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thedevilsoftruth · 9 months ago

Note

Hey!, I just finished rewatching moon knight and now scrolling through the moon knight tags when I came across a post about how Mr knight is actually Marc Spector and Steven Grant is a playboy billionaire in the comics and I was shook. Then I came across your post of you ranting about the differences from the show to the comics, which blew my mind!, and now I’m so intrigued and curious about the true lore of moon knight, every time I try to search about it on google I just get references from the shows (so frustrating) I can’t afford to buy the comics, so if you can/want could you please tell me all the important and interesting facts/lore that’s in the moon knight comics?

Sorry for the long message, just came across your page and pressed follow, love your content!. ❤️

AAAAAAGGGGHHHH HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. GIIGLING AND KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR. HEY, LOOK MA, I MADE IT!! I GET TO EXPLAIN THE MOON KNIGHT COMICS LORE TO SOME GUY ON THE INTERNET!!

in all seriousness, this made my day. I'm so glad you enjoy my content, and I will happily explain to you the MK lore!

I completely get you on the not wanting to but the comics thing. Comics are expensive. Honey, imma be real with you, readcomiconline.li is where it's at. It's where I read all of the comics I didn't have.

So before I go on a tangent and explain things, and this goes for anyone wanting to start reading the comics, heres a little list of all the comics I've read so far in what I understand to be chronological order.

It's a little bit cheesy and a VERY long run, but Marc Spector: Moon Knight from 1989-94 is maaayybbeee where you want to start off, but maybe not. I didn't start off with this run, but even as bad as the old comics are, they're a bit important.

But, I HIGHLY suggest you start out with the Lemire and Smallwood run from 2016. It was the first run I completed, and it's an amazing run and VERY important to read. Many people say it's the best run. It's certainly a run, I'll tell you that. ( Also I didn't read that one online, I received it last year as a Christmas gift. Also readcomic doesn't have all of the issues, so be warned on that. )

Next I read From The Dead. And I moved on to Vengeance of The Moon Knight from 2009. And after I'd suggest reading Age of Khonshu, Devils Reign and then The Midnight Mission. You can read all of these for free on readcomiconline.li ( don't type in comics plural because it will direct you to the wrong site ) be warned though because there are a lot of ads and you will get jumpscared by anime boobies.

Now moving onto what you asked me for. The important stuff, right.

I'm new to this whole comic reading stuff as well, and for anyone else reading this who knows more than I do, please add additional information I missed down in the reply section. It would mean a lot. So now I'm going to give a you a quick run down on Marc's origin story. ( And for a quick disclaimer, I will come off as not taking myself seriously in some parts of this post because I don't take myself seriously lol. )

Marc Spector was born on March 9th, 1987 in Chicago Illinois into a Jewish family. His father was Elias Spector and his mother was Wendy Spector ( his younger brother being Randall Spector )Elias was a rabbi who manged to escape Nazi prosecution during the days of Hitler and all that jazz. Because Elias was a rabbi, Randall would get picked on at school a lot, and Marc would be there to stand up for him. Even at a young age Marc was exposed to a lot of violence. That could come from growing up yk... Kinda poor and having to stand up for your lil bro.

Marc's violent nature was really born when a close family friend of his, Yitz Perlmen was discovered to be a secret serial killer who targeted Jews. From what I understand, Perlmen tried to Kill Marc ( mind you Marc was like 11 or 12 ) but Marc had escaped but his traumatic experiences led him to form D.I.D

As seen in the Lemire run, the first time Marc had encountered Khonshu was when he was 12 and was getting diagnosed for his D.I.D Marc wasn't told to his face from the doctor about his disorder and was told to step outside the office. Marc tried to evesdrop on the conversation, and from outside of the doctor's office, he meets Khonshu. Khonshu tells him, " That man in there is not your true father. I am. " Mind you, Marc is 12!!! 12!!!! Khonshu began manipulating Marc since he was twelve because he was, obviously really fucking young, and traumatized. Khonshus tactics were to strip Marc away from his religion and culture and make him submit to him.

So anyways, Marc was sent to Putnam Psychiatric Hospital and would stay there until he was 18 when his father funeral came along and he was let go for a week to go visit his family. This is where we learn Marc's relationship with his father was complex. Marc tells his mother, Wendy, that his father must have been happy to send him away because he was embarrassed by him. Wendy and Marc have an argument, which ends in Marc saying he's going to the bathroom, when he actually leaves to his childhood bedroom and escapes out the window when he hears Khonshus voice.

Marc later enlisted into the U.S marines Corps and served as a private for a couple years. But on Marc's second tour to Iraq, superiors started to report his odd behavior and they found out that Marc had lied about his disorder, leaving him to be discharged. Marc joined the CIA and served with his brother Randall. Randall was jealous of Marcs talents and killed Marc's girlfriend, Lisa, because she was going to expose a gun scheme. Marc then like... Threw bombs at Randall and shit and then assumed he was dead...but he wasn't.

Marc left the CIA after that and started doing illegal boxing, where he met his soon to be best friend, Jean-Paul Duchamp ( usually refered to as Frenchie ) and they became mercenaries together and started killing a bunch of people, in Marc's case, for mooonnneeyyy!!! Get that bag, girlie. And then Marc got put on trial for war crimes!! His crime being yk...assistanting the president of this south African country called Bosqueverde as one does.

And then he started to do missions under this group call the Karnak Cowboys and fell in love with one of his groupmates, Layla El-faouly, as seen in later issues of The Midnight Mission. Then she fucking died when an escape went wrong.

So anyways Marc meets this funny lil guy named Raoul Bushman ( he is not funny lil guy, he's killed hundred of people, probably) So Marc works for him with Frenchie and they, together, set to north Sudan to raid a dig site. ( This should start to sound familiar, as it was briefly touched on in the show when Arthur's guys captured Steven and put cuffs on him and slammed him in the back of their car ) Looks like raid shadow legends went down again, and things started to get not so epic when Raoul killed the lead Archeologist of the dig site, Peter Alraune in front of his daughter Marlene. This pissed the ever loving shit out of Marc because even though Marc likes violence, he doesn't enjoy violence against innocent people, and so he punches the fucker but uh oh! The Raoul Bushman Strikes Back, and he fucking KILLS MARC IN RETURN AND EVERYONE ELSE EXPECT FOR FRENCHIE AND MARLENE AND THIS ONE MF WHO TOLD HIM HE WOULD TELL HIM WHERE THE DIG SITE WAS. ( really Raoul left Marc mortally wounded, but he was on the brick of death, basically)

Marc was able to regain conscious and drag himself halfway to Khonshus tomb ( which is what Raoul was looking for ) Marlene and a bunch of other citizens find Marc and they carry him to Khonshus tomb. Marc hears Khonshus voice for yet another time, and Marc is revived and becomes the Moon Knight we all know and love. Then he basically killed Raoul's guys and then fell in love with Marlene.

So that's his origin story. Now onto the stuff I know as fact but it won't be explained in chronological order because I haven't read a ton of comics to explain it in chronological order.

He used Steven as a a way to handle money and build wealth so they could have recourses like vehicles, weapons and a ton of other random bullshit ( go!! ) that they don't need. Jake was used as a new York taxi driver so that he had his eye in the streets and knew when shit was goin down. They're both kind of horny. Jake literally spends some of his free time in a strip clubs drinking rum. ( As seen in the midnight mission and implied on in the Lemire run. )

His relationship with Marlene was long, but didn't last because, if I'm recalling correctly, Marc had a mental breakdown and decided to basically stop working for Khonshu so he could be with Marlene. But soon after he started hearing Khonshus voice again and Marlene couldn't take anymore of it, so she left him.

And then there's that bullshit with The Midnight Man. All I know is that he passed away from cancer and had a son named Jeff Wilde. Jeff aspired to Marc and wanted to be his sidekick, kind of like Robin and Batman in the Lego Batman movie with a little less adoption, but Marc kept on refusing as a way to protect Jeff. The Jeff had this whole thing where he turned evil or some shit idk and I guess Marc killed him? I'm not sure. Please, moon knight gang, let me know what happened in the reply section because I'm ignorant.

Marc had his independence from Khonshu after banishing Khonshu to Asgardian Prison ( seen in Age of Khonshu and discussed in The Midnight Mission) and decided " fuck you, I don't need need you anymore. Imma do my own thing and you can't do nothing about it " and then he became Mr. Knight. Mr. Knight is kind of a detective and he consults with policemen ( as seen in From The Dead ) Moon Knight is the one who does all the fighting.

From where Marc's development is at right now, Marc was running a thing called the Midnight Mission, which was a place where citizens would go to to report strange things happening in the city.

Additional, fun information:

Marc has a daughter named Diatrice. He only knows about it because Jake had a secret relationship with Marlene on the side after Marc and Marlene broke up.

He sleeps all day in the tomb of Khonshu and fights crime at night. He's like a bat!!

His ringtone ( as seen in the midnight mission) is The Killing Moon by Echo and The Bunnymen. ( Y'all should listen to it, if you haven't. it's really good. ).

He drives a red convertible car ( as seen in the Brain Micheal Bendis run, don't read it it's REALLY bad and insufficient. ) and also a motorcycle ( as see in Vengeance of The Moon Knight)

He was originally supposed to fight mainly just werewolf's and um... Writers at Marvel had different ideas.

His favorite drink is an ice cold vodka ( as seen in the Midnight Mission)

He had a mansion and then his money went bye bye and now he lives in a haunted house ( as seen, once again, in the Midnight Mission)

Frenchie is also gay! Hes married to a man named Rob! ( And this is only from what I've heard, by he apparently had a secret crush on Marc at some point.)

And yeah. That's all I have for ya today. Thank you if you made it this far, and I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity a little bit!

Goodknight everyone!!!

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homerforsure · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

#whumptober2021 #no. 5 #betrayal #fic #911 #hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hockey au #allison can’t write a short fic to save her life #minimal edits #messy ending #questionable formatting #230 am #😴

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dat-town · 4 years ago

Text

wish you were here

Characters: Mark Lee & you

Setting: wish dragon au (and a bit of aladdin because mark even has a tiger in their garden like jasmine did. don’t ask why, just blame the regular mv), childhood best friends to lovers (at least there’s potential?)

Genre: fluff and humour

Warnings: mentions of a sick animal and a wild animal kept as a pet in a huge garden (just like jasmine’s tiger, it’s very tamed)

Summary: A magical teapot, a dragon that wants everyone to be happy and an old friendship being revived. Oh yeah, have I told you that you have 3 wishes?

Words: 6.4k

For @restlessmaknae 💕

When your mother told you you got delivery to your childhood home, you certainly did not expect this: a brown box as big as a small watermelon with your old Canadian address and MARK LEE scrabbled next to your name as another recipient but no sender. Not to mention, the first stamp on the thing was dating back to the early 2010s. Where the hell was this package for 10 years? And what would you and your old neighbour slash best friend have gotten together?

Okay, first things first:

You and this clumsy, kind of cute kid, Mark had been quite tight while growing up. You were born in the same year, only a month apart, and his family lived in the house next to yours in the suburbs of Vancouver, so it was kind of natural. You two might have been against the world kind of comrades, playing hide and seek when you were six and wondering about whether time travelling was possible through black holes at twelve. But no matter how close you used to be, you fell out of touch when Mark's family moved to the other end of the world, back to Korea, their roots when you were fourteen. You slowly forgot about him, and started university in the city, moving away from home, so nothing really reminded you of him ⎼ and your stupid, big fat crush on him that you had no courage to tell him about in middle school ⎼, nothing until this box.

You put the delivered package on your kitchen table while you make some dinner for yourself out of what you have gotten during grocery shopping earlier just before you picked up the mysterious stuff at the post office. You eye it suspiciously over your pasta, really not wrapping your mind about what it could be but instead of annoying yourself with this pointless curiosity, you put your fork down and stand up to open it. It’s a struggle at first, the box being secured with multiple adhesive tapes over the years but when you finally get rid of all that and can look inside of it, an intense feeling rushes through you… immerse disappointment.

“A teapot? For real? What were we thinking?” you furrow your brows taking the small, green and pretty old teapot into your hands. It looks like a piece of a traditional Asian set with its jade colour and dragon pattern. It couldn’t have been in a much better shape 10 years ago either seeing how wayworn it is but still, you expected something more… exciting? Something funny that might or might not give you an excuse to look up Mark Lee on the internet and message him for the sake of old times. But how lame it would be to befriend him on Facebook only to tell him that you got delivered a teapot under both your names. Hah, you would rather not embarrass yourself like that.

You shoot one last glance at the teapot before leaving it on your counter and going back to your food, you successfully forget about the whole ordeal. You carry your life on with only one small difference: Mark Lee back on your mind after long, long years.

It was just a small crush, you tell yourself, sighing as you look into the mirror, absentmindedly wondering how he’s doing. Does he think of you sometimes as well? Did he go to music college like he has always wanted? Is he happy? You wish he was even if he’s half a world away and with that thought you think it’s time to go to sleep despite the upcoming weekend days. You don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule over some boy but as soon as you pull the blanket over your chest and close your eyes, something explodes in your kitchen.

You jump out of bed faster than lightning, in slight panic over the fact that your neighbours will hate you for bothering them late at night and your landlord would kill you if you managed to blow up your microwave. But the sight that welcomes you is like no other that you imagined. The whole room is covered in thick pink glittery smoke. Like your worst Barbie nightmare.

“What the⎼” you cough, waving your hands to clear the air and once it dissolves into nothingness with its weirdly cotton candy smell, there’s a boy in the middle of it all, sitting cross legged on your kitchen counter so casually as if he owned the place. His pink-ish purple hair hangs into his eyes and he seems to find your coffee machine strangely interesting. You grab the first thing you can ⎼ a blender ⎼ and hold it up in defensive before yelling at the boy: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

The stranger’s mouth pulls up in a charming smile, his eyes sparkle as he turns his attention to you, hopping off the counter. He’s all thin and long limbs, so you hate how you hate to look up at him as he walks towards you before bowing ceremoniously.

“Hello, sorry for the sudden appearance, I just couldn’t wait any longer! I’ve been stuck in that teapot waaay too long. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Taeyong, I’m a wish dragon and you’re my new owner,” he smiles and what he says makes absolutely no sense.

“A wish dragon?” you mumble in shock, looking around to see if this is just another prank of Johnny. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him jump out from under one of the cupboards. Or maybe you just fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Yeah, that seems like a realistic scenario.

“Ah, yes! I know I don’t look like it but modern times require modern solutions. Most people freak out because of my dragon form, so human it is,” the boy who seems only a few years older than you grins as he’s chatting and you have to give it to him, he takes this role pretty seriously. “You have three wishes as my owner. You can ask for anything as long as it’s not about death or love.”

So you got yourself someone who thinks he’s basically a genie? Oh gosh, is he that drunk?

“Aha, very funny. I’m too tired for this prank, so I would appreciate it if you left the same way you came...” you point towards your window because there’s no way he came through the door. Putting down your blender because the guy looks pretty harmless despite his crazy blabbering, you move to go back to your bedroom.

“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” the boy, Taeyong as he introduced himself, appears in front of you within a second and grabs your shoulder as if he could shake some sense into you. He looks pretty desperate. “I can only get a new owner if I fulfill all wishes of yours. It was super stuffy in that box the last decade, you know.”

At that excuse you let out a laugh.

“You don’t even fit it the⎼”

“You were saying?” Taeyong is suddenly nowhere near ahead of you but instead a small creature, supposedly a dragon, in the size of your palm flies in front of your eye level. “It’s magic!”

Okay, now that sight makes you feel like it’s you who is drunk. Or worse.

“Am I dead?” you have to ask in a small, uncertain voice, trying to think back what could have happened. Maybe that explosion literally blew your apartment up? But it hurts when you pinch your arm and turning back into his human form, Taeyong wants to prove the very same thing. Not the hurting but the not dead part, obviously.

“No, you’re very much alive and a happy owner of a wish dragon. Not permanently, of course, but still,” he tells you as he drags you onto your couch in the living room. As if sitting down could help processing all this.

So you have a wish dragon in your home, a magical creature that can casually switch between its dragon and human form and he says you should wish for three things, so he could leave and you could go back to your old, boring life without magic and things that scare you to death at 11PM.

“Can I ask… why? Why me? I’m not really owner-material,” you whisper because heck yeah, you even managed to kill your cactus before. Taeyong purses his lips as he sits down, a hand at his chin.

“Well, it’s unusual indeed to have a peasant girl, no offence, as my owner but as far as I know, you and your friend asked for a sign that magic was real.”

Oh, you remember that, being so obsessed with shooting stars and other stuff like that, you two used Mark’s brother’s computer to browse the internet, trying to find evidence about all that. You were kids wanting to believe in a world beyond the one you knew. But...

“That was like 10 years ago,” you furrow your eyebrows, not getting the timing.

“Well, sorry, you weren’t put on the top of the Heaven wish list and the shipping from Shanghai to Vancouver isn’t the fastest either,” Taeyong shrugs as if it was supposed to be natural. As if that was the most unbelievable thing. Well, delivery services are sometimes a pain in the ass, that’s true but getting a wish delivered by Heaven was something you would have never thought of and it all drains down on you. Strangest realisation of your life.

“So… it’s all real,” you whisper ahead of yourself: magic, dragons and all that. You could basically see your old best friend’s I told you so smile and let out a soft chuckle. “I wish Mark could meet with you, too.”

At that the guy ahead of you claps his hands and rubs them together, creating the same purple smoke from before. You look at him alarmed.

“Your wish, my command,” Taeyong grins and lifts his hands and before you could make a sound of protest because gosh, you didn’t mean it literally, you feel the ground move under your feet and you’re falling, into the darkness but despite shutting your eyes automatically, fearing the impact of the crash, nothing comes. Only the smell of soy sauce in the air and warm sunshine on your skin… Wait, what?

Your eyelids fly open and you notice in shock that you’re not in your flat anymore, ready to sleep. Instead, you stand in the middle of a goddamn street somewhere in Korea based on the signs still in your PJ shorts and tee. Oh my gosh! You hide in an alley right away and yank the seemingly proud Taeyong with you.

“I didn’t tell you that I meant right now! I can’t meet Mark in my PJs and I need my phone and wallet to function anyways. Not to mention, I don’t speak Korean at all...” you ramble panicking, the realisation that you’re indeed on the other side of the Earth due to some magic is yet to register. But the awkwardness from the stares you have just gotten has already turned you bashful.

Listening to you, the wish dragon seems sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he scratched his nape, his colourful hair falling into his cast down eyes.

“Oh… sorry. I got so excited over the wish that I didn’t think about it! It’s been a while since I did teleport magic but hey, I still have it in me. Anyways, sorry. Phone and wallet, you said? Here you go,” he pulls out something from his pants which magically seems to be indeed your belongings. That definitely makes things earlier.

“Uhm, thanks. Where are we exactly?”

“Ah, well you mentioned your friend Mark Lee, so we’re here. Well, one bell away because I did remember that it’s rude to intrude other’s houses without permission first,” oh now, you know, you snicker internally and gulp because hell, even if you wanted to see Mark, you wouldn’t have thought that the meeting would come so soon. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself mentally.

“So… you’re telling me that this… is where Mark lives?” you point at the impressive apartment complex on the corner of the street but Taeyong shakes his head.

“Nope, This is where your Mark lives,” he says and before you could object about the ‘your’ part, the dragon points at the other side of the road at a luxurious house with a huge garden, basically a palace. Seeing the beautiful fountain, the modern and yet traditional Korean style building beyond the fences makes your jaw drop.

“Hahaha, alright for a magic dragon you must have made a mistake. There’s no way the Mark Lee I know lives here,” you look back at Taeyong finding it funny that the kid who used to wore his favourite tees until his mother basically threw them out would live at such a place.

“Mark Lee, korean name Minhyung, supposed to be 22 years old internationally soon. Bad eyesight, contagious laugh, clumsy but has surprisingly good reflexes, gets embarrassed easily. Sound familiar?” Taeyong crooks a brow at you as he reads the information off from a parchment he just took out of his pants. Everything he listed is just so Mark that you’re left in disbelief.

“Uuh… that sounds about right.”

“His father hit it big in 2016 with a tech company, their net worth has too many zeros to count,” Taeyong explains, seeing how surprised you were over the fact that he lived a lavish life like this. Not that he doesn’t deserve it! Mark is such a sweetheart, so of course, you would only want the best for him but as if half the world wasn’t enough, now you have another huge gap between you.

“Gosh, I really can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just ring the bell and say hello after so much time?” you sighed with your head in your hands. “Argh, I need to buy some clothes and change.”

Taeyong approves the idea based on how enthusiastically he hollers, you wonder why nobody on the street seems to pay no attention to him. Maybe only you see him, just more reason for you to be crazy.

“Good idea because we’re having dinner with Mark!”

“What?” you look up in shock, not following through. Taeyong grins down at you, flashing a giddy smile and with a twirl he’s changed from his baggy, casual clothes to something more chic but still laidback.

“Your wish was him meeting me, so I arranged everything. I can't meet him without you and the teapot there, you know,” he explains as if it was supposed to be obvious. You aren't ready yet though.

“You just want to eat all the fancy delicious food he has,” you squint at him suspiciously and the dragon stays silent, so you must be right. He laughs nervously.

“Maybe, but can you blame me? I haven’t had a feast since a literal decade!” he hollers and somehow you really cannot find it in yourself to be angry at him. You are in Seoul for god's sake after all and magic is real, you can put up with the inconvenience of buying clothes and making yourself look decent before dumping all this surprise on Mark.

An hour later you stand in front of the gates of the Lee mansion and nervously you wipe your sweating hands into your dress. You can totally do this, you just say hi to an old friend, it's not like you're afraid he wouldn't remember you, hah, of course not–

"Y/N!"

You whip your head at the call of your name to the source of that all too familiar voice. Sure it's deeper than you remember but there's no mistake in whose it is. Plus, who else would call your name in South Korea of all places.

"Mark, hey!" you wave the boy who just got out of one of the fanciest cars you've ever seen in your life. And yet, despite the Prada suit and expensive shoes, styled hair and Swiss watch on wrist, Mark Lee still has that goofy little smile and the doe eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Hah, who are you kidding? They still do.

"Oh my god, dude, you… you got pretty," Mark jogs up to you and having no filter like always he blabbers immediately only to stutter as his ears turn red. It was so him talking before thinking, so you didn’t really mean to dwell on his words. Although you felt your cheeks dusted with pink soon enough. "I mean, it's really good to see you! I was so surprised to see your name in my calendar for today's dinner! You should have told me you were coming to Korea, I would have picked you up at the airport."

His calendar? Ah, of course, he must have been busy and all that. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see an assistant run after him at this point, so you wonder how your wish dragon magically put you onto his list of important people to meet. Gosh, it was so weird.

"Ah, I have a funny story about that…" you chuckled to yourself but before you could have get out anything, even a please, can we go to a more private place? Mark’s eyes zero on the guy next to you and his eyes grow comically wide.

"And uhm, who is your friend?" he points at Taeyong who waves him in exchange with a kilowatt smile. He looks back at you with his mouth agapé. "Oh my god, you came to invite me to your wedding?"

He says oh my god way too many times for an eloquent rich kid, he really is the Mark Lee you knew.

"No, never! I mean, of course, I would invite you but Taeyong and I– I literally met him on my way here," you explain hastily cursing yourself for the silly lie. You came to tell him the news not to try to make it believable.

“I heard there’s food,” the wish dragon pipes in very helpful and you shoot him a disapproving glance he doesn’t notice. Luckily, Mark doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course, dinner! Come on in, let’s get you two settled,” he grins albeit a bit awkwardly as he leads you through the gate after opening it with his card.

On the way through the very, very, very big garden, he’s chattering about how he misses the Vancouver weather, especially on humid, hot days like this and talks about how he thinks the fountain in their yard is a bit too much but his mom loved it and then before you know it, you sit by a huge dining table with fine food in front of you. Suddenly you can’t decide whether you're grateful for Taeyong’s shameless presence – he digs into the jjigae right away – because at least the situation isn’t awkward because of your silence or you’re annoyed by it because you must seem like a weirdo because of him. That’s why you decide to rip off the bandage and tell Mark as soon as the last maid has disappeared too.

“Okay, so actually I came here because I have a surprise,” you speak up, probably too serious because the boy almost chokes on his food due to how fast he turns his head towards you.

“More surprise?” he coughs out and you offer him a glass of water which he takes with a smile.

“You literally won’t believe this one!” you assure him and wait until he gulps down the drink. Only then you point to Taeyong and tell him that your childhood wish has come true.

Mark almost falls off his chair this time.

Not after you tell him that though. He laughs at that with that wheezing laugh of his as if you told the joke of the century then pats you on the shoulder murmuring That was a good one, bro and turning back to his food. But then you look at the magic dragon pointedly and Taeyong puts down his chopsticks with an exaggerated sign. Then he flexes his magic: turning into his dragon form among additional sparkles and Mark suddenly looks like he’s about to faint. He reaches out to tap on your shoulder while not taking his eyes off the wish dragon.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and honestly, you totally get his reaction while Taeyong mumbles something about ‘people these days not believing in dragons’ as he shows off all the things he could do: gift riches, make one stronger than they are, giving skills of whatever one wants. He starts rambling about how this one Chinese emperor became wealthy thanks to this, how that one actor in martial arts and all this before changing back to his human form and he continues eating his pasta like nothing ever happened.

“I can do this all day,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just perform the coolest magic tricks.

“This… this is the best thing ever!” Mark exclaims with those sparkles in his eyes you missed so much. He was always so excited about new things and it automatically makes you smile how he bombards Taeyong with million questions like: ‘So you are the wish dragon that grants wishes?’ or asking him about his scales, his unique color, how it feels to live in such a small teapot, how old he is and the dragon glows under all the attention. Can’t blame him but Mark has always been so curious about the world, it’s endearing.

“So your first wish was to meet me?” he turns to you after long minutes of interrogating Taeyong and suddenly, under the spotlight you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can feel yourself blushing because you didn’t necessarily mean to wish for that but it’s not like you’re regretting it, it’s just… you don’t want him to misunderstand.

“I thought you should meet him, too, after all the package was delivered for the two of us,” you look down, trying to sound nonchalant while picking your food, avoiding Mark’s gaze. No matter how open armed he welcomed you, you still aren’t convinced that it’s okay to be here because the more time you spend with him, the more you would like to stay a part of his life. “It’s just… I wasn’t really sure we could ever meet again. We didn’t keep contact after you left.”

With dropped shoulders, you try not to sound too downhearted because of what happened because you know all too well, it wasn’t his fault, it was a family decision and look at him, it did good for him! He seems happy, they live in a practically mansion but most importantly, he didn’t seem to change with the wealth. He might wear expensive clothes but under it all he’s still the boy with the most loveable smile.

“I… I was thinking about you a lot, I just thought you forgot about me,” Mark admits with a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. He really still is the same and it’s playing silly little games with your heart. If this was a cheesy Disney movie, a slow bgm would start to play as you look into each other but your moment is broken when Taeyong accidentally kicks into his chair as he stands up. At first he looks alarmed but then giggles.

“I will just… go. Don’t mind me,” he disappears like smoke with a wink, leaving you two alone at which Mark lets out a woah. You chuckle at his cute reaction, heart doing somersaults in your chest.

You thought it would be awkward, just the two of you alone after long years but Mark has this thing that he makes people feel comfortable around him, so it’s actually quite nice. You catch up on everything and anything that comes to your mind: old neighbours, studies, friends, what are you doing now and what would you like to do, too.

After finishing the delicious dinner, Mark offers a home tour which you would never refuse and you jaw drops at the huge crystal chandelier in their living room as well as their swimming pool but your favourite place in the whole mansion is Mark’s room because it’s just so him. You can’t describe it well but the moment you step inside, it feels like home. It’s cozy to the point it makes you want to cuddle a pillow. It has colours of pastels, a synthesizer here, a guitar there, posters of singers framed on his wall and vinyl records hanging down. His window has a view of sunset and Namsan above their green garden and although you haven’t been in Seoul before, you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite place in the whole damn city, too.

“Wait, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” Mark suddenly exclaims while you’re looking through his pictures and he pulls you out of his room, out of the house, into the garden: You giggle all the way as he’s being so secretive about it but then your steps halt unexpectedly and the hand you have in Mark’s yanks him back.

“Mark… why is there a tiger in your garden in the middle of Seoul?” you ask as quietly and as immobile as you can. You don’t want to attract the sleeping animal’s attention to yourself. But to your biggest surprise, the boy just laughs, his thumb caressing your skin soothingly.

“She’s Jasmine and she won’t hurt you,” he reassures you but needless to say, you’re not too calm and you’re pulled close to the wild animal that lifts its huge head towards you lazily. “She was abandoned by her mother as a cub and she was outcast in the zoo because she’s a bit sick, so she has always been weaker than her siblings. Dad made a donation and we have raised her since she was young.”

You hiss when Mark reaches out without fear but the tiger basically purrs as he strokes down his fur at the neck. You watch in awe as this big wild animal becomes a soft cat under the hands of Mark Lee. When the boy encourages you to pat her too, you hesitate but he promises you that it’s gonna be alright and you take a leap of faith.

“What’s her sickness?” you wonder aloud as your fingers get lost in the soft fur of the tiger. You hope she’s not in a lot of pain.

“It’s an immune system thing, not sure what exactly but she wouldn’t have survived this long in the wild,” the boy tells you and his mouth curls up in a smile when Jasmine licks your hand. It seems like you’re tiger-approved. You look into its warm brown eyes and your heart churns at the thought of her condition.

Mark tells you stories of Jasmine, about that one time she crashed his birthday cake or how much she likes to swim with him in their pool during summer and gosh, you could listen to him go on and on forever. You’re only reminded of the reality, that all this is just a possible one-time thing, a weekend getaway with magic when Taeyong shows up in swimwear, ready to crash in said pool.

“I guess he might have been bored in that teapot,” Mark laughs, not minding at all. He even offers you to join but you have a better idea.

“Taeyong, I have my second wish!” you call out for the wish dragon who’s suddenly much more excited about that than the water. He’s beside you in a moment, beaming and curious. You glance at Mark with a soft smile before looking at your personal genie confidently.

“I wish Jasmine would be healthy,” you whisper, playing with the tiger’s furry ears which she seems to enjoy. You were a little bit afraid the dragon would say it’s not possible, that he can’t cure sickness but to your relief, he just grins.

“Your wish, my command,” he nods and puts a hand over the animal. Nothing but a smoke of purple signals the magic being done but you believe in it and so does Mark by the looks of it. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes it gently.

“Thank you,” he smiles and you smile back. He used to be your best friend after all, it’s the least you can do for him.

Mark convinces you to stay the weekend and there’s no way you could tell no to him, not when he clears his schedule just for you. He never complains about how busy he must be working for his father’s business while being a music major at a local university. All he ever talks about is the places he wishes to show you and he takes you around Seoul as if he was your certificated tour guide. It’s lovely how enthusiastic he is about it while what really matters to you is the time you spend together. He makes sure you two take a million photos to remember by, Taeyong posing on half of them since he joins you on your little trips and sometimes it’s just the two of you watching the wish dragon being genuinely in awe by modern technology, 10 years is a long time after all.

On the last day before you have to go back to Vancouver (thanks to Taeyong’s kind offer to take you the same way you came back since he misunderstood you, you don’t have to sit through a 10+ hours flight and you have more time), Mark not only tries to make you breakfast despite having an in-house chef (his eggs are ugly as heck but you appreciate his efforts and can’t help but coo at his dreamy smile under that grey hoodie when you tell him it tastes yummy) but he also introduces you to his friends in Korea. Of course, they tease you (mostly Mark) about where he has been hiding you but it’s all chill and fun you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. But you should go because the more you stay, the more you don’t want to leave. You’re lucky enough for this chance to reunite with Mark but all good things end eventually.

“Let’s not disappear from each other’s life again, okay?” the boy grins at you as you’re ready to go, Taeyong already working on his magic.

“Yeah, let’s not,” you agree easily, looking forward to your video chatting and constant texting even if it’s from the two opposite ends of the Earth with a terrible time zone difference.

You glance at the wish dragon who’s drumming with his fingers while pursing his lips as if he was waiting for something and you let out a huff before working up the courage to actually do something about these feelings inside of you. You might have regretted not confessing in middle school, you have spent years wondering about the what ifs, so you don’t want to make the same mistake twice but still, you want to give Mark a chance to ignore it all if he wants to. So you step forward and wrap your hands around him as you hug him close. It’s obvious that your action takes him aback, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his body tenses under you but it all melts as you say those words that have been threatening to fall from your lips all this time:

“I have missed you.” you confess, honest and based on the hitch in his breathing, Mark must be surprised. You can’t blame him though, you just wanted him to know. You step back with a weary smile, his big Bambi eyes on you but before he could say anything you nod at Taeyong and you feel yourself falling, purple fog pulling you in. A few moments later you��re back in Vancouver, in your apartment, without him.

The first few days pass in a blurr, you can still barely believe what just happened. Your weekend with Mark feels like a too good dream but Mark kept his side of promise and texted you almost immediately as you left. He sends you selfies, songs that remind him of you and you talk about your days like you never did before. Still, it feels like you’re dancing around certain topics which are basically the elephant in the room and maybe that’s why Taeyong tries to cheer you up in his own way. Though, he soon realizes that you not being happy isn’t the problem, you are happy, you just… miss Mark more than you ever did.

“Enough of moping, you still have a wish left!” Taeyong exclaims, throwing himself onto your bed. “Come on, close your eyes, imagine what you want the most in the world and make a wish!" he singsongs. However, before you could even just indulge him, your phone pings with a new notification.

fullsun00 tagged you in their post!

You click on it right away, wondering what Mark’s friend Donghyuck is doing online at 1AM. The uploaded post turns out to be a photo of you and Mark when you all hang out near Han river. You were too busy at the time laughing at how the boy almost lost his whole scoop of ice cream before he could have had a single bite to notice his smile while looking at you. Based on his caption Donghyuck apparently wasn’t.

fullsun00: just old friends, they say. friends my ass @buttercupyn @onyourm__ark

You click your tongue wondering what Mark thinks of the callout but you press like on the post anyways. You put your phone aside before you could see how his other friends join the teasing in the comment section.

“Actually, I do have my third wish,” you speak up as you turn to Taeyong before he could make a remark on your tinted cheeks.

You’ve been thinking a lot about it during the past days. You could wish for anything but you’re at a point of your life where no riches or fame would make you happier because you’re happy enough just the way it is. It might not be perfect but you don’t want to be selfish and you want to make decisions you won’t regret: like catching up with Mark, curing his tiger and bringing happiness into the life of somebody who only ever served other people in his life.

“Ooh, what is it?” Taeyong claps, giddy as if he was waiting for this to happen. He probably did.

“I wish you would go on a vacation and enjoy life,” you tell him but unlike his usual reaction, this time the dragon’s smile fades and he blinks at you, confused.

“You could ask for anything in the world and that’s what you want? Are you sure?” he furrows his brows, not quite believing your words but you just smile, knowingly.

“Yes, Taeyong, I’m sure.”

“Your wish, my command,” he bows with his hands put together and with a twirl suddenly he’s in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, looking as ready for a holiday as one can be. You chuckle and tell him to just go, you’ll be fine.

You’re fine, you really are. Life goes on, you study and work, you laugh with your friends, you video call with Mark regularly and his friends are regulars on your social media, too. It’s just sometimes the feeling of missing something hits you harder than other days. Especially when you’re looking through the pictures you have from your Seoul weekend.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper ahead of you at one particularly good photo of Mark and the sunset, smiling at you behind the camera. You miss his smile, the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he crunches his nose, the sound of his laughter, his hand on your wrist… you miss him.

Ding-dong.

You stand up startled at the sound of your flat’s bell, running to the door to open it even though you have no idea who it could be so early on a Saturday morning. Not having a better idea, you expect it to be either a neighbour of your landlord but on the other side of your doorstep stands a boy who you thought was a continent away. He’s dressed semi-casually this time, his shirt tucked in his jeans, hair lightly falling onto his forehead and a nervous smile on his thin lips.

“Mark! But I⎼ I don’t even have more wishes,” you blink, taken aback, looking around to look for Taeyong in case he came back. But your behaviour just manages to confuse Mark instead.

“What?”

“I just wished you were here,” you blurt out without thinking, your words only processing later in your brain and it’s then when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Mark tries to but can’t really hide his growing smile at that.

“Really? I’m glad then. I just took my new private plane on a test drive,” he says bashfully, a silly excuse for real.

“All the way to Vancouver?” you tease, watching Mark fumble with the hem of his shirt. Your heart beats overtime just because of the fact that he’s there.

“Well, what can I say? I did miss the weather here,” he plays along with a shrug but he’s more serious when he looks deep into your eye and adds: “And you left without letting me answer.”

Oh yes, you did. You were kind of afraid of his reaction but seeing how he was ready to travel across the world just to see you, maybe there’s no reason for you to be so afraid. It feels like deja vu but a reversed one in a way as Mark gently pulls you into a hug, his lips grazing your hair with a whisper that makes your heart skip a beat: “I have missed you too.”

You really wouldn’t wish for anything more.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee x you #stories

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princessofprocrastination · 4 years ago

Text

She’s Creepy (Dream)

MASTERLIST

pairing : dream / clay x reader.

summary : apparently being a huge fan of a big youtuber is considered being a creep, according to minecraft gamer, dream. and ever since he called you mean things, your world turned upside down. (ANGST) (TRIGGER WARNING)

a/n : i’m aware i’ve been writing all angsts, i just enjoy a little heartbreak. this is a two part story!

you haven’t been on social media as a public figure for long, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been on social media before this.

you knew people, you had people you look up to, as of many other social media influencers or content creators.

you grew pretty quick on youtube and instagram. your content mostly included room makeovers whenever you felt bored of your own home or your storytimes. you blew up from talking about your stalker.

since then, your subscibers stayed with you and supported you, saying that you have a charm, and that you exert good energy and vibes. and those type of comments have always made your day.

you always shared with your supporters about your life, not too personal but enough for them to feel included. of course, you’re not telling them your phone number or address, but you tried to share as many details you can legally in your story times.

that also meant that you would tell your supporters small details about you, such as what book you were currently reading or who you’ve been watching on youtube.

even before you stated posting on your channel, you’ve been watching a minecraft youtuber, dream and his friends.

some of your fans would tag them in some of your instagram posts, or tweets that brought no harm so you never really acknowledged it since it wasn’t hurting anyone.

you weren’t “fangirling” you’d say. it was more of you supported them and found them funny and entertaining.

coincidentally, you landed yourself on the dream team tiktok, which means that dream and his friends were all over you for you page.

and to show that you were active and not dead to your followers on instagram, you’d post a funny tiktok, usually included the dream team. you thought it was harmless. to you, it was just a way to show support.

but only a couple days later, hashtags about you and the dream team, more specifically, just dream, were trending.

when you saw this, opening your twitter app, you immediately went to find out what this was about. your heart jumped when you thought maybe dream acknowledged you.

in fact, it was worse.

what was trending was a short video clip during one of the dream teams chill streams on the dream smp.

the conversation between george, sapnap and dream went like this.

“you guys heard about that girl who kept reposting tiktoks about us on her instagram story?” george asked the other two boys.

“heard she watched us before she even started her channel” sapnap.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think she’s being a little creepy.” dream said.

your heart sunk to your stomach. did your actions portray you to be a creep to other people?

“dream, you can’t just say that, especially on stream.” sapnap scolded him, george also mumbling something.

“why can’t i? i feel creeped out by her, a public figure posting me all over her socials.” dream replied, tone serious.

you clicked off the video, before it replayed again. you couldn’t get yourself to rewatch that, to hear those words again.

almost crying, you told yourself to suck it up, that this wasn’t worth you crying.

although they were who you looked up as minecraft gamers, this wasn’t worth your breakdowns.

that was until, you opened your direct messages.

you shouldn’t have. you knew the dream team stans would easily hunt you down, to ask you to back off from creeping their idol off.

but no, you still opened your dms. you expected a normal dm, ones that say they support you or some of your friends sending you memes through instagram.

what you didn’t expect was to see a flood of threats.

some said “kill yourself, you don’t deserve a spot on earth after what you did.” and “back off and leave my mans.”

it got worse from there. you thought maybe it’s just the dms, but you didn’t expect it to blow up more, with people tagging you with photos on instagram and twitter. people “cancelling” you.

you didn’t understand how this blew up like this. you were even more baffled to see some of your supporters sending you threats, too.

was this what you deserved?

you weren’t one to make rash decisions, nor were you a suicidal person.

you felt stupid. just because you supported big youtubers, you get this type of treatment?

the threats, the dm, never stopped. for three whole months, you had to deal with the never ending mean comments on your social media. you thought it would die down.

it came to the point of seeing your address and your phone number all over the internet. you never thought it would lead to this.

you didn’t know what to do anymore.

not long after, people started showing up to your apartment.

sure, your apartment didn’t have the best of security, which you blamed no one but yourself for being a public figure and living somewhere with little to no security.

they started with knocking on your door during ungodly hours. next was mailing weird stuff or sending stuff to your house. lastly, which tipped you off was that they would vandalize your apartment.

they would egg your front door, pee, or spray paint your walls of the outside.

you couldn’t handle it anymore.

soon enough, you knew you had to stand up for yourself. you had to call the police.

and that was exactly what you did. you called the authorities, which made the brave teenagers leave you alone.

while they were egging your house and making your life miserable, you knew this was the only time for you to make a rash decision. to leave the country, to somewhere no one else would fine you at. somewhere unpredictable, that no one would expect you to go.

it took a lot for you to book a plane ticket, box up your belongings and move to a completely different country, away from your hometown, florida.

you loved it in florida. though it was humid all the time, you enjoyed it. now that you had to leave, you only had a little while to cherish it before you leave it all behind.

and your family, your friends. the ones you’ve grown up with, ones you’ve grown to love and cherish. you had to leave that too. and without telling them too much information.

that hurt the most, needing to leave your loved ones behind, to start a new life, to start afresh.

DREAM’S POV

i didn’t know what was happening. one thing added onto another and soon it was out of control.

i didn’t say anything at the start, not thinking it would go this far. i didn’t know to what extent my fans would go.

sure, i saw all the things happening, but i didn’t do anything to stop it.

i saw her address and phone number all over social media, and did nothing about it.

george and sapnap said something, and pushed me to do something about it, but i didn’t. i was stubborn.

speaking of, it’s been months since i heard anything about her from her herself, everything i see is from my fans or hers, wondering where she is.

should i be worried?

YOUR POV

you left florida. the only people you told were your parents and your childhood friend, not trusting anyone else.

what you told them was vague, that you needed to leave, away from the US. specifically, you moved to Australia.

you made a decision to not live near the city, but the outskirts.

you were lucky that you weren’t a spender and you made more than enough money to make the decision to leave so suddenly.

lucky for you, you went to college and had a degree in law, so you didn’t need to worry about not having a job.

you never thought you’d make use of your degree this early in your life, thinking that youtube and being a content creator would last a little while longer.

you had to change you hairstyles, your fashion in general since you had to be in a more professional setting. although it was hard transitioning from a casual wear and having crazy coloured hair to wearing pant suits or formal dresses and going back your natural colour.

three years. it took you three full years for you to even think of visiting your parents in florida again. also, given the fact that you had a stable job and you couldn’t up and leave.

but recently, you were offered to work at another law firm in florida. you were happy to tell that to your family back home but at the same time, you were hesitant to go back to your nightmares.

but you braved yourself, since you missed your family dearly.

now, you were sitting on your desk in your cozy home, finalizing up the last of your move, like getting a house back in florida, this time with a better security just in case.

boxes of your clothes and belongings went first, to reach your new house there before you did so it was easier for you, not having to worry about your stuff.

you asked none of your family’s help, not wanting to burden them. instead you told them to just meet you at a restaurant you booked for you and your family and friends for dinner about three weeks after you landed.

although they protested, saying it was too long until they can see you again, you told them to not worry and that you were going to use those three weeks to start working at the new law firm.

you decided to take a straight flight from australia to florida, not wasting any time. although it was almost a twenty-two hour long flight, you sat throug and got to your hometown safely.

you didn’t know what was going on with the three boys you used to adore, since you didn’t have social media anymore.

but you didn’t mind it, it was peaceful.

two weeks since you’ve stepped foot in florida again. it felt amazing to breathe your hometown air again. it was refreshing.

you have fully settled in your new house, and workplace. you were glad to have met your co-workers. they were all super welcoming and made sure you weren’t left behind in anything.

so far, your transition from australia to florida has been smooth, and you weren’t worried about anything.

you got a car since you’ve arrived, so that you could travel easily from one place to another.

not to brag, but. you were making enough money to live a lavish lifestyle. a big house and a pretty expensive car, and that didn’t even make a dent in your bank account.

you were proud to see that you achieved all this yourself, and only within a couple of years.

you were just excited to meet your family in real life instead of facetime.

finally, the day of the dinner with your family came. unfortunately, you had to take a case in the afternoon, so you had to come to dinner in your work pant suit, with a turtleneck and a little late.

they understood it and told you not to worry about it, and that they would just seat themselves by your name instead of waiting for you. you promised you’d pay their dinners and apologized once again.

the sound of your heels comforted you as you walked from the valet to the restaurant. you were a little nervous to meet them again face to face after three years. but you couldn’t wait to catch up with them and tell them all about your work life that you could never tell them during the facetime calls.

you smiled to yourself, thinking nothing could go wrong. and nothing could really go wrong anyways, it was just a dinner after all.

but you hadn’t expected the three boys you used to idolize to be eating dinner at the same restaurant you and your family would be at, specifically, opposite your table.

you walked in the restaurant, telling the front of the house that you had a table reserved under your name and that you were pretty sure the rest of your family was already there.

she politely told you to walk alongside her, leading you to your family.

you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. you were solely focused on seeing your family that you didn’t know that there were extra pair of eyes staring at you.

you smiled as your family saw you. your mum crying while standing up to hug you tightly, as she once did three years ago.

you could hear your friends shout your name loudly, as if to tell the whole world that you were finally here.

“don’t cry, i’m staying, no more going back to australia, i swear.” you told your mum, trying to reassure her that you were fine and that you were not going to leave her again, since she hadn’t stopped crying.

you moved to hug your dad, who had been patiently waiting for his turn after his wife. “you look great, kiddo.” you thanked him as he complimented your professional look.

you sat down, somewhere in the middle, between your family, opposite of your parents so that everyone could clearly see and talk to you easily.

with how noisy you family were, you were sure the entire restaurant knew your name and where you had just moved from.

they asked you about australia, what was it like to work there, away from your family. you caught up with every single one of them.

“don’t you live in that really expensive neighbourhood right now?” one of your childhood friends asked.

you winked at her, discreetly trying to answer her question. the whole table shouted and congratulated you for making it this far, in only a matter of short years.

you covered your face, shy, not wanting this part of your life to be told to everyone in the restaurant.

GEORGE’S POV

there she was. the person whose life we practically ruined. luckily, we didn’t ruin it all for her. i guess she made use of her brains and is working a normal job.

“dude.” i tried to attract the other two boys’ attention.

“i know.” both of them answered me.

“she’s rich rich, huh?” sapnap almost chuckled but was totally serious saying that.

“yup.” dream.

ah yes, clay. the man dream himself. sapnap and i tried to persuade him into making it right for her, for you.

sure, he had said those mean words, but he can take it back. three years ago, at least.

she disappeared three years ago. vanished. no one knew where you went. some say you moved out of the country, which deemed to be true. couple of years later people started to find out what you worked as, but i tried my best to help get rid of the information

but they just couldn’t pinpoint where. you basically uped and left everything.

and there was time to apologize, but it had been to late.

i thought she died, quite frankly. i didn’t want to be the cause of someone dying. well at least, not me, but my friend.

now us three were seated in a pretty formal and expensive restaurant to eat dinner. and we did not expect to see her here.

she came in a little late, wearing a very professional wear. seemed like you went to work before this.

i knew you were a lawyer, we three knew that since our fans found it out.

she looked completely different. hair not her usual crazy colours. just seeing her in heels baffled me. she was wearing something formal and that wasn’t what you usually wore, years ago.

DREAMS’S POV

she’s beautiful.

not that she wasn’t before.

but this version of her was different. her in her pant suit, in heels. a turtleneck under her blazer.

she looked elegant. classy. rich.

i mean, she is rich.

her family screamed when she told them where she lived. and man, that neighbourhood only had rich people. it had one of the best, if not the best security you could ask for.

it wasn’t easy to buy a house there. even if you had the money, you’d need a certain bank card to be allowed to even be shortlisted.

and if i saw it correctly, she drives a bentley that was just parked by a valet kid.

damn. she is one successful woman.

i know, how could i think this much of her, how dare i when i didn’t even apologized. i didn’t even try.

in fact. i did. even before she went MIA, fully on social media, i sent her direct messages everywhere. she never replied to any of them.

and i knew no one that had her phone number. and soon enough, no one had heard from her in three years.

and now she’s back. more beautiful than ever.

i needed to speak to her i couldn’t live with the guilt that stayed for these past three years.

my fans, my so called supporters made her life a living hell and i almost did nothing to stop it.

i’m sure she hates me. but i have to try somehow, right?

question is, she didn’t have a social media anymore, and i can’t just speak to her now that she was sitting opposite my table.

i kept on pondering as i heard a little bit of her conversation, about her life.

i guess she moved to australia, and worked in a lawfirm in the outskirts. so unpredictable of her. no one would’ve guessed that in a million years.

i watched as i see her smile as she listened to what her parents were saying.

i cherished the smile since i didn’t know when was the next time i’d see her.

she asked the waiter for the bill, covering the whole cost of her and her huge family’s meal.

damn, this girl is too rich for her own good.

she puts down the bill on the table, also leaving a generous tip for the waiter that served them. she stood up to walk after her family, needing to pass my table.

since she had been oblivious to her surroundings, i didn’t expect her to spot us, to notice us.

but i was wrong.

PART 2

#dream x reader #dream imagines #dreamwastaken #dream fanfic #dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagines #dream fanfiction

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joezworld · 4 years ago

Text

Toby - Rap God

Guys I was making myself laugh when I wrote this - I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Based entirely on one line from this.

2019

There are many engines on the Island of Sodor, and like many people, music is often part of their lives.

Some engines, like Percy and Duck, have no interest in the subject, having never been exposed to it in a real manner.

Others, like Gordon and Henry, have extremely well-defined music tastes. (Unfortunately for those around them, they do not like the same music, and arguments often ensue.)

James, being extremely vain, enjoys the songs written about him for the children's television show based on the writings of The Thin Clergyman.

And then there’s Toby...

-----------

Toby is a small brown steam tram. He has spent almost all of his life on Sodor on Thomas' branch line, where he and his coach Henrietta trundle up and down the valley at the top of the line - providing a valuable commuter service from the branch line terminus to the stone mines at Anopha.

Toby likes music, as does Henrietta; they like it so much that in 1989 the workmen installed a radio in Henrietta so that the two could listen to music on it as they worked.

This was very thoughtful gift, but there was a small problem:

The hills outside of the quarry meant that many radio stations couldn't reach the small antenna on Henrietta's roof.

Fortunately, a few did, mostly overpowered stations on the Isle of Man. These stations were designed to reach boats far out at sea, and mainly played uninteresting things like the Shipping Forecast.

There was, however, one station that did come come through loud and clear no matter where you were...

---

You're listening to ManxPirate - the Barely-Seaworthy voice of the Sudrian Sea. I’m your sea-going Deejay - or Sea-Jay - Musik Mike! Up next is our most popular block of the day - that’s right, the JAMS are LOUD and we're all gonna get DEF!

"Oh Henrietta! It's starting!"

"Just be ready on the choruses Toby"

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

The sounds of music echoed off of the Els river valley as Toby and Henrietta trundled towards Elsbridge.

Aside from their Quarry duties, Toby and Henrietta also worked 'the school bus', a daily train that carried schoolchildren from the remote farmhouses between Elsbridge and Hackenbeck to the Saint Pedroc's school in Elsbridge.

Toby loved this route - many of the children had been taking 'the bus' since Grade 1, and he felt privileged to have seen them grow up into fine young adults.

As he pulled into the platform at Elsbridge station, he saw those young adults crowded around each other.

'"Peep Peep! Let's go, everyone!" he called to the teens.

"Just a minute Tobes!" Called back Sera, one of the teenagers, before she turned back to her friends, who were filming her with their 'smart-phones'.

"Whatever could they be doing?" He asked Henrietta as Sera and her friend Phoebe bounced up and down in unison while waving their arms around.

"Undoubtedly something for the internet," the coach mused. "But I have no idea what - trends change so fast now".

"Internet?" Toby was puzzled. "Don't they need a computer for that?"

"Toby. Smartphones have been around for over ten years. How do you not know about this?"

"I'm sorry that I'm not as technologically advanced as you - but at least I know what steam is!"

"Oh my goodness, it's also a video game company now. You've heard those jokes before!"

Toby and Henrietta likely would have gone on like that until the guard blew his whistle, but Phoebe broke away from the group of teens, her phone in her hand.

"Toby?" She asked, clearly trying not laugh. "Do you know what Vossi Bop is?"

Toby was taken aback. "Of course I do. Vossi Bop isn't my favourite, but that's just because I don't like Stormzy that much - I'm not one for Grime."

Phoebe blinked like she'd been poleaxed. "What?"

"It's a Stormzy song, isn't it?"

"Toby," Henrietta sighed. "She was asking because she thought you didn't know. Was this going to be some kind of thing where you show rap music to the elderly and laugh at them being shocked?" She asked Phoebe, who nodded slowly.

"Well, you're going to have to better than that young lady," The coach smirked. "We've been listening to ManxPirate since before you were born!"

"Really?" The blonde asked slowly.

"Oh yes!" Henrietta boasted. "Eazy-E was still alive when we first tuned in!"

"Oh, em, gee!" The girl said, before turning and shouting down the platform. "Guys! They do know!"

The excited teenagers crowded around Toby and Henrietta as they quizzed the tram on rap music. Any thought of leaving on time was totally forgotten about as Toby's extensive knowledge of gangsta rap was laid out for them.

"Mate, mate," said John, one of the boys. "You gotta do The Challenge if you know all this!"

"What challenge?" Toby asked.

The teens clamored over each other, before they all stopped to let someone speak intelligibly.

Rachel Kyndley eventually spoke up: "It's a thing that ManxPirate is doing on TikTok. You sing along to a rap song and whoever does it the best gets to record a charity single with Stormzy!"

The teens again spoke over each other, all claiming that Toby and Henrietta should sing for the challenge.

Toby had to blow his whistle to calm them down. "I suppose there's nothing to lose by it," He said after a moment. "But I should say that my flow isn’t that good."

"Mate, I am amazed that you know what that means,” Said John. “But you just need to sing along to somethin’ that’s already out there.”

“Oh.” Toby looked back at Henrietta. “Well that shouldn’t be too hard. Do you have any N.W.A we could sing along to?”

As he had the only ‘eye-phone pro’, Simon the student newspaper editor was volunteered as cameraperson, while Rachel set a small ‘blue tooth speaker’ on Toby’s bufferbeam so that he could hear the music.

The remaining teenagers pulled out their phones as well - whatever happened next was going to be un-fucking-believable.

The music began with record scratching. The kids looked at each other in shock. There was no way that Rachel had picked this.

"Right about now NWA court is in full effect” Henrietta sang.

Rachel had. The teens could barely contain themselves.

“Judge Dre presiding in the case of NWA versus the police department.

Prosecuting attourneys are MC Ren, Ice Cube and Eazy motherfuckin' E”

Hearing Henrietta say ‘fuck’, was an astonishing experience for the unprepared teenagers.

“Order, order, order, Ice Cube take the motherfuckin' stand

Do you swear to tell the truth the whole truth

And nothin' but the truth so help your black ass?”

“You goddamn right” Toby responded. Rachel Kyndley barely could hold back a shout of astonishment. I hope there’s no book written about this! She thought.

“Well, won't you tell everybody what the fuck you gotta say?"

Then there was a record scratching sound.

The teens knew what came next. They hoped that they were prepared to hear this song come out of Toby.

"Fuck the police comin' straight from the underground!"

Toby and Henrietta not only sang this lyric, they sang it in harmony.

The teenagers thought that they had been prepared.

They were not prepared.

Most of the next few verses were lost underneath the clamor of twelve teenagers losing their goddamn minds.

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

A few days later

Toby was resting in his shed when a little car came tearing into the station parking lot. More girls than should have been possible to fit in it came tumbling out and made a beeline for his shed, Rachel Kyndley in the lead.

“Toby! Toby! Toby! You won! You won!” She shouted as she skidded over the gravel.

“Won what?”

“The Contest!” She shrieked. “Your video went viral and you won The Contest! Stormzy said on Instagram that he was excited to meet you!”

She and her friends dissolved into happy squealing, preventing any further speech.

“What’s Instagram?” Toby asked Henrietta.

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

The Next Week

Stephen Hatt was enjoying his tea and tolerating his toast and marmalade, when his son Richard burst into his office, waving his phone around like a sword.

“Were you just not going to tell me that you let Stormzy visit the engines? Or was I just supposed to figure this out when Kieran and Micah tore my ear off for not letting them meet him?!”

“I have a phone, you know. And a receptionist.” Stephen said as he cleaned tea off of his desk. Fortunately, most of it had gone onto the marmalade covered toast, which he unceremoniously dumped into the trash. “And who have I let meet the engines?”

“Stormzy? The rapper? He headlined at Glastonbury last bloody month?”

“I don’t follow.”

“He’s a musician, and you let him record an album with Toby!”

“He recorded music? With Toby? Our Toby?”

“Yes! It was supposed to be a single, but now it’s an album! It hit number one! And it’s been out for three hours!”

“You’re saying this as if I have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Just read the article!” Richard shoved the phone into his hand. The website for BBC Sodor and Man was open.

STORMZY DROPS SURPRISE ALBUM WITH SURPRISE COSTARS

ELSBRIDGE - Music fans across the world were surprised this morning when Stormzy unexpectedly announced via Instagram the release of his newest album, Back in Their Day - featuring two of the realest OGs I’ve ever seen.

Residents of Sodor were especially surprised to discover who those “two real OGs” were: Toby and Henrietta, an engine and coach on the Ffarquhar Branch Line.

This unexpected collaboration began several weeks ago when a viral video on TikTok featuring the pair attracted the attention of the rapper...

Stephen skimmed the rest of the article, not quite believing what he was reading. “I didn’t authorize any of this.” He said at last.

“Really?” Richard said, not quite believing him. “Because that’s what the staff on the Branch told me too.”

“I swear to you I didn’t do anything.”

“Then what, did the biggest star in the country just go to Ffarquhar and record an album with Toby? With nobody’s permission?”

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

[TWO YEARS LATER]

--CHANNEL 4 INTERNAL TRANSCRIPT: THE LAST LEG 2021 CHRISTMAS SPECIAL--

ADAM HILLS - So we’ve had a lot of questions, about, the last album you dropped-

[AUDIENCE LAUGHTER]

AH - The one with the train engine - I think his name is Toby?

STORMZY - And Henrietta. Can’t forget her.

AH - Of course not.

S - What do you wanna know?

[MORE LAUGHTER]

AH - Well, I don’t have any questions - and when I say we, I don’t mean Alex or our viewers -

[PROLONGED LAUGHTER]

AH - I mean Josh.

JOSH WIDDICOMBE - [TO ADAM] You’re an Arse. [To STORMZY] - Um, I just wanted to know how you did it really. Is it, is it true that you snuck in and did it all in one night?

S - Oh yeah! Absolutely. ‘Cause, I thought that it was gonna be a one and done, like just a single y’know? So I just went there and was gonna do it and go. But as we kept talkin’ I realized that, that, I just had to make more, and then it became the album and we shot a music video for ‘scrapp’ on the same night and then I did some sound work and then it went up.

AH - Just like that?

S - Just like that.

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

Text

maybe "brunette" was the only rhyme

based on "skin" by sabrina carpenter and the drama surrounding it - no hate towards any of the people in the situation!

Julie stared at the pot of spaghetti, knuckles white as they gripped the kitchen counter. Glaring wouldn't make the water boil faster, but maybe then she wouldn't feel like exploding herself.

Carrie Wilson had to release that song. She had to. It was a good song, Julie would give her that, if only it wasn't so fucking obvious about who it was. Subtlety was never the girl's strength and it clearly hasn't changed after all these years.

In just twenty-four hours, her song blew up. And in-between those hours, every single person on the planet with an internet connection connected the dots between the "brunette girl" and Julie Molina. The one who "snatched" Luke Patterson away from Carrie. The "homewrecker" - according to Twitter at least.

At first, she and Luke were hoping it would die down. The song was getting hype, but with the nature of social media, they were sure the attention would drop as quickly as she got it. She'd get her fifteen minutes of fame and then they'd all continue on with their lives.

But then it reached number one on the charts on every streaming platform, the radio bombarded the song every chance it got, ads played before YouTube videos to stream the song. The New York Times gave it its own spread. "Drivers License" was everywhere.

So yeah, Julie was fucking angry.

Carrie and Luke broke up two years ago. Four months after the break-up, she and Luke met each other after a Sunset Curve concert and instantly hit it off. She knew he had history with the famous blonde, but never gave it much thought. Never thought how she'd feel when photos began to leak of Julie and him around LA. And why should she? Carrie was his ex that he, frankly, didn't speak too fondly of. It was the past.

It didn't click at first. Julie listened to it and was excited for the girl's lyrical prowess. But then at the second listen, she realised how it narrated quite specific events only the three of them knew of. How blatant it was. To make it worse, Carrie was pretending to be the meek one. Not that she was this villainous cartoon figure, but she wasn't a saint either.

Now Julie was getting floods of hatred each second of the day. As if Luke wasn't an active participant in this! He hardly got any questions about it! Naturally, the guy was left out of the conversation. If she didn't love him as much as she did, she would've probably started raging at him too. (Alas, Luke had stolen her soul the moment he kissed her.)

Carrie should've just stayed in her lane. Written a different song, processed the break-up without tilting the music world of its axis. Julie nor Luke did anything to deserve this.

Teen Vogue and Seventeen Magazine have asked her for a reaction. She hasn't given them anything. There was nothing to say. People broke up and then eventually moved on - then fucking do it. Carrie hasn't reached the status of Taylor Swift yet that permitted her to get away with stuff like this.

"Babe."

Her eyes ripped themselves from the now boiling pot of water, calloused fingers gently tugging on her arm before it splashed and hit her.

She sighed. "I'm losing my mind."

His touch trailed to her shoulders, massaging the knots. She looked up, a tender smile blooming on her face as she met his timid gaze. If it wasn't for Luke, she would've probably had multiple breakdowns in the five days since its release. Slipping in his embrace, the soft thud of his heartbeat calmed her down.

His lips murmured against the crown of her head. "I'm sorry."

"I thought the break-up was amicable."

"It was." He paused. "As amicable a break-up with Carrie can be."

It made her chuckle, a sliver of levity, and kiss the fabric of his hoodie. She was kind of lost right now. The longer she hesitated reacting, the more theories and falsities would sprawl on the internet. Her reputation wouldn't forever be tainted - she was Julie Molina, biggest singer-songwriter of the moment - though one that stayed spotless would've been better.

(Ugh. She could already imagine the wild stories that would inevitably pop up once the Grammys rolled around. "Possible cat fight on the red carpet?! Tune in to find out!" Just as she got them to stop asking about who she was wearing, this had to happen.)

His lips trailed from her hair to her forehead, cheeks, jaw, lips. He hummed a tune in her ear. "Let's stay in," he whispered. "Order in some food, watch a movie you like. Let me treat you."

She wanted to give in. She really did - and it almost worked. Let go, allow herself to sink into his loving touch, forget about everything. But she couldn't. Julie pulled away. Gah! Ignoring Carrie's stupid song with taco's and West Side Story won't make it go away. She had to change the narrative! Fight back!

"I just feel like I'm letting her get under my skin," she huffed, throwing the dry spaghetti in the pot. "She's winning."

He frowned. "There's nothing to win though. You have me."

"This is not about you, Luke." Rolling her eyes, she added: "It's about her coming at me. A girl. It's about pushing the idea that girls naturally hate on each other and then allowing others to do it too."

With every syllable that uttered from her lips, anger flared inside of her, bursting from the crevices. Argh! Couldn't the blonde just give her a call? Talk it out?

But then it came. Julie stilled. The shimmering idea of a powerful takedown danced behind her eyes. A coup on her own turf. If Carrie had the balls to air out her personal relationships without pardon, then she just had to do the exact same.

She pecked his lips with a mischievous grin, fury morphing into assertive passion. Carrie wanted drama? Wanted press? Then let her get it.

"Maybe I should just... respond." Tilting her head, she kissed him again, firmer. "Play along."

Luke, dazed, tucked a curl behind her ear. "Don't let it blow up in your face, Jules."

"I won't," she pressed. Her hands glided onto his chest, relaxed now that a solution brewed and flourished. Things were going to be fine again. Stepping between his legs, her smile was coy. "Mind helping me get some inspiration?"

She didn't have to ask twice, him turning off the stove and pulling her into a searing kiss that numbed her mind and shaped lyrics in her heart. Each touch was one step closer to her truest feelings being poured into a song. Each breath a beat in the music.

Carrie would never get under her skin, but Luke would always be on hers.

@blush-and-books @willexx @unsaid-emily @sophiphi @alexjulies

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #written fully on the train while freaking out over this song on loop #i must've looked insane lmao #otp: i think we make each other better #jatp: skin #i also genuinely don't care if it's pr or real or whatever #they got us to start talking so mission achieved #its just SUCH A BOP

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

Text

They Speak the Language {Tech Boy x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2181 Summary: Tech-Boy’s bad mood is starting to get to you, so you start to look for inspiration to turn it around. Notes: Contains bad language.

You knew it was a bad idea to get involved in the war between the old gods and the new. You were somewhere in the middle, along with a couple of others, who could very well tip the scales. And it wasn’t that you believed that one side was better than the other either. But one side had someone that you cared for more than the others. And that was the dangerous, marvelous, grumpy little thing that you knew as Tech-Boy. Of course you had thought that he was a bit of a douche when you met him for the first time, shortly after his emergence into the world. Everybody did. It was a part of his charm. But deep down, yeah, there was a heart there. After all, not all technology is meant to be cold. Most of it was built to help others, or to improve lives. He just took the functional part of it a little too seriously at times.

You took a lot of rides with him in his special car. Sitting in the back with him as it drove itself - or rather, one of the faceless minions drove - around the different cities. Anywhere you wanted to go, you could. New York one minute, LA the next. Technology had no bounds, no limits, and so - neither did Tech-Boy.

“Why are you wearing your shirt like that,” You scoffed once you realized what it was that he was wearing. The jacket itself was nice, but he only had the top three buttons fastened. The rest were undone, showing off the red shirt underneath. “You look like you’re preparing for a huge dinner or something. You don’t even eat. What gives?”

You poked at his thin stomach, and he shoved your arm away. He adjusted the coat so it was exactly how he liked it, the open flaps down. “It’s the new look, y/n. Not that you know anything about what’s new.”

“Wow, someone’s being fucking harsh,” You said, folding your arms around yourself. You’d grown used to his rather ... delicate temper over the years. You knew not to take offense. “What crawled in your vape and died?”

“New Media,” He grumbled. You nodded, knowing that was a pretty good reason. The bubbly but bitchy new form of Media was a pain in the ass. You preferred the old. At least she had class. And a pretty good David Bowie impersonation.

“Say no more,” You said, sinking into the interior of the seat. You made yourself comfortable as the car went. You didn’t know where you were, nor did you know where you were going. It was more so about the journey than the destination. And with this teched-out car, the journey was definitely in style. “Just don’t forget that she owes her existence to you. Without the printing press, smartphones, internet - all that you have created - she’d be nothing. Lord it over her. I do it all the time.”

“You talk about me to her?” He asked, eyebrows shooting up towards his curls.

“More like I brag about you to her,” You snorted. “Okay, she might be a bit more superior than I am in the hierarchy, I’m barely anything, but you? Bitch is kidding herself if she thinks that she’s better than you. And guess what, you like me-”

“Barely fucking tolerate-” He muttered.

“-way more than you do her, so in her stupid face.” You didn’t allow his interruption to bother your momentum. You knew that behind that hard, technological, douchebag exterior was a heart wrapped in microchips. A soft, beating heart.

“She just doesn’t have to be so fucking smug,” He said. You could still feel anger coming off of him like heat waves. You just chuckled at his attitude - he really let things get under his skin. And he tried so hard to pretend to be this big tough guy.

“Don’t worry about it,” You said, patting his knee. “You’ll be around for the rest of time, and media is just going to be a fad. Especially her kind of media. She’ll get reborn again and again, as media changes. So -- forgedd abou-it.” You attempted your best accent, trying to sound like the Italians in the movies.

“You’re fucking horrible, you know that?” He said to you. But before he turned his head, you could just make out the corner of his lips going up into a smile. You would call that a success.

“So where are we off to, today? Silicon valley to go and mess with the nerds? Seattle to go and talk to Bill Gates? Come on, hit me with something fun.”

He just shrugged in retaliation. “I don’t feel like fucking with anyone today. I just want to .... go.”

“Okay, then let’s go...” You said, eyebrows furrowed. It really didn’t feel like it was a success anymore. He was closing off from you again, and you didn’t have any other choice but to let it happen.

You drove around for hours. There wasn’t anyway to measure the time, and the windows were permanently dark so you couldn’t see if it was day or if it was night out there. It didn’t matter. You had nowhere that you had to be, nor anywhere that you would rather go. He did slowly start to open back up. He bitched a lot, but he was well known for doing that. You would be much more concerned if he suddenly started to be positive. But he was slowly getting there.

It must be hard for him. He always provided what the people wanted, and what they needed. There was a difference between the two and he gave both. But there was always so much pressure to do more. To be better. He could outdo himself on one thing, and the next day, people would be clammering for bigger and better. He never got to actually enjoy what he gave.

Even those who had helped to bring into this world, like Media, and New Media. They came from him. They wouldn’t be here without him. And yet, they also just asked for more, more, more. They took, and they took. And gave nothing in return. They claimed some of his gifts to this world. They made it all about them. Look what I can do! If you worship me, you’re worshiping yourself! Narcissism at the touch of a button! Look at this celebrity’s ass! Look at these tits! Oh, a dick pic! Look, look, look.

What a lonely existence that he must have, you thought, as you watched him take puff after puff out of his vape. You don’t really know what he did outside of these drives with you. He never talked about it - only mentioned World and Media in passing. Not what he did with them. Not how the war plans were going. He tended to keep you separate from that part of his life.

“Fuck it,” You said, leaning forward in your seat. “Pull over.”

The driver did what he, or rather it, was told, and pulled the car over to the side of the road. You didn’t even know where you were. It could have been in a field, or a dark and creepy alley, or the suburbs of Albuquerque.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tech asked, looking at you like you had suddenly gone insane.

“You’re acting like an asshole,” You said, shrugging, and opened your door. “And it’s honestly killing my vibe so... I’m going out to find it again.”

“Find your vibe? Here’s your vibe check-” He said, making a gun with his fingers and pointed it at you. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“And?” You got out of the car, and felt the cool night breeze on your face. It blew through your hair, and it felt pretty good after the staleness of the inside of the car. You looked at your surroundings, and grinned as you saw some lights not too far in the distance.

A movie theater. Absolutely perfect.

Tech-Boy slid out of the car as well, and stood in the middle of the street. His facial expression left you no doubts that he was doing this against his will. He didn’t want to be out here. “What the fuck are you doing?” He finally asked.

“Come on, you big grump,” You said, taking hold of his hand and started to pull his thin frame towards the theater. He grumbled, but he walked along. Once you were inside, you noticed that there was an arcade area, for those who came too early for the movie. “Let’s have some fun. You really seem like you need it.”

Eventually, you had him paying air-hockey. He only half-ass played until you scored on him three times in a row, and then his more competitive streak started to show. He was moving back and forth, using his striker to block off all of your attempts. And just when it seemed like you were slowing down, he went from defense to offense. The puck shot across the table and straight through the slot on your side. The table let out a clang, and added one to his score. You picked out the disk with amusement as you watched him do a little shimmy dance. His thin little hips stuck out of his designer jeans, making you chuckle.

“I’m still ahead, douche,” You said, putting the puck down and shooting it while he was distracted. He was quick though, and blocked it, sending it back your way.

You played five games, until best three out of five, which he ended up winning. You hadn’t let him either - that wouldn’t have been fair. You then went onto the motor-races, with the chairs and the steering wheels. This was also something that he was better at than you were, but you didn’t mind losing. It was seriously so good to hear him laugh. And to hear him say ‘fuck’ in joy when he won, rather than annoyance at someone else.

You got a bag of popcorn and some soda just to watch him play Pacman. “Little - color - fuckers -” He mumbled when they came too close to his circular, yellow character. Only to let out barks of laughter when he got the big pellet and was able to eat them down. “Eat my ass, losers.”

Eventually you were both thrown out due to Tech-Boys language, but you didn’t even care. You didn’t even know which city you were. The likelihood that you would come back was slim to none. You got back into the car, the good mood still going.

“Well, this has been fun,” You said, resting your head on top of Tech-Boy’s shoulder. You were starting to get tired - even some of the minor Gods needed to sleep at times. “I should probably go home though.”

“Okay,” Tech-Boy said, and with a snap of his fingers, the car started to head in that direction. The rest of the ride remained silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Once in a while, a little laugh slipped through as the energy of the night stayed with you.

Eventually it all came to an end as the car stopped outside of your place. You reluctantly took your head off of his shoulder, and got out of the car, but paused before you would close the door. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” He said with a nod, picking up his vape once more.

“Okay - bye Techie. Love you!”

He looked at you like you were crazy, then did a shooing motion to try to get you on your way. But you didn’t move.

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” You questioned, leaning on the top of the door as it swayed under your weight. He curled his nose at you, and then tried to dismiss you again. But you didn’t move, just stood there grinning at him. “Not gonna leave until you say it back, big guy.”

He mumbled something under his breath. You cupped your hand around your ear. “What’s that?”

“Love you too,” He said, finally in a voice loud enough for you to hear. “You fucking freak.”

“Aww, you’re such a softie,” You grinned, sticking your tongue out between your teeth. You finally closed the door and made your way up to your place, the car idling outside until you were safely through the door. Tech-Boy held up his hand to snap his fingers, but didn’t until he saw the light in your window come on. Despite being alone, he smiled, chuckled, then finally told the car to keep on going. He might as well head home - the best part of his night was over.

#Tech Boy #Tech Boy x reader #Tech Boy imagines #American Gods #American Gods imagines #request #imagines #techboy #x reader

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ambivalent-anarchy · 5 years ago

Text

Too Cheesy

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: Sickening fluff and insanely cheesy pick up lines.

Summary- Ned agrees to stay at Peter's house and help him find the perfect pickup line to ask out his crush with before spring break. But what happens when his crush tags along and also wants to help? ---------------------------------------

"Nah Peter, too corny."

Peter Parker was standing in the middle of his room, his best friend Ned sitting on his bed, cradling their death star in his hands. Peter scrolled down the screen of his phone. "Okay, how about this one?" After reading, Peter looked to the wall and gave a smug smirk, as if he were actually looking at someone. "Hey [Y/N]... are you religious? 'Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers."

Ned cocked his head to the side. "Is she religious?"

"I dunno, I never really asked before," Peter answered, breaking out of his assumed position.

Ned scrunched his nose a bit. "Well, we probably should stay off of religious pick-up lines then."

"Right," Peter agreed, looking back to his phone again. He scrolled a bit more. When satisfied, he looked up at the wall again, raised his eyebrows with an award winning smile before he recited another.

"Life without you would be like a broken pencil… pointless."

"Wow..," Ned said. He pointed and nodded slowly. "I think that's a keeper. Try it again just to make sure though. Oh- and this time, make it more personal."

"Okay," Peter said, going back over the line in his head. He assumed the position and instead of a smug, gave a small smolder.

"Wait," Ned interrupted. "Does this one even make sense? I mean- a pencil still has a point even when it's broken, right? Unless, of course, it's the bottom half, but that would only work if it's a clean break. A-and-"

Suddenly, realizing how completely ridiculous he must look, Peter grimaced. "Ned, why're we doing this again?!"

Ned rolled his eyes. "C'mon Pete. It's because pickup lines always work!"

"A-are you sure? Cuz that doesn't sound right."

"Dude, I'm telling you," Ned defended. "I saw Flash walk right up to Sydney and gave her the perfect pickup line and he immediately got a date! Flash of all people! If he can, you certainly can!"

Peter rolled his eyes. Ned was seriously comparing him to Flash? There were tons of reasons as to how Flash got with Sydney. "But Flash is popular and rich and stuff... I'm just me."

Ned scoffed. "Well..." He looked up with a carefree smile. "If it makes you feel any better, if I were a girl, I'd totally date you."

"..thanks..." Peter said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. He looked around the room with a nervous chuckle. Ned, apparently not realizing the awkwardness in the room, hasn't looked away and continued to smile at his friend.

Finding his voice, Peter spoke up. "So, um, what was Flash's line anyway?"

"Uh-uh man," Ned answered. "You gotta find your own! Sydney probably already told the whole school, so you'd just be a copycat. Your line needs to be original."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "We're literally looking this stuff up from the internet, Ned! That's not original!"

"Just trust me. Now read another."

"Okay..." Peter begrudgingly agreed. He was regretting this whole thing more and more each second. He took a deep breath and recited his next one.

"[Y/N], my love for you is like dividing by zero– it can't be defined."

He looked to Ned, who was silently contemplating the words.

"...I kinda like it," Ned finally said.

"I don't know," the scrawny teenager sighed, throwing his phone onto his bed. "It needs to be really good! Not mediocre. Tomorrow is my only chance to tell [Y/N] how I feel before spring break starts. I can't back out!"

"Pete, relax. We'll just add it to the list. Now do another-"

"Peter!!! [Y/N]'s here!!!"

The two teenagers froze. Their eyes widened at his aunt May's voice. They looked to the door, then to each other.

"What is she doing here?!?!," Peter whisper-shouted, two seconds from panicking.

"It's your apartment, you tell me!," Ned whispered back, arms flailing wildly.

"She can't be here!," he yelled to himself, pointing towards the door you could be walking through any second now. "She can NOT be here!"

The two quietly went back and forth as you came closer to his room. Normally, you were always more than welcome. But today, unbeknownst to you, Peter's home was probably the one place you definitely shouldn't be.

You poked your head around the doorframe. "Heyyyy fellas!"

They froze, looking to you with their mouths zipped shut. "Why so tense?," you asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

"No reason!," Peter yelled.

"Hey [Y/N]." Ned gave a wide smile.

You return it with a wider smile that certainly betrayed the rest of your face, that held only confusion. "Uh, what's going on, guys??"

They looked to each other, then to you, then to each other again. Ned broke away first this time. "Peter's trying to find a pick-up line to tell his crush was tomorrow!," he spat out quickly, earning an excited gasp from you.

Peter's jaw stopped to the floor. If he were a computer, he would've definitely been crashing right now. "What the hell, Ned?!," he practically screamed, his voice cracking a bit before he covered his face with his hands.

"So, whose the girl?," you asked, pushing through them and climbing onto the top bunk to sit.

"Uh-"

"DON'T. SAY. ANYTHING!," Peter hissed out through gritted teeth.

It didn't take you too long to realize the tension in the room. "Uh, should I come back another time or something?"

"That would be ideal," Peter mumbled under his breath.

Your eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. Why were they being so weird and vague?

"Okay, did I do something? Is that why you're acting so weird, Pete? I mean, I was gonna try to help you out so you won't make a complete fool of yourself in front of this girl, but-"

Ned dropped the death star as he excitedly clapped his hands together. "That'd be perfect, actually!!"

Both you and Peter groaned as you looked at the peices on the floor. "Ned!"

"At this point that thing needs to stay at my house cuz when it's at either of yours it always breaks!," you laughed.

"Umm..." Peter looked away and took a deep breath. "[Y/N]?"

At this point, he had no idea nor any control over what was going on and the only words processing in his mind were what the fuck.

His crush was not supposed to be here while he was practicing what to say to his crush tomorrow.

"Yeah, Pete?"

But you were here now, and you didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon.

So what's the worse that could happen?

"C-could you maybe, um, help me with this?"

"With your girl problems? Sure. I mean, if we leave it your hands, the poor girl won't even know what hits her."

Ned bit his lip, attempting (and failing) to hide a fit of laughter. "She sure won't!"

"Dude!," Peter hissed, nudging his shoulder.

"So what've you got so far?," you said, watching Peter expectantly.

"Uhh.." He blew out a heavy breath. Welp, he thought. Guess we're doing this now. He picked up his phone and awkwardly read off the line.

"My love for you is like dividing by zero– it can't be defined.."

He looked back up at you, frozen as statue. That was so embarrassing. You smiled and giggled a little. "That was so cheesy!"

"Oh..," Peter mumbled. He'd actually thought that one was pretty good.

"That's only because he's not doing it like he did a second ago," Ned, ever the oblivious one, noted. "C'mon! Do it the way you did it before [Y/N] came in here."

If looks could kill, Ned would surely have been maimed and then ran over a bus by now.

Peter sighed. He looked up to the wall right above where [Y/N] was sitting and gave his best smolder.

But before he could get a word out, laughter erupted the room. "PETE WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!," [Y/N] shrieked, practically falling off the the top bunk of the bed with laughter. "Girls' want a genuine smile, not some James Bond wannabe look!"

"Y-you don't think it looks cool?," he asked, cheeks red as beets by now.

"Frickin' goofy is what that looks like!," she responded. "Gimme your phone."

Peter's face fell. Wow, he thought. I'm way off. No way I'm gonna get her now, except...He looked to Ned, who was practically just spectating the whole thing at this point. Their eyes joined, and they could both tell they'd come to the same conclusion.

What better way to find out exactly what to say than by finding out by who you're going to say it to?

[Y/N] scrolled down a few until she found one that she liked. "Ooh, this one's pretty good." She looked up from the phone. "Now, watch me and I'll show you how it's done." She hopped down from the bed and said the line straight to Peter's face, biting her lip and smirking.

"Hey you, apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?"

Immediately afterwards, she broke out of it. "See?," she asked. "That's how it's done." [Y/N] tossed the phone back into Peter's hands before sitting back down. "Now do that."

Peter sucked in a quick breath, lightly tugging the bottom of his gray shirt. "U-uh, um, yeah okay.."

That was hot, was all he could really think at the moment. She's so frickin hot.

Scatterbrained, he stood and looked back at you. "U-uh.. -oh, here's one..." He shook his head slightly, as if attempting to shake the jitters out. "A-are you a cam-mera? C-cuz.. you sure do make me sm-mile," he stammered, ending with beyond awkward fingers guns.

[Y/N] chuckled, biting back a small smile. "Ya know, you're just too cute sometimes..."

At that, Ned's jaw fell to the floor. Peter's face turned a shade of red you didn't believe was even possible.

"Uh, u-um, ah, heh, thanks..."

"Hey yo, my mom's texting me," Ned suddenly announced. "I gotta get home. See you two tomorrow." He smiled at [Y/N] and then looked Peter square in the face with a shit-eating grin. "And good luck Pete!," he said, earning a middle finger from his best friend.

After the door closed, [Y/N] frowned. "What's up with you two? Are you guys fighting?"

"Nah, Ned's just being..." Peter trailed off, shaking his head slightly. If he were to elaborate, he could risk telling you. Better to play it safe. "So was that one good?"

"I mean, it'd be nice if you could g-g-g-get it out!," you mocked with a smile.

"No stuttering then," he concluded to himself. "Stuttering's a turn off."

"Well, not exactly," you corrected. "I actually think it's kinda cute when you do it." Noticing his intense blushing, you grabbed his hands to give comfort. "Just relax. No stuttering. And keep eye contact. Got it, Pete?"

His cheeks reddened as he looked away, desperately trying to redirect his focus from your turned up lips. "Oh, u-uh um, thanks! That's great, ya know! L-lets, ah, just get back to the th-thing- uh, the line..."

And so you did. You helped him til eleven o'clock at night. You went over about fifty. Until there was no way he couldn't have a perfect one to show the girl.

Until the next morning.

Spoiler alert: he didn't find a line.

When you left the indecisive teenager, he'd looked like he was on the right path. He had an entire list of good choices you'd picked out with him, along with practiced ways to do each one.

But, when he woke up and looked back at the list, each one just felt wrong.

Cheesy.

Overused.

Corny.

Lame.

You wouldn't like it. You'd already heard it. It wouldn't feel special to you if he'd told you something you'd already picked out for yourself, even if you didn't know you had.

You'd reject him. And more? Because you were a nice person, you'd probably still want to be friends.

Which was definitely way, way worse.

"Peter!," May yelled. "Engine's being turned on in five! Be there or you'll have to swing to school!"

Perer told you he'd tell his crush the line by the lockers during homeroom.

You couldn't wait. 'This is gonna be so awesome,' you thought, scanning the halls for his curly brown hair and wrinkled jacket.

'Of course, this girl better be worth his time or I'm gonna frickin' tackle her....'

The night before, Peter had told you nearly everything about this mystery girl.

He gushed about how she was perfect. Beautiful. Everything he ever wanted.

And you felt happy for him.

But deep inside, you knew that whoever the girl he'd chosen was, you wouldn't approve. Because deep down, you wished that it would be you.

But you and Peter were friends. Since the sixth grade. If anything was ever gonna happen, it surely already would've.

And It wasn't gonna happen...

And when this girl said yes (it's Peter Parker, why wouldn't you?), you'd have to watch them hug, kiss, give inside jokes, and everything else couples did.

And because he was your best friend, you'd have to just sit there and be happy for him.

"Miss. [Y/L/N]. Come on, get to class!," your homeroom teacher yelled, standing by the door, holding it open for you to walk into the classroom.

"Must be late again...," you mumbled, looking around the halls for Peter one last time before making your way to the door.

"[Y/N]!"

You whipped your head to where the voice was coming from. It was Ned, running down the hallway.

"Yeah?"

"He's gonna do it!," he yelled. "He's about to ask!"

You turned towards your teacher. "Um, can I go to the restroom please?"

"Yeah sure," the teacher replied.

Once the door closed, you ran to meet Ned in the middle of the hall. "Ask? Wait, on a date or to actually be his girlfriend?"

"TO BE HIS GIIIIRRRRRRLLLLLLLFRIEND!!," he yelled, shaking you by your shoulders back and forth frantically.

'Wow,' you thought, eyes wide. 'Peter's actually getting some balls now.'

This was it. And you were gonna hold your tongue and watch it happen.

Ned looked over your shoulder as he practically gasped for air. "He's coming! He's coming!"

You pulled his arm a bit, attempting to pull him to towards the wall. "Don't we need to hide? They don't need an audience!"

Suddenly, using his strength against you, Ned turned you around quickly for you to come face to face with Peter.

"Where's the girl?," you said, looking around curiously. After you were met with silence, your curious smile went away. "Pete, where is she? Where's she at?"

"I-it's...um, [Y/N] it's always been-heh. It's you," he answered, looking into your eyes shyly.

Ned could've bursts from joy right then and there. You could feel his grip on your arms tighten out of excitement.

But you didn't care, because you were sky high yourself. "So all that, yesterday? That was all about-"

"Yeah. You."

You sighed, practically frozen. "Major fucking plot twist, dude.."

He tilted his head. "'Saw' level?"

"More like 'Shutter Island' level," you answered.

"Ooh, that was a big one," Ned added brightly.

You shifted slightly. "So, um, what was the line you chose?"

"Oh!," Peter laughed. "How could I forget? Uh-" He grabbed your hands gently. "Okay." Hey blew out a long breath. "Relaxing. No stuttering. And keeping eye contact," he reminded himself aloud before he slowly and tenderly recited the line he'd chosen.

"[Y/N], ahem, um, If I had a penny for every time I thought about you, I'd have exactly one cent.."

You frowned. "Hold on, I don't get it. That means-"

"-Because you never leave my mind, sweetheart."

Raising your eyebrows, your heart warmed and you covered your hand over your mouth. That was one you hadn't chosen. You'd never even heard it before. He'd found it himself.

Noticing your reaction, Peter tensed. "W-was that too much? I'm sorry if that was too much! The last thing I would want for it to be is too-"

"That was perfect, Peter."

He paused. "It wasn't too cheesy?"

"Just a little cheesy," you said, pinching your fingers together and giving a quick wink.

"On a scale of one to ten?," Ned asked.

"Ned!," Peter scolded, quickly sliding his finger over his neck as a warning. He then looked back to you with a timid smirk.

"So, ah, does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?"

"Hmm, I guess it does, huh?," you giggled and turned to walk away just as the bell rang for first period.

"Sooooo, how'd it go?," May asked, poking her head around the doorframe of Peter's room.

When Peter turned towards her from his bed, May knew the answer before he even uttered a word.

He was staring up at ceiling twiddling his fingers and grinning like a madman.

"She said yes, May..I-i didn't think she'd actually say yes!"

May smiled. "Well, that's good!"

"Our first date's tomorrow and- Oh God! I might need to find another line to tell her! I'll use the math one this time since she was so excited about acing that test earlier today. Oh my gosh what if- what if we kiss?! That'd be SO awesome! Right, May? Ooh man, what am I gonna wear?? Ned said to wear a tux. But it's just a movie date, not prom! Jeans and a t-shirt should work, right? What if I get there and I'm underdressed?! Why is this stuff so hard?!"

Aunt May watched as the young boy frantically vented to himself and shook her head. "God bless him..."

She looked down at his desk in the corner of his room. On it was a small journal. It was opened to a page labelled 'Pickup Lines To Tell [Y/N]'

Underneath it were lines separated into sections based on 'coolness,' 'nerdiness,' and 'sexiness.'

May furrowed her eyebrows. "Hon, you know pick-up lines never work, right?

"Well May," Peter sighed, leaning back into his bed. "There's a special girl out there that would beg to differ.."

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imaginetonyandbucky · 4 years ago

Text

The Buy In

Chapter 7: Just One Night

by @dracusfyre

Bucky waited nervously for Tony to show up, forcing himself not to pace but unable to stop tapping his fingers against his knee as he sat on the couch and ignored the show he’d put on the television. In the past few hours he’d come to terms with the difficult realization that he was going to have to go to his handlers and recuse himself from this assignment. Having already made the decision to protect Tony from the raid, he couldn’t trust himself to not tamper with the investigation further, which would violate everything he believed in. Removing himself would set the investigation back for months, maybe even longer – which he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about – but he couldn’t go through the motions for a mission he didn’t believe in. That was the whole reason he’d gotten out of the Army all those years ago. He knew he’d probably get busted down to traffic cop for his trouble, but it was the right thing to do.

All of which meant that Bucky had given himself permission to not be on duty during this dinner – he wasn’t going to try to glean more information about Tony’s operations or ask any probing questions so he couldn't make the conflict of interest any worse. Instead, Bucky could be nervous about the real matter at hand, which was that he was about to go on a date with a guy that Bucky liked way more than he should.

Not that it could go anywhere, Bucky told himself. He was still a cop, and Tony was still a crime lord, and he’d been lying to the man for months now. In any event, once he recused himself from the case, he would have to disappear from Stark’s life and reach completely; if he was being honest with himself, the smartest thing to do for his career would be to start looking for a new position outside of New York City right now, but he shied away from that thought for reasons he didn't want to think about too deeply.

But all of that was for future Bucky to worry about. For now, he was about to go out to dinner with a man who had been a runner up in People Magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year contest multiple years in a row and who still made it onto the list of New York’s most eligible bachelors despite his “alleged” criminal ties. A man who liked chocolate chip cookies and fed bits of chicken to stray cats when he thought no one was looking.

Bucky blew out a breath and realized that he hadn’t brushed his teeth, so he got up and was headed for the bathroom when the buzz of his phone against the coffee table made him jump.

Here! The message came from an unknown number, but it had to be Tony. Bucky quickly swished some mouthwash and grabbed his wallet as he stepped into his shoes.

As soon as he got into the car he realized he had been so busy having a third-of-life crisis that he hadn’t even thought about where to go for dinner. “Hey,” he managed, feeling all of the excruciating awkwardness of a first date. Tony was dressed a lot like he had been earlier, with a suit coat over a plain shirt, but tonight it was black on black with a gleam of silver at Tony’s wrist. Bucky did his best not to stare but judging from the way the corner of Tony’s mouth was curling up, he probably failed.

“Hey, yourself, Blue Eyes,” Tony said. He gave Bucky an appreciative glance, lingering on his freshly shaven face, before he pulled away from the curb, which went a long way towards making Bucky feel less awkward. “You like Italian?”

“What’s not to like?” Bucky said philosophically.

“Good man,” Tony said. “My mother was Italian, so when I say this place has the best Italian food in the city, I know what I’m talking about." The drive went by quickly despite city traffic; Bucky asked about his mother’s family and in return got a ton of entertaining stories about Tony’s summers on his mother’s estate, including getting locked outside naked when a girl’s parents came home unexpectedly early. Soon enough they drove past a restaurant with people waiting outside, and Tony pulled around into the alley behind the restaurant that had at least four NO PARKING signs posted with a varying number of exclamation points and underlining. When Tony saw Bucky looking at one, he shrugged. “I don’t count,” he said, which Bucky could believe. They went in the back door of the restaurant and were immediately greeted by a smiling waiter, who escorted them to a private room where a table was set for two. The table was dwarfed by the space; this was clearly a room meant for a wedding or birthday party, but Tony must have reserved it just for them. The waiter took their drink orders (“Your usual, Mr. Stark?”) and as he left pulled a heavy curtain across the entrance to the room and the noise of the rest from the restaurant was muted. The lighting in the room was dim, the table was small, and the intimate feeling was exacerbated by the candle on the table.

Bucky started to say something about it, then realized he probably shouldn’t call attention to how romantic everything looked for the sake of his own sanity. He grabbed his menu and studied it, aware that Tony, having probably already memorized the menu, was studying him from across the table. “Are you going to judge me based on what I order?” he asked, meeting Tony’s eyes from over the top of the menu.

“Yes.”

“So it’s a test.” Bucky narrowed his eyes at Tony, as if trying to read his thoughts. After a moment, he folded his menu. “What do you recommend?”

Tony’s smile was blinding. “The eggplant rollatini with the tartufo for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious.” The waiter came back for their orders, bringing with him a bottle of wine that was so old its label was brittle and peeling away from the glass. He poured Tony a small amount, who tasted it and gave his approval, and then poured them both glasses. Bucky promised himself he would stop at the one glass – getting drunk tonight would be so stupid – but after he tasted the wine his conviction wavered. Whatever type of wine this was, even Bucky could taste that it was the Ferrari of booze. How often was he going to be wined and dined like this, after all? A bottle had what, like two glasses of wine apiece? He would be fine.

“So,” Tony said after the waiter left, crossing his arms and resting his elbows on the table. His eyes glinted with amusement. “Let’s talk about your five-year plan.”

Trying to smother a smile, Bucky crossed his arms as well. “Let’s talk about where you think your organization is going to be in five years, and I can tell you how I think I’ll fit into that plan.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony said skeptically. Then he sat up straight, cleared his throat and became what Bucky could only call Corporate Tony, face serious and tone strictly professional. “Well, I think this organization is best described as embarking on a period of rapid expansion while simultaneously consolidating the gains that we’ve made in the past few years. In many of our key industries we are working on horizontal and vertical integration in order to capitalize on economies of scale. Proceeds are invested back into the capital base and workforce, with the remainder being banked against future shortfalls. At the most recent shareholder meeting, members voted to waive the first quarter’s dividends in order to acquire assets for novel business ventures, putting us in a strong position for next year despite moderate economic headwinds.”

As Tony spoke, Bucky’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher. “Impressive,” he said. “You came up with that on the fly?”

“Well, I’ve been spinning bullshit to board members since I was old enough to vote, so I’ve had a lot of practice,” Tony said dryly, taking a sip of wine.

“Do you really have shareholders?”

“Yep. So many shareholders, for so many different businesses.”

“Is that-” Bucky was about to ask if the shareholder thing was related to the mysterious buy-in, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t working tonight. “Never mind. Well, the truth is, I don’t know where I’ll be in five years. The past few months have made me rethink a lot of things, and I’m trying to figure out my next step.”

“Oh?” Tony leaned forward again, gaze intent. “Want to talk about it?”

Bucky had self-preservation enough to know that talking about his crisis of conscience with the reason for that crisis was a bad idea. “Not just yet,” Bucky said. “I think…I think I need to figure out what I want, first.”

“Yeah, that’s usually a good first step.” Tony opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he closed it and took a sip of wine. “What would you like to talk about instead?”

The conversation paused as the server brought out an appetizer (“Courtesy of the Chef, he’s trying a new recipe”), the service amazingly fast given the crowd that Bucky knew was on the other side of the curtain. Guess that was one of the perks of dining with the Tony Stark.

“Do you still have time to invent?” Bucky asked when they were alone again, scooping some of the appetizer onto his plate. Looked like calamari. “Like robots and stuff?”

Bucky could tell that he’d caught Tony by surprise with the question. “Someone’s been looking me up on the internet,” Tony accused with a smile, pointing his fork at Bucky.

If Bucky was a lesser man, he would have blushed – googling Tony Stark on his phone before going to sleep had become a guilty habit, from the early articles about him when his parents were alive to his college exploits to the frequent scandals of his twenties. Between all those, however, were periodic articles in scholarly journals attributed to “T.E. Stark” and more substantial think pieces in popular science magazines. “I like knowing who I’m working for,” Bucky said defensively, feeling the back of his neck get hot.

“Uh-huh. I do still tinker in my spare time, what I have of it,” Tony said. “Right now I’m working mostly in artificial intelligence. I have one, his name is JARVIS, that I’ve been tinkering with since college. I think machine learning algorithms are fascinating.”

“I read up about some AI initiatives when I was in the Army,” Bucky said. “For targeting and whatnot.” He had read even more about it once he became a cop, and he wasn’t at all enthused with the projects he’d heard about. “What do you do with it? Him,” he corrected.

“JARVIS helps me with work,” Tony said vaguely, fidgeting with his silverware before spearing a piece of calamari. “I got into AI when Stark Industries got awarded a cybersecurity contract. I kind of ran with it after we fulfilled the contract and JARVIS was the result."

Bucky almost dropped his fork when he got hit with a startling suspicion. Helps me with work. Was Tony’s mysterious accountant, that no one had ever seen or spoken to, that was able to hide his money from every regulatory body in the US government, an AI? The implications were staggering, not just for the case but for the tech industry as a whole. Bucky covered for his stunned silence by eating, washing down the food he was barely tasting with expensive wine. The irony was not lost on him that he just had the biggest scoop of the operation so far, hours after he’d decided that he was quitting the case.

“So how about you? What do you do in your free time?” Tony asked, topping off their glasses.

Bucky stared at him across the table, brain blanking. It took so long for his brain to shift gears from thinking about JARVIS to trying to think of what he did in his spare time that Tony started to give him a funny look. “Uh, nothing special,” Bucky said after a minute. Googling his boss certainly wasn’t a hobby, after all. “After spending so much time in military cafeterias, I’ve been trying to get better at cooking. I work out, it’s a good release. Read. Visit museums when I can. One of my friends is trying to get me into indy games, but we can't play often.”

“That sounds nice. Gotta maintain that work-life balance, right?” Tony said. “Smart.” There was a soft chime and Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket. Bucky tensed; he’d forgotten about the raid until he saw Tony’s phone, having turned off his own ringer so that his notifications wouldn’t drive him crazy. He watched Tony’s face warily, wondering if the chime was related to the raid. Surely there would be a phone call, though? From his lawyer, or his security at the garage? But whatever the notification was, Tony just scanned it briefly and put his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry,” he apologized. “The boss is always on the job.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said, smiling faintly, but the rhythm of the evening had been thrown off; thankfully their food came out and Tony got them back on track by asking about Bucky’s time in the Army, which got him on a roll of telling funny stories about the stupid things he’d seen as a sergeant. Turns out Rhodes, Tony’s right hand man, had been in the Air Force and Tony threatened to get him on the phone to defend himself against Bucky’s digs against the “chair force.” Before he knew it, dessert had come and gone, the bottle of wine was empty and their glasses had been replaced with tiny cups of espresso. The sound on the other side of the curtain to the rest of the restaurant had died down considerably, and the check had been dropped off so subtly that Bucky hadn’t even noticed it until Tony picked it up and put a healthy stack of bills in it.

“Want to go for a walk?” Bucky said impulsively, not quite ready for the date that shouldn’t be a date to end.

“Can’t,” Tony said regretfully. “No long walks for me anymore, not in the city at least.”

“Right.” Given the number of enemies Tony had, it was risky enough for him to be out without more protection than just Bucky without parading himself up and down sidewalks. “Guess its time to go home, then.”

“I could take you home, yes.” Tony said slowly, lining up the silverware in what Bucky realized was a show of nerves. After a moment he pushed them aside and met Bucky’s eyes across the table. “Or…”

Bucky’s heart leapt. “Or?”

“Or we could do something that we shouldn’t.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his lungs. There was a hopeful and hungry look in Tony’s eyes that made Bucky flush hot and then cold. It would be such a mad, bad idea to go to bed with Tony Stark; if he got caught, he’d go down in NYPD as the casebook example for how to fuck up an undercover assignment. On the other hand, tomorrow he would be requesting reassignment and would never see Tony again, so there would be just this one night. He could have that, right? Just one night for himself, this one selfish thing he could have before he left for good?

“Okay,” Bucky said. His heart was racing and he suspected if he didn’t have his hands wrapped around his empty espresso cup they would be shaking. “Tony, would you like to have another drink with me at my place?”

“I’d love to,” Tony said with a smile.

#Tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron #no powers au

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domesticated-feral · 4 years ago

Text

5 times Isaac tried asking Scott out on a date and the 1 time he didn’t have to || Scisaac Week 2020

A 5+1 trope fanfic, written by yours truly, Tyler. Rating: General WC: 2412

You can also read it on my AO3

Summary:

Today is the day, Isaac will ask Scott out, nothing can absolutely go wrong, right?

Sunday

“So today is the day?” Erica said, jumping up to sit on the kitchen island.

“Yeah, I’m going to ask him today,” Isaac said, “I also found out his coffee order, so I can give him it while I ask.”

“He’ll say yes,” Erica said, taking an apple from the bowl of fruits.

“I hope he does-” he glances at the clock- “oh, it’s almost time, see you later, Erica.”

“You better spill the beans later, Lahey!” Erica shouted as Isaac closed the door.

Isaac runs to the coffee shop, hoping Scott would be coming on time and not a second early or late.

He enters the shop and scans the room for the half Latino boy. So far, his plan was going to plan. Isaac strolls up to the counter and orders Scott’s order that he had byhearted and his usual order. He pays and goes ahead to wait at the pick-up line.

As he takes the two coffees and turns around, he is met with Stiles.

“Stiles, uh, good morning?” Isaac said.

“You don’t usually come here,” Stiles said, cutting to the chase, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just you know, getting coffee for Scott, I was going to ask him something,” Isaac said, walking with Stiles to a table.

Isaac didn’t notice the small step and he stumbled to the floor, accidentally throwing the coffee in front of him. He hears someone groan in pain from the hot coffee and he looks up from the floor to find that he accidentally threw the two coffees in Scott’s direction.

“Oh no, Scott, I’m so sorry,” Isaac said quickly getting up from the ground.

Everyone in the store was staring, Isaac stood staring at the mess and Scott had coffee all over his jeans and shirt, Stiles just stood, speechless.

“It’s- It’s alright, you fell, you didn’t mean to douse me in coffee,” Scott said, “I should go get cleaned, these stains don’t get out easily if they dry.”

“I’m sorry, I completely ruined your shirt,” Isaac apologized again.

“Isaac, it’s fine, also,” Scott said, walking closer to Issac, “what was that you wanted to ask me?”

“Uh, nothing, I didn’t have anything to ask you,” Isaac said, his brain short-circuiting to ‘get-the-hell-out-of-there-mode’, “I have to go, I’m sorry, again, really. I am.”

Isaac quickly walked out of the shop and didn’t stop walking until he was in the loft. Erica was on the couch, lying down as she scrolled on her phone.

“So, whatever that went down did not go down to plan,” Erica said, looking up at Isaac sensing the huge amount of embarrassment and discontent from Isaac.

“I spilled coffee and I walked out of the shop like a bloody idiot!” Isaac said, pacing around the loft, fidgeting with his hands.

“Spilled coffee? I don’t see a stain on you?” Erica questioned.

“Not me, I spilled coffee on Scott, two hot coffee spilled all over him when I tripped!” Isaac ranted.

“Sucks to be you, I guess,” Erica said, going back to scrolling on her phone.

Isaac huffed and went to his room.

Monday

Isaac pondered up a way to ask Scott again. A little coffee mishap shouldn’t get in the way of the pursuit of his crush. Waking up to a disgruntled Boyd making pancakes for Erica at 4 am gave him the best idea.

As the sun rose up and got warmer, he went to Scott’s house as he still was living with his mom until the paperwork for the apartment would be complete.

He gets in with the spare key to the back door and started cooking up pancakes. This time, there was nothing to spill and surely nothing could go wrong.

He made 9 pancakes and used chocolate chips to spell ‘D A T E W / M E ?’ on the pancakes, a letter on each of the pancakes. He sets them on the table and turns around to make two milkshakes for him and Scott.

Melissa walks into the room, ready for work.

“Hey, Sco-” Melissa stopped, realizing it was Isaac, “Isaac, you’re here early, how did you get in?”

“Back door,” Isaac said, concentrating on making the milkshakes.

“Ooo, pancakes! Fine if I take one?” Melissa asked.

Isaac subconsciously nodded and Melissa takes three and heads off to work. He finishes up the milkshakes and turns around to see that the previous ‘Date W/Me?’ pancakes now spell, ‘A T E W E ?’

He couldn’t do anything but stare at the pancakes as he heard Scott come down the stairs.

“Morning, Isaac, whatcha got there?” Scott said.

“Uhhh,” Isaac stammered.

“Ooo, pancakes and milkshakes, thanks!” Scott said taking one pancake and biting into it.

Scott looks up at Isaac who looked like he was going through a software update, “you alright?”

“Just peachy, I’m going to go now,” Isaac said as he quickly left the house, with another failed attempt under his belt.

Back at the loft, Isaac told Erica and Boyd what happened and all they did was laugh.

“Atewe? ATEWE?” Erica howled through her laughs.

“Yep, that’s what it said, I’m just going to hide in my room now,” Isaac said.

Even if Isaac closed the door to his room, he still heard Erica’s howls of laughs echoing through the hallways from the living room.

Tuesday

Today was going to be different, Isaac knew it. He was going to walk over to Scott’s house and just say it straight to his face. Nothing could ever go wrong with words and Tuesdays were his lucky days. It was a new day and Isaac psyched himself up.

“So, Scott’s petsitting Fluffy today,” Erica said at the breakfast table.

“Fluffy?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, Stiles’ pet, fluffy,” Boyd said.

‘Huh, must be a dog like Prada or something,’ Isaac thought, ‘a dog can’t get in the way of my plan, they can’t. They’re a dog!’

“Oh,” Isaac mumbled.

After breakfast, he marched up to Scott’s house and Stiles was on the driveway, starting his jeep up.

“Hey Isaac, bye Isaac!” he said, poking his head out his jeep as he drove off the driveway.

Isaac nodded and continued his way up and into Scott’s house.

“Ok, Scott, I have been wanting to ask you this ever since Sunday, well actually ever since ever and-” Isaac stopped as he looked up to Scott.

“Yes?” Scott said, putting what Isaac assumed was fluffy down in its cage.

“Is that fluffy?” Isaac gasped.

“Yeah, you don’t have anything against boas, right?” Scott said.

“He named his boa constrictor, fluffy?” Isaac said, feeling uneasy being this close to his phobia.

“Yes, so, what is that you wanted to tell me?” Scott asked.

“N-nothing, I have to go do something with Boyd,” Isaac said, walking out the door.

“You didn’t tell me fluffy was a boa!” Isaac screamed as soon as he entered the loft.

Erica and Boyd snickered.

“You’re scared of snakes, why would I tell you?” Erica said.

“Boyd! Why are you siding with her shenanigans?!” Isaac asked.

“It’s hilarious!” Boyd said through fits of giggles.

“You guys are the worst!” Isaac sighed.

“Love you too, babe!” Erica said, sending kisses in the air for fun.

Isaac rolled his eyes and went to shake his mind off with a good nature document.

Wednesday

It’s a cloudy day, but if it’s expressed in nature, it’s not hard to miss right? He walks up to the McCall household once again and Melissa was inside.

“Oh, hey Isaac, Scott’s gone to get groceries, he’ll be back in a while,” Melissa said.

“Good, I’m going to borrow your front lawn and the garden pebbles, if that’s okay with you?” Isaac said.

“That’s fine with me, not that I use either of them often,” Melissa replied.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, heading back outside.

Using the garden pebbles, he wrote out once again, ‘Date w/me?’ on the front lawn. It wasn’t nature-nature, but grass and stones are pretty nature-y.

As Scott rolls up in the car with the groceries, Isaac straightened himself up and got ready.

“Oh, Isaac, um, hi again?” Scott said, getting out of the car and opening the trunk.

“Once you put the groceries in, could you step out here?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Scott said, holding all the bags and heading inside.

As he waited outside, the cloudy day quickly became thunderous in a second. The hard rain and wind blew away the rocks, deforming his hard work and all he could do was run inside the house.

Isaac internally groaned as it was yet another failed attempt. He didn’t say anything to Scott while he was there, he was too agitated to speak.

When the rain thinned out, he threaded back to his loft, and his face explained everything to Erica and Boyd.

Thursday

The alarm blared shaking Isaac awake from his dream, he slams it to shut it off, “Scott was about to kiss me and you wake me the fuck up?” he gruffed.

He got up and ate breakfast, three days in a row, his plans have been foiled. Maybe it was time to ask the internet for a foolproof way.

“Roses, balloons, and park at sunset, is that a foolproof way to ask someone on a date?” Isaac asked for the opinion of his packmate.

“That’s basically a date isn’t it?” Boyd said.

“Scott isn’t that oblivious, so yeah, you have my blessing, child,” Erica said, slapping the back of Isaac’s head as she walked in the kitchen.

“Ow, Erica!” Isaac said, touching the back of his head.

“Oh, I just love it when my name is said in vain!” Erica said, sliding up onto the kitchen island.

“You’re such an idiot,” Isaac muttered.

“Hey, at least I’m Boyd’s, he loves his idiot right?” Erica batted her eyes at Boyd who grinned and nodded in return.

It was nearing sunset, Boyd was at the park holding his balloon and flower while Isaac made Scott ride with him to the park.

They get off and Boyd hands Isaac the flower and balloon and Scott had a mix of certainty and confusion on his face.

“Scott, please let this not get foiled like the past few days. All I’ve been wanting to say is that-”

Isaac stopped seeing Scott’s eye grow wide and his jaw drop.

“Scott? You okay?” Isaac asked.

“My bike!” Scott said, after squinting his eyes to whatever was behind Isaac.

He takes off as Isaac turns around and sees Scott’s motorcycle that they came on being towed.

Boyd walks closer to Isaac and they watch Scott retrieve the bike.

“He’s oblivious to a T,” Boyd said.

Isaac sighs and walks away, his head hanging low, as he held the rose and balloon.

Friday

“I swear, I am going to rip my hair out from this!” Stiles said to Scott.

“From what?” Scott asked.

“You and Isaac, literally, are you brain dead? Are you?!” Stiles said.

“Stiles, what do you mean? What are you talking about?” Scott asked.

“You really have no idea, don’t you,” Stiles said, not really asking for an answer.

“What?” Scott asked.

“You love Isaac and Issac loves you too, he’s been trying to ask you out all week! Ever since Sunday!” Stiles said, “but you, my best friend, Scott, Scottie, the True Alpha, have been completely oblivious to his attempts!”

“He likes me?” Scott gasped.

“YES!” Stiles shouted, “and Boyd called me today, he said that Isaac hadn’t come out of his room today.”

“Oh, it’s my fault isn’t it?” Scott said, feeling guilty.

“Absolutely, now go, bring him to the lookout point in the preserve,” Stiles said, quickly running out the room.

Scott goes out on to his bike and rides to the loft. He is met with a grumpy Derek who opened the door.

“Derek, grumpy as usual,” Scott said, giving a small smile.

“You caused this,” Derek muttered but let Scott in.

Scott walks in and goes to Isaac’s room. It was dark but with the light coming in from the hallway, he saw the boy wrapped in blankets watching national geographic documents.

“Go away, Scott,” Issac uttered.

“No, I came here to ask you something,” Scott said, going closer to Isaac.

“What?” Isaac asked.

“Would you, Isaac Lahey want to go on a date with me?” Scott asked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past 5 days,” Isaac said.

“I know, and I’ve been an idiot by being so blunt to your attempts,” Scott said, “I’m sorry.”

“I would actually love to go on that date with you, isn’t it too late though? It’s 6 in the evening,” Isaac asked.

“It’s never too late if I get to spend time with you,” Scott said, inching closer to Isaac who sat upon his bed, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Then kiss me,” Isaac murmured, their lips brushing against each other.

Scott cups Isaac’s face as their lips moved in sync. Scott softly sucked on Isaac’s bottom lip, and Isaac shuddered from the goosebumps going up against his spine. He had been intensely craving Scott’s touch and know that he was finally getting it, his heart fluttered and he felt whole.

Scott and Isaac move away as they huffed breathlessly. Scott had a smile curling on his face and Isaac couldn’t help but imitate it but 10 times bigger.

“C’mon, we gotta go to that date,” Scott said, getting up the bed and holding a hand out for Isaac.

Isaac gladly holds Scott’s hand and he stands up from his bed. Scott gave Isaac some time to change and he comes out to go on the late evening date with Scott.

Erica, Boyd, and Derek watched the two lovers head out, they were finally satisfied that it was worked out.

Scott and Isaac ride to the lookout point where Stiles had set up the mood with a picnic. Candles, sandwiches, and the whole nine yards with romance.

“Wow, this is nice,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, it is,” Scott said, as he held Isaac’s hand and walked with him to the picnic.

They sit down, share sandwiches, and stare at the sunset whilst cuddling in each other’s arms.

“Scott?” Isaac said, looking up at him.

“Hm?” Scott hummed, making eye contact as he stroked the boy’s blonde locks.

“I love you, more than it can be measured,” Isaac said.

“I love you too, Isaac, I love you a lot,” Scott replied, pressing a small kiss on Isaac’s forehead.

#scisaacweek2020 #scott mccall #isaac lahey #scisaac #myfic

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notasiren21 · 5 years ago

Note

#40 from the prompt list please and thank you!!!

I’m so sorry this took so long!!!

Someone You Loved

Rating: Mature for some themes

Pairing: fuckin’ Lukanette boi

Word count: 4,665

Prompt: (40) “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

Description:

Well, Luka sings a song and I pissed @macaknight off with this when I asked her to beta read the start of it. It helps if you listen to the song in the story, Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. Enjoy lmao

She was around by his side long enough to engrave the little things into his mind.

He knew how it felt to have the soft strands of midnight blues through his fingers as he tangled them in her hair. To have her legs settle on either side of his as he trailed his hand up her small back and waist under her soft cotton shirts. The cheeky grin he grew to love baring up at him when his arms bracketed with her in between he picked her up at home.

How he didn't care for sweets but loved the way blueberry muffins tasted on her tongue and the taste of her mixed with raspberry jelly when it leaked from the corner of her pouty lips.

How the Liberty swayed under his feet against the small currents the wind brought on as they danced in the rain. The feel of his converse bracing both their weights as her drenched skirt blew in harsh waves between them. The first lightning strike reflecting off an anchor necklace he gave her on their first date.

When she kissed his cheek when he started humming absently with frustration as he tried to figure out the melody he wrote. Her small fingers pulling the pencil out of his death grip as she lent her forehead against his to calm him and decipher the jumbled notes he had in his head.

The way her face lit up when he played it back to her.

The way her face fell when she told him she loved him but they couldn't be together.

How her arms stiffly pulled away from his hug and the red of her eyes she showed up with.

How the airy taste of salt from the water didn't compare to the salt of his tears that trailed to his lips as he grounded the palm of his hands to his eyes roughy as sobs racked through his body when he collapsed to the wood of the ship.

The way it left him numb with hurt and he became too compliant with his happenings, too accepting.

Defeated.

Music was harder to hear and enjoy, he couldn't compose anything more than a haunting melody that brought any stranger to tears.

He wasn't sure he even felt the burn to his tongue when he drank his hot coffee as soon as it was handed to him. Or the rough jerk of his shoulder to turn him around as his guitar bounced off his back.

"Hey man, you look worse for wear." Théo, a former classmate of his that now ran the coffee shop, spoke as he eyed him critically. Luka shifted his thick blacks squared rimmed sunglasses up higher to cover his dark circles better. "I'd say it's great to see you, but..."

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He offered the excuse at the ready, hating how well lying came with sadness.

“Ah, life of a famous rockstar.” Théo teased with a smirk. “No wondering you’re wearing a hat like that backwards to cover your hair and shades for those ‘oh so sexy’ blue eyes of yours.”

“Not famous,” Luka cringed at Théo’s words. “Just well known on the internet I guess.”

“Sorry for overplaying your popular cover videos man.” His old school mate laughed.

"It's fine. What's up?" He forced a smile that came across as genuine despite what he felt.

Théo crossed his arms and made a jerk with his head in the direction of the shop across the street, "New place has been stealing some of our loyal customers." Luka scratched under the brim of his black baseball cap he had on backwards as he followed the movement. "Lunch hour is about to hit and you know much we moved to stop by this part of town for break."

"Yeah, your aunt made good scones." He supplied.

He grunted in response, "Yeah. Well, girls frequent here more from school, and they keep going there," he roughly jerked his chin to the place again, "Just because there's an older guy who takes their order who is attractive, I guess. Or so I'm told."

Luka blinked at the shop before turning to his old friend, "What do you need from me then?"

"Observant as always, Couffaine." He snorted with a shake of his head. "I wanted to see if you -an attractive older guy- would give a small performance just as the girls come."

"What? Why?"

"Are you dense? With your face and body, and that 'sinful voice' of yours the girls cooed about back then and from your YouTube covers, I'm guaranteed to bring in more customers for today."

Luka tossed his half full coffee cup to the trash next to him. His own arms crossing as he wished he was in his cabin instead, laying on his bed while he stared up at the ceiling and trying to not feel the clench of his arm when he smelled Marinette's hibiscus shampoo and berry scented perfume on his pillows.

"I don't know."

His friend clasped onto his shoulder again, "Please man, you can keep 40% of the money you help bring in, I don't care. That shop is a dick and acting like we're not its competition."

“Man, you really don’t have to, I’ll just take a free coffee if you really need this.” Anything seemed better than just wallowing at home at this point, despite the incredible want to do so that swelled within him as he stood on the block he and Ladybug often frequented to patrol. “I mean it.”

Théo smiled, guiding him to a spot that he started clearing out near the cafe’s short fence that caged the outdoor tables and chairs.

“That’s okay, I feel bad to make you work without pay.” He straightened his back that had been bent forwards as he pushed tables, “Consider it repayment for that time you paid for my lunch.”

Luka stopped, “Lunch? When did I-,” he grunted. “Théo, that was four years ago.”

“Well, last Saturday had me thinking about all my debts and regrets when I thought I was gonna die. You came up.”

He flinched at mention of Saturday.

Saturday, the final fight against Hawkmoth who showed up in person with a struggling Mayura and an akumatized sentimonster of Lila. The combination of their powers as well as the wickedness that resided in the girl proving to be a difficult fight for them all when Ladybug and Chat pulled the entire team in.

Including a Chloé Bourgeois who was more than ready to help.

He could’ve sworn he heard Marinette screaming his name in worry when Hawkmoth closed in on him and hit into his side with his cane full force. But that was ridiculous. Because Marinette was Ladybug and Ladybug was Marinette. And Marinette wanted nothing to do with Luka since they had broken up without reason beyond her excuse of not being able to be with him.

He was a bit bitter about the whole ordeal.

Okay, he was more so lovesick and depressed, but his negative energy still stood.

“Yeah,” he flinched again when he heard his voice crack and he thumbed his bracelet -once silver, now a metallic black to hide better, “At least they finally caught Hawkmoth for good.”

“No kidding, now we can just focus on the heroes and the gossip your little girlfriend’s bestie posts.”

A knife. Through his heart. Twisting and gutting.

“Gossip?” He chose the safer option of the sentence, ignoring the onslaught of pitying questions and half-assed supportive promises that correcting Théo would bring.

“Yeah, like how that Ryuuko dragon girl and Chat are definitely dating and that Viperion and Ladybug totally have the hots for one another and the soft looks they give during patrols.”

A chainsaw. Just shredding his heart to pieces.

Luka Couffaine once thought he was a smart kid who made the right decisions.

How wrong he had been.

“Right.” He bit out, gripping the strap of his guitar case and scratching his baseball cap.

Théo shot up and loudly clapped with a whoop, “There we go! Now, I should grab the mic stand from open mic nights and just plug that in and some speakers, then we’ll be good to go.” Maybe Luka should’ve just left. “I’ll get ‘er done in five minutes, tops.”

Luka only nodded, watching as he ran around and set things up, then proudly presented Luka with the lone table he left set up to sit on.

He eyed his skeptically behind his sunglasses before hopping up, testing his weight on the surface before he crossed one ankle across his thigh and took his guitar from Théo who unzipped it for him. Théo pushed the mic stand closer to Luka and adjusted when he peered up at him.

“What do you want me to sing?”

His old friend shrugged with an easy smile, “Anything that comes to mind and draws that big crowd of hungry girls over.” Luka bobbed his head in response and tuned his acoustic guitar as Théo began backing up to inside the store and cheered, “Show off that sinful voice of yours, man! Woo!”

He let out a short chuckle and emptied his mind completely as he shut down, letting his fingers strum a few notes to a song that he began to resonate deeply with.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,” he closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being so open with his feelings as they poured out of him through a popular song. “This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.”

He could see Théo looking at him carefully when he opened before squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He hated that look of pity, but he already started singing this song and he knew he would have to see it through given that the customers at the shop had already turned their attention to him.

“I need somebody to heal

Somebody to know

Somebody to have

Somebody to hold,”

Did he growl at the end of that last line? He wasn’t sure but the audience seemed moved by it and how he didn’t go weak on the verbs. Maybe he could please someone for once by just following with what worked for him.

“It's easy to say

But it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.”

He thought he saw the familiar flash of black with red accents that everyone knew as Ladybug’s new suit for a second up on the rooftops. The rooftops that she danced with Viperion on and let her laugh rang over the quiet town under the stars. He wasn’t sure if he was just hopelessly imagining her or if she was there, but he felt the pain bite all at once and his voice became wobbly in a way that the crowd seemed touched by. You’re kidding me.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Weak. He felt weak and it wasn’t the kind where he felt weak at the knees like when Marinette smiled up at him or her nose scrunched in thought.

He always thought he could be emotionally strong to handle whatever came his way. He was so sure of it.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to,” Guess he was weak for Marinette in every way possible after all, “This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you.

“Now, I need somebody to know

Somebody to heal

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels

It's easy to say but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape.”

There was no blame to place, he knew that. It didn’t make it better or let him throw his anger at her to get it out, but he couldn’t keep punishing himself either.

He felt his eyes sting, shutting them as one tear slipped through and feeling grateful for both his dark shades and the sun beating down on his face past the patio table umbrella, hiding the evidence of his heartbreak.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down,”

Who was he kidding? The heartbreak was the clearest part about him as he let the rough notes chip away at his throat and the growls making his voice artistically raw that he would have to worry about later.

His heart stopped painfully when he remembered the way Marinette’s face flushed all smitten like with a wondering look when Luka growled while singing and shot her winks, knowing how flustered it made her to see her calm and collective boyfriend with a soft and careful voice sounding so tortured for certain songs.

“And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.

How that came back to bite him in the ass.

He glanced up to blink away the tears and avoid the view of the large growing audience he couldn’t see from the sun.

He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of black and flecks of red again.

Fingers strummed harder and with more purpose and he let his soft voice fall back as the pain ripped through him and out in his voice.

“And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms

I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around.”

Fuck. He missed her. He missed her a fuck ton and wanted to hold her again and hear her whisper his nicknames of “Love”, “baby”, “handsome”, “Vipey”, whatever the hell she wanted to call him.

Even his damn name would be enough to sedate him for a year.

“For now the day bleeds

Into nightfall”

Dancing with her into the beginnings of a bad storm on the deck of the Liberty as they belted Cheap Thrills amist her giggles and his laughs he choked down to keep her beautiful voice going with his.

“And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Being curled up on her living room couch the next day with her cuddled into his side. Both sick with the cold, but unable to wipe the weak grins from their faces as Sabine amusingly disapproved of their actions the night before.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug”

Their first kiss when she got flustered at their first date and told him she wouldn’t read too much into it despite wanting to, and him effectively shutting her up for the first time ever with the crash of his lips to hers and hands tilting her head up to meet him in reassurance.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

The first time she called him her boyfriend and the pleased giggle she let out when he gave a startled and flustered noise, his snack flying out of the package he ripped open before he blinked and asked her to repeat what she said as a toothy grin broke his shocked face.

“But now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Did a camera just flash at him? Hard to tell with the sun in his eyes and the dark lenses of his shades. He couldn’t find himself to care either.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

He tried not to think about the fact that he forced himself to change his phone backgrounds to black, tried not to think if she deleted her phone screens of them napping together or the wallpaper of them dancing in the rain Juleka got of them as Luka dipped her over the edge of the stage they always practiced on.

The complete trust in her eyes and smile always made him melt in that picture. Her hands loosely holding her arms as her head titled back in a deep bellied laugh while he held onto her waist tightly with one arm and had the other behind him, the biggest smile that was only found on his face when Marinette was around.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Luka still fucking loved her more than anything.

His drive, his inspiration, his happiness and safe space. His melody that always rang loudly in his ears.

Now it sounded just as it did when they were younger.

The numbness took over as he looked up, face contorted into a forced happy expression as he dipped his head in gratitude to see the very big crowd that gathered and was clapping with tears in their eyes. He excused himself to find Théo who ignored how exposed the song made his old friend, conversing with him briefly as he counted the amount of customers before Luka left and promised to give him the 40% the next visit he came and a free coffee.

He put up his guitar, tugging the case back over his shoulder as he headed back to the Liberty and tossed the faux leather casing to the bed, tossing his sunglasses to the the bed as well before heading to the deck and off to take a lap to clear his break up riddled mind.

The third block was a close achievement, before he felt the petite body rush into him and the all too familiar wrap of small and strong legs wrap about his waist with a black latex suit arm winding around his neck. He subconsciously fell back into habit as one of his own dropped to hold under her thighs and one around her own waist as black fielded his vision.

He barely got a curse out before the all too telling sound of a spiritually powered string to the famous yo-yo pinned against restraint and shot them upwards, his unmasked face burying itself in the crook of her neck from the force rush of air to his eyes.

His chest tightened to the smell of hibiscus flowers and berries, clutching her tighter for the first time in a long while. Half aware he shifted her higher against him to have her bring them closer.

Well fuck if he wasn’t the most touch starved and needy ex ever.

The familiar sound of a specific metal railing being bounded by the yo-yo was the only warning he got before the touched surface with his feet and she loosened her grip.

He barely heard the words of her detransformation before he could see the flash of pink through black and pulled back from her neck.

Terror shook through him, and his hands and body trembled against her as he couldn’t force himself to look up. Staring intently at the silver anchor necklace he gave her, bounded in a rope of small teal jewels.

Luka couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t look away from the necklace she still wore. He couldn’t let her go or put her down either.

“Breathe love,” her quiet voice spoke, soft and hesitant, breaking Luka as he dropped them to his knees and brought her closer than before.

An audible sob he hadn’t heard since she walked away from him escaped his lips and heaved for air as his chin rested over her head and he looked frantically in front of him. At her balcony, the plants that littered the space and the wood paneling they rested on, the little ladybug statue he bought her as a cute joke.

Seeing none of it through blurry eyes, forcing himself to drop his head to her shoulder as she quaked with tears and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He couldn’t get words out as he just grounded his face into her. “I thought I was protecting you, I didn’t realize how wrong I was.”

She pulled his face up, ceruleans magnified as his pupils dilated to the sight of her in front of him once again and the tips of his ears flaring just by her touch for the first time in forever. She caught a steam of tears with her thumb, giving him a tight smile.

“My miraculous gave me the intuition that Hawkmoth would make his final move.” She paused for a second, closing her eyes and she breathed deeply. “I thought for sure I would die when he did. Either by his winning, or ours but I would end up a casualty or sacrifice. You guys weren’t even supposed to be there, but Adrien insisted for backup and I just...”

“You left me because you thought you were going to be killed?” Voice gravelly and sore from the coffee shop, he pressed on, fingers twitching at her back. “Why didn’t you tell me? Even if you had to strap me down just to bench me from the fight, you should’ve told me.”

“You’re right,” she rushed. “Absolutely right, and it was pure hell to leave to that day or say what I did. I’ve never been more miserable with my life than I’ve been since we’ve broke up. I hate it, I hate being away from you so much, Luka.”

“Be mine again.”

“What?” She blinked, choking on air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into her touch when she held his face. “I don’t, I don’t fucking care if I’m being selfish anymore. It’s so hard not to be when it comes to you, Marinette. All these small details engraved to my mind, committed to memory and nothing to do with it.

“I keep leaving hoodies I casually wear on my amp for you to take, I keep putting that soft blanket you’re obsessed with folded on the edge of my bed for you to yank off and curl into as soon as you step into my room.” He forced his eyes not to open as he kept going, following the rhythm she provided and he struggled to find words for. “The minute I wake up, before I even open my eyes to see for the first time of the day, my phone is already in my hand with your contact open and a good morning text at the ready for you. Even good night texts when I reset my alarms. I keep leaving your spot open on my bed in case you visit while I’m asleep. Your favorite part on the couch for you. The last cherry popsicle of the package, and the cookie dough ice cream I bought out of habit are still in the freezer waiting for you to find them.

“I’m fucking broken without you.” He rasped, ceruleans meeting baby blues, “I’m missing you emotionally, figuratively, mentally, physically. How the hell am I supposed to be okay when you’ve become such a big part of me? When you’re my literal other half?”

She nudged his button nose with her small one, “I,” she gave a dark laugh that he felt in his core. “I keep airing out my room whenever my sewing machine leaves behind that electrical smell your nose scrunches at so much.” She giggled when she felt him do it at the mention of the scent. “I let the popcorn cook for half a minute longer to get it a little burnt like how you like. I sleep in your hoodies to leave behind the smell of my perfume and shampoo the way you said you like your hoodies to smell when I give them back. I play with my necklace when I grow nervous and can’t talk to you. I can’t go more than five hours without hovering over your contact name or looking at our pictures.”

He sat back on his knees, letting her adjust herself out of habit and moving her hair away from her face. The smile he gave was tight but reassuring.

“I missed you, doll.”

“I missed you too, Luka.” She paused for a second, “Hey,” she started cautiously.

“Hm,”

“Luka, you know I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you, right?”

The glint that quickly came to his eyes didn’t waver like his abused voice did, “I kinda figured from all the times you’ve blushed and stuttered. The times you tripped when I caught you off guard with a flirtatious comment or wink. And the times you kissed me like it was the end of the world.”

He looked up to see her set a false murderous glare above him as he ran his thumb over the teal gems in the rope around the anchor of her necklace, a smirk he hadn’t felt making way to his face as one of his naturally slightly pointer canines became visible to express his pure happiness.

“I forgot how much of a jerk you could be,” she huffed, looking away and sniffing.

“I’m sorry, doll.” He made her look at him, eyes still shining with unshed tears as the stared into hers. His grin was pure radiance, “I love you.”

She let him pull her down to a kiss, feeling those soft pouty lips he loved so much back on his again. “I know,” she replied between kisses, causing him to huff and pull away with his own pout. She held alone his jawline, “I’m kidding, kinda. But, I love you too.”

Her giggle when he let out a happy and short hum was pure music to his ears as her melody finally fell back into the correct time signature and key. Even as he parted with a pant and hugged her close, stroking her hair.

“Just, don’t leave me in the dark again.” He started, seeing her phone that fell out of her back pocket light up with a text from Alya.

Alya: So did you kiss and makeup, or not? I have Nino on the edge of his seat.

Alya: no really, he keeps asking and refuses to do ANYTHING until he finds out.

Alya: for fuck’s sake, answer and let me get laid

He hid his smile in her shoulder from the texts and the fact that she never changed her screens from them. Letting him see her cheek smushed up against his chest and her arm lazily thrown around his waist while his held her close.

“Never, not again. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice like I once was.” He snorted at the reference to her old crush on Adrien years ago. “But we do have something to talk about.”

He pulled back, eyeing her cautiously. “Did I do something?”

“Yes,” his heart fell and he was ready to beg for her forgiveness. “You know how many girls have your picture now? Videos of you singing a song in such a beautifully tortured way with those growls, and the rough notes and the, stop laughing Couffaine!”

“I’m sorry,” he muffled his laughs behind his hand. “I forgot how much fun I had just by talking with you and your small bouts of jealousy.”

“Oh, I’m bad? Says the boy who sang a song that people keep covering for heartbreak.”

“I’m getting paid for doing it.”

“How much?”

“40% of the customers I brought in by drawing a crowd and a coffee on the house,” he let a smile spread across his face. “You know, I might be able to change it. Can I treat you to a free mint hot chocolate, a date as well maybe?”

She considered him for a second.

“With whipped cream,” he added for extra measure to his small sweet’s addict. He dimpled up at her with a scrunch when she kissed his button nose.

“God, I love you, Luka.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her slowly, “Mari, just don’t let me sing like that again, my voice is killing me.”

“Got it, never leave you again.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hey, you look cute with your baseball cap backwards like this.” She winked, pulling his black hat from the balcony floor where it fell off and back on his head.

“I’d respond with a witty comment, but it hurts to talk now.”

She grinned, “Hm, I love you.”

Luka still smiled despite flinching from the rawness of his throat, “I love you.”

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years ago

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER ONE: FAKING IT

SUMMARY: Lynn Moore dreads the beginning of her greatest fear: the first day of senior year. WORD COUNT: 2.3k NOTE: Get ready for typical teenager angst. Let’s all bully Lynn. WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

JUST LIKE EVERY YEAR AROUND the middle of August, my mom tells me the same advice; have a good first day. Of course, most mothers, fathers, or whoever tell their child this, but it's as pointless as a circle. Whoever has a fantastic first day of school? There are new teachers to impress, you're stuck with the same bunch of losers you sit with at lunch, and there are more jerks and morons to pick on you, despite the status quo you fall under. High school is frankly really awful all the way around and there's no way someone can deny or even try to argue that. These are the four years of utter hell and we're all dying to get out. I've stepped through those heavy doors, resembling the gates of hell, on a first day three times now. My anger and hatred have only been fueled rather than dying down. I'm sure nothing will ever change.

"Don't forget--" Mom tries to tell me from the porch in sweats and a maroon t-shirt. Her unnatural dirty blonde hair piled on the top of her head with an old red clip. There are tears welling in her eyes, seeing her only child almost grown up. I have one last year of school and mere months until I'm an adult. For me, it may pass by far too slow, but I bet it's a whole different story for her. In all honesty, it's ridiculous that the woman is so upset and not to mention annoying. I have done this routine twelve times now, for Christ sake, she should get a grip on herself by now. I don't mean to belittle my mother but one of her greatest achievements is being able to replicate every single stereotype women have, including having no control over her emotions. An outsider looking in may say I'm a bit to harsh. All I can say to that is no one has loved with her for almost eighteen years like I have.

"I got it!" I yell against the wind as it smacks my face while I walk across the grass. "Christ on a bike," I curse tossing my messy light brown hair from my field of vision.

The bus would take another five minutes to get the corner, but I'd like to not look stupid on my first day by running to catch up with the metal rectangle of devilry Peter Parker style. Well, maybe it would turn into an interesting story at the least. Spiderman is my favorite superhero of all time after all. Despite this, I only allow an angry face to part my path. It's totally fake but faking it is the only way to survive.

Down at the intersection, there are already kids waiting. I think it's safe to assume that all of the puberty-sicken teenagers are freshmen or sophomores since most junior and seniors are still asleep at this early hour, knowing the good majority are able to drive. I take a good look at all of them. The fact that they find throwing bits of gravel at squirrels or birds makes me want to go over and smack them upside the head. That thought crosses my mind a lot. The world is so full of morons; it's hard to pick out which ones are actually tolerable. They're almost as bad as kids in letterman jackets with expensive sports cars. Those fuckers are the worst. All they care about is their ego and how much money they can wave around coming right from mommy and daddy's wallet.

Take the kid in the striped shirt tucked into his hand-me-down jeans. He looks like a nice kid; after all, he's got nothing to brag about. His parents are probably office workers or maybe nothing too difficult. Nothing too important. That's all we are, right? I mean, once we're dead and gone. No one is gonna care what car you drove or what brand your plain white shirt is. People who think they're hotshots or something special are the real morons.

Besides, who thinks it's cool to spend thirty bucks on a t-shirt?

An old car passes, a teenage girl in my grade sits in the driver's seat. I sort of duck out of the way. Not James Bond-like, but I move my already shitty hair in front of my face as if it's going to help hide my identity. The chick probably didn't even see me. I watch the car drive on, kinda imagining what sort of car I would drive once I get one. I suppose I would have to learn first. I personally am not a fan of getting behind the wheel. Hell, I can't even ride a bike without falling over. I'd rather move to a large city and order cabs to get me places. They seem more convenient and, if you get in a wreck, it's not your fault and it's not your money coming out of pocket. No car equals more money. Then again, no car also is equivalent to no freedom and taxis and Uber's can get expensive. It seems like each idea is flawed these days.

Upon scanning the area again— this time ignoring the idiots— I notice only one person who seems excited out of the group. Her dark brown hair and dark skin contrast to the majority of our town, including those waiting nearby. Her curled hair bounces with each stride she takes, happier than the step prior.

Some say it's strange that the girl and I are such good friends. You don't see God and Satan going out and having coffee every weekend or anything.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I question as I readjust my dark blue shirt underneath the flannel. Flannels are my favorite personal quirk. I own at least fifty, most being cool or dark colors. I don't have an obsession; just an interest that I care way too much about. Flannels are to Lynn Moore as controversy is to famous influencers. Looking back up, my eyebrow is still raised. I'm shocked to see her here, assuming her parents would have given her a lift. After a second, it dawned on me that this, riding the bus to school, was her punishment for getting into an accident she won't take responsibility for.

Posting memes and vines references are fun and all, but doing it while going 60 down a highway isn't the smartest. Forgive me for not following the strict millennial handbook but I don't actually want to die nor do I want my friends to.

My best friend, Ellie Graves, gives a small glare. "Why does it always seem like you're on your period?" I shrug my shoulders, and played with the wire choker I always wore. As my fingers slip underneath the necklace, it is evident how to lose it has gotten since I bought it a few months ago. I make a mental note to take a quick trip to the shopping side of the internet sometime soon.

I click my tongue before answering. "Probably because I'm closer to hell than you are," I say, referring to my obvious lack of height. I'm only five feet and just barely three inches off the ground while Ellie is at least five feet and seven inches. Personally I think we would make a cute couple given our attitudes and the extremities of our heights, except for the fact that dearest Ellie is not interested in people other than men. What a party pooper. For me, anyway. "But lets do our best to not reinforce stereotypes," I say referring to her comment.

She nods her head. "Yes, mother." I snort at her sass, leaning my body weight onto my right leg. "But hey! We have one year left! That's something to be excited about, am I right?"

Yes, I would say she is right. Freshmen, sophomore, and the dragged out junior year have come and passed, full of useless information and embarrassing memories with it. It's mostly embarrassing if I have to be honest. School isn't my thing, however falling up and down the main set of stairs apparently is. Who knew?

"Yeah, I suppose so. At least we're considered adults now," I reply trying to find some positive about the situation.

Ellie begins to lightly laugh, "True. That's kinda a scary thought, though." Her body shudders, either because a breeze just blew passed or out of what she just said.

The age of freedom is so close, I can nearly touch it. Despite my longing to finally buy a lottery ticket and spray paint, the fear of adulthood gnaws at the back of my mind. With eighteen comes responsibility, something I lack to a high degree. I muse the idea of getting a degree of irresponsibility. However, I don't think such diploma could help me get into a creative writing career.

I make a thinking face and bring my shoulders to my ears preparing for an exaggerated response. "Well, you aren't wrong," I reply in a forced high pitch noise, catching the attention of the guys. Now I notice they are all matching in basketball shorts and a jacket. Men's fashion, ladies and gents. Ellie chuckles at my utter dorkiness while I continue to make some weird face I'm sure she will get a picture of sometime within the next few seconds.

It's crazy how time is able to fly. Just last week, so it seems, the outgoing, beaming chick I have as a best friend and I were in third grade, the year I moved to a new house, a different school, and a very different town. Although my eight-year-old-self hated it at the time, I'm glad I left the northern state of Maine, all the way across to the midwest. That is if you consider southern Missouri part of the midwest. If I hadn't, who would have the privilege of being my first smack in the face? Or first sleepover (with an actual girl)? Who knows, and I honestly wouldn't like to. Ellie's my best friend; I would be dead if she didn't have my back. And I'm honestly positive she would say the same about her tiny best pal.

Little time passes after the picture was indeed taken and posted on Elle's Snapchat before an ugly shade of yellowish-orange appears entering the neighborhood. Ellie is practically fidgeting, fighting the urge to run up the bus even if it is some distance away. My eyes roll trying to not say anything to kill her spirit but I do let out an accidental groan as its loud hum draws nearer. The bus came to a screeching halt and I already want to turn on my heel and head home. When I step on, I notice there is a new driver this year. After Ellie got her license and could legally drive me around, I never bothered with the bus unless I needed space or she was busy, which was hardly ever. Ellie and I mostly spend our time together with our group of friends. Despite this, I still easily took notice of a different person in the seat. Instead of a balding old man with a face like alligator skin, a woman sat in the brown leather seat and looks roughly in her forties. She, like all of us except for Ellie, looks tired but fakes a smile anyways. The same rules apply; middle school and junior high in the front and high school in the back. It seems as if sitting in the back always made you cool of some sort. Every time a kid got away with it in middle school, he or she was automatically the bad kid, the cool kid, or the king of the bus. God, how stupid is that theory? These thoughts remind me how annoying and stupid we all were at ten and eleven years old. I'm sure if I had a duplicate of myself at that age, I'd shoot either one of us to cease me from the utter pain.

Instead of going all the way to the back, I turn to sit in the seat half way down the aisle while plunging in an earbud, leaving one open to listen to Ellie. I instantly scroll through an select a playlist that mixes rock, punk, and even some emo. Given today being my last first day, I figured early morning jams would be appropriate to get me pumped up even though I tend to listen to this genre quite often as of lately. I enjoy the heavy guitar and double bass pedal and lyrics I can either relate to or wonder who hurt the singer so bad. Needless to say, I'm definitely more of a rock person however there's still a lot of other types of music on my device, including orchestra and folk or indie. I don't like to limit what I listen to; whatever makes me feel good ends up on my phone. Simple as that.

"So, Lynn," Ellie says sliding in right next to me. I look in her direction, which was to my right, waiting for her to respond. She looks at me, but nothing came out of her mouth. Slowly, I arch a brow. Still, there was nothing. "I had nothing to say, I just wanted your attention." Ellie gave a stupid grin while I glare kindly at her if there is such a thing.

My head shakes and I reach out to pat her cheek, "You, my darling, are an absolute dumbass."

I feel her grin grow against my hand since I haven't moved it yet. "Not as big as you, though." I can't argue; she has a point.

As the bus lunches forwards, I look out the window and watch the world go by. Something settles in my gut about then, the feeling both familiar and foreign. I can't tell what it is, but as I watch the clouds roll in over the sun and birds flying through the sky, I only hope my last year of high school will be memorable.

#dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #obsessive teachings #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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amarantine-amirite · 4 years ago

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The Seven Gates of Hell, a Seven Little Monsters fan fiction

Summary: Could a stupid ghost story turn out to be true?

According to local lore, there used to be a mental hospital in a remote location halfway between Centerville and Atlantic City, New Jersey. They constructed the hospital there so as to isolate those deemed insane from the rest of the world. Just before what would eventually be “Victory in Japan” day, a fire broke out. Due to its remoteness, firefighters could not reach the hospital in time to save it. Many patients died in the flames. Only a handful of patients managed to escape.

The local search party erected seven gates to trap these few remaining inmates. Only one gate, the first, is visible during the day. The other six can only be seen at night. No one has ever gotten past the fourth gate, but if they passed all seven, they would go straight to Hell.

As the taxi sped away from Whooton School, Renata Wiggum sat there surprised that she successfully snuck out of the window during third period geography and called a taxi.

“So, did you clog a toilet or something?” asked the cab driver.

“No,” Renata said, laughing, “not this time. I have somewhere important that I need to be.”

“So, what was so important that you had to sneak out?”

Renata’s thoughts came to a dead stop. She had to sneak out for two reasons. The first was that her third period geography teacher was in the middle of giving his class hell for cheating on a map making assignment. If she didn’t get out soon, she’d never make it in time.

But the second reached far further: she couldn’t tell anyone that she did ballet. Why? She had Asperger syndrome, and she was on an IEP. In order to stay on the IEP, she had to use a wheelchair. The only reason she took ballet was to stop her legs from atrophying from sitting in the wheelchair all day.

And no one at school could ever find out. If they did, she could at best, lose her IEP; or at worst, get expelled for faking a disability. She pushed it down for so long, that even though someone independent of the school asked her, she couldn’t respond. All she managed to get out was, “My, uh, geography teacher got mad. Kept us all past dismissal time.”

“And why is that?”

Renata felt herself begin to loosen up. “This is kind of funny,” she said, “but we had a map making assignment, and a bunch of kids in my class went to the bookstore, bought an atlas, and turned it in as their own work.”

“So they cheated?”

“Pretty much” she snickered, “he went on this rant about how his son is in college, and in college, they come down extremely hard on cheating”

Before the cab driver could say anything, he slumped forward, his head hitting the horn. The noise made Renata jump. Uh oh, she thought, this isn’t good.

It got worse extremely quickly. Not only did the driver pass out, he very quickly drove off the road.

As the cab veered off the pavement onto the ground, Renata couldn’t help but look out the window. She really should have called 911, or at the very least, AAA, even though the last time she called 911, she and the operator were on two very different sides of the International Date Line.

Renata looked out the window as the cab wound down the hill. She’d kind of been here before, but only during the day. At night, it looked different. The church, the gas station, and the empty fields felt like they were different, like a picture on the internet versus what you see in real life.

The closest they got to civilization was when they drove across the infamous “Black Rd” - the last paved road before the location of the seven gates of hell. The cab blew through the first and second gates, and it came to a stop at the third.

When Renata got out of the cab, she was surprised. The third gate was nothing like what Renata pictured. She half expected a door barricaded by axes that weighed about a thousand pounds. Not only was it not a gate in the woods, there wasn’t even a forest - just an open field. The gate itself turned out to be a small, chain-link gate (but no fence) halfway through a footpath. Driven by curiosity, Renata walked around the gate and followed the footpath. She discovered that it came to a set of stairs. She went down the stairs, and found herself entering a hallway. The hallway had an exit sign that flashed every 1.5 seconds and wall-to-wall carpet on the floor. Given where it was, the carpet was surprisingly dry.

Renata then went up another set of stairs, hoping that they led back outside. They didn’t. Instead, they lead somewhere with a green glow, wallpaper all around, and a dead end where the light was. The hall continued on in the dark.

Almost like she was on autopilot, Renata bolted down the dark corridor until she came to a ladder. When she climbed up the ladder, she found herself in an increasingly decrepit room with exposed wires. Renata side-eyed them hard. The wires appeared to move all on their own. Lights flickered on and off with increasing frequency.

Renata got to the end of the hallway, she turned left. Instantly, the hallway turned into something resembling a steam tunnel with milk crates scattered around, and concrete walls and a round ceiling. The deeper Renata went, the more and more dilapidated the hallway became.

And then, out of nowhere, “Da da da”. Her phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, Renata, it’s me.” One answered. “So, I just flew over the area where your cab broke down, and I saw you get out.”

“Yeah, you’re not gonna believe this” Renata said, “I had to sneak out of school to go to my own ballet recital. How embarrassing is that?”

“I think now would be a good time to tell you that your recital was cancelled for some guy’s funeral.”

“Really?” Renata said frustratedly, “Oh, balls!” She kicked the air and pulled her lips inwards from all directions. “How did you know my show was canceled?”

“Because Six showed up, argued with the guy’s next of kin, and now it’s all over Twitter.” One responded.

Renata laughed. Because, why not? In a weird way, it’s actually pretty funny.

Regardless, something else was on her mind. Renata felt smug. She was the first person to get past the fourth gate of the seven gates of hell, and she owned it.

At that moment, One hit some heavy turbulence. She dropped about 200 feet.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #seven little monsters #7 little monsters #fanfic writers of tumblr

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

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GF + OH - Fallen Owls pt.1

Summary: What happens when the milf of The Owl House meets the dilf of Gravity Falls? Find out in this multi-chapter crossover fic.

pt.2

~~~~~~~~~~

Episode Placement:

GF = after finale (S3?) OH = between S1E5 and E6 It was late, passed the gremlins’ bedtime, but it was summer, meaning the term “bedtime” had very little meaning unless Stan was tired and needed to make the kids quiet. But as of right now he was content sitting in his old armchair, boxers and undershirt and slippers and all, munching on popcorn with his family, sitting around telling stories. Stan and his twin brother, Ford, had just finished telling Dipper and Mabel more about the sirens they had faced a few months ago. While sailing around the world was a dream come true, it was nice to take a break to spend the summer with the niblings.

Dipper, having just heard how Stan had been charmed by the sirens’ song, chuckled and asked, “So, did you ever have any luck finding ‘babes’?” Stan rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Nah, but there’s always next year.” “Yeah, don’t worry about it, Grunkle Stan.” Mabel said as she popped some popcorn into her mouth. “You’ll find some pretty girl that is everything you deserve!” Stan, turning red, waved the subject away. “Thanks, sweetie, but it’s fine.” Ford, sitting on the dino-skull, elbowed him lightly and teased, “He’s still heartbroken over Carla McCorckle.” Mabel blew a raspberry. “If I ever find her I’m gonna give her a left-hook and break her nose!” Stan laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s not necessary, kid. I’m over her.” “And it only took you forty years.” Ford added, earning him a punch on the shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’ve been with plenty of gals after Carla!” Stan quipped. “Heck, I was married once when I was traveling the country!” “Wait, what?!” The whole room gasped at the same time. Ford blinked like a confused owl. “I… I didn’t know that.” “Me, neither.” Mabel said and leaned on Stan’s knee. Dipper, meanwhile, was silent, a memory coming to mind. “Truth is I’ve been divorced once and slapped more times than I can remember.” “What happened? GASP! Do I have a secret Graunty you never told me about?!” Stan barked a laugh. “Hah! No, sorry pumpkin. I was actually married for less than a day. Vegan situation. We reached for the same slot machine handle and it was love at first sight. Marilyn. Had hair like a airline stordis and a neon pink shirt that said ‘Over thirty and very flirty’. Man I was, I was putty in her hands.” Stan said lightly, recalling the most romantic evening he ever had. “You should’ve seen the way she threw dice. One time right at my head. Turns out she only married me to distract me while she stole my car and my winnings. I guess her name was fake and, hair was fake. But ya know, the love was real.” Stan added with a casual shrug. “She was really the one that got away. Like, literally, it was a proper get away. She was chased by cop cars for a mile out of Vegas before ducking out of a door and into a canyon and making off with my loot. Sometimes I still think of her.” The old conman admitted. “That pale bingo hall skin. That one weirdly sharp tooth.” Stan’s face dropped at the sight of his family and he quickly said, “Sorry, I’m getting nostalgic.” “More like love-sick.” Dipper teased. “AW!” Mabel squealed. “That’s so sweet! Maybe you’ll find her one day!” Stan laughed and shook his head. “I doubt it, sweetie, but hey. Who needs stealing babes when I’ve got you three, right?” Mabel yawned and stretched her arms over her head. Ford chuckled and stood up, popping his back. “I think you two should head to bed. It’s getting late and we’re going camping tomorrow, remember?” Mabel gasped happily and stood. “You’re right!” She hugged both her uncles and wished them goodnight and then walked with her brother up the stairs for the attic, then Ford left to go finish packing, leaving Stan alone. He leaned on his knuckles, elbow on his armchair, and he remembered Marilyn. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel was grinning from ear to ear as she skipped ahead on the trail in the woods. “Finally, a real family camping trip!” Grunkle Ford, Dipper, and Grunkle Stan were right behind her, the Pines family heading back to the Mystery Shack after a fun night sleeping under the stars around a campfire. They were all smiling and happy to be reunited for the summer. While some things drastically changed and some things hardly changed at all, the Pines in appearance changed a little since Dipper and Mabel and turned thirteen. Mabel had always been nothing but smiles in the past, but if it was even possible she grinned even more now, proud to show off her braces-free white teeth. She still sported amazing sweaters with colorful headbands and skirts, today wearing a brown skirt and a yellow headband with a light-brown sweater with an owl on it, claiming she wanted to match the woods and her Grunkle Ford; he only proved her point when he blushed. Dipper and Wendy switched hats again when they saw each other when the twins came off the bus, but over his orange t-shirt he wore a green flannel unbuttoned and he matched it with blue jeans. No longer out in the freezing Arctic, Stan left behind his long coat, but he kept his white t-shirt, dark pants, red beanie, and water-proof boots for the hiking trip. Ford, the easily cold twin, still wore red turtleneck and dark pants and boots, but his smile was much more genuine and the crack in his glasses was gone. Grunkle Ford patted his niece’s shoulder. “It is nice to have some quality family bonding.” “Next time I say we go fishing.” Stan injected. “Not as many creepy spider-fires or whatever.” “Scampfires.” “I still say whatever.” Dipper chuckled and continued to sketch in his pinetree journal, shading in trees of his drawing of the woods. But he was pulled from his pleasant thoughts by his great-uncle. “Seriously, kid, you’re gonna walk into a tree and then I’m gonna laugh. You need to get your head outta book and see the rest of the world.” “Grunkle Stan, how do you think people shared the world back in your day? You know, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth?” Dipper quipped. “Oh, ho! Wise guy, huh?” Stan wrapped an arm around his neck and rubbed his knuckles on the top of his head. “Alright, Poindexter Jr…” “No! No nuggies!” “Yes nuggies!” “Ford!” Dipper laughed, calling for backup. Mabel, meanwhile, was slowly being pulled away mentally from the touching scene of guys being dudes as the internet would have called it. Distracting her, a tiny brown owl with cute round eyes was hopping. Not just hopping, appearing from behind one oak tree to the neck, but hopping with a sack clamped by the beak. Mabel watched it with wide eyes, hoping for another look, and the second glance she got of it was so brief she didn’t know how much faith she should have in her eyes, but it looked like that sack had things like a Cubic Cube, a newspaper, a floppy disk, a basketball, and other items that could be classified as junk. Mabel decided not to wait for another glance at the owl and to go look at it for herself. Mabel wandered off the path animals had made and moved in between trees and bushes quietly. Her brown eyes eventually landed on the little owl and she followed it; the clattering of the owl or it’s determination to finish it’s job must have been the reason why it didn’t hear Mabel and try to hide or lose her. The young Pines lady watched, walking farther and farther away from her family, and the owl hopped behind a tree and never emerged. Mabel smiled, thinking she was about to find an owl’s nest in the tree or a stash of human things by the tree’s roots, but when she turned to look behind the tree, she gasped to find a doorway that glowed white. Mabel looked around her for anyone that might have an answer or for any clue as to why this doorway was here, but she was alone. Gravity Falls certainly was where this sort of thing might happen, but that did not guarantee that this was safe. Maybe she should have the guys look at this thing. Mabel turned around, her back to the doorway, to leave, but she saw something above her and took in a sharp breath. Stan had Dipper pinned on the grass now, both of them laughing, with Ford shaking his head and scolding lightly. “Stanley, that’s enough.” “Don’t worry, Grunkle Ford, I promise not to break such an old man.” Dipper teased as he lightly fought back, “Old man?!” Stan repeated in pretend offense. They were interrupted by a blood curdling scream that made their hearts drop. Stan immediately got off of his nephew and stared ahead, terrified. “Mabel…” And he ran for the direction he heard the scream with Ford and Dipper at his heels. Mabel pulled her grappling hook out of her hiking-backpack and tried to calm down, but it was hard to with the dangerous anomaly liking it’s chops at the sight of her. It was like a gray lizard, but ten feet long, including the tail, and only on it’s four legs it was seven feet tall. It’s eyes were red and narrow and cold, and it had long sharp claws like a dragon’s and a long snout like a crocodile. Mabel shot her grappling hook at the monster and it hit it on the snout, tossing its head back. The lizard hissed but did not back down. It advanced, getting closer to Mabel, and she wanted to back away, but she was careful not to touch the spooky doorway. Stan saw the scene first, appearing out of the corner of Mabel’s eye. “Mabel!” “Grunkle Stan, what do I do?!” She asked, her eyes glued to the giant lizard. Ford and Dipper caught up. The younger moved to jump between his sister and the monster, but Ford stopped him with a firm six-fingered hand. “No! Listen to me, Mabel. That thing is called a Stone-Reptilian. They're excellent at camouflaging into mountains and can hang onto a one-hundred-and-eighty degree wall for hours, waiting for its prey. It actually has two tongues: one for licking its eyes since it doesn't have eyelids, and one for paralyzing it’s dinner and dragging the meal into its mouth.” “So what do I do?!” Mabel begged, shaking a little at the idea of being paralyzed and then eaten alive. “Mabel, stay calm, it’s alright.” Ford soothed with a voice as soft as silk. “Stone-Reptilians have excellent eyesight, but they’re deaf. Notice how it’s isn’t reacting to us. Now, I want you to…” The Stone-Reptilian suddenly whipped out it’s long, thorn-covered tongue to paralyze Mabel, but she was too quick and leaped through the doorway to survive. As she did, it disappeared, and the Pines men were left to scream and then fight for their own lives. ~~~~~~~~~~ “Whoops, can’t have another stowaway, can I?” A voice said, and then before Mabel knew it, her way back home was gone. She observed her new surroundings. Misfit things like a refrigerator, a grandfather clock, an old mattress, and cardboard boxes full of items cluttered what looked like a big tent, judging by the cloth walls and such. Mabel smiled with wonder at the things. “Wow. What a collection.” She whispered. Her eyes landed on a small glass ballerina on top of a music box. She turned the ballerina around with a finger to catch a few music notes. Mabel smiled, but was once again distracted. “Right, let’s see here… Nope. Garbage. Garbage. Another one of these? Oh, well. Good thing the potions have been selling. I should really thank Luz for helping me take out that competitor. Or not.” Mabel covered her mouth with both hands to keep from snorting; that sounded like something her Grunkle Stan would say. Her heart sagged a little and she turned to look back at where the magical doorway once was. Despite what he might pretend, Mabel knew Stan would be really worried about her. She needed to find a way back home. She crawled on her hands and knees out from under the tent and then got up to explore. “Okay, let’s see…” Mabel looked around to find herself outside in the open air. She raised an eyebrow. “The… Crawlspace? I thought it was underground? Maybe there’s more to it! Won’t Grunkle Ford be surprised!” Mabel cheered and looked around for anything familiar, but the longer she looked, the more she realized nothing was like back in Gravity Falls. She stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking an odd city of some kind. Giant monster hands with no body stood like trees. Smoke rose from chimneys of medieval-looking houses. A small herd of cat-sized dragons flocked by the clouds. A mammoth roared like a lion and then walked into the ocean. Something resembling an orange nun was selling bags of oozing red stuff to tiny red monsters with teeth and fangs for a face. People were riding a giant caterpillar from inside its mouth and then kissing it for a toll. Mabel’s heart was racing from excitement and fear. Nothing here was familiar, but she was familiar with the unfamiliar. She grasped the straps of her backpack and took a deep breath. “Okay, Mabel, you’ve obviously discovered another rift and came to another dimension. Just remember what your grunkles taught you. Don’t touch this dimension's version of yourself or everything will explode. I just gotta live long enough for them to find me. Easy.” Her stomach suddenly growled. Mabel clenched her stomach on reflex, but then remembered her bag of marshmallows, pulled them out, and began to munch on her fluffy sugar pillows. She turned around and walked away from the tent she had left, saw she was in some sort of market, and walked down the street to explore calmly. ~~~~~~~~~~ “And remember to apply it twice a day for the best results.” Luz said friendly to a blue monster made out of goo as she handed her the small bag of dust and the customer closed the door on the human. Luz wiped her sweaty forehead with her wrist and groaned. “Man, it’s so hot today. Ready to head home, King? King?” She looked down to find that the king of demons had found the perfect spot on the porch to nap in the sunshine. Luz smiled, scratched his back, and scooped him up one-armed while her other hand carried the empty sack. “Eh?” King woke up, angry and cute. “Luz! I was having the perfect dream!” “About what?” “What could be more perfect than sleeping?!” “You were dreaming about sleeping?” Luz clarified with a confused smile. “Don’t you?” Luz snorted a laugh and walked through Bonesburrow. Compared to the rest of the Boiling Isles, the apprentice had learned that this was the quietest neck of the woods. King’s nose caught a delightful scent, but the demon was unsure if he should believe it. He sat up in Luz’s arm and smelled the air. “What is it?” Luz asked. “Hm, it’s sweet. Really sweet.” King commented and shivered. “Like, really sweet. So sweet it’ll put anyone in a sugar-induced coma.” “Well, why don’t we just go home and we can have some of Eda’s strawberry jelly instead.” Luz suggested as they turned a corner. She immediately saw the one really really weird thing in the Boiling Isles, apart from her. Another human. After being away from home for about three weeks, Luz didn’t think she would be so happy to see another human girl or see human food that wasn’t red, but here she was, eyes sparkling with happy tears over the sight. Mabel’s eye eventually landed on Luz and the two stared at each other, a good twenty feet away from each other. After a few moments, however, they both shouted, “ANOTHER HUMAN!” And ran towards each other, King clinging onto Luz’s arms in order not to fall. “Wait,” The brunette said and looked worried. “Is this your first time seeing another human here? How long have you been trapped here?!” She apparently had drawn the conclusion that there was no way out of this place. “Oh, no,” The Latino smiled and shook her head. “I’m not trapped here; I can leave whenever I want, I just choose not to.” “Oh. Cool! Hi! I’m Mabel!” “Hi, Mabel.” Luz greeted. “I’m Luz! So… how did you get here?” Mabel’s face dropped a little and she looked around. “You know, I’m not really sure. One minute I was camping with my family and the next I’m falling through a door that disappears and takes me here.” Luz giggled and shook her head. “You must have fallen through Eda’s door. Don’t worry, I can get you back home.” “You can?!” Mabel hugged her tightly, squishing King in between the two girls. “ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!” Luz, who was quite the hugger but lived with two hug-haters, grinned and relished in the hug, until a high-voice yelled, “AH! What is with you humans and this tight holding ritual?!” Mabel’s eyes got wide and she jumped away, looking around wildly; that voice sounded too familiar for comfort, but when she saw the king of demons, she gasped with a huge grin and shining eyes. “OH MY GOSH! How cute!!!” She squealed. “Thanks.” Luz giggled and rubbed his belly. “This is the King of Demons.” “This little bundle of joy?” Mabel asked, happily smoothing over his skull and scratching his back. “That’s what I said!” “Hey, hey, easy with the merchandise!” King complained. “What makes you think you can… oh! Oh! Right there, yup, right there.” Mabel had found the right scratching spot, just between his shoulder-blades, and King relaxed in Luz’s arms, almost asleep he was so comfortable. Mabel giggled and asked, “So, how can you get me back to my family?” Luz gave it a moment’s thought and said, “Well, I guess we could take you to Eda and have her send you home, but she’ll be going home soon and it’s kinda…” The girls screamed as a huge guard jumped in front of them. He glared down at the humans and said, “Human previously associated with Eda the Owl Lady, you’re hereby under arrest!” “Not today, sucka!” Luz yelled, threw down one of Eda’s smoke bombs, and grabbed Mabel’s wrist. “Come on! I know where to go!” “Crazy monsters, criminals, smoke bombs, demons… I LOVE IT HERE!” Mabel cheered as she was fleeing with her new friends. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan huffed, catching his breath, with his hands on his knees. Ford helped Dipper up cautiously, scanning him over for broken bones from when the monster swung his tail at the boy and slammed him against a tree, but apart from being shaken up, he was fine. Now that the Stone-Reptilian was gone, the Pines men were free to worry about the most important thing in their whole world. “MABEL?!” Stan screamed and looked around wildly for the rift that took her away. “MABEL! MABEL, SWEETIE!” “Mabel!” Ford called out. “Mabel, can you hear us?!” “MABEL! MABEL!” Stan screamed and ignored his stinging eyes. Dipper’s own brown eyes were aching, too, but he refused to be seen as weak and he powered through. “Did… did that thing… g-g-get her?” “No.” Ford said firmly. “I saw it. She fell through… some sort of door, or a rift.” “A-A door?” “It was rectangular like one, but it was hard to tell.” “The Crawlspace!” Dipper gasped and slapped his forehead. “Don’t the entrances change randomly through Gravity Falls? What if she fell through and is down at the black market?” “What, you mean she’s probably surrounded by dangerous monsters in some freaky market?” Stan asked. “It’s a likely possibility.” Ford speculated, holding his cleft chin. “Scour the area. If it was an entrance to the Crawlspace, one will show up again soon.” The three men split up, relatively close, and searched for an anomaly. Maybe a hole in a tree or in the ground, what might have been passed as a bird’s nest or a groundhog’s home could actually be an entrance. Stan was checking some bushes when he thought he heard a strange noise and he looked ahead. A rectangular white light appeared on an oak tree and soon an owl with an empty sack in its beak hopped out. Stan gasped and thought that this was the doorway that took his little girl. Ford saw his twin run out of the corner of his eye and then disappear through the hole. “Stanley, wait!” He called and ran towards him, disappearing, too. Then the doorway was gone. Dipper looked around nervously. “Hello? Guys?” He paused, letting it sink in that, once again, he was alone. “I swear if she’s at MAB3L again…” ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan had stopped. Ford then accidently ran into him and they both fell forward. “Sixer, get off!” “Shh!” Ford slapped a polydactyl hand over his brother’s mouth, which made him grumble, but before Stan could lick his hand in response, he heard what Ford was hearing. “I’ll give you fifty snails for the whole lot.” A laugh-filled snort followed. “It’s seventy-five, kid. Take it or leave it.” That voice… something was familiar about that laugh. There was grumbling and what sounded like items being collected. Stan and Ford exchanged looks and slowly got up. After looking around the tent, they peered out of the crack in the curtains to see an odd market. They awed at the sight of dozens of weird creatures. One looked like a turquoise hairless-cat. One looked like a pig with green eyes and it breathed fire on a piece of meat on a stick to cook it for a snack. A kid with pointy ears dropped a basket full of eyeballs and scrambled to pick them up. Ford grinned excitedly like a dork while Stan winced at the sight of an ice-cream eating a customer. Stan glanced to his left and he had to hold his breath to keep from gasping and blowing their cover. Wearing a tight-fitted, torn maroon dress and matching boots, gold on her chest and ears and fingers and a sharp tooth, her eyes sparkling like gold coins, a woman with big gray hair and pointy ears leaned against a table full human things and flicked through a Gold Chains for Old Men magazine with a skeptical look on her face. Stan was nearly as pale as she was when she snorted another laugh and flipped a page. “Hah! Not a bad read. Better than that kindling Luz keeps around.” She mumbled and made herself comfortable in her chair, waiting for another customer, one leg crossed over the other and she lightly kicked it as she read. Stan swallowed. There was no way. No possible way… then again, given everything weird that’s happened to him, from freaky portal, to demon triangles, to gnomes and unicorns and sirens and krakens, even to a full-blown Weirdmageddon, should he really be all that surprised that faith would bite him in the butt like this? Ford glanced down at his twin and found he could read him like an open book. “Stanley…” He hissed. The lady straightened in her seat and looked up from the magazine, listening. Now it was Stan’s turn to cover Ford’s mouth. They were still, waiting for the ady to find them, but she shrugged casually and continued to read. The men backed away, out of sight, and were each on one knee, facing each other, as they whispered. “Sixer, where the heck are we? The Crawlspace?” “I’m not sure.” Ford hissed. “I have never seen these types of anomalies before. I suppose it’s possible they hide here during the day and I had never seen them at night, but… this place feels off. To summarize, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” “Fine, but when what do we do about Mabel?” “Our objection is still the same. Let’s just keep a low profile and try to find her.” The twins froze when the curtain was thrown open and the lady stood before them. She immediately sneered down at them. “If you amateur pickpockets think you can…” But then she stopped, for several reasons. One: these creatures were clearly old, about her age, and so unless they had a sudden career change, they were not amateurs. Two: as a human expert and a teacher and hostess of a human, she instantly recognized these two big-eared creatures as humans. Three: something about the one in the white shirt and red hat was very familiar. “No… way…” She narrowed her golden eyes. Stan was now confident that his memory wasn’t flawed; the way she reacted to seeing him, recognizing him, confirmed that he knew her. Before he could do anything, she grabbed each twin by the ear and pinched; they were at her mercy and receiving flashbacks from when their mother was angry with them. “You two got some explaining to do.” The lady sneered. “Gah! Let us go, crazy old bat!” Stan barked as she dragged them out from the tent and made them sit on barrels for stools. “Who are you calling old, human?” The lady sneered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me what you think you’re doing here.” “Begging your pardon on our introduction,” Ford said coldly, but then softened as he and his brother did have an important mission. “But our grandniece is missing. We believe she came through here.” And he pulled out a picture of Mabel hugging a stuffed-penguin from his wallet and showed it to her. The lady peered down at the photo and said, “Sorry, old-timers, I haven’t seen anyone like that around here.” “Now, how can we trust you, Marilyn.” Stan sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. Ford’s eyes widened as he pocketed his picture. He was rendered speechless for a moment. “Oh, like you’re one to talk about honesty, Stan.” She deride. “You two know each other?!” Ford gasped, looking from his brother to the stranger rapidly like a game of tennis. “She’s your ex-wife?!” The lady snorted a laugh and sighed happily. “Ah, good times, huh?” “Not really.” Stan sneered and stood. “You still owe me five hundred bucks!” “At least you got your car back, Grumpy.” The lady teased and patted his cheek; he swatted her hand away in response and growled like an angry pitbull. “If you want my help finding your girl then play nice.” “So, you honestly didn’t see her.” Stan repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I may be a conwoman, a pickpocket, and the most powerful witch you’ll ever meet, but I wouldn’t lie if it was gonna endanger some kid.” The lady snapped her fingers and all of the human collectibles floated and gathered into a green cloth, tied up like a hobo’s luggage. She pulled out a staff and put the bag through it, making it easy to carry. Eda whistled and the little owl flew to her and landed on her staff and turned into wood. “Come along, humans, we’ll find your niece and get you two home.” Ford followed the lady and decided to be the “nice” one since Stan was obviously too salty to be one; someone had to be nice to the lady that was going to help them find Mabel. “Thank you, Marilyn.” “Oh, right. That’s not my real name…” “Knew it.” “... you’re a fool to give your real name to a casino in Vegas. It’s Edalyn, but just call me Eda. Or your worst nightmare.” “Whatever you say, toots.” Stan growled as they walked down the street. “So, Eda,” Ford cut in to try to cut the tension between the two. “What exactly is this place, and what are you?” Eda stopped suddenly and turned around, wearing a proud grin. She stabbed her staff on the ground with a small bang, making the owl come to life, the sack hanging by her fist, and she proclaimed, “I am known as the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch here on the Boiling Isles!” “A witch?” Stan laughed. “More like a b…” “I am a feared, respected, vigorous force to be reckoned with!” Eda went on and let go of the staff so it floated like a witch’s broomstick. “Come on, old-timers, let’s get a bird’s eye-view to find your girl.” They each grabbed the staff when Eda sat upon it and yelled with fear as she had them fly up in the air, leaving the old twins to dangle in the air. “GAAAAAAAH!” “EDA!” Stan yelled. “Put us down!” “That can be arranged.” Eda said cunningly and swooped down quickly. With the air drying Eda’s eyes and forming tears and the brother holding onto the staff (and each other) for dear life, all three were yelling, one with delight, two with fright. “STANLEY!” Ford shouted. “PLEASE try not to piss off your ex-wife!” Eda laughed and at the very last second, right before the men would crash into the ground, she flew them up into the sky. “Ah, don’t worry, I won’t let you two knuckleheads get hurt.” They flew softer and calmer above the Boiling Isles and the humans awed at the scene. In the carcass of a monster, by the sea, the Bones of the Isles sat snug in the midst of chaos. Eda floated to allow the men a moment to take in the scenery, smiling down at their round brown eyes. “It’s beautiful.” Ford admired. “Yup, not too shabby.” Eda commented casually. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” “We know what that’s like.” Stan muttered. “Speaking of which,” Eda said casually. “Where did you two say you were from?” “We didn’t. Gravity Falls, Oregon.” Ford answered, keeping an eye out for Mabel. “Oh, I’ve heard rumors about that place.” Eda said as she flew calmly over the town. “My door has a bad habit of appearing there way too often. I need more variety in my human collectibles.” “So, you steal our junk and try to sell it for a great price?” Stan asked; he sounded a little impressed. “That and I sell potions on the weekdays. When I’m not mentoring my student. Enough chit-chat, see your girl down there?” The men took a few more minutes to look, as well as Eda, but there was no sign of her. “No.” Ford’s voice dripped with concern. “Eda, what are the chances she was kidnapped or hurt?” “Oh, that probably didn’t happen to her.” The witch said calmly. “If she’s not safe she probably got eaten or taken by Warden Wrath.” “WHAT?!” “Relax, Sixer,” Stan said, confident in his pumpkin. “She’s our little fighter, she’ll be fine.” Eda snorted. “Sixer?” “It’s Stanford, actually.” His face was a little red over the fact that he couldn’t hide his six-fingered hands, too busy holding the magic staff to keep from falling. “Meh, I’ve seen weirder.” Eda looked like she truly didn’t care how many fingers he had; Ford appreciated that. “Well, I’ve got a great tracker at home.” The Owl Lady said and started to fly towards the red forest. “Why don’t we go pick him up and see if he can help us out. Got anything the girl held?” “Yes,” When the men landed on their feet and Eda hopped next to them, Ford pulled out his wallet again and took out a folded-up, hand-drawn picture of Stan and Ford on a boat, a gift from Mabel while they were apart that she had mailed to them. “Aw, that’s so cute.” The witch cooed. “Who knew all Pines men were putty in girls’ hands.” She laughed at her own joke and shook her head. “Ah, keep moving, boys.” Stan hurried to catch up and he walked next to Eda with narrow eyes, ignoring the way her odd golden fang sparkled, how her eyes gleamed with spunk, how she held herself up high with pride. “So, you’re gonna answer some questions for me…” “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” “If you’re a witch, what were you doing in Las Vegas?” “Hey, a witch’s gotta make some gold, too.” Eda shrugged as she smiled. “I haven’t exactly kept a clean record here so making a living takes a bit of extra effort, but it’s much for fun and unpredictable, the way life's supposed to be.” Stan raised an eyebrow at two things: the fact his ex was a criminal in this world too, and her philosophy. “I can respect that, seeing how I was there for the same reasons.” “I know.” Eda rolled her eyes teasingly. “You wouldn’t shut up about how you were gonna make it big and show the world what this big lug could do.” And she elbowed Stan, which he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh. Yeah, what can I say, I’m a real loud-mouth. Say what’s on my mind.” “Hey, nothing wrong with being brutally honest to make up for lying, am I right?” Eda said with a shrug. “So, was your hair fake back then, or…” “No, no, it was real. I was really proud of my hair back in the day, flaming red and wild.” “Looks pretty good now. Love it, in fact. Big and bold, hard to miss.” “Hey, you aged pretty well yourself, handsome.” Ford smiled as he watched the exes tease and pick on each other. If a compliment was given, it dripped with sarcasm and there was no guarantee that it was sincere, but they must have seen a gleam in their eyes or felt a “vibe” that Ford didn’t experience, because the conversation progressed well as they walked through the forest. Ford was happy to see Stan get along fairly well with this woman and wondered if this would go exceptionally better than the whole McCorkle incident. They emerged from the woods and found a large house standing by some cliffs leading to an ocean. It was about as far from the seas as Pines Pawns was all those years ago. The house was big, maybe bigger than the Mystery Shack (probably not if counting the basement-floors) with a big stain-glass window that reminded Stan of a cat’s eye and Ford of Bill’s eye, but then they both individually remembered Eda’s title and realized it was probably representing an owl’s eye. A weather-vane with an owl sat on top of the house, a broken-down tower stood behind, and an owl’s head was on the door. The humans were startled, but they quickly recovered, again having experienced much weirder than a live owl-head on a door. “Girl knows how to keep a theme going.” Stan commented as they approached. “Oh, boy!” The owl on the door hooted. “More company! Maybe they wanna hear some of my stories!” “Not a chance, Hooty.” Eda quipped. “Is King still home? We need his help, and we might want Luz’s too while we’re at it.” “They’re both telling stories to that new human. The one with the pretty owl sweater.” “Wait, what?!” The three old people asked and Hooty swung open the door. Luz was holding King on her lap on the couch, sitting with Mabel as all three were laughing. Even King was rolling around and holding his little fluffy body with glee. Mabel’s back was to the door and she resumed her storytelling as she wiped a tear under her eye. “So then I look down at Dipper and see that he’s still got his socks on!” Luz cackled a laugh and held her head one-handed, her other arm still holding King, but it was to no avail as the demon fell off from all the laughing. Eda, Ford, and Stan smiled as the girls were having fun. They had no idea how they found each other, but it was better for them to be here, safe and happy, than to have the newbie be someone’s meal. Luz fanned her reddening face and finally noticed the company. “Hi, Eda. Sorry, but she was lost and needs our help.” Mabel turned, on her knees on the couch, but grinned with a gasp. “GUYS!” And she hopped over the arm of the couch for her grunkles. “Mabel!” They opened their arms and got on one knee for their girl. Mabel ran into their hold and they hugged her tightly, relieved to be with her again and to find her more than okay. “What did I tell you about scaring me like that, pumpkin?!” Stan asked as he held her with all of his might. “You didn’t tell me, Grunkle Stan.” “Oh, right.” “We’re just so happy to find you alright, my dear.” Ford loosened his grip just enough to look up at Luz, who was smiling admirably at the reunion. “And I see you’ve made some friends.” Mabel let go and nodded. “Yeah! That’s Luz! Luz, these are my grunkles! Stan and Ford!” “Nice to meet you guys.” Luz said and waved politely. “Mabel said you’d come, but how did you two survive out there?” “They nearly didn’t.” Eda lied easily. “Were in the mouths of a giant giraffe when I saved their butts.” “Yeah right!” Stan barked a laugh. “Anyways, we’ve been through worse, kid.” Luz gasped excitedly. “Worse than giant bugs and centaurs with eyes on their chest and man-eating slugs and fire-breathing eye-less fangs and jealous witches?!” “Worse. I’ve punched a pterodactyl in the face and a few zombies, fallen down a Bottomless Pit, lost my hands to a witch, fought off eagles and explosions, survived giant man-eating spiders…” “Stanley, that is all impressive, but have you fought a talking chair, battled in four wars, conned an abominable snowman, outran a volcano, examined floating eyebats, been turned to gold…” “I find that hard to believe.” Eda snorted. “I believe them.” Luz said with a shrug. “You always said weird stuff leaks from this world into theirs.” “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Ford said, stepping forward. “What exactly is this place? I’ve heard rumors of a place called the Boiling Isles, but I just thought it was a little hiding place like the Crawlspace, not an entirely new dimension.” “Nope!” Eda corrected happily. “This whole world is the Boiling Isles, a world full of despair, monsters, gross-stuff, demons, and magic.” “This place sounds so cool!” Mabel cheered. She looked at Luz and said, “No wonder you wanted to stay here. Wait! Do you have your own room?!” “Yeah! C’mon, I’ll show you!” And the girls ran off with Luz scratching King’s tummy and leaving him to nap on the floor, tired from laughing. Eda plopped down on the couch and gestured for the men to do the same. “I’d offer refreshments but all we have is apple blood and some disgusting beverage Luz likes called orange juice.” Stan looked up at the wanted poster of Eda and the reward promised for her capture. He smiled, impressed and interested. “We’re okay, thank you, Eda.” Ford said. “If you don’t mind me asking, our niece said something about Luz choosing to stay here?” “Yeah, that’s right.” Eda reached under her couch-cushion and rummaged as she spoke. “Kid came through my door when Owlbert brought over some little treasures to sell. Sweet girl. Kinda naive and gullible, but clever in her own right and she’s a fast learner. Stubborn with the forces of positivity.” Stan snorted. “Heh. We know someone like that.” “She said she didn’t fit in at home.” Eda finally found what she was looking for and pulled out a wrinkled, crumpled up pamphlet at read, Reality Check Summer Camp: Think Inside the Box. “Don’t really understand some of this human stuff, but I figured it must be pretty bad if it made a kid not wanna go home, so I read over it and this place sounds awful! Totally squandered any creativity or individualism! Her own mother was sending her here!” Eda let Ford look it over and she shrugged off the rant. “Anyway, she said she wanted to stay and she was willing to work for it, so I took her in as my apprentice for the summer and now she’s learning how to be a witch.” “Hm, sounds a lot better than kidnapping.” Stan approved with his arms crossed over his chest. “This place is completely horrible.” Ford commented about the summer camp. “They teach kids how to appropriate public radio!” “AM or FM?” “Both.” “Ouch.” “So, what exactly are you doing with such a cute girl, Eight-Ball?” Eda asked, getting Stan’s attention. “And what is a grunkle?” She snorted with a smile. “She’s our grandniece.” Stan said proudly, puffing out his chest. “We’re her great-uncles. Her grunkles.” “Aw, who knew you were such a softie?” “I am not!” “You watched over five hours of video-tutorials on how to braid hair.” Ford said behind the pamphlet. “She asked me to braid her hair and it bothered me that I couldn’t do it!” Eda cackled and touched Stan’s shoulder. His eyes followed and he smiled at her cute laugh. “Aw, you’re worse than King.” King peeked an eye at her and sneered, “One more passive aggressive comment and I’ll…” “That’s not a passive aggressive comment.” Eda said as she picked up the little goofball. “I can do better than that.” “Huh, and here I was thinking that was just one of Luz’s toys.” Stan teased. “Hey!” King stood on the couch by Eda’s side and pointed a bony paw at the old man. “Since you’re a human, I’ll let you walk away with a warning, but have it be known that I’m the King of Demons and shall one day drink the fear of those who mock me!” Ford folded the pamphlet and observed King cautiously. He didn’t like… his voice. His voice sent shivers down the old scientist’s spine. Stan snorted. “Sorry, pipsqueak, but I’ve faced worse demons than you.” “Oh, yeah, like what?” King asked. The girls came back, smiling and holding hands, and Luz asked, “Eda, can we please please PLEASE have a sleepover?! I want to show Mabel the new light spell I learned and show her how to properly scratch a demon’s tummy.” Ford chuckled and stood. “I’m sorry, ladies, but we really should be heading back. I’m sure Dipper is worried sick.” Mabel gasped with horror. “Oh, NO! Dipper!” “Oh, hey, don’t worry.” Luz eased. “You two are totally welcome here anytime you want.” “Aw, thanks, Luz.” Mabel hugged her and said, “I promise I’ll bring Dip-Dip next time. He’d love it here! And he could tell you all about the Manotaurs and the weird copy-machine.” Eda and Stan stood up, too, and the Owl Lady had her arms crossed over her chest. “Well, looks like we’ll be seeing each other again pretty soon. You okay with them hanging out?” Stan shrugged and pocketed his hands in his jeans. “Yeah, sure. Good friends are kinda rare these days. Gotta hold onto ‘em and never let ‘em go.” “Agreed.” Eda said and saw them exchanging those odd codes on their glowing rectangles. “Well, have your girl tell my girl when to open the door and I’ll see what I can do.” And she held out a hand to Stan. He hesitated (not just because of whose hand it was, but because shaking hands always seemed to lead to something bad, but maybe this time will be different), but he took it and shook it gently. “Yeah, and if your girl never needs a break in the human world, have her tell my girl.” Eda smiled at Stan and shook Ford’s hand, as well. She pulled the key out of her hair and unlocked the door, making it appear and swing open. Mabel skipped to her great-uncles and waved goodbye to Luz, who waved back, and she went with Ford through the door for home. Stan stole one last look at Eda, who winked at him, and he disappeared with a pink face.

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: OKAY, first things first, when it comes to fic, I personally don't really like crossovers. Crossovers can be a fun NON-CANON crossover for animation or actors. I get more enjoyment over fun fanart than I so of fics, because I like mine more plot-driven and it's hard to get a good story going just because you wants certain characters to mingle. HOWEVER, I find Gravity Falls and The Owl House just fit so well together! Why? #1: Alex Hirsch and Dana Terrace (the creators) are dating and Dana Terrace is responsible for the awesome Ducktakes reboot (season 1, anyway) AND the famous Not What He Seems scene. So having such a strong connection creativity wise of the shows is very apparent, more so than the other shows. #2: Evidence that supports these connections. Both shows have referenced each other and a theory goes that Eda and Stan were once married for less than a day. (plz check this video for more) And #3: ... I ship it pretty damn hard, okay? So I hope you guys will enjoy this fun little crossover as much as me! And thank you so much for reading!

#gravity falls #the owl house #eda the owl lady #stan pines #luz noceda #mabel pines #ford pines #dipper pines #king of demons #crossover #fallen owls #fanfiction #oh boy #plz don't hate me but i had to #im shipping trash #its official #remember bitches love comments #and yes i am taking suggestions #what trouble should these silver foxes get into?

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