#I usually like shake shack but wow that was bad

[acharlescoleman]

I went to a show last night at a small venue, I was like early-ish but didn’t think I was that that early but I was so I got like a really good seat like middle-front which I rarely get so I took it. (Unfortunately I also may or may not have cut in front of a attractive woman who simultaneously was going in the venue. If I was thinking more clearly I would’ve held the door for her and been a gent and let her go through instead…I’m 90% sure I held the door for her and then let her catch it as I kept-a-walk-in’. Dummy! Oh well!)

Anyways, I was close to the stage, it’s a small venue and it was neat but also kind of intimidating because the singers could literally see me since for a lot of the show, it took a while to the audience to become a semi crowd to put it lightly. But yeah it was really nice on the ears so I can hear the show really good and both singers were piano players so I totally got to watch them play piano while also singing.

Like I really got to zero in on their playing which was neat. The only negative was I was a little self-conscious about my hands and arms because they’re solo acts and they can totally see you so I wanted to have good body language. But I also had just ate like a bad hot dog so I couldn’t just chill in my seat so I leaned into my seat and had one arm crossed the other arm for the opening act.

I didn’t get up during the intermission which was a mistake so my legs were kind of stiff but then I was like well if it’s a movie I wouldn’t just get up either. So I did some tiny leg stretches instead which might be one of the perks of being short. Possibly!

Oh, and because I also went straight to Hollywood from work I was tired so I stifled a few yawns. Is that healthy? I forgot to Google if that’s okay or not. And for the first song from the headliner, I did the hand holding the head watch thing as an attempt to change my posture but that was making me more sleepy so I wound up just putting my hands on my legs and being like F it, this should make me more zen and I think it did.

Anyways the show was great. I thought about saying like good show to the singers but then I was like idk I gotta catch the subway and I had to pee lol. I nearly regretted catching the subway train I took since there was an almost fight in the train I was in. That was wild but whatever, it wound up just being a bunch of yelling so that was a relief.

One more annoying thing my last bus was like 20 minutes late! ugh. But whatever I’m home!

And then next Tuesday I’m gonna see Beck in LA. The venue is at somewhere in highland park so that should be another fun trip home. But it’ll be for Beck so it’ll be worth it!

Oh and one more, one more thing: I had dinner at Shake Shack. The two bad hot dogs, remember? Well not only did I choose to eat meh food but I ate meh food outside! (Which to be fair a LOT of people are outside too.) Like even with a jacket on, it was still cold outside. And I had like the sniffles on my way to the music venue which made me think like ugh now I’m sick, how dumb to eat outside with the weather like it is!!

I’m felt better when I sat for the show and then felt fine going home so that’s a relief but still, if you have any hypochondriac tendencies, don’t eat outdoors if you think it’s cold outside. It’ll f you up, either literally physically or spiritually or both!

[masiethewriter]

Out of Your Mind

My second piece for HarringroveWeek! I had originally planned to write more, but as always I overestimate how much writing I can get done :P Oh well~~

Prompts: Gone Feral, Alpha/Omega

Trigegr Warnings: A bit forcefull behavior

Teaser: Steve instinctually ducks down as Billy roars. Covering his neck, he tries to make himself as small a target as possible. Those outside fall silent, and Steve can hear them scramble away from the door. 

Steve has never heard Billy roar before, and he hopes he never has to hear it again. He is shaking all over, and it takes all his control not to whimper. He is tense all over, ready for Billy to assault him, just like he has done before. 

It is only after a few seconds of nothing happening that Steve dares to look up. To his wonder, Billy hasn’t moved from his spot. He does look absolutely furious, heaving with breath and body taut. But he isn’t looking at Steve. Rather, it is as if he is trying to see through the door, at those behind it. 

Making a hasty assumption Steve calls out to the others: “Guys, he isn’t doing anything. I think it’s fine."

Steve finds himself racing through Hawkins after the call from Max. He hadn't gotten much out of her before they were interrupted, but enough to keep just above the speed limit the entire way.

Since all this shit began, the line between their world and the Upside Down has become unstable. This has resulted in smaller portals opening and closing randomly throughout the entire town area. 

While it rarely happens, a pack of demodogs and the like will sometimes get through, attacking anything close by. As their group is seemingly still the only people who know of the upside down, it has become their responsibility to deal with the monsters each time they break through.

Yesterday had been one of those days, so everyone had gotten together and fought off the beasts once again.

No matter how many times they faced the feral flowery heads, Steve never got any less afraid for everyone and himself. But he, as well as the others, became more practical. How to prepare, laying out traps, best positions for confrontation and how to handle the aftermath had become dangerously close to routine. But it meant they were more ready, better prepared and usually got out of their fights with only minor scratches.

Sadly yesterday hadn't been the usual.

The monsters had been slightly different. While resembling the demodogs in shape, they had been smaller and darker in color. They were also faster than what they were used to.

It had been more challenging than usual, but they had managed to round up all the little beasts and kill them.

Not without harm. By the end of the night, Billy had been bitten by one of the monsters, bite marks oozing blood from his waist. It had looked bad, but with help from Joyce, they managed to clean it up, giving him a big plaster, and otherwise sent him home together with Max.

Everyone else had also returned to their respective houses, and Steve got his adrenaline crash in the lonely comfort of his too big house, skipping a shower and food for a warm, safe bed. 

When he woke up the next morning, with the monster hunter version of a hangover, he had barely been able to keep from falling asleep in his coffee, when Max had called. Next thing he knew he stood outside Billy’s shack with Max, Nancy and Mike all shouting at each other.

Getting out of his car, he didn't get to find out what they were all yelling about before Max is running towards him.

"Good, you're here! Billy is acting crazy and those knuckleheads here aren’t being any help," she says before Steve could ask what was going on.

"I don't see how Billy acting crazy is any different from how he usually is," Mike is quick to cut in.

Max already looked furious when facing Steve, and she is almost on fire as she turns back towards Mike.

"Shut up! you don't know anything you little-"

"Wow, wait, hold up, can someone explain what is happening?" Steve is quick to jump in, before they get into more of a fight. 

"When we got back yesterday he was fine, but he kept being on edge the entire night and this morning he literally growled at me and threw me out the house-" Max tries to explain, but Steve interrupts.

"Growling? What? Billy never growls, what did you do?" Steve has to ask. 

Some alphas just can't shut up when it comes to imposing themselves on others, a constant pissing contest of trying to seem like the biggest dick in the room. Billy has never been the type to do that, confident enough to know he doesn’t need cheap tricks to stand above the rest. 

The only time Steve had ever heard anything like it from the man was that night they were facing the demodogs and he came looking for Max. As Billy demanded to know where Max was, his voice had just been rough enough to not miss the thread in his words.

Since then Steve has never heard anything like it again. Surprisingly enough Billy is one of the more controlled Alphas Steve knows. at least when it comes to alpha posturing. His temper is still a work in progress.

Though it’s been better ever since he moved out of his dad's house.

Fact of the matter is, Billy isn’t the growly type, though right now it seems Max begs to differ.

“I didn’t do shit! He was weird the entire morning and when I tried calling everyone for help, he threw me out before I could get the whole group. I even dropped the walkie talkie in there,” Max yells at Steve, and okay, Steve didn’t intend to start another shouting match with his question.

Trying to placate Max he looks over at Nancy for help and notices the first aid kit in her hands for the first time.

“Wait, what’s with that? Did he hurt anyone?” Steve asks, suddenly distracted by looking Max over for any injuries. 

She just rolls her eyes as Nancy answers his question.

“It’s for Billy. Max mentioned that his injury from yesterday was bleeding through the plaster, so I brought this to help. We haven’t been able to get in, though, he locked the door.”

At her words, Steve begins to get heavy with worry. For some reason the idea of Billy being locked inside by himself while hurt isn’t sitting well with him. Looking over at the house, his thoughts are interrupted when Mike suddenly turns towards him.

“Can’t you do something? Calm the asshole down or something?” Mike says, as snootily as ever.

“Wait, why do I have to solve this?” Steve asks. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help, but what does Mike think he can do that the others can’t?

“You’re the omega, aren’t you used to dealing with crappy alphas?” Mike says, and wow, Steve knew the kid could be rude, but he’s never been this-

“Okay Mike, I think you have said enough, you clearly aren’t being any help,” Nancy says, as she pushes Mike out of the way. Max takes advantage and hits him in the back of his head and hisses something Steve can’t hear. “But it is good you are here, Steve. Do you have any idea how we can get in?”

“Ehh,” Steve hesitates. He isn’t sure what he can offer, that the others haven't tried yet. “Have you tried knocking?”

Yeah, okay, properly not the best idea, as everyone's faces reveal. He is used to being an idiot though, so he shrugs and takes the first aid kit from Nancy and walks the steps up onto the porch. Sparing a glance back he knocks on the door and calls out:

“Hey Billy, everyone is worried about you. Can you come out and show you haven’t died yet?”

Silence. Steve is fine being patient, though a sentiment not shared by those behind him.

“This is so stupid, why are we wasting our time here when we could-” Mike says, and Steve can’t take this anymore.

Turning around on the spot he points right at the brat. “I don’t get what you problem is, but you better cut it off before-”

Steve trails off as he sees the others' faces. A mix of confusion and shock meets him, as they all stare at something over his shoulder.

Steve manages to get out a strangled “What?” before a pair of arms catch him from behind. Before he has time to act he is dragged inside, the door slamming closed behind him. The others shouts of his name almost drows out the sound of the lock right before he is forcefully pushed away.  

Turning around it is of course Billy who has forced him inside. 

And the other man looks terrible.

Topless and shoeless, he only has a pair of sweatpants to keep his modesty. Sweat is glistening on his body and face, his hair greasy from it. Steve suddenly understands what Max meant when she called Billy crazy, as he looks into the others eyes. 

Billy is absolutely out of his mind. He is hunched over himself, defensive, as if Steve would ever have a chance in a fight against him. A continuous rumble that was promising no good is pushed up his throat, through his teeth which are exposed with a snarl. 

What reveals the most about Billy’s state of mind is his eyes. Usually clear pools of blue are now wild oceans promising to drown everything within. Right this moment Billy is nothing more than a wild animal, ready to lash out at anything and anyone.

In the end, what makes Steve flinch is the state of his wound. The plaster has loosened, with blood and mucus dripping down his side and soaking into the fabric of his pants. It didn’t seem as bad as it had been yesterday, but clearly it needed to be looked at.

Steve doesn’t know if Billy can recognize him in this state. But getting inside had been their [goal], so Steve attempts to placate the other.

“Ehh, hey, so, Max is kind of worried about you going all weird, so if you could say something sane that would be great?” Steve tries.

Billy doesn’t react to his words beyond the rumble going deeper. Suddenly Steve feels a need to cover his neck, not liking the look of Billy’s teeth and where his eyes are lingering. Feeling like it had been a really stupid move to be alone with Billy, he tries to inch towards the door.

When Billy had locked the door he had placed himself in the hallway scowling at Steve. As Steve reaches towards the handle the rumble turns into a full on growl. Steve doesn’t let that hinder him as he keeps a careful distance between himself and Billy’s reach. 

Billy kneels down ready to leap. Steve is ready to throw himself out the door. They are both surprised when suddenly the others try to beat down the door.

“Steve! Are you okay, what is happening in there-”

“Billy, you better not be doing anything to Steve, we had a deal you wouldn’t touch my friends-” 

“Someone open the door, Dustin will kill us if Steve dies in there-”

Steve instinctually ducks down as Billy roars. Covering his neck, he tries to make himself as small a target as possible. Those outside fall silent, and Steve can hear them scramble away from the door. 

Steve has never heard Billy roar before, and he hopes he never has to hear it again. He is shaking all over, and it takes all his control not to whimper. He is tense all over, ready for Billy to assault him, just like he has done before. 

It is only after a few seconds of nothing happening that Steve dares to look up. To his wonder, Billy hasn’t moved from his spot. He does look absolutely furious, heaving with breath and body taut. But he isn’t looking at Steve. Rather, it is as if he is trying to see through the door, at those behind it. 

Making a hasty assumption Steve calls out to the others: “Guys, he isn’t doing anything. I think it’s fine." 

Speaking up makes him the target of Billy’s laser focus and the growl is back, but he loosens up just a miniscule bit.

"Fine!? Did you just not hear that? What about this is fine-" 

Okay, the tiny shred of calm is lost and the deep growl returns the moment Mike opens his mouth. Steve can relate, but it doesn't really help with his current situation.

"Don’t worry, Billy and I are just going to, ehh, hang out for a bit? I actually think it would be better if- if you guys left?"

"Steve. We are not just going to leave you, when we don't know what is going on."

It's a nice sentiment, but reality? The moment Nancy speaks up Billy looks ready to rip someone apart. If Mike was a two on the murderable scale, Nance is a clear ten. Steve would like it if they could get it back down to zero, so he really needs to get rid of them.

Nancy won’t leave until she gets something, so Steve frantically looks around for anything to use. Eyes falling on Billy’s injury make an idea pop up in his head, so he speaks before he can think it through.

"It's probably related to the bite from yesterday, right? You also noticed the demodogs being weird, so-" Apparently Steve is a 100 on the murdering scale, at least when he is talking to others, so he tries to round it up. "So you should look into this. Outside. Away from here. I will try to find out what I can do from inside."

Steve prays for Nancy to listen. As long as they are here he can’t concentrate on defusing the situation. He knows it's because they care, but for once they need to trust him to handle this. 

"I will take care of Billy. So I really need you to find the others and solve this. Okay?"

For a moment they are all at a standstill. Steve understands they don't want to leave, but Billy is bleeding and crazy and in need of a bath and fresh clothes and maybe some food if Steve could get him to-

"Okay, fine! You got this. We will keep you updated when we know more," Nancy finally says, and Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. more quietly, he can hear her say "come on, let's go," to the kids and they all start walking away. 

At least until someone runs back to the door. 

"You better not be a dick, Billy! You understand?!" Max shouts before she runs back to the others. 

It doesn't look like he understands, but he doesn't seem to react as badly to Max, so Steve lets it slide. Now that they are finally alone, Steve can finally get out of crouching.

Both awkwardly staring at each other, Steve realizes he doesn’t know what to do. Billy seems calmer, so maybe he can just-

"Hey big guy, what about getting you into a shower, so I can look at that chunk you are missing?" he tries. 

No reaction. He even held up the first aid kit hoping the visual cue made it more clear. Instead it is clear that basic speech is beyond Billy’s capabilities at the moment. Nor does he seem to recognize the kit for what it is. 

Even Billy seems unhappy about their situation, which is unfair, since it's his fault they are even standing here. The least he could do is take responsibility and let Steve help him. But when he takes a step forward, for a lack of anything else to do, Billy steps back.

Steve frowns, not understanding why Billy is moving away. A second ago he dragged Steve inside, and now he is suddenly getting all defensive? Does he consider Steve a threat or not?

He takes one more step closer to Billy, who steps back so the distance between them remains the same.

Hmm, this is giving him an idea. Steve knows the layout of the house well enough. And while Billy isn't about to let him leave, he is apparently still allowed to move around.

As long as he doesn't get too close, of course.

Steve feels like a man on a mission. He walks further into the house, carefully herding Billy in the direction he wants. He has to keep a slow pace, as any time he steps too far or too quickly, Billy will let out a harsh warning snarl, ready to lash out. 

When they finally reach their destination, Steve is hesitant to open the door. Under Billy’s watchful gaze he reaches for the handle, but apparently there is only an issue when he tries to go through the front door, so there is no issue as he enters the bathroom.

Turning on the light, Steve takes a moment to plan out the best course of action. Behind him, Billy takes up the doorway, looking curiously around. Billy’s bathroom is small, the toilet and sink barely leaving enough space for the two adults. Pressed against the wall is a narrow bathtub with a shower head attached. 

It would be best if he could get Billy seated on the toilet, though he doesn’t yet know how to get the man to do that. The sink is too small to place the first aid kit on, so he tries to balance on one the edge of the tub. No matter the position, though, it keeps threatening to fall over, so Steve places it inside instead. It will be awkward reaching for the supplies inside, but still better than the floor. 

Standing back up, he will now have to find a way to get Billy inside. Maybe if he can-

Steve lets out a scream as he turns around and Billy stands right behind him. He hadn't at all heard the alpha stepping this close into his space and instinctively he steps back. 

This is a mistake, as he trips against the tub, falling backwards and crashing his head against the wall. 

This time he can’t keep in the whimper as he reaches up to cradle his head. It doesn’t feel like any brain matter is escaping, but it still hurts like a bitch. 

Opening his eyes he shrieks as Billy stands right above him. Leaning forward, he braces himself against the wall, effectively caging Steve in.

The position Steve finds himself in is super awkward. Sitting sideways in the already cramped tub, with his legs sticking out the edge, doesn’t give him much leeway to move. Billy standing between his legs also makes him feel warm, a blush reaching his ears. Fuck, was this position suggestive? He has no idea what is going through Billy’s head at this moment. 

He tries to push himself up, but Billy doesn't move from his spot. Not much different from facing a brick wall, he goes back down trying to consider his options.

Looking at the loose plaster on Billy’s waist, Steve finds it is within reaching distance if he leans forward a bit. Briefly glancing upwards, Billy looks calm enough, so Steve grabs some supplies from the first aid kit and slowly reaches forward…

First a warning snarl. Steve hesitates, but keeps moving. He almost touches the tip of the plaster, when Billy smacks his hands against the wall above him. 

Surprised Steve falls and looks up again. Billy is glaring at him, baring his teeth. Starting to feel annoyed Steve reaches out again.

“I am just trying to help, you dick!”

This time Billy honest to god barks at him. It comes all the way from his throat, all rough and harsh. He smacks his lips like he is ready to bite out if Steve tries again. 

What neither of them expect is that Steve has had enough, so without any thought Steve barks right back. 

Billy almost rears back looking at Steve in surprise. Steve is not done though, so he growls back, making his frustration clear. 

For the first time since Steve got here, it seems he gets through to Billy. The other doesn’t move from his spot, but he leans more invards, making himself smaller. Instead of looking directly at Steve, Billy leans his head to the side, a bit like a child that has been scolded.

Steve suddenly realizes what is happening. Billy doesn’t understand basic language at the moment, but he understands instincts. Specifically he understands his body’s reaction to a displeased omega. Steve can monologue for as long as he wants and get nowhere, but a couple of whines and snarls is enough to get his point across.

With growing horror Steve realizes that Mike actually had a point. Billy is all out of his mind, letting his alpha nature take full control. This is why Steve, the only omega in the group, has been ‘allowed’ inside. Likely also why Steve is still intact after how furious Billy was earlier. 

Realizing what he has to do, Steve feels his face heat up. 

God, this is so embarrassing! He groans, knocking his head against the wall, immediately regretting it as he hits his bump from his earlier fall. Now Billy suddenly seems concerned, and Steve is so happy there are no witnesses for this.

He is never going to let Mike know about this. The kid is bad enough without confirming his bad stereotypes. 

Even if in this one case he is right.

Swallowing his embarrassment, Steve lets out a small whimper. 

Billy is immediately fully focused on him, so he drags it out to a soft whine, making it deeper as it comes from his throat. 

Billy starts flexing his shoulders and shifts in place. Seeing the correct reaction, Steve puts more emotion into his cry. 

Concern and worry. Unhappiness at how Billy is hurt. Trying to express his need to help the alpha above him. 

Billy loosens up considerably, so Steve starts to move. Reaching forward for the third time, he finally reaches his goal as Billy lets him touch with only a slight flinch. Steve murmurs, as he fusses around the wound for a bit. Not doing much yet, just showing his intentions so he doesn’t surprise Billy with anything. 

When he is sure Billy doesn’t think he means any harm, he pulls the plaster off more. Not completely, just enough to see the injury beneath. 

It is in better shape than he feared. First aid is not Steve’s strong suit, but the wound is only torn up a bit. The bleeding has mostly stopped by now and just needs to be cleaned off. The plaster can properly even be re-applied as it still seems in good enough condition. 

Having an overview of the situation, Steve can now get to work. 

Continuously letting out sounds, he shifts his tone in warning when he wipes blood particularly close to the wound and soothes when Billy grunts in pain. While he focuses on his task, he instinctually reacts to Billy’s body language, coo’ing and grunting at the right times. Billy takes it all in, though much more quietly. It is mostly how his muscles tenses and relaxes and his loud, heavy breaths that tells Steve how he is doing. 

Attaching the plaster back into place, Steve leans back, a satisfied mewl stating a job well done. It isn’t as pretty as yesterday, but the blood has been cleaned away and he doesn't think Billy is dying. Not that he thought Billy was dying before, but now he at least feels more reassured.

Billy does seem to be doing better, leaning more heavily over Steve, eyes half lidded. Everything feels much more relaxed, and if Steve wasn’t getting a cramp in his leg from his awkward position, he wouldn’t mind letting them stay like this.

As it is, the cramp is actually getting really bad, so he once again tries to push himself up. 

Billy wakes up, looking unhappy as Steve tries to move away. 

Steve now understands better how to handle Billy, so he keeps going. Pushing back, a bit harder to show his point. He growls, until Billy finally moves back. 

Back up, Steve can finally stretch out, his back breathing out in relief at not being curled up anymore. Nancy can get her first aid kit later, for now Steve feels drained and needs to rest for a bit. 

Like before, when Steve steps forward Billy steps back, and everything is going well until they are back out in the hallway. Then suddenly Billy refuses to move out of the way no matter how close Steve gets. 

Steve prepares himself to get a bit harsh and push Billy out of the way, but Billy gets ahead of him. 

Suddenly Steve is quite harshly pushed back, as Billy grumble at him. Before Steve can find his footing, Billy is back in his space and pushing again. The third time he reaches out to push, Steve voluntarily steps back. 

Now it is Steve's turn to be herded deeper into the house, as he has to keep walking backwards to avoid Billy’s pushes and nudges. Every time he tries to step out of the way, Billy will step over, not letting him move anywhere the other doesn’t want. 

This continues until finally Steve leans against a door, unable to go any further. Billy doesn’t push him anymore, but takes up the space around Steve, so he can’t move anywhere.

Breaths mingling, Steve briefly gets lost in Billy’s eyes. 

They have always been beautiful, but the animalistic edge to them makes the breath in Steve’s lungs catch, his hands feeling clammy. It feels as if he is prey, having been caged in by the predator, as he is played with before the meal. His neck begins to itch, and as Billy glances at it, he has to cover it up with his hands. 

Billy leans closer, but Steve notices him reaching for the handle. It means that he doesn’t fall, when Billy suddenly opens the door, but instead stumbles into the room behind him, turning around.

Steve gasps at what he sees. 

He knew they had reached Billy’s room, but the place is a mess. Pillows, blankets, duvets, everything soft, really, has been gathered together. They form a disorganized pile on the bed, while the rest of the furniture has been pushed to the side.

Gaping at the nest Billy has made, Steve is at a loss for words. He has never seen anything like it, as he has never been with an alpha before and therefore couldn’t experience their nesting periods. 

He has no idea what to do with this revelation, but Billy isn’t in doubt. For the last time he gives Steve a harsh shove, putting enough force behind it so Steve falls right into the middle of the pile. 

Spluttering, Steve digs himself out of covers and sheets, unable to find his footing between all the pillows. He manages to turn around, but Billy has already stepped forward, falling into the soft mass right beside Steve. 

For the third time today Steve blushes, unable to stand the implications of laying with an alpha in his nesting pile. He tries to push himself up, but is once again stopped by Billy, who snarls and wraps an arm around him.

Steve grunts in question, but looks over at where Billy is laying. He suddenly notices how tired the other looks. He remembers Max mentioned Billy hadn’t been sleeping well, and with a stressful morning, he clearly needs some rest. Unable to take his eyes off Billy's face, he lays flat, feeling his own body becoming heavy. 

Billy snorts in annoyance, and prods at the omega until he curls on his side, both of them facing each other. Satisfied, Billy closes his eyes, which is soon followed by a soft snore. 

Steve finds himself letting out a yawn. The nest does feel very cozy, and everything in Steve screams at him to relax and cuddle up to the alpha that has welcomed him into his intimate abode. 

Billy is finally fully relaxed and Steve is sleepy. The others are surely doing fine, and none of them are here to judge him anyway if he takes a quick nap. 

With this in mind, Steve also closes his eyes, snuggling further into the pile. Billy’s arm around him provides plenty of heat, and it isn’t long before the both of them are gone, deep in slumber.

[caniscreamintoanabyss]

“They spoke?!”

Kanao Tsuyuri + Mousse (s/i)

Warnings: none.

Things to note: Mousse/Moore Grass is my s/i. Moore uses he/moth Kanao uses they/it pronouns.

A/n: HEY I’M BACK INTO WRITING. THIS WAS SOMETHING TO GET INTO THE SWING OF THINGS AHAHAHAHA!!!

“You WHAT?!”

Sanemi’s voice booms through the entire room. He leans forward in his seat, eyes blown wide.

“I know, I know, it wasn’t smart!” I reply, leaning back in the hospital bad. I shut my eyes close. “It’s just that there wasn’t anything else! My forms wouldn’t work!”

My mentor leans back, roughly sighing. “You could’ve let the tree fall on only the demon, Moore.” He crosses his arms.

“There wasn’t any time!” I look away from Sanemi. “The tree was falling too fast, and I had to hold the demon down somehow.”

He sighs again, “You could’ve used a rope, or lured the demon.”

“Well-” I grip the blanket. “I didn’t bring a rope along, and I didn’t know the tree came along!” I cross my arms. “You could at least praise me for killing the demon…”

“That’ll come later. We’re focusing on your weaknesses.” He pokes my forehead, causing it to scrunch up.

“Okay, okayy…” I look back at Sanemi with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He demands.

“Like what?” I cheekily grin.

My mentor sharply inhales, straightening his back. He sighs, “Okay, look.” The Hashira stands up. He puts the stool closer to my bed. “I got some duties and shit to attend to soon, so I have to go.” He looks at me. “Don’t do anything dumb.” He glances at my broken arm. “Bye.” He turns and leaves, quietly closing the door.

I sit there in silence, staring at the door. “Hm…” I lie on the bed. The ceiling’s brown. Always the same color whenever I visit. “Have they ever repainted this?” I mutter, then deadpan. “Of course they have, Moore Grass. If they didn’t, the walls would look really ugly.” I scoff, then go silent. “…hm.” I sit up. “Well, I’m bored. What should I do…” I start to swing my feet. “I could ask Kocho-San about herbs, but they’re busy… play with the three girls? But I haven’t seen them today… oh!” I straighten my back. “I could help Aoi-san cook-… I don’t know how to cook with one hand…” I deflate. “Ugh! There’s nothing to do! Wait… doesn’t Kocho-san’s Tsugoku exist? Who were they… uh…” I close my eyes, trying to remember. Nothing comes to mind. “Ugh! Why am I so bad with names?! Anyways,” I shake my head. “That doesn’t matter, I’ll just ask! Usually I see her by the… what was it…? Oh! Courtyard! Yes!” I stand up. “Let’s go!!”

-

 “Wow...” I breathe out. “I didn’t know the backyard was so... pretty...” Grass crumples underneath me as I step further into the backyard. To the left, there are small flower beds holding all kinds of flowers. I should ask Kocho-san about them later... Some trees are along the flower beds. Nothing important, just... casual oak trees. To the far distance, there’s a small shack. What’s it store? Ah, whatever. None of that’s important.

 Right now, the most important thing- ah, person, is right in front of me.

 Kanao Tsuyuri.

 They look so... peaceful- no,  elegant just standing there. (Most of) Their back facing me, a small smile decorating their lips, and a hand held out for a butterfly to perch on. They’re just normal things to do, but there’s something... different about the way Tsuyuri’s doing it. How is it different, though? Is it the way the Tsugoku holds themself? Hm... ah, whatever. I can figure that out later.

“Hello!” I call out, raising a hand.

 I get no response from the other person. The butterfly on their hand leaves.

 Hm... alright. Maybe... they don’t know I’m talking to them? Yeah, that must be it! I move so that I’m in front of the Tsugoku. “Hello!” I call again. “I’m Moore Grass. Or Musee. Any works. What’s your name?” I already know it, but still. It’s a good conversation starter.

 Tsuyuri looks into my eyes, but doesn’t say anything. That same smile is still on their face.

 I purse my lips. Wait, didn’t Kocho-san say Tsuyuri’s pronouns are they/it? Alright. “Nice weather, isn’t it?” I ask, moving so that I’m next to Tsuyuri. “There’s no wind, no rain, and the sun isn’t burning us alive!”

 No response. Again.

 I take in a deep breath. Okay, Moore. This is fine. A little bit (very) awkward, but this is fine. Everything is fine. “Personally, I prefer the rain because I like running around in it, but I tend to get sick easily...” I chuckle. “Shinazugawa-san gets mad at me every time for that... What weather do you prefer?”

 Tsuyuri gives me a closed-eye smile, but there’s no response. Again.

 I internally scream. It’s so awkward here just say something!! Does it hate me or something?! “I can, uh...” I look at the grass. “You like sunny days, right? Whenever it rains, I never see you here.” I look back at Tsuyuri’s face. Their eyes are open. “Makes sense, since there are no butterflies to hang out with. What butterflies are they, anyway?” I slightly tilt my head. “Never seen them before. Then again, I’ve... never seen many butterflies in my life.” I chuckle again.

 Reaching into its cloak, Kanao pulls a small, copper coin. They flip it, letting the thing land onto their hand. Then, they place their other hand onto the coin, flipping over both their hands. Kanao opens up the hand with the coin.

 Heads.

“Menelaus blue morpho.“ It answers. Their voice... it’s so... pretty!! It’s quiet and soft, yet it carries through the whole area! It could bring an upper moon to their knees!

 I beam. “Your voice is so pretty!” I compliment, stepping towards them. Kanao leans back, eyes wide. “So small, yet it almost brought me to my knees! A powerful weapon for sure, a powerful weapon for sure.” I nod, agreeing with my own words. “Oh, and your eyes!” I lean forward. Tsuyuri takes a step back. Realizing my mistake, I lean back. “Really love the eyelashes, mate! Super pretty! Your eye color is also marvelous!” I put my hands together. “That shade of pink is unlike any other I’ve seen!” I start to bounce in place. “Your cloak, too! The thing keeping the cloak together is so cute!” I point at the pink thing at the top of Tsuyuri’s cloak, making sure that my finger isn’t too close. “Did you choose it yourself? If you did, where’d you buy it? If you made it yourself, could you teach me how to make those things? You see, I don’t have a haori-” I hold my arms out. “-and I really want one, but none of the haoris at the stores have anything I like, so... I decided to make my own! Well, sew my own.” I take a step back. “Anyways, sorry for the sudden dump, I just got excited.”

 Tsuyuri doesn’t respond. Their eyes have widened.

“Ah- um…” I take a step back. I... probably made things awkward... “Well…” I put my hands together and point them towards Tsuyuri. “I should, uh… get going! It was super nice to talk to you, and uh...” I look away from the person. “I hope we talk again!” I run into the estate. “Stupid, stupid!” I mutter, brushing my hands through my hair. “You just had to suddenly say everything! Couldn’t shut up!” I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “Now it probably hates me...” I sink to the floor. “Ugh...”

[skiller0dani]

Always | Draco Malfoy

M A S T E R L I S T Harry Potter Masterlist

smut requested requests info

wow I got such an amazing response to Part 1, thank you! So here is the highly requested Part 2! Enjoy :) also I miiight have listened to the Lion King soundtrack (this song specifically) while writing this?? I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s what was making me feel creative don’t judge me. Part 3 maybe? ;)

Part 2/10 (Part 1)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)

also there aren’t enough words in the English language to describe the amount of love I have for Draco Malfoy. I’ve been reading these books and watching the movies since I was like 3 or 4 years old (I’m not even kidding). I always connected so deeply with Draco, I truly adore him. And while Tom Felton did an excellent job as Draco, it really is the character I’m in love with. 

Read Part 3 here!

Missed Part 1? Catch up here!

Nothing felt right, and you didn’t know why. Everything just felt, off. The looks you were getting from Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t help either. You tried to keep your focus on the parchment in front of you, but the look Hermione was giving you was starting to irritate you. 

“What?” You asked impatiently, looking up at her and thoroughly startling her. She quickly shook her head before you packed away all your things and pushed out of the common room. They all looked at you with pity or concern, and the fact that they’re worried isn’t what annoys you. It’s that you don’t know why they’re worried. You felt emotion swelling in your chest and you don’t know why. Dammit! What’s the matter with you? You furiously wipe away tears, desperately wishing you knew what was going on lately. You followed the direction your feet took you and found yourself nearing the top of the astronomy tower. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize anyone was here.” You mumbled uncomfortably when you noticed somebody leaning against the railing. He doesn’t answer, but by the glimpse of white blonde hair atop his head you know who it is. Draco Malfoy. 

You feel the urge to speak to him but you don’t know what to say. “It’s fine, I was just leaving.” He says gruffly, his face void of emotion as he turns to head to the stairs. You watch him go down the stairs and your feet are moving before you can stop them, “you don’t have to go. I don’t mind if you stay.” You say softly, a blush searing over your cheeks. Draco’s eyes flutter across your face before laughing bitterly. “I’d rather not, you’re nothing more than a filthy mudblood.” He spat, with something you couldn’t understand gleaming in his eyes. You flinched, recoiling from him before turning back up the stairs- wiping tears from your eyes. You don’t know how you let yourself forget how cruel he is, how unloving. You won’t make that mistake again. 

Draco turns down the stairs, his throat closing as he blinks hot tears from his eyes. You have no idea how badly he wants to hold you, to press his lips to yours and tell you how much he loves you. But he’s a Death Eater and you’re related to Harry Potter. Being with you, even in the same room as you, is too dangerous. Draco just feels numb, and he doesn’t want to feel anything anymore. 

Harry knows sooner or later he’s going to have to ask Malfoy what on Earth happened to you. One second you’re crying into Harry’s shoulder about how you feel like you’re losing Draco and then that evening you’re your usual bubbly self, laughing and doing your work and saying ‘Draco who?’ If Draco altered your memories like Harry feared he did, he wants to know why. The only reason Harry isn’t angry is because he knows how much you mean to Draco, so if Draco changed your memories then he must have thought doing so would keep you safe. 

You lean against the railing, feeling a weird sense of deja vu as you turn to press the railing to your back. Your hand curls around the cool metal railing, looking straight ahead of you at someone you feel should be standing there. It feels like an itch at the back of your head that you can’t scratch, just bugging you constantly. Something is wrong. You want to know what it is. You hear footsteps up the stairs and when you lock eyes with Blaise Zabini, surprised is an understatement. “Blaise?” Your voice comes out at a question, and he offers you a half-cocked smile. In truth he’s always had a thing for you, and now that you and Draco aren’t together anymore he assumes you’re fair game. 

“Nice night,” He comments off offhandedly. You nod with a slight blush, Blaise is cute. He’s certainly not the most attractive person in this school, annoyingly Draco is probably the best looking man in this school. Despite his cruel remarks. Blaise comes to stand next to you, slightly closer than you’re comfortable with. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you something, since you and Draco aren’t together anymore,” He starts and you furrow your eyebrows together. You and Draco? 

“There never was a me and Draco.” You correct, confusion in your tone. The confusion on Blaise’s face is unmistakable but he chooses not to say anything. 

“Right, so I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to got to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.” Blaise asks, letting his eyes drift down your body briefly. In all honesty, you hadn’t ever given Blaise much thought all you knew was that he was part of Draco’s group of bullies. “Uh sure.” You answer uncertainly, it could be fun? You’d never been to Hogsmeade with anything except for that one time with Harry when the two of you sneaked into Hogsmeade through Honeydukes cellar. It would give you a chance to know Blaise better, maybe he wasn’t as bad as he seemed. 

The portrait closed behind Blaise as he’d entered the common room, a look of smug victory strew on his face. “Hey Draco, I asked Y/N to Hogsmeade, hope you don’t mind.” Draco stiffened immediately. His eyebrows furrowed together and a pit formed in the bottom of his stomach, “what?” Draco’s voice was tense as he turned to look at Blaise. His first reaction was to lash out violently, but then Draco took a deep breath. As far as he knew, Blaise wasn’t a Death Eater and neither were his parents. Being with Blaise could keep you safe, so despite how every single cell in Draco’s body wanted to strangle the life out Blaise, he turned back in his chair. “Okay.” Is the only word Draco could manage, much to Blaise’s surprise. He wasn’t expecting Draco to be alright with it. 

His heart feels like it’s being squeezed in his chest, but Draco simply stands from the couch placed in front of the fireplace and heads up to his bed. He can’t bare the thought of Blaise’s hands or lips on you. 

The next afternoon you’re stood in the courtyard outside the main entrance waiting for Blaise. You regret agreeing to go, Blaise makes you feel a little uneasy. When you look up again, your eyes lock with Draco’s and you feel your entire body heat up. You can’t seem to look away as he strides past you with Pansy walking with him. You ignore the nausea in your stomach when you see her laugh and grab Draco’s arm, why did that bother you so much? Seeing them together never bothered you before a few weeks ago. You tried to clear your head when Blaise approaches you with a wide smile on his face before taking your hand to lead you down to the train station. 

Hogsmeade was beautiful during the winter, with all the snow falling upon the roofs and the cobblestone streets. You let your eyes drift over to Draco, who has his eyes pointed up at the sky and a small smile spread across his face. He looks deep in thought, almost as though he’s remembering something nobody else does. There is a tint of pink across his pale cheeks, and his nose is rosy from the cold. You snap your attention back to Blaise when you feel him tap on your shoulder, “look if you have a thing for Draco still...” He trails off and you vigorously shake your head. Still?

You might be able to make the mind forget things, but the heart will always remember. 

“S-Sorry.” You stammer nervously and a sigh escapes Blaise’s lips before he smiles again. He takes your hand and leads you away from Draco and Pansy, towards the Shrieking Shack. You take the snowy path down to the Shrieking Shack, the silence between you and Blaise awkward and uncomfortable. You stop at the fence, the Shrieking Shack actually looks quite beautiful against the snowy backdrop behind it. “Cold?” Blaise asks, lifting his arms to wrap them around you. You smile awkwardly, while you are cold you’d rather not have Blaise’s arms around you. You don’t know why you feel so repulsed by Blaise, he’s been nice and he’s good looking. It just feels so insanely wrong. 

Blaise wraps his arms around you before reaching over to turn your head towards him. You close your eyes and brace when you see him leaning in, and soon you feel his lips press against yours. Well this isn’t so bad. It doesn’t send tingles through your body or give you butterflies. It’s nice, not amazing and not bad. You wouldn’t willingly do it again though, but you doubt you’ll fight him if he chooses to kiss you again. As soon as the two of you part, you pull away from him with a nervous smile. Why do you feel so nauseous? It’s almost as though you feel guilty. 

Draco’s heart had fallen far beneath him and into the fiery pits of hell, he was sure of it. He watched Blaise press his lips to yours, and while you didn’t melt into Blaise the way you did with Draco, you still didn’t reject him. Draco leaned against one of the trees, feeling the onslaught of tears surging up his chest with little he could do to stop it. He slid down the tree to sit on the wet and snowy ground, bringing his knees to his chest he lowered his head and did his best to blink the tears away, but they just kept falling. Draco heard Pansy calling his name in the distance, he’d managed to shake her somewhere on the path. He couldn’t bring himself to move, he didn’t want to move. This was by far the most painful thing he’s ever had to do- watching you with Blaise didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the way you looked at Draco. 

You were the only person to truly see him, now nobody did. He’s never felt so alone.

You’d begun to see Blaise more often, and you actually kind of liked him. He was sweet, and per your request he stopped bringing up Draco. Although you’re confused as to why he brought Draco up in the first place. You’d spent a lot of time with him in the Library, helping him study for Arithmancy. Blaise had said his Father told him to take more advanced classes, and when it came to Arithmancy, he was clueless. You however were very good at Arithmancy, so you’ve been helping him study. You and Blaise will take evening walks along the Rickety Bridge, talking about how creepy he found Professor Binns to be. Blaise was nice, but despite the hand holding, the kissing, the fooling around he still felt like a friend at best. 

You have not slept with him yet, for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to go all the way with Blaise. You’d be kissing, taking off clothes, and then it’s like an alarm goes off in your head and you have to stop. You’ll feel tears building at the backs of your eyes, and every cell in your body would be screaming at you because of how wrong it is. You just wished you knew why it felt so wrong. 

You knew that’s how tonight was going to end. You sat by the edge of the Black Lake with Blaise, watching as the Lake monster dug around for gifts to give you. Blaise found your friendship with the Lake monster unsettling, and weird. You always rolled your eyes when he told you not to accept the things the monster gave you, but you found the Lake monster to be deeply misunderstood. Dennis Creevey had fallen into the Black Lake during his first year here, and the Lake monster carefully lifted him out of the water and placed him back inside the boat. Still Blaise refused to see it as anything other than a monster, which sort of bugged you. Oddly enough, the Lake monster didn’t seem to like Blaise either. Blaise leaned back against the truck of a large tree, with you leaning back against his chest in between his legs. 

Harry did not approve of your relationship with Blaise at all, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. You tend not to judge Slytherin’s as quickly as the others and sometimes you wondered if you really belonged in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor. There were moments, like now, where you did not feel brave at all. Instead your kindness took over and you would often push down feelings of discomfort in order to please other people. You were feeling rather uncomfortable with the way that Blaise’s hand was slowly sliding lower down your abdomen, towards the hem of your skirt. You bit your bottom lip to avoid saying something, maybe if you just forced yourself to do it then you wouldn’t feel this way anymore. It would be your first time having sex, maybe that’s why you’re so nervous about it. 

So when Blaise dips his hand into your skirt, you don’t fight him. It’s easily the worst decision you’ve ever made. 

It was awful, it didn’t hurt but the entire time you were clinging to him and keeping your face pressed to his neck so he wouldn’t see the tears. You felt a horrible heavy feeling all over your entire body, your stomach was twisting. You felt as though you should drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but you didn’t know why. You felt such overwhelming guilt it felt like it was suffocating you, you have to break up with Blaise. Something is very wrong with you, and you can’t lead him on while constantly trying to avoid any physical contact with him. You didn’t even cum, you didn’t want to. 

When Blaise rolled off you, he smiled at you and you forced a smile back. “Thought you said you were a virgin?” He questioned and you nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this. 

“I am.” 

“Didn’t feel like it.” He shrugged and you only blinked at him before reaching for your clothes. You felt far too exposed. You didn’t want Blaise to see your naked body any longer than he had to. You refused to meet his eye, and when Blaise placed a hand on your shoulder you slowly turned to face him, exposing your tear stained cheeks. “Woah, baby what’s wrong?” He asked, his arms reaching to pull you close to him, but you shrugged him off. 

“Blaise I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t be with you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, you haven’t done anything I just want to be alone.” You gasped through tears, wanting more than anything to be left alone with your Lake friend. Blaise’s eyebrows pinched together in anger, scowling down at you. He quickly turned and began to pull his clothes on, “I can’t believe you Y/N. You’re just a stupid whore mudblood.” He seethed, and you flinched. You felt tears running down your cheeks as he stood. Blaise turned to look at you once more, but his eyes flickered behind you. You turned to follow his gaze and saw the Lake monster reaching out to you, with something curled in it’s tentacle. 

It was a small glass vial. It was whispering to you. 

“Do you hear that?” You ask Blaise, as if you hadn’t been fighting with him 30 seconds prior. He doesn’t respond but with a quick glance you see he’s still there, his eyes transfixed on the bottle. You reached your palm out, letting the Lake monster drop the vial in your open hand, listening as it sounded as though someone was whispering your name from inside the vial. Who was that? It sounded like Draco. “I don’t hear anything, just toss it back. It’s a weird bottle.” Blaise huffed, crossing his arms. You shook your head, bringing the bottle up to your ear. There was unmistakably whispering. 

“No, I can hear it. It’s calling out to me.” You say softly, your fingers reaching to un-stopper the vial. Shakily you reached up to take the stopper out, and the wispy blue liquid from inside flowed out into the open air before turning directly into your temple. It hit you like a train. A kaleidoscope of memories slammed into you at once. The steps, Hogsmeade, the Hospital bed, the Lake, Draco all of it came rushing back. The night he had taken your memories, the Dark Mark. It was like a dam broke open in your head, and the memories flowed back in like water. You gasped, stumbling back. Blaise immediately reached out to catch you, “D-Draco!” You stammered wildly, looking up at Blaise. All the moments over the last few weeks between you and Draco felt different now, and all the pieces fell into place. This is why being with Blaise felt so wrong, why everything felt wrong. You’re in love with Draco! 

Oh God you had sex with Blaise. 

“What did that stuff do to you? I think you need to see Madam Pomphrey.” Blaise began but you quickly shook your head, your palms trembling. You pulled away from Blaise, stumbling as you turned towards the castle. “No I need to see Draco.” You gasped, breaking out into a sprint as you headed for the castle. You heard Blaise calling your name but you ignored him, your feet pounding against the ground and the wind rushing in your ears. You felt tears flowing down your cheeks, you felt so many different emotions it felt like you were drowning in them. Draco has been alone this whole time, and you were forced to suffer you just didn’t know why you were suffering! You ran through the front doors of the castle into the main hall before turning right and sprinting down towards the dungeons, that’s where the Slytherin common room is. 

You slid to a stop in front of the portrait key, you don’t know the password. It’s late, Draco has to be inside the common room or in his dorms. You pace around outside, waiting for any Slytherin to come out or go in. You released a frustrated sob as you tugged at your hair, and after about 30 minutes of nobody coming, not even Blaise, you turned towards the portrait door. You began to knock on the portrait door, “Draco!” You called his name as loudly as you could, you doubt he could hear you but you didn’t know what else to do. You sat there, pounding against the very irritated painting, that refused to open for you when finally Blaise came around the corner. He rolled his eyes when he saw you. 

“Blaise, please can you get Draco?” You ask him but he laughs bitterly. He begins to stride to the portrait door but you stand in front of him, “why would I? You’re breaking up with me for him aren’t you?” He snaps, and you feel guilty as you look sheepishly up at him. 

“Either get Draco or I’m following you into the common room.” You threaten, pulling your wand out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to see Draco right now. Blaise rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever, I just want you to leave me alone so fine.” Blaise snaps, whispering the password so that you wouldn’t hear before disappearing into the common room. You can only hope that he didn’t lie to you, and that he really will go get Draco. You pace around the hallway nervously, you’re not sure where you and Draco will go from here but all you know is that you need him right now. 

Draco sat on his bed, he rubs his temples as the door swings open to reveal a very irritated looking Blaise. “Y/N dumped me.” He snapped and Draco merely nods, while turning so that Blaise wouldn’t see his victorious smile. Of course you dumped him, Blaise is not the type of guy you’d go for at all. He’s too cocky, too full of himself. You admire personality, and Blaise is all about looks. How good he looks, how good his girlfriend looks. He’s too superficial for you. “And she’s outside the common room asking for you.” Blaise adds after a few minutes of silence and Draco cocked an eyebrow. Why on Earth would you be asking for him? Noticing the look of confusion on Draco’s face, Blaise turns to him. 

“We were down by the lake, and she found this weird bottle. As soon as she opened it she got all crazy and started saying your name.” Draco’s blood turns to ice in his veins as soon as the words leave Blaise’s mouth. You found your memories of him. Draco is trembling as he launches to his feet and nearly stumbles down the stairs. He’s trembling harder than he ever has as he pushes the portrait open, revealing you standing there. Wide eyed and teary as you lock eyes with him. You don’t even say anything, you launch yourself into his arms, crying softly against his shoulder. “Why- why?” You cry, you can barely speak and you’re grabbing him so tightly he’s worried you’ll break his ribs. The amount of relief that Draco feels having you here in his arms is surmountable to anything he’s felt before this, but the dread quickly follows behind. 

Draco pulls away from you, but you refuse to let him go. You keep your hands clung tightly to his arms, “Draco why?” You cry, looking up at him with watery eyes. Draco keeps you at arms length from him, how is he going to explain stealing your memories from you? He never thought you’d get them back, he thought they’d sink to the bottom of the Lake... the Lake monster. “I was trying to keep you safe-” Draco began shakily but you quickly shake your head. 

“Not that, your arm.” You gasp, looking down at the forearm that had the Dark Mark inked onto it. He fell silent, merely looking down at you, trembling and holding his hands as though he’d disappear if you let go. Suddenly you pressed yourself against him again, your lips finding his with desperate need. “Don’t care, right now I just need you Dray,” You gasped in between kisses. Your lips moved languidly with his and Draco’s arms wound around your waist, feeling as if he was home for the first time in weeks. Nodding quickly, Draco lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you off towards an abandoned classroom by the dungeons. Nobody comes down here, if only he’d discovered this earlier. You wouldn’t have had to have your first time by a Lake. 

Draco pushes into the classroom, the door swinging shut behind him as his lips move with yours. Your fingernails bite into his shoulders as you grasp him tightly, gasping when Draco drops you onto a table. He stands in between your legs, his hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. You whined against his lips, wriggling your hips closer to his. “Dray,” You begged, your hand sliding down his front to cup him through his pants. He groaned softly, his shaking hands quickly finding the bottom of your shirt and swiftly removing it. His pupils dilated upon seeing your bare breasts, his hands reaching up to cup the underside of each one. You throw your head back, your back arching into him as his lips wrap around one of your nipples. 

Your hand winds into his hair, pulling him more firmly against you. “Fuck baby,” You moaned, grinding your hips into his. Draco works your nipple to a peak before doing the same to the other, and his mouth feels heavenly against you. “I missed you so much,” Draco whispered, pressing kisses in between your breasts. You sighed softly as he kissed down your body, removing each layer of clothing between his mouth and your wonderful heat as he went. Your back ached and you collapsed back against the table when Draco’s lips found your clit and wrapped around it, sucking and biting softly. Your hand curls around his shoulder as he slides two fingers into you, pumping slowly. You feel that coil of pleasure building in your pelvis, winding tighter and tighter. You begin to pant as Draco brings you up to that edge and with one flick of his tongue you’re cumming hard against him. 

“Dray, I need you inside me. Now.” You gasp as you calm down, grabbing him to pull him back up to your lips. Draco nods frantically as his lips find yours, and his hands fumble with the button of his pants. Eventually the fabric is pushed down past his hips and Draco is lining himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in. His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re not as tight as he was expecting, but when you press your lips to his neck he gets lost in your body and begins to thrust into you at a steady pace. Your forehead presses against his, your hands holding his body close to yours as your lips find his once more. You kiss him sloppily, slowly, pouring all the emotion you felt bottled up these last few weeks. 

When you cum around him it feels like magic, it feels more perfect then anything else ever has. It feels right. 

Draco carries you back to your common room, ignoring snickers from people passing by. He kisses you sweetly, “I love you.” You whisper to him, Draco smiles. “I love you too.” He says, kissing you again and again before finally turning back to his common room. There are tears in his eyes, he had a plan b from the very start. This is going to be harder on you then it will be for him, and honestly he’s scared of the person he’s going to become because of this. It was you that made him a better person, if he never met you he shudders to think the kind of person he’d be today. Guess everyone is going to find out. 

Draco kneels in front of his bed, his wand in his hand, and a letter tied to his owls leg. The letter is addressed to you. Draco closes his eyes as he lifts the wand to his temple, and he concentrates on the memories he wants to remove. You underestimate just how far Draco would go to keep you safe, you really do need to stay away from him. Feeling a tear cascade down his cheek Draco takes one last shaky breath, letting himself remember you in a way he knows he never will again. 

With another breath, and a tremble in his palm Draco opens his eyes. 

“Obliviate.” 

*** @justmesadgirl​

[slashersister]

CABIN TIME

— 𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Jason Voorhees x GN!Reader — 𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿��: Some alone 'Cabin Time' can do wonders for you and your pursuer. — 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Horror, Fluff (?), Suspense — 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Blood, Bone Breaking — 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Wow, it's been a long time since I made this blog and so many bad things happened in my life around and after that time. I just had no time to update this. Even now I'm writing this while hospitalized. Either way, this is my first work published on here. Not really proofread as usual. English isn’t my first language. I hope you like it!

'Almost there, Y/N, you're almost there..' Is the only thing occupying your mind as you push your legs to carry you.  'Faster. Run faster!' Your brain screams at you. And you do, you run as fast as you can… but not fast enough. Right before your calloused hand reaches the doorknob, you feel a hand grabbing your ankle. A snapping sound; and pain.  You scream out in agony, tripping and falling down onto the floor in record time. Your tears have stained your cheeks by now, leaving wet trails through the dirt and blood that had accumulated on your face.

A muffled laugh reverberates through the wooden walls of the small shack and you shiver in pure horror. He had found you. The very man… very thing you were trying to escape from has found you.  Your ankle is broken and there's no way out. You look back in terror, your eyes barely focusing. But even in the darkness you can see the hockey mask, and the machete still covered with the blood of your friends, glistening in the moonlight. You can feel his cold hand, still holding your ankle in a vice-like grip. "P-please don't… just stay away from me please!" You stammer out and brace for what's about to come next.  The man, however, doesn't do anything else to you. He tilts his head like a confused puppy, looking you over from head to toe. His calloused hand lets go of your ankle and your limp leg thuds to the floor, eliciting a yelp from you.  His broad figure stills, his large hands hovering above your ankle, afraid to touch it, to further injure it. And for a split second you think he may be feeling… remorse?

You curl into yourself, cornered against a wall, with no way to escape and completely at his mercy.  And his mercy comes in the form of sitting in front of you, cross-legged like a child would, and pulling out a crumpled flower from his pant pocket. He offers the flower to you, fully gripping the stem in his fist, akin to a boy giving a flower to his mother. The man looks at you and shakes the hand holding the flower, signaling you to hurry up and take it.  'He is… giving me a flower?' You think to yourself as you carefully reach out, making sure your hand doesn't touch his when taking the flower from him. Your eyes rake over the flower and you examine it. It's a blue flag iris, which you have seen growing around here before. Though it's somewhat freshly picked, it's obvious it got flattened in the back pocket of his pants. Still, it's the thought that counts, right? "Is- is this some kind of joke?" You wonder out loud and the giant before you exaggeratedly shakes his head left and right.

You sat like that for hours, in complete silence, the man next to you only breathing loudly. You almost fell asleep a few times, the sounds of his breathing sounding oddly comforting. He fiddles with his fingers and then props himself up to stand. Now towering over your sitting form on the ground, he stares down at you and reaches for you.  "No... No, don't hurt me, please let me go..." You back up against the wall once more, shielding your body with your arms. The man's eyes bore into yours as he stops his movements. He shakes his head once more and presses a finger to his mask where his mouth would be, huffing.  "You want me to... stay quiet?" You ask and he nods his head. He reaches for you again, slower this time, careful. His large hand settles on top of your head, gently ruffling your hair (or rubbing your head if you don't have hair). Once finished, one of his hands settles under your knee and the other one snakes around your back to grip under your arm.

The man scoops you up easily and you cling onto him, still holding the flower in one of your hands. With one arm still holding you to him like a child, he uses his now free hand to pick up the machete and stroll out of the cabin. "Where are you taking me?" You ask him. He says nothing, instead moving his head so his forehead could bump your head lightly as he inhaled your scent. He was going to make sure your ankle was fine first, then he was going to show you to his mother and make you his; FOREVER.

[august-anon]

Tickletober Day 13 - Wake up!

Fun fact: this is the very first fic I wrote when prepping for tickletober and that's why it's so plot-heavy lol. It's also one of my favorite fics I've written for tickletober, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, sorry for the bit of angst lol

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Ship(s): platonic Pines fam

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Dipper, Lee!Mabel, Ler!Stan (also Ford is here briefly)

Word Count: 1691 words

Summary: Stan may have difficulty recalling anything now, but at least he knows the kids will be a constant.

[ao3 link]

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Stan sat at the kitchen table, staring down at Mabel’s scrapbook and flipping through pages. He hadn’t been able to stop since she’d given it to him a few days ago, after they all realized how much it had started helping his memory.

The thing was, Stan couldn’t remember much beyond this past summer, and even that was fractured at best. Ford told him stories, of course. Their mom, their dad, their brother. He’d told Stan about the Stan ‘O War, about how they’d always been there for each other, about shenanigans the two of them had gotten into. Stories from Ford’s perspective could only do so much, though. And Stan wasn’t as clueless as Ford thought he was, he could clearly see that Ford was holding a lot back.

Something had happened between the two of them. Possibly multiple somethings. And not good somethings, seeing as Ford wouldn’t crack.

It was disorienting and uncomfortable, to have so much of his life blank. He forgot names, faces, places. He had lapses, even with memories they thought he’d recovered permanently. Sometimes, on bad nights, Stan forgot who he was entirely again, and where he was, and why this strange man that looked like him was trying to tell him to calm down.

He didn’t know why he gave it all up. Stan’s family said, repeatedly, that what he did saved them, all of them. Even people he didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Stan wished that it brought him peace, knowing that, but it never did. He did know, though, that if it came down to it, he would probably make the same choice again in a heartbeat.

No one was hurting those kids, or his brother, ever again. Not if he could help it.

“Stanley?” Someone called from nearby. Stan got the notion that it wasn’t the first time they’d tried to get his attention.

He glanced up, seeing Ford in the doorway to the kitchen. He chuckled, slipping into a nonchalant persona that felt comfortably familiar, even if he hardly remembered it.

“Sorry, lost in thought, I guess,” he said, knocking a fist against his forehead. “Didja need something?”

Ford’s smile was tight around his eyes, like he knew exactly what Stan had been lost in thought about. “No, not at all.”

An awkward silence spread through the room again and an anxious feeling rose up in Stan’s chest. Was he supposed to be remembering something? Was this another routine he forgot, and now he was messing up the steps?

“Why don’t you go wake the kids?” Ford offered, cutting through the silence. “I can make us all breakfast. It’s starting to get late, anyway.”

Stan snorted. “Eight thirty is hardly late, Poindexter,” he said, but he was already rising from the table even as he said it, closing the scrapbook as he went.

Sure, the kids would probably be a bit grumpy. He would too, being woken up so early during a day off, especially in summer, but it gave Stan a task. Something to do that would (hopefully) be hard to mess up, memory or not. 

So Stan dragged himself up the stairs to the attic and quietly pushed open the door to the kids’ room. He sighed when he saw the two of them curled up together in Dipper’s bed. He wasn’t surprised that they were having nightmares. He couldn’t fall asleep either, most nights, but instead of a face or voice haunting him, he had no name to put to his tormentor. Stan didn’t know if that made it easier or harder.

He heard them shuffling around at night when he couldn’t sleep, whispers carrying down through the old wooden house. Never enough for the words to travel, though, just the tone: angry, scared, tired, resigned. These kids acted far too old for their age.

Stan was rather tempted to just leave them and let them sleep. They clearly weren’t sleeping any better than him or Ford, the dark bruises under their eyes only accentuated by the shadows from the window. Really, Stan doubted anyone had been sleeping well, ever since what the town had dubbed “Weirdmaggedon.”

Maybe the kids would benefit from some time outside their realms of nightmares. He could already see Mabel’s face scrunching up in fear.

But how did he wake them? How did one wake an almost-teenager? Shake them? Poke them until they got annoyed enough to open their eyes? Talk really loud until it drew them out of dreamland? None of that seemed like it would lead to very happy children.

Stan sighed again and quietly entered the room, moving to stand next to the bed. Mabel made a distressed sound in her sleep and Stan couldn’t help but let out a sympathetic hum, tucking some of her tangled hair behind her ear. Mabel scrunched up her shoulder weird and a smile briefly tugged at her lips.

Now there was an idea.

Stan may not have had much memory left, but he knew a ticklish kid when he saw them. It felt a little rude to just tickle them right awake, though. Stan figured that would be pretty startling, while coming out of a nightmare. Instead he gently grabbed each of their shoulders and carefully shook them.

“Kids,” Stan said, voice low but not quite a whisper. “Kids, it’s time to wake up.”

Mabel’s face scrunched up, this time in annoyance and not fear. “Grunkle Stan, no,” she moaned, slurring her words in her half-asleep state and rolling over to bury her face in a pillow.

“Too early,” Dipper grumbled, and pulled the blanket over both of their heads.

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, maybe it is a bit early for grumpy pre-teens. But you know who it’s not too early for?”

Twins gasps sounded from under the blanket, and Stan got the distinct feeling that they’d gone through this song and dance before. Well, at least it was reassuring that his personality didn’t seem to have changed much, despite the gaps in memory.

“Grunkle Stan, wait!” Mabel cried, and it already sounded like she was laughing.

“No, no!” Dipper yelled, but his voice was giddy and excited.

“There’s no Grunkle Stan, here,” Stan growled, ripping the blanket off the two of them. “There’s only… the Tickle Monster!”

Dipper and Mabel shrieked as Stan lunged.

Even if Stan himself didn’t remember, it seemed like his fingers did. One hand clawed into Dipper’s stomach, making him squawk and cackle, while the other quickly buried itself up under Mabel’s arm, making her shriek and squeal. Stan couldn’t help but laugh along with the two of them, their laughter being painfully contagious.

“Hey,” Stan said, a goofy grin spreading across his lips. “Did you know, my ex-wife still misses me--”

Dipper and Mabel both groaned through their laughter.

“But her aim is getting better!”

Stan laughed, and he was certain that if the kids weren’t laughing too hard to talk, they would be making the usual assortment of annoyed comments. 

“Wow, kids, I know I’m funny, but I didn’t know my jokes were that good.”

Mabel’s legs had started kicking, trying to propel her away from the tickling fingers, while Dipper seemed to curl in on himself as he snorted and cackled. It was an interesting dichotomy, with them being twins, and reminded Stan a lot of him and Ford when they were younger--

Well well, looks like goofing off did some good for Stan, after all.

But Stan decided that he had plenty of time to focus on that, later. For now, he needed to finish these kids off and get them down to breakfast. Preferably soon, because the realization that Ford could not cook and would likely burn the Shack down had also just hit him.

Stan leaned down, deciding to do his big finish on Dipper first. He pushed Dipper’s legs back down and pulled up his sleep shirt just enough to see his belly. Then, he took a deep breath and blew the biggest raspberry he could in the center of Dipper’s stomach, making sure to shake his head and rub his stubble in on it, and almost breaking to laugh at the near-scream that left Dipper’s lips. He blew a handful of smaller raspberries in a few random places before pulling back and letting Dipper breathe.

Turning toward Mabel, she had already tilted her head back like she knew what to expect. And now that he thought about it, Stan did seem to be getting a weird sense of deja-vu, so maybe this had been routine, before. Stan darted forward to blow a big raspberry against the side of her neck, hoping he didn’t go deaf from her shrill laughter right next to his ear, and blew a handful of smaller raspberries as he moved to the other side of it. There, he blew one last big raspberry before pulling back.

Stan sat on the edge of the bed as the kids caught their breath. They recovered faster than he expected, and Stan suddenly found himself tackled backwards to the bed, the kids laughing as they piled on top of him. Stan laughed, too.

“Good morning, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel yelled, far too loudly for having been asleep just moments before.

“Good morning!” Dipper echoed at a much lower volume.

“Come on,” he said. “We’d better get down to the kitchen before Ford blows the whole place up. I’m sure you two could convince him to step away from the stove long enough for me to make something.”

Dipper and Mabel both gave him incredibly mischievous looks before rushing out of the room without another word. Stan huffed out a breath, watching them go. Then, he quickly rose to follow them. Either his brother was about to get absolutely wrecked by two 12-year-olds, or those kids were about to have quite the round two (six fingers did wonders for tickling skills, based on what was coming back to Stan) and he didn’t want to miss a moment of either scenario.

After all, he knew more than anyone, now, that the memories he made with his family were beyond precious.

[iwillgoon]

Table 4

Chapter one - Handsome Devil

Paring - Negan x black!reader

Summary - Reader decides to give up on finding love, and claims that it doesn’t exist. But what happens when the reader runs into a handsome man who challenges those customs?

Warnings - Slight flirting, Nervousness, Overcrowded restaurant, AU

Word count : 1217

Note: This is my first ever fanfic, so please go easy on me. I am relatively new to the Negan world of fics, which is what made me write this because there’s isn’t enough Negan x black! reader out there, and I plan on changing that.

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You hated night shifts especially when you have class in the ass crack of dawn. Your co-worker Amber called, begging you to cover for her saying that it was an emergency, so you agreed even though every bone in your body wanted you to say no. So here you were on a Friday night scrambling around the diner going table to table waiting as many as you can.

“I can’t do it.” A voice trembled from behind you. Turning around towards the source of the voice, you frowned, “What do you mean Sherry? You okay?”

Seeing your best friend shaken up wasn’t a normal occurrence for you, it was a drastic change from her normal confident, bubbly self. What the fuck, happened? You thought, grabbing her arm pulling her into a secluded area of the overcrowded restaurant. Securing her arms around her chest around her chest, Sherry let out a deep sign, “Dwight’s at table 4, I thought I was over him, but I can’t face him now. I-I just can’t, I’m not ready for that.”

Slowly turning glancing towards table 4, lo and behold there was Dwight sitting there with two other males seated at the table along with him. The man seated adjacent to Dwight was spotting a very impressive mustache that looked like something from a dirty porno with a balding hairline that he strangely seemed to work. Now the handsome man sitting across from Dwight caught your eye, he really had you in a daze. He is tall and lean with a salt and pepper beard, dressed in a black leather jacket and loose dark gray pants. The middle aged man has jet black hair slicked back perfectly. I never saw him around, is he taken? I hope not.

Frowning towards the table you shake your head, trying not to develop a crush on somebody you’ve never even met, “What a fucking asshole, coming up in here like he doesn’t know you work here. Listen, how about you take a break, sher. I’ll handle the table okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you y/n I owe you. I’m sorry for being so weak. I know it’s only been a month, but I’m still not over it.” She rambled, looking towards the ground in shame, running her fingers through her hair frowning at the group of men at table 4 as their laughter grew louder. Placing your hand on her face gently turning her gaze on you, “You are not weak okay. You are the strongest person I know, and just because you don’t wanna see him doesn’t mean anything. Go take your break, I’ll finish up, and then we can both head home okay?”

“Okay, love you. Thanks.” Shooting you a weak smile she pulled you into a warm hug, Mumbling the three words back, you take a deep breath grabbing your notepad, and pen heading towards table 4. You put on your best smile, walking towards the table, “Welcome to golden shack, If you are ready, you can give your order.”

“ Oh hey, y/n I thought sherry was working tonight.” Dwight questioned, roaming his eyes around the diner trying to spot the girl who drove him there. Yep that’s why he came, trying to win her back. Not on my watch. Firmly shaking your head towards the blonde, you frowned, “Nope. Haven’t seen her all night.”

The other two guys snorted at your reply, Dwight threw you a nod, shoulders slumped frowning at his two friends who found his misfortune funny. The handsome man gazed up at you smirking at your obvious discomfort, “Sorry about all of that beautiful, I’m fucking famished. I’ll get the spaghetti,and meatballs with garlic bread. ”

Beautiful? Wow hearing that coming out of his mouth definitely did something to you, yea a few creepy consumers would shoot you compliments a few times, but this one was different he was different. You never really had a serious relationship, your last one was basically one-sided, and didn’t end good at all. But this handsome devil sitting in front of you staring into your soul made you feel some type of way. You never had dated outside of your race not because you had any personal vendetta against that, but because you never really been attracted to any white guys before, well not until now you were. I need a cold shower, and therapy. You practically sprinted towards the kitchen as soon as you got the rest of their orders trying to erase the sinful thoughts of the handsome man at table 4.

Bringing the trio their long awaited food gently placing each of their plates in front of them, trying not to fuck up and make a fool out of yourself. The handsome devil never taking his eyes off you, ”Well this looks fucking delicious sweetheart, looks almost as good as my homemade spaghetti.”

Shuffling the food tray under your arm you nodded, “Well you should be thanking the chief. I’m just the one delivering it.” His hazel eyes widen a little in surprise at your sassy remark, a slight chuckle leaving his beautiful lips, “Well still, I’m thankful for the lovely service.”

Both Dwight, and Mustache full attention now on the two of you, watching the scene unfold in amusement. You shy away, dropping your head and tucking some of your loose curls behind your ear. “Glad to hear it Sir. Well enjoy, if you need anything just wave me over.”

“It’s Negan.” His smile grows at you, his eyes move around your face and down your neck before he breaks the contact to take another taste of his beer. Halting your steps you look up in confusion, “What?”

Negan? The heck kinda name is that? What a weird name so weird that it actually suits him. Full body now turned towards you he grins, “My name… is Negan. Sir makes me sound like a fucking prune.”

”Oh…. okay. Sorry?” You replied unsure of what to say, his choice of words, and boldness throwing you off. Shrugging his shoulders, Negan waved it off, “Don’t worry about it. And what’s yours?”

A warm feeling spread throughout your body at his interest in you, sending a million butterflies in your stomach causing you to release a shuddering breath, “It’s y/n.”

“What a beautiful name for a very fucking beautiful dime.”

Throwing him a nervous smile you nod, “Um thanks, well I-I have to go… Umm enjoy your meal Negan.”

Rushing towards the workers room you release an anxious breath as you sit on the bench, stomach circling around in tight knots. What the fuck was that? You never got nervous around guys in your whole entire life before, usually you’d be the confident one making them fall to their knees. Well now it was you, boy how the tables have turned. Walking towards the mirror you frowned at the sight, ripping off a piece of paper towel wiping the sweat dripping down off your face. Damn I hope I wasn’t sweating this bad in front of him, damn I am a mess. Get it together girl. Fixing yourself up the best you could you walked back towards the dining hall chin lifted, shoulders confidently raised you intended to get through this night in one piece.

[her0brine]

Here’s the second part to my ‘Steve & Alex meeting for the first time’ fic! It immediately picks up where the first part ends, so please make sure to read the first part to understand what’s going on so far!

After a few more minutes of walking together in the silent dark, a small gasp of awe comes out of Alex when seeing Steve’s home.

“W-wow! It’s so..... cute!! You even have some little shacks, and I think I see a farm as well? It’s pretty dark out so I can’t really tell. I can kind of make out what colors you used for the facade though, and it looks so quaint!” they say, as they pick up their pace one last time, actually surpassing a surprised Steve and stopping at the house’s front door. It was illuminated by a lone lantern, hanging by the carved door.

“Well, are you going to invite me in?” Alex playfully says, while Steve briefly looks at them with mild shyness before focusing on opening the doorknob. The door swings open and Steve enters first, before gesturing towards Alex to enter the adjacent room to the right. Alex now enters the home, gasping in awe again when noticing the detailed interior. The first thing they saw was the impressively large living room, which suddenly grew to be much larger when Steve turned on another wall-mounted lantern. It revealed a heavily detailed floor, richly colored walls lined with numerous paintings, and dozens of various lounge furniture, all surrounding a interior fire pit, as a glass ceiling shone moonlight above it. Alex can only assume Steve breaks down the glass when it’s in use, if not then their entire home can easily go up in flames. As Alex diverts their gaze from the living room, Steve was in the adjacent room, turning the lights on there alongside rifling through a dyed pink shulker box. They soon pulled out a potion of healing, before timidly looking back at Alex. They shift their gaze to a singular chair next to a table, when Alex soon realized they were in their kitchen, as evidenced by the walls lined with numerous smokers and crafting tables, and even more color coded shulker boxes, although their contents are unknown to Alex.

They lean against the chair, trying to avoid pushing the broken arrow in lodged their back even more deeper into their flesh, while now fully looking at the whole arrow still sticking out of their bloodied shoulder.

“Hey, do you think you could uh...... c-cut this out of me? I can’t pull these out, as it’ll make the wounds worse, and I don’t want to be either infected through there or that heavily scared from the woun-“ they manage to say, before really talking a better look at Steve’s appearance in the illuminated room. Other than the obvious such as the color of their outfit and the mud and spider blood that splattered across their clothes, Alex did not notice the massive scars that littered Steve’s body when they were outside. The most prominent ones were around their hands, almost as if their fingers were chopped off and reattached, since the regrown rings of flesh around their digits was noticeably thick. A pronounced large scar makes their way down from Steve’s right eyebrow ride down to their cheek, going straight through their right eye. Not to mention the old bite-like scar around their neck, something that could only be done by a wolf or even a zombie possibly. Their disheveled hair and being covered in the soot from mining all day also adds to their ragged appearance.

It seems like being stared at in awkward silence as Alex combs them from head-to-toe has only made Steve more self-conscious than usual, as they begin to look at the yellow glazed terracotta flooring, slightly murmuring in discomfort as they gently shake the potion in their hands a little bit, hoping it would snap Alex out of staring so intently at them.

“I.... I uh...... so. Got a knife in this kitchen? W-wait uh these potions you mentioned earlier, they can just, PUSH stuff out of the body right? I’m sorry if I’m a bit naive about this, potions aren’t really my ‘thing’. I favor just doing things the more old school traditional way, you know, apples and milk and the sorts.” as Alex stifles out a small laugh, hoping to lighten up the mood after realizing what they have done.

“Y...yeee......... yeEEAAhh.....” Steve manages to croak out, before gently placing the potion of healing on the stripped birch wood table Alex is seated next to. Alex seems to stare quite uncomfortably at the potion, perturbed by the pulsating glow it has within its bottle.

“I guess I just drink it now right? I hope I don’t uh, bleed too much in your kitchen, it’s pretty clean, ha ah......” Alex says as they clasp their hands around the neck of the potion’s bottle, now pulling the cork off with their other hand. Before drinking however, Steve murmurs loudly and waves their hands to stop them, now realizing they forgot to tell them something. They run out of the room, their footsteps reverberating through the kitchen and the connected room, as they make their way up a staircase that Alex hasn’t seen, but can sort of make out how tall it is by Steve’s worried stomps along the many steps. They rush back into the room once again, this time with their hands full of paper and charcoal, and they got back to feverishly scribbling on them. Alex fiddles with their hands as Steve continues to write, but Alex’s suppressed small groans of pain during this seems to make them write even more rushed than before. They soon finish and placed the note on the table, as Alex picks it up to read aloud once more.

“Okay let me read this, thank you! Alrighty! ‘You should stand up when drinking, as yes, the potion will push out the arrows from your body. I cannot lie, it does feel quite unpleasant when it does happen. You can brace yourself against the chair, so you don’t tip over from the rush of sudden pain. I can leave the room now when you do drink, I don’t want to make this even more uncomfortable for you. You won’t bleed that much, as the potion immediately makes any lost or damaged flesh and bone grow back. The scars will fade quickly over time, especially since it’s a arrow entry wound, as it’ll likely be a small pale spot. When you’re done, just knock on the table and I’ll come in again. Just one thing though, what is your favorite color? I’m going to craft your bed now and it’ll be in a newer spare room on the first floor, since I don’t want you to force yourself to walk on the stairs to go up to a older finished spare room there. Apologies if the new spare room is not to your taste, as I didn’t expect to have visitor come over in a situation like this.’ ................ Green. Green is my favorite color. I’m more partial to lime green though, but any shade can work! You could’ve possibly guess my love for green from my top and my eye color though!”

Alex smiles towards Steve as they begin to stand up, and Steve hurriedly leaves the room, not wanting to witness what was going to occur. As they make their way to the spare room, which was actually a storage room for their ores and other construction based items, they can hear the sudden yelps of pain emanating from the kitchen. The chair squeaks across the floor, as Steve can assume Alex didn’t expect it to hurt that sudden after drinking it.

Potions of healing do indeed heal quite well, but the process in which it’s done is akin to having your insides suddenly singed all at once, not also including the areas in which the wounds are, as they become unbearably painful. Steve focuses on the task at hand, trying to ignore what was occurring nearby as they dig through a shulker box they filled with just dyed wool, each row in its inventory being dedicated to bundles filled with a single dyed color. It took them months to harvest such a absurd amount account of wool and the dye they procured to make such a ludicrous amount, but then again, considering the untracked years that Steve has spent alone, they needed something to motivate themselves to just function. Filling out dozens and dozens of chests, shulker boxes, and bundles with a singular item type in such a strictly clean and meticulous fashion seemed to be decent motivation.

They finish up the bed, placing it in the middle back wall of the room, and quickly looked for a redstone lamp to place next to it, along with any sort of block to make a rudimentary night stand. Before they could add anything else to the room to make it more cozy for a actual human being, the loud knocks of Alex hitting their knuckles against the table echoes through the entire house. Steve makes their way back to the kitchen, and sees a drained Alex still propped up against the chair they used to support their weight. Their shallow breaths, accompanied by the two arrows now lying near their feet, next to small puddles of blood fully explains to Steve that the potion was successful, but was physically exhausting on Alex.

Again, Steve’s thoughts gets the best out of them, as they are paralyzed in fear of what to do next. They barely built up the resolve to even touch Alex so far, as every time they try to, they either panicked internally or was told not to. They want to physically hold and comfort them, but are fearful of being rebuked in disgust. Instead they partially gulp down their fear, and shuffled their way to one of the dyed white shulker boxes in the room, pulling out a bucket of milk, still surreally cold even though it was stored for some time. As Alex is still trying to catch their bearings, they gently place the bucket on the table, hoping they would at least see that they’re trying to comfort them.

“T-thAT’S? F-FOR M-MEEee?” Alex barely squeaks out, still breathing heavily. “Oh YES I need this so damn bad you don’t even KNOW” they now blurt out, still clearly winded from the pain but they still proceed to scarf down the whole bucket, as Steve bashfully looks on. A small smile forms on their face though, as they’re glad to see that Alex is feeling a little bit better, but they’re still worried for them, as knowing that resting up well is a huge factor in helping them heal properly.

Alex makes their way to a sink, cleaning off where their wounds were, to see that the blood they bled has fully dried, alongside barely having any indication of having a wound in the first place. As they finish washing up, Steve tries to write down another note in telling them where their room is, but Alex immediately beats them to the punch when noticing them scribbling it down. Steve makes a small gasp at how sudden they seem to immediately recover from a relatively intense experience, but then again they were pretty nonchalant about having those two arrows lodged in their body for some time, so Steve shrugged it off as that’s how high Alex’s pain tolerance is.

Alex follows behind Steve as they cross through the main living room, as Steve soon opens up the room Alex will be resting in. Alex whistles when laying their eyes upon the room, seeing that it was actually a elongated storage room, filled to the brim with various storage blocks and some few stray items in a lone corner. Their vibrant lime green bed juts against the overall organized mood the room had, along with the two accompanying items that Steve hopes will breathe some more life into the room.

“Looks great! Then again I AM essentially crashing here for some time, so I couldn’t ask for more!”

“Eh eh?!”

“Aw don’t look so shocked! I would be sleeping under a tree right now or in a hole probably, this is some luxury class stuff!! Plus it’ll be just maybe like two or three days here, then I’ll leave since I don’t want to a burden...... Well I’ll see you in the morning bud, I’ll take off my clothes since they’re basically caked in shit and I don’t want to ruin a freshly crafted bed already.”

Alex laughs as they actually slap Steve‘s back in a good-natured manner, as Steve could only emit out a small yelp before Alex makes their way to their new bed. They stay glued to the ground for a few seconds, before realizing Alex wasn’t kidding about removing their clothes. They faintly yelp once more before leaving and gently closing the door behind them, as Alex waves goodbye to them.

Steve soon begins to walk down the large living room, heading towards the staircase before suddenly feeling discomfort in their stomach, before realizing that it was indeed their body trying to expel what they once ate earlier. Steve begins to fling themselves up the staircase, trying to make it to their room’s bathroom before throwing up chunks across their dark oak flooring. They barely make it, as bile spews across their shirt as they expel the rest into a sink, their entire body trembling as they continue to retch quite violently.

They didn’t expect this to happen, but they had a feeling it would happen eventually, as Steve was deeply distressed for essentially the entire time they were in proximity of Alex. As they continue to gag and whine as the vomiting fit seems to end, Steve slowly looks up to see their ragged appearance in the mirror, absolutely appalled at how they look. If the vomit wasn’t already disgusting, they were still caked with mud and spider blood, and they didn’t even know they were tracking all of that, alongside soot across their entire home. Still gripping into the sides of the sink, Steve finally breaks under the weight of their own diffidence, weeping at what they could’ve done ‘better’ to make themselves come off as not some terrifying, feral-looking individual but as just a normal person.......

.....Their weeping echoes through the house, as Alex lays awake in their bed, sweat beading down on the side of their face, as they also think to themselves of what they could’ve done ‘better’, as they’re now perturbed of what any of their actions has done to put Steve in such a horrible state............

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Dr. Mystery

Another gift for @siro-cyll​ cuz I have unhealthy obsession with their work and just gotta write fanfiction for it. I also may or may not have an unhealthy desire for more Ford and Mabel bonding content. (By the way, to all of you who liked my last gift, Tiger Stripes, and especially to @siro-cyll​, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for all of your love and support! I’ve been close to tears so much lately due to your kindness. Just... thank you so much.) Oh! And, S.C., there’s a special little message for you told by your favorite six-fingered fluffy owl; everyone needs a little encouragement and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you. - N.S.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the Pines family had returned to Gravity Falls for the summer, Soos and Stan shared the role of Mr. Mystery. It was primarily Soos' responsibility so that Stan could sit in his boxers for as long as he wanted, but every so often - to give the old man something to do or so Soos could work on a project or a repair - it was like the good ole days with the original My. Mystery scamming tourists and a humble handyman making the shack stand strong.

Unfortunately, Soos caught a bad case of the summer flu, and so to try to keep two old men and two young teenagers from getting sick, he quarantined himself in his room and Stan had to fill in the My. Mystery role. It felt good to be back in his old ways for a bit, amazing gullible tourists with made-up attractions; he had been doing this for thirty years, he could do it for a week, right?

Wrong. When it was almost ten o'clock and the first tour was scheduled to happen at eleven, and Stan still wasn't up yet, Mabel decided to wake him up in the best way possible: by attacking him with hugs. She tip-toed in her socks and oversized t-shirt her dad gave her to her grunkle's bedroom and carefully opened the door to prepare her attack, but a nasty cough destroyed her devilish plan and she hurried to Stan's bed.

"Grunkle Stan? Are you okay?" Mabel asked. Stan tried to tell her that he was fine, but she felt his sweaty forehead and gasped, "You've got a fever! Hold on!"

Meanwhile, Ford was sipping his third cup of coffee in the kitchen and reading the newspaper since Stan wasn't awake yet to hog it. He saw Mabel running across the hallway and up the stairs out of the corner of his eye and chose to ignore it; his niece often got excited about little things. His concern only came when she ran past the kitchen again, this time fully dressed in a red skirt and a handmade white sweater with a red cross, a white headband over her hair.

"Mabel, sweetie, what's the matter?" Ford called; Mabel wearing her nurse's sweater was never a good sign. Unless she was playing doctor with Waddles.

She popped back into view, this time with medicine, a washcloth, and a first-aid kit in her arms. "Grunkle Stan is sick." She answered and went off to help.

Ford decided that Mabel needed a capable adult's supervision and he followed her to Stan's bedroom, only to find her responsibility giving Stan a thermometer to hold in his mouth and cooling him down with a damp washcloth; Mabel even put on her stethoscope and listened to her uncle's breathing and heartbeat to see how forced it was. Ford crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the doorframe, and smiled proudly at his little pumpkin.

"You sound really congested." Mabel commented calmly. "Does anything hurt? How's your head and your tummy?"

"Stomach's fine for now, but my head's poundin'." Stan groaned quietly.

Mabel took the medicine bottle she had brought from the nightstand and read the directions carefully. "Okay, I think you should take this every six hours, only a cap full. Once it starts to relieve pressure and congestion your head should stop hurting."

"Good job, my dear." Ford complimented, recognizing the bottle of syrup and giving her his approval to give it to Stan.

Mabel's cheeks turned rosy and she filled the cap with the appropriate amount of medicine. Then an idea came to mind and she put the medicine back on the nightstand. "Oh! Hold on! I'll be right back." And she hurried past Grunkle Ford and out of the room.

Ford smiled sympathetically at his brother. "So you caught Soos' flu, huh?"

"I'd fire him if I could." Stan growled and ducked his head under the covers.

Ford chuckled at how little Stan had changed from when they were kids; as tough as he was, whenever he was ill he tended to curl up like a bunny and sleep off his virus.

Mabel came back with a glass of water and gently rubbed Stan's shoulder to coax him out from behind the blankets. "You can take your medicine now. You should take it with water so it doesn't taste as yucky."

How can anyone resist smiling at Mabel's kindness? Stan's lips curled upward as he propped himself up on his right elbow and accepted the cap of medicine, took it, and then gratefully had Mabel's glass of water, but he did so after she took the thermometer out of his mouth. "Thanks, pumpkin."

Mabel just smiled at her hero. "You've got a fever of 101.5. Definitely the flu. You should rest and I'll be back at lunchtime with some soup." She packed up her things and left her uncle to rest.

Ford was about to follow her out of the room, but Stan stopped him. "Hey, do me a favor, Sixer, and keep the shack open, okay?"

Ford stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"You know, run the tours. Make sure Wendy does her job. Squeeze every cent you can outta the tourists. The usual business stuff."

Ford put his polydactyl hands up in both surrender and defense. "N-No, Stanley, I can't do that. I'm a lot of things, but a businessman is not one of them."

"I ain't askin' you to own the Mystery Shack - which in a way you kinda already do - I'm just asking you to hold down the fort until Soos or I are back in the game." Stan groaned and closed his eyes, laying on his back, and he waved his hand in the air casually. "C'mon, you're an anomaly expert, right? Just tell 'em about some freaky safe weird thing and do it with some dramatic flare."

"But…"

"Grunkle Ford," Mabel whispered as she returned and held his hand. "C'mon, we gotta let him rest. You don't wanna get sick, do you?"

Ford let her walk him out of Stan's bedroom and she closed the door behind him, the scientist's stage-fright giving him tunnel vision. Just as the sweater-twins were at the bottom of the stairs, Dipper came down in his orange t-shirt and gray shorts, pinching at his stiff eyes.

"Dipper," Mabel called to get his attention. "About time, sleepy-head! Anyway, Grunkle Stan is sick, so we need to work extra super-duper hard to keep the shack open!"

Dipper, coming to his senses, said, "Great, do I need to be Mystery Jr. again?"

"Nope! You're gonna help manage the tours so Grunkle Ford can lead them!"

"You got it." Dipper pulled out a pencil and a notepad from his shorts and got to work. "I'll help Wendy with the ticket sales and I'll pull from Soos' spare attractions to fill up the shack today."

Ford shook his head to clear it. "Dipper, my boy, if you have done this of all before, perhaps you should…"

"Nah, ah, ah." Mabel said gently, shaking a finger. "Grunkle Stan asked you to run the shack, not Dippin'-Dots. Besides, it'll be good for you to try something new! Now go hurry and get dressed!" And she and her twin went into the kitchen to plan the day.

Ford sighed and went into his room; he supposed he could last one day, right?

In the back of his closest, hidden by the many colorful sweaters Mabel had made for him (she claimed that he was her favorite model), Ford had a spare suit to replace the one Stan had stolen from him after disappearing on the other side of the portal. He shed his red sweater and changed into the formal attire, unsure of what to do for a tie. Guessing Mabel knew where one of Stan's ties were, he put on his white button-up, gray vest, and slipped on his black coat while he looked for her.

Mabel emerged from the living room and stared at her uncle with shining eyes, then let out a very "fangirly" scream. "Grunkle Ford! You look amazing! Wow! You might just steal Stan's title as the silver fox in the family!" Mabel giggled at her joke while Ford's entire face turned beet-red. "Here, I made these for you." She held out a maroon fez and matching neck-tie, but the fez, rather than a crescent, had a golden six-fingered hand, and the tie had a golden six-fingered hand pin. "The best way to be Mr. Mystery is to be you."

Ford smiled affectionately and was starting to feel a little better about this whole thing. He got on one knee and accepted the gifts. "Thank you, Mabel. I think these will suit me just fine."

"No pun intended?" Mabel asked, making Ford laugh as he tied on his neck tie and let his pin show proudly. She helped by putting the fez on the top of his fluffy hair, running her little fingers through his charcoal-fluff. She pressed her lips and hands together and squealed again. "Eck! I gotta get my camera!"

"Mabel, no…" But she was gone.

Ford sighed and stood. He turned to look at the mirror and examine his appearance. He did look… nice? Maybe. Possibly. Mabel seemed to think so and she had exquisite taste. Ford decided to ignore the fact that her opinion was biased since they were family and he also decided that his little shooting star might be right.

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel's voice ringed like cheerful bells, and when he looked her way he was blinded by a flash of light. Mabel got a polaroid of her fluffy, floofy, flustered old nerd whom she admired dearly. She grinned at the picture and claimed, "I never miss a scrapbook-ortunity! I'm gonna go add this to our family scrapbook! Dipper's ready for you in the gift shop!" And she skipped away to work on her arts-n'-crafts.

Ford took in a deep breath and reminded himself that it was only for one day as he walked towards the shop. Dipper had planned out a good schedule for the tours, bringing back nostalgic attractions as well as some new ones. First, the rock-that-looks-like-a-face had been brought inside to start off the tour; then a collection of rare and exotic (probably fake) pictures, like of bigfoot or of horses riding horses (Ford wasn't sure if that picture was PG); then the "ugliest creatures known to man" gag; then shells of a dinosaur egg (which Ford was pretty sure was legitimate and from Stan Jr.); and then finally the sack of mystery.

When Ford left to greet the arriving tourists at eleven o'clock, Wendy asked Dipper as she flipped through her magazine, "You have a backup-plan, right?"

"Oh, totally." Dipper said and replaced his pinetree-hat with an eyepatch.

Ford took in a deep breath and then gave his little audience a toothy grin (he was lucky that it was flu season and there weren't a lot of tourists today). He just had to be like the original Mr. Mystery. He could do that, right?

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to my humble Mystery Shack! I, Mr. Mystery, will gladly give you a tour so you may gaze at many abnormal wonders that plague my home." Ford gestured to the rock. "Behold! Rock That Looks Like a Face rock: the rock that looks like a face!" And he grinned nervously; his anxiety was starting to increase subtlety.

"Does it look like a rock?" An old lady asked, adjusting her glasses.

"Um… n-no." Ford's confidence was starting to fade. "It's a rock that looks like a face."

"Is it a face?" A chubby boy with a lollipop asked.

"N-No, it only looks like a face."

"But where did it come from?"

"Was it once a face?"

"Is that what we look like when we're dead?"

The questions kept on coming; this normally wouldn't have bothered Ford so much, he lived to seek out answers, but these were questions he could not answer nor could he investigate to find the answers; he was expected to know what to say on the spot; Stan could do that, but Ford could not. He swallowed as his skin paled.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

The group turned to find a boy in a suit with an eyepatch and his hair combed back. They gasped and admired the adorable Mystery Jr., having heard of him from last summer, and the tourists hurried to him, leaving Ford free to breathe heavily and try to relax.

"Thank you, thank you all for coming!" Dipper started to lead the group to the next room. "You'll quickly notice the numerous attractions we keep here, but some weirdness we could only capture through pictures! Be amazed, at our Hall of Photos!"

Ford slipped away as cameras flashed and gullible tourists were entertained. He wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief and he realized what happened; he got stage-fright, inconvenienced by the slightest change, choked, and his own nephew had to swoop in and save him. Ford was incredibly flustered and embarrassed and decided to get some water from the kitchen.

He found Mabel there, wearing an apron over her nurse's sweater, and she stood on a step-stool in front of the stove, mixing a big pot. She smiled sympathetically when she heard her uncle come in. "Hey, how did it go?"

"Horribly, my dear." Ford groaned and filled himself a glass of water from the sink. "I just couldn't do it. I know Stan asked me to do it, but I think it would be best if Dipper continued to handle the tourists. I would be happy to assist in some other way, but I'm no Mr. Mystery. I'm nothing like Stanley."

Mabel paused her work, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pot to shake off some broth, and she turned to look at him. "Grunkle Ford, that's not true. You're very much like Grunkle Stan; you're both sweet and handsome and strong and very brave."

Ford turned red and hid the bottom-half of his face in his cup. "Th-Thank you, Mabel." He stuttered.

"And it's okay that's you're not like him. More than okay." Mabel insisted as she moved to where chopped vegetables laid and she scooped some up into her hands. "We never wanted you to be. At least I never wanted you to be. You're supposed to be Dr. Mystery, not Mr. Mystery. Look, being weird and being different is awesome cuz it gives you a chance to be yourself. You have to give the tours your way. Get open, get honest with yourself, invent your own way of doing things, no matter what others think. Leave people confused by how awesome you are; that's what it's supposed to mean to be Mr. Mystery."

Ford's eyes were round and shining like stars as he stared at his niece, who plopped the veggies into the soup and stirred them in. "M-Mabel Pines, that… that was very wise and mature of you. When did you learn all of that?"

"Somewhere between fighting an unholy triangle and getting my braces taken off." Mabel joked, grinning to display her braces-less teeth. "Oh! Maybe my braces held back my wisdom and whatnot! We should sue my dentist for everything he's got!"

Ford laughed, feeling much better than he has felt all day.

Mabel tasted her homemade chicken soup and said, "Lunch is almost ready. Want some? I made plenty to share."

Ford smiled and nodded. "Thank you, my dear. I will be back in a moment to join you for lunch." And he left for his room again.

Mabel was right; Ford had been trying to hold a false image of himself, an image he didn't have because his twin had it, and really he just needed to be himself. Ford tossed the fez on his couch and saw the white lab coat on his desk-chair. He smiled and exchanged that for his suit-jacket. He smiled, much more comfortable in his trenchcoat-like attire with his gray vest and white button-up, and he adjusted the pin Mabel had given him; he would always treasure that tiny six-fingered hand. Ford went back into the kitchen just as his niece was leaving with a tray holding a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice and she grinned and nodded in approval.

After a pleasant lunch with Mabel, another tour was scheduled. Dipper offered to take this one, but Ford claimed he had it under control and he knew just what to do this time.

"Now, many of you may have had a friend owe you money or have won poker and someone couldn't pay you right away," Dr. Mystery said eerily, his back to the audience. "But have you ever had The Mothman owe you money?!" And he spun around, his fluffy hair a little extra floofy due to the sudden movement, and he gestured to an inky drawing of the odd creature.

The tourists gasped and clapped and took pictures. "What happened?" A little girl asked with a lisp, reminding the doctor of someone very dear to him, and he cleared his throat.

"I'm glad you asked that, my dear. It all began thirty-two years ago in a strange place long-forgotten…" And he began his storytelling, entrancing his audience and enjoying their captivated attention.

The rest of the day the fluffy, nerdy owl did an amazing job entertaining the tourists with his stories and evidence to back it up, and he even brought in some of his "mad scientist" experiments and had some kids help him mix colorful liquids in beakers so they made bright, harmless, explosions. The tourists were also delighted by their tourguide's extra fingers; never before had Ford been surrounded by so many people who were delighted and happy to see his birth defect, asking questions he could confidently answer and showing how well he could do shadow puppets. Dr. Mystery was a huge hit, and when Mabel watched him smiling and laughing at the last tour of the day she was reminded of that Bob Dry the Science Guy, those videos her science class sometimes put on and it would make the whole class freak out.

As the tourists walked away with boxes full of merchandise from the shop, babbling about what a great time they had, Dr. Mystery waved them away, wiggling his six fingers, and he called, "Remember, we put the 'fun' in 'no refunds'!"

Mabel snuck up behind him and hugged him. Ford jumped, but turned to hug her back. "That was great, Grunkle Ford! I'm really proud of you!"

"Thank you so much, Mabel." Ford got on one knee to be eye-level with her. "You really inspired me to be the best me I can be, and I have no one to thank but you. You truly have a gift."

Mabel's cheeks were rosy again; she hugged Ford around his neck and he hugged her in return, rubbing her back and combing her beautiful long brown hair. She snuck a kiss on his cheek before skipping away to check on Stan. Ford's eyes were misty as his fingertips gently grazed the spot on his face where Mabel had kissed him; He then grinned and left the gift shop, confident that Dr. Mystery would be available tomorrow.

[dadsbongos]

A Notice

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Klaus Hargreeves/Reader Warnings: dead Reggie Summary: How did Klaus and his wife get together? ~~~

A note came back with her dog at noon on a fittingly sunny Sunday in late June.

(Y/n) held up the note to her face as she gently pat her plump dog’s side, sending Scratch off to the kitchen where he could pester her mother for lunch scraps. Her brows furrowed at how odd it seemed - words scribbled in a multitude of colorful markers ranging from bright red to murky brown.

“‘Your dog’s pretty fat, I’ll walk him for you if you want! For like two dollars anyway. Oh, this is your neighbor, Klaus, by the way!’”

She turned to the living room, where her little brother and father were watching television together, “Do we have a neighbor named Klaus?”

Her father hummed, squinting at the bright screen, “Those Hargreeves’ kids have wild names. Probably one of them,” he looked to the squirming four-year-old beside him with a wide grin, “Do you know, Owen?”

The small boy shook his head quickly, leaning his head into the man’s chest, eyes still stuck on the television. (Y/n) nodded, walking into the kitchen where her mother was cooking, “Do you know the Hargreeves? The kids’ names, I mean.”

“I believe there’s an Allison in there,” the woman murmured, still facing the stove, “Maybe a Ben… but I know one of them goes by Five. A little weird if you ask me but…” she trailed off.

“Oh,” (Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line, “I’m gonna go over there and just check it out.”

“Why?”

There was no response, not when the tween was already at the front door shoving her shoes on. The woman shook her head with a light giggle, “Henry, your daughter’s going over to the neighbors!”

“Your daughter too, Miriam!”

That was all (Y/n) heard before she was rushing down the sidewalk towards the biggest house on the block. The biggest house in town, more likely. She pushed the gate open, cringing at how it creaked under her palm before coming up to the door. Clanging the heavy door knocker against the wood, she waited with the note in hand for someone to answer.

After a few seconds, a boy no older than she had answered. He quirked a brow at her before moving to slam the door, “We’re not buying anything.”

“Oh no, I’m not selling,” she instantly blurting, bringing the paper to his attention, “Does anyone named Klaus live here? He left this attached to my dog’s collar.”

He huffed, clearly disinterested in conversation as a whole, however, he gave her a tight-lipped smile and held up his index finger, “Just a moment.”

And promptly slammed the door shut in her face, she flinched at the rude move. (Y/n) blinked up at the manor, taking quick notice to how eerie it seemed from the outside - she wondered how the interior looked as well. A few seconds later, the comically large door opened, a new brunette boy peeking through.

“Hey, you got my note!” he pointed at the paper in her hands, “I’m glad it was you and not some weird old guy.”

“You… you didn’t know who it would be going to?”

Klaus looked to the sky, as if in thought, before shaking his head, “Not really.”

“Wow,” (Y/n) breathed out, placing a hand over her stomach, “I think that just took a few years off my lifespan.”

“Five says I have that effect on people,” he leaned on the wedged-open door, “So, do you need a dog walker or sitter or both?”

A note came back with her little brother at three in the afternoon on a rainy Tuesday in mid-March.

“Sissy?” Owen’s quiet voice called from the hallway, one hand clutching a crinkled piece of paper by his side while the other fiddled with pieces of his hair. 

(Y/n) looked over from her textbooks, no longer as invested in the Russian Empire of the seventeen hundreds as before. She spun around in her desk chair, giving her baby brother a sweet smile as he stepped into her room. Owen held up the paper, placing his rather sticky hands on his sister’s thighs, trying to hoist himself into her lap by himself.

She quietly chuckled before setting the parchment aside and picking the first-grader into her lap, cringing when she felt at his hands, “Oh, you mister, are going to have to wash those mitts.”

He whined, burying his face into the material of her nightshirt in protest to the mere idea of getting up and washing his hands.

“Fine, fine, not now,” she rubbed his small back, picking up the paper.

“‘You should come to our hangout spot, not the shack the other one. The secret one around midnight. This is your friend, Klaus, by the way.’”

Of course, it had to be the rickety old treehouse in the field by their neighborhood - at midnight. Let’s not forget midnight. (Y/n) huffed, pulling herself up by the splintering wooden planks acting as a ladder, though what worried her was the lack of Klaus-like noises. Usually, he would be eager to make his presence known to her whether it be by offering a hand or his loud, shrill giggles at whatever the ghosts were saying now.

Eventually, she managed her way up, finding Klaus sitting oddly still and silent. She reached for his shoulder, finding no pleasure in the way he flinched before whipping around to meet her. However, rather than a pale, cold corpse positioned to look like her friend, she was met with crooked, off-white teeth on full display. 

Klaus turned around, taking the girl’s hands in his, “I know I’m not the guy your parents would dream of you dating but- “

“Woah, woah,” she felt winded, looking to the side briefly, “Are you- are we?”

“(Y/n),” he breathed out, getting onto his knees in a mockery of a proposal, “will you do me the honors of taking you out on a date?”

A tiny giggle escaped from her, she pulled him down into a hug, “Yes, I’d love to.”

A note came back with her father at five in the afternoon on a cloudy Friday in early December.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Owen muttered, leaning against the fridge as his sister whisked eggs.

(Y/n) paused to glare at her little brother, “How does someone whisk eggs wrong?”

He gestured to her hands, “The way you’re doing it.”

The front door to her childhood home opened, the woman sighed, shaking her head, “Dad, I told you to let me know when you’re going out for a run! Scared me half to death when I couldn’t find you this morning.”

“Sorry, little lady,” Henry grinned down at his daughter, ruffling her hair before taking the bowl of raw eggs with one hand, “Your boyfriend asked me to give this to you.”

Another note. She took it with a quiet mumble of her gratitude, not understanding why her boyfriend of almost a decade - starting around fifteen years of age and still going strong into twenty-five - had to use a note rather than his phone to contact her. Though, she supposed the nostalgia was appreciated while they visited their home neighborhood.

“‘You should come by Griddy’s in like half an hour! You know, for old time’s sake. This is your boyfriend, Klaus, just so you know.’”

Klaus was a lot of things, spontaneous only scratching at the surface of that word bank. Of course, it was in the back of her mind that he’d invite his siblings, but she didn’t really expect it to happen. (Y/n) gave the four other Hargreeves a small wave before joining her beau at the smooth beige counter.

“I thought you guys only saw each other for funerals and weddings?” she murmured, tacking on a small laugh when it felt strange not to.

“Well,” Klaus reached into his coat pocket, “I suppose they make an exception for proposals now.”

“For what?” she gasped, watching, completely stunned, as he stood and took her hands in his own.

Klaus thrived off of attention, so it shouldn’t have baffled her that the eyes on them only encouraged his actions. He grinned wildly, not too unlike a maniac, “I always thought you were the foxiest little thing on the street ever since I saw you. Then, you became the sweetest little thing but now…” he let go of her only to open the velvet box and show off the ring inside, “I want you to be my every-little-thing.”

“Oh, sweetie,” (Y/n) cupped his cheeks, nodding, “Of course!”

The peeping adults, and some children who followed their parents’ example, gave over a round of applause. Agnes smiled at the newly engaged couple, making an announcement about a round of free donuts for the patrons. As it died down, Ben gave Klaus a pat on the back - well, the sentiment was appreciated even though his hand just went through the living man’s body.

He giggled, not willing to admit how nervous he truly was, “I didn’t think that’d work as well as it did.”

(Y/n) pulled his head closer to her lips, kissing his forehead before releasing him, “If there’s anyone I’d want to marry, it’d be you.”

Klaus brought up a hand to fiddle with the sleeve of his fiance’s shirt, a bad habit he partook in during occasional nervous fits, “Even if that anyone was an ex-junkie?”

“If I wanted to marry anyone,” she repeated, tone much firmer than before, “it’s you. Ex-junkie and all, babe.”

“That was just adorable,” Klaus snorted, leaving her sleeve in favor of watching Agnes come toward the family with plates of donuts in hand.

A note came back with her husband at eight at night on a rainy Saturday in late March.

(Y/n) was nestled into the couch of her and her husband’s home, with the heater broken there was little to nothing keeping out the creeping cold of March’s spring-winter amalgamation. The front door slammed open, alerting the woman until Klaus ran into the living room. He was holding up a torn-out article from the day’s newspaper, winded from rushing over to the house.

She stood, taking the paper before leading her poor, exhausted husband to the couch. Sitting beside Klaus, (Y/n) looked over the article while rubbing his back, “Oh my God…”

“I know!” Klaus wheezed, though despite the usually horrifying news he was smiling as if he’d just been told something uncontrollably amazing.

As awful as it was to say, (Y/n) didn’t feel bad about her upcoming disregard for her father-in-law’s life, “Do you think he left you anything?”

“‘SIR REGINALD HARGREEVES: DEAD!’”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” the woman murmured, stopping her husband from entering the manor, “I know he was an awful person and I just don’t want you to feel forced to come here.”

“I want to be here,” Klaus whispered, turning to his wife, eyes wide, “Gotta make sure the old man’s really dead!”

She chuckled, pushing the door open, “Wouldn’t you be able to see him?”

“Not sure,” he shook his head, looking around the main hall, “I think hell has delayed seance service, sweetheart.”

Just as (Y/n) went to make her own joke, a voice called out to them from the staircase, “Klaus, (Y/n), what a lovely surprise.”

Diego, of course, the little optimist that he was. (Y/n) gave her brother-in-law a tiny wave, “Good to see you as well, Diego.”

A warning came with her time-traveling brother-in-law.

“What- what- what do you mean?” (Y/n) shook her head, her hand intertwined with her husband’s, “The world can’t just end like that! Shouldn’t there be signs, like all the animals acting weird or extreme weather?”

Five paused, narrowing his eyes at his sister-in-law, “You know, it’s funny. I’m from the future, I can remember the tiniest details of my life before getting stuck, and I’m smarter than all of you combined but still…” he walked towards the woman, “I have no clue who you are or what you’re doing here.”

“Woah,” Klaus intervened, “don’t be so rude to your sister-in-law, little Five. She’s just trying to help.”

Of course, he knew that. Five remembered meeting her. He saw her. In the past, obviously, but in the future as well. He saw her there, in the rubble of the Umbrella Academy with her husband - dead. Eyes peeled open in horror, it was haunting to look at. To look at all of them, really.

Walking corpses stained into the individual wrinkles of his brain.

“Whatever,” Five huffed, turning to leave the room, “I don’t have time for this.”

Klaus came closer to his wife, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone, “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be,” (Y/n) took his hand from her face, intertwining their fingers, “Assuming your brother isn’t coo-coo, he’s under a lot of stress.”

But there was no way he wasn’t crazy. The world couldn’t just end so abruptly, right?

Right? 

[teacup-crow]

Glory and Gore

No-one 'round here's good at keeping their eyes closed.

Zombies, Make! Round 2, 19/09/20. Thanks @crownleys and @puptart as always.

Simon and Five don’t sleep, they just banter. Set early-mid S2, spoilers up to S2M14. Based on prompt 3 - Glory and Gore by Lorde. CW implied childhood abuse. 

Really, it should be written into the Runner’s Handbook: glory comes with gore. You’re going to see things nobody should ever see, and you’ll try to shake them off with a glass of whiskey every night, and somehow be stupid enough to come back again and again and again for more. Your reward, of course, is the adoration and gratitude of Abel Township. It’s addictive, really.

Five is addicted to the job.

That’s not so bad, really. Of all the vices one could have in a post-apocalyptic wasteland – and oh, Five’s experimented with many, before and after – running is the one that keeps everybody alive. And they crave the warmth of affirmation, the burn of acid at their calves, their heart pumping at a hundred miles an hour and Sam’s voice in their ear and welcome home, Runner Five.

If only they could stop doing it in their sleep.

Jody’s a heavy sleeper, but even she shifts and turns and mumbles in her sleep as Five stretches out and kicks her in the shins again, cycling their legs, one-two, one-two.

Simon, in contrast, is not. He hasn’t slept in four nights, and this steady, rhythmic drumming is about all he can take. He throws off his blanket, grabs them by the shoulders, and shakes them awake.

“Will. You. Stop. It.”

Five, half asleep and acting on instinct, backhands him around the face.

“Yeah. Probably had that coming.”

“Had WHAT coming?” they sign. He replies back, his sign language crude – he’d got bored in the middle of Sam’s lessons, and Five usually seemed content to listen to him chatter away.

“Get up. Let’s go.”

They end up, of all places, on the farmhouse roof, silhouetted in the full moon. Simon’s mock-smoking an unlit cigarette. He looks ridiculous, Five thinks, shirtless in the night air like a werewolf awaiting change. As if they’re in a coming of age movie. Just put on a hoodie, for pity’s sake. You’re too old for this. But all they sign is -

“Hey, does it only kill you if you light it?”

“Aw, Five! You think I’m Augustus Waters? And here I thought Eugene had the monopoly on one-legged heartthrobs.”

Five’s so stunned that he gets their reference that they can’t think of a reply for a few seconds.

“I’d light it, only Jenny hates the smell. Apparently, it ‘seeps out of my pores’.”

“I don’t want to hear about you, Janine and seeping in the same sentence.” Five mouths the words as they say them, gagging on “seep” to add to the effect. He laughs. Always a reliable crowd. “Why aren’t you with her, anyway, if I’m keeping you awake?”

“It wouldn’t be ‘proper’, apparently. Also, I keep her awake. There’s a reason why they put all the Runners together in one barracks.”

Five shrugs. Why?

“Everyone else got sick of the screaming.” He chuckles. “Being a runner is lonely. Nobody gets it except us. Jenny, Sam, they can’t… I mean, Janine understands what a mission is like, but it’s been so long since she did field work, and she’s not done it since the world… changed so much. I dunno. I talk too much about it, I suppose. People don’t want to hear how the job gets done. But you don’t seem to mind listening.”

Five is reminded of a speech Evan gave them, their third night in town, when they came to him and said they couldn’t do this. They weren’t good enough. People who want to be Runners rarely make good ones. They have some secret cowardice, or too much hubris. They get bitten, or pocket supplies for themselves, or can’t obey orders, or obey orders too readily with no initiative if comms get cut.

Simon, then, was no exception. Because he was a damn good Runner.

“I wonder if my grandma went zom. She could be dead, for all I know. Probably dead, the old hag.” His voice doesn’t hold the venom his words imply. “Still in my brain though, Five. Still whispering

Five nods, and taps their own skull.

“I dreamt about her the other day. She was stood at the kitchen sink, looking out the window. Acting like she was washing dishes. She was waiting for me to come home, though. Just standing there, her shoulders all tight, her hands... you know that pause before someone throws something at you?”

Five signs with a rueful grin, swinging forward and backward: “How’d you think I got this good at dodging?”

“Wow, we really got the best preparation for the apocalypse in hindsight!”

“None better.”

“Anyway, this plate just shatters in the door frame. Which wouldn’t have happened, because it was her best china, and that was worth more than my life. That china was there in case the Lord himself came for afternoon tea.” He snorts. “But yeah. She turns around and her whole… her whole face is just... rotting. Peeling, and this disgusting grey, her jaw unhinging itself and… well, zombified. And I’ve got my axe in my hand, but then, suddenly, I’m just a little kid again. It’s way too heavy to lift.”

“Then what happens?”

“Hey, that’s all you’re getting. Unless Runner Five wants to share their darkest nightmares with the class?”

“I’ll pass.”

He smirks, raising an eyebrow, brushing their shoulder with his fingers. “But I’d love to hear what exactly you’re running away from.”

Five gives him the finger, shifting out from underneath his hand. Don’t touch me.

He raises his hands in surrender or apology, or both. It’s so rare to get either from him that they accept it.

“I’m not running away when I’m out there.”

“Really?”

“I’m coming home.”

The two of them look out over Abel, illuminated in the clear night. The plots of land, the seeds unsown, the little schoolhouse with its chalked-out hopscotch, the kitchen and adjoining canteen, the old barn they’d changed into a pub. Armoury, chicken coop, comms shack. Radio tower, cutting into the sky like a knife, a ruby-red drop of blood on its tip. The place they’ve built, that they serve, where they should be safe, where the past somehow keeps crawling over the gates.

[cesium--133]

Siblings by Chance, Chaotic by Nature

@taiyuu-high-oct Bonus Round! Featuring special guests: Bumu Ana, Inoue Kokoro, Sugiyama Rikoinu, Sugiyama Tsubame, and Fujinuma Ozen

Kokoro wasn't someone who was particularly easy to startle. But when an angel drops out of the sky with a duffel bag big enough to carry a grown man, then one is instinctually obligated to jump back. Laramie Angelica Spellman, who preferred to be called Ames, knew how to make an entrance.

"Hey Kokoro! You heading to see that cousin of yours? The one with the holes?" Kokoro blanched a bit upon hearing Hiraku called 'the one with the holes.' Not the worst nickname, not inaccurate either, but it wasn't exactly orthodox. Kokoro replied after recovering from her initial shock. 

"Uh yeah, you going to see your sister?" She asked, mostly to be polite. The American nodded 

"Oh yeah, Lyrimon and Tsu both. And Lori's breaking in later too, and Riko is already here, which means it's almost a family reunion." She said. Somehow, while she was talking, she had begun to glide in the direction of the dorms of their guest students. Not walk, glide. Kokoro had followed, she was going that way anyway, she might as well. 

"Well that sounds nice." Then she paused, "So. . .Lori-kun is breaking in?" Kokoro asked, slightly afraid of the answer. To her dismay, Laramie nodded once in the firm manner of someone who knew what the inevitable was. 

"Yup. I told her I wasn't helping her too, so we'll just have to see what she comes up with."

"Well its sure to be. . . Spectacular."

"Almost definitely."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ana wasn't expecting a call. She was just walking to class when her phone rang. Caller ID identified it as Lorelei Sirenica Spellman. The girl who turned most of the general studies class into a rave and somehow got everyone's phone number during an intense rendition of the ghost busters theme song. Ana picked up.

"Hello?" She asked

"Hellooooo, Bumu! Remember me? Laramie's slightly more fabulous sister?"

Ana giggled a little. Lorelei was too extravagant for words. "Oh hey, what's up?"

"I'm actually calling to see if you can do me an eensy-weensy favor."

"Alright, well what is it?"

"Would you mind going to the front gate and claiming me as your guest? I don't want Ames to know I'm here just yet."

"Oh, sure. Are you planning to surprise her and your other siblings here?"

"Most definitely! So you'll do it?"

"Yeah sure, why not?"

"Oooooh, thank you so much! I'll see you at the gate then?"

"I'll see you at the gate. Bye!"

"Byee~!"

The call ended, and Ana made a quick detour to the front gate, where one drink laden Lorelei was standing. One small conversation with the gate keeper later, the gate was open, and the first thing that happened was Ana was assaulted by a drink.

An enthusiastic Lori, buzzing with energy, holding a jumbo sized tray of drinks that seemed incredibly specific, gave Ana an iced coffee, her favorite. She took the drink.

"Wow, what's this for?" The student asked, staring down at the drink in her hand.

"Gratitude! I couldn't ask you to let me in without treating you to a little something! It's your favorite right?"

"Uh, yeah, but how'd you-"

"Theme songs are very potent, and Ghostbusters just happens to be an informative song. The 2 hour nap is so worth it."

"Huh. Well that was really nice of you, thanks!"

"No problemo! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bed that needs to be filled with shaving cream"

Ana watched her go, skipping off across the grounds to wreak havoc. She took a sip of the iced coffee and smiled. It was delicious. "Americans." She thought privately to herself "are so weird."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

For Riko, this day was even. Not good, not bad, perfectly balanced. It was great that he got to see Tsuki, and it was great that the Spellman family seemed to be taking good care of her, but quite frankly, Lyrimon was the most confusing person he had ever met.

The first time Riko had met the youngest of the other triplets, she had a set of mangled gills, some very awful mutation that seemed diverse enough to be painful, and they hadn't talked very much. Now she was. . . Well, blue, an octoped, and only had one working eye. The left one was sealed up and a little oozy. Riko had spent a good 5 minutes staring, until she turned to him and started talking. Well, it was less talking and more of a collection of curses and a vague idea of asking him about the weather.

If it was possible, the simple proximity to those filthy words were enough to peel back his flesh from his skull. 

But at least they weren't talking much. Mainly, Tsuki and Riko spoke with each other, sitting in the grass in the shade of a tree on a hill. Riko and Tsuki side by side leaning against the tree, and Lyrimon sprawled out on her stomach in front of them, arms tangling in all sorts of positions to accommodate each other and providing a crook for her to tuck her face into. 

Then Riko mentioned Laramie, about how she stress baked 3 dozen cinnamon rolls and was probably going to bring them here, and Lyrimon decided to open her mouth again 

"Did she fucking stress bake them because of fucking us. Did she hear about the damned villain attack?" Lyrimon asked, lazily opening her only good eye to fix Riko with the most intensely unconcerned state he had ever seen. She wasn't even trying, and she might as well have a laser gaze quirk. Riko thought about it for a bit.

"Uh yeah, she did disappear as soon as it came on the news." 

Lyrimon scoffed. "Oh no, then there will not be fucking 3 dozen. There will be at least six damned dozen. Sure as eggs are fucking eggs." Then, having dropped the truth bomb of the century, she slid her eyelid closed again and might as well have gone to sleep. Riko looked at Tsuki. Tsuki looked at Riko. "Well I guess that's a good thing, right? More baked treats?"

He did not know how wrong he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"So, uh, what's in the duffel?" Kokoro asked, as she and Laramie made their way up onto the porch. She was referring to the absolutely massive duffel bag Laramie carried around like it was nothing. Laramie explained.

"Oh I made cinnamon rolls. A lot of cinnamon rolls. And the biggest eater I know is my own sister. I once saw her drag an entire raw salmon onto shore and eat it. Bones and all."

Kokoro paused for a bit "Wow. She sounds . . . Interesting."

"Oh, a lot worse than interesting." And with that, Laramie kicked the door open and hauled the duffel bag into the common room. She pulled the bag onto the widest table she could find, and opened it up. The smell was intoxicating. Sugar, plain and simple, laced with delicate touches of cinnamon, and caramel. It wafted through the air, and Laramie placed a sign that she somehow already had next to it. It read "Stress eat to your heart's content. -Laramie Angelica Spellman (Lyrimon's sister)"

Within moments, a couple curious people filed in. Laramie smiled "Go for it." And then turned around and left. "Well, I have a bed that needs to get filled with shaving cream, see ya." And with that, she glided straight out the door. Kokoro paused, as did anyone else who heard the remark. "Shaving cream?" She asked nobody. She thought to herself. “Americans are pretty strange.” Then she saw Hiraku and decided to put that thought on hold to go tackle her comparatively tiny cousin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lorelei was decidedly against full frontal assaults. She preferred figuring out her opponents, matching their heartbeats to the rhythm of a song that would reduce their defenses to cool props. But when she saw a tall, teal haired girl who looked like they never smiled and somehow fit all the gay midnight ramblings her youngest triplet never seemed to realize were gay, she simply had to take action.

The first thing she did was of course, put down her drinks, setting them down on a low wall. Then she got down to business, checking her stance, the environment around her, and everything she knew about one Ozen Fujinuma. Allergic to her sister, known for being monotonous and unfeeling, enjoys quite a bit of anime and Miku. So Lorelei latched onto the Miku part of her database, and began to sing. Senbonzakura to be specific.

Lorelei could practically see the girl stop and prick her ears. Unfortunately for Ozen, Senbonzakura tended to incite any sort of romantic feelings previously experienced, creating feelings of warmth, sluggishness, and general crushy-wushy-uwu-feelings. Which was perhaps one feeling Ozen had gotten to know quite well.

She turned around "Spellma?-aktpht"

Ozen had just got a faceful of shaving cream, and had been knocked over. There was now one Lorelei situated cross legged on top of her stomach, menacingly holding a can of shaving cream and wearing what was possibly the widest, most maniacal grin known to mankind.

"So, you're the tall asshole who's allergic to my sister."

"Uh-"

"I have heard quite frankly too much about you. My sister’s got a lot of respect for your tall ass and I’m here to figure out why, got that?”

“Who is your-"

"Lyrimon. Come on, how many people could you possibly be allergic to?"

"Then you're . . . Lorelei?"

"The one and fucking only. You know who I am, that's a good sign. You just might survive this. I've got high hopes for you, Ozen"

"Wait wh-"

"LET THE QUESTIONNAIRE BEGIN!" Now she is standing on top of Ozen.

"Shake Shack or In and Out? Where are your parents from? Where were you born? What is your opinion of public transportation? Do you believe in magic? What sort of songs do you usually listen to? Have you ever seen a live musical in person? How familiar are you with American culture? Describe yourself with a color and a word. Do you have any interest in the green movement? How good are you with mechanics? How are you in a pressure situation involving bodily chaos? What's your stand on cursing? And finally, do you believe in love at first sight?"

That torrent of questions was punctuated by Lorelei leaning down just a little, blotting out the sun with her braided head of hair. She raised an eyebrow at her captive "well?"

Ozen blinked then began to answer. "I don't know what a Shake Shack is, so In and Out I guess? My mom is from the US, my ma is from here. I was born in Japan. Public transportation is fine. I believe there are things science cannot yet explain. I like Idol music, and I have not seen a musical in person. I am part American, the bay area, so I know a bit. Uh, teal immovable. I believe that sustainable energy and caring for the planet is essential to our survival as a species. I'm okay with machines I guess. Uh, having just been in a pressure situation involving bodily chaos, I can say I do quite well under them. Cursing is fine and no." Ozen answered honestly. 

She was not afraid of this person, not on her own, but this was her Allergens triplet sister. They came out of the same womb. For all intents and purposes, she should also be allergic to this other Spellman. But she wasn't. And Lorelei seemed to know that. In fact, every line on her face screamed 'I know something painfully obvious you haven't figured out yet' in the form of a wide, only slightly malicious shit eating grin.

“Hm. Ya know what, good enough.” Lorelei stepped off of Ozen “hey, if you see Laramie, tell her ‘It doesn’t rain in LA’ when you see her, just so she knows you’ve already been interrogated.” and without giving Ozen a chance to ask what the fuck just happened, she skipped off. Scooping her tray of drinks off a low wall where she left it and promptly disappeared. 

Ozen blinked. Not quite sure if what had just happened actually happened. Perhaps it was a vivid hallucination. Lyrimon did say something about how both her sisters were good at making people see things differently. “Triplets are very weird.” she thought to herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Laramie was walking out of the dorm building, when she ducked. A good move as her middle sister sailed right over her head, tumbling to the ground. Laramie straightened up “Nice try, but after what happened last week, I’ve started ducking.” she said, offering her sister her hand. Lorelei took it, hauling herself up and grinning 

“Well then, I’ll have to come up with something new!”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Oh! By the way, I brought drinks!” she handed Laramie a taro bubble tea. Her face lit up “Hey, thanks! You didn’t have to, man”

“You can’t crash a house party without a gift”

“This isn’t a house party”

“Hell, I know.”

They looked at each other and burst into giggles. Eventually, their laughter died down and Laramie said “Come on, we should go find Mon.” Lorelei agreed and without any sort of warning or preamble, they linked arms, simply able to tell that this is what should happen. Laramie shot into the air, pulling Lorelei up to the sky with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lyrimon blinked her eye open and rolled to the side suddenly. Tsu and Riko looked over, Riko asking “Hey wha-” but was abruptly cut off when Lorelei dropped out of the tree right in the spot Lyrimon used to be lying.

Unfortunately, Lyrimon over shot, and she started rolling and rolling and rolling down the hill. Shouting curses all the way down. But her sister was cut from the same dumb-ass cloth, and also started rolling. Riko shot up, worried, and immediately fell over. Tsu, not wanting to be left out, also decided to start rolling down the hill. Soon, there were 4 teenagers rolling down a sunny knoll like a bunch of pencils being tossed down an incline.

Of course, they had to stop eventually, the forces of inertia, gravity, and friction dictated it. They ended up in a scattered clump, completely silent, just breathing after that dizzying ride. The only one of them with flight capabilities landed next to the group “You’re all insane.” she said, breaking the silence.

That did it, they all burst into giggles, even Laramie. She was holding the drink tray her sister had brought over. What had been 5 drinks was now three drinks. One for Ana, and one for Ames. What remained was a bottle of sparkling water, a chocolate milk (A fancy one, not nesquik) and a bottle of apple juice.

They cooled down, sipping drinks and chatting aimlessly. Eventually, Lorelei explained The Plan, which was lengthy and a lot of effort. Lyrimon stopped her eventually, while Laramie cut down The Plan to something doable. Conspiratorial laughter floated through the sky. A storm was coming to UA and that storm was L. Spellman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day was a terrible day to be a teacher. Furniture was glued to ceilings, sticky notes covered entire walls, people got stuck to chairs, Eraserhead was faced with a sea of markers, all stood upright on their ends to create a tiny forest on the floor of his office, the 1B class of the UA hero course dorm was covered in pink polka dots, and there was shaving cream everywhere.

It was a day of opening doors only to pull them right off their hinges to find that the bolts in the hinges had been put in a small box labelled “put it back together if ya want.” It was a day of classes being postponed to locate the pranks and to neutralize them. It was a day when 5 siblings, if not by blood than by title, smiled like the Mona Lisa. It was a day when Ozen found her bed filled with shaving cream, the first of many days when Ozen would find her bed filled with shaving cream.

[incomingalbatross]

Fic: Guiding Light

@foundfamilybingo fill (very belated) for the “Lost/Stranded” square, in the Gravity Falls fandom!

@awesomebutunpractical, this is for you. Thank you for waiting, and for generally being the fun and friendly Tumblr presence/mutual that you always are. It is late and I am tired right now, but I hope you like this fic. :)

Characters: Stan Pines, Soos Ramirez, Abuelita Ramirez Warnings/Pairings/Ratings: None, none, gen Length: approximately 2k words

Stan had given Soos the week off and now he was starting to wonder why.

Sure, it was the kid’s first week of high school or whatever, and sure this was always a slack week in the tourist trade and maybe he didn’t need another pair of hands, but geez. He hadn’t thought about the fact that what’s-his-name, the latest cashier kid, would be leaving too. What, was he supposed to do everything by himself around here?

Ugh, fine, whatever. He might as well close up and get some work done downstairs—at least he didn’t have any kids hanging around underfoot, getting in his way, right?

See, if things had gone the way he’d maybe kinda assumed they would, with Soos showing up whether he was paid or not to babble about his new High School Experience and generally occupy Stan’s space for hours…well, Stan wouldn’t be getting anything important done, would he? No.

So yeah, it was a good thing that it seemed like the kid might’ve finally wised up—here it was late Tuesday, after all, and Stan hadn’t seen a trace of him since Saturday, which was practically a record.

Maybe, Stan thought… Maybe after three years of this kid underfoot, being weirdly obsessed with Stan and the Shack, high school would be the thing that finally sent life back to the status quo. With Soos moving on to whatever teenagers did nowadays, and Stan in the basement, uninterrupted again.

Good.

Stan was just turning to the vending machine, still grumbling under his breath, when the phone rang. Ugh, after eight o’clock? What was it, a vampire telemarketer?

“Hello,” he barked into the receiver.

“Mr. Pines,” a quiet, softly-accented voice responded, “would you send my boy home? It is getting late, and he will need to be up early for his new school tomorrow.”

Stan grimaced, surprised and vaguely offended. “What? I mean, maybe if I had him, but I haven’t even seen Soos today. I toldja I’d give him the week off!”

There was a slight pause from Soos’s grandma. “He has not been at the Shack today?” she repeated.

“No…” Stan’s gut was starting to catch up with his ears, now, and that wasn’t a good feeling at all. “Wait,” he said. “When did you last see him?”

There was a sigh from the other end of the phone—a worried sigh. He’d never heard Soos’s Abuelita sound worried before. “This morning, before school. He texted me after school that he would be late home—I have given him a phone now, he is a big boy—and said then that he would be visiting your Shack.”

“He hasn’t shown up that I noticed,” Stan said slowly. “But…if he has a phone, why call me?”

“He has not been answering,” Abuelita said, and the bad feeling in Stan’s gut solidified into a block of ice, cold and heavy.

This was Gravity Falls. And the kid had gone missing. That was a bad, bad combination

“I’ll, uh, I’ll look around,” he said quickly. “I mean, maybe he’s just outside, or wandered in here while I wasn’t lookin’, or something. I’ll find him—I mean, it’s Soos. Where would he have gone?”

There were a lot of bad answers to that question, he knew—“gone” and “gone willingly” were very different things. But he shoved that knowledge deep, deep down, where it could panic by itself and not distract him.

From the hum Abuelita gave in response, she wasn’t much more reassured than Stan. But all she said was, “Thank you, Mr. Pines. Please make sure he gets home when you find him,” and her voice when she said it was a bit closer to its usual untroubled calm.

“Yeah, sure,” he began, but she had already hung up.

He dropped the phone and ran his hands over his face. “Okay, think, Stan,” he said to himself. “It’s Soos, he’s got some weird thing against lyin’ at all, let alone to his grandma. So if he said he was on his way here, somethin’ must’ve happened on the way…”

But that was too wide an area. It could’ve been at school—second day would be pretty early for the “lock ‘em up and leave ‘em” level of bullying, but heck, it wasn’t like Stan hadn’t seen it before. (Though that target had never been alone at school…) It could’ve been in town.

It could’ve been in the woods, and that thought made his gut twist more than anything. He told Soos the woods weren’t safe, but if the kid tried to take a shortcut or something…

He shook his head. “I can’t do this alone,” he muttered, and turned back to the vending machine.

—

There was a spell, in Ford’s dumb journal. Well, there were more than a few spells, most of them either bizarrely useless or straight-up dangerous, but this one had been…special.

A spell to “trace the threads binding your heart to others,” his brother’s stupid fancy handwriting read. When tested, it produced several strands of light emitting from my chest outward, in various directions, until out of my sight. And then he went on about the colors of the lights, because he was a nerd.

A warning, however! The entry concluded. This spell lasted only an hour (it was somewhat annoying to constantly have invisible-to-others lights around me during that period, honestly!), and once it broke I was unable to recast it. There may be a time limit in which it needs to “recharge,” it may be once per user, or there may be another component required for repeated use of which I am unaware. In any case, this is something to be aware of. (Although it is a largely useless spell, so I don’t foresee that being much of an issue.)

Stan gritted his teeth, reading over the instructions one more time. He could’ve tried it before—he’d thought about trying it before—but, well. There were a whole lotta factors that could keep Ford’s “thread” or whatever showing up for him, even if it worked, and if it did what good would it do him? He knew where Ford was, or at least how to get there. No point using something that might not even work to check that he was out there. (If he weren’t Stan would know, anyway.)

But he’d always kept it in the back of his mind, anyway, just in case. In case it became useful…or in case, one day, he just needed to try for evidence the Ford was still out there, that they were still connected.

He only got to use it once, after all.

“Well,” he muttered now, slamming the book shut, “here goes nothin’, Soos. This better work.”

He shut his eyes and chanted the weird gibberish words Ford had written down (seriously, how was this magic? He could make up better magic-sounding words than that). Then, cautiously, he cracked his eyelids open again.

“…Oh, wow.”

There was a whole tangle of multicolored lights coming from his chest, enough that it took him a minute to sort through them. He didn’t look long at any of them, though, mind focused on Soos.

There was a cluster of strings all stretching off in the same direction (towards town, he figured after a second), two bright red-and-purple strands dancing around each other and zooming south next to a couple fainter multicolored ones, a quieter but colorful string stretching east, and…

Oh yeah. That one was definitely Soos.

Stan couldn’t have said how he knew this one—almost the brightest one there, woven out of red and purple and yellow all mixed with traces of blue—was Soos’s. He just felt it, as soon as he focused on it; it felt like Soos, somehow, warm and confusing but good. Important.

Time to follow the trail, then.

—

In the end, with the help of these ridiculous magic lights, it was almost too easy. “Almost,” because Stan would never, ever complain about an easy win if he could get it, and also because he knew how bad the things that could’ve happened were. But still. It was a little anticlimactic to just follow the string to Soos and then find him actually sleeping against a tree in the middle of the woods.

Stan just stopped and stared at him, for a minute, because really? Here was Stan, charging to his rescue in the middle of the night (okay, okay, nine PM, whatever), when it wasn’t even a work day, and what kinda welcome did he get? A sleeping teenager!

He looked okay, though, so that was good. And the rope of light between him and Stan looked…kinda cool, maybe, now that Stan could see both ends. It disappeared into Soos’s chest, just like on Stan’s end, but the colors changed when they reached the kid. On his end, there was still red and yellow, but the purple gave way to green and there was a lot more blue there. Weird.

Eh, whatever.

“Soos, hey, wake up, kid,” he said, crouching down. He was tempted to yell it, just for entertainment points, but after dark in these woods that was probably not a good idea. Instead, he reached out a hand to shake the boy’s shoulder. “C’mon, time to go.”

Soos blinked his eyes open immediately, looking up at him with those stupid starry eyes Stan had always thought kids were supposed to grow out of. “Mr. Pines!” he cheered, throwing himself at Stan. “I got lost but I knew you’d find me!”

“Oof,” Stan grunted, falling back under the kid’s weight as he caught him. “Yeah, sure, kid, I only gave you a week off, not forever. What’re you doin’ in the woods anyway? Talk about a dumb idea…”

Soos shrugged, arms tightening around Stan. “I, uh, I don’t really know, Mr. Pines,” he said, sounding guilty. “I was on my way to the Shack, cause I wanted to tell you how high school was, but…then I heard singing?” He sniffled. “And I know you always say not to go into the woods, but the singing was really pretty and I wanted to get closer, and then I met these people and they were really cool-looking and I think they said there was a party? But, um, I don’t really remember that part too well. I just remember walking in the woods with them and feeling sleepy, but then they stopped? And they were all, like, yelling at each other about somebody being, like, ‘marked by the Great Protector’ or something, and then they left. And then I realized I was lost in the woods, but Abuelita always said when I was little that if I was lost I should stay where I was and wait for somebody to find me. So I sat down to wait, and then I was still tired so I guess I fell asleep.”

He paused, and then sniffled again. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Pines, that you had to come looking for me,” he said dolefully. “I was really proud of being in high school now and being, like, mature and stuff…but then I went and Hung Out With Strangers and tried to go to a Strange Party and I’m really sorry! Am I…Are you gonna fire me? Or make me take extra time off work?”

“Moses, kid, of course I’m not gonna fire you,” Stan blurted out. Freakin’ wood folk, thinking they could take his kid… He didn’t know what they thought they were talking about with that “marked by the ‘Great Protector’” stuff, because Soos wasn’t marked by anybody, but they were lucky they’d run off before Stan got to them.

“I might make you come back to work early,” he added, “so you don’t have time to do stupid stuff. But…eh, you’re not dumb. You know the drill, right? You made a mistake, big deal. Learn from it and don’t do it again, capisce?”

Soos hugged him again, and okay, they were approaching a limit here. “Got it, Mr. Pines, sir!” he exclaimed, almost bouncing, and Stan groaned as he got back to his feet. Kid was too enthusiastic to live with, seriously.

“Yeah, okay, good,” he muttered, pulling the teenager up. “Let’ get you home then. Oh, and Soos?”

“Yes, Mr. Pines?”

He fixed him with a raised eyebrow. “Whatever you think you saw or heard out here, that’s the kinda stuff that’ll make people think you’re crazy if you talk about it. Got it?”

Soos nodded earnestly. “I got it, Mr. Pines. I won’t talk about it to anyone, even the guys at school!”

“Oh yeah? You made friends with any one those guys yet?”

And they began trudging home, Soos happily rambling about his new school experience. And if the lights winked out, finally, just as Stan refocused on them in search of Ford’s, before he could settle whether it was there or not…

Well, that was okay for now, he figured. He’d used the spell for something else important, in the end.

[if-weshadows-haveoffended]

Love Is So Confusing There's No Peace of Mind - Caduceus Clay x Reader

A/N: Me, reading the tag, finishing the fics: guess I gotta add some more then.

I LOVE PINK COW MAN SO FUCKING MUCH AND I LOVE CONFUSED AND EMBARASSED COW MAN EVEN MORE. I JUST LOVE HIM. IF MATTHOLOMEW HURTS EVEN ONE STRAND OF PINK HAIR IM FUCKING RIOTING. Anyway in light of episode 95 I’m gonna make a part 2 to this, so this is pre ep95 somewhere idk. Also Taliesin mentioned in an episode of Talks that Caddy shack always has music playing in his mind (I think he went with Bolero? I imagine the mii channel theme), so I’m playing with that idea.

Title: Love Is So Confusing There's No Peace of Mind Words: 2500+ Masterpost: here (x) Prompt List: here (x) Mixtape Archive: here (x)

Caduceus had been in a considerable pickle since his little outing last night.

Their downtime in Zadash had been pretty uneventful save Jester asking him to accompany her to some bakery or another. With her considerable… addiction seemed the right word… to the baked goods, his days seemed to be spent accompanying her for box after box of iced treats. If he was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if this was at all healthy, but at the very least it gave him some opportunity to meet different citizens residing within the city. It was easy, he found, with the adventuring lifestyle to become surprisingly more isolated than during his time at the Blooming Grove. There were days where he wouldn’t even see half of the Nein until it was time for dinner. So he found himself relishing these sorts of occasions, more so now than when the group had been less than reputable.

It was towards the end of their first week in Zadash when Jester tore into the room he shared with Yasha, screaming about something or rather about the most beautiful bakery she had ever seen in all of Exandria.

“DUECES! THEY’RE SO PRETTY! YOU LIKE HAVE TO SEE THEM IT’LL CHANGE YOUR LIFE! THEY’RE LIKE BOUQUETS OF FLOWERS BUT THEY’RE PASTRIES AND OH MY GOD WE’RE LEAVING RIGHT NOW!”

“Is this what you do all the time?” Was what he had eventually asked the surprisingly young owner of the bakery. He wasn’t sure how tall she was for a human, most humans (well everyone) seemed small to him. Jester truly had used all her strength to drag both himself and Nott towards the bakery (Jester had said it was technically a patisserie, not that he knew what that meant).

“Well, it’s a job and I love it?” She pushed back her hair and continued to wipe down the glass displays filled with a myriad of pastries and cakes. Each little dozen was different to the one beside it, and all of them were decorated with delicate buttercream-and in some cases, real- flowers.

“You’re clearly very talented with them,” Caduceus replied, thanking her as she handed him a flaky little pastry piled high with pale green cream and little blossoms. “Oh wow, that’s nice. No, really!”

The young woman had laughed, and he noted the colour about her cheeks. Their conversation had ended there as a number of customers had walked into the patisserie, Jester pulling him out the door and giving her customary farewell. He found himself the following day offering to buy the pastries on Jester’s behalf, solving her problem of being unsure of whether to buy pastries or ditch helping Fjord out with some shopping matters.

He never ended up returning home that afternoon. He’d simply gotten too carried away sitting at the patisserie, chatting with the delightful owner. He’d eventually caught her name (it was a very lovely name, it suited her) and she’d invited him to the pub later that day to hear her and her co-bakers perform as they usually did.

“Not sure how it started but eventually we decided it was a great way to have fun and get some extra pay. Childcare in Zadash isn’t cheap these days,”

“BLOODY SCALPERS!” An elven male baker had shouted while decorating the floral tarts.

“Anyway, you don’t have to come. But I’d really appreciate it if you did!”

And he went, nervously combing fingers through lichen-stained hair as he sat alone by the makeshift stage. His heart pounded in his chest, unsure quite why it felt like doing that. He had no reason to be nervous after all she was quite nice and he was only reciprocating the niceties she was showing him, and the last thing Jester would want was for him to get on the bad side of her “absolute-favourite- the-very-best-the-goddess-of-all-baked-goods-except-for-that-one-bakery-in-Nicodranas-that-does bear-claws” baker. (Or at least he thinks that was all the superlatives Jester mumbled out).

And Caduceus had thought, as he watched her give him a little wave as her band of bakers set up, that perhaps he was finally over these unnecessary jitters. Perhaps he’d be able to listen to her music and perhaps introduce her to the wonders of his little ‘death whistle’ as Caleb liked to call it. Or at least he had thought so until she opened her mouth and began to sing.

He was absolutely transfixed, half of him terrified and wanting to run away, the other never wanting to leave her side. All of time seemed to still and yet flow faster than he could have ever wanted, praying every second he could that he could remain in this moment forever. He found himself unable to form the words that would usually come, as they chatted over dinner following her performance, apologising as he stumbled and stuttered over words. And she would laugh with a shake of her head, kindly bumping her knee against his as they sat huddled up in the performers’ lounge at the back of the tavern. Their talk of every day adventures and his little gripes (gripes was the nicest words) of the Nein in the Xhorhaus, and of the beauty that drove her work.

“…And you see, they’re just such a difficult shade of pink to replicate. Like your hair, I suppose. It’s very pretty,” She had said as they walked home, her hair streaming about in the brisk night breeze. On instinct he found himself moving by her side, curling her under his arm and pressing her against the side of his body. She thanked him, smiling brightly at him, and he smiled back relishing in how perfectly she fit.

They’d fallen into companionable silence, walking their way back to The Leaky Tap. She quirked a brow when he’d mentioned that was where he was staying.

“Well, you’re certainly braver than I am. That dude gives me the creeps.” She made a vague gesture to sweat at the temples and he assumed she meant the Gentleman.

“He’s not so bad.” Caduceus replied with a laugh, his mind desperately searching for ways to stretch this moment out as long as he could. “You really do have such a beautiful voice,”

“No,”

“Really,” He drew closer, holding both her hands in his, “It puts songbirds to shame. I’d love to hear you more.”

“Well, you’re welcome any time Caduceus Clay.”

He froze at that point, feeling her tug him down to press a kiss to his cheek. With a wave she began to walk away, a skip in her step and hands buried into the pockets of her skirt. For how long he stood there, only the Wildmother knew, his face burning up and a sense of giddiness building up within him. All he knew was that he just stood there, staring at cobblestones like some sort of idiot. Part of him mused at how they sparkled just a little under the moonlight.

If Colton ever heard how he was thinking, he’d never hear the end of it.

He couldn’t even find the familiar comfort of sleep, tossing and turning and irritating Frumpkin who had curled into the space by his shoulders. Instead he lay there upon his bedroll awake, staring at the shadows that danced upon the ceiling. His ears twitched at the distant sound of murmurs and Jester’s hushed giggles, but the effort he’d usually use to eavesdrop was simply missing. No, his mind was filled with the feeling of her soft lips pressed against the fuzz of his skin and the way her eyes shone as she had looked at him. And he, cursing his curiosity, found himself lost in the mesmerising depths of her eyes.

And that was how he ended up here, sitting at the vacant bar (save the Nein), asking Jester for help.

At some point his mind began to turn blank, filling with the sounds of a busy hive of bees and the distant memory of music. Jester’s mouth seemed to move much slower than the stream of lively sounds that emanated from herself. He barely registered Nott making some sort of joke that Fjord half-laughed-half-reprimanded her for, attempting to somewhat come to his defence. Caduceus found that sweet- or at least he would if he knew what was happening. Even throwing a look of help at Yasha couldn’t save him from the rising heat in his face and ears as she smiled and said something that threw the group into even more of a chaotic round of laughter. But it was a small quip Jester had made that sent Beau sliding to the floor and Fjord choking for air as he grabbed his stomach. Caduceus did everything he possibly could to just curl in on himself and wish for the Wildmother to send some form of giant carnivorous plant. He was sure Fjord could agitate one enough to swallow him whole.

“What’s this about deflowering the firbolg?” Caleb wandered into the room where he and the others had been discussing his current predicament. Caduceus was unaware that he could get anymore embarrassed than he already was, his face buried into his hands and his tail flicking about erratically.

“Caduceus has a crush!” Jester sang, head sitting on her hands and trying to stifle her giggles.

“I don’t think it’s a straight crush Jessie, it sounds bit more complicated than that.” Fjord tried remedying, throwing him an apologetic look. Caduceus’ ear twitched as he noticed that Fjord was only half apologetic.

“No, Deucey is hopelessly and utterly in the throes of love!” Nott hushed Fjord with a slap to his arm, the latter dramatically complaining of how hurt he was. “Positively twitterpated.”

“Cad needs to fuck,” Beau explained to Caleb as he took the seat next to her, “But like… with feelings and serious monogamy and all that sort of crap.”

“Doesn’t the Wildmother have teachings on sexy times and all that? The Traveller probably does I mean he’s super cool and all that-”

“Well,” Caduceus cut off off Jester’s tangent, his voice louder than usual. He was unaware it could get this high or this loud. It was a terrible reminder of that time they had spent before King Dwendal, the urge to simply feed Ikithon and his rudeness to some deadly creature rearing itself in his mind again. “All… that… is part of nature and something that perpetuates her cycle and her creation. But I don’t think this is what she had in mind…”

“All sorts of animals have courtship rituals, ja?” Caleb not-so-helpfully bought up, Caduceus shot him a brief glare from between his fingers. “I suppose the most helpful question would be: what do you want from this?”

He slowly prised his forehead away from his hands, taking deep breaths and trying to calmly face the group.

What did he want from this?

“And asking the Wildmother is cheating!” Jester added hastily.

Well that removed that option.

He supposed he liked her voice. Music had always filled his mind, the Wildmother present in all the music of nature. Sometimes it felt like it took over. But her laughter, the way she sang, the way she smiled as she sang. Part of him knew that he would never be able to wash those beautiful sounds from his mind.

Jester had often talked about romances and her fairytales, and Beau of other women she’d slept with. Hells, he’d even witnessed Fjord sacrificing himself (not that he needed to) upon the Squall Eater just to appease Avantika. But he’d never considered any of those for himself. He’d always assumed that perhaps, if it ever happened and the Wildmother deemed it part of his destiny, she would send someone along he could perhaps get along with. Someone he could envision just spending hours in silence, understanding and enjoying company. Someone who perhaps understood other parts of him- ones that he very rarely even let his own family see. And she was beautiful, all encompassing and demanding every second of his attention, almost terrifying. But nature was beautiful in that sense as well.

And taking a quick glance up from his hands and a look around the table, the sickening, horrifying realisation that he’d said all this aloud sunk to the pit of his stomach.

“Well,” Caleb coughed into the purring cat in his arms, “That answers that.”

“Perhaps, perhaps oh my gosh Caduceus, what if this is that!” Jester suddenly piped up, grabbing ahold of his shirt and shaking him a little. “You have to see her now! Ohmygosh!”

He vaguely felt himself protesting, saying that perhaps she was misinterpreting things. But Nott only scoffed at him, licking the palm of her hands and trying to tame his hair down the way his mother once did. He felt both Fjord and Yasha heave him out of the seat, pushing him in the vague direction of the door and suggesting something or rather about casually asking- oh no Fjord was saying make a show of it- no, Caleb was suggesting being forthright but gently romantic. Caduceus heard himself somewhat protesting, Nott offering him a swig of liquor and almost succeeding in pouring some down his throat had Jester not shoved in next to him to hand him a bouquet of flowers.

Now where in Melora’s green earth did those appear from. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know anymore.

But perhaps they were right. Perhaps, as Caleb supplied into his ear holdinga pearl to his forehead, that the small kiss was indicative that she also wished to get to know him better. Despite all his reservations, he found himself somehow trying to listen to every single fragment of conflicting advice Fjord and Beau were throwing at him. He even found himself listening to Nott practically shouting some carnal knowledge into his ear, Jester enthusiastically joining in as he practically tripped over Fjord’s feet. Fjord held him up, though he seemed to be finding it difficult to meet his gaze as the two continued relating all information they thought would help. Yasha, thankfully saving him, cleared her throat and levelled the two with a glare.

“You got this Cad! I believe in you!” Beau had slapped his shoulder hard enough for him to almost stumble out the Leaky Tap, “I’m so proud!” she wiped away a stray tear from the corner of her eye, resting her shoulder against Yasha who only nodded in agreement.

He took several steps out the door, fiddling with his earring and adjusting the bouquet in his hands. Caduceus noticed with a start that the delicate blossoms matched that impossibly sweet shade of pink she had mentioned. The ones that dusted her most favourite of baked creations and held pride of place at the centre of her display. He took one look back, noticing his friends all standing at the door, thumbs up and shooing him enthusiastically to go after her.

Well, there was no time like the present. He straightened his shoulders, and an unbidden grin forming upon his face, he headed in the direction of the bakery with a determined step.

“AND BRING ME BACK PASTRIES IF YOU TWO AREN’T LIKE YOU KNOW BANGING AND MAKING MINI FOLLOWERS FOR THE WILDMOTHER!”

[angelhummel]

rank the seasons based on music? i’m curious :)

Oh that’s so hard because obviously there’s a mixed bag each season. But I’ll try my best. And this is mostly of the top of my head with minimum researching of what they actually performed lol. Let’s get into it...

6) Season Four - Automatically last. 90% of the songs were just whatever was popular and it was boring. Good moments for me were the two songs from Company and basically any number Isabelle was involved in. But Grease was like the most boring and basic and crowd pleasing show they could’ve picked, and all the other songs were just like top 40 and had nothing to say. Yawn

5) Season Six - Obviously s6 was a waste of time in general, but let’s look at the music. Too many gd Rachel solos and duets. The Sue/Schue duets were awful. We get back to Mr. Schue rapping. No thanks. And there’s like. There’s incorporating the songs into the story so that it works with the plot or gives you insight to a character’s feelings etc. And then there’s just. An event is happening. We need to sing some songs. And those are mostly competition episodes. But in this 13 episode season we get a competition, TWO episodes focusing on nothing but an invitationals event that hasn’t been a thing since s1. A bar mitzvah, a party, and a wedding. And the songs are just nothing. They’re boring. They’re basic. Heya? All About That Bass? Uptown Funk?? I barf. It was ridiculous. And I do hate it because the newbies all sounded great and I’m sorry they were wasted in this horrible season. I do like Cool Kids, Chandelier, Take Me To Church. As well as any Klaine duet, the Brittana mash up, I Lived, Home. But the season was garbage and the music does a good job of reflecting that

4) Season Five - I do hate to put this so low but oh well. So what I don’t like: The Beatles are overhyped and they did not need to waste two episodes on them. Billy Joel is nothing to me and I don’t care about a whole episode tribute to him. This Christmas ep has the worst soundtrack, imo. City of Angels has the worst competition music. And redoing all their old songs was a waste of time. Not to mention we get Blurred Lines and The Fox so. That’s that on that. A few good things: Another Gaga ep, even if it’s mixed with Katy this time. I’ll take what I can get. Just the Way You Are. Brave. Anything Elliott or Kurt’s band was part of. Anything Funny Girl or Sondheim. Yep.

3) Season One - Yet again, hate putting this so low. But Mr. Schue’s many instances of rapping is enough to knock it down a few pegs. There’s just too much from characters I don’t like. Too much Finn, too much Rachel, too much Schue. Too much Journey. Also, Funk?? Case closed. Good things: Any Mercedes or Kurt solo. Any time Santana got to open her mouth. True Colors, Like A Prayer, Dancing With Myself

2) Season Two - Let’s not pretend this season isn’t iconic. Coming in hot straight out the gate, we get a whole Britney ep, Rocky Horror, River Deep Mountain High, and The Warblers. Amazing. But this season does have some of my absolute least favorite musical moments of the show. Billionaire, Hey Soul Sister, The Only Exception, Need You Now, Friday, a fucking Justin Beiber episode. Please. On the flipside, it also has some of the most iconic moments in the show. Landslide, Teenage Dream, Tik Tok, I Feel Pretty/Unpretty, Born This Way, Back To Black AND Valerie. Credit where credit is due. Oh, and all the original songs. Those are great 

1) Season Three - I don’t know if this comes as a surprise to anyone reading this bc I constantly bitch about how much I hate season three. Because I do hate it. A lot. But wow if this isn’t the most iconic season musically. They cover Michael, they cover Whitney, we even get a fucking disco episode even tho they could’ve found better less white disco music but oh well. We get fucking Unique gracing our eardrums this season. We get Harmony. We get the goddamn TROUBLETONES. Need I go on?? I will anyway. Iconic songs of the season: Candyman, Rumor Has It/Someone Like You, Perfect, Jolene, We Found Love, Smooth Criminal, Love Shack, Cough Syrup, Shake It Out, Paradise. Holy shit the list goes on. Best Christmas episode soundtrack. Best competition set list with the Jackson family tribute I will go to my grave defending their victory over the Troubletones sorry not sorry. And yeah yeah usual gripes about too many Rachel solos you already know it. But there’s nothing like downright bad or offensive this season. Well, except for Mr. Schue as usual, but thankfully it was actually framed as offensive by the show. Plus I think this has the most variety of any other season. We get the popular songs, we get the Broadway, but we also get some disco, some rock, some country. It’s just a good mix and there’s something for everyone 

[richardpooleimagines]

Imagine celebrating your birthday with [the Saint Marie gang and] Richard! (part 2/2)

-

A/N: so here it finally is and damn it took me too long to post it, my bad. also i find the world’s lack of images & gifs of starlit beaches disturbing

Part two of the original request by the super awesome @cake-and-umbrellas!!!!!!! 

Pairing: Detective Inspector Richard Poole x reader

Warnings: Richard rants for like 200 minutes, fluffy kisses (oh dear), sand (dw it’s unmentioned)

--------

Back at the Shack, Richard opened the passenger door for you and when he held out his arm without a word you took it and cocked your head to the side in question. He hadn't said anything for the entire car ride.

Needless to say you gasped when he opened the front door and you were drenched in the beautiful orange glow of hundreds of little fairy lights, hung from the ceiling and wrapped around the tree that grew through the middle of his living room. Your grasp tightened on his arm as you looked up at him, near to tears, "What's going on Richard?"

He smiled softly. Finally, after a long day and a night of partying with your friends at Catherine's, it was near midnight and he finally had you right where he wanted you: so close to being in his arms so he could tell you how much he loved and appreciated you. 

"Shhhh," he put a finger to his lips and untangled his arm from yours, taking off his suit jacket, tie, rolling up his sleeves, and undoing the first few buttons. As he did this you watched him curiously, your cheeks tinted rouge (trying not to pass out from the sheer masculine appeal that Richard was exuding with his rolled up sleeves and few undone buttons). What was going on?

His silent answer came when he held out his hand and led you slowly out to the porch and then onto the sand along the starlit beach.

Forearms linked and fingers woven together, it was lovely to feel the contact usually not felt when he had his sleeves rolled down and suit jacket on. He hoped you didn't notice how his skin was searing where it was pressed against yours, contrasting with the cool salty sea breeze that whipped around you both. His blood was running hot because even after all this time together, your laugh and smile and eyes and everything you did made his heart flip somersaults.

Aglow with bright moonlight, you walked along for a ways. When you stopped, you could hear Richard take a deep breath - you were holding yours- and release a heavy sigh, before he turned to you and took both your hands in his. Your birthday was becoming more and more magical every minute you spent with him, and you were on the verge of dizzy with how romantic this all was.

"I'm sorry," he said.

His words took you by surprise as you froze in horror and furrowed your brows, your heart having leapt to your throat. You could see Richard's face contort into confusion with your sudden change of expression.

"You're breaking up with -"

"-What? No? No! No of course not," he looked at you, incredulous.

"Oh thank god," you let out a rush of air.

Taking a second to relax and giving you a moment to release the sheer panic you just experienced, he gazed at you apologetically. His hands were warm and gentle around yours, and you stared back at him in awe, you loved him so much. "What are you sorry for then?"

"I - I, well," he began, "I wanted tonight to be special, because it was your birthday."

You giggled and shook your head, "It was special, Richard, everyone was so wonderful."

"No, I mean I wanted to make tonight special for you. I had quite a bit planned out..." he sighed and looked away at the nearby waves, "I'm sorry that sounds terribly selfish of me."

You were stunned, Richard was grumpy the whole night because he wanted to spend your birthday evening alone? Oh, your precious, sweet, well-meaning, absolutely dense Detective Inspector. You grinned broadly, blushing, "No, you did make it special for me, by being there. ...And for being with me," you added.

"Oh!" he let go of your hands, "that reminds me!" fumbling in his trouser pocket he pulled out a small, long rectangular box. Your eyes widened and you could feel your head beginning to spin. "I got you something."

"You didn't have to-"

"No, I did," he handed it to you, blushing. "I hope you like it. It was my great-grandmother's. I got my mother to send it by priority mail. To be honest I was shocked it actually arrived."

Opening the box, you felt the tears beginning to well up. It was a simple but elegant, beautiful, beautiful wristwatch with a black band. It looked very vintage and very well taken care of. "It's gorgeous!" You were trembling and your heart was racing as he offered to help you put it on.  He was close enough then that when his warm breath fanned your cheeks and fingertips lightly brushed your wind-chilled skin it sent shivers all over you. And when he finished and didn't step back, you let your eyes roam over all of him, appreciating the slightly disheveled, vulnerable, unprofessional, entirely whole-hearted and kind Richard that no one else except you was allowed to see.

"I know it sounds cheesy," he paused and rubbed the back of his neck, "But you ground me. And you complete me. And to be fair, you make solving cases a lot easier since you - well you are the best part of my day and a lot of my stress is gone when I see you - well that is besides being able to have a lovely cool shower when it's ridiculously hot outside ... but then again even those sometimes don't go according to plan because of Harry thinking it's okay to sneak up on me in there - so I suppose when you weigh all of the cons of being on this godforsaken tropical island, you truly are the best part of my day. And don't even get me started on my not being able to have a decent conversation with anyone of Camille, Dwayne or Fidel, or Catherine for that matter. And they probably think that it's okay to - wait I hope they didn't make you...No they couldn't possibly have," he briefly interrupted this thought to wave it off and shake his head, then he continued, too nervous to stop, "Did you know I was going to cook you dinner? It was going to be one of those lovely, traditional, good British dishes. I mean I'm not the best at cooking, but I thought you'd have liked to help me. We could've worked it out together. And then after we were going to watch any movie you wanted. And I even bought some of those desserts you love. I know it wasn't a cake but we could've blown out some candles anyway. I'm sorry that-"

You grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him, shutting up his directionless ranting. He froze, hands mid-air. But you didn't shy away and just as suddenly as he had tensed, he completely relaxed against your lips and returned it with a joy that sent happy warmth flooding through you. The fireworks were bursting from your head to your toes and you reveled in how soft and gentle his mouth was against yours.

When you finally pulled away, it was because humans still needed oxygen to survive. He held you in his arms, they'd slid around your waist and yours around his broad shoulders, during the kiss.

You could've stayed like that for eternity, drowning in each other's souls. He let out a shaky breath, "Wow," his emerald eyes were wide with happy surprise. "You can't imagine how long I've dreamt of that," he whispered confidentially.

"Really?" you mumbled, flushed, raising your eyebrows.

"Is it my birthday or yours?"

You giggled and rolled your eyes.

He frowned slightly, "I'm sorry for having made you go out of your way to do that. I ought to have kissed you instead. It's just that I -"

So you cut him off by kissing him again sweetly. He made no protest. In fact his grasp around you tightened and one of his hands slid up your waist into your hair to deepen the kiss eagerly. Your racing heart fluttered and you tangled your fingers in his short brown locks.

Breaking apart you stared at each other, breathless, and entirely head over heels in love,"Come on, let's go back inside, it's only midnight. We still have lots of time to do all of what you planned. I'm also willing to accept your apologies for my supposedly absolutely no good horrible birthday in the form of your kisses, Detective Inspector Poole."

He grinned, red from ear to ear, "Gladly, my love."