#In the Pool OLs Around Thirty

[foster-the-world]

Let's glow!

Last week myself and another mom ran ten glow parties for about two hundred kids. As most things with PTA, it was kind of annoying to organize but turned out to be totally worth it. The kids had so much fun. We got silent disco headphones - so I made sure to dance for at least one song during every party. All ages (1st through 5th) loved the parties. The bigger kids busted out their tiktok dances. It was fun to see the energy. I'm glad to know the older kids weren't too cool to dance. I'll be handing over my PTA exec board duties happily next week. I still plan to be very involved but happy to give up the meetings. I'll probably volunteer to manage teachers appreciation week and end of year parties, again. I have one more monthly newsletter to send out.

My husband went Upstate alone for the weekend. He came back happy and relaxed. I'm glad we made it happened. Baby boy's a lot - which was kind of sad to (re)realize. We normally manage him by splitting up duties. One of us takes him in the mornings and then the other comes in the afternoon or vice versa. So the extra-ness is much more manageable. My in-laws kindly came to get the girls yesterday around noon. They took them swimming at their condo pool. It was a like a light switch flipped with baby boy. The second they were gone he started playing by himself calmly. This was after nonstop unregulated behavior the 36 hours before. For the thirty minutes after they left he entertained himself. Then after his long nap he was calm again. We went to the children's museum. I didn't have to correct him once. I sat on a bench across the room must watching. This is unheard of for him. I normally have to be within six inches of him, with constant corrections, just in case. The museum was pretty empty. I was hanging out with all the (assumingly) divorced dads. Its making me think he's going to need a really small class size for kindergarten. Crowds are really his downfall. There is one DOE program with only 12 kids (8 Gen Ed and 4 special needs) but he'll need an autism diagnosis. Which I still am not convinced he has but think we could probably get. We also won't know if he will get a spot. Limited spots and from what I read the squeaky wheel gets the grease. We can also sue and have the DOE pay for private school. These special needs private schools in NYC essentially become entirely funded by the DOE as everyone, regardless of income, sues. Anyway, working on getting the neurological assessment booked. My husband is calling today to figure out what insurance will cover. Fingers crossed.

I saw graduation photos from the school that would most likely fit his profile. Maybe twenty kids were graduating. It made me kind of sad. It feels like it will benefit him to keep his world small (for now) but I want him to be a part of the big ole world. The girls school is small class sizes but much bigger overall. Anyway, no reason to worry about him graduating from 8th grade/HS. Let's get him through 4k, first.

[henryravenswood-ssideburns]

Five Unfortunate Suitors Chapter 2: Rowan D Falls

Tw: Alcohol, Blood, Death,

In the following spring a riverboat captain began courting Melanie. And everything about this man set Henry off; he was graying! And he wanted to marry his daughter who was just now entering womanhood! Absolutely not. The mining Baron sat in his office watching the riverboat captain ferry people to and from. He growls deeply and starts thinking.

I could just shoot him! One and done between the eyes! Or I could get him drunk and tie him to some bricks and chuck him in the river. Henry watches like a cat staring at a bug, a disgusted sneer across his face. He looks down at his ledger noticing the black ink pooling from where he had squeezed his pen too tightly.

“Damn!” he growled, shaking the black ink off his hand. He grabs his handkerchief and wipes the remaining ink off. He stands up. I need to take a walk. He exits his office, heading down to the private riverside portion of his property. He sighs, taking in a deep breath of the cool spring air. A small smile came to his face, he enjoyed nature… most of the time. He enjoyed a few moments of silence… then the riverboat pulled into his line of sight. He scowled as Rowan waved from the Captain’s spot. 

“MR. RAVENSWOOD! I’D LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOU ONCE I PULL OL’ MOLLY HERE BACK TO SHORE, CAN I HAVE A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME?!” He shouted. Henry harrumphed 

“If you feel you must!” he called back. Henry grumbles to himself walking back over to the Manor and sitting at the gazebo. Henry was plotting to himself, how to get rid of this new foolish suitor? He looked at the teapot sitting on the table. “I could poison him.”  Henry thought, then shook his head “No I'd have to go to the apothecary and once Rowan's body is found poisoned they'll trace it back to me.” he twirled one of his sideburns in thought. His thoughts were interrupted by someone walking up the sidewalk towards him. Henry sighs and glances out of the gazebo seeing Rowan… Out of all the people I want to see, you sir are at the bottom of my list. He thought as the captain walked up to him.

“Ah good afternoon Mr. Ravenswood!” The taller man slapped Henry on the back and forcibly gave him a handshake. Henry glares at him before straightening himself out.

“What did you need, Captain Falls?” Henry asked, annoyed.

“I wanted to invite you for a personal dinner to get to know you better!” Henry nods thinking about it. “Better yet, you'll be the first man to step foot on my new boat.” Henry smirked… no witnesses, perfect. 

“When did you want to have this dinner? I’ll be sure to bring my best whiskey.”

“How does this Friday at three thirty sound?” Rowan said, checking a small book in his pocket, Henry pulled out his schedule, and checked.

“Ahh, I’m a little busy this Friday… is Thursday two thirty okay?” Henry sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I just want him out of the damn picture already.

“Yes sir, that works for me! It’ll be the brig, next to ol’ Molly.” Henry smirked internally.

Oh you foolish, foolish man. Henry thought to himself as he turned to the Manor “Thursday at two thirty it is then.” He said matter of factly. As he made his way to the Manor, a wicked grin spread across his face. Soon… very soon. 

Thursday came without much fuss, Henry arose early and donned his best, straightening out his clothes. He exits his chambers and walks by Melanie’s room he knocks on the door. 

“Melanie sweetie, it’s papa, can I come in?” Melanie opened her door smiling up at Henry. 

“Papa!” She threw her arms around him. Henry gently stroked her hair “You’re all dressed up, what’s going on?”

“Oh, just a business proposal, that’s all.” Henry chuckled, “I’ll be back before evening, my little Melanie.” He kissed her on the forehead, and proceeded to leave the Manor. 

He began to walk towards the docks, whiskey bottle in his hand as he stood next to the riverboat captain’s new boat. And waited, he pulled his pocket watch out… two twenty-nine.

Where was he?

Henry heard quickened footsteps and turned to see Rowan.

Dead man walking. Henry thought as Rowan came up and slapped him on the back Henry grits his teeth. 

I'm going to punch him… I am going to pun-

“Ahhhh! There you are Mr. Ravenswood… shall we go aboard?” Henry nodded, holding up the bottle of whiskey. 

“I brought the liquor…” as they boarded the ship and settled down Rowan smiled, pulling the basket of food he had brought for the two of them on their riverboat cruise. Rowan began yakking on and on about his occupation and how he would make a great son-in-law. Henry could feel his eyes start to roll, but he stopped and popped the bottle of whiskey open pouring a rocks glass for the both of them. Henry sipped slowly, Rowan, however, was gulping it down like it was shots.

“Slow down Mr. Falls, it's not some cheap moonshine for you to gulp down… it's meant to be savored.” Henry said, swirling the liquor around in his glass. Rowan chuckled,

“Ah I see being the richest man in Thunder Mesa has made you a snob Mr. Ravenswood, come on, let's put the rocks glasses away and let's drink like men!” Henry sighed. 

“If you insist.” Henry quickly drinks what was left in the rocks glass and watches as Rowan produces two shot glasses. And the two men begin to take shots… or so Rowan thought. Henry was letting it fall behind him. Eventually Rowan was too drunk to stand on his own two feet. He looked at Henry and slurred,

“Hey… how come you're still standing.”

“I'm of Irish descent… whiskey flows through my veins.” Henry half-assed his lie, “Here let me help you to your quarters.” He put his arm around the drunken man and helped to the Captain’s quarters. He laid the man in the bed. “I'll let you sober up.” The second Rowan's head hit the pillow he was out. And Henry left the Captain's quarters. He went above deck and scanned the two rowboats… and an idea popped into his head… there was a lit oil lamp downstairs… if I knock that over I can start a fire and there'd be no way to trace it back to me. He chuckled to himself throwing the extra oars to the other rowboat into his rowboat… just in case. He went back below deck and found the oil lamp. He nonchalantly pushed it over, shattering it. 

“Whoops…” he watched the small oil fire start to turn into an inferno. He quickly evacuated the ship, getting into one of the rowboats and lowering himself into the water, rowing away from the ship.

The smell of smoke quickly sobered the sleeping Rowan he shot out of bed and opened his door the flames were getting close to boxing him in. He scanned the room.

“Mr. Ravenswood?” He slurred, not completely up to peak sobriety. Not seeing any sign of Henry, Rowan felt his gut sink… 

Has the inferno already consumed him? Oh God… what am I to tell Melanie and Mrs. Ravenswood?

The flames inched closer and Rowan quickly made his way to the ladder and stumbled onto the deck, he glances around,

Wait, the other rowboat, it’s gone. Did Mr. Ravenswood take the second one? Why didn’t he wake me up? Rowan pondered as he got into the rowboat and lowered himself into the water he went to go paddle away… 

Wait…

“WHERE ARE THE OARS?!” He yelled looking for them, and that’s when he heard it… the oh-so close sound of rushing water, he looked up and his face fell.

Waterfall.

So here Rowan was, up the creek without a paddle, literally. He looked ahead seeing the waterfall and swallowed nervously bracing himself, maybe he could survive it. He felt the boat tip, and down he went, he screamed the entire time until he felt something piercing his abdomen. He opened his eyes, seeing a rock pushed into his stomach effectively impaling him.

Standing on the riverbank just beside the waterfall was Henry, he got close to the rock hearing the gurgling of blood filling the captain’s lungs. Rowan turned his head seeing Henry.

“Mister Ravens…” He coughed blood spewing from his mouth.

“Now, Now, Captain Falls… don’t struggle too much.” He climbed up on the rock to admire what nature did. The rock went right through his back and was tinted a deep scarlet. The rowboat was reduced to driftwood and kindling. Henry allowed himself to smirk, his plan, while not completely what he was expecting, worked. 

“H-hel-” Rowan started.

“There’s nothing I can do Captain, your lungs are filling with blood and soon you’ll fade away. So please… just relax.” He chuckles. Rowan went to struggle but all it did was drive the rock into him deeper. “Don’t worry…. At least you’ll die knowing you were not good enough for Melanie.” Rowan’s eyes widened.

“Y-You sn-snake!” Rowan coughed “You… YOU PLANNED THIS!” The yelling finally made his lungs collapse and he wheezed trying to pant. 

Henry claps “You figured it out… I applaud you, Barry didn’t.” Henry smirked. “A shame you won’t be able to tell anyone.”

Rowan slumps over, death overtaking him. Henry’s shrill voice is the last thing embedded into his memory. 

Henry left his body to be discovered and it was ruled an accident. Henry got away with it yet again.

No man was good enough for his daughter… no man.

Melanie mourned… but secretly she was seeing someone, someone who might actually prove her father wrong. Was he a tycoon? No, just a simple foreman.

[chaos64sprinkles]

Happy Birthday OLsgarden!

03/30/24 9:30am

Synopsis: Before OL returned home, Kyia showed up at her house at 7:13am to take a walk around and then called almost all the guests to help prepare the party for OL.

''OL rings the bell''

Sprinkles: wow, there's someone out there!

Kyia: I'll go and see… Hi OL, how was her day?

OL: Well, have you guys finished arranging my party from what I can see because I walked around thirty times, I'm tired!

Kyia: Why don't you stay by the side and wait while we finish quickly, okay?

OL: Okay. Ahhh…

Kyia: Sprinkles OL is outside waiting for her party, we have to be quick so she doesn't lose patience in waiting for more than 2 hours like I had asked her to do laps!

Sprinkles: Bark! Calm down Kyia, you must be so nervous that you didn't even notice that we're almost finished! Look, Slash has already finished filling the balloons and ribbons throughout the room, Tanya has prepared the fireworks to be released here inside the house, even though it's an illegal thing to do inside the house, when we're at the party. OL, the rules are broken!

Sprinkles: We also put a guard in place to ensure that they don't eat the treats before OL arrives and no, it's not the smoke bomb who is the watchman, it's the CF who watches over the treats, the Flat Box is the one who arranges the gifts and delivers the hats party for us and Skullck, well, he's just there to attend, we only brought him with us so we could celebrate together rather than just staying at home doing nothing, just watching Pirate stuff like that.

Sprinkles: Special Heart is the one who prepares the biscuit cake, while Handy is the one who prepares the biscuit cake with whipped cream and grape filling and Liam is the one who checks the guests as he told me that there are still more people to show up, because They're late but that's no problem because this party will last until the end of the day, it just can't wait until tomorrow or it's over, so everything is almost ready!

OL: Guys, are you done there because I'm running out of patience to wait any longer!

Kyia: Oh, she's almost knocking down the door, it almost sprinkles, what's missing to make everything complete!

Sprinkles: Look beyond the lack of guests right now, what's missing is for the birthday girl to be here for us to celebrate!

Kyia: Attention guys, go to your posts and we'll let OL in so we can celebrate her party, hide! YOU CAN ENTER NOW!!!

OL: Ahh, finally, that's why it's so dark and why it's silent here!

Kyia: Hi OL, are you ready?

OL: Prepare for what?

Sprinkles: For your biggest Big…

Almost Everyone: CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU, ON THIS DEAR DATE, MANY HAPPINESS, MANY YEARS OF LIFE!!!

Kyia: Hey OL, what did you ask for?

OL: Fame and Fortune! Hey, where's the cake that was here!

N-Slash-A: Look Sprinkles, Smoke Bomb is stealing the cake!

Sprinkles: Oh but not for long! Just take a look!

Smoke Bomb: What?!

Sprinkles: NHACK! hmmm it was delicious, it was so good!

N-Slash-A: Yeah, Sprinkles, now that you've eaten all the cake, who's going to make the other one again?

Special Heart: Don't worry guys, Handy and I are going to make another cake!

Sprinkles: It's just that when I suck something that's like food, I get embarrassed and I only did it to show Smoke Bomb what it's like to be a category bat that sucks things from afar!

Smoke Bomb: You little Batman with ram's horns, I will have my evil Revenge against you AHHHHHHHHH…

Sprinkles: What a Batman, what, if I were a Batman I would chase you all the time to stop doing bad things, what a troublemaker!

Smoke Bomb: Help me, I'm stuck in the bumper of this car, AHHH!!!

Saturn: What have we lost?

Floor Lamp: I don't know, but never mind!

Post Summary: After more guests appeared, everyone except the smoke bomb who traveled on the car's bumper and except skullck for the good reason he was watching the Pirates series, everyone celebrated and enjoyed the OL party with fireworks, barbecue, swimming pool, colorful lights, singing, modern games, of course and other things until IIEP15 rolls around and I might need to go there to see Slash and I or are they just rumors, what will happen after this rumor if it happens today same!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY OLsgarden!

[greywoodrpg]

𝕣𝕪𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕠𝕝𝕥

he was born thirty-four years ago, he is a werewolf who lives in wolf crossing as the manager and bartender at the den and owner of bolt's auto repair shop, and is the alpha of the pack. he looks an awful lot like stephen james hendry.

“I'm two pounds shy of a bomb, I'm one shade short of alarm. I'm too past wrath that I'm calm.”

tw: death, violence, drugs, murder

He smoked his first cigarette at twelve, rolled up his first joint at thirteen, got into his first bar fight at fourteen and the first tattoo right after that. Dad out of the picture, mom working double shifts to get them by. You’d think that would motivate the little rascal to rise above the gutter? Not in the part of good ol’ London he lived in. Ryden narrowly missed juvy after stealing a car and driving it into a ditch at fifteen, ending his teen years as a high school dropout. Between gangs, drugs and a bit of rock'n'roll, Ryden was lucky to survive till his twenties, given his self-destructive behavior and tendency to fight anything that had a social security number.

Until a girl happened. It’s always about a girl, isn’t it? And for some reason, they’re always named Sarah. Ryden got all straightened up for his Sarah, got a decent job as a construction worker and rented a dingy little place where she could hang her artsy photos and paintings. She was an art major and she read poetry. She had dark hair and sometimes snorted when she laughed. She put up with his snark and liked the stories behind his tattoos, even if they were a bit exaggerated.

But you don’t get to have a past like Ryden without consequences. One night, Ryden returned home to his Sarah dead on the floor, a pool of blood like a red halo around her head. A group of thugs he owed some money to had broken in, taking bitter revenge. They didn’t find Ryden in, panicked, and killed the girl when she screamed she’d call the police.

The next thing Ryden knew was that he was at a funeral, standing over a freshly buried grave. A strange man in black had approached him then, giving vague introductions and dubious connections to Sarah’s family side. In return for a favor, he promised to give Ryden a rare gift that would change his life forever. Naturally, Ryden declined, finding the man crazy for asking. Turns out Ryden didn’t have much of a choice there, as the man returned the next night, leaving Ryden on the floor of his apartment with a bloody bite mark on his shoulder, the night of the incident a complete blur. Needless to say, this bite had indeed changed Ryden forever.

After this, he moved about, running away from the man in black, his roamings taking him to America, to a town called Greywood. There, he'd found things he thought he'd never come to deserve - people he could call friends despite his tendency to snarl at anyone inching close to knowing him better, a steady couple of jobs, both of which he actually kind of sort of runs (look at him, adulting successfully), and a pack to belong to, which placed its trust into his rough hands with reliance that still blew his mind by naming him the alpha - their wolf in charge. A fresh start, until time runs out and the devil comes to collect his dues...

“what power did he attain when settling in greywood?”

Upon spending a few years in Greywood, Ryden acquired keen animal instincts that are border-lining with precognition, a very sharp sixth sense and passive perception which can anticipate impending danger and almost predict things seconds before they happen - every other supernatural ability he has was acquired prior to moving to the town, such as those related to his hybridization when he was turned into a werewolf, influenced by demon blood. Due to this, his mid-shift form is similar to a stereotypical horror-style werewolf - a creature with a wolf's head, covered in fur but walking upright on two legs. In this form, he loses all conscience and his strength, speed and healing abilities double, but he has no memory of his actions, cannot control it and is most bloodthirsty then, with almost all of his humanity gone. At that time, he is also most susceptible to the control the creature who turned him has over him.

penned by... sandra

[vixvaporub]

BOMBSHELLS / In the Pool, OLs Around Thirty by Shuninta Amano

[sanctuary-for-strange-people]

Current mood...

(source)

[perfectprettypisces]

Polar Opposites • B.R.B • Part 1

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC

Synopsis: Coming up on his mid-thirties, Rooster feels like he should be married by now. But with every woman he dates, the simplest thing can turn him away. So when Phoenix’s picture-perfect cousin comes crashing back into her life as a runaway bride, he thinks it must be fate. 

Warnings: lowkey sleazy behavior, swearing

WC: 3.5k

a/n: ahh the first part to what is hopefully a new series! been wanting to write something involving both Rooster and Phoenix for a while so let me know what y'all think and if you want to be added to a taglist! (and to clarify, this is not a love triangle between Rooster, OC, & Phoenix)

Series Masterlist • Top Gun Masterlist

Next Part

“Are you reading a newspaper?”

Fanboy looks up at Hangman’s incredulous question and nods. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know you were 80,” he remarks sarcastically, lining up to take his shot.

“Dude, you’d be surprised about the type of wild shit that’s in here,” Fanboy counters, flipping open the newspaper to one of the advertisements. “Look at this: ‘Stepdaughter of famous record producer, Charles Fritz, set to marry Jesse Stanton, heir to the Stanton fortune’. It says this guy’s set to be the next Bill Gates or something.”

“So? It’s rich kids marrying other rich kids, not that big of a deal,” Hangman shrugs.

“Says the guy with a trust fund and a ‘winter home’ in Aspen,” Bob scoffs.

“Don’t the Hayes’ have a house in the Hamptons too?” Payback adds in, raising a challenging eyebrow at his friend.

“Again, it’s not that big of a deal and their house is in Nantucket, not the Hamptons,” Hangman replies, causing the rest of them to let out chuckles of disbelief at his shamelessness.

“Yeah, because that makes it so much more relatable,” Rooster butts in from afar, earning himself a middle finger from Hangman before returning to his previous conversation.

It’d been a long day at the beach with multiple games of dogfight football and Penny had been gracious enough to open the doors to The Hard Deck a couple of hours early for Maverick and his squadron to wind down. 

Coyote and Fritz were aimlessly throwing darts at the dartboard while Payback and Hangman played against Bob and Fanboy in a casual game of pool. Rooster sat on top of the bar, locked in a conversation with Halo and Phoenix with Penny occasionally adding her two cents in. Yale, Harvard, and Omaha were long gone, opting to head back to the barracks to shower and take a well-deserved nap on their day off.

Rooster’s beginning to envy them the further he gets into his conversation with Phoenix and Halo.

“Like I was saying, that is the stupidest reason to ghost someone,” Phoenix scoffs, rolling her eyes when Rooster looks at her incredulously.

Phoenix had asked him about the woman he’d been seeing the past couple of weeks, forcing him to begrudgingly admit that he’d ghosted her just a couple of days prior. He wasn’t proud of it, but in his defense, he had a good reason.

Or so he thought.

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable, thank you very much,” Rooster defends.

“Ghosting a girl just because she thought Air Force pilots and Navy pilots were the same thing is not reasonable,” Halo chides.

“Yes, it is,” the rest of the guys chorus from their respective spots.

Rooster tips his bottle to all of them in thanks.

“Bradshaw, this is, like, the third girl in the past two months,” she says and Rooster can tell she’s trying her hardest to hold back a judgy tone. “For a man who wants to get married so badly, you sure are picky.”

Hangman comes up from behind Phoenix and tosses his arm around her shoulder. “Nothin’ wrong with bein’ a little picky, Phoenix,” he says before pointing his beer bottle at Rooster. “‘Specially when you got options like ol’ Rooster here.”

Rooster has to resist the urge to cringe at Hangman’s choice of words. Sure, he was trying to defend him in his own slightly twisted way, but it still didn’t make him feel any less…sleazy.

“You’re a sleaze,” Phoenix responds, nudging his arm off her shoulder.

“Need me to ring it?” Penny asks, gesturing to the bell while eying Hangman threateningly.

Phoenix smiles gratefully but shakes her head, turning back to Rooster. “All I’m trying to say is you’re never gonna find ‘the one’ if you keep dropping girls the second they do or say something weird,” she says. “What about Kristen? She’s cute and you even said you could see it going somewhere.”

He had said that. In retrospect, Kristen was a good choice for him. She was a nurse on a base, so she was incredibly understanding of his demanding and somewhat unpredictable job. She never pressed him when he would shut down at the mention of his parents and as douchebag-y as it sounded, it didn’t hurt that she was good in bed.

They had been on a handful of dates a few months prior and things were going well. He didn’t exactly have a good reason why he never asked her out again after.

Rooster just shrugs. “I don’t know, Nat,” he says truthfully.

“Y’know, Phoenix, if you’re such an expert on relationships maybe you should find Rooster a wife,” Hangman teases.

Before Rooster or Phoenix is able to come up with a retort, Maverick’s voice cuts them off.

“Uh, Phoenix? There’s a woman here looking for you.”

The confusion in Maverick’s tone has Rooster and everyone else’s interest peaked as they all turn to the entrance of The Hard Deck. Maverick beckons the stranger further into the bar and into everyone’s line of sight. Rooster can practically hear everyone’s jaw drop, his included.

This was probably the most stunning woman Rooster’s ever laid his eyes on and based on the expressions of everyone behind him, the sentiment was shared. Her hair was done up in a complicated-looking updo, the stray pieces coming free that would’ve looked messy on anyone else only helped frame her sharp features. Rooster could only assume she had makeup on from the way her eyes popped, though he’d never be able to tell without it due to how flawless her skin looked. The only flaws Rooster could make out were the slight mascara tracks beneath her eyes and the small pout that adorned her perfectly glossed lips.

The real kicker was her attire. She would’ve already stood out with her hair and makeup, but the wedding dress sealed the deal for sure. The silky white dress fit her like a dream and looked way outside of any of their price ranges, which made the dirt that laced the bottom of the gown seem infinitely more comical. The white heels she held in her left hand looked equally as expensive as the dress, but not nearly as expensive as the diamond that adorned her ring finger.

Everyone turned to look at Phoenix next as if she’d just magically poofed this woman out of thin air at Hangman’s request.

“Damn, you work fast,” Halo mumbles.

“Dude,” Rooster feels Fanboy nudge him as he walks up to the bar to get a closer look at the woman. He shoves the newspaper he’d been looking at in Rooster’s face and points to a column on the page. “That’s the girl in the wedding announcement.”

Rooster takes his eyes off the beautiful woman for a moment to see that in fact the woman in the photo was the same woman standing in front of them. The only difference was that the woman in the photo was smiling and standing next to an attractive-looking man, forming the stereotypical picture-perfect couple. The woman that stood before them looked anything but happy and was all alone. He skims the ad quickly until he realizes that the only thing missing from it is her name.

“TJ?” Phoenix exclaims, stepping out from behind the bar until she was in full view.

The stranger, who they could only assume is named TJ, sighs in relief and rushes toward Phoenix in a flurry of white, nearly tackling her to the floor with the force of her embrace.

Rooster has to bite back a laugh at the sight before him. Phoenix’s wide-eyed frame was clad only in a sports bra and nylon shorts, her arms squished against her torso as the distressed woman squeezed the life out of her. She couldn’t have looked less uncomfortable, a stark contrast to her counterpart who looked close to tears.

“Oh my God, Nat, thank God you’re here,” TJ sighs. She must’ve squeezed a little tighter due to the grunt that Phoenix lets out.

Phoenix brings her hand up and taps TJ on the arm as best as she can, trying to get her to loosen up. “T, kinda can’t breathe at the moment.”

“Sorry.” TJ pulls away apologetically but keeps Phoenix close, gripping her by her biceps. “You would not believe the morning I’ve had.”

Phoenix looks her up and down before her mouth settles in a wry smile. “I think I’ve got an idea,” she says, guiding her over to a bar stool and gesturing for her to sit. TJ’s already off on a tangent before either of them is fully settled in.

“I know we had a fight a couple of months ago about Jesse and you told me not to marry him, but I didn’t listen to you and uninvited you from the wedding because of it–”

“T–” Phoenix tries to interrupt, but TJ shows no signs of stopping.

“–which was really mean, so I’m really sorry about that by the way–”

“TJ.”

“–and I know we haven’t talked since, but I had no idea where else to go and then I remembered your dad saying you transferred down to North Island, so I took an Uber–”

“TJ!”

TJ’s mouth snaps shut and all her attention goes to Phoenix. “What?”

“Breathe.” Phoenix inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth, gesturing for the woman to follow her movements. The two of them repeat the action until she’s breathing normally again.

“Need a drink, hun?” Penny asks, her maternal instincts on high alert as she places a comforting hand on the frazzled girl’s shoulder.

“Wine?” TJ asks, a hopeful glint in her eye.

Penny makes eye contact with Phoenix who is vehemently shaking her head. “How ‘bout I get you some water?” she offers with a kind smile.

TJ nods gratefully, albeit a little disappointed, and exhales a long breath. Rooster knows he shouldn’t think the little pout on her lips is cute, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t.

“Okay, how about you start from the beginning?” Phoenix offers calmly, side-eying the rest of the pilots who were now starting to become aware of the new presence.

TJ, seemingly unaware that it wasn’t just her and Natasha, slowly begins to recount the events leading up to her ending up at the bar. She explains how she’d been moments away from walking down the aisle when her step-father (who Rooster figured Phoenix wasn’t particularly fond of based on the way her entire body went rigid at the mention of his name) had made an off-handed, meant-to-be-funny comment about ‘signing her life away’, sending her into a full-blown freakout and frantically looking for the nearest exit.

She’d gone back to her dressing room under the guise of touching up her makeup and had slipped out one of the back doors of the church and into an Uber, convincing the driver to take her all the way from Los Angeles to North Island with the promise of a hefty tip. And while the guard at the gate wasn’t legally allowed to give out information on the whereabouts of specific officers, she also managed to convince him to offhandedly mention the name of the bar that aviators from North Island tended to frequent. In his words, that “may or may not include” the one she was looking for.

“And that’s how I ended up here,” TJ finishes as her shoulders drop in exhaustion, taking a large gulp of water Penny had given her in the midst of her storytelling.

By the time her story was done, a crowd had formed behind the two women, everyone from Rooster to Maverick hanging on to TJ’s every word. They all gawked at her, both mildly concerned at the amount she’d gone through to find Phoenix as well as thoroughly impressed by her powers of persuasion. In hindsight, her appearance as a beautiful yet frazzled bride had probably helped in that aspect.

Phoenix fumbles with her words for a second, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water before deciding on: “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. I was fully committed to waiting here until you showed up or asking around until someone could tell me where I could find you,” TJ admits sheepishly. “I guess it was just luck that you happened to be here.”

Phoenix is about to respond when Hangman decides to ask the question on everyone else’s mind.

“Look, as much as I hate to break up this very sweet and very confusing reunion between you two lovely ladies right here, but what the hell is going on?”

TJ eyes Hangman with a curious look. “You must be Hangman,” she says. “Nat’s told me so much about you.”

“I am,” he says confidently. “And you are?”

She turns to Phoenix who was trying and failing to bite back a smile. “You were right.”

“Right about what?”

Phoenix makes the rounds of introducing everyone, stating their names and callsigns as TJ nods along before gesturing to the woman next to her. “Guys, this is Victoria Trace,” Phoenix introduces, ignoring Hangman altogether. “Also known as my cousin, TJ.”

Rooster has to stop his jaw from dropping. He’s known Phoenix for a long time, longer than he knew anyone else on the squad save for Maverick and he’d only heard brief mentions of this elusive cousin of hers. Doing a once over of her and then doing one of Phoenix, it was hard to tell they knew each other let alone were related to one another. It wasn’t that Phoenix was ugly; once upon a time, Rooster could’ve had a crush on her before their relationship took a turn for the platonic route, but nothing about these two women screamed family. 

“You’re related?!” Fanboy exclaims with a look of disbelief.

“Wait, right about what?” Hangman interjects.

“The hell you say it like that for?” Phoenix asks, shooting a glare his way and ignoring the latter’s comment.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just she’s all–” Fanboy makes an indignant noise gesturing to TJ with wild hands, “and you’re all–” he makes another indignant noise, trying and failing to emphasize his point.

The two women look at him with raised eyebrows, prompting him to finish whatever thought he was thinking. It’s the first semblance of similarity between the two, the challenging look on both of their faces scarily identical. Rooster figures it must be in the Trace blood, because he thought Phoenix’s look was intimidating before but doubling it just made it downright scary.

“What he means to say is that you guys just don’t look alike,” Rooster jumps in, saving Fanboy in the process. Besides the obvious difference in their attire, his statement was partially true: the dark hair and slight olive complexion were the only physical similarities Rooster could see between them.

TJ turns and her eyes make eye contact with Rooster’s. She seems stunned for a moment, her eyes raking up and down his figure slowly before settling back on Natasha. Rooster feels a hint of pride at the thought of Phoenix’s hot cousin checking him out like he’d been blatantly doing ever since she walked through the doors.

Phoenix gives the entire group a firm look and they take the hint, wandering off aimlessly, but still partially listening in on the conversation happening with one of their own.

She shakes her head, ignoring their not-so-subtle attempts at eavesdropping. “T, why’d you come all the way down here?” she speaks softly, concern evident in her tone.

TJ lets out a dejected chuckle, shaking her head. “Because I knew you’d be the only one to understand,” she sighs, eyes downcast with her pointer finger wiping away condensation drops on the glass of water in her hands. “My mom kept calling me on the entire ride here before she finally decided to text me and say if I didn’t come back immediately and go through with the wedding that she’d cut me off for good. That’s when I knew that I should’ve listened to you instead of pushing you away.”

She sighs before continuing, looking up at Phoenix with watery eyes. “Nat, you have every right to turn me away, but I really had nowhere else to go. God, I should’ve just listened to you from the start and none of this would’ve happened.”

That seems to pull at Phoenix’s heartstrings enough, her eyes softening and her hand coming up to rub up and down her cousin’s back. “T, no matter what: we’re family and I’d never turn you away. Not like this, not ever,” she says seriously, moving to wrap her arm around her shoulder. “You can stay with me until everything blows over and then we’ll figure out your next move.”

Rooster’s breath hitches at her statement. There was one thing that Phoenix seemed to not remember and it was definitely going to bite Rooster in the ass later.

TJ exhales gratefully and wraps her arms around Phoenix in another tight hug, but this time, Phoenix hugs her back. She chants the words ‘thank you’ over and over again until Phoenix is chuckling and pulling away.

“On one condition,” Phoenix says sternly, holding up her right index finger.

“Yes, yes, anything,” TJ agrees eagerly.

“You have to let me call someone to tell them you’re okay,” she says, her voice just as firm as before. “It doesn’t have to be your mom or George, but at least one of your bridesmaids or someone at the wedding. They’re probably worried sick right now.”

Her cousin looks hesitant to agree, but she nods her head only moments later. “Okay, fine,” she concedes, though it doesn’t seem she quite believes what Phoenix is saying. She chews on her bottom lip, a move that forces Rooster to turn away before he gets distracted. “You can tell your dad and Julian but that’s it.”

Phoenix doesn’t seem too surprised that her cousin would only want her dad and older brother to know about her whereabouts rather than her own parents as she agrees without hesitation. “Deal. Let’s go back to my place, I’ll let my dad and Julian know, you can get out of this–” she gestures wildly to TJ’s bridal ensemble with a grimace, “–and we’ll figure everything out.”

“Alright, good plan,” TJ nods, hopping out of the bar stool and placing the empty glass on the countertop behind her. “Thank you,” she nods at Penny before turning to address the rest of the group, “and it was really nice meeting you all. Hopefully the next time we meet I’ll be a little less…disheveled,” she jokes as she also motions down at her clearly out-of-place attire.

Everyone waves and mutters some sort of goodbye, completely failing at hiding the flabbergasted looks on their faces.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys la–oh shit, Rooster.” Phoenix presses a hand to her forehead as she remembers their agreement. “Shit, I forgot you were staying with me.”

Since Rooster’s apartment building was currently under renovation, Phoenix had graciously granted him rights to her guest bedroom since she was the only one with enough room to take him in. Rights that she seemed to have forgotten about until now.

Rooster waves her off. “I’ll take the couch, it’s fine,” he says, sparing a glance over TJ. Her eyes were once again wandering over his frame and he has to fight the urge to sit up a little taller.

“Are you sure?” It’s TJ who seems concerned this time. “I’m already putting Nat out and I’d hate to do the same to you.”

Her tone is so sweet, it’s almost sickening. He knows that if he asked her anything in that tone of voice again, he’d agree no matter what it was. Shit, this was not going to be good. Being in close proximity to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen who also happened to be his best friend’s cousin seemed like a bad idea. Tack on the fact that she was literally about to marry another man a mere couple of hours before their first meeting and you get a recipe for disaster.

“Yeah, positive,” he nods, wondering if it was still too late to ask Hangman to stay with him. He pushes that idea down when he remembers why he didn’t ask in the first place.

“Okay, as long as you’re okay with it,” Phoenix says hesitantly, inching toward the door with TJ following behind her. “I’ll see you back at the house?”

Rooster nods again and bids his goodbyes. TJ offers him a small smile and a wave which he gladly returns. The door closes behind them and with a final flash of white, they’re both gone. Rooster lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, sweeping a stressed hand over his face. He turns to see the rest of the guys and along with Halo and Penny looking at him with unreadable expressions.

“What?” he asks, shrinking under their gazes.

Hangman lets out a low whistle. “Dude…you’re fucked.”

[fallen-gravity]

the calm after the storm

When Ford lost everything to Bill’s betrayal; his sleep, his only friend, his sense of security, his sanity, he thought for sure that at least, at the very least, he could still find comfort in the rumble of thunder and the spark of lightning, the same way he had as a child, because they were the one thing Bill couldn’t bend and twist to his liking.

What a naïve fool he had been.

Notes: Here's my entry for Week 1 of @forduary! This year's prompts are based on fanfic and art tropes, which I think is a real cool way to handle a fandom-wide event like this! The prompt was "Hurt/Comfort", so I went with the good ol' American classic of Nightmares. I hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

When Ford was a kid, he loved thunderstorms more than anything else.

Thunder and lightning were his siren songs. When most people would reasonably be tucked away at home with a book or spent the day in bed, Ford would hear thunder and it would be his cue to kick off his bed covers, put his shoes on, and drag Stan out of the house with him to go exploring.

Thunderstorms were one of the only guarantees that the beach would be abandoned on a summer’s afternoon. If Ford wanted to go exploring for buried treasure in the sand, a dark and stormy afternoon was always going to be his best bet. Best of all, the storm brought things from the ocean onto the shore with its ravenous winds, and lightning strikes brought sea glass, which he and Stan would sneak home in their pockets.

In his college years, when he was too busy studying for any hands-on exploration outdoors, thunder and lightning no longer excited him as much as it did when he was a child. Rather, it filled him with a sense of comfort and nostalgia. If he were working at his desk in his dorm room when it began to rain, he would gather everything together and continue to work on his bed so he could look out his window at the rain as he worked.

It would not be until his early years in Gravity Falls that the excitement from his childhood would return to him. Thunder and lightning would bring frightened anomalies to his back porch seeking refuge from the pounding rain, and all he had to do if he wanted to take notes was take a peek out his back window.

When he lost everything to Bill’s betrayal; his sleep, his only friend, his sense of security, his sanity, he thought for sure that at least, at the very least, he could still find comfort in the rumble of thunder and the spark of lightning, because they were the one thing Bill couldn’t bend and twist to his liking.

What a naïve fool Ford had been back then.

He’s hanging in shackles in the Fearamid. The stench of his own smoking skin fills his nose and waters his eyes, and if not for the chain clenched tightly around his neck he’d surely be vomiting at the sensation.

“You ready to talk now?” Bill’s shrill voice pierces through Ford’s skull.

“Never!” Ford shouts, his chains jingling as he speaks. “I’ll die before you get a single word out of me!”  He spits at Bill’s feet.

Bill squints, and for a moment Ford thinks he’s about to start shocking him again. He braces for impact, but the shock never comes.

Instead, Bill groans like he’s bored.

“You’re no fun anymore, Sixer” Bill crosses his arm. “It’s always no, I won’t reactivate the portal, and no, I won’t join you in the nightmare realm, and no, I won’t hand over the rift. I’m sick of it!”

Bill raises his hand to snap his fingers, and the color drains from Ford’s face. He does everything he can to avoid the impact of whatever Bill’s about to do to him, attempting to squirm backwards and yank his wrists loose, but he doesn’t budge so much as an inch.

Bill snaps his fingers, and Ford squeezes his eyes shut, and…

He’s being lowered to the ground.  Ford pops an eye open, just to make sure Bill’s not playing tricks on him, or that he’s shrinking, but…no, his feet really are being lowered to the ground.

Ford’s shackles disappear, and he rubs at his tender wrists. “I…” he tries to bite, but he’s too baffled to finish his sentence. “I don’t understand”

“You want to play games with me so badly, then let’s play a game” Bill’s voice becomes distorted as his feet slam to the ground so hard it cracks. Ford takes a few cautious steps backwards. Bill snaps his fingers again, and the entire interior of the Fearamid transforms into a labyrinth. “If you can find your way out of here before I catch up to you, I let you go.”

Ford swallows hard. “What’s the catch?”

“That’s just it!” Bill responds giddily. “If I catch you before you escape, you have to tell me the equation. I’m not asking anymore.”

“What…What about the kids?”

“Won’t touch a hair on their puny heads! I promise.”  Bill tips his hat towards him. Ford…seriously doubts that, but if there’s any chance he can get out of here and bring Dipper and Mabel with him to safety, he’s taking it.

“Fine!”

Bill clasps his hands together. “Perfect,” he replies, his voice dark and low. A large timer suddenly appears on the ceiling.  “And since I’m such a gracious host, I’m giving you a two minute head start.”

He snaps his fingers once more, and he sprouts four more limbs and grows about eight feet taller. “You’re gonna need it.”

Without waiting for another word, Ford blindly sprints off in a random direction. He’s read extensive papers discussing minotaurs and their labyrinths, and the common traps one could find in them, so he should be out of here in no time. Just as he’s about to round a corner, a sudden streak of lightning strikes the wall, and a large pile of debris blocks his path.

From somewhere behind him Bill lets out a sickeningly shrill laugh as Ford backtracks to go a different route. He tries running back in the direction he came in, but another lightning strike blocks that path, too.

“Time’s up!” Bill shouts, and Ford stumbles off down a random clear path. It’s not a very long one, because tween one blink and the next he’s smacking head first into Bill’s outstretched hand. The color drains from Ford’s face as he’s lifted from the ground to meet Bill’s….many, many eyes. He doesn’t say anything else, simply morphs his hand into a giant taser.

“No!” Ford attempts to squirm as Bill brings the taser closer to his neck. “No! You promised!”

“I promised you I wouldn’t touch the kids! I never said anything about you.”

“No!” Ford shouts, and just as the taser is about to come in contact with his skin, there’s a pressure on his arm, like someone’s gently pushing him.

Ford’s eyes fly open, and he nearly smashes his forehead against Mabel’s.  His heart feels like it’s pounding hundreds of miles per hour, but it begins to slow when he realizes that he’s in his own room.

“Mabel?” he grips at his chest as he sits up. “What are you doing up?” He’d hate to have been the reason she woke up in the middle of the night.

She snorts as she takes a seat beside him on his couch. “It’s nine-thirty in the morning, Grunkle Ford, I’m always up this early!”

Ford’s about to ask how that could be when it’s still so dark in his room, but a roll of thunder outside his window answers that question for him. He flinches at the sound of it, and beside him Mabel places her tiny hand on top of his.

When he turns to meet her eyes there’s a deep sadness in them that could tear his heart in two. “Are you okay, Grunkle Ford?”

There isn’t nearly enough time in the universe to answer that question truthfully. He turns his hand to interlock his fingers with hers, and he squeezes gently. “I’m fine, sweetie, don’t worry about me”

She pouts, and returns the gesture of squeezing his hand. “I heard you talking in your sleep when I walked by. I wasn’t gonna bother you, but…” she turns her gaze towards the floor. “I…heard you say Bill’s name”

As if the universe itself were listening to her speak, a streak of lightning flashes across the sky at his name. Ford winces, and his grip on Mabel’s hand briefly tightens. She frowns, and scooches closer to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, voice muffled by his turtleneck.

He knows that she still blames herself for Weirdmageddon.  She had come into the lab in the basement not too long ago and told him everything; from the argument she got into with Dipper to handing the rift over to Bill’s awaiting hands. It nearly broke his heart in two to see her so heartbroken and afraid. He’d told her that it wasn’t her fault, and that it was nearly inevitable it was going to happen eventually. She seemed to accept that, and hadn’t said anything about it to him since.

Still, he knows better than most that the guilt never truly leaves you be, and that it tends to sneak up from behind and eat you alive when you least expect it to.

“No need to be sorry, my dear” Ford replies, winding an arm around Mabel to hold her closer. “I’ve been having these sorts of nightmares since far before Weirdmageddon ever happened.”

“Then…why last night?” Mabel looks up at him, her soft brown eyes pooling with worry.

“Well, if I had to hazard a guess…” Ford taps at his chin. Before he can give it much more thought, another streak of lightning crackles outside, which makes him flinch. Mabel’s gaze switches back and forth between Ford and the window behind them, and she jumps up to her feet.

“That’s it!” she shouts, spinning towards him with a…very out of place grin plastered to her face. She takes his hands in her own. “Grunkle Ford, are you afraid of thunderstorms?”

Ford blushes so hard that his ears burn. “It…hasn’t been a fear I’ve had since childhood, but it seems like in turn of recent events…” He tugs awkwardly at the collar of his turtleneck.

“Aww, you don’t have to be so modest, Grunkle Ford! I’m not gonna judge you.” She offers a hand out to him, smiling sweetly. “As a matter of fact, I know a cure for just the thing, if you’d follow me”

A soft chuckle escapes Ford as he takes her up on her offer. He places his hand in hers, and she helps tug him to his feet. She guides him by the hand out of his room and towards the living room. Stan must still be asleep, because his recliner is unoccupied.

“Here we are!” She pats at the armrest with her free hand. “There’s a few things I need to put together, but you can sit right here while I go grab them.” She gently pats at his forearm. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about the rest”

…Interesting choice of words, but Ford doesn’t question them. He takes a seat in Stan’s recliner, and as soon as he kicks his feet up Mabel beams and skips off in another direction. He doesn’t have long to wonder what she could be planning, because only about a minute or two passes before a giant pile of blankets comes walking back into the room.

Mabel drops the pile in front of the recliner with a grunt. “There we go!” She grins, clasping her hands together. “This should be plenty enough for our pillow fort”

“Our…pillow fort?”

“Yeah!” she beams. “Pillow forts are like, the number one cure for everything, right behind hugs and glitter.”  She nods matter-of-factly. “It’s science! You should know, Grunkle Ford” She says, and heads towards the kitchen to grab a few chairs.

Ford can’t help but smile warmly as he stands to help her.  They gather all of the chairs from the kitchen and place them in a large circle around the recliner, spaced out just enough that there’s plenty of crawlspace between them and just close enough together to prevent the blankets from falling off. Once Mabel is satisfied with their placement, she begins placing the blankets on top of the chairs, letting the larger blankets come all the way to the floor to act as entrances to the fort. It’s a touchup of the blankets here and a small adjustment of the chair placements here, and Mabel steps back to admire their work.

“And...That should do it! I’m gonna go grab some more blankets and pillows for the inside, but you can feel free to head in without me” She beams, and she’s already off again before he can respond. Ford rolls his eyes at her fondly, and gets down onto his hands and knees to crawl inside the fort.

The change of scenery is instantaneous, in every meaning of the word. The inside of the fort is dark, save for the beams of light from the room outside seeping through the gaps of the blankets. It’s warm, from the heat trapped within each of the blankets. It’s quiet, so much so that the pounding of the rain on the windows sounds like nothing more than a muffled drizzle.  It’s comfortable, despite the only available seat being the floor itself.

It’s a sensory deprivation tank without the claustrophobia; a safe space Ford could see himself losing time to.  

“Hey!” Mabel’s cheery voice cuts smoothly through the silence.  She crawls through the blanket flap with an armful of blankets and a bowl full of fresh popcorn. “Sorry that took so long, I figured if we were gonna spend the whole afternoon in here that you were gonna want a snack” She places the bowl of popcorn on the ground between them,  and hands Ford a pillow.

Ford gently squeezes the pillow to his chest. “Mabel?”

“Yeah?”

Ford can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “How did…how did you know?”

She cocks her head. “How’d I know what?”

“How did you know that…all of this would work?”

“Oh!” Mabel grins. “Pssh, that’s easy. Don’t tell Dipper I told you this, but he was absolutely terrified of rain when we were younger. It didn’t even have to be storming out, just as long there was rain falling from the sky. And all it took for him to calm down was tearing apart our beds and building a fort, so I figured that since you two are like, the same exact person that it would work for you too!” She gently taps at her forehead. “You two aren’t the only smart twins around here”

Ford laughs, winding an arm around her to bring her close to him. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s working wonders”

The grin that spreads across her face could burn out the sun. She reciprocates his gesture, winding a tiny arm around him and resting her head on his chest.

Growing up, he’d been taught that there was no place for fear. Fear made you weak, and the only way to deal with it was to harshly beat it down until it was no more. You were to show fear that you were strong, and tough, and succumbing to it could only lead to your demise.

Worst of all, Ford believed it wholeheartedly. Shutting himself out from the world, sacrificing sleep, and comfort, and love, Ford truly believed he was winning his battles. There was nothing to fear if he had nothing at all.

But now, sitting in this tiny little fort made of love, listening to the rain with his great-niece by his side, he realizes that this is what he’s needed all along. You don’t defeat your fears by beating them into the ground, you defeat them with love, the love of those who care enough about you to fight by your side. And even though thunder is not tangible, something he can reach out and mold to his liking, he knows that in time, he will be back out there, learning to love the rain again with his long-lost childhood wonder.

And as he finds himself dozing off in the warmth of his niece’s arms, Ford knows that this storm will only be the first of many of its kind.

He looks forward to each of them.

[ffakc]

Isn’t She Lovely? - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

Let me preface this by saying I have ZERO desire to have kids IRL, but the thought of Jeff being a loving, doting birth partner makes me feel warm and fuzzy. He’s also such an amazing Daddy, I just had to... fluff galore! @negans-attagirl @happysgal @iluvneganandjamie

It was my final shift as a manager at the adorable Rhinebeck coffee shop that was my home for the past year. My regulars and coworkers teased me, asking why I still had a job despite being married to one of the top grossing actors on The Walking Dead, but working kept my mind busy during the times my Jeffrey was away. I was also three days overdue with our daughter. My midwife told me to rest, but it’s hard to rest when people call in sick!

“Baby!” I step out from behind the counter and greet my husband with a kiss. He places his large hand on my stomach.

“Look how cute my gal is with her apron and her big ol’ belly,” Jeff gushes.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” I laugh. Jeff scoffs and kisses me.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous,” he smiles. “You about ready to go, doll?”

“If I don’t see you tomorrow, congratulations! You’re going to be a great mom!” my regular Josh tips his cup.

“Bye Josh!” I turn back to Jeffrey, “Yeah, I’m ready whenever you are. I just need to clock out for the last time.”

“We’ll miss you, Boss Lady!” my lead barista Kayla hugs me.

“I’ll miss you too!” I reply, “Bye, everyone!” I call back to the kitchen. Various voices yell back kind words. Kayla wipes a tear away.

“Aww, don’t cry!” I say, tears welling up, “You know I’ll come visit! I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“It’s been wonderful getting to know you, Kayla,” Jeff hugs her as well.

I take my husband by the hand and we make our way to his truck.

“Do you think tonight will be the night?” Jeff remarks.

“I sure hope so. I’m so achy and I feel like my stomach is going to split open,” I laugh.

“Poor thing,” Jeff pouts his lip and rubs my belly. “What do you want for dinner, sweet girl?”

“I’ve been craving sushi all damn day. Cooked, of course,” I reply. I make a quick call to Osaka, our favorite local Japanese place. I hang up the phone and sigh lovingly, “You’re going to be such a good Daddy.”

“And you’ll be the best Mama. I love you so much,” my husband plants a quick kiss on my lips.

***

I wipe the tears away as the music swells. We were watching Phantom of the Opera, one of my favorites. I let out and annoyed groan and Jeff cackles.

“Why are you crying now?!” my husband laughs, “It’s not even sad!” I shove a piece of sushi in my mouth.

“I don’t know!” I giggle, “Stupid pregnancy hormones.” Jeff places his hand on top of the bulge on my side.

“It’s like I’m holding her hand,” Jeff kisses around my navel, “I love my girls.” His kisses make their way up my chest, his hand makes its way through my hair and he sucks my neck.

“We love you too, Daddy,” I moan. Jeff climbs on top of me and I kiss him deeply, gripping onto the neck of his hoodie.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, might induce labor,” my husband smirks and rests his forehead against mine.

“I’ve heard that’s a myth. I want you so bad, Jeffrey,” I lick my lips and run my fingers through his gray hair. Jeff rasps my name, unbuttoning his jeans. I feel a surge of energy in my lower half as Jeff buries his face in my chest. My eyes widen as clear liquid begins pooling between my thighs. I realize immediately what’s happening.

“Jeff...”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“JEFFREY!” I exclaim and gesture downwards.

“Wha- OH! Oh my god! Baby... baby! We’re having a baby!” he stammers, climbing off of me and adjusts my shirt. “What do I do?!” I attempt to calm him, even though I’m quite panicked myself.

“Go get the bag and start the truck!” I breathe heavily. Jeff puts on his glasses and grabs my large black backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m so excited! It’s real! It’s happening!” Jeff laughs. He helps me off the couch and we hustle to the truck. Jeff calls my mom as he lays a towel on the passenger seat.

“Hey Ma!”

“Hey Jeff, how are you? Any baby updates?”

“Well... You’re going to be a grandma probably within the next 24 hours!”

“Oh my god!” my mom sounded just like her mother when she said that. I squeeze Jeff’s hand as he speeds down the road.

“Let me see here,” Jeff pulls up flights on the touch screen on the dashboard.

“Eyes on the road, Daddy, please!” I exclaim, “Hi, Mom! Sorry!” I hear both my parents laugh at me, causing me to laugh too. I sounded like a nervous wreck.

“Hi! Are you feeling okay? Any contractions yet?”

“Not yet, from what I looked up... woah! I felt a little cramping there.”

“I see a five hour flight that leaves in three hours. Do you think y’all can manage that?” Jeff says, “I will pay, don’t you worry.”

“Anything for my first grandbaby,” my mom says. “I can’t guarantee we’ll be there for the birth, but we will be there! See you guys soon, okay?”

“Bye!” Jeff and I say in unison.

***

Four in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink. Labor so far felt like the worst period cramps I’ve ever had. I was only two centimeters, a hell of a long way from ten.

“Jeffrey,” I whimper, my voice cracking, “It hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know. What can I do to help?” Jeff gets close to my face and kisses my forehead, rubbing my hand.

“Something cold would be wonderful. Ice chips, a popsicle. Anything.”

“How about a coffee?” a familiar voice comes from the door.

“You made it,” I smile weakly at my mom.

“No baby, huh? We DID make it!” my dad smiles and pumps his arm in a “YES!” hand gesture. He hugs his son in law and hands him a large Starbucks cup. He hugs me, kissing my forehead.

“Good, Mr. C. Real good,” my husband smiles, sipping the hot coffee.

“Don’t worry, I asked and she said it was fine,” I sit up in bed and hug my mom. She hands me a large iced beverage, “It’s a decaf americano with some Splenda, just something to sip on. I know you like a little bit of coffee with your cream, but you can’t have that right now.”

“Thank you so much,” I take a long drink. “That’s so good... God damn it!” I grit my teeth.

“Another one?” Jeff sits next to me on the bed. “I think they’re close to five minutes apart,” he says to my parents. I rest my head on his chest and groan loudly, “That’s it, pretty girl. Let it out. Scream if you have to. Break my fucking hand if you have to. You’re doing amazing so far.”

“This is the longest thirty sec- ah! Jeffrey!” I grip onto his thigh for dear life. He shushes me softly and rests his chin on my forehead, “I hate my mom and dad seeing me like this.” My mom reassures me that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about and her and my dad go to the waiting room. I try my best to remember the breathing techniques our midwife taught me, but failing miserably. This was going to be a long day.

***

Eight o’ clock. The rays of sun came flooding through the curtain. I close my eyes for a moment as another contraction squeezes me tight.

“Don’t say you’re tired. Come on, Jeff. She’s having your kid and you’re worried about being ti-“ Jeff mumbles to himself.

“You know you’re allowed to be tired too,” I laugh and look at him through slitted eyelids. Jeff smiles and kisses my cheek, rubbing my hand lovingly.

“Hello!” our midwife Lynn pokes her head in.

“Please tell me I’m ready to push,” I let out a deep breath.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” Lynn checks me out. “Don’t hit me,” she chuckles. “You’re only at four centimeters.”

“Oh, Jesus. Just give me the damn drugs.” I glance over at my husband who is drifting off.

“I have to let you know that it will make your contractions stronger and more intense, and I know you’ve expressed being in a great deal of pain already.” Jeff opens his eyes.

“Fuck it, I’ll just sit on the ball for a bit. Daddy?” I turn to Jeff. He grabs the exercise ball.

“I’ll be back soon. Hopefully things will be progressing nicely!”

***

Six in the evening. There’s no possible way I had been in labor for twenty-four hours.

“You’re getting so close, doll,” Jeff whispers and pets my hair. “You’re so strong, Mama, you’re so damn strong. You’re a beautiful, incredible, powerful woman,” Lynn does a brief examination.

“That’s the kind of coaching we like to hear, Jeff! Good vibes only!” Lynn says, “Look at that. You are at a ten, my dear!” I fan my face and a single tear trickles down Jeff’s bearded cheek. I kiss him deeply. I place my feet in the stirrups. “Jeff, are you still okay with catching her? I know you said you wanted to, but sometimes dads back out at the last minute,” Lynn teases.

“Absolutely,” Jeff chuckles.

“All right, sweetheart. On your next contraction, I want you to push hard, okay?” she was so gentle with her words. I nod and exhale. Jeff grips my hand.

“You’ve got this, babe,” my husband kisses me.

The next forty-five minutes fly by and seem to go in slow motion all at the same time. I felt like I had run a thousand marathons.

“I can see her head!” Jeff says excitedly. “You’re almost there, darlin’, you’re so close!” I can’t find the words, the pain is getting to be unbearable.

“I’m going to pass out,” I moan.

“Come on, doll, you’ve got this. You’re doing incredible,” my husband glances between my thighs. “Oh my, she has your wavy hair,” tears stain his cheeks.

“I’m going to guess three more biiiig pushes and you’ll have a baby!” Lynn says.

“You’re so incredible, you’re a fucking warrior, you know that? These are the last few moments we have as just a couple, that’s so wild. After today, we are three. You’re never looked more beautiful, you are glowing. Kiss me, my gorgeous wife,” I feebly press my lips to his.

“Yeah...” I pant, “Oh my fucking god!” I cry out as my face reddens as I push with everything I have in me.

“That’s it! Jeff, quickly, the shoulders are coming!” My husband plants a kiss on my cheek and sits on a stool next to Lynn.

“One... two... three! Push! Come on, girlfriend! Every ounce of energy you have! Good job!” Lynn psyches me up. She mumbles instructions to Jeffrey.

Jeff begins to sob uncontrollably, “She’s so beautiful, you have no idea.” He gasps in awe. Suddenly, a rush of euphoria overtakes my whole body and a loud cry echoes through the room. I rest my head against the pillow and begin crying my eyes out. She’s here! Jeff holds our tiny daughter in his large hands.

“Just place her right there,” Lynn beams with pride. “You did it! Happy birthday, little girl!” She grabs some blankets as our little angel wails. I wrap my arms around her and Jeff bends down next to me.

“You’re so amazing, Mama. She’s so perfect. I love her, I love you. You are such a badass, I’m so proud of you,” Jeff whispers.

“I love you too, Jeffrey. Daddy, she’s all ours,” I kissed him over and over again, “I love you so, so, so much.” I had never felt more connected to my husband than this exact moment. After cleaning her off and doing all the routine checks, I finally get to hold our girl.

“Hi there, little bean,” I kiss the top of her head, my voice shot from crying and screaming, “I’m your Mommy,” I hold her tiny hand, “You look just like your Daddy. And you smell so good!”

“I’ve heard of new car smell, but new baby smell?” Jeff giggles.

“Do we have a name?” Lynn asks.

“Evelyn,” Jeff sniffs and kisses the crown of her head, “Evelyn Alice Morgan.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

When Everyone Who Loves me Has Died

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

"Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.”

“Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing.

“Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.”

Whoever came up with the concept of mind over matter should be imprisoned for false advertising. Tim has been trying to get his mind over the matter for months now, and the matters are still very much gripping the steering wheel. If anything, his mind gave in and slid into the passenger seat, going along for the ride. Tim is sitting on a billboard platform, Lex Luthor’s ginormous bald self providing a nauseating backdrop as he advertises whatever world domination kick he’s on at the moment. Tim watches the cars go by on the highway, utterly indifferent to the tiny speck of a vigilante watching from above. His cowl is down, but he isn’t worried. It’s unlikely that anyone will be able to spot him up here, civilian or otherwise. Besides, it gets harder and harder to breathe under the weight of the mask these days. He was supposed to be getting better. The days are coming in at longer intervals, which should be a relief. Days when he gets “dark and twisty” as Jason lovingly calls it, which isn’t too far off, Tim supposes. Something inside of him is definitely twisted, coiled into a furl of darkness where there used to be light. God, he needs therapy. He should be getting better. There is no logical reason to be feeling this way. Not anymore. Not when things are finally back where they should be after years of grief. Maybe something has been knocked loose in his brain, keeps him on this brink he can’t seem to sway to either side of. He’s not happy, but he’s not completely sad either. There’s no logic to it, no reason. No closure. Is this how ghosts feel? Like they’re straddling the in-between, stuck feeling like everything they have is just slightly out of reach? “Why the long face, kiddo?”

Tim is up in an instant, fumbling to pull his cowl back over his face. He raises his bo staff at the prowler, only to find Harley standing at the other end of the platform, her arms packed with reusable grocery bags. She’s wearing civilian clothes: a Nightwing tank top and leather pants that look like she doused them in glue and rolled around in a kiddie pool filled with glitter. Tim relaxes. He lowers his staff. “You shouldn’t do that. I could have knocked your head off.” “Nah, I’m too good to be taken down by a twelve-year-old.” “I’m eighteen.” “You sure? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were still in middle school.” “Hilarious.” “Thanks, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing some comedy on the side to pay the bills. Eddie says I’ve got a real knack for it.” Harley sits on the edge of the platform beside the spot where Tim was before. “I asked you a question, by the way.” “Bruce is going to kill me if he finds out I’m hanging out with you.” Fine, so that’s a minor exaggeration. Bruce will always have beef with Harley regardless of how many good deeds she does. Dick’s theory is that Bruce has some lingering bitterness from his and Harley’s rivalry from med school, and he probably isn’t too far off. The rest of the family is far looser when it comes to trusting Harley; Alfred even sent her a Hanukkah gift last year. “You and I both know Brucie is in Metropolis this week.” At Tim’s inquiring look, she explains, “My mom is friends with him on Facebook. So, are you gonna spill or what? ‘Cause I’ve got ice cream here and I swear to god I’ll fill your nostrils with tapioca if it melts.” Tim rolls his eyes. He lets his cowl fall back against his neck and sits beside Harley. “I’m fine.” “And that’s why you’re hanging out here all angsty-like?” “I’m not angsty.” “You’re the angstiest person on this fuckin’ billboard.” Which, fine, that’s probably true. “I don’t need a PHD to tell that something’s eating ya, kid. Which I do, by the way. Got the certificate and everything.” Tim gestures to her grocery bags. “I thought you had somewhere to be.” “What, these ol’ things? Nah. I just have a date with Pam-a-lamb tonight and had to borrow some supplies.” “Borrow?” “The manager there was a dick, anyways. He’s the one who got all snappy when I ate all the free samples, so trust me. He deserved to get his stuff stolen.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” “I’ll go back and return the thirty-seven scratch-offs I took if you tell me what’s bothering you.” Tim looks out over the black horizon, the moon barely visible behind the clouds. “It’s nothing.” “Everything is something. Gandhi said that.” “Pretty sure he didn’t.” “What, did you personally know the guy?” She nudges Tim with her elbow. “Well? Spit it out, Timberlake.” Tim lets out a breath. “It’s just...you know when you lose something really important to you? And you miss it, but after a while, when you’ve already accepted that you’ll never see it again, you find it? And you’re happy to have it back, but there’s still...something is missing. Almost like you never found it at all, you know?” “Not really, no.” Tim’s mouth twitches upward. “I’ve spent the past two years in mourning, but now I don’t have to mourn anymore. Everything is perfect again.” Harley arches an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you don’t know why you still feel like you’re grieving?” Tim nods. “Small fry, that’s not a symptom. That’s normal for someone in your situation.” “No, it isn’t. I should be happy right now. I should—I should be the happiest I’ve ever been. I spent so long trying to make everything right again, and I did it. Conner is back. Bart is back. Bruce is back. Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.” “Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing. “Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.” “Well, of course it doesn’t.” Tim looks at her, surprised. Harley’s eyes are serious for once, void of humor. “Having all your folks back doesn’t erase the fact that they were gone. Grief is what makes us human. Still feelin’ bad after everything is fixed just means you’re still working on it.” “That’s it?” Harley’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s it?” “I thought you were going to...I don’t know, crack open some huge revelation and make me realize it’s all in my head or something.” “I mean, it kind of is in your head.” Harley tugs on one pink pigtail. “Grief doesn’t come from your feet, Timantha.” “So...how do I fix it?” Harley shrugs, sitting back and swinging her legs in the air. “Fuck if I know. Go see a therapist or something?” Tim snorts. “I’d rather not.” “What, you got a prior engagement? Too busy for psychoanalysis?” “I can’t exactly go to a normal therapist and explain to them that all of my friends are superheroes and my dad is Batman.” “Hm. Point taken, bird boy.” Harley goes to boop his nose, but Tim swats her away. “Talk to me then. I’m a dandy good listener.” “Thanks, but I’m good.” “I’m serious. Got the license to practice and everything.” “I’m pretty sure psychology licenses expire once you’re imprisoned for terrorism.” “Well, jeez, go and insult me, why don’tcha? And after I offer my help like the good citizen I am.” She stands, picking up her shopping bag. Then she digs around in her pockets and comes out with a small white card. She hands it to Tim. Harley Quinn — hit(wo)man, psychiatrist, bounty hunter, dog walker, mercenary, finder of lost things, life coach. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she says with a wink. “I’m also considering goin’ into doggie makeovers.” “I don’t know,” Tim says. “I won’t go blabbing your information to Croc or no one, cross my heart. I strictly abide by the doctor/patient confidentiality rules.” A pause. “Most of the time.” Then she looks back at the billboard of Lex, looking for the world like a vengeful Mr. Clean god. “I’m sure he won’t tattle.” “I don’t think the Justice League would think very highly of one of their own getting therapy from an ex-supervillain.” “So? Fuck them, they’re a bunch of crusty old people anyway. Come on, think about it, Timberly. I’ll even give you the friends and family discount so long as you bring doughnuts when you visit. Teen angst makes me hungry.” Tim considers it for a moment, then sighs. “I’m free on Thursday afternoons.” Harley grins. “It’s a date, bird boy.”

[takadasaiko]

Ooooh M+O for LoVe please? 👀

Done and done! 😆

FFN II AO3

Summary: When the tabloids start hounding Logan over an interview for the 35th anniversary of the movie that made his father famous it stirs up some bad memories in the Mars-Echolls household.

Tumblr Prompt: M+O Panic attack + "I'm not leaving you like this"

Nightmares

Veronica hadn't been able to reach her boyfriend all afternoon, which wasn't entirely abnormal. It was a Saturday so Logan didn't have to be down in San Diego and, since she was deep in a case, there was a good chance he was catching a few waves with Dick. The only thing that made her pause was that it rolled straight to voicemail, but as Mac tapped on her office door to announce she'd found what they were looking for, it had been shoved to the back of her mind.

She had tried calling him again as the day was wrapping up to see if he wanted her to pick up dinner on the way home, but it rolled immediately to:

"This is Logan. It was Albert Einstein that said life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving. I'm out keeping my balance. Leave a message or don't. Your call."

Okay. Usually he wasn't that hard to reach when his feet were on solid ground. Maybe surfing had turned into video games and his phone battery had died. Reasonable enough. If so, he was in for leftover pizza when he got back.

And yet she found his car parked on the street outside of their apartment, so he wasn't at Dick's new digs at the Neptune Grande. That meant his phone was intentionally off, which didn't make sense. Even though he wasn't working most weekends, he needed to be reachable.

Veronica played over the possibilities as she climbed the three flights up to their apartment and took notice of his surfboard leaning against the railing of their patio and Pony's leash hanging on the nail at the front door. As she opened the door, the sharp sound of artillery fire greeted her from their television and she found Logan on the couch with a game controller in hand. "Hey," she shouted over the noise, dropping to one knee as an excitable puppy started climbing her leg.

"Hey," he echoed without looking around, the single word hollow, but she thought he might have turned the sound down a little.

She shot Pony a questioning look, but the puppy just licked her hand before she stood again. "Your phone's been off," she ventured.

"It's broken. New one should be in tomorrow."

Ahh. Broken phone, irritable Logan, puppy that instantly wanted Mom's attention as soon as she walked through the door like he'd gotten the silent treatment all afternoon. Things were starting to add up. "Did you eat Daddy's phone?" Veronica asked the slobbering pup.

Logan finally paused his game and she saw more than heard him inhale deeply, unfolding off the couch and he looked more strained than she expected. "Don't blame him. Not his fault the wall doesn't have any give."

Okay. That was weird. She watched him cross the room and aim for the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. "What happened?"

He grimaced, the expression so subtle she almost missed it. "Threw it."

"For sport?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. It wasn't like the nine years of maturity while they had been apart had magically cured Logan of his temper, but he had a much better handle on it. Not just anything set him off these days.

Logan snorted softly, setting his glass down hard on the counter to free his hand for a sarcastic little flourish that reminded Veronica of a much younger version of the man she loved. "Tabloids. Apparently they're doing a thirty-five year celebration of The Long Haul and they wanted a few words about dear ol' dad. I guess Trina wasn't available."

Yeah. Okay. The broken phone made more sense now. "Let me guess, they wouldn't take no for an answer?"

"They were very insistent."

Veronica swallowed the quip that almost escaped her about hanging up versus launching the phone across the room. He seemed at least a little calmer now and there was no need to re-escalate. Nor should she ask - no matter how much her curious nature drove her to want to - exactly what they'd said to initiate the premature death of his phone. Logan had a volatile relationship with the press at best. They'd spent the summer after his father's death hounding him for an interview. How did he feel about his father's death? Was it true that Aaron had cut him out of his will? Did he regret testifying against him - and some even went as far as to say lying about him - in the Lilly Kane murder trial? Was he in any way responsible for his father's death?

The questions went on and on. This was certainly not the first broken phone over them and he'd changed his number two or three times during that summer and the following school year, doing his best to fall off their radar, and he'd told her that it had worked for a while. Right up until Carrie's spiral became more public. Between his failed attempts to help her and her eventual death, the vultures had returned, and all they wanted was a piece of him. Veronica had seen it even in New York. Son of a movie star…. That's all he was to them. Never Logan. Never a living, breathing human being that could have been crushed by the weight of everything that they kept dredging back up. She hated it. She hated them.

"Sorry," he huffed.

"For what? Not your fault they're assholes."

That finally pulled the barest of smiles from him and Veronica stepped forward, her arms around his middle and she looked up into those soft brown eyes of his, hating how that old hurt crept in at the mention of his father. She couldn't fix it for him, even if she did what she could to help him put a few legal barriers between him and the press. The damage was done and there was no way to make Aaron Echolls pay any more than he already had. If she could, she'd do it in a heartbeat. She was good at making people pay, but not so great in knowing what to say to ease the hurt left behind.

Logan cleared his throat. "How 'bout dinner?"

Change of subject. That she could do. They were good at distractions.

"What do you say we walk down to the sushi joint with the teriyaki roll you like?"

"I thought you didn't like it?"

"No, I said they make us wait too long for a table and it's not worth it," she countered. "But you've eaten at a few places you're not crazy about when I've had shit days."

She found him staring at her like he was trying to find an angle that wasn't there before his smile returned, a little more real this time. "I love you. You know that?"

"That is the rumour." She tipped up on her toes and pecked a kiss to his lips. "Love you too. Go find shoes. I'll grab Pony. They might make us wait for a table, but not that cute little monster."

"True," he chuckled and disappeared down the hall.

-----------

Dinner was good. Relaxing. Veronica has been right about Pony snagging them a seat quicker than they usually got one there and the pup had curled up on Logan's foot under the table like a sleepy, floppy-eared guard. He and Veronica stayed and chatted, drinking sake and Logan picking his way around the dishes without shellfish. By the end of it, nearly all of the frustration from earlier had been worked loose, Veronica's smile and laugh easing the tenseness in a way few things could.

He could remember getting home, remember that laugh following them into their apartment as he had picked her up and spun her around. He remembered Veronica kissing him and they had stumbled and tumbled their way back to the bedroom, her fingers wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to drag it over his head. He remembered laying there with her some time later, comfortably curled together, her nails tracing patterns against his bare back as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, sleep pulling at him.

It should have been an easy sleep, and maybe it was at least for a little while. Somehow though, no matter how hard he'd fought against it, his mind dropped him into a place he didn't want to be. He stood outside a house that had burned down over a decade before and stared down into an empty pool. He could feel the dried blood from his nose, the deep ache in ribs that had been cracked by the fall. It made it hard to breathe, but he was rooted in place. Trapped and utterly unable to move.

"I didn't ask a lot," a voice that he'd have preferred never hear again said from behind him. "You're my blood, my legacy. You destroyed it."

Fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt, finally breaking where his feet might as well have been glued to the concrete surrounding the pool and he felt himself falling. Down and down and down. Like ejecting without a parachute. He slammed into the unrelenting ground, his head bouncing and he found himself staring up into the rage-filled eyes of his father. "You'd have nothing without me! Be nothing!"

Logan struggled for words, but Aaron's hands were around his throat, cutting off his air. He could fight. The rational part of his mind that screamed at him that none of this was real anymore also reminded him that he would have been stronger than Aaron if the man were still alive, but that didn't seem to sink in deep enough to counter the vivid nightmare. No. He was eight years old with his father screaming and shaking him, so filled with rage that Logan was sure this was it. This was how it was going to end.

Another voice cut through, sharp and worried and Logan swung wildly even as he found himself flying up and out of bed. He still couldn't breathe as he reached trembling fingers to his throat.

"Logan?"

He spun, finding Veronica on the far side of their bed like she'd scooter away quickly. Her eyes were wide in the shadows and it took him a moment to realize he might have swung at her. No. No no no. He hadn't meant to. He'd been fighting for his life. He would never —

"Logan?" she tried again, inching forward this time.

"Did I….?" was all he could manage and she shook her head.

"It's okay. I'm okay. Are you?"

Something in his mind reminded him that he should tell her yes. Alway yes. If not there'd be consequences.

And there it was. The tightening of his throat again, just like Aaron was reaching out from the grave and choking the life out of him. If I can't live neither can you. It wasn't hard to imagine him saying it.

Logan felt Veronica's fingers on his arm and he flinched away, throwing the sheets off and stumbling out of bed, halfway to the living room before his eyes found their focus in the shadows. Pony gave a soft whimper off to the side, but stayed out from underfoot.

Everything was spinning too fast. Too fast to form words or even thoughts. He hit the far end of the living room and turned around, Pony scurrying again. Veronica met him before he could redirect and she caught his shaking hands, holding them firmly. "Hey," she coaxed, her voice strangely soft. "It's okay. Whatever you saw, it's not real. It's not here."

"I just…. I can't…. I don't…." He loosed a low, sharp curse and tried to meet her eyes. "I just need a few minutes."

"Okay," she said, but didn't budge.

Logan shook his head. "Alone."

He watched her lips tilt down at the corners as blonde brows drew together. "I'm not leaving you like this."

Like this. An absolute basket case. This hadn't happened in so long. He thought he'd moved past it. Figured it out. He shoved the fear under anger and it made things…. maybe not easier. That wasn't the right word, because the anger brought its own problems, but it was bearable. He felt more in control.

Veronica still hadn't let go of his hands, so when his knees gave and he sank heavily to the floor, she moved with him. Funny, she never broke eye contact. It was like an anchor, carefully reeling him in to sturdier ground.

"What was it for you?" He just stared at her and Veronica leaned down to kiss his knuckles, her voice still quiet. "It's the box for me. Burning hot and I know I'm gonna die."

"What?"

"When I dream about Aaron," she clarified.

"I didn't know that you did," Logan managed, finally shifting his grip so that he was holding her hands, not just being held.

"We don't talk about him," Veronica reminded him softly and squeezed his fingers. "For good reason."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"He was my father."

"That doesn't make him your fault. Not for what he did to me or to you or…."

"Lilly," his first love's name slipped off his tongue.

"Or Lilly. You are not responsible for Aaron. He should have been better for you. Dads are supposed to protect you."

The words stung, even if she's meant them as affirmation of his own innocence in Aaron's sins. She had had Keith. Of course she would think dads were inherently good. Not his. And, if Aaron could be believed, not his father before him either. That didn't exactly bode well for him. Not that Veronica had ever shown any inclination to take that step.

Veronica loosed a breath. "Sometimes it's my dad outside, like when it happened, but I hear this sound and I know he's gone. Sometimes it's Lilly or Wallace or Mac. And sometimes -" she caught his gaze and held it - "it's you. And all I can think as I'm burning alive is didn't he do enough to him? Why does he get to take him from me too?"

Logan saw tears in her eyes and he reached one hand up to run a thumb along to wipe it away. "Tonight was the pool," he confessed softly. "I could feel every cracked rib. The bloody nose he gave me when he knocked me in. And him… demanding why I was destroying his legacy." He snorted, shaking his head at the stupidity of it all.

"He's gone. He can't hurt either of us," Veronica breathed and there was a long, thoughtful pause before she spoke again. "He threatened me once in the elevator at the Grande. I think he would have done it too. First chance he got. Whoever killed him probably saved both of our lives."

Logan swallowed hard. "Duncan."

"What?"

"Duncan hired somebody."

"How… how do you know that? How would he even know….?"

"I found out a few years ago, while you were in New York."

She made a small sound of acknowledgement. He'd always wondered if she knew, but from the look on her face he guessed probably not.

"He loved you and he was my best friend. Last chance to protect us, I guess."

"I guess," she echoed and looked up at him. She let go of his hand to press both palms to either side of his face, guiding him in gently until their lips met. He melted into the kiss until they rocked back. Logan leaned over her, hovering close enough that he could feel her breath and she let one hand slide to rest against his chest. "Now we protect each other, don't we?"

He nodded wordlessly and felt her other hand wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him back down. "Love you."

"You too. Think we can get back to bed?"

"Yeah."

He rolled off of her, his movements slow, but at least he felt steadier now. She took his hand again as they climbed to their feet, leading him back to the bedroom. It had been a long time since he'd found himself that deep in a nightmare, but it was the first time Veronica had been on the waking side of it. Strange what a difference it could make. On those nights that his father had haunted him over the last decade he had known he wouldn't see a wink of sleep the rest of the night, but now, somehow, he knew she'd protect him against Aaron's ghost. They'd protect each other.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 57: Wasting Time with a New Friend

Lotor makes some new friends. Together, they discover that word of Lance and Keith's union has reached video game developers in the worst, best way.

Featuring Leakira in the role of comic relief (Not to offend Leakira fans, this is meant to be a fun, happy place. I just thought it might be funny little detail) XD

First  Previous  Next

Lotor finds them sleeping in a hallway. A much-needed distraction.

More specifically, it’s an adolescent Olkari with orange feelers, dressed in green and white garb stained with red dust. They’re incredibly small, even for a smaller species. Pretty adorable, like a wolf cub.

So obviously he nudges them with his foot.

“Can I help you?” the kit growls, amber eyes glaring up at him.

“You’re sleeping in a hallway.”

“And? What’s your point?”

“... You know what? I’m not really sure.”

With a groan, the kit sits up, tugging on their feelers. “So what are you up to, Mr. Prince?”

“Oh not much. Wandering around, looking for trouble.” He’s actually looking for a distraction, but that’s almost the same thing as trouble.

“Trouble, huh?” The Olkari smirks. “I’m Pidge. Lance’s resident tech genius and vent crawler- I mean spy.”

“Ah-haha, I see. You’re one of his ‘associates’.” Lotor grins, helps Pidge to their feet.

“Yes. Working for Lance usually involves some level of trouble. What are the princes up to today, anyway?”

“Lance is with Allura. She’s having a hard morning. Keith is with Thace, our emergency medic and reproductive specialist.”

“Oh, really? Making sure his junk works?”

“That’s the idea. Why?”

“It’d be awesome to have some dirt on Keith. He’s just so perfect.” Pidge skips down the hallway, a curious prince following behind them. “The worst thing he’s done is drink a bit too much, find his happy place at a party, and get really snuggly with Lance.”

Following Pidge into what should have been an old, empty storeroom, Lotor’s eyes widen in surprise. The typically ignored room is set up with monitors and a work table covered with Balmeran crystals and a few other tools.

“Where did you get some of these tools?” he asks, eyeing a choice laser of Galra design.

“I crawled through the tunnels underneath the actual labs and stole them. I’m welcome in the labs, of course. I just don’t want to share my work with them. The field of science is rife with thieves.”

“You found the tunnels already?” Lotor stares. There are tunnels all under the mountain, his ancestors making the massive peak into an insect hive. There are escape tunnels and hidden caches and underground pools and even a forge made of volcanic glass that he discovered as a small boy.

He still likes to go down there on the rare occasion he can find the time. Someday, he’ll take his children down there, and tell them all about the stories carved into the ancient walls.

“Yep! Anyway, let’s see if I can hack into Thace’s equipment. And by that I mean give me like, thirty ticks because I can definitely do it.” While Pidge types away on their computer, Lotor sits himself on the floor, eyeing a faint square cut into the stone. Most people don’t notice, don’t know to look for the fine edges carved into the floor. “Ooh… Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Lotor asks. “Is Keith okay?”

“You really care for him, don’t you?” Amber eyes smile at him, intuitive.

“Of course I do! He’s my cousin! And my friend!” And he has more than his fair share of health problems. Lotor himself was not a healthy kit, so he understands the worries that his cousin might have.

“Aw-w. You’re just a big ol’ sweetheart, aren’t ya?” Pidge turns back to their computer. “What’s interesting is that Keith is… surprisingly healthy. His weight and body mass index are good… Thace is optimistic about a successful pregnancy.”

“Why is that interesting?” Lotor scratches his head, frowning a little.

“Because our boys requested contraceptives, probably due to health concerns.”

“Miscarriage risks are higher for him. That’s partially due to his sex, and partially due to his condition. Do you think they’ll use contraceptives?”

“Pfft. No. They’re young, they’re stupid, and they both want pups. I doubt Lance can keep it in his pants.”

“What about Keith?”

“He’s shy.” Pidge shrugs like that explains everything. It kind of does. Keith’s priorities are probably more of the cuddling variety than the ‘aggressive hugging’ variety. “Can I have some of your blood?”

“Hm? Uh… How much blood?”

“I dunno. A few vials? Maybe I’ll swab your cheek too? It might help with my experiments.”

“And what might those be?”

“I’m trying to invent Altean-friendly prosthetics. It’s not going well. Alteans are stupid inside and out.” Pidge gathers their tools to stick him, and Lotor stares. This tiny little Olkari is far more than they appear. “Who do you think will kill Lance for getting Keith pregnant? Krolia or Shiro?”

But they're young, still playful and carefree.

“Hm… My money’s on Krolia. Or the creepy friend.”

“Adam? Oh, he’s softer than he looks. More likely he’ll live vicariously through their children and terrorize anyone who tries to mess with them.” Pidge sticks a swab in his cheek as they fill a second vial with his blood. “Your fangs are adorable.”

“Thanks?” Lotor regards them. “So you do science, you do people… What don’t you do?”

“Relationships.” Pidge cleans the crook of his arm, bandaging the spot where they bled him. “And genders. Those are for more primitive individuals.”

Lotor laughs. “More highly evolved, are you?”

“Exactly. Unlike Alteans. Stupid, scaley assholes with stupid, cranky cells.”

“I don’t get it. What exactly is the problem?” Lotor peers over Pidge’s shoulder as they examine his cells under their microscope.

“Not sure, but Alteans have some odd properties that make their biology incompatible with metal, coral, bone, wood, and other prosthetic materials. When used, the Altean’s cells refuse to accept the forgein material, even if it’s biocompatible. Hence, their cells are stupid.”

“So it would seem. How are my cells?”

“Hm… I'll have to run some of my own, secret tests. I may try to culture your skin cells to figure out how it all works.”

“Have at it. Can I interest you in a secret?”

“Always!” The young Olkari’s eyes shine, eager to learn. To know. A person after his own heart.

“Most of Altea’s technology is rediscovered. Thousands of decaphoebs ago, there was what’s known as The Forgetting. The Altean’s powers were quite suddenly drastically altered, and their society descended into chaos. Much of their technology was lost, then rediscovered within the last few milophoebs.”

“No fucking way!”

“Way. This includes their lauded Teludav technology.”

“Those fakers! How have I not heard of this?”

“I know! It’s their best kept secret. Also, beneath Mount Sil’brana is a petrified forest.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Pidge makes a note on their datapad. “I wonder… I don’t know if I could interface with that or not. Probably not, since it’s no longer organic, but then again perhaps I could reach the echo?”

“Echo?”

“All organic life leaves behind an echo. Sometimes, I can reach that echo. I’d be great at solving murders!”

“Well, if ever I am murdered, do find my killer. I’m sure my wife would appreciate it.”

“Unless she did the murdering,” Pidge snickers.

“Some days, it wouldn’t surprise me at all. She’d say it’s my fault, but…”

“Pregnancy.”

“Yeah. How do you think Keith will be when he gets pregnant?”

“He’s relatively mild-mannered as long as Lance keeps him happy, so either unbelievably psychotic or unbearably sweet.”

“He is really sweet. I honestly didn’t expect it when he first arrived. Lance is a little… He’s reserved, but also high-strung at the same time?”

“He definitely can be. But he can also be very playful. Those two are either quiet and reserved together, or cutting up and goofing off together. But Lance is the high-strung one, for sure. Keith just wants to know whose head to crack open. Lance wants to know every single little detail about everything.”

“So he’s a control freak.”

“Little bit, yeah. We’ve all got our thing.” Pidge smiles. “But Lance gave me a home when mine was lost. He had no reason to do that. He didn’t know what I was capable of.”

“I had assumed you were on Altea for research?” Lotor's curious, but won't push.

“No. Though I do enjoy research. For example, I have the new Phantasm Killbot game. I just got to the first visual novel part where they introduce the characters and their little side plots and all. Wanna help me out? For research?” The Olkari holds up a controller.

“Yeah alright. Anything for research.” Lotor takes the controller, waits for the character introduction screen. He’s played this game before. “Player one… Leandro.”

“Player Two… Akira.”

The screen loads.

“Uh… That’s… Interesting. Is that- Does that look like Lance to you?” It really does, at least to Lotor. The only difference is that ‘Leandro’ has brown hair and his scales are a very pale blue.

“Wow, that’s weird. Okay. Let’s see where this goes- Oh my fuck, this is going to be good.”

Lotor can’t help but agree, staring at a screen of a smirking ‘Leandro’ lounging with a wide-eyed Galra presumably named ‘Akira’. The Galra has purple hair and golden irises, dressed in what might loosely be referred to as clothing.

It’s exceptionally weird, even weirder given that Akira is the name of Keith’s father, Lotor’s uncle.

“I cannot wait to tell my cousin about this,” Lotor breathes, coming to the realization of exactly what’s before him.

“Yes! We have to! Right now!” Pidge stands, tugs on his arm.

“Well, let’s not be too hasty.” Lotor stares at the screen, that mischievous part of his brain clicking and whirring. “I mean, we have to do our research, right?”

“You know…” Pidge taps their chin. “You might be onto something.”

“I mean it’s just courtesy, right? Making sure we can give them all the information we possibly can?”

“You’re absolutely right. Okay, so you get first choice for dialogue and it looks like Not-Keith has a prompt for us.”

“Oh, gods. Okay, I am so sorry, Keith… Let’s see, here.”

…

Akira: We can’t keep meeting like this. What if people find out?

Leandro: I’m a prince, my sweet. I do what I want.

Akira: But you could be killed!

Leandro: You’re worth dying for.

Leandro: It’s my fault, anyway. I just couldn’t resist you.

Akira: It’s not your fault. I let you have me.

Leandro: You should let me have you again.

Akira: Please… I need it…

*Kiss Passionately*

Leandro: Oh, my sweet. You’re in season!

Akira: Make love to me, and I will give you a son.

…

“I feel dirty,” Lotor mutters. “This is what’s passing for entertainment right now?”

“It’s so bad! I love it!” Pidge snickers.

“Lance is going to be mortified.”

“No, he won’t.” The two new friends turn to see Adam leaning in the doorway, smirking.

“And why, pray tell, is that?” Lotor asks, one eyebrow almost reaching his hairline.

“Lance is bigger than that. He’ll be filled with a sense of… well-being.”

“Oh, gross! Adam!” Pidge chucks a wrench at the Altean’s head, the trio laughing as he dodges, then retrieves it for them. “I don’t want to hear about my friend’s dick!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, and I hate it.” Pidge drags Adam to the floor, sits in his lap. “Okay, you can help us. What should Leandro say next? ‘A daughter would be fine’ or ‘Honor me with the gift of your flesh’?”

“Who the quiznak wrote this?” Adam mutters. “And we want ‘Honor me with the gift of your flesh.’”

“I don’t know, but I will find out. And kill them,” Lotor mutters.

“Easy on the instincts, Mr. Prince.” Pidge continues to the next cut scene.

“It’s nothing to do with instincts! I just hate that I had to read that!” Lotor sighs. “At least that cut scene is over. Now we have… Brothers, Sven and Kuron? Lots of new characters for this one.”

Adam blinks, gaping at the screen. “What. The fuck-”

...

Allura sighs, running a hand through her loose curls. It's been a rough morning, one that doesn't promise to get easier. A howling chorus of laughter cuts through her stressed thoughts. Cracking open a storeroom, she spies her husband, Adam, and Pidge laughing away at a video game.

"I wOuLd DiE fOr AkIrA," Pidge mocks, cackling.

"Leandro, please!" Lotor laughs, cutting through a false simper as he pretends to swoon. "I couldn't live without you!"

"That's such a toxic sentiment, honestly." Adam shakes his head, but his eyes are glittering bright.

Shaking her head, Allura leans in the doorway, settling a hand on her slightly protruding stomach. Life is never perfect, not for anyone. But seeing her husband playing around and having fun with their friends -his new friends- suggests that everything might still turn out alright. Or at least, not as awful as it sometimes seems.

[vixvaporub]

BOMBSHELLS / In the Pool, OLs Around Thirty by Shuninta Amano

[zombriekid]

The Devil Takes Care of His Own 1/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Run Rabbit, Run

Chapter Summary: you snatch a young girl from certain danger, and even though a trail of broken dishes and angry business owners are left in your wake, at least the kiddo is safe. for now.  *please don't run zig zag from gators, that'll only slow you down

  When you first awoke within the muck of the drudges of the damned, it was without any recollection as to who you were or what you were about or even why you were here; somehow, in spite of the personal amnesia, gray meat in the ol' chrome dome was able to quickly surmise where "here" was. Drew a blank on your friggin' name but not on your location? Didn't really inspire much confidence, still doesn't actually.

  You've grown some since, about a month's time if you're keeping track accurately- that's up for debate however, passage of time operates differently here- and though you're honestly no closer to figuring out just who in the hell you were, you've managed to forge some footpaths in the mountain that is ciphering the inner machinations of Pentagram City... and who you are in this concrete jungle of copper smells and marquee lights.

  And, of friggin course, who you are just so happens to be the biggest bleeding heart in all of damnation.

  The scene before you is playing out in such a way that it's resonating within the cavity of your ribcage so differently than ever before- well, at least within your short term memory anyway. See you're no stranger to violence, though your familiarity sings distinct from most everyone else's, but in the thirty or so days of consciousness you've witnessed first hand turf wars over a single city block, a lover's quarrel that resulted in a heart literally being cleaved out of someone's chest, muggings for baggies of white powder that you swiftly deduced was <i>not<i> confectioners sugar, and oh so much more over oh so much less. Hell, even you've slipped past the avaricious claws of would be thieves eyeing your satchel. Joke's on them, the contents are merely yellow parcels and white envelopes. And not to toot your horn but you're-

  "-fast. I'm very fast. I'm like Forrest Gump, except I'm not an idiot." The voice, masculine and strained through puffs of heavy breathing, echoes in your ears yet it doesn't ring a bell.

  ... now's not the time for an episode, self.

  And it's a burst of noise- like a mixture between water and air spraying- that brings you back into focus.

  Right.

  The carnage that's about to take place cause you're standing around like an idiot with a thumb up your ass.

  A young girl poises herself before a cavern of teeth, staring her aggressor in the maw with a grin curling on her rosy cheeks. As if certain not-death ain't about to swallow her noggin whole, bones and all. The aggressor in question peels their jaw further apart and a low, rolling sound rumbles from within the depths. Still the kiddo doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink at her impending doom.

  She can't be more than fifteen so her fight or flight instincts should be well in the process of switching over to autopilot, but to your utter dismay they don't seem to be engaging.

  Cause she's still just... standing there.

  The demon looms over her tiny body with a hunched back, sickly green scales flutter under the pentagram's fluorescence, and their torso gradually expands outward- not unlike that of a balloon- as if they're gulping down a throat full of breath- as if they're bracing for the pounce-

  Liquid ice gushes through your veins, through your muscles, and pools around the bones of your ankle joints; inner thighs clench, knees slack; left foot ferociously stomps at the asphalt with the right quickly following suit, left right, left right, rapid hastening cycle; the thinning rubber of your sneaker's soles does little to absorb the impact- every footfall strike sends ripples of tingly pain up your shins, making all extremities tremble; you pump one arm in tandem with your racing heart and the other prepares with hooked finger bones. The harsh pace kicks up cement dust in your wake.

  The aggressor leans further- the kid ain't moving- you're not gonna make it in time-

  -heat: stifling. black cloud: smoke inhalation. neighbor: passed out. not much time. not enough of it. get him out now.

  Grab her.

  -grab him.

  NOW

____________________________________

  Some feet ahead and to the left is the mouth of an alleyway, and if memory serves correctly this side street should eventually spill out into Fifth, and if that's the case then the alley should house the back entrance to the (alleged) cannibal cafe- an establishment that maintains the coveted fourth place on your personal list of "Must Avoid Unless Absolutely Necessary".

  The owner, an absolute unit of saccharine smiles and four barbed tusks to match her literal boorish appearance, is a demon gal that you get along with well enough; a relationship constricted to the limits of professionalism, you often find yourself engaged in weather talk after the ritual of mail delivery is completed. Of course the hairs on the back of your neck rise whenever you look her in the eye for too long, but that's to be expected when she's pricing out whatever cuts your hide might produce. At least, you're like eighty percent certain that that's what she does while exchanging pleasantries.

  Still, your options are between cutting through Mrs. Sowbelly's Cafe or stay on the straight and narrow... and both choices carry considerable risk behind them. Both choices could land the two of you in the trap of a beast's glistening, spittle sheen teeth.

  And full transparence? You like the sniff of your chances with the widowed pig more.

  Besides, provided that you shield the young cyclops from view, Mrs. Sowbelly shouldn't be able to commit your damsel in distress's identity to memory and start getting any funny ideas. The kiddo should be safe.

  So it's with a pivot on your heel, a rapid change that leaves you hopping on one leg momentarily, that you tear your body to the left and haul ass down the alleyway like the devil's nipping at your heels.

  Which, ironically though no literally, he/she/they are- well, not the devil but rather a devil. It's a clever metaphor dammit, and you're gonna applaud yourself later if you survive this clusterfuck of a shitty ass situation.

  Then again... folks down here don't really die, do they? Not like how they do topside. Probably hurts just as much, however.

  A drag of oxygen claws from deep within your stomach, swells the airway in your throat until they ache, and the muscles around your knees ignite with an icy burn- all fueled by a dwindling supply of addictive adrenaline. The tiny girl shifts in your arms, causing her red tresses to ghost the underside of your chin, before her single, rather large ocular finds you; there's a question gleaming in the yellowed pit of her iris, and while your soft heart would love nothing more than to humor her there are other matters you must attend to first- that being saving your skins- so you tuck her head back into one shoulder and twist its partner to lead the two person charge.

  Brace.

  Grit your teeth.

  And- BAM!

  Pain- biting deep into the blade. Nothing serious. Bruise at worst.

  But you're in.

  In the split second it takes all of the neurons to collectively process your surroundings, you quickly discover that the cafe's back door immediately leads into a quaint kitchen. There might be a lace and heart motif on the walls, and there might be a slab of oozing, fleshy meat on the counter? Or your brain is misidentifying things, wouldn't be the first time downside; shuffle around the island and through the white swinging door before you throw a brief apology to Mrs. Sowbelly about the rude intrusion. And maybe there is some sort of higher power still looking out for your unbelievably dumb ass because the swinging door opens up to the dining portion of the cafe.

  Thank Whomever or Whatever for small miracles.

  "Oops, sorry!" and "pardon me, sir!" and "oh fuck! I'm really sorry!" become your mantra as you dodge wooly servers and rodent customers alike. The shrill cry of porcelain shattering rings in the periphery of your attention span and your stomach churns itself with guilt.

  The display you must be putting on, ruining these poor people's lovely, likely cannibalistic brunch. God, you're such a jerk.

  Still, there's a certain appreciation for escape and safety that's far outweighing the acidic aftertaste of shame right now- not to mention you haven't heard the aggressor in a bit and that's worrisome- so you swallow your pride, hunch your back a little (effectively obscuring the kid from the public's eye), and much like a bull in a glass shop you sprint all the way to the entrance. Broken dishes, disgruntled employees, pissed customers, and all.

  Out of the cafe and on to the cobblestone of Fifth Street do you stop; now should you continue on through the crowds, or cut through more establishments in an unpredictable route? Your assailant seems to be gator-based so maybe you should-

  "- in order to escape from an alligator, you should run zig zag because they can only charge straight."

  That... sounds like misinformation, but time's a-wasting and you gotta make a choice now.

  Crowd? Or the coffee shop across the street?

  ... well coffee does have a tendency to make you more productive, placebo or otherwise, and you certainly trust it over Hell's denizens by leagues. So coffee shop it is!

  Rinse, repeat: dodge the condemned, serpentine through the building, apologize to everyone who has the misfortune of in your path, and make your grand exit through another door. This rampaging circuit sees you bulldozing through some sorta clothing boutique, a toy store that's definitely not for children, your favorite chocolatier distributor, and a pretzel shop that serves everything but pretzels. Naturally there are some other businesses in that line, however you don't deem them important enough to fully acknowledge them. No offense to the owners, of course.

  And not once do you dare to glance behind your shoulder to see if the reptilian fellow/dame/gender neutral folk is trailing your footsteps.

____________________________________

  "Why'd ya grab me?"

  "To save you."

  She blinks twice, an odd bundle of curiosity this one, then asks you the age old question known as "why?"

  And honestly you're not entirely sure of the reasoning yourself. Admittedly- admittedly it was more of a reaction than a conscious decision, with a memory that might or might have not been your own reverberating from the back of your mind until your feet were already moving. Cause in that moment all you were seeing was a monster ready to hurt a teenage girl- and demon or no the novelty of leaving a kid to fend for herself sounded heinous. Vile. So you snatched her up and ran.

  No reason to bore her with that explanation however, kids have short attention spans and all that, and you're more than willing to chalk this up to something akin to Occam's Razor- "the simplest solution is more likely the right one."

  ... boy howdy, you can remember that but not your own goddamn name? Just how in the hell have you survived this long?

  "Seemed like the right thing to do."

  This seems to confuse her further for both top and bottom eyelid draw closer around the globe of her eye, rosy cheeks puffing out as she looks you up and down then back up again for... insert reason here?

  Oh. Oh!

  Two things about the doomed denizens of Pentagram City, location one of the numerous layers of Hell: they tend to garb themselves in whatever fashion is familiar to them from the time/date of their death, probably as a last ditch effort to grasp at whatever shreds of humanity they have left? And the longer they've been here the less human they appear- you hear that there are exceptions to this observation but the general consensus states that one's residency in the realm of suffering determines how much metamorphosis one undergoes.

  And this little lady? Based off of the giant eyeball and way she's dressed? You're kind of half expecting her to break out into Sandra Dee's routine of "Summer Nights" what with her billowing pink poodle skirt and matching scarf. Actually, scratch that, the pink is trademark Frenchy. "Beauty School Drop Out" it is.

  Anyways, point being that this teen more than likely bit the dust like seventy-ish years ago, thus making her chronologically older than you, meaning she's been here a hell of a lot longer than you, exposed to some of the worst humanity has to offer, so your whole "good samaritan" spiel is probably translating to something along the lines of "stranger danger".

  "That's weird." She says.

  "Sorry?"

  "You know we're in Hell, right?"

  Why yes you are aware of your current and permanent residency, and if anybody asks you you personally think that it's fucked the fuck up that a friggin teenager is in Hell! What could a kid possibly do to warrant their soul's final resting place be the kingdom of sin and evil?! Grant it you don't know what you've done to receive the same treatment either, but a. you're an adult and b. it was probably real messed up compared to... whatever she "did".

  Ponder the fallacies of morality later, it's time you get her back home.

  Your knees bend until one cap burrows into the dirty below, and you bring yourself to be at a more leveled height with her- don't reach to her, not yet at least, likely doesn't feel safe around you yet (if ever.)

  "Hey, is it cool if I ask you what your name is?" You smile, mindful of your canines so that they don't pierce your bottom lip. Again.

  The reaction you receive is instantaneous.

  "I'm Niffty! Who are you?" She chirps with a huge grin.

  You choke on your words; "I uhh... don't remember? But you can call me 'Newbie', lots of people- erm, demons? Uhh, lots of folks call me that." Clear the throat, bring back the smile on your face. "So listen Niffty, do you have, like, parents or uhh.. family I can bring you to?"

  "Pfft, I don't think anybody here has parents. Except for the princess of course! Well, there might be others... but anywaysie daisy, nope! No parents here!"

  Jesus Christ she's an orphan on top of everything else?! Next thing you know she's gonna mention how someone drowned her pet lizard and chopped all the heads off her favorite stuffed animals when she was the tender age of three... you're way too much of a sentimental idiot for this bullshit.

  "Okay, that's okay. How 'bout a home or, like, some kind of safe space I can drop you off at?"

  "Oh! The Hazbin Hotel!"

  ... pardon? The what hotel? Wait.. there's a hotel in hell (heh, rhymes)? Why?

  "Originally it was called the Happy Hotel but the bossman changed it, and if you ask me I like the new name better," she whispers the last part as if her opinion over the name is a secret between you two. Precious kid.

  But also a hotel here just simply named the "Happy Hotel"? Yeah that sounds shady as fuck. Ain't a lot of happiness going around these here parts, not genuine happiness at least.

  "Best job I've ever had too! I get to clean and cook all day, every day! Except during my time off... that's a real bummer."

  That... kind of makes sense actually; child labor laws are likely ignored in favor of cheap drudge, and if folks are willing to exploit youngens in life then why would they forgo the practice after death? Trick question: they wouldn't cause people are terrible... unfortunately so are you.

  It's not as if you can just uproot Niffty and bring her in under your non existent wing- mail delivery only pays for so much after all and there aren't enough routes in the city to haul your head above the water's hemline. So housing, feeding, and clothing a-whole-nother being when most of your nights are spent in the company of ravenous hunger and the legitimate consideration of selling off your parts to Mrs. Sowbelly? Ain't happenin, cap'n.

  "Well I've never heard of this hotel, but I can at least see that you get there safely," you offer, one hand rubbing at the back of your neck. "Dunno if that gator is still-”

  "Wo-ow, you must be new if you don't know about the Hazbin Hotel!" She gives you a once-over again. "Guess that explains why you don't look... 'demon-y'."

  You're losing track here; gotta get her back to her home as soon as possible, direct her attention towards that goal. Butter her up. Kids like that, right? Your gut says so at least.

  "Heh, well it's gotta be pretty fuc- I-I mean, pretty awesome if they got someone like you workin' there, Niffty."

  "OH, you're SO right! I make the place sparkle!"

  She continues on with her excited babbling as she twirls her petite body around towards the east, billowing poodle skirt and all. Not gonna lie, you're kind of jealous of her and her garment; maybe something ankle length you can get away with. Meanwhile the young cyclops flutters on her feet with mentions of "doing my absolute best" and "that's why the bossman hired me", and though you'll admit that the details of her employment are enshrouded in mystery, and what little information you can glean sounds very sketchy, still you don't attempt to dissuade her from her goal destination.

  Who knows, maybe this Happy/Has-been Hotel won't be so awful?

  Heh. Yeah right.

  The moment Niffty is safe and secure, at least as far as the gator demon is concerned, you're gonna be well on your way back to the dingy apartment you call home.

____________________________________

a/u: are you really that surprised? one of my main husbandos is friggin eldritch dracula, so this is just par for the course honestly. the ol radio demon is gon be a tough customer but goddammit we’re gonna try regardless. don’t expect a healthy “relationship” with the ace spectrum cannibal deer demon. also the lore is gonna be like half improv cause we don’t know much about hh yet. and yes i’m aware that niffty is biologically in her twenties, but newbie doesn’t know. yet. with that said: please leave a like, gimme a comment, reblog this bitch, and just continue bein awesome y’all <3

[perfectprettypisces]

Polar Opposites • B.R.B • Sneak Peek

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC

Synopsis: Coming up on his mid-thirties, Rooster feels like he should be married by now. But with every woman he dates, the simplest thing can turn him away. So when Phoenix’s picture-perfect cousin comes crashing back into her life as a runaway bride, he thinks it must be fate. 

Warnings: lowkey sleazy behavior

a/n: new series? idk i may or may not make this a series or just do a couple of parts but Phoenix is my fave character so i had to make something with her involved :) also, yes, this first scene is almost identical to the first scene of Friends haha (also before anyone asks, this will not be a love triangle between Phoenix, Rooster, and the OC)

It’d been a long day at the beach with multiple games of dogfight football and Penny had been gracious enough to open the doors to The Hard Deck a couple of hours early for Maverick and his squadron to wind down. 

Coyote and Fritz were aimlessly throwing darts at the dartboard while Payback and Hangman played against Bob and Fanboy in a casual game of pool. Rooster sat on top of the bar, locked in a conversation with Halo and Phoenix with Penny occasionally adding her two cents in. Yale, Harvard and Omaha were long gone, opting to head back to the their places to shower and take a well-deserved nap on their day off.

Rooster’s beginning to envy them the further he gets into his conversation with Phoenix and Halo.

“That is the stupidest reason to ghost someone,” Phoenix scoffs, rolling her eyes when Rooster looks at her incredulously.

Phoenix had asked him about the woman he’d been seeing the past couple of weeks, forcing him to begrudgingly admit that he’d ghosted her just a few of days prior. He wasn’t proud of it, but in his defense, he had a good reason.

Or so he thought.

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable, thank you very much,” Rooster defends.

“Ghosting a girl just because she thought Air Force pilots and Navy pilots were the same thing is not reasonable,” Halo chides.

“Yes, it is,” the rest of the guys chorus from their respective spots.

Rooster tips his bottle to all of them in thanks.

“Bradshaw, this is, like, the third girl in the past two months,” she says and Rooster can tell she’s trying her hardest to hold back a judgy tone. “For a man who wants to get married so badly, you sure are picky.”

“Nothin’ wrong with bein’ a little picky, Phoenix,” he says, coming up from behind Phoenix and tossing his arm around her shoulder. He points his beer bottle at Rooster. “‘Specially when you got options like ol’ Rooster here.”

Rooster has to resist the urge to cringe at Hangman’s choice of words. Sure, he was trying to defend him in his own slightly twisted way, but it still didn’t make him feel any less…sleazy.

“You’re a sleaze,” Phoenix responds, nudging his arm off her shoulder.

“Need me to ring it?” Penny asks, gesturing to the bell while eying Hangman threateningly.

Phoenix smiles gratefully but shakes her head, turning back to Rooster. “All I’m trying to say is you’re never gonna find ‘the one’ if you keep dropping girls the second they do or say something weird,” she says. “What about Kristen? She’s cute and you even said you could see it going somewhere.”

He had said that. In retrospect, Kristen was a good choice for him. She was a nurse on a base, so she was incredibly understanding of his demanding and somewhat unpredictable job. She never pressed him when he would shut down at the mention of his parents and as douchebag-y as it sounded, it didn’t hurt that she was good in bed.

They had been on a handful of dates a few months prior and things were going well. He didn’t exactly have a good reason why he never asked her out again after that

Rooster just shrugs. “I don’t know, Nat,” he says truthfully.

“Y’know, Phoenix, if you’re such an expert on relationships maybe you should find Rooster a wife,” Hangman teases.

Before Rooster or Phoenix is able to come up with a retort, Maverick’s voice cuts them off.

“Uh, Phoenix? There’s a woman here looking for you.”

The confusion in Maverick’s tone has Rooster and everyone else’s interest peaked as they all turn to the entrance of The Hard Deck. Maverick beckons the stranger further into the bar and into everyone’s line of sight. Rooster can practically hear everyone’s jaw drop, his included.

This was probably the most stunning woman Rooster’s ever laid his eyes on and based off the expressions of everyone behind him, the sentiment was shared. Her hair was done up in a complicated looking updo, the stray pieces coming free that would’ve looked messy on anyone else only helped frame her sharp features. Rooster could only assume she had makeup on from the way the color on her eyelids made her eyes pop, though he’d never be able to tell without it due to how flawless her skin looked. The only flaws Rooster could make out were the slight mascara tracks beneath her waterline and the small pout that adorned her perfectly glossed lips.

The real kicker was her attire. She would’ve already stood out with her hair and makeup, but the wedding dress sealed the deal for sure. The silky white dress fit her like a dream and looked way outside of any of their price ranges, which made the dirt that laced the bottom of the gown seem infinitely more comical. The white heels she held in her left hand looked equally as expensive as the dress, but not nearly as expensive as the diamond that adorned her ring finger.

Everyone turned to look at Phoenix in shock, like she’s magically poofed this woman out of thin air at Hangman’s request.

“Damn, you work fast,” Halo mumbles.

[anistarrose]

Man, can you imagine all the possible shenanigans that could result from Gravity Falls and TAZ Amnesty existing in the same universe? It would be great.

Ned’s Bigfoot video doesn’t attract any FBI agents in this timeline — there’s just not enough resources to investigate all the alleged cryptid sightings these days, even the plausible ones. (Their whole department has been constantly scorned, and their funding slashed, ever since the that disaster in Oregon back in 2012.)

However, it does catch the eye of two old men who just happen to be sailing along the Virginia coast when the video is forwarded to them by their nephew, and they almost immediately make a beeline inland to Kepler. It takes the Pine Guard an embarrassingly long time to realize that there’s actually two of them — identical twins, one of which seems to be a scientist of some sort and the other of which is... well, they’re not sure what his deal is, but he definitely doesn’t give off scientist vibes like his brother. Strangely, the scientist twin seems to be a firm believer in Bigfoot and other assorted supernatural occurrences, while the other just laughs off the idea whenever it comes up. 

For their part, Stan and Ford aren’t sure what to think of Kepler, either.

On their way there, they’re still both mildly skeptical (they’ve both seen plenty of hoaxes in their day, no matter how promising this specific video looks), but Ford’s instruments quickly pick up on an oddly familiar feature of the town: a perfectly circular “barrier” of sorts that extends around Kepler and has a radius of exactly one mile. If the readings and Ford’s calculations are to be believed, it could potentially trap magical creatures inside that radius, at least for a short time — an uncanny similarity to Gravity Falls and its weirdness magnetism.

When they travel to the exact center of the circle, they find a strange object in a clearing that they can touch, but not see. They deduce it to be in the shape of an archway, but no matter what they try, it remains invisible to them.

Now, it’s settled beyond any doubt that something strange is going on in Kepler, but at this rate, they’re only stumbling across more questions than answers. It’s especially strange that all of Kepler’s weirdness seems to have manifested only in the last thirty years or so — when Ford was choosing where to do his research after college, he cataloged anomaly sightings across the US, but there was nothing even remotely suspicious in this region of West Virginia back in the early 70s.

If they want to figure out the truth of this town, they'll have to have to figure out which citizens of Kepler know the truth. In order to avoid attracting too much suspicion themselves, they decide to pretend that Ford is a fairly normal, slightly gullible scientist who’s never actually encountered proof of the supernatural before, and that Stan is his more responsible brother/chaperone who’s much more skeptical about Bigfoot and other cryptids. Most people they meet seem to buy into the act without a second thought... except some of those people from Amnesty Lodge. The twins haven’t quite gotten a read on that whole group yet.

Despite their respective businesses being on opposite sides of the country, and despite not officially being in the tourist trap game anymore, Stan develops a rivalry with Ned almost the second he walks into the Cryptonomica. Hijinks ensue — Stan somehow talks his way into renting out an abandoned hotel at a criminally low price, and converts it into an impromptu tourist trap of his own. All the contents are fake, of course, but he succeeds at his apparent goal: drawing business away from Ned. After all, there’s plenty of people in Kepler who are no fans of Ned, but this new attraction? Run by a charming and mysterious pair of identical twins, including one that actually seems to know a thing or two about theoretical cryptid biology? Only in town for a limited time? Now that might just be worth checking out.

(Unbeknownst to everyone but Ford, Stan’s true motive is a bit deeper than spite. He’s always suspected Ned of knowing the truth, and is hoping to pressure Ned into showing off something actually supernatural in order to swing public opinion back in favor of the Cryptonomica — but Barclay has given Ned a stern talking-to about this sort of thing, so it hasn’t worked. Yet.)

Something else that no one realizes for an embarrassingly long time is that Stan and Ned actually worked together on a couple different heists in the late ‘70s. Of course, both of them were going by completely different identities at the time, so when they run into each other again in Kepler they don’t think anything besides “hey, that guy looks kinda familiar... I’m gonna antagonize the shit out of him while our rival tourist traps compete for business.”

Other interactions that definitely happen at some point:

Stan, making genuinely innocent conversation: so, Bigfoot, huh?

Duck, growing increasingly panicked with every word: what? Bigfoot? what about ‘em?! I haven’t seen any Bigfoots around here, and look, if you want my, uh — my professional, uh — my park ranger opinion, all the sightings, they’re just... opossums! a bunch of opossums, standing on each other’s shoulders, ‘cause, uh... ‘cause you know, opossums always carry their babies, but — but here in West Virginia, the babies don’t... always... grow... grow out of it, you know? and — and then, uh, their babies have babies, and they just stack higher and higher until it’s — it’s opossums all the way down, and there’s these big ol’ possum columns wandering the forest and people look at ‘em and think “hey! that’s a — a tall, furry thing, kinda looks like a big hairy ape! better alert the presses!” and there you have it, Bigfoot!

Stan: ...

Stan, later: Ford, you’re not gonna believe this but I found someone who’s worse at lying than you.

***

Ford: I heard you were hanging around the H2Whoa waterpark the day before its destruction. did you see any suspicious behavior? and what brought you there in the first place?

Aubrey: well, I shouldn’t really be giving out this information, but you seem pretty trustworthy, so... I work undercover as a federal pool inspector — we’re called the FPI, you see — but I’m proud to report that the investigation that day was fairly routine! no signs of anything corrupt in the management of our good Kepler waterparks, but I unfortunately have no idea what happened that night. sorry I couldn’t help you more!

Ford: ah, of course. thank you anyways.

Ford, later: Stan, I need you to be honest with me. are federal pool inspectors a thing in this dimension now

Stan: okay, one — you’ve been back for like six years, and two — who the fuck told you that

***

Indrid: so, you’re here because you think I can help you stop the disasters occurring all around town?

Ford: yes, pretty much. also, your cousin owes me fifteen dollars.

Stan: how do you know they’re related? don’t be moth racist, Ford.

***

Ford: you three adopted a monster with yellow eyes and named it Billy? really???? has this whole fucking town with all these fucking monsters just been the setup for a massive joke to be played on me specifically?!?!?!