#and so keefe would help him get less and less scared of water bit by bit

[synonymroll648]

on one hand: i love me some good ol’ positive ‘fitz vacker + bodies of water’ fics /gen. 

on the other hand: twas a missed opportunity to not make the golden boy afraid of water. since water turns (impure) gold to rust (eventually), and all that. very fun metaphor opportunities slipped through canon’s fingers :(

[a-lonely-tatertot]

Finding Home

A/n: Hey this will be a multi chapter fic with a bunch of different ships and characters in it (expect them to all be gay in some way) this is based off of a set of hcs from @linhamon-roll  as always this was betaed by the lovely @bookwyrminspiration and I am extremely grateful for faer help! (Also if you guys like this enough tell me if you want a tag list for it, @everyonehasthoughts whoops posted this one instead)

Tw: talk of nightmares (if there’s more please tell me)

word count: 2760

Chapter 1: Back to the Beginning

Breathe.

“I’m not going to the upper levels,” the words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Wide eyes stared at her from all around the room. She managed to count three breaths before the inevitable outburst.

“What?!” Grady shouted. He’s not angry at you, she reminded herself, just surprised.

“Are you kidding?” Fitz whispered in confusion.

“You have to go to the upper levels. How else do you think you’ll become a part of society?” Alden said in his perfect no-need-to-worry voice that just made her want to smack him more.

“Sweetie I know it’ll be new and it’s normal to be scared-” Edaline started before she cut her off.

“I’m not scared okay? I don’t give a damn about being a part of society, and no I’m not kidding. This is my decision,” Sophie snapped. She was so done with this, with the stares, the names, being “Sophie Foster” and “human-raised”, a “war-hero;” she just wanted to be no one again. Maybe that made her a coward, but that’s who she was.

“Sophie, you’re not making sense,” Alden said, shaking his head, smiling that horrible venom-filled smile that barely contained the storm. Ever since she’d learned what Alden had done to his family she’d hated him almost as much as the Neverseen. Because he and Cassius were the same, but only one paid for it.

“Did I not speak clearly enough for you?” she asked, letting the hatred seep through her words and relished in the surprise on his face. “I am not going to the upper levels. I am not staying here either. Here I’m always going to be Sophie: the Moonlark, the leader of Team Valiant, the war hero. That’ll always be me. Here I’ll be stuck picking up the council’s mess for my entire life and I wanna be a kid still.”

“So what do you plan on doing?” Biana spoke up after a silence.

Breathe. “I’m going to go back to the Forbidden Cities, I’m gonna go back home.”

The uproar came back twice as loud as before. She was hit with hundreds of “no”s and ��you can’t”s and the occasional “that’s illegal” but in between it all she locked eyes with Fitz. They didn’t need to be Cognates to understand what the other was thinking. She held his gaze and didn’t back down, this was her decision. Fitz smiled a bit at her stubbornness and nodded slightly. There wasn’t any danger from him, no “You can’t do this!” Nothing that the boy she used to know would do.

He’s different now, Sophie realized, how had she missed it?

Her eyes drifted to Biana who was staring at the middle of the room with a blank expression. It was like she wasn’t there, lost somewhere in an ocean of thought. Finally, she looked up, “It’s your decision Fos-boss.”

A hundred times before those words had been directed at her. When deciding the fate of the world she was always plagued by uncertainty. But for once, it felt right; she was going home. Alden and her parents would say no as many times as they could to make her stay, and Fitz and Biana would try at some point, but one way or another she was leaving. She’d be back eventually, but for a while, she wouldn’t have to be Sophie Foster.

The next night they had gathered everyone. Well, not everyone, just the people she cared about. Della and Livvy stood off to the side and Sophie smiled at their intertwined fingers. Maybe, just maybe they would be fine without her. Keefe stood quietly, his face blank, and it made her rethink everything. But Linh placed a steady hand on her shoulder and she was back. Stay focused, don’t lose it, Sophie told herself sternly.

Grady and Edaline watched her, and she wondered how the house would feel without her. She took a breath and turned to Dex. He, out of all of them, wasn’t quite ready for her to leave.

“I can’t make you stay, can I?” Dex asked. His voice wavered slightly and there were tears in his eyes. There were tears in all their eyes.

Sophie shook her head slowly, “Not this time.” Everything was in place, all she had to do was just leave. That was the hardest part. To make it real.

“C’mon Soph, we did it; it’s over,” his eyes pleaded with her. “Let me come with you.”

They had all tried this. In different manors, in different ways, except for Linh. All she did was wrap her arms tightly around her and squeeze like she would never let go. Some part of her, buried under many many layers of protection, knew that if Linh tried she could make her stay. “That’s the problem Dex,” she had said this so many times before, “We are always going to be fixing things and we’re always going to be fighting, and I am always going to be Sophie Foster the human. I just want to be normal, for a few decades that’s all. I’ll be back soon, just make sure to keep these idiots in check while I’m gone alright? I gotta do this alone.” Her voice caught on the last word as it dawned on her that it might be the last thing she would say to them for a long time.

Dex wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, picking her up slightly. “I’ll miss you dumbass.”

She nodded mutely into his shoulder, “Likewise asshole.” It’s time now. She stepped away, flash drive in hand, because if Dex couldn’t join her he would always help her. And she loved him for that.

She turned away from them. She dug her heels into the dirt and braced herself.

Three. Linh’s hand left her shoulder and she could feel all their eyes on her.

Two. It wasn’t the first time she had done this. It was teleporting. It was in her bones, literally.

One. Dex sucked in a breath in sync with her. The feeling of the tension running through her, becoming her, was intoxicating.

Zero. There’s no looking back now. And she ran. Her feet pounded the ground, her heart seemed to get faster with every stride. Dirt bounced with every thud of her shoes and she was free. And she jumped.

Falling. Floating. Landing.

The stale, polluted, stiff air greeted Sophie on the other side and she had never been more relieved to step into a broken world. Her broken home. From now on, she’d be Amilia Ruewen and that was okay.

“The hell you doing here kid?” an old woman stared her down from behind the counter. She had wrinkles; on her face, on her apron, on her surprisingly steady hands that held an outrageous stack of plates.

“Uh,” Amilia said nervously, “I need a job.”

The woman’s dark eyes narrowed further, “And you came here.” It wasn’t a question.

“That I did,” she muttered, it took every bit of her not to yank out her eyelashes.

With a huff, the woman set down the plates and walked out from behind the counter to march up to her. Amilia swallowed hard as the woman grabbed her hands from her sides. Her stark white hands seemed too pale and clean in the older woman’s dark hands. Amilia felt like she was under a microscope, like this woman could see every bit about her life as she stared at her hands.

“You’ve worked, you’ve fought,” she said quietly, and dragged her eyes up to hers. “If you can clean you’ve got a job.”

Something exploded inside her and couldn’t’ve been happier. But wait, “No cooking?” Amilia called out as the woman went behind the counter again.

She chuckled lightly, “Clean first, then we’ll see. Chop chop, it’s almost time for the rush and these tables still haven’t been washed.”

“I don’t even know your name ma’am!” Amilia realized suddenly.

“You want a name, new girl?” she said. fixing her with another hard stare, “It’s Mari, you’ve got a real name?”

Amilia closed her mouth tightly, “It depends on your definition of real.”

Mari let out a harsh laugh, “Less philosophy more cleaning.”

A smile tugged at her mouth as she caught the wet rag the woman tossed her.

By the end of the day, she had been introduced to the regulars as nothing more than “the new girl”. She had scrubbed the counters over and over and Mari still managed to look unimpressed. Her sweeping skills got corrected and she became more familiar with the crappy sink than she would’ve liked. If you turned the old fashion handle too far right, then the water was basically boiling. If it was too far to the left, you got ice. There was one temperature that was decent and it was not moved from that spot. Amilia had found that out the hard way.

When Mari flipped the paper and probably homemade sign from “open” to “closed”, she flopped down on one of the booths. She was tired and wiped, but it was good because she was happy. She couldn’t have done this in the Lost Cities. And she wouldn’t have done this in San Francisco. Because this was normal, and no one knew her name, and that was the opposite of everything she once was.

“You going home yet kid?” Mari asked from the lightswitch. She hadn’t thought about that, where she’d stay for the night. The booths weren’t optimal but they would work.

“Can I stay here for the night?”

“In these shitty booths? Not happening,” Mari responded, shaking her head lightly. Amilia’s heart fell to her stomach and Mari sighed at her probably pitiful expression, “You really don’t have a place to stay?”

Amilia shook her head. “Fine, come on. You can borrow my couch for the night.”

The night turned into two, to a week, to a month and eventually Mari stopped asking about her family.

“We’ve all got secrets,” she’d say, and Sophie wondered what her secrets were. Mari stopped asking about where she was going too.

“This is a pit stop town,” she said one night while they put away dishes.

“It wasn’t for you.”

“It’s where you find yourself when you’re young and get pulled back into when you’re old and broke.”

“Maybe I’m finding myself,” Amilia said only to get a hum in response.

The words that Mari had said when she first met her came to Amilia often. Could she really tell what she had gone through? Or was it some weird old lady thing she did to freak her out?

There was one night where the nightmares came back worse than ever. She woke with sweat soaking her shirt and barely breathing. There was soft clinking in the kitchen that sounded too much like throwing stars. She remembered how they felt in her hands, drawing her own blood as she cleaned them. The sweet release as they left her hand to make a soft thunk in her target. How the rush it gave Sophie was always followed by a thick sense of dread. Because if it made her excited, how far away was she from the monsters she fought?

“I thought it’d be a rough night,” Mari said leaning on the doorway.

“How did you know?”

“You’ve fought wars, those don’t go away easy. Come, I brought sugar, thought you would need it.”

So she stumbled her way into the kitchen, tired and trying as hard as she could to keep her tears in. Mari had pancakes and shakes and had brought them out to the front porch. The best thing about this place was you could see every star in the sky.

“How could you tell I’ve fought?” Sophie asked. The shake was shockingly cold against her hands and she tried to stop the shiver that ran through her. Mari rocked back quietly like they had all the time in the world to watch the stars move.

“You have the look in your eyes.”

“But you looked at my hands, why?” Somehow, the shake tasted like mallowmelt. The kind that Edaline would make on bad nights before tucking her into bed.

“Because your hands have been everywhere, they can tell stories if you let them.”

She decided not to ask any more questions, every answer would just be more confusing than the last. “And because they look like mine,” Mari finally said quietly.

“Oh.”

Mari didn’t look at her while she talked, “I saw a kid, who looked lost as hell with no immediate future, who had the hands of a fighter and eyes that held secrets. I thought I could do right by her.”

“I think you did,” Sophie said. For real this time, she wasn’t Amilia, she wasn’t trying to be her sister, for this night under the stars, she could be Sophie.

Over the year Amilia sometimes forgot about the demons that haunted her. Her past life- lives. They were not her anymore. Days and hours where nothing other than the simple act of flipping pancakes and washing tables were her only thoughts. The town was small and out of the way. No glittery castles and fancy houses. Only small farms, sketchy strip malls, and home. There was only one hint that she wasn’t human, the small leaping crystal around her neck.

“For emergencies,” Biana had said placing it gently around her neck.

“And when you’re ready to come back home,” Fitz had whispered against the top of Sophie’s head.

So it stayed around Amilia’s neck, night and day; a reminder that she never had and never would belong. But she wanted to; she craved it. And Mari made her feel somewhat normal.

She wanted something human. Something reckless and young, that was the human she wanted. Sitting at her computer at the table in Mari’s old yellow motorhome that had housed her, she found herself looking at colleges. When she was younger “college” was an expectation, perfect grades, perfect words, perfect scores. Sophie didn’t get to decide her future. To put it simply, it was never an option, her years were already filled with other’s ideas. But as Amilia clicked the tab for courses she realized that for once she controlled her next small forever. And in her next small forever she could just maybe belong.

Tables had been washed, the sun had gone down, and she had flipped the frayed sign. She had thought about it all day, the college she chose was far away and she didn’t know how to tell Mari this. The woman had become much closer to her than she thought she would. So as she grabbed her small packed duffle bag and held the door handle she tried to ignore the sharp pain that hit her chest. It only got worse as a soft voice came down the hall.

“Amilia?” Angie, Mari’s “friend”, whispered down the hall.

“Go back to bed, I’m just grabbing some things,” she said, wincing at how well she lied.

“That duffle says otherwise young lady,” Mari appeared seemingly out of thin air. Sophie knew this wasn’t going to end well, the feeling cemented itself as anger flared white hot in her stomach.

“‘Young lady’? Sorry did ‘kid’ just get thrown out the window? What are you now, my mom?” she snapped.

Mari gapped at her for a second, “Oh I’m sorry, right now I guess I’m more of your mom than whoever had you and left you on your own!”

“You don’t know nothing about them!” Sophie shouted. She didn’t mean too and she hated the way Mari flinched. But Sophie had pushed them away and that wasn’t their fault.

“The hell is this all about Amilia? You wanna go, go. Just don’t be a coward and leave without a goodbye.”

The tears fell fast down her face, because it was all too familiar. And she had never wanted to leave Mari like that. But she was angry, and that never ended well. “Fine, you want a goodbye? Goodbye.”

The door slammed hard behind her, and the rain soaked Sophie’s jacket mixing with her tears. It felt like a crappy hallmark movie from the early 2000s, but she was too angry to care; About the rain, about how muddy her shoes were, or how she didn’t really know where she was going.

The next morning she regretted everything. But by then that bridge was ashes in a stormy ocean; there was no going back. She moved forward because she had to.

[patient87]

Insane Dib AU

The idea came from here. I really enjoyed writing this and I would gladly do so again if asked. Thanks @0livec0w for allowing me to play with this.

https://0livec0w.tumblr.com/post/187939842798/i-just-love-the-idea-of-dib-being-like-17-more

-Story 1 Gushers-

“If I bit into you, would you taste like a gusher?”

Zim nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the sudden question. He turned his head to meet Dib’s terrifying stare, Zim was pretty sure the human had given up on blinking entirely. He was also out of his seat, Zim noticed. Instead, choosing to stand maybe five inches away from Zim’s desk.

“Uh, w-what was that human?” Zim tried his best not to appear nervous despite the sweat that ran down his neck. “I noticed all you tend to eat without choking is sweet things and if nothing but sugar is all you digest and runs through your bloodstream. Does that mean your blood it sweet too?”

If the bell to leave class would just ring that would be great.

“I don’t um know Dib-pig I uh never tried to taste my own blood.”

“I have.”

There was a pause. “Wait do you mean you tried to taste my blood or did you try to taste your own,” Zim asked trying not to look as disgusted as he felt.

Dib’s only response was to smile, revealing the blood pouring from his bitten lip.

With that Zim decided their conversation was over and left without even waiting for the bell to ring.

-Story 2 Video Games-

Gaz learned a while ago that if she ever heard any strange noises coming from Dib’s room, it was in her best interest to ignore it. Seeing her older brother huddled over the neighbors' cat with a pocket knife was enough trauma to her 10-year-old brain.

So whenever she heard pained howls from any of the unfortunate animals Dib had locked in his room, or the terrified screams of the people Dib watched on his illegal chat rooms, Gaz tried to imagine the sounds like the noises the characters made in her video games. 

All she had to do was turn on her Game Slave and play Vampire Piggies and all the sounds would just seem like the terrified wails of the enemies when she killed them. Of course, she could just wear headphones but nothing could block out the noise of a woman being dragged down a hallway and then being fed to dogs or at least, that’s what it sounded like.

But when Gaz turned off the Game Slave to Charge or go to bed. She was alone in her room with those horrible sounds.

-Story 3 Tools-

When Prof. Membrane first lost his surgical tools he nearly went into a frenzy. He’d never misplaced his tools before. He’d search for hours and hours trying everything to find them. Asking around, retracing his steps, etc. But he couldn’t find them anywhere. However, at the end of the day, when Membrane was packing up he found them, lying neatly on the dissecting tray where he had last placed them. The only thing different then was the excessive amount of blood still on them.

Prof. Membrane’s best guess was that Dib had gotten curious with a piece of roadkill. The strange part of that was the blood seemed eerily fresh.

The Professor ended up brushing that off though. He’d pick apart dead animals all the time when he was a kid. Surely this was just his son’s way of getting into real science. So instead of asking Dib about the missing tools, Prof. Membrane simply bought another set and set them out for Dib’s easy access.

Every other day, they would go missing and be back before said day had ended covered in various liquids from blood to puss, to whatever else.

Membrane did not mind cleaning the tools for his son, he most likely didn’t know how to yet and was just too prideful to ask for help.

But that was ok with him. So as he stood by the sink, washing the fresh bodily animal fluids down the drain he couldn’t help but wonder.

How come he hasn’t caught Dib taking the tool or putting them back yet?

-Story 4 Glasses-

It was an accident. It was an accident, It was just an accident.

Gir sat huddled up by a tree in the park next to the swings, his little paws over his head, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He didn’t mean to upset Mary. He just wanted to play.

They were just having fun outside while Master stayed inside. He seemed to do that more often.

They were playing tag in the street when Gir got too excited and lunged at Mary, knocking him down. When Mary’s face hit the pavement, there was an ear-piercing crack. When Mary lifted his head up Gir could see that his glasses were cracked and his lip was bleeding.

The look on his face was enough to scare Gir and make him run through the park until he found a good hiding spot.

He had been sitting here for hours, hoping his Master would come and stop Mary from hurting him. 

He could hear footsteps in the distance.

Was it Master or Mary?

Against his better judgment, Gir crawled out of his hiding spot and peered around the tree and was face to face with a pair of cracked lenses and a sick smile.

“You’re it.”

-Story 5 Playmate-

“You weren’t supposed to tell.” Was all Dib could utter as he sat cross-legged in the dirt, knife in hand. He was picking the dirt out from under his fingers.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell.” He looked down at the 6-foot deep hole before him.

In the hole was a big glass box exactly 84 inches long by 28 inches wide by 23 inches tall. Inside said box as the young ginger boy, Keef.

Keef was currently shaking like a leaf inside his glass prison. It would have been cheaper to have the coffin be made out of wood. But this way was better because Dib got to watch him scream.

“I didn’t tell him I swear!” Keef cried banging his fist on the roof of his death bed.

“Really? You didn’t tell Zim? Your cute companion? Your best buddy? Your… friend?” Dib tilted his head and cracked his neck in the process of saying, friend.

“No, I didn’t! We’re pals, remember?” Keef gave Dib a look of hope.

“You know what Keef? When you came to me, saying you wanted to know what I was planning for Zim, I thought you were going to try an stop me. But when you convinced me that you actually wanted in! I believed you!” Dib cracked out laughing. Keef suddenly didn’t look so hopeful anymore.

“I showed you my secret room, you remember it right? The one with all the pictures of Zim? Yeah, that one. The way you looked in that room was enough for me. I don’t care if you haven’t told Zim Keef. I just know you WILL and I can’t have that.”

Dib stood up and instantly Keef screamed. “NO! No no no please Dib! Pals don’t bury each other alive!”

“Oh don’t you worry I won’t.”

The glass box had another feature to it, a hose that was welded to the inside and currently Keef’s only air supply.

“I mean, that WAS my first thought until I realized you would either break out or suffocate and that’s not nearly as fun. So I thought what would be better than suffocation and then I remembered.” Dib walked away from Keef’s field of vision with the other end of the hose.

Without a warning, water flooded into the glass tomb.

Keef screamed and doubled his efforts in trying to break the glass. 

Above him stood Dib. He was currently smiling down at him, his glasses crooked and cracked.

It took less than 5 minutes for his box to fill and Keef could only hold his breath for so long. As the bubbles escaped his mouth he could feel the water pour in, it was so painful until he lost consciousness and drowned. Once it was evident Keef wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, Dib turned off the water and unplugged the hose. He tossed it into the ground with Keef and grabbed his shovel.

As he began to lift up the disturbed dirt and drop it into the hole he hummed.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellooow. Which nobody can deny…”