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juniper-sunny · 14 days ago

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The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 9

It's Silco's turn to meet people from your past. His visit to your first home is disturbed by long-buried memories resurfacing—along with a confession of dark secrets...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | WC: 4.8k

beta reader: the magnificent @silcoitus !!

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

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Just as Silco is about to make a wrong turn towards the elevators, you gently take him by the elbow. You’re tempted to keep holding on, but you quickly drop your hand when he looks at you quizzically.

“Are we not heading for the underground?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Janna’s Embrace moved to Lower Piltover a few years ago, for the fresh air and sunshine. And vendors will actually deliver to us now without charging huge hazard fees. We’re saving a lot of money that way.”

You don’t go into detail about how Lower Piltover is a much safer place to raise children. All Zaunites are “gutter rats” in the eyes of Enforcers, but at least the orphans raised at the Embrace’s new location don’t have to live like Sumpsnipes anymore, scraping the ground for crumbs and living in filth and puddles.

Just as you finish speaking, your destination comes into view. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride as you cross a cobblestone courtyard towards a wide, three-story brick building with arched windows and a sloped roof. The exterior is slightly weathered from age, but the leafy bushes out front are neatly trimmed. Cheerful chalk sketches cover both the ground and the walls of the building itself, mostly of smiling stick figure children holding hands. One particularly colorful drawing depicts a child riding a giant Poro over a rainbow.

The bronze plaque above the front door bearing the orphanage’s name is highly polished, engraved with a portrait of the goddess herself. Her long hair billows in an arc behind her, a kind and calm smile on her face as she cradles her arms lovingly to her bosom.

An old, tall, muscular canine Vastayan with short dark fur and pointy ears is watering the bushes. When she senses your arrival, her ear twitches underneath a straw gardening hat, ratty and holey with old age. She turns to you as you reach the doorstep.

“Hi, Kharon,” you call out to her with a smile.

She doesn’t say anything, but blinks slowly at you. When she sees Silco, she tilts her head inquisitively at him.

“Kharon, this is Silco. Silco, this is Kharon,” you introduce your friends to each other.

“Hello,” Silco says politely. He extends his free hand out.

Kharon doesn’t take his hand, but instead puts down the watering can and wipes her clawed paws on her patchwork overalls. She lowers her gray and grizzled snout to his forehead. He stands perfectly still as she sniffs him, her huffing exhales ruffling his hair. Then, she steps back to scan him from top to bottom.

Silco straightens under her scrutiny, determined to make a good impression. You almost giggle when Kharon finally lets out a low growl of approval. She steps away to pull open the front doors wide open enough for the two of you to enter with the wagon.

“Thanks,” you tell the Vastayan as you pass her. “Are Teema and Cuny around?”

“Kitchen,” she says in a low grunt.

You wave goodbye to her as Silco crosses the threshold first. He pulls the wagon carefully into a wide hallway, observing the interior carefully. The doors click shut, and the noise echoes quietly, reverberating against the high ceiling. The dark wooden floor is spotless but worn from countless footsteps treading over it. Framed photographs of happy families and grinning kids adorn the walls, some candid and others posed.

Silco leans in to study one particular portrait that catches his eye. A young girl with missing teeth and a choppy bob is laughing at the camera, caught in a group hug with a boy and another girl her age. Her peers are just as joyful, the boy’s eyes squeezed shut as he wheezes with silent laughter. The second girl grins while looking at her friends.

“Is that you?” Silco asks, pointing at the first girl, whose hair and eye color matches yours. His grip on the wagon’s handle loosens, forgotten in his fascination with the photo. An amused smile creeps onto his face, almost as wide as the child’s.

“Yeah,” you say shortly. The bittersweet twinge of nostalgia in your heart is overcome by a dark disdain.

You have some fond memories of growing up alongside these friends and others not pictured, but they’re all gone now.

And you still wonder if that was all your fault.

Before Silco can ask you more about the picture, you take the handle from him and cross the hallway. You walk briskly through an arched entryway into a crowded cafeteria. The wagon’s weight slows you down enough that Silco can still keep up with you. You make a note to give Silco a proper tour later, but you’ve wasted too much time already.

And you want to outrun the painful memories stirred up by that photograph.

You turn left towards the far wall and pass a serving station, Silco following close behind. As you round the corner and enter the kitchen, you call out a warning. It’s already bustling, filled with kitchen staff who say hello back to you in passing. You gesture for Silco to stay close to the wall as someone walks past him carrying a bin overflowing with dirty dishes. Boots squeak on the thick, non-slip mats covering every inch of the ground. The stainless steel appliances gleam brightly as if they had been scrubbed recently. Countless racks and shelves mounted on the walls hold neatly organized dishware and utensils.

Two older women stand in the center of the room, chopping fruits at a kitchen island. Their white aprons are already stained from a long shift. One of them looks up when you enter and exclaims your name in delight.

“Oh, honey! It’s been too long!” she beams as she hurries over to you. She’s shorter than you, her light brown wavy hair framing the crow’s feet etched into her face. It rubs softly against your chin as she stands on tiptoe to hug you tight. You can’t help but smile back when she kisses your cheek.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Teema. She was here yesterday,” says the other woman in a serious tone, but her smile at you is just as warm. She’s taller, with straight, blonde hair tucked primly into a hairnet. Her steel-gray eyes observe Silco coolly, gazing curiously at him.

“Hi, Teema. Hi, Cuny,” you squeak out. Teema is still squeezing you too tight for you to breathe. When she finally lets you go, you rummage in the wagon and pull out two small paper bags. “I got some sweetbread for you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, how did you know I was craving some?” Teema laughs heartily and takes a bag from you right away. She rips it open and immediately chomps into the snack, humming in satisfaction.

“Thank you,” Cuny says gratefully. “Could you put mine in the refrigerator please?”

“I’ll take them,” Teema says gleefully.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands,” the other woman says, exasperated at her partner’s impulsiveness.

You hand Teema the second bag and she scurries off. Fast as lightning, she tosses the bags in a nearby fridge and then walks a full circle around Silco. “And who’s this tall glass of sweetmilk?”

“Teema…” the other woman says sternly.

“This is my friend, Silco,” you say a little too loudly, embarrassed by Teema’s conduct.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Silco. Our girl has never brought a man here before!” Teema says enthusiastically.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Silco says politely while you wince inwardly at her pushiness. “I like your tattoo.”

He gestures at Teema’s shoulder, adorned with a one-eyed Poro smiling dopily. The portrait is bordered by sunflowers with vibrant, golden-orange petals. The lines are clean and thin, expertly inked by a steady hand. The velvet smoothness of the petals contrasts sharply with the spiky fur of the animal, the difference in textures rendered so masterfully that you could almost expect to feel them under your fingertips.

“Thank you! The girl who did this used to live here,” Teema says proudly. “Her name is Nyle, do you know her? She works in the Sumps—”

“Why don’t the two of you have lunch,” Cuny says firmly, walking forward to lay a hand on Teema’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of the food, thank you.”

“What? We could use the help here—” Teema starts, but you turn away and stalk off, not bothering to say goodbye.

If your heart was merely uncomfortable before, the name that Teema mentioned unleashes a wave of grief and anger that crashes through your chest. It has your heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you almost don’t hear Silco running to catch up with you.

He calls out your name, worried. You ignore him and keep walking until he grabs your elbow.

“You should eat if you’re hungry,” you try to say in a casual voice, but your voice hitches. It’s hard to talk around the stone lodged in your throat. “The food here is great.”

“I’m not hungry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, irritated. “I just needed some air.” You jerk your elbow out of his grip and kneel down to fuss with your shoelaces, avoiding his eyes. When you stand up, you brush some imaginary dirt off your pants, still unwilling to meet his worried gaze.

He says your name again, and you reluctantly look up at him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” he says gently. You can’t help but laugh at that, letting out a shaky huff as you glance away.

“I’m sorry about Teema,” you say, still attempting at nonchalance. “She can be… a lot.”

You’re tempted to say more, but deep down, you know you shouldn’t lash out at her. This isn’t the first time that Teema has frustrated you: you’ve asked her multiple times to take down that photograph, and to never mention that name in front of you ever again. But she means well, and you can’t find it in yourself to stay angry at her for long.

Besides, she’s never hurt you as badly as that person did.

“What else is troubling you?” Silco asks quietly.

Your first instinct is to lie and say “nothing.” But as unpleasant as it is, it’s relevant to another conversation you still need to have with Silco.

You’ve known Teema long enough to anticipate how her forgetfulness could trigger you. Maybe deep down, you wanted her to talk about that person. You were already struggling with how to pull Silco aside and drop a figurative bomb on him.

Teema gave you the opportunity, and it would be a waste if you didn’t take advantage of it.

“I have to tell you something…” You take a deep breath, trying to fortify yourself. “Do you mind if we go somewhere quiet?”

“Not at all,” he answers immediately. “Please, lead the way.”

Even with the sense of anticipation curling sourly in your stomach, you can’t help but smile at him. He has no idea what you’re about to tell him, but his willingness to hear you out cheers you up anyways.

You lead him out of the cafeteria and down the hall towards a staircase. When a gaggle of chattering kids and their harried caretaker pass by, you exchange hellos while Silco nods politely at them. As you climb up the stairs, a sense of impending doom rises in your chest, your heart beating faster.

The second floor consists of dormitories, private bedrooms, restrooms, and communal showers. At this time of day when most people are eating lunch, you hope to find an empty room. You get lucky with the first door you knock on; nobody answers, so you open the door and stand aside, letting Silco enter first.

The smaller sleeping quarters are used mostly by down-on-their-luck nursing mothers or families who have nowhere else to go, so you and the Embrace’s staff put in special effort to make these rooms as cozy as possible. Colorful, fluffy rugs cover the floor, soft enough to tempt you into taking off your boots and socks. Thick, wide blankets are draped on each of the four beds, large enough to almost touch the ground. You’re tempted to grab one of the fat and squashy pillows for comfort, but you decide to hold off for now.

You sit on the floor at the foot of a bed. Instead of sitting down next to you, Silco kneels and peeks underneath the furniture.

“Hello, little girl,” he says kindly.

Curious, you crouch next to him to see who he’s talking to. Under the bed is a young child barely out of toddlerhood, holding onto a rabbit plushie as big as herself. Her pale blue eyes stare out at you from the shadows. The irregular layers of her blue hair are rumpled from pressing against the underside of the bed.

“Hi, sweetie,” you say warmly to her.

Her eyes dart between you and Silco, then she clumsily crawls towards you. You hold out your arms as she climbs into your lap. When you hug her, she drops the plushie to hug you back.

The girl turns to you with wide, serious eyes. Solemnly, she says, “I’m a ‘norphan.”

“Pardon?” Silco asks amicably.

“Sweetie…” you say gently. You hold her unblinking gaze and tuck an unruly lock of hair behind her ears. “What did we say about telling lies?”

“’Only lie to strangers and Enforcers,’” the little girl recites.

“Very good,” you praise her cheerfully. She giggles when you boop her on the nose. “Why aren’t you eating lunch?”

“Waiting,” the girl says, burying her face in your shoulder. She turns her head slightly to stare blankly at Silco.

“Waiting for what?”

“Powder?” a childish voice at the doorway calls out.

The three of you turn to see another little girl in the doorway, slightly older with messily chopped and short pink hair.

You reach out to her as she walks past Silco to throw her arms around your neck.

“Hi, Vi,” you say brightly, hugging both kids tightly. “Where were you?”

“I was in the bathroom,” says the pink-haired girl. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Of course, honey. You, Powder, and your parents can all share a room,” you say tenderly.

“Can I have my own room? Dad snores,” Vi complains.

“If you go to bed first, you’ll fall asleep sooner. That way you won’t hear him snoring,” you whisper conspiratorially to Vi, as if sharing a trade secret. “If he’s still too loud, just put a pillow over your head and hum to yourself. You won’t be able to hear him then.”

“Really?” the child asks wonderingly.

You nod. “You girls go eat now. Make sure you finish everything on your plates.”

Vi smiles at you. “Thanks, auntie.”

You smooch both Vi and Powder on their foreheads. They giggle as they clasp hands, hurrying away. Their little stomping footsteps echo in the hallway.

Leaving you and Silco alone.

You get up and sit on the bed, crumpling the blanket in an anxious fist. He takes a seat next to you, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

“So those children are ‘Powder’ and ‘Violet’?” he asks.

“Yeah, their parents drop them off here sometimes when they’re working,” you try to say casually, still avoiding looking at him.

“I’m friends with Felicia and Connol, but I haven’t yet had the opportunity to meet their children,” Silco muses out loud.

“You’re one of the Children of Zaun; shouldn’t you know every child in Zaun?” you joke weakly.

“Becoming acquainted with every Sumpsnipe in the underground would be a more difficult endeavor than attaining independence for the Undercity,” he chuckles. “But if you’re their ‘auntie’, perhaps I could become their ‘uncle’.”

“They’d like that,” you say quietly.

You’re not sure what to say next. It’s so tempting to lean your head on Silco’s shoulder. The easy, encouraging smile he gives you is too inviting, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away from him.

“It’s just us now,” he says softly, unbothered by your caginess. “Whatever it is you need to say, I’m listening. Take as long as you need.”

You’ve been dreading this moment—lifting the veil from Silco’s eyes—all day now. Even so, you’re almost surprised at how scared you are.

You take a long, shaky breath, counting down from ten. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice refuses to come out. Silco waits patiently as you swallow and clear your throat.

“...Do you remember how I started working for Topsiders?” you finally ask in a dry voice. You had told him that morning weeks ago, the day after burglarizing Councilor Salo. It feels like it happened in another life; so much has changed since becoming better friends with Silco.

“You were selling paintings at a Progress Day fair when you were a teenager,” he recalls. “Just as you were about to be arrested for vending without a permit, a Topside merchant came to your rescue. He was so impressed by your skill, he declared himself your patron on the spot. I would have done the same.”

“Thanks,” you smile weakly at him. Despite yourself, you feel a beaming pride at the memory. “He wanted portraits for him and his entire family. He had a wife and four kids, so it was a jackpot. It was a pain in the ass getting them to pose, though.”

It’s one thing to think back on the memories, but it’s another to speak of them out loud. The lump in your throat hardens, threatening to choke you. You try to swallow it but fail.

“At that time I was still living here. Kharon, Teema, and Cuny were happy for me but the other kids… weren’t,” you say slowly. “They kind of gave me a hard time.”

“What happened?” Silco asks. His voice falls flat, but a tiny notch furrows between his eyebrows.

“Just some bullying,” you shrug. “Kids will be kids, you know?”

You don’t go into detail about your brushes getting stolen, your paints getting flushed down the toilet, or your sketchbooks getting torn to pieces. Some of your already completed paintings had even been burned, forcing you to request a postponement in deadlines.

Silco doesn’t press you for the specifics, but his face turns stony, his stoic demeanor betrayed only by a muscle twitching in his jaw. It touches you that he feels angry on your behalf; for a revolutionary, you thought he’d be made of tougher stuff.

“My friends really pulled through for me,” you say. “They’d beat up my bullies and protect my stuff. I’d try to share my money with them, but they always said no… until they didn’t.”

You frown at your own naivety. The blanket falls out of your grasp as you raise your fist to your chest, fingernails digging into your palm.

“Becoming a gang was Nyle’s idea. I’d get commissions from rich Topsiders and scope out their mansions. Gita and Kai would burglarize them at night, and then Nyle would fence what they stole,” you say, closing your eyes to better remember the details. “Did you know that it’s safer to only steal one earring? That way, the owner will just think they lost it. They’re less likely to think it was taken.”

“The item is less valuable on its own. But you mitigate the risk of being caught,” Silco muses. “Very clever.”

“I learned that from Nyle. It worked for a while, and we made great money… but...” You swallow again, preparing yourself to talk about the worst part of the story. Still, you can’t help but feel proud of your crimes. Stealing from the rich to feed your friends was the noblest endeavor you could aspire to at that age. Seeing Silco’s smirk of approval spurs you on to keep going.

“We stole a Valdiani from an Academy professor, and he freaked out. It was a gift from his dead daughter… and he fired his maid, because he thought she stole it.”

The rock in your throat is a boulder now, the agony choking every muscle fiber in your neck. You press on through gritted teeth. “I wanted to find her and apologize. She was just doing her job. But I was scared she’d turn me in… so I didn’t say anything.

“Then I found out she was from the Undercity, so I asked Nyle if she could join our gang. She said no, it wasn’t our problem. I tried changing her mind, but she wouldn’t.

“...Then we started fighting about the money.”

Money… the root of all evil. The solution to and source of so many problems in the Undercity. You almost wish you could bribe Silco into leaving so you don’t have to finish your story.

“Gita and Kai wanted more money because they were doing all the heavy lifting. They said it should come from my share since I was just ‘sitting on my ass and painting’… but I didn’t want to. If they screwed up, I’d get in trouble, too. I’m the one who set up the job in the first place, you know? And I’m visiting the Pilties regularly, so of course they’d suspect me…” you babble on, trying to defend yourself.

As important as it is to rationalize your past actions to Silco, you know deep down that you could have done better. You were already being paid generously for your commissions; you didn’t need the extra money from your criminal activities. But it was the principle that mattered more to you at the time. Even if your friends’ contributions differed from your own, it didn’t mean that yours mattered less than theirs.

“I should have helped her,” you say in a wobbly voice. You close your eyes as tears begin to well up, your nose stinging and tingling with rising pressure. Your chest heaves as you finally succumb to the visceral throes of regret. “And my friends needed the money more than I did… now they’re all gone…”

Silco immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You press your face into his chest, shaking and sobbing. Your tears stain his shirt. He squeezes you tight, his breath light and warm against your ear as he lowers his head to speak.

“It’s okay,” he says, so gently. “You and I both know that Topside is to blame. They have us fighting over their table scraps while they feast aboveground. The children of Zaun deserve more than their runoff. It’s not your fault for wanting a fair share.”

“I’m—” you hiccup, trying to stop gasping so you can speak properly. “I’m not as good of a person as you think I am—"

He hushes you and chuckles. The sound is low and rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your cheek. “Candidly, I thought you would confess to something much worse. We’ve all done terrible things in the name of survival. Your ‘sins’ are no worse than anyone else’s in the underground. They’re certainly better than mine.

“As for your friends, you did the best you could for them,” he continues. “Their well-being was not your responsibility. That would have been too much for anyone to handle on their own.”

He pulls away from you to tilt your face upwards. Your vision is blurry with tears, but you stare into the bright turquoise smears of his eyes as he returns your gaze.

“Believe me when I say, you did nothing wrong,” he concludes.

The effect his words have on you is soothing. Your sins have weighed you down for so long, dragging you into deep waters, drowning in guilt. Holding onto your secrets for so long with chafed, bleeding fingers; never telling anyone else, not even when Kharon found you wandering the Sumps aimlessly after you were kicked out of the apartment you shared with your friends. Never confessing to what happened even during Teema’s persistent questioning or Cuny’s curious stares. Too afraid to face other people’s judgment of your mistakes.

But if your secrets were an anchor holding you down, the chain is severed by Silco’s reassurance. You’re still underwater, but a heavy weight peels away from your shoulders. The change in pressure disorients you, and you feel dizzy as you take another shuddering breath.

You stammer out, “I c-can’t join the Children—I don’t want to be used again—”

“I understand,” Silco says reassuringly.

“I’m—I’m so useless—I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I will say it as many times as you need to hear it… you’re perfect.”

Your next breath fills your lungs with a renewed vitality. It’s so relieving to hear Silco’s acceptance of you. You’ve hidden your sins in the dark for so long, but he doesn’t flinch away when you shine a light on them.

He actually leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. He’s solid and warm, a beacon you swim towards in the abating storm of your distress.

His thumb slowly wipes your tears away, a light touch against your eyelids.

You press your nose against his.

His hand moves to hold the back of your head. His fingers thread through your hair.

Your hand slides from your lap to rest on his knee.

He bumps his foot against yours. His lips part ever so slightly.

Your breaths mingle.

You lean in—

“Auntie?” Vi’s voice rings out from the doorway, shattering the moment.

You jerk backwards away from Silco and jump to your feet. In your haste to run over to Vi, you almost trip over yourself.

“Hi, sweetie!” you say too loudly, crouching down in front of her.

If the little girl notices your blushing and tearstained face, she doesn’t mention it. She cranes her head to look behind you, squinting. “Is my rabbit here?”

You look over your shoulder to see Silco walking over to the foot of the bed. He leans down to grab the forgotten rabbit plushie. His movements are graceful as he gingerly picks up the toy and carefully brushes some dust off it. You can’t help but admire how tall and lean he is, like a crane wading through a pond. Your blush deepens, heat creeping from your cheeks down your neck.

You busy yourself with tidying Vi’s hair as he saunters over. He crouches down next to you and hands the toy to the little girl.

“Here you go,” he says kindly.

Vi takes the plushie, staring at him without saying anything.

“What do we say now, Vi?” you remind her gently.

“Thanks, mister,” the girl says after a long pause. Her wide eyes still watch Silco with curiosity.

“Very good,” you praise her. “Have you finished eating yet?”

Vi finally looks at you and shakes her head.

“Tell Cuny I said it’s okay for you to have seconds. You need to eat a lot so you grow big and strong!” You pat the child on the head, hoping your voice sounds more enthusiastic than panicky. Silco’s close proximity to you has your heart hammering, still recovering from the whirlwind of emotions.

Vi giggles when you smooch her on the head. She dashes off, clutching the plushie tight. You stand up to watch her disappear down the hallway, the toy’s ears flapping all over.

You’re tempted to run after her and leave Silco behind. Despite his affirmations, you’re now embarrassed by your earlier show of vulnerability. In retrospect, it seems silly that you were afraid of losing him. He’s been nothing but a good friend to you, after all.

He stands across from you now in the doorway, staring at you. You sniffle and wipe the last of the tears from your eyes before turning to him.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. His brows are still pinched in worry, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening into trenches.

“I will be,” you say. And it doesn’t feel like a lie. You smile at him without forcing it. “Thank you.”

He gives you a puzzled look. “What on earth for?”

You let out an amused exhale through your nose. On impulse, you step forward to hug him.

He immediately reciprocates, his arms wrapping around your torso as you nuzzle into his chest. His heart beats a comforting rhythm against your ear as he presses his cheek to your hair.

You don’t know how long you stand there in silence, caught in each other’s orbit, unable and unwilling to break free to rejoin the greater galaxy.

Silco’s stomach rumbles loudly. He lets go of you and steps back, frowning in mortification.

“Let’s get lunch,” you say with a chuckle. “My treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we’re making a new batch of ice cream for dessert today, it should be ready by now. Do you like strawberry?”

“I’ve never had ice cream before. I look forward to it.” He smiles at you, his teeth glinting in the sunlight shining through the window.

You marvel at his beautiful smile. You hope he’ll let you paint it one day.

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If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

Chapter 10

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco fanfic #Silco #Silco Arcane #Arcane Silco #Silco x Reader #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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girlkisser13 · 4 months ago

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iris cabin headcanons

children of iris

• the children of iris, known for being empathetic messengers, anonymously put together care packages for other campers.

• however, people have caught on due to the common items: dream catchers and friendship bracelets, all carried in a basket lined with a tie-dye blanket. the rest of the camp lets these cheerful messengers keep their anonymity, patiently waiting for their own turn.

• every time a child of rainbow dies, iris would create a rainbow to honor their existence.

• double or triple rainbows are caused by the death of twins or triplets.

• they have the power to change the color of any object they touch.

• every friday, they set up a salon outside their cabin with mirrors and chairs. there, they change other campers' hair to any color they want.

• when they do archery, rainbows fly off of the arrows and the bullseye becomes colorful.

• to "please" their mother, they would often run around camp, throwing skittles at the other campers while shouting, "in the name of iris, taste the rainbow!"

• most campers would hide in their cabins, dubbing the event the "dreaded rainbow hour."

• they make sure they always have an array for rainbow apparel around pride.

• iris has only visited her children's cabin once, and when she did, she was appalled by the amount of unhealthy skittles inside. now, there's a barrier placed by the goddess to prevent skittles from entering the cabin.

• they have a knack for making amazing layer cakes.

• they can rainbow travel— similar to shadow travel, but instead of shadows, they leap from one end of a rainbow to the other.

• they can iris message for free.

• they know all the camp gossip because they’re so approachable. if you need news to spread quickly, they’re the person to go to. they’re also great at keeping secrets, and if you ask them to, they’ll keep yours safe.

• in world war ii, they didn't take sides. instead, they created rainbows to guide lost soldiers safely back to their own sides.

cabin exterior

• their cabin is painted in a gradient of soft pastel colors that mimic the hues of a rainbow. each plank of wood is a different shade, seamlessly blending into the next. the colors shift slightly depending on the angle and time of day, giving the impression that the cabin itself is a living rainbow.

• the entire exterior of the cabin is coated with a special finish that catches the sunlight and moonlight, causing the cabin to shimmer and glisten as though it were covered in a layer of dew. this shimmering effect makes the cabin look like it's glowing with an inner light, especially during early mornings and late afternoons.

• large windows line the sides of the cabin, each pane made of stained glass in different colors. When the sun shines through them, it casts rainbows across the ground and inside the cabin, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that dance around the space.

• the roof is made of iridescent tiles that reflect light in a spectrum of colors, much like a soap bubble. depending on the time of day, the roof might look blue, pink, purple, or any number of hues. at night, it catches the light of the stars, giving it a soft, ethereal glow.

• the shutters and doors of the cabin are painted with soft, fluffy cloud patterns. the clouds look almost three-dimensional, as if they might drift off the wood and into the air at any moment.

• small, lantern-shaped prisms hang from the eaves of the cabin. during the day, they capture sunlight and scatter rainbow light in all directions. at night, they are lit with gentle, colorful lights that create a warm, welcoming glow, making the cabin a beacon in the dark.

• the edges of the cabin's walls, doors, and windows are trimmed in celestial bronze, symbolizing the pot of gold traditionally found at the end of a rainbow. this gold trim is polished to a high shine, catching the light and adding an element of elegance to the cabin’s colorful design.

cabin interior

• the walls are painted in soft pastels, shifting subtly from one color to another like a gradient, resembling a rainbow. the ceiling is enchanted to display a gentle swirl of colors that mimic a rainbow in the sky.

• large windows let in plenty of natural light, which would then reflect off strategically placed prisms and crystals around the room. these crystals would cast small rainbows and soft colors all over the cabin, making the interior bright and cheerful even on cloudy days.

• the beds and seating are plush and cloud-like, with pillows and cushions that are soft and comfortable. the bedding are in pastel hues, matching the overall color scheme of the cabin.

• murals of rainbows and clouds adorn the walls, painted with a magical quality that makes them seem almost alive. there are also paintings and sculptures of iris delivering messages to the gods, highlighting her role as a divine messenger.

• a small indoor garden with a variety of flowers known for their vibrant colors, such as irises, are maintained inside the cabin. the scent of flowers constantly fill the air, creating a serene and welcoming atmosphere.

• light, airy curtains in various shades of the rainbow hang over the windows and doorways, fluttering gently with any breeze, making the whole space feel open and breezy.

cabin traditions

• they host weekly art and creativity sessions where campers from all cabins can come together to paint, draw, and create art. these sessions are a way to honor their mother as the goddess of communication and creativity. at the end of each session, they use their powers to bring the artworks to life with moving colors and effects.

• inspired by the vibrancy of rainbows, they organizes color run events around camp. campers participate in a fun run, and along the way, they’re showered with colorful powders. the event ends with a huge celebration, dancing under a rainbow shower that they created.

• once a month, they host a "rainbow day," where everyone at camp is encouraged to wear as many colors as possible. they decorate the dining pavilion with rainbows and colorful streamers, and the day is filled with activities like face painting and tie-dye workshops.

• when one of their siblings leave camp, they are given an iridescent seashell, a symbol of their time at camp. the shell is enchanted to create a small rainbow when held up to the light, serving as a keepsake and a reminder of camp half-blood and the friendships formed there.

divider by @sister-lucifer

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo fandom #hoo series #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#pjo cabins #iris #arcus #iris cabin #cabin fourteen #cabin 14 #children of iris

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thetxtdevil · 5 months ago

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The Haunted House

~Chapter 1~

Ghost Beomgyu x You x Ghost Taehyun

summary: You move into a very obvious haunted house, but you're not running away since the house is cheap and you're not afraid of any ghosts. Only afraid of talking to them.

content: introduction, paranormal themes, human fem.reader, beomgyu and taehyun are implied but not truly introduced

word count: 1.6k

Chapter: 1 -> 2 -> 3 -> ...

Dark cloudy skies loom over the old wood of the house before you. You could’ve sworn that creaking sounds came from the house almost tipping over. It was an original Victorian-style mansion not considered a mansion in these modern days but still big for you to live alone. The brick exterior made the building look taller than it was, with steep roofs that pointed sharp making birds awry to conjure about it. Its intense atmosphere however had some fun characteristics with rotted-away gold trimming, faded colors of stained glass windows, and the wooden porch steps indented in the middle as a sign of once frequent use.

There was no doubt that this place was haunted. The place even contrasted with the neighbors’ bright green grass lawns and summer-colored houses. Never been on the market for its history, but of course, you had to blab your mouth to the real estate agent and say that you don’t have a lot to offer and you come from a long line of spirit mediums. The agent put two and two together and now you’re here, taking your first step the wood crumbles underneath your feet. Looking up in disgust at the agent the woman laughs and continues to show you around.

The front door creaks open revealing an even darker interior, coated with dust each step you take leaves a trail of footprints not to mention the suspicious footprints you see already made going into another room. Heading into the family room the space was cozy, your eye caught the grand fireplace walking towards it to take a better look. You imagine the crackling sounds of the fire and the warmth hitting your face. Looking up on the mantle the only decorations left in the house seemed to be two framed pictures of young men. Inquisitively picking up one photo surprised by the stark blond adorned on his dark hair, quite unusual at his time.

“This house does need a lot of fixing but it's been taking up a valuable lot so we would give you extra money to help renovate if you take it”

Putting the picture back on the mantle, you chuckle “So you’ll pay me if I move into this house.”

The lady nods, fear consuming her aura, eyes watering, eyebrows tilted, you can tell she wants to make a deal right away so she can leave the place. You lean your head up breathing in the dust almost reminding you of the scent of pages of a book. You continue to look around at the beauty that hides behind the vacancy. Going back to the two pictures of the men you suddenly feel an unexplainable warmth blanket you.

“I’ll buy the house.”

❈❈❈

You come from a long line of spirit mediums but your body and mind have yet given in to the gift of speaking to ghosts. Maybe your mother was wrong and you didn’t have the power or perhaps you secretly didn’t want to have any connections with the dead. You became tired of the constant tarot card readings depicting you as the fool, your mother constantly saying it’s telling you to embrace the tradition but you ignore it. Not making a life as a medium you went another route of becoming a nurse in the ICU. You’re still surrounded by death but at least you can cheat it and not have to see what comes after the heart monitor stops.

You have become accustomed to brushing sounds for the past few weeks. It was taking a lot of your time trying to scrub years of dust off the cracks and crevices of the house. The first thing to do is fix the porch stairs you broke through and the rest of the porch wood. Calling builders who were experts in renovating such things you divert your attention to other matters the molded torn wallpaper. The leftover burgundy wallpaper was faded, and some parts drooped down showing off a dirty cream wall. Tearing away the paper a domino effect happens, you jump at the sudden movements of all the wall coverings being torn down. Walls cleaned and primed you open a can of emerald green paint, dipping your roller brush, and you start covering the panels.

“Wow, do you need help?” a worker from the porch says. You look at him with disgust, you just started painting why would he judge so soon? Bending down to absorb more paint into the brush you straighten your posture to notice the walls already covered with the vern color. You spin around seeing the whole house was already poorly painted. Walking closer to an area of the wall that hasn’t been touched you study the way the paint has finger-like swipes running through the yet-to-dry pigment. Your head starts to feel heated a warmth consumes you making your vision falter, a green handprint materializes before you slowly streak down. Your mouth dry you decide to walk away, thinking the toxic fumes are already killing most of your brain cells.

❈❈❈

The Victorian house was restored to its former glory, it was less daunting than before but you kept its darker aesthetic to match the peculiar nature. The musky scent of mature wood was long gone and now had a fresh new car smell mixed with your vanilla candle enveloping the entire estate. The walls were cluttered with pictures, shelves as little trinkets, and cozy furniture that made the house seem a little smaller than it was. All is well except for one thing, you constantly have to vacuum up dust bunnies that trail around the house. Another thing that you have yet to renovate is a locked portion of the house. You would think the realtor would give you the key but that wasn’t the case. The dusted footprint trails to this mysterious room all the time, you were not excited to see how overgrown it looked behind the closed doors.

Rummaging through each closet, drawer, and corner of the house to find the key. A glimmer shines in your eye when you walk past the entertainment room. The wooden floors were sturdy and creaked every so often but the shine came from one tiny hole in a floorboard. Kneeling, you curl your finger in the hole opening the floor and there you see a key. Eyes widen in victory once you move your hand to grab it a sudden chill rushes through you the wood falls and slams on your hand. “OW” you hiss grabbing your hand and rubbing the pain away, “you really don’t want me to get in there do you?”

You were talking to yourself and the key, but after thinking over the unexpected motion of the woodboard you might be talking to someone else. Quickly reaching for the key, your suspicions came true when you watched the panel lift to drop down where your hand would have been. Someone doesn’t want you to go through the locked doors. Contemplating the consequences that might occur when you do go through those doors, you stare at the key in your hand the metal feels weird against your palm. One second the item felt warm and heavy pushing your hand down and another second the metal turned cold and light.

You made up your mind, this is your house and you’re going to see everything you own. Snatching the key so the sensations stop, you get up to walk toward the double doors. The closer you get faint wispy sounds evolve into whispers however the conversation isn’t quiet it seems like an argument between two people that you couldn’t hear clearly. The voices stop when you push the key into the keyhole. The doors went flying open revealing an extraordinary library, walking in and spinning around to see the walls filled with books you felt like the beauty who was shown the beast’s castle library with high ceilings to fit the many bookshelves that shined from the tall windows. The curtains were outdated and probably held a family or two of spiders, and the books seemed in good condition compared to everything else in the room as if they were constantly opened and read. Turning around once more to see another fireplace in the house and above it a big painting of the two men from the mantle of the living room’s fireplace. As you walked closer, you couldn’t help but feel like their brown eyes were following you. Strangely alluded to the men, their beauty seemed more advanced almost touchable. How you would love to talk to them, play with the long strands of hair on the taller one, slice your finger against the other’s sharp jawline.

As your arm extends to touch the delicate colors of the painting a big smack awakens you. Looking around to find the cause of the sound you see an open book on the floor. Forgetting the two men’s painting you walk over to pick up the novel. Getting closer to the open page you’re hesitant at the illustration that is shown before you the book was a guide to tarot readings. The page shows Nine of Swords, from your memory of the meaning someone wants you to fear them, you felt sick instantly getting anxious as to what is to come. Looking back at the big painting you see the two men were gone, a painting of deep reds and black. An unexplainable gust of wind strikes you like a cold sharp dagger into your gut sweeping you off your feet.

You lay there unconscious shivering with closed eyes hiding your fears.

-> Chapter 2

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt thoughts #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #taehyun scenarious #taehyun imagines #taehyun x reader #beomgyu x you #taehyun x you

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writingrosesonneptune · 2 months ago

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I come with a standalone short story especially for Halloween!

Something a little spooky and a little bittersweet. Approx: 250 words.

The wind still whispers of what happened there. Scarlet leaves settle over bone in the dry riverbed, over what little remains of a plastic platform heel and sequins that no longer sparkle.

She is quiet most years, sleepy and still.

She rises in unusually warm Octobers, roused by a familiar turn in the breeze. When she wakes, it is always the same.

Her clothes are nicer than the faded tatters strewn along the riverbed. Bright and glistening in the sunlight of late afternoon, she walks the path home, dodging cars on a road that wasn't there the last time she woke.

The exterior of her home is mostly the same. The trees are taller. The paint on the door is different. The curtains are gone, replaced by wooden blinds.

No one is home.

She moves through the house slowly, taking her time in examining new trinkets, new photos, old faces. New faces.

They've remodeled the kitchen. Gone are the brown tiles and avocado fridge, although her favorite magnets adorn the towering white thing with twin doors. The shaggy mustard carpet in the living room is now a close-cropped blue the color of the sky. The color of her strappy sandals.

She leaves no shoeprints on the nice carpet, which is a relief, considering the mud still caking her soles.

As the house grows dark, it becomes all the more familiar. She dances to music blaring from a neighbor's patio, spinning through the kitchen and the living room until weariness brings her to her old bedroom. She's never brave enough to visit it until nightfall, when only the light from passing cars threaten to reveal what might have changed.

There are a few more boxes on the floor than last time.

She runs her fingers along the wall to search for the edges of posters, but if they're there, she doesn't feel them. She only feels the humidity and the thick mud.

Time slows down. Sleepiness leads her to the bed with its cool covers. She can't feel them; she never feels them, except in memory. But they're the same in the dark - the same floral pillowcases, the same eyelet lace trim running along the sheets like white-water.

It is her room, and that's where she'll fall asleep.

When she wakes, it is always the same.

#ghost story #writeblr #neptune writing #horror #but only kind of #this is completely unedited so i apologize for any typos #i just got the idea for this and wanted to post it before halloween ends in my timezone

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sailtomarina · 1 year ago

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For her? Anything.

It was silly, really, why she was here. She could have ordered from any number of overpriced planthouses that catered to the old money–she had done so exclusively in the past. But Pansy was curious for multiple reasons and Neville Longbottom’s little nursery in Hogsmeade was making a name for itself among garden enthusiasts.

Now, Pansy wasn’t a garden enthusiast by any stretch of the imagination. What plants she did bother to place in her home looked nice with just the right amount of glossy greenery to bring a sense of life to her space. Magic made upkeep thoughtless with charms like drought detection and pest repellent.

What drew her attention to Longbottom’s little hut were the rumors of unique, one-of-a-kind flora, the promise that the man himself would ensure you walked away with a companion who would fit your lifestyle just so. Pansy had never had a relationship to speak of with her leafy friends. They were strictly foliage to dress up more striking decor, which admittedly leaned towards the dark gothic–deep mauve, midnight blue, matte black, and, of course, brass accents. She adored thick, velvet fabrics, heavy brocade. What kind of plants would Neville pick for her?

The Magic Bean was everything and nothing that Pansy had expected.

From the outside, the humble building with its thatched roof, lime-washed cob walls, and climbing ivy looked like any other English home. There was nothing from the exterior that gave away the secrets within, not even the simple wooden sign above the doorway. Once you walked in, however…

Stepping through the entrance, she felt a brush of magic over her entire person, the warmth of which invited her to close her eyes and lean into the comfort of it. Within a breath, the touch disappeared and she opened her eyes once more.

The entry shop was something out of Helga Hufflepuff’s daydreams (or Slytherin’s nightmares), sunlight streaming through the large, deep-set windows onto open-backed shelves lining all the walls and piled to the brim with potted plants of every size and color imaginable. An expansion charm had to be in effect with just how deep the room went, the back wall of glass doors opening into what appeared to be even more space. Numerous baskets hung from the ceiling, and Pansy could already feel a sheen of moisture settling onto her face from the room’s humidity.

“Pansy?”

The owner himself stood behind the front desk, likely having just emerged from the side door behind him, and it took her a few moments to gather herself from her initial shock. He looked good. Memories from their Ministry-sanctioned 8th year meant she knew how he’d grown into quite the specimen of masculinity. He’d towered over the other boys, broadened and trimmed down in all the right places, and those chubby cheeks had melted into sharp edges and stubble. She wondered how his thick dark hair would feel between her fingers.

“Longbottom.”

“How can I help you?” Nothing in his expression betrayed a grudge or any misgivings towards the girl he’d grown up with and seen across heavily drawn lines. His brow remained relaxed, both of his hands visible where they rested on the table top.

His hands. Even from where she stood across the room, she could see the corded muscles of his bare arms and the span of his palm and fingertips, large enough to lift her effortlessly against a wall or across a desk.

“I need some plants.”

Her words earned her a broad grin, his white teeth flashing against his sun-kissed skin.

“Well, you’re in the right place.”

She sniffed, her instinctual response when she wasn’t sure what to say next. Looking around the room once more, she realized she probably should have done a bit of research before coming here.

“May I ask where you mean to use them?” His voice seemed deeper than she remembered. Calm and confident.

“Inside my home.”

“I’m happy to help you choose, if you’d like?”

Pansy turned to look at him once more, and she couldn’t help but finger the medallion hanging from her choker. His eyes flit downward before fixing back on her face with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

“I suppose that would be most efficient.”

Her heart stopped at another one of his all-encompassing smiles.

Turning to a strange bell-shaped plant next to the register, he gently lifted the blossom and spoke into it, “Susan, can you mind the till for a bit?”

To Pansy’s astonishment, a voice answered back out of the flower. “I’ll be right there.”

Not a minute later, Susan Bones strode from the back, wiping her gloved hands on her apron. She looked much the same as Pansy remembered with the addition of a similar golden glow to her face. She stopped short at the sight of Pansy.

“Parkinson?”

Pansy nodded her acknowledgement. “Bones.” She hadn’t known the Hufflepuff very well, nor had she kept tabs on where she went off to after Hogwarts. Pansy didn’t harbor any particular feelings about her former schoolmate other than her usual wariness.

Susan’s eyes slid over to her coworker, raising her brows in an unspoken question, and Pansy wondered.

Were they…together?

“I’ll be assisting Pansy for at least the next hour.”

Hour?

“Are you sure a home visit in this case is…wise?”

And there it was. Susan’s eyes narrowed as she ran her eyes down Pansy’s frame, scoffing once she reached the 4-inch patent-leather heels.

“For her? Anything.”

Now that caught both of their attentions, and they leveled him with near identical looks of shock that had him tossing his head back in a full-throated laugh.

“I’ll be fine, Susan, I promise. Unless, of course, Pansy here has rigged her home with gardener booby traps?” The teasing glint in his eye sent a rush of heat through Pansy’s core. Two could play that game.

“Just the trademark chains and whips, if you’re into that, Longbottom.”

Susan’s gasp paired beautifully with the way Neville’s brows raised. Pansy tried to not think too hard on how his eyes darkened and hands fisted at her words. He took a deep breath and flattened his palms once more before responding.

“I’m sure we can find something that’ll fit.” Circling the counter, he offered her his arm. The moment she took it, he steered her back towards the entrance.

“Wait, you were serious? You want to visit my home right now?” This wasn’t at all what she had expected. She figured they would tour the greenhouse and that he’d ask her a bit more about her decorations and style preferences.

“I like to see what we’re working with firsthand,” he replied without hesitation, stopping at the nearby apparition point. He turned to face her, close enough for her to breathe in his heady mixture of aromas—sun-drenched earth, some unidentified floral sweetness…and honey? “I’m ready when you are.”

She could do this. Neville Longbottom in her home. Taking a deep breath and clutching his arm even tighter, she swirled them to the right. Pansy took a small pride in her apparition skills. Rather than the usual loud crack most others created, her magic resulted in a barely there swoosh, like the twirl of a skirt. Landings were just as smooth, unraveling gracefully into place.

“Nice.”

She preened at the compliment, despite mourning the loss of his warmth as Neville’s arms dropped away and they turned as one towards her front door. She couldn’t help but notice his shudder as he followed her through the entryway.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing bad. I couldn’t help but feel your wards—they felt like dropping into a pool of cool water,” he said, smiling wryly along with his observation.

“It keeps out hotheaded Gryffindors, so I guess you pass the test.” That earned her another one of his grins.

“Well, I can already tell you have impeccable taste. This is going to be fun.” Neville slowly rotated as he studied the entrance. “Willett’s?”

She nodded as he gestured at the vase sitting on the circular receiving table. The peonies were beautiful captured as they were at the start of their bloom.

“They do fine work. You really can’t go wrong with their bouquets.”

“But?”

He glanced between her and the pink blossoms, opening then shutting his mouth as if considering his words carefully.

“Just spit it out, Longbottom.”

“They’re a bit��on the nose, aren’t they?” He smiled apologetically, but she instantly knew what he meant.

Peonies, favored for their simple elegance and illusions to wealth and romance.

“Not to mention too boring for you.” His eyes flickered from the art on the walls, down to the mosaic tile at their feet, then beyond the dark archway leading further into her home.

What followed were the most enthralling couple of hours within recent memory. Each room resulted in deliberation and conversation. Pansy felt like what she imagined one of his new plants must feel—examined from every angle, situated in different soils and humidities, overwatered, then starved, thrust into the sunlight only to be pulled back into the shade. He acted then reacted.

By the time he started to wrap things up, her stomach was growling in the most unflattering way.

“I’m sorry I took so much of your time, but I think I know where to start now.”

“This might be the most excited I’ve been since Granger released her exposé on Rita Skeeter.”

“Oh, I know. Who would’ve thought? A beetle, of all things!”

They were joking like old friends inside of her home, and Neville Longbottom was going to furnish said home with as many plants as his heart desired. Even four inches taller as she was, she still had to look up at him to catch the twinkle in his eye, the way they crinkled at the edges as he laughed. If she lifted up on her toes she might be able to press her mouth to his.

“I’m heading back briefly to relieve Susan and close up shop. How about we discuss the rest of our ideas over dinner?”

Pansy blinked up at him, still wondering at the state of his lips, and if she imagined the words that had just come out of them. She must have stayed silent a beat too long, because his smile faded as he gazed down at her.

“Pansy?”

“Are you asking me to dinner strictly in a professional manner, or can I look more into it?” The question spilled out before she could reign it back in. Damn her curiosity and impatience. Damn her mouth that never knew when to shut up even after all these years. At least now she knew he and Susan were likely only coworkers.

He stepped closer, taking her hand in one of his own. He radiated heat as if he soaked in the sunshine. She thought she’d melt from exposure, or perhaps burst into flames.

“Why not both?”

Oh, Circe. “Longbottom…”

“Call me ‘Neville’.”

“Neville, I’m not certain you know what you’re getting into with me—”

“Oh, I think I do. I just walked through room after room of some of the moodiest decadence I’ve ever seen in my life, covered with leather, velvet, and marble in a color palette one might consider Snape-inspired. That man terrified me. You terrify me.”

“That’s not exactly—”

“But you also fascinate me.”

“What?”

“I want to balance out your style, breathe some real life into it.” He raised her fingers to his lips and exhaled softly, the heat of it sending a shiver straight through her. He murmured his next words after pressing a kiss where his breath still tingled, “Come to dinner with me, please?”

“...fine.”

Forget their past history and seemingly different lifestyles. Forget what her mother would think, or her father. Neville was right. She was starving, and he was irresistible.

WC 1971 This totally and completely ran away from me, as per usual. What was supposed to be something sweet and short turned into 2k before I dialed it back. I could probably turn this into a more extensive one shot…we’ll see.

#harry potter fanfiction #panville #pansy x neville #pansy parkinson #neville longbottom #panville prompts

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corporatefrog · 2 years ago

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↳˗ˏˋ loose change ˊˎ˗ ↴

level 4 - make it decaf

featuring: yn meeting a technologically stunted temporary accountant inside the popular coffee shot Tweek Bros Coffee

notes: finally knowing excel has done something good for me. it's helped me write a 6 page chapter of a fan fiction. how wonderful.

series masterlist

previous level | next level

I’d finished my episode of Walk the Walk with Jimmy Valmer just as my car pulled into an empty spot in front of the Tweek Bros Coffee.

I wonder what Jimmy was like in person? His humor certainly showed through in the few episodes I’d listened to so far. Liane sounded like she could have talked for hours about him and still have more stories to share. Or is that just how small town social circles work? When you’ve lived with people your whole life, you’ve got a lifetime’s worth of stories to share. I’ll have to keep an eye out for him or any of his interesting guests. Although, if I ever met that Clyde guy I don’t think I’d be able to take him seriously. “Daddy wants Milfy” will be running through my head until the day I die.

Stepping out of my car, I assessed the exterior of the cafe. The front of the shop acted more as a peak into the interior with large windows reaching from the ground to well above my head. The windows were cut off on the outside by a sign reading Tweek Bros Coffee with the logo of a cup with a coffee bean drawn on it sitting next to the name. I’d hoped to sit outside and observe the town after I’d gotten my coffee but there didn’t seem to be any outdoor seating save for a wooden bench next to the main entrance. Though the large windows would definitely allow for an abundance of natural light and great people watching so it would probably feel the same.

Walking through the door, I was hit with the strongest coffee smell I’d ever experienced. It was as if I’d walked straight into a silo of coffee grounds and were slowly being engulfed and crushed by them.

Morbid much?

I’m just letting myself be immersed in my environment.

Much of the indoors were visible from the sidewalk but it was easier to take it all in without the glare of sunlight on the windows. The dark brown flooring contrasted the lighter shades which covered the walls. Green trim accented the beige walls and the countertops and tables were a shade of brown between the floor and wall creating a calming color palette.

“Welcome to Tweek Bros Coffee!” A voice nearly screeched from the back of the shop. The clattering of metal alerted me to the location of the voice. Shelves of coffee grounds behind the counter shook as an unseen force bumped against them, each quake of the shelf being accompanied by a cry from the voice.

Suddenly, a body popped up from behind the counter next to the cash register. It was a man with blond hair sticking out at odd angles wearing a crooked apron with an abundance of stains across its white surface.

“What can I get started for you? Our special is a toasted coconut- wait, I mean, a chocolate mint- not that’s not it either.”

—

Name: Tweek Tweek

Age: 22

Status: Underprepared Barista

Fun Fact: Tweek’s written three apocalypse novels to try and deal with his stress and they’ve become a pretty big hit on Tumblr.

—

The barista began to mutter different coffee combinations to himself, a hand tangling itself in his hair. Behind him, a large chalkboard read TODAY’S SPECIAL: CHOCOLATE CARAMEL LATTE in jagged white letters. However, the barista didn’t seem to notice this sign as he continued to mumble and shift from foot to foot. Should I be saying something right now?

First person I meet and they’re losing it in front of me.

Well, I met Liane first! So maybe this guy is just an outlier.

Let’s not forget Eric then if we’re counting Liane.

Oh yeah… Is everyone in South Park like this?

I raised a shaky hand, unsure how to interrupt the borderline breakdown in front of me. Before I could say anything, the barista let out an aggravated cry. Both of his hands buried themselves into his hair and tugged at the strands as he looked frantically around the room.

“Oh god, I forgot the special! How am I supposed to run this place for a month if I don’t even know today’s special?” He began to pace along the counter, eyes darting everywhere except the sign which read the special he was trying so hard to remember, “I’m going to forget the security code and I’ll be standing here at five am with the alarm blaring because I can’t remember and then the cops will show up and think I’m a criminal and I’ll be sent to prison forever-”

Another man approached the register behind the counter. His black hair was much more maintained than the blond’s. He wore a blue t-shirt with a nametag pinned on the chest that read Craig. He carried a folder in his hands with a pen rolling precariously from side to side as he walked.

“It’s chocolate caramel latte, Tweek.” He said, setting the folder on the counter to free his hands so they could stop the barista’s pacing.

—

Name: Craig Tucker

Age: 23

Status: Makeshift Accountant

Fun Fact: In the fall, Craig will be beginning an internship at NASA! Until then, he’s helping Tweek watch the cafe

—

With hands on Tweek’s shoulders, Craig shifted his direction so Tweek was now facing the chalkboard.

“It’s always written there. We write it every morning.” He said flatly, dropping his hands from Tweek’s shoulders before turning to me.

“What can we get started for you?” He asked. I snapped back into focus, not realizing he was speaking to me due to his emotionless tone.

“Oh- yeah- um, I’ll have the…” I sputtered, eyes scanning the menu to figure out what I wanted. I had been so caught up in Tweek’s outburst that I hadn’t gotten the chance to look. Behind the counter, Craig stared at me with uninterested eyes. A soul-sucking gaze which made me more frantic in my search. If I were Tweek, I’d be freaking out too. This guy is more intimidating than my boss!

I think it’s less Craig and more anxiety disorder.

“I’ll have the special!” I forced out, saying the first thing that came to mind, quickly adding, “Medium, iced, and with almond milk if you have any, please.” My voice grew more hesitant as I reached the end of my order, mind racing with worries. Did I ask for too many things all at once? Does he think I’m pretentious for wanting almond milk? WAIT ISN’T THE TOWN AT WAR OVER ALMOND MILK?

“That’ll be $4.39.” Craig’s voice cut off my panicked thoughts. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and grabbed my wallet from the tote, holding out a card to pay with.

Craig swiped the card and handed it back to me, turning with the folder and pen in hand before I could squeak out a meager “Thank you”. He handed Tweek the receipt with the order. The two shared a few words then Craig pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out from behind the counter to a table in the corner. As he sat down, he looked up and our eyes met. I quickly averted my gaze. Shit. Hopefully he didn’t think I was weird for staring.

Oh he totally did. And he thinks you’re a mega huge weirdo. He’s going to tell everyone in town that you’re a huge freak.

“Caramel Chocolate- AH- Chocolate Caramel Coffee!” Tweek’s voice brought my attention back to reality. His hand twitched as he set my drink on the counter, liquid splashing against the lid of the cup. I opened my mouth to thank him for the drink but Tweek had turned back to the counter and began cleaning the equipment before I could get the first syllable out, leaving me alone once again.

The people I’ve met so far haven’t been very social. Liane seemed kind but no one else seemed to be much of a talker. Unless it was Eric who’s yelling at you at 11 am because you rented out his bedroom.

I looked around the cafe for an empty place to sit. A group of teenagers sat at one while an older man on a laptop sat at another and Craig occupied the table in the corner. There was an open table next to Craig but I didn’t want to seem weird for sitting at it.

You look more weird standing and staring at the table. Go sit, dumbass.

Walking like I didn’t care where I was going (while very much caring where I was going), I plopped myself down at the table beside Craig’s. Taking a sip of my drink, I hummed as the sweet caramel chocolate flavor hit my tongue. I can see why this place would be a local favorite!

Deciding to get some work done while I finished my drink, I pulled out my laptop and began to make a checklist of tasks to complete during my time in South Park. The whole reason I’m here is to find new businesses that we could rent our machines to so that’s probably a good place to start.

I typed out “find networks for boss” then entered down to the next bullet point. Staring at the computer, I mulled over what else I needed to do but came up empty.

Well that was over fast.

It’s not like I chose South Park! I don’t know anyone here!

Well then add ‘Make Friends’ or something, I don’t know.

I typed “make friends” on the second bullet point. Now onto the third…

I opened a new tab and began scrolling through etsy. I just want to see what new Mob Psycho merch there is. Totally not scrolling because I have nothing else to write.

I took another sip from my drink, eyes wandering to the table next to me. Craig sat hunched over a computer, nose almost touching the screen as he typed. His eyes shot over to me and I quickly looked away.

Don’t snoop. Don’t snoop. You don’t know this guy and it’d be weird to sit at the table next to him and snoop on whatever he’s doing.

Dude I’m a 22 year old living in a random town in the asscrack of nowhere with no friends, I’m going to snoop. There’s no work getting done here anyway.

Using my laptop as a guard, I glanced at Craig's table over the top of my laptop to make it seem like I was just looking at something at the top of my screen.

Dun dun dundun dun dun dundun DUN DUN DUN

Is that the mission impossible theme?

I’m making an atmosphere.

With the soundtrack playing in the back of my mind, I continued the discrete mission of checking Craig's vibe. An extremely important mission. Much more important than doing the literal job that I begged to be hired for.

He had the folder open on the table and was squinting down at the papers inside. After a moment of looking, he’d turn to the computer and type a few things then went back to the sheet. A frown tugged at his lips that pulled them deeper than the resting bitch face he seemed to have. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between the folder and the computer, lips moving in words I couldn’t hear as he continued to furiously type onto the computer.

With a huff Craig leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed a phone from the other side of the table then lifted it to his ear. His finger tapped on the table as the phone rang. He continued to look between the folder and the computer until someone seemed to pick up.

“Hey, Kyle.” Craig greeted, pausing as the person on the other end responded, “Well, I’m alive. Do you know how to use excel?” Craig let out a slow sigh as he listened to the other person. “I’m asking because Tweek’s parents are gone for the month so he’s in charge of the cafe which means I’m in charge of the accounting…And you think Tweek is any better at math? I handed him a calculator and he screamed when it beeped. I’m just trying to figure out how this shit works.”

Craig’s frown deepened at their response, “No, I can’t just use QuickBooks Pro. Tweek’s parents use excel so I have to use their sheet but it’s set up weird and everytime I click something an error message pops up- Yes, I did google it, smartass. Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of the finances for that shithole you and Stan bought?” Craig sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I knew it was a mistake to ask you. Thanks for nothing, dickwad.”

Craig hung up the phone with a few curses spilling from his lips, probably aimed towards the person he was speaking with. I refocused my eyes on my laptop in case he glanced my way. I hadn’t planned on eavesdropping in on his conversation. It felt less like snooping and more like full blown spying now.

Spying doesn’t matter. He needs someone to teach him excel and you have 4 years of tutoring experience with excel and a desperate need for friends. Get in there!

No way. Craig radiates “Don’t talk to me” energy and I’m not in the mood to reveal that I was listening in on his conversation.

Stealing a glance at Craig, he didn’t look any more approachable. His fingers continued to tap on the table and his foot had begun tapping on the ground. The looks from the folder to the computer grew more rapid as Craig grew agitated with the work. Normally, I’d offer to help but I really didn’t want to risk being the target for whatever aggression was slowly building inside him.

Okay then. Sit there and be lonely for the next three months. Maybe we can be friends with Eric?

Oh, fuck no. I need to make some friends.

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but were you trying to use excel?” I interjected, forcing the words out before I could second guess myself. Craig looked at me from under his eyebrows, not moving his head from its bowed position over its work.

“Were you listening to my conversation?” He asked.

“Well it wasn’t exactly quiet and this room’s pretty small,” I covered my nerves by sipping my drink, trying not to show how petrified I felt.

Craig stared at me for a moment, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of asking a stranger for help or continuing to struggle through these documents on his own. I continued to sip my drink, worried that if I moved too quickly I’d scare him off. His eyes left me and looked down to his papers, comparing them with the computer screen for another moment as though they’d suddenly make sense so he wouldn’t have to indulge a random person in their savior complex.

Deciding that dealing with me was better than waiting for Kyle to change his mind, Craig turned the computer in my direction. I let out the breath I’d been unconsciously holding.

“Their equations don’t make any sense.” Craig hovered the cursor mouse over a cell, double clicking to reveal a combination of cell references and absolute values. Setting down my drink, I closed my laptop and shifted to the empty chair closer to Craig’s laptop.

A few stickers covered the back and keyboard area, all of them space related. On the back, a NASA sticker covered the most space in the top left corner. A spaceship flew across the empty space next to his mousepad, hurtling towards another sticker of the moon.

I refocused on the screen, trying to understand what the equations were trying to calculate.

Just don’t fuck it up.

Thanks. That’s not stressful at all.

The cell references were located in completely random locations. The equation Craig was referring to was trying to add the word “Coffee Beans” to the amount of tips earned over the totality of last month. Who made this sheet? What were they even trying to figure out?

“Is this how the equation was when you opened the file?” I asked, eyes staying on the screen as I spoke.

Craig was silent for a moment. I broke my concentration on the screen to look at him. His eyes stared blankly at me, no thoughts appearing to be moving behind his eyes.

It’s like college all over again.

“The letters are cell references. They grab the data in that box and do whatever you tell it to,” I turned the computer to show him what I was referring to, “This equation is trying to add a word to a number which isn’t possible. Did you click this box while the equation was selected?”

Craig shrugged, “I don’t know. I clicked a few boxes but then everything got messed up.”

I chewed at my lip as I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t continue, I sucked in a breath and looked back at the excel sheet. My brain shifted to focus on the current set up of the page.

I clicked from cell to cell, deciphering the intended structure of the sheets and figuring out what Craig had done to fuck it up. If I compare the previous month’s finances to this month then I can find out what equations they used and apply them to the current numbers. Then I can show Craig how to follow the previous month’s structure so he knows how to fix any misclicks he makes in the future. I’ll have to teach him how cell references work too.

My eyes widened as I noticed an amortization table on the last page of the file. Are they seriously expecting him to understand this? I jumped back to my computer, flipping through the files until I found the notes from my tutoring job. I really didn’t feel like teaching someone how to do these but I doubt Craig would be able to figure this out on his own.

A slow breath left my lips as I assessed the slowly growing list of “Things to teach Craig”. Am I seriously going to do this?

Are you literally complaining about the task you offered to do?

Yeah but I wanted adventure! Not to do someone else’s financial sheets.

Beggars can’t be choosers. Your only friend right now is Eric Cartman.

I mentally groaned at the reminder. Let’s get this started.

“So we’re going to start with the basics. This is a cell, a cell sits on the grid and has a letter number label. When you open an equation with an equal sign and click a cell, that letter number combo shows up as a cell reference.” I continued to explain the functions of excel to Craig, falling back into the usual speech I’d give as a tutor.

Craig mainly listened, rarely interjecting the lecture with questions in favor of taking in the information. I became an in-person youtube video for him. I honestly felt like one too. Once I’d gotten into the groove, I began resetting the sheets back to how Tweek’s parents had them originally and added notes in the empty cells for Craig to reference later on his own.

Whenever a slightly louder bang sounded from the kitchen, Craig would look over to ensure that Tweek hadn’t broken any equipment or himself. It was endearing to see someone with such a flat disposition keep a lookout for someone else so diligently. Granted, it was probably because it would be a shit ton of paperwork and money to replace anything in this place while the technical owners were away but he wouldn’t be asking someone for help with the excel sheets if he didn’t care.

Even when his attention was drawn away, Craig returned his focus to the computer almost instantly. I hadn’t had someone listen closely to me explain how to use excel before. When I’d been a tutor, people would listen enough to get through the assignment then tap out but Craig watched the screen so intently I’d forget he was breathing.

Empty cups piled up around us as the natural light through the windows turned to overhead LEDs and lamps. When Tweek brought me a second drink, I tried to pay but he waved me off. Or I thought it was a wave. It could’ve just been a jolt of his hand. Either way, I made sure to set aside some cash to put in the tip jar before I left as a thanks. We continued to work until I leaned back to stretch and noticed the clock on the wall behind the counter sat at 5:32 pm.

No fucking way we just spent five hours teaching someone excel.

The cafe had emptied of its moderate crowd from when I’d first arrived. Craig and I were the only people who remained at the tables. Tweek sat behind the counter, eyes focused on his phone. Whatever he watched seemed to be helping him relax. A small smile tugged at his lips and his jolting movements had stilled.

Can’t believe he’s watching baby sensory videos. You do that too when you get anxious.

How am I supposed to know what he’s watching by just looking at him?

He’s an anxious dude who looks around our age. It’s an educated guess.

Craig and I wrapped up our lesson. He thanked me for helping- a flat thanks which still sounded odd with his nasally voice- which was honestly more than I expected. I left him my phone number in case he had any other issues and explained I’d be in town for the next few months. Craig didn’t pretend to listen to me. He accepted the paper with my number and put it in his pocket as he began to clean the mess of cups around us.

I awkwardly sat at the table as Craig headed behind the counter to begin preparing the cafe to close. So, do I just leave now? They don’t seem like the type to chit chat after a stranger helps fix their finances.

Dude yeah get the fuck out of there. You made the connection, now go.

I packed up my belongings, bidding the pair goodbye before heading out the door of Tweek Bros Coffee. The sun had dipped near the skyline of the mountains in the distance. Not quite a sunset but the colors of the sky had begun to shift to warmer tones. The shifted lift cast a golden glow over the street, giving the leaves of the trees along the street side a deeper color with longer shadows stretching across the sidewalk.

I watched my own shadow as I walked to the car. Its elongated legs took miniscule steps to cross the parking lot, forced to walk alongside my legs which were stubs in comparison. I felt bad for holding the shadow back with my too short legs. It probably longed to bound across the town, embracing the full range of its movement and exploring the world for all it has to offer.

Or it’s a fucking shadow and you’re projecting.

Yeah, maybe.

Unlocking my car, I slid into the seat and began my trek back to Liane’s house.

First day in South Park done. Three months to go.

taglist [reply to be added]:@n0tangeliccc , @valstarroz , @kenanonsthoughts , @axteroiid , @hand-writxen , @that-kid-fromtheplayground , @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction, @h3artilly, @sula0kin, @ryenwritess , @emlovesredbull

#this is how long most of the chapters will be!#get ready for some mom action next chapter hehehehe #south park #south park x reader #corporatefrog #loose change

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sanctuaryguardianfwhip · 2 years ago

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The sun falling low beyond the tree line of Sanctuary is the final work bell of the day. Fwhip moves the last block of terracotta into place with a heavy shove. His hands are dusty and worn from the long day of placing blocks one after another. His shoulders stiff and aching as the embers of sunset burn behind him and the heavy clouds turn scarlet. It’ll rain tonight, he can already smell it.

The house for Gem is nearly complete. Lighter colors of terracotta and wood make up most of the exterior, with small additions of deepslate walls to mimic the split color scheme of the castle.

Fwhip picks up his shulkers, watching as Kathrine glides off the roof. She looks just as tired as he feels.

“Go to bed, we can finish the interior tomorrow-- it’ll rain anyways.” He gives her as reassuring of a smile as he can, he’s gotten pretty good at it.

The brunette nods, yawning through a mumbled goodnight, and walking back to the inn.

Dusk sets heavy in Sanctuary. Stores closing down for the day as lanterns light the streets with warm pools of firelight. The remnants of sunlight shining red against the bell towers and copper roofs of the Church of Saint Oli. The scarlet glow like a halo of fading light around its silhouette.

Fwhip climbs up the hill to the nether portal tree, his hooves clicking off pebbles and hardened clay on the road up, the sound echoing into the open air.

The portal hisses at his arrival, spitting glittering purple sparks that float like snowflakes and ash.

He traces the doorframe in the tree as he walks inside and stares up at the wall of visions, the wither rose seeming to glare back. Fwhip tears his eyes away and focuses on his plan, pulling what he needs from his inventory. The basket of wither roses Gem brought, glass from the broken potion bottle, a mirror, one of Gem’s books he took from the shelf in her room, and a notebook and ink stained feather pen.

He flips open the notebook, twirling the pen as looks for a blank page. It’s already covered in notes, names, build plans, recounts of his visions. He stops at the blank white paper, the ink from the feather staining the corner where he sets it down.

Outside, there’s a familiar sound of pitters and patters on the canopy. The rain starts like a whisper, hesitant and sparse as the clouds drift overhead from the sea.

Fwhip closes the door, fingers tapping on the counter.

“I- um. Are you going to force a vision?” Kathrine’s words have been flittering through his brain like bumblebees for a day now. Gathering and drowning out any other thoughts with their humming wings.

He’s. . . never tried to force a vision, usually it’s the exact opposite. Dancing around places and people, avoiding touching anything he hasn’t already out of nerves. Some visions are fine, short and easy without any issues. The others, he has to fix something so some distant universe doesn’t collapse. Thanks other Fwhip for— a shock of thunder shakes the jungle like a falling tree, Fwhip’s head snapping over towards the direction before he relaxes.

“Start with the roses and go from there, it’s not that hard.” Fwhip mutters to himself as he lifts a rose from the basket.

Focusing on the dark flower in his palm, he wills the odd falling sensation before a vision to strike. He waits for the drop, the sudden shifts of temperature and balance, the static on the back of his neck, the fading vision tunneling into darkness like a shrieker attack— but nothing happens. He puts the flower down, careful not to prick himself.

The rain outside falls harder as he picks up the glass. One hand grips the counter, eyes staring at the sharp edges. Once again, nothing happens. The glass in his hands holding its secrets away in the glints from the lantern light.

Fwhip sets it back on the counter and picks up the mirror. He half expects to see the Queen of Shadows instead of himself, but it’s just him. Pale face, fluffy ginger hair, short trimmed facial hair, tired blue eyes– he should probably sleep more, he’s surprised Eddie or Maria haven’t dragged him to a bed with how dark his eye bags are. Fwhip closes his eyes, focusing on the mirror instead of his reflection. Thumb absentmindedly tracing the filigree on the handle. He holds it for what feels like minutes before opening his eyes. . . No, still an antlered changeling in a poorly assembled human disguise. How most other emperors haven’t noticed yet is still baffling.

Setting down the mirror, he picks up the book– right, he’s supposed to be writing notes. Picking up the feather pen, Fwhip writes down and crosses out the options that haven’t worked, along with Gem’s story book. He glances at the cover curiously. Written across it in looping, opulent font is the title, Folk and Fables. The picture of a flying dragon on the ash gray cover is rather elegantly drawn in his opinion.

He should get a proper library set up after this— wait he needs to focus on a vision not building plans. Fwhip focuses, letting his shoulders sag as he stares at a point in the book. One minute ticks by, then five. The storm strengthens as the minutes slip by.

Ok, maybe he can’t force a vi—

The spark at the back of neck cracks like Joel’s bullwhip. Fwhip stumbles, inhaling the ozone and dry ice wisps of magic. His head is spinning as his vision blackens like a curtain being thrown over a window.

<I— might have pressed too hard.> Fwhip thinks as the cold and heat shunt him into a dizzy spiral of—

His eyes blink open to a forest. Head pounding as the ringing in his ears fades in and out like he was just caught in an explosion.

He stumbles to his feet, looking around to get his bearings. Birch and oak forest, a small cottage off to the side, two humans collapsed onto the gro— wait.

Fwhip trots over, ears back, absentmindedly rubbing the gem under his sleeve. He watches from a distance, slowly creeping towards the pair. It’s a young man and woman– the woman is unconscious and being held by the dark haired male. Dark vines are curling under her skin, deep in fitful sleep.

Fwhip’s heart sinks into his stomach, boiling in the stomach acid. The girl’s hair is thankfully not ginger but the scene is far too close to Gem’s to make him feel anything but sick.

The man bows his head, forehead pressing against the woman’s, his tears falling like rain as he presses a gentle kiss to his partner.

Pressure like a hurricane pulses through Fwhip’s head, knocking the breath from his chest and the balance from his legs. His vision tunnels, folding like layers of darkness, like origami, as the grass rushes to meet him—

Fwhip’s eyes snap open.

The storm outside rolls above the tree, rain crashing into the canopy like waves on a green shore. The floor he’s laying on is dusty with dirt and dried up leaves. Carefully propping himself up on his palms, Fwhip breathes through the fuzzy clouds of static shivering through his skin.

“Ok— you can force a vision.” He shakily looks down at his hands, now bone white with sharp, jet black claws. Breathing in, he returns to his glamoured disguise, the bruises on his arm from the fall vanishing. “But I’m not doing that again anytime soon. Ow—“

Fwhip leans back against the counter, scooping up the book from the floor. This was where the vision came from so it could have the answers. Opening the storybook, he flips through the chapters. The Dragon and the Griffin, The Fox’s Tale, The Witch’s Forest, The Sleeping Curse, Three Little Cra— He stops flipping and quickly flips back to the chapter about The Sleeping Curse.

Speed reading through the fable, sentence after sentence until he stops a familiar scene. The knight and her prince, after a horrible fight, collapsed in the forest. The knight, struck down by the dark king’s lance, is lost in a cursed sleep– and is saved by true love’s kiss.

Closing the book, with a smile that borders on giddy joy, Fwhip drops it back onto the counter and runs for the door.

The curtain of rain he crashes through soaks into his clothes and hair. A laugh surges up through his chest like the wind rushing across an open plain. Fwhip spins, nearly slipping on the wet grass, heart fluttering in a joy filled tempo as he dances with the storm.

“I found it— I figured it out!” Grinning wide enough to burn he lays down on the hill and stares up at the storm, the high crests of lightning casting photo burn flashes through the clouds. Wind sweeps through the jungle, carrying leaves along with the cold, pelting rain.

“I made a promise, and I will keep it. Time to find something out of a fairy tale.”

#Rp Post #IC: I think my heart has wings now it’s beating so fast!#OOC: THIS TOOK SO LONG— AHHHH!#Short Story

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drades-lair · 2 years ago

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StrikerxBlitz-Baby chronicles: Kids!

Fandom: helluva boss

pairings: Blitz/Striker

rating: T for swearing and mild gore

No matter where you are from there are good bars then there are dives, hell was no different in this regard. Sitting at a rotting wooden table in this dingy smoke filled bar Kirin sat wearing an orange tartan patterned, sleeveless dress with a layered skirt, black lace trim and a black corset coupled with a pair of lace up heeled boots and black fishnets. Kirin had just turned 16 a few weeks ago yet she looked 20, long foggy gray hair sporting black streaks as it hung straight all the way to her waist, small white horns a stark contrast to her unusual hair color and the dark gray shading she’d had as a child was now darker along her cheeks as well as in a triangular shape protruding from her hairline on the imp’s forehead. Kirin had grown into a gorgeous female imp who was smart as a whip, glowing crimson eyes cutting through the dim light of the bar where she currently sat playing a game of poker with several other imps.

Kirin smirked pulling a little slight of hand to exchange a card in her hand to create a wining set, pushing all her money into the center of the table. The 4 male imps playing with Kirin snickered clearly thinking she had no idea what she was getting into thus not looking to be shown up they too pushed their money into the center before revealing their hands one by one. Kirin was the last to toss her cards down revealing a royal flush that prompted curses from all around the table as she scooped up the money from the table. Opting to call it a night Kirin was tucking away the money she’d just won into a small pouch when the card she’d exchanged slipped from her garter belt to fall on the floor.

“You fucking little cheat!” cursed one of the imps

“Shit,” Kirin cursed under her breath

“Come on boys, let’s get our money back with interest,” The gruffest of the male imps growled

Kirin looked to each of the male imps currently approaching her, kicking the rotting wooden table over then into the group providing her with a clear path to the doors. Bolting through the crappy bar doors nearly breaking the already cracked glass as they flung open, turning down an ally nearby with the sound of pounding footfalls behind her. The young albino imp hustled in the direction of a nearby mini mall where she knew Striker would be and sure enough rounding the corner in the direction of the malls front entrance Kirin ran smack into Striker.

“What the fuck?! Kirin? Weren’t you in the mall?” Striker inquired furrowing his brow in confusion

“Well…I…um…” Kirin stammered just as the group of male imps rounded the corner.

“There’s the cheating bitch!” One imp snarled

“What the fuck did Ya do?” Striker asked as the pieces started to fall into place

“Why does it have to be my fault?” Kirin pouted

Striker gave an aggravated groan as the group of male imps started surrounding Striker and Kirin brandishing baseball bats, crowbars and pipes. Striker reached for his holster only to realize that it was empty eliciting a twitch of his upper lip along with a slight eyeroll as he realized his pistol was with Bombproof who’d wondered off into the parking lot. Kirin noticed Striker’s empty holster as well eliciting a concerned look along with a small apologetic smile.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Striker warned Kirin with a small snarl that made Kirin cringe knowing she was in for a lecture

Striker gently pressed Kirin behind him before baring his teeth in a smirk towards the group of male imps who were snickering now. A scrawny imp rushed forwards with his pipe reared back for attack making it easy for Striker to predict his movements, snatching the pipe mid air as it was brought down. Striker heaved the imp attached to the pipe around with a grunt sending him flying into the mall’s cement wall causing blood to streak across the white exterior. The pale imp spun the pipe in his hand in a cocky flourish before taking a stance as the next medium built imp brandishing a bat came rushing towards him taking a couple swings that Striker dodged, bringing the pipe upwards causing the bat to splinter upon impact. Striker gave a malicious chuckle at seeing the bat splinter, spinning the pipe again before bringing it around right into the side of the imps head creating a spray of blood along the asphalt.

Kirin shrieked immediately drawing Striker’s attention revealing she was being cornered by the two remaining male imps. Striker released a gasp as he hurried over to Kirin, driving the pipe into the spine of the remaining smaller imp allowing Kirin to literally slip through the legs of the gruff looking imp earning her a growl from that imp. Striker landed a left hook to the cheek of the imp he’d just smacked in the spine with the pipe sending him to the ground however he was so focused on that imp he failed to notice the gruff imp coming up behind him after Kirin managed to slip away. Turning at the last moment Striker was struck with the crowbar the gruff imp was brandishing on his forearm which he’d brought up for protection out of instinct.

“Fuck!” Striker cursed as pain shot along his arm from his finger tips to his shoulder causing him to drop the pipe he’d been using at a weapon.

“Striker!” Kirin cried out at seeing him get hit

“I don’t know who she is to you but you’ll regret taking her side,” The gruff imp snarled

Striker returned the snarl as he pulled his injured arm close to his chest while whipping his tail out to snatch the gruff imps ankle before giving a hard yank causing him to fall backwards onto his ass. Leaping onto the imp’s chest Striker growled as he started wailing on his face with one fist causing blood to spray everywhere including spattering on Striker. Once the gruff imp stopped moving Striker staggered to his feet, panting heavily. Kirin hurried over to Striker as her face immediately dropped with guilt at seeing him holding his arm to his chest while being rather delicate with it.

“Striker…I’m sorry…” Kirin quietly apologized

“Get on Bombproof,” Striker bluntly instructed still obviously irritated with Kirin

“O-Okay,” Kirin obeyed the instruction, hanging her head the whole way home

Upon arriving home Striker simply released Bombproof into the field after removing the steeds tack then trudged inside with Kirin quietly in toe. Blitz was sitting on the couch watching some shitty TV program when he heard the door open, leaping from the couch when he realized something was wrong with Striker.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Blitz exclaimed hurrying over to his mate and Kirin

“Kirin stole money from a group of imps, and I had ta clean up the mess,” Striker briefly explained

“I didn’t steal the money! I won it in a poker game!” Kirin corrected

“By cheatin’,” Striker retorted only to wince at the accidental subtle movement of his injured arm

“Well…I-I…didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” Kirin quietly stated, averting her gaze while rubbing her upper arm anxiously

“Then maybe Ya should stay out of bars and stop cheatin’ at poker,” Striker sternly suggested

Kirin didn’t respond simply headed for her room while Striker made his way over to the couch where he sat down. Blitz helped Striker out of his jacket followed by his vest and black long sleeved shirt before going to retrieve their well used first aid kit from the bathroom in order to tend to Striker’s wounded arm. Striker sat still with the occasional wince as Blitz wrapped it fortunately it was fractured but not broken meaning if he took it easy for a while it would heal up just fine.

“There, that should do it…you going to go talk with Kirin?” Blitz wondered as he finished tending Striker’s wound resulting in a heavy sigh from Striker.

“Yeah,” Striker confirmed

“Alright, I’ll get Kaiden to help me go put Bombproof away while you go chat with her,” Blitz stated giving a little smirk at his mate.

The duo shared a quick kiss before Blitz retrieved Kaiden to go put Bombproof away properly while Striker got up to head down the hallway to Kirin’s room. Striker rapped on the door to Kirin’s room with his knuckles earning a quiet little ‘yeah’ from inside.

“Kirin? Can I come in?” Striker asked moving his hand from mid door to the handle

“Sure,” Kirin confirmed just as quiet as before

Striker opened the door to Kirin’s room finding the room completely dark with Kirin sitting on her bed, knees tucked up to her chest while staring down at a small pouch on the bed. Striker exhaled a breath before walking over to Kirin’s bedside, flicking on her side lamp then settling on the bed’s edge. Kirin sniffed as she wiped her eyes using the back of her one hand, face burying into her knees as she pulled them tighter to her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Kirin mumbled

“It’s alright Kirin…I’m fine,” Striker assured the young imp

“You got hurt…because of me…” Kirin mumbled again

“Ah…it’s nothin’ I’ve been hurt far worse then this,” Striker once again tried to reassure Kirin with a small smirk

“It could have been worse! And for what?” Kirin exclaimed finally unraveling herself as her glassy crimson eyes shown in the dim light.

“Look, don’t get me wrong Ya shouldn’t have lied to me and Ya shouldn’t be gambling in dingy bars…but, me and Blitz would be hypocrites to tell Ya that it was wrong,” Striker confessed, reaching up to cup Kirin’s cheek

“Humph, don’t worry I’m never going to do it again,” Kirin assured Striker

“I just want Ya safe,” Striker added gently swiping a tear from Kirin’s cheek with his thumb

“I-I know…thank you for saving me,” Kirin retorted looking up at Striker

“Any time kiddo,” Striker whispered

Kirin smiled then leaned forwards to embrace Striker in a hug which he returned.

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