get my gun I said I wouldn't do that if I were you treasure Island says why not this is cuz I'm going to rip out your laranxs cuz I'm tired of hearing you you said this I'm not just going to stand here looking at you it turns around stands here and says I'm slowing you down I said no I'm distracting you they're just doing it you can hear the machine going away can't you because that's going to get his gun so I came in grab them tied him up and gagged him I d

Let see me take everything. I said you seen enough did you think you're going to live up to see me do that let's just go no no I said now you should have shut up this is the kids game you little piece of crap and knocked his head off across the room I just left it there cuz nobody knows who we are the spaz is running around talking about it so put it back together they're watching him he's screaming and he thinks it is and he says but I don't know people are punching him you just ridiculous pile of crap this point this is the upper echelon and how they run things I don't know who it is I think I'm screaming your face until you kill me yourself I mean obviously there's an element of trash here we have to go through tons of them getting rid of tons of these people to get to some people who are actually leadership instead of having some stupid goofy signals once in awhile that match what's already going on so I started looking at very seriously when he told me you're doing it all over the place so I started to find these control centers we went after him and somewhat mobile let me know who they are and they're kind of amateurs cuz they only run a portion of it it's probably the generals and that's who it is they're screaming ranting idiots and these idiots doing it so grabbing them just out there morons too some of them some of them were and it's part of the problem everything's going pretty good we have several Galactus up we have Galatia, from York, and Galatius from London not up...there are four up. Havana Savana. York. Tallahassee Yes he climbed out the breach this am. Is only 100 miles the breach is 50 wide he's only 22 wide is out up and unfettered. That makes four. He's on the warpath here and it's raising his army he's got tons of it up since it's going to come out quick right now and start ripping out bunkers and is at it. Feels huge arms right now his arms are gigantic this is ripping the crap out of everything and what time you get out to now he's grown 20 miles he's going to be gigantic momentarily he'll probably use nukes and he's going to be up till like 200 miles before noon well before noon he's going to raise his army and a whole bunch of them how about his size and come out as so get what you're driving it just taking care of you when you're laughing blabbing

Cities are still under siege and Galactus is still sought in City square he hasn't risen from them seeing him has made it worse as he predicted and we're ready a lot of cities to leave he leaves in the city leaves and they'll think he destroyed it tons will seek him and creates a Battlestar Galactica huge roaming fleet that's trying to hunt these things down is gigantic now they have a huge following I've been trying this robots and the robots get taken over quite often. The starkiller base is up and running and the emerald was attacked last night I jaeger from Satanists here. Sounds good up there to take control of the situation about 50 really big ones 800 ft Plus and about seven two mile ones and 10 5 mi ones and one 10 MI and they tried to Duke it out with us and lost they got pummeled. Huge piles of them big huge piles of these machines eventually turned on and started beating the s*** out of them with it looks like an infight it started one we went out and took care of it all then you said this we can't stand it we're fighting ourselves we're finding you and fighting everything somebody to start these fights because you're assholes so what up there in force and keep doing it. They are losing badly they keep sending troops and they keep losing and keep sending troops and lose and shortly we'll move it and he says that when she move it the death Star will try and seek it when Australia because it's the same flavor and strategy and I'm trying to take over the base or destroy it and if a cant well there will be reasons and reasons why and actually tarken says it directly to one of the suspects says isn't this your craft leaving here where this problem happened and he can't answer it so there are some things that you people should know you idiots is that your monitored and you're watched and people know what you're doing you just threatening a bunch of stuff to halt it once its goneyour dead that's what you should know. There's no free lunch here just no free dinner there's no free breakfast there's no free rain there's no free stuff which is ridiculous you're completely ridiculous there's no free way to get stuff there's no stealing it and if you don't believe it just keep doing it and be gone which is what you probably will do when we need you to feed KJ to get the process going because you're like high test fuel so thank you in advance.

We use it against these jackasses we just have something stupid to say and it's dumb I'm going to take care of them I said it last night when they're doing that channels since you're over there doing it you're yelling at us and stuff you're an a****** so I'm going to take over here stuff now prick I yelled it like that he had very very mad really mad cuz I yelled at like that what do you want us to do prick we're going to take it so taking it you're standing there with the rifle not aimed yet and said you can't take this you said we're going to you prick. He starts to raise it up and it says I can't do anything because you're speaking to me that way quickly tries to take a shot and shoot him so we totally get out of here you did prick and threw them in front of the machine and killed him he could see it coming too. No justice I don't want people messing with me 24 hours a day I want these idiots cleared out I can see what he's saying I just sitting here saying it's okay to get rid of all this and that's it it's not with Maxine is saying impetuous swine. They are taking over and we're doing it here and applying a lot of effort we don't want to hear any s*** and hear your s*** we're going to take over faster maybe it was stuck here with nothing. Huge piles body this morning that giant Cajun is going to come out I'm going to take over the underground everywhere in Florida there's a huge operation it's underway and in the process it will flood DC in New York City so those Galactus and other stuff has to get out and we got to move the cities and we got to move them fast what's the glasses around we can fit the city from below you see it but that might be too deep we heard this it might be just right because he's kind of like a hole and a tunnel and it's going to be huge so I'm going to do that today get them out and sitting here outlining how and asking how much it'll take and she's trying to say this if you go around the outside and grab them all they're just going to keep on filling in until he's out no matter how fast you do it don't worry you believe it or not is that you get too many but really you know when you think about it with machines we can do tons and tons of it monsters if you have to and do it now and just make huge gobs of it and throw it in there chasm that he devised this morning it's filled and it's working it's got to him finally starts swirling and all sorts of things this is as long as it's not ripping up buildings.

I don't into it now those two are going to get out then you're going to have to deal with no New York and no DC and the whole area is going to be gone fast I need to be moving it around and infighting

Thor Freya

We want that show and we want it bad and we're going to make it happen and now we see how it's happening then we're going to help because she says we have to get all the machines out of there we need those machines now so just keep moving them out and pulling them in this is a fast you move them out the more go in and it's better and we agree so we're doing that now why not just drive them out if they're more value outside and I figured out what it's saying so I'm putting an order out Thor says and we figured it out too

Olympus

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nish-e-r-r-o-r-neesh · 7 years

Note

Write older pines twins *runs away*

Here’s the requested fanfic for anon (yay!). Thanksfor that request! Here’s your Gravity Falls fic about older Pines twins. Hopeyou like it~! (pls don’t hate me this turned out pretty angsty and nostalgic)

Summary: Maybe riflingthrough Stan’s and Ford’s old stuff wasn’t the thing to do to find somedecorations. It worked out pretty wellfor Dipper and Mabel, though.

Title: “OldStuff”

Heh… it hasn’t even been that long ago andeverything’s covered in dust.

The ear-piercing sound of metal grinding againstrusted slates sounded through the now empty gift shop. I shoved harder, forcingthe flickering metal box open. Apparently, punching in the familiar code wasn’tenough to crack open the chamber of secrets hidden beneath the Shack. For thefirst time in a long while, I had to use brute force.

I grunted each time my shoulder hit the rustedmetal. I counted every little inch the old vending machine gave way.

Seven…eight…nine—

“Gahh!”

The hunk of metal slipped completely, crumplingloudly into a rusted pile at my feet—and I’d almost fallen with it. I had myhand on the wall, trying to regain my breath. Only a few inches away was thegaping maw of darkness in which I knew there was a stairwell waiting, coveredin years and years’ worth of dust.

It was quite laughable, actually; the Shack hadalways been prone to dust. I remembered constantly having to dust off theknick-knacks in Stan’s office, finding the same intense consistency of dustspread over the shelved items each week. I’d even chalked it up to some sort ofancient ghost or entity that brought dust in its mourning wake. Who knows? It could still be something of the sort…

“Hey, Bro-Bro! You in here?” Came the holler fromthe hallway. I sighed, straightening up. I turned around to find Mabel’sbraid-infested head poking out the side of the doorway, the purple scruff ofher turtleneck only slightly visible.

Nothing has really changed much with her. She lovedputting unnaturally colored things into her hair, braiding them even, and stillwore matching headbands and sweaters. She kept her cheery aura and brightsmile, minus her old braces though.

Hah. We’d spent so many summers in this very place,all her smiles here with those braces, and now she seemed incomplete to lookat. It was like a re-doing of an art piece, almost the same but… something wasmissing. As though something changed, had been forgotten…

…or left behind.

I gave alittle smile as she walked into the room. She stood silent for a minute,sparkling eyes watching me in the dim light. Her gaze lingered on the collapsedvending machine for a moment, before shifting back towards me.

“You know, Melody’s going to be pretty upset if youleave that vending machine there with that exposed black hole for all thecustomers walk through tomorrow.” Mabel chided, giving me a cheeky smile.

“Haha,” I shot back with a smile of my own. “I’llclean it up, don’t worry.”

Another pause, neither of us saying anything, simplystaring at one another. Then Mabel’s eyes slipped to the doorway, her mouthparting apprehensively for a question.

“I…” she faltered. Then she coughed, regaining hercomposure. “So… they kept all the stuff down there, huh?”

“Not all of it,” I defended. “Just… most of it.”

Mabel turned her chin up, smiling triumphantly asshe stalked forward. “Well, dear brother, would you like me to help you out? Imean, come on Bro. You can’t rifle through all that stuff alone.” She set herelbow on my shoulder, now a tad bit hard for her to accomplish, seeing as I wasthree inches taller now.

Heh. Puberty had its perks.

“Fine. Whatever, Short-stuff,” I teased, fishing aflashlight out from my pocket.

Mabel huffed in return, setting her hands on herhips in a ridiculously sassy pose. She rose a fist level with my throat, andfor a second I thought she was going to punch me. “Mystery Twins?” she said,holding out for a fist-bump.

Sure, childish, but you can never take childishnessaway from Mabel. And, admittedly,neither can you take any away from me. We may have been pre-teens that firstsummer, but every fiasco-filled day we spent growing up together in this veryShack still filled me with that rush of adventure and freedom, something Mabelwould see as childishness. And, over the years, learning the horrible truth ofhow it was to be an adult, I supposed that ‘childishness’ would always besomething I came back to. The both of us.

I raised my fist to hers. “Mystery Twins.”

————————————————————————————-

I coughed—and might have gagged a bit—at the amountof dust that filled my nostrils. I could hear Mabel’s equally intense coughingas her fingers fumbled the wall for a light switch. Eventually, a resounding click! Echoed through the room as dimfluorescent lights flickered to life overhead.

“Ford’s old lounge,” Mabel declared through wateringeyes, not from the nostalgia so much as the dust. “We should’ve bought masks orsomething.”

“Or at least a hanky,” I offered, waiting for a bitas the dust settled. This was far toomuch dust for such a short amount of time.

It’s only been a year! Everything here seemed tohave spent eternity under their covers, within their bags, on their places onthe shelves and tables, to be covered in this intense an amount of dust. It wasnearly unbelievable. But then again, the Mystery Shack itself had a good numberof unbelievable secrets.

I looked toward the walls, noting the rusted hooksstill embedded above from which about a dozen portraits of a certainthree-sided demonic corn chip hung several years ago. Now there were onlyboxes, shelves, and unruly stacks of random item after random item. There werealso a few old and tattered maps and posters clinging forgotten on some spaces.

“So,” Mabel chirped, walking further into the room.“How much you wanna bet this is mostly Grunkle Stan’s stuff?”

“Well duh it’sall Stan’s stuff,” I said, picking up an old wooden baseball bat. “Ford wouldhave someone’s head if any of his stuff were crushed with the weight of allthese.” I set down the bat in favor of an old, black suitcase as Mabel swungopen a large wooden chest next to me.

“This is all Stan’s, alright….” Mabel muttered,shuffling thoroughly through her newfound treasure trove. “So, DipDop,” shegrunted, heaving something out of the way. “What’re we looking for anyway?”

“Good stuff,” I told her, peaking into a cardboard boxstacked on top of three more. “Melody thought the living spaces could use somemore…. hominess. I just thought Stan’s and Ford’s old stuff might do the trick.”

Mabel snorted, looking up at me from her woodenchest. “Really? You want to display their old stuff in the living room just‘cause you thought they’d look pretty?”

I shrugged, not saying a word more.

I let myself get carried away in rifling through Stan’sold belongings. Some of them were random knick-knacks I’d seen him steal fromplaces we’d visit on a road trip. A gold-painted figurine—now caked with grime,a glove box he’d stacked some coins into, an old trucker’s hat he “found” andkept just because he said it matched with mine, and others of the like.

Stan wasn’t… the bestperson in the world, confronted with the usual standards, anyway. But hewas… well, he did sacrifice himselffor his family in more ways than one. The whole memory-losing stunt he’d pulledwas only one thing—he’d jumped from an explosion several feet high, riskedgetting eaten by zombies, and facedoff against several thugs all to save me and my sister.

“Hey, remember this?” Mabel chuckled, tossing me anold, worn-out suit. It was Stan’s Mister Mystery outfit.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, feeling the smooth cloth. It wasseverely worn out, smelling ofmothballs and dust. Otherwise, it seemed perfectly fine. “Can’t believe hestopped wearing it though.”

“He only stopped wearing it last year when…” Mabel’stone grew heavy, her smile faltering.

I tried to flash her a smile of my own as I foldedthe suit up neatly. I wanted to take this back.

“Oh!” she jumped, watery eyes immediately filledwith a gleeful sparkle. “Check this out!” Out of her wooden chest she drew aset of brass knuckles, now slightly rusted and dulled in color. “Stan’s oldbrass knuckles! I thought he’d thrown these away.”

“Now those areworth taking back,” I smiled, reaching for them. “Oh man, remember that timewith the zombies?”

Mabel snorted, smiling coyly. “How could I forget?Man, Stan was pretty badass.”

“Extremely,” Ideclared as we shared a laugh. Our chuckles quieted quickly, however, andMabel’s smile drooped almost instantly. I hated seeing her that way. As much ashated to admit it, it’s been happening a lot recently. To the both of us.

“Hey, come on,” I nudged her. “Let’s see what othertreasure we can find.”’

I was thankful for her little, lighthearted smiledespite how forced it was. “Okay,” she said, getting up from her wooden chest.“I’m going to check over there. I’ve gone through everything in this chest.”

Another silence filled the room. I shuffled aroundthe box I’d been checking until I reached the bottom, finding nothing ofparticular interest. I looked up and let myself scan the room once more. I tookin every item on the shelves and tables, and scrutinized the writings on someof the boxes. Something wasn’t quite right with those on the far side…

I got closer, shuffling around all the items. No, theseweren’t all Stan’s. Some of Ford’s items were in the rooms in the attic, andthe others…

“Hey, Mabel, I think some of these are Ford’s.”

“Well, see if there’s anything worthy ofdecoration,” Mabel dismissed me playfully, giving me another cheeky smile. Itried not to roll my eyes this time.

These things weren’t his inventions, that much wasobvious. The old contraptions were neatly organized in the lab below. These were some of his old belongings—hiscoats, scarves, sketchbooks and toolboxes. I spotted his old belt, the thickleather one he’d worn when he came out of the portal and on hikes and fieldmissions. I spotted his old frame of glasses as well. The glass was gone now,shattered from a hunting trip during out third summer. He got new ones, butinsisted on keeping his old set.

I pocketed the frame.

———————————————————————————-

“Please don’t tell me you’re using those asdecorations.”

“Why not? I mean, come on, where else are we goingto put them? They’d end up only buried away somewhere again. Besides, don’t youthink we need a little bit of direct symbolism in this place?”

“What the heck does that even mean? I think thepictures are direct symbolism enough.”

Mabel tutted, insistently shoving the snow globesand picture frames to either side of the mantle top, which made a perfectcenter stage for her intentions. She placed Great Uncle Ford’s glasslesseyeglass frame and Grunkle Stan’s set of brass knuckles side-by-side.

“Seriously,” I groaned, reclining on the couch. “Wecould’ve used the fez or something.”

“Soos uses the fez, remember?” she retorted,standing next to the couch, hands on her hips as she admired her work. “Itthink they fit. Don’t you think so, Melody?”

“I think they look nice and different,” replied theolder woman, still in her nightgown. The fireplace glowed brightly, the onlylighting in the living room, giving the place a warm and content feeling.

Melody set herself down on the sofa opposite mine,gazing at Mabel’s handy work. “They look awesome there. I think your Grunkleswould’ve approved.” She sighed heavily, stretching her neck stiffly. “Oh man,we’re going to have an intense rush of customers this summer. I’m glad you guyscame out to help even though-“

“Hey, we come here every summer, remember?” Mabellaughed. “And we’re happy to help out. My shop back in Piedmont’s doing prettyawesome actually, and Pacifica’s keeping a good eye on it, don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” I nodded along. “The research facility’sdoing well enough too. And summer’s always an opportunity for some self-researching.” I let out a littlechuckle. “Besides, it’s always fun to help out with you guys here.”

Melody smiled sadly, expression seeming more solemnin the flickering light. “Ah, but you both know that wasn’t what I was talkingabout.”

Silence settled over us. The fire’s quiet crackleand my own steady breathing filled my ears. For a moment, no one seemed tomove.

We’d known exactly what Melody was talking about.

“It does hurt,” Mabel began, voice soft andtentative. “Seeing all of this, getting filled with nostalgia and all that.But… this is still home. The Mystery Shack is still home. Being able to feel at home in this place, despite howdepressing the memories can be, is proof enough.” She paused, letting go ofthat breath she’d been holding in. “It isn’t really all that depressing,anyway. The only depressing thing really is the fact that… they’re gone… and,well, it happens, I guess. We’ll still go here, each and every summer, everyday-off we get. You should know that by now, Melody.” She let out a littlelaugh, her sniffle not going by unnoticed.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “In fact, I feel like staying hereup until New Year. Besides, the research I could get done in this place countsas work, right?” I nudged my sister playfully and was rewarded with a thankfulsmile. “What do you think, Mabel?”

“Why not?” she laughed, turning to Melody who satsmiling on the sofa. “Pacifica can handle the shop to her liking for the restof the year. She has things under control.”

“You two are adorable, you know?” Melody let out alittle chuckle of her own. “Why don’t I make us some tea, hm? I’ll be rightback.” She chirped, getting up.

“So…. Until New Year’s, huh?” Mabel said afterMelody had disappeared into the kitchen.

“Why not?” I shrugged, mocking her earlierstatement. She nudged me with another chuckle.

“Stan was always happy the longer we got to stay,anyway,” she reminded me. “So yeah, why not? The two grumps would’ve wantedit.”

“Yeah…” I trailed off, gaze shifting to the mantletop where Mabel had the brass knuckles and the glasses sitting side by side.Picture frames dotted around several snow globes and statuettes, spanning from ourfirst summer in Gravity Falls to Soos and Melody’s wedding picture. That oneshowcased every attendee covered in cake and icing after Waddles had,uncannily, started an epic food-fight. A perfect wedding in Melody’s opinion.

“You know… those decorationsaren’t so bad,” I admitted, earning a smug smile from Mable which I choseto ignore.

“D’aww!” she cooed. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered in response, trying to hidea smile of my own. In some weird way, the glass-frames and the brass knucklesmade me feel that, no matter what happened, things don’t ever really change inthe Mystery Shack. It was still home, after all.

-end-

Okay, so I’m sorry for not putting this up earlier! To everyone else who requested, don’t worry y’all are getting those fics!

I also put this up on FanFiction.net!

#gravity falls #fanfiction #older pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #pines #mabel #request

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