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natromanxoff · 4 years ago

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I wasn’t sure about posting this at first but as it is already shared publicly and I have come across with it on Pinterest, I decided that it would be okay. So here is a story of a fan about Jim Hutton:

“ON 23rd of March, there was a Queen Tribute band concert in Goresbridge and my boyfriend told me that Jim would come as well. He admitted that he had arranged with Stephen for Jim to come along. The concert was in the pub called The Spirit Store. What a great name for spiritual meeting, I thought. When I entered, Jim sat at the table with Stephen, Jascqueline, her sister Valeria and other family friends. There was nowhere to sit, so we just stood by the table for a while. When I looked at Jim, he appeared somewhat fragile and tiny, like a man who could easily be overlooked. He didn´t look anything like those photos portraying him in the books.

After a while, there was a free seat by the table and everyone, including Jim, moved in order for us to sit down. It was just one place and my friend Mike wanted to take it. He got up fast but they all stopped him. Jim measured Mike up and down and told him, "Perhaps you should let the lady sit here, you cavalier!" Embarassed, Mike got up from his chair and offered it to me. I got the honorable place alongside Jim. Being a woman sometimes has its advantages! Jim welcomed me with heartfelt "Hi". At first I was nervous, but after a while I felt relaxed and enjoyed Jim's company. I was aware of his behavior, gestures, laughter, and tried to absorb his energy all at once. It was easy to talk to him about anything and everything.

I wanted to know the man Freddie loved so much, so I guess I started giving him many questions.

"Jim, are you still in touch with Phoebe?" Jim looked at me closely and began to talk to me with interest. "I haven´t really been talking to him for a long time. I know he had a hotel in Dubai, then he sold it, and he's in Prague now. He also bought something overthere and I think he's going to settle down there." When I heard about Prague, I jumped up excitedly and told him that I was from there. He smiled a little, though the coincidence like this didn´t overwhelm him as much as me.

He relished glass of Budwaiser and smoked Ultra light Silk Cuts. He offered me one and lit it up for me like a real gentleman. It seemed he wanted to continue talking. We both made fun of the ultralight effect of his cigarettes, which would probably piss off every orthodox smoker, Freddie for sure! He then demonstrated jokingly, how to properly smoke them. He inhaled all the smoke by sucking in his cheeks and widening his eyes, as if he should soon burst like an inflated toad. None of us resisted and we both burst into a mad laughter. I told him about my visit to Munich and meeting Barbara. He smiled and listened, then he rolled his eyes up to heaven and stated that she is one hell of a crazy woman. I totally agreed, and added, that also alcoholic one. It was surreal to talk about mutual aquaintances together, people we both knew. I also mentioned my visit to New York club and I could see how he returns nostalgically into his memories. Then I also tried to make him remember my friend Allison, who told me about him in the first place.

"About nine years ago she visited you in London". He couldn´t remember and admitted, that since then a lot of people have passed through his life and many of them he never saw again.

I continued. "She showed me several of your photos and in one of them you were holding Freddie's portrait that you bought at the auction". Suddenly he jumped up and said he knew whom I mean.

I showed him my miniature box containing a stone and talked about it with almost patriotic pride. "It's a stone from Logan Mews that I had to dig out from under the threshold of his house, because there was nothing else to take." Jim laughed out loud, this time without any hindrance and doubt that I was totally crazy. I also laughed because I knew I sound like nuts. He remarked with smile from ear to ear that I was pretty crazy. "Yeah, I'm crazy, and I'm proud to be. Who isn´t...and by the way.....why not?" I smiled at what I just said, because that´s what Freddie would say, to defend himself. Jim then talked about the medallion that Freddie had given him for his birthday. He said, there were three miniature pictures inside. "The first is that of Miko ", he said gently, looking up at me to make sure I knew who he was talking about. "In the other one is Freddie" ... he continued with kind of fervor and love. Something deep inside me shivered. "In the third one," ... he didn´t answer yet, when I jumped into his monologue ...."Tiffany," I blurted out.

"My mom's photo," he finished his sentence. (and I prayed he didn´t register my answer).

It was nice to hear him remembering like that. He opened up in front of me the way I never dreamt of. I think it was nice for him to share these beautiful moments and to talk about things that meant so much to him. "This rock is my good luck charm. I have been listening to Queen since I´m twelve and I also work in the Fan Club's office. We celebrate his anniversary every year. When I went here, I was kidding with my friends that I might meet Jim Hutton in Ireland... and here you are, sitting right next to me. That´s my dream come true", I said all emotional.

"How do you know Stephen?", he inquired after while.

"I go out with Vinnie and they are good friends" He eyed my boyfriend and indicated that he knew who he was.

"I was annoying the two of them and was constantly asking them to bring you", I smiled.

"Oh, Jacqueline wanted me to come, alright" Jim smiled at the thought. Then he talked about the music talent competition, in which they were selecting the best imitators of Queen.

"What music are you actually listening to?" I wondered.

"I have no favorite, I'm listening to almost everything. Even a radio".

"And do you still have Zig and Zag?"

He only sighed and said in a sad voice that they had both died since then.

"And do you have any other cats?"

"Yeah, I have seven others now," Jim smiled. This number didn´t surprise me. The old habits are hard to kill.

"Do you still keep up the gardening, Jim?"

"Constantly," he said with a loving smile and amusedly showed me his hands dirty from the clay and covered in sores. For God's sake, he must have been gardening a few minutes before going to a concert!, I thought to myself. A complete garden maniac.....

We were joking on the account of the band that was supposed to start playing long time ago, but somehow did not. He told me it would be nice to get drunk, so we didn´t know how terrible they were. That really made me crack up. He could be so funny.

He joked and emphasized to everyone around the table, that instead of a concert he could have been at home watching his favorite movie. In the same breath, he admitted that he was curious about their performance and that he hadn´t been out in ages.

He leaned over to me and confessed, that now he lived a life completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"We are basically the same, I am basically like him. Now I just enjoy loneliness and privacy. I don´t go out anywhere except my garden". I immediately knew whom he was referring to in his speech.

I said that I had discovered his house in Palatine and apologized when I saw his slightly concerned look. I said I was just little curious.

He then recalled a few of his encounters with the fans. One day there was an unknown car with a couple of strangers that arrived to his house. They came all way from Vienna and they found him by questioning people in a town! Not a hard thing to trace him, he said, as every cab driver in the area knows him pretty well. One local newspaper even published a photo of his house, and although they gave a wrong address, a lot of people had found him.

That made me laugh, because I knew what it means to be a devoted fan.

"On the other hand, it's nice to know that someone is constantly looking after you and giving you the feeling that all this is still alive," I added with a smile.

"Jim, do you still have your Volvo?"

"You mean the one that Freddie gave me?.....No, I don´t have it few years now, I´ve swapped it for a new one," he smiled.

He was all too gallant all the time, always lighting my cigarette.

He also wondered how long I would stay in Ireland, so I said that only another half a year.

"And you wanna come back here?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm trying to find a job either in Carlow or Kilkenny," I said enthusiastically.

Then I fell silent, looked at him and assured him "Definitely."

Each time he looked up into my eyes, I saw an incredibly nice person in front of me. Something in his silent expression suggested that he had suffered great deal of pain in life, but that he was now completely reconciled with his fate. Still, in his eyes shone a spark of unrelenting humor. In his company I forgot all about the world. I was happy to be able to make such an affluent and warm contact with him. The longer we knew each other, the closer we were.

When he wanted to go to the toilet, Stephen told him that the men's toilets were behind the bar and the ladies in front of the bar. It sounded like he wasn´t quite sure which one would Jim prefer.

But Jim didn´t care much and set off to the men's. I admit it made me laugh a little.

Then we continued our dialogue. I mentioned that I read both his and Phoebe's book, but that I couldn´t find his book anywhere in the stores. He confirmed that it´s out of print at the minute.

When I told him that I had stolen his book at the local library, he laughed and said that I should have asked him and he would have given me a copy, but he only had Italian version.

Finally, the band started to play. Everyone in the pub stood up and whole lot of us - as we were tucked in at the back, climbed onto the window ledges. I stood next to Jim, who remained seated.

He looked a little bit run over. I knew he was surrounded by the loneliness and I watched him with sadness. I lacked much power or words to comfort him. It was only after some wonderful songs that we both joined and got up. He could not remain sad in such a loving and friendly company for ever.

When he noticed the enormous, life-vibrant energy that only Queen music could produce in conjunction with a crowd of people singing, I think he forgot his personal pain. I could see pride in his face. He stood up and watched the band. Then he addressed me and made me come up onto the ledge above him to see better. I would not listen to anybody else, but from him it didn´t sound like an order. He wanted me to get the most out of it and it pleased me. Then we sat back and drank. Jim seemed to be getting cheerful and livelier. The more he drank, the more cheerful he was. The guys ordered him Red Bull with vodka. When I asked him if it was vodka, he claimed it was white lemonade! He put a warm glass of "vodka" on my hand, so I almost jumped out of my skin, which he thought was terribly funny.

Whatever he did, he looked at me as though I was the only person who knew what was behind his looks. His faces and funny grimaces reminded me of Freddie. He had a lot of subconsciously inherited poses and gestures from him. Even in his laughter I could detect an influence of Freddie's strong personality. He simply marked all people around him. It was not the same contagious and stormy laugh, but there was a spark of resemblance.

His niece Jacqueline, Valerie and Stephen, danced all the time on the ledge and Jim was pulling them and wrapping himself in between their legs, hugging them, clinging to them, and messing around like a little boy. It was a wonderful sight, as he was so happy and childish.

After some time, Jim lost himself in a crowd of concert goers, so I went to look for him. Without his company it felt such a sad place. It was as if he had fallen through the ground, which made me very nervous. Finally, I found him by the entrance table, where he was joking away with one old blonde, not too different from frivolous Barbara Valentin. I asked him for a photo together. At first he looked impenetrable but as soon as I threw a sad eye and smirked, he brightened up and agreed as if saying "You know you can, anything for you, darling"

His niece Valerie took our picture. He then whispered to me that he hopes I´ll send him some pictures later.

After that he announced that we are going back inside to listen to the band.

I saw them from close-up and I must say that it was much better to just hear them. They looked rather too comic with all their wigs. It was something that would make Freddie laugh too.

I told Jim that they don´t look very natural,which he agreed with, but he said he couldn´t complain about their music. He was totally right, because musically they weren´t bad and the singer had a very authentic voice.

Inside, everybody was dancing and Jim joined in and circled around them like a rogalo.

The whole pub vibrated with intense and loving energy. There was no one who would be bored. Jim then threw himself in the arms of his two nieces, who gently caressed him in his hair and embraced him. He let them take care of him, now vulnerable like a little lost child all of a sudden.

There was something deeply touching about it. He had closed his eyes and sadly lowered his head, as if his tears flowed deep inside, in his invisible world. I realized at this stage, how much he really loved Freddie. I was looking at him and I had a desire to caress him and comfort him but instead, I had to stand aside.

"You can have everything and yet feel alone", Freddie once said. But I was glad Jim had his family and friends around him, who cared and protected him. Jim was going through sorrow and joy,both at the same time, it seemed.

During one of his many shananigans, I caught him messing around with his niece's boyfriend.

He sat him on his knees and imitated sexual intercourse. It would seem offensive and utterly crazy to someone who didn´t know him. But we all did. Jim was laughing like crazy and when he finally looked at me, he seemed a little embarrassed by his behavior and gave me a look that said"I hope you won´t tell on me to Freddie"...but it was hard to take him seriously.

We both smiled conspiratorially at each other. In that sense, our relationship no matter how short-lived, was special. We understood one another in thoughts. He winked at me a couple of times, tapping my beer like an old buddy.

In one moment in particular, Jim leaned over me and whispered: "You as a fan have right to be crazy, but them" ... pointing at our dancing group of friends ... " they are fucked up", he said with smile and he began to knock his finger against his forehead. An international gesture that doesn´t need an interpreter!

Jim then went to the toilets for a while, and I, like a stray sheep, followed him through crowds of oblivious dancers. He was somewhat drunk at that time and barely retained a balance. He staggered a little like a broken tree. No surprise after god knows how many Red bulls and vodkas! I was bit afraid for him, so I supported him inconspicuously by both shoulders from behind. He went to the toilet and cared too little to even close the door behind him. If anyone was looking, he would see Jim Hutton pissing in a toilet bowl in his bright canary shirt.

At that moment they played the most touching song of all, These are the Days of our lives .... I stood by the door and listened, watching the band and waited for Jim. I don´t know why, perhaps because of the fate that brought me here, I suddenly felt terrible sorrow. I was sorry for Freddie and Jim. Tears poured into my eyes. I didn´t cry, but was very close to it. Jim suddenly appeared next to me and noticed my face. "What about those tears? I hope you don´t cry", but at this stage I was lost for words. His concern made me sad even more. Something inside me forced me to caress him. I hugged him gently around his neck and put my head on his shoulder for a moment. I wanted to let him know that I am very sorry about what happened to Freddie. He did not resist. He knew he wasn´t the only one in the world who was missing him. I looked into his eyes, and I told him a sentence that I didn´t know why I said, but I strongly felt it..."Jim, he's here, he IS here." His expression was rather confused at first. "Do you believe me?" ... I said this with a seriousness and a certain degree of self-assurance that he froze for a while. He looked thoughtful. He knew what I was talking about.

I seemed to only confirm his inner conviction. He didn´t say a word. He wiped my tear away with the edge of his hand and without warning, took me firmly by the hand and led me through crowds back to our friends. There was a lot of care and love in his touch. The music was just playing and Freddie just sang "I still love you" and I knew he did.

I didn´t want to leave, but I knew I said everything I needed to. I could not leave without saying goodbye. It would be a sin after all this to just disappear into eternity. I interrupted him from the conversation with someone else, leaned over the table and said, "Jim, I'm leaving now, so I want to say goodbye, it was great pleasure meeting you." I smiled as much as my heart allowed me to and shook his hand. He stared up and thought for a moment, and then, without any hesitance said, "We do not see each other for the last time." I didn´t know at this time how true his words were.

I thought I did not understand well, so I asked again, "sorry?" and he repeated patiently and more resolutely, "I shall surely see you again," while taking my hand into his hands and kissing it gently.

He left me in amazement. I stumbled out from there perplexed but still I could hear him talking about me to someone there. He probably said he hadn´t seen a bigger nutcase in a long time, assuming from his cute teddybear smile. Gosh I loved him so much!

The next day I learned from my friends that Jim was looking next morning for his jacket that he had forgotten in his car. Few days later, I've sent him the promised photographs. Jacquie confirmed that he called in to say he had received them allright.”

2001

“...And then I returned back to Ireland in 2004.

I had the opportunity to welcome Jim to my own home in Carlow sometime in 2006. He was Stephen´s surprise. When the door opened up, I didn´t see him at first.

Then his head popped out from the side of the door and with a laugh he emerged a bit later. He hugged me like we hadn´t seen each other for million years. What I felt at that moment was indescripable. My dear Jim back in my life and in my own house!

We all sat in the living room, Jim settled down on the sofa, I was sitting on the ground and absorbed the precious moments because I knew time spent with him was only borrowed time. Then we watched Queen videos and talked about Freddie as if he were in the next room. It was so surreal. Me and Jim agreed that our favorite video was Scandal, and he just added that Freddie didn´t like it very much because he couldn´t make any creative input in it, although he loved the song.

Then we talked about his illness, about him taking up to 40 pills a day to sustain his health and he also explained the difference between AIDS and HIV, as many people still didn´t know. We have talked so much and - above all - we laughed all night, almost at everything. It was so easy to succumb to his funny personality once again and to his heartfelt laughter. He made jokes about fancying my ex-boyfriend, whom he lied on top of on the sofa. Long time ago, I´ve sent him a letter explaining to him how Freddie has impacted my life. But I've forgotten I´ve ever written it and now I was faced with the horror that I actually have sent it. I hoped he has forgotten about it, but when Jim and I met in the corridor of our house, I couldn´t but apologize to him for that letter, and for being so daring. To my surprise, he looked at me softly with his tired eyes and assured me that my letter was absolutely fascinating. Then we were interrupted by Stephen, who was just leaving a toilet and the conversation was cut short at that point. Unfortunatelly I would never have the chance to find out what was the next thing he was about to say, because I noticed he wanted to continue, if he weren´t interrupted.

When we were saying goodbye at the door, he treated me as an old friend. He simply kissed me on the lips, which utterly shocked me and made me laugh at the same time.

He invited us back to his house to have a little party, but my ex-boyfriend was not in the perfect mood and so we politely declined, which I will forever regret!

About a year after that I bumped into Jim several times in the city where we both lived, or we exchanged text messages whenever I needed to advise what room flowers would be best for our new house. Sometimes I learnt about how he´s doing through my ex-boyfriend, who used to hang out with him and drink few pints in a night bar. Once my ex confessed how Jim told him that I was a great person and he should be happy to have me. They must have been talking about me!!!!

Then I met Jim one night in the nightclub, where he was with his friends. He spent most of his time sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette, having fun with younger girls. Wherever he was, you heard his laughter. That night my ex-boyfriend arranged for Jim and me to have a dance together.

Jim was just dancing on the dancefloor with some older woman. I remember he had his jumper tied around his waist. I just got onto the dancefloor, he looked at me all serious and pulled me close to him. It was some tediously slow song that I can´t even remember, I just know that we were staggering from side to side like two handiccaped penguins and that made me laugh hysterically.

He was such a clown! Now, however, I consider this moment as one of the most precious memories of him. It was my night.

Back in 2009, I have learned that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. My ex-boyfriend told me how concerned Jim was when informing him. He said, he wept. At that time I didn´t know how serious the situation was and I hoped Jim will get better in no time. I believed the doctors would somehow help him out of it. I saw him a little later at work when he came to our restaurant for breakfast.

I almost served him as another customer, but when I realized it was him, I pulled myself back into the kitchen and let the other girls serve him. He never noticed. I was in such state of shock. I didn´t know what to do, how to act and what to say. He was so thin, just skin and bone. His face was sinking, his eyes full of pain, a small tube leading from his nose to the oxygen device he carried in his backpack and a small canvas hat on his head. I couldn´t believe this was Jim, whom I have remembered being so full of life and joy only half a year ago. I wanted to cry like never before. I also felt embarassed by my own cowardly reaction. I wished more than anything in my life to hug him and say I loved him. I wanted to wish him a happy Christmas. But I was scared of my own tears, which would not help him in his situation.

I wrote him a message on the phone, but he didn´t respond. And then I got the terrible news. Jim died and somehow I also missed his funeral. I took a first taxi and went at least to his months Mass and visited his grave, bringing him daffodils and little white lantern with candle. It was so hard for me. His relatives stood above his grave. I said my prayers in a minute of silence. The air didn´t move and the moon was full in the night sky. It was dark and cold all around but I didn´t care.

I wanted to see him laugh and mess around like he used to. It was as if another star had disappeared and fell to the earth. If only life could last forever.”

2006-2010

Credits to Seraphiel’s blog. Please don’t repost without credits.

#jim hutton

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thetomorrowshow · 4 years ago

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Slower Than Words Ch. 21

First - Previous - Next

I know I keep saying this, but unless my life suddenly slows down soon, updates will be slowed. This one was so close to being late. I have a layout for the story, I just don’t have the spare time to write. I am about to lose a commitment, though, so maybe things will work out!

cw: arguing, panic attack, angst

“You don't need a job.”

“Yes I do! I can't just let you and Remus support me, I'm an adult!”

“You're still recovering. You don't even know what a job would be like in this world.”

“Then let me find out!”

“Patton, no. This is not up for debate any longer.”

Patton stood up suddenly, shoving his chair back with a loud screeeech. For a moment, his anger boiled, so near to the surface, as he contemplated walking out of the apartment and getting himself a job.

Instead, he shoved the feelings down and stormed into his room, slamming the door shut. How could Father be so—so—!

All he wanted was to feel like he was actually contributing something. Sure, he was still in three kinds of therapy, but Father couldn't pay for that all himself, even with his two jobs. He couldn’t expect Remus to help, either—Remus was his own person with his own ambitions.

Patton picked up his pillow, only to throw it as hard as he could at the bed. He took a couple of deep breaths, then did it again. He was an adult, he could do anything Father or Remus could do, and he wanted to help! He wanted to see the Outside, interact with people from Out, learn what life was like here. He hadn't gone anywhere yet except his therapy appointments, which were all in the same cluster of buildings, so it wasn't like he was being exposed to a wide variety of stimuli.

Something was off, but Patton shook the feeling away. He was too mad to try and figure it out. Father didn't have much money at all, they were skating by on very little and Patton could help with that! He could help his family stay safe and alive, and here, with him.

Patton had felt helpless his whole life. There was always something, someone, to be afraid of. There was always something, someone, to hold him in place. He was always trapped. He'd thought, for months, that getting out would mean a sunny life full of smiles, a life with love and happiness.

This wasn't happiness. This wasn't sunshine, and certainly not smiles. This was being locked away, only leaving to see doctors who tried to 'fix' him, only to—

Patton fell to his knees, clutching his head as he tried to shut the memories out. There was panic rising in his chest, dousing the anger like cold water with fire, and he didn't know why. Where was Virgil, why wasn't he here? Where was his jacket—there, on the desk. So where was Virgil? Why wasn't he here, where was Father, please, not again, please—

The door.

The door was closed, and Patton hadn't closed it, had he? Someone shut him in. Someone had shut him in, and they weren't going to let him out. No, not okay, not at all okay. There was no way for him to tell someone to let him out, he couldn't ask for help!

Why wouldn't Father let him learn to talk?

Patton crawled over to the door, shaking fearfully as he reached up for the doorknob. Part of him was holding him back, insisting that if he didn't know that the door was locked then it couldn't be locked. Instead of giving in to that, he turned the handle, and—

It opened, with just a little bit of resistance of dragging along the carpet, and Patton fell over in relief. He was safe, he was at home with Father, he wasn't confined to a room. He noticed that his face was hot, and reached up to find tears.

Patton felt a little embarrassed, now that he realized that nothing had been wrong. He'd just been freaking out over nothing. Probably something he'd have to talk about with one of his therapists.

He got to his feet, his legs shaking a bit, which reminded him suddenly of Virgil. Patton felt a pang as he thought of his lost love. Remus had said that Virgil had gotten out for certain, but he didn't know anything else. He couldn't believe it—they both finally got freedom, escaped to the same place, yet their paths hadn't crossed. They'd been separated, before they even got to see each other.

The house vibrated, and Patton peered out his door to see Remus kicking his shoes off in front of the front door. He was saying something to Father, his mouth moving at lightning speed.

Patton withdrew into his room, taking a moment to pull on Virgil's jacket before falling back onto his bed. His heart was still thumping wildly, adrenaline surging through him. Everything was fine, though. Not good, necessarily. But fine.

Remus flopped onto the couch beside Logan, letting a drawn-out sigh hiss out of him. Logan watched him impassively, though there was a crease between his brows, and he didn't look all that present.

“You good, Lolo?” Remus asked. He scratched his mustache absently, not at all missing Logan's quick glance to Patton's room.

The kid was cool, if a bit jumpy. He and Logan had been butting heads a bit lately, and today must have been the day of another angry hands match. Remus wasn't really able to keep up, but Logan had filled him in—Patton wanted a job, and to learn how to read lips and talk. Like that one lady, but without the blind part or whatever.

Remus was on Patton's side, sort of—the kid needed out, and that was fair. He'd needed out to, which was why he got a job at the gas station thirty minutes out. Gave him time to drive, think. Laugh at the music on the radio. Pretend he was collecting a string of coins on the road. Fun stuff, free stuff. Pat pretty clearly needed some of that, and Logan was definitely motherhenning.

On the other hand, though, the three were barely keeping afloat. After payments for Patton's therapy (which they had financial aid for, too), there was only just enough to cover bills and food and whatall. They hadn't even been able to buy Pat more clothes, he was just re-wearing the same two or three outfits over and over. Which played into why he wanted a job—another person with a job meant more money, but even that wouldn't be enough money to cover lipreading lessons, let alone speaking lessons.

Who would hire a deaf kid, anyway?

Deaf young adult, Remus reminded himself. Patton was only a handful of years younger than him. He wasn't a kid, and he probably didn't want to be called a kid.

Suddenly, Remus realized that Logan was talking. He really needed to stop getting lost in thought.

“I can't let that happen,” Logan was saying. “Not again.”

Ah, they'd reached the part of the day where Logan talked about how guilty he felt. Lovely to tune in to!

“Lo, I get it. You've given me this spiel like eight million times already,” Remus said. “You love Patty, blah blah your fault, blah blah blah kidnapping, not safe blah blah. Come up with new material.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he seemed to have broken out of his self-deprecating cycle, so Remus had succeeded.

“Why don't we talk to the school district?” Remus continued. “They've gotta have some deaf kids, and Pat could be a translator or something, I don't know.” He'd been thinking about it for a few days now. If there was anyone who needed a translator full-time, it was a school. He'd thought about other places—a church (nope bad memories probably), the post office (too many people), a motel (too shifty). Not to mention, all the places wouldn't need him regularly. The school seemed like the best bet. Logan, however, shook his head without even considering it.

“No, he doesn't know the first thing about a school.” Remus snapped his fingers. “Perfect place to learn! Good thinking!”

“That is not what I mean. I don't feel comfortable putting him in a situation where he would have to regularly deal with normal people.” Logan adjusted his glasses, his hand running up from there to trail through his hair. “He's not ready. It isn't safe for him until we can adjust his therapy schedule to include sensitivity training. It will take him years to be able to get a job, according to the timeline I've drawn up. Not to mention, in order to get a decent, respectable job, he must undertake a college education at a reputable university.”

That was completely wrong, and ruled out trade schools and apprenticeships. It also stung, pretty badly. Logan knew full well that Remus hadn't been to college. Remus tried to not let the hurt show on his face as he stopped listening to Logan's tirade.

He was wrong. Little Patty-Cake could totally survive in the real world. But how to prove it to him?

Patton was reading, sprawled out on his bed, several days after the fight when he saw his door move slightly out of the corner of his eye. He sat up to see Remus waving at him. He sent a casual wave back, before returning to his book. He was learning a lot—the book's main characters all worshiped differently. He hadn't even known that there was more than one religion.

His bed dipped, which meant that Remus had come in and sat on his bed. Patton took his time finishing his page. Eventually, Remus waved in his face.

“That's rude, you know,” Patton signed, finally placing a bookmark in the book and closing it. “What do you need?”

Remus took a moment, repeating Patton's sentences in miniature as he worked his way through it. Then he bounced a little bit, smiled, and pulled something out of the tote bag on his shoulder that Patton hadn't noticed until now.

A book.

Another one?

Patton didn't want to complain, but he had so many books already. Father was always going to the library in between shifts, bringing a new thing to read. He had six or seven to catch up on still, he didn't need another. And he was getting a little bored of reading.

Remus raised his eyebrows expectantly, holding it out, gesturing for Patton to take it. He did, watching Remus's excited eyes for a moment before turning his attention to the title.

Lip-Reading Principles And Practice: A Hand-book for Teacher and for Self-Instruction.

No.

Really?

Patton smiled, huge, hope building in his chest. Remus grinned toothily, and rereading the title was all it took for Patton to be launching into Remus's chest with a hug.

He was really going to learn! He could really do this! He released the laughing Remus to run his hands across the lightly damaged cover reverently, then hugged Remus again.

He couldn't wait to get started.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck

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abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years ago

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The Beauty That Is She

Part 3 is finally here!! Previous Updates Here:)

Before we get into this one, I want to say a quick thank you to those of you who have asked if I was alright and have been so, so patient for this update. I'm so sorry it's been so long, but this story was only meant to be a few chapters long and now, my ideas keep changing and there is so much I want to write for it. I can't thank you all enough for the kind words and the encouragement, I honestly didn't think people would enjoy this that much considering it's not one of the mains AND that I've paired him with an OC.

This one isn't my favourite but it is still important or you might get a little confused later on. The wedding/wedding night is in the editing process and I'm still deciding if it should be two small chapters or one big one!

Anyway, enough of my rambling and on with the show!

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It was the day before the wedding and Fenrys was terrified. Not because he didn't want this or he was having second thoughts, but because he was terrified Eva would say she didn't want this anymore, didn’t want him. But above all of that, he was terrified of the words about to come out of the trembling messenger boy’s mouth.

Rowan’s personal messenger, who had managed to secure his place when Rowan had found him trying to survive on the streets. His name, Fenrys remembered, was Kallias. He was just a year younger than Connall and abandoned by his family when he was spotted kissing one of the boys from the village. The family had up and moved not long after, the villagers saying they were too disgraced. Fenrys thought it was all fucking absurd. Your child was your child, regardless of who they chose to love and he would make sure his future children knew that too. The thought of those children, his and Eva’s, brought Fenrys back to Kallias.

“What is it, Kal?” The boy shifted on his feet and Fenrys heard the way he took several deep breaths before he spoke.

“The King wishes to see you out in the courtyard, My Lord.” He rolled his eyes at the title, trying to act as if those words weren’t scaring the fuck out of him.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that? It’s just Fenrys, kid.” Kallias nodded, but he still heard the muttered ‘yes, my lord’ before he turned to leave. Fenrys couldn’t help the way he tried to straighten his tunic and his hair before making his way to see Rowan. It’s not as if looking a bit cleaner would save him from the other male’s protectiveness. He understood though, because he would be the exact same way if his daughter was about to be married off. It would mean she was no longer his to protect, no longer his to care for. Although he would still do those things, every day, until his dying breath.

The halls of the castle were full of people bustling about, adding the last few touches of decorations here and there. Aelin could be heard before you even saw her, making sure everything was perfect. His Queen would like to think everything was done by her, but it was his Eva who led all of the wedding preparations. Fenrys was enraptured whilst watching Eva tell her mother exactly what she wanted, where it would all go and when it would happen. Aelin had tried to get her way only once, but Rowan had just given her a look, along with a light smile and she had kept silent and continued to make sure Eva wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He breathed deeply as he pushed through a large oak door and stepped out into the courtyard. Out of all of the places he’d seen, the places he’d lived, nowhere had ever felt like home as much as Terrasen did. Not even all of those years spent in Doranelle serving Maeve. Rowan wasn’t hard to find, all he had to do was follow the loud cursing and shouts of “You can get off of me now, Buzzard!”

When he reached them, he bit his lip trying not to laugh; lest he want to go a couple rounds with his Queen for making fun of her. Rowan had Aelin pinned to the ground, straddling her hips and a hand on each of her wrists, her blade knocked a few feet away. When Aelin noticed him, she twisted her head to look at him upside down, eyes narrowed. “What in the hell are you doing out here?” Rowan stood slowly, pulling his wife up beside him, placing a quick kiss to her temple.

“I sent for him,” he said, before Fenrys could even open his mouth. Aelin folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow.

“What could you possibly need him for? His wedding is tomorrow, he still has things to do.” He didn’t really have things to do, just to help set up tables outside for the festivities after the ceremony, but he thought his Queen might be trying to save his ass from Rowan’s ‘territorial fae bullshit’. Fenrys was grateful for the effort, though he doubted even she could save him.

“There’s something I want to show him. We’ll be back in time for when Lorcan and Elide get here, I promise.” Aelin stared at her husband for a few moments longer, having one of those silent conversations before she nodded, kissing Fenrys on the cheek before walking back to the castle, muttering about seeing if Connall wanted to read their newest book. Rowan looked to him when she was out of sight, an unreadable expression on his face before he said, “come and walk with me.” Not a question, nor a request, so he followed obediently as the silver haired man made his way to the tree line. They didn’t speak as they walked, the only sounds were of rabbits and birds that he wouldn’t know were there without his fae hearing, and the crunch of shrubbery underfoot. Studying the warrior a few paces in front of him, he noticed the male hadn’t actually brought any of his weapons with him. It made him feel better, knowing he wasn’t likely to get stabbed, but that didn’t mean Rowan couldn’t hurt him. There was no need for weapons considering how much power he had.

After what felt like hours in the silence, was merely a thirty minute walk to the hills within the grounds, but far behind the castle where Rowan halted them. “Where are we?” His King, his brother in arms, his friend looked at him with such softness in those stark green eyes; Fenrys couldn’t even find the will to look away.

“We’ll get to that, but first I have to say a few things.” He dipped his head for Rowan to go on. “When Aelin first told me she was carrying twins, I cried for hours. It was from overwhelming joy and excitement, but also from an underlying fear. Fae twins are rare, as you know, but childbirth for fae females is also a difficulty. I was so, so terrified something would go wrong, that I’d lose them, including Aelin and that it would be like Lyria all over again.” Fenrys pushed the thoughts from his mind, trying not to remember how cold and angry Rowan had once been. He knew that it would have been a lot worse this time, had the worst actually occurred. “But everything was fine. I watched as they grew, as they kicked their tiny little feet against my touch for the first time. And then suddenly, as if I had merely blinked, I was holding Evalin in my arms.” Images of the warm summer evening the twins were welcomed into the world bombarded him, and he could clearly see Rowan with a babe in each arm in his mind’s eye. It was a sight you simply couldn’t forget. “She may be grown up Fenrys, but she’s my little girl, as she always will be. But tomorrow, tomorrow she becomes yours to love, to cherish and protect and I’ll respect that of course I will, but she’ll never stop being my sweet little princess who used to whack me with wooden swords and put flowers in my hair.” There was a dampness to his cheeks and he realised with a start, as he brought his hand to his face, that he’d started crying somewhere along the way.

“Of course she’s yours Rowan. That will never change, but just so you know, I’ll spend every day of my life trying to be worthy of her, to be worthy of being loved by her.” It was true, he didn’t deserve someone such as Eva, but he’d do everything in his power to prove himself to her. Rowan brought him into a back-clapping hug and he could do nothing but return it.

“I know boyo, I know, I’m just feeling a bit emotional is all and Aelin probably would have told me I was being ridiculous. Also,” he pulled away and smiled wickedly, “even if you do fuck this up somehow, I think I would be lower down on your list of concerns.” Rowan started walking again, pushing between the low-hanging branches of two old willow trees.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I think Con would beat me to you. He may be younger than Lin and Mia, but he’s fiercely protective when it comes to his sisters.” The miniature version of Rowan Whitehorn was a hellion naturally, but it was worse when something had happened to the twins. Fenrys had seen a little bit of that protection show the day the mating bond had settled.

“Speaking of, have you noticed Con has been spending a lot of time with Kallias lately? I’ve found them together a few times in the library, though Connall usually catches me from the corner of his eye and darts away. Poor Kal is always left confused and I think a little hurt.” There was a low chuckle from Rowan, his head shaking.

“I’ve seen them. I’ve known about my son’s preference for males for years, but I think he’s scared to tell us. I think they might even get a little shock of their own in a couple of years, honestly.” Interesting. “Aelin is desperate to call him out on it, but I’ve told her this is something he needs to sort out within himself first. He’ll tell us when he’s ready, though I hope it’s soon, because all I want is for him to be who he wants.” He was about to retort when Rowan halted them abruptly, nodding his head to the right of them. When he turned in that direction, his breath caught a little in his throat. There, in amongst the trees, was a small little yellow cottage. It was dark inside and Fenrys could smell the stale scent of pine and snow, indicating Rowan had been he but not recently.

“Rowan?”

The male in question dug into one of the pockets on his breeches, and pulled a small, silver key that glinted in the few rays of sunlight that shone through the canopy. “I started building this when Aelin told me she was with child, and then started another one after she had announced it would be twins. I knew that when they were all grown up, my children would want to leave and live independently, to be their own person. I also knew it would be hard for us to let them out of our sight, so I wanted to give them somewhere that they were far enough away from us, but somewhere I knew they would be safe, protected.” He pressed the key into the palm of Fenrys’ hand and folded his fingers over it. The metal was cool in his palm, barely weighing anything at all. “You and Evalin don’t have to live here of course, but I wanted her to know there was a place for her to start this new adventure with you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” There were things Fenrys knew he should say, but the words got stuck in his throat.

“There’s no need to say anything.” Rowan’s eyes were lined with silver as he ran his eyes over the place he’d created for his child. It wasn’t hard to imagine being here with Eva, it wasn’t hard at all.

“You said you started another when you knew it was going to be twins, did you start another when Aelin told you about Connall?” His friend wiped at his eyes quickly before nodding in confirmation.

“Yes. Mia’s is to the west of here, barely any distance from here at all and closer to the lake. I built Con’s to the east side of the castle, actually. There’s a small cavern close to it that has a hot spring inside, which I thought would be good for practicing.”

The two of them stayed out there for a little while longer, occasionally letting a content silence between them, or talking about all sorts of topics and reminiscing on the past. Soon enough, they were on the move again, reaching the castle just in time for Elide and Lorcan’s arrival, Aelin waiting for them with a glare. It was possible that they were a little behind when they said they’d be back. Fenrys tried to greet his friend’s as they arrived, little ones in tow, but Rowan stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, telling him to go and rest because he had a big day tomorrow. He let out a breath and agreed, walking back to his room without stopping to say hello to anyone.

When he was washed and settled into bed, Fenrys let the darkness take him into the land of dreams with a smile on his face.

Tomorrow, he was getting married.

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Let me know what you thought! I’m sorry for being so behind on things:( If you’re not in the tags but you’ve asked to be, just give me a shout and I’ll fix it asap, I don’t think my lists are updating properly<3

Tags: @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up @mad-madeline-ace @df3ndyr @jesstargaryenqueen @notyournymphetish @nightcourtcinnamonroll @acourtofmarauders @rhyswhitethorn @booknerdproblems @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @lucy617 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @mis-lil-red @eleonor-da-silva @silentquartz

#throne of glass #tog #fenrys moonbeam #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #fenrys x original #tog fic #throne of glass series #original characters #connall #my fic #my writing #haz writes

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mothdalf · 4 years ago

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DAY TWO: Findis and Írimë Lalwen

@finweanladiesweek

So this mainly focuses on the relationship between Findis and Fëanor rather than Lalwen but I’ll get to her later in the week.

Pics in order are:

Fëanor and baby Findis, Findis finally snapping at Fëanor, Findis and Lalwendë, and Findis gathering herbs for Estë in the Gardens of Lorien.

I’ve put todays rant under the cut but I’d recommend reading it because it really gives the pictures context.

As mentioned in my previous post Fëanáro is like the equivalent of a pre teen (like 10-12) when Finwë marries Indis, and he elects to travel for his studies rather than living with them full time.

He is a young teen when he gets a letter to tell him that he’s going to be a brother, and to say that he takes it badly is putting it mildly. He’s crushed. He’s been angry that his father is (at least in his mind) trying to replace his mother, but now he’s going to replace him? So he doesn’t send a letter back and throws himself into every distraction because he’s going to make damn sure that he’s better than anyone his father tries to replace him with.

Finwë turns up and half begs half drags him home in time to meet his sister the baby. He doesn’t want to and turns up to the nursery (not his old one) in his traveling clothes before being promptly turned around and told to put on something clean at least.

He plans to give a quick glance into the crib (also not his) and a curt “congratulations” before returning to his room to sulk. But it doesn’t pan out like that.

Because his new sister is perfect. Not that Fëanor has been around many children but he’s sure that she must be the most perfect one ever.

Later he will try and rationalise this to himself by pointing out that she’s so different to him that she could never be a replacement. For one, she’s a girl, he’s still his fathers only son, but even aside from that; she has green eyes and golden hair and long Vanyar ears. Nothing like him. Not a substitute. There can be enough room for them both. That’s why he likes her.

Whatever the reason, she’s beautiful, every tiny detail from her fluffy golden hair to her grasping, miniature fingers. So what he says is more of a strangled “wow” after a long pause.

Indis asks if he would like to hold her and sees a beaming smile on Fëanor’s face that she never thought would be directed at her.

He hesitates at first because he realises he’s faced (for the first time in a long time) with something he doesn’t know how to do. But Indis points him to a chair and places Findis in his arms, hands gentle as she positions them.

He coos to her instinctively and she squirms and wiggles and blinks up at him. That’s the moment Fëanor decides he’s going to have kids of his own someday, as many as possible.

Indis is surprised when he breaks the silence and addresses her “well done,” he says without looking up “she’s wonderful, perfect”

The phrasing is a little strange but Indis understands; he’s complimenting her on craftsmanship, for all their differences he’ll always acknowledge that.

It’s quiet again until someone comes to call him away for supper. Fëanor kisses Findis’ head before passing her back and, almost shyly, asks if he can come back to see her later.

So Findis spends the first few years of her life with an adoring big brother. He sends her gifts from his travels, or things he’s made, and dotes on her when he’s home.

Everything is great for a while, so no one is worried when Finwë and Indis announce they’re expecting their second child, not even Fëanor. But things don’t work out that way.

This post isn’t about Fëanor and Fingolfin though.

Fëanor gets distant. His vitriol for Fingolfin doesn’t extend to Lalwen and Finarfin but neither does his soft spot for Findis.

For her part Findis struggles with the tension. When she’s older her parents explain the situation, her heart aches for her big brother. She loves all of her siblings and she hates the atmosphere so she spends most of the time playing peacekeeper. She thinks it’s ridiculous for someone older than her to have such a problem with a child, especially one she herself loves so much. It’s much better when Fëanor is away, but she misses him.

So like her mother in looks and temper, Findis is composed and calm and shoulders the burden of trying to keep them all happy.

Fëanáro is now a young adult and an apprentice under Mahtan, so he’s not around that much, but when he is the fights are always the same. This time however something he says clicks for Findis.

“So that’s it, the reason you hate him and like me? Because he’s a threat and I’m not? You only like me because you’re glad I wasn’t a boy! I wasn’t important enough to be a problem for you!”

Fëanor being Fëanor it devolves into a screaming match. It ends with Findis swearing to show him how much of a threat she can be. She’s going to be better than him at something one day, just you wait and see.

She tries for a long time to find that something. It’s never going to be any craft with her hands and they’re pretty evenly matched musically, so she tries politics, that should really make her a threat.

Findis reads everything she can from the library, asks her father 100 questions a day, attends councils and meetings. She learns a lot, planning to catch Fëanor out one day, call him out for something in front of the council, actually oppose him. Only that day doesn’t come. Fëanor hasn’t quite gotten to the point that we know he’ll eventually reach, so Findis can’t find anything to actually oppose him on at the moment. Frustrated, and getting more bored by the day, she draws back from politics.

Around this time Indis is planning a trip to visit the Gardens of Lorien (read, Miriel), and asks her eldest to come with her, lightly hinting that it will be good for her to get away.

It’s during this trip that Findis finds exactly what she wants to do. She sees how happy her mother is to be able to be close to Vaire again (see my last post about how Indis is a devotee of Vaire) and starts to seriously consider doing the same. Fëanor would never do that.

But when she sees the Maiar and Elven devotees of Lorien and Este, the (admittedly very few) tired or injured people finding rest and care and peace there, she knows in her heart that this is for her. Findis will be a healer.

She goes to Este immediately to apply to join her followers.

Este denies her. She has no more knowledge or experience of healing than the basic studies of her youth. Yes, the work they do here is usually routine and calm, but before devoting her eternal life to it, Findis should really try to think whether healing is for her. Can she handle injuries? Blood? Has she ever seen someone in pain? Really in pain? Not a younger sibling tripping and grazing their knee, but a hunter thrown by a spooked horse? A smith burned in the forge? Did she watch her mother give birth to her younger siblings? Did she hear the screams?

She hasn’t, Findis acknowledges, but she’s more than willing to learn.

She journeys home to Tirion without her mother to begin her studies. She starts at the bottom, back to reading books she can barely understand, stubbornly pestering the healers guild with letters until she can find a teacher. She attends lectures and eventually demonstrations with other students, usually far younger, in plain clothes, and most politely pretend that they don’t know who she is. She dissects animals and identifies what she sees. Bundles all of her scrolls and papers and books on politics into a cupboard and starts refilling her study with labelled diagrams, notes from lectures, samples of herbs.

The books start to make a lot more sense.

For some time each year she visits Estë again, just as a volunteer. She also visits Valimar and Alqualondë to learn from healers outside of the Noldor.

She starts to practice, assisting more experienced healers, in between lectures.

She joins a healer on a trip to the forest of Oromë; and returns with no fear of blood or broken bones, unbothered by a piercing arrow wound or the black bruises of a kick from Nahar.

There’s a drive in Findis now that was never there for politics, she’s all but forgotten that this started as a way to stand out against her brother. There’s a burning passion and a satisfaction to what she does. Her mother smiles and says that it’s the Noldor blood coming through.

Findis starts to come into her own with herb-lore and medicines. She commandeers an area of the palace gardens for medicinal plants. Writes report after report, learns to administer what and when and how. She’s almost settled on this as her focus when she is asked to assist her current supervisor with the birth of a baby.

She knows the theory. She’s recommended certain herbs and supplements to expecting mothers. She has vague memories of her younger siblings just after they were born. But this is different. This is her focus. So she switches track, asking questions of her tutors and colleagues. Requesting to assist with births wherever she can. She seeks female healers, midwives, and the input of her mother and her friends with children of their own. She makes notes and studies of their experiences.

Findis excels. Eventually becoming a healer in her own right. Only then does she approach Estë again. For something special this time. Yes, she appeals to join Estë’s devotees, but she wants to keep her focus on women, and pregnancy, and birth. She learns even more now, the Noldor passion propping her up as she learns that Vanyar ways of healing song from the Ainur.

Often, she visits the body of (Auntie) Miriel. She asks for stories of her fading from those in Lorien, seeks the insight of Estë, Irmo, and Nienna, and finally questions her parents. Piecing things together, she reaches out to other mothers- those who she attended at birth, her friends, those whose children she’s treated. She asks them about their experiences, asking them to be honest, to fear no judgement and feel no shame. Did they ever feel as Míriel did?

Some did, some didn’t. Either way she assures them that they are not alone. Over years she builds notes and papers and case studies as she works and follows her path in the Gardens of Lorien.

Findis becomes revered and respected for her work.

One day she gets a letter from her brother, he’s heard about her work, inspired by his mother. He asks if he could read it, so she invites him and Nerdanel to Lorien, so that he can read her papers. When they arrive it’s clear why he wants to do this now. Fëanor is afraid that his wife will share his mother’s fate at the birth of their first son.

Before they go home they get a lot of assurance, a list of recommendations, and signs to watch out for, all courtesy of Findis and her research. She promises to be there if they have any questions, and to assist in the birth personally.

Her brother embraces her for a long time before he leaves. He tells her how grateful he is for her help, how much more peacefully he will sleep now. Fëanor has never been happier that his sister out did him at something, and Findis has never felt less competitive. Healing, she thinks, is about always learning and getting better. Smithing, she supposes, is much the same.

#my art #tolkien #the silmarillion #noldor #yott more like yeet #Vanyar #Findis #Fëanor #siblings #listen I had no idea where this was going #but Findis is a magical obgyn #finweanladiesweek #house of finwe

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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30. I Consent

Word Count: 5714 Previous

Whenever they had a chance to be together, she was pretty restrictive of what he could and couldn’t do. He felt almost like he was being trained for her pleasure... which was frustrating on some of his more needy nights, but any other time pretty hot because... well... she was Grace. Others didn’t stand a chance even being able to get a whiff of her and she would put it right in his face, sometimes allowing him to do something about it, sometimes seeing if he can follow rigid directions in a position like that. It made her smile, therefore, he enjoyed it to a certain degree. He kinda liked the torture at times. It was familiar to self harm, but in this instance, he actually got a treat sometimes, and the denial that he got at other times made for his longing to intensify.

But, he had hurt her in the past and now she had to reassure herself that he respected all of her boundaries, even those that seemed unreasonable. He needed to confirm if he was capable of seeking out her affirmative consent, or if he was simply playing along with some games in order to get sweet satisfaction. If it were the latter, he was going to have to really work for it. She had already decided on at least a 3 month probation period, meaning he did not even pull his tool out for that long and she would reevaluate on Christmas Eve whether or not they were in a place of going further than her current boundaries.

Sometimes, he wondered if her boundaries were real, or if she set them up just to test him.

Either way, he was settling into his new position at work, managing a project that had been his baby for YEARS, and also able to set aside time to set up his workshop for his hobbies.

Buying a big house was something his father advised him against, considering the cost of living in New York, the fact that he was “fickle,” and probably wouldn’t want to stay in New York once Grace was “done with him,” and that he wasn’t rich. Simon could afford the house that he bought. He wasn’t Monroe rich, but he did okay for himself considering his drawbacks and he was doing better all of the time. As his skill and success grew, so did his salary. He was confident that he wouldn’t harm himself with the purchase and comfortable about the size of it, because different moods needed different spaces.

His workspace was specifically for working, with his desk with three laptops and all of the work things associated with it. He had his little home “lab” in the same room. Lab tables and equipment for projects and various prototypes were set on the workstation and there were cabinets of supplies and stock for various technological needs.

His study was a miniature library of sorts (he didn’t have a lot of physical copies of books, as most of those were available electronically), but he did have some - important ones that changed his life, ones he had written, ones he had been given as gifts, ones he had from when he was little, etc… and his reading nook was there, as well as his writing desk.

His workshop would be mostly for his crafts. He designated the closet in there for his work tools - for house work and yard work and such, and the rest of it was going to be for all of his figures, whether wood or robotics. He had been jealous of his dad’s garage for a time, the way that everything was set just like he liked it and he had that space to himself just to delve into his model building. Simon determined at an early age, he’d have a designated space for his own passions too.

All of those rooms were set in different areas of the house, near the back. In fact, one had to pass by his study to get to the back porch… which was very big, and the backyard was even bigger. Grace used to indulge him when they were younger, and jokingly say, “I’d better stop spoiling you or you’ll get used to champagne taste.” The unspoken being understood by him - that he didn’t have the income for such taste. Instead of discouraging his tastes, it inspired his drive. Grace would always credit his good traits to, “Well, you’re a Leo-Virgo cusp. Of course you’re virtually perfect.” Simon didn’t buy that. Simon’s perfectionism was because he knew that he needed to be the best at everything that he was good at to be seen as worthy in those areas and to be taken seriously and ultimately be ahead of the curve for all of them. That was why he focused just as much on writing as he did building figures. That was why he focused just as much on engineering as he did writing. That was why he focused just as much on business skills as he did engineering.

So, that despite the fact that he was not an ambassador’s kid, he could still hold his own when they were together. Course, Grace was focused on other things at the moment. He made a conscious decision to check in with her every day to see if she needed/wanted anything, if there was something aside from that he could do for her or Hazel, and just to see how she was faring.

She was generally too busy, as she was working on her upcoming album release, and also mothering. Hazel was generally very close by or with her. She had a nanny, but Grace was very adamant about the nanny just being an extra pair of hands and eyes while she was busy, and not “a stand in mommy,” which… that couldn’t happen anyways, with the way that she tended to hover. Hazel had tried to talk to her about it, but Grace just didn’t know how to ease up. For that reason, Hazel was DELIGHTED that Grace was so busy with album business.

She loved her and enjoyed their time together, but she really just wanted to breathe sometimes. She wanted an adventure sometimes that didn’t involve her mom. That didn’t much include meeting celebrities like musicians, singers, dancers and such… because as cool as that was, Hazel wasn’t that interested in those types of celebrities. However, she DID love the fact that she was on a first name basis with Shana, because she loved her shady videos and the way that she made news fun, as Shana didn’t just dish out trash… she was an actual journalist and spoke on current events and world issues. She was an activist and a public figure and more than the gossip persona the public generally associated her with. And, she let Hazel use bad words whenever she was with her.

But, Hazel really liked whenever she was able to meet authors, particularly ones that wrote sci fi and fantasy. As far as she was concerned, aside from Grace, the most impressive celebrity that she had met was Simon. He wasn’t as popular as he had been a few years ago, staying out of the limelight these days and slowly getting back into publishing work, but the first Book of Esmoroth had sentimental value to her. It got her through a lot of bad real life and let her escape to a world where harming children was punishable by death and the only adults ever mentioned either served or helped the children. That was a very nice fictional place to go whenever most of the adults in her real life had been absent or weary from her. Plus, she would have a hand in the future publications of the series and that was a great feat FOR HER. Simon had even put her name in the credits of Book 2 and told her that he was dedicating it to her.

“For Hazel, seen only as a child when she really is a beacon of wisdom and reflection. The Throne of Esmoroth shall be yours someday.” That was WONDERFUL! THAT was gonna be published soon!!

She also liked that Simon was always available. She knew that it was because he wanted to impress her mom, but it was nice to have access to the one person who understood some of her less public ways a little bit more AND wanted to be on Hazel’s good side. Most of Grace’s friends were close enough that they knew her and got her (most of them knew her better than Simon, at this point in life), but they also were Grace’s friend first and Hazel’s associate second. They might see a need to tell Grace some of the stuff that she said, out of concern or duty or whatever. Simon… often struggled with that.

Hazel could call him and tell him about kids at school and not have to worry that Grace would get a text and want to speak with the administration about things or worse - to the other kids’ parents. She could tell him when Grace was getting on her nerves and he would laugh about it and rarely ever reminded her that she was trying her best and a good mommy (she KNEW that. She didn’t need people telling her that. She needed to vent on the days that Grace was TOO much of a mommy). Turned out that while Hazel and Simon were very different types, they were similar in some ways that made them connect a little bit easier than she could with someone who was her parent.

Of course, nobody would ever be as close to her as Grace and she could never love anybody more, even if she tried. At this point in life, Grace could probably leave her under a bush, and she’d spend the rest of her life trying to get back to her. She groaned at that thought. That was another thing that she could talk to Simon about and he understood it better than anybody else that she had ever met… that fear that maybe one day she would casually lose the most important person in her life. Maybe to her career, maybe to a love interest. Maybe to being tired of playing mommy… She had a very real and sometimes paralyzing fear of losing Grace. Simon understood it and always comforted her. That was when she DID need to hear what she already knew: Grace would never turn her back on you. If she ever accidentally put anything else first, she would fix it. What would not happen is that something would make her decide to ignore you or turn you away. Nothing is more important to Grace than you. And I should know. I used to be where you are. But, I messed that up. You’re really lucky. She loves you even more than she ever loved me.

“That’s not really true, you know… I was around when she was trying to get over you. I was around when she still loved you. After you hurt her… she still loved you. She learned to heal herself after being hurt, but you hurting her didn’t make her stop loving you.”

He needed that too. He had been told so much by Grace before, but it just felt more genuine coming from a kid who hadn’t technically been affected by those events. He knew that Hazel had no reason to say anything but what actually happened/what she believed from her observations.

So, while Grace focused on her career, Simon built his life in New York, and Hazel got used to the other person who she had come to respect a lot. She and Grace stopped by for the tea parties, as the tea table and stuff were there. Lucy and Lindsey liked Simon’s house… mostly the fact that it had a yard. Lucy lived in a penthouse condominium and Lindsay lived in a brownstone with nothing more than a stoop and sidewalk outside. Simon found it a little bit funny that these rich girls didn’t have yards, but after thinking about how happy it made them (so happy that they usually forsook the tea party to play outside in the yard), it made him sad. THEY didn’t care about the brownstone or the condos… those were parental decisions that deprived them of playing out in a yard, even though their families could afford to…

“What are you thinking about?” Grace wondered, from the cushioned back porch swing that she was reading a book on while the tea party table sat next to her, abandoned by girls throwing fall leaves at each other. It was so damn cold, but Simon had an outdoor fireplace and it was in the perfect spot in proximity to this seat for her to claim it as hers for this event.

“How people try to make space in their world for kids, instead of letting their kids make space in their worlds,” he said. She made a confused face and set her book aside. He glanced at the book, shrugged his shoulders and expounded, “People will plan to have kids or maybe even not plan to, but wind up with them, nonetheless, and they cut out what they imagine to be a child sized space in their world, giving them a percentage of their physical space, a percentage of their mental space, emotional, etc… Then the kids shows up and they’re often larger than life. Some people aren’t able to accommodate it. That’s sad… but it’s sadder when they are able to accommodate it, and they… just don’t..” She frowned. Was he attacking her parenting in some way? Was he saying that she wasn’t doing something for Hazel that she needed to be? She was on the verge of insult when he started crying. “I just… If I would have been a better person… I might have a kid running around with them.” He took a deep breath, then laughed, “I’ll shut up.”

“No… it’s… fine. Do you want to talk about it?” He bit his lip. “I didn’t ask do you think you deserve to be able to talk about it, because I know how you think. You think that everything that you say to me is whining, but I don’t think that. So. Do you want to talk about it? I consent.” he smiled a little and moved closer to her, so that she sat up and they were next to each other with opposing knees pressed against each other.

“I just… Sometimes, I’m upset that you didn’t tell me, but I also know that at that time, I wouldn’t have cared. I most likely would have responded as atrociously as i did about anything else, and then again, I always wonder, what if I didn’t? What if that could have been just the thing to help me see how fucked up I was and how fucked up I was being? What if knowing about them could have changed me then? Changed us?”

Grace nodded, waiting to see if he had more to say. He seemed finished. “To that, I say this… The way that you treat other people is how they might perceive you. Even if you say that could have changed you, I don’t think for one minute that it would have changed me. My trajectory was already affected by what had already taken place. I didn’t tell you, not only because I didn’t think that it would matter, I didn’t tell you because the flipside of that - that it might matter, that it might make you change, that it might change us… that was even more terrifying. The thought that someone could do the things that you did to me, then I might be faced with signing on to a commitment via a child with them… and just have to believe that they might be okay for us? The shoulda woulda couldas are behind me, because I know that even if I had told you, i still would have had an abortion, and I still would be at peace with that decision today. Because, for who we were and what happened, it was the best decision. It was a decision that in hindsight, I would have found to be the best decision, even if you were a better person. So… if you’re gonna be upset about it, the target is me. Because I would not have had a baby at that time, no matter the circumstances. Hell, I’m 23 and I don’t know that I want to have one now. Maybe 26, but who knows? I could reach 26 and think maybe 36. The thing about it is… that’s not on you. What you did affected me and us, but it didn’t affect that pregnancy or the outcome.”

“If I have a kid, can I name them Ivory?”

She flinched but shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t own the name… But, I’m probably gonna still name my first bio that.”

He smirked. “They could be the same person…”

“Yeah right. Kids playing in leaves is giving you baby fever at 23. You’re not gonna wait for whenever I’m ready to start producing one of those.”

“You’ve always struck me as a surrogate type,” he said.

“I absolutely am! Just the thought of the whole body changing, horrific ordeal that is pregnancy, and ultimately labor… just reads like a traumatic horror scene of gore and anguish. Now… I’m willing to pay good money for somebody else to do that, but the actual me doing it myself? I’ve read far too much about the subject matter to just want to. Anyways, they let Black women drop like flies in maternity mishandling all over the country. Someone would have to pay ME to have a baby, at this point.”

Simon laughed at that thought, then stopped. “I promise, I am not laughing about black women dying in childbirth!”

Now, she chuckled a little, “I didn’t figure that you were…”

“How much would you charge for something like that?” Simon wondered.

“To have a baby? The surrogacy process generally costs 6 figures, Dude. My prestigious womb would be double the usual.”

He laughed and shook his head, “Wow. What if you fall in love? Like… what if you meet someone and you two want a family and you happen to get pregnant? It’s happened before.”

“Yeah, when I was a kid. I don’t have enough sex to facilitate that could happen to me again and if I was already in love and already with someone, they would know and I would know that me squeezing a baby out isn’t a current option, so we’d be placing preventative measures in place!”

“Preventative… So, if you’re feeling extra good with somebody you love and the mood is right and you’re both really feeling it and you have a whole hot night of being pumped full of nut, you wouldn’t be inclined to keep a pregnancy that came about from that?”

“First off, be less gross. Jesus. Secondly… There would be no pregnancy to come about from that, because that’s why scientists created the morning after pill.”

“Good to know. I’m gonna act a fool in there, since it won’t bother you either way,” he said.

She knocked his knee with hers, “You just bought yourself longer probation.”

“I was joking! Partially…”

“You’re tryin’ to have a night of nutting in my immaculate womb and I’m not gonna give you a free to skeet pass!”

“OH MY GOD!” Hazel shrieked. Lucy was red in the face and Lindsey was cackling.

Grace covered her face with both hands and Simon said, “That wasn’t what it sounded like… and you all are like… 10-11… it should have sounded like absolute gibberish to you in the first place!”

“At what age do you think people know these things?” Hazel wondered.

“I don’t know… 13 sounds fine.”

“WHAT? You have to know about pregnancy and insemination as soon as your body is able to produce such things! Meaning, when periods start! Which, for most girls is between the ages of 10 and 16!!”

“I’m sorry…” Simon said. “This was absolutely my fault. Do I need to call their parents and explain?” He asked Grace.

“They heard ME, not you!” She said. “And… I’m not saying anything unless someone’s mom calls me and asks.”

Lucy shook her head, “I didn’t hear anything,” she said.

Meanwhile, Lindsay stated, “My mom’s career started in porn.”

Simon was red now, “Okay, well…. None of any of this happened and enjoy the rest of your tea party.” He got up and quickly left.

Lucy and Lindsay went back to the tea table. “Still hot!” Lindsay cheered, pouring them some from the pot. Hazel folded her arms, looking at Grace.

“It was a joke… You had to be there. Simon and I aren’t…”

“You’re doing SOMETHING. I can tell…” Hazel said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Hazel, if something serious transpired between Simon and I, I would immediately talk to you about it, just like I did whenever he wanted us to start hanging out again. Okay?”

“Okay…”

Hazel went back to her tea party and the girls were giggling. She didn’t like whatever they were saying, but she eventually got over it. Whenever their parents stopped by, Grace did explain, “I’m really sorry, my friend and I were having an inside joke and the girls overheard something rather vulgar. I am willing to do whatever needs to be done if that affects her in some way. I just feel so bad that they overheard it.”

Lucy’s mom wondered what was said, so Grace said it very low to her and she looked scandalized, but she simply sucked it up and begged Grace to try to be more careful next time. Lucy’s father didn’t seem to even know what the words meant.

Lindsay’s mom didn’t ask, but Grace did say it on the low to her, and she laughed it off and said that Lindsay had unfortunately been picked on whenever someone at her old school realised that she was the daughter of Sommar Kittyn, so they had the talk with her when she was around 6, and the rest, the Internet fills in when nobody’s paying attention. Besides, her dad’s a rockstar… she absolutely had overheard her fair share of inappropriate things from their friends. She even gave Grace a no worries hug to accentuate that it was okay.

When they were gone, Grace noticed that Hazel wasn’t with her (probably was too embarrassed to look at them at the moment), and whenever she went inside, Hazel and Simon were speaking quietly, but both shut up whenever they saw her. “Hey… so, I think it’s gonna be okay. Definitely with Lindsay’s folks… hopefully with Lucy’s too… Really sorry about that.”

“You and Simon have been seeing each other,” Hazel said. Simon lowered his head into his hands. “He accidentally told me, because he didn’t know that you’ve been lying to me.”

“I have not been lying and Simon and I are not seeing each other. That’s the thing of it, Hazel. Adults and children have differing ways of dealing with each other and maybe Simon just didn’t really understand the proper way to communicate to you what our friendship is, because there’s not really a child equivalent.”

“I’m not a baby, Grace,” Hazel said. “You two are doing stuff with each other, and that sounds serious to me, for you, somebody who is publicly an ace figure and only recently began to even consider the possibility of perhaps demi… You’re doing stuff… that means your demi is activated!”

“No. It doesn’t. It means my curiosity is activated and there is someone who I can explore that with.”

“You two were talking about babies earlier.”

“Hazel. It isn’t anything that needs to be shared, at this time. Just some musings, Baby…” Hazel got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her and locking it. “Did she just?”

“She locked herself in,” Simon said. “I didn’t mean to make a problem. I misspoke.”

“How do you misspeak our situation to a child?”

“I certainly didn’t tell her that you’ve been training me to be an obedient partner.”

“That is not…”

“I only said that we were discussing having babies, but we’re not there in our arrangement yet… and she started trying to ask questions to understand better and all of the answers were accidentally more serious sounding than I meant to…” They spent hours outside of the door waiting (after at least half an hour trying to speak to Hazel about coming out). Eventually, she did and Grace was leaning onto Simon’s shoulder, but jumped up whenever Hazel came out. Simon quickly said, in a very stern tone, “Hazel, don’t do that again. You had your mother worried. She didn’t do anything wrong, and that’s unfair. If you try that again, I will remove the lock, do you understand?”

“Yes, Simon,” she said.

He sighed and gave her a hug. “You’re entitled to your privacy and your feelings. But, at least let us know that you’re okay. That you haven’t jumped out of the window or passed out or something.” She nodded. Simon left them alone.

“Hazel...:”

“I don’t feel like talking to you,” Hazel said. At least she was telling her the truth. Grace nodded and they left. Hazel didn’t say anything to her on the way back and Grace didn’t reach out or respond to Simon for days, which Hazel gradually came around to not being mad at her. Things came to a head when Grace was waiting outside of Hazel at school - in the New York November cold, mind you, and she was taking much longer than ever before. Grace consulted the calendar, to see if she somehow forgot that Hazel had tutoring or something. Eventually, she began to call her friends’ moms, to see if she had taken up shelter in one of their vehicles or something and just didn’t see Grace outside. Lindsay nor Lucy claimed to have seen her since school let out. She began to call even kids that she didn’t know as well - Todd, Alex, Louis… nobody knew where that girl was. She walked through the hallways and looked into classrooms, as she called Simon.

“Thank you for gracing me…”

“Have you talked to Hazel today?”

“No. Hazel’s pissed at me. We haven’t talked since tea party night…” Grace started crying. “Grace… what happened?”

“She’s missing! Or… hiding… I don’t know, but I’ve been waiting at her school for over an hour and I don’t see her anywhere!”

“Where is it? I’ll come help you…”

Grace was crying the entire time, pacing, tearing herself down and explaining to the staff, the security and the police how their schedule usually goes. Grace always either walks or drives Hazel to school. She parks in a certain place, stands in a certain place. She gave the time range that it usually takes, and explained why she “waited so long” to reach out - because she was confirming. Because Hazel doesn’t just wander off and she had no reason to suspect that she hadn’t mixed this up with math help day or something… They were acting like she had done something wrong and nobody was helping her find her child.

Eventually, Simon sat her down and offered, “I’ll speak with them, with your consent.”

She nodded her head, “I consent,” she barely choked the words out crying.

Simon began speaking as patiently as he could through his teeth, about how Hazel was in the care of the school until she walks out of the doors and that there’s staff everywhere and even cameras that they could possibly try to check to see if during the small window of time where she might have vanished, she was caught or seen. He didn’t want to bring it to threats, but he certainly would, if they made him.

After talking for a while, they seemed much more helpful with Simon and eventually advised them to go home and wait, make more calls, consider other familiar places that Hazel might have gone to, and contact them if they still hadn’t heard from her in 24 hours. Grace was a mess. She was crying and trembling. Simon took her home. She absentmindedly told him where it was, not worried about him not knowing, either out of the panic she was in over Hazel or having actually gotten comfortable with him over the past few months.

Whenever she came inside, she rushed through, calling Hazel’s name and looking for her. Hazel didn’t respond, but she found her on the bathroom floor and she collected her in her arms, “Hazel? Hazel??” She checked her for marks or bruises, or anything else… She saw none. Hazel was a turtle. Grace sobbed and collected her to herself. Her entire body was trembling, but Hazel was safe. She didn’t know how long it might take her to calm down.

“What’s happening?” Simon wondered. Grace shook her head. She hadn’t explained this to him before, and Hazel probably hadn’t either, because she didn’t like to tell people about it, and it hadn’t happened in a little while. Grace eventually calmed down and Simon remained in the doorway, watching, waiting.

Hazel’s eyes blinked and she looked at Grace and immediately began crying, “Are you going to give me back now? Now that I’m difficult again?” Grace burst into tears and she picked Hazel up and carried her into her bedroom, set her in the bed and cried more. Simon simply watched. “That’s what happens. First they find more important things. Then, they start to find other people or focus on other people. Then, they wait for me to mess up and they send me back.”

“There’s nowhere to send you back to! THIS is your home!” Grace said. She stood up and asked, “Did… Did you do this on purpose, to scare me, Hazel? Because, that is NOT okay! That’s not how we handle being mad at people. I thought you were gone. I thought somebody took you from me or worse! Don’t you EVER do something like that to me on purpose, EVER again!” She stormed out of the room and Hazel could hear her wailing as she made her way into the bathroom to collect herself.

Hazel started crying. She wasn’t used to Grace fussing at her. To her, that was even more of a sign of what would happen. Grace was gonna give her up. They always gave her up after a while. She had tested to see if Grace cared. She dodged her, made her way back home on her own, but while waiting for her to get home, she panicked. She became a turtle. And now, Grace was mad at her. Maybe, that was an excuse. Maybe Grace was waiting for this, so she and Simon could be together without her. Why else would she have hidden that they had been secretly seeing each other ever since her birthday?

Grace came back into the room, more calm now, and she sat on the bed. Simon was still simply there.

“Hazel, I need for you to understand how serious what happened today was, okay? One reason it is important to me not to ever leave you alone is because unlike where I grew up, kids go missing here so much more, and when they do… it is usually bad. Someone takes them and makes them a prisoner or uses them for bad things. Sometimes, they die. We live in a good neighborhood, but you wandering off by yourself, I imagined that you could’ve easily wound up in the wrong place, or ran into the wrong person. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you and for you to try to scare me into thinking about that is very hurtful, Hazel. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about me and Simon. I thought it was easier to not say anything and get your hopes up, because I know that you really like him and I haven’t been sure that I like him enough for him to be that kind of presence in our life. So, I didn’t tell you. You can be mad at me. Tell me, give me the silent treatment, whatever makes you feel better about me hurting you. But, it is not decent to hurt me by making me scared for your life.”

“I didn’t think about it that way. I’m sorry!” Hazel said, crying. Grace bit her lip and collected her to herself. Hazel cried against her. “I thought you were getting tired of me…”

“No, no… no… never. I’m hurt and I was scared, but I could never get tired of you, Hazel. Tired of life, maybe, and if I do, guess what? I’ll give up something else. Never you. Never ever you.” Simon finally started to feel intrusive and he slid out of the room and made his way out of her front door. They were okay, now. They didn’t need him. He was getting ready to get into his car whenever he heard his name. Simon turned and Grace was running from the townhouse to him. She threw her arms tightly around him and he hesitated before sinking into the hug. “Thank you… for being here for me.”

“I’m always going to be,” he said. He pulled away and looked at her. She still looked shaken up. “You need me to stick around a little longer?”

“I’m really still pretty shaken up. I can’t explain it. I know that she’s safe, but the after effects, especially not having had one of these episodes in a while… Do you want to stick around and help me with kid and turtle meal preps?"

"You got a turtle?"

"Hazel. Her psychosis... she sometimes thinks she transforms into a life sized turtle. I like to be sure to have some people safe turtle food so that she doesn't go out and eat bugs and grass like she did at her first home."

He was in awe. She blushed and shrugged her shoulders, "Her parents couldn't handle how she was. They dropped her off at an institution, and whenever she seemed okay, she was taken to a foster home. They tried for a short time and brought her right back. That’s what she was talking about in there… Everybody she wanted to trust - They locked her up. She didn't need to be locked up, she needed to be loved."

"Are you projecting?" He asked, trying to ease her nerves a little. She was still shaken up as they headed back across the street.

"Absolutely not. I definitely needed to be locked up."

"Maybe I did too."

"Well you know you could always go ask them to hold you and they'll let you know in 72 hours if you in fact, do. I'll be here for you, either way. You’ve been really trying and I don’t think that I realized just how much until I needed you today and you came through like..." Simon leaned towards her mouth, tempted to kiss her on the lips. She hadn’t kissed him on the lips. It was something that he wanted, but never attempted, as he was generally terrified that she would shut down and go home. He knew where home was now and she was asking him to stay a while. It was as good a time to press his luck as any… and Grace leaned into it. “I consent,” she whispered, letting him fills the space after that confirmation.

"Well, that was a friendship kiss."

"Very platonic affection," and they kissed again… “We’ll tell Hazel tomorrow…”

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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wondersofdreaming · 5 years ago

Text

Barbie and Action Man

Characters: Chris Evans x female reader

Word count: 1.637

Warnings: Nothing but fluff.

Author’s note: Written for @thefanficfaerie’s ‘Heather’s life in song’ challenge. I live in Denmark, so there will be Danish text in this story, AND this is (sort of) a continuation of ‘Te in perpetuum et unum diem amabo’ - can be read as a standalone as well.

Danish - English:

Moster - Aunt (meaning mother’s sister)

Faster - Aunt (meaning father’s sister)

Dukker - Dolls

I do not own any of the characters in this short story besides the reader and her family, who are figments of my imagination.

Song chosen: ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

The trip to Denmark had taken nearly eight hours on a plane, from New York to Copenhagen. Your legs were in need of being stretched. Your sweet loving boy… no, fiancé was walking next to you. You were both tired, it was getting close to midnight.

Your parents greeted you with open arms and big smiles, led you to the car and drove towards your childhood home. Chris was standing in the middle of your old bedroom, which was filled with posters of boybands, pictures of yourself, your friends, and your old dog, Smoky. Your queen-sized bed was filled with pillows in all sizes and shapes. Even your old teddy bear was squished between the pillows. Chris picked it up and gave you a look that asked for the story.

“My grandmother gave that to me when I was five. I always had it with me wherever I went, and it brought comfort during the tough times. Especially after she died.” You told him, a sad look on your face, remembering the wonderful times you had with her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad. I think it’s cute.” Chris said and hugged you from behind. He nuzzled his nose to the crook between your shoulder and neck. His beard tickling you, making you giggle.

“It’s alright. She would have loved you. Might even have pinched America’s ass a few times, just to make sure it was real.”

“Then I would have started wearing steel underwear, just to protect myself.”

You laughed, a sound that Chris loved to hear, it made his heart soar.

You both went to the bathroom across the room and brushed your teeth. Chris removed the comfortable clothes he had worn during the flight and went to sit under the covers of the bed. He was watching you sitting at your vanity, removing your makeup and jewellery. You watched him watching you through the mirror.

“Seeing something you like, Mr Evans?” You teased.

“Yes, you.” He chuckled. You raised an eyebrow, turned around to give him a questionable look. Sometimes you were wondering how in the world you had ended up dating him. How had he fallen in love with you?

“Ready to come to bed?” He asked, bringing you back to your bedroom. You nod and changed into one of his T-shirts and pyjamas bottoms. His gaze never wavering from you, as you went to lie down next to him. He pulled you into his waiting arms, hugging you tightly, his steady heartbeat slowly lulling you to a deep sleep.

The next morning you woke up to high pitched screams. You ran downstairs only to be met by Chris lying on the floor, being attacked by your two nephews and three nieces. Your older sister, Mia, and brother, Alex, were hugging your parents.

“Moster/Faster!” The children yelled and went on to cling to you. You welcomed the hugs and cuddles, before long they would be teenagers and not wanting hugs anymore.

After having hugged your brother and sister hello, you went back upstairs to change into something more appropriate, a pair of jeans and a pretty blue blouse. Your mother had outdone herself at the breakfast table. It was filled to the brim with all kinds of delicious items. From waffles to pancakes to fresh fruit to oatmeal to scrambled eggs and bacon. Your younger brother, Charlie, came in through the door, his camera bag dangling from his shoulder, went through the greetings quickly and sat down on his spot, before you all dug into the food.

The children quickly got full and wanted to play. You lead them to the attic, trying to find the box of toys your mother had hidden away. The big wooden chest was sitting in the darkest corner of the loft. It was typical of your mother for putting things in the weirdest and scariest of places.

With the help from Chris, you managed to get the chest downstairs into the living room. Chris sat down on the sofa, your nieces scrambling to sit next to him, the youngest was placed on his knee, as your nephews helped you open the chest. Their eyes widened when they looked at the content.

“Dukker?” The eldest said with disappointment. The girls pulled a few of the dolls out. It was mostly Barbies from your childhood, but at the bottom sat the Action Man figures your brothers had collected over the years. The smile on your nephews’ faces came back full force, as they found all the extra gadgets for the figures. You went to sit next to Chris, while the children played. Soon the floor was filled with camouflaged clothes, miniature plastic guns and bazookas, and various vehicles.

“I didn’t know you played with Barbies as a kid.” Chris chuckled, as he pulled you closer to him, he kissed your temple.

“Don’t most girls? Mia and I loved to imagine how our lives were going to be through the Barbies. She wanted three kids, a loving husband, and big house. She got all tree and more. She also has an amazing career as an interior designer.”

“What did your Barbies want?”

“Well, they wanted a comfortable home, a dog, a wonderful husband, and the library from Beauty and the Beast.”

“And have they achieved what they wanted?”

You looked into Chris’ sky-blue eyes, they looked brighter with the midday sun shining into them. His brows furrowed, showing concern, he wanted you to be happy, wanted you to have everything you dreamed of.

“My Barbies? Not at all.” Chris’ face fell, so you continued, “But me, on the other hand, I moved into a comfortable home with a man, who is going to be my wonderful husband, and bonus, he has a dog that I adore. The library, well I don’t think our house back home will be able to fit all the books from Beauty and the Beast, even if we filled the house to the brim. I love the library you’ve made for me, it still has lots and lots of space for more books.”

“I’ll build you a bigger house with the world’s biggest library.” He whispered into your hair.

“I don’t need a big library. I just want to be with you.” You whispered back.

“What are you two whispering about?” Your sister asked, as she sat on Chris’ other side, your brothers plumbed down on the loveseat to the left, while your parents sat on the floor, playing with their grandchildren.

“Just talking about how we used to act out what we wanted in the future through our Barbies.” You told Mia.

“Oh, right. Do you remember that song we used to listen to while playing with those Barbies? Just because it fitted so well.” Mia asked. She pulled out her phone, went on Spotify to find the song. ‘Barbie Girl’ by the Danish-Norwegian band, Aqua, blasted through the little speaker on the phone.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, it’s the worst song ever to play with Barbies to as young girls.”

“Why’s that?” Chris asked, making your siblings and yourself snicker. You found the lyrics to the song and made Chris read it. He made a face.

“‘Hanky panky’? Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s an anti-feminist song. That Barbie is just placed on Earth for Ken’s sexual pleasure. As a child, I just loved the colourful music video and the catchy tune of the song.” You told him.

The afternoon passed faster than you liked, soon enough your brother and sister had to go home with your nieces and nephews. They left with the promise of coming by another day before you had to fly back to the states. Your nieces had clung to Chris like glue. He held all three girls in his arms while sitting on the sofa. Their parents had taken the girls as they had started to fall asleep, while he stroked their backs in a comforting way. Your ovaries were about to explode by looking at him taking care of your nieces, and the way he encouraged your nephews to be gentlemen was making your heart burst with pride and love.

As you walked along the beach that evening, your thoughts were far away, which made Chris worry. His brows furrowed, his jaw set, eyes were focused on your face that was overlooking the ocean. The sky slowly turning darker. The ocean breeze playing with your hair. As the sun dipped in the horizon, you decided it was now or never. Even though you wanted to wait for the perfect moment.

You pulled out a Barbie-like doll, you had hidden in your pocket. She was dressed in a green dress with white polka dots. You handed it to Chris, who just looked perplexed at you.

“Sweetheart, are you sick?” He asked nervously, looking at the doll in his hand, wondering what you wanted to tell him.

“No, but that doll and I have something in common.”

“Yeah? I need a little help here, darling. Give me a hint.”

You chuckled and lifted the doll’ dress, the belly could be pushed down, then it popped open and revealed what was inside. A small plastic baby.

“We’re both carrying a baby inside our bellies.” You whispered softly.

Chris dropped the doll on the sand. Chris’ face was showing utter shock. As he composed himself, he threw his arms around you and swung both of you around in the sand.

“A baby?” He asked quietly. You nod against his shoulder. “A baby!” He said louder, putting you back down, cupping your face, he breathed: “Our baby.”

He leaned down to give you a gentle kiss. His wish from when he proposed coming true.

He wished for you to want to marry him and start a family.

#Chris Evans #Oh man #Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans x female reader #Chris x reader #Chris x female reader #Fanfiction #My story #Mine #Heather's life in song #thefanficfaerie #Writing challenge #Challenge #Barbie and Action Man #Aqua #Barbie Girl #I need a drink #Short Story #chris evans fanfic

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 5 years ago

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winter reminiscence pt . 2

Summary: Upon meeting Timothee on the bus, Y/N goes to her favorite bookstore, while Timothee goes out to his study place, to get their minds off of each other. Unfortunately, for both of them it is a small world they live in and luck was not on their side, or was it?

word count: 1,967 reading time aprox: 7 mins

timothee's pov

From the turn the bus had taken after she had gotten off to a few stations down, I sat despairingly in my seat, cooped up in evident mental suppression. I ran my fingers through my curls, while my other hand played with the ‘Columbia University’ tassel that hung from my side pocket, scanning the surroundings and finding the bus a ghost town.

“Kid, this is the last stop” The bus driver announced over the loudspeaker, the wheels screeching to a halt, catching my attention.

“Sorry, thank you” I apologized, apprehensively waving a hand to gesture my atonement. With that I stepped off the bus and made my merry way to the coffee shop where I would buy my daily dose of caffeine.

The sign read “bon café” in luminescent script, surrounded by cartoons of miniature succulents and vines that draped across the cafe’s door frame. The aesthetic of the place reminded me of the trips to Marseille with my dad whenever I’d fly to France to meet him. The greek inspired textured walls, the little ornaments of boats, and the paintings of water would be what my father called “la plus belle époque architecturale”.

Standing by the counter, I took my place in line while listening to the muted tracks of ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘White Christmas’ that battled against the chatter that filled the atmosphere. As soon as I got to the front, I ordered a hot chocolate and a buttered bagel, knowing that I was going to be here for a while.

I picked up my order from the counter, and chose a two-seater in the corner where a single ficus stood, an overhead light illuminating the table. I rested my Anthropology textbook in front of me, opening to the review page as I studied for my Midterms.

The rings of the welcome bell by the front door would take me out of my concentration, although I tried to focus on the material in front of me. But what really did it for me was the change of music in the place, the cheery seasonal playlist was swapped out for a Beatles song, specifically, ‘Here Comes The Sun’, more specifically:

her favorite song

It seemed as if I suddenly forgot how to read as my eyes scanned the same phrase over and over again. With this, I closed the book aggressively, shutting my eyes in irritation and dragging my hands over my face. In addition to this, as the song ended, ‘She Loves You’, another song from the beatles, came on.

With a groan, I rested my head on the surface of the table, banging my head in attempt to physically shake out all the sensations and memories I wish I regretted.

“She’s my best friend Y/N! Why can’t you understand that” I muttered in a low tone, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to keep this stupid and unreasonable fight to rest.

“I’m not saying I don’t understand Timmy, I get it! She’s your best friend and I understand that completely. But how do you expect me to react when she’s telling all her little friends that you, quote on quote, told her you wanted to kiss her” She counteracted, crossing her arms while shaking her head at me, which seemed to fuel me even more.

“That’s how we joke around and it was through text. Gosh, can you even take a joke?” I justified

“So that’s joking around, huh. Right Timmy? That’s joking around” She asked, sarcasm dripping off every word she spoke. “But whenever another guy dm’s me, suddenly, you want to log into my account to check them out and then magically they get erased from my message box. Right Timmy?”

I stood silent as anger began bubbling through my veins, traveling upwards towards my face as rouge began to show through my pale skin. With clenched fists, and gritted teeth, I managed to get out “So what do you want me to do, huh, do you want to stop being friends with her?”

“That’s not what I’m saying Chalamet, I’m literally just here confronting you on a situation that I’ve heard of” She stated, letting out a breath as her passive-aggressive words slipped out from her lips.

“But that’s what you want, don’t you? You want me to stop talking to her?”

“That’s not what I’m sayi-”

“No you tell me” I stated firmly, cutting her off mid-sentence. “If that’s what it takes for you to drop this, I will” I confessed, staring at her blankly, my lips frozen in a line.

“Yes” She nodded, sighing as she rubbed the side of her temples. “But I don’t want you to do it, if you really don’t want to. I don’t want to sacrifice your convenience for mine” She added on, her natural compassion trickling into her speech.

Taking out my phone, I searched up the contact that I had of my best friend and with a little hesitation, clicked the block button and placed my phone back in my pocket.

“There” I replied dryly. “Anything for you”

y/n’s pov

Trudging through the melted ice, I made my way to a modest bookstore that nobody really knew about. It was in a quaint neighborhood in Brooklyn that had old fashioned cobble streets, filled with extraordinary and history filled antique shops, charming eateries and cafes, museums, and statues of people long gone.

Quickening my pace, I pushed against the glass door and into the, fortunately, heated space filled with countless amounts of literature. What I loved about this secret library was that it was a hidden gem in the area as it isn’t particularly visible compared to the garnished and well-decorated buildings beside it.

The plain peach walls and the small reading benches created a cozy atmosphere, a perfect place to sit down and embark on adventures through other people’s written words.

Shimmying through the aisles, my fingers ran to touch the spines of the old books as I, once again, found myself in between the ‘coming-of-age’ and ‘historical dramas’ section. Closing my eyes, I continued to feel the books until I landed on a random novel, plucking it out of the shelf, I opened my eyes to see printed “Little Women” as the title.

With a curious smile, I read the blurb eager to set upon another expedition. Maybe one to get my mind off of my own trying times. It seemed to be about four sisters, set back in the Civil War Era, that described the values of poverty and family.

Approving the book, I read the first few pages and walked over to the counter, where a brittle old lady with an obnoxious hat and humongous reading glasses sat idle.

“Good afternoon” I greeted, handing her the copy I had taken from the shelf, waiting patiently as she tried finding the barcode for the book.

“Little Women I see, I remember when I was about your age I would find myself gravitating towards this book again and again” She grinned, releasing a hearty chuckle that ended up in a coughing fit. “Pardon me, I guess the old lungs don’t work like they ought to” She admitted.

Throughout her spiel, numerous scans had been demonstrated and nothing but a red bulb light up, indicating there was some sort of error. “Oh golly me, I apologize for the inconvenience young lady. I guess I’m not the only one getting old” She joked.

I politely joined in, but ultimately grimaced as she proceeded to bang on the machine with unknowing force. “This might be a while” She bashfully disclosed. “If anything, please feel free to browse, this’ll be about 15 to 30 minutes”

With a courteous nod, I notified her of my return later on as I stepped outside of the store, basking in the imposing village around me. With a breath of fresh air, my eyes landed on an archaic coffee shop embellished with shrubbery across the street to where I was.

I squinted my eyes at the outside menu plastered on a chalkboard near the entrance, although my nearsightedness limited me as I only recognized blots of white chalk and of what looked like script.

An abrupt grumbling noise broke the quiet air and I felt a twist in my stomach. Suddenly, I felt the craving for a chocolate croissant and maybe a brownie or three. The scent traveling from the crepe cart near me didn’t help with the situation, my sense of smell lolling in the piquant aroma.

I walked across the street clutching my stomach as I was rather not keen in being cold and hungry. The glass front came into view, squaring in on various college students chatting about or studying and business men absorbed into typing furiously on their laptops.

Opening the door, I was instantly hugged by the smell of coffee and the warmth provided by the old fashioned heaters, finding a spot on line to order a few things.

timothee’s pov

The ringing of the cafe bell snapped me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to reality, where I suppressed those memories in the back of my head. Opening my textbook once again, I forced myself to invest my full fledged attention to the course.

At least that was the initial plan, when a phone dropped in front of my table for the second time today, causing me to do a double take as the scene from my memories has discernibly come to life in front of me.

y/n’s pov

“Shit!” I cursed gracefully, tripping over an old rug and hearing the sound of my phone’s impending doom. With a sigh, I turned around with a croissant stapled to my lips and a brownie bag in one hand. “I’m so sorry-” I mumbled through the baked good, but stopped when found my phone in the same place as it was before.

Realization hit me and mortification soon inundated my stance, my current appearance giving a sharp blow to my dignity as Timothee sat handsomely in his seat.

“You seriously need pants with deeper pockets” He quipped, handing me my phone with an uncomfortable smile. Gazing at my state with condolence.

“Thank you...” I paused, “Again for, you know, saving my phone” I replied stiffly. Never meeting his fixed stare, I focused on the tips of my shoelaces, reminiscing on my favorite episode of Phineas and Ferb, my thoughts carelessly diverting my attention to these fond memories.

“So, um, how have you been?” He asked with a tight smile, folding his textbook close.

“I’ve been great” I replied a little too enthusiastically like I had something to prove. I looked at him chastely, noticing the flecks of brown in his irises, something I’d spend hours fixated on when we’d lie in bed. “How’s college going on for you?” I asked, referring to the book in front of him.

“Oh yeah, college, it’s difficult, I guess” He answered with a dry chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

Sensing the unpleasantness in the air, I nodded at him and smiled, the chattering voices in the background unable to fill the awkward silence between us. “Um, anyway. I best be going” I said, the words basically fumbling out from my tongue.

I hastily reeled around, making a full 180 as my heartbeat threatened to fall out of my chest with the pace it’s been going at. Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I pursued an escape route from the arduous ambience.

However, the action was pulled to a halt when I felt an all too familiar hand grip my wrist falteringly.

“Wait”

Timothee spoke with a dawdling and reluctant voice, in which I turned around prudently, looking into his unreadable eyes.

But at least this time, he was looking back at mine.

finale

#timothee chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #timmy chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #chalamet #tchalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #lil timmy tim #timmy #timothee x reader #timothee imagines #winter #new york #new york city #little women

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telekinesiswrites · 4 years ago

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Ashley Brown Relationship Headcanons

I can imagine Ashley meeting someone in the library. She’s sitting in her usual place in the corner, surrounded by textbooks, and when she briefly looks up to glare at some noisy students, she sees you. You’re sitting there with your nose in a book, looking pensive, and that’s when Ashley’s mind starts whirring. Every day after that, she looks for you, and seeks comfort when you’re there. You’re a constant. What she doesn’t know is that you’ve been noticing her staring and that if she looks over at you one more time, you’re going to march over and introduce yourself to her. Thankfully, she does.

Ashley loves being the little spoon when it comes to snuggling. She feels so safe when she’s surrounded by you and after the events of Blackwood, she craves that security.

She’s always been skittish due to her overactive imagination spurring into slight paranoia, but after Blackwood, Ashley’s jumpiness only worsens. She flinches at slamming classroom doors or car horns blaring when she’s walking around campus. If someone is walking behind her, and has been for some time, she’ll walk a little faster and try her best to ignore the hair raising on the back of her neck. However, when she’s with you, her worries begin to disappear slowly. She would squeeze her hand tightly and mold herself into your side. Ashley looks to you for protection and you provide it every time.

She adores nose kisses and how can you resist when she has a nose as cute as a button?

Don’t expect a full night’s rest when Ashley spends the night. She’ll shake you awake, whispering frantically about hearing a noise int he living room, or that she swore she heard the front door creak open. That’s when you sleepily trudge out to wherever she heard the sound, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, with Ashley clenching at the back of your shirt, peeking over your shoulder. Ashley will apologize for every single false alarm and sometimes even start crying because she knows her paranoia isn’t normal. She’ll always, always, be surprised by your patience.

Ashley relishes in the moments she has alone with you. Her favorite pastime is having your head in her lap, dozing off, while she reads aloud to you and softly strokes your hair.

Ashley doesn’t have to be in a relationship for very long before she starts daydreaming about a future with her lover. Like, will you live in a trendy loft apartment in New York City? Will you have kids? Will you walk her down the red carpet at the premiere of a movie that’s based off her best-selling novel? Of course, she’ll never admit to her fantasies right away; they’re her secrets until the timing is right.

You’ll always find it adorable at how she snorts when she laughs. Pulling her beanie down over her eyes is a surefire way to pull this laugh from her.

When she’s not sleeping over, Ashley will sometimes show up at your front door at two in the morning, seeking comfort after a night terror. A simple phone call won’t do; she needs you to pull her into a loving embrace and console her.

One of the more serious moments you have with her is when you find a box in her apartment that contains pictures of people you’ve never met before. She snatches the box away from you, chastising you for being so nosy, but when you ask her about it, Ashley sighs. That’s when she tells you everything: Beth and Hannah’s deaths and the prank that lead to their demise; the twisted pranks Josh pulled and how she still has nightmare about them; the Wendigos; and everything else. She tears up when she tells you that she tried to stay friends with everyone, but being with them reminded her too much of everything that happened at Blackwood. She confesses at how easy it was to slip into reticence, only leaving her apartment for classes and study sessions at the library. She’s still friends with everyone on Facebook and she wonders if she’ll ever be friends with them again. She sobs when she brings up Chris, who she admits to having feelings for at one time, but she felt guilty about putting him through life-or-death decisions. You hold her all night as she reminisces because that’s the only thing you can do for her other than listen.

One of your favorite memories with Ashley is the time you put on some upbeat music, notched it up to maximum volume (though you did receive a noise complaint later), and started dancing with her. At first she was hesitant, insisting that you turn it down before you get in trouble, but pretty soon she’s jamming out right along with you. She’s laughing, face turning red from dancing so hard, spinning in circles as she moves with the music. You stop and watch her because for the first time, you’re seeing the real Ashley. She’s not flinching at loud sounds, or checking over her shoulder constantly, or crying her eyes out when she feels like she’s inconvenienced you. She’s…happy. When Ashley noticed that you’re not dancing anymore, she asks you what’s wrong, and that’s when you sweep her into a passionate kiss.

Ashley’s a cheater when it comes to games. She would be the kind of person to knock the controller out of your hands during Mario Kart, switches chess pieces when you’re not looking, etc. You’re aware of what she’s doing, but you let her get away with it because the victory dance she does when she wins is fucking adorable.

Loves Pinterest. She has a whole board dedicated to you, filled with date ideas, relationship quotes, those cheesy relationship goal posts, etc.

She prefers dates in secluded spots. A park with a playground with no people or a nearly empty theater are ideal for her.

You both adopt a cat which Ashley refers to her as ‘her child’.

Ashley is an extremely good writer, but she doubts herself a lot, which causes her to give up and start over whenever she thinks a project isn’t perfect. She has to have constant feedback and she’ll come to you a lot for help. Since honesty is one of her strongest traits, Ashley appreciates it when you give her balanced critique, telling her both the good and bad things about her writing. You love every story she gives you though because they are truly beautiful and poetic and well thought out. You just wish she would stop criticizing her own work so much.

Some nights are spend outside, stargazing. You two have long talks about life and the meaning of it, among other philosophical things. Ashley is extremely intelligent and she longs for the moments where she can get into the mind of another.

When it comes to Facebook, Ashley’s the kind of person who doesn’t post much. She’s extremely private, but when she changes her status to ‘in a relationship’, you’re so happy.

Following this, you start getting messages from that Chris guy Ashley mentioned before. He worries about her and wonder if she’s doing okay because she always ignores his messages. You and Chris start talking and eventually start planning on a way to get Ashley to meet up with everyone again. When you two finally schedule a meet-up, you start getting more and more nervous about Ashley’s reaction. Will she be happy? Angry that you went behind her back and invaded her privacy? Will she break up with you because of it? The day of the meet-up happens and your nerves are shot, but you mask it pretty well. When you and Ashley walk into the coffeehouse, you and Ashley are waiting in line when Jessica comes up behind Ashley and hugs her. When Ashley turns around, she’s met with the whole gang, and she’s utterly speechless. Then the tears start. In the end, she’s not angry. She’s so fucking happy to be with her friends again. And when she finds out that you and Chris planned the whole thing, she hugs you both the hardest.

Months pass and you start to see Ashley get better. She isn’t isolating herself anymore, instead seeking out the company of her friends, and she even started seeing a therapist to help her cope with the events of Blackwood. Eventually, your one year anniversary arrives. To celebrate, you gift her with a new locket. It’s not as romantic as it is symbolic. She had worn her old locket during the events of Blackwood so it was tied to some pretty dark memories, but her new locket represents all the time she spent with you, all the progress she had made in getting better, and to the future you and her were working towards.

Ashley’s eyes begin to water as she opens it, seeing a miniature picture of you and her inside. “Can you…can you help me put it on?”

She never fails to wear it every single day.

#until dawn headcanons #Until Dawn #Ashley Brown #ud ashley #ashley until dawn #ashley brown x reader

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nillegible · 5 years ago

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Hidden in the leaves

This is my gift-fic for @withyourrhythm, for the 2020 MadaTobi Gift Exchange (@madatobigiftexchange)

Withyourrhythm, I really hope that you enjoy this fic! You asked for:

My first prompt would be AUs! Maybe something like coffee shop AU, florist/tattoo artist AU, or even a zombie apocalypse AU. Second is dystopia, and the third one is sniper!Tobirama

This isn’t quite a florist AU, but Tobirama helps run Hashirama’s plant nursery? I hope that it’s close enough to what you wanted! I’ll confess I really couldn’t pick just one thing to write; I was 3-4k deep in a Red, White, and Royal Blue AU at the beginning of January, before the continuous news about the primaries and the election basically destroyed all my will to continue with that. (That’s why I asked about the modern royalty AU. Sorry about that!)

So… here it is! I really hope that you’ll like it!

“Hello, can I help you?” asks Tobirama, setting down his tablet when he hears the wind chimes tinkle. Hashirama had set them up above the door in place of a doorbell. Only then does he catch sight of the two customers who have entered the store; a handsome young man, maybe a little older than Tobirama with a wealth of dark hair, and a tiny boy with equally messy hair, maybe six years years old.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” says the kid looking up at him with large dark eyes, and a pinched expression on his face.

“I’m sorry?” asks Tobirama, glancing at the other man who looks a little embarrassed.

“Kagami, that’s impolite Mr.-” the customer’s quick glance at Tobirama’s nametag doesn’t really help since it’s an artsy embroidered thing without his last name on it, but he perseveres - “Tobirama can welcome us however he likes. I’m very sorry, I’m Uchiha Madara, we visited last week, and the person working had a different greeting.”

“Senju Tobirama, you must have met one of the others,” says Tobirama, realizing now what the kid was talking about. There’s no way Tobirama is going to repeat the same cutesy spiel, ‘Hello, welcome to The Senju Plant Nursery and Interior Landscaping Solutions, which of our lovely plants would you like to adopt today?’ that Harshirama asked his employees to use on every unsuspecting customer to cross into their shop. The kid is still staring at him like Tobirama has done something unacceptable though, so Tobirama tries, “So you would like to…adopt a plant?”

The kid instantly grins widely, “YES! Uncle said I could, I asked all week and I read two books about plants from the library, and I get to build a terrarium, and I can choose what to put inside it!” he says, without stopping for breath.

Tobirama can’t help it, his lips twitch into a smile at the genuine enthusiasm. “That sounds wonderful! Are you only looking for the plants to go in, or are you looking for a tank, lighting, gravel, and moss as well?” he directs the question to Kagami, seeing how excited he is, but the kid looks up at his uncle.

“Uncle?”

“Do you have all of those things?” asks Madara. “If so that would definitely save us a few more stops.”

“We do,” says Tobirama, coming out from behind the counter. The shop’s layout was odd, most likely because it had been a row of smaller stores once, before his brother had bought the whole lot and knocked down only some of the walls. It meant that from the entrance the store looked far smaller than it really was. “Come this way,” he says, leading them out of the first section (indoor plants that were fine with dim lighting, through the outdoor plants and pots section that opened into the actual outdoors behind the store where the hardier half of their inventory was, and into the third part of the store that had the components for setting up terrariums or aquariums. Starting with a correctly sized tank made the most sense, after all.

“Oh there are fish!” says Kagami, once there. They don’t stock quite as many fish as an aquarium or pet shop would, but they have enough small ponds and pond-plants that they prefer to have some small goldfish, koi, and other pond fish in stock. “Can I get a fish for my terrarium? Please?”

“Do fish belong in terrariums?” asks Madara.

“We could make a tiny little pond inside, and then we can get lots of tiny little fish to go in the pond!”

“That would be far too little water, you’d need at least twenty gallons of water for most fish to be comfortable, and they’d be happier with more. You’d need a full aquarium, not part of a terrarium,” says Tobirama, hoping the kid isn’t going to be throwing a tantrum over this.

However, Kagami just clutches his uncle’s leg and looks up at Tobirama, “They really won’t fit? Even the small ones?” he asks eyes wide.

“We all fit inside closets, but we wouldn’t like to live there, right?” asks Tobirama. Madara’s lips definitely quirk at that, and Tobirama can’t glare at him (or rephrase his statement to be less embarrassing) because large dark eyes are regarding him very carefully.

“No, that would be bad,” the kid decides sadly, then gives the goldfish another longing look.

Madara pats him on the head, “Come on, I see the tanks. We’re here to adopt a plant, remember? Don’t get distracted,” and he gently guides his nephew toward the display of glass tanks and bowls. Tobirama hovers in the background, listening as Madara carefully talks Kagami down from a rectangular twenty-gallon tank to an eight-gallon bowl, by pointing out that they could keep it on that table near the window, wouldn’t that be nice?

Some faint tinkling alerts Tobirama to another visitor, and he tells the Uchiha that he’ll be back momentarily, and hurries back to the front. He hopes Yamato would return soon, it’s always a bit worrying when he’s left all alone. This customer is far easier to help, she’s looking for a tabletop cactus arrangement, and she picks up one of the smaller ones without much time to deliberate. He packages it up for her, provides a gift bag, processes her purchase, and heads back to his previous customers.

They’ve wandered on to the selection of gravel and marbles now, and Kagami seems insistent that they get an eye-searingly orange gravel. Between the soil and the activated charcoal layers, they’re going to end up with something a little too Halloween-seeming for August, but clearly this isn’t a battle that Madara is going to win.

“It has to be orange,” Kagami says again, after Madara points out that the plants will be green, and their living room is blue. “It just has to.” But he won’t answer when Madara asks why. Giving it up as lost, Madara takes the orange gravel, and Tobirama hands him a basket that already has a package of activated charcoal in it for him to put the gravel into.

“Do you need potting soil as well or do you have that?” asks Tobirama.

“No, we definitely have soil. You mentioned moss?”

“It’s there,” says Tobirama gesturing, so that Madara can pick out one that he finds appropriately colored and priced. “You’ll want enough for a layer between the soil and gravel.”

Madara seems to take two at random, and then turns to Kagami. “Ready to find your plants?”

“Would you like some other decorations, first?” asks Tobirama, pointing out the shelf with different odds and ends, from miniature wells and animals, to packets of miniature paving stones or park benches. Kagami bounces over at once, and Tobirama ignores the guilty twinge at taking advantage of a child to buy more from his shop. They’re running a business here, after all.

“This one!” says Kagami, picking up a medium sized orange stone, with a spiral design on it. Madara lets him add it to the purchases in their basket without complaint.

Helping them select plants doesn’t take nearly as long as Tobirama expected, apparently the child had been entirely serious when he said that he had researched what plants he wanted to get. Kagami earnestly lists out the names of the succulents that he wants – making him a far more serious customer than most adults who just browse and choose whatever they think looks pretty. Tobirama manages to find four of the five plants that they want, but doesn’t have the last one in stock.

“I’m really sorry, we don’t have any more on hand. Do you want to pick something else? I can tell you which plants need the same amount of water as these ones.”

To his horror, Kagami’s face scrunches up at that. “But we need that one.”

“I’m really sorry, you could either pick it up later this week – I’ll order one for you – or I could tell you where the other plant shops are around here so you can check if they have some, but I can’t confirm that they will.

“Kagami, you can pick out a different plant,” says Madara, and the child bursts into tears. Madara, looking distressed, sets down his basket and lifts Kagami into his arms, trying to calm him by patting his back and making soothing noises while Kagami sobs into his shoulder.

“But Uncle, it has to be that one, we need it,” he says.

“Shh, please tell me why, my heart. We’ll find you one if we can, but if you tell me why, I can help you find something else too, right?”

“Because Obito-nii wanted that one,” says the kid, and Tobirama thinks he sees grief flash across Madara’s face.

“Kagami. When did he–?”

“He said it was pretty when I showed him the book, and he liked it, he said so,” he says, and Madara shuts his eyes for a long moment, before he continues to soothe the child.

“We’ll get some, we’ll ask Mr. Senju to order one for us, and we’ll leave space for it in our terrarium, and we’ll add it when they get here, is that alright?”

It takes some time for Kagami to calm, but the promise seems to help. He finally agrees with a soft, “Okay.”

Tobirama is about to get the box of tissues he keeps behind his desk, but Madara’s pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his nephew’s face. Kagami doesn’t let go of him though, and Madara doesn’t seem about o let him down. He shifts his Nephew, then picks up the basket to place on the counter. Tobirama processes the purchases silently, not wanting to further stress Madara out. It’s like the happy pair that had walked into his store had completely vanished; Kagami doesn’t emerge from where he’s hiding his face in Madara’s neck and Madara’s handsome features have gone cold and tired.

He’s not really sure what’s up, but he kind of wishes he could help.

Wait, he can help. “If you leave me an address, I could have one delivered in a few hours,” he says, before he can think it through.

“You… really?” asks Madara. Which makes sense, Tobirama had just told him it would take a few days.

“I’ll find you one,” he says, instead of backtracking. After all, Hashirama has a large personal collection at home and he’s sure his brother wouldn’t mind if he took one. He can replace it later this week when the next shipment comes in. Kagami finally lifts his head up to look at him, and Tobirama asks, “Do you know what size you want it to be? I can’t confirm I’ll get the exact size, but I can get you something close.”

“Like this one,” he says, pointing at one of their purchases, maybe 5 inches tall.

“I can do that,” says Tobirama, relieved. He’s definitely seen that size.

“Thank you,” says Madara a bit more intensely than Tobirama thinks is actually warranted in this case, and then he lets his nephew slide down. “You’re going to have to help carry things out to the car,” he says, and Kagami nods seriously.

Madara pays and leaves his address, and Tobirama watches them leave, the soft tinkle of the doorbell ringing for s few moments after they leave.

Yamato and Kawarama should turn up for their shift at twelve, Tobirama would make the delivery after that.

Tobirama should have remembered that every person in his life is an insufferable busy body, because before the week is out, he greatly regrets the random moment of generosity that led him to help Uchiha Madara and his nephew out. He’d told his brother that he was appropriating one of his succulents, and Hashirama had been fine with that. But then he’d also told Mito, who’d found it odd and mentioned it to Touka, and it spread from there and he’d been listening to sly comments all week.

“So, everyone’s curious: was he pretty?” asks Itama the moment Tobirama picks up his phone, and Tobirama resists the urge to just hang up on Itama.

“I see you’re free enough to join in the absurdity. Assignments just not hard enough for you?” he snaps.

“Wow you’re touchy,” says Itama with a faint note of surprise. Which, fair. This was the first time Itama had mentioned it, so it wasn’t frustration at him that Tobirama was reacting to.

“I’m sorry,” says Tobirama. “They’ve been at it all week, I’m tired of it.”

“Sorry to add to it, then,” says Itama. “I just… Never mind. So how has work been?”

“Never mind what?” he asks, instead of accepting the change in conversation.

“It’s just not the sort of thing you do. You’ve yelled at Hashirama for much less,” says Itama quietly.

Right, the whole: They’re your customers, not friends, brother, don’t be ridiculous, speech that he’d perfected when helping Hashirama find his feet with his new business and his brother treated every single one of them like a friend.

Tobirama’s not sure how to explain… Madara had looked pained, over the lack of a simple plant that they usually sold by the dozens. He’d wanted to help. “Well, I’ve learned my lesson,” he says lightly. “And my week has been well, I’ve completed the renderings for that old age home I was working on, and aside from my two current projects I’ve started discussions with a potential client with a potential client who wants to surround his mc-mansion with tropical trees and put in a hedge maze with a heated pool in the middle,” he says, making Itama giggle. He’ll probably turn the last project down, the client had very bizarre tastes, Tobirama would hate to be associated with the final product. “How was your week?” he asks.

“Well, we’re considering arranging a game of Humans vs Zombies that goes on until Halloween or the last human dies…”

Tobirama settles in to listen to Itama, wishing once again that his younger brother had decided to go to a closer school for his undergrad. He misses having his most sensible sibling around.

His family tires of the subject soon, which is good because Tobirama doesn’t see Madara again for more than a month.

“Good afternoon,” says a familiar voice, speaking over the tinkling of the chimes over the door.

“Hello again,” says Tobirama, giving Madara a small smile. “How can I help you today?”

“I hear that that’s not what you’re supposed to say,” Madara says, grinning, and Tobirama rolls his eyes.

“You’re not nearly cute enough to pull that off,” Tobirama tells him, then blinks as he realizes what he just said. “What can I help you with?” he asks quickly, hoping Madara would let it slide.

Madara pauses, then says “I need a selection of seeds, and some starting trays.”

“It’s far too early, you should start in January or February depending on the species,” he says, but sets his tablet down and comes around the counter anyway.

“That’s not what I need them for, it’s for a science fair project.”

“I see,” says Tobirama, gesturing Madara to follow.

“Are you the kind of person who’ll be upset if I confess that most of these plants are probably going to die in the name of science?” asks Madara as he references a list and grabs the corresponding seed packets.

Tobirama laughs. “No, I’m not. And a science project is a worthy enough cause.”

“I’m not the one working at a place that gives plants up for adoption,” says Madara smiling. He holds up three varieties of cucumber seeds. “Which of these would you suggest?”

“Usually people ask which are the best for pickles,” says Tobirama, considering the three packets. “It really depends on what you need them for? The Dasher and General Lee are really sturdy species, so if you want something a little more sensitive, go with the Wisconsin SMR58? But if you would like them to last, either of the first two would be fine.”

Madara considers and then takes one each of General Lee and the Wisconsin SMR58. He’s amassed quite a selection, and Tobirama can’t help but be curious.

“What is the science fair project on?” he asks.

“They’re looking at how the wavelength of light corresponds to plant growth,” says Madara.

“That seems pretty advanced for a first grader,” says Tobirama. Not that it’s any of his business, and Kagami had seemed like an intelligent child, but that’s not a project for someone that young.

“Oh no, it’s not for Kagami. This is for my ten-year-old, Shisui. He wanted to come with me but he has so many after school practices, and Mondays are my only reliable days off, so I made him give me a list of the things that he needs.” He meets Tobirama’s eyes, and he nods in understanding. “I just need two 1020 trays, and then I’m done.”

“Over there,” says Tobirama, and then leads the way back to the register.

“Oh, you’re hiring?” asks Madara, stopping halfway with his card out. Tobirama glances at the sign behind him on the bulletin board, which says they’re looking for new full or part-time workers.

“We’re always hiring. My brother likes to hire from the local high-school but the kids are always graduating and leaving, or getting detention or they have tests coming up and beg off, so we’re always short on staff.”

“So you take the school-time shifts? Oh, sorry - ” he says, and finally hands over his card.

“I take a lot of the morning shifts. It doesn’t make much difference to me if I work here manning the register or from my office at home,” he says, gesturing at his tablet. “When I’m busy, Hashirama or Yamato will take them.” He finishes up and passes the card back, and slips Madara’s seed packets into a paper bag and hands it over.

“Do you know someone who’d like a job?” he asks. I could put in a good word for them to my brother.

“I’m not sure, I’ll check with him first,” says Madara.

“Well, you know where we are, but this is my brother’s number if you want to pass it on,” says Tobirama, handing over a card that he keeps behind the counter.

“Could you give me your number too? I might have some questions,” says Madara, and Tobirama scrawls his own number on the back of the card.

“Thank you,” says Madara. “I’ll text you if he’s interested. Have a nice day, Tobirama!”

“You too,” says Tobirama, and after giving him another smile, Madara leaves.

Tobirama sits back down in his chair, but doesn’t go back to work for several minutes, trying to decide if that had been an excuse to get his number, or if Madara really did only want to pass on a potential employment opportunity to someone that he knows.

If he’s being honest with himself, he kind of hopes that it’s both.

He gets the first text about a week later:

senju tobirama? hi, this is uchiha madara. I’ve spoken to my nephew’s therapist and she thinks getting a part time job now is a good idea. I just wanted to ask you a few things before I ask my nephew if he’d be interested.

Hello, sure. What would you like to know? (I’m assuming this is a different nephew)

oh yes, I have three. Obito was in an accident a few months ago, he’s only recently gotten out of hospital. we’ve decided to home-school him this year, but there’s only so much time that a teenager can stand being home alone, and he’s always liked plants… I was hoping if he had something to do that made him feel useful he would cheer up a little?

That sounds like a great idea. What specifics do you need to know? I can ask Hashirama for you.

It takes longer than Tobirama expects, so he nudges him a little with an extra text.

Madara?

the accident. it left Obito with very visible, significant scars. some people find it disgusting, and I know you’re running a business, and if you’d rather that your customers not have to deal with that, then it’s fine. but I’d rather know now than have him be rejected for that alone when he turns up to meet your brother. that’s the most important thing. besides that, his shifts may need to a bit flexible, he has a lot of physiotherapy appointments to get through for a while.

It won’t matter. And all our employees get flexible shifts.

You should probably ask your brother?

Trust me, it won’t matter.

There’s a long gap again before Madara replies. When he does, it’s quite short:

Thank you.

It feels wrong, to be thanked for basic human courtesy, so Tobirama doesn’t answer. Instead, he goes to find Hashirama.

Obito turns up for an interview the following week, and Tobirama hangs around even though both Yamato and Hashirama are on shift and he doesn’t have to be there. He’s glad for it, because his brother comes out from the office with a hand on Obito’s shoulder, looking extremely cheerful. “You just said he was good with plants, not that he grows vegetables for several families and makes his own organic fertilizer!”

“I take it he’s hired, then?” asks Tobirama.

“Oh yes! Of course!” says Hashirama.

Tobirama glances at Obito again, the right side of his face is badly disfigured but he can see a faint blush on his left cheek. “Welcome,” says Tobirama. “I hope you’ll like working here.

“Me too!” says the boy, and though it’s a little quiet, Tobirama has the feeling that this boy is actually a lot like Hashirama and Kawarama (loud, passionate and enthusiastic). He’ll settle in soon enough.

After Obito leaves, Hashirama leans over the counter and continues talking about the things that Obito apparently does in his home garden. Tobirama feels no shame at all in ignoring his brother’s enthusiastic gushing to text Madara.

Hashirama adores him. He hasn’t shut up about vermicomposting and coffee-grounds fertilizer and youths who believe in the sanctity of the environment since your nephew left.

The reply is almost instant this time.

thank you, Tobirama.

I didn’t do anything. He’s a lovely young man, and my brother may be idiotic at times but he would never send away someone who loves gardening as much as he does.

just accept the thanks, Senju

Accepted, then.

Having Obito at the store quickly becomes routine. Obito talks a lot more than Yamato did when Tobirama was paired up with him for shifts, but he doesn’t mind if Tobirama listens while he sketches and is suitably impressed by some of Tobirama’s designs, so he doesn’t have any complaints about the young Uchiha.

(Obito also comes with a lot more stories about Madara. There are also stories about his younger brothers Shisui and Kagami, and his best friends Kakashi and Rin, but after filtering them out Tobirama has learned quite a lot about the young uncle who had taken the three of them in when their parents died, and who was of all things an Elementary School art teacher and a Martial Arts instructor, which was why he had such strange work hours.)

If Tobirama always made sure that he was working on Mondays, the day when Madara took advantage of his day off to either drop Obito off or pick him up, solely because Madara usually comes inside to talk for a few minutes, well. No one had seemed to catch on quite yet.

And then Itama comes home for the winter holidays, and while Tobirama is very happy to have him back, his little brother watches with his too sharp, all-seeing gaze when he says goodbye to Obito and Madara when they leave after one of Obito’s shifts. Once they’re gone, Itama raises a single eyebrow at him.

Tobirama gives him a level look, trying to project how much he does not want to be interrogated on the subject.

“Does that mean you’re not going to ask him out?” Itama asks.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yes,” says Itama slowly. “Because you haven’t asked him out yet.”

“I’m not going to,” says Tobirama firmly. He definitely liked Madara, he’d though the man was pretty gorgeous the very first time he’d seen him, but he’s decided to suppress that. Because reducing Madara to just a hot guy is almost offensive – he’s so much more than that. Kind, and generous, and he watches over his family with the sort of single-minded focus that Tobirama respects deeply.

In just three months, a few exchanged texts had grown into longer conversations and sometimes phone calls. He’d been invited along to see Shisui’s exhibit at the Science Fair, and invited along on one of Madara’s extremely rare Saturdays off to a Botanical garden for Obito’s birthday. Tobirama had had a pretty faithful shadow that day in Shisui who in spite of being Obito’s younger brother had still listened with great attention when Tobirama tossed out plant and insect facts, and then criticized the design of some of the walkways and arbors.

Tobirama likes them. All of them. He isn’t going to ruin what he has.

“I only told Touka and Mito to leave you alone until Christmas,” says Itama.

“You what.” says Tobirama flatly.

His brother shrugs. “They were really bothering you, remember? So I told them to lay off while you get your head together. But I didn’t think it would take you this long to make a move.”

“I am not going to make a move,” says Tobirama.

“Why? You really seem to like him! Do you even know how much you talk about him or his kids?”

“Please just drop it,” says Tobirama.

Itama stares at him a moment longer then exhales loudly. “Fine. There’s still a week. I’m not saving you from Mito and Toka again.”

“I can deal with them, you didn’t have to protect me the first time,” says Tobirama.

“Really? Their pointed questioning wouldn’t have embarrassed you enough to push the Uchiha away to save yourself the trouble?”

His brother has a point. While both women would absolutely throw down in his defence if anyone else was bothering him, the knowing looks and the witty comments would have made him much more self-conscious when actually speaking to Madara. He might not have even tried to work toward a friendship. And that would have been sad. He makes a note to get Itama something nice before he has to leave.

A few days later, he has a new customer, but he looks so much like Madara and Shisui that Tobirama knows he has to be the often mentioned but never seen younger uncle who’s usually away at university. “Hello, is there something that I can help you with?”

“Uchiha Izuna, nice to meet you,” he says, “I just wanted to see the place that my nephew has been working at, and maybe pick up a few poinsettia plants?”

“You don’t want Poinsettia, Obito doesn’t really like them,” says Tobirama before he realizes that’s not quite polite. “Um, I mean. If you wanted to get them for him?” Strangely, Izuna doesn’t look offended.

“No, you’re right. Obito doesn’t like them, he says so every year.”

“So these are for someone else?” asks Tobirama. He gestures toward the stand with an array of potted poinsettia plants. “You can choose what you like, it’s a bit late in the season so these are all that we have left.”

“What should I get my nephew instead? I missed his birthday this year, so I was hoping to get him something special for Christmas.”

“Well, he said he needs new gardening gloves, but that’s not really an apology present, is it? He wanted that new video game – Outer Wilds. He wanted to have an excuse to invite his friends over more often since he doesn’t see them at school anymore.”

Izuna nods thoughtfully. “The other two?”

“Madara is getting Shisui a microscope. Maybe a set of prepared slides to match? Or a telescope. He likes insects but I don’t think he’d really want a preservation kit, he’s not the type. I don’t think you could go wrong with getting him a book, either.”

“Hm. And Kagami?”

“Definitely a book,” he says. In fact, there’s a book on aquatic sea creatures that Tobirama has already bought for him; he’s seen the way Kagami always runs to see the aquariums for a few minutes whenever he visits the store. “Do you want me to suggest some titles?” he asks, when Izuna just continues to stare at him strangely.

He seems to be hiding amusement. Tobirama does not understand why he’s amused.

“That will do,” he says. “Those are excellent suggestions. Thank you for the help,” he says. ”I guess I’ll see you around sometime, I’m staying until after the new year.”

“So, you don’t actually need to buy anything?” Tobirama asks just to confirm.

“Not right now, sorry. Poinsettias were a silly idea.”

“Oh, Izuna! Back again?” asks Yamato, coming back from where he had been arranging a shipment of gardening tools.

“Ah, yes! Still can’t decide what I want to get though. I’ll be leaving now. Bye! Bye, Tobirama!” says Izuna, and makes a speedy exit.

“Well that was interesting,” says Tobirama, though he can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “How many times has he come over?”

“Three times,” says Yamato. “He seemed desperate not to ask when you’d be around in case one of us told Obito that his uncle was being weird. Did Hashirama tell you when the seed-starter order will get here? We’re really running low.

“I’ll check,” Tobirama assures him.

That night, after dinner, Tobirama is in his room finishing up a layout for a client, when he gets a text from Madara.

did my brother come to see you today??

Yes, he did. He was looking for a gift for Obito, but didn’t buy anything in the end. I told him to buy him a video game instead and sent him away. Not the best business decision, but your brother said it was partly an apology so I had to help.

Did he say anything?

He asked me what he should get Shisui and Kagami as well.

And nothing else?

No, he didn’t say anything else.

Tobirama stares at the message for a few moments after that. Tobirama has had a lot of experience with how younger brothers teased, which meant Izuna had been teasing Madara about… potentially revealing something embarrassing to Tobirama? That made it sound like… like Madara did care about him? No one really cased out their nephew’s workplace by just quizzing the person at the register, and Yamato had let him know that Izuna had come to the store a couple of times, clearly looking for Tobirama even if he didn’t admit it, so it had to be… Tobirama holds closely to the fluttering hope that this gave him, and types out:

Madara, when you’re free, would you join me for coffee?

I’d like to talk, can we meet up?

Madara, don’t be offended but I’d like to ask if we could

He deletes every message instead if sending it. What if Madara assumes that he’s only asking him out because Izuna said something, and not because Tobirama really wanted to ask? He should probably wait a little, right?

He gets a call from Madara a few minutes later.

“Hello,” says Tobirama, picking up.

“What did he do? He looked suspicious and embarrassed when he got home.”

“Yamato spilled that he came to the store multiple times trying to catch me on shift, and he fled,” says Tobirama.

“That… sounds like my brother. I’m sorry, that was really rude –” he sounds exasperated.

“No no, it’s fine. He was really kind of cute!” says Tobirama.

“He. He was?” asks Madara.

“Yeah. He was definitely flustered, all but bolted once Yamato saw him. Don’t worry about it, I’m not angry with him. It was quite nice meeting him, really.” Tobirama tries to force some reassurance into his voice, because Madara sounds a little…stiff.

“That’s good. That’s really… good. I’ll talk to you later? I just wanted to make sure he hadn’t offended.”

“It’s all fine. Bye, Madara.”

“Bye.”

There was something wrong with that conversation, Tobirama just knew it. He’d expected Madara to laugh about his brother’s ill-conceived but well-meaning plot to make sure Tobirama was a decent person. But Madara hadn’t laughed.

Why not?

When he finally realizes what he had just implied during that short conversation, he wants to slap himself in the face. Stupid. So so stupid. Leaving his room, he heads straight for his brother’s, glad that Itama’s staying with him now that Hashirama’s house needed a nursery. He knocks on the door.

“Come in,” says Itama.

“Itama,” he says, but isn’t sure how to explain.

“What happened?” asks his brother.

“Madara called me.”

“And? What did he say?” Itama actually looks… strangely angry?

“What?” asks Tobirama.

“If you asked him out and he turned you down then he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you,” says Itama. “But I really thought – ”

“No, listen.” Why is everyone jumping to conclusions today? “Madara called me, because Izuna came to see me at the store today. It seemed like he was checking to see if I was a creep? So I thought maybe Madara was interested?” Itama nods encouragingly.

“And when he called I… I sort of told him that Izuna is really cute and I was glad I’d run into him.”

Itama looks pained. “Tobirama-nii, why.”

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t even realize until after, when I was trying to figure out why he sounded so depressed. I was glad to meet him, but not because I like him, it’s because.” it gave me a tangible proof that Madara might like me back.

“So what are you going to do?” asks Itama.

“I’ll speak to him tomorrow,” says Tobirama. “I’ll ask him out properly.”

Itama is looking down at his desk, and he taps his finger a few times like he’s thinking something through. “No,” he says finally.

“No?”

“You should go now.”

“It’s late,” says Tobirama. “He has kids so he sleeps early! And we’re adults, not teenagers from a Hallmark channel romance movie, we can wait until the morning.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tobi-nii,” says Itama. “He really likes you. He’s probably hurt.”

Right. Madara had sounded a little hurt.

Tobirama hates that he’d done that, even unintentionally.

Right then, he’s apparently doing this.

(He grabs his potted lavender plant on the way out, and Itama says, “You absolute dork.” Tobirama ignores him.)

He’s even more nervous this time than he was the first time that he’d been standing on this doorstep. Steeling himself, he knocks on Madara’s door. That time he had been hand-delivering a succulent he’d appropriated (with permission) from his brother’s private collection to a complete stranger, and it had still been easier. He knocks again, he doesn’t want to ring the doorbell, because he knows Kagami should be asleep already.

This time it’s not Madara who opens the door, but Izuna.

“What do you want, it’s late,” says Izuna, keeping his voice down.

“I need to talk to your brother! I don’t think you’re cute!” says Tobirama. Ah, that wasn’t quite what he meant to say. “I mean-”

“Oh, thank god,” says Izuna instead of getting offended. “Come inside. He’s in the living room.”

Izuna lets him walk in ahead, to close up behind him, and Tobirama enters the room to see Madara on the couch, Obito curled up with a book in the armchair beside him.

Madara looks at him, eyes wide, then glances at the herb in his hands. “Hi, Madara, Obito” says Tobirama. And then Obito bursts out laughing.

It stings.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come here, with literally an offering of love, maybe Madara might not know what Lavender stands for but Obito, who cons every teenager who steps into their store to buy a pot of the herb definitely knows what’s up. (“Roses? Bouquets? They all die. Lavender is the true symbol of everlasting love and devotion,” he says to each one of them, eyes shining and they fall for it hook-line-and-sinker).

Tobirama involuntarily steps back, eyes on the ground so he doesn’t have to see their faces and tries to come up with something to say. He should confess anyway, even if Madara doesn’t reciprocate, but he’d rather not do it on front of Obito.

“No, no, no! I’m sorry! I’ll leave, you guys should talk!” says Obito, and suddenly the teenager is right next to him, gripping Tobirama’s arm with his scarred right hand. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I am so sorry. But I’ll go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tobirama-nii.” And then he’s running away, Tobirama can hear him thunder up the stairs.

Tobirama glances at Madara who’s also standing up now.

“You brought me lavender?” he says.

“I did. On the phone, you misunderstood. It’s not Izuna that I like. I wanted to call you back, but maybe this is better done in person, so I thought- So I came,” he says. The small but unbearably radiant smile that unfurls on Madara’s face clears away the lingering doubt.

“Thank you,” says Madara, taking the pot from him carefully and setting it on the small table, and then takes both of Tobirama’s hands in his. “Tobirama, I love you too, and I would very much like if we could go out officially,” says Madara.

“Yes, we should,” says Tobirama. “I’d really like that.” He hadn’t really called it love yet but Madara’s not wrong. Even though they’ve known each other for so little time there’s something about the other man that makes Tobirama think there could never be anyone else who had the potential to fit into his life the way Madara does. The way Madara’s family does. “I really like your nephews. I haven’t decided about your brother,” he says.

“I’m hurt,” says Izuna from behind, and Madara glares over Tobirama’s shoulder.

“Go away!”

“Fine! But this is so unfair, I was cute not two hours ago, and now I’m not even tolerable,” he complains, and they wait while Izuna makes his way up the stairs so they have some privacy.

“My nephews like you too,” says Madara. “As does my brother, he was quite complimentary earlier.”

“Is Obito okay with it? He seemed…” odd. Tobirama cuts himself instead of voicing the tactless word that comes to mind.

Strangely, it makes Madara chuckle. “He was laughing about the lavender, not at you,” says Madara.

“I don’t understand,” Tobirama says, and Madara takes his hand and leads him towards the downstairs office that the kids used for homework. All along the large window, in different sizes, are lavender plants. Seven of them.

“I’ve been trying to confess for a while,” says Madara, squeezing Tobirama’s hand.

“I’ll take them back with me,” says Tobirama, and Madara carefully brings up one hand to Tobirama’s cheek. Tobirama’s never been this close to Madara before. He’s just as beautiful close up.

“You don’t have to take them home. I can keep them for you. You could move in,” says Madara. He looks so very very hopeful.

Tobirama can’t resist, doesn’t have to resist, he leans closer for a kiss and Madara meets him halfway, and it’s soft and gentle and perfect. When they finally pull away, Tobirama looks at Madara’s radiant face and decides he needs another one. He catches Madara’s lips again.

“I’m not moving in with you now,” Tobirama says, when he’s caught his breath after two kisses. He can feel his cheeks stretch with an uncontainable smile; the offer alone is enough to make him feel giddy with joy, but he can’t accept it yet.

“Too soon?” asks Madara. He doesn’t sound upset.

“It’s too soon,” he agrees.

“I can wait,” says Madara.

“Mm. And you haven’t met my family properly yet,” says Tobirama.

Madara tilts his head a little to the side. “I know Hashirama and Kawarama. I don’t think they dislike me? And I met Itama this week. He seemed nice.”

Itama? Nice? There’s only one person who can get both Mito and Touka to do what he wants, and that’s his little brother. Itama is not nice, that’s just what he prefers to let people think about him. How on earth is he supposed to break this to Madara?

“Itama does seem to like you,” he starts. This would be Madara’s saving grace. “But Mito and Touka haven’t met you yet. They, and Kawarama, have sworn to leave you alone until the 25th. After that…” he trails off. “I think Hashirama really does like you, though,” he says, hoping it’s consolation.

“Leave me alone?”

“They didn’t want to scare you off too soon,” says Tobirama. Madara presses a kiss to Tobirama’s nose, then his cheek, then tilts his head up by the chin for another kiss.

“No one’s scaring me away from you,” he says firmly.

“I will hold you to that,” says Tobirama. He really will, too.

“Please do,” says Madara.

#madatobigiftexchange #madatobi #giftfic #tw: permanent disfigurement #tw: obito has scars

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daycollins · 4 years ago

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{ zendaya ☁ twenty six ☁ she/her } among the whispers around peach hollow, have you heard of daysia collins? no? well, let’s catch you up to speed. rumor has it, she’s been seen strolling around blueberry boulevard & have lived in peach hollow for six years. it’s good to have her around because i hear she’s a crisis counselor for a living. recent events must have her trembling because it hasn’t be long since everyone found out she flunked school. let’s hope they learned their lesson that the truth always catches up to you.

yall know me. i’m kim, i play winnie, and i’m one of the admins!! this is my damaged but optimistic baby, daysia. ITS PRONOUNCED LIKE DEJA VU :’) i just created her in november but she so quickly became my favorite muse to write. so buckle up! and pls plot w me. i am fragile and if i don’t get any plots i will hide in a dumpster, where i belong.

TW FOR DEATH, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, CAR ACCIDENT

here is her pinterest and a spotify playlist if you wanna check those out ~

daysia jade, day, dj, deej – anything goes. she’s 23 and will turn her head to just about anything. she’s a spring baby born march, 1996.

her childhood was pretty good. she and her brother grew up a year apart, and her parents divorced early. early enough that daysia can barely remember a time where the family was hole, and likes it that way.

however, her father did not take the divorce well and turned to drugs – meth to be specific. he only saw the kids on weekends and even then, daysia and marcus absolutely knew what was happening. perhaps they didn’t know his choice of poison, but they knew that it was just that: poison.

he was never abusive and always took care of the kids, even if he was tweaking out of his mind. there were a few instances that were touch and go, like when he forgot to take dinner out of the oven and it caught fire, or when he forgot to change the sheets – little things that added up.

when daysia was 16 and marcus was 15, they were involved in a car accident. her dad was high behind the wheel, lost control of the car, and they hit the guard rail. they went over an embankment and down a short hill before the vehicle came to a complete stop, flipped over. she watched the life drain from her brother’s face, and never got into a car again.

a good deal of resentment built up for her father, but she remained stoic, even when he went to prison for drug charges and the dui he’d racked up that ultimately killed her brother. she didn’t let anyone know that she was hurting, because she numbed it all. she threw herself into her school work and her artwork, painting constantly. melting colors together somehow helped her cope. she could get her emotions out on paper. in fact, that still rings true today. in her bedroom of the apartment she lives in, she has covered one of the walls in canvas and paints over and over.

in an effort to start life over, daysia left detroit when she graduated high school. she transferred to peach hollow where she went to winchester university, not wanting a lot of attention. this is where she really came to life.

daysia was able to push michigan to the back of her mind entirely, because peach hollow had so much to offer. the people were better. the music was better. the parties were better. the education was better. there wasn’t a single thing she missed from home aside from her mother, who she kept in regular contact with and still does. they’re always texting and facetime before bed every night.

she came alive. college changed her. she was studying a subject that interested her and meeting people who didn’t have to know about her past. she did, and does everything to keep michigan her dirty little secret. she liked the party scene, but only drank or smoked weed. she refuses to touch anything that might turn her into her father. she was even hired on as a crisis counselor for a local hotline, contractual to her graduation.

in the past month, daysia has plummeted, however. nobody would ever be able to tell. she is the queen of poker face, an absolute delight to be around. she can be a little aloof, and is constantly stoned, but it’s how she gets through the day. she is an absolute goof, loves to crack jokes and make people laugh. she loves to laugh herself. these are all traits that show and cover the inner turmoil constantly trying to bubble to the surface.

daysia received word that her father passed away in jail. he overdosed, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. so she didn’t. she did, however, stop doing school work and started drinking more. she flunked out of school and lost her job.

at the same time, she got into her first serious relationship. day fell hard and fast for her best friend, mac. their relationship started out much like a fairy tale. she wanted to keep it like that forever, but her addiction and ptsd took over. she tried her very hardest to hold onto mac, but he moved back to nyc with their best friend, dom, in tow. she still misses them to this day and finds it hard to keep friends like she kept them close. the littlest things will remind her of mac and she’ll start to spiral. two years later and she’s still hung up, but she’ll deny it to the very end.

it’s safe to say that when this happened, daysia crumbled. she realized just how many people she’d lost and how many she had -- and she didn’t have anyone at that point, or so she thought. she continued to isolate and stopped answering her phone, and within the week, her mother was there to drag her home to detroit for detox.

she spent the next few weeks laying in the bathroom, going through withdrawal from alcohol and the various benzos she’d started eating like candy. things were bad. her mother never left her side, and after many na and aa meetings, after snatching pill bottles and miniatures out of her room for months, daysia cleaned up her act. she put on a healthy amount of weight, started working out, went to aa or na two or three times a day until she was comfortable enough to skirt by a day or two without one. she finished up her degree that summer and started waiting tables. she saved up every cent, finally having enough money and credit built up to buy a house where she really wanted to be: peach hollow.

after talking to her old boss, they agreed to take her back on as a crisis counselor when she moved back

so the newly clean and sober (aside from weed lol) daysia is living in a house on blueberry boulevard with @dawsonsawyer

as for her personality and relationships, daysia excels. she is nurturing, so when a friend, or even a stranger is hurting, she tends to go to their side and comfort them. as long as she can make them laugh, then everything will be okay. she makes friends pretty easily, and keeps them for the most part. she is fiercely loyal and will absolutely scrap to defend her loved ones.

she loves love. there is no gender she isn’t curious about and absolutely loves romance, though she also tries to hide that. her walls are ten feet tall. she’s in to hook ups, flings, and polyamory. she’s very open in that sense!!

FUN FACTS

she has an english bull dog named frank!! he is her pride and joy. she dresses him up in outfits, has regular photo shoots with him and loves going to the dog park. he isn’t legally an emotional support animal, but that’s definitely what he is to her. if he doesn’t like you, she won’t either tbh

she has this lil purple pen looking thing that is always on her. it’s her weed vape and she will hit it anywhere. her dumb head is always in the mfing clouds

she has a spotify family plan that is currently only her, mac, and dom and she will absolutely invite anyone she meets bc spotify premium is something everyone should enjoy

wears a lot of graphic tees and jeans, kinda a tom boy. doesn’t love dressing up but will occasionally. also doesn’t rly like make up but DOES know how to beat her face

1000% unable to be alone for like any period of time?? like if she gets off work and no one is in her apartment she just leaves. she goes next door to mac, goes to the peach pit, anywhere she can socialize. being left to her own thoughts will always turn out poorly.

really loves poetry. cannot write it to save her life, but loves going to slam readings or checking out poetry books from the library. her adhd brain can’t handle novels – poetry is just the right length to keep her attention and dig into her soul.

oh yeah, she’s got some pretty intense untreated adhd lol

OK SO WANTED CONNECTIONS IF UR STILL HERE LMAO

ex-roommate: something happened between daysia and this person, whether it was a relationship gone wrong, a friendship with tension, or just the other person being a damn slob – and daysia removed them from the house and moved someone new in. they are probably on shitty terms.

current flings: a few people are probably on her list of suitors right now. people she spends time with romantically, but hasn’t committed to. she absolutely cannot be alone, at any point… ever! so, she has someone with her at all times. m/f/nb, all good.

party friends: this one is pretty self explanatory!! these are friends that daysia may or may not talk to outside of a party, but will always cling to at one.

close friends: she lets very few people all the way in, but those that make it are generally taken care of by day. she makes sure that they are as comfortable with life as possible and spends a lot of time with them

exes: as daysia is a ticking time bomb, there have been many people she’s blown off. whether they once hooked up, were together, or what have you, daysia has a lot of exes. she never means to hurt anyone. it just sort of happens and she has accepted it.

#peachesintro

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gaytaztrash · 7 years ago

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Bedtime

A fic based on this post: http://theoppositeofprofound.tumblr.com/post/164769171479/a-concept-lup-being-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night

The moon base had fallen silent hours ago. Every able member of the Bureau had set to work repairing the damage done on the Day of Story and Song, and they’d gotten a lot done, but even three days later, the world was still reeling and exhausted from the shock. Work stopped about the time the sun went down, and everyone was asleep not long after.

Except Lup.

Barry and Taako had put the letter she’d sealed with a kiss over a decade ago now into the pod in the back room of the Fantasy Costco, and from the lingering DNA on the seal a fresh new Lup-body had begun to grow, but it wasn’t nearly inhabitable yet. This spectral form couldn’t meditate the way elves were supposed to. She had discovered that in the cycles after she and Barry had become liches. It hadn’t been pleasant during their journey, and it wasn’t pleasant now. For a little while, the quiet and solitude was peaceful, but after the first few hours of the first night it was boring; there was only so long she could feel content watching Barry snore peacefully or Lucretia toss and turn, and she wanted to give Taako and his spooky boyfriend some privacy. She and Barry were still on shaky ground with this world’s Raven Queen, and she wasn’t going to fuck up their chances of getting off easy by interrupting Kravitz’s private sappy time with her brother. No matter how bad she wanted to get back at Taako for doing the same to her and Barry or to her and Lucretia. They would have to strike a deal before she could ruin his good time.

So instead, she drifted across the Bureau of Balance campus, looking at the repairs that had been finished and what was still left to do, marveling at how much of Lucretia’s personality was reflected in its construction – the grassy quad covered in graceful trees, exactly the sort of place where she had always loved to sit while she watched and wrote in her notebooks; the glass domes, a style of architecture that she had fallen in love with during their…seventy-first? Seventy-second cycle? It was the seventy-second, right. That had been a peaceful one. They had found the Light in a matter of days and spent the rest sightseeing, and Lucretia had asked Lup along to tour one of the biggest cities in that plane. The downtown area had been filled with domes just like these, rising and falling all around and catching the light from the plane’s two suns, reflecting it off in prisms in every direction. She’d filled a whole notebook with sketches of them and conjectures about their construction. Lup could see it as if it were yesterday: Lucretia’s eyes bright as they flickered from the domes back to her notebook, curls falling into her face until Lup pinned them back with one of the dozen or so hairclips she’d learned to bring with her whenever she went out sightseeing with her. She’d been so vibrant, so full of energy, so young. Now she was the Director, and tired, and it would take time before she finally warmed up again. She’d cut her hair so short. She had always said it would be too difficult to deal with long if she hadn’t had the others’ help. But she had whispered to Lup yesterday that she thought she might start to grow it out again now.

It was hard to believe after so long that things were finally right. Lup hoped that if she looked around the campus, silent and peaceful, for long enough, she might finally come to believe it.

There was a light on inside one of the domes.

Lup frowned. It was three a.m. What reasonable living person on the base was up? Gods, she hoped it wasn’t Lucretia again. The woman needed her rest. She drifted closer.

A sign above the door into the dome proclaimed it to be the Bureau of Balance library. The light was coming from deep inside; probably a reading nook. Maybe someone had fallen asleep reading in there? It was probably that nerdlord with the beard. She could wake him up and scare him a bit. That would break the monotony just fine. She drifted inside.

The library oozed Lucretia’s personality, too; the shelves were high and the aisles narrow, muffling sound so that it felt as if it were only her and the books in the world. The shelves opened into little nooks crammed with squashy armchairs and little tables where you could pile your books or set your favorite reading drink (on a coaster, naturally, and away from the books please). It took Lup several wrong turns to track the source of the light to a nook right in the center of the library, and for a moment, she didn’t see anyone there; only piles of books ranging from technical tomes on spellcasting and runes to what looked to be a young adult mystery series. Then she noticed the puff of curly black hair sticking up above the pile. Not the nerdlord; the nerdbaby. It was Angus McDonald. He was awake.

“What the hell are you still doing up, little man?” Lup asked.

Angus jumped and looked up from his book. His eyes were puffy and there were dark circles in the skin underneath them that his glasses didn’t quite cover. It wasn’t a good look for a kid. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry, miss – Miss Lup, I’m sorry, I didn’t think that anyone else was awake and I just couldn’t sleep so I thought –”

“You’re fine, kiddo,” Lup said. “Knock off that ‘Miss Lup’ garbage, though. We fought in a battle together, I think we’re there. Do you know what time it is?”

“Three ten,” Angus said.

“That’s right,” Lup said. “And you’re ten, and I’m going to bet that’s way past your bedtime. I know you’re the closest there is to a responsible adult on this base, but somebody ought to have put you to bed about six hours ago.”

“I tried, Miss, but I couldn’t sleep,” Angus said. “I thought this was a good place to not bother anybody.”

Lup couldn’t exactly sit, incorporeal as she was, but she drifted down into the armchair next to Angus’s and rested there. “You’re too polite for your own good, little man,” she told him. “You’re a smart kid – haven’t you figured out by now how many people on this base care about you?”

Angus looked down. “I…I just don’t want to bother anyone,” he said. “Everyone’s so tired from Story and Song and working to repair the base. The only person who might be up is the Direc… Miss Lucretia, and she needs to sleep, too.”

“You need it as much as she does,” Lup said. She rose. “Come on, Ango, we’re bringing you back to your room and I’ll tuck you in. I’d tell you a bedtime story, but I think Fisher and Junior already told you most of my best ones.” She waved a hand and a bookmark flew in to mark Angus’s spot before the book snapped shut.

“I’m ten years old, I don’t need to be tucked in,” Angus said. He grabbed for the book as Lup moved it back onto the pile, but he missed. “I’m not going to sleep. Please give that back.”

“You’re stubborn. I see why Taako likes you. Nope,” she said, and magicked the whole pile out of reach when Angus grabbed for it again. “You need sleep, kiddo! I’m making it my duty to not leave you alone until you get it.”

“I’m not going to sleep, Miss Lup.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“I just can’t!”

Lup folded her arms. “Well, I’ve got no choice then, have I?” she asked, and cast Sleep.

A soft breeze spun around the armchair that Angus was in. The kid’s eyelids drooped, and he swayed in his seat for a moment; then the breeze faded, Angus blinked, and he frowned at Lup. “Did you just try to magic me to sleep, Miss?”

“…Mayyyyybe,” Lup said. Internally, she swore. Son of a bitch. I thought that would work.

Angus folded his arms. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Lup, but we fought a battle together, I think we’re there.”

Lup stared at him for a moment. Then she broke down laughing. “I like you a lot, little man,” she said. “But you’ve met your stubborn match.” Then she flung the hem of her robe around and vanished from the library.

She reappeared out in the middle of the grassy quad and started to pace. Who would be her best bet in helping to get the kid to bed? Magnus, Merle, and Taako had met him first. Magnus loved him unreservedly, but he could barely be trusted to be responsible for himself. Merle was also untrustworthy; he’d told her about his own children and Lup had had to work not to laugh at the idea. Merle fuckin’ Highchurch, a father of two? And moreover, he refused to admit he liked the kid, although after a hundred years with him Lup knew enough to be able to tell that he really did. Taako liked him, too, but he was more likely to keep him up encouraging him to use his newly-learned magic to play inconvenient and mildly illegal pranks on everyone in the Bureau than to get him to go to bed. Lucretia adored him, but Angus was right: she needed sleep just as much as he did. Lup was sure she hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in at least ten years. Barry had only known him a few days. Davenport him had known him as long as Lucretia, but he’d spent most of that time as a shadow of himself. The closest interaction they had had was silently playing chess one day, according to what Davenport had told her. He’d expressed affection for him, but he didn’t know the kid. That, and he was either currently asleep curled around Merle or awake, and if he was awake, Lup didn’t want to think about what was going on in Merle’s chambers.

Magnus. Magnus was the best bet. She sighed, squared her shoulders, and headed for the elevator that led down to the boys’ chambers.

It was dark in there, except for the faint light of the world below coming through the window in the floor. Plants lined every flat surface in the apartment that wasn’t covered in half-finished and completed woodcarvings; faint, long-ingrained smells of meals past emanated from the kitchen. Lup felt a wave of nostalgia hit her. Add several dozen books, scattered pens and notebooks, a few pairs of spare glasses, and instruments and novelties picked up from a hundred worlds, and it was the Starblaster in miniature. They’d forgotten everything, but they hadn’t changed. As soon as they’d come together again, they’d fallen into their old routines without even realizing.

The bedrooms were alcoves on the left side of the room, blocked off from the rest by hanging curtains. Lup made for the one made from wood beads. She brushed through it without rustling the strings – there were benefits to being incorporeal.

A large lump, covered by blankets despite the relative warmth of the night, marked Magnus in the bed. Muffled snoring came from below the pile. It shifted slightly as Lup whispered, “Magnus. Mags. Wake up.”

Magnus muttered something incoherent. Lup repeated his name, a bit louder this time. “I need your help, Maggie.”

The lump shifted again. After Lup called him a few more times, he finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Wassup Lulu?” he mumbled. “It’s the middleufthenight. I was sleepin’.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that,” Lup said. “I need you to give me a hand with something.”

“What d’you need?” he asked.

“Your boy detective,” she said. “He’s in the library and he won’t go to sleep.”

Magnus hid a yawn behind a hand. “You’ve got magic,” he said.

“Little shit resisted. Have I told you how much I love the kid?”

“Uh-huh. ‘Kay, I’ll go with. Lemme find pants.”

Lup sighed. “I was hoping you’d grow out of sleeping nude,” she said. “Do you know how many times I wanted to scrub my eyes out with bleach on the Starblaster?”

Magnus grinned and flipped her off as he got up. Lup turned determinedly away. She heard Magnus rustling around on the floor. “You of all people oughtta get it,” he said. “How much time did you spend without a shirt on after that fantasy HRT kicked in? Same deal.”

“Not the same deal. Boobs and penis are not in the same category of body parts.”

“Whatever.” There was a bit more rustling. Lup kept her eyes averted until she heard a noise that definitely did not come from Magnus. Then she turned. There was still a lump, albeit much smaller, under the blankets, and it was moving.

“Hey Maggie.”

“Huh?”

Lup folded her arms. “Who were you sleeping naked with in your bed?”

“Uh.” Magnus had stopped with his pants halfway zipped. “Tits.”

Lup grinned. She couldn’t see colors in the dark, but she knew Magnus was starting to blush bright red. “You wanna tell me who you’re fucking, my dude?”

As Magnus scrambled for words, the lump moved again, and a head popped out of the mass of blankets. The face was almost covered with a mass of long bedhead curls, but Lup made out a short, curly beard and a pair of squinting, bleary eyes. “Mags?” the person asked in a voice that sounded as if they had a bad head cold. “Wuzgoinon?”

Lup clapped a hand to her mouth, but since they were both spectral, it didn’t do anything to hide her shout of laughter.

“You’re fucking the nerdlord???”

“Great, I’m glad the whole base knows now,” Magnus muttered, flushing deeper and deeper by the second. “Lucas, go back to sleep, apparently Angus won’t go to bed and I’m going to help.”

There were sounds of stirring in the other boys’ bedrooms. Magnus sighed. “Fuck you,” he told Lup.

“Why is he still awake?” Lucas asked blearily. “Do you need a hand, what’s up?” He reached for the bedside table and fumbled for a few seconds before he found his glasses and shoved them back onto his face. Lup had doubled over. She shouldn’t laugh, she shouldn’t laugh, she shouldn’t laugh –

Four heads poked through the curtain, one above the other, and Lup lost it. “What the hell is going on in here?” Merle asked. “It’s fucking three in the morning! Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“What in the world is he doing here?” Taako asked, looking at Lucas.

“Would you all please shut up,” Davenport said. “Lup! What’s happening?”

Lup tried to push down her laughter. “I – I was around the base because I can’t sleep like this and I found –” She stopped for a second and held back another peal of laughter – “I found Angus awake in the library and wanted Magnus’s help convincing him to go to bed, and when I came to get him I found – I found –” She burst out laughing again, pointing at Lucas.

Magnus finished zipping up his pants. “I’m fucking coming, let’s just get Ango to bed and then forget about this,” he said.

“No, no, no,” Taako said, “we are not forgetting about this. Since when have you and Lucy there been uhhhhh, doin’ it, huh?”

“Please don’t call me Lucy,” Lucas said.

“Please just go back to sleep, you guys,” Magnus said. “This isn’t a big deal.”

“I would disagree,” Kravitz said.

“Can I please just go make the little kid who is up at three in the morning go to bed?” Magnus asked. He picked another pair of pants up off the floor and threw them at Lucas, who didn’t raise his hands in time and caught them with his face. Lup started howling with laughter again. Taako joined her. Davenport had dropped his head into his hands. Lucas pulled the pants under his pile of blankets and started to put them on.

“Well, we’re all up, we might as well make it a group mission at this point,” Merle said. “You wanna go muscle the kid to sleep, Dav?”

“I guess,” Davenport said through his hands. “Let’s make this quick. I don’t want to think about what I just saw here.”

When Lup led her army of pseudo-parents into the library, she heard faint voices coming from the middle nook where Angus had holed up with his pile of books. She frowned and looked at the others. Most of them shrugged. Davenport cocked his head to listen and then said, “I think that’s Barry and Lucretia.”

Lup sighed. “My useless insomniac partners,” she muttered. “All right, that’s just a couple more we have to put to bed.” She marched through the shelves and stopped in the middle of the nook, looking around at Angus, Barry, and Lucretia.

“Why the fuck are you people all still awake.��

“Dear, please don’t swear in front of Angus,” Lucretia said.

“I work with adults, Miss Lucretia, I’m used to it,” Angus said.

Barry looked around. “So babe,” he said, “not that I mind, but why are all of you here?”

“Well, I was planning to just have Maggie pick the kid up and make him go to bed, but I ended up with a whole lot more backup,” Lup said. “Which is good, because apparently I have to force the two of you to go to sleep, too. What is going on?”

“Miss Lucretia and Mr. Barry couldn’t sleep either and came here,” Angus said. “Why is Mr. Lucas here?”

“You know, that is a good question,” Taako said. “Magnus, why is Mr. Lucas here?”

“Shut the hell up, Taako.”

“Watch your fucking language, Magnus,” Merle said.

“Come on,” Lup said. “Time for bed, all three of you. Get up.”

“Lup, dear, I’m perfectly capable of deciding for myself when I’ll go to bed –”

“Lucretia, you look like you haven’t slept since we got to this plane. Magnus, do your thing.”

Magnus picked Angus up out of his chair and slung him over his shoulder fireman-style. Lup caught Taako’s eye and winked; then she snapped and cast Levitation on Lucretia. Taako followed suit and cast on Barry. They both rose from their chairs with cries of protest.

“Come on!” Lup ordered. “We’re all going the fuck to bed!”

She turned and marched with the others out of the library and back towards the elevator.

On the way there, she positioned herself between Kravitz and Lucas, who were helping to push Barry’s and Lucretia’s floating forms along. “Did the kid tell you why he couldn’t sleep?” she asked them.

Lucretia sighed. “He’s had a difficult few days,” she said. “He couldn’t stand being alone in the dark.”

“Lucretia and I were hoping to at least help him fall asleep in the library if he couldn’t fall asleep on his own in his room,” Barry said, “but apparently you had other plans.”

Lup grinned. “I’ve always got a plan of my own, babe, that’s a guarantee,” she said.

Back in the chambers, they collected blankets and pillows from the boys’ rooms and the cushions from the couch and chair and made a sort of nest over the window in the floor. “Nobody is sleeping alone tonight,” Lup declared.

With nine people curled up, the floor was crowded, but it looked incredibly cozy, Lup thought as the lights went out and the others began to fall asleep. She drifted down to occupy a clear space of floor a little bit away. She watched them and smiled.

The nest came again, night after night, and months later, when her body re-formed, she finally joined them. She closed her eyes happily, nestled between Barry and Lucretia, listening to the soft rise and fall of their breath and feeling their warmth against her. It had taken so long to find her family. None of them would ever let go again.

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starryvioletnight · 7 years ago

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The Radio Hosts

Summary: A Welcome To Night Vale and Markiplier Egos crossover; A day, normal as any other, gets disrupted by a visitor looking for the Host, claiming to be family. (This includes my headcanon as to what Cecil looks like as well, so be prepared for that!) Enjoy~

“The Host is sitting in the library, enjoying the silence as the other egos partake in their daily activities. The Host is bored, and cannot See anything interesting happening soon. It’s... almost disappointing. The Host sighs and wonders if he should get up and get a book to read. It has to be one of the braille books, which limits his options-”

“Uh, hate to interrupt.” Wilford’s voice echoed through the library, making the Host jump. “There’s a guy at the door, saying he’s your brother. Wanna come and confirm that?”

The Host stared for a moment, before getting to his feet. A guy, claiming to be his brother? That was... impossible. His only family, back in his home town, would never leave. Not for anything. The Host tried to use his Sight to see who was really at the door, but according to what he could see, there was no one.

He approached the front door cautiously, Wilford on his heels. He opened it slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Hello?” He asked.

“Host!” Came the familiar, excited voice of none other than Cecil Palmer. “Oh, my you’ve changed a lot! It’s so good to see you all the same.”

The Host’s mouth dropped open a little. “Wilford?” He asked quietly. “Can you describe the man in front of us, please?”

“What? Oh, I guess... He’s a skinny guy, pretty pale. He’s wearing a purple button up shirt under a black sweater vest, with a black tie, black dress pants and black shoes. Really digging that color, huh? Uh, he’s got blond hair, cut short, sticks up a little in the front, parted on the left. He’s wearing glasses, and his eyes are... purple? That’s... uh, unnerving.”

“Hey!” Cecil huffed. “That’s kinda mean!”

“What about tattoos.” The Host asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Wilford huffed.

“I have to make sure it’s him. He’s used to this, continue on.”

“Fine, fine... let’s see. He does have tattoos. Tentacles, actually. They’re wrapped around his arms and-whoa!”

“What?”

“One just moved!” Wilford exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

The Host smiled and ignored Wilford, walking forward to hug his brother. Cecil laughed and hugged him back, the tattoos moving and twirling happily as he did. “Host it’s been soooo long. I thought you were going to come home and visit now and then? I don’t really like being dragged away from home, you know that.”

“It honestly slipped my mind.” The Host was grinning, brightly at that. “Come in, come in Cecil.” He offered his hand, which Cecil took, and the Host lead him inside.

The other egos stared as the stranger was dragged through the house, and Cecil gulped as he saw Dark. “He reminds me of Station Management.” He whispered.

The Host nodded. “Me too. Especially the ringing. And, he also rules with an iron fist.” He laughed. “It’s strange how much he reminds me of home.”

“Why do you all look the same? Oh, Host please tell me you haven’t joined a cult. We talked about this!” Cecil whined.

“No, no not a cult.” The Host paused. “Pretty close though.”

The radio hosts took a seat at the dining room table, sitting across from each other. The Host asked Dr. Iplier if he could put some tea on, to which the confused doctor agreed to. “You have to catch me up on all things happening in Night Vale, Cecil, please. I must know.”

“No, no you first.” Cecil pointed at his brother. “You look tooottaaallly different from when you left, yet you claim you’re not in a cult. Do you know what the City Council would say if they saw this? Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if they fed you to the librarians! Are you eating your weekly Big Rico’s pizza?”

“No one does a slice like Big Rico. No one.” Both men said in unison, in a haunting tune that made all the egos watching freeze. There was silence, the Host and Cecil sitting in perfect posture in all seriousness, before returning to a more casual way of sitting.

“No, I am not eating my Big Rico’s pizza. There isn’t one here in California. Also, I’m eating wheat and wheat-by products.” The Host smirked. “And, this house has a private library, which I read books from daily.”

Cecil gasped. “Host! I... I can’t believe my ears! I always knew you had a bit of rebellious streak in you, but never that bad!”

The Host laughed. “Yes, yes. It’s all true. I became an ego, a character, portrayed by a man who plays video games all day and talks about them.” He explained. “Which is why I look different. I look like the guy who plays my character.”

“And... everyone else here is an ‘ego’, as well?” Cecil’s eyes shined with a hint of interest. “Wow... that sounds... strange. I like it!” A third eye opened on his head, looking more like a tattoo than a real eye.

Bim squeaked. “I-Is that an eye?”

Cecil turned his head. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind! Just gets a little tiring hiding it. Same with the tentacles. They’re itching to be let out.”

“Please, relax.” The Host said. “They’ll adjust.”

Cecil nodded and slowly, the purple tattoos retreated to his back. Before too long, a mass of tentacles extended out from his shoulder blades, and he made a small noise of comfort. “Oh, that feels so much better!”

“I’m sure.” The Host chuckled. “I’ve missed you Cecil. I’ve missed Night Vale. I just...” He sighed. “I know the City Council won’t let me leave again if I come back. You know how Night Vale is with its citizens.”

Cecil nodded a few times. “Yes, yes you’re right...” He agreed. “Well, I might as well fill you in. A beautiful, handsome, absolutely perfect man came to town. His name is Carlos. And Carlos is a scientist.”

“Really? Still?” The Host looked surprised. “I mean, we have all been scientists at one point or another...”

“He means for this to be permanent!” Cecil grinned. “Anyway, as I was saying,” His tone changed. It from casual to completely hypnotic, and all the egos were drawn in as Cecil began to tell the story. The only one unaffected seemed to be the Host. “The scientist, foolish, beautiful scientist Carlos came to town one day. He insisted that time doesn’t work in Night Vale, isn’t that just adorable? He, with his perfect curls, graying just slightly at the temples... I fell in love instantly.”

The Host smirked. “Sounds like you.”

“The miniature town living under bowling alley three had an uprising. They nearly destroyed my lovely Carlos. Thankfully, he lived. We went on a date, looking up at the mysterious lights under the Arby’s sign. Needless to say, he is now my boyfriend. We are happily in love.”

“And how is Old Woman Josie?”

“Oh, Host... She has been visited by angels, all of which are named Ericka. They, of course, do not exist. They claim to exist, and we turn away from them. A new dog park was built in the town. The City Council gave us the friendly reminder that dogs are not allowed in the dog park.”

“People are not allowed in the dog park.” The Host seemed to recite, in the same, low, hypnotic tone. “It is possible you will see Hooded Figures in the Dog Park. Do not approach them. Do not approach the Dog Park. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous.” He startled himself out of his stupor and blushed.

Cecil grinned. “Awww you’re so cute, looking into my past like that! You’ve really mastered the sight, my sweet, little brother! Really, Host, you should have stayed in Night Vale. You could have had your own show, telling your stories. Maybe if you would have stayed, the City Council would have returned your eyes.”

Both brothers stilled at that. Cecil’s face flushed a light violet. The Host turned his head away from his brother. “Yeah... maybe.”

“I’m so sorry, I... I shouldn’t have said that.” Cecil immediately apologized.

“No, no you’re right.” The Host tapped his fingers on the desk. “They probably would have.”

“They just wanted you to be as talented at Seeing as I am.” Cecil said, and the Host shrugged. “They only had your best interests in mind...”

“I’m sure they did, Cecil...” The Host sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ll never be as talented as you are. Not in that field.”

Cecil got up and walked around to the other side of the room, hugging his brother tightly. The Host hesitated before hugging him back, then squeezing him tightly. “I think you’re pretty talented.” Cecil said quietly.

“I still can’t See you.” The Host muttered. “My own brother... some nights I forget what you look like.”

“Do you still have nightmares, Host?” Cecil asked suddenly, pulling away. “I remember from when we were kids. You saw other timelines, other ‘stories’ you called them, and you’d wake up screaming, begging for people to stop dying, and the Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Our Home had to throw salmon at you to get you to calm back down. Does that... does that still happen?”

The Host nodded. “Yeah... it does. It’s been especially bad lately.”

Cecil hugged him again, tighter. “Oh brother... You should never have left Night Vale.”

“No, no I like it here.” The Host insisted. “I really do. I have friends. They like me.”

Cecil frowned. “If you say so...” He said quietly. “I’m staying for a couple days, if you don’t mind.”

“As long as you have someone to cover you at the Station.” The Host said. “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with Station Management.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Cecil told him. “Besides, family matters more than extreme blood loss anyway.” He smiled.

The Host smiled back, absolutely overjoyed to be in the company of his big brother again.

There was silence in the room. Finally, Wilford spoke, stating a phrase that summarized all of the ego’s thoughts.

“What. The fuck.”

#markiplier crossover #wtnv crossover #the host #cecil #markiplier fanfiction #nancy's writings

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