#and I had a secret hideout behind a tree and some bushes where I kept my bob the builder toys

[afaroffsong]

.

Once or twice a year I am hit by a massive wave of homesickness for America that makes me literally nauseous and almost feverish. Anyway I am metaphorically turning my heart inside out as I think about junky old Lincoln, Nebraska and a mice-infested farmhouse and living off of food stamps.

[tsukopathe]

A headcanon about Encanto's doors...

(I not often write text or share headcanons, but when I like a movie, I LIKE A MOVIE) (I put it there as, maybe, I'll illustrate some scenes my theory implies) (and share it here) (Tumblr is an adorable fan platform right ?) (right?)

I’ll try to be short, and with all the passion I have for Encanto, it will be a harsh task…

(Quick disclaim, I’m native tongue french and may « sound weird », sorry)

There is a seriously-starting-of-a-theory that came while paying close attention to snapshots (I’m already at the stage of pausing the film frantically ^^). That’s the door system that leaves me with a lot of unanswered questions!

THE DOOR THEORY THEN! Short trailer: the plan. (I‘m not good at clickbait…)

Openly owing a close passion to these silent but so-much-talkative doors, there was data to necessarily gather, and to be honest I STRUGGLED to ensure to have a correct answer. Maybe it was already certified somewhere in the fanbase: how are arranged the casita’s occupiers ??

I mean: it seems organized… there seems to have rules; we’ll back to it later

THE PLAN, Taking Abuela’s door as middle reference we have, from left to right :

-Left wall : The secret entrance to Bruno’s hideout/Dolores/Camilio/Antonio.

-Middle wall : Pepa/ceremonies pictures/Abuela/julieta

-Further in the right corner, upper stairs: Bruno.

-Right wall : Luisa/furniture/Isabela.

-‘Behind’ wall : Kid’s room.

(So this left wall shall have space for 4 entrances locations, let’s summarize. The asymmetry is not what disturbs me. Casita seems indeed very quirky and there is nothing against this odd placement) (It is canon, thanks to Jared Bush, that the house is even able to expand if needed)

Now what does it tells us about Casita. First, I had this theory:

-THE DOOR THEORY : genealogic roots

Family tree is also respected by the doors. In fact, even fanarts made by villagers respects the pattern, Pepa’s children are settled on her left, Julieta’s daughters are on the right wall.

This simple statement implies that, even if we don’t see it clearly during the movie, the staircase shoooould build itself differently to lead to the correct door, on each ceremony? (Or maybe on request? Talk about home automation, GOOGLE HOOOME) We see stairs rise once [9’51], aiming Antonio’s door, and, in fact, I believe it would not be its forever place.

But I rewatched, to be sure, the other shown ceremony in the film: Mirabel’s one. My « family rule » would be approved if stairs leaded to the right. I carefully dissected each frame of the intro’s Mirabel’s ceremony [3’40] and the parallel with Antonio’s ceremony [18’40].

First, not conclusive. Same angle, same decor, not enough of the stairs to see a curve, same scene as Antonio’s. Did not help.

…And the final seconds to check, ARGH.

All got destroyed with two camera point of view that mad my entire blueprint COLLAPSE.

[19’04] First the stairs curved the same, the ceremony bring her to the left wall.

The Pepa’s wall, you quickly run to, drinking all my words? Don’t you feel something is MISSING here? [19’21] We clearly see the pictures next Abuela’s door, but NO PEPA’S DOOR.

Pepa’s ceremony happened of course decades before and SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALREADY THERE, but isn’t. (Artistic or poetic licence does not have the right to exist, in a theorist mind… EVERYTHING MUST BE EXPLAINED!)

So: the very same space where Mirabel failed is now claimed for Antonio’s room.

In order to let you in the same despair as me at the time, I shall let your brain cells endure this huge information, and build many sub-theories that are now poping from everywhere.

I’ll be generous and only keep you suffering some seconds until the brand new turnaround theory I kept, and it’s even more fabulous than a Hogwarts stupid moving staircase.

-THE ULTIMATE DOOR THEORY : All things considered, Family changes > doors moves.

I dump the stairs theory. (or it’s still a power Casita has but not while gift ceremony strict… ceremonial) After all, after Mirabel’s ceremony, there is a blank wall. Doors are just pieces of wood to this house. (IRL it does not work, an architect PLAN holes for doors and windows. This must be clarified, as even Sims videogames don’t care at all ^^)

So, if each ceremony always happens HERE, the door might be “distributed” anywhere its place is, afterwards!

And that is properly certified by Bruno’s room that, on the intro, was supposed to be JUST between his sisters’s ones: where is now Abuela’s one.

(No clue to know each wall this ceremony took place, even the stairs aren’t visible. Version one would be the ceremony was on this common left wall, Alma’s door still in the middle. Version 2 would be this first ceremony was private, no guests, no fuss, no idea what’s happening with these 3 doors inexplicably glowing, it could have been out of the “regular” ceremony place? already middle wall ??)

(Anyway, clearly, the triplets’s doors changed place, after that)

But don’t conclude too fast, the-one-we-don’t-talk-about have not been « removed » from family middle-wall the day he « ran away », 10 years prior to the film! I take as proof that, after the Mirabel’s targeted prediction, he already goes downstairs the same stairs Mirabel’s climbed to do her Indiana Jone’s adventure.

(Who cries when Bruno looks back at the door? I don’t cry. I’m a growth pers-naaah!!! ç__ç)

Even before he ran away, he was apart from the family. That leads to many questions, such as, of course, WHY, but that could be another investigation. (My thought about this is that his premonitions were enough to have him withdraw into himself, he didnt get a chance to start a family, was growing old, and purposefully left is door placement to the active core of the family. Vast topic. So much more maybes…)

MY THOUGHTS (headcanons)

-At the beginning of Casita, there was only Abuela’s room. (Never shown, non-canon assertion) (As her room seems to reach the windows where the candle stands _ note she might have two floors_, maybe the very same middle one)

-During triplet’s ceremony, either the doors were in the ceremony traditional place, either Abuela’s door might have been put elsewhere, leaving the middle wall free, for years (front wall because, the triplets must have been the centre of magic for years. Personal opinion I said. Triplets were Alma’s pride and centre of attention, so Casita’s attention too)

-As the first grand-kids arrived, doors moved to keep each branch of the tree together. After all, even casita could not foresee how many kids will come next (what an accurate pregnancy test!): at each birth, more precisely at each ceremony, doors changed address, if space is needed.

-Maybe for a while, Bruno had some room reserved, in case he found a pretender not fleeing at his disastrous predictions.

-(Then: Bruno officially pouts on the attic)

-Before Mirabel failed, Antonio wasn’t born yet and it’s possible that “the biggest wall” was dedicated at Julieta’s family, that had 3 daughters, Pepa had only 2 children.

-(Or, at the contrary, Bruno was still a “possible branch”, and was at the left, on the end, after the two Pepa’s children)

-(Or still between his sister’s door)

-10 years ago, just as Mirabel didn’t get her door, maybe the doors were laid out differently, there is not enough clues. Were grandchild‘s obtained doors spread around, differently?

-If achieved, Mirabel’s door would have relocated near her sister’s door. (Whatever side had Julieta)

-Coming soon, 5 little doors will have to find a room near Dolores’s, if Mariano Guzmán (thank you wikipedia) matches ^^. That means surely new floor this time.

And what is SURELY the liveliest, about the door being transportable, is imagine little scenes like; (and those will be shortly drawn, I have them stuck in head ^^)

Kids getting each other’s angry, and asking Casita to get their door “drove apart”;

Or Pepa transporting door herself, “nobody enters, you VEXED ME BRUNO!”

Huge and catastrophic mistakes _a Camilio spying the wrong place, a Bruno frightening the wrong priest_ would mean the door would be put “on a corner”, punished on his faaaar bedroom ;

Dolores making a scene as Camilio moves her door away from her mom’s ^^;

Preparing a birth that changes the blueprint would be little events, leading to some “moving doors” festivities;

Not fully awake kiddos mistaking doors as they didn’t get accustomed to new placement ^^;

If Bruno’s displacements, that are somehow “disgraces”, were done in silence, “we don’t talk about Bruno’s once again having to move his door”;

My humble opinion is that he might be a sugar-uncle that accepted, even suggested, to offer them a better placement, so it still would be a special occasion to feast, even if villagers mumbles on his back;

Or maybe door visibility was also a way triplets and grandchildren assumed their “preferential ranks”, that broke their mental health =__=;

Highlighting Abuela’s door on the middle place, during Bruno tendency to isolate, would be a way to STILL show Madrigal strength.

___That’s all for my doors theories!

This theory makes Casita even more… ALIVE! Could you believe this magic can be puzzled around, at will? Shall the staircase change place anyway? Will Bruno ask for a more exposed door after the movie, now he feels accepted?

What do you think? Didn’t it bring you to many other intriguing questions? ^^

PS : Three dismissed theories, related to the hole in the wall :

A very far-fetched sub-theory would be that, the hole in the wall (where Bruno’s hide-out begins) is in fact able to reach kind of Mirabel’s room, or at least her function in the family: repairing Casita’s foundations. This place is unreachable to casita too, as it didn’t respond to Mirabel calls for help : a private place, such as Bruno’s sands. At least, this breach is a visual hint of the instability of Casita’s magic when her door failed. A backstage room (Disneyland style). Interesting, but hardly convincing.

The freerun scene takes place behind the magical rooms, and seems to follow the plan (smashing on Pepas wall at the right bend, for example), and depicts an upstairs collapsed floor that seems to match “attic”, where Bruno’s room just happened to also sand-collapse. (He seemed unaware that this hole _new to his knowledge _ was not a dangerous fall) This backstage area could be attached/bounded to near room’s conditions: A non-magical version of the building state of preservation.

Or the behinf the frame wall crack was an already knew secret place for the triplets, hid and unfound by the next generation, already furnished by them 3. (So much furniture could not have disappeared/being transported during 10 years without getting noticed) Bruno ran quickly here knowing it was ready to hide, as he couldn’t escape the village. (sub theory : Julieta that spends a lot of time near kitchen/dining place shall have at least hear snores, or music from the gramophone, from time to time… not unsuspecting at all of “who ‘in the know’ could hide there… haaard gueeeess. Pepa is here and I’m not hiding… ^^”)

PS2 :

“being brief” is no compatible with “talking about Encanto”. I’m sorry ^^

[inkrabbit]

Kiss Goodnight - Kieran x GN!Reader (18+)

I told y’all, I couldn’t let this idea go. When I was working on a crossover/time travel story, I had wanted to do this. But since I’ve basically scrapped the story, I decided that I would use this idea for a sort of shipping story. If I ever rewrite that old fic, I’ll still use this.

WARNING: Major spoilers for the storyline, graphics descriptions of blood and gore, and swearing! If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read!

Summary: They did this to him, those bastards. The sweetest man you could meet, and he had been brutally attacked. You’re in no better shape yourself, but you’ll be damned if you’re leaving Kieran tied up in this disgusting basement. And with his sobbing pleads, how could you turn your back on him?

Word count: 2,400

“You are not going out there, and that is an order!”

“Someone’s gotta give a damn about him, Dutch! What if he’s hurt?”

“The boy’s fine! Now-”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!”

  You had waited until the early morning, waiting for Bill to end his shift for guard duty and John to start his. You knew how slow they were, and when the coast was clear, you took your chance. Gathering everything you could, you mounted your horse and dug your spurs into the animal’s sides, starting down the path, eyes squinted to try and see through the thick fog. You had a rough idea of where you were headed, the stable boy having voiced his concerns with you some nights ago.

  Oh, Kieran. You knew you should’ve kept a closer eye on him that night. How he had stumbled into the woods as the party died down, a beer bottle in his hand. You felt guilty. You should’ve gone with him, and now his disappearance was eating at you. Mary-Beth’s questions didn’t help you feel any better, either. She had asked other members if they had seen Kieran, but she was met with the familiar shake of the head and low “no”.

  Then there was Dutch, nonchalant as ever. You had wanted to knock him upside the head when he rolled his eyes at you, sounding unconcerned as you suggested a search party for your missing member. It made your blood boil when he waved his hand and took a drag of his cigar, telling you Kieran would find his way back, as if he were some pup that had run off. The bastard.

  You couldn’t stop thinking of the night Kieran had finally told you of the O’Driscolls. His frightened face and paranoid attitude. He told you about the men he had seen close by the camp, and he confided in you with a hideout he had heard of when he still ran with the gang. You should’ve attached yourself to the man’s hip to make sure this wouldn’t happen, but you figured you were all hidden enough. You figured someone on guard duty would’ve noticed shuffling in the trees - would’ve noticed someone dragging your friend away. You at least wished someone else would’ve cared enough to go looking for him.

  It was a suicide run and you knew it. Going against a group of O’Driscolls all alone. You knew you weren’t as tough as Arthur, but you had something the man didn’t: stealth. And it was the only hope you could cling to as you heard voices up ahead. Your stomach dropped when you saw Branwen hitched to a nearby post, pawing anxiously at the ground and looking around. You moved your own horse to the side, hidden behind the thick bushes and tall trees. You removed the old bow Charles had gifted you, slinging your quiver over your shoulder and placing the arrows inside. You double checked to make sure your knife was in its sheath, having sharpened it earlier that night when you were seated in camp plotting. Moving your bandana up to cover your face, you make your way for the edge of the camp. No, you weren’t as tough as Arthur was, but you were going to do what that whole gang couldn’t be bothered to do: save one of your own.

  They’re not grouped together, much to your delight. You start with the ones on guard duty, readying your arrow and pulling back, aiming for their heads before you released. Once you heard them fall with a satisfying thud, you moved forward, going to retrieve the bloody arrow and ready yourself for another shot. You looked at these men as what they were; animals. You tried to pretend you were just hunting, and in some way, you were. Hunting down the animals that took away the sweetest man you had met, remembering all Charles had taught you whenever you two went hunting together. Keep low, watch your surroundings, and don’t shoot unless you’re absolutely sure. If you’re getting too flustered, take a deep breath in, hold it, and steady your aim. And that’s what you did when you felt your adrenaline pumping, rage coursing through your veins when soft sobbing made its way to your ears. It had to be him. It had to.

  You let yourself indulge in a kill, sneaking up behind a man that was crouched beside the scout fire. You reached out, wrapping your hand over his mouth, using your other to bring your knife around and cut along his neck. It was disgusting, hearing him gag on his own blood as he dropped to the ground, but it helped calm you. With every O’Driscoll you took down, you found yourself closer to your goal - closer to bringing Kieran home and making sure he was safe. And when your arrow shot through the last guard’s throat, you allowed yourself to finally calm down. This was it. You were going to go get him, bring him home, chastise the holy hell out of Dutch, and maybe even run off with Kieran. It was wishful thinking, but it wasn’t a secret you had been sweet on the man.

“Kieran?” You tried to keep your voice hushed as you grabbed the metal handles that led to the cellar, pulling them open with a grunt. You knew it was him when he started yelling, voice muffled and shuffling coming from inside. You allowed yourself to fall into a false sense of security, hurrying down to free him. His screaming only increased when you were thrown to the ground. It had all gone so quick, your mouth opening as your back slammed into the ground, the wind being knocked out of you as you felt a sharp pain enter your side. No. No, this isn’t how it was supposed to go.

  You’re on autopilot at this point, not even registering your own knife in your hand until it’s embedded deep in the O’Driscoll’s temple. The blood drips onto your face and the adrenaline kicks back in, dulling the pain when the man’s body falls limp, pressing the knife deeper into your side. You huff as you rip your knife out of his skull, shoving his body off of yours and laying there. Kieran’s sobs are replaced with white noise as you gaze up at the dusty ceiling, trying to comprehend everything happening. You slowly reach up, grasping the handle of the hunting knife and pulling, ripping it out of your side. A gasp escapes you, filling your lungs and bringing you back to reality. It hurt. It hurt so bad, but you couldn’t lay here. No, you weren’t going to just die here in front of the man you just spent the night looking for. You wouldn’t traumatize him anymore than he already was.

  When you force yourself up, that’s when you see it. A lump forms in your throat as you stagger upright, tears falling from your eyes. Kieran was hanging before you, his wrists tied together by old rope and looking close to bleeding. A dirty cloth had acted as a gag, muffling his sobs and soft pleads, but it’s his eyes that do it for you. His once sweet, green colored eyes were replaced with empty sockets, bloody and stained with tears.

“K-Kieran,” you choke out, scurrying forward to take his face in your hands. He flinches at first, but finally allows himself to nuzzle against your gentle touch, his chest heaving as he continues to wails. Fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks, and it’s enough to get you to join him, bringing his head forward to hold it against your chest. You couldn’t understand how they could do this to such a sweet man. It wasn’t fair. You stroked your hand through his dirty and knotted hair, trying your best to shush him through shaky breaths.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” you promise as you pull his face back, stroking his cheeks as your voice cracks. He nods frantically, breathing heavily as he tries to control himself. The first thing you do is take hold of your knife, cutting him free of his binds and having to catch him when his knees buckle beneath him. He’s wobbly but finally stands, holding onto you for dear life as you remove the gag from his mouth, letting it hang loosely around his neck. He’s thanking you softly, stuttering more than you’ve ever heard before. You remove your bandana, folding it up before going to wrap it around his eyes, acting as a blindfold. You didn’t want any more gunk getting inside the sockets, and god forbid someone from camp saw you two return, you didn’t want them to see Kieran in this state.

  He allows you to wrap his eyes up, holding your hand and squeezing tightly as you slowly lead him out of the cellar. You’re limping, free hand holding onto the wound you’ve recently gotten. You can feel the blood seeping out, but you force yourself to stay strong. You whistle for your horse, making sure you two were alone as you led him over to Branwen. You keep your voice soft and calm as you guide him over, handing him the reins and doing your best to help him up and onto the saddle. Your own horse has to lower itself to the ground when it notices you struggling, letting you mount up a lot easier than pulling yourself up. Once you’re both ready to go, you reach out to take Branwen’s rein in one hand, guiding the horse as you start for Shady Belle.

“Y-you ca-ame for me,” Kieran chokes out, his voice still shaky as his body trembles. You don’t want to imagine all he’s been through. “You...”

“Wasn’t gonna leave you,” you tell him, going to take his hand in your own and stroke his knuckles. His bottom lip trembles, threatening to have him break down again. You go back to softly shushing him. “I’m gonna get you home, and I’m gonna fix you up.”

“W-where... w-where are the o-others?” he asks, “Is-is a-anyone e-else with ya?”

“It’s just me,” You can’t stop the bitter tone that laces your words, but you feel Kieran give your hand a squeeze.

“T-thank you. Thank you,” He’s almost breathless, but you can hear him softly start crying again. You mimic the squeeze, continuing to stroke his knuckles.

  By the time the two of you get back to the mansion, you’re feeling woozy and weak. You noticed the color had drained from your hands, but you try not to think about it. Slow and deep breaths, keep your eyes open. You don’t go to the normal hitching area. Instead, you both take a different route, avoiding John and keeping yourselves hidden. You almost fall trying to dismount, and you have to reassure Kieran that you’re fine. He holds you close when you help him down from Branwen, and you lie when he asks about the wet spot on your shirt, telling him it belonged to an O’Driscoll. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but you knew a good majority of it was yours.

  You grunt as you push the doors open, leading Kieran inside and setting him down on a chair. You stumble slightly as you go to retrieve the old canteen on the dining table, hearing the water slosh around inside. An old cloth had fallen to the floor, probably from one of the girls when they were cleaning. You pick it up, gritting your teeth and trying to suppress a painful groan as you bend over. You open the canteen, pouring some water out and onto the cloth before reaching for Kieran. You wipe away the dirt and dried blood from his face, focusing on the way his pale skin slowly looks like it’s coming back to life.

  You’re not prepared when he hesitantly brings his hands up, reaching out and fumbling to gently grasp your neck. You freeze, allowing him to slide his hands up to your face, cupping and stroking your cheeks. A soft sigh escapes your lips and you reach a hand of your own up to place it over one of his.

“I was scared,” you confess to him softly, tears filling your eyes once more. “Thought I... thought I’d never see you again...”

“I wish I could see you,” he whimpers, and you feel him tighten just that little bit. You tilt your head, going to press a soft kiss to his palm before nuzzling into it.

“Never should’ve... left you alone,” you sigh. It’s getting harder to keep your eyes open, but you’re hellbent on saying all the things you didn’t before. “You mean a lot... to me, Kieran. So much.”

  You don’t hear what he says in response, but you sniffle as you feel a tear escape your eye. You continue to speak to him, even if it’s getting harder. You tell him how thankful you were to have met him, and how you wished you would’ve found him sooner. You express your hatred for Dutch and not sending someone to go looking for him earlier, and you break down when you tell him the worst you had feared. When your feelings for him slip out, he stops your rambling by tugging at your face. You let him bring you closer, his chapped lips awkwardly finding their way to yours. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to melt into his gentle touch and bask in this. You hate feeling him pull away, and his concerned voice seems to be getting farther and farther. You feel so weak, breathing heavier. Not yet, please. Just some more time.

  Hosea’s yelling is the only thing that properly comes through, and even then it’s muffled. You fall back into the old man’s arms, staring up at him through half lidded eyes as he calls out for help. His hand grabs yours, squeezing harshly as he barks at you to stay awake, desperately smacking your cheek in an attempt to get your attention. You feel a smile tug at your lips.

“I got him back,” you tell him softly. You can see Dutch, Arthur and Miss Grimshaw crowd around you, worried looks on their faces as Dutch falls to his knees to cover the wound on your side. “I got him back...”

[goodgoodpolypals]

Boyhood Bravery || Chapter Four

Nick and Griffin fight. Griffin is jealous. Sometimes a hug makes everything better. Nick and Griffin struggle to talk about their feelings. Nick gets fed up.  Some fights aren’t so easy to fix.

THEN

The seasons in Huntington turn so gradually that it’s almost impossible to gauge where in the cycle you are. One thing was certain, the cycle could only turn in it’s definite, positive direction, always moving forward, never back. Summer can not last forever. Instead it gives way to Autumn, soft and slow, like ink bleeding into paper, the harsh reds and blues of the previous season dripping into the calmer oranges and browns that fall promises to bring.

The transitions, seeming so lazy while in them, always end up being abrupt to the unobservant. Maybe it was just the children, naive of the constant passing of their limited time, who find themselves wondering how they ended up here. When had the slippery stones of a river bank hardened into the speckled linoleum of their classroom floors? When had the sun, who had been relentless and harsh for months on end, begin to play hide and seek, tucking it’s face behind cotton fluff clouds? When did those turn into thick dust bunnies holding rain? Where did the vibrant green that colored everything go? Had the sun really baked all the leaves until they were crispy shells of their former breathing selves?

It was beautiful, the world the fall created, in it’s own right. The boys, however, were tucked inside for seven hours of the day, save for one thirty minute period that was over before it began, or so it felt. Instead of bearing witness to the quietly dying world outside, the boys were stuck staring at dirty cream colored walls covered in peeling posters displaying the ABCs and simple addition. The analog clocks that hung above each classroom's door audibly ticking away their time. The two hours of freedom everyone waited for began at eleven thirty and three. When the former came, the neat line their teachers filed them into would burst out into the hallway, unruly and wild. Nick and Griffin would race from their respective ends of the second grade hallway, meeting in the middle. They’d swing their lunch boxes (because it was considered uncool to eat the school lunch, at the time) as they follow the crowd towards the lunchroom to enjoy their limited free time.

It was during this time that they both began to change. Nick no longer hated school, instead he thrived in this environment, his fun loving personality scoring him too many friends to count. He still hated listening and doing anything that resembled real work, but he quickly memorized the best times to goof off without getting into too much trouble, and he could copy off other students work in exchange for the laughs that whatever shenanigans he was pulling off that day was sure to bring.

Griffin kept working hard, getting smarter still. While in school he became more reserved, unwilling to act up for fear of dirtying his record that wasn’t even being kept track of yet. He didn’t have as many friends as Nick, only a handful of people he would sit with on the colorful carpet where they would review flashcards or read books together.

Despite these differences, Nick and Griffin stayed  thick as thieves. Maybe opposites really do attract, because every day at lunch they would recount tales, things that Griffin read about and things that Nick did. It worked. And after everyone suffered through the drawn out half hour they were given to eat, Nick and Griffin would rush out, arm and arm, to the playground.

That was another world altogether. The playground was it’s own universe that the children owned. Bright red monkey bars served as a castle that only the strongest could climb to the top, the swings were a hot spot where whatever gossip second graders could drum up would be discussed, the basketball courts being where the sporty kids would execute games with lax rules. The big hollowed tubes used to be where Nick and Griffin would hide out, first to get away from the heat and then to warm themselves in winter, where they would thumb wrestle and play mindless games of rock, paper, scissor, but that was until those sanctuaries became somewhere you only went with the person you were crushing on.  

After that was taken from them, the pair would drift around the playground, finding something to entertain them for a bit and then move on, mostly just enjoying each other's company more than anything. The game of foursquare a handful of rowdy kids are hosting is particularly alluring today, and since the group is composed primarily of Nick’s friends, it doesn’t take much to get them to make room for the pair.

Neither boy is especially good at the game, but it’s a good way to pass time. It’s a surprisingly competitive match for second graders and it becomes increasingly difficult to keep up with the ball. Nick likes that about the game, but Griffin doesn’t and he is about to bow out when suddenly his vision goes red and the smell of dirty rubber overwhelms him. The ball smacks into his face so fast and so ferociously that Griffin stumbles backward and he ends up falling down, like the trees dead leaves, only a lot less graceful. A warm pain prickles at his face where contact was made and as he reaches up his fingers to touch the skin he can tell the pattern the little squares made up on the ball has been transferred to the soft flesh.

Even at his age, it’s embarrassing to cry in front of your classmates, which is why Griffin clenches his jaw and focuses on anything other than the pain he feels. Even then, as he tries to crack a smile, his bottom lip quivers slightly. It doesn’t help that the group is laughing, some of them doubled over in breathless joy. Wiping his pebble covered palms on his jeans, Griffin stands, looking for Nick’s kind face for reassurance, only when he finds it, it is laughing too.

Thankfully the bell rings at that moment and everyone rushes to find their lunchboxes before running inside. Even Nick went ahead. Griffin was actually glad, because he didn’t want him to see the tears that were most certainly running down his face now.

By the time the second bell of freedom rings two and a half hours later, Griffin has forgotten about the altercation at recess, as all kids, with their one track minds, already had. Instead, the prospect of getting to go home and play with Nick for a few hours pumps excitement into his veins as he joins the group of kids waiting at the door, each of them just as excited for their earned free time. The luckier ones would get a few extra minutes if they got picked up, the less fortunate would have to walk. Nick was the former while Griffin was the latter, which always put Nick back home a good fifteen minutes before Griffin, but he didn’t mind. At least he wasn’t one of the kids who had to take the bus.

As soon as he gets home, Griffin doesn’t bother even knocking anymore, instead he is accustomed to letting himself in the gate and marching right through his yard toward the hideout they nicknamed ‘The Fort’ long ago. Nick, who gets home quicker, usually is already in there, two snacks waiting. Griffin, as he walks that day, fantasizes about what that snack will be, hoping for a push pop or a twinkie. As he bids his brothers farewell, cutting his walk short two houses early, Griffin’s mouth waters as the crunch of dead leaves serenade his journey to the fort.

Only as soon as he gets within range he stops. Nick is there, of course, but so is someone else. A bad taste settles in his mouth, jealousy he later learns, when he sees this. But Griffin is always kind, and frankly, just too shy to say anything about the intruder, so instead he silently marches over the rest of the way with his grip tight on his backpack straps.

Griffin recognizes the kid, it’s one of Nick’s friends, worse yet it’s one of the kids from foursquare. Griffin feels worse remembering how they’d both been laughing at him only hours earlier, surprised at the sudden anger that overtakes him. Not only had Nick laughed at him but now he was sharing their secret hideout with someone else, a place that Nick had dubbed only for them. “Nicky. Who’s this?”

Griffin is standing at the opening of the bush when he speaks, obscuring most of his face from the boys inside. Nick moves around just enough that he can poke his head out, his face reading oblivious to how much he’s already upset Griffin. “My friend Eric. I wanted to show him The Fort.”

Eric, showing that even children can be haughty, scoffs, “Nicky?” Griffin can’t see the kid’s face, but he imagines it the same kind of face one might make when referring to a classmate who still carries around their baby blanket. Griffin wasn’t that kid, thankfully, and hearing Eric made him feel bad for any fun he might have poked at him.

Nick’s face warms just enough to turn a light pink, embarrassed, something that Griffin has never seen Nick before. And as Griffin swings off his backpack to take a seat, his legs barely shadowed by the bush, Nick speaks up. “Actually, I don’t think there is enough room right now. I’ll come get you later, okay, Griffin?”

Now it’s Griffin’s face that reddens. It should have been obvious that Eric didn’t want him around, but Nick saying such a thing breaks Griffin’s heart. Even more when he sees that Nick still has two snacks, push pops even, but one of them is in Eric’s hand. It’s that sight that makes Griffin stand up without a word, wanting to say something to Nick but not knowing what, sling his backpack over his shoulders once more and walk home.

The sun is already setting and Griffin has already ate dinner by the time Nick knocks on the door. Griffin has done a pretty good job at ignoring the jealousy and hurt that Nick made him feel, but it rears it’s head as soon as he opens the door and sees him again. Griffin crosses his arms.

“Hey. Can you play?”  Nick is smiling, and for once, Griffin doesn’t return it.

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask.” It’s been a long time since he’s said that, Griffin’s parents accustom to their schedule by then.

“Are you okay?” The smile isn’t on Nick’s face anymore. When Griffin shrugs, Nick adds, “Are you mad at me? Because Eric?”

Griffin huffs a little, walking out onto the porch and taking a seat on the steps. “Kinda.” Nick joins him. Griffin watches the September sun dip lower in the sky, caught by the slow moving clouds. Nick is looking at Griffin. “I thought the Fort was our secret,” Griffin confesses, aware of how silly his words sound, for someone who likes to think of themselves as a big kid, it sure was childish.

“Well yeah but--- well, he wanted to see it. How could I say no?”

“Like this: no,” the smallest of smiles tugs at Griffin’s lips when he says it and Nick laughs.

“Maybe I shoulda. He didn’t seem to like it anyway.” Nick’s knee bumps into Griffin’s, and that, along with the words, make Griffin feel better. It’s selfish but he’s glad Eric wasn’t impressed because he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon.

But a moment later, Griffin’s smile falters, remembering lunch,  “You laughed at me.”

“What?”

“At recess. When I got hit.”

“Oh.” Nick laughs again, and then he laughs harder, as if he remembered the occasion in a slow motion play-by-play and was just as tickled as before. “Well, it was funny, Ditto. You shoulda seen your face.”

Griffin isn’t as mad as earlier, but he still huffs at that. “Yeah, whatever.”

“You can hit me in the face with a ball if it’ll make you feel better,” Nick offers.

“It wouldn’t be funny. Who laughs at their best friend getting hurt? I am,” Griffin takes a deep breath, “your best friend right?” That’s what this was all about after all, Griffin’s insecurity about Nick’s new friends. “Cause you made me promise to be yours.”

Nick doesn’t take the question seriously, rolling his eyes, which is a strange comfort to Griffin. “Duh.” He slings an arm around Griffin’s shoulder, and Griffin full on hugs him.

And just like that, the fight is over. It’s easy, when you’re a child, to let things go. Friendship is one of the most important things to a kid, and they would do just about anything to keep it. And forgiveness is a big part of that. They both took how easy that was for granted back then.

“Okay, let's go hit you in the face with a ball,” Griffin says as he breaks the hug.

“Wait, really?”

NOW

“You lied to me, Nick! You knew who I was and kept me in the dark, why would you do that?” Griffin listens to the way his voice echoes off the walls and comes back to him, sharp and concise, in a way that seems unnatural. It shouldn’t be possible for him to speak so calmly, given the storm of emotions wreaking havoc inside. But it's easier to maintain his posture as he stares at his own reflection in the mirror rather than Nick, practicing lines for when he does confront him, hoping that if they are preprogrammed maybe it will be easier.

But things never go according to how you lay them out in your head and when Griffin takes another look at his reflection he sees the chubby features from when he was a boy that still haven’t completely gone away. He scratches at the back of his clammy neck, palming off the sweat he collects on his jeans before turning away. It’s only a little easier to speak. “Did you think it was funny? Were you taunting me and laughing at me behind my back this whole time?”

The paint in his bathroom is chipped near the ceiling, and though he’s trying to focus on that, an anger fizzles inside of him. It’s the same anger he felt when Nick had initially confessed and his next words aren’t so composed, “It doesn’t matter why you did it, actually. It was a fucked up thing to do. And childish. And...dumb.” It’s always around here that his argument falls apart, he just doesn’t know how to properly put his feelings into words. Maybe he was just feeling too much, which wouldn’t be a first. How do you describe the feeling of suddenly remembering everything about someone.

It wasn’t even that easy. Because Griffin was remembering, yes, but he was also conflicted. The memories of his Nick from childhood, young and fearless, was just not how he is anymore. Nick wasn’t that kid. Nick was still the anime loving, video game nerd that Griffin had come to appreciate. It was hard to recognize the two as one in the same. So not only did he have this fuck truck load of information dropped on him but he also didn’t know what to do with it.

A knock at the bathroom door makes Griffin jump. So caught up in his own soap opera drama, Griffin forgot he has a guest over. His cheeks are pink from residual anger and a new blossoming embarrassment. The man standing in the doorway doesn’t seem to notice, or care. Being a repairman means he’s probably seen and heard much worse than some loser talking to himself in his bathroom.

“You’re all good to go. Just finish up the paperwork and I’ll be done here.”

The notification for a new episode of MBMBAM pops up on Nick’s phone, and for once, he isn’t excited about listening. After Nick had dropped the bomb that they’d known each other for much longer than a few months, Griffin has been ignoring Nick. It’s incredibly frustrating, because all he’s doing is prolonging the fight they must have inevitably.

Not only that, but the the total radio silence he receives from Griffin is so hard to read. He can’t tell what he’s feeling and that eats at him, slowly at first and then it becomes almost all he can think about once his family leaves and Nick is once more left to his own devices. For all he knows, Griffin might end their friendship because of this. Or maybe even their professional relationship. Or maybe he’s glad. Or maybe…

Nick has to stop himself. He’s only repeating the same things he’s already went over in his head again and again. Telling himself it will be whatever it will be doesn’t really help because even if he can’t read Griffin’s emotions, he knows his own. He doesn’t want their relationship to be ruined. There is just something about Griffin that he doesn’t--- no, can’t--- lose. It’s the same, impossible-to-resist attraction that kept Nick by Griffin’s side the first day they met that forces Nick to pause his video game in favor of listening to the podcast. Hearing Griffin’s voice in any context is better than not hearing it at all, he supposed.

After so long suffering in Austin's oppressive heat, Griffin was more than happy to crank his air conditioner to a stupid low temperature, just as a fuck you. It didn’t take long for his apartment to transform from an oven to a morgue, becoming so cold that he could feel his sweat freezing on his skin. So cold that he found himself taking refuge under the thick covers of his bed, and even then the tip of his nose froze. But it felt good, like a dog lapping up it’s whole bowl of water after panting in the baking heat for hours while their owner is away. Or like two children pressing their faces right up against the screen of a fan after playing outside for the whole day, making their voices robotic by speaking there.

Maybe it's the frigid air that melts away the tension Griffin has pent up that convinces him to finally answer his phone. Or maybe he just can’t take not talking to Nick any longer. Whatever the reason, as soon as the call is picked up, Nick, who was lazing about on his couch, calling but not really expecting anything to come of it, shoots up. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

The silence that follows is so thick it’s palpable. Neither boy really expected themselves to end up in this situation, not so soon at least, even though they knew they had to have this talk eventually. Griffin blinks up at his ceiling as Nick steps forward, nails digging into his side. “Griffin…”

After picking up the phone, Griffin didn’t really know what else he was going to do. As soon as he heard Nick’s voice he was planning on just letting him explain but hearing him mutter his name in that way makes Griffin’s eyes squeeze closed. “Nick, what the fuck?” His voice, unlike earlier, is not steady.

“I should have told you earlier. I know that it’s just---”

“It’s just what?” Griffin sits up in his bed, no longer feeling relaxed, and very much wanting to hear Nick’s excuse.

“When I realized you didn’t remember who I was, well, I was hoping that you were joking and then when I realized you weren’t I was mortified and I didn’t mean to wait so long to mention it but the longer I waited the deeper I dug myself into this hole and I didn’t know when to tell you…” Nick’s words came out in a breathless, desperate string and they turned his cheeks pink.

“Oh? So because I didn’t remember you, you decided to not bother cluing me in? Am I getting that right?”

“It wasn’t like that! I was embarrassed!”

“And how do you think I feel?” A silence follows Griffin’s words and it eggs him on, “You think I feel good about not realizing who you were? How is remembering worse than not? You made me feel like a damn fool for knowing you for fucking months, thinking you were some stranger while you knew this whole time!” His words are so harsh that even he is surprised and left wondering where that came from. He didn’t, or couldn’t, practice this.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? I’m sorry Griffin.”  Having this conversation over the phone is much harder than it would have been in person or someway they could have seen each other’s faces, because all Nick heard was the venom in Griffin’s voice, and didn’t see the heartbreak on his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset, Nicolas! I’m hurt.” That's what he couldn’t admit to himself earlier. He’s hurt that Nick kept this secret from him. He’s hurt that all this while that Griffin thought he found a new friend, Nick got to reconnect with an old one.

“I really am sorry, Griff.” Nick’s voice is soft, mirroring the way Griffin’s had dropped. “I was hurt too, when I realized you really had no idea who I was. When you forgot about me when you promised not to. I never--”

“Oh fuck you.”

“What?”

If the fire had left Griffin, even momentarily, it came back with fury now. “That’s unfair. You can’t hold me to something I said when I was nine years old, Nick. You can’t be mad at me because I didn’t realize you, Nick Robinson, a guy with the most generic name in the US, was the same kid I knew from childhood. Come on.”

Nick was pacing, but he stopped when he heard this, his mouth hanging open dumbly for a moment, “Wh- I.. I didn’t say I was mad! I said I was hurt and---”

“But you were, weren’t you? That’s why you didn’t--”

“So what if I was? I can be mad at you Griffin. You aren’t the only one who can be upset.” The conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere, Nick realized, with them talking over each other.

“You are mad for stupid reasons though!” Griffin hears the absurdity in his own voice as he says it and he can already guess what Nick is going to say next.

“God, now you sound like you’re nine.”

“I bet you wish I was.”

There is a moment of hesitation on Nick’s end and then he mutters, “Yeah, I kind of wish we were.” Things would be easier, that was for sure.

“But we aren’t. We’re adults and you should have told me that you knew me a long time ago instead of keeping this secret---”

“I know that! I know! I already said I’m-- You know what? No.” There was nothing left to say, not that night at least. So Nick hung up.

The moments after the call seemed to pass in slow motion. Nick’s chest ached in a way that only Griffin could bring about. Griffin was right, they weren’t kids anymore, and Nick really wished they were. If they were, they would have ended this fight like it was nothing, Nick would have apologized and Griffin would have hugged him and it would have been so easy. But instead their pride and ego got in the way and had drove them further apart still. No hug was going to fix this. Nick realized that as he stared at the call ended screen with dejection and a numb hurt on his face.

Griffin stared at his own screen in shock. Nick had hung up on him, their fight still unresolved and both boys more agitated than before. How had they ended up like this. When would-- could--- they get past this?

Both boys stared at their screens so intensely that it was almost like they were able to see each other through them. Each willing the other to call back. But ultimately they both turned off their phones and left the other disappointed.

[meet-me-onthe-equinox]

27. Forest. Thank you!!

Here it is :) Thank you so much!! Btw, if you like fics that take place in these sort of settings, I wrote this AU you might also enjoy.

[AO3 Version] [Ask for more prompts]

Into the Woods

Purchasing a cabin in the woods was probably the best idea April had ever had. And they hadn’t even paid much for it. In fact, Ron might as well have given it to them for free. Man, she was so smart. Now it had become their secret hideout, a place to run around, explore caves full of bats and waterholes (which they both loved respectively), and watch together the most amazing sunsets.

The dusk was especially stunning that evening. With his back against the trunk of a tree, Andy kept peering at the horizon as the sun went down. April was cuddled up on his lap, as usual, but apparently she was exhausted after a whole day of hiking. She was finally getting into it, yet exercise wasn’t exactly her thing. April slept peacefully, her head resting on Andy’s collarbone. Absentmindedly, he played with a strand of her hair, not really thinking about anything. Not even the fact that it was getting late, and they still had to walk all the way back to the cabin.

‘‘Ugh!’’ April said after tripping over a dead limb. Andy kept his wife from face-planting by quickly grabbing her upper arm. ‘‘You should have woken me up earlier.’’

‘‘I couldn’t, babe,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘You are so cute when you sleep.’’

‘‘I don’t care. Now we can’t even find our way home.’’

It was a dark night indeed, but there still were some marks along the way that Andy could easily recognize.

‘‘I know how to find it. Just don’t let go,’’ he reassured her, taking April’s hand in his.

They kept walking down that rough, stony path for a while; the tiny shape of the waning moon as the only source of light. Andy could feel April’s grip strengthening with every stumble, but he’d never let her fall. And, if she wanted to complain along the way, so be it. He just couldn’t bring himself to have any regrets.

At least not until they heard the sounds. Something shook the bushes around them. Or, should one say, some things. April let out a brief, yet terrified scream when said things stamped on the ground way too close. They were as heavy as they were fast - only a pack of lethal creatures could make such sounds. Luckily, Andy’s father had taught him well.

‘‘Walk behind me,’’ he told her in a calm voice.

April did as told, never letting go of his hand and forearm.

‘‘Shit,’’ she whispered. ‘‘What the fuck is that?’’

‘‘Shh. They’re probably just wild boars.’’

‘‘Just?’’

Well, there she had a point. Razorbacks could be pretty dangerous when feeling menaced. But Andy knew exactly what to do. And he needed both hands.

‘‘Just a second,’’ he said so April would loosen her grip. He felt her fingers as they grasped his shirt from behind.

Then he started clapping his hands as loud as possible. They walked forward as he did so, the claps echoing in series of three the whole time. Before long, that was the only sound that remained. Still, he kept doing that until they reached the clearing where the cabin stood. As his old man used to say, you never know.

‘‘You okay, babe?’’ he asked when they got to the porch.

Andy turned to face her, only to find she looked sick even in the dim light.

‘‘Hey,’’ he wrapped her in his arms. ‘‘It’s okay.’’

‘‘It’s not okay,’’ her words were muffled against his chest. ‘‘You almost get us killed.’’

Andy chuckled, partly because of the adrenaline nonsense, partly because April sounded so tired that that couldn’t even be considered a real complaint.

‘‘Well, I brought us home, didn’t I?’’

‘‘Whatever.’’

Again, she seemed too maxed out to be mad. In fact, Andy was starting to doubt she could even make it to their bedroom. Whilst stress would usually have him laughing at the wrongest times, it would always suck all the energy out of April’s system.

‘‘Come here,’’ he said as he lifted her in his arms, bridal style. ‘‘Let’s get you in bed.’’

[omgselinabeckendorf]

The Sorceress and Her Nightmare

 Sofia the First fanfiction

After she finds out about a childhood friend of Cedric’s and getting her latest story from the Secret Library, Sofia works to help a runaway sorceress with a dark secret she’s kept even from her best friend.

(Spoiler Alert: This will end up being a Cedric/OC fic)

Chapter One: Sofia, The Story Keeper

Chapter Two: Finding Mia

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

Chapter Three: Captured

After dragging Mr. Cedric away from Ms. Mia’s hideout, Sofia wasn’t sure what to do now. She couldn’t really help Ms. Mia overcome her nightmare if she wouldn’t let anyone come close to her.

The walk back to the horses to go home was quiet, almost eerily so. Mr. Cedric didn’t look like he was taking the encounter too well. His bangs fell into his eyes and he almost looked like he was going to cry.

Sofia would have left him alone, but something he said in the hideout bothered her.

“Mr. Cedric? What did you mean when you told Ms. Mia that she didn’t mean to hurt you?“

Cedric was so wrapped up in his thoughts to notice Sofia was talking to him until she was about halfway done with her question.

“-that she didn’t mean to hurt you?“

Oh. Oh no.

Cedric sighed. Eh, what the heck. “You... do you remember how I told you about the student Mia hurt during her attack?“

Sofia nodded slowly, not liking where this was heading.

“Well, that student was... me. I,” He cleared his throat. “I was trying to calm her down when she sent out that blast.”

“That’s why you were in the infirmary…” Sofia murmured, some pieces clicking together.

Cedric nodded, confirming it. “I should have just left her alone.” And why didn’t he? She asked him, begged, even, to go away. So why didn’t he?

Sofia put a hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. “You were only trying to help her and to be a good friend.“

“Yes, and look at where that got us.” He sighed. “Sofia, I-”

Cedric abruptly stopped in both his sentence and his tracks, causing Sofia to bump into him. A sharp rustle came from the bushes, and it didn’t sound like another wild animal.

Sofia softly gasped, practically hiding behind Cedric.

“Just stay behind me, Sofia. It’s all right.” Cedric drew his wand and pointed it at the bushes where the sound came from, holding his arm out in front of her to protect her.

A moment passed. Nothing but an unnerving silence. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, cloaked and hooded figures ran from out of the bushes, some even swinging in from the trees.

There so many more than either of them expected, and it wasn’t too long before they surrounded them.

Cedric held his wand in close to a death grip at as many of them as he could, trying to keep them back and away from them.

All the bandits were armed, some with swords that looked sharp enough to cut one of these trees clear in two with one slice, some carrying wands like Cedric, although he knew the majority, if not all of them, could use them well. It had to be twenty to one, at least.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A sorcerer with weird hair and a little adventurer girl?” A gruff voice broke the tense silence, stepping forward. It would make sense they be the leader of the group, what with them being visibly stronger than the others and carrying a lot more weapons than their comrades.

Sofia hid behind Cedric more, to the point you could just barely see her face full of fear.

The bandit let out a hearty laugh, although nothing was funny at the moment. “Not much of an adventurer, eh, Girlie?”

Cedric was silent, glaring at the bandit leader. When he figured none of them would expect it, he cast a stun spell at the leader.

The spell hit its mark, and the leader froze in place mid-laugh.

The others surged forward in rage and were quick in apprehending both Cedric and Sofia.

Cedric cast another stun spell on the bandit that held Sofia and told her to run.

“But, Mr. Cedric!” As scared as she was, she couldn’t just leave him here!

“Go!” Behind him, a bandit raised their sword and hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of the weapon, and Cedric promptly collapsed in the arms of his captors.

Not having much of a choice, Sofia ran. Thankfully, she still had that spare wand she borrowed from Cedric, so at least she would have light.

“Should we go after her, Ma’am?” One bandit asked their leader, standing at attention as the leader quickly recovered from the stun spell.

“No. She’s a child, what could she possibly do? Head back to camp so we can figure out what to do with this one.” The leader jerked her head toward the unconscious Cedric as he was being tied up by the one who captured him. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get a decent ransom on him.”

The other bandit nodded in understanding and barked the order to the others.