#and then while he was waving it he TROD ON IT! HE TROD ON HER TAIL!!!

[dira333]

Prepare for Trouble, but make it double - Kirishima x Reader

The rolling pin comes down hard, breaking into pieces as it makes contact.

Eijirou turns, every fiber of his being on high alert. 

He doesn’t expect a girl his age, one half of a decimated rolling pin in your hands, your apron covered in flour.

“Don’t kill me!” You squeak, jumping back a step before clearing your throat. “I mean, go away! We don’t have any money to steal!”

“I-” What? 

But he doesn’t get a chance to ask before he gets notified of another attack, so he does the only other logical thing and throws himself in front of her.

It’s a short fight, but bloody nonetheless. He’s thankful to have backup with him, glad that they all suffered only minor injuries, that the buildings still stand around him - even if they got a little beat up in the process.

He spots you once, twice, as they make their rounds, assess the damage, try to help.

You’ve got blood on your forehead, and your hair is a mess but you’re helping, smiling, laughing with the old lady from the flower shop and he can’t help but want to get to know you, despite the impossibility of just that.

-

“Welcome to Sugar Rush, how can I he- oh, it’s you!” You call out in surprise at the sight of him, fiery red hair and pointy teeth. “I’m so so so sorry I hit you!”

He laughs, deep and carefree and easy. “No worries. Did I scare you?”

“Yeah,” you grimace at the memory. “I thought you were the bad guy and I just had to defend our little store. Can I get you anything? It’s on the house, I promise, you really helped us out big time.”

“It’s okay,” he waves it off but you insist, pulling out a menu. “Really,” you tell him, “it’s the least we can do. What about the Firetruck Cake Pop? It matches your hair.”

“Well, if you insist,” he laughs, blushing. He’s too cute for his own good.

You find yourself laughing alongside him, surprised at how easy it is to talk to him.

“Are you patrolling around here?” You ask when there’s not much holding him back anymore when he still sticks around even though you have to serve customers every few minutes only to come back to him.

“Not really. I was helping out a friend. B-But I wanted to see how you were doing. The bakery, I mean. Err the street, you know. The whole street.”

“Sure,” you nod, your heart beating like a hummingbird. “Come back again. To check in on the bakery, I mean. Or the street. Or just me,” you tease, daring to be a little more forward today.

Your reward is a bright blush and the sweetest smile.

“Will do!” He promises.

- - -

Tetsutetsu pushes open the door to the bakery, grinning wide before he’s fully inside.

“Sugar Rush here, do we have to help you?”

“Hey!” He greets eagerly, trodding up to the counter. “Can I get a coffee and your number?” He asks.

“Depends,” is the answer, the voice low and lazy. “Have you been good lately?”

“I’m taking a break,” your sister calls out to you in the back. “Treat our customers nice while I’m gone.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not the one welcoming people by asking if I have to help them.”

“I’m not welcoming people,” she points out, annoyed. “It’s just Tetsutetsu.”

“Hey!” He waves at you, reminding you of a puppy eager to play with its owner. The comparison is a little sad but at least you know your sister, know just how much she cares for the guy - even if she doesn’t like to show it all too openly.

“Hey,” you wave back. “Have a good time.”

-

Your very own Red Riding Hood comes in just half an hour later, breathless and cheeks smudged with dirt.

“Were you fighting?” You ask instead of a greeting, leaning over the counter to be a little closer.

“Something like that,” he admits before looking both ways. “I only have a short break and I wanted to come over and see you.”

“Ah, I’d love to take a break with you but I’m the only one here. But… do you want to come into the back? Just don’t touch anything, promise?”

“Promise,” he crosses his fingers over his heart. 

“What’s your name anyway?” You ask, a little breathless when you realize just how close he is now, close enough that you can smell the last remnants of his aftershave.

“O-oh, didn’t I introduce myself? I’m Kirishima. Kirishima Eijirou.”

- 

And it’s nice, this phase of getting to know each other, of hammering hearts and flushed cheeks, of accidental touches as you brush past each other.

If only he could come over more often, if only you’d have more time to talk.

- - -

Tetsutetsu is not the last person he excepts popping through the bakery door, but it’s very close to it. 

Eijirou stops and waves, but his friend doesn’t take notice, too busy talking to someone behind him.

The light won’t turn green and he wonders if he’ll be able to catch him, or if he should, anyway. He doesn’t have much time today, just a few minutes to see you before he has to turn back for work. Tetsutetsu would surely understand that that’s more important than greeting him or catching up.

But then the person behind him comes into sight and Eijirou stops, confused.

There’s something different with your hair today, something he can’t fully point out. 

You’ve got one arm around Tetsutetsu’s hip now, leaning into him as you laugh.

Eijirou didn’t know you were friends, he thinks, still convinced about your feelings for him until you get on your tiptoes and kiss Tetsutetsu.

Eijirou turns away. He’s seen enough.

Maybe he’d been a bit too forward in his hopes or a bit too slow in his advances but you don’t kiss a friend like that, even less in broad daylight.

- - -

Kirishima doesn’t show up the next day or the day after.

You can excuse that, knowing that he’s busy at the moment, but your messages being left on read is a different story.

“I just thought he liked me,” you admit to your sister when another batch of cookies comes out burnt.

“Go,” she pushes you out the door. “Clear your head, fall in love with someone who’s more worthy of your affection, but go.”

So you make your way down the street and beyond, not sure where your destination will be, just that you can’t stop until the weight on your chest has lessened.

-

“Kirishima?” It has to be him, right? Red hair, sharp teeth, flushed cheeks… he checks all the boxes even though he’s wearing sweats and an oversized hoodie, his eyes downcast as he trudges along.

He looks as miserable as you’re feeling.

“Are you sick?” You ask, offering him some of the Takoyaki you bought to cheer yourself up.

“N-No.”

“Oh,” you swallow your dejection. “I just thought… because you didn’t come by.”

His brows furrow. “Why would I come by?”

“I thought you liked me?” You sound like school girl in love, you know, but you can’t push the words back into your mouth now that they’re out.

“I thought you were single,” he fires back and you blink in confusion.

“I am?”

“Well, maybe you’re just having fun, but I… I can’t. I want something serious.”

“I want that too!” You’re not sure where this is going, but at least he’s talking, right?

“Then why did you kiss Tetsutetsu on the same day you expected me over?”

“Kiss… Tetsutetsu?” Everything suddenly makes sense again.

“Here,” you push the bag of Takoyaki into his hands and grab him by the wrist. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

“I don’t want to-”

“No,” you shake your head, spurred on by this new revelation. “You need to see it for yourself.”

-

The doors of the bakery open to reveal your sister at the counter.

“Welcome to Sugar Rush, why are you back already?”

“This!” You point at her, your twin, your carbon copy in all things but personality. “Is my sister.”

Kirishima gapes, open-mouthed, eyes wide.

“Your sister?”

“Yes,” you can’t help but smile. “See? She’s the one kissing Tetsutetsu.”

“Now, I don’t know why that would be up for discussion,” your sister cuts in but you wave her off. 

“And I’m the one who wants to kiss you.”

Kirishima’s face turns as red as his hair but he’s quick to pull you toward himself, his hands warm around yours.

“I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot. Can you forgive me?”

“Only if you kiss her,” your sister butts in, grinning like a madman. “It’s only fair.”

“She’s right,” you tell him, fighting against the smile breaking free. “It’s only fair.”

So he does.

-

For @satorisoup - Requests are open

[talesofadragon]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst. The Winter Soldier and Bucky existing in one body. Hurt/Comfort

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬  Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 the Soldat’s head. Darker than the cell he had been confined to, denser than the Hydra womb that held him before his birth.

His memories ebbed and flowed like shifting tides, tugging at his subconscious. Sometimes, he overexerted himself, forcing the memory of Y/N’s torture to the forefront of his mind to ensure that whenever Bucky resurfaced, he would never forget his vices.

The shifts happened without warning. His awareness was elusive as he trod the thin line between being an Avenger and a Hydra Asset, time passing around him in cycles he couldn’t track. Bucky didn’t know if he resisted or resigned himself to his punishment. It was all a blur. So, when he blinked back the haze and found himself standing before a door, he grappled with consciousness enough to realize two things:

One, the soldier had been momentarily drowned.

Two, Bucky was no longer in his cell.

Bucky blinked languidly, struggling to raise his lashes enough to dispel his stupor. He scanned the hallway, eyes roving the expanse of a familiar space. There stood a man, he noticed, blond and bulky. A soldier, he thought to himself until his mind whispered a name. Steve.

Steve stood a few feet away, arms crossed, veins protruding. A woman stood beside him, her short stature belying the fierce energy emanating from her fiery red hair. Enigmatic and strong, she was the embodiment of intensity. Red Room, he recalled immediately. Romanoff came after.

“Where am I?” Bucky questioned, the thin thread of his consciousness studying the two for any sign of injuries. Neither sustained more than days-old lacerations, easing his dichotomous mind. They regarded him idly, almost as if they didn’t know how they were supposed to feel.

Bucky’s thoughts weighed on him, visions and discordant memories playing in a loop. He was ready to surrender to the Soldat’s call until he heard Steve say, “Why don’t you go inside and find out?”

There was a spark of recognition or a warning sign at Steve’s words. Whatever it was, it forced Bucky’s focus afloat. His legs moved, crossing the distance between the hall and the door in less than two seconds, leading him into a large room bathed in the smell of antiseptic and medication. A hospital room.

He panicked then. His mind, so distraught, couldn't decide which persona should take control. His once steady hands shook, tremors shooting from his fingertips up his arm. Leave, his mind ordered. But he couldn't even interpret the meaning of that single word.

While his thoughts were in a frenzy and his body in unbridled mania, his eyes were transfixed on the hospital bed, specifically, its occupant, who greeted him with the same warmth she had always dedicated to him.

Inviting Y/E/C eyes and a winsome smile tore through his inhibitions when Y/N whispered one word that threatened to tear his soul apart, “James.”

She was a sorceress, if not in this life then another. Inherited or acquired, her words held a penetrative power, breaking through his mental defenses and compelling him to move closer. His fingers ached for touch, tingling by his sides, begging to reach for her. Stop, something—someone inside him growled. Since when did he itch for physical contact?

Bucky realized he hadn’t spoken to her yet. The past discourse was only a fleeting thought in his mind. He cleared his throat then, though that action was nothing more than a front. Nothing about his demeanor was pristine, not his speech nor his thoughts. But a part of him implored to reach for Y/N in any form possible.

So with all his nonexistent assurance, Bucky braved himself. “You’re still here,” he commented, feeling woeful at his choice of words. God, he was pathetic.

To his surprise, Y/N smiled broadly. “Yes.” Her saccharine voice filled the room. “Thanks to you.”

“No,” Bucky rebutted immediately.

“James—”

“I’m not—” Bucky lost his voice mid-sentence. He looked past Y/N’s small, disheveled figure, eyes raking over the slightly open window. “I’m not James.”

Y/N didn’t question his evasion.

He felt her fidgeting in her bed. His gaze shifted to her, watching as she repositioned the white sheets, letting them settle at her waist. The movement exposed her bandaged arms, the discoloration clear even under the thick cloth. Vulnerable, his thoughts murmured. Weak.

“Who are you then?” she asked earnestly.

Bucky’s mouth went dry, his mind spiraling as he confessed, “I don’t know.”

“Can I tell you who you are?” Y/N asked.

He considered her question, his response wavering with every shift in his stance, fingers drumming against his thighs. Should she? It seemed simple, yet it felt like he was seeking permission. It was absurd. Bucky Barnes was now a rusted war machine, seeking approval from the ghost of his past self. 

Who was he beyond the torment and devastation? And who was the Winter Soldier beyond the atrocities etched in angry red on the remaining flesh of his prosthetic arm?

He found his answer.

“You don’t know me.” 

The finality in Bucky’s tone did little to deter Y/N. She reached out, an oximeter latched onto her forefinger. Back away! the Soldat hissed. Bucky wasn't sure whom the command was directed at.

Delicately, like the gentle caress of a butterfly's wings against his skin, a tingling sensation raced along his pinky. It was a subtle yet electrifying touch, igniting a warmth that seemed to radiate from the very core of his being. As Y/N entwined her fingers with his, the sensation only intensified, enveloping him in a cocoon of unexpected comfort.

“I might just surprise you,” she murmured. When he didn’t respond, he expected her to continue. Instead, she leaned back, her head resting on the pillow. Her breaths were steady, the machines around her beeping rhythmically. Before he could process the sounds, Y/N tugged on his hand. Somehow, he moved closer, his body hovering above hers.

Cynicism darkened Bucky’s features. "What will you explain to me?" he asked. "Beyond what history has already confirmed."

"I’m going to tell you who you really are," Y/N said, her voice firm. And if that alone wasn’t enough to pique his curiosity—his willingness to listen despite his inner turmoil—Y/N added, her thumb gently tracing patterns on his skin, "And what you mean to me."

Monster, his brain hissed, a sharp reminder of his past sins. Years of indoctrination under Hydra taught him to suppress and conceal his discomfort. Yet, he couldn’t suppress the wince that escaped him, the Soldat clawing at his consciousness like a venomous serpent.

“James,” Y/N uttered, her voice barely audible to his ears.

Bucky craved silence again, a part of him recoiling from the truth. He drew a deep breath, his silver-lined irises betraying the turmoil within. “What am I?” he asked rhetorically, the answer already known. At least to him. “What am I if not the cause of your suffering?”

“Perhaps, let’s start with the fact that you’re the reason I’m alive,” Y/N offered.

“No,” Bucky refuted. The hospital bed threatened to collapse under the weight of his tight grip. But the weight of his compunction, the Soldier’s remorse, proved heavier. “Don’t you dare say that!”

“James,” Y/N sighed, her voice gentle yet firm.

Bucky snapped, interrupting her before she could continue, “You are in a hospital room.”

“Yes,” she affirmed, “although I am alive and healing, not on the brink of death.”

“What difference does it make? You’re still here because of my past actions. My volatile mind!”

“Your volatile mind, in case you've forgotten, is also what saved me, us, from the clutches of Hydra.”

“Saved? I endangered you!” Bucky spat, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. “We endangered you.”

“You and the soldier are one.”

Though her tone was gentle and her demeanor warm, her words ignited a storm within Bucky. He wanted to deny her claim. But to his surprise, he found himself agreeing. “Yes, we are,” he admitted, noting the subtle shift in Y/N’s expression as she silently acknowledged his confession. “He and I are both the villains in your story.”

Y/N shook her head, silently dissenting, but her silence only amplified the turmoil raging within Bucky's mind. Insidious, his thoughts whispered. Monsters like us only bring harm. Our hands are stained with the blood of our victims.

“This is my truth,” Bucky declared, the monotony of his voice betraying the fray within. “The world knows the atrocities I’ve committed. I remember every one of them. Including the ones involving you.”

“James, listen to me,” Y/N urged.

“Your lies once drowned out my admissions. But after what happened to you, even you can’t ignore the dangers lurking within me.”

“Who you are is subjective!” Y/N defended vehemently. “No one sees the other in the same light. You asked me who you were, and you’re not allowing me the decency to explain what you are to me.”

“I shouldn’t mean anything to you!”

“Well, it’s too bad you mean to me more than you’ve accounted for!”

Bucky was beginning to grow frustrated. Nothingness, the reminder swirled in his mind. You mean nothing to her. To anyone. Not even to yourself. The jarring reminder pricked at his sanity, forcing him to lose his grip.

He refused to continue this conversation, finding it a waste of energy and effort. Wordlessly, he turned his back to her, ready to be consumed by his ear-splitting thoughts in his desolate chambers. But something else flared within him, something both docile and menacing.

Y/N had caught his metal arm, her heated touch seeping through the advanced neural simulators. But there was a turning point; a shift where her touch transformed from winsome and appeasing to tumultuous and thundering. 

Bucky bellowed, uncaring whether Steve or Natasha would burst into the room.

He rounded on Y/N, his metal arm pinning her wrist above her head. A gasp escaped her parted lips, hitting Bucky in his face and punching him in his gut. “Hurt,” he articulated his thoughts aloud, saliva dripping from his chin. Metal pierced deeper into Y/N’s skin.

His ears acutely picked up the cacophony of noises surrounding him—from the loud beeping of her heart monitor to Steve and Natasha’s sudden interference. 

“Look at me!” Bucky demanded, his electric blue eyes locking onto Y/N’s. Though he was tormented by his madness, he pressed on, instilling Y/N with dread. “See what cannot be undone. I am the Winter Soldier. A menace, a lethal weapon, Hydra’s enforcer. I am not your hero in metal armor or your misguided redemption project. You can’t fool me or anyone into believing there’s a good side to me. There isn’t.”

“What if it were me?” The question hit Bucky like a freight car, rendering him immobile and halting his thoughts. Y/N’s eyes brimmed with tears that trailed down her cheeks to her lips. “What if it were me?” she asked again, her voice faltering.

Bucky hadn’t noticed his grip on her had slackened until he asked, “What if you were what?”

“What if I was the villain?” She refrained from saying anything more, her silence bathing the entire room. Bucky picked up on Steve and Natasha’s bated breaths. They all remained silent, anticipating the implication behind Y/N’s words. “What if Hydra had used me? Manipulated my powers into hurting you and—”

“Don’t—”

“You have spent the better part of this hour, no, these three days, punishing yourself for something that was beyond your control! You didn’t choose to hurt me.”

“I could have fought it!”

“And you did! You fought tooth and nail till the last second, James. Or else you wouldn’t have saved my life. When your choices were restored, you chose me.”

“At what cost?” Bucky argued, his voice laced with frustration. “You survived today. But what about tomorrow or the day after? What will happen to you then when I fail to control myself?”

“I can ask you the same thing,” Y/N countered, indignance flaring in her tone. Bucky shook his head, the unwillingness to listen explicitly drawn on his face. “What if they didn’t restrain my powers and had exploited them instead? I’ve vowed to never force my powers on you. Even now, when I want to help you, I refuse to use them without your consent. But what if I had to?”

“You can’t hurt me,” Bucky attested.

"Can't I?" Y/N's voice quivered as tears streamed down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling in tandem. “They replicated my powers, James. That’s how they hijacked your neural frame. That’s how they brought out the Soldat.”

“Just because they replicated your powers doesn’t mean you hurt me.”

Y/N cried out, her breath shaky and feeble, “You don’t get it! They planned this whole charade out because they wanted us to hurt each other somehow. But what if the roles were reversed? What if they manipulated me into directly using my powers against you?”

It was a strange twist of fate to see her engaging in the very behavior she had argued against. Manipulating him. Not through her powers, but through his emotions. And Bucky was angry, furious because she couldn’t hurt him. Deep down, he knew that Y/N could do even the most nefarious things to him and he’d see them as nothing more than a measly scrape, easy to heal from.

“Y/N,” Bucky huffed, his fingers threading through his dark hair. Her name made heat spark within his senses and ice run down his spine. “Stop.”

“Don’t you remember what I told you?” Her tears fell in torrents against her cheeks, glistening under the light of the hospital room. It was impossible to ignore them or the way they made Bucky feel. “You’re my home, James.”

“I’m your demise.”

“You’re my lifeline,” Y/N countered. “You understand me more than anyone ever will. When everyone fears what I can do, you trust that I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You cannot hurt me.”

“Because you don’t give me the power to. Just as I've refrained. You cannot hurt me, James. No matter how much you try, deliberately or inadvertently, you can never hurt me.”

A heavy pause veiled the room. Silently but deafeningly, a wave of uncertainty permeated the air. Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wanted to argue and refute all the words that had been uttered and the nonsense that was spewed. But Y/N was right in a way yet wrong in many others. Her love was blinding, to him and her, pulling them both to the abyss of sanity and forcing them to drift away from it all.

He didn't want to waste time arguing, torn between holding on and letting go. But the tingling sensation he had felt before came back, teetering on the edge of his fingers. He looked down then, sensing a force. His fingers were bathed in silver mist, swirls of light dancing across his metal arm.

“I give you the choice,” Y/N stated, pulling his gaze back to hers. He regarded her with wide and curious eyes like a child born into a vast new world. “Isolation is not retribution. Withdrawal is not the answer. You’re good, James. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have fought back.”

Bucky’s mind was a storm, the conflicting emotions clashing violently. He felt the weight of his past, the horrors he had committed, pressing down on him.

“Y/N—”

“The only way you can hurt me is if you let me go. If you distance yourself and leave me to fend for myself with all these fears and thoughts. I need you, James. I believe in you and the goodness that you hold. You’re not a monster, a villain, or anything remotely close to it.”

“What am I?” Bucky asked, his question vastly different in strength and nature than when he had first voiced it aloud.

The tendrils of light were now wrapped around his waist. Like an angel’s breath, they started tantalizing his senses as they climbed up his arms, imbuing them with serenity. He felt them tug at his heart, almost whispering to it in a language he wasn’t privy to but understood nonetheless.

Y/N shuffled in her bed, kicking the sheets further down her body. She hid her winces well, or maybe she was too focused on closing the distance between her and Bucky to acknowledge them.

Get back, the Soldat ordered. Don’t accept sympathy.

“You are James Buchanan Barnes. A melodramatic centenarian with the most mystifying blue eyes that I both love and cherish. You have a very bad habit of second-guessing your actions and striving for perfection in everything that you do because you think that you have something to compensate for when you don’t. Love is given; trust is earned. And I grant you both of them because I know that even in the middle of the tempest, you will never drift too far away from the shore.”

“Y/N. I’m not…” Bucky began, but the words faltered. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but her light was too strong, too compelling.

“You’re not what?” she asked softly, her eyes searching his. “Not worthy? Not good enough? Because you are, James. You’re more than enough.”

Her words cut through his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. The Soldat within him snarled in defiance, but Bucky’s heart ached with a different truth. He was tired of fighting, tired of pushing away the one person who saw him for who he truly was.

“I can’t allow myself to hurt you again,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

“You won’t,” she replied with unwavering conviction. “Not if you stay. Not if you let me in.”

The silver mist enveloped him completely now, soothing the chaos inside. Bucky felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. He took a hesitant step closer to Y/N, then another, until he was right beside her bed.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and touched his cheek. His thoughts quieted at her touch, a tranquil sensation rushing through his mind. It was quaint like a mother’s lullaby and soft like a child’s laugh reverberating in bustling boulevards.

Those silver tendrils caressed his consciousness, seeping through the dark cracks and painting them with a kaleidoscope of colors. The anxiety in him relented, preening at the feel of Y/N in his mind. Even the Soldat bowed his head, snarls and whimpers shushed and eased by the delicate hum of her magic. He heard her voice, whispered promises and beloved attestations, following them as he strolled through forgotten avenues that he had tried to repress.

And there at the precipice, basked in stardust and moonglow, stood Y/N. Her skin was flawless, silky, and luminous with no trace of the unforgiving scars he had inflicted on her. Her pink lips were upturned, a wistful smile decorating her ethereal features. “Come home,” she called for him, like a siren luring a sailor in the tempest, a shooting star carrying a wish across the skies.

“You’re my home,” Bucky swore reverently, worshipping her after God, swearing his devotion and fidelity.

Fingers interlaced with hers, he watched the silver twirl happily against the gold of his metal plates. The colors contrasting yet befitting, something that reflected them in a bejeweled portrait of understanding and individuality. He tightened his hold on her hand, allowing her magic to seep through his veins. His eyes closed, a blinding light casting over him, embracing him with the strength of a thousand twilights.

When his eyes opened, the silver hadn’t waned. Not in Y/N’s wide eyes nor the remnants on his hands and certainly not in his own gaze.

“Angel,” the word slipped past his lips, wistful and solemn.

Y/N’s silver orbs swiftly regained their normal color. Though no trace of her magic remained, her eyes didn’t lose their natural luster. Her gaze rekindled a comforting warmth as she greeted him, “Welcome home, James.”

Truth, his mind preened. He broke down, fingers raking through Y/N’s hair, lips pressing kisses across her face. 

Y/N was his only truth. Her soul the sanctuary he could never—would never forsake.

I know it's been a long while since I updated this story, but I'd like to thank everyone who stuck around this far! It's been hard sitting down, pulling out my laptop, and writing just for fun... to bring those characters and these story arcs to life. But I'm glad Bucky and Angel's story found a befitting and dulcet end.

Check out my Writing Celebration to request your thoughts and ideas, experience fun little writing challenges, and get to know the blog!

My next Tumblr focus will exclusively be on Varicolored Schemes, a mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader series for anyone interested in seeing a new, dangerous side to Captain America! I might take on a few requests or release a few one-shots if motivation permits it, but this series will receive the most of my attention.

Happy reading, witchlings. Enjoy the start/rest of your weekend🩵🦋

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn @justafangir1

Series Taglist: @msoldier @kandis-mom @nobodycanknoww

[skyward-floored]

Little tiny fic with Eveni (Midlink kiddo) and Link who’s refusing to admit he’s depressed!!

(Spoilers for true form AU if anyone even cares)

So this is after Midna leaves. Link is still a mess, he’s refusing to work through his issues, and he can’t stay in Ordon because it just feels too stifling and small. So he leaves, and wanders around with Eveni for a while, apart from the occasional issue Zelda needs his help with.

————————————————————

Link trudges up to Zelda’s quarters, boots tapping on the stones the way they always do. His stomach growls loudly as he ascends, and Link sighs, ignoring the twist in his middle. He hasn’t eaten anything since before he cleared out the monsters by Lake Hylia early this morning, and it’s nearly dark out now.

Fortunately he just has to hand his report of the incident to the princess, and then he can go figure out something to eat.

And pick up Eveni, of course.

Link shakes his head to himself as he continues to climb, still a bit in disbelief at what had happened. He’d been... more than surprised when the Queen herself had offered to watch his son while he took care of the monster infestation. The kingdom’s knights hadn’t gotten anywhere in eradicating the beasts, and Zelda had asked for Link’s assistance, which he’d easily agreed to, and he’d been prepared to take Eveni along as usual.

Zelda had looked at him in disbelief when she’d realized he was going to bring his son, but it wasn’t like he was going to take Eveni into battle with him. He was used to traveling around with a toddler, and he’d done this several times, tucking Eveni securely on Epona’s back, and sending the two of them plenty far away from the fighting.

And he hadn’t wanted to leave Eveni so far out of his reach.

“Link, he’ll be far safer here,” Zelda had said gently when he’d declined. “I know you have your methods, but you’re still taking Eveni into a battle. If you leave him here you won’t have to spend your energy worrying about him, and I’ll need your report of what happened afterwards anyway. If he stays here, you don’t have to make any extra stops for him. You can merely come back here when you’ve finished, and then go as soon as you’d like. I know you don’t prefer to linger around town.”

The queen was right of course, (was she ever not?), and Link had hesitantly agreed. He’d gone on his way, but not after a long goodbye, and a tight hug for his son.

He’d never been away from Eveni for such a long period of time before, and found himself hurrying as he trodded up the stairs, worried thoughts drifting past his mind.

Yet... he wasn’t too worried.

Something about knowing Eveni was with the woman who’d helped him shoot arrows at the incarnation of hatred itself did help ease his mind. Other than his family and the folks in the Resistance, Zelda was someone he trusted above all else, even if their relationship was a bit awkward at times. Partially because of her character and how she was his friend-acquaintance-occasional-employer, but also in part due to an innate sense that he could trust her with his life, and he’d follow her anywhere.

...That was probably just the triforce connection though.

Link nods at a guard as he reaches the Queen’s quarters, and enters her rooms with a knock. An orange head shoots up in attention the moment he passes through the door, and Link can’t help the swell of relief at the sight of his son, safe and sound.

“Papa!” Eveni squeals, toddling over to him and waving his ever-present stuffed cat. Link hurried over and scoops up Eveni in a tight hug, noting Zelda standing up from where she was seated nearby. Eveni nestles up to him, and Link gives his head a kiss.

“Hey buddy, me and Epona missed you today. You have a good time?” Link asks with a smile, lifting Eveni and eliciting another happy squeal. His son laughs and squeezes Link’s neck, nearly choking him, but he merely adjusts him so he can breathe better.

Then he shifts his attention to Zelda, and gives her as much of a respectful bow as he can with a toddler clinging to his neck.

“Thank you, your majesty. I hope he wasn’t any trouble.”

“He was wonderful, Link. No thanks are needed, I was glad to spend some time with him again,” Zelda says with a faint smile. “He’s gotten so big since he lived here. I barely recognize him.”

Link’s smile dims at her words, the reminder of the brief time he and Midna stayed at the castle after Eveni was born still painful. It truly was one of the happiest times of his life, but the memories are more bittersweet now than anything.

Fortunately he’s gotten rather good at not letting it show.

“Yeah. He’s shooting up like a weed these days,” Link replies, looking down at his son. “Growing faster than I can handle sometimes.”

Eveni’s still clinging to his neck, but when he catches Link looking at him, smiles widely, and waves his cat around.

“Elda read! Oggy oggy!” he babbles excitedly, and Link looks over at Zelda to see if she has any clue what he’s talking about.

“I read him a bit of a tale with a wolf in it, he was quite enraptured,” she said, the same faint smile playing around her lips. “I suppose it runs in the family.”

Link almost rolls his eyes before he remembers it’s the Queen of Hyrule he’s talking to, and quickly refrains. He may know Zelda pretty well, but he at least tries to keep his manners in check.

So instead, he reaches in his pouch for the report he’d quickly scribbled up about the monster situation, and hands it over to the Queen.

“Everything went well,” he says simply, avoiding Eveni’s waving hands. “The road is passable again, monsters won’t be taking residence on the bridge again anytime soon.”

“That’s wonderful news Link, you have my thanks,” Zelda says gratefully, taking his letter. “Those bokoblins were causing all sorts of problems, and nobody seemed to be getting anywhere in removing them.”

“Well they shouldn’t cause any more problems now,” Link says, unable to stop the satisfaction from leaking into his voice.

He stretches his arm a little, grimacing when an ache ripples up his elbow. He hadn’t been seriously injured at all, but he had been hit by a few clubs, and they weren’t severe enough to merit use of a potion. There would doubtless be multiple bruises coloring his skin tomorrow.

“May I offer you a seat?” Zelda says when she notices the face he’s making, and Link hesitates, then nods, the thought of sitting a welcome one.

“Just for a little while,” he relents, and settles on one of Zelda‘s chairs with a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized quite how tired he was until he’d sat down.

Eveni shifts so he’s in his lap instead of clinging to his neck, and starts talking about Zelda again. Link listens to him as he recounts his day, mostly understanding his babbling words. Zelda does as well, and occasionally chimes in with an explanation of something that doesn’t quite translate.

But eventually Eveni’s chatter trails off, replaced with sleepy yawns, and Link looks out the window, the first few stars beginning to twinkle in the sky.

“It’s getting late,” he hums, and Zelda nods, setting down the tea she’d been sipping at.

She’s about to reply, but then his stomach lets out a horrendous gurgle of hunger, cutting her off and making Link flush with embarrassment.

“Link... did you forget to pack any rations?” Zelda asks in a stern voice, and Link shrinks under her stare. There’s a spark of amusement in her eyes when his stomach growls again, but she’s still giving him that look. “You were out all day Link, you can’t just not eat.”

“I ate breakfast,” he points out, ignoring the fact that said breakfast was a single piece of fruit. Zelda sighs as his stomach gurgles even louder.

“And obviously nothing since. Seeing as you’ve already here, I suppose you could... join me for dinner?” Zelda suggests, and Link pauses. “You and Eveni. You can take some time to rest and eat, and you can tell me of your eradication of the monsters at Lake Hylia yourself, and I can skip the report. If you’d like to of course,” she adds on, almost a little hurriedly.

“We really ought to be going...” Link trails off, and while Zelda doesn’t say anything, she knows just as well as he does that he has absolutely nowhere he needs to be.

He’s just... not in the habit of sitting around and talking to people anymore.

He looks down at Eveni where he’s nestled in his lap, a thumb in his mouth. Eveni’s head is resting on his shoulder, and his eyes are starting to close, but he’s still awake for now, and smiles when he sees Link looking at him.

“Papa hungy?” he asks with a tug on his collar, and Link smiles.

“Yeah, papa is hungry. And I bet you are too,” he says as he pokes his tummy, and Eveni giggles.

His son nestles up to his arms again without replying, and Link looks over at Zelda, still patiently awaiting his answer.

He’d planned to be out of here as quickly as possible; merely drop off his report, pick up Eveni, and be on his way. Avoid unpleasant memories and people he doesn’t want to talk to or answer probing questions from. Go back to wandering Hyrule just like before.

And yet.

Sitting here with Eveni secure in his arms, talking with Zelda and for once not having to worry about his son’s safety...

He doesn’t... want to leave.

He meets Zelda’s eyes, a shade of blue some might call cold (he knows better, he’s seen them light up with a warmth as bright as a summer’s day), and breaths out, giving her a hesitant smile.

“That would be wonderful, Zelda.”

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

UNO Reverse Kidnapping

Rating: General Audiences Characters: Mario, Luigi, Peach, Bowser, Kamek, Bowser Jr, Polterpup Relationships: Pre-Bowser/Mario/Peach/Luigi, minor Mario/Peach Tags: Humor, Bowser has a crisis(tm)

Summary: The traditional courting rituals of Bowser's Kingdom weren't really known by those who didn't hail from within its borders. What even fewer knew was that the whole kidnapping thing King Bowser did was based on one of the last vestiges of said rituals, pulled forward by circumstance, convenience, and because some people are more of a romantic at heart than what they'd have you believe.

Understandably unaware of all this, Mario lays in the grass outside his home and wonders about the feasibility of kidnapping Bowser, for a change.

It turns out it’s more feasible than Luigi insists it is.

Word Count: 3,957 words

[AO3 Link]

~~~

White, puffy clouds floated above Mario as he lay splayed out on his back on his and Luigi’s front lawn. Nearby, Luigi leaned against the railing of their front porch, sipping the last of his lemonade and watching his brother bask in the warm summer sun. The two of them savored this moment of peace, a type of moment that had been proving to be more and more difficult to find these days, thanks to a certain archnemesis of Mario’s.

“Seriously,” Luigi complained, swirling the ice in his glass around and around, “the month’s not even half over and he’s already made a grab for her three times! What's going on in that big head of his?”

Mario shrugged, rolling over to face Luigi. In the years of this song and dance, Bowser’s attempted kidnappings had never been this frequent, to even trod upon the unspoken rules of courtesy said song and dance possessed. And while Peach was convinced it was a jealousy-fueled tantrum triggered by her newfound romantic unavailability due to her officially entering a relationship with Mario, Mario wasn't so sure. The kidnapping attempts lacked a focus, beyond the expected side effect of the shrinking gap between failure and reattempt. In its place sat something else. Something frustrated, even with temporary successes. Something desperate, behind his usual bravado. Something confused, even as Mario trounced him as usual. Mario...couldn't quite name it.

“Well, whatever’s going on, Bowser needs to sort it out himself. He can't keep wasting Peach’s time like this.” Luigi crunched on an ice cube. “Bet he wouldn't like it if he was kidnapped so much,” he grumbled.

Mario huffed. Luigi refilled his drink. When he looked up again, Mario had his chin propped in a hand, a faraway look of thought on his face.

Luigi’s brow furrowed. “What’re you thinking about...?” he asked warily.

The smirk Mario wore when he came back to himself was conspiratorial. He gestured at Luigi.

“...Peach being behind on work?” Luigi guessed. Mario shook his head, still smirking.

“...Bowser getting kidnapped?”

Mario nodded rapidly.

“Huh? What about that would...” The gears in Luigi’s head turned. All at once, Mario’s meaning hit him, and he gaped at his brother, mouth opening and closing uselessly. “We can't kidnap Bowser!” he finally burst out, and Mario fell into a fit of laughter.

“I —! That was just —!” Luigi sputtered, waving his arms. “I wasn't serious!” he exclaimed. “How would we even do that?! It’s Bowser! It’s impossible! We’re not trying it,” he declared, seeing Mario gear up to explain.

Mario drooped in disappointment.

“We’re not!”

Before Mario could attempt to explain his idea a second time, someone called Mario’s name. It was a Toad, running up the path.

“Mario,” he panted, “Mario...he...the Princess...” With one last gasp, the Toad collapsed. Mario rushed forward to tend to him.

“Speak of the devil.” Luigi sighed. “Yo, bro, where’d you put your adventuring pack? Wait, never mind, I remember seeing it somewhere...”

By the time Luigi found Mario’s bag and stuffed a few extra Mushrooms and Syrups into it, Mario had carried the Toad into the house and laid him on the couch. Luigi held out the bag to Mario. “I’ll sit this one out, I think,” he said when Mario’s gaze turned questioning. “I’m still sore from the last rescue. And it’ll spare me from listening to any more of your crazy ideas.”

Mario snorted. With a wave, he was gone, leaving Luigi with the messenger Toad.

Luigi reached over and flicked on a table fan, positioning it to blow air over the Toad. “...do you want some lemonade?” he asked. He got a mumbled, “yes, please,” in response. Luigi patted the crown of the Toad’s head as he went to the kitchen to pour some for him to drink.

---

The next day found Luigi following Toadsworth through the winding hallways of Peach’s Castle. They stopped at a door that Toadsworth opened for him; after a few stern words about behaving, Toadsworth left him be. As soon as Toadsworth turned the corner out of sight, Luigi relaxed from the tense posture he’d been holding the whole time. Man, Toadsworth could be intimidating.

The sound of Peach’s laughter reached his ears, and Luigi raised his head to see her and Mario sitting around a big circular table in the center of the room, framed by large papers and maps across the walls.

“He’s not that intimidating,” Peach giggled.

“Easy for you to say,” Luigi replied. “You grew up with him! And don't you start, either,” he continued at Mario’s matching chuckling. “If you don't think he’s intimidating, then what’s with all the sneaking about you two have to do whenever you guys wanna do anything more than hold hands?”

Neither Mario nor Peach answered him, but their sheepish smiles said enough.

Luigi treaded further into the room, noticing the little tea set perched on top of the table. “This is a weird place for tea,” he remarked.

Peach hummed, pouring him a cup. Luigi sat down with it, and Peach took a long sip of her own. She placed her cup back down onto its saucer.

“...so Mario was telling me about a fascinating little idea he’d had recently —”

“Mario!” Luigi whirled around to glare at him. “I told you we can't do that!”

“Sure we can,” Peach chirped.

“But it’s Bowser!”

“I know! But I have some ideas!”

Peach stood and practically danced over to the far wall, on which she put a hand and spun it, revealing a chalkboard with some impressive-looking flowcharts that she then proceeded to explain. To her credit, she did have some ideas. And they seemed...almost plausible. Scarily plausible, Luigi had to admit. She and Mario had evidently put a lot of thought into this crazy idea.

“Okay,” Luigi said when Peach finished. “So...even if” — Mario and Peach grinned at him — “if this is a thing we do, then...where are we supposed to put him? We can't bring him here. The Toads will flip!”

Mario and Peach kept grinning at him.

“...why are you looking at me like that?”

---

Bowser woke up slowly.

He lay there, wherever he was, listening. To the sound of his own breathing, to the thudding drumbeat of his heart; to the droning hum in the air, to the shuffling of footsteps and the creaking of wood beyond it. He took a deep breath, smelling a mustiness in the air, along with the faintest hint of perfume.

It was that last detail that made him open his eyes. He was met with bars of glowing energy in front of him, which was totally different from what he last remembered seeing. Light that surrounded him, he noticed as he sat up and looked around, as a dome with barely enough room inside to stretch both his arms out, and when he stood his horns barely sat under the roof of it. Through the light, he could see a rug, a couch, a table, a TV. Some sort of basement den, it seemed. Hardly the sort of place you’d expect the King of the Koopas to be held after being captured. Despite the circumstances, Bowser couldn't help but be indignant about the treatment.

But before he could voice his displeasure, he heard a gasp. He knew that gasp.

“Peaches!” She was standing in the corner of the room near the stairs, looking at him wide-eyed. “Where the heck are we?” Bowser asked, urgency in his voice. “Did they get you, too?”

Peach brightened. She turned and called up the stairs — “He’s awake!” — and moved aside just as Mario jumped down. He looked completely at ease, despite the circumstances. Soon after, Luigi came down at a more sedate yet anxious pace.

Bowser looked at them all. “...They didn't get all of you, did they? Or are you supposed to be my rescue party — not that I need one, obviously.”

“I wouldn't be too sure,” Peach said.

Bowser smirked. “We’ll see about that!”

Bowser gripped the bars of energy as if to bend them to breaking. His hands barely closed around them before a shock of electricity raced up his arms, painful and sudden enough for him to let go with a curse. He tried again to the same result, and when he pushed past the pain to try and actually bend the bars they didn't budge an inch.

The longer Bowser tried to escape, the tenser the line across Luigi’s shoulders became. And when Bowser finally privately admitted defeat, Luigi slumped into a nearby chair, hand pressed to his heart; Mario patted his shoulder, trying and mostly failing to keep amusement off his face as his brother sighed in...relief?

“What are you laughing for?” Bowser snapped, sparks all but spitting from his mouth. “Are you gonna get me out of here or not?”

“Not,” Peach said, and —

“Whaddaya, ‘not’?” Bowser roared, lunging at her. The bars of the cage flared as he slammed into them, and he recoiled with a shout. “Quit playing around!” he yelled as Mario and Luigi tensed protectively around Peach. “Is this your idea of a joke? You’re gonna need my help if whoever’s captured us — “

“We captured you,” Peach interrupted him.

“You —” The wind flew completely out of Bowser’s sails. “What?”

“Well, actually,” Peach amended, “we kidnapped you, I should say.” She sounded quite proud.

Bowser narrowed his eyes. He examined Peach, Mario, and Luigi in turn, for signs of any of them being possessed or something. Finding none, he laughed. “No you didn't!”

“Yes, we did!”

Bowser, without thinking, reached for the bars to break out. He was shocked back to reality in short order. He blinked.

“Ta-da!” Peach sang as Bowser stood nothing short of baffled. “It was mainly Mario’s idea,” she continued, and Mario waved.

“Wait, hold on, but the rest of the plan was your brain,” Luigi chimed in. “And my house,” he muttered.

“And the cage you rigged up,” Peach added, with a grateful smile. “So!” She clapped her hands and turned to Bowser, beaming. “How does it feel to be the one kidnapped out of nowhere for a change?”

Bowser stared at them. And stared at them. And stared at them. His face was borderline unreadable. He didn't quite look upset. Closer to ‘incredibly thrown off’, maybe. Either way, the silence stretched on, and under its weight the smirk slid off Peach’s face. She and the Marios exchanged unsure glances.

“I mean...” Peach bit her lip. “It was just...i-if this is actually upsetting, then maybe we can...let you out...?”

“Are you kidding?!” Bowser shouted, startling them all. “You can't just change your mind!” Despite the intensity of his words, he couldn't seem to look any of them in the eye as he spoke. “You managed to kidnap me, so stick to it!”

“R-right!” Peach said, standing tall. Bowser huffed, face bright red. Behind Peach’s back, Mario held out a hand for a high-five. Peach and Luigi (not so) discreetly accepted it.

“...so what do we do now?” Luigi asked.

“Uh...”

“Oh my god.” Bowser slapped a hand to his face. “Did you seriously not think this far?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it all worked,” Luigi said.

“I’m surprised Mario could carry Bowser for that long.” Peach and Luigi looked at Mario consideringly. “Well, maybe not.”

Bowser stared at Mario, too. Mario flexed a bicep and winked at him. Bowser scowled, face somehow turning redder.

After a few moments of thinking, Mario circled around to the nearby desk. He rooted around in its drawers and unearthed a bundle of stationery, waving it around.

“Oh, of course!” Peach grabbed for the paper. “We should address it to...Bowser Junior, right?” The question was aimed at Bowser; Bowser pointedly turned away. Peach grinned. “Oh, and we should include Kamek, too!”

---

The letter was sent soon after. Though its sending had been delayed, because they had wanted to include with it a package of cookies Peach and Luigi had apparently been baking while they had waited for Bowser to wake. Bowser only knew about this because sometime after they’d left to send the letter, Mario had returned with a plate of them to give to him.

Eating the cookies did little to lighten the dark look on Bowser’s face; while he would never refuse something Peach had personally baked, the fact that one of the Marios had helped her do so wasn't bothering him as much as it was supposed to. And said Mario was currently fiddling with the cage’s control panel, way out of reach of Bowser. Under Bowser’s glower Luigi shifted nervously, and as he worked he kept glancing back at Mario, who was lounging on the couch, for emotional support. Until after one such glance, when he took a deep breath and met Bowser’s glare with a glare of his own. Their staring contest felt like it lasted forever. In the end, Bowser...looked away first.

“...So,” Bowser said, to distract from the fact that he just got out-glared by the resident coward. “There’s no way you guys are doing this alone, right? This is the sort of thing minions are good for, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Luigi replied. “I got us some help, don't worry.”

“Who, the Toads?” Bowser rolled his eyes. “Those weaklings? My son deserves a challenge, you know.”

“N-no, it’s —”

As he spoke, Luigi’s eyes caught on something behind Bowser. He blanched immediately. Standing next to Bowser’s plate of cookies was a...dog, whose seemingly sudden appearance startled Bowser into stumbling when he noticed it. It barked at him cheerfully, wagging its tail.

“Oh no, doggy,” Luigi said, both alarmed and exasperated, “you’re not supposed to be in there...!”

The dog whined at Luigi’s words. It barked again, and then it snatched the last cookie from Bowser’s plate. Bowser dove to get it back with an inarticulate yell, but the dog had phased through the floor by the time he got there, so he crashed into the empty space.

The dog popped up next to Luigi, having eaten its stolen prize, uncaring of Bowser’s ire. Luigi knelt to talk to it, but before he could open his mouth the dog jumped onto him, licking his face. Despite himself, Luigi sputtered and laughed. The sound of it bounced around Bowser’s head enough that he completely missed what Luigi said next, and by the time he shook it away Luigi was watching him in concern, and the dog had curled up next to Mario.

Bowser scrambled for something to fill the silence that wasn't him being flustered about Luigi or whining about his cookies being gone. “...I want a cake,” Bowser said, in a way that fell towards the latter.

Luigi pursed his lips. “I’ll see what I can do, I think.” The earnestness of it had Bowser grinding his teeth.

Luigi turned to check the time on the clock. “Hey, doggy,” he called. The dog perked its head up. “The bambino’s gonna get here sooner than you think, you know.” Luigi held out a key. The dog leapt up and bounded over to take it. “Make sure they get here safe, okey-dokey? And keep the other ghosts in line for me?”

The dog’s answering bark was muffled, but nonetheless enthusiastic. Key in mouth, it turned and leaped to and through the wall.

“...there are ghosts here?”

“Yeah,” Luigi said. “It was kind of last minute, but they were happy to help out!”

“I thought you were afraid of ghosts, though. That’s like your whole thing.”

Luigi shrugged, though he looked disgruntled about Bowser’s judgment of him. “Well, some of them are friendly, and the others are...”

Behind him, Mario pointed to the ‘no-Boos-allowed’ sign hanging by the stairs.

“Well, they’re not allowed in certain rooms! So it’s fine!”

“‘Not allowed’?” Bowser crossed his arms. “Since when did the Boos listen to you? Wouldn't King Boo have something to say about that?”

“Not anymore,” Luigi said darkly. Something stuttered in Bowser’s chest.

...But now that Luigi’d mentioned it, he did remember the Boos chattering under their breaths about something a while back. Kamek had mentioned something about reconsidering alliances around that time, too. But it had all blown over relatively quickly, so he hadn't paid it any mind. Until now.

But wait — “I had an alliance with that guy!” Bowser complained. “The hell am I supposed to do now? I don't wanna make an alliance with you.”

Luigi evidently hadn’t thought about that, either, given the pinpricks his eyes shrank to. “Uh — no, it’s fine,” he stammered. “They like hanging around your castle anyway, ‘S long as they’re not causing too much trouble...?”

“...hmph.”

“A-anyway! I told them all to go easy on Junior so he shouldn’t get hurt too badly. And we’ll go easy on him too, when it’s our turn to fight him.”

Mario snorted, hopping off the couch and sauntering over under Luigi and Bowser’s surprised stares.

Bowser wasn't sure how to interpret that, except — “What do you mean you won't go easy on him?”

Mario waved a hand in dismissal, which didn't answer Bowser’s question. Neither did the cocky smirk on his face, which only served to sour Bowser’s mood.

Luckily, Mario had walked within arm’s reach, so Bowser’s impulse to reach out through the bars and grab Mario by the lapels with a hand was rewarded quite well. Luigi yelped as Mario crashed into the cage feet-first. “What do you mean?” Bowser repeated in a growl. Mario laughed at him, bracing against the bars. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and that was when Bowser realized Mario was teasing him. Which only served to make Bowser angrier, of course, and he strengthened his attempts to pull Mario in to be electrocuted. “You —!”

“Hello, boys.”

Everyone froze. Peach stood on the stairs, watching them with a raised brow. “What are you doing?”

“...Bowser wanted cake...?”

The look Peach sent Bowser was flat. Bowser grumbled, and let Mario go.

Peach walked over to Mario. “This feels atypical,” she wryly said to him, “but something tells me you’re the one that’s causing trouble, this time.”

Mario hummed. Peach’s face settled on amused as she touched a hand to his shoulder. They both ignored Bowser glaring daggers at the point of contact.

“I’m not sure there’s enough time to bake a cake before Bowser’s cavalry arrives,” Peach thought aloud. “But I guess we’ll see,” she said bemusedly when Mario nudged her. “As long as the both of you behave.”

Bowser scoffed. Mario grinned.

Mario took Peach’s hand in his, and they both went upstairs. Bowser’s eyes stayed on them even after they’d disappeared from the top of the staircase. Luigi noticed this, but before he could finish considering saying something about it Bowser snapped his head towards him, teeth bared in a snarl. Luigi yelped, and rushed up the stairs out of Bowser’s sight.

Alone in the basement aside from the low humming of his cage, Bowser sat heavily. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Beneath his eyelids, Mario smirked at him. Bowser put his head in his hands and groaned.

---

For the past few hours, Bowser had been bored out of his mind. Honestly, at least he let Peach wander around a room or a hallway on occasion.

Sure, they’d left him the TV remote, and there’d been a decent Toad Force V programming block earlier, but that had ended ages ago, replaced with other, infinitely more boring Mushroom Kingdom programming. Ugh.

But since the only other thing to do was self-examining his new burgeoning feelings toward his...kidnappers, after he’d turned the TV off he strained his ears for the sound of fighting upstairs. While he was confident that Junior could handle anything that could be thrown at him — especially since he had Kamek to help — Bowser was still ready to try and escape again if he needed extra backup on top of that, self-inflicted pain be damned.

Extra backup that didn't seem to be needed, because as the fighting upstairs died down Bowser could hear his son’s triumphant laughter through the ceiling, and it chased away any lingering worries Bowser had.

Before long, Junior raced down the stairs, Kamek on his heels. “Dad!” he exclaimed. He practically vibrated in front of the cage until Kamek figured out how to deactivate it, and as soon as the light faded he jumped forward to hug him.

“Junior!” Bowser cheered. “Wahaha, those losers were no match for you, huh?”

“Nope!”

As Bowser did some stretches now that he was out of that small space, Kamek shuffled up to him. “So,” he said blandly. “A kidnapping, hm? How...quaint.”

Bowser faltered. “Shut up, old man.”

Despite the warning, Kamek’s smirk at his charge’s demeanor could barely be qualified as hidden. He mock-sighed. “I suppose we should start adapting our usual plans to be able to include Mario and Luigi as well,” he lamented.

“We already get Luigi sometimes,” Junior said.

“That's because he tricks us, by pretending to be Princess Peach.”

Junior nodded in thought. “Can we kidnap Luigi for real, though? I like him.”

Bowser choked on air. “Wh-what?”

“He’s nice!” Junior said, with the air of someone stating something very obvious to someone very stupid. “He likes my drawings and plays games with me!”

“I —” Bowser coughed. “N-never mind! Tell me about what you had to do to get to me!” The attempt to change the subject succeeded, with Junior beginning to chatter about his little adventure. It also failed, because Kamek was openly smirking at him now. Bowser resolutely ignored him.

At the top of the stairs, the remnants of the final battle still lingered. Furniture lay overturned, and the floors and walls were littered with scuffs and scorch marks. Peach sat slumped under the open window, looking tired but unharmed. Mario and Luigi were still where Junior had left them, lying exhausted and covered in bruises and cuts on the floor near the center of the room. The dog from earlier was nudging at them curiously, but when it heard the sound of Junior blowing a raspberry at the downed pair it barked and ran towards him instead; soon the two were running around the room as if neither of them had participated in any sort of final battle at all.

“Well.” Kamek broke the silence. “That was...something.”

Mario laughed.

“Ya know, that wasn't so bad,” Luigi said.

“It was awful.” Bowser deadpanned. “You guys sucked at this.”

“Aw, come on, even you had a little fun, I’m sure.” Peach teased.

“No way,” Bowser grumbled. “Just because you got lucky this time doesn’t mean it actually meant anything.”

“...’this time’?”

“...Wha —?” Bowser paled. “I didn't say — Only time, I meant!”

Bowser was met with a myriad of looks.

“Only, that’s what I said! Gah!” Bowser exclaimed at the continued disbelief. “You know what, screw this! I’m outta here!”

Bowser stormed off, the clatter of the front door being ripped off its hinges heralding his departure from the house entirely. Junior ran after him, his new canine friend right behind, catching up just as Bowser disappeared into the forest.

“Will he be okay?” Luigi asked Kamek, sitting up. “He’s been acting kinda weird this entire time.”

“...He will be fine. Stop worrying about it.”

“Oh, okay. Uh. What were you saying in the other room about kidnapping us?”

“Stop worrying about it,” Kamek cackled, getting on his broom and flying away through the window before anyone could ask any more questions. No, he didn't need to tell them about the true reasons behind Bowser’s behavior. They’ll likely figure it out eventually. And the looks on their faces will be hilarious.

[freak-city-central]

SEVERANCE

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

CW! Violence, minor gore, explicit language

CHAPTER TWO <-<-

Chapter Three ~ Echoes

"Hello <3"

"Hello Nobara 😊"

Nobara hung herself off your shoulders, brimming with glee, "You did it! You even figured out emoji's."

You smiled back up at her; she'd been helping you get used to your brand-new phone. Teaching you the in's and out's of all the modern technology you'd missed out on.

And you were picking it up quickly.

You swiped across on your phone and sent another message, this time with an accompanying photo of you and Nobara.

"Hello Fushiguro!!"

A gentle chime sounded across the table and you and Nobara watched as he clicked on the notification and looked at the photo before looking up at the two of you. He returned his gaze to his phone and you watched as the three dots trilled on one side of your screen.

"Hi (l/n)"

Attached was an image of him and Yuji, mirroring the image you'd sent him.

Fushiguro was the first to slink off to bed, he wished you a happy birthday and a good night.

You looked down at your phone and made a note of the time, noticing it was far past your bedtime. You took your now empty plate, spare a few crumbs and washed it in the sink. Gojo waved you away, insisting that you didn't need to help clean up, and after you tried to insist, he succeeded in getting you out and away from the dirty dishes.

You wished everyone a good night and thanked them over and over for the wonderful day they'd prepared for you.

A warm shower, clean teeth, an old t-shirt and a perfect slumber.

The moon was high, its eerie light pooling in through the windows. Glittering in the silent hallways were artifacts from long across the eras but none so brilliant and imposing as the full set of armour on display. Its fingertips were rusted, and panels were stained with the blood of warriors long passed.

The soft sweeping of a hand on steel echoed unnoticeably through the sound of nocturnality.

"Sekitsui..", the man whispered against the ancient metal.

Ryomen Sukuna stood in the homely hallways bathed in moonlight, reminiscing about a time long gone.

He had fifty seconds before he needed to return to Itadori's bed and fade away back into his vessel's subconscious, as was in line with the conditions of his pact. He wandered down the hallway, stopping outside the newly inhabited room. While he'd never acknowledge it, he knew that everyone at Jujutsu Tech was strong. He'd watched all of them strive in the heat of battle against fierce opponents and was certain that you'd be no exception. He was curious about what secret powers you held. Power was one of the few things he actually cared about, and if you were going to be his next mighty opponent, he felt he might as well get a head start on gathering information.

He slotted his long black nails between the door frame and the door and, as silently as he could muster, pulled the wood away, revealing the bedroom contained within. He trod along the floorboards analysing anything he could. He pushed his foot down onto the plank, and a loud creak echoed throughout. He heard sheets rustle and raised his gaze to meet yours.

You had scrambled to grab the small container placed on the bedside table but were stopped as a large hand covered your mouth, and another gripped your wrist. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you bit down hard on the hand that suffocated you. Sukuna shook his hand to try and relieve some of the pain.

"You fucking rat", Sukuna seethed, gritting his teeth, his right hand still holding your arm.

You glared into the eyes of the great curse before you but felt a strange compulsion to treat him with some degree of respect. Your mind and your instinct were waging war against each other. Unfortunately for you, your mind won.

You word vomited, "I'm sorry, sir."

You internally swore at yourself, this curse before you could snap you in half without so much as a care in the world and your brain had decided to treat him with a shred of kindness. His grip on your arm loosened and slid away, his hand returning to his side. He scoffed at you before continuing to snoop around the room, but you couldn't help but have questions.

"What are you doing here?" your whispered breath condensed on the cold night air.

He ignored you, continuing to pull out drawers and open cupboards. He wore nothing but a pair of long flannel pants, no doubt Yuji's Pyjamas, leaving his inked torso open to the fresh night air. While it was clearly Yuji's body standing in your room, you couldn't help but notice his jaw was sharper and his eyes less wide with childish wonder. You slowly moved your hand to the bedside table, praying he wouldn't notice, and opened the box with a soft click.

Sukuna whipped his head around at you, and you froze. Undeniably, you had never felt so intimidated in your life, but your thoughts commanded you to remain calm. The lid of the box remained open underneath your fingertips, your movements still, your eye contact unwavering.

Sukuna pinched the object in the box between his nails and examined it under the light of the moon. It was an intricate silver mouthpiece that would attach around your teeth, giving you extensions to the lower canines. He ran his thumb over one of the silver points and felt the tiny blade tug on his fingerprint. He brought his face down to meet yours and analysed your face taking note of every detail while you held his gaze. Before you could speak, his hand seized your jaw, forcing your mouth open and jamming the piece of silver in and around your teeth before grasping a second mouthpiece from the box and clicking it onto your top teeth.

"Interesting", he mused out loud.

He snapped his teeth at you, causing you to flinch back, but before he could laugh at your tiny show of fear, he collapsed onto the floor. The tattoos faded from his body, and he returned to the back of Yuji's mind. Sukuna kicked a skull angrily into his domain's abyss; he was too busy toying with you and had lost track of the time.

Itadori snapped awake as he gave the floor a well-deserved hug. You peered down over the edge of your bed at the now clean back that was sprawled out on your floor. The silver fangs returned safely to the palm of your hand.

"Itadori?", you softly spoke.

"(l/n)?", he returned.

He picked himself up from the floor and kneeled at your bedside.

"What happened? I feel exhausted", he placed his arms on the bed and laid his head down on them, looking up at you wearily.

You weren't sure how to explain it. How could you tell him that Sukuna had visited you in the middle of the night? It sounded absurd, and your conscience seemed to encourage this idea, planting the thought that revealing so much could get the boy into serious trouble.

"You're a sleepwalker", you lied through your teeth.

"Mhm", he mumbled, slowly closing his eyes as the hour caught up to him.

"Itadori, you're in my room", you hinted.

He popped his head up for a moment before plopping it back down into his arms, "Oh, so I am."

"You need to sleep in your own bed."

You slipped the silver mouthguards into their box as you twisted to get out of bed.

Itadori grabbed onto your arms, hauling himself up and using your weight to steady himself. You walked him back to his room and wished him a good night. The walk back to your room was quiet, and crickets sang their symphony outside in the early morning hours. The moon slowly began to set, but you couldn't help but notice its light glinting off one of the artifacts in the hall.

"Touch it", your mind echoed.

You approached the brilliant suit of armour. It wasn't traditional by any means, but you could tell it was centuries old. Elegant spikes splintered out across the gauntlets, and the helmet looked like the iron skull of some terrifying mythical beast.

"Touch."

You looked at it closer.

"Touch!"

Your fingers reached out to drift across the bloodied steel.

You recoiled back. This artifact was clearly ancient. Anyone in their right mind would leave it alone for fear of damaging it. Besides, it's not like you had any money to purchase it or even to repair it. The wood creaked underneath you as you took a few steps back. You refused to give in to the intrusive thought and marched back to your bedroom as the idea continued reverberating throughout your skull.

"..aaand Yuji and (y/n)", Gojo announced who'd be fighting who for training.

You forced your mouth to stay shut as you yawned, eyes watering at the strain. The small rectangular field that served as your arena was cleared out by your fellow classmates. Gojo had instructed the two of you to 'go all out', and so you pulled out the small plastic box that formerly resided on your bedside from your pocket. The silver pieces slotted gently around your teeth, clicking into place with the small amount of pressure you applied. Despite their silvery appearance, they weren't made from silver at all but from palladium. Palladium wasn't easy to come across and was one of the only gifts your parents had given you, not to mention the most expensive. You couldn't help but feign happiness upon receiving them, though; they weren't a gift given to you out of love or kindness but simply to perpetuate your purpose as a warrior.

You hadn't fought against someone your age before instead, sparring against your father, and even then, you were forbidden from using any cursed techniques against him. Your mother had explained to you how your cursed techniques worked, but nothing could beat the experience of using them. The area you had lived in was relatively unpopulated, so you only ever got to fight an actual curse once. It was a grotesque sight, limbs and teeth all bundled together in an unholy amalgamation of society's grievances.

"BEGIN!", Gojo hollered across the grass.

Yuji came charging towards you, hand engulfed in a bluish haze. You shifted your leg down, ducking beneath his punch and twisting your torso to sweep his leg. The young man had endured far worse battle scenarios than you ever had and jumped out of the way of your sweep. Itadori hammered his left hand down at you, it was bandaged, likely due to the harsh bite you'd given it the night before. The impact made your spine crunch, sheer strength vibrating through you. A foot made contact with your chest, sending you flying backwards into the grass. You coughed at the impact, holding your arm as you returned to upright.

"You okay (l/n)? We can stop if you'd like?"

You didn't respond. Blood flooded your ears, blocking out the sound of the outside world instead of trapping your thoughts, seeing them chime louder and louder in a raging cacophony. You knew Itadori, he was your friend. He was kind and lively and would never really hurt you. Yet, you couldn't help feel your heartbeat race and your teeth grind, fear itched at your skin. Even though you knew it wouldn't be the case, you knew it would never be the case. This boy was going to hurt you, and you needed to hurt him first. Each point of contact served as a reminder of the life you'd endured thus far. Contradiction ripped at you, flying you forward in a blind adrenaline-fueled rage. You widened your maw, revealing glistening fangs, strands of saliva connecting your upper and lower jaw, the ropes that failed to keep your vicious mouth shut.

"Cursed technique: Self-reverence", you roared out, latching your teeth down into your arm and tearing out a small piece of flesh.

Your teacher and classmates whispered on the sidelines.

"What. The Fuck", Nobara's mouth was agape.

"Language", Gojo reprimanded, "But yeah, I concur, what the fuck."

"Her movements, they're faster than before", Fushiguro observed.

You managed to get yourself behind your opponent, clutching your legs around his waist and attempting to pull him to the ground. His body refused to follow your movements, so you moved on to plan B. Itadori elbowed you as hard as he could trying to get you off him but your increased strength saw you remain clinging onto him. The bite in your arm stained his clothes. You raised your head above Yuji's shoulder, maw glistening in the sunlight.

"Okay, let's stop that here."

The white-haired man practically teleported between you, forcing you to let go of your opponent. You panted heavily, muscles already aching from the short but intense battle. The adrenaline peeled away from you, leaving you clutching your arm in pain, finally acknowledging the gaping wound. Itadori helped you from the ground, relatively unscathed.

"You held up against me really well, we should spar together sometime."

You clutched his hand with your uninjured arm, he hauled you up with little effort.

"Yeah, you're really good."

Just as you thought, nothing was more valuable than experience.

Behind Yuji's eyes, Ryomen Sukuna sat perched upon his lonely throne, shrouded in death and misery. A smirk coating his face, a small pit of hope, an emotion he'd not felt for a thousand years, planted itself in amongst the fury and apathy of his soulless void. 

[kissorkill16]

A Brass & Green Forgotten Memory: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: A memory about four kids, and a brass and emerald octagon.

Aaron and Nicky made their way out of school.

It was 3:59, and they recently got out of detention. They put a balloon in the school's turkey lunch, making it explode all over the place. While they laughed their asses off, other students found it disgusting.

They got detention and as well as their parents got a call home. But they didn't care, they knew they'd see each other again.

Like usual, Nicky's parents didn't seem to be home. Instead, he was greeted by the displeased face of his grandmother.

"Go to your room, young man. We'll talk more when your parents get home. I don't want to see you until they've pulled up in the driveway, and in the meantime, you're grounded.", she said flatly. Nicky didn't even spare her a second glance as he trodded upstairs to his room.

He walked in his room, flung his backpack to the corner of his room, and flopped down on his bed.

He thought about how during his friendship with Aaron, he stopped caring about what other people think. He stopped being such a basket case, and started going out more, he even started sneaking around whenever his parents weren't around, and started being more disobedient to his grandmother.

That last thought made him sad. He'd never found the courage to even get close to breaking Bubba's rules, and it made him feel a little guilty, because he'd been going against the woman who had taken care of him whenever his parents weren't around.

But then his mind went to all of the times where she left him alone in such dark and scary places. The grocery store, the woods, and traumatizing him as a small child. Why does he care so much about the person who's literally the reason why he was so standoffish in the first place?

A loud bang on his window startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked out the window to see who it was.

Aaron, Mya, and Lucy.

He was happy to see them.

Nicky opened the window, and waved down at his friends.

"Hi, Nicky!", said Lucy. "We were about to go to the woods to work on a new project. Do you want to come?"

Nicky looked down at his feet, trying to make this come out easy. "Sorry, guys. I can't. Bubba says I'm grounded and can't leave my room until my parents get home, which probably won't be until like 3:00 tomorrow."

"Damn, that sucks.", said Aaron. "But who cares? I peeked through the window, and that old hag is sleeping like a log. Old people tend to sleep for decades, so I'm sure you've got a couple hours."

Nicky thought about it for a minute, then without another thought, he climbed out his window, hopped onto the trellis, and landed on his feet.

"Let's go."

Just like every other time Nicky's been here, it was darker in the woods, despite it only being 4:15. Luckily, no crows were hanging around the trees, so he didn't have to worry about any beaks pecking at him or any annoying caws.

They found a tree, sat down under it, and started discussing their new project. Lucy said she wanted to build a fairy trap.

Despite people saying to her that fairies weren't real, Lucy wasn't the type of person to give up on anything. That's what Nicky liked most about her.

"We can fill it with juice boxes and graham crackers, I heard fairies love those things.", she said.

She was also so adorable, Nicky liked that about her too. She was so adorable and lively, it made her look even more like a 7 year old.

Just then, Nicky saw something behind Mya. It was a tall figure, cloaked and had a beak sticking out of the hood. "Ummm..., guys? Whenever you come into the woods, do you see anything unusual?", he asked.

"Sometimes. Why?", said Mya.

Nicky pointed behind her, and everyone turned their heads to see the figure.

At first, they were a little scared, but then they started to laugh. Well, everyone except Nicky.

Aaron managed to compose himself. "Nicky, don't worry. I have a way with people like this.", he whispered to his friend. Then he called out to the figure, "Hey you! Halloween was a year ago, weirdo!"

The figure didn't say anything, it was just standing still and quiet, like a statue.

"Excuse me, whoever you are. But are you lost?", asked Mya. The figure still didn't answer.

Lucy whispered to Nicky, "Do you think it's a ghost?", she asked. Nicky felt a chill run down his spine.

"N-No. I don't think so. I wouldn't know, I don't believe in ghosts."

But that was a total lie. Nicky did believe in ghosts, any supernatural stuff in fact. All of the things Bubba told him chilled him to his core, and it made him believe in whatever unnatural thing he heard about. Why do you think he was so eager to help Lucy with her fairy trap?

"Should we check to see what it is?", asked Mya.

"Normally, I'd say no since this is creepy as shit, but I'm scared to just let it stand there and watch us do things.", said Aaron.

The kids slowly tip toed towards the figure, afraid that if they made a wrong move, it'd run to them and do who knows what.

Once they got close enough, Nicky slowly reached his hand towards it. Bad idea.

The cloaked figure started running away, hitting Nicky in the face with the back of its cloak. He wiped away that tingly feeling of blanket, and saw his friends chasing after the thing.

He didn't know why he was following them, he didn't know why he didn't just run the other direction home. Maybe he was also curious about the man in the cloak, or maybe he was turning into a sheep, a follower who would do anything for his friends.

"Hey! Come back!", called Mya to the figure. But the thing just kept on running away from the children.

Before anyone saw it coming, a murder of crows started charging at the kids, making them crouch down to their knees and hiding their heads in their arms.

The murder started flying away, and when Nicky slowly raised his head up, the figure was gone.

"It's gone.", said Nicky. The rest of the kids got up, dusted themselves off and pulled feathers out of their hair.

"Is everyone okay?", asked Aaron. The girls nodded their heads, and Nicky gave a silent mhmm.

Suddenly, another strange thing came about from the woods. First, a rustle of bushes, then a grumble of annoyance.

Aaron followed the sound, and peeked from behind the bushes. Everyone else crouched down beside him, and they all saw what Aaron saw.

It was another cloaked figure with a beak sticking out of the hood. But this one's beak wasn't yellow, not like the one they saw before, but instead it was white.

"Guys! It's clear, we're safe out here! Now let's complete the ritual!", said the figure. And within minutes, a whole group of cloaked figures with white beaks came out from behind the trees.

"Ritual? Did he just say "ritual"? What the heck were these guys doing a ritual for?", thought Nicky.

The main figure, who Nicky assumed to be the leader, pulled out a brass octagon. He raised it to the sky, and suddenly, the thing started glowing green, and the sky started getting cloudy. Then it started raining, and Lucy couldn't help the little squeak that came out.

The cloaked figures turned their heads to where the kids were, and started running to them.

"Someone followed us here!"

"Who's there?!"

"Stupid kids! Get out of here! These woods are our territory!"

The kids quickly got up and ran away from the cloaked figures, trying as hard as they could to get away from them.

"Everyone stay close to me!", Aaron yelled to everyone.

He would've nearly tripped over the cliff that awaited him, if it weren't for Nicky. He quickly grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back up.

Everyone was too preoccupied with Aaron nearly falling, that they didn't hear the footsteps that came from behind them. They turned around to see the leader of the cloaked figures, and they stilled in fear.

"Why hello, little children. And just what are you doing out here all by yourselves? These woods are dangerous, you know. You don't know what things are roaming around here."

The leader started coming closer, and Nicky was standing so close to the edge of the cliff. He took a quick look at Aaron's fist, clutching his switch blade. And without warning, Aaron pushed the blade into the leader's side, making him scream.

Nicky was so taken aback, he ended up tripping over the edge, falling down the cliff and landing on his back.

"Nicky!", he heard Lucy call out to him.

The boy was so dizzy from the fall, he didn't even register the big painful hit on his back. He slowly got up, and what he saw made his eyes gape.

The same brass octagon that he saw the leader hold in his hand. He picked it up, eyeing the emerald middle that was in the center of the octagon. He didn't forget how this thing glowed in the leader's hand and made the sky rain.

Whatever this thing is capable of, he knew it was dangerous.

He heard the sound of feet sliding down the cliff, and he turned around to see his friends. Lucy quickly ran to him and gave him a big hug.

"Oh my gosh, Nicky. That was so close! Aaron stabbed that guy in the side and he screamed so hard, he didn't even hear or see us get away!", she said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I found something too.", Nicky said, but before he could show it to them, Aaron and Mya started running.

Mya called out behind Aaron, "We hear them coming! Run!"

"Wait, I -"

"Not now, come on!", yelled Aaron.

"But -"

"Nicky, come on! I don't want to die here!", Lucy said, grabbing onto Nicky's arm and pulling him to where Aaron and Mya were running.

The kids made their way out of the woods, passing by all the signs that said "Danger" and "Don't feed the animals". They ran back to Aaron's house, and slowly creeped around the back. Aaron led them down the trap door to the basement, and once they were all down, they shook themselves dry and flopped down to the floor.

"Okay, Nicky. Spill.", Aaron said.

"Huh?"

"You said you found something in the woods and you wanted to show us. What was it?", asked Mya.

Nicky pulled out the brass and emerald octagon. Aaron, Mya, and Lucy gathered around to look at it, and they were just as in awe as Nicky was.

"Oooh, shiny. ~", said Lucy.

"What is it?", asked Mya.

"I don't know, but the leader of those beak faced freaks used it to make it rain. This thing is dangerous, and God knows where it came from or why they even had it in the first place."

The kids sat in silence for a moment.

"Whatever it is, or whatever it's capable of besides just making it rain, I say we get rid of it. I'll just grab a hammer, break it, and set it on fire. Then we won't have to worry about anymore weird rituals or creepy birds making things happen with it."

The girls nodded, but Nicky just sat in silence.

"Nicky, what do you say?"

"...I want to study it for a while."

Before Aaron could protest, Nicky held his hand up. "Only for a while, then I'll get rid of it."

Aaron nodded, despite wanting to argue more.

Nicky said his final goodbyes to his friends and climbed back up and out of the trap door, and was shocked to see that the rain suddenly stopped.

He was suspicious, but he decided not to question it further. He walked across the street, climbed onto the trellis, and back into his room, trying not to slip.

Nicky then looked at the octagon in his hand, and he put it in his bedside drawer. Maybe tomorrow, when he wasn't so wet, he'd find something to do with it.

The next day, Nicky walked to school early before his parents could wake up. Just so he didn't have to hear a lecture about how much trouble he was in or what they were gonna do to punish him, he already got enough of that from his grandma.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped back in fright, but he let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Aaron, and behind him were Lucy and Mya.

"Hey guys.", he said. But before Aaron could say "Hi" back, he looked at Nicky dead in the eye. He pulled his best friend closer, and Nicky was mentally freaking out.

"Your eyes are different.", he said.

"Umm...thank you?", said Nicky, not really sure whether or not that was a compliment.

"Sorry, it's just that,...it's weird. Your eyes are usually just blue, but now they're like a light green.", he said.

Mya pulled Nicky close to her face and examined his eyes, "I think they're more blue green.", then Lucy pulled him close to her face.

"Teal, or maybe cyan. Cyan, final answer."

"Can you guys please stop messing with my face?", Nicky said, swatting Lucy's hands away.

Aaron sighed, "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. Let's just go to school.", he said, walking ahead of them.

The others followed along, and Nicky stopped for a moment to look in a puddle. Aaron was right, his eyes were lighter and greener than usual.

But how?

Nicky didn't mind, at least for now. Right now, he just wanted to get to school, and hope no one else noticed his different eye color.

[scotianostra]

9th December 1770 saw the birth of the poet and novelist James Hogg.

Hogg is primarily known today not only as the author of a series of pastoral poems, but also as the writer of the novel, Confessions of a Justified Sinner, widely regarded as the first piece of modern Scottish fiction.

A contrary figure in real life, Hogg almost bankrupted himself in attempts to be a successful shepherd - leading to his literary friends dubbing him "the Ettrick Shepherd".

There were two main strands to Hogg’s early cultural experience: folk traditions and religion. The family were church-goers and his father was an elder, while his mother was steeped in the oral tradition, relating to her children folk tales and songs of kings, knights and supernatural beings.

With no media ,as we know it back then Hogg would have listened reel off tales of Scottish history and legends as he was growing up. As a young man Hogg worked as a shepherd in Selkirkshire and Dumfriesshire, becoming interested in literature in his early twenties, when he attempted writing songs and poems, some of which were published in The Scots Magazine. He moved to Edinburgh in 1810 to pursue a career as a full-time man of letters, after having published poetry and non-fiction while maintaining his day-job as a shepherd. However, in 1813 he returned to Selkirkshire, where he lived and worked in the Duke of Buccleuch's Altrive Farm in Yarrow.

He continued to publish regularly while maintaining a contentious relationship with the Edinburgh literati, including his friend and some-time mentor, Walter Scott.

Many of Hogg's stories and poems appeared in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, or Maga as it was affectionately known.

Hogg continued to write, publish and farm until his death in 1835. He was buried in Ettrick Churchyard, appropriately next to his grandfather, Will o’ Phaup, who is reputed to have been the last man to converse with the fairies!

Among Hogg's most famous works was Jacobite Relics - originally commissioned by the Highland Society of London in 1817, it included Lament of Flora McDonald, sung here by Kenneth McKellar

Far over yon hills of the heather sae green An' doun by the corrie that sings to the sea, The bonnie young Flora sat sighin' her lane, The dew on her plaid an' the tear in her e'e. She look'd at a boat wi' the breezes that swung, Away on the wave like a bird on the main, An' aye as it lessen'd she sigh'd an' she sung, "Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again; Fareweel to my hero, the gallant and young, Fareweel to the lad I shall ne'er see again."

The moorcock that crows on the brows o' Ben Connal, He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame; The eagle that soars o'er the cliffs o' Clan Ranald, Unaw'd and unhunted his eyrie can claim; The solan can sleep on the shelves of the shore, The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea; But ah! there is one whose fate I deplore, Nor house, ha' nor hame in this country has he; The conflict is past, and our name is no more, There's nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me.

The target is torn from the arm of the just, The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave; The claymore forever in darkness must rust, But red is the sword of the stranger and slave; The hoof of the horse, and the foot of the proud, Have trod o'er the plumes on the bonnet of blue; Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud, When tyranny revell'd in blood of the true? Fareweel my young hero, the gallant and good, The crown of thy father's is torn from thy brow.

[takeariskao3]

Hi Hannah! I saw your ask about someone reading TPFY in spite of the dramione endgame and I want you to know that isn't how all of us feel! I am so excited for your sequels and I can't wait to read your take on dramione because I know you won't bash Ron.

Any chance you have a spoiler or snippet you can share with us while we wait? 👀👀👀

LOVE YOU 😘

gahhh!!! this is so !!!!!! thanks for wanting to follow along even after installment 1 is finished and posted. that has me so excited for the follow ups, you have no idea!

i do have a little spoiler to share from the eventual draco/hermione fic <333

The clifftop made for a picturesque party, Draco could at least give the newlyweds that. The indigo sky yawned above, stars twinkling as if they were in on the celebration, while a light sea breeze wafted across the grassy moorland and inebriated the reception just as much as the libations. 

Most of the people in attendance were old school chums of either the bride’s or the groom’s, which made for an eclectic, and borderline frightening, combination of people. Draco had made it his life’s mission to avoid socializing with anyone from his youth, and yet there he was, forced into the undertaking against all his better instincts. 

He decided right then and there that he would never forgive Theo for it.

Leaning against the temporary bartop, Draco sipped his G&T and vaguely wondered how much longer he would have to stay at this infernal wedding.

A cascade of ginger hair floated toward him in her cream and ivory bridesmaid gown, bringing his self imposed isolation and silent suffering to an effective end. 

“Weasel,” he greeted without bothering to glance her way. 

“Oh, darling,” she lamented with a sardonic smile. “I’m afraid I’ve been Potty for years.”

He knew that, of course. It had been hard not to, with how often their names were splashed across headlines, but it felt…telling, somehow, to let on that he’d kept up with the basic knowledge of their lives. So, instead, Draco pulled a grimace. “My sincerest apologies for the misfortune.”

His rudeness didn’t put her off in the slightest, in fact she propped an elbow against the bar and looked like she might stay a while. Finnegan brought her a flute of sparkling wine, along with a grin and some pointless small talk. Then they were alone again; left to view the gathering from the perimeter of the fairy lights. 

Most everyone had taken to the dancefloor, the string quartet leading couples in an unnecessarily upbeat waltz. Potter, the one not currently standing next to Draco, had Lovegood in his arms and was trodding on the bride’s foot nearly every other box step. It was honestly painful to watch. Full of mirth, he wondered if perhaps the woman next to him preferred Draco’s company over her husband’s for that specific reason.

Not three feet away from Potter and Lovegood, Pansy and Longbottom weren’t bothering with the melody at all. Instead, they clung to each other in an obscene embrace that made Draco feel like he was intruding on something indecent. 

Then his gaze snagged on Granger, laughing without restraint as Terry Boot led her in small circles. She looked positively carefree. Nothing of the tight expressions or stunted pleasantries he’d grown used to. 

A pang of something reverberated through his middle. He fundamentally refused to identify it. 

Next to him, Weasley—no, Potter—God, this was getting confusing—Ginny followed his line of sight and the corners of her mouth twitched into an insufferable smirk. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” she inserted after a few short moments.

Downing his ice diluted cocktail, Draco waved to Finnegan for another and didn’t bother with an answer. 

“Harry mentioned you were helping them,” she murmured for his ears only. 

He raised an eyebrow. The last thing he needed was a sodding Gryffindor, let alone a Weasley, to examine his aims and motivations. So, he peered out over the crowd, seemingly unconcerned, and promptly deflected, “What’s it like?”

She glanced up at him with a pinched brow and let the silence ask the question for her. 

He clarified in a nefarious whisper, “To have the savior of the wizarding world collared and leashed?” 

Ginny laughed, and judging by the sparkle in her eyes, it was genuine. 

“I imagine it’s quite heady,” he continued, chasing down the moment when she would inevitably retreat. “To control someone so…distinguished.”

She gave him no such satisfaction. Ginny Potter turned to face him, mirroring his relaxed position, and considering him with an open and curious expression. He almost respected her for it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. 

“How very stereotypical,” she chuckled, “to examine a relationship on the basis of power. Did the conclusion of mutual trust and support really not occur to you?”

Draco scoffed. “It may have, but it’s the second to least probable explanation.”

“And your least probable?”

“That he’s a good shag.”

Something flinty and wicked ignited in her countenance and she grinned at him. 

“No,” Draco heaved dramatically. “Don’t tell me. It will ruin my life.”

She shrugged, taking another sip of champagne. 

The song drifted to an end and the swaying bodies slowed to a stop. Most everyone clapped politely in the interlude, while several others swapped partners or vacated the dancefloor altogether. 

Granger extricated herself from Terry Boot, and was halfway free from the throng, when Lovegood caught her hands and pulled her back. The two girls giggled happily, and Granger allowed herself to be led through a series of steps and twirls. It looked positively laughable. However, Draco couldn’t find a single sneering thought in his own head. 

A slight cough to his left pulled his attention back to the present. 

Fuck’s sake, Ginny had caught him staring. Again. 

Thankfully, Finnegan chose that moment to deliver Draco’s drink and he could ignore her knowing look by relishing the burn of gin at the back of his throat. 

Raising his glass to her in a farce of a toast, he made to escape. “Enjoy your evening, Potty.”

He’d only begun to move away when her low voice followed after him. “Hermione can’t resist a project.”

Draco turned halfway, icy indignation seeping into his bloodstream. Before he could decide on a rather un-witty retort, though, Ginny took a step closer. 

Steely determination hardened her features. “Make sure you’re worthy of it.”

“Or what?” he hissed. The taunt formulated smoothly and without hesitation. “I’ll have to deal with you?”

“Hermione is quite capable of handling you herself,” Ginny tossed him a small, terrifying smile. “But if you betray her, or Harry, I’ll gladly hide the body.”

His nostrils flared at being so brazenly threatened, but he had no doubt of her resolve, or frankly, her abilities. 

Ginny’s expression once again smoothed into passive amusement, and she tapped her glass against his lightly. “Enjoy your evening, Malfoy.”

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 1: Beach Day

It’s the first real hot day of the year. Everybody in the band pack agrees to finish their chores without hassle and head down to the lake near the abbey. The sun blazes down from high in the sky, and the junebugs hum and whine. 

Rain is the first one to strip down to a pair of tiny, form-fitting shorts and take a running dive off of the end of the pier. The water, despite the hot sun, is still nearly icy. It doesn’t bother him at all. He’s in his element, he’s home. 

The ghoulettes throw a pile of towels down on the pebble beach and wade in, giggling as Swiss tosses an innertube onto the water and tries to follow, immediately hissing at the cold temperature. He gets over himself and splashes in after them. 

Aether settles down on the beach, book under one arm, another pile of towels under the other. He’s content to dip his toes in as Mountain sits down next to him, laying back onto the grass. 

Dew is the last of them out. He trods out to the end of the pier and sits cross-legged, watching longingly out as the girls laugh and try to tip Swiss out of his tube out in the middle of the lake. He tries to hang on and shrieks as he fails, landing with a splash between Cirrus and Sunny. Cumulus laughs, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes.

Rain spends a good ten minutes just sitting at the bottom of the lake, his hair and the reeds around him swaying gently. He doesn’t need to worry about being able to breathe, his gills flaring to life the moment he submerged. But he comes to the surface anyway, ready to join his pack and play. 

But when he surfaces, gasping in a breath he doesn’t really need, he sees Dew. Everyone else has grouped off. But his Dewey’s all on his own. He doesn’t even look up when Rain chirps in his direction. He cocks his head, diving back underwater and swimming back to shore. 

He pops up in front of Dew, who startles hard. “The water’s really nice, Dew.”

From the shore, Aether shakes his head, and Rain hears his voice filter into his mind. He hasn’t been in the water in years, Rainy. Not since before you were summoned. 

He waves a hand through the water in front of him, back and forth. “You don’t have to come in, but it’s nice.”

Dew reaches down to brush a strand of wet hair out of Rain’s face. His hand is sunbaked and warm against Rain’s clammy skin. “Maybe, it’s been a while. Can’t breathe underwater like I used to.”

“It’s alright,” Rain says, reaching up to take Dew’s hand, ignoring the scars where his gills used to be. “I won’t let anything happen. Just want to swim with you. I’ll take your kitchen duty for a week if you do.”

Dew, to give credit where credit is due, pretends to think about it. Rain knows how much he hates doing dishes. “Two weeks of kitchen duty.”

“Deal.” 

Dew pulls off the oversized tank top he stole from Swiss, revealing milky pale skin and pink scars underneath his pecs. He takes a deep breath and unfolds his legs, letting them dangle over the end of the pier. He winces as his toes touch the cold water. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen?”

Rain nods, reaching out and extending his pinky finger. “I promise, Dewey.”

Dew takes a deep breath and locks his own pinky with Rain’s. He shuts his eyes and shoves himself off of the end of the pier with a splash. 

Rain darts forward to hold him up, keeping his head above water. Dew slings an arm over Rain’s shoulders, even as he’s hissing like an angry cat at how cold the water feels, and they move away from the pier, into the lake proper. 

On the shore, Mountain and Aether scramble to their feet. “Rain!” Aether yells, even from a distance looking panicked. “What did you do?”

“Dew, are you okay?” Mountain calls out, less panicked than Aether but still tense. 

“I’m good, Mount!” Dew yells back as he turns to face them. “And Aeth, I went in on my own free will, asshole!” 

Aether and Mountain’s postures relax, though neither of them return to their seats quite yet. Aether cracks a smile. “Love you too, Dew!” 

Rain continues to take them out further into the lake, shifting so that he’s laying on his back. Dew still clings to Rain’s chest, resting his head right over his heart. Rain reaches one hand out and smooths it over Dew’s hair as they float. He’s honored that Dew trusts him with something as big as this, and his heart swells with the thought. They’ll head back to shore the moment Dew asks, but for now, they’re both content to float under the summer sun. 

[lyn-js]

One Step at a Time | Prologue

Calvin Evans x OC Reader

Summary: Everything in Ava Mason's life was what you call normal. She has a steady job as a lab tech at Hastings, has a beautiful bungalow in Sugar Hill, and sometimes babysits her friend Harriet's kids. But that all changes when social services show up at her doorstep with, her 2-year-old niece Delilah. Ever since then, it has been keeping you from your job, going to work late, and leaving when everyone else has gone home. But a certain chemist wants to know why a lab tech is staying late.

Warning: Angst, swearing, mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family, mentions of adoptions & being put into foster care, and a whole lotta fluff.

(This story is kind of based on what actually happened in Lessons in Chemistry. But no dying. We need to keep one of Lewis's characters alive.)

I also do not own any characters in Lessons in Chemistry except for my character Ava Mason.

Walking up to the sounds of little feet padding into your room, you couldn’t ever want to trade that sound in for the world. Fluttering your eyes open, you can see the little girl waddling her way to your bead, for how far her feet can take her. You can also see her hair sprawled out in different directions, and a dopy smile on her face, happy to see you. You focus your attention on your niece your big golden doodle Poppy to come to trodding next to Delilah to help her stand. 

“Mornin’ Aunty Ava,” she says with a cheeky grin on her face, while also trying to hide it from you. “Good morning Bunny,” you say to her. Then, the next second you lift her onto the bed, smothering her face in little kisses while she erupts into a fit of giggle. You had to stop your kisses when Poppy jumped onto the bed and sandwiches between you and Delilah. “Poppy missin’ the kisses too Aunty,” she says while still giggling. After the laughter died down, you over at the clock that was on your nightstand. Having to move some homemade drawings that Delilah made you the other day. You read that it’s 9:30. You’re Late.

Oh Shit.

You pick up Delilah and rush out of the bed, try and get her and yourself dressed, teeth brushed, and out the door. You are getting her buckled in the car and on your way to Harriet's house. When you both arrive, you see a man across the street stretching, maybe he was getting ready for a run. But after he’s done stretching you both stare at one another. It felt like you both were stuck in time like the whole world stopped spinning, and the attention was just on you and him. “Hey Ava!” you snap out of your daze and hear Harriet walking down her porch to greet you and Delilah. You wanted to see if the mysterious tall man was still there, but when you turned back around. He was gone. “Hey… Har’. I was wondering if it’s no trouble if you can watch Del again tonight. The amino’s lab is busting my butt. I need to get some more work finished-” “Hey, It’s okay. I’m happy to watch the little bun again. Plus, we're gonna have so much fun, whaddya think Del?” Hariient asks. Delilah just jumps up and down, “YAY! Hab so much fun Aunty!” you both laugh at her squealing excitement. You kneel down to Delilah’s height and kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you later Bunny. Be good for Harriet okay?” “Otay, Bye, Bye Aunty Ava!” She says waving while being carried up the porch. You give her one more wave until she and Harriet disappear into the house. You let out an exhale, start up your car again, and put it in drive.

Off to Hastings, it is.

Most of your day was spent in the lab cleaning up beakers that were once of a failed experiment, secretly correcting the mistakes some newbies made while writing their problems, and making them coffee. They can go down to the cafeteria and grab a cup, but all of the chemists butter you up with compliments “They don’t make it as you do,” or “At least you know how to make a good cup of joe than the other ladies on the staff.” You wanted to feel insulted, you wanted to speak up and say something. But you knew they would run off to Donatti and there was a high chance, you could get fired. So just keep your head down, mouth shut and be the disty lab tech. Who apparently makes good coffee?

When walking back from lunch you were walking past the secretaries room. Suddenly you hear your name being called. “Miss. Mason…Ava?” you turn around and see the head of the secretaries department, Fran Frask. “Good morning Miss. Frask,” you say to her with a tight-lipped smile and continue walking down to the lab. You knew she was going to bug you again about the pageant. But time and time again you tell her you can’t participate because you have plans that night, meaning you are having a movie night with your niece. That was the only night you could get off on time, and have some time with Deliaha. 

“I hope you can still sign up for the Little Miss Hastings pageant, you know your lab is in between secretaries and you fella could use a boost for the event.” She asks “I’m sorry, but I'm not a secretary,” I say to her being a little offended because she knew for a fact that I was a lab tech. A very good one to be at that. “Well… Ya know lab techs can participate too, it’s any female support staff.” “Thank you, Fran but pageants aren’t my idea of fun,” I say to her while grabbing lab coats and passing them out on each table. “Well, what do you consider fun Ava?” she says with a little enthusiasm in her voice. “I-I like to cook and bake.” “Well ya know, let me know if you change your mind.” “I won't but thank you. Now if you don’t mind I have a lot to clean up before the chemists arrive.” You give her a small wave and a smile so she can hopefully get the hint to leave.

She gives me another little cheeky grin and points her red-colored nails at me. “I’ll put you down as a maybe.” then walking away. Why can’t your life get any easier?

Walking around the lab once again you hear men wanting more coffee, and helping out some others who need help with their equations for the expedients. When coming around to the station where you set up your coffee, you see someone who was a part of the lab walk in with a magazine, and on the front was a man holding up test tubes and seeing what was inside. He looks so familiar, but I don’t know where I have seen him before. You think to yourself, but you snap out of your thoughts and finish making the coffee. But you keep getting distracted when all of the men keep talking about the infamous Calvin Evans. “What does he have that we don’t,” one of them said out loud. Also saying he was up for a Nobel prize, “Doesn’t give him the right to take all of our supplies. I mean how much ribose does one guy need?” 

Maybe this could work, maybe if you can get back some of that ribose you can finally be seen by the lab. Not seen as some female ditsy lab tech. You can finally matter in the world.

It was now after hours and you were over at the sink cleaning up some test tubes and beakers when you heard your name being called out. It was the head of the Aminos lab, Dr. Price. Just telling me to not stay later because he would get in trouble with Donatti. You just nod your head and oblige to his rules, but not listening. After everyone leaves you sneak your way out of the lab to avoid being seen by the janitorial staff and make your way over to Mr. Evans's lab.

When you reach his lab you see on his door there are cardboard signs saying “Keep out” and “Do Not Linger” but I know for a fact that I’m not keeping out, and I’m lingering. So screw your signs. You go back to sneaking in, so you take one of your bobby pins from your hair and unlock the door. Once open you can get a full view of what the infamous chemist does in here. You see records scattered all over the tables, so many loose-leaf pieces of paper with different equations and answers on them. And his lab coat hanging over a lounge chair in the corner. But you start to look around for the back room so you can find what you're looking for.

You pick another lock to the other door, you scan the shelves to find the little tiny bottles. When you finally come across the ribose, the shelves were covered from front to back with so many bottles. How many bottles does this guy need? You think to yourself. You grab a couple of bottles, lock up the doors, and seak your way back over to your lab, finish up your work, and finally head home to see your baby bunny and finally get some sleep. But what you didn’t know was when you were “sneaking” back to the lab, the best of the best secretaries Fran Frask watched you go back into the lab while she was locking up her room for the night.

Once again you wake up late, and trying fast as possible to get ready. You arrived super late around 9:00 but of course, there was traffic, and show up at almost 11. You rush up to the lab so you can get started on handing out the rest of the equipment. But you were stopped by Fran again to tell you Donatti needed you in his office. He sums up the meeting by saying that you weren’t supposed to be staying late, and if it happened again you would be let go from Amino’s lab and Hasingscompletely. Not only that but he was forcing you to compete in the pageant. You try your best to argue why you can’t participate, but of course, he threatens to fire you.  That sets you back a little bit more when Fran confers you to take a picture and be put it on the bulletin board for the pageant. Can this day get any worse than it already is?

You finally make it up to the lab. But, you stop suddenly when you see a man sitting on the table holding a miniature bottle of what you assumed was ribose.

 Oh No.

“Ah, there she is. The thief,” the man says in a mocking tone. I just looked at him like I didn’t know anything. “I beg your pardon?” you ask back. He hops down from the table and starts pacing back and forth. It looked like his head was about to explode. “I have been through every department, and interrogated multiple chemists. Including ones from this very lab,” he twirls his pointer finger around and then points to me. “Who say that you,  Miss. Mason have a history of ruffling feathers. And also have an arrogant attitude of self-importance.” “Have you heard yourself speak Mr. Evans?” I say with raised eyebrows. “Oh, s-so you don’t deny it? I-I mean what would a secretary have anything to do with ribose, aside from selling it on the black market.” 

I just look at him dumbfounded, almost looking like this crazy man has 3 heads. “I am a chemist Mr. Evans, not a secretary!” I said back to him but he was almost out the front door. “Oh, and a fibber, now aren’t we?” I drop my jaw when he walks out the door. “Oh, yes. Because there is such a high demand on the black market for monosaccharide!” “This is very disappointing! Very–- I’m disappointed Miss. Mason.” he turned the corner, and then he disappeared.

(Calvins’s POV)

You were pacing back and forth in front of Fran Frask’s desk, deciding what I should do about this unbelievable situation. 

“One: My lab was unlocked last night, so I want someone to speak to janitorial and have new locks placed on the door.” I see Fran write down on her paper and nodding her head. “Two: I have calculated the cost of the missing ribose, and I want to make it clear, that will not be coming out of my budget. Three: I want the floors sterilized. At least one person entered without my authorization. And with my allergies, I cannot risk any contaminants. You understand?” You look back at her to make sure she has every little detail down to a tea. She just nods “ Yes. I’ll take care of it, Dr. Evans.” Writing the rest down.

“And lastly, I would like the secretary held accountable.” You look up to see Fran have a little smile on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll have her fired.”

I furrow my eyebrows a little bit, “Well… just a formal reprimand will suffice.” I see her giving the same look back at me. “I’m shocked that it was on my face. “Dr. Evans I’m shocked that it was one of my secretaries, honestly. Um, you said it was in the Aminos lab? Because that’s Mary Ann Rogers.” She tells me the woman’s name. It’s not her. “No, no, no. Her name is Ava Mason.” She looks back up at me. “Oh, she not a secretary. She’s a lab tech. Puls she should know better, she has her masters.” she looks back down scrambling around, looking for some important papers. “Her masters? In what?” “Chemistry.” Now I look a little dumbfounded at what Fran just told me. Then she asks about the “Little Miss Hastings” pageant, asking if I will be attending. I just simply ignored her and just walk out the door back up to my lab. But, I stop in my tracks to look at the bulletin board to see the contestant for the pageant. As I look in the lower corner I see the picture of the one and only Ava Mason. For some reason, she looks so frightened. Not wanting her picture to be taken, but giving a half-smile just trying to look nice.

You just simply walk away from the board and continue your journey back to your lab. Why would she want to steal some stupid ribose, and why would she be staying late? You need to get to the bottom of this, and fast.

To all of you reading this, I hope you enjoy this story. I've said this many times with other stories, but I do have big plans for these 2 characters. So, stay tuned for what's about to happen.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you want to be added to the taglist. If I forgot anybody message me and let me know. You will be added.

Also, If I forgot anyone on the taglist message me. I will add you.

Taglist: @petersunderoos96 @mrspedropascal5683 @callsign-magnolia

dividers are by @saradika

[newtonsheffield]

Molly,

Be honest, Detective AU… much Holmes and Watson vibes but love story. Watson is in love with Holmes cause she’s amazingly smart…

I know it’s a long shot.

K k k k k

They still live in the same building as the Sharma’s lodger, and it’s the 1880s so everyone thinks that Anthony is the incredible detective and Kate his assistant (you know because of sexism) but the oddest thing keeps happening. Bridgerton keeps standing aside and letting Sharma look over the entire scene smiling at her while she observes things and then she waves her hand and he follows her out. It’s bizarre.

And Kate can pick up on absolutely everything, according to Anthony, except the fact that he keeps trying to propose marriage. And of course it all explodes.

“I’ve been trying to ask you to be my wife for months now! Months!” Anthony huffed as Kate blinked up at him in surprise. “You noticed that a horse had trod in something that could only be from Bloomsbury and yet you fail to acknowledge that I have been handing my very heart to you every day!”

Kate blinked up at him, her lips parting before she looked away. “I must confess I suspected that you were trying to… that you wished our arrangement to change.”

Anthony stared back at her in disbelief “And this is all the answer I’m to expect is it?”

Kate let out a frustrated noise, dropping the book she’d been holding loudly on the floor. “How can you not see that I’m not suited to being a doctor’s wife?! To give up what I’ve worked for to marry you would be a betrayal of everything I’ve worked for with regards to the rights of women! No matter how I might feel on the subject!”

And Anthony’s entire world stopped.

[invisibleraven]

Person A, the smaller of the two, picks out an enormous pumpkin at the pumpkin patch and insists to Person B that they’re fine carrying it back on their own, even though they’re clearly not. . .sounds like something Carlos would pull

"C'mon Reggie!"

"Hold up little dude, I'm coming!" Reggie called back, chasing after his Little Brother Carlos. He had signed up for the program for extra credit his sophomore year, but he had come to love it, really bonding with Carlos.

Carlos who had been sullen and rude at their first meeting, doing poorly in school and having just lost his mom. Reggie tried to be there for them, letting him brood and sulk for a bit before taking them places, slowly opening up to Carlos so the boy would do the same.

Now Carlos talked his ear off every time they saw each other, his grades were up, he was on his school's baseball team, and he had his own YouTube channel about ghost hunting.

Thus them ending up at a pumpkin patch because Carlos wanted a prop for his Great Pumpkin episode. A compromise after Carlos' dad had nixxed the boy's plan to stay at the patch all night. He had slipped Reggie a twenty to help pay for gas, and wished him luck.

Now Reggie realized the wishes had not been in jest. Carlos had run all over the patch trying to find the 'most sincere' pumpkin, which apparently none of the gourds they had come across fit said moniker.

"We gotta go soon, it'll be dark soon," Reggie cautioned as they trod through another lane full of orange vegetation. "I promised your dad I'd have you home for supper."

"Bleh, we're having pot roast again and papi always overcooks it," Carlos said. "But at least Julie will make the sides and she's aces at that."

"Hey my supper tonight is probably a pack of instant ramen so don't knock a homemade meal," Reggie jibbed.

"You wanna come for dinner? You know papi won't mind, he keeps inviting you," Carlos said. "Plus you can finally meet Julie."

Over the past few years Reggie had yet to meet Carlos' sister, as he only came over to pick Carlos up, and Julie apparently had an active social life, in a duo with her best friend Flynn and part of the school orchestra as a pianist.

"Maybe I will," Reggie said. "If you pick out a gosh darn pumpkin already!"

Carlos rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fiiiiine." He looked over the field in front of him and then dashed off, with Reggie hot on his heels. Stopping at a pumpkin that looked like it was a size or two short of being a coach for Cinderella.

"It's enormous!" Reggie exclaimed.

"It's perfect!" Carlos echoed. "I want it!"

Reggie sighed, but he didn't try to talk him out of it, simply waved an employee over to cut the gourd off the vine and pay. "You think we can borrow a wheelbarrow?"

"Nah, it's fine, I got it," Carlos said, hefting it up into his arms, disappearing behind the pumpkin.

"You need help little man?" Reggie asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"No," Carlos said, but Reggie could hear him straining. He took a few steps, then paused. Started again and repeated it a few times, only getting a foot away from where Reggie was standing. "Maybe a little?"

Reggie chuckled and took a good chunk of the heft, the two of them waddling towards his truck, Reggie wincing at the thought of what this would do to his suspension. They dusted themselves off, and once they were strapped in, took off back to the Molina house.

Ray looked at the pumpkin as they laid it in the mudroom. "Whelp, you two are helping me carve this. But tia will have enough for pie for a dog's age."

"Can Reggie stay for supper?" Carlos asked.

"Of course he can mijo," Ray said, then turned to Reggie. "You're always welcome Reggie, no need to ask."

Reggie beamed and whispered his thanks, then went to go wash up while Carlos set the table and Ray called Julie.

Reggie was exciting the bathroom when he collided with a body, catching them around the waist and stopping. Oh wow. This must be Julie and she was so so pretty. "Hi there."

She blushed a little and beamed up at him. "Hi. You must be Reggie."

"That's me," he replied. "I'm Carlos' Big Brother. But not yours."

Julie giggled, "Well that's good. You staying for supper?"

"That I am."

"Well that's good, I made apple crisp," Julie said. "You don't wanna miss that."

"I don't think I wanna miss much," Reggie said, running his fingers through his hair and sending her a grin.

Carlos stood off to the side and grinned, high fiving his dad before they snuck off, not even caring that it took ten minutes for the other two to come to the table, looking pink and a little flustered. But Carlos didn't mind, and wondered how long it would be until Reggie became his big brother for real.

[keyboardwhisperer]

WIP chapter 2: “Save yourself.”

It’s been a while since I posted chapter 1, but I finally finished chapter 2!

Anyways, I think this chapter came out really really good.

In chapter 1, I introduced the characters and the main premise of the story. Devlin, a small town sheriff was blackmailed into marriage by his parents, but is unwilling to. So he finds himself a mail-order bride as a quick fix to his desperate situation. This chapter however, is not a direct continuation, but introduces Irene, who decides to marry herself off to Devlin. This chapter focuses on the events leading to her drastic decision.

St. Louis, Missouri, 1870

Internal monologue:

“All these years alone, I was always waiting for someone, waiting for something. Anyone, or anything at all to save me. To take me away anywhere, anywhere at all. Just, not here. I just want to be far away from here.”

“Every day of every week, I was nothing to everyone and something to no one. I’ve only wanted to be something. I’ve only wanted to be someone. I’ve tried so desperately hard to step out of the shadow, running even, but the spotlight would never stop moving away. Everyone would always have nice words for my sisters. But who would ever have any for me? Between Ingrid’s accomplishments and Iris’s upcoming wedding, I stood in the middle, where I had nothing but attempts at becoming something.”

“It’s in poor taste, I know that. But if no one is ever coming to take me elsewhere, then I’ll just have to give myself away. Maybe it’s insane, maybe I’m insane. But I'll be damned if I have to sit through my sister’s wedding knowing that I could’ve been anywhere else.”

Retaliation, it’s something as old as time can tell. For Irene Wintermeyer, it was something very new. Yet she had in mind one so drastic, it would shatter the picture perfect image of everyone around her. But could she have known that they would be letting her down, even in retaliation?

The city was a big place, but for Irene, it was as small as a townhouse. Because her life in st. Louis doesn’t exist outside her front door. She has had glimpses of the busy everyday life through her window. From the windowsill, the crowds walk up and down the little streets like a line of ants, while horses pacingly trod through the main roads. Irene would look on the streets below, and discover a group of people who lived life in a straight line. She would often try to see how many strangers would stop amidst the moving crowds to wave to another, or if horses could go any faster than trodding pacingly.

Irene doesn’t stop at the fridge six times a day to see if anything new appeared. Instead, she frequents the linen closet. She spends more time looking for stains than actually scrubbing, and spends more time waiting to wax the floor again than actually waxing. Feeling squeaky clean was one of the only ways she kept herself from scratching at the walls.

That was until this afternoon, when Irene didn’t even bat an eye at the linen closet. Because it wasn’t something that needed polish, it was her.

She was sliding her dress hangers on the wardrobe rail from one side to another. Sifting through the many dresses. Linen, silk, cotton and satin. With each hanger that passed through her hands, came a sigh. She walked to and from, between the mahogany closet and the standing mirror, eyeing harshly on each dress she draped over her body.

After going through half her wardrobe, she couldn’t help but breath out in frustration. Even the one dress she could always use as a last resort had failed to stay draped on her for long before being tossed onto the bed like all the other dresses.

It wasn’t something about the dresses that looked wrong in her eyes. But it was something about her sister in a white dress she just couldn’t let go.

Irene was full of grunts as she shoved the many dresses back into her closet and slammed it shut. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, counting to five. The same thing she always did to regain her frozen smile. Every visit to the powder room, every time she needed to freshen up, she would do it all again and come right out with the same smile she had five seconds ago. She would find herself counting very often, because she was too afraid of what would come out instead of the smile.

This time tomorrow, she will have to see her younger sister get married. She lifted open her windowsill, leering at the city streets lining in straight lines beneath the tall buildings. Her eyes half closed with a slight tension between her eyebrows. Her lips opened ajar, slightly quivering alongside heavy sighing. She couldn’t wait for it to be over, but she couldn’t want more for today to last forever. As long as she can still count to five, she can still keep her smile during the ceremony tomorrow. Or so she thought.

Irene was on her knees scrubbing at the hardwood floor back and forth. Next to her was a bucket of soapy water and a bottle of white vinegar. The sandy rasp of scrubbing was her calm, the white noise that drowned out all other thoughts. Which is helpful for Irene, whose thoughts are almost always heavy with something.

Her only moment of quiet peace was cut short when the front door banged open.

“Irene!” It was her mother, whose jovial voice rang throughout the house. “When was the last time I came home with you anywhere else but the floor next to a bucket.” She kidded.

“It needs more soap.” Irene murmured, not looking up from the floor.

“Well,” her mother chuckled, “It’s not like the floor needs it once every day. I think we spend more on soap and vinegar than we did when we hired help.” She joked.

“Why should we hire help?” Irene continued to scrub. “We both know I would just come down to do it, correctly, after the help leaves.” She said with a low grunt in her voice. Her eyes glued to the floor beneath her, grinding the floor brush against the hardwood surface in silence. Her mother leaned over to peek at her face.

“Something bothering you?” She responded to Irene’s silence.

“Perhaps.” Irene sat up and turned to her mother, “I just couldn’t wait for tomorrow to be over.”

“Oh,” Her mother smiled wryly, “I’m nervous too, Irene. Watching your sister grow up has made me dread tomorrow more than I thought I would. Oh, if only you knew how your father feels about giving away his little girl. It’s like a very big piece of our heart is going away.” She sighed from her smile.

“Is that so?” She put away her brush. “I can only imagine what that must be like.” She pushed herself up, taking the bucket with her elsewhere.

Her mother was still oblivious to what Irene really meant, most people are. It’s not the way she says it, it’s the way she doesn’t. Because no matter how deeply upset she was, even if she could snap like a twig, the words out of her mouth were still pleasant. And that vague and distant smile, never clued anyone in.

Before today, Irene thought she heard it all. That was up until evening came. It started with a big family dinner, bright with the light of who knows how many lamps and chandeliers. She went in already expecting the worst, but she would be surprised instead.

It all unfolded when Irene welcomed her relatives, before she could finish her greeting, everyone pushed through her and the door looking for Iris—while her uncle Horace mistook her for the door girl. It was then made clear to her that perhaps the living room is not where she should be.

“Aren’t you excited?” Her cousin Grace slipped into the kitchen. “Everyone is in the other room with a drink in their hands. It’s like you want to miss out!”

“I’m quite busy.” Irene carefully nudged small pieces of food around a silver tray. “Are you here to help, or are you here just to check up on me?” She gave a passing glance.

“Someone should.” Grace approached with a mellow voice. “Because you’re here cutting up finger sandwiches when everyone else has a drink in their hands.”

“I’m perfectly alright.” Irene buttered the slices of bread, eyes glued to the cutting board.

“Come on, please. Just speak to me.” Grace leaned towards Irene from the other side of the kitchen island. “You don’t seem perfectly alright. Not to me. I’ve seen you smile enough times to know what it really means.”

Irene put down the knife in her hand and took out a small dish of something green, her smile still bright.

“This sandwich calls for some fresh parsley.” Irene sprinkled some into the mayonnaise. “But sometimes, I don't think I should even go through the trouble of chopping them up. The sandwich does just fine without the parsley. No one notices the parsley. People only care for the eggs, the ham, or the tomatoes. It's a party all on its own *without* the parsley. It wouldn’t make any difference if I sprinkled some, or none at all. Perhaps you could tell when it's not there, but as long as all the other stuff is, no one's going to ask where it went.” She picked the knife back up and placed a tomato on the cutting board, slicing it julienne.

“For what it’s worth,” Grace fiddled her hands, “I think the parsley should be there anyways. I think the parsley shouldn’t just *not* be in there with everything else because it’s not the ham, or the eggs. If you don’t feel happy putting parsley in the sandwich, that’s alright. But something’s going to be missing, and you’ll know that something **is missing. Well I don’t know about you, but I know I will.”

The knife in Irene’s hand froze half way into a tomato. For a moment, Irene paused. Her ‘smile’ faded. It did occur to her that she could just stay in the kitchen like this every time she had company, and no one would ask for her. But she will always be aware that she’s alone, knowing she could have walked through the door and chose not to be. It had just occurred to her that she could be next to nothing and be in the picture, or next to nothing and all alone.

It was a short moment when Irene froze. Bringing herself out of her own head, she dug the knife through the rest of her half sliced tomato. Grace made her way around the kitchen island.

“I know it’s hard on you.” Grace held Irene’s shoulders. “But if you decide to watch Iris get married, then I’ll sit right next to you. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

Irene knew Grace was right. When your family is getting married, you owe it to them to attend their wedding. She didn’t owe anything to Iris, but she would look like the worst hypocrite to not attend when her whole family endorses family values. So perhaps she ought to be in the picture starting this evening.

With two trays of finger sandwiches perfectly lined, Grace strode out head first to lead Irene, who cautiously swept her glance through the many faces.

Irene wouldn’t know what to do without her cousin Grace. She was the only person who could see Irene as a whole person, and not a disembodied smile with no past, no future. No matter what bothered her, Grace never fell apart. She’s strong. She’s not resilient, no. As a matter of fact, Irene has seen her temper many times. But Grace always has a way of bouncing back up. It’s easy to see that she’s often caught being too into the moment, but it’s even easier to see how she never lets her day get ruined.

She was many things to Irene. Someone to depend on would be the simplest way to describe it. And she would continue to be just that for this evening, until its bitter end.

Irene came into the living room walking half a step at a time. Looking left and right, unsure of her place in this picture. With only Grace to drag her across the room by the arm and pull her into new conversations, Irene thought for sure she would stumble and fall either in conversation, or on the floor.

In the span of evening until later that same evening, Irene would have spoken with her relatives more times than she had ever spoken to them in the last couple of years. For a moment, it was novel to hear the sentence, “How are things with you?” It wasn’t like she had never heard these words, only that they seem slightly out of place.

By the time the clock hands pointed nine, the thought of being forgotten had ironically been forgotten. For the first time in forever, Irene had an expression of joy. Not frozen, nor carefully crafted. It was the kind of smile that showed through her eyes, not just the corners of her mouth.

Then, a clinking of glass and silverware caught the attention of everyone. It was Thomas Wintermeyer who was prepping everyone for his toast. Irene didn’t pay much mind to her father’s speech at first. In fact, she had let go of her disdain in the spirit of celebration.

“We are all gathered here tonight,” his voice boomed out loud and clear, “to share a splendid evening with Iris for the last time as a single woman. Because tomorrow onwards, we will be having splendid evenings with her, as a married woman. I cannot begin to express my pride in her, as well as heartache to see her leave home.

He continued to give his speech. Family members held their drinks, waiting to raise their glasses. Looking around the room, some clutched their hands over their hearts. Some had bittersweet expressions of joy, while some smiled through small tears. And there was Irene, who found herself doing the same. Holding Grace’s hand to her chest. For once, she could smile with the rest of her family. Not that she found a reason to do so, but because she couldn’t find a reason not to. But a reason would come flying at her soon enough.

“I am proud to call these three as my daughters.” Thomas looked over at each of his daughters. “Ingrid, I cannot believe how far she has come. For those who have read last week’s paper, she was praised for her humanitarian efforts. I am proud to have raised her so well. Iris, who had come to celebrate the arrival of her wedding with us. If Honor and I knew that it would be like giving away a piece of our heart, we wouldn’t agree to give her away to the Wickhams in the first place.” He chuckled wryly. “And of course, we must not forget Irene. Cheers.”

Thomas raised his glass, followed by everyone else doing the same. Cheers and congratulations filled the room completely. And that was it. The end of Thomas’s speech.

There it was, the reason not to smile she thought would never come. Her name was the only thing her father mentioned in his speech about her. She was always aware that she didn’t stand out much from the crowd. But just now, it felt like she wasn’t even in the crowd itself. In that moment, she felt even less than next to nothing. Because that’s what his speech told her, that she really was nothing.

Caught off guard, even when she knew she shouldn’t have expected anything. But she let herself do it anyway. That’s when she looked around the room and realized something.

As long as she is still here, and as long as she is still Irene Wintermeyer, she couldn’t find a place for herself. Not even in her father’s speech. Maybe there’s no place for parsley in this sandwich. There never has been.

“Everything alright?” Grace pulled Irene by the wrist. “You’re clenching my hands awfully tight.”

Irene was looking down at her feet. She turned her gaze up. Her eyes darted around the room. Looking for something she couldn’t find, all over again.

“I can’t stay here.” Irene shook her head. “I’ve tried, I really have. But I can’t rebuild myself back up just for it to be like this all over again. I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t. I can’t find myself here, Grace. I’ll never stop demanding more of myself, trying to be demanded of something by someone. And I’m tired of asking myself for things I can’t find here, things I can’t find in st. Louis.” She looked up at Grace, her eyes almost glittering with tears.

“Irene…” Grace held up her other hand to hold Irene’s clenched fist. “What are you saying?”

When Irene told her cousin what it was that she planned to do on a moment’s whim, Grace couldn’t oppose the idea. Because even though it was ugly, even though it was something so out of line that she wouldn’t even agree to, Grace knew deep down that Irene deserved most to live on her own terms.

That night, Irene went to bed, but she couldn’t go any further than just lying in it. Because even if it was some sick joke that entered her mind for just a minute, it didn’t leave her head since then. It stayed there with her, asking her if she thought about it, then could she want it? Before she knew it, and before any time at all, it made a home in her head.

Irene Wintermeyer had no one to save her. She was constantly alone even when surrounded by people. And for the longest time she asked, *why can’t I save me?*

It won’t be until three weeks after Iris’s wedding that something eventful happened. A ray of sunlight beamed down on the kitchen island’s granite surface. The smell of fragrant tea wafted in the air. Floral, fruity, and citrusy scents filled the room warmly. Yet the air is thick with tension.

“I can’t believe it.” Grace stared at the reflection in her cup. “So you’re really seeing this to the end?”

“Yes, and so are you.” Irene took a sip. “You were there when I put up my ad in the papers.”

“I just hope you find whatever it is you look for.” Grace reached for Irene's hands. “So what is it, really?”

“Someone.” Irene gazed at the window, but she stared a thousand yards away. “Someone who wants me around. Someone who sees me. Someone who could see the difference it makes when I’m not there. All my life, no one could be this for me but you. But it’s too hard to be here, surrounded by a whole crowd of people who aren’t. And it doesn’t make it better that these people are my family.”

“But you don’t have to do this.” Grace cried out. “I didn’t stop you that night because I thought you'd be happier somewhere else, but it’s getting too real. Since you put up the ad, I have to stop here everyday to see if it’ll be the last time we share this kitchen together. Because I didn’t stop you then when I could have, and now you’re one phone call away from moving out.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that any moment, any day now, you could pick up the phone and there wouldn’t be tomorrow for us anymore.” Grace's eyes watered, her voice croaked in efforts to hold her griefs inside. “You’d be marrying some man—who you don’t even know—who I don’t even know! I won’t know if you’d be safe. I won’t know if you’d be happy. I couldn’t sleep these past few nights because how could I? How could I sleep when all I could think of is if you’d still be there answering the door when I knock?” She held Irene’s hand tightly. Letting out small hics through her breaking voice.

Tears rolled down Grace’s cheeks. For her, it could have been a real goodbye. But Irene knew nothing about the goodbye was final. Not yet anyways.

“I’m sorry.” Irene sighed. “I’m so sorry. I thought it’d be easier to leave this way.”

“I don’t think it’s easy.” Grace wiped away the tears from under her eyes. “I think it’s the hardest thing to do, ever. Maybe this is you saving yourself. Maybe this is the ending you needed to write for yourself, and starting to write it was the hardest thing you could have ever done. I just couldn’t help but worry about your life for you.”

Irene sat there in silence. Nothing written on her face, not even a single teardrop. Because for Irene, that goodbye wasn’t real. Because she *knew* she wouldn’t be going anywhere yet. Because before she could decide whether or not to really leave, she needed to know how much she was begged to stay. And when her parents came home from a dinner party, it was time to test the waters.

“I was hoping we could speak.” Irene stood beneath the door frame between the foyer and the living room.

“Is it important dear?” Her mother sighed out a yawn. “We’d rather be resting right about now. The Hendersons’ party was utterly dreadful.” Her father seconded the statement.

“Very much so.” Irene took a single deep breath. “I’ve decided to marry a total stranger.” She exhaled, her eyes waited for the slightest twitch on their faces.

“Now, what brought this on?” Her father froze in his stance. “Are you out of your mind? Irene, sweetheart, why in god’s good name would you decide to do this?” A look of concern plagued him.

“I might be gone by next week.” Irene grinned into the distance.

“This whole ordeal is very out of the blue,” her mother’s voice lost its usual joy. “Is this what you really want for yourself? Is this how you’re really going?”

At the slightest squeal in her mother’s speech, Irene turned to nod. Both her parents exchanged a simple glance during a brief silence.

“Then I suppose we can’t convince you.” Her father shrugged. His face unchanged in expression. Nothing, not even the slightest tension between his brows or the tiniest rise in his voice as he headed up the stairs with a yawn.

The grin on her face faded as fast as she could hear words. It shouldn’t be surprising. It should never have been surprising. After all the times she learned to not expect a single thing, she had always thought she had evolved beyond expecting. But it would have taken her this to realize she still had a sliver of an expectation that even she did not know of.

“Is that it?” Irene raised her voice up the stairwell. “Is that all you have to say? Are you not even going to ask if I would change my mind? Are you not even going to be the least bit concerned? For Christ’s sake, your daughter is marrying a stranger and you don’t even have the thought to ask her how she came to know him? All my life, you never made me feel like I belong. Like neither of you had enough place for a third daughter in your trophy case. I thought you never saw me, because I hadn’t quite lived up to this unspoken standard. So I try, and I try to live up to it. But I just wasted my time. I just wasted my life, trying to belong in this stupid oil painting when I should have realized I was never in it!” She scolded, wincing her teeth in disbelief.

“We had no idea.” Her mother clutched her handbag. “What can we do for you, before you leave?” Then her father walked down from the stairs.

“We really are horrible, aren’t we?” He placed a hand on Irene’s shoulder. “Please, please tell us there’s enough time for one last dinner party. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Irene shook her head, her eyes narrowed into slits. She didn’t know who to leer at, so she turned to the wall behind. She lightly placed a hand on the wallpaper, before slamming at it with a fist.

“No!” She slammed. “Why are you sorry? I don’t want this! I don’t want your last minute apologies! Why can’t you do anything else but let me down! I don’t want to hear your regrets!” She cried out. “When you gave your speech at *her* party, you compared *her* to a piece of your heart when all I was in your speech was just a name. Your own daughter just gave herself away to a stranger, and you wouldn’t even try to stop it! Is that how little I matter?”

“If it were her, you’d all be pulling out every stop. If it were her, you wouldn’t even entertain the idea. But here you are, not even going to deny that you don’t even care!”

There was no argument, no response to her statement. Not even a no. Her mother looked at the ground. Her father tried to break the silence with a plausible answer, but no words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh my god.” Irene clenched her fists. “So it really is. I am done here.” She stormed off to her room.

For Irene Wintermeyer, her parents had let her down once again, even in retaliation. How could she have seen it coming? How could she have known that she would be let down, when she thought she would never let herself get her hopes up.

Irene stomped her heels loud against the cold hard floor. The snappy clicking of her steps moved through the hallway, heading towards the bleak end of it.

Having slammed the door shut, she threw herself on the bed. Clawing, punching and slamming her fists against the pillows and sheets. She screamed into the bed, but it could not muffle her anguish. Stifling screeches inside her throat, Irene pushed herself up and smacked the bed with a pillow until it erupted into a burst of feathers. But it wasn’t enough. Lying in a pile of feathers, every limb in her body was heavy with unrest still. Then her eyes met the telephone on her dresser.

She reached to rotate the dial. She had rehearsed this number in her mind countless times, but she dialed at half the speed of her thought. She wanted so desperately to stay, but the phone took her hand and made her finish dialing.

“Devlin Mayfair, who’s calling’?” A hoarse, half asleep voice answered the phone.

“Good evening.” Irene held her breath. “I’m terribly sorry to call you back this late. This is Irene Wintermeyer, we spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“I remember.” He exhaled. “You said you’d think about it. How’s that goin’ by the way?”

“Yes, well…” She paused for a moment. “Only if you can be here in st. Louis by tomorrow morning. St. Louis’s cathedral.”

“works for me.” He stifled a yawn. “Anything else?”

“That’s all. Please enjoy the rest of your night.”

Irene put down her phone. She let go of her breath which she held for the length of the call to take in another gasp of air with shaky breathing.

People cannot give themselves salvation, that was Irene’s take away from her reverend’s preschings, which she sat through with her family every sunday.

It’s not salvation she sought to give herself. But she was desperate, and she needed so much to be saved from it. She was desperate for it all. For someone who had the heart to care. For a place she can have a new beginning. For revenge to be served frigid cold.

Even if it’s not salvation. Even if it won’t save them, desperation will drive people to places of desperate measures. All just to have something as small as temporary asylum.

[wouldyoustilllovemeifiwasawyrm]

The Mortal Who Carved His Heart for a Goddess

A warm sea breeze blew across deep green blades of grass, sending gentle ripples across the starry surface of a heart-shaped pond. A faint yellow glow drifted by in the distance, weaving through the clouds in a lazy, eternal route, sparks drifting on the wind from the dragon’s glistening hide. Far below, ocean waves crashed against the silent stones at the bottom of the long climb to this hidden pond. Night rested as a comforting blanket over the kingdom, cloaking the frozen tundras of Tabantha to the cool sands of the Gerduo Desert, the radiating heat of Eldin to the gentle waters of Zora’s Domain, all of Hyrule wrapped in a night so perfect, so lovely, so peaceful that the whole kingdom slept at ease.

All, of course, except its Princess and her Appointed Knight.

Bare feet on soft grass, stepped slowly around the edge of the pond. Bangles of gold clinked around strong ankles, shimmering in the light of the full, white moon. Her hands, so soft in his, led him toward the edge of the pond, pulling him everywhere he already wished to go.

She stopped upon the lip of the pond, the grass tickling their toes, the lapping of water dampening the earth. Her golden hair, the wind playing with strands like a lover’s teasing, smelled of coconut as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She sighed, her gaze affixed to the reflection of the night. “You’ve heard the legend, I’m sure.”

Link hummed softly, wrapping his arm around Zelda’s waist and resting his head on her shoulder. “Tell me again.”

Her soft touch upon his cheek sent shivers down his spine. “Have you forgotten, or do you want to hear me tell a story?” She teased, her fingertips gliding down his jaw and neck.

Closer still he held her, his smile pressed into her shoulder with fleeting kisses. “Both?”

Her laughter carried over the hilltop, drifting down the well-trod path. “Very well, my knight. I’ll tell you.” She let her hand drift down, tracing the shape of his collar up and down, back and forth, hypnotic. “This pond was carved by a love-struck man, one who fell in love with a divine goddess. She was eternal; he was fleeting as the morning mist. She told him that their love could never persist, because he himself could not endure all of time for her. Though he was mortal, and his years were few, he dug this pond to prove his love. So deep and perfect was this pond that it became eternal. He declared his love for her upon this ground, that his love would be infinite as her divinity. The goddess, so moved by his words, came down to earth to wed the mortal man. She blessed the pond with lover’s luck, so that any who traveled to it would be destined to love as deeply as they.”

“Mmm.” Link hummed again, trailing his affection up her neck to her ear as she told the ancient tale. “I’d dig a pond for you.”

“I am no goddess, Link.” She teased. “I have no need for a pond.”

He drew back, tilting his head to one side to study her lovely, elegant features in the midnight glow. “What do you need, Princess? Say the word, and I’ll fetch it for you.” He raised his eyes heavenward, a grin on his lips. “I would snatch every star in the night sky for you, if you asked!”

“Would you?” She cupped his face in her hands, bringing him back down to earth. “There’s an awful lot of stars.”

“There are.” He agreed. The urge to kiss her rose so quickly that he couldn’t fight it off even if he wanted to, the satisfaction of her lips on his at once so necessary and so divine that he thought, for a moment, he understood the mortal lover. Between desperate, whispering kisses he spoke, “No task is too great for your love.”

Such sweet laughter bubbled from her chest, bidding him to cease his ceaseless caresses. “No task, darling?”

“None.” He swore, the vow long-branded on his soul.

She took his hands in hers, setting one upon her waist. “Will you dance with me?”

While that wasn’t the task he thought she’d ask of him, he could not deny her. “To what music?” Though the night sang in its own way, gentle hoots of owls and cricket violins, it followed no tempo with which to lead his princess.

“Sing to me.” She asked, her sparkling eyes catching the light of infinite stars above.

Sing to her. His mind rolled through a thousand words, trying to reach one which conjured a song that he remembered. Patiently she waited for him, the night still young, the sea still crashing as waves against the rocks below.

He parted his lips, his voice unsteady, the first steps of a dance beginning.

“‘My love is as the sea, wide and deep as midnight waves’, Says the lover to his beloved, so fair and lovely formed.

‘The more I give, the more is gained, infinite, strong as storms.’

At this first verse, his beloved blushed, her smile as bright as the moon.

‘My love is as the skies,

Zelda’s voice, clear as the deep waters, soon joined his, singing the part of the beloved.

boundless, blue’ his beloved sighs, her hand upon his breast.

He wondered if she could feel the thundering of his heart beneath the palm of her hand.

‘Sunrise to set, to stars above, ever-present is my love.’

He spun her slowly around the pond, leading her in rhythmic step.

‘I swear upon the moon’ says he, ‘my love is full and bright’

His voice jumped as she pressed her soft lips to his throat before she took up the next verse.

‘Swear not upon inconstant moon’ his beloved soul confides ‘whose face changes with the days, Pulling on the tides.’

The moon, he thought again, could not truly compare with the brilliance of her smile.

‘Shall I swear upon the sun?’ says he, ‘In all its constant ways?’

Ooh, too close to the edge. She almost slipped. He didn’t think she noticed, though led her away from the banks of the pond and up toward the peak of the hill just in case.

‘Swear upon your loving heart only when it ceases shall we part’”

As the song ended, so too did the dance, Link holding his beloved firm to himself. He rested his forehead upon hers, wondering where his breath ended and hers began.

“No.” He whispered. “It doesn’t cease then.”

Zelda’s parted lips, as if to voice the confusion evident on her face, did not speak what his heart understood already.

“One lifetime is not enough to love you. Our lives are as brief as the night.” A breath, stolen from her lovely lips, filled him with the courage to speak again. “I will love you in the morning.”

For @zeldaelmo's prompt "Just After Midnight"

[tangleweave]

"I. I am Groot." Your friendship means the world to me. I don't want to risk losing it, but I can't deny my feelings. She wraps her arms around his trunk as best she can. In the last two years, Groot has grown from the grieving Entling she met on fields soaked in the ash and the blood of the fallen, in the deafening silence that the Mad Titan left in his wake. He is stronger now, taller, and most certainly broader. But he's also become a little more resilient. He has turned his immense sorrow into a renewed commitment of making better what he can not only for the flora of the galaxy but for those left behind. With the ship he inherited he was not long for earth and with everyone she loved and thought of as a part of herself gone as well, they've grafted to each other. Helped seal off the internal emotional bleeding, even if it's only compartmentalised. And in a way, they've grown into each other. Carved out niches for themselves in the esteem and affections of the other. They work tirelessly, they work fairly quickly. And little by little, she's noticed that he's seeded himself in her heart just as surely as he has on dozens of worlds. She also knows that as alien species to one another, that maybe they are not compatible in the biological imperative kind of way but why would she be given the mana to become anyone or anything living, if she couldn't find a way to love him just the same? And while Beth might not be fully aware of the ramifications of what she's saying, or the very real possibility of changing their nature and making things go horribly wrong, she knows he will at least understand that she is serious. That she isn't just saying this to soothe his hurt. Just maybe…reciprocates the same. She takes a chance. "I am Groot."

[ As Solitude Begs Us To Stay / Accepting ]

Groot's relationship with the notion of time is askew, as compared to most other sentient species inhabiting the galaxy. He has seen too many suns, trod too many planets, to be truly observant as to what one planet's year is when compared with that of another. The two phases of a rotating world -- day and night -- are what stand out most to him. But for Beth, he has put forth the effort to understand her frame of reference when it comes to measuring time… the past, the future, the moments in which they exist between those two infinite quantities.

Two years, in the lifespan of an adult Flora colossus, is perhaps the equivalent of two weeks for an average Terran. But to Groot, it has felt like half a full lifetime of his own since that day Beth approached him, hearing him say what no other human could perceive. Half a lifetime of her accompanying him whenever he could not have a New Asgardian by his side. She has told him that catastrophe and trauma have a funny way of stretching one's perception of time out, like vines being pulled at both ends through chainlink fences.

What greater catastrophe, what graver trauma, could there be than the loss of family?

Every family.

Everywhere.

It has taken every moment of those two years since that moment, for them to be where they are now. Light-years away from Beth's world… unimaginably more distant from Groot's. She could not tolerate the sorrow still endlessly echoing around the full curvature of Earth, and even now he is still banished from Planet X. He does not know how many Flora colossi yet live; but he does know they will not welcome him.

It is a very different kind of pain, knowing that Planet X thrives enough to find for itself the luxury of rejecting him.

The planet of Trumiwei, lush with warm, heavy forests and overcast with three moons guiding its ocean waves, is an ideal setting for the ritual he had been delaying for so long. At the center of the northern continent's greatest forest, its Mother Tree stands far higher than Groot can yet grow or reach. He has met her before. She is stationary, silent, but her leaves quiver in greeting to him, a momentary excitement in meeting so distant a relation.

At her base, he places effigies of his family, wrought with bark, vines, and leaves from his own body. He would have collected their ashes if he could have, but Titan had been thrown into even greater instability since the callous destruction of its moon… and Nebula spoke the name Vormir like a vile curse. Neither world could be called safe.

Five effigies lie in silent state at the Mother Tree's roots.

It is only after their withdrawal from the site and half a day's travel back through the woods -- they could not have landed anywhere near the Mother Tree's trunk in his ship, the canopy is far too dense for that -- that they return to the Errant Zephyr, where Groot hesitates.

It is here that Beth circles her arms about his trunk and murmurs to him in the linguistic nuance of his own people. The only sentient mammal he's ever met actually capable of doing so.

Perhaps it is a strange time for her to offer him so emotional an appeal. Perhaps there could have been a moment less raw. He would have had difficulty capturing one more so. Then again… perhaps it is exactly the right time. Because she is a physician. A healer. She senses injury, not just of the body but of the spirit. It is legendarily difficult to truly kill a Flora colossus, but wounds inflicted upon the soul will remain with one for the fullness of its life, and for many lives thereafter.

That might be the impetus, but Groot would like to believe he knows better than to believe she offers her heart to him in this moment just to make him feel better. For all the loss he has endured, for all that solitude has tried to crush him since the Snap chose not to send him with his family… Beth's utterance serves as a reminder that he is still alive. That they have made a connection, deep as the ocean and just as abiding, which cannot be denied and deserves the formative nurture they both lacked when they needed it most.

Half a lifetime suddenly accordions into mere seconds.

He shifts, his arms slowly wrapping about Beth's narrow frame in reply. He leans down, the center of his forehead meeting hers. When he exhales, the scent is the sweetness of apples, the ruddy freshness of pine.

"I. Am. Groot."

When our families were taken from us, you found me. From that moment, you have been my companion… my consolation… my teacher. We have rejoiced in our triumphs. We have comforted one another in our sorrows. And when I had no choice but to flee the pain when it became too much… you asked me to take you with me. As I reflect on it now, I doubt I could have endured the endless stars alone.

His sap-brandy eyes meet the green light of hers. The shape of his mouth, and the creaking of his neck, strain with all their might to produce something new.

"We… are… Groot."

[cutedice]

Rushing In (1/3)

Ship: Sanji x GN!Reader WC: 1063 Warnings: Fluff, a little OOC Placement: Pre-timeskip, Post Alabasta Synopsis: The crew stopped on an island for a few days, and while being shown around, Sanji begins to realize he’s about to fall for their tour guide; and perhaps they were on the same edge as him.

Sanji trod a thin line between emotionally reserved and a bit too empathetic for his own good. He fully believed that there was nothing wrong with expressing one’s feelings and emotions as long as the given time was appropriate. Still, he did have issues representing that belief himself. He didn’t want to be hypocritical but something along the lines of his pride stopped him from fully committing to certain feelings.

This was especially true when it came to romantics. Of course, he was a showy man. He had fronts and expressed his outward admiration for the lovely women he would meet, but there was a subtle lack of depth to all of it.

He did crave a better connection, but it was something he could suppress and wait for. However, that did change one night on an island on the Grandline where he met (Y/N).

He didn’t know what it was about them, perhaps their kindness in offering to tour the small group around the island? It was just the six of them– Robin had stuck to the ship for this visit, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind leaving her in charge so… the rest of the crew didn’t mind. Still, it was a large group to handle.

But, (Y/N) handled it with a smile. A glorious look, the delightful way they lit up when someone on the crew did something dumb or laughable.

He couldn’t resist. It was almost impossible for him to ignore the rapid beating in his chest and the way he could feel the back of his neck burn as a blush crept its way up to his face whenever they looked at him.

They led them to a bar and joined them for dinner. It was cheap and good and the spirits were high and joyus. Sanji crept a few more glances their way, a bubbling in his chest and suddenly he just coulnd’t handle it. He stood up and excused himself for a smoke. The rest of the crew didn’t mind his leaving, though Chopper muttered something about the risks of doing so.

Sanji ignored that, much like he had when it was brought up after Chopper initially joined. He stepped outside, looking up at the night sky as he took a cigarette out of his pack. He brought it to his lips as he went to pat for his lighter, though he was caught of guard by one appearing in front of his face. He followed the hand, looking past the arm only to see (Y/N)’s kind smile looking back at him. “Ah, thanks,” he muttered, leaning forward some as they ignighted the lighter.

The smoke was lit and Sanji took a long drag before blowing away from them. It was quiet for a few minutes before the chef leaned against the wall with a small sigh. “The islands lovely. Thanks for the tour,” he said, smiling towards them.

(Y/N) waved the thanks off, finding some sort of excuse in there for why he didn’t have to thank them before they leaned on the wall next to him.

“... You want a hit?” he offered the cigarette over. He didn’t mind not filling the silence, but it felt oddly tense. That was, of course, his own fault in a way.

He watched them deny the offer and he shrugged, taking another hit off of it.

(Y/N) dug their toe into the dirt before finally they spoke out, carefully.

Sanji perked up, glancing over at them before he tilted his head. “Ah… I think we’re staying three days so the logpose can set,” he answered. “Plenty of time for someone like you to fall for me I think,” he said, winking.

He chuckled as they laughed.

It fell silent again and Sanji finished his smoke, dropping it to the ground to snub it out. Then, he lokoed at (Y/N) with a michievous grin. “Do you want to go on a walk with me? I’m sure they’ll be partying for a bit,” he looked towards the entrance to the bar, wathcing shadows move frantically around.

(Y/N) didn’t take long to accept, but they also took the lead on the walk.

Sanji didn’t mind, following along with them as they led him back through town and to the beach. They skipped the docks and headed for a different area. It was explained to him as a secret spot, but they liked him so he could see. That in itself was flattering, but the sight was fairly pretty too.

It wasn’t huge, but a patch of a secluded part of the beach was multicolored with different rocks, creating a rainbow display on the sand in front of a cave.

Sanji listened to (Y/N) as they explained it, growing more curious with the explanation as he felt the familiar butterflies fill him again.

“So this is the most romantic spot in town, huh?” he asked, smiling a bit before he chuckled. “Is this your way of flirting?” he asked them, watching as their face turned red, defensive.

He snickered. “It’s alright! I don’t mind,” he cooed before he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’d love to indulge in an island’s tradition, especially with you, but it feels, well… like it should be special. I know you’re not serious about it.”

(Y/N) stared at him, the gears in their head apparently clicking as they lit up and asked a question.

“Well… like I said, Nami mentioned it’d take three days for the log pose to set,” Sanji mumbled, “So we’ll be here for that long.”

With a large grin, the announcement then came. It was more of a dare, a game of sorts, but the challenge had Sanji’s heart dancing.

“You- you think you can get that close to me in three days?” he asked, sounding skeptical.

(Y/N) gave a confident nod and then reached into their pocket, passing Sanji a brightly colored rock. A promise.

Sanji stared at it, his smile shaky but he had nothing to lose here. “You’re on then,” he told them with a small laugh. “Pick me up tomorrow morning from the ship, okay?”