#this took a couple'a days

[definesanity]

Y Ferch a'r Carw.

That. Darned. Giggle.

Alice liked to keep to herself; in fact, she loves to keep to herself. It was one of the few she did love.

But Nori's kid's giggle? No. It's too darn similar to Nori's giggle. The type she did whenever she killed someone. Or, discovered a new amusement from that damn witch power they and Yeva shared.

Pah. Now look at her: Sitting with the kid looking at her. She found her skulking around above the underground; she was taking a risk, and took it head-on. But she needed to get the oil for herself and Beau. He should have enough for a couple'a months, but...

She thought Nori's kid was Nori, and panicked. After all, she and her didn't get along the best; Yeva was much better, that quiet Russian gal always trying to keep herself calm by saying random facts an' such.

But, the kid caught her, chained her, and is now keeping her in her room. In her sight, and in her mind.

"Ya know, I ain' gonna attack ya." she commented, trying to scratch an itch that was really starting to annoy her. "What could I even do?"

"If you knew my Mom, you'd know more about this," she gestured to her eye, wherein the damned symbol appeared. "You're not getting out until I get answers, because I know you're more dangerous than the Murder Drones. Who are you?"

"..."

"...Ugh. Listen, lady, I don't wanna chain you up. Even if it's really cool, me interrogating you like this, it's still not enjoyable."

Alice looked at the kid. The kid did so likewise. She wasn't getting out of this, was she?

So, with a groan, she spoke:

"...My name is Alice. Subject Zero-One-Seven to the humans." she spat out. And judging by how the kid's eyes lit up, it was good info.

"'Subject'?" and of course that's the first question.

"Yeah. Subject," she spat out oil to her side. "They foun' us, and locked us up like we were toys. Me, Yeva, and Nori. Yeva was nice. Quiet." she then shot forwards, looking at the kid with a strained smile. "But Nori? Oh, no... she loved attention, and the power that lil' trick of 'er's gave to her. She used it of'en, the Sentinels liked to lick her feet, and either tormented Yeva, tormented me or, on a bad day, both. Robo-Lor' we fight back though, 'cuz she was more than 'creative' with her 'pranks'."

The kid's eyes got more and more open, until she looked downright horrified. "...You're wrong." she said. "Mom... she was always trying to get away from the horrors the Solver cau--"

Alice hissed at the words, her antlers and its attachments tinkling. "So Zero-Two 'ad a change'a heart, did she? Hah! Didn' think twice abou' us or anyone else though, did she?!"

"How am I supposed to know?! She's DEAD!" the kid shouted. After a moment, she caught her breath, and now looked at Alice's stunned expression, orange eyes blinking in a in stunned silence.

"...Nori's dead?" she repeated, orange eyes still not back to a regular shape yet. "But... she's Nori! The hotshot aroun' the labs!"

"Yeah? Still not immune to the nanites of a Disassembly Drone's tail now, is she?"

"...Yeah. You're righ' abou' that one."

"What, suddenly you care?"

"'Course not. Just surprised that Nori could die. Didn't think she could, hones'ly."

The two sat in silence. Then, Alice's eyes flickered to her. "Say. Never did get your name. What she call ya?"

"What, want a name to put on the grave?"

"Because I don't wanna keep callin' ya 'Nori's Kid'; from what I've seen, you're different from her. Namely, not puttin' me through a wall."

She rolled her eyes. But, she still answered: "Uzi. Don't call me Doorman."

"...Wait, Nori and Khan married?"

"Unfortunately... lemme guess, he was a deadbeat back then as well?"

"Just a idjit; I mean, he did have a weird obsession with doors but, hey, I'm a scavenger, so who am I to poke fingers at?"

"That 'weird obsession' caused him to nearly kill me." Uzi spat out. Then, mimicked Alice by spitting on the ground (Alice almost smiled).

"Sheesh, I hope Yeva was at least a lil' more lucky."

"She's also dead; her daughter, Doll, also has the 'lil' trick'."

"...Yeah, okay, you know what? I take back what I said: everything has gone ta' hell."

Another silence came over them, them broken by Uzi instead.

"You... said you were a scavenger, right?"

"Only one down below. At least, only one left." she didn't say a word about Beau. She wanted to keep at least one thing to herself.

"Then, let's say I keep you around, let you scavenge, and you can tell me more on the... thing?"

Alice paused to think. Well, pretended to, anyways.

"Let me go on weekends back to my home."

"Why?"

"To get Nunya."

"Funny... but, that's gonna be the best I get, isn't it?"

"Damn straight it is."

"...Ugh, fine. I just hope you don't mind additional company."

"Uzi, I lived with humans watching over me, I'm used to it by now."

Uzi rolled her eyes, and got up towards her. Unshackling her, she gestured behind her, through the doors. "Go and get a shower. You smell like twenty-year-old oil."

"Twenty-one, actually."

"That's worse!"

Alice took that moment to slither out of the door. Not towards freedom, no, but to said shower. Of course, not one with water. It was more of a dry cleaning than anything else and, boy, did she need one.

"'Uzi', huh?" she asked to no one. "Gotta admit; yer at least nicer than Nori ever was."

To a brewing companionship, she supposes, heh...

#ryuusei's works #I am become Cringe: Destroyer of Reputation xd #murder drones #md alice #uzi doorman #md uzi #md nori #md yeva #md beau #murder Drones alice #nori doorman

[augustslippedavvay]

Can we get a fluff Steve Harrington request where he and the Henderson!reader take Dustin to meet Suzy at a museum and maintain a distance from them and they reminisce about how they started (childhood friends to eventual lovers) and they talk about their future?

this is so cute i'm crying 😭 i got a little carried away hahaha hope i did this justice for u!!

just some stinky stupid face-melting fluff <3 also i imagine this taking place at the natural history museum in SLC, idk when it opened and when they had what and hell i don’t even know if they have a second floor, but you and dustin and steve all road tripped out to utah to visit suzie et. al and took them to the museum for the day on a lil date bc everybody knows utah is the place to BE for fossils!!!!

no warnings, steve harrington x henderson!reader (this one doesn’t have any gendered language/any gendered descriptors, so gn!reader!), ~1.4k words :)

"Alright, kids," Steve sighs, shoving his wallet back into his pocket after shelling out the admission fee for the four of you. He crosses his arms over his chest. "You get two hours on your own, then you meet us back here, you hear me?"

Dustin is glancing around at the other museum guests, his hand tucked in Suzie's, and you smack your brother on the shoulder. He yelps Ow! and fixes you with a glare, rubbing the stinging skin with his free hand.

"Are you listening to Steve?”

"Meet you back here in two hours," Suzie says, smiling, and you nod at her, reaching down to grab Steve’s hand in yours.

"Two hours. If you need more time after that, we’ll set you off again, but I’m so serious. I don’t want your parents killing me because I lost you today, alright?”

“I’m setting an alarm on my watch for an hour forty,” you say, pressing a few buttons on the Casio at your wrist. Dustin and Suzie mutter their understanding and then shuffle off, Suze pulling him toward the stairs. She wants to head to the gemstones first, but Dustin’s protesting faintly about wanting to see the dinosaurs. Their bickering trails off as they get further away from the two of you, you and Steve laughing lightly. 

"God, they're cute," you sigh, and Steve snorts, squeezing your hand. You watch Dustin and Suzie as they disappear around the corner.

"For a couple'a dweebs."

"Harrington," you murmur, glancing up and setting your most accusatory look on him.

"Alright, alright," Steve says, chuckling and bringing your joined hands up and around your front so that his arm is now resting over your shoulder. "They're cute, I guess."

“So, where are we heading first?”

“Well, I think those two nerds are on their way to the gems and minerals exhibit. Wanna go look at some dinosaurs with me, baby?”

“Do you even have to ask, Steve?”

Steve grins and kisses the side of your head, and the two of you wander away from the admissions office, stopping to pick up a map from one of the museum attendants.

“Looks like we gotta go up,” Steve murmurs, bumping his hip against yours to get your attention, then dropping your hand and taking the stairs up to the second floor two at a time. You whine as you trail behind him.

“What, you really want those two beating us back out here? We’ll never hear the end of it. Gotta step it up, baby.”

You roll your eyes at him and hold your hand out, making him take it in his again. You have to walk through a few other exhibits before you make it to Past Worlds, your eyes widening at the sight of all the skeletons in the room. 

“Wow,” you whisper, and Steve hums, seemingly as speechless as you are. “This is insane.”

“Look at that guy,” Steve says, using your joined hands to point at a Stegosaurus. “Bet nobody messed with him back in the day.”

You smile over at him and lean in to kiss him on the shoulder. I love you so much, you think, the look of wonder on his face twisting your stomach into knots.

“Are you guys following us?”

You whirl around at the sound of Dustin’s voice and smile at him from across the exhibit, waving with three of your fingers. The two of them look so at home admiring all of the fossils, it kind of warms your heart.

Steve snorts, immediately bristling at the accusation. “Why would we be following you, asswipe? We thought you were going to see the shiny rocks. We’re on a date, too, here.”

You elbow Steve but you start to laugh, too, at the expression on Dustin’s face. Suzie is laughing, too, leaning up to mutter something in Dustin’s ear. His glare fades, but he rolls his eyes at Steve all the same, putting on a tough guy act that you think is, quite frankly, adorable.

“Alright, well, just. We’re heading down to gems and minerals now. I better not see you losers there.”

Dustin pulls Suzie out of the room, but not before the two of them stop short in front of the Ceratopsian wall and gaze up at it in awe.

Steve scoffs, looks over at you, and you can’t help but laugh even harder at the offended look on his face. “Seriously, where does he get off?”

“It’s his first girlfriend, Steve,” you mutter, looping an arm around his waist and squeezing. “I’m sure if you had an older sister who chaperoned all of your dates at that age, you’d have been a bit sensitive about it, too.”

“At that age, I had had a dozen girlfriends, so.”

“I remember,” you groan. “Vividly.”

Steve purses his lips and leans down to kiss the top of your head. “Aw, baby. You know it’s always only ever been you for me.”

You pinch Steve’s arm and he yelps, jumping back. 

“What was that for?!”

“It’s how I’ve decided to check your ego whenever you say something like that,” you laugh, relishing in the sour look on Steve’s face.

“I thought I was being romantic! I mean, seriously, Henderson,” Steve sighs. “Can you imagine if we’d had our shit together at that point in our lives?”

“What, you mean, like, if we’d figured out we were in love with each other before our senior year of high school?”

“Exactly,” Steve says, smiling softly at you. “Imagine all those years we would have had together.”

“Yeah, but, Steve - as much as I love holding your hand and kissing you and all that stuff, and as much as I want to do it for the rest of our lives - you’ve always been my best friend. So, you know, I’m alright with when we got our shit together.”

There’s a brief, comfortable silence, and then Steve smirks at you. “You want to do this for the rest of our lives?”

Your face flushes. “You know I do, Steve.”

The grin on his face widens and he leans down to kiss you deeply, and you let him for a few moments, before pushing your hand against his chest.

“There are quite literally children here, Harrington,” you murmur, carefully shoving him off of you.

“Yeah, but I’m lovin’ on my baby,” he laughs, and you groan at him, twisting your hand into his hair and scratching gently. “And my baby wants to love on me for the rest of our lives. That’s the kind of stuff you gotta celebrate, you know? With kisses.”

You shake your head but the smile growing on your face betrays you. You let him lean back in to plant a few short, quick kisses on your mouth before you slip your hand into his again and pull back.

“I do love you, Steve Harrington,” you say. 

“I love you too, sweet thing,” he replies. “I always have.”

You groan and point a finger down your throat, fake gagging at the two of you, and Steve laughs, throwing his head back.

“Enough outta you. More dinosaurs?” Steve tugs on your hand, but you shake your head, and he drops it, backing off to go check out some of the older fossils while you stay put in the Jurassic period. You can’t help but watch him from across the room, studying the way his face gets all pinched when he reads something he thinks is cool, the way he has to squint to see the fossils high above his head. You smile at the thought of how many more museum dates the two of you have ahead of you.

He glances over and catches you staring, blows a kiss at you and laughs when you blush, before going back to reading the information boards in front of the exhibit he’s checking out.

After a while, you meander back over and lean into him. He throws an arm across your shoulders and steers you to a large fossil on the opposite side of the exhibition.

“Woah.”

“Right?”

“Huge,” you agree. The two of you stand there in silence, both heads cocked to the side, studying the dinosaur carefully.

You feel a buzz at your wrist, so you check your watch and furrow your brow. You’d been wandering around the museum for almost two hours already?

“Steve,” you mutter, glancing around. No red EXIT signs in sight.

“Yep,” he replies, popping the p, staring straight up at the Allosaurus.

“How the fuck do we get out of here?”

#ask #anonymous #lil blurb #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #emily writes #i wrote this instead of working hahahahhaha #one thing i hardcore gotta work on is figuring out how time passes in writing LMFAO #can't believe i'm trying to pass 1k words off as two hours smh #whatever <3

[kingofdarkness00]

Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the wonderful @anewkindofme and @snowviolettwhite! 💚

I've been major fixated on my fic for A Bright Life, so here's yet another snippet from that lmao:

"So, Mr. Bright, I see you're here because of a cut on the palm of your right hand that might be infected," the nurse–Frankie Warren–said, reading off the computer screen she sat in front of. "May I ask how you got this cut?"

"Um, was an accident. Cut myself on, uh... on glass."

"And how long ago was this?"

"It was, um... was... couple'a days ago."

"And how long have you been experiencing the symptoms listed on your file?"

"I felt off when I woke up this mornin', but thought it was jus' 'cause I didn' sleep very well. Which, um, isn't usual for me. But, uh... the nausea and fever didn' hit me till a couple'a hours ago."

"I see. Okay."

After typing all of the information into the computer, Nurse Warren stood up from the grey rolling stool and grabbed the ear thermometer that sat on the counter before walking up to Malcolm.

"I'm going to take your temperature and check your blood pressure now, okay?"

Malcolm slightly nodded. "M'kay."

Nurse Warren stuck the thermometer into Malcolm's ear, only having to wait five seconds for the device to beep the results.

"102.3," the nurse read out loud.

She then instructed Malcolm to take off his coat so she could take his blood pressure. Gil let go of Malcolm's hand to help him out of the coat, which earned him a cut off whimper in response.

"It's okay, kid, I'm not going anywhere," Gil quickly reassured him. "I just need to get your coat off so Nurse Warren can take your blood pressure."

"Hold your hand again after?"

Gil swallowed back the automatic "yes" that wanted to spill from his lips, instead looking to Nurse Warren in silent question, unsure if that was allowed when someone was getting their blood pressure taken.

The woman nodded, shooting Malcolm a kind, understanding smile. "Yes, that's perfectly fine. Your dad can hold your hand again."

Malcolm visibly relaxed at her words, and finally allowed Gil to help him out of the thick coat and suit jacket underneath. After Gil had rolled his white button-up to the hilt of his shoulder, he took hold of Malcolm's hand once more.

The nurse wrapped the burgundy cuff around Malcolm's upper arm, then attached an oxygen reader to his index finger before turning on the machine. Malcolm grimaced as the cuff grew tighter, but remained calm with Gil's firm grip on his hand.

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @adhd-mess, @nottapossum, @lecalcifer and anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #prodigal son #malcolm bright #gil arroyo #malcolm and gil #agere fandom #snippet #my wips

[sparkler-sleet]

coffee or tea?

Archie Jones knew that, from a distance, he most likely looked like what could only be described as an arrogant old bastard.

But, he countered, anyone else who had to sit in the minus temperatures of the British coast, at a bus stop, alone, waiting for the B1 bus that was so notoriously late that they may as well change the timetable...

would also be an arrogant bastard. If they were seventy five, seventy six next week, old would be added to the list.

But the folk around here weren't like him. Not any more, kids weren't brought up the way they used to be. He could feel eyes on him at that bus stop, aye... young, little, wide eyes, watching him through the window from the warmth of their cottages with their mammies telling them to come away, the soup's ready. There was none of that when Archie was young; his mam called him once for tea and if he didn't listen, he went without.

His shopping sat in two plastic bags on his left side, his stick on the right. His wife wrote the list for him; she sent him down to the corner shop every Friday afternoon.

H'away, Archie, get y'self down that road. If you're still sat there when I come back down those stairs, I'll kick you so hard you'll be needing next week's list instead. The paper was still crumpled in his fingers, scratching his skin through the thinning areas of his gloves. Mary would have to knit him another pair, maybe for Christmas.

He had been in a good mood when he'd left the house, he really had. He was whistling, and Betty next door called over to him that something must have gotten into your tea, Archie, you've got a skip about you this morning! See, Archie Jones only whistled when he was in a particularly good mood, but now, he felt like doing nothing less.

Archie hadn't brought enough change to buy his cigarettes. He'd brought the notes for the food shop and, normally, he would pick up a couple of coins from the holiday jar when Mary wasn't looking. But this morning he had been so busy cursing the snow and the washing he had left out last night (most of which was now frozen to the line) that he had completely forgotten his cigarette money. And, to make matters worse, the lad behind the counter wouldn't let him put them back.

"I'll pay the difference, Archie," he insisted. "Get y'self away home, now, before this weather gets worse."

"No matter, son, Mary will have a couple'a pennies lying about, I'll come back th'morrow."

"H'away. Take 'em."

Archie tried to leave them on the counter, but the bloke took it upon himself to swing around the counter and push the cigarettes into one of the bags. So Archie gritted out a thank you.

No more than ten minutes later, as he was making his way along the promenade, Archie ran into Susie. She was only a little'n, no more than seven. He had been in hospital after his fall the day she was born.

He asked where her mam was. Making dinner.

"Y'shouldn't be out in this weather, lassie, you'll take off your boots and leave your toes in 'em."

"My da says you should be in a home."

"Nonsense," Archie barked, consequently sending the girl staggering as he waved his stick. "Me wife makes me tea and that's all a man needs." A little more waving and Susie scarpered, crying.

"Everything alright, Grandad?"

Archie peered around the edge of the wooden bus shelter, watching as Bethany appeared through the thick-falling snow, schoolbag slung over a shoulder, tie low, skirt rolled up. Bairns these days...

"Hiya, love."

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing," she remarked as she sat down - which, to Archie, seemed a little hypocritical, because she was only sporting a blazer and that thin shirt.

"Getting me shopping, clearly."

"I thought I might come for some tea. Help you with those bags."

"Away with yourself, I can manage. Come another day. The game's on, and I want no distractions. Mary's bad enough, yapping on as soon as the good bit starts."

He didn't look to Bethany for a reaction, because he knew what it'd be. A smile, but a sad smile. An empty one.

He knew his family worried for him, no matter how many times he insisted they needn't. Well, if they had that much worry, they might as well use it for something useful, not an old dog like him. He was fine; his heart was still ticking and he could still watch the game with the dog at his feet. All was well. Except-

"Grandma's dead, Grandad," Bethany reminded. "You remember that, don't you?"

Archie sighed, hastily reaching up to hold his hat down on his head as a gust of wind made through the shelter. "Aye, lassie, I remember."

The B1 pulled up and Bethany watched him get on, and she made him let her buy his ticket because he had slipped to her that he hadn't any change on him. She waved him goodbye through the frosted window and made her way down the street towards her house.

The B1 chugged on and Archie sulked. He pretended he couldn't hear the woman asking him to give up his seat for her to sit by her pram; she had enough kids by now that she should be well trained in holding the bairn with her god-given arms.

He got off at the fourth stop like clockwork; he had taken this route every week for so many years that he could keep on thinking about all of his woes and to-dos, and his body would just heave itself up, arms gathering up the bags, and his legs would trudge him off that piece of metal and back onto solid ground. He also pretended not to hear the driver asking if he needed a hand up the hill. The first time, anyway.

"Archie, I said-"

"Aye, I heard ye!" He found himself shouting and, all of a sudden, the kids at the back of the bus stopped throwing bottles and the old dears stopped gossiping and the baby in that godawful pram stopped wailing. "I hear ye all! Talking all your nonsense, saying I cann'it look after myself. I'm fine, y'hear me? I don't need your money, and I don't need your damn help!"

No one seemed willing to contend so, with that, Archie departed from the B1.

He huffed his way up the hill to his red front door, heart thumping on like a steam train. His cold fingers fumbled with his keys and he let himself in, calling out that he was home. Jack bounded up, just a little furry thing that could only jump up to Archie's shins. Away with yourself, boy, and the dog left him be.

He considered, not for the first time, whether everybody else was right. Maybe he did need that lad's change for cigarettes, maybe Susie's da knew he really should be in a home, maybe he should have let Bethany help him with his bags so that he wouldn't be huffing and puffing quite so much now, a hand gripping onto the kitchen counter. But he never felt so bad when he was here. And anyway, who would take the pup? Who would take care of all of Mary's things? Likely no one. He supposed they'd get sold to fund Brian's next flashy car.

Anyway. It's no help to worry.

He packed away the groceries one by one and, when he had finished, Archie leaned against the sink and watched the boats swaying in the dock down below.

He sighed. "Well," he spoke. "What's it to be? Coffee or tea?"

No one spoke back. Not a footstep sounded throughout the whole house, not even a breath.

The only movement at all was the kettle flicking itself on - but that was enough for Archie to know that his wife was still around, even if no one else believed him.

So he smiled and plucked two mugs from the draining board.

#writing #short story #creative writing #writeblr #writers

[wardogsong]

"Is it true, wha' dey say about a man wi' big hands?" She drags her gaze from his eyes to his mouth. Then down to where his hands hang between his knees. Then beyond them to rest blatantly at the space there, before looking back up and grinning.

get spicy w/ frank || accepting easy to answer questions

Oh the things that will sometimes just casually stroll right out of Beth's mouth. He's never heard her swear in all the time he's known her— even when she's got good reason to, and she's made of soft-spoken care for everyone she ever meets AND YET, every once in a while, something just like this will emerge as a bit of random curiosity. What can Frank do but laugh? He catches sight of the way she gives him the old once over and it makes his boyish pride stir from sleep and reminisce about the days when he was even more regularly on the receiving end of such appraisals.

"Y'pro'lly took more anatomy classes than I did, sugar. They don't got something in those books about that?" What were the odds that the old wives tales of all those supposed indicators were true? He buys his boots in a size 13 1/2 and he's been this tall since late teendom— his hands? He pays less attention to those but he's heard the talk she's referencing; remembers it from middle school and everyone discreetly measuring with their eyes the distance between the tip of their thumb and... was it the middle finger? Index?? Something like that. It was supposed to show how big a guy's equipment was without the direct look. Naturally, he looks all over again and laughs some more.

But really, what is he supposed to say? Only assholes brag about measured inches and even when they're telling the truth those are the guys most likely not to know what to do with what they've been given. Frank learned that from girls chased all over Bayside and never forgot it. And there'd been other lessons too, fingers wagged in his face, shoulders bumped and jostled as he crossed the threshold into manhood surrounded by wiseguys who presented themselves as experts and took pride in leaving no complaints behind them. It was more important to know what to do with what you'd been given than just being proud of it. That lesson had stuck too.

So he shrugs, casually as he can manage and TRIES to answer the question. "Sure, I surprised a couple'a girls back in the day. Never had to stuff anythin' when Russo and I ran that bachelorette party racket down in NC. Guiness World Records never got in touch though."

#brooklynislandgirl #. ( ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ & ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ ) . #ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛs || .(ɴɪɢʜᴛ sᴏɴɢs ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss).

[biioniic-biiohazard]

couple'a pretty screenshots i took of me + habit's silly little minecraft cave home :3 we've been kinda working on just this for the last several days now atp LOL ((AND I'M VERY PROUD OF IT RAHHH it looks so good i love it <333)

#anyways uhm. three whole tags. #because fuck you #minecraft #proxxtalx #edd's words!

[in--noctem]

Jayn walked side by side with Cassia, a small yet bright smile on her face. They’d spent half of the day together, talking about books at a coffee shop before they did a bit of shopping. The (slightly) shorter of the two had never gone shopping with a friend (or enjoyed it) before, but with Cass, it was fun. They ended up with a few cool items that they planned to wear on the upcoming mega-cabin winter trip. And now, they were heading back to Cassia’s place, so she could get home (Jayn would simply teleport to Caleb’s). On the way, though, they stopped for milkshakes and fries, getting takeout for their boyfriends. The garage Pogue worked at was on the way to the pretty scene girl’s house. “Is Pogue Parry-? Oh, shit, Cassia-“ Jayn pointed out a familiar, handsome face dotted with grease and sweat. Pogue was halfway underneath a car, hair tied back as his now-dark eyes focused in. “He’s…he looks hot, right?” [I got so carried away 😅]

@dhampiravidi

Pogue had known that the girls were going out on a "date", of sorts. Sincerely, he thought it was kinda cute that they were getting so close. It was also probably good for them to get out together sometimes, have a minute away from the guys. Yeah, Jayn was his girlfriend and Cass was with Caleb, but that didn't mean that they had to always be with their boyfriends. So when Jayn had mentioned that she and Cass were going out for the day, he'd been encouraging of it. Hell, they should probably do it more often, actually- though with everyone's busy schedules, that was easier said than done, he knew. Classes, alone, took up a good portion of time, but add onto that all the homework, essays, test prep, and whatever and it was a wonder that any of them had any time to see each other.

Okay, so maybe he was just a little bit jealous that his girlfriend was spending half of the day with someone else. But he was stuck at work, anyway (and it was a job he enjoyed), so he wasn't going to complain. Besides, she was just going out with Cassia. It's not like he was over here trying to compete for his girlfriend's affections with Caleb's girlfriend. (Right?)

So he went about his work without giving it much other thought. He'd try to squeeze in a couple hours later in the day to go visit Jayn and, if she was too busy, then he could at least call or text her and ask her how things went on their day out. He hoped that they had fun.

He hadn't anticipated, however, that they might show up at his job to bring him lunch. That was, until one of the guys he worked with came over and gently kicked at his leg while he was trying to work. "What?" "Ya got a couple'a girls here looking for you, Parry," The man said, a bit of a grin on his lips as he used his thumb to point over his shoulder at Jayn and Cass standing a fair distance away. Their eyes were already on him, and Pogue was quick to get out from under the car and onto his feet. He patted his coworker's shoulder, "Thanks, man. I'm gonna take five," He was sure the girls wouldn't stick around for long, but a short break felt in order, anyway.

Through all of this, Cassia was having trouble not staring. She'd known Pogue was attractive; that was obvious. And there'd been a couple moments while working on their history project together that she'd kinda... noticed how pretty his eyes were, or how great his smile was, or how cute that confused face he made could be. But she had been so focused on Caleb that she hadn't realized exactly how hot Jayn's boyfriend was. Well, not until right now, anyway. "Yeah..." She couldn't give Jayn a more thought out answer than that at the moment, and she had to blink a couple times to kick herself out of the little daze she was in. (She hoped to god she wasn't blushing in embarrassment from the realization that she'd been staring at him for a second...)

Brushing his grimy hands off on his jeans, Pogue made his way across the garage to Jayn and Cassia, a grin plastered on his face. "Hey, baby. What are you doing here?" He asked, directing his words to Jayn but not failing to give Cass a smile of her own, too. He wanted to wrap Jayn up in his arms and kiss her, but considering his current state, he didn't think she'd like that much. He wasn't about to cover her in grease and motor oil.

#((Pogue totally oblivious to the girls trying to set their boyfriends up #and also totally oblivious to the fact that by this point the girls are kinda interested in each other too xD)) #dhampiravidi #reply:Pogue #((I absolutely love setting up the OT4 stuff. They're so cute <3))

[pizzatheif]

hugo’s standing behind the bar — you’d think he’d care a little bit more but it's been a weird couple'a days. and, yeah, that's for sure the understatement of the century, but when you're stuck in a murder hotel, you're probably allowed to take things at your own pace... except probably the whole "being murdered" thing.

his concern at this current juncture lies in figuring out whether or not everything else in this goddamn place had been poisoned. he's been rifling around for longer than he probably should while helena's gone off to investigate her leads. should he be helping? probably. he figures this is probably helping in his own way, though.

sure, sure. it's off-putting that the toast from earlier took out like half their numbers. oh, and james being stabbed in the pool? super not cool. but is he just expected to die of thirst, now? or, worse, hunger? he could stand to put some effort into looking for clues pointing him toward their blackmailer. there's definitely gotta be something here that — but then his tummy grumbles and he remembers the task at hand. ( he's never been the kinda guy that wins at clue ).

❝   'ey,   ❞ he says, holding up what appears to be an expired, likely very stale package of crackers. ❝   you think who's ever killin' us poisoned everything? cuz i'm not above eating something a rat had its teeth in., otherwise.   ❞ gaze drags from greg to the old box in his hands, and then to the dusty bottles of gin he'd moved to the bartop in his search for something safe to eat. ❝   i mean, if ratatouille can do it...   ❞

@greghirs

#greghirs #( the hotel arcadia ) group verse. #'if ratatouille can do it' - hugo... you can't even spell ratatouille. #is this the man you will willingly give a piggyback ride to greg? is it??

[bloodskipper]

Bo Sinclair x reader | Hell or High Water | Pt. 6

WARNINGS: cigarette smoking

There was something about Bo's eyes. His gaze was beautiful, yet guarded. You looked away and Bo removed his hand from your shoulder, lightly trailing down the length of your arm before folding up the map. Your opposite arm quickly hugged your shoulder as you felt your face flush again.

"So, can you call me an Uber, or a cab, or something?" you said, keeping your eyes averted.

"No cabs really run out here after dark," Bo replied walking back behind the counter. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to wait til' morning to get back."

Mind racing, you considered your options. Either pay for a motel room in this desolate town, or ride your bike back home in the dark. Deciding for the safer option, you looked at Bo.

"I think I ought to head back, then," you said with a face full of gratitude. "I really appreciate your help and your time."

Bo raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, that's what I'm here for. Let me walk you out. It's the least I can do."

You headed towards the door with Bo on your heels. He made sure to step in front of you before opening the door, chivalrously letting you lead the way. As you stepped out front, despair fell into your stomach.

Your back tire was flat. Not just a little deflated - it was rim-on-the-ground flat.

It's cool, you thought to yourself. As an automobile attendant, Bo had to know a thing or two about fixing a tire.

Just as Bo was removing his keys from the carabiner hooked to his belt loop, you turned to face him.

"Excuse me, I am so sorry, but it looks like my tire is fucked." How hadn't you noticed the air leak before?

"Now you're just trying to keep me around," Bo joked, giving you a quick wink before walking over to your vehicle and crouching behind it.

"Yep, here's the problem," he explained, yanking a large nail out of your tire to hold it up in the brightly lit parking lot. "This kind of shit happens all the time. You can never see it comin'."

"You don't happen to have any spares, do you?" You awaited hopefully to only be shot down.

"Motorcycles aren't exactly common around this area. I can put in an order for you, but it might be a couple'a days."

Tension filled the space between you as you abruptly realized you had run out of choices. Ambrose was going to supply your lodging tonight. But where? He peered up at you, and you knew almost immediately what he was going to say. You started anyway:

"I got cash on me. Is there a motel, or a hotel somewhere-"

"Everybody's outta town for the holiday weekend." He stood up from his crouched position and dusted off his hands. "But, I will say, I got a couch at my place that's open tonight."

"Just tonight?" you laughed. "You must have a lot a guests."

"We have people over a lot. Trust me." The uncomfortable space shrunk as he took a few steps toward you, tapping a cigarette out of its pack. "Need one?" He tilted the pack towards you.

"Fuck it," you said, gingerly picking out a smoke. You patted your pockets for a lighter only to be met with a flame in front of you.

"Someone as pretty as yourself shouldn't have to light their own cigarette." Bo was smiling easily at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. You kept your head down as you stared into his eyes, inhaling deep on the light in front of you. He lit his cig and bit his lip lightly, this time him being the one to shyly look away.

The wave of the nicotine high hit you almost immediately. "Ugh, thank god," you exhaled, voice full of smoke, eyes rolling in the back of your head for a brief second.

"Ya wanna git goin', then?" he asked, taking a long drag.

"I never agreed to anything," you teased, crinkling your nose at him.

"What the hell-else ya gonna do, Y/N!?" he practically shouted, taking a few long, lazy strides in front of you up the sidewalk. A laugh escaped your lips at his brazenness, surprised you weren't outright offended. You wanted to trust this guy... so you did.

-

WOW! What will happen next? Some bullshit, I bet!

I don't smoke anymore. Congratulate me.

#bo sinclair house of wax #slashers #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #horror movies #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair fanfic #horror #cw cigarettes #tw cigarettes #cw smoking #tw smoking

[milk-carton-whump]

Cowboy anon dropped beautiful story ideas in my inbox last night. Idk how many parts this will be, at least 2. Also they're kinda shorter than my normal stories, But enjoy!!

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @sideblogformindtrash @tears-and-lilies @unicornscotty @abitefullofeverything @getyourwhumphere @whumpasaurus101 @lektric-whump @twistedcaretaker @skunkandgrenade @heathenville @freefallingup13 @sunnysunfire @alliecat5594 @whatwasmyprevioususername

CW: no real whump other than Percy being kidnapped and manhandled, kidnapping, manhandling, threats, hostage, brief mention of death

Stuck in the Middle 1

Percy and Ritz made one of their rare trips to town together, it was a special treat that Percy had promised to Ritz months ago. The pair walked together through town, hands interlocked. They chatted idly until a rough hand settled on Ritz's shoulders. 

"Ritzy, who's your little sweetheart here? Didn't know ya were more than a lay for old man Witt." The painfully familiar voice of Adam, one of the members of his old cattle rustling gang, said. 

Adam had come into town with three other members of the gang, only to pick up supplies but had spotted the familiar blonde. Adam was both taller and stockier than Ritz, he was intimidating. 

"Adam, can ya jus' leave me be? That an' Percy ain't any of your concern." Ritz sounded annoyed as he squeezed Percy's hand while Adam's gang members closed in on the pair. 

"Percy? Is that his name? Well, ah do believe ya owed us some money a couple'a months back, for keepin' your pretty ass outta jail." Adam stated firmly.

Percy felt a pair of hands grip his shoulders, he tensed as the gang pulled him away from Ritz. He went to shove their hands off of him but his arms were wrenched behind his back. He hissed in pain as they held his arms. 

"Ya get your men's hands off'a him, Adam he ain't a part of this." Ritz snapped.

"Threatenin' me now Fargo? Ya know, he has a real pretty face an' ah'm sure ya wouldn't want anything to happen to it…" Adam taunted.

"What're ya sayin' Adam?" Ritz knew exactly what the man was saying, he just hoped it wasn't true.

"Ah think we'll take your Percy as a payment less ya can come up with the money ya owe us. Ya have 3 days till we start ta take our payments from your Percy's pretty little hide… 3 days Ritzy." Adam said as he ruffled his hand in Ritz's hair. 

"I'll be okay Ritz! Don't worry!" Percy managed to yell as they pushed him toward his horse. 

Ritz watched as the gang rode off with the love of his life. He had to figure out how do come up with the money. The only real option he had was to rob a stagecoach or bank. He would do whatever it took to get Percy back.

Meanwhile, Percy scowled as these rustlers took him hostage he cooperated for now but it was only because he didn't want a bullet in his back. The ride was a long one, well outside of town and to the remains of an abandoned Calvary outpost. His heart ached to be back with Ritz but he had faith that his beloved would find the money somehow. He just hoped that Ritz wouldn't get hurt. 

-To be continued-

#kidnapping #manhandling #threats #hostage #cowboy shenanigans #ritz #percy #other whumpers #witt (mentioned) #brief mention of death

[hlvrai-loving]

Something Lacking

Joshua held his legs as he sat on the grass, silently watching the newly-recovered crow peck at a bowl of raspberries and blueberries. He'd figured it was only fair, giving it something to help it get back on its feet. It was his window the poor thing flew into after all.

"... You know, someone in my class, he used to get a lotta crows at his place..." He spoke softly to the bird, as though it could understand or respond. "I always thought he was pretty lucky, getting all those birds there. I figured they must really like it there, to fly over every day and eat whatever they could find... Must've been a paradise for them..."

The corvid bit back a few more berries, cawing before it went back for more. Joshua sighed, staring up at the cloudy sky. It still felt like it was getting colder, day by day, despite how weather usually was in New Mexico. Even during the winter months, he stood by the fact that it was never this cold before.

"... Anyways, I guess his dad kinda got fed up with them for ruining his lawn or whatever. He set up a bunch of things so they'd fuck off, but... well, they ended up being the neighbors' problem since it was closest to the other house. Neighbors complained to the dad, dad complained back to them. Like, what a big mess for a couple'a birds, am I right?"

The crow stared at him for a few moments, only to caw and flap its wings. Joshie gave a ghost of a smile. "Feeling better? Good enough to fly off yet, lil guy? Heh..." He wouldn't say he was still feeling stressed exactly, not entirely at least, but there was a large part of him that felt... anxious about heading back into his room. About going through more and more messages. About looking through more and more files. About... about finding out things no one should ever know. The words one of the messages spoke seemed to ring through his head endlessly. "Maybe they just stopped existing."

Despite the absurdity of it all, the thought itself sent chills up his spine. Whatever might've happened in that sector all those years ago... was he really ready to see through it all to the end?

Was he really ready for whatever consequences finding the truth might have?

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He was too far in now to give up, wasn't he? If he was going to be watched, tormented, threatened, he might as well make the most of it. Can't be too sure any of it would go back to normal if he suddenly stopped, can he? At least continuing on didn't make all the crap he was going through completely meaningless, right?

"... A lot of problems would be so much easier if I were like you. Could just fly away, maybe to wherever dad is. I'd actually be doing something worthwhile..." The crow stepped over to him as he spoke, eyeing him and letting out a few calls.

Evidently, it was still hungry.

Josh sighed. "I don't have anymore, sorry." The avian bobbed its head a few times, calling out louder and louder, before suddenly running off and taking flight.

"... Hm." He watched it for a bit, pushing himself up to head back inside when it was out of sight.

Josh shut the door of the garage behind him, cringing slightly at how loud it was. After finding the bird dazed and thankfully uninjured, he'd decided it'd need food and energy of some kind to make up for the stress it must've been going through. Seeing as the garage was closer to the kitchen than the front door was, it made sense to him at the time to go through here, even though opening the door to the damn thing probably took the same amount of time it would've taken him just to run through the front and to the kitchen anyways. Would've saved him from having to hear it again, that's for damn sure.

With that done, he turned to head towards the inner door, and that's when he spotted it. On the bottom shelf, nearest to the door, was a metal box, shut tight with a sturdy-looking lock. That... wasn't there before, was it? He's almost positive he would've noticed it before among the rest of the items, it wasn't like this place was used by anyone these days. It didn't even seem to have any dust on it...

Cautiously, Josh reached out and took it. It wasn't particularly heavy, whatever was in it didn't seem to move much when he tilted it. He wasn't exactly dumb enough to try shaking it, whatever's in there could be fragile after all.

"What the hell..." He muttered, looking around the shelves and drawers for a key. Of course, he came up empty. Whatever keys there were in here were old and much less sleek in design than the box itself was. Still, he made sure to try, just in case. Yet, no matter which one he tried, not a single one would fit.

Josh groaned in annoyance, slamming the box back onto the shelf. Another pointless loose end to add to his ever-growing list. Just another pointless item to piss him off when he's already stressed.

However, his anger quickly vanished as he froze, having heard something past the door. It was soft, faint, but repetitive. Footsteps, he realised, and they were getting louder.

The boy's eyes grew wide as he took a quick glance around the room, desperate and trembling as he searched for somewhere to hide. Finally, his eyes settled on a large wooden board propped up against the wall, just the right angle for him to hide behind and still check on whoever entered, hopefully without being seen. As quickly and as quietly as he could, he hid within, figuring he'd take a peek once he was sure they weren't looking.

The door slammed open not even a moment later, causing Josh to silently cower.

He heard them stomp in, rummaging through a toolbox as loudly as they could. Next, they made their way to the center of the room before stopping, perhaps weighing their options. Then, after what felt like an eternity, they spoke.

"... Come on out, fucker! I know you're in here! If you come out now, I'll letcha keep your kneecaps!"

And it was at this moment that Joshua's fears bubbled away into annoyance. You're kidding, he thought, You've gotta be fucking kidding me. It was the absolute furthest possibility from his mind, but his ears couldn't have deceived him. Just to be certain, he took a look.

And there, wielding a large wrench from one of the toolboxes, was Allen. It was nobody but Allen.

"Jesus fucking christ!" The smaller boy exclaimed, exiting his hiding spot. Allen whipped his body towards him as soon as he spoke, the menacing face he wore fading into a jovial smile once he recognized him. "You damn near gave me a heart attack! What the fuck are you doing?!"

"I heard the fuckin, the garage door, loud as shit! I thought somebody broke in!" Allen chuckled. "The fuck you doin' in here?"

"Hiding!" He retorted, "I thought you were-! Wait, why are you in my house?!"

Allen shrugged slightly. "Well, you weren't picking up your phone or answering my texts so I came over to check on you. One of the windows was open so I kindaaa... maybe came in through it?"

Josh gave an incredulous stare. "... You saw I wasn't picking up so you just... broke in?"

"Hey hey hey! It's not breaking in if the window's open, got it? Besides, I made sure to lock it once I was in." The taller boy corrected, the wrench still tightly gripped in his right hand.

"How long have you been in my house for? Were you jus-"

"Look look, you can ask me this later, alright? I came here for two reasons. First was to make sure you weren't, y'know, dead or something. Second was, uh... to ask you something."

He couldn't believe it. His heart was still hammering in his chest, his body still trembling just from this light scare, and what for? Just a question? Just to check in?

But then he noticed. On Allen's back was his schoolbag, seeming full to the brim and holding on with a single strap. His knuckles were scraped, his jeans a mess of dirt and small tears. Al ran a hand through his messy hair, tugging at a few of his crimson streaks, seemingly unconcerned.

"... Man, heh, this is like, wicked embarrassing." The taller teen chuckled, glancing away from Josh. "Could I... y'know, crash at your place for a bit? Not-mom 'n pops are being pretty... eh, unrad right now, so I don't exactly wanna head back while they're still mad, ya feel?"

He didn't know what to respond at first. Sure, this wouldn't be the first time Allen slept at his place, but the circumstances this time, they... They were unfamiliar to him. But, regardless of all that, he found himself fretting over what might happen if he refused. Where Allen might head instead and how he'd feel... He came to Josh first, most likely, and he wasn't close enough with their other friends to ask them for something like this.

Ultimately, it was probably no surprise that, with a gentle smile to his best friend, he said yes.

"Of course, I... I getcha. I'll have to check back in with mom when she returns, but you can stay here until then, alright?"

Allen gave a big smile, his eyes seeming to light up at the confirmation. He pulled Josh into a tight hug, surprising him with the sudden affection. "Thanks. I'll owe it to ya later." Then he pulled away with a playful laugh. "Anyways, let's get the hell outta the garage. Gotta bed to set up, don't we?"

It seemed too sudden, making light of the whole thing as if it were nothing more than a sleepover, but that tended to be how many interactions with Allen went. All Josh could do in response was smile slightly and nod.

"Yeah, you'll have to put that away though. Don't need any rust in my room." He referred to the wrench of course. Al glanced down at it and rolled his eyes.

"Nyeh nyeh, whatever, neerrrd!" He plopped it back into the toolbox with a clang. With that done, he sped over to the door. "Race ya to your room, NERD!"

"Hey! No fair!" Josh called back, chasing after him with a soft laugh.

The locked box on the shelf was already nothing more than a distant memory as he ran.

#jfreeman #joshua freeman #hlvrai joshua #ask joshua freeman #mostly just for my ask blog but i hope you enjoy it anyways #not my best work but itll have to do

[faemytho]

I know you just did one of these recently but I am so gay for this ship so don’t mind me- Alastor x Angel Dust ; “Maybe hell isn't so bad“ (I’m not entirely familiar with their personalities yet so sorry if it’s a bad prompt thing)

im cackling i got three radiodust requests from when i asked for requests the other day

the most requested ship i got out of all of them, i love yall

figured i better get them all in one

triple whammy it

dont drink, kids

-

"Maybe hell ain't so bad, y'know what I'm sayin' Al?" Angel slurred, draped across the bar. Husk stood behind it, swaying on his feet and looking positively miserable. Alastor sat stiff and rimrod straight in his seat beside Angel, and yet, his eyes were lidded and downcast over his ever present smile.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you mean," Alastor spoke, the radio tin to his voice thicker and full of static. Husk groaned and slid down to the floor, while Angel lifted his head, squinting at the other demon. It was harder to understand Alastor than usual, considering their inebriation.

"Y'know, being here," Angel murmured, the words sliding into each other as his mouth struggled to form the correct sounds. His lower set of arms banged up against the underside of the counter, and he winced, letting them rest across his lap. Definitely going to feel that later. "We got whiskey, you got gin, I got fucks and... whatever else the fuck I got, life's good."

"But, but Angel," Alastor mumbled, his head nodding forwards. Angel scooted his stool closer to the other, and Alastor didn't seem to notice. "Angel, we don't... life. We don't have it."

Angel nodded along, his thoughts hazy and unformed. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the overlord's words. "Fuck, you're right, Al. Absolutely. We ain't livin', we're... afterlivin'."

Alastor seemed satisfied with that, the edges of his permasmile ever sharp even as he let his eyes drift closed for a moment. "Husk?" He asked, his eyes opening a crack. The bartender gave a discontented snort, and there was a thump behind the bar.

"Bastard's out of it," Angel giggled dumbly, letting his head fall against the bar. He closed his eyes for a moment, smacking his lips against the bitter, almost putrid, burning taste in his mouth. "Y'know, I don't think I ever seen you drinking before."

"I don't... make it a habit," Alastor murmured, his mouth closing over his sharp yellow teeth as he hummed an unfamiliar tune. "I don't habit... drinking. With people. Usually."

"Yeah I can tell. You ain't even putting words together right," Angel scoffed, lifting his head up to stare at Alastor. He folded his upper set of arms on the bar and leaned on them, forcing Alastor to look down at him on the bar.

The radio demon shook his head, deer ear tufts swaying with the movement. "Dear, if I wanted to speak eloquently, I could. It just requires thinking. Too many of it."

Angel snorted, inhaling spittle up his nose and coughing out his laughter. "Yeah, a couple'a glasses a' that shit's hard ta think with, ain't it?" He managed to say, lifting a pink gloved hand to cough into it. He pretended not to notice Alastor's lazy stare.

"Indeed," Alastor agreed, but he sounded vague and uncertain of something. Angel rested his head back on his arms and raised a brow, waiting for Alastor to speak again. "... I must admit, you are quite nice company when you are not making... perverse jokes. Moreso than I expected."

Angel stared, a stupid grin breaking itself across his face. "Aw Ally, are you complimentin' me?"

"My name is Alastor," the demon corrected automatically, though he did not elaborate further on his previous words. Angel took the opportunity to slide closer.

"Ya like me, ya know it," he purred mischievously, and Alastor's lip upper peeled back to bare his dangerous smile.

"I said no such thing," Alastor sniffed, turning his face away from the other drunk demon. As though he'd suddenly remembered it was there, he lifted the small glass he held in his clawed fingers and tipped back every last drop. "Nor will I ever say any such thing."

Angel scoffed, his head whirling. He wasn't going to remember it when they woke up sober, because he could hardly remember his own name at the moment right then. But he still had enough sense to not touch the radio demon, moving back in his own personal space.

"Here's to you never saying any such thing," he exclaimed, raising the unfinished shot glass in front of him. With a flourish, he downed the glass, slammed it down on the counter, and promptly passed out.

Alastor sat alone with his thoughts, fingers splayed on the wood of the countertop and the empty glasses in front of him clouding his mind. With nobody around who was conscious to hear him, he muttered, letting his eyes fall shut once more.

"What a stupid thing to toast to."

#radiodust #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #my writing #drabbles #mae writes hazbin

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 51)

Visiting Hours

Arthur expresses his concern over reader’s sickness (yes I wrote this purely to address an idea that I think I accidentally put in people’s heads last chapter lol), Dutch receives a letter, and Arthur and Sadie go to break John out of prison.

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Arthur made it back as everyone was adding the final touches to camp. As soon as he arrived, he carried me over to his tent, laying me down on his bed, insisting that I take it while my leg healed. I couldn't bring myself to decline, laying down on the ground for as long as it would take for my leg to be functional again was about the last thing I wanted to do. Miss Grimshaw told me that it wouldn't be too long before I should start getting up and moving around a little, just to do chores. It would help make sure I had plenty of mobility in my leg once the skin healed, and I certainly wasn't about to argue with that. I was ready to stretch my legs, and it'd only been a few days. 

When I told him I'd been sick, Arthur was concerned. Like Charles, he immediately began checking for signs of an infection, only being slightly relieved when I reassured him that that probably wasn't the cause. He stared at me for a moment, his mouth opening and closing a number of times as he crouched down by the side of the bed, leaning close to me. 

"I feel much better now, it's okay. I just got a little travel sick," I shrugged. He gnawed on his bottom lip. "What's wrong?" I frowned, rolling onto my side to face him properly.

"Are you sure it's travel sickness? You've never been ill when we've moved before," he pointed out. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sure, but I've never been in pain when travelling before. What else would it be?" I asked.

"I'm just– what about your– could you be–" he stammered, and I stared blankly at him, waiting for him to articulate. "Have you been… bleedin'... normally?" He asked in a very hushed tone, his eyes dropping away from my face with a little discomfort. 

It took me a second to understand what he was asking, immediately thinking about the wound on my leg, which hadn't really bled much at all… It soon clicked, though. 

"Oh, I... I don't think it could be that," I murmured. 

"I just know sickness can sometimes be a sign and we've… are you sure?" He asked. 

"I'm sure," I nodded.

"I don't mean to tell you about your own body, I'm just– when was the last time?" He scratched at his scalp, clearly feeling perturbed by the topic. 

"Currently," I finally told him with a sigh, trying not to feel too embarrassed by it. "It began this morning. Hell, that might've even had something to do with my sickness, sometimes I feel a little off."

"Oh. I see, that's… that's that then," he gave a breathy laugh, perhaps what you'd call relieved. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head, "I'm fine, thank you. And don't worry about that, I think I'd notice if something was amiss."

"No, of course. I'm being silly," he shook his head. 

"We've been careful, as well," I said, my tone light. He met my eyes again.

"Careful or not, it could still happen, princess," he whispered, reaching out and brushing his palm over my hair. I frowned a little, wondering if he was about to tell me we couldn't be with each other like that anymore. "Don't worry. I'll always look after you, whatever happens. I just want you to be okay, you'll tell me if anything like that happens, won't you?"

"Of course I would," I whispered. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

"If you wanna stop all'a that till we're free of this place, we will," he said, and I shook my head before he'd even finished the sentence. He chuckled at that.

"I couldn't, I love you. I want all that, it means so much–" I began, my voice rising high enough for him to gently shush me with an amused smile on his face. 

"Well, I'm glad I ain't the only one," he breathed, leaning in and kissing my temple, my cheek, my neck–

"You want me to draw the curtains?" A very loud, very drunk Karen said as she staggered by. She was clearly making the most of the fresh stock of alcohol Pearson had been out and fetched. Arthur breathed deep and slow as he pulled back, sitting down on his backside and leaning against the crate next to the bed with a content little smile.

"Dutch! There's a letter here– Molly. There's a letter from Miss O'Shea, I thought you should read it," Uncle was calling as he came shuffling into camp. He waved the thing in the air as Dutch got up from his reading spot to meet him half-way. I watched him as he did, his face a hard, creased frown, his moustache almost covering the narrow line of his mouth. 

Everyone seemed to stop and stare, and Dutch didn't notice, or care. He took the letter, peeled the paper open and scanned the page. Everything was far too quiet as his eyes jerked back and forth over the words, his expression unchanging. His hand lifted to idly rub at his moustache. I felt Arthur glance at me only for a moment, before returning to join everyone else in waiting for Dutch's reaction. 

It was a long letter. Either that or he was reading it over and over. My curious side reared up and I was desperate to know what she'd written. 

Eventually, Dutch reanimated, lowering the letter, lifting his eyes to look at everyone. He realised, then, that all of the attention was on him, and he cleared his throat, lifting his chin minutely. "Miss O'Shea… has returned to Ireland," he said slowly, emotionlessly, matter-of-factly.

So, she had gone home. In the end, she'd made her choice. A smile appeared on my lips before I realised, even as Dutch wordlessly turned and strolled back over to his tent, disappearing inside. 

A beat passed, and then everyone began to murmur.

"Shit," Arthur breathed, turning to me. "When did that happen? I hadn't even– it's been such a whirlwind of a few days…" he trailed off. 

"She left while you were away. I thought she might've gone home," I admitted. "She… she and I spoke a little."

"You did?" He seemed surprised by this. 

"She weren't happy. You know that," I said, and Arthur nodded slowly. "I told her she's gotta do what's right for her. And she did," I said with certainty, perhaps a little coldness. 

"Maybe I should go speak to Dutch," he said under his breath, thoughtfully. I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him that Dutch brought it on himself by brushing her off constantly, so he should leave him to wallow. But I softened my words at the last moment. 

"His ego'll be bruised. He probably needs a minute."

"Mm, you're prob'ly right," he mumbled, resting back against the crate. "Still, can't believe she actually went. She was a fool for that man."

"Yeah, but she weren't a fool, full stop. She knows when she ain't appreciated. Much as she didn't wanna accept it in the beginning," I sighed. Arthur hummed quietly in agreement. 

"At least she don't have to deal with any of this anymore," he said. I tilted my head to look at him, then dropped my open hand against the bed, clapping my fingers against my palm until he slotted his own hand there. 

"Hopefully we won't, soon," I whispered. He watched me for a while, his expression unchanging. Then he moved forward, turning my hand and pressing a row of kisses across my knuckles. 

"I love you," he told me softly, then lowered his voice further, "it's about time for me to go. Meetin' Sadie down by the Lannahechee River, we're gonna get John–"

My eyes widened. "Today?" I gasped. 

"Shh, shh, you can't tell no one. Dutch don't know we're going," he moved onto his knees again, hunching over me as if to conceal the noises I made.

"Who's going?"

"Jus' me and Sadie."

"Just two of you?" I squeaked, panic rushed through me and unsettled my stomach again.

"Trust me, it'll be better with just two," he whispered reassuringly, stroking my hair. "Relax, baby, we got it. We're gonna bring John back to his family."

"Oh, please be careful. Make sure you bring yourself back, too," I pleaded, squeezing his hand tight. 

"I promise," he said. I shifted up, sitting upright, and wrapped my arms around him. I squeezed him so tight, focusing on the warm press of his chest against mine, the push as it expanded with his breaths. I never wanted him to leave my sight, I never wanted to feel like I did back when he was in Guarma, unsure if he would ever return to my embrace.

"Please," I whispered, feeling my throat ache with the urge to sob.

"Princess," Arthur cooed, concerned, "it's okay. Come on, you know I'll always do everything I possibly can to come back to you."

"I'm just scared. I'm scared for you! You're going into a–" I caught myself and lowered my voice significantly– "a heavily guarded penitentiary. They're gonna wanna keep you there!"

"We don't plan on makin' a scene. We're gonna grab him while he's out in the fields, there'll be a couple'a guards at most. Trust me, sweetheart."

"I do trust you," I sniffled, pressing my face into his shoulder where his shirt absorbed the few tears that managed to escape me. "It's the people who point their guns at you that I don't."

"I'll be fine. When I come back, maybe we can sit in here and do some more drawing together?"

I was quiet for a moment, then released him, shifting to lean up against the side of the wagon as best I could with my leg stretched out sideways across the bed. "I'm sorry, I'm acting like a child. You ain't gotta promise me a reward if I'm a good girl."

Arthur chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he said with a grin, "don't you wanna?"

"Of course!"

"Well then, just look forward to that," he teased, stood up, and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "You just relax, you ain't been well today. You don't need to be stressin' about me."

"I'll try my best. Now I ain't gonna keep you no more, go and do what you need to do. You better be safe," I said, handing him his hat from where it was sitting atop a storage crate by the bed. He settled it on his head, his eyes on mine. 

"I'll do my best for you, angel," he smiled. "See you real soon."

I nodded and smiled back, not wanting to speak in fear that he'd hear how scared I really was. He turned and left, and I watched him speed over to Jet, who he fed an apple to and gave a quick brush before mounting, and riding out of camp. He disappeared between the trees and I sighed, knocking my head back against the side of the wagon. I decided to stay sitting up, despite the awkward angle my leg was at, because I was sick and tired of laying down. People tended to avoid me like that, perhaps thinking I was sleeping, or unfit for visitors. At least sitting upright made me feel a little less like an outsider to the camp, just a patient, waiting to recover. 

The camp was quiet now that everyone had settled in and found their place in the new location. Jack and Tilly were playing with the dominoes (whether an actual game of dominoes was going on, I couldn't be sure). Mary-Beth and Susan were trying to get Karen to stay put on her bedroll, she’d thrown up twice since arriving, the mix of beer and whiskey not settling right in her stomach after all the stress. At least I wasn't the only one to have christened the new spot with my stomach contents… Micah was loitering around outside Dutch’s tent (which was still closed off, concealing him from the rest of us), and Bill and Uncle were sitting at the table nearby. Everyone else was dotted around doing little jobs or guarding the camp. I wasn't sure where Charles was, but he’d set out on Taima not long after we’d arrived. 

I slumped in my seat, not really sure what to do with myself. 

“You feelin’ any better?” Lenny appeared by the side of the tent, coming around from the back with a bundle of books in his hands. I smiled at him widely, glad to see him again. 

“Much. Thanks for sitting with me on the way over. That was real kind of you, and you made the journey much better,” I told him, and he shook his head with a smile.

“No problem. I got you some books, I don't know how much of a reader you are. There’s a couple of mine, but I asked Mary-Beth too, thought she’d have some of a little more interest to you,” he said, and I was touched once again by the kindness of those around me. 

“Oh, Lenny. Thank you,” I beamed, taking the books from his outstretched hands.

“Well, I know how it feels to be laid up with a bad leg, remember?” He gave me a little smirk and I nodded. I glanced at his ankle.

“How’d that heal up, by the way?”

“Fine, I can barely tell it even happened,” he informed me, much to my happiness.

“Oh, good, I hope Maggie made amends,” I laughed.

“Oh, sure, she’s been real good. Ain’t even tried stealin’ apples from Pearson’s wagon once since then,” he snorted, “anyway, I better go take over from Javier. Hope those books give you a little entertainment.”

“Alright, thanks again, Lenny,” I gave him a little wave as he headed off.

“No worries,” he called back.

I looked down at the pile of books and began sifting through them, reading the titles. Nothing grabbed me until I came across a pale purple book with golden words on the cover, and I stopped to tilt the thing back and forth to admire the way it caught the light. How pretty! The Castle in the Field of Lavender, it was titled. I put the other books aside, and flicked my chosen one open to the first page.

-

It was definitely one of Mary-Beth’s books. Well, it could have been Lenny’s, but I just couldn't see him reading about the beautiful, French, enigmatic Mademoiselle la Comtesse and her love affair with Pierre, the Duc of La Mochelle. I couldn't put the damn thing down. I was engrossed, turning page after page all afternoon, for hours, making it over half-way through the book in one sitting. It was undoubtedly the most entertaining book I’d ever read.

I was so engaged with it that I didn’t even hear Susan approach. I just winced when light suddenly hit my eyes, and then I realised that it had become dark, the sun almost completely set! Susan placed a newly-lit lamp down on the crate next to me. 

“If you’re gonna keep reading, you’d best have some light. You’ll strain your eyes reading in the dark,” she said.

“Thanks,” I smiled, watching as she peered at the cover of the book, seeing what I was reading.

“Must be a good book.”

“It’s absolutely dreadful,” I told her bluntly, “but it sure is entertaining.”

“How’d you mean?” She seemed puzzled, frowning at me and cocking her head.

“Well, Mademoiselle la Comtesse’s horse, which is the colour of a French horse, just whinnied Frenchly,” I explained, and Susan chuckled, shaking her head.

“That’s one of Mary-Beth’s,” she nodded in understanding, “now d’you see why I get so irritated with her reading those things instead of doing her chores? Filling her head with nonsense. I hope I ain’t gotta worry about you, now, as well.”

“It’s harmless,” I grinned.

“If you say so,” she shook her head, tutted, and wandered off. 

I giggled to myself, glancing down to find my place on the page, though I was soon distracted by the sound of hoof beats at the edge of camp. My heart pounded when I saw two horses galloping in, the first of which carrying Sadie, and behind her, John. He was dressed in a striped jumpsuit, fresh from the penitentiary. Arthur was close behind them, the orange glow emanating from the camp catching on the sweat on the high planes of his face. A burst of energy crackled down every limb, my heart jumping, something close to joy erupting in my chest at the sight of them all. John: home at last, returning to Abigail and Jack. Arthur and Sadie: both safe and sound and able to pat themselves on the back for pulling off what might seem like the impossible. 

I was so happy, I swung my leg over to rise up to my feet, collapsing straight back down with a hiss of pain when I was reminded of the state of my leg. 

"Fuck," I growled to myself, my hand going to the dressing, fingers wanting to claw into my leg as if that would make it better when it obviously wouldn't. I felt a little embarrassed, and gingerly scooted back onto the bed with a quiet whimper, pressing my lips together. Luckily no one saw my stupidity. 

I sat back and watched as the three of them dismounted, and Abigail rushed over to give John a hug. He caught sight of me from over her shoulder, and I flashed him a big, welcoming smile, which he returned. It fell, though, when Dutch reappeared from his tent at the sound of all the commotion.

"John, what are you doing here?" He shouted across the camp, closing the gap between them.

"It's good to see you too, partner," John replied with a bite to his tone I was surprised to hear directed at Dutch. Arthur strolled closer to them, and he, John and Abigail faced Dutch – flanked by Micah – like they weren't a gang of friends. Like they were against each other. My eyes widened and my ears strained to hear what they were saying, but I couldn't. Only when someone raised their voice or used a sharpened tone did I catch it.

Dutch was talking, his brow furrowed in anger.

"Yeah, I know what you said," I caught part of Arthur's response, his tone irritated and, frankly, tired. 

Dutch didn't like whatever Arthur was telling him, he spoke in a low voice, gesturing to himself and then I heard; "what then, Arthur?

"I guess we'll have another fight on our hands," Arthur's response was gravelly and pissed off. I began to sweat. This wasn't what I expected to happen when John was finally home. I thought Dutch would be at least a little happy to see him, alive and no longer threatened with the noose!

"I had a goddamn plan!" Dutch yelled. Then he addressed John.

"They was talking of hanging me, Dutch–"

"They was talking… and now they may come and hang us all!" Were Dutch's final, dramatic words before he retreated with a swagger to his steps like he was far more intimidating than he actually looked. Micah shook his head like a disapproving elderly and trotted away behind Dutch, his lips practically puckered at the man's behind. I was surprised he didn't have a snarky comment.

Abigail, with a face that was likely potent enough to kill, tugged John by the arm away into their shared tent, shutting the world out behind them. Arthur lingered in his spot for a moment, watching Dutch disappear inside his tent once more, his jaw set solid and tense, likely doing his teeth no good. I called out his name, and he looked over at me, his expression loosening just a bit. There was a pause, he glanced around at the others in camp who were only just beginning to stop staring in shock, then he was approaching me. 

He freed the curtains around the tent, letting them drop closed around us, shutting off our private little space. His back was to me, and I could see his shoulders expanding quickly with heavy, shaky breaths. His fists were clenched tight. He was practically shaking. 

"Arthur," I whispered softly. He didn't respond, and I heard him trying to steady his breath. I gave him time.

"Sadie and I risk our necks to save one of our own, and that's the thanks we get?" He said under his breath, tone gruff. "Marston gets back after being gone weeks, locked up and facing death, and this is his welcome home party?" His voice raised a little. 

I kept my mouth shut, knowing that he was completely justified in his anger, and not wanting to make things worse by spitting poison about the man who'd caused it. 

"I just–" Arthur spun around to look at me– "he ain't who I believed him to be all those years. The Dutch I know ain't like this. He's always spoutin' off about loyalty, but it seems that only matters when it's his ass that's bein' kissed! Damn the rest of us."

"I know," I whispered in a small voice. Arthur sighed loudly and gave his head a sharp shake. 

"If it was up to him, I'd still be swinging upside-down in the O'Driscolls' den, and John'd be swinging from his goddamn neck," he muttered, then stormed over to sit down on the edge of the bed. I sat up and rubbed his shoulder. "How can he call us family? How can he look John in the eye, tell him he's his brother? His son?" He scoffed, lip curling in disgust. 

I kneaded his shoulders with my fingertips.

"I jus' don't understand," his final words were defeated. Sad, more than angry. I leaned forwards, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

"Perhaps in the morning he'll have changed his tune," I suggested, nestling my cheek against his. 

"Mm," he grunted disinterestedly. 

"Thank you for rescuing John. He saved my life, he's the very reason I have you in my life. It's so good to see him reunited with his family. If Dutch don't appreciate it, who cares? You did the right thing, and that's what's important," I told him. His hand raised to stroke my forearms. 

"Yeah, I s'pose that's right," he mumbled. 

"Don't think about Dutch. You can't change the way he acts, so just focus on the people who ain't questioning you, who know why you do what you do."

He took my hand, interlaced our fingers and lifted the back of my hand to his mouth to press a sweet kiss there. He hummed softly with a sigh, then tilted his head to look at me from the corner of his eye.

"You're good at that," he said, and when I looked at him blankly, he elaborated, "at calmin' me down."

I didn't say anything, I just kissed his cheek. 

"How're you feeling now?" He asked. 

"I'm feeling fine, now you're back. Spent the evening reading one of Mary-Beth's books," I told him, lifting it up and showing him the cover. The corner of his lip curled up. 

"One o' them romances? Hope this ain't giving you unrealistic expectations of me," he teased. 

"Not in the slightest," I snorted, dropping the book down on the bed. 

"Knock, knock," a husky voice came from outside the tent, and I smiled at the sound of John's voice, even happier than I thought I'd be to hear it again. 

"Come on in," I called out, detangling myself from Arthur and leaning back on the pillow. "It's good to see you," I grinned at him when he slipped inside.

"Glad someone is," he laughed darkly in response, then gestured to my leg, "Abigail told me 'bout what happened to you. Sounded pretty nasty."

"Well, it weren't no fun," I snorted, "but I'm getting there. I'll just be glad when I can get out of camp for a little fresh air."

"How is it? You in a lot of pain?" He asked me with a small wince on his face. Arthur glanced over his shoulder for my response. 

"A bit," I shrugged slightly. It was more than a bit, but there was no point in making everyone feel bad for me.

"Well, I guess you've got an excuse to drink a lot of whiskey," he laughed, trying to find a silver lining I suppose. I laughed, but I struggled to pour much genuine humour into it. "I uh, I know these last few weeks ain't been easy on all'a you. Abigail said you was real good to her while I was away. Thanks for being there for her."

"She did the same for me," I told him.

"Yeah?" He smiled, then glanced at Arthur with a playful gleam in his eye, "well, ain't that nice, Arthur? The wives're getting along."

Arthur breathed a quiet laugh, hanging his head between his shoulders and idly scratching at his wrist. I rolled my eyes in amusement.

"Anyway, how was it in prison?" I asked him. He grunted.

"About what you'd expect. Pretty awful. But hey, ain't had such a solid roof over my head for so long in a while, so I guess you could say it was uh, a bit of a novelty. Wore off pretty quick, though," he explained, pushing a smile onto his face that didn't strike me as genuine. 

"You were in there for what, a month at least?" I noted, and he looked down at his shuffling feet. 

"Yeah, I guess it weren't all that long. Least I was dry, and in the country. Just about, anyway," he laughed, meeting Arthur's eyes. 

"A month is a long time," I disagreed. "Anyway, I'm just glad to have you back. Now we're all together again, things'll get easier, I'm sure."

"I sure hope so. I don't know what Dutch's grand plan is, but I'm about ready to hear it."

"Ain't we all?" Arthur muttered. 

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #atink #arthur morgan x female reader #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

[desk216]

The Corona Incident, Part 8

Jack and Rapunzel lay panting on the grass, utterly exhausted. "That was…" Rapunzel began.

"Really fun." Jack said. He hadn't felt this tired since… Since before I became a Guardian, I guess. If he wasn't immortal, was he even a Guardian anymore? "So, what now?" he asked aloud.

"I dunno." Rapunzel said, climbing to her feet. "Maybe we can find someone who'll give us directions to the lights."

"Maybe they can also tell us what those lights really are." Jack said. "It'd be nice to know what we're looking for." He frowned as he stood, noticing an unfamiliar pressure in his lower abdomen.

Rapunzel set off, humming to herself, with Baby Tooth zipping around behind her. Jack shook off his puzzlement and followed.

The trees fell away ahead of them, revealing a dusty dirt path. They started down it, then rounded a corner.

"Why don't we ask there?" Rapunzel suggested, pointing down the road.

Jack frowned, following gaze to a beaten up building. The place was in disrepair, with shattered windows and several walls on the verge of collapse. Nearer to them, a painted sign swung gently in the breeze.

"The Snuggly Duckling" Jack read. He would have assumed it to be abandoned, had there not been multiple horses tied up in front of the building. "We may want to look elsewhere." he said. "The people probably aren't the friendliest."

"We're just asking for directions." Rapunzel said, pulling him forwards. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Pascal hid himself in Rapunzel's hair, and Baby Tooth ducked into Jack's hoodie pocket as they approached the building. Jack frowned, again noticing the strange sense of pressure.

Rapunzel knocked on the door. There was a long pause, then the door was abruptly yanked inwards. Rapunzel let out a squeak and stumbled backwards as a helmeted figure stepped into the doorway. "What'ya want?" he growled.

Rapunzel collected herself, then smiled upwards. "We just wanted to know if you could point us towards-"

"Who is it?" a voice called from inside.

"Couple'a kids." the man replied. "I was just about to tell'em to get lost."

"Wait!" Rapunzel said. "You can't just send us away like that! We need to know how to get to-"

"Don't care." the man grunted. He swung the door closed, but Rapunzel shoved her frying pan into the crack. "Please!" she called. "It's really important!"

"Well then, you'd better let'em in." the second voice chuckled. "We wouldn't want to get in the way of something important."

The brute stepped aside, and gestured them in. They walked in, then pulled back as they saw the room's inhabitants. Scarred and deformed, every body bulged with muscles, and every face turned sinister as it turned towards the teens. Every figure had multiple blades, and Jack saw several hands reaching for their weapons.

Rapunzel and Jack started to step backwards, but a pair of heavy hands shoved them forwards, towards the center of the room. "Go on!" the helmeted man encouraged. "We won't bite… much."

"We just need some directions, then we'll get out of your hair." Jack said.

"Don't be like that!" a man called. His muscles bulged, and his left hand had been replaced with a hook. "Everyone's always rushing around these days. Why don't you sit down and have a drink!" he seized a man by the throat, tossed him away, then gestured at the open spot on the bench. "There's plenty of room over here!"

Jack looked back, but several figures had stepped in front of the door, cutting off their retreat. he groaned inwardly, but cautiously set off towards the table.

"...Hi" Rapunzel said, as they walked across the room. "It's… nice to meet you all."

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked as they sat down, cleaning his fingernails with a knife.

"Do you have apple juice?" Rapunzel asked

"One apple juice coming right up." The bartender smirked. "So, what'll your friend have?"

Jack looked at the moldy wooden mugs scattered around the room. "Thanks, but I'm not thirsty." he said.

The man sneered at that. "You think you're too good for what we serve?" he asked.

"Of course he doesn't!" Rapunzel said, looking shocked at the accusation. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked Jack, looking concerned. "You aren't thirsty after all that running?"

Jack sighed, but gave in under her concerned gaze. "On second thought, I'll have some water." he said.

A moment later, the bartender tossed two mugs onto the table. Rapunzel took a careful swallow, then looked up, surprised. "This is really good!" she said, already drinking more.

The bartender gave a satisfied smirk. "Best juice you'll find anywhere in Corona."

Jack sipped his water, trying not to think about the germs and filth that it probably contained.

"So, whereya headed?" The hook handed man asked.

Rapunzel gulped, but forced herself to smile at the bruiser. "We're going to see the floating lights." she said.

His brow furrowed. "Floating lights?" he asked.

"Yeah…" Rapunzel said. "The ones that'll be showing up in the sky tomorrow?"

The man frowned. "Do you mean the Lantern Festival?"

"Lanterns?" Rapunzel asked. "That's what they are?"

"Yeah." he replied. "They launch 'em every year for the lost princess."

"I've watched the lights ever since I was little, but it was always too far away to see what they were." Rapunzel said. "For years, it's been my dream to visit them up close." she blushed a little. "Maybe it sounds silly, but I can't help but feel like those lanterns are a part of my destiny."

The man grunted. "I had a dream like that once." he said, staring into his drink.

"Really?" Rapunzel asked, curious. "What was it?"

"Nothing important." the man said. "It was impossible, anyway."

"No dream's impossible if you put your mind to it." Rapunzel said. "Why don't you tell us, and that way we can help make it true!"

The hook handed man kept looking downwards, saying nothing. "Well?" Rapunzel prompted

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, then sighed. "To become a pianist." he muttered.

The room broke out into snorts of laughter. "A pianist?" someone called. "That's your dream, Hooky?"

"Yeah." Hooky snarled, raising his axe and glaring around the room. "Any of you idiots got a problem with that?"

The chuckles died away in an instant, the other patrons shuffling their feet and looking to the ground.

"That's an amazing dream!" Rapunzel said. She turned, and looked towards an old piano sitting in the corner. "Do you know how to play?"

Hooky shrugged. "I know a bit, but-" Rapunzel was already dragging him across the room.

"Why don't you play something for us?" she suggested, sitting down on a bucket and looking up at him. "We can be your first concert!"

Hooky started to refuse, but his mouth closed as Rapunzel hopefully smiled up at him. He sighed, but plopped down on the bench. "Alright lads!" he bellowed. "This'll be to the tune of 'The Queen's Maid and the Wh-'" he cut off abruptly with a glance to the young figure seated beside him. "Oh, never mind what it's called, you all know the song!"

He played a quick intro, then broke into song. "I'm malicious, mean and scary. My sneer could curdle dairy, and violence wise, my hands are not the cleanest. But despite my evil looks, and my temper, and my hook! I've always yearned to be a concert pianist!"

Jack raised an eyebrow as the man started to play. Despite his reluctance, he was remarkably good. Baby Tooth zipped out of his pocket, then settled herself on top of a rafter to listen to the music.

Suddenly, the pressure returned, more uncomfortable and urgent than before. Jack frowned and looked at his stomach. It was almost like… Oh. Right.

He sighed, remembering another aspect of being mortal. "Do you have a privy?" he asked the bartender. The grizzled man gestured towards the back door. "Thanks." Jack said. Rapunzel seemed safe enough for the moment, so he slipped out as the room broke into chorus.

Jack stepped out of the outhouse, business finished.

"You!" a voice shouted. A black haired woman strode out from the trees, one hand holding a dagger.

Jack tensed, but smiled at the woman. "You must be Rapunzel's mother." he said cheerfully. "She's told me a lot about you."

"You stole my daughter!" she hissed.

Jack shrugged. "She's the one who asked to leave." he said. "Seems to me, at eighteen she ought to be old enough to make her own decisions."

Rapunzel's mother brandished her dagger, and Jack prepared for her to lunge. To his surprise, the woman instead drew the blade down the side of her own arm, drawing a line of blood. "Strike!" she hissed, and instantly the pooling blood turned black.

A bolt of energy hurtled towards his chest. "Whoa!" Jack said. He swung his staff and knocked it aside. The blast slammed into the grass, causing it to wilt and yellow.

The woman let out a sound of frustration, but repeated the action. "Strike!" she again called.

Ready this time, Jack easily batted the spell away, this time sending it back towards the witch. She was forced to dive aside, and Jack noticed strands of her hair turning from black to silver.

"I can keep doing this all day." Jack called, spinning his staff as the woman stood. He smiled at the deepening lines on the her face. "But you aren't looking too good, yourself."

His hunch paid off. The woman looked at her reflection in the knife and drew back in horror. "No!" she hissed, pulling her cloak around herself and stumbled towards the woods. As she reached the trees, she looked back towards him, her face filled with fury and loathing. "This isn't over." she snarled.

Jack grinned. "Glad to hear it." he called. "'Cause I've still got more to say about your parenting techniques."

#destinies entangled #corona incident #big four #jackunzel

[monstersandmaw]

Couple'a folks have asking for you to answer their questions. I'm gonna give you a hc for Dairon. Once upon a time just before reader and Dairon were dating, Dairon was looking after his mother's very energetic dog. One day, he went took the dog for a walk (or rather the dog took him for a walk) and ended up colliding with a rather cute reader, who had been window-browsing. Sincerely apologetic, Dairon insisted on making up to Reader by getting coffee... and it all went from there! :)

What a sweet meet-cute!! *requests to pet doggo because I can’t helpmyselfwithdoggosomg*

[allyhq]

TIMEFRAME: June 10th, evening.

LOCATION: The apartment.

TAGGING: Brady Clarington & Stevie Evans. ( @therealstevee )

WARNINGS: None, just dumb boys and some lowkey feels later.

“Dude, if you’re gonna make shitty videos can you at least not be in my room to do it? ‘Cause only one of us is gonna have to edit all the shit out of it when you’re done.” Not that Brady was actually going to sleep or anything like that. He just liked giving Stevie a hard time, and no doubt did so more than anyone else. He sat up in his bed, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. “And if you try to put me in this vlog I will end you. And your career.”

Stevie lowered his phone just slightly, but didn’t stop recording. “Uh, excuse you. Fired.” He zoomed in towards Brady’s face and grinned to himself before finally stopping it completely. “How dare you call my videos shitty. ‘Just okay’, yeah. But shitty? I thought we were friends.” Stevie came over and let himself fall heavily on the bed beside him, the phone still in hand. “Come on, just one sec for the thumbnail. Let everyone see that bedhead look you got goin’ on, you’ll gain like a thousand followers in like ten seconds.” He raised the phone up, camera pointed towards them, but he didn’t press record just yet. He was mostly giving him a hard time, but he wasn’t gonna film him without his permission. “Let me be the camera man just this once.”

“Bro, I’m about to roll you right onto the floor.” He thought he could just sit on Brady’s bed, in Brady’s own room and disrespect him like this? Unbelievable. “Jeez, fine, put me in the freaking vlog.” He paused. “But for the record, you’re way overestimating your instagram power and I think the universe knows that.” He waited until Stevie started recording, and then Brady reflexively threw up a peace sign at the camera. “Sup fam? Tell ya boy to stop harassing me in my safe space.

“Sounds fun bro, but you don’t have to hurt me. I’m clean; I showered.” Stevie defended himself lightly, truly not thinking that there was any issue with him being there. In fact, he scooted up further on the bed after he’d kicked his shoes off, getting far enough to sit up next to him. He wasn’t thinking about invading his space at all, although he made a mental note to bring him a Starbucks later on for putting up with his ideas. “You’re underestimating our fans. I’ve gotten a buncha DM’s about them wanting to see us in bed together so I’m just listenin’ to the audience.” At that moment, he held his phone up and hit record. At Brady’s response to the camera, he fake glared in his direction. “Hey! I always let you in my room, that’s not fair. Sorry guys, I’m pretty sure I just woke him up, but uh — here he is. I know you hate me and all Brady, but can we do one Q&A? Please? I might have asked them to send us questions earlier.”

“I don’t think this is exactly what they meant by that.” Though Brady was sure this would be taken out of context once it went live on Stevie’s channel. He’d obviously seen the comments. Stevie never really thought about how stuff like this would be taken, it seemed, but Brady always took note. Not that he’d ever say anything, because he knew the truth so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Brady rolled his eyes, but Stevie had already promised his audience something to look forward to, and Brady wasn’t about to be the asshole that let that all go to waste. “Ugh, fine. But we’re keeping it surface level. Not in the mood for your deep questions.”

Stevie just smiled at that and shrugged. He knew what their followers said about them, and it never bothered him in the slightest. It was always kind of funny to him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like the attention his videos brought him. Brady was his best friend, so he never thought twice about joking around with him about it. Brady was straight, so he knew he never took him to heart. "I promise, no deep questions. An' you can cut this out and edit it to make me seem like the bad guy. I owe you after this, dude." He said, his tone almost apologetic, hoping Brady wasn't really upset about it. Quickly, he got into character, clearing his throat dramatically and grinning easily as he held the camera up so they were both in view. "Okay, time for a BRAVIE Q&A." He shook the camera a little in his hand, creating his own sloppy affects. "I'll just do what I remember, sorry if we leave anyone else guys." Stevie squinted as he strained to recall the questions he saw on twitter, and he turned his head towards him. "What's the biggest thing I do that annoys you the most? And you CAN'T say breaking into your room." He wagged his finger in his direction. "That's already obvious.”

Right, he did have the power of editing. Brady liked having control over things in general, which was probably one of the biggest reasons he was ever okay with being in these videos. At the end of the day, he had a huge say in what parts of himself were shown. “The thing that annoys me most?” Brady repeated, thinking about what the best answer would be. “Probably just taking my shit without asking. Like my clothes you wanna borrow or whatever. Like... I know I do the same thing to you, but it still annoys me when you do it.” He shrugged. The least he could be was honest.

Stevie sat up straighter at that, not truly hurt but playing it up for the camera. Sure, okay, he might’ve borrowed things from time to time. He might even be borrowing one of Brady’s shirts right now. But what was so wrong with that? So maybe Stevie's boundaries weren't the greatest, but he never thought it bothered him that much. “So you can take my stuff but I can’t take yours? Well okay.” His brow furrowed as he processed, and he addressed the camera. "If y'all wouldn't mind me borrowing your clothes, like this video. One of you could be my replacement Brady." He joked. "I wasn't asked, but my biggest peeve is when you get mad at me then do the same thing. Like eating the last waffle. How are we even friends?" He teased then waved towards Brady's phone. "Wanna pull up twitter and read off a couple'a questions for me? Your pick."

"Did I say that?" Brady challenged. He and Stevie were always like this, just back and forth banter and picking on each other. He rolled his eyes at Stevie's response, but grinned regardless. "If I eat the last waffle, I replace them. Like, damn dude, I'm not an animal." At Stevie's suggestion, Brady shrugged. "Not really, since this wasn't my idea, but I guess it's kind of expected of me now." He grabbed his phone and went over to Stevie's twitter so he could find the questions. "Uh... okay, while I'm looking why don't you tell me the thing you like about me?"

"You didn't not say it." He replied back, the grin appearing on his face as though second nature. It was always so easy to tease Brady; it'd been that way since they met. "Okay, I'll give you that. It's having to wait for the waffle I don't like --- ya boy gets hungry." He conceded, jokingly. Stevie sat up, almost excited that Brady was finally getting into it. About time. The only thing was that his question caught him off guard, and he looked at him for a moment in thought. It took all he had not to blurt out something dumb like your eyes or your smile or i like the look you give me that i never see you give anyone else. But he had plenty of practice keeping those thoughts quiet, so he immediately shut them down. "I like a lot of things about you, dude. There's a reason you're my freakin' camera man - don't act like you dunno." Stevie said sincerely with a shrug, trying to play it off. "But the thing I like the most?" He considered it briefly. "I like how you never treat me like I'm dumb. Even when I am.  And how you put up with stupid shit like this." Ain't that the truth.  Stevie scooted back some and peeked over his shoulder to read the question's as Brady scrolled. "I'd ask you the same but I feel like I'm pushin' my luck here."

There were few things Brady wouldn't do for a waffle, so he had to give it to Stevie. Dude had a point. "I'll try to make a household announcement when I eat the last one so at least you're aware." And he would certainly remember to yell it at the top of his lungs. Brady pressed his lips into a tight line when Stevie started answering the question, mostly because...well, he didn't really expect it, he supposed. He thought Stevie would have more of a joke answer, and he wasn't prepared for his stomach to sink the way it did, even if it was just Stevie being a good friend and saying something kind about him. "I mean, you're not dumb, you just...do dumb things sometimes. But like, whatever bro, we all do." Brady shrugged, trying to push it all to the back of his mind. "I like that you haven't fired me and kicked me out yet," Brady said with a smirk, still scrolling through the questions. A cop out? Sure, but that was Brady for you. "Here's one. What do we wanna dress up as for Halloween this year?"

Briefly Stevie imagined Brady with a giant megaphone to alert him whenever they were low and the important stuff --- like waffles. That'd be the only legitimate reason to get a megaphone, but he had a feeling that they'd abuse that fast. Wow, he was really maturing. As Stevie finished speaking and Brady had a chance to process what he said, Stevie was suddenly nervous. He wasn't shy about telling someone when he cared about them. His family always was affectionate and vocal about those things. But for the first time he was briefly concerned he'd said too much. But thankfully Brady didn't notice. Stevie relaxed with a small grin. "Yeah, I know. That's the other thing I like about you. You do dumb things with me." That's what he liked about him from the start, after all. "Uh --- I have fired you. Several times actually. Not my fault you keep coming back for more."  He wasn't able to read a lot of the questions as Brady flicked passed them, but there were some he caught glimpses of that he was glad Brady decided to skip passed. Yikes they had some dedicated fans. At the question, he felt his energy rise, and he gently hit Brady in the arm. "I was thinking about this, dude.  I have a couple of ideas. But I'm thinking we blend is as the security and see if anyone even notices us. We can film the whole time at one of the giant ass parties and they can't even kick us out for it. Smart, right? Unless you got any better ideas?"

Brady shrugged. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He had, in fact, been fired several times. He just never took it seriously, because obviously Stevie didn’t mean for it to be taken seriously. Until the day he did, at which point... well, Brady would probably figure it out pretty quick. “Bro, that’s the best.” The idea of playing the part of security at a party they clearly were not security for was downright hilarious. "I don’t have any better ideas. That’s kinda perfect.” He sighed as he continued to scroll. “Alright, let’s see here...”

#brady / stevie. #brady thread. #//yeah this is being posted a month later wanna fight about it????