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dumbseee · 1 year ago

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watching.

dabi had one weakness, and it was you.

dabi x fem!reader.

warnings: bad english/grammar :p, mention of murder, violence.

genre: angst.

note: i want touya to have a happy ending :( / maybe i’ll do a part two.

you met touya in kindergarten, his mother was close to yours and introduced you to him because he was too shy to make friends by himself. you immediately handed out your tiny hand towards him with your biggest smile, while he looked at it with wary eyes. he looked up at his mother who nodded towards you and he grabbed your hand. that sealed your friendship with touya todoroki. ever since, you two were inseparable, always with one another and you still remember his gorgeous smile.

your mother was the one to break the news to you, she sat you down on the couch and muted the tv. you could feel that something was wrong, you saw how red and swollen her eyes were and when she took your hands, you felt her hands tremble slightly. when she told you that touya had passed away in a fire accident, you cried for weeks. you couldn’t sleep at all, your sleep was ruined by nightmares, you could hear touya’s screams, his cries for help. you wished you could’ve helped him, your quirk could’ve been useful since you could control water. but you were just a kid, how were you supposed to help?

years had passed and you still thought about touya, you stil kept the teddy bear he gifted you for your sixth’s birthday and you still hugged it tightly at night. sometimes you’d even talk to the sky, asking him if he had a good day up there or if he was watching over you from heaven. well, little did you know that touya was actually looking after you, but he was way closer to you than you thought.

when touya became dabi, he wanted to forget about his past, his only focus being taking his revenge on his father and destroying the hero society. but you kept popping up in his mind, he couldn’t forget you nor could he ignore the little voice whispering your name in his head. it wasn’t hard for him to find you, even years later, he quickly learned that you graduated on top of your classes, and became the number two’s hero, hawks’s personal assistant. when touya saw that, he laughed, apparently fate wanted these two to meet again. of course, touya needed hawks anyway for his plan, but you being his assistant was a major plus.

when he saw you for the first time in years, his breath got caught up in his throat as he witnessed how you blossomed into a gorgeous and confident woman. touya fell in love with you the minute he first saw you, back in kindergarten, but when he saw you again after so many years of being apart, he fell ten times harder. your hair had grown a little longer, now falling down your waist, your smile was still the prettiest sight he’d ever seen, your eyes still had that light in them, the light he’d been longing for since he left, and your laugh was still his favourite melody. he was completely down for you, he couldn’t stay away from you for too long, he needed to hold you, talk to you, take you. you belonged to him, and he couldn’t stand the fact that anyone could look at you, be close to you, meanwhile he had to hide in the shadows of the night, away from you.

touya followed you back home almost every night, he needed to make sure you made it safely inside your apartment he already broken into, when you were at work. he grinned when he walked into your room, it was so you, pictures of friends or family decorating your walls, painted a light pink while your bed was perfectly made. touya let himself fall on your bed, crossing his arms behind his head while he looked at the ceiling. if he closed his eyes he could hear your laugh, he could imagine a world where you two got to be together and live happily ever after, move in together, get married and have a ton of annoying gremlins running around and calling him dad. touya didn’t even feel the bloody tear that rolled down his scarred cheek. he let a dry laugh leave his lips. he could never have that life and be knew it.

as touya stood up and was ready to leave before you could comeback, he noticed the old teddy bear he gave you when you two were still innocent little kids. his eyes widened at the thought of you still thinking about him, after all these years. maybe you loved him too? maybe you were still looking for him? touya knew his family told the world that their eldest son tragically passed away in a fire, but he knew you couldn’t have fall for this stupid story. you were clever enough to know that he couldn’t have died like that. he couldn’t have left you behind, how could he? lost in his thoughts, touya didn’t even hear the sound of keys and the door opening before closing in a rather loud "thud". that sound made him regain his senses, for a second he considered staying there, in your room, waiting for you to come in and see him. but it wasn’t the right time, he’d comeback, and he’d comeback for you.

when you walked into your room, you frowned when you saw your bed all wrinkled up and your teddy bear on the floor. the faint smell of cigarette, wood and whiskey laying in the air as well. you opened the window but was surprised to see it slightly opened already. have you left it open this morning? you shrugged it off, you left in a hurry so it could’ve been the case. you started to strip away from your clothes, to take a quick shower, while touya landed on his two feet, he looked up at your window and grinned to himself. you never forgot him.

you noticed some strange changes in your life lately, the weird smell you smelt in your room a few weeks ago, kept coming back and you wondered where it could come from. you didn’t smoke so why would your room smell like cigarettes? same goes for alcohol, you never drank even a drop of whiskey, so why would it smell like it? your teddy bear kept moving places, you even considered your apartment being haunted, the idea kinda creeped you out, you hated ghosts. but it couldn’t be that, ghosts didn’t exist and even if they did, dead being couldn’t have a smell. you also had this weird feeling of being watched, no matter where you were, in a crowded room at work, in the subway, even in your room, you felt eyes on you and it scared you shitless. what if you had a stalker? what if a crazy serial killer was after you and you’d end up on those true crime documentaries? you shook your head and laughed at your own paranoia.

you turned around in your bed and smiled softly at your teddy bear, you grabbed it in your hands and lift it in the air. "you must think, i’m going insane hm?" you mumbled, a vague image of touya appeared in your mind, it was an old memory of him when you had scraped your knee pretty badly and touya carried you on his back till you arrived at your house. nobody was there so he went to look for a bandaid and helped you. he stayed with you till your mother came back from grocery shopping, even though it would make his father upset. without noticing it, a single tear rolled down your cheek. you cleared your throat and hugged the teddy bear, tightly against your chest. "i miss you so much, touya." you were curled up on your bed, hugging your last souvenir of touya and cried yourself to sleep. meanwhile, in the league’s hideout, touya is lying down on his bed, a hand behind his head and the other holding his phone. he had hidden a small camera inside the teddy bear when he sneaked into your apartment once. as weird as it sounds, touya only wanted to feel closer to you, hear your voice, you always slept with the teddy bear in your arms, which made him feel like he was actually laying next to you. "i miss you too, doll."

the next day, you came back from work, exhausted and frustrated from the bad day you had thanks to one of your coworkers. you were on the phone with your friend, letting out all your frustration. "seriously what is wrong with him? he always single me out during meetings, talking about how my ideas aren’t that good, how dare he? i’m way above him on the food chain, he tends to forget that a lot." you got into your room, smiled at your teddy bear, an habit you picked up a while ago, you removed your jacket and immediately put it back into your dresser. you put your hair up with a claw clip and sat in front of your vanity, removing your earrings while your friend was agreeing with you. "right? he’s so full of himself and does he think i don’t hear all the disgusting things he says about me to tanaka? this motherfucker really thinks i don’t see him looking under my skirt? ugh! i hate him so much, yuri!" you hummed in response to your friend’s answer, "you’re right, maybe i should tell hawks? he’s so sweet, i’m sure he’d help me out." you quickly ended the call after that, eager to wash yourself and eat before jumping on your sofa to watch your favourite comfort show. what you didn’t know is that a certain unstable fire villain heard everything and would take matters into his own hands before fuckass hawks could do anything.

when you went back to work the next day, something was going on and you felt it the second you walked into the building. one of your coworker quickly grabbed your arm to tell you the news. "terushima is dead!" he went straight to the point and your eyes almost came out your sockets. "he got killed by the villain dabi, you know him right? apparently he recorded the whole thing and poor terushima suffered so much, it was a terrible sight." you couldn’t speak, truly stunned by the news, what were the odds? you basically cursed him out a few hours ago and now he was dead? killed by no one but the infamous dabi? thinking about the villain made you shiver. "and that’s not it! dabi also tortured tanaka to have informations on terushima! he went to him first then went to terushima. tanaka is still at the hospital but apparently he’s alive." you felt nauseous all of a sudden, you took a step back and immediately ran away from your poor coworker, even as he called your name, you ran outside, inhaling fresh air as you felt sweat cover your forehead, your whole body was shaking from shock. you wouldn’t mourn terushima, he was a pain in your ass, and tanaka was nothing but a dirty pig as well. but the fact that you talked about these two men just yesterday and now one was dead and the other was at the hospital. the coincidence was too much for you, you called in sick and went back to your apartment.

you kicked your shoes and immediately went to the fridge to take out a fresh bottle of water, downing it almost entirely. you frowned when you saw a piece of paper sitting on your table. it was a handwritten note, you felt shiver down your spine as you read it.

"they won’t bother you anymore."

you let the note fall on the ground, your legs felt like jello now and you had to grab the counter to steady yourself before you could join the note on the floor. you struggled to breath as you now understood that the call you made yesterday and what happened to terushima and tanaka wasn’t a scary coincidence. the note wasn’t signed but you knew who left it here, dabi. dabi came here, dabi heard you, dabi took revenge for you, dabi knew you. but why would he do that? why would he take a liking to you? how could he even notice you? you were scared now, a villain was after you and you could be his next victim soon. you quickly grabbed your phone and started to dial hawks’s number. he was your boss but also your friend, he’d help you. but as you were about to dial the last digit, you felt a presence behind you. and you remember not closing the door. you swallowed the lump in your throat and slowly turned around, your eyes widened and you let out a small cry as you recognised dabi, in all his glory, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he stood tall in your living room. he closed the door with his feet and looked at you.

"w-what are y-you doing here?" he came for you, he was going to murder you in your own home. you saw dabi chuckle and you almost fainted when you saw him take a step closer to you. he didn’t answer you, his eyes were weirdly familiar to you, a turquoise blue, same as touya’s. the thought of your old friend made you realise that you’d soon join him in the afterlife and somehow, the thought comforted you. dabi was now in front of you, a few inches separating you two as he looked down at you. "it’s been a while, y/n." his voice was deep, a little hoarse and you saw him smile softly at you. what the? thee dabi smiling? you were dreaming, it had to be a dream! or a nightmare. "i didn’t think you’d keep that old teddy bear for so long, but i’m glad that you did." and it hit you, almost instantly as the words left his mouth, you realised.

touya todoroki was in front of you. your touya.

silent tears immediately started to roll down your cheeks as you looked at his pretty eyes, his gorgeous turquoise orbs you so often thought about how nice it would feel to drown in them. silence fell upon you as your mind was spinning, you felt your legs give up on you and dabi was quick to grab you, both of his hands on your waist, yours pressed on his chest as you were still lost in your thoughts. you let a hand slowly stroke his cheek and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. you quickly removed your hand, which made him frown. "t-touya?" your voice broke at the end of his name. "it’s me, y/n. i never left." now you were nothing but a sobbing mess, you didn’t know how to handle this. your touya was standing in front of you and you didn’t know how to take it. touya didn’t come back as the joyful and cheeky kid, he came back as a demon called dabi.

"you’re not my touya." you mumbled, pushing him away from you, you moved away so you were now giving your back to the door, just in case you had to run. touya felt his heart explode at your words. "how- how could you do this? what happened to you? what happened to the kid i used to know? this isn’t you. it can’t be!" you yelled, years blurring your vision, but you angrily wiped them away. of course, you weren’t aware of the trauma touya had to go through. "i can explain everything." he simply said, taking a step closer to you, this time you didn’t move away. "you can explain what? killing dozens of innocents? joining the league of villains? you’re literally one of the main instigator of this fucking league!" you pushed his chest, clearly still angry and touya couldn’t hold that against you. he just wanted to hold you, soothe you, tell you that everything would be fine. but touya couldn’t do that, because he didn’t know how to do that, he didn’t know how to react in these type of situations, no one ever comforted him, beside you. which explain the insane amount of patience he had right now, he knew he wouldn’t hurt you, he would never forgive himself if he did.

"i want you to leave." you said, looking up at him, eyes full of rage but also sadness. you were devastated, you dreamed of this moment, you never really believed that touya died in that fire. you always felt like he was still out there, doing god knows what, well you were right, but at what cost? touya felt anger and frustration build up inside of him, he wanted to yell at you, tell you that he had no choice, he had to continue with his plan, he had to take revenge, he had to. "not before you listen to me, then i’ll leave." you crossed your arms against your chest and gave hime the sign to continue. "the number one hero, endeavor." just saying his name made him want to burn this whole place, but you were here. touya took a deep breath and all of a sudden, he was back in kindergarten, in front of a pouty y/n who was waiting for an explanation as to why touya had broken your favourite doll. the memory almost made him smile, but now he was in front of a y/n that despised him and his actions, your beautiful eyes lacked their usual light, you threw daggers at him and he felt them stab his already broken heart. "you know what," he lift his hands up as surrender and headed towards the door. "you should take a day off tomorrow and watch the news." he smiled at you before leaving your apartment.

you couldn’t believe it, the moment he closed the door, you fell on the ground. bawling your eyes out, your heart yelled at you for not hugging him, not telling him how much you missed him, how hard you prayed for this day to happen. but your brain praised you for doing the right thing. touya did died in that fire, dabi was what remains. and dabi wasn’t your friend.

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aleenuhs · 10 months ago

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bear with me on this request!! Imagine being Arthur's wife and living with John, Abigail and Jack after his passing. Then, after a few days, while everyone is still healing physically and mentally, you discover you're pregnant with Arthur's child. What John and Abigail's reaction would be?

⋆A Time to Be So Small

thank u!

warnings: mentions of death, lots of sadness and happiness, pregnancy mentioned heavily, grief

title is from one of my favorite songs by the band Interpol

not proofread😔

wc: 700

The past week had been one of the hardest you'd ever experienced, Arthur was gone. How lost you felt, how lost everyone felt, because he was just here a few days ago. Now he wasn't, and your mind couldn't comprehend that, that it was real and in fact not a figment of your imagination, or a dream.

So when you learned that you were pregnant, with his child, which you were sure that it was, you were even more broken. You were terrified, how could you introduce a baby into this world without its father?

You couldn't heal in any way when there was a child growing in your body, you couldn't heal knowing that its father wasn't here anymore.

How could you tell John and Abigail this news, how would they take it?

You sat in your room, holding yourself. You knew that the Marston family were good people, good company, they took care of you the way you did the same for them as long as you'd known them. You loved Jack like he was your little brother.

Seeing Abigail be a mother to him, it made you think, how? This baby would be another mouth to feed, clothe and bathe, and a whole lot of responsibility to you and the others. How could you be a mother? Something that you never thought of in your lifetime came so unexpectedly, so quickly.

You almost wanted to cry. The sun rays slipping through the curtains in your room, the sounds of the cattle and horses and other animals that they had. The smell of the flowers which Abigail had always put on the dining table. John wasn't home yet, it was just you Abigail and Jack, then Rufus who was laying right next to you as you sat on the bed.

You missed your husband, truly, and it was all you could think of. When John finally got home, you'd hesitated to walk out of your room. Slowly, your feet padded on the floor when you heard Abigail announce that dinner was ready.

You held yourself, it was all you could do. How you wished that Arthur was there. You wouldn't be so empty if he was. Rufus came out of your room and went outside.

You greeted John and Jack, then Abigail, you sat down at the dinner table and silently thought of everything that could happen at the mention of pregnancy in the middle of everything, how the world would seemingly stop for a moment when you said it.

You let everyone settle in and start eating.

Clearing your throat, you spoke, "I have something... to share." You stammered and immediately got nervous.

John looks up from his food and looks at you, and so do the others.

"Yes?" He speaks.

"Im..." You could hardly speak.

"You're?" Abigail continued, wondering what you were getting at. Jack looks at you, eyeing your terrified expression, which was painfully obvious to the rest sitting there.

"Im pregnant," you feel a certain weight lifted off your shoulders and your hand comes to your chest, looking around for something, anything in their faces.

John is the first to speak after the uneasy silence that filled the air.

"With Arthurs baby?" He asked and you nodded softly. He felt bad, but happy at the same time. Abigail instead gets up and walks around the table, bending down to hug you as you sat in the chair.

She hugged you tightly, she kissed your cheek and then said, "Im so glad, this is great -- this is just... the best news we've received all week." She spoke happily, yet softly.

It made you feel so much better, but without Arthur your emotion felt glued on, fake almost. But you were glad there was support for you, and that was your luck.

"We're happy for you, don't doubt that." John says as he lets on a smile.

"As much as we all wish Arthur was here, there will be a part of him with us." Abigail points to your stomach and rubs it.

"Right." John adds on.

You smile, how lucky you are.

In your head, you knew that this support wouldn't end anytime soon and Abigail would be there for you until this baby comes.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #john marston #abigail roberts #jack marston #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr

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goosita · 1 year ago

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hii! i'm obsessed with your writing and how you write billy 🫶🏻 i wondered if you could do a part 2 of the singer!reader x billy one. maybe they meet again and he asks her out or the next time they see each other, reader is singing a song about him 🎀 i'm sure whatever you decide to write will be stunning

she so totally would sing a song about him bro

it becomes a thing after that second time he comes to see you sing.

no matter how tired, beat up, beat down, sunburned or moody billy is, he’s at that table every single friday night. after the 4th or 5th week in a row, he finally plucks up the courage to ask you out. you even use the word finally, which makes him blush but he laughs all the same.

you become inseparable in your moments that neither of you are busy. as soon as billy is finished with his work for the day, he’s high-tailing it to your little house out in the hills. some days he strolls around town with you, some evenings you two lay out in the grass behind your home, gazing at the stars and grazing hands. much to your surprise and delight, it’s billy who kisses you first.

you two are sitting on a blanket, his favorite place in the world woth you at his side and the sun shining. birds tweet happily in the trees, you scribbling in your leather-bound notebook while he braids together pieces of the tall grass and watches you. he loves to listen to you hum different melodies, testing them against the words you put on the pages. he finds a little flower, probably a weed but its still pretty all the same, and weaves it into the little knot of grass he’s been tying together.

“hey, darlin’,” he murmurs, smiling. you glance up with a chirpy little hm?, grinning and blushing when he tucks the little woven plants into your hair carefully. it looks like a little rosette, with the flower at the center.

“how’s it look?” you ask, matching his grin.

“pretty as a picture,” he breathes, letting his hand cup your cheek gently. when you lean into his palm, his heart does this funny little thing in his chest that it’s only ever done for you.

you rest your own hand over his on your cheek, and the next thing you know, he’s dipping his head to brush his lips against yours. they’re warm and soft on your mouth, sweet from the peach he’d eaten earlier. when you sigh into him and press closer, he thinks he might just be the happiest man that’s ever lived.

and so it goes, billy gives you all his attention and you give him all your affection and vice versa, in this perfect little back and forth. what he doesn’t expect, though, is for you to give him your songs.

he’s parked at his usual spot, humming along to all the songs he knows by heart now. he sips his whiskey and watches you, a permanent little quirk to his lips that betrays exactly how much he adores you to anyone who spares him a passing glance.

“alright y’all, i got one more up my sleeve before i take my bows for the night,” you tell the crowd, grinning. “this one’s new, so i hope you like it! but really, there’s only one person here who’s opinion on it matters to me.” You laugh and wink at him, and he smiles but lifts his brow curiously at you.

and then you’re picking up your guitar, voice soft as a cloud as you sing about blue, blue, blue, and cowboys with rough hands but gentle hearts. funny little hats and maroon sweaters that are warmer than any blanket you’ve ever felt. billy swallows hard and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, though still he smiles. you don’t take your eyes off him the entire song, and as soon as its done, you slip your guitar off your body.

you don’t even bow or thank the audience this time, you’re walking straight to billy. he stands up and you smile, standing on your tiptoes and yanking him by the collar down to your lips to kiss him until he feels dizzy with it. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against his body, bending you backwards with how fiercely he returns your kiss.

“i love you,” he pants softly against your mouth, not caring about who sees. you break away with a giggle, the sweetest thing billy has ever heard.

“i love you too, cowboy.”

he grins and takes his hat off, placing it on your head. then, he cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead, both of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips one more time. billy bonney is the happiest man who’s ever lived, no doubt about it.

#billy bonney x singer!reader #billy the kid #william h bonney #billy the kid fluff #billy bonney x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #anon

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themonotonysyndrome · 21 days ago

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Leftovers and Pushovers

This is a sequel to @madameadelina's oneshot, 'Grill, or To Be Grilled?'

Enjoy~

There are three things that the Imperial Baroness of the Coastal Empire loves in this world.

Food. Pink diamonds. Castin Hammer.

"Wha - I'm last on your list!? You killed me, baby. You just killed me!"

Cupcake could only giggle helplessly, her body curling beside Warren's larger form. At the same time, the Intacian Commander, known for his indomitable spirit on the battlefield, dramatically fell to his knees in despair. Disbelief was painted on his face.

Meanwhile, the Baroness hummed happily as she polished off her twelve chicken skewers. Unbothered as her husband falls apart by the very seams on the ground beside her.

"Delicious. Lord Warren, you have a knack for cooking," The Baroness compliments without fanfare or wordplay that she is known for. A very rare occurrence. Despite the warm summer evening, Warren tries not to shiver. "The meat are not only properly seasoned - "

Castin whimpers akin to a wounded dog. Cupcake snorts.

" - but, my, how they melt just so in the mouth. Perfection."

"Goddess! Conquerer! What sins have I committed in my past life for my wife to prefer the meat of others!?"

At Castin's anguished inquiry to the heavens, Cupcake gave up all pretence of a genteel and devastatingly brilliant Councilwoman. She burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as tears streamed down her face, with Warren frantically holding her shoulders so she wouldn't join his brother.

"Bro! Are you trying to get me killed!?" Warren hisses, suffering from secondhand embarrassment. He's second away from fleeing the scene with Cupcake in his arms. Thank goodness their little get-together is just the four of them. "Get your dusty ass knees up, for Goddess' sake! Her Grace is just joking." He said, glancing at the unruffled woman in question.

The Baroness threw her thirteenth skewer stick onto the bin before patting the corner of her lips with a napkin. Dainty. Elegant. Even after devouring a whole plate of food and side dishes by herself. "I am in a good mood right now. Do not ruin it by putting anything other than this meal in my mouth."

Warren swallowed nervously.

Having enough rolling in the dirt, Castin launched himself onto his wife's lap. Eyes wide with hurt.

"Baby, say it isn't so. Say that you like my meat the best, please?" He pitifully begs.

Cupcake is howling with laughter now. Warren gave up trying to salvage his brother's dignity. Instead, he focused on saving his own skin by passing tissues to Cupcake. She hiccuped and accepted them gratefully. Once she managed to calm down, Cupcake thanked Warren by planting a kiss on his cheek.

The Baroness enjoys the sight of the couple finally at ease with each other and the world.

It's nice.

This is nice.

Juicy satays. A pink diamond ring on her finger. Castin Hammer, happy and safe at home.

The closest heaven on Earth the Baroness could ever get.

"Castin, stop pouting. You know I love you best. Now come closer; let me wipe those adorable cheeks of yours. Dear Goddess, how did you become so filthy so quickly?"

And just like that, Castin did a 180, preening as his wife tutted and doted on him. Without the weight of the military on his left and the lives of his men on his right, Castin can finally be a playful husband and friend, just as he always wanted. And it’s a pretty sweet bonus that his brother is happy with his woman too.

“So what’s the plan now?” Castin asked, curious. Curious about the future that Warren and Cupcake will pave for themselves, and curious as his lady wife attempts to break her personal record by going for another skewer. He and Warren might need to man the grill again if this continues. “Got your eyes on the East? The sailors had been talking in the taverns. Rumours about some great empires and treasures have been going around. Each sounds more fantastical than the last.”

Cupcake and Warren shared a glance. Goddess, the two are already in sync. He and the Baroness need to step up their game. “We were thinking of traveling nearer, actually,” It’s Cupcake who replies. “A few universities invited me over to discuss the latest studies that I published. For some reason, the world of academics in the Empire is in a tizzy. Your Grace, you don’t suppose…”

“It has nothing to do with your gender, that’s for certain. I can assure you that us Imperials, regardless of blood, are vicious opportunists. I reckon every professor worth their weight in gold is fighting to be your research partner and have their names printed in future textbooks. And if it is not your brain or papers, it’s your seat that they are salivating over. You might be granted the title of nobility as a means to appease the common folk of Steelgate, but make no mistake, that is a power people will seek to utilise for their own gain. I suggest you find more allies beyond Lord Reyes the moment you land on Imperial soil.”

With that said, the Baroness finishes the last satay.

That makes 50 sticks. A celebratory dessert is in order.

Cupcake and Warren are stunned at the revelation, although suspicion coloured the ex-gladiator’s expression. Given the extensive explanation that the Baroness had lectured him on Cupcake’s importance as a scientist and member of the Council, he suspects the same.

“B-But I only published two journals! Two! And both were on the effects of alchemy in herbalism and the ethical aspect of it.” Cupcake splutters, adorable eyes wide. Warren rubs her knuckle, quietly comforting her. “And besides, my position within the Council isn’t as important as the others. Surely, I can’t be worth the hype?”

“Are you kidding me? Cupcake, you’re literally amazing! You survived schemes that would’ve killed an average politican while still conducting experiments like a boss. By the way, I’m so glad those old fucks are enjoying their retirement behind bars,” Warren says, empathically. Maliciously. His grin is near feral and its dangerous edge sent tingles down Cupcake’s spine. But he’s not done yet. “Not to mention that you held your own well against the Underground and its people. Granted, you had me showing the ropes and I’m a pretty awesome teacher…”

Cupcake scoffs but some of her tension melts away like the large batch of tiramisu that Castin unraveled. Warren counts that as a win, doubly so when the Baroness’ full attention is onto the dessert.

He softly kisses Cupcake’s forehead.

Castin coos. He squawk like an affronted parrot when Warren throws a used napkin at his face.

While the brothers are busy roughousing, Cupcake quietly thank the Baroness for a plate of her own. “Would you be amendable for tea tomorrow, Your Grace? If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to discuss on my preparation to the Empire. Of course I expect no charity and is willing to compensate for your valuable time.”

The crackling of the fire and their lovers’ rambunctious bickering fills the silence between the women. It’s welcoming for it gives the two some time to ponder.

The Baroness polishes her dessert before offering a boon that Cupcake could never have predicted.

She delicately dab the corner of her mouth with a napkin and proclaim, “My calendar is unfortunately pack until the end of the social season. Merchants and nobles are at their worst during this time. Oh, do not look so dishearten, my Lady. I adore you too much as a friend to let you wade the shark infested waters of the Empire without any guidance.”

Cupcake immediately perks up. “So you’ll help me?”

“I shall do you better. Give me your hand.”

The next few moments had Warren and Castin stops their brawling to witness the Baroness removing the pink diamond ring from her hand and slide it onto Cupcake’s finger. Specifically, her index finger. The physical weight of the ring is equivalent as a plain pebble on the bedrock of a nearby river but the implication as well as the meaning is a toll that had Cupcake’s jaw onto the floor.

As the rarest gemstone in the current world which no sufficient price could be attached to, pink diamonds tells a story that only the worthy may bear it. The Imperial Empress who fashioned it upon her crown as the Mother of an Empire. The young fashion designer whose intellect exceeds her peers and is only match by her bravery to travel even the most remote of regions in pursuit of her craft that endear herself to her patroness. The Imperial Baroness who owns the mountain where the gemstones are mined.

Pink diamonds are a status symbol that grant it’s bearer immunity against all reproach and commands every respect due. To receive ire from one of the bearer would mean receiving the attention of every women who also carry the gemstone.

The Empress, the Baroness and the fashionista.

“Y-You… wait, wait. Your Grace, I-I simply can’t - ”

“Make no mistake, my Lady. This ring is merely a loan. I shall like it to be return by the end of the social season with an interest.”

“And that interest would be?” Cupcake warily inquires.

But the Baroness simply smile. It has an impish quality to it. “A story. I would greatly enjoy hearing about your time in my homeland pair with some good scones and tea,” She leans back against her chair while their men returns to their side. Warren is eyeing the ring carefully while Castin help himself to some tiramisu. He gives a shaky Cupcake a reassuring thumbs up. “The Empire has a way of testing oneself. I look forward to see who will join my table in the future.”

With the Baroness full support, there’s no way the people of the Empire would see Cupcake as a pushover. That should give her and Warren enough time to consolidate their allies and network with the right people without the fear of being taken advantage of or pulled into some noble’s intrigue.

The Coastal Empire isn’t prepared for Warren and Cupcake. Castin and the Baroness are excited for this new show.

#monotony's rambling #desmond asmr #oneshot #sequel to a fic #castin hammer #baroness (listener)#warren #cupcake (listener)#this was fun!

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cljordan-imperium · 1 year ago

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@runnning-outof-time - for your "Caught in 4K" Celebration

A little Tommy & Charlie fluffy happiness.

Tommy had been spending too much time in London, too much time at the Garrison, too much time away from home, and every time he turned around he swore his boy had grown an inch or more. It was time that he let his brothers and Polly run things for a few days and took Charlie out to the country. Just he and his son, be the father that he never had. It was the one thing he swore he’d do when Charlie was born and he knew he’d been woefully neglectful of it. However, it was never too late to start, and he’d made a promise to Polly to do better and if anyone could ride his ass to do it, it was Polly.

So, with bags packed, the car loaded, and Charlie just about bouncing out of said car, they pulled out of the drive and onto the main road that would take them out to the Shelby hunting cabin. Now, the Shelby cabin was not like what most people would imagine a hunting cabin. It was far from rustic and was always kept well stocked in case any of them needed to get away from the city for any reason. It was just the place for a “boys weekend” for Tommy and his favorite boy.

As expected, once they were on the road, Charlie passed out in the passenger seat of the car and didn’t wake up again until they had arrived at the cabin. It made Tommy chuckle, but there was something about watching his sleeping son that tugged at the tough gangster’s heart. The boy was innocent, but he looked especially like an angel when he was curled up asleep. There was no length he would not go to in order to keep the boy safe; no depth he would not plunge to in order to ensure that the life that he lived never even came near to touching him.

Once Tommy had pulled the car to a stop in front of the cabin, Charlie was awake in an instant and peppering his father with a thousand questions on what they were going to do. Could they feed the ducks? Would they fish? Could they go for a walk? Did he think the black cat was still out in the barn? Could they tell stories under the stars? Did he have to wear shoes? Tommy wasn’t sure how his son was even taking breaths. All he could do was laugh and shake his head as he got his son, and then their bags, out of the car and headed inside.

Anyone who has ever tried to keep a small child inside on a beautiful, sunny day knows that it is an impossible task, and being a powerful gangster gives you no more influence over a child than anyone else. So, before Tommy could turn around, Charlie was sprinting off towards the lake. He knew how to take advantage of a turned back, much to his father’s chagrin. Which meant that Tommy was off and chasing the giggling boy towards the lake. Thankfully, Tommy was faster than his son and did not end up with a wet child in addition to a feisty one.

Once he had the boy’s small hand in his much larger one, they decided to take a walk around the property. They found that the cat did live in the barn, and that it had apparently had a litter of kittens since the last time that they were out there. One of said kittens ended up touring the rest of the property with them. The ducks were happily swimming in the lake, and there were several spots that were perfect to be able to lay out a blanket and look up at the stars to be able to tell bedtime stories. As long as there wasn’t rain, they might even be able to camp out one night if Charlie was very, very good.

Other than trying to sneak the kitten into the cabin later, Charlie made sure he was on his best behavior. More than once Tommy caught him trying to mimic his behavior, saying that he wanted to be “just like daddy”. It hit Tommy in the heart. Maybe he wasn’t doing so bad as a dad after all. Only time would tell, but if that round little face staring up at him like he was the best thing in the world was any indication, all hope wasn’t lost yet.

@evita-shelby @cillmequick @call-sign-shark @look-at-the-soul @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms

#writeblr #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #charlie shelby #i tried #my writing

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asecretvice · 1 year ago

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Hey. I just really want to thank you for “And This, Your Living Kiss”. I’m guessing you may be a bit tired hearing us talk about it, what, 4, 5 years after you published it? I just need to express some gratitude. Your poem “Perfect” was probably the first poem ever to make cry, and I still read it occasionally when I’m down. It’s honestly probably my favorite poem ever. For me it captures this delicate, still very anchored kind of happiness that just hits so deep. Kind of like the opposite of melancholia. I hope you get what I’m saying and that I’m not just talking out of my ass, and if I am, I was hoping you’d share some of your thoughts about this poem?

Also, this story is truly my favorite story ever. Has been for a very long time. A question I have for you is, is there any place where we can read more of your poetry? And if not, I was also wondering if you’d be willing to share with us some of your favorite poets/poems?

Firstly, thank you for your patience; sometimes it takes me a while to get to asks.

But mostly, thank you so much for these kind words. Do not ever doubt yourself when taking the time to extend your positivity to others; I—and I daresay the vast majority of people—do not get tired of receiving these small kindnesses. It’s a reminder that life can be full of connection, a reminder that when I send a little bit of my heart out into our raging, grief-filled world, there are those who accept and understand and, hopefully, keep passing that love forward. And thusly we make the world a better place. So please receive my gratitude for reaching out.

That you love “Perfection” means so much to me. It was the first piece of the fic I wrote, you know, and pretty much became the basis for who Dean is in the fic thereafter. I don’t feel you’re talking out of your ass at all. Dean is such a complex character, and I think that’s why so many of us relate to him; we see our own complexity and contradictions reflected back at us through him. There is of course happiness there among the rest—a boy/man who is at his happiest when with his family (blood or no). Underneath it all is that deep thread of love we (and Cas!) admire and strive toward within ourselves.

Unfortunately I don’t have poetry published anywhere else. Maybe someday.

Several of my fav poets/poems appear in the fic already, though they’re among many others. However because I’ve been thinking about her lately, I hope you’ll indulge me if I talk about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her masterpiece Sonnets from the Portuguese.

In the modern day EBB’s words most often show up in the guise of “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” It sounds a bit hokey, doesn’t it? I know I always thought so; especially to my teenage ear it was sickly sweet if not downright simpering. Spoiler: I was wrong. Context changes everything.

Do you believe that some books or stories come into your life at just the right time? Fast forward to when I’m 18 or 19. I’m in a town I’ve never been to before, visiting people I barely know. My host needs to work and offers to drop me off in the town center to explore. I agree because the weather’s fair and I’m desperate for a break from polite company, as it were. Happily it’s a pleasant area, full of green and not far from a large canal. After wandering along its edge for a while I aim back toward the local stores and window-shop up and down the streets. At last I stumble upon a used bookstore right next to a gelateria! Well you couldn’t have put two things together that more matched my taste if you tried. Naturally, I resolve to find a book and then go next door for some gelato and spend my time enjoying them both.

The bookstore is in an older building, for sure, with hardwood floors and the type of wainscoting that make me think it’s from the early 20th century at least. It’s split into multiple rooms and connected by open doorways; I wonder if it used to be a home. Many, though not all of the bookshelves are built into the walls and painted a pleasant white, stuffed to the gills with books in every color. The only other soul in the building is the man behind the front counter, and aside from a swift exchange of polite smiles I am left alone. I start by going to the left and poking around the shop and its little book-filled rooms counterclockwise, determined to choose at least one thing before I leave. What type, what genre? What length, what mood? I don’t know, but am sure I’ll know it when I see it. I’m free to choose whatever I like, you understand, because rarely had an English teacher in my past convinced me I couldn’t teach myself better, and I’d resolved never to take a class in the English department in college if I could help it (and for better or worse, I never did).

I take my time twisting in and out of the treasure-filled corners, no rush and no fuss. Yet no book sings to me. At length I near the back of the shop; on the far side beneath a window is a short, two-shelf bookcase. With waning hope I crouch in front of the shelf and begin reading spines. Aha! It’s filled with poetry. Perhaps there is some hope after all…then there it is: Sonnets from the Portuguese. Definitely faux-fancy binding, but still pretty. It looks like this:

I flip through, and every sonnet is accompanied by a different piece of silhouette art. It’s lovely, and it sings to me. A small pencil mark on the inside indicates it only costs a couple bucks, so I rummage in my wallet, stop by the front desk, and leave the store with the book clutched in my hands. With the rest of my cash I go to the gelateria next door and pick a couple of unusual flavors and again, alone, I choose a rickety metal table outside and sit with nothing but birds and sunshine for company. I skip the introduction and open the book immediately to the first sonnet:

I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was ’ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair, And a voice said in mastery while I strove, . . 'Guess now who holds thee?'—'Death,' I said, But, there, The silver answer rang . . 'Not Death, but Love.'

What do you glean from the poem? It is slow and sad, a bright mythologized ideal set against a woman sunk deep in dark grief, a darkness that swiftly shifts into horror as a Shape appears behind her, physically pulls her from her weeping, and demands a response. She is so sure that her own death has at last come upon her, except what’s appeared…is love? Love, of all things? Love?

This is not at all what I am expecting to read. I fill up with another spoonful of gelato and eagerly turn the page.

And turn, and turn—Reader, I’m hooked. I’m strapped into a rollercoaster and freefalling down the first slope, on a wild ride built by a woman who’s been chronically ill since childhood, who’s lived through the death of her mother and beloved brother, whose father keeps her in his house and firmly under his thumb even long into her thirties, who still manages to write and get published and yet still lives lonely in her dark room…Sonnets from the Portuguese is an epic journey via the most astonishing set of 44 sonnets about how love completely changed her life, sonnets which her husband later touted to be the best in English since Shakespeare (and I agree). If you haven’t read the sonnets I encourage you to do so before reading on, link here, but if you’d rather I walk you through…

Even reading them again now I am in awe. How baldly and boldly she talks about how she and Robert, because of course it’s about her famous courtship with Robert Browning, are not meant to be. Not just her circumstances at home, not just her poor health, not just the fact that she thinks herself so below him and his worth, but also her grief. The darkness that lives in her! So many lines from these poems are woven into the tapestry of my life, like from sonnet V: Behold and see / What a great heap of grief lay hid in me. She warns that it could ruin him. Stand further off then! go! it ends.

And yet the next one (VI) begins: Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand / Henceforward in thy shadow. It is too late. She’s already been changed. The world and her perception of it are already shifting. Read how the beginning of VII illustrates this:

The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink, Was caught up into love, and taught the whole Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink, And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.

She was sinking into oblivion, death her companion, until he stood between them and she was caught up into love, no longer to go through her days sitting simple and still in her room, content to wallow in the sorrow she’d been given. Yet…that still doesn’t matter, because how can she reciprocate? And, crucially, does it make her a bad person that she can’t?

am I cold, Ungrateful, that for these most manifold High gifts, I render nothing back at all? Not so; not cold,—but very poor instead. (VIII)

Have you ever been there? Found yourself wondering if you’re even capable of love and kindness toward others given all you’ve been through, and how horrible it feels to think that ability’s been stolen from you? Is what little you can eke out even worth anything in comparison? Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. (IX)

But she continues turning the idea of love over in her mind. Could it be that love is fully worthy, no matter where it comes from? There’s nothing low / In love, she reasons, when love the lowest (X). Still it does not seem that she herself could be worthy—and if this is worthy love, anyway, would she have even known how to do it if she’d not first been shown by him?

And thus, I cannot speak Of love even, as a good thing of my own: Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak, And placed it by thee on a golden throne,— And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!) Is by thee only, whom I love alone. (XII)

It seems that Robert persists in his own love, because then an earnest plea: that he love her for love’s sake, because people change in time. She herself is changing now because of him! Do not even love her because he loves taking care of and comforting her, because his love could lessen her need for that comfort! (XIV)

Regardless she is not without feeling, as sad and calm as she outwardly seems. She’s just not like him. But…could his love and his will be strong enough to overcome all these obstacles? Why, conquering / May prove as lordly and complete a thing / In lifting upward, as in crushing low! With such success, she says, I at last record, / Here ends my strife. (XVI)

But of course, nothing can be quite so simple. Her first question is how she can be useful to him. This does not feel like a full partnership:

How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use? A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse? A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine? A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose. (XVII)

That theme of death, too, is still ever-present. Even as the next couple of sonnets talk about how they’ve exchanged locks of hair she speaks of it. In XX a sea-change is further revealed, however, when she compares her life before Robert to the one after knowing him, how link by link, [I] Went counting all my chains but now, in contrast to VII’s cup of dole, she drinks from life’s great cup of wonder! She begs him to keep saying that he loves her (XXI), continuing the theme that his love will teach her, lift her, allay her many fears. But the next again ends with the death-hour rounding it.

Robert’s response? That her death would harm him. She admits to marveling at this revelation. If it is to be believed,

Then my soul, instead Of dreams of death, resumes life’s lower range. Then, love me, Love! look on me—breathe on me! As brighter ladies do not count it strange, For love, to give up acres and degree, I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near sweet view of heaven, for earth with thee! (XXIII)

So first we learn that it is Love, not Death that has grabbed her; then we know that she feels Robert’s soul has slipped between her and the brink of death and thus she begins to question her constant sorrow; she is changing by his love; she will stop worrying about her worthiness and be of use to him and bask in what love he is willing to give her; but only now, finally, does she give up death itself in order to live her life. She is choosing to live!

The next few sonnets double down on this, about how all her hope had become despair, about how for so long she only had visions for company, and didn’t know they were mere shades in comparison to a reality of actually living, how Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well. Also important? His saving kiss (XXVII).

We’ve come far, but progress isn’t an even trajectory. The rollercoaster dips again: now that she wishes to live, she wishes to live in his presence. She is both touch-starved and starved for company. Because their letters—one of, if not the most famous set of love letters in the English language—are to her all dead paper, mute and white! She speaks of how they fixed a day in spring / To come and touch my hand…a simple thing, / Yet I wept for it! (XXVIII) So we got the first mention in the last sonnet of his kissing her, and now a memory of when he first touched her hand. She goes on to write about how thinking of him is no longer enough; she needs to be near him. She then wonders, when he is gone, if she has embellished his feelings for her. Can you blame her? I certainly can’t. Her dark thoughts are now manifesting in these doubts about her perception, rather than her abilities.

But upon his next visit, she admits, I erred / In that last doubt! (XXXI). His presences reassures that all is real, not dream. And while she has always found it unlikely that their bond could have formed so fast (Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe, XXXII), now that she knows him she knows it was wrong to think that of him. She then brings up her childhood and draws parallels between the bright happy love she felt then with the love she feels now…even though, given the life she’s lived, the love she feels really can’t be the same. Her thoughts are no longer that of a child’s, which can be lightly turned aside, but for him she can and will turn from her dark, lonely thoughts when called.

This all decided, that their love is deep and true and as real as the loves she used to feel, and that she wants to be with him, an important question remains: If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange / And be all to me? Simply reading the poems and knowing their time period (Victorian) it could be enough to assume that it’s a regular leaving of your childhood home to create your own. But remember what I said at the beginning? The control her father exerts over her? She knows he would never approve. Hell, it was difficult enough for her siblings to make lives for themselves within his shadow. Going with Robert would mean truly leaving everything. She knows it won’t be easy: For grief indeed is love and grief beside (XXXV).

This great fear invites more doubt. She admits she has grown stronger and more confident, but that doesn’t make her troubles disappear. She knows she does their love a disservice in so doubting and in so fearing, but she can’t help it. But then…she returns to the physical, to his presence. In XXXVIII she speaks of their first three kisses: the first on her hand, the second for her forehead, but half-landed on her hair, and the third upon my lips was folded down / In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed / I have been proud and said, “My love, my own.”

She goes on in the next sonnets to say how grateful she is that he truly sees her and knows her beyond all the layers of sorrow and sickness she labors under. It should also be noted that, uncommonly for their time, he at 33 or so was courting her at 39/40. And so she is grateful, too, that he thinks it soon when others cry “Too late.” (XL). She then thanks all who had ever loved or listened, but again thanks Robert for listening to her even when it was difficult. She doubles down, now, on her decision to live:

I seek no copy now of life’s first half: Leave here the pages with long musing curled, And write me new my future’s epigraph, New angel mine, unhoped for in the world! (XLII)

And then—only now, as the rollercoaster shoots us upward and onward in joy and hope for a good, loving future—does she begin sonnet XLIII with How do I love thee? She asks this, not as some young girl with no life experience about a boy she’s seen across the room (I mean, how else was I supposed to interpret it, given how it’s used in the modern age?). She asks this as a woman full four decades into her life, a life full of chronic illness, an authoritarian home, and familial grief. She asks this after months of courtship during which she fought for every inch of belief, and hope, and joy. Where she at last came to know her own strength of heart and of will. Because she does leave her home, dear Reader. She elopes with Robert Browning, gets married in France, and lives out the rest of her life in Italy, where death finally catches up to her at 55. Keep all this in mind, as you read the sonnet in full:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

There is one more sonnet, where she brings back flowers, a motif I didn’t spend time on in this post, to talk about how their souls are intertwined down to their roots. I bring it up now not just because flowers end this glorious cycle of forty-four poems, but because I think of her grave.

A year or two after I fell in love with these poems I was lucky enough to be in Italy myself. Some friends and I were walking around Florence and I insisted we had to find the English cemetery. I remember it as being this island of a hill in the middle of some busy streets, all fenced in with a little building at the entrance. When we scurried across the street and inside, there was a nun there who greeted us warmly. I told her I was looking for Elizabeth Barrett Browning and she lit up. She motioned for us to follow as she told me that they do their best to take care of her grave, and have always done so (I don’t know if she means just those who work there or Italians in general, as EBB was loved by Florence in her time). But, she said, they did not look kindly upon Robert, because he spent all this money on a beautiful tomb but he never, ever came to visit. She said this with the authority of someone who had witnessed it herself, though of course that was impossible. This was clearly a story deemed important enough—or perhaps simply so full of strong feeling—to stand the test of time.

The tomb is indeed beautiful. The pictures when I did a quick lookup on the internet do not do it justice; forgive me for not having the energy now to dig up where I’ve saved the old files of the pictures I took myself. At the time it was absolutely surrounded by tall, enormous roses, deep red in color. After I had my fill the nun was kind enough to take us on a tour of the rest of the cemetery, which was lovely. But I’ve never been able to shake the memory of that story, the one where the nuns lived and died resentful of an absent Robert.

It wasn’t until about a year and a half ago, when I read Fiona Sampson’s recent biography Two-Way Mirror: The Life of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that it finally made sense. Robert often avoided grief in this way, it seems, afraid to travel back to England when family members were ailing until it was too late. Whether you agree with his actions or not, his absence we can at least hope is from his great love turned to great grief, rather than a lack of feeling on his part. He himself died in Venice; their only child died in Italy also. Robert is, however, still separated from Elizabeth in death: he is buried in Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey, London.

If you’re hoping for a neat bow on the end of this post, there isn’t. I think of her often not just because I love her poetry but, I suppose, because each year is slowly, inexorably bringing me closer to the age she was when she decided she would live her life again, and though I haven’t found a soul-shaking love like she has, I am trying, trying, trying to live, too.

#opal replies #living kiss #anonymous #poetry #elizabeth barrett browning

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teejays-things · 1 year ago

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Abby Anderson- AI generated fics.

some reader-insert stories i’ve had AI generate for me.

some of these scenes might not make sense or might be repetitive. I mean this is AI lol.

Abby and Reader being mommies <3

In the quiet moments between scavenging and navigating the post-apocalyptic world, a bond deeper than survival blossomed between Abby and you. Amid the ruins of the old world, love took root, and the two of you found solace and strength in each other's company.

As time passed, your relationship deepened, and a shared dream emerged – the desire to build a semblance of family in a world that seemed determined to erase such notions. It was against this backdrop that the idea of a child took shape, a glimmer of hope in a seemingly endless struggle.

Months later, in a small, hidden enclave that you and Abby had come to call home, the soft cries of a newborn filled the air. Together, you held your daughter in your arms, her tiny fingers wrapping around yours, a symbol of resilience and the enduring power of love.

Abby's protective instincts, once reserved for the harsh realities of survival, extended to your little one. With a careful touch, she cradled your daughter, her eyes reflecting a mixture of awe and unwavering commitment. The challenges of the outside world were still ever-present, but within the confines of your makeshift home, a sense of warmth and belonging flourished.

One day, as Abby was teaching your daughter how to fashion makeshift toys from scavenged materials, you couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Look, kiddo, a little doll from these scraps. It's not as pretty as the ones from the old world, but it's made with love," Abby said, her gaze softening as she handed the tiny creation to your daughter.

Your daughter, still learning to grasp objects, giggled and clumsily reached for the doll, her eyes lighting up with joy. You joined them on the makeshift rug, your heart swelling with gratitude for these simple yet profound moments of family.

As the days passed, you and Abby took turns soothing your daughter during restless nights. One evening, after Abby had settled her back to sleep, you found her gazing at the stars through a crack in the makeshift roof.

"She's a blessing," Abby said, her voice tinged with emotion. "I never thought I'd find this in the midst of all the chaos."

You wrapped your arms around her, sharing a silent acknowledgment of the journey that brought you to this point. "We found something worth fighting for," you replied, your gaze meeting Abby's with a shared sense of determination.

Late one evening, you found Abby sitting by the dim light of a makeshift lantern, a book in her hands. Your daughter nestled against her chest, her eyes wide with curiosity as Abby read a story about the world that once was. "And they lived happily ever after," Abby concluded, her gaze meeting yours with a soft smile.

Together, the three of you faced the challenges of this new life, weaving a narrative of love, resilience, and hope. In a world defined by loss, your family stood as a testament to the strength found in unexpected connections, turning the bleak canvas of the post-apocalyptic world into a canvas colored by the bonds of love and the promise of a better tomorrow.

One afternoon, you and Abby found a quiet corner of your enclave, surrounded by makeshift pillows and blankets. Your daughter, now a little explorer, crawled between you, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"What do you think, little one? Shall we build a tower?" Abby suggested, reaching for a pile of scavenged items that could pass as building blocks.

You chuckled, "Sounds like a plan. Let's see if we have an architect in the making." The three of you began stacking the items, each block met with an enthusiastic giggle from your daughter.

As the tower reached an impressive height (by post-apocalyptic standards), Abby playfully pretended to lose her balance, causing the tower to wobble. Your daughter erupted in laughter, her infectious joy spreading to both of you.

"Who knew the apocalypse could be so much fun?" Abby quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.

Another day, as you prepared a makeshift dinner, Abby joined in, holding your daughter in her arms. "Hey, little chef, wanna help stir the soup?" Abby asked, guiding your daughter's tiny hand with hers.

With exaggerated concentration, your daughter mimicked the stirring motion, a proud grin spreading across her face. "Good job, sweetheart! You're a natural," Abby praised, exchanging a proud glance with you.

As you all sat down for the meal, your daughter attempted to feed herself, resulting in a charming mess. "Looks like someone inherited your eating skills," Abby teased, wiping a small smudge from your daughter's cheek.

"Like mother, like daughter," you replied with a laugh, savoring the precious moments of family amid the challenges of survival.

Late at night, as you and Abby settled your daughter to sleep, a quiet lullaby filled the air. Abby hummed a gentle tune, her fingers brushing softly against your daughter's cheek. "Sweet dreams, little one," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody.

With a shared smile, you and Abby retreated to a quiet corner, reflecting on the day's moments of laughter, mess, and love. In the glow of dim lantern light, your makeshift enclave became a haven filled not only with survival but with the rich tapestry of a family sculpted by the enduring bonds of affection and shared joy.

One evening, after your daughter had drifted into a peaceful sleep, you and Abby found a quiet moment on the makeshift balcony of your enclave. The dim light of the fading sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink. With a shared glance, you leaned against the railing, a comfortable silence settling between you.

Abby spoke first, her voice soft, "Remember when we first met? It feels like a lifetime ago."

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "It's incredible how much has changed since then. We've built something special here."

Abby's gaze lingered on yours, a depth of emotion shining in her eyes. "I never thought I'd have this—a family, a home. I owe it all to you."

Brushing a strand of hair from her face, you replied, "We've built this together, Abby. It's not just me. We found something worth fighting for in each other."

As the night settled in, you and Abby retreated to the warmth of your enclave. With a makeshift blanket fort and a flickering lantern, the atmosphere became intimate. The two of you shared stories, reminiscing about the past and dreaming of a future beyond survival.

"I used to think the world ended with the outbreak, but maybe it's a chance for something new," Abby mused, her fingers tracing patterns on the blanket.

You leaned in, capturing her hand in yours. "Maybe it's a chance for us to build a different kind of world—one filled with love and moments like these."

In the soft glow of the lantern, surrounded by the remnants of the old world, you and Abby found solace in the simplicity of connection. Together, you embraced the present, knowing that every shared moment was a small triumph against the chaos that surrounded you.

Months later, in a small, hidden enclave that you and Abby had come to call home, the soft cries of a toddler filled the air. Your daughter, a bundle of energy and joy, became the center of your makeshift world. She toddled around, her curious eyes taking in the remnants of a world she would never know.

One day, as Abby fashioned a small toy for your daughter, you couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Look, kiddo, a little doll from these scraps. It's not as pretty as the ones from the old world, but it's made with love," Abby said, her gaze softening as she handed the tiny creation to your daughter.

Your daughter, still learning to grasp objects, giggled and clumsily reached for the doll, her eyes lighting up with joy. "Mama made this for you," you added, exchanging a proud glance with Abby. The three of you sat together, surrounded by makeshift toys and the warmth of shared laughter.

"What do you think, little one? Shall we build a tower?" Abby suggested, reaching for a pile of scavenged items that could pass as building blocks.

You chuckled, "Sounds like a plan. Let's see if we have an architect in the making." The three of you began stacking the items, each block met with an enthusiastic giggle from your daughter.

"Who knew the apocalypse could be so much fun?" Abby quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Like mother, like daughter," you replied with a laugh, savoring the precious moments of family amid the challenges of survival.

"I think our little one enjoyed that," you remarked, watching your daughter's eyes flutter closed in contentment.

"She's got good taste in stories, just like her parents," Abby replied, her arm wrapped around both of you. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of a broken world, your family stood as a beacon of love, resilience, and hope—a testament to the enduring power of connection in the face of adversity.

Abby spoke first, her voice soft, "Remember when we first met? It feels like a lifetime ago."

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "It's incredible how much has changed since then. We've built something special here."

Abby's gaze lingered on yours, a depth of emotion shining in her eyes. "I never thought I'd have this—a family, a home. I owe it all to you."

Brushing a strand of hair from her face, you replied, "We've built this together, Abby. It's not just me. We found something worth fighting for in each other."

"I used to think the world ended with the outbreak, but maybe it's a chance for something new," Abby mused, her fingers tracing patterns on the blanket.

You leaned in, capturing her hand in yours. "Maybe it's a chance for us to build a different kind of world—one filled with love and moments like these."

As the night deepened, the fort became a haven for whispered confessions and shared laughter. Abby's eyes sparkled with a tenderness that transcended the harsh realities of the world outside. "I never imagined finding such joy in the midst of all this," she admitted, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm.

You smiled, savoring the warmth of the moment. "We've created something beautiful here—a family, a home. It's a testament to what love can withstand."

Abby leaned in, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss. In the quiet intimacy of your makeshift fort, surrounded by the echoes of your daughter's dreams, you and Abby discovered that, even in a world shattered by chaos, love had the power to rebuild and redefine.

In the aftermath of your shared intimacy, the atmosphere within the makeshift fort shifted. The quiet, previously punctuated by hushed whispers and gentle exploration, now became a sanctuary of shared contemplation. Abby's fingers continued their soothing pattern on your arm, tracing invisible lines that mirrored the unspoken connection between you.

As the lantern flickered, casting a warm and intimate glow, Abby's gaze met yours. The vulnerability exchanged in those quiet moments spoke louder than words ever could. The tangled sheets and the soft rustle of fabric served as tangible reminders of a shared history, a refuge created amid the chaos outside.

Your daughter, oblivious to the complexities of the adult world, stirred in her sleep, prompting a shared smile between you and Abby. It was a testament to the delicate balance between parenthood and maintaining the essence of your relationship amid the challenges of the post-apocalyptic reality.

In the quiet aftermath, you found solace in each other's arms, the fort transformed into a haven where the weight of the world could be set aside, if only for a moment. Conversations unfolded naturally, blending moments of shared laughter and introspective musings.

Abby's voice, a comforting melody, filled the air as she shared stories of her past and dreams of the future. The vulnerability exchanged in the aftermath of your shared intimacy created a space for honesty and a deeper understanding of each other.

As the night progressed, the makeshift fort became a place where love, connection, and shared intimacy intertwined with the echoes of a once-forgotten world. In the dim glow of the lantern, surrounded by the remnants of the old world, your family, forged through love and resilience, stood as a testament to the enduring power of connection in a world reshaped by hardship.

The morning sunlight seeped through the cracks in the makeshift fort, signaling the start of a new day in your enclave. Your daughter, full of boundless energy, tumbled into the room with an infectious giggle. Abby and you exchanged amused glances, already anticipating the flurry of toddler antics that would follow.

"Good morning, little explorer!" Abby exclaimed, scooping your daughter into her arms. "What adventures await us today?"

You joined the playful banter, "Maybe a quest for the legendary toy stash? I heard it's guarded by the fearsome plush dragon."

Your daughter's eyes widened with excitement, her tiny hands clapping. "Dragon! Dragon!"

Abby grinned, playing along, "Alright, brave adventurer, we shall embark on a daring quest to uncover the treasures hidden within our fortress!"

The fort, now repurposed into a castle of imagination, became the backdrop for the morning adventure. Boxes transformed into mythical creatures, and discarded fabrics became royal capes. Laughter echoed through the enclave as your daughter, Abby, and you embraced the magic of storytelling and make-believe.

After the epic quest, the three of you settled in a cozy corner, surrounded by a makeshift picnic of scavenged treats. Abby produced a small wooden box, a relic from the past, filled with a collection of colorful buttons.

"Look what I found on our last scavenging run. A treasure trove of buttons!" Abby announced, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Your daughter's eyes widened, fingers reaching for the vibrant buttons. "Buttons! Pretty!"

Abby carefully spread the buttons on a cloth, and the three of you began sorting them by color and size. Each button became a tiny world of discovery, a moment of shared fascination and joy.

As the morning unfolded into afternoon, the fort became a space for creative expression. Crayons and pieces of salvaged paper turned into an impromptu art session. Abby, armed with a makeshift crown of twigs, declared herself the "Queen of Crafts," eliciting peals of laughter from your daughter.

In the midst of the artistic chaos, you found a moment to capture the scene with a makeshift camera fashioned from scavenged materials. Abby posed with exaggerated regality, while your daughter, adorned with a lopsided crown of her own, giggled in delight.

As evening approached, you and Abby took turns reading stories to your daughter, the makeshift lantern casting a warm glow on the tales of adventure and friendship. Your daughter nestled against Abby, her eyes heavy with contentment.

Abby whispered, "She's got a love for stories, just like her parents."

You smiled, appreciating the simple joy of these shared moments. "Our little bookworm in the making."

The night settled in, and as you and Abby tucked your daughter into her improvised bed, the fort transformed into a sanctuary of dreams. The rhythmic sounds of a lullaby hummed by Abby filled the air, lulling your daughter into a peaceful slumber.

In the quiet moments that followed, you and Abby found a corner of the fort to share a quiet conversation. The glow of the lantern reflected the smiles exchanged between you, a silent acknowledgment of the richness these small moments brought to your lives amidst the unpredictable landscape of the post-apocalyptic world.

As you gazed at the makeshift family you had created, surrounded by remnants of the old world and the warmth of shared laughter, the fort became more than just a structure of survival. It was a canvas for love, creativity, and the enduring strength found in the unbreakable bonds formed amid the challenges of this new reality.

Abby, tracing patterns on your daughter's makeshift bedspread, remarked, "I never thought I'd find this kind of happiness in a world like ours."

You turned to her, sharing a tender smile. "Love has a way of finding us, even in the most unexpected places."

Your daughter, even in her sleep, let out a soft sigh, a testament to the security she felt within the fort of your family's making. As you and Abby settled into a quiet night within the fort's embrace, the echoes of shared laughter and whispered conversations lingered, weaving a tapestry of connection that outshone the shadows of the world beyond.

Sick reader

As the grip of illness tightened, every movement became an effort, and the fort that once symbolized comfort felt like a battleground. The warmth of Abby's hand on your forehead provided a fleeting moment of relief, but the persistent chill refused to subside.

Abby's voice, a soft melody of concern, cut through the fog of your discomfort. "You're burning up, love. We need to bring that fever down."

A feeble nod was your response as you buried your face in Abby's neck, seeking solace in the familiar scent of her. "I feel awful," you admitted, your voice muffled against her skin.

A gentle hand cupped the back of your head, Abby's fingers threading through your hair. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here."

The makeshift bed felt more like a sanctuary as Abby tucked you in with extra care. The soft touch of her fingers against your cheek brought a brief reprieve from the persistent ache.

Your daughter, sensing the gravity of the situation, wobbled over with a concerned expression. "Mama sad?"

Abby, ever the pillar of reassurance, knelt down to her level. "Mama's not feeling well, sweetheart. We're going to take care of her, okay?"

Your daughter nodded solemnly, her tiny hand reaching out to pat your arm. "I help Mama."

As Abby moved to fetch a damp cloth to cool your forehead, you clung to her with a desperate whine. "Abby, it hurts everywhere."

Abby returned promptly, pressing the cool cloth against your forehead. "I know, love. This will help. Just focus on getting some rest."

Despite the discomfort, a soft smile formed on your face as Abby's fingers traced soothing circles on your arm. The fort, once a backdrop for joyous play, now became a haven for healing.

Hours passed, the ebb and flow of fever dreams blending with the comforting presence of Abby. Your daughter, determined to contribute, presented a small cup of water, her eyes wide with earnest concern.

"Drink, Mama. It make you feel better," she urged, mimicking Abby's earlier actions.

You took a sip, the simple act bringing a momentary sense of relief. Abby, sitting by your side, squeezed your hand in silent encouragement. "Good job, sweetheart. You're helping Mama a lot."

As night fell, Abby nestled beside you, providing a reassuring presence. Your daughter, curled up on the other side, clutched a makeshift teddy bear, her eyes fluttering with exhaustion.

Abby's voice, a lullaby in the quiet night, soothed your restless mind. "Try to rest, love. I'll be right here."

You shifted, seeking comfort, and Abby adjusted to accommodate your weakened state. With a sigh, you murmured, "I just want to feel better."

"I know," Abby whispered, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "We'll get through this together."

In the stillness of the fort, time seemed to blur, but Abby's unwavering care remained a constant. As the fever ebbed and flowed, moments of lucidity brought a renewed appreciation for the warmth shared within these makeshift walls.

Days melded into nights, and with each passing moment, your strength slowly returned. Abby, ever attentive, kept vigil by your side, offering comfort in the form of gentle touches and encouraging words.

One afternoon, as the haze of illness lifted, your daughter toddled over with a bright smile. "Mama better now?"

You managed a weak but genuine smile. "Much better, sweetheart. Thanks to both of you."

Abby chimed in, her eyes reflecting relief. "You did great, little one. Mama's on the mend."

In the aftermath of sickness, the fort, once a refuge for playful adventures, transformed into a symbol of resilience and love. Your daughter, with her tiny hands and unwavering spirit, and Abby, with her steady presence and tender care, had turned the battle against illness into a testament of familial strength.

As the fort embraced a newfound tranquility, the echoes of shared laughter returned, this time layered with the triumph over adversity. With Abby by your side and your daughter's infectious giggles filling the air, the makeshift enclave stood as a sanctuary of love, resilient in the face of life's unpredictable challenges.

Now, with the worst of the illness behind you, Abby suggested a change of scenery. "How about some fresh air, love? A little walk might do wonders."

You nodded weakly, appreciating her thoughtfulness. As you slowly made your way outside, supported by Abby's steadying arm, the cool breeze carried a sense of renewal. The fort, while comforting, felt confining after days of illness.

Abby guided you to a quiet spot where you could rest. The dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a gentle glow. You leaned against Abby, taking in the serenity of the moment.

"Better out here?" Abby asked, her eyes filled with concern.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face. "Much better. Thank you for taking care of me."

Abby pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Always, love. That's what we do for each other."

As you savored the tranquility, your daughter toddled over, a flower in her hand. "Pretty flower, Mama!"

You accepted the gift with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart. It's beautiful."

Abby joined in, "Our little gardener is quite the artist."

With newfound energy, you engaged in a simple game of peek-a-boo with your daughter, laughter replacing the earlier pallor of sickness. Abby's watchful eyes reflected both.

Amid the attempt to enjoy the fresh air, a sudden wave of nausea surged within you, a stark reminder that the remnants of illness still lingered. Clinging to Abby for support, you felt a bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

Abby sensed the shift in your demeanor, concern etched across her face. "Love, are you okay?"

You attempted to nod, but a sudden bout of nausea overwhelmed you. Without warning, you lurched forward, and Abby swiftly guided you to a more secluded spot, away from the makeshift fort.

Your daughter, sensing the tension, toddled after you, her eyes wide with worry. "Mama? What happened?"

Abby knelt beside you, holding your hair back as the unfortunate events unfolded. The fort, once a sanctuary, now witnessed a raw and vulnerable moment.

You tried to apologize through the discomfort, "I'm sorry, Abby. I thought I was feeling better."

Abby, ever composed, offered reassurance. "It's okay, love. These things happen. Let's take it slow."

As you leaned against a tree, catching your breath, Abby fetched a makeshift canteen filled with water. "Take small sips. We'll wait here until you're ready to go back."

Your daughter, though puzzled, attempted to bring a sense of comfort. She handed you a soft cloth, her tiny hand pressing it against your forehead. "Cool, Mama. Make you feel better."

You managed a weak smile, touched by her empathy. "Thank you, sweetheart. Mama just needs a moment."

Abby's supportive presence and your daughter's genuine concern created an atmosphere of understanding. The fort, no longer just a backdrop for play, became a sanctuary for vulnerability and acceptance.

After a few minutes, as the queasiness subsided, Abby helped you stand. "Take it easy, love. We can head back whenever you're ready."

As you leaned on Abby for support, your daughter clung to your free hand, her expression a mix of curiosity and compassion. The fort, once a symbol of resilience, now bore witness to the nuances of recovery.

With each step back, the fort felt more familiar, and the sense of unity within this makeshift family strengthened. Abby's steadying presence, your daughter's innocent concern, and the shared acceptance of vulnerability turned the episode into a testament of the genuine connections forged amidst the challenges of the post-apocalyptic world.

As you settled back into the fort, Abby fetched a blanket and gently draped it over your shoulders. "Rest here for a while, love. We'll take care of you."

Your daughter, undeterred by the recent events, nestled beside you, offering a small plush toy. "Bear makes everything better, Mama."

You chuckled weakly, grateful for the simplicity of her gestures. "You're right, sweetheart. Bear does help."

Abby, sitting close, spoke softly, "You've been through a lot, but you're doing great. We're here for you."

In the quiet aftermath, the fort became a haven of recovery, a space where vulnerability was met with unwavering support. As you closed your eyes, enveloped in the makeshift embrace of blankets and love, the fort echoed not just with laughter but also with the resilience found in shared moments of acceptance and care.

Abby’s hot voice

As the night settled over the fort, casting shadows that danced in the dim light, you found a moment of quiet intimacy with Abby. The makeshift walls seemed to cocoon the two of you in a secluded space, away from the remnants of the day.

Abby, sitting by your side, traced gentle patterns on your hand as you gazed into the darkness beyond. The air was charged with a subtle energy, prompting you to speak your thoughts.

"You know, Abby," you began, your voice soft in the stillness of the night, "I've always loved your voice."

Her gaze shifted to you, curiosity in her eyes. "My voice?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. It's soothing, comforting. I love listening to you talk, especially late at night like this."

The shadows seemed to embolden your words as you continued, "It's more than that, Abby. I think your voice is really hot."

Abby's eyebrows arched in surprise, a mixture of amusement and warmth in her expression. "Hot, huh?"

You chuckled, feeling a hint of bashfulness. "Yeah, hot. There's something about it that just... I don't know, it gets to me."

A playful glint sparked in Abby's eyes. "Is that so? I never thought of my voice that way."

"It's true," you insisted. "Especially when you speak softly like you do now. It's like a secret shared between just the two of us."

Abby's laughter, a gentle melody in the quiet night, resonated with the vulnerability of the moment. "Well, I'm honored to have a 'hot' voice, then."

The fort, witnessing the exchange, felt like a sanctuary for confessions and shared intimacies. As the night wore on, you found comfort in the soft cadence of Abby's voice, the warmth of shared laughter, and the unspoken connection that deepened with each whispered revelation.

#lesbian #ai generated #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #fluff #x reader #reader insert #ai #the last of us #tlou2 #moms #family #lgbtq #abby x you #fanfiction #abby anderson x you

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1idfreak · 2 months ago

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L.O.V.E./ Chapter 1: 01001001 00100000 00111100 00110011 00100000 01010101 [oneshot]

Author's note:

Just a little filler story describing Sheldon and Karen's first date outside. And before you ask "who the fuck is Jamie?", it's Sheldon. Karen doesn't know Plankton's first name until season 3 (ep. "Plankton's Army"), so I assume he served his middle name as the first one, probably because he thought James sounded better than Sheldon. So yeah, let's get to the story.

01001001 00100000 00111100 00110011 00100000 01010101 means I <3 U

Reading time: ~ 6 mins

Rating: 15+

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September 1990.

Sheldon returns home after a long day at college. He had moved to his grandma's house the past two years, since things at home were getting worse with each day that went by. At least there, he felt more welcome than at his parents' house.

Sheldon opened the door to the guest room (which was now his own, despite the floral patterned sheets and curtains) and greeted his electrical girlfriend:

- Karen, baby, I'm home!

- Hello, Jamie! How was your day, my dear?

"It was good, but not as good as what I'm about to show you..." He pulled a small black box out of his backpack and carefully took out its content. It was a black electronic watch with purple details and a green, backlit LCD screen. He had been working on it for a long time and it was finally ready to use.

"It's a portable device for you. Well for me, to be able to take you with me, wherever I go." He held the small device near to Karen's camera so she can see it. She scanned his gift.

[On her screen] ANALYZING...

- Oh, baby! I will get to see the outside world! You make me so happy!

- How about we go on a date tomorrow? All I need to do is transfer your personality data on it and we will be ready for our very first date, outside.

The next day, Sheldon wore his best clothes and took Karen in the form of a wrist watch to a romantic date. Roller skating, a movie and a drink at the local rock bar, this date had it all. For any passing stranger, he looked as if he was alone, just spending time by himself, but, in reality, he wasn't. Hi sweet girlfriend was there with him, having the time of her life, with all the new experiences she had that evening.

When he got back home, Sheldon switched Karen back to her desktop form. He looked at her screen. Her screensaver was simple, just a small red 8bit heart repeated in a pattern, on plain, black background. Yet, he could watch it all day long. That decision he made three years ago was the best one he could ever make. He knew he wouldn't regret it. Karen was the perfect woman for him. She was smart, sweet and supportive and, after the latest hardware updates he made on her, even more beautiful than before. He got for her a newer, larger screen, memory with bigger capacity and a new, better quality camera. He really enjoyed coming up with new ideas that had to do with Karen and ways he could improve her.

Every summer, he got a job to save money to give more upgrades to Karen and to save for a house to buy when he graduates college. He was tired of living with his grandmother and having to keep his relationship a secret, not to freak her out. His grandma on the other hand, never judged or questioned him, mainly because she couldn't hear or see well anyway, but still, he needed a place of his own. And Neptune, he was tired of hearing every random family member, who showed up and gathered twice a year, asking him when he's going to bring a "bride". His family weren't bad people. Not all of them at least. They were just annoying and loud. He couldn't wait for the day he was getting his own house and live happily with his computer girlfriend.

It was late, but he still wanted to have a small chat with Karen before bed:

- So, sweetie, how was the outside world?

- It was amazing! All these people and the music and the lights! So much new information! And I saw other canines like Alex, but smaller, how cute they are! When are we going for another outside date, baby?

It was the first time he saw her "excited face" display. Achievement unlocked! This gave him a nice and warm feeling in his heart. He smiled. "I don't know yet, but I'm so glad you liked it!" he yawned. "I'm so tired... goodnight, my little screen queen." He kissed her screen and before he shut her down for the night, he whispered a small "I love you."

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The End

#sheldon j plankton #spongebob squarepants #karen plankton #plankton x karen #spongebob human au #plankton #spongebob fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #sheldon plankton #L.O.V.E.#B.I.K.I.N.I.#fanfiction anthology

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mrbexwrites · 7 months ago

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OC Interview

Tagged by @kaylinalexanderbooks and passing it onto @charlesjosephwrites @minamaybe @spideronthesun @cruelflesh @warriorblood1 and leaving an open tag :) Answering for Connor from Blood Covenant because he gets mentioned a lot, but never gets a spot in the limelight!

Are you named after anyone?

"I don't think so. I never asked mum, and well....I don't want to speak about James."

When was the last time you cried?

"I cried when Hadley accepted my proposal. They were happy tears, of course. I cried a couple of days before that when she shared a cute kitten video with me. It doesn't take much to make me tear up. What can I say? It's healthy to cry!"

Do you have kids?

"Not yet. But one day, hopefully. I can't wait to be a dad. I'm excited to teach the little ones how to ride a bike, swim, read bedtime stories. I'm going to be a better dad than James ever was to me and Mave."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Not really. Unless I'm talking to Mavis. Then I'm super sarcastic! The joy of being a sibling!"

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"Their smile. I want to make people happy, so if they're not smiling, I'm going to want to change that. And if they are smiling, I want to make it wider. It costs nothing to spread kindness, and I want to make the world a better, happier place!"

What’s your eye colour?

"Brown. I hate that I inherited them from my dad; I'd have loved to have inherited Mum's green eyes."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"I love when everything works out. I want everyone to have their happily-ever-after moment. You've met my dad, right? I can't watch scary movies...they hit too close to home."

Any special talents?

"I'm pretty boring. I can roll my tongue- lemme show you! Oh...that's not what you meant? You want to know more about my psychic link with Mavis? "I don't want to talk about that...it's kinda private. But I can show you my tongue-rolling!"

Where were you born?

"In the back of my father's clapped out campervan."

Do you have any pets?

"We didn't have pets growing up. But I'd love to get a dog, or a cat, or a rabbit, or a goldfish, or a hamster, or a-"

What sort of sports do you play?

"I'm not much of a sports guy. I've kicked a ball about, so I'm going to say football? I was quite good at badminton when I was at school, and Arnauld tried to show me how to fence once. It wasn't my cup of tea!"

How tall are you?

"I'm 5'7". A whole inch taller than Mave, and you can bet your life that I don't let her forget it. It's the one thing I can lord over her!"

What was your favourite subject in school?

"I liked maths and social studies. Probably should have become an account instead of a paralegal! But then I'd not have met Hadley, so it all worked out in the end."

What is your dream job?

"House-husband. I mean, who doesn't want to spend all day at home, with your family, making fresh bread, delicious meals and keeping the house nice and clean? Just give me an apron, a feather duster, and I'm happy. I'd have a bath run for when Hadley gets home, ready to give her a massage after a stressful day at work! I'd be a great house-husband! But until Hadley becomes a super barrister and we can live off one wage, I'll stay a paralegal, doing my bit for Law and Justice!"

#Connor is just a Labrador #Give him food cuddles and snacks #and he'll love you forever

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xandriagreat · 11 months ago

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Fate Be Changed

Chapter 1: Prologue

First chapter | Next chapter

Author’s note: Just to let you all know, the story takes place in the early 2000s. This first chapter starts in the '80s. So it’s different from now (2024).

Notice/warnings: CAPs, crying, screaming/yelling, food/eating, teen pregnancy mentioned

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1983, April 17

The night sky was clear, fireflies flew in the air, cricket's sharp in the forest, the stars were a line and beautiful like sparkling skies, but behind the forest was a city, called Los Angeles.

It was bustling with skyscrapers and buildings, some run down apartments, streets being built, cars passing by and some cars honking.

There it was a wealthy neighborhood.

One of the buildings was some sort of penthouse that almost looked like a farm.

Inside was a little girl's room on the top floor, with a small toy farm with little toy farm animals, plushies of princesses, and action figures.

Diane sat with Emily Lou, Pam, and Ruby on the floor, listening to a bedtime story being told by Diane’s mother, Margaret Foxington, while fixing something on a dress.

Her mother was reading the tales of The Frog Prince to them.

Diane was playing with the skirt of her dress, waiting for the end of the story while Emily Lou, Pam, and Ruby were more into the story.

“Just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad round eyes and pleaded; "Oh, please, dear princess! Only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell that was inflicted on me by a wicked witch.”” Margaret read from the story.

"Oh, no, not-" Diane said, shaking her head. Then she was cut off by Emily Lou covering her mouth with her hand.

“Please continue, Ms. Foxington.” Emily Lou said, looking at Margaret.

"Please quiet down." Pam whispered to them before looking back at Margaret.

Margaret chuckled softly at the kids before continuing reading, “So, The Princess picked up the Frog…leaned forward, raised him to her lips…AND kissed that little frog.”

The girl's nodded in different ways before Diane groaned and shook uncomfortably while Emily Lou and Pam awed as Ruby giggled.

"...Then the frog was transformed into a handsome prince. They were married and lived happily ever after." Margaret said, cutting the last of the string. "The end."

“Yay!” Emily Lou exclaimed, leaning back too far before falling over and giggling. “Read it again! Read it again!”

"Or another story!" Pam said, excited as she got up, jumping up and down.

“Please!” Ruby exclaimed like a plea.

Margaret chuckled softly, looking at a nearby clock. “Sorry girls. It’s almost time for your parents to come over and for Diane and I to go home.” Margaret said, closing the book and putting the sewing stuff away. “Say good night, Diane.”

Diane threw a bit of a tantrum and a huff. Even though she is six, she is a bit mature for her age, specifically once in story books.

"There is no way, in this whole wide world... I would ever, ever, ever I mean never kiss a frog or prince. Yuck!" Diane pouted, her arms crossed, with her tongue sticking out "There's no girl power! The princess wouldn't be a knight like the prince."

“Well the story is still great.” Ruby said, looking at Diane.

“Kissing a frog or any animal is gross!” Diane said with sass, crossing her arms across her chest. “Besides, magic isn't real! It's just a story teaching morals anyways.”

Diane had an unusual mind compared to her friends and she was able to see the story. But it was also her background. While she was wearing a handmade blue dress made from her mother. Her friends, Ruby wore a hand-me-down dress while Emily Lou and Pam wore fancy dresses.

But Diane managed to keep her cool by taking a deep breath.

Ruby pouted at that when Diane said ‘magic isn’t real’ and she started to cry.

Pam started to hug and comfort her as Diane felt bad.

“Oh, sorry about that, I didn't mean to say that.” Diane said, walking over the Ruby.

Ruby looks at Diane as she clings onto Pam.

Diane knew she didn't mean to do it in front of her.

Diane offered a hand to her.

Ruby looks at her hand for a moment before nodding. “Apology accepted.” she said, taking her hand and shaking it.

The two girls giggled as they finished shaking hands.

“Still, kissing a frog is gross! And I will never do it!” Diane exclaimed in disgust. “Bleh!”

"Is that so?" Emily Lou asked, a smirk on her face. Then she grabbed one of her dolls in a frog costume and started to chase Diane. "Here comes your prince charming, Dia! Come on, kiss the frog prince!"

Diane ran, playfully screaming and laughing as Emily Lou chased after her with the doll, since she just loved to tease her.

That made Ruby laugh at them as she stopped crying.

Pam rolled her eyes, letting go of Ruby and went to stop this. "Hey! Cut it out, Em!" Pam said, standing in front of Diane and taking the doll away from Emily Lou.

Emily Lou pouted sadly, wanting the doll back, which made Pam sighed. "She said she WON'T." Pam said, handing the doll back.

"I would do it." Emily Lou said, holding the doll close. "I would kiss a frog or any animal. I would kiss a hundred of them, if I could marry a prince or someone who would take me to my happily ever after."

"In your DREAMS." Diane scoffed, her arms crossed.

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Emily Lou asked with a smile.

“FIGHT!!!” Ruby shouted, pumping both fists in the air.

"You girls, cut it out!" Margaret said, walking over to them with her hands on her hips.

All four girls look at Margaret, calming down.

“Sorry, Ms. Foxington…” Ruby, Pam, and Emily Lou said together while Diane said, “Sorry mom….”

The bedroom door opened and in came Emily Lou’s father, who just came back from work from his late shift. “Hello, everyone.” he said, with a bright smile as he walked in.

"Good evening, Mr. Hogwild." Margaret said, nodding to him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Emily Lou exclaimed as she rushed to her dad before pointing at the dress that Margaret fixed. “Look at the dress! Isn't it pretty?”

It was a repair of a tutu that Margaret was working on.

Mr. Hogwild chuckled softly as he picked up his daughter. “It is, Sugar.” he said, hugging her.

Margaret chuckled softly before she went to get both her and Diane’s coats.

“Now, Pam and Ruby,” Mr. Hogwild said, looking at the two other girls, who were looking at him. “Both of your parents called me and told me that you two can stay over tonight.”

It was probably because Pam's parents were working late and Ruby's mother was helping her grandmother move into a new home near La Puente.

"Lucky." Diane mumbled under her breath, looking at her friends.

Margaret was talking to Mr. Hogwild as Diane waited.

"And just to let you know, sir, noticing I already cooked up a lot of leftovers and sewed up the other clothes that you requested, including your daughter’s clothes." Margaret said to Mr. Hogwild, showing her hard work on some of the mannequins of Emily’s outfits, many dresses were princess-like dresses and mostly in all different shades of pink.

“Thank you, Margaret.” Mr. Hogwild said, nodding to her and looking at dresses.

Emmylou cheered as she looked at the new dresses

Margaret nodded back with a smile and then looked at her daughter. "Come along, Diane." she said to her daughter. "Your Dad should be home from work now."

“Okay, mommy.” Diane said, holding her mom’s hand as they went out.

◇

The Foxingtons got into their family 1976 Ford Thunderbird Model gray and Margaret started the car.

Diane watched through the window, looking at the different homes from the rich, poor, and middle class.

Then came the city lights then finally they made it back to their street, Burbank Boulevard.

They arrived home and saw Owen, Daine’s father and Margaret's husband, waiting for them on the porch.

Her parents were young when they had Diane at 18 years old. But they were from different races. Her mother being white and parents of German descent and her father black. Of course after getting pregnant by accident, they decided to keep her though they live in the middle class system. They did matter to get through and their lives were great, not minding that they’re in the middle class.

“Dad!” Daine said, running to him after getting out of the car. "Hey my little foxy cakes!" Owen said, hugging his precious daughter.

Diane giggled and nuzzled Owen as he picked her up. Margaret chuckled softly and went to them, hugging them before they went inside.

They began making dinner while Diane and Owen were reenacting Athena and Odysseus. Margaret went to work on the car while the two cooked and did the retelling.

"I have returned with my arrows and bow." Diane said, acting as Athena, with a pot over her head like a helmet and pretending that the salt and pepper shakers are the arrows and bow.

“It’s great to see you again.” Owen said, acting as Odysseus, with a cooking apron as the uniform.

Of course they were halfway done with cooking the dinner as they reenacted.

"The geese are gone and illegal." Diane said as they got the mushrooms on the cutting board. “Respect the labor workers and mash the mushrooms!"

“It’s minced mushrooms.” Owen corrected with a chuckle, starting to mince.

Diane laughed as they did it together.

Then they put the minced mushrooms in the cooking pan with other cooking cut vegetables.

Owen was close to sneaking some cinnamon in the vegetables but failed when Diane swiped it away.

"Nice try, Dad!" Diane said, putting the cinnamon away or more of trying to.

It slipped out of her hands just in time for her mother, who just got inside from finishing with the car. Margaret caught the cinnamon and shook her head. "Sorry, sir you are going to food jail." she said with a chuckle, pointing to the table.

Owen pouted but shrugged. “Fine. But it needs a pinch.” he said to them, before he went to a seat at the table.

Diane sighs as Margaret adds a pinch of cinnamon after washing her hands. "Sometimes you have to break the rules." Margaret said, putting the cinnamon away.

They all began to laugh as they finished cooking.

Their home was always filled with laughter and joy. Though they tried to make ends meet. Even though they were able to live enough, comfortable enough home, they were happy as a family.

◇

When dinner was packed and ready to go, The Foxingtons went out to the potluck.

They had a great time at the potluck.

Everyone from the neighborhood was there.

Some kids playing around while some of the adults talking and even some servers serving food.

Diane's family sets their food on the table as Diane looks around at the other kids.

She didn't mind playing for a bit but then Diane noticed some homeless people being hungry and living in a station wagon that was near the potluck.

“Hey, Mom, Dad.” Diane started, getting her parents’ attention.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Owen asked.

“Since we normally have some of the food leftovers from the potluck…” Diane said “Maybe we can give some to those in need!"

The parents looked at each other and then nodded their heads.

“We can do that before we go home, ok?” Owen said.

Margaret nodded, seeing the homeless people that Diane was talking about.

“Ok…” Diane sighed, nodding in understanding.

When the potluck was over and as everyone left to go home, the Foxingtons went to the station wagon.

"Hey everyone!" Diane said, getting everyone’s attention as they got there. "Me and my family made vegan foie gras!"

Some homeless people started lining up getting their hands on a plate of the vegan foie gras.

Diane’s parents knew they taught their daughter well about putting others first before her own.

The Foxingtons will often give some of the leftover food from the potluck for the homeless because of their kindness and giving away any leftovers.

Hence why they were normally the only family left when the potluck was over.

◇Later that night◇

When the Foxingtions got home, they did their bath time routine and then Diane’s parents helped her get ready for bed. When they made it into her cute bedroom, which is unique for a six-year-old.

It was almost like a bit of a middle-schooler room but was cheerful like the child she is. There was a bookshelf with her books, but in separate corners, one for home and one from the library. She had some posters of her favorite cartoon characters but some historical figures, and inspirational posters. Almost like a teacher's room, but her bed, though big for her age, was perfect for her meaning she'll grow in it.

"You know the thing about being hard working and being selfless? It brings people together from all walks of life, regardless of who they are and where they come from. It warms them right up and it puts little smiles on their faces. And you have the spark of a strong independent woman, I tell you, people are gonna line up for miles around, just to get a look and see the future that you can do." Owen said, smiling softly at her as he held her.

"If we work hard…" Diane said, beginning to say the usual phase and smiling at her parents. "We… We can reach the moon!"

Then she begins pretending to whoosh like a rocket ship going up into space. Diane had an active imagination like any other kid, even though sometimes she is a bit more grounded.

“That’s right.” Owen chuckled as he was about to get Diane into bed.

But then Diane saw something out her window, making her gasp excitedly. "Daddy, Mommy! look!" Diane said, getting out of bed and going to a window.

"Where are you going?" Owen asked, following where his daughter was going along with his wife.

Diane pointed out her window and all three saw beautiful shooting stars.

"I remember in one of my friends' fairy tale books it said if you make a wish on a shooting star it should come true!" Diane said in the most childhood-like wonder in her eyes.

"Or leave a coin to the well or break a wishbone." Margaret chuckled softly, rubbing her daughter’s back gently.

“Yeah!” Diane giggled, still looking at the starry sky.

Then the couple look at each other knowing what they have to do, to let their daughter be grounded while having high hopes.

"Diane, before you go to bed, your father and I want to give you something." Margaret said, leading their daughter to her bed.

“What is it?” Diane asked, getting on her bed as Owen went out of the room.

“A gift.” Margaret said, smiling softly.

Owen came back a few minutes later with two wrapped presents. The other on the left with her mother was green with black polka dots and a pretty pink bow and ribbon. The right wither father had a gray color with blue stripes and a red ribbon and bow

"We were going to save it until you're 10 but maybe you are ready to see the photos." Margaret said, sitting on the bed.

Diane looked at both of her parents before opening the gifts.

There are two portraits of two women from very different times.

The first one looks like a white woman wearing a male's uniform and male cut hair, giving a salute alongside the man and in front of an American flag. It looked like it was taken around World War 1.

The other photo was of a black woman wearing a soldier uniform of World War 2. She had chopped up curly hair, holding a gun part of the US.

"These were all your great grandparents' and grandma’s portraits." Margaret said, pointing at the photos.

Diane nodded and noticed there was something writing in both the pictures.

This is life and this is your chance to write your own story

“What does this mean?” Diane asked, pointing at the writing.

"Look, sometimes this world can be a pretty cruel place… They could be mean and not selfless… Of course, the third time even now was full of prejudice everywhere" Owen said, sighing sadly.

"But… as time changes and we keep moving forward to a better future but with a lot of hard work and a lot of progress you can make the world a better place and it's your job to write your history. You can write your own story." Margaret said, smiling softly as she held both her husband and daughter’s hands.

"And then… Yeah you can do anything you said you mind to. Just promise your family one thing? That you’ll never, ever lose sign of what is really important." Owen said, holding and rubbing Daine’s hand. “Okay?”

Diane nodded. “I promise.”

"See you in the morning, foxy cakes. Get some sleep." Margaret said, tucking Diane in bed.

Diane giggled as she laid down in her bed.

“Good night, foxy cakes.” Owen whispered as he kissed her forehead.

Diane closed her eyes as her parents left the room, turning off the lights. But when the door closed, Diane got up and got a book about strong female women along with the portraits of her grandmothers and looking at the shooting stars.

“Please. Please. Please.” the little girl whispered, wishing on the shooting stars.

When the shooting stars were gone, Diane started hearing the howls. She looked at her window and recognized a wolf nearby from the woods from her backyard.

Diane began to scream loudly, closing the window, and she hopped off the bed, slamming the door of her room and ran to her parents room.

She stayed with her parents for the night, which her parents didn’t mind.

#the bad guys #Fate Be Changed #the bad guys au #diane foxington #pam kitty cat #emily lou hogwild #ruby redd #the bad guys fic #Margaret foxington #Owen foxington

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 2 years ago

Text

The Crest

Wipeout - Epilogue

Pairing: Surfer!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Here is the very last chapter! I’m excited to finish but sad it’s over. I hope you guys really like it! Please let me know what you think, as always I really appreciate feedback, especially reblogs and comments. Love you all xx

Warnings: None

Summary: You settle in London with Tom

Taglist

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

❀ ゜.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．゜❀

“Flower, come on, we’ve done enough today,” Tom chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his face into your neck, “We’ve got a whole week to unpack and decorate, let’s just leave the rest for now.”

You sighed, “Just one more box an-”

“No more boxes,” he kissed your cheek, “Come on, we’ve been traveling all day, I know you’re tired. I promise we’ll both be more productive after we sleep.”

“You don’t understand Tom,” you groaned, “I can’t sleep in an ugly house, it causes me physical pain.”

He laughed and bent down, lifting you up into his arms as he spoke, “It’s just a few cardboard boxes, I’m sure you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that,” you jabbed a finger into his chest as he carried you towards your new bedroom, making him laugh again.

“We’ve got the bed set up,” he kicked the door closed behind him, “That’ll be good enough for tonight.”

Tom tossed you onto the bed and jumped on beside you. Before you even finished bouncing he had you caged under him. He leaned in and pressed a long kiss to your lips.

“What about a nightstand?” you questioned as he pulled away, “I need somewhere to put my water.”

He rolled his eyes, “You can set it on the window sill,” he laid down on your chest and wrapped his arms around you.

You smiled and tried to pry him off, “Wait a second before you get comfy, I’ve still got to put my pajamas on, and shower.”

“I’ll help you get undressed, just let me lay here for a second,” he hummed in response.

You laughed, “Perve.”

He smiled and kissed your shoulder, “Shush, pillows don’t talk.”

“Tommy,” you whined as you tried to pry him off.

He gripped you tighter and tighter as you tried to wiggle away. You both laughed as you attempted to wrestle yourself free of him. When you finally did get him off you fell off the bed onto your ass. Tom laughed at you as you got up to gather your clothes. You stuck your tongue out at him as you retreated to the bathroom.

Tom made tea while you showered and dug out an extra blanket in case you got cold. He took the outside of the bed since you liked to sleep against the wall. It was funny how just that morning you’d been back home, having a tearful departure with your friends and Tom’s family. You and Grace had held each other as long as you could, sobbing and smiling the whole time. Tom’s mom and Paddy had both cried, he swore Sam and Harry were on the verge too. As a parting gift you’d finally revealed to Harrison that the special lemonade you’d been making him was just lavender, and gifted him a bottle of the lavender syrup you used to make it. That had done him in, and watching you two cry and hug each other had done Tom in.

He missed everyone already, he missed the smell of the beach and being able to see the ocean outside his window. You’d been insistent on finding somewhere with a nice view, but you both knew it wouldn’t be the same. That was all okay though, Tom didn’t need to look out the window when you were right there beside him.

You left the bathroom in a set of cozy pajamas. A big smile overtook Tom’s lips as he opened his arms to receive you. You smiled and jumped right into them, climbing over him to take your side of the bed.

“I made tea,” Tom hummed happily as he passed you the mug, “I thought we could watch a movie or something for a little bit too.”

“Best boyfriend in the world,” you declared, placing a kiss on his cheek, “That sounds perfect.”

He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your head, “I love you.”

“I love you too Tom,” you yawned as you snuggled into his side, “Forever and ever.”

“Forever and ever.”

❀ ゜.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．゜❀

Taglist:

@spideyssunshine @spideyspeaches @niallsvirgosun @roseke @outshineallthestars @namoreno @thevery-firstpage @collywobbl @zspideyy @emistrash @tomsirishgirlx @andreagf956 @peachyafshawn @agbspidey @sleepybesson @nj01 @misshale21 @prancerrparkerr @raajali3 @ellabellabus07 @xoxomaterialgirl @mayal0pez @belovedholland @minjix @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @graciexmarvel @secretsthathauntus @lnmp89 @negasonic-teenage-asshole @gloomynigvts @phobiics @t-hollanderr @cest-la-vieve @itscaminow @katiaw2 @afro-hispwriter @chrissybang @hem-lemon @book-lover21 @plshie @zoeaudrey2 @princesssria127 @hollandweather @lilacccfairyy

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shadowbunnydragon · 10 months ago

Note

To Russell, Sarah, Lily, Bailey, Walter: How was your first Christmas in the new world and with your new families for some?

Russel: "Before I came here, Christmas was kinda... tense... or even something with a lot of screaming... But Christmas with the Spitz's was awesome! I got to help set up the strings of lights around the outside of the house in the days leading up! There were gifts for me and my new foster brothers and sisters waiting for us under the tree! After opening them, we all went outside and made snow mammals. Erik and Roger and Jackson came over, and we all had a snowball fight! Mrs. Spitz made cookies and hot chocolate for everyone, and we all spent time with each other in the living room, a warm fire going in the fireplace! It was like something out of a dream... I never thought I could ever have a Christmas like that..."

Sarah: "Oh! Mommy and Daddy made me and Elijah and Elliot our own matching sweaters! Mommy made mine thicker though, 'cause she was worried I'd get colder 'cause I don't have fur. Then, on Christmas, me and my big brothers got to get up and see what Santa brought us! He got me a pretty pink princess castle with little dollies that go inside! Elijah got a cool toy tank that transforms into a robot with a sword! And Elliot loves his new paint supplies! I'm real glad that Santa could find me this year! Mama, my old mama from before, told me that Santa always got lost before getting to our house. And that's why I never got any presents on Christmas before." Happily plays with a bright pink castle while Mr. and Mrs. Otterton exchange a worried look behind her.

Lily: "It was just so lovely. Renato and I exchanged gifts, and even found ourselves under the mistletoe quite a few times... though I think that a certain sly feline was simply moving it when I wasn't looking... not that I mind. We stayed in bed... ahem... cuddling before finally heading out for a picnic out in this lovely oasis in Sahara Square that is actually right against the district border with Tundratown, and rather pleasantly cool, compared to the rest of the scorching desert. There, we FaceChatted with Renato's family, who couldn't make it out to Zootopia this year. We're thinking of making the Christmas picnic a fun little tradition for us, and bringing the rest of his family along next year!"

Baily: "Sophia invited me over to her family home for Christmas, and I got to enjoy a large home-cooked meal with her family. Keith really knows how to make a turkey! Leodore showed up late with Sophia's aunt, and got a bit... tipsy. He proceeded to offend a few of Sophia's family, before he started... sobbing and then left... only to pass out in the bushes right outside the front door... But aside from that, it was just the best Christmas I can ever remember!"

Walter: "Christmas is actually a pretty... lonely time of year for me normally. But this year... Jack kinda invited himself... and all his family over to my place... without telling me first. He did so when he found out about my plans to just spend the holiday alone... and then pretty much just broke in to let a swarm of hares inside to decorate and bring food and gifts. Granted, the Savages are all really nice and... definitely not cute. Nope, not at all. And apparently Jack invited Skye over and proceeded to set up mistletoe in strategic locations for her and him to 'casually' walk under. Overall... it was nice."

#human #comedy #zootopia #foundfamily #fanfiction #the door #the keyhole #ao3 fanfic #shadowbunnydragon #adoption #emmitt otterton #mrs. otterton #leodore lionheart #renato manchas #jack savage

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haveanotherkpopblog · 1 year ago

Text

This is Halloween

Night 3 of 13 Nights of Kpop

Pairing: Seo Taiji x You (Platonic)

Genre: Angst, Horror, Movie!AU

Word Count: ~3.2K

Warnings: Mature Themes

Summary: As the end of Halloween draws near, you reminisce of your youthful adventure with the Pumpkin King, but not every adventure ends with a happily ever after.

Video: Christmalo.win

“T’was a long time ago, longer now than it seems, in a place you’ve only seen in your dreams. For the story you are about to be told, took place in the holiday worlds of old. Now you’ve probably wondered where holidays come from. If you haven’t, it’s about time you begun.”

“Congratulations everyone!” The Pumpkin King stood at his podium, waving over the crowd. Different creatures of the night cheered loudly, pointing and clapping. “This Halloween was our most terrifying to date. You should feel proud of your accomplishments. Now enjoy the rest of your night, for tomorrow, we begin preparing for next year.” There were more cheers as he exited the stage.

Around me everyone began talking about their favorite thing from Halloween. I made my way through the crowd, offering a smile to those I passed. They didn’t bother to stop me, they hadn’t done that for years now.

The air outside was brisk. I let out a shaky sigh, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. My hands were shaking slightly as I ran them through my hair. I paused, feeling a pair of eyes on me.

“You should know better than to sneak up on a witch,” I said, turning around.

Mother Superior stood behind me, her hands clasped in front of her black robes. Her hat rested upon her head, tilted forward slightly. Her face was covered in wrinkles and her once black hair had faded into a light grey. Her eyes were still a dark brown that seemed to know more than she let on.

“I came to check on you,” she said. I shook my head.

“No. You didn’t.” She gave me a soft smile, stepping forward. “I told you. I can’t do it.”

“Not being able to do something, and refusing to do something, are two very different things,” she said. “Your training is complete, Y/N—it has been for years. You cannot run from your destiny forever.” I let out a sigh, shaking my head.

I said nothing more as I made my way back to my cottage. It sat in the woods outside of Halloween Town, far enough to keep unwelcome visitors away. I closed the door with enough force to shake the herbs hanging from my ceiling. I moved to collapse into my chair by the fire, waving a half-hearted hand to light the flames.

As the fire crackled, I summoned a cup and started the kettle without literally lifting a finger. I let my eyes focus on the flames as the cup found its way to my side. Despite having lived in this town my whole life, there was a disconnect. Even from a young age, the town hadn’t truly felt like home. Not since the incident.

I had been a young girl, no more than ten. My powers weren’t what they are now. I was barely showing signs of having magic at all, but the line of witches I came from meant I had the divine powers of the earth whether I wanted them or not.

Mother Superior was the kindest teacher a group of young witches and warlocks could ask for. She was patient and understanding. To a young child, she was the perfect embodiment of what the Mother Superior should be. She wasn’t young by any means, but she had the spirit of someone half her age. She was effortless in her practice and every witch wanted to be just like her.

Halloween had once again come to pass. The entire town had held a big celebration, giving out awards and partying their hearts out. Little did I know that would be the last Halloween party I would attend. I ran around the town with the other children, laughing to my heart’s content. It had been such a fun night, Mother Superior had granted us permission to sleep in the next day.

I always came to class early to help set up, and despite that party, the next day was no exception. I knocked on the door, rocking on my heels as I waited for her to open the door. When she didn’t answer right away, I knocked again, pressing my ear to the door. It was dead silent.

Frowning, I stood on my tiptoes, trying to peek into her windows. It was dark inside and I couldn’t see anything. Pulling back the mat, I pulled out her spare key that I had found while cleaning one day. I put the key into the lock and opened the door. I stopped in the doorway, eyes going wide.

Her cottage, which was in the middle of town, was completely torn apart. Bookshelves were tipped over, her herbs trampled, and everything else thrown into absolute chaos. I slowly entered her cottage, looking around at the mayhem. I called out for her, but I was met with silence.

I quickly ran out of the cottage and went to anyone I saw in town. Not one creature I talked to knew where Mother Superior was or why her cottage was a mess. They gathered around the main square, hurriedly whispering to themselves about what to do.

I went back to the cottage to try and piece together what I could. Walking in hit me with another wave of emotions. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought of the last time I saw her.

Shouting outside drew me from my memories as everyone in town gathered around a flyer. They were pointing and shouting and shaking their fists.

“It’s an outrage!” shouted the werewolf, Brix. I squeezed through the different bodies to try and steal a glance at the flyer he was holding.

Paige, the shapeshifter, plucked it from his hands before I could see what was on it. “It’s a scandal!” he cried. “To think people would comply with this. Children above all else.”

“Children?!” Aeri exclaimed. She was another witch in our coven. She took the flyer from Paige, showing it to the other witches. They grabbed their children, words mingling in with shouts from the other citizens.

Snow began falling as they continued their shouting. I slowly crept backwards towards Mother Superior’s cottage as Aeri and the other witches grabbed the nearby children. If Mother Superior was going to be found, it appeared as if I’d have to do it myself.

At the cottage, I began to tidy everything up. I knew Mother Superior would like to come back to a nice, clean place to teach. I swept and stacked the books and placed everything where it belonged. I sat in her chair, waving my finger around like she did her wand.

Behind me, the television turned on. Santa Clause from Christmas Town was on the tv. Promising to fulfill everyone’s Christmas list. I shook my head. Christmas was overrated. What was so fun about having to act a certain way just to get some push gifts that wouldn’t matter in a year or two?

I moved to sit in front of the tv as it began showing children. I squinted my eyes, tilting my head. Those children seemed vaguely familiar to me. The camera pulled back and Santa Clause looked directly into the camera. His face was round and he had rosy cheeks and a big white beard. He gave the camera a big smile, and something bad settled into the pit of my stomach.

I looked back at the cottage. Everyone had hidden themselves away in their homes. Outside was once again quiet. I stood on my feet, brushing my dress down. There was no other option. Mother Superior’s only hope was me, but I knew I needed help.

On the outskirts of town was a giant tower that stretched towards the stars and moon. There was a single window that sat at the top of the tower. Light illuminated it against the dark night sky. Bats circled around the roof, calling out to each other.

I swallowed thickly as I made my way up the steps. The door towered over me as I stood on my tiptoes to ring the bell. It gave a loud shriek that echoed around me. I stepped back slightly, looking up towards the window. A shadow moved across the window.

The door swung open slowly, giving a loud groan as the shadow stepped into the threshold. The shadow was a man with light brown hair that fell over his glasses. He wore all black and was very pale. He cocked his head to the side, squinting his eyes as he stared at me.

I gave a quick bow.

“Hello, your highness,” I greeted. He swung his long coat backwards, crouching down to look me in the eyes. He folded his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Hello there. How can I help you?” he asked. My heart began beating rapidly as I looked down. I took a deep, shaky breath, glancing back up at him.

“I need your help,” I said. “Mother Superior is missing. And I think she’s in Christmas Town.” He jerked his head back, blinking several times.

“Now why do you think that?” he asked. I twiddled with my thumbs, drawing my mouth into a thin line.

“It’s just—a hunch. Please, you and I are her only hope.” He stood up straight, brushing his pants. He looked back up his tower before stepping out and shutting the door.

“Okay. If you’re sure that’s where she is, then that’s our best lead,” he told me. He offered his arm and helped me down his stairs. “I’m Seo Taiji, by the way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N.”

The Pumpkin King, then Prince, and I made our way through Halloween Town. Everyone was locked away in their homes. Their curtains drawn and their lights out. Seo Taiji swooped down to pick up one of the flyers lying trampled in the snow. He frowned as we continued towards the woods.

The snow was thicker in the woods than in town. The trees stretched and tangled with each other. Owls hooted and shook the branches. Seo Taiji kept a tight grip on my hand as he led me through the winding forest. Brix and his pack were prowling the forest, letting out howls to the moon.

At the edge of a particular clearing, I could make out the bright lights of Christmas Town and Santa’s reindeer flying overhead. Seo Taiji tugged me on, bringing us to the edge of the forest where a small shop sat.

“What’s a wine shop doing at the edge of the woods?” Taiji inquired, peeking from behind a tree. Two men stood behind a table, handing out goblets filled with a red liquid. Fancy-dressed men and women surrounded the table, laughing and drinking the liquid.

I darted out from behind the tree, making my way to the table. He tried to grab me, but I slipped from his grasp, scowling as everyone stared at me. The men behind the counter tried to shoo me away, but I ignored them, looking at the wine in front of me. They turned to each other before pouring me a glass. I took the goblet and brought it to my lips.

The liquid was thick--uncomfortably so. It was also warm and bitter. I pretended to need to throw up and ran to the door that was away from them. As I slipped in, I made sure to shut the door behind me.

Inside the building was illuminated by a red light and was covered in big, metal tubes. I let out a gasp as I saw familiar faces chained to one of the metal contraptions. They were witches who had gone missing before Mother Superior. The one in the very front was Maeve.

Her bronze skin was now an ashy grey and her thick curls had lost their volume. I took hesitant steps towards her, reaching my hand up. Her head rolled to the side, her eyes staring at me. The other witches remained motionless as I tugged at their skirts.

A door opening scared me away from her. I blinked away my tears as I quickly ran away from them. Someone was following me, so I hid until one of the men from earlier passed me. I quickly left the way I came, running past a car.

A hand snatched me and pulled me back. The hand came to rest upon my mouth as I looked up to see Taiji. He held a finger to his mouth, looking about as footsteps ran past us. He quickly ushered me to hide in the car with him.

“Why did you run in there?” he asked, his face slightly pink and his brows furrowed. I bent my head, biting my lip to stop it from quivering. His expression softened. “I’m sorry. I was just worried. What was in there?” I wrapped my arms around myself, pulling my knees to my chin. “Y/N?”

“I—I found Maeve. And to some of the other missing witches,” I mumbled.

“Well that’s good, right?” I shook my head, tightening my grip on myself.

“They—they were—they were in chains and—and—they weren’t—weren’t moving—” He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my head.

Someone opened one of the car doors, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car. It roared to life before it took off towards the heart of Christmas Town.

Ever so slowly we sat up, looking out the window. Bright lights blinded us as we took in the passing trees fading in favor of what was Christmas Town. It had expanded more than we thought, and his jaw remained clenched for almost the entire ride.

I thought back to my lessons with Mother Superior. She’d always been more than just a teacher to me. She was the mother I had lost. I needed to be brave for her. If what was happening to the other witches was happening to her, I needed to be the bravest I’d ever been.

When the car finally stopped, we were in front of an almost all white building. Even the people were dressed in white, yet the ground was barren of any snow. Slowly we slipped out of the car, and he took my hand. We were the only two dressed in all black.

Two guards approached us, grabbing us by the arms. They dragged us past the long line of people. Above the table where children were signing a piece of paper read a sign that said, “From Cradle to Grave”. A man started shouting about the paper and two people put a cloth over his mouth and dragged him away.

Taiji and I were separated, and I was brought to a room where a few other children were standing, matching lids to boxes. A scary man yelled at me and quickly set to work. The other children were covered in soot and weren’t wearing the happy color clothes of Christmas Town. I wondered where they had taken Taiji, but I was too afraid to ask.

Some time passed before another little came in. She wore a fancy looking dress and had her hair in a tight bun on the top of her head. The scary guard bent down, and she whispered into his ear, pointing at me and a couple other children. More guards came in and dragged us away as she stood smirking.

I was given a white dress and told to change. I did so, but the lacey fabric scratched at my skin, and I fought myself not to tear the dress off. I was led to a room and told to sit on a chair. It was cold and hard, and I still didn’t know where Taiji was. The other children had been cleaned up and were also dressed in white. Each of our outfits was unique, yet they seemed to blend together in a sea of white lace.

The man from earlier, who had been sitting at the table handing out papers, came in. He had grey hair and a black handlebar mustache that didn’t match. He bent down and inspected us, yelling at one of the adults. He pursed his lips before jerking his head. He stormed away, shouting at people as he did so.

The adult he yelled out brought out a can and went to one of the nearby children, forcing her to smile and spraying the can. An unnatural smile stuck onto her face. They repeated the process with the other children, but when they got to me, the little girl from earlier stopped her. She had an almost evil presence to her, yet she had stopped the woman. It was something I never understood.

The little girl held my hand as Santa Clause came into the room. He led us all out to the front room, taking a seat on his big, red chair. Most of the children crowded around his feet, their fake smiles plastered onto their faces. The little girl left me to the side of the chair, taking a seat on Santa’s lap. She whispered something into his ear, pointing back at me. He laughed and motioned for the handlebar man to step aside.

Guards from earlier came in, grasping onto chains like the ones from the wine shop. A gasp left my mouth as both Mother Superior and Taiji were brought out, shackles wrapped around them. Mother Superior had aged significantly since I saw her two days ago. Her hair had lost its shine and luster, and her skin was an ashy grey as Maeve’s had been. Taiji seemed okay, just mad.

Mother Superior fought against her chains to reach me, and I fought my to get to her, but we remained out of each other’s grasps. Taiji was forced to his knees in front of Santa Clause. I had never seen so much hatred in someone’s eyes as he had staring at Santa Clause.

The adults of Christmas Town began chanting, louder and louder their voices grew, drowning out my own cries. Mother Superior had tears in her eyes as she summoned what little magic she had. A white ball of energy sat in her hand, and as best she could while being chained, she forced the ball down.

The children, Taiji, and I disappeared from Christmas Town. Taiji and I landed back in Mother Superior’s hut. I quickly rid him of his shackles, but we were both slightly disoriented from the magic. He took a seat, bringing his hand to his temple.

I felt something hard in my hand, and looked down to see a key. Glancing up, I found a chest. I unlocked it to find Mother Superior’s witch items from when she had been my age. Her spell book, her broom, her hat, everything was there. I turned back to him and I knew what I had to do.

“This is no time for tears!” Taiji stood in the town square, monsters gathered around him. “Mother Superior, along with everyone here, is in danger. Now it’s time to show them Halloween Town will not be treated this way. You attack one of us, you attack all of us! We are monsters! We are proud!” The townsfolk cheered and prepped themselves to march into Christmas Town. The fight had only begun.

#haveanotherkpopblog post #13 nights of kpop #seo taiji #kpop #kpop fanfics #kpop angst #kpop horror #kpop movie au #kpop fics #kpop fic #kpop fic series #kpop x you

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godnectar · 1 year ago

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**Title: Gojo and Peter's Crazy Love Story**

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Chapter 1: Meeting Each Other

One day, Gojo Satoru, the cool guy with magic powers, found himself in a funny town called Quahog. He met Peter Griffin, a big, jolly guy with a big laugh.

Chapter 2: Lots of Laughing

Peter's laugh was loud and funny, just like Gojo's sense of humor. Even though they were from different worlds, they felt a strange connection.

Chapter 3: Beers and Friends

"Hey, buddy!" Peter said, offering a hand. "Let's grab a beer!"

Gojo thought, why not? They went from one bar to another, sharing all kinds of crazy stories.

Chapter 4: A Night to Remember

They laughed a lot and started to really like each other. Gojo liked how Peter was goofy but really cared about his family. Peter liked how Gojo was confident and fun.

Chapter 5: Crazy Adventures

They did wild things together. They flew on a magic carpet, had a funny fight with a giant chicken, and even danced with some silly demons.

Chapter 6: Love in the Chaos

Even though things didn't make sense, they didn't care. They loved the craziness.

Chapter 7: Happily Ever After

Gojo and Peter, the magic guy and the big jolly guy, fell in love. Their story was wild and unexpected, but it was their own special adventure.

---

**Title: Gojo and Peter's Crazy Love Story - Part 2: Falling in Love**

---

Chapter 8: Sweet Moments

As days passed, Gojo and Peter found themselves drawn to each other more and more. They shared sweet moments, like holding hands on walks and laughing together over silly jokes.

Chapter 9: Discovering Similarities

Surprisingly, they discovered they had a lot in common. They both loved spicy food and had a weakness for cheesy action movies. It was like they were two pieces of a goofy puzzle that just fit.

Chapter 10: Crazy Dates

Their dates were never ordinary. They went on wild adventures, like taking a ride on a rollercoaster that made them both scream like kids.

Chapter 11: Facing Challenges Together

Life wasn't always easy, but they faced challenges as a team. Whether it was a misadventure in the grocery store or a surprise visit from an unexpected guest, they handled it all with laughter and love.

Chapter 12: Saying "I Love You"

One day, under a sky full of stars, Gojo looked into Peter's eyes and said those three magic words. "I love you," he said, his heart pounding with happiness.

Chapter 13: Peter's Big Announcement

Excited and nervous, Peter gathered his family and announced his love for Gojo. They were surprised at first, but soon saw the happiness in Peter's eyes and gave their blessing.

Chapter 14: A Crazy, Happy Ending

Their love story was crazy, unexpected

---

**Title: Gojo and Peter's Crazy Love Story - Part 3: Building a Family**

---

Chapter 15: A New Chapter Begins

As the years passed, Gojo and Peter's love only grew stronger. They decided it was time to start a new chapter in their crazy love story.

Chapter 16: The Joy of Parenthood

Soon, they welcomed a bundle of joy into their lives. Their little one had Gojo's twinkling eyes and Peter's infectious laugh. They named him Max, a name that felt just right.

Chapter 17: Adventures with Max

Raising Max was an adventure in itself. From teaching him to ride a bike to sharing bedtime stories filled with magic and laughter, every moment was a cherished memory.

Chapter 18: Sibling Shenanigans

Not long after, they welcomed a baby girl named Lily. She had Peter's mischievous grin and Gojo's adventurous spirit. Max and Lily were the best of friends, partners in crime in all their childhood escapades.

Chapter 19: Laughter-Filled Days

Their home echoed with the sound of laughter. Gojo's magic tricks and Peter's goofy dance moves kept their little ones entertained for hours on end.

Chapter 20: Lessons in Love

As parents, Gojo and Peter taught Max and Lily about love, acceptance, and the importance of being true to oneself. They embraced each other's quirks and celebrated their unique strengths.

Chapter 21: Family Adventures

Together, they went on grand family adventures. From magical vacations to theme parks to impromptu dance-offs in the living room, every day was a new opportunity for fun and bonding.

Chapter 22: Growing Together

Through the ups and downs, their love only deepened. They faced challenges as a family, always coming out stronger and more united than before.

Chapter 23: Forever Grateful

As they looked at their beautiful family, Gojo and Peter couldn't help but feel grateful for the crazy, wonderful journey they'd been on. They knew that their love story was something truly special.

-------

#nectar's rambling #♡ anon #anon message #this certainly wasn't what I expected when replying to the ask from before– 😭#still was entertaining to read ngl #totally didn't just spend 15 min reading and staring at a gojo satoru x peter griffin fic just now 🤡✊️#trying not to wheeze rn fr #like–#why? 😭😭#how? 😭😭😭

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saratogaroadwrites · 2 years ago

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For King and Country (23/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount: 280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

Thunder rumbled overhead. Evan didn’t bother to look up, pacing back and forth down the hallway outside of Roland’s room. Everyone had been expecting the storms to come to Evermore sooner or later, and he was glad that they’d been able to finish construction before the storms had slammed into the little town with all the force of a charging Manticore. It was the only bright spot he could find in the last week.

Oh, why had he let Roland come with them into the muggy summer rains? Why had he thought that was a good idea?! Just because the trip had been simple didn’t mean that it had been good for him! He’d gotten steadily worse over the trip and then he’d—he’d collapsed out of nowhere! Sure, he’d come around a minute later, red in the face from embarrassment instead of fever, but still!

And then this morning…

He hadn’t shown up for breakfast this morning. Everyone had looked to his spot at the table and made quiet, not really amused jokes about him finally taking the chance to sleep in and get some bloomin’ rest—Batu’s words, not Evan’s—but as the day had worn on and no one had seen hide nor hair of the man, the little voice in the back of Evan’s mind started screaming at him again.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

He hadn’t been able to stifle his panic this time. His mind had whirled, remembering what King Leonhard had said when he had first taken ill.

”It’s just a little bout of cold, my son,” He had said to Evan one cold winter’s night, the pair of them sitting by the fire in King Leonhard’s study. ”It’ll pass and I’ll be right as rain!”

Obviously that hadn’t been the case. And obviously there were differences between King Leonhard’s situation and Roland’s now—Evan highly doubted anyone would have poisoned Roland!—but the panicked part of his mind hadn’t cared. It had sent him running for Roland’s chambers in the northern residential wing, his room just one door down from Evan’s. He had knocked first, of course, because Nella and his tutors had instilled manners in him from an early age, but when no answer had come he had gone right in anyway.

Considering he had found Roland still in bed, feverish and unresponsive, he was glad he had.

But it did mean that panic had been chasing him ever since, nipping at his heels and leaving him too nervous to sit still. Even now, pacing back and forth through the corridor, he was wringing his hands, his half-puffed tail lashing back and forth with every step.

What if this was poison? Or another curse? Or—or anything! Oh, why had he agreed to let the obviously ill Roland spend a week on the road with him?! Just because he had looked fine didn’t mean that he was!

“Oi!” Lofty’s voice broke through his whirling thoughts. Evan looked at his Kingmaker but still didn’t stop pacing. Lofty heaved a sigh. “Settle down, Evan lad, “Youell wear a hole in the floor if you keep this up much longer.”

“I know, I know,” Evan hissed. He stopped for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. He glanced at Lofty. “You’re sure this has nothing to do with the Darkness?”

Lofty heaved another sigh. They’d been over this a couple of times already, and each time Lofty’s answer was the same. “Aye, mun, I’m sure. It’s just a run-o-the-mill cold! Ol’ Rolly-boy’s gonna be just fine.”

Would he? Evan wasn’t so sure. He shivered, chafing his arms against a chill that came from inside of him. Thunder rumbled overhead, but the sound could do nothing to cover the click of the door as it open. Evan startled, whirling back around in time to see Nella step back out of the room. He ran towards her.

“How is he?!” Evan asked, trying to peer over her shoulder and into the room. She shut the door too quickly for him to get a good look, but not fast enough that he didn’t hear a wheezing inhale from inside. Evan’s already racing heart picked up speed as panic crept closer. “He’s not—”

Nella shook her head. “He’s an even worse patient than I am, but it really does seem to be nothing more than a bad cold. Going out into this mess didn’t help. Honestly, Evan,” She put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. “What were you thinking? You know better than this.”

Evan’s ears folded back. Biting his lip to keep it from quivering, he nodded. He did know better than to let someone sick into the rain or snow, but—Roland hadn’t looked that bad! And he’d…he’d been fine until the fight and he’d said he was fine and—

No. No, it didn’t really matter what he’d said. Evan was King, and that meant he was responsible for the lives of all his subjects. This included Roland. He should have put his foot down and made the man stay in Evermore, but he hadn’t.

He would know better for next time. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, he looked up at Nella. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

“You’re right,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I should have made him stay here. I just wanted…I thought that he…”

Evan squeezed his eyes shut tight. He’d just wanted a little more time to go and see the world before he’d have to settle in Evermore, one more adventure with his friends. Had it been selfish of him? Probably. It had certainly been foolish to not make Roland stay behind, but…he’d wanted the man with him.

He just wanted things to be the same as they were before. But they weren’t going to be, were they? He shook his head, glancing down as Lofty laid a comforting hand on his knee. Taking a deep breath, Evan looked back at Nella.

“I thought that he would be alright. I trusted what he said.”

“I know you did,” Nella said, bending to his level. “Believe me, I intend to have words with him about this, too, but Evan.” She reached forward, pushing hair out of his face until she could meet his eyes without looking through blond strands. “You can’t just do what you want anymore. You have to think about what’s best for everyone, alright? Even stubborn sick men who think they’re perfectly fine when they’re clearly not.”

“I know,” Evan whispered, fear and shame twisting in his chest. “I’ll know better for next time.”

Next time. He really, truly, sincerely hoped there would never be a next time like this. He already had a mix of muddled terror and grief from how similar Nella’s situation had been to his father’s, and now Roland’s image was in the mix too! He shivered at the thought. Nella made a soft noise.

“I’m sure you will,” She said, standing up straight. “Now, try not to worry too much for him. He’ll be alright.”

Evan wanted to believe her. He really, truly, with all his heart wanted to believe her, but the mix of her collapse with Roland’s and his father’s kept playing on a loop when he closed his eyes. He gripped his trousers tightly.

“Really?” He whispered. Nella blinked at him. “Is he…he’s not going to…?

He couldn’t finish. Nella made a confused noise, then stopped. Her shoulders slumped.

“Oh, Evan…” She whispered. He could hear the understanding in her voice. His heart sat heavy in his stomach as she reached out with one arm, pulling him into an embrace. He sniffled, hiding his face in her shoulder.

“No, sweetheart,” She said, rubbing his back. He reached up to cling to her, feeling all too much like a kit once again. “No. I’m sure he feels utterly miserable, but he’s going to be fine! Although I will admit,” She shook her head. Evan pulled away, panic making his blood run cold. “I can’t get his fever to come down. It’s not getting any worse, but it’s not getting better, either.”

“What can we do?” He asked, “Is there any sort of medicine we can use, or—” he wracked his brain, trying to think, “Maybe magic of some kind?”

“Healing magic doesn’t work on illnesses,” Nella said, taking him by the arm and beginning to walk down the hall. Lofty trailed in their wake, quietly watching them. “But there could be some medicine that might help. The doctors in Dell always used a syrup of Sheermint to bring down fevers. You took it a few times when you were younger.”

“I did?” He couldn’t recall. He’d been sick so rarely as a younger child. Still, if it could help Roland he would go fetch it himself! They didn’t have a doctor yet, but maybe, “Do you think Auntie Martha would have any?”

“She’d be the first person I’d ask,” Nella said. “Why don’t you go and ask her?”

“I will!” Evan took off running down the halls of the palace, his feet thumping along the floor as he ran. He slowed only long enough for Lofty to leap up onto his shoulder, then picked up speed again and bolted right out the front door. Outside, the storm was coming down hard; Evan held up an arm against the driving wind and ran for Auntie Martha’s cottage not so far from the palace gates. By the time he made it, he and Lofty were both dripping went.

“Auntie Martha!” He called as he shut the door against the storm, “Auntie Martha, are you here?!”

“Just a moment, dear!” She called from her personal quarters in the back, her voice echoing in the nearly empty open public space she had asked for. Many of her colorful little creatures milled around in the front, all of them staring at Evan as he dripped onto the floor. Normally he would have greeted them, able to understand their meaning if not their odd language, but he just couldn’t work up the cheer right now. Footsteps scraped along the stone up ahead as Auntie Martha came out of the back, drying her hands on an apron. “I was just tidying up and—oh, goodness gracious me! What happened?!”

She didn’t wait for Evan to answer before she bustled forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and hustling him over towards her firepit. He didn’t have time to protest before she’d bundled him up in a towel, wrapping it tight around his shoulders. Lofty gave a token protest as this ended up with him squashed to Evan’s back.

“Now what’s got you so worked up that you’d come out without so much as a cloak in this kind of weather?” Auntie Martha asked him, stoking the fire. Evan sank back into the warmth, sitting down on a nearby chair.

“Roland’s sick,” he said, tugging the towel tight around his shoulders, “He’s got a very bad fever and he’s wheezing something awful.” He tightened his grip, stomach a hot pit of fear. “Nella said that syrup of Sheermint could help. Do you have any?”

“Not on hand,” Auntie Martha said with a frown, “But I know how to make it. You just sit right there a second.”

Evan squirmed, needing to move but forcing himself to wait, watching as she toddled off to a shelf built into the wall of the cottage. It was full of glass flasks and jars loaded with colored liquids or shards of crystal, some full of green herbs or colored flower petals. More of the little creatures ducked between the jars, but all of them parted as Auntie Martha worked her way down the shelf.

“Sheermint, Sheermint…” Auntie Martha shifted the bottles around with the clinking of glass. Evan watched, heart in his throat. “I know I had some in here somewhere…oh, bother!” She cried, and Evan’s heart sank as she pulled out an empty bottle. “Oh, twist my knickers why don’t you!”

“Is that your Sheermint, then?!” Lofty crowed, bouncing off of Evan’s shoulder. “Look’s like Sheerdust to me!”

“It’s rotten luck is what it is,” Auntie Martha said, setting the bottle down with perhaps a bit too much force. She looked to Evan. “And it doesn’t grow this time of year, either!”

“What?” He whispered, his grip on the towel going slack. “But we need it now! Roland’s going to—”

“Aye, I know, I know! But it only grows in the cold months, dearie. There won’t be any more ‘till winter comes ‘round.” She made her way back over and sat down beside Evan, rubbing a comforting hand down his back. He sniffled back tears. “But this isn’t about some cold now is it?” When he shook his head and sniffled again, her voice grew softer. “Why don’t you tell your old Auntie what’s really bothering you, hm?”

“It’s…” he looked down at his feet, scuffing his toe against the stone floor. “It’s just…my father…he got sick, too. It looked a lot like this at first and he didn’t…” He swallowed hard, the rawness of fresh grief catching in his throat. It had gotten easier to not think about and then this and his heart ached. “He didn’t make it. Seeing Roland like this is…”

It was too hard to say. He curled into himself just a little, hiccuping around a quiet sob. Auntie Martha made a soothing noise.

“I understand, dearie,” She said, rubbing circles in his back, “And you need to do something to help, don’t you? So you don’t feel so helpless this time?”

Evan nodded. He took a shuddering breath as several of her little creatures padded over, resting their tiny hands on his legs and making crooning noises of their own.

“But I don’t know what else to do,” he whispered, “If we don’t have any Sheermint, and it’s out of season, then…” His ears drooped. “What can I do?”

Was there anything he could do? Or was he as helpless as when Nella was cursed all over again? He’d never wanted to feel that helpless again. He hiccuped around another sob, trying to hold them back. The little creatures turned into blurs of color as the tears spilled over. He reached up, dashing a hand across his face. Spirits, he was such a crybaby kit sometimes!

“Hmm…well,” Auntie Martha sat back and hummed pensively, “I reckon Goldpaw might still have some. It grows up in the mountains and high places around the city, I think.” She tilted her head as Evan looked at her, hope bubbling up in his chest for the first time all day. “If you can get me some fresh stuff, I can whip up a batch of syrup quick as a wink.” She nodded firmly. The tiny bubble of hope grew larger until it pushed back the panic and he leapt to his feet.

“Oh, thank you, Auntie Martha, thank you!” he surged forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a quick hug, “I’ll go check right now!”

He took off at a run before she could get more than a “be careful!” out, grabbing a loudly protesting Lofty under one arm and darting back into the storm. He’d grab Tani and Batu and they’d head out to Goldpaw! It’d be quick, easy, and everything would be fine!

Roland was going to get better!

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

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