#I’ve never been more thankful for my slight speech impediment

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

oh no oh no

[male-reader-requests]

Unknown

Pairings: None

Word Count: 2,351

Warnings: This is a little short story so not a one-shot. This talks about Serial Killer stuff, specifically the Zodiac Killer. So uh, blood and gore. Be careful. I am also in the middle of getting together an actual update so don't worry!

-

I would not know them.

They would be chosen at random, by pure coincidence.

The game, the most dangerous game would be my game. The most dangerous game, the most dangerous prey, the most dangerous predator, they would become my prey. 

I do not know my target, so they will not know me. I will go at night, not caring for the dangers of being caught, for I would not be linked to them. I would not care for my appearance, for I do not need to impress them. 

I would find a couple, maybe they are together for a passionate night, or perhaps I've caught them just as they decide to split ends, but it will not matter, for no one will ever know. They would be alone, at a beach or on a lover's lane, but I would make sure it was clean, that there were no witnesses and no survivers. This will be my design.

I will shine a light, maybe my headlights or perhaps just a floodlight, at them so they are unable to see me. The light, if a floodlight, will be tapped to my gun. I will have a silencer, to make my act a bit more privet from prying ears.

 Whoever is in the passenger seat, whether a man or woman, will be shot once in the neck, and the driver I will shoot twice in the head. If the passenger lives I will shoot them again, perhaps in the chest, maybe in the stomach, I do not care is they survive anymore. 

I will shoot the driver again in the chest and again perhaps in the stomach, then I will shoot the passenger as many times and as recklessly as I want, for I do not care. In the end, I will unload an entire magazine into two people, and I will leave, leaving the two of them to rot unnoticed until morning. If either survives then that is their problem. 

In the morning, at around 6 AM, I will call the police, reporting a double homicide. If one of them survives then that will just be a blip in the system, a single count of homicide and a single count of an attempt at homicide. 

I will tell them I did it, but I will call them from a burner phone. I will proceed to crush said phone and throw it into a river, never to be seen again. 

I will be familiar in all the wrong ways, and I will be an ever-recurring nightmare.

I will become the Zodiac Killer of the 21st century.

------------------

Marissa sighed, looking at the mass of paperwork before her. Being a detective in California was surprisingly boring, especially when all you ever see is a one on one gunfight between rivals. Currently, the last thing she'd done that seemed even slightly interesting was her divorce, and that had been four years ago.

Light hair fell onto the desk before her, her head following. It was slow for some reason, there was nothing for her to do. Well, that was a lie. She could answer the phone ringing on her desk, she could fill out the paperwork before her, and she could go actually eat something, but here she was, debating.

She was drifting in and out of sleep, dozing as her partner August would say, but it was a warm afternoon, who could blame her?

A sharp crack came across her back, the pale woman yelping as her partner snapped her suspenders. August chuckled at her, obnoxiously slurping at cheap coffee in hand. Marissa glared at him, but it was halfhearted, holding no true anger.

"What was that for?" she asked, but she was eyeing the coffee in his hands, not really listening. She didn't really care, the snapping of her suspenders had become a greeting of August's ever since they were paired up, so she's grown used to it.

August just hummed, putting the coffee mug down on the cluttered desk, having to push a few papers so make room. The two of them hardly cared for germs, so when Marissa cupped the mug to herself he hardly batted an eyelash.

"We've got an assignment," August mumbled, his voice shadowed by drowsiness and a slight speech impediment. Marissa didn't move, truthfully she wished that August hadn't said anything. 

August, bless his heart, normally dealt with all the paperwork. This meant that they were almost completely ready to head out to wherever they were needed, and as much as Marissa just wanted to sleep she knew that this was probably important.

They would have to talk to the head of their department, an older man named Louis Ridgway before they could go, and Marissa truly wished they didn't have to. Ridgway wasn't a bad person, but he liked to make things seem far more interesting then they are. 

Marissa struggled with her jacket as the two of them made their way to his office, dodging interns, other detectives, and officers. Their department was always busy, considering so many people died in California, but it seemed there were even more people here now than there ever were.

August, used to Marissa's struggles, helped his shorter partner into her jacket, then opened the door for her as they entered Ridgway's office. Ridgway, all bushy eyebrows and droopy mustache, waved them over. 

He ignored the normal "sit down and listen as I tell you about the case" and made the two of them stand behind him as he pulled up a few things on his computer. Marissa, ever the nosey person, saw a few crime scene photos, the kind you'd expect to see with the yellow number cards and a bit of blood on the ground.  

The thing that really got her attention though was the other set of photos, ones that looked like carbon copies except that they had been taken with an older camera, the photos themselves obviously being older if the dates on the bottoms of them were right. 

Ridgway turned his monitor off, cutting Marissa's view. "There's been a murder," Ridgway said gruffly, ignoring how lame that sounded. There were tons of murders in California every day, even more, if you count car crashes and accidents.

"I want the two of you to check it out, see if it matches." Marissa blinked a few times, confused and tired, but August nodded, grabbing the pale woman by the shoulder and steering her through the crowded office area. 

Actually back to herself, Marissa looked at August in confusion, but the taller man just got into the driver's seat of the car, motioning for her to also get in. Rolling her eyes she complied, not that she really wanted to, buckling herself in.

She didn't know where they were going, who was murder, how many had been murdered, but she blamed that on her pension for spacing out. August probably knew. .....probably.

------------

It was a 2-hour drive. It was a 2-hour drive for only 38 miles, San Francisco to Benicia, and Marissa slept the entire time. She knew she wasn't looking her best, but that never really mattered to her. 

Sleep rumbled hair and bags under her eyes the short woman got out of the car, accepting the lukewarm coffee August handed her with silent gratitude. The two of them got a few odd looks from local police, but that was more of their own fault, being in a completely different county tended to do that. Police were oddly territorial.  

One young man though, obviously just out of training from how much younger he was than the other officers, offered to bring them to the scene. He was all polite and charming, and Marissa was thankful, she and August had to deal with enough rude officers back at the department. 

The younger officer brought them through the yellow tape and through the mass of officers mostly loitering. The first thing Marissa got to see was a shit box car, obviously older than average and painted in a fading teal that patched out to show a bit of rust. She then noticed the blood. 

There was blood smeared on the passenger door, backseat door on the passenger side, and in the window of the passenger door. There was a pool, or what was probably a pool at one point, of dried blood on the gravel at the backseat door, but Marissa couldn't look further for her view was blocked by a stocky man.   

The man himself she didn't recognize, once she'd actually looked up, but she could tell by the way he held himself that he was the head honcho here, and that he wasn't very happy with the two of them being there. 

He was tall, taller than Marissa but then again almost everyone was. He was older than the two of them, his face was saggy in a way you only get from heavy drinking and it was twisted in a sarcastic sneer.

"Well, what do we have here?" His voice, like his face, had a strangely saggy aspect to it, and Marissa hated it immediately. As rude as it was she wished she could zone out now, but August had put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her focus.

"Detectives Shultcher and Lynn, we're from San Francisco." August and Marissa pulled their badges out from their pockets, Marissa ending up holding hers upside down. 

The saggy faced man seemed to sneer a bit less, but it never left completely. He smiled down at Marissa, then moved to look up at August. His smile was fake, holding no joy or happiness, only restrained rudeness. 

He stepped back, letting the two of them through, but you could see the hesitation in his motions, the way he didn't want them there. Police were oddly territorial.

At the actual scene itself, there was a woman and a young man, both of them must have been part of the forensics force. The two of them were collecting samples from the blood, off the car and off the gravel. They had a chest next to them, full of little sample bags. 

Marissa hated dealing with Forensics specialists. It may just be a bit of prejudice, but every single Forensics team she's dealt with in San Francisco were rude beyond beliefe and treated her and August like they were stupid, like they hadn't gone through any training.  

The two of them hardly even noticed August and her, quietly talking to themselves as they worked. The guy apparently said something funny, making the woman laugh lightly. They left the two of them alone. 

Splitting up August went to talk to the first responding police officers, leaving Marissa to survey the scene. This is how they always did it, this is why the two of them worked so well together. August always talked to suspects and officers, leaving the scene to Marissa. 

Marissa walked a perimeter, looking around at different angles, knowing that anything could help. As she looked around something started to bother her, this scene, this crime itself, was oddly familiar, oddly something she felt she should know. 

With furrowed eyebrows and confusion Marissa continued to look around, but as she got closer to the Forensics team she started to see all the things that looked familiar, making her even more confused. 

On the other side of the car, Marrisa saw that the driver's windowsill was covered in blood, so was the seat and steering wheel.  It was odd how familiar all of this seemed, but there wasn't much she could do until the Forensics told her about what they'd found.

Walking back over to August she zoned out, trying to place why all of this was so God damned familiar, but she was getting nowhere, only getting frustrated in herself. She drank the coffee that August had given her early, she zoned in and out of August questioning, and she debated on falling asleep as she stood there, but as per usual when she wanted to sleep she wasn't able too.

August, finally finishing up, guided the two of them over to the Forensics team, who were started to clean up. The guy noticed first that they were coming over, lightly pushing the girl in the shoulder.

The guy was all smiles, skinny with a pair of wireframe glasses. The woman was also skinny, but very tall, looking like a beanpole. The two of them told them about what they'd found, what they thought may have happened, and about the two victims.

Victim one was a young woman named Stacy Lamburdas. She lived not that far away, she was married, worked at a little restaurant, and had been the driver. She had been shot 4 times and did not survive.

Victim two was a young man named Darcy Monroe. He was one of the many people that Stacy had been having affairs with. He also lived not far away, working as a deliveryman for the post office. He had been shot 8 times. Miraculously he survived. 

Marissa was furiously scribbling into a notepad she had, taking down all the details she thought was important.

"It's funny isn't it?" the guy said, pushing his glasses up. Marissa raised an eyebrow in question, but she didn't look up.

"It's the 51st anniversary, and it's a complete carbon copy." Marissa now looked up, more confused, the woman seemed to notice.

"It's the 51st anniversary of the first killings of the Zodiac Killer, and this scene is very similar," Marissa stalled, his vision tunneling. The two Forensics kept talking, August keeping the conversation going, but Marissa wasn't paying attention.

This is why it was so familiar, why this all looked like something she knew.

The 51st anniversary huh?

Lord help them if this was a copy cat.

[thelastspeecher]

Best Revenge AU - Closure?

I have to go to work soon, so quick summary: angst.  Complicated emotions and relationships.  Max revealing that he’s not as much as a dick as he seemed.  Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Max waited patiently in the back of the classroom for the kindergarten teacher to introduce him.  One of his favorite things about being a hero was coming to school classes to tell them about what he did.  And kindergarteners were always the best audiences.  Their wide-eyed enthusiasm was infectious.

              “All right, kids, today, we have a special guest!” the teacher said cheerfully.  “So, everyone go to the back and sit on the rug!”  The kindergarteners obediently got up from their chairs and went to the back of the room, where they sat on the rug in front of Max.  One child raised her hand.  “Yes, Lisa?”

              “Who’s the guest?” she asked.

              “We are very lucky today!  Our guest is the famous hero, Richter!” the teacher said happily.  Like always, the children clapped and cheered.  Except for one.  A small boy sitting at the front.  The boy frowned at Max.

              “Ew,” he said, crossing his arms.  The teacher frowned, visibly confused.  “Hewoes-oes awe icky.”  Max opened and closed his mouth a few times.  The boy had a heavy lisp and stutter, but as someone who’d had a speech impediment when he was young, Max had no difficulty understanding the child.

              “What makes you say that?” he finally asked. The boy wrinkled his large nose.

              “Hewoes-woes-woes awe n-n-n-no good,” he said firmly.

              “Junior,” the teacher warned.  “Be polite.”  The boy – Junior – stuck out his tongue.

              “N-n-no!  They awe smewy!” he insisted.  “They don’t-don’t n-need powite man-n-n-news.”

              “Stanley Pines Junior, if you don’t stop being disruptive, I’m going to talk to your parents,” the teacher said.  Max’s blood ran cold.

              Of course.  Junior’s nose was unmistakably the one that ran in the McGucket family, while his stutter was the same Angie had until she was six.  This must be the child she was pregnant with the last time I saw her.  Junior smirked.

              “Okay,” he said.  He looked directly at Max.  “You awe bad and stin-in-in-inky.”  The teacher opened her mouth.

              “It’s okay,” Max said quickly.  He smiled at the teacher.  “I can handle a heckler.”  He straightened.  “So, do you kids want to know what it’s like to be a hero?”

-----

              Other than his ex-wife and archenemy’s son heckling him at the beginning, Max’s presentation went well.  Afterwards, while parents were coming by to pick up their kids, the teacher pulled Max to the side.

              “I’m sorry about Junior being disruptive,” she said.  “He’s normally the most well-behaved student I’ve ever had!  I have no idea what came over him.”

              “It’s okay,” Max said.  He forced a small smile.  “Variety is the spice of life, you know?”

              “Still…”

              “Trust me, I’ve dealt with much worse,” Max said. The teacher sighed, but before she could continue apologizing, a parent called her over.  Left to his own devices, Max did his best to watch Junior without seeming obvious.  During his presentation, he’d felt a growing discomfort about the boy.  Clearly, Junior was too old to be the child Angie was pregnant with when he’d seen her four years ago.  In fact, he looked to be about six years old, which would mean Angie got pregnant immediately after leaving Max.

              Or that she was pregnant when she left. Junior had Angie’s large nose and gentle face, but all his other traits were ones Max recognized.  He saw those big ears, amber eyes, and straw-like hair in the mirror every day.  The final nail in the coffin, however, was that Junior had the same lisp Max had struggled with until second grade.

              No…  Max quickly looked away from Junior, trying to convince himself he was imagining things. No.  Angie wouldn’t do that to ya.  She wouldn’t have yer child and not tell ya.  Right?

              “Richter?”  Max looked over.  The teacher had come back with a man and Junior in tow.  The man, someone Max hated with every fiber of his being, smirked. “This is Stanley Pines, Junior’s father. I told him about Junior’s behavior.”

              “Yes,” Stan said, nodding.  “She did.  I’m very surprised Junior was so rude in class.”

              “It’s fine,” Max said.  “Children don’t really have a filter.”  He cleared his throat.  “Still, that sort of language is concerning.  I’d hate for him to grow up to become a villain.”

              “Oh, yeah,” Stan said in a clearly exaggerated tone. “Yeah, that’d be awful.” He looked down at Junior. “Wouldn’t it, Junior?”  Junior nodded sulkily.  “What do you have to say to Mr. Richter?”

              “I’m sow-w-wy,” Junior muttered.  Max smiled.

              “And I accept your apology.”

              “Thanks for being so understanding,” Stan said. “C’mon, Junior, your sisters are waiting at home.”  Stan flashed another grin at Max.  “Good luck keeping the streets clean.”

              “Thank you,” Max said, continuing to smile.  The second Stan, Junior, and the teacher turned away, he dropped the smile.  Seeing Stan and Junior next to each other had confirmed his suspicions.  Junior didn’t look anything like the man that was supposedly his father.

              I have a son.  I have a six-year-old son I didn’t know anything about. 

-----

              Max walked up to the tan craftsman house that Angie and Stan lived in with their three children.  It hadn’t been that difficult to track down where she lived now, given that he had access to HQ’s database.  He felt a bit guilty about using the database for something personal, but he couldn’t let this slide.  He had to get down to the bottom of this.  After taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

              “Comin’!” said a voice he recognized.  Shortly, the door opened, revealing his ex-wife. Angie’s mouth dropped open in a small “o”.  “Max?”

              “Angie,” Max said shortly.  He blinked.  While most of Angie’s appearance hadn’t changed, there was one major difference. “Yer hair’s shorter.”

              “I cut it after I left ya,” she replied. “Like I always wanted.  I only kept it long fer you.”  She frowned.  “It was this length when we crossed paths a few years back.”

              “Well, I was a bit too distracted by yer obvious pregnancy to notice yer hair,” Max said.  Angie sighed.

              “What do ya want?”

              “To talk to ya ‘bout my son.”  A flash of fear crossed Angie’s face, so briefly that Max almost missed it.

              “I don’t know anything ‘bout the son ya sired when cheatin’ on me,” she said.

              “You know I’m not referrin’ to him.  I’m referrin’ to the son what heckled me the other day in his kindergarten class.  I’m sure Stan told ya ‘bout the incident.”  Angie was silent.  “Angie. Don’t drag this out.”

              “Fine.”  Angie stood to the side.  “Come in.” Max stepped inside.  “Follow me.”  Max followed Angie into a nearby living room.  Junior was sitting on the floor playing with building blocks. “Junior?”

              “Yes?” Junior asked, looking up.  He frowned at Max.  “Who-who-who’s that?”

              “An old friend,” Angie said after a moment. “Would ya be willin’ to play in yer room?  This feller and I have to talk ‘bout boring grown-up things.”

              “Okay.”

              “Thank you, bean.”  On Junior’s way out of the living room, Angie kissed the top of his head, eliciting a giggle from him.  “Please, Max, take a seat.”  Max sat on the tan couch.  He looked around.  The room was cozy and warm.  A mixture of family pictures and pictures of amphibians decorated the walls.

              “Did you take those?” he asked, nodding to the photos.

              “Obviously.  You know I like usin’ my camera,” Angie said, sitting on the couch, but a slight distance from him.  “Yer not here to talk ‘bout my home’s décor, though.”

              “No.  I’m not.” Max closed his eyes.  He took a deep breath.  “Why didn’t ya tell me ‘bout Junior?”

              “Max.”  Max opened his eyes to look at Angie.  A weariness had settled over her.  One he recognized.  “Ya know why I left, right?”

              “I…”  Max swallowed.  “I was too overprotective.”

              “You weren’t just overprotective.  You tried to control me.  Tried to keep me from livin’ the life I wanted.  And, when I left, ya tried to physically stop me.” Angie leaned in.  “You grabbed me hard enough to leave a bruise.”

              “I- I did?”

              “Yes.”

              “Angie, I never-”

              “I know sometimes it can be difficult to control yer own strength.  But that’s all the more reason to not get physical with someone when yer in distress.  You think Stan ‘n I haven’t had fights?  Of course we have.  But we don’t make it physical.  We know better ‘n that.”  Max stared at her in horror.  He had read between the lines, and now had an idea of what Angie was dancing around. “What?”

              “You didn’t tell me ‘bout my son ‘cause you thought I’d hurt him or you,” he whispered.  Angie looked away.  “Angie, I would never!”

              “Maybe you’ve worked on yourself since we were married.  But back then, you would’ve done anything to get me back.  To get yer son,” Angie choked out.  “Don’t pretend that ya wouldn’t have taken every course ya could. And- and-”  Angie let out a sob.  Max’s heart broke.  “I knew that if ya tried to make me come back, I would have.  I would have fooled myself that you had changed.  That it was safe fer me and the baby.  But I would’ve just been miserable again.”

              “I-”  Max paused. He thought back to every fight they’d had.  They both would shout, she would leave, but then she’d eventually come back and they’d make up without resolving the thing they’d fought over.  And Max would ignore her obvious weariness, the same that had come over her at the beginning of this conversation.

              “All of our fightin’, too, it- it wasn’t a good place to raise a child,” Angie continued.  “Junior’s happy and well-adjusted.  If I’d stayed, he wouldn’t be.”  Angie looked at Max.  Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears.  “Yer parents fought.  You know how much that messes up children.”

              “…Yeah.  Yeah, it does.”  Max clenched his hands into fists.  “But one of our biggest fights was that ya didn’t want a child at that point in time. Ya can’t deny how it looks, fer you to be sayin’ over and over again that ya wanted to wait, only to leave while pregnant.”

              “I didn’t know I was pregnant until after I had left.  It was too late by then.  You know that I could never- never- terminate a pregnancy.”

              “But after Junior was born, ya kept him.  Yer fam’ly definitely offered to have a cousin or siblin’ take him in.”

              “Yes.”

              “So why did ya keep a child that ya claimed ya didn’t want?” Max demanded.  His voice rose.  Angie frowned at him.

              “Keep it down,” she hissed.  Max took a steadying breath.

              “Okay,” he said in a calmer voice.  “But the question stands.  Ya kept him, despite sayin’ ya didn’t want a child.  Why?”

              “I told ya I didn’t want a child ‘cause I was worried ‘bout my job.  I was. I knew ya would push and push fer me to take as much time off as possible, and I would.  Then, you’d push fer me to eventually leave, ‘cause I’d been off work fer so long.  I would cave in to that, too.  That wasn’t a worry no more after I left.”

              “I wouldn’t-” Max started.  Angie glared.  He fell silent.

              “Don’t claim ya wouldn’t.  We both know ya would.  Without the stress of our marriage weighin’ on me, everything fell into place.  I was comfortable and safe and settled and…”  Angie softened.  “…and I had a lil bean on the way.”

              “And Stan knows?”

              “You think that poorly of me?” Angie spat. “That I’d claim to a man I was pregnant with his child when I was pregnant with someone else’s?”  She got up.  Max stood as well.

              “Angie, I didn’t mean-”

              “No.  You did.”

              “I’m just surprised he’d raise a child what wasn’t his.”

              “He’s a good man, Max.”

              “He’s a criminal.”

              “That ain’t a dealbreaker to me.”

              “It should be!”

              “It-”  Angie crossed her arms with a huff.  “I tried to keep this conversation civil.  We both could use some closure.  But it’s clear to me that ya haven’t changed enough fer us to have this talk peacefully.”

              “We can-”

              “You need to leave,” Angie said shortly.  Max clenched his hands into fists.  Angie’s eyes narrowed.  “You have three options.  Option one: ya leave on yer own.  Option two: I kick yer sorry ass out myself.  Option three: Stan kicks ya out.”  She checked her watch.  “He should be home with the girls any minute now.”

              “I-”

              “Choose.”  Angie’s eyes bore into Max.  “Or I’ll choose fer ya.”

              “Fine,” Max snapped.  “Fine.  I’ll leave.” He threw his hands into the air. “It’s not like I had a million more questions to ask ya or anything like that.”

              “I can answer ‘em.  Some other time,” Angie said firmly.  She escorted Max to the front door and opened it.  “I want us to both be able to close this chapter.  But right now, we can’t without comin’ to blows.” Max stepped outside.  “Work on yourself, Max.  Then we can finish this conversation.”  She closed the door.  Max stomped away.  His anger ebbed with every step, until, a block away, he felt completely empty.  He came to a stop.

              What kind of hero am I?  My ex-wife was afraid of me.  She was worried ‘bout what I would do to her and our child.  And she was right to be scared.  His shoulders drooped.  My first son I had to give up ‘cause I couldn’t take care of him no more. My second son was six ‘fore I found out he even existed.  He closed his eyes.  I’m no hero.  I’m a deadbeat.  He looked back in the direction of Angie’s house.  Maybe…maybe it’s time fer me to work on myself.  Maybe…  He put his hands into his pockets and began to walk again.  Maybe it’s time fer me to hang up my mask.

[sandrawrites13]

my world | | mark fischbach x reader

request:  Do you do Mark x Male! Readers? If so, can I request one where Mark and male!reader go on a small trip together and Mark proposes? Sorry if this is too much! I love your writing a whole lot! 💖

of course mark x male readers are game!! this request warmed my heart so much that i had to go watch proposal videos. and then i cried. and now i’m writing this, and will probably cry again. also thank you so much!! :) 

warnings: YO GUYS IT’S A GIRL!!! Y’ALL ARE FATHERS IN THIS ENJOY :) also bullying and sexuality discrimination from stupid haters :(, but it’s cute i promise :). 

when you and mark both came out to the public, your fanbase took it very well. there were rumors going around before you two came clean, anyway, and it led to a lot of speculation (and hashtags) to trend on twitter, which mostly encouraged your decision to make a video exposing your relationship. 

as usual, however, when there were fans, there were haters. and this time in particular, though there weren’t many of them, the ones that hated on you hated on you. they made fun of every insecurity you had. 

they called you all the names in the book, especially fag**t. that was their favourite, and it filled you with so much anger that people had the audacity to say that to another human being -- but mark was always there to calm you down, by your side, the epitome of taylor swift’s you need to calm down music video. 

you also had by your side ally, who was the love of your life and the love of mark’s as well. you were grateful that no hate was directed towards her, half because you two kept her out of the public (to the best of your abilities), and half because she was only six-years-old and had already dealt a lot in her life. 

her mother, your best friend -- lynne -- had fatally died in a car accident when her daughter was two. she left her only child, allison (who you nicknamed ally), under your care and she grew up with you as her father. 

your hole in your heart was filled with ally, but more of all filled with mark and her combined, of whom you started dating just seven months after adopting the young girl. 

you caught mark multiple times braiding her blonde hair, watching as she glistened proudly in the mirror: “daddy! daddy! look! papa is making me look pretty!”, a giant smile abroad her face. 

there were other times he gave her makeovers. or times where you would walk in the kitchen, examining thoroughly the sight of cake batter all over the floor and walls, flour and sugar over your daughter’s face and a plastic crown on her head. your boyfriend smiled back at you, waving his hand and greeting, “sup, y/n.” 

that’s what made you fall in love with everything -- with the whole situation. your daughter. your boyfriend. nothing could be better. 

except of course, for a very needed vacation and a break from youtube. 

which was mark’s idea originally. he wanted to take you and ally out to see the countryside, driving from california to kansas and staying on a farm for an entire weekend. 

you loved that idea, personally. 

you grew up on a farm when you were little, and you never really wanted to move to the city until you grew up, and adopted ally. after you started dating mark, it became clear that you weren’t going to be going anywhere soon. 

but now, you were finally returning back to your home. to your favourite place. 

ally was especially excited, repeating like a mantra that she was gonna see “horsays!” (on account of her speech impediment you just found too pure to fix for at least another year). 

mark, chuckling from the front seat, wrapped an arm around you while you drove, leaning his head on your shoulder. “you excited?” he asked. 

the man never failed to make you blush, as evidenced by the blood rushing to your face as you peered at him, glancing just from the side at the sudden conversation when you had admittedly been zoning out. “i’m so excited, baby,” you replied. 

“good. because i am with the two people i love so much!” he exclaimed, booming, as he sat back up in his seat. “and we’re going to go see horsays. and doggies. and chickens. and. . . what’re they called again? the ones that go moo?” 

“a cow!” exclaimed ally from the backseat. 

“that’s right,” mark said, pretending to hit himself in the forehead. you chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully, encouraging him to kiss you on the cheek. “and ally, since you’ve been so good in the car. . .” 

her eyes went wide from the back, her mouth agape as she narrowed her eyes. “daddy. . . do you mean. . .?” 

you laughed, already knowing what was about to happen before he replied, as he fished narrowly in his bag, rummaging for a moment before stripping a thin bar covered in a sleek wrapper. 

“chocolate!” she screeched. you jumped in reply, raising an eyebrow to your boyfriend. 

“you’re terrible,” you mouthed, grinning. he merely waved you away, ignoring your critiques to his childish parenting. “mark fischbach, if you give her that--.” 

“thanks, daddy!” she cheered, now opening the bar. you sighed. 

“you know she’s spoiled, right?” you asked. he once again returned to wrapping an arm around you, kissing your cheek softly. 

“oh, handsome,” he argued. “you know you are too.” 

you didn’t respond to him, still in the midst of a blush covering your cheeks as you turned into the secluded farm. 

the darkness was only semi-alluding the lights that were shining from the back of the farm, illuminating the beautiful landscape and the barn behind it. ally, a mouth full of chocolate, stared in awe as, when you approached, you noticed the sight of some tables around and food planted on top of them. 

“they must have had a party,” you muttered, turning behind you. “alright, come on baby one and baby two. we need to go to sleep. we can clean all of this up in the morning.” you walked out of the car, approaching the trunk. “alright guys. i’m just gonna get the blankets.” 

you heard mark mumble silently in agreement, and then his voice disappear as he fell farther from you -- away. you, however, spent your time fishing through the trunk, trying to find the blankets and the pillows you had brought (since ally was too terrified to sleep without ‘blankie’.)

“hey mark, do you know where blankie is?” you asked, pushing some of the other ones you brought to the side to try and find it. “mark?” 

there was no answer, filling you with slight annoyance as you continued to look. ally would just throw a fit if you didn’t have her blanket, and God knows that you would not want to hear it. 

“mark,” you repeated, harsher as you knelt on the side of the trunk opening, trying to get a good look of the entire inside. “mark!” 

still, there was no response, causing you to whip around and narrow your eyes. however, you were numb and frozen when you witnessed the scenery behind you now transformed, all of your friends behind you and mark on one knee. 

ally was by his side, her mouth opened wide in shock as she stared between the two of you. 

immediately, you almost collapsed back into the trunk, your eyes watering with tears as you realized what was happening. jack, felix, and ethan were muttering to themselves with giant smiles on their faces, the rest of your friends doing similar. 

“y/n,” he began, making your heart melt. “y/n l/n, i love you more than words can describe. you are everything to me. you are my universe.” there was a pause as he took a shaky breath, tears now filling his own eyes. “since the moment you came into my life, i’ve learned what happiness was. you made me remember the good in the bad and you helped me learn to love the little things. you are my everything, and i will never be able to give you what you have given to me. ever. but i can try.” 

pulling something out of his pocket, you covered your face as tears rolled down the sides of your cheeks. 

“y/n, the most handsome boyfriend i have ever managed to have, and the most amazing, caring, intelligent father that has ever graced this earth. . . please, make me the happiest man on earth, as cliche as that sounds, and please, please, take me to be your husband. will you marry me?” 

those words came out like a dream, floating together in the air before you collapsed to your knees in front of him, pulling him into a deep kiss and letting your body melt with his. “yes, mark,” you whispered out loud, gasping for air from the amount of tears. “yes, yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” 

cheers were let out, you holding each other, smelling each other’s scent, laughing and crying all in the same time, hearing jack’s loud voice exclaim that bob owed him fifty bucks that mark would pop the question first. 

that was until you heard a tiny voice from besides you. “what does marry mean?” 

when you looked up and were locked with the sight of your daughter, you looked up to your fiance, watching him force a smile on his ecstatic face, wiping his tears. standing for only a moment, you watched him get up only to kneel back down and take ally’s hands in his own. 

“ally,” he whispered quietly, holding her face and instructing her to look at him in a gentle, calm voice. “ally, i need to tell you something, baby.” he paused. “i’m not your biological daddy, okay? and i wasn’t there for you when you were born. your other daddy was.” 

you remembered the day you sat in the waiting room, waiting for your best friend because her shitty of a boyfriend decided not to come. 

you recalled the moment she was born, and you also remembered the day that the will was read, and you were given custody of the young girl. 

“but,” he interrupted. “i need to ask you if you’re okay with me being your real daddy. and letting me be there for you my entire life. being there for both of you. for daddy and you. i’m asking you if you’re gonna let me watch you grow into a beautiful, young lady, and protect you from everything.” 

all of you were now bawling at this point, as you watched him speak to her in anticipation as to what she would say. 

“please let me be your daddy, baby,” he said, the last part hushed. “is it okay if we’re all a big family?” 

ally, unable to say anything, wiped her tears and nodded hysterically, making mark’s voice let out a, “yeah?” and then a following, “yeah. yeah!” before grabbing her and pulling her off the ground, twirling her in a hug. 

you felt yourself collapse emotionally, and before you knew it, you were running towards them too, yanking them in a similar hug and listening to their heartbeats against your head. 

“i love you,” you heard mark whisper in the middle of screams from your friends. “God, i love you so much.” 

“i love you too,” you gently voiced back. and you did. 

they were your family. 

your love. 

your world. 

[anonymous-hopeful]

The Soul Society (Chapter Two: And We Shall Ride Forevermore)

First chapter is here:https://anonymous-hopeful.tumblr.com/post/168367064353/the-soul-society-chapter-one-snow-melts-with

Elder Kettle sat alone in his room, his cane tapping the floor. Once the members of the society had left for the brief recess, he had checked on the young sippy cups laying asleep in their cribs. Both Cuphead and Mugman hadn't awoken during Chill E.'s storytelling, thank goodness, and after a quick kiss and a fixing of the covers, he left the young to their rest. The kettle smiled fondly; he remembered that it wasn't too long ago when the stork had left the babies at his doorstep. In fact, it was a few months after the casino was built. There was no doubt in the elder's mind that during that time when everything felt dark and despaired, the two innocent babies wrapped in swaddling cloths had just brought him all of the joy in the world. As he reminesed on that fateful day, a knocking on the door had interrupted his thoughts.

Sighing, Elder Kettle eased up from his rocking chair and made his way to the door, finding himself surprised when he saw the Blind Spectre on the other side.

"Spectre? Don't ya have somethin' ta do with the Phantom Express?", Elder Kettle asked, displaying a look of concern.

"Yes...well, um...I should but...I just...wanted to look...at the babies.". Spectre explained, a nervousness in his voice.

Elder Kettle thought for a moment. Spectre, as he now is, was an optimistic, charming young lad, especially when he was human, despite his total blindness and speech impediment. Ever since what...happened...however, he was gifted with vision in his afterlife, and from then he had spent his free time seeing everything he had missed in Inkwell Isle. Giving a gentle smile, Elder Kettle had let Spectre in, and allowed him to see the sippy cups.

Grinning wide, Spectre opened up his eyes, or rather, his hands, to see the little ones.

"Oh...they're adorable...I wish they...were awake...so then I could...hold them.", Spectre said, a genuine happiness in his voice.

Elder Kettle nodded, agreeing with the spirit. "You still haven't told me why you had to look at the boys so urgently.".

"Um...well...I can...see...into the future!", he proclaimed, before adding, "I see those two saving us all...no more debts...".

This had piqued Elder Kettle's interest. "Really, now? Well, what exactly didja see?".

The Blind Spectre tapped his chin. "I can't...describe it well...I think they destroyed them...but I'm not sure why...or how they...got them in...the first place.".

Before Elder Kettle could respond, the grandfather clock in the living room had rung, signalling the end of the recess...

Even though they were often called by nicknames (T-Bone, the blind lad, and simply the twins), they did indeed have real names. Yes, not many would know, but the men who worked the Inkwell Express were originally from somewhere else on the globe, a place that didn't have the astounding magics of Inkwell Isle, but where the people spoke eloquently with a rich and fluttering accent that made the poorest of pesants sound regal. The one called T-Bone, the oldest member of the Express crew, had the name Thomas Hardwick. He himself had spent majority of his life in the fancy magic-void place, making a living as an engineer.

The twins, slightly older than the blind lad, but only by a few years, were Billy and Bobby Blayzon. They certainly were an interesting duo; styled their hair the same, always finished each other's sentences, never separated from one another. Thomas had found them trying to sleep in one of the train's freight cars one night in a blustering winter, the only thing keepng them warm being their ragged overalls and a single piece of cloth barely large enough to cover one brother. When confronted, they had told their story; their mother would terrorize them, beating their bodies since they could breathe. Without a father to protect them, the boys suffered until one day, when they had stowed away enough supplies, they had escaped, and hadn't looked back since then. The young teens begged the older man to let them stay, and Thomas, feeling pity, would teach them how the locomotive worked, having them do a job in exchange for a home, and at the slight expense of Thomas, cash.

The blind lad would not come into the picture until many years later. While the lad was a teenager, the twins were in their twenties, and Thomas was almost fifty-eight. A group of people were loading into the train to travel to far destinations; for some, it was work, for othera, it was school or home. One fateful day, the lad had boarded the bus. Even though he hadn't a stick or a dog, Thomas could tell he was blind. His eyes were a haunting shade of blue, and they'd loll about carelessly, never focusing on one thing. Somehow, the lad had managed to make his way on, find an empty seat, and crack open a book without any assistance. Feeling the need to talk to the boy, Thomas made his way over to him and sat down.

"Are ya new here?"

"Hm?", the lad answered, his head turning to the sound of the older man's voice.

"Are ya new? I ain't seen the likes of ya here before."

"What a thick accent...are you from...the countryside?"

Thomas looked at him, confused.

"Uh-"

"Sorry...Random question... I'm new here, yes...It was rather easy ...navigating my way, however.... I told mother... I'd be fine by... myself, after all, I did graduate ...Nottingham's School for the Impaired... with top honors, and... even my assistant says... that I'm more ...than able to get around.... without trouble. I just use... my hands as eyes,... they work just as ...well, if not better... that actual eyes.".

The blind lad chuckled before continuing.

"My name is... Emery Spectre, my apologies... for not mentioning sooner. I've been told ...I have a high level of... brain power. One day, I hope... to be the first blind person... to operate a locomotive...ambitious, huh?".

Thomas grinned, though he knew Emery couldn't see him.

"Well, if yer interested, I happen ta be the conductor of this here train.".

Emery was quiet for a moment, before replying, "I will most... definitely consider.".

The years had passed, and every day Emery could be spotted on the train.

"Do you think boss will-", Bobby began.

"Let Emery work train?" Billy finished, looking at Thomas with bright eyes.

This would eventually work, and Thomas was going to implore that Emery work with them, when one day, the blind lad had came to the train exclaiming that he was invited to work a train on a remote island, and that Thomas, Billy, and Bobby should come as well. Against better judgement, the three agreed, and all were on the next ferry to Inkwell Isle.

Now, Thomas, Bobby and Billy, and Emery were known as some of the few humanfolk on the Isle, and conductors of the magical Inkwell Express, who was a sentient being itself.

"Look's like we're nearin' the second part of the Isle, Head.", Thomas warned.

Nodding in response, the Head of the Train prepared to brake, coming to a slow and squeaky stop.

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound good.", the Head stated, taking a look at its brakes.

"Seems like we'll have ta cut this run short...Emery, could ya ask someone on the Isle ta warn everyone about the Devil?", Thomas inquired.

"Sure, of course...I'll be back soon!", Emery replied, getting off the train to travel around the carnival around them.

Who would be the best to spread the word around this part of the Isle? Grim and Wally could fly, but Grim had a stuttering problem, sort of like he did, and Wally refused to leave his nest for anything. That left Djimmi, Beppi, and the Baroness. Emery stopped to think a bit. Who was the most mature and efficient? Actually, that didn't take much thought. Now, Emery was making his way to the Baroness' castle.

The huge thing growled at him with a mean grimace as he stood in front of it.

"Pardon me, but...I have news for ...the Baroness, and I ...mean no harm.", Emery stated calmly, soon after hearing the clicking of high heels down stairs.

"Aha! I thought that was your sweet voice, lad! Please excuse my castle; he isn't used to the sight of you yet, as you barely come by! Tell me, what news do you have?", the Baroness inquired, quite merrily.

"I regret to ...inform you that ...the Devil's Casino ...is up and running. We on the ...Inkwell Express had ...come to warn everyone ...on this part of the Isle ...and the next, however... the Express isn't ...at it's peak performance. I implore you ...to tell everyone ...on this part ...of the Isle.", Emery answered.

"Oh my! I shall! I shall, and right away, too! Sir Waffington! Gather the other members of the court! We have a mission to fulfill!", Baroness von Bon Bon cried out as she went back into the castle. A moment later, she came back out to say,

"Tell Rumor that I said hello, and come back soon, sweetheart!".

Emery gave a nod and a smile as he went back to the Express.

"I told the Baroness... and she promised to ...spread the word. Will we be ...able to make a ...stop at the... first part of ...the Isle?", Emery asked, a twist of excitement in his voice.

"Ye know the train ain't working right. Why do you-!"

Thomas yelped as the train came to another squeaking halt. Immediately, he looked to the twins, who's hands were grasping the brake.

"He wants to see flower...", Bobby whistled.

"Ya know...Cagney.", Billy finished with a snicker.

Thomas rolled his eyes. Emery was an exemplary man, but there was absolutely no way Thomas could make sense of the whole...flower thing...maybe he was still getting used to the Isle, or all the weird magic, which he was also getting used to, but at the moment, he never thought about falling in love with any odd being, more or less falling in love with a flower, and a male flower at that, yet here he was, and there went Emery, into the forest to find the carnation he was so fond of.

"Cagney? Cagney...? This forest was...always difficult to...navigate...", Emery sighed, before a familiar voice (and an unfamiliar voice) caught his attention.

"Ya wouldn't believe it, Cags! That's the fifth time today one of us has been plucked from the ground! The punk lady didn't even ask or check if he was alright! She just turned around and gave him to her friend, like a gift! I'm tellin' ya, Cags, the vegetation of Inkwell Isle barely get any pod-pickin' respect! More so the flowers! Plucked from the dirt and made into bouquets and decor! One day I oughta-".

"Calm down, Dave, you don't want to loose your petals again! Though I agree with you completely! We must establish our dominance, not just in the forest, but in the rest of the isle! Extreme pollination, total domination!".

"Haha, yes! This is why yer the flower's flower, Cags! Extreme pollination, total domination, that's what you say! If only! One day, at least...humph.".

Nervous, Emery turned toward the voices. He had taken a step, than another, before managing to step on a rather loud...something.

"Wha?! Who is it this time?!", the small, angry flower grumbled.

"Emery? Oh my, how much of that conversation did you hear...?", Cagney chuckled nervously.

"All the same...you and your plan...I'm terribly sorry ...for your friend.", Emery replied.

"Ah, save it. Yer lucky ya only stepped on a branch. Dang humans, ruinin' the welfare...", the flower muttered, stomping away.

"You'll have to pardon my friend, David Daysie, he isn't as open-minded about humans as others.", Cagney apologised.

"Oh, no, it's not...an issue, I just...wanted to talk with...you before we...on the Inkwell Express...head back.", the other proclaimed.

" Oh, you're too kind! Nice to have someone, a human, who understands the pain that flowers are subjected to. If only there were more like you.", Cagney sighed.

Emery had inched forward, his hands in front of him, until he felt Cagney's soft petals. Remembering again the structure of Cagney's face, Emery cupped his lower petals and kissed the flower on his forehead.

"There are more, you'll see...". Emery sighed.

"Heh...humans understanding us? Never...Inkwell Express, huh?"

A while later, Emery had returned to the train.

"Thank goodness. We gotta be headin' back now, the trains getting more wonky.", Thomas warned.

"Uh oh...let's hurry back...", Emery concurred.

"I can handle this last ride back!", the head of the train claimed, as he began to work his way down the track.

The first moments for the ride back were fine, and the head was having no problem. After rounding a turn however, the head, as well as the crew, noticed that something was wrong.

"Hey, shouldn't we be slowing down?", Thomas asked as the train accelerated more.

"Well, yes, but...I'm not slowing down for some reason. Last time we checked, I thought it was the engine that wasn't workin!," Head exclaimed.

"Billy? Bobby?", Thomas inquired.

"Don't look at us!", Bobby cried.

"We didn't break anything!", Billy added.

Thomas nodded. "Well, then, if the brakes aren't working, I guess...hey, where's that lever?".

The crew looked at the control panel, nearly jumping in horror at the reveal of no manual brake lever.

"Yikes! We've been sabotoged!", Thomas cried out in fear.

"What? What are we...to do?", Emery asked, shaken.

"I...um, well, we can't jump, so...", Thomas replied, looking over at the others.

"Huh? No, you aren't...", Billy gasped.

"...saying what we think?", Bobby whimpered.

"We're in a runaway train, going who knows how fast...I don't know what to do!", Thomas panicked.

"Wait! I'll keep us going until we can come to a safe stop. We aren't giving up yet!", the head yelled.

"Head, I applaud ya, but this train is going to crash! Yeah, we'll keep going, but what about those mountains, or the amusement park? We have to accept that we're not making it out of here. There's no way.", Thomas sighed.

"But I could save you all at least! I don't want ya dead! Not on my watch! Couldn't I try?", the head pleaded.

"Head...listen when I say this...crash the train.". Thomas ordered.

"But...but...", Emery stuttered.

"Wait! Couldn't we-", Bobby chimed, before being cut off with Thomas yelling, with tears bursting out of his eyes,

"JUST CRASH THE DAMN TRAIN!!"

and the head silently agreeing...

The thunderous crash was heard throughout the Isle. Nearly, no, everybody knew what had happened. The wreckage was an atrocity, for when the train had collided with the side of the mountain in the third part of the Isle, there was a slight outbreak of fire fueled by the train's tinder. The head was busted and dented, just barely hanging by a shoestring. The others...practically crushed, even charred.

"A train wreck? How awful...King Dice?"

"Why, yes, boss?"

"Let's see if we can't get some free souls.".

King Dice, dressed dapper and stylish as always, walked out to the wreckage. In the side of the mountain, near the casino, lay the busted train. Scowling, the die surveyed the area, seeing if there was anyone on the train to deal with. He had peeked inside one of the passenger cars of the locomotive, cringing when he saw the bloodied and broken bodies inside. Shaking his head, he looked around a bit more, spying the Head of the train crying weakly though busted beams.

"Rough day, eh pal?", King Dice inquired, his best expression of sorrow on his face.

Gradually, the Head looked over at the die, not able to muster a word.

"I don't blame you. It's not everyday something like this happens. I never rode the Express myself, but I've heard good news about it. I mean, twins, a blind lad, and a conductor from a foriegn land running a train? Amazing, in itself. If only there was a way to, I don't know, bring it all back? To continue riding on?.", Dice hinted, a smirk making its way to his face.

The Head didn't speak, more...coughed, but King Dice continued on nonetheless.

"I can't bring them back from the dead, per se, however, I could them, and the train an afterlife! Train for the dead! How about that? Instead of the Inkwell Express, it could be the uh...Phantom Express! Yes, the Phantom Express. How does that sound?', King Dice asked the Head.

"...y.....ye...yes....", the Head uttered.

"Well, it won't take much. All you'd have to do is sign a soul contract. It's a fair deal; I make your friends undead train conductors, you sign the souls over to me and my boss, and hand them over when it's time. We got a deal?", Dice implored with a sleazy look about him.

With the wave of his hand, a contract appeared, a blank line waiting to be signed.

"All ya gotta do is say yes."...

[kpopscenarioland-blog]

Self-improvement

Prompt: Wonho’s crush finds his lisp endearing because they have a speech impediment too.

....... .......

It was approaching six and it hadn’t stopped raining all day so the shop was unusually quiet. Your only customers were a couple sitting by the window and Woho, one of your regulars, who was sitting at his favourite table in the corner. Wonho had been there for the last twenty minutes but his drink was sitting untouched in front of him as he read the papers he had in his hand. There was a crease between his eyebrows and occasionally you would catch him mouthing something to himself. Whatever he was doing he seemed to be concentrating hard and it had you curious. Sometimes when he came in he came in to work but usually he’d be wearing headphones and be plugged into his laptop. Today his laptop was nowhere in sight so it seemed he wasn’t here to work on his music. You found yourself tapping the counter with your fingers as you continued to study him. The papers in his hand, they looked like a script. But he’d never mentioned he was interested in acting, whenever you talked to him about his job the only thing he talked about was wanting to improve his songwriting skills. He wanted to make music that was good enough to feature on an album, music his fans would like. Acting had never come up in conversation, so you wondered what it was he was doing.

“If you want to go and talk to him that much just go and talk to him.” Your supervisor said and you very nearly jumped out of your skin.

“I’ve had my break.” You reminded him, after catching your breath. What was he, part cat?

“We’re not exactly rushed off our feet.” He pointed out. “Take another.”

He was right. Wonho had been the last customer through the door and that had been almost half an hour ago. So you mumbled a thanks and headed for the shop floor.

By the time you realised that sitting down unannounced would be a bit weird you were already standing by Wonho’s table. Wonho though didn’t seem to notice you hovering and continued what he’d been doing, which was reading aloud.

You frowned as you listened to what he was saying. It wasn’t the words that had you frowning in confusion, it was the way he was saying them. He was saying each syllable slowly, clearly, crisply… if it was a script and he was practicing lines it seemed like a really odd way to do it. You cleared your throat, intending to say so and it was Wonho’s turn to jump out of his skin, his knee hitting the underside of the table as he did so.

“Sorry,” you offered, wincing in sympathy, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Wonho said, rubbing at his knee. “Not your fault.”

It kind of was your fault but it had been a nice thing to say so you let it slide. “It’s just I’m on my break and I saw you were still here and…”

“Oh,” Wonho exclaimed, cutting you off, “you’re right, we haven’t talked properly in forever. Sit down.”

Not needing to be told twice you pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. “We haven’t,” you agreed, he’d been so busy lately, taking his order to go more often than not, you hadn’t really had a chance to speak. You should probably ask him how he was, that would be the polite thing to do when you hadn’t spoken in so long. But you were still curious and you found yourself putting your manners to the side. You’d known Wonho long enough now to know he wouldn’t mind. “So… what are you doing?” You asked.

“Practicing.” He said, waving the papers he was holding at you.

Well that hadn’t been very specific. “Practicing what?” You prodded.

“My diction.” Wonho said. “We’re shooting something for our fans soon, which you can’t tell anyone about by the way because it’s a surprise…”

You nodded, feeling touched. You’d talked enough to be more than just acquaintances but you were by no means super close and here he was trusting you with something that was supposed to be a secret.

“…and I have actual lines.” He continued, satisfied by your response, “I want to fix the way certain words sound when I say them. I just want to sound, I don’t know, professional I guess?”

And it was then you realised exactly what he meant by diction. Making himself understood wasn’t the focus, he was trying to mask his lisp. “But, if you do that you won’t sound like you.” You were oddly horrified by the thought. The way he spoke was one of the things that made Wonho, well Wonho.

“That’s the idea.” He said. “But tha… tha… that’s ridiculous.” You exclaimed. It was the first time in a long time that you’d struggled to get your words out in front of him but he really was being absurd. The fact he was trying to change himself to please other people riled you and you always stuttered more when your emotions were high. “People… people li… like the way you talk.”

“Our fans have to say that, they’re our fans.” Wonho pointed out, not batting an eyelid at your sudden change in speech pattern. That was one of the reasons you found it so easy to talk to him, he never rushed you and he never made you feel self-conscious.

“I’m not your fan.”

“Thanks.” Wonho said sounding a little miffed.

Okay, so that had sounded kind of bad. “I mean I’m your friend.” You amended. Or at least you liked to think so. “I’m your friend, not because you’re famous but b…because you’re you. And I like the way you talk.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s c…c…cute.” You admitted, blushing slightly at the admission.

And unless it was your imagination you swore Wonho’s cheeks were turning red too. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” He argued with a slight shake of his head.

“I’m not.” You insisted. To be honest you’d always thought Wonho was adorable, right from the first time you’d seen him walk through the coffee shop door, laughing at something one of his friends had said. You’d never been the most confident of people though so it wasn’t something you’d ever told him. But seeing him get so self-conscious over something he couldn’t control seemed to be the push you needed. “You’re an amazing person.” You told him, face reddening even more. “You shouldn’t change yourself, not for any…anyone.”

Wonho was quick to defend himself. “I’m not trying to change myself, it’s self-improvement.”

He was perfect just the way he was. Why couldn’t he see that? If you wanted to get through to him you might have to take a different approach you thought with a sigh. “Remember when I first started working here?”

Wonho nodded.

“Remember how hard it was for me to talk to you, how I could h…hardly get my words out when I was just trying to take your order?”

“I remember.”

“Did you ever tell me I had t..to f…f…fix it?” You were still doing it you realised, you were still stuttering. But then it was no wonder really, you’d indirectly admitted to him that you found him cute.

“No.” Wonho said, “No. Why would I? That was just… well… you. It’s not like you could help it. And really, what does it matter? You stutter a little sometimes. So what?”

“Exactly.” If he could think that way about you why couldn’t he think that way about himself.

“To be honest…,” he said, sounding a little hesitant, “…it made me smile.”

“Smile?” You echoed, surprised.

“Not because I found it funny.” He said quickly, clearly worried that he’d offended you. “But because it was kind of… I don’t know… endearing?”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Endearing. Wonho found the way you talked endearing. He probably meant it in a purely platonic way you told yourself, trying not to get your hopes up. You might have a crush on him but that didn’t mean he was crushing on you too. Why would he be? He was an idol and you worked in a coffee shop. You were hardly suited.

“I’m sorry.” He said, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I’m not trying to be insensitive, I know you must find it frustrating sometimes, not being able to say what you want to right away but…”

“But what?” you asked, wondering why he was finding it so hard to look you in the eye. His gaze kept flickering between yours and the table. He seemed nervous and it was making you nervous too.

Wonho squared his shoulders and sucked in a breath. He seemed to be working his way up to something but you weren’t going to try and guess what. You’d only get carried away and end up disappointed. “But…” Wonho continued having finally pulled himself together, “…I like you, and that’s part of who you are so I can’t help but like that too.”

Wait…. what? “You like m…m…m…me. As in... me?” You said, not believing what you were hearing.

Wonho, face now tomato red, just nodded.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Wonho said, his answer firm. “I didn’t say anything in case it was a one-way thing, I didn’t want to embarrass myself and never be able to come back to my favourite coffee shop, but I do, I like you. A lot.”

“I like you too.” You said, the words almost a whisper.

And Wonho’s face lit up. “Seems I didn’t have to worry about making a fool of myself after all.” He said.

“Seems so.” You agreed, still slightly shell-shocked. “I… I…” you started to say, intending to tell him that you hadn’t said anything for exactly the same reason but before you could your supervisor was shouting ‘customer’ at you from across the room. “I have to go.” You finished giving him a wan smile.

“We’ll talk after your shift?” Wonho asked as you started heading for the counter.

“Sure.” You called back over your shoulder. Talking after your shift sounded like a fantastic idea.

[johannesviii]

The Year of Intelligent Tigers

Some A shit ton of highlights of the last EDA I’ve read (The Year of Intelligent Tigers). Probably my longest post so far.

I took these screens while reading, along with my reactions. As usual, this is full of spoilers.

This book accomplished something unthinkable. It made me want to learn how to play music.

No. Really. That’s a big deal. See, my mother had won a synthetiser in a contest when I was like 7, didn’t care about it, and she decided I should learn the piano ; but the teacher was kind of an asshole and he kept hitting my fingers whenever I got something wrong, so I completely gave up and never tried music ever again. Like, ever. I barely know the notes’ names anymore.

Because of this book, I unearthed that synthetiser (outdated since the mid 90s) from its 18 years-old yellowish plastic sheet, and bought a method to learn how to play the piano. I’m still struggling with the names of the notes and I can barely play a simple four-notes chord without hurting my hands.

This book made me do that.

It’s about identity, cohabitation, difference, colors and music. It also has some of the best aliens in all of Doctor Who, some of the best worldbuilding ever put in the series, flashbacks to some bits of the Earth Arc which should have been in the Earth Arc, chapters ordered like an opera, great characters, top quality escapism - I can’t list everything.

I have a new favorite Eighth Doctor Adventure, and the fact that my previous one was from the same author only highlights how good this one is. 10/10

A little map! Look! It’s like the old adventure books when I was a kid!

Excuse me, what

What is this place? I like it.

Take me there, please.

Holy shit look at this description, it’s like the book blasted music in my face

You’re probably tired of reading this, but for the record, I would like to solemnly thank in person every single writer who shows the more alien side of the Doctor in these books and how his friends react to it.

A++ description

I would be completely lost on this planet since I don’t know anything about music apart from what it looks like to me. I feel you, Anji.

Here There Be Tigers

Look at these two idiots I love them

Hey, their new friend Karl has a slight speech impediment, that’s pretty rare on non-comical characters! I like that.

Hmmm cute? Not permitted? Thank you

Please enjoy this sweet little quiet moment of our favorite Team TARDIS resting under the sun in the grass and Fitz playing the guitar

This planet was made for him, hahaha

I keep saying that team deserves some vacations, so this book is exactly what I wanted, so far. Of course there’s gonna be a disruptive element any moment now, but let them enjoy this planet while they still can.

The more we know about this planet, the more I’m internally yelling PLEASE TAKE ME TO THIS PLANET

“who was full of interest”

Are you two living together & should Fitz be jealous

A wild trope appeared!

SORRY WHAT

IS KARL SADEGHI A SYNESTHETE TOO? OH MY GOD?!

[DOCTOR NYARLATHOTEP INTENSIFIES]

I laughed like an idiot, well played.

Interesting.

“The quest for vodka”

Ok now I want to draw Eight playing the violin

Stop being cute this instant

Also this tweet comes to mind:

Eight. No. Bad. What are you doing. Don’t steal the show.

What ended your last relationship: violin

HOLY SHIT DOCTOR

And now he’s sulking in his room haha, wow.

This whole situation is hilarious, adorable and sad, simultaneously.

There’s something a bit uncanny about these talking tigers, true, but the "Hullow" thing is way too cute to be creepy.

I’m laughing like an idiot too, thank you, book

Oh nooo he’s trying to talk to him through music

What.

SCREAMING

Wait what the f█ck why is there a flashback to 1935?

OH SHIT OH DAMN IT’S A FLASHBACK TO THE EARTH ARC AND TO THE EXACT PART I WANTED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT SINCE THE PREVIOUS BOOK??

Oooooh so that’s why he’s so passionate about music and violin in particular, it’s one of the first things he managed to remember besides his TARDIS!

Also, I can't believe I'm saying this considering how allergic I am to anything related to music theory, but – I kinda want to learn how to play music now. I'm serious. What is this book doing to me.

"Scared to stop in case he can’t ever start again"

That damn flashback nearly made me cry, but it’s over now. Crisis averted.

Geoffrey you’re a very nice tiger but you’re not making much sense

THE TIGERS WANT TO LEARN HOW TO PLAY MUSIC OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS?!

OH NO I LOVE BIG

Doctor what the hell are you wearing

An opera of tigers sounds like a marvelous thing.

And the negociations failed. Obviously. Technically, the humans are the invaders here, not the tigers.

Fitz’s natural response to this situation is "I’m gonna build an anti-tiger armor". Bless him.

"DO I LOOK TIGERPROOF"

YES GOOD 10/10

The anti-tiger armor saga continues.

Ouch. Ouch, ouch ouch.

And this was the end of the anti-tiger armor saga. Long live the anti-tiger armor.

Doctor where the hell are you going, come back here this instant you major alien diva

I love how the "tigers" are only looking superficially like tigers but are something completely different inside, closer to lizards. And they have two opposable thumbs on each paw too. This is so cool.

Is… is Eight going to sulk among the tigers?

I love this so much.

Bounce is so curious and I love her okay

Eight you idiot please try to concentrate

Well I love this too & now I have to draw it too. Damn you, book.

I don’t even know what to say anymore. I love this book. I love this.

Dramatic haircut!

“Neat and soft as clean fur”, oh nooo that’s cute

I… I just realised.

The Tigers look like tigers but aren’t tigers. The Doctor looks human but isn’t human.

I feel like an idiot for not noticing the parallel sooner.

I’m picturing a Tiger sipping coffee and that’s a wonderful mental picture.

Stop it Fitz

OH NOOOOO CUTE

Eight sounds like he’s doing that thing my cat does when he doesn’t want to be picked up and moved somewhere else.

And to think I was admiring how alien Eight was in the previous book.

Talking seems to work better with Tigers than humans in this case anyway.

I love this damn planet and everything on it including the plants.

I also love Chew You the old yellow tiger.

It’s also really strange and I hope we’ll get an explanation for that.

Guys this is cute and I like you both very much, but you do realise there’s simpler roads to reconciliation than "being kidnapped by tigers who want to play the violin and meeting again in the middle of nowhere and play some dramatic music", right?

My list of things I need to draw is getting longer by the minute.

I just like that tiny detail of worldbuilding okay

YES GOOD I WANT TO KNOW TOO

This shouldn’t make me so sad, but it does.

Okay then.Chapters New Who

This planet is still very intriguing and I hope we’ll get some answers.

I’m going to be very disappointed if this is true.

Interesting.

Probably, and I’d love to hear them.

The amount of scenes I want to draw in this book is getting alarmingly important

I WANT TO KNOW

We desesperately need the Tigers’ point of view of this part of the story. What happened. Why.

Woah.

I’m torn between wanting to hug Anji and wanting to laugh at Eight’s look.

Not okay.

Also my mp3 player decided to play Palladio, so I’m gonna make an improvised playlist and I will listen to it for the rest of this book.

Sadness intensifies

I’ve said it already but I love this book’s worldbuilding.

Another entry on our "Fitz CAN have good ideas sometimes" list!

No no go on, it really was a good idea.

Even if we already know for a fact that Fitz can’t sustain this level of awesomeness for more than half an hour, I’m still happy for him.

It’s a song he wrote for Sam oh nooooo

Can I hug Fitz

Look at him he’s so happy

Of course something happened right in the middle of his moment of glory. Of course it did.

Wait, what the f█ck

No Anji asdfghjk stop we still don’t know what that place does

Ohhhh that’s so cool!

I have way too many feelings about Eight trying to be a Tiger okay

So… the Tigers used to be more intelligent? Then something happened, and they built this place to keep their culture safe? I love this oh my god

You don’t realise how long it took to make this liveblog readable because of the sheer amount of reactions boiling down to "I love this" or rows of exclamation marks.

It’s an ark. It’s a damn ark, containing all the culture of their ancestors. Why. What happened. Why am I getting so emotional about talking tigers that lay eggs. WHY.

Okay, that’s it

Breaking news: Year of Intelligent Tigers is officially the third EDA which actually made me cry. And it did it with TALKING TIGERS.

CENTURIES

AN ANCIENT CIVILISATION OF ALIEN TIGERS

Still crying by the way

Once again I’m struggling to not post row after row of exclamation points

Yes yes good I want to see the other rooms

OOOHH. So HE’S responsible for the sudden appearance of the nodes all over the city!

Well, now I’m sad again.

HOLY SHIT

Have I told you how well this book is constructed yet? There’s parts where you follow the whole cast, then individual "solo" chapters, then the whole cast again. There’s references to music even in the construction of the chapters. It’s wonderful.

No Karl no what are you doing

Not really, no

He’s just trying to help, Longbody, don’t be so suspicious.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Port Any was built on top of the ancient Tigers city!

There’s something in my eyes again, dammit

Another line of exclamation points I’m trying to suppress.

If it’s right in the middle of the city, that’s going to be a problem.

COULD YOU ALL STOP BEING SO ADORABLE

EXCUSE ME THIS IS STILL WAY TOO CUTE PLEASE TONE IT DOWN

The Tigers already have a form of music of their own. Every time I think this book can’t get better, it finds a way to do so.

Oh my f█cking god

In a book full of wonderful scenes, I think this one might be my favorite so far. Karl and Eight trying to explain Beethoven to the Tigers. I’m so happy.

Also "sorry, I was watching a bug".

Oh shit oh f█ck oh damn, thank god Longbody was listening

The Tigers are surprisingly reasonable considering what the humans are planning to do.

I still hope this story will end well, though.

Please no

"They were all surrounding a problem, ready to pounce on it and kill it"

Next on my improvised playlist is Beyond the Stars by Cristian Onofreiciuc and I'm overdosing a little bit on beautiful imagery at this point, my head is full of colors

"There were no other Tigers"

I'm so sad and also so happy, this book is doing weird things to my head.

So he still wants to save everyone, not just the Tigers. Of course he does.

GOOD

GOOD²

The bomb got struck by lightning. What. How. What the hell did he do.

I have to admit it's really strange.

Despite all the music and the cultural differences and the environmental message and the anti-colonialist message, the main theme of this book seems to be identity, and I'm always a sucker for that.

Are you telling me we could have had a book in that setting instead of Endgame??

Well I'm sad again now.

Uh. So after remembering how to play the violin, he remembered one particular tune.

Imagine having a song stuck in your head for decades and not being able to recognise it. That's both funny and horrific.

CUTENESS OVERLOAD

Oh nooo they forgot he was more fragile than a Tiger and he's hurt

THIS BOOK NEEDS TO STOP MAKING ME CRY

Also, in its own weird metaphorical way, this book hits way too close to home

Fitz trying to look casual after the whole "the Doctor tried to be a Tiger" thing

Just so you know, the song currently playing in my improvised playlist for this book is The March by Lights and Motion, and this playlist was a terrible idea because it makes everything more intense and the book is already intense enough on its own.

Another thing on my endless list of things I should draw

Would somebody please stop Quick before he does something incredibly stupid again

Thank you Doctor.

Also I'm getting strong Twelve vibes from this bit.

I laughed so hard

Why is every silly little detail in this book making me so sad and so happy at the same time

Not everything has to be about you and your concerto, Karl

Fitz, stop making me laugh, this is supposed to be a tense scene.

KARL WHAT THE F█CK WHY DID YOU DO THAT

ASFGHJJKLMKGJ F█CK YOU KARL WHY

WAIT THAT'S BOUNCE

NO NOT BOUNCE

F█CK NOW I'M CRYING AGAIN TOO

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW BOOK ARE YOU F█CKING HAPPY

So they rediscover their civilisation every two centuries, and then they lose it again, that's some sort of perpetual tragedy and I'm still not okay.

THEY WERE ALWAYS ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE TIGERS THANKS TO THE TARDIS BUT THEIR BRAINS DIDN'T ASSUME THE TIGERS HAD A LANGUAGE SO IT DIDN'T WORK AT FIRST, THIS IS SO COOL

YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH DAMAGE ALREADY, KARL, STAY WHERE YOU ARE

Fitz, that pun was atrocious

Also RIP Longbody

Okay we're nearly at the end, I need some kind of epic music for this, something very over the top and ridiculous

As it turns out, Creation of Earth by Thomas Bergersen was an excELLENT CHOICE -HOLY SHIT DOCTOR WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THE WEATHER, I mean yeah this is epic but I'm also concerned okay

DON'T ADD EVEN MORE COLOR TO THIS SCENE THERE'S ALREADY A TON OF IT AND BETWEEN THIS AND THE MUSIC I'M KINDA OVERDOSING

THANK YOU THAT WAS AMAZING

WAIT IT'S NOT OVER

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED

YOU DO, HOLY SHIT

Oh my god I just remembered something.

That's exactly what I.M.Foreman told him in Interference. With the riddle involving a baby goose you have to free from a bottle without breaking the bottle yourself. You feed the bird until it's strong enough to break it itself. That's exactly what he's trying to do here. He can't remember that conversation since it happened long before the Earth Arc, but I believe it had an impact on him anyway.

I love that ending. Simple but absolutely wonderful.

This book needs to stop making me sad at unexpected moments.

I wish I could have seen that too.

TIGER MUSIC OH NOOO

...Wait

If this turns out to be the song that was stuck in Eight's head I'm gonna die

LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE, FITZ KREINER

This book was a rollercoaster of emotions until the very end, wasn't it

...and it deserves a standing ovation.

Damn.

[hockeyfun]

Andre Burakovsky #1

Requested by Anon: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a cute Andre Burakovsky one?? where you meet him by chance but don't know who he is but he thinks you're super cute and tries to woo you?? :)

Warnings: alcohol(?)

Word Count: 2283

Author’s Note: Holy crap this one got away from me. I’m so sorry. This imagine really did not want me to write it. I tried to be really creative and not do a typical “at the bar scene” (it kinda turns into that but you’ll see if you read it) I got the inspiration from Andre’s post on instagram. I hope you enjoy it and I’m sorry it is so long. And just in general I wish it was better! Please request again if it isn’t what you wanted! I’d love to right more of Andre because his smile is adorable.

You finished your makeup and went to help her locate the other heel. Why? Because she invited you to go to the Washington Wizard’s game. You loved sports, all sports and even more you loved D.C. sports. You weren’t the type of fan as in you knew every player on every team but you went to games when you could, especially when you got free court side tickets.

With some help from the Verizon Center staff you found your seat, right on the court. Your friend squealed in excitement. “I can’t believe these are our seats,” you raved. Your boss smiled out you, “honey you better believe it.” As you and your boss sat there talking about work, two very attractive guys took the two empty seats next to you. The one closest to you had brown wavy hair and deep brown eyes. While the man sitting next to him had black long hair and a rounder face with blue eyes. They both had athletic builds and simple senses of styles. “Hi,” the one closes to you said with a glowing smile and dimples to match. “Hi,” you responded with your own glowing smile. The guy next to him looked over at the two of you and also gave a soft smile. “Hello, I’m Tom,” he reached out to shake your hand. You grabbed it firmly, and introduced yourself back and your boss. Then turned to the guy next to you. “And you are?” you questioned. “I’m Andre,” he replied. You smiled at Andre, it’s nice to meet you Andre.” You turned yourself back towards your boss where she was giving you that “look”. “What” you jokingly retorted. “Oh nothing, I just enjoy seeing you flirt. Especially after seeing you reject Roger at the office so many times,” she laughed and you couldn’t help but laugh back. “When will he get the memo?” you agreed. “Oh darling boys are like rocks they never understand women even if we were to spell it out for them, especially Roger,” she continued. You two laughed again at how Roger comes to your desk for any excuse possible. “What’s so funny” Andre asked while giving you a goofy smile. You let out a small laugh and tried to compose yourself. “Nothing just some funny things that happened around the office,” you responded. He smiled back, “well you have a pretty laugh,” he noted. You bashfully smiled, “Thank you, Andre,” you responded. He flashed you a smirk that quickly turned into a smile.

The game started with an opening video to get everyone hyped, and you would say it definitely worked on you. You were practically jumping up and down in your seat when the actual players walked out. “You really like basketball?” Andre commented. You gave him a playful glare, “no, I just really enjoy the atmosphere of any sports game, it doesn’t have to just be basketball.” Andre obviously enjoyed your response because his smile was one of amusement. “come on you can’t be sitting in these seats and not enjoy the atmosphere?” you asked. “No, you’re right, it is fun,” he agreed. “Have you ever been to Washington Capitals game here? Those are fun. Especially during the playoffs,” you responded thinking back to the time you and your friends went to a playoff game last year. Andre was analyzing you to see if you were being series. and your face showed no sign of lying. He let out a loud cackle. You laughed not because you knew what he was laughing at but because his laugh was contagious, “what? did I say something wrong?” You nervously questioned. He looked at your innocent face and settled down. His features softened, “no you didn’t at all. I have been to a Caps game before. Actually I’ve been to many,” he lightly responded. Now it was your turn to analyze him. He was pretty young. He had to be some super successful business man to be able to afford all these tickets. You played it safe. “Oh, wow, well that must be fun. I wish I could go to more games but if it’s not through my job then most likely I won’t be there,” you responded truthfully. He gave you a soft smile in return. “I could get you tickets, if you wanted?” He asked. You gave him a quizzical look. “Are you like a ticket broker or something?” you asked trying to figure him out. “More like or something,” he answered. You just rolled your eyes, “fair enough, but I just might take you up on that offer with the tickets,” you added.

The game started and you were cheering and enjoying yourself. You were happy you were with your boss because she was hilarious and the two of you worked really well together. Andre and Tom joined most of your conversations and it felt like you guys all had known each other for a while and came together. The more Andre talked the more you detected a slight accent. Maybe it was a speech impediment but you couldn’t be for sure. You made a mental note to ask him where he is from. During half time, Tom and Andre both got up, “wanna go to the lounge and get something to drink or eat?” he asked. “Ummm, I don’t think our tickets include that,” you confessed. He laughed, “don’t worry you’re with me it will be fine,” he held his hand out to you. You looked over at your boss for help. She gave you that little nod that said ‘go ahead, he seems safe’. “Okay,” you agreed. and grabbed Andre’s hand to help get yourself up. He didn’t let go and you were okay with that because the closer you got to the entrance of the Lounge the more nervous you got about not getting in. You latched to Andre when you finally got up to the security. He looked at Tom and Andre, and you. You thought for sure he was going to ask all of you to show your tickets just like he did for everyone else. “Good evening Mr. Burakovsky and Mr. Wilson. Ma’am,” he acknowledged you all. Tom and Andre both smiled back, “Mr. Davis, how are you today?” Tom asked. “I’m good, thank you. Y’all ready for the game in two days?” He asked. They both laughed, “of course we are!” Andre answered. You tried to rack your brain for what games are being played tomorrow but you couldn’t remember any. “Good, well, go on ahead and good luck tomorrow,” Mr. Davis concluded. Tom and Andre both said their goodbyes and thank you. Once you were out of ear shot and sight you released Andre from your nervous hold. “Mr. Burakovsky, who are you? and should I be worried? “You jokingly questioned. He just shook his head at you. “No, you do not” he answered, “I’m going to go get a drink you want anything?” You nodded your head and gave him your order. The conversation between the guard and Tom and Andre ran through your mind. You watched as Andre conversed with people while he was waited for the food and drinks. He was personable and you could tell by the way he talked to each person.  He came back to the table you found and took the seat next to you. He set down the nachos and two drinks. “I want to take you out, tonight actually,” he proclaimed. You were taken aback by the seriousness and honesty in his statement. You smiled at him, “Andre, I don’t even know you,” You responded trying to add logic to this. He smirked at you realizing you didn’t really reject him. “Okay, ask any question. I’ll answer it.” “Fine,” you responded, “where are you from?” you started off easy. “Sweden,” he answered. You don’t know where you thought he was from but you were not expecting Sweden. He laughed at your shocked expression. “You obviously didn’t expect me to be from Sweden, did you?” He asked. You shook your head, “No, I didn’t. What are you here for?” He enjoyed your genuine curiosity about his life. It was refreshing and amusing. Most people he met knew the answers to your questions but because you had no idea who he was he thought it was cute. “I’m here for work,” he gave you a cryptic answer which caused you to roll your eyes. “And… what is work for you?” You asked. Right before he got to answer Tom interrupted you, “the second half is about to start.”

The game ended up being a nail bitter. The Wizards won on a buzzer beater and the whole arena was electric. You were happy and excited so you agreed to go out with Andre and Tom tonight, but not without conditions. He had to text you where you were going and you would meet him there, and you were going to bring a friend with you, just in case.

When you got home to your apartment, you quickly threw on some black jeans and a silvery tank top with black heels. Your friend walked into the apartment when you were just putting the finishing touches on your makeup. “Aye, girl you look good!” She commented. You rolled your eyes at her but smiled, “will you get over here and help me find the other heel,” You asked. She smiled and went into your closest to look for the matching pair. “it’s a mess in here,” She commented. “I know,” you yelled back. You finished your makeup and went to help her locate the other heel. She was the one to finally find it. “Bless your soul,” you raved. You slipped on both heels and you two were on your way.

You arrived at one of the most exclusive clubs in DC. The line was wrapped around the block. “There is no way we are getting in,” your friend commented. You shot her a glare, “you’re sending bad vibes and I really do not need that right now,” you retorted. She made the motion like she was zipping her lips, indicating she was going to shut up. You once again rolled your eyes at your goofy friend. You shot Andre a text saying there was no way that you could get in with this crowd. No longer than 30 seconds you saw Andre walk out from the club. He saw you and smiled brightly. He pulled you into a hug. “you look wonderful,” he commented. You smiled and gave a soft thank you. You introduced your friend. “So how are we getting in,” your friend speculated. Andre gave her a smirk, “easy through the front door,” he answered sarcastically, but he wasn’t lying. You all went through the front door. The bouncer didn’t even say anything he just nodded his head and let you all through. “See I have my ways,” He teased. Your friends face was exactly how you felt, confused and amazed. Andre must have held a lot more power than you originally thought. The club was packed and luckily (which you were starting not to be surprised by it) you were in the VIP section. You friend quickly took advantage of the free drinks the VIP section had to offer and left you alone with Andre to go to the bar. You could tell Andre was a little tipsy because he was very touchy. He grabbed you by the waist and nuzzled into the side of your throat. “Are you impressed?” he gently asked. “Impressed and concerned,” you commented. You felt him stop, and turn you towards him. “Concerned?” He questioned. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me, and that is concerning,” you whispered. He gave you his signature soft smile. He was going to respond when you saw the Alex Ovechkin. “Is that Ovechkin?” You asked. Andre gave a quick turn, “yeah, how do you know that?” you gave him a glare, “I might not be the biggest hockey fan but Ovechkin is the pride and joy of D.C.’s hockey world. You can’t not know who he is,” you told him. “Would you like to meet him?” He asked you. Your mouth fell open in amazement, “You know Alex Ovechkin?” you said with shock. He let out a loud laugh, “yeah, I know him,” he responded. He grabbed your hand and pulled you over to where Ovi was. While you two waited for Alex to finish the conversation he was having, you looked around. “is that Backstrom talking to T.J. Oshie?” you wondered out loud. You looked over at Andre. “So you recognize the top line but you don’t know any of the other players, typical,” he joked. Then everything clicked. “Oh my gosh, you play for the friggin Capitals,” you exclaimed. You jokingly slapped his shoulder, “you should have told me!” He grabbed your hand to stop from hitting him. He was smiling profusely, “I tried to tell you multiple times but something always got in the way. Also most people just know who I am. It was refreshing not having you know.You look adorable surprised,” he answered. You rolled your eyes at him, “I can’t believe this,” you said more to yourself than to him. Andre’s face filled with concern. He gently grabbed your face in one of his hands in forced you to look him in the eyes. He tried to read your emotions. “Are you mad?” He asked. You flashed him a smile, “No, just surprised.” He returned the smile, “see you look adorable surprised.” He dropped his hand from your face and moved it down to hold your hand as he introduced you to his teammates.

[thelastspeecher]

Angela Pines

I just wrote another 2k words for this AU today when I was supposed to be doing the dishes, so screw it, I’m gonna start posting what I’ve written.  This is the reason I haven’t been updating my multichaps.  I’ve been writing, but only writing my nonsense.  So, presented with zero context, here is some of what I’ve written for the AU that has been occupying my every waking moment the last few days.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              The bell over the door rang.  Filbrick looked up.  He frowned at the sight of his three sons rushing into the shop.

              “I thought you were gonna spend the whole morning at the beach,” he rumbled.

              “We were, Pops,” Stanford said.  He looked over at his older brother, Shermie.  “But…”

              “But what?” Filbrick asked.  Shermie walked over to Filbrick, carrying something in his arms.  He gently deposited it on the counter.  Filbrick’s eyes widened behind his glasses.  Sitting next to the register was a very young girl, no more than four.  Her dress was caked in sand and stiff, likely from soaking in saltwater and then drying in the sun.  She looked up at him balefully through a mess of tangled blonde hair.

              “Did you boys kidnap a little girl?” Caryn asked, propping a hand on her hip. She had been shining some of the display items, like she frequently did when she needed a break from being a phone psychic.

              “No!” Shermie said quickly.  “Stan found her washed up on the beach.”  Filbrick looked at his twin sons.

              “Which one?” he asked.

              “We both found her,” Stanley said.  Filbrick grunted and made a gesture for Shermie to continue.

              “They came and grabbed me, and we went all up and down the beach looking for her parents.  No one knew her.  I figured we should bring her back here for now.”

              “Hmph,” Filbrick grunted.  He parted the girl’s hair, revealing eyes the color of the ocean.  “What’s your name, kid?”

              “An-n-ngie,” the girl squeaked.  It almost sounded like she put a “B” at the beginning of her name, but Filbrick chalked that up to her age and apparent speech impediment.

              “How old are you, Angie?” Filbrick asked.  Angie held up three fingers.  “Three.”  Filbrick looked over at his wife.  “Caryn, get her cleaned up and bring her back down here.”  Caryn nodded.  She picked Angie up and brought her upstairs.

              “What’s gonna happen with her?” Stanford asked.

              “Dunno,” Filbrick said roughly.  “Go take over polishing for your mom.”  His sons did as they were told.  About ten minutes later, Caryn returned with Angie.  She was now wearing one of Stanford’s old overalls, and her hair had been carefully combed and put into a braid.

              “Poor thing seems scared out of her mind,” Caryn remarked, walking over to Filbrick.  She set Angie on the floor.  “We should probably call the authorities.”  Filbrick nodded.  At the feeling of something tugging his pants, he looked down.  Angie was now standing, staring up at him with enormous blue eyes, pulling on his pant leg.

              “Up?” Angie whispered fearfully, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Filbrick picked Angie up, intending on handing her over to Caryn again.  However, she immediately nestled against his chest, clutching fistfuls of his shirt.  Her tiny body shook.  Filbrick felt himself soften.  He cleared his throat.

              “Shermie, take over the register.  I’m gonna go make some calls.”

              “You got it, Pops,” Shermie said, coming over.  Filbrick carried Angie up to the apartment above the pawnshop.  He grabbed the phone and went over to his armchair and sat down.  Now sitting in Filbrick’s lap, Angie leaned her head against his chest.  Filbrick softened further.  He coughed roughly and began the process of tracking down the girl’s parents.

              Half an hour later, the pawnshop closed for lunch.  Caryn, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie all traipsed upstairs. The twins openly gaped at the sight of Filbrick in his armchair, Angie curled up in his lap fast asleep. Filbrick glared at his sons preemptively.  They scampered away without saying anything.

              “Any luck?” Caryn asked, walking over and kissing Filbrick on the cheek. Filbrick shook his head.

              “No.  I talked to my buddy on the force.  He didn’t have any reports of missing kids with her description.  But he said that it might take a while for the report to come in.”

              “Do you think we can…keep her?” Caryn asked softly.  Filbrick grunted.

              “It’s a kid, not a stray dog, Caryn.”  Angie shifted slightly in her sleep, mumbling something.  Filbrick softened yet again.  “Randy said that once it’s been a coupla weeks, we can be confident that her family either can’t or just flat-out doesn’t want to find her. And if it reaches that point, he’ll help with the adoption papers.”

              “She’s so sweet and small,” Caryn cooed, stroking Angie’s golden, silky hair. Filbrick had done the same earlier, but stopped when he heard footsteps on the stairs.  “I feel like she was meant for us to find, Filly.  We always wanted a little girl.”

              “You always wanted a little girl,” Filbrick grunted.  Caryn rolled her eyes.  She picked Angie up.

              “Don’t act like you weren’t disappointed you didn’t have a daughter to spoil rotten.”  Caryn carried Angie off, probably to put her in a bed better suited for her size. Filbrick suddenly missed the slight amount of warmth Angie produced in his lap.

              He got up and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich for lunch.

----- 

              Filbrick wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water.  He let out a yawn.  The chaos of the previous day, when they’d finally begun the formal process of adopting Angie, had worn him out thoroughly.  In the morning, they were planning on going to the store to get Angie some clothes, something he was already dreading.  He wasn’t one for clothes shopping.

              Small footsteps sounded.  Filbrick looked over.  Angie toddled past the kitchen entryway in the oversized shirt she was wearing as a nightgown, seemingly on a mission.  Filbrick quickly set the glass he’d grabbed on the counter and followed her.  He caught up to her just as she reached the top of the staircase leading to the pawnshop.

              “What are you doing out of bed, angel?” he asked, picking her up.  The nickname was Caryn’s creation.  It based upon her name, Angela, and the fact that she’d appeared out of nowhere.  Filbrick sometimes used the nickname in front of Caryn, but not his sons.  Not yet.  They didn’t need to know he had a soft side.

              “Fwog,” Angie mumbled blearily.  Filbrick frowned.  Frog? He turned her around.  Her eyes were glazed over.  She stared at him blankly.

              “You’re a sleepwalker, huh?” Filbrick muttered.  Angie babbled at him.  “And a sleeptalker, too.”  Filbrick carried Angie over to the recliner.  He sat down and leaned the chair back.  Angie curled up on top of him.  “Your mom and I figured out your middle name today,” he informed her, stroking her hair. “Diane.”  Angie brought her thumb to her mouth to suck on it.  “Angela Diane Pines.”  Angie abruptly sat up and made like she was going to walk away again. Filbrick quickly pushed her back down and held her there.

              “We’re gonna need to get you a crib, angel,” he said softly.  “Can’t have you falling down the stairs in the middle of the night.”  Angie nuzzled him happily.  Filbrick’s eyes slowly closed.  He fell asleep, Angie curled up in his lap.

----- 

              “Hi!” chirped Angie cheerfully to the latest customer to come to the cash register.  She’d been adopted for only a day, and already she was pulling her weight, at least, in Filbrick’s opinion.  Angie loved nothing more than being down in the pawnshop, following him around.  Her big blue eyes and rapidly growing wardrobe of adorable outfits caused customers to let their guard down and pay much more than they normally would.

              “Oh, hello,” the customer gushed at Angie, poking her prominent nose, eliciting a giggle from her.  Filbrick bit back the urge to tell off the customer.  He didn’t want strangers touching his daughter, but she didn’t seem to mind, and he could tell this customer might be willing to pay through the nose.  So he let it slide.  This time. “She’s adorable.”

              “Thanks,” Filbrick grunted, ringing up the purchase.  “We just adopted her yesterday.”

              “You- oh!  That’s so kind of you.”

              “Well, my sons found her washed up on the beach.  Turned out she was abandoned.  Couldn’t let a sweet little girl like her get lost in the system. Not when she’s got a family right here that would love her.”

              “Aw,” the customer cooed.

              “Sure, things might be a bit tighter with another mouth to feed.  But we had to take her in.”

              “You have such a big heart,” the customer said.  They took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over.  “Here.  And keep the change.  Put it towards food for your new little girl.”  Filbrick beamed at the customer.

              “Will do.  Say ‘bye’, Angie.”

              “Bye!” Angie said cheerfully.  The customer chuckled and left.  Filbrick looked over at his daughter proudly.  Not only did her cuteness lull customers into a false sense of security, but telling the story of how she came to live with them made people want to give big tips.

              “Already, you’re making us some money, angel,” he said appreciatively. Angie giggled.  She held her arms out.

              “Up, up!” she chirped.  Filbrick smiled and picked her up.  Angie giggled again.  Filbrick’s heart melted.  Angie had been nervous and scared the first week, but now she laughed and smiled all the time.  He would never admit it to Caryn, but he had been disappointed they never had a daughter. Sure, he wanted a son to pass down his name and store to.  But he also wanted a daughter to shower with attention and fuss over.  He didn’t just like having Angie in the shop because they made more money with her around.  He liked having her in the shop because he hated being away from her.

              Filbrick was already looking forward to taking out his shotgun for a cleaning the first time Angie brought a boy home.

              “All right, angel, time to get you ready for the ceremony,” he informed her. He walked over to the door and flipped the sign on it to read “CLOSED”.  Angie nestled against his chest as they went upstairs.  Filbrick handed Angie over to Caryn, who whisked her away to be put in a formal dress they got specifically for the occasion.  He looked over at his sons, sitting on the couch, dressed up.  Like usual, their hair refused to be tamed, despite Caryn’s best attempts.

              “Pops, do we really hafta go?” Stanley whined, kicking his feet.  “It’s just a dumb ceremony.”

              “It’s not dumb, Stan,” Filbrick rumbled.  “It’s your sister’s conversion.  She’s gone through the legal adoption, now she needs the religious one.”  Stanley crossed his arms and looked away.  Ever since they decided to adopt Angie, he’d been acting out more than usual.  Filbrick didn’t like that.  “You’re going to behave.”

              “Hmph,” Stanley huffed.  Shermie leaned over and tried to press down his younger brother’s exuberant curls.

              “Hey, maybe if we all behave, Mom and Pops will take us for ice cream after,” he whispered.  The twins’ eyes widened.  They looked at Filbrick.  Filbrick crossed his arms, but nodded.  The twins promptly sat up straighter, already acting on their best behavior.

              “All right, time to go to temple!” Caryn announced, returning with Angie, who was eagerly sucking on her fist.  She poked Angie’s nose.  Angie chortled around her fist.  “Are you ready, honey?”  Angie removed her fist and looked up at Caryn in what appeared to be shock.  Caryn kissed the top of her head, making her laugh again.

              “Come on, boys,” Filbrick grunted, ushering his sons down the stairs. “Let’s go.”

----- 

              Angie toddled around the store, following Filbrick as he closed things up for the night.  He glanced down every now and then to make sure he didn’t step on or trip over her, but she was maintaining a safe distance behind him.

              “Your mom made spaghetti tonight,” Filbrick informed Angie.  Angie let out a giggle.  Filbrick grinned.  He’d expected Angie’s predisposition to laughing to die down once she’d adjusted to living with them, as had her pediatrician.  But two months in, she still laughed at just about everything.  It was a far cry from Stanford’s tendency to cry at everything at her age.  Filbrick went over to the door, flipped the sign over to read “CLOSED”, and locked it.

              “Papa!” a voice chirped behind him.  He froze.  “Papa!” Filbrick turned around slowly.  He crouched down to Angie’s eye-height.

              “What was that, angel?” he asked.  Angie held out her arms, beaming.

              “Up, up, papa!” she said happily.  Filbrick stared at her.  Despite taking her in months ago, she hadn’t called him her dad yet, and also had yet to call Caryn her mom.  The pediatrician wasn’t sure whether it was because she didn’t think of them as her parents, or whether she was still working on assigning names to everyone. It had taken her weeks to start calling the twins “Stan” and Shermie “Sherm”.

              “We need to show this off to your mom,” Filbrick said.  He scooped Angie into his arms and carried her upstairs, his heart racing.  His little girl finally thought of him as her dad.

              “Pops, we’re gonna go get school stuff tomorrow, right?” asked Shermie the moment Filbrick entered the apartment.  Filbrick nodded.  “Got it.” Filbrick made a beeline for the kitchen, where Caryn was stirring a pot of sauce.  She looked up.

              “How’d things go, Filly?” she asked.  Filbrick opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Angie.

              “Mama, hold!” Angie whined, stretching her arms out for Caryn. Caryn’s eyes widened.  She took Angie from Filbrick.

              “That’s right, angel, I’m your mama,” she whispered, holding Angie tightly.

              “She called me ‘papa’ downstairs,” Filbrick informed her. Caryn squeezed Angie.

              “Oh, she’s finally really our little girl, isn’t she?  She knows we’re her parents.”  Filbrick nodded, trying to act stoic.  “And the boys have finally accepted her, too.  Our family’s complete, Filly.”  Angie looked over at Filbrick with a smile that stretched ear to ear.  Filbrick nodded again, caving once more at Angie’s exuberance.

              “Yes.  It is.”