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ironychan · 2 years ago

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Scary Monsters

Okay, @dysphoria-sweatshirt @sweatersexual @30spiders @angrylittlesliceofpizza

Part 1/? - Rocco’s Closet

Part 2/? - School for Monsters

Knowing that the bus was going 'back to school', Luca had pictured something like the school he and Giulia attended in Genova. It was housed on several floors of an ornate old building, on a street that also housed shops and apartments. Humans seemed to like living all piled on top of each other in small spaces, so that everything and everyone they might need was within easy reach. For somebody accustomed to the broad, shallow bottom of the Ligurian Sea, it had taken some getting used to.

This place was not like that. The building, identified by a sign as Flatwoods Middle School, was only a single storey tall, with flat roofs and very few windows. There was a broad open field behind it, where a group of monster children were playing something similar to football. In front of the building was a big car park with rows of young trees and a small fountain on the broad path to the front door.

The fountain was a welcome sight, because by now Luca and Alberto were starting to dry off again. They pushed their way through the kids leaving the bus and ran ahead to jump in the water, rolling around and splashing to get good and soaked.

Unfortunately, there'd been a girl sitting on the fountain rim reading a book. She had eight spidery legs but a humanoid torso and hair in pigtails, and she was wearing a black cardigan with a lace collar and a ribbon choker with an Egyptian ankh. She shrieked as they splashed her, and scrambled to her many feet.

“Sorry, Miss!” said Luca.

She stared at them, uncomprehending.

“We're sea monsters,” Luca added.

“Not good if we get too dry,” Alberto agreed.

The girl examined her wet book and brushed some water off a page, then scuttled away.

“Will you need to keep doing that all afternoon?” asked Jeanne, as she and Marie ushered the kids towards the buildings.

“Yes, Miss Lavigne,” said Luca.

“We'll see if we can't make it easier for you,” Marie decided. Jeanne nodded.

Alberto climbed out of the fountain and put his hands on his hips as he considered the building in front of them. “It doesn't look much like your school,” he observed. Luca had sent him some photographs in the mail.

Luca nodded. “I don't think it's gonna be much like it inside, either.”

Alberto stood there a moment longer then clapped Luca on the back. “It'll be a breeze,” he said, though there was uncertainty in his voice. “Just...”

“... just stay wet?” Luca guessed.

“Right.” Alberto nodded and followed the monster children indoors, head and tail held high. Luca hurried after him.

Flatwoods Middle School had looked quiet from outside, but inside it was absolutely swarming. Monster kids of every possible shape and size were taking things out of lockers or putting them in, talking in groups, or engaged in any of a dozen other activities. Three girls, dressed in uniforms tailored for their varying number of limbs and heads, were poring over a piece of paper and giggling helplessly. Two slug-like beasts, one in a baseball cap, were bouncing a small ball back and forth with their heads, until a red, crocodile-like adult came and confiscated it. A polka-dot creature was fiddling with colourful cube toy as the group went by, and one of the returning kids waved to it.

“Darse por vencido, Miguel!”

The being called Miguel waved back, then returned its attention to its cube.

Alberto decided to try this phrase out. He poked the armoured back of a spiky yellow creature that was holding a large orange ball. “Hey, darse por vencido!” he said with a cheerful grin.

“Uh... sure,” the spiky kid said uncertainly.

An alarm suddenly rang. Luca nearly jumped out of his skin. He grabbed Alberto's arm, but nobody else seemed to consider this an emergency. The students shut their lockers and quickened their steps – or their flapping, hopping, or slithering – but they didn't flee the building. Instead, they ended their conversations with their friends and dispersed into various rooms. Luca kept a tight grip on Alberto as they followed their lifelines, Miss Lavigne and the crab boy named Harry, through a particular door.

Inside was a classroom that looked fairly normal at first, but then Luca began to notice the weird details. One wall had a map hanging on it, but it wasn't a map of anywhere Luca recognized. In another place was a poster labelled The Night Sky, but there were no familiar constellations. Above the blackboard was a row of portraits of monsters in old-fashioned clothing.

The desk, however, were entirely familiar, and the students settled down at them much as students did anywhere. Marie-Jeanne ushered Alberto and Luca to two empty seats at the back, where there was a sink on the wall.

“There we go,” said Marie. “There's water right there, if you need to wet down again.”

“Just try not to disrupt the class too much,” Jeanne added.

“Yes, Miss Lavigne,” said Luca politely.

“We'll be as quiet as mice,” Alberto promised.

Both of Marie-Jeanne's heads nodded, and she went to the desk at the front to begin the lesson. “Well,” said Marie,” since on a regular day this would be our period for history, let's talk about what we learned at the factory today in light of that. Who can tell me something about the history of the energy industry?”

A scattering of hands, tentacles, wings, and at least one foot went up.

“Yes, Heather.” Marie pointed to a girl.

The child in question rather looked like a heather plant, with spiky fur in green and pink. “Scream power was rationed in some places until just five years ago, as a result of the Great Door Crash!” she announced.

“That's correct,” said Marie pleasantly. “We grew up in a small town with rationed scream, actually.”

Jeanne, meanwhile, chose one of the boys. “Arthur! What can you tell us?”

Arthur was a glossy green slug-like creature with skinny arms and a pair of curling, ram-like horns. “Today was the first Code Black in monster history!” he said excitedly.

This was met by an awkward silence.

“I think that's a little premature,” said Marie primly.

“It's possible,” Jeanne admitted.

“But not likely,” said Marie.

“Everybody in the parking lot was talking about it,” said Arthur.

“That doesn't mean it's anything more than a rumour,” Marie told him, while Jeanne nodded. “If anything actually happened, I'm sure there'll be an official announcement.”

“Or maybe there won't be,” said a girl who looked like nothing so much as a dish of blue jelly, with eyes and a pink bow on top. “Maybe they'd hide the truth in order to avoid a mass panic. You all know humans are deadly poisonous.”

Luca looked at Alberto and found him looking back, not sure what to make of any of this.

“You mean venomous,” said a striped, gecko-like boy, who was wearing glasses. “If it bites you and you die, it's venomous. If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous.”

“What if I bite it and it dies?” asked Arthur.

“Then you're venomous,” said the boy in the glasses, rolling his eyes. “Duh.”

“Humans aren't venomous or poisonous,” another kid announced. “It's just that their mouths are so filthy that after one bites you die of infection.”

The jelly waved a dismissive hand. “Either way, why would they tell us and risk society collapsing when they could just quietly kill anyone who got contaminated and cover it up? There might have been dozens of incursions and we would never know.”

Luca was still damp, but he got up and sidled over to the sink to splash himself again. Alberto did likewise. A few kids looked back over their shoulders at them, but nobody seemed terribly interested.

“Okay, kids,” said Jeanne, raising her hands. “Why don't we just...”

“We should ask Harry,” Arthur volunteered. “His family owns the place.”

Alberto and Luca were forgotten entirely as all eyes – averaging more than two per individual – turned towards the grey crab-like boy.

“I don't know any more than you do,” Harry told them. “If there was an incident, Dad might say something about it at supper tonight.” He glanced at Luca and Alberto as they returned to their seats, but his eyes didn't linger on them. “If he does, I'll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“Yes, but will you tell the truth?” asked the jelly. “You have a vested interest.”

“I'll tell you whatever I find out, Michelle,” Harry huffed. “On my honour.”

“What is honour worth when it comes from the establishment?” asked Michelle.

“Enough!” barked Jeanne, and to Luca's astonishment she breathed a bit of fire. Even Marie seemed shocked by this, and the class recognized it as a sign that their teacher was losing her patiences. They quickly sat up straight and looked attentive.

Marie gently took over again. “Why don't we go back to what Heather said about the Great Door Crash?” she suggested. “Who wants to tell me about that?”

There was less enthusiasm now. For a moment nothing happened, and then with a sigh, one grey hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?” Marie asked, while Jeanne held her mouth shut and exhaled smoke through her nostrils.

Harry looked around smugly. “Between 1939 and 1945 over a hundred thousand closet doors lost their access to the human world. But my grandfather Henry Waternoose the First developed a more efficient way to store and distribute every decibel of scream power that remained, and founded Monsters Incorporated to rebuild the door bank so that now there's more scream than ever.”

“Thank you, yes,” said Marie.

Jeanne sighed, letting out a final cloud of grey smoke that gathered in the air above her. “Yes, very good, Harry, although it would have been nice if somebody else could have answered that. Socorro, do you have a question?” she pointed to a lizardlike creature with spines down its back and big red eyes, which had raised a webbed hand.

“Why did the doors fail?” Socorro asked.

“Nobody knows,” Marie told her. “It's still a bit of a...”

It felt like lightning passed down Luca's spine as he realized he knew the answer, and before he had properly thought about what he was going to do, the habit of school took over and his hand shot up. “They had a war!” he said.

Everybody stared at him.

“Who?” asked Jeanne.

“The humans,” said Luca. Belatedly, he realized he probably shouldn't have said anything, but he'd already started now. There was no going back. “That's, uh... that's what my uncle says. They had a big war that went on for years, and thousands of buildings were destroyed, so their closets would be destroyed, too.” He was starting to put this together. The monsters used closet doors to get to the human world and... make kids scream? Because they used it as power for something? That sounded weird, but Luca didn't actually know where humans go their electricity from, although it had something to do with lightning, so who was he to say?

“Well, that's certainly an interesting theory,” said Marie delicately.

Luca sank in his seat a little, as everybody gave him funny looks. That had happened before, when he'd tried to answer a question in school and had ended up saying something humans thought was weird. Everybody was staring, wondering what was wrong with him, and he wished he could disappear.

Despite that embarrassment, by the time the class was over Luca was pretty sure he had this figured out. In order to get back to Portorosso, all he and Alberto had to do was go back to the factory and find the door that led to Rocco's closet. It would be easy.

The bell rang, and the kids scooped up their books and filed out of the classroom. Luca and Alberto stopped to wet themselves down in the sink one last time, and missed some minor drama in the process. Somebody shrieked, and they turned around to see the blob named Michelle pointing an angry gelatinous finger at the gecko boy.

“Miss Lavigne!” she wailed, “Lewis stepped in me!”

“You stopped right in front of me!” Lewis protested. He shook a wad of goo off his foot. It dropped to the floor and rolled across it to join back up with the rest of Michelle.

“You'd have seen me if you were looking where you were going, instead of reading a book!” Michelle informed him.

The two continued to argue as they headed into the hall, leaving only four people in the classroom – or perhaps five, depending on whether one counted Marie-Jeanne as one or two. There was the teacher, the boys, and Harry Waternoose.

“Follow me,” Harry told them.

Luca no longer had misgivings about this. If Harry's father owned the factory, then they had to stick to him like barnacles. They would just have to be very careful not to let him see them dry.

“Sir,” Luca said, as Harry led them up the hall, “we need to go back to your father's factory.”

Harry scuttled up to a locker and opened it. “What for?” he asked.

“We, um... let something there,” said Luca.

“I can tell Dad to have people look for it.” Harry stashed some books and picked up a bag, then shut the door again.

“You can't,” said Alberto. “It's hidden. We have to get it ourselves.”

Harry looked suspicious, but for the moment he did not ask any questions. Instead, he made his way through the teeming hallways to the entrance. Alberto and Luca were still good and damp, but seeing this crush of people and knowing now what would happen if they transformed made them jumpy. When they passed a drinking fountain, Alberto took advantage of it to splash his face, then put his thumb on the nozzle to spray Luca, too.

Unfortunately, not all the water went where he intended. Luca heard a startled cry and spun around to see that some of it had hit the spider-like girl in the ankh necklace. She glared at them.

“Sorry!” said Luca.

She wiped water off her face, then scowled and scurried away.

In front of the building, students were running around or sitting on the grass and talking, or getting onto one of a line of yellow buses that were now parked waiting on the street. Luca wasn't looking forward to riding in one of those again, so he was relieved when Harry didn't go in that direction. Instead, their new friend led them to the parking lot, where there was a car waiting.

At least, Luca was pretty sure it was a car. It was car-shaped, and yet very different from the little cars he was familiar with from Portorosso and Genova. It was black, low to the ground, and very, very long, longer than Massimo's fishing boat. The windows were dark so they couldn't see inside, but then one slid soundlessly open to reveal the driver, who appeared to be a blue octopus with a handlebar moustache.

“Hi, Armstrong,” said Harry. “This is Luca and Alberto. They're coming over.”

“Of course, Master Harry,” said the octopus.

They climbed in. Luca had ridden in cars before, and had found them cramped and uncomfortable. This one, however, was spacious with big soft seats that were almost more like sofas. They sat down, and Harry opened a little door under the seat and pulled bottles of cold water out of a tiny refrigerator for them.

“Thank you,” said Luca politely.

Alberto opened his bottle and poured the contents over his head. “So was that different from your school?” he asked.

“Kind of,” Luca said. “My school is smaller, and we learn about different things, but we do sit at desks and do math problems, and there are maps and things like that.”

“That's it? All day?”

“Mostly. We stop for lunch, and once a week if the weather's good we go back at night to use the big telescope.”

“And that's fun?” Everything Alberto knew about school was from Luca's letters, and Luca loved school. They read stories, learned history, did experiments, and looked at the stars – every day brought something new! But now Alberto was looking at Luca like he was crazy.

“Yeah, it's amazing!” Luca said with great enthusiasm. “Didn't you learn a lot today? We learned about the Great Door Crash.” He started counting things off on his fingers. “We learned that scream power works by vibrating the air molecules, so everything here runs on sound! And we learned that before they learned to get power by scaring kids, monsters would make machines run by roaring into them!”

“Why would we ever need to know any of that?” Alberto asked. “Nobody back home does things that way.”

“It's fun just to know it,” Luca insisted. “Don't you like knowing that plants are green because the green chemical helps them absorb sunlight, or that the evening star is a whole planet and has phases like the moon even though you need a telescope to see them?”

Alberto blinked at him, and Luca got a sinking feeling. If Alberto thought school was boring, did that mean he didn't like Luca's letters?

“You don't go to school?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Nope!” Alberto sat back with his hands behind his head. “That's Luca's thing.”

Now it was the monster boy's turn to look puzzled. “What do you do all day?”

“I work for my Dad,” Alberto replied. “My new Dad. My old Dad left, but I got a new one.”

That just confused Harry further. “How did you just get a new dad?”

“I moved in with him, and after a while he let me call him that.”

Harry gave them a sideways look with all five eyes. “Where are you guys from?” he wanted to know.

Saying the human world was clearly out of the question. Would Harry know where Portorosso or Genova or even the Ligurian Sea were? The map in the classroom hadn't shown anywhere familiar. Monsters clearly know how to get to the human world, though, so what if somebody tracked them down?

“Milano,” said Alberto.

“Yeah, Milano,” Luca agreed. He looked at Alberto, and Alberto shrugged. Apparently it was just the first place he'd thought of.

The very long black car drove them through the city and out into a neighbourhood with lots of trees and fences. A wrought-iron gate swung open by itself, and they headed up the drive to a house even bigger than Flatwoods Middle School. It was three storeys tall, surrounded by geometric gardens and carefully trimmed trees. It resembled a countryside villa, the sort of places Luca and Alberto had only seen pictures of. Harry cheerfully thanked Armstrong the chauffeur and scuttled up to the door. His guests followed, and before they reached the step, the butler was already there to answer it.

There seemed to be all kinds of monsters in this world and Luca was trying to act like that was normal – nobody seemed shocked by their appearances, so it would be rude to be surprised by anybody else. Even so, he couldn't stop a frightened squeak at what he saw next.

He had heard the word 'cadaverous' used to describe somebody who was very thin or pale, but the creature in the black suit that held the door for them literally looked like a dead body. It was huge and hunch-backed, with blue-grey skin, white hair, and blank white eyes. Making things even worse was that it was otherwise the most human-looking creature they'd met since Louise had dragged them through Rocco's closet door. If Luca had seen this come out of a closet, he'd have screamed enough to keep a whole city lit for a week.

“Hi, Schrecklich,” said Harry.

The butler nodded slowly, once, without speaking.

“This is Luca and Alberto,” Harry added.

Alberto stood up as straight as he could and grinned awkwardly, trying to look brave. Luca kept partially behind him, and waved.

“We're going in the pool,” Harry added.

Schrecklich nodded again, and turned his head to watch them go by. The boys walked fast and kept their eyes in front, not wanting to look directly at this terrifying creature. The door opened onto a big tiled hallway with intricate carpets on the floor and two flights of stairs leading up to the second level. The ceiling was as high as the third story, with balconies looking down and a stained glass dome at the top. From the centre of the dome hung a glittering crystal chandelier.

“I'm gonna go get my trunks,” Harry told them, as they stood staring at the room. “You can head out back. Schrecklich will show you the way.” He headed up the left flight of stairs.

The boys swallowed and turned to the butler, still not wanting to meet his empty, staring eyes. Schrecklich grunted, and gestured for them to follow him.

The rest of the house was as palatial as the foyer. They passed through half a dozen rooms stuffed with stylish furniture, with thick carpets on the floor and artwork on the walls. In one, a creature dressed as a maid was vacuuming. She had eyes on stalks, one of which turned to watch them go by, but when she saw they were with Schrecklich the butler, it rejoined its mate in keeping track of the cleaning.

Alberto tried very hard to look as if he were too cool to be impressed by this, keeping his lids half-shut and his head facing forward, but Luca could see him glancing around out of the corners of his eyes. Luca himself couldn't help but staring in amazement, and very nearly fell behind once or twice. Each time, as soon as he realized the others were getting ahead of him, he would run to catch up, because this house looked like a place somebody could get lost in and never find their way out. Sea monsters had an innate sense of direction that always told them which way was home, but that didn't help much in an actual maze.

At last the butler slid a glass door open, and they stepped out onto a multi-level wooden patio surrounded by flowers and palm trees. In one spot was an elaborate cushioned swing, in another a hammock, and on the lowest level was a firepit surrounded by comfy-looking ottomans. The centrepiece was a kidney-shaped swimming pool with a diving board, surrounded by beach chairs and sun umbrellas.

“Cool!” Alberto declared, and dived right in, clothes and all.

Luca paused before following him. “Thank you, Sir,” he said to the terrifying butler.

Schrecklich grunted again, and turned and went back inside.

Entering the pool brought on an immediate sense of relief. As long as Luca and Alberto were actually in the water, they wouldn't have to worry about being seen drying out. For the moment, at least, they were safe.

“Can you believe how rich these people are?” Alberto asked, kicking water at Luca with one flippered foot. “I bet they've got a whole fleet of Vespas!”

“Harry did say his dad owns the factory,” Luca said. If the screams were the only source of power, and the factory provided all the screams, that made sense. Luca wondered again about electricity. Where did it come from? Were the humans who provided it rich like this, or did it work totally differently? “I hope he can get us in without getting caught.” They hadn't seen much of it but the factory looked pretty big. Were they going to be able to find Rocco's door again?

“He'll do anything we want,” Alberto said confidently. “We promised to show him two humans, remember?”

“You promised,” said Luca, still not sure about that plan.

“We'll be home in no time,” said Alberto, floating on his back. “Until then, we get to hang out in this palazzo!”

Luca had other things on his mind. “I wonder what people back home are thinking. I mean. Signora Marsigliese would have heard us all shouting and she must have come in and we were just gone.” He hadn't thought of that yet... now that he did, it made him want to panic. “Mom and Dad are gonna be freaking out. And Massimo...”

Alberto must not have thought of this either. He stood up with his feet on the bottom. “You think so? Yeah...” he looked uncharacteristically thoughtful. “Yeah, he'll be looking for me.” Luca had told him how Massimo had gone to search for Alberto when he'd run off after their argument, and Alberto had told him what had happened after the boat caught fire.

The glass door slid open again, and Luca and Alberto looked up to see Harry scuttling out onto the patio. He hadn't worn any trousers earlier, but now he had blue swim trunks made to accommodate his many legs. Around his waist was a colourful, tyre-shaped inflatable thing, like a malformed beach ball. When he hopped into the water, it kept him buoyant, and he paddled over to them.

“So when do I get to see these humans?” Harry asked.

Luca looked at his friend. This had been Alberto's idea.

“Tomorrow,” said Albert. “Once you get us back into the factor.

Harry nodded and smiled, showing off teeth even sharper than the sea monsters'. “I figured,” he said. “That's what you hid there, isn't it? The humans? Right?”

Something in Luca's chest tightened. This had already been a bad idea and now he felt like it was getting worse. What was Harry going to think if he figured it out? Or worse, what if he didn't believe they could show him a human, and just threw them out? Luca had never been very good at lying. It was too hard to remember what he'd lied about and make sure it all made sense together, and his mother was too good at finding those holes.

“Um, yes,” Alberto decided. “Yes, they are, and we'll show you tomorrow.”

“I knew it!” Harry said triumphantly. “Why did you bring humans into our world? You must know they're dangerous.” The words were reproachful, but the tone was intrigued.

“They're not, though,” said Luca, desperate to tell the truth about something. “All those things people were saying in class, that they're venomous or will shock you or make you sick, none of that is true.”

“It isn't? How do you know?” Harry asked.

“Because we hang out with humans all the time,” said Alberto. “Some of our best friends are human. My Dad is human. My new Dad. My old dad was a sea monster.”

“I go to school with humans,” Luca agreed.

“And that's... normal?” Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“Um.” Now Luca hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“It's not really common,” Alberto said. “We're from just about the only place where humans and sea monsters get along.”

“In Milano,” said Harry.

“Yes, Milano,” Luca agreed.

“Will you take me there?” Harry asked.

“Well...” Faltering for the first time, Alberto looked at Luca for help.

Luca shook his head. “I don't think so.” It was a bad idea for many reasons, but he picked the one he thought Harry was most likely to agree with. “I don't know if we'd be able to get you back. The lady who found us, Louise, she said they would have to review the door we came in by. So they might get rid of it. It's not worth the risk.”

Harry, however, was not worried at all. “I know where they keep the doors for review. It'll be easy to find it. We'll just wedge it open. They can't deactivate an open door. There are safety protocols.”

Luca tried again. “The humans will be scared of you. You're not like the monsters they know.”

“Giulia's cool,” Alberto offered. “We'll just tell her Harry's a friend of ours, and she'll be fine.”

“Yeah, but it's not Giulia's house,” Luca pointed out. “It's Signora Marsigliese's house, and it's Rocco's room.”

“We'll figure it out,” Alberto said.

Maybe Alberto was just stringing Harry along. They did very much need for this boy to keep being nice to them. Once they got back to the factory, they could find a way to ditch him. Luca would feel bad about that, but taking Harry to Portorosso would be such a disaster, it actually made him feel a little sick.

#fanfic #pixar luca #luca 2021 #monsters inc #monsters university #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #scary monsters

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 2 years ago

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I am crawling out of the grave I dug for myself to request din+corin+ grogu family head cannons so I can blissfully go back to my grave.

I'm a bit behind on the head cannons that make sense, I'm afraid xD However, I hope a tiny but (hopefully) cute one-shot might make up for it...?

Why are we different?

The karking sink goes crazy. Corin suspected the pipes in their cabin/house were struggling with the lower than usual temperatures. He did, however, not expect the sudden fountain of water as the pipe in the sink burst as he is doing some final cleaning in the kitchen while Din is getting the little bean dressed for bed.

Flailing, Corin struggles to approach the sink while it tries to power-wash him from the waist up and he is on the verge of retreating when his usual savior comes to his aid.

The helmet makes it easier for Din as he can actually see through the watery assault and plow his way towards the main switch. Though, after the water is turned off; he is every bit as wet as Corin and that is at least some comfort to Corin's bruised ego after failing such a simple task.

Dripping with water, Corin wrings off his own shirt and tosses it aside while Din inspects the broken pipe and muttes in Mando'a. They will have to get new parts from the neighboring town tomorrow. "You okay?" That water had been freezing.

Din straightens with a huff. "Yeah, I..." His voice trails off when he turns and sees Corin, then there is a soft exhale of amusement. "Yeah, I'm very okay."

Corin ignores the water on the floor and the walls and who knows where else. He doesn't like that Din's shirt is soaked. The man has been flirting with a cold for a week and Corin doesn't want to risk Din getting sick. "Shirt off. Let's get you dry and warm."

Din hums and his voice sounds far too amused as he drawls; "My pants are pretty drenched too."

Corin glances down and sees he's right. "Pants need to go too then."

Din nods. "Yeah. Excellent plan."

Corin is about to move over and offer to help him when he finally catches on to Din's tone. A light heat crawls into his face, Din flirting will probably always have that effect on him, and Corin clears his throat a little awkwardly. "Just get your shirt off, sir. I'll get some rags so we can get rid of all this water."

Din chuckles and opens his shirt. During their stay, he's started to wear shirts more often as they are a lot easier for him to take off if... a some situation required it.

Corin turns and means to go find said rags, but he's distracted by the too adorable sight of Grogu standing in the doorway and staring at them. He's wearing his tiny, yet oversized, night shirt and pants, and it is so cute wars could be ended at the mere sight. "Hey, little bean. Don't worry, it was just a silly water pipe that wanted to play. Your dad fixed it. Everything is okay."

Grogu looks from Corin to Din and back again. He's obviously studying them, ears flicking thoughtfully, and he tilts his head with a quizzical chirp.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Din asks, throwing his shirt over to land where Corin had thrown his, the focuses on their little son.

Grogu tilts his head to the other side, still looking from one to the other, then he looks down. The little bean pulls up his nightshirt, poking at his round little stomach with his index finger.

Corin looks over at Din, sees his muscular and gorgeous torso on display, then peeks down at his own far less impressive though somewhat toned stomach, before moving over to crouch down in front of Grogu staring thoughfully at his belly. "Yours is the best, little bean. You know why?"

The child prods once more and then looks up at him with an inquisitive trill.

"Because this tummy?" Corin says in a confidental tone, leaning closer. "Is perfect for THIS!" He grabs Grogu, lifts him and burrows his face to the softness of his belly to blow a massive raspberry on it.

The little bean shrieks with laughter, flailing and squirming, as the raspberries keep on coming.

Din watches them with a soft and endlessly affectionate smile hidden by his helmet. He loves these moments when he's reminded as to why the kid had insisted on them saving the stormtrooper; they belong together.

Family.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #the one-shots start coming and they won't stop coming

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dragonslaved · 9 months ago

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I just had so many painful flashbacks reading this entire explanation, this isn't even getting into the big soup vats if the restaurant has any kind of soup or gravy. The number of times I (120lbs, 5' nothing) had to physically climb into the thing to scrape cooked and dried on bacon fat and whatever else may have been cooked in them (usually 2 or three vats, each one specific to whatever was cooked all throughout the day) was never less than 2 times a day.

and this isn't as simple as just cleaning the bowl itself. These big industrial ones also have a drain on the bottom that, because of fat and grease, gets kinda. Caked in there. So I'd have to grab some kind of scrubber brush with a long handle and really, really dig in from inside the bowl and outside. And pray I didn't have to rinse it out four or five times in one go. And because they are draining out the bottom, there's usually a physical drain built into the floor with a food trap you better remember to clean out and wash.

I was also a dishie for years and let me tell you, the two-to-three times a week to really scrub down those hood vents and stove tops took a long ass time. My specific kitchen had specialized chemicals to spray on and then leave on for a while. So you couldn't even just hop right in to scrub. You sprayed it on, set them aside because breathing in any bit of that chemical cleaner would cause you long term lung and throat problems, find something else to clean and then come back to rinse it all off with a hose, hand scrub it all, rinse again, and then somehow finagle the things into the dishwasher for one final clean and then get them somewhere to dry while you did everything else. So you've got the kitchen bringing you their dishes throughout that last hour and a half to hopefully not have to use again, the actual EQUIPMENT that needs to be washed and scrubbed for the night. And then the rest of the dishes used by patrons and things for the servers.

This isn't even going into what servers had to do to close up when I was a server too. While not as physically intensive, it was still a lot of nit-picky work. Refilling all those little salt and pepper shakers (yes my managers checked a specific amount), counting all the different sugar packets in specific orders (your pure sugar, brown sugar, splenda, whatever 4th alternative sugar your area has), of course wiping down tables and chairs. If you had a booth then you had to take the booth physically apart and clean underneath in case any food or crumbs fell through cracks. (If you ever sit on those cushioned booths and wonder why they slip a little? It's because they literally physically come off to be cleaned later). If the restaurant has carpet? Gotta be vacuumed. This isn't even touching on the restocking servers do as well. The last place I served at had us do back of house restocking of: bottle drinks (root beer, sarsaparilla), carton drinks (those little kid's cartons of milk, chocolate milk, orange juice, apple juice) all from the dry stock storage in the back to the front fridges on the line (again specific count and order). And also if anything spilled in those fridges? Clean it up first. Weighing out and counting sugar into bags (1lbs of sugar per bag, 15 bags was mine it's been 10 years and I still remember) and you couldn't just bring the big 25lbs bags of sugar up to the front. No, gotta do it all in dry storage and bring the small 1lbs bags up. And of course refilling any condiment square containers like the line cooks have in the pictures above and it could range from 3 standard (ketchup, ranch, thousand island) to.. so many more if your place had any kind of salad menu. Cleaning up and out all the pitchers, and empty dressing containers, the actual soda equipment which was its own kind of hell (fuck fountain soda machines honestly) and then any containers they used to clean in (the red buckets you always see everywhere for towels and the like). Cleaning floors and hope no one drops any of those dressing/condiment bags they're using to refill things with. And then the very bog standard counting out and rolling silverware which would only be in a timely manner if the dishie isn't backed up to hell and back from everyone else tossing their dishes at them trying to get done and clocked out.

The way restaurants I worked at handled it was you did front of house (cleaning tables/restocking table things) first, get checked out by management, then go do back of house restocking. One person walking in after it's been checked out? You have to do it all over. Please just go easy on restaurant staff in that last hour of operation.

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

#restaurants #cleaning #sorry I was in restaurants and professional and catering kitchens for 20 years #I have SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT IT #like I get if you're desperate and there is literally nothing else you can do but go in to a place as they're closing and pray but #please just have some grace to these folks #but please understand if you are an ass and make them work another 2 hours #your food is in fact made with hate #the entire staff will remember you #also lmao the people in the notes saying oh just close the dining room first #you think chain restaurants and district managers care about anything more than customer complaints and losing money?#the US is a capitalist hellscape and does not care #you get customers coming in saying OH BUT THE HOURS SAY THIS and do not care #sorry OP I just am SO HEATED sometimes about restaurant work and how restaurant staff are treated #and how willfully ignorant people can be sometimes even when presented with reality

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spilledreality · 2 years ago

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Stephanie Savage, co-creator of the Gossip Girl television series: In the pilot, the first scene is Blair on the [Met] steps with her minions telling Serena that she’s not invited to the “kiss on the lips” party. When we saw that scene come together, we had a good sense of the show we were making. You had this controlled space that literally had levels to it, a visual ladder that you could see people climbing. There was definitely the sense that the higher the step, the more powerful the girl. David Netto, interior designer, graduate of the Buckley School: In the ’80s kids from private schools used to gather on the steps to smoke in their Unique Boutique topcoats, and I would have them come up in shifts to my parents’ apartment. We’d watch from the windows on the eighth floor to see who was cute and ask them to come up, like a teenage Studio 54 doorman situation. This is how I met my wife Elizabeth. She and some other Brearley girls came upstairs soaking wet from the fountains, and I gave her a dry blue shirt to put on. Perry Ellis, I still remember.

From "A Social History of the Met Steps," Town & Country

#gossip girl

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homunculus-argument · 4 years ago

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At first I thought the whole claim “Finland has no nudity taboo” was the same kind of utopia sensationalism as “Finland has no homework” and “Finland has no homeless people”, before I realised just how fucking weird people in some places are about people being naked.

Like, obviously a grown man can’t just ride the bus buck-ass naked, but there are contexts where being naked is fine, and contexts where you’ll get arrested for it. In my home town there’s a fountain at the park where kids often play in the summer, and while most of them don’t run around naked, plenty of parents will change their kids under 5 from wet clothes to dry clothes right there on the park bench - if you have a problem with seeing a toddler naked, you’re the one who has a problem.

I’ve seen all of my family members nude, dad used to cook while wearing nothing but an apron and wool socks (the floors were cold). If I was staying at mom’s house and was sitting in the kitchen completely naked while eating cereal, someone might ask me whether I’m just about to get into the shower or just got out - not in judgement, but the same way you’d ask someone who’s wearing a coat indoors whether they just got home, or were just about to leave. And the asker is most likely curious because she was just about to go to the shower.

I don’t know if office workplaces do this anymore, but it used to be quite common for workplace bonding events (what the hell do you call those in english?) to involve going to the sauna together with your (same sex) co-workers. You’re free to opt out from this kind of thing if it’s not your thing, but you couldn’t just show up and then make it awkward for everyone. Having seen your boss naked doesn’t make things weird - and if you decide to make it weird, that’s a you-problem.

Essentially, there’s two kinds of context in which a person can be nude: sexual or non-sexual, both of which are completely fine. Having a problem with somebody being naked means that you’re not sure which context this is in, which is the thing that makes it weird. If you can’t tell whether it’s sexual that you and your mother strip naked to wash the dog because it’s a two-person job and neither of you want to get your clothes wet or muddy, you are weird.

90% of the time when someone who’s never been here announces “hey did you know that Finland has no ______”, my initial reaction is ‘what the fuck, of course we do’, before hearing exactly how backwards, unhelpful or straight-up inefficient some other peoples’ solutions have been to the same matter.

#suomipaskaa #vittu #saatana #perkele

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shivering-isles-cryptid · 2 years ago

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Music in the moonlight

Summary: After Cairo and Khonshu releasing them, Marc and Steven feel empty, without a purpose. That is, until they come to the park one night and find a man playing the violin. Who knew that one song could make so many emotions.

Request: Yes / No

Warnings: An attempted mugging, crying cops, crying Steven Grant, crying reader, blood

Steven was walking his usual trail when he heard it. The soft and sharp sound of a violin. When he did, he had been thinking about everything thats happened in the past 2 weeks. Marc, Khonshu, Laylah, Cairo, losing his job, dying. It was all overbearing, but worst was the sense of loneliness that was left when neither he nor Marc could talk to Khonshu. Thats what led to these walks. Even if he was a heartless, decomposed pigeon, the pair had grown used to him being their. But that emptiness was somehow being filled with that music, the melody lifting all of Stevens emotions. As he moved closer, he saw a man standing in front of the fountain, watching the water and playing. He was completely lost in his song and didn't notice when Steven began listening behind him. As the song kept going, Steven felt more and more emotions build inside him until he began crying. When the man started to slow down before stopping, Stevens eyes were dry and puffy. "Wow." The man whirled around, shock on his face. "Gods, I didn't realize someone was here!" Steven was just staring at him, astounded at the beauty of his music. "You're really pretty. I meam, your.. Your music is really pretty. Not that your not pretty, you are! Well your handsome, but also pretty." The man started laughing and put his violin in its case. "Thank you. Your pretty too." He said with a smirk. "So, what brings you out here tonight...." The man looked at him expectantly. "Hmm, oh! Steven. My names Steven. And I couldnt sleep so I went for a walk." The man sat on a bench, bring one leg under him and the other up to his chest. "What.. What about you? Why are you playing violin in the park at 11:30?" Steven chuckled out and the man gave a small smile. "Lately, my music has been having an.... Effect on people, so I try not to play when there's people around." He said, staring at the floor. "I used to love preforming in front of crowds. The cheers and applause got me through alot. I used to preform at some coffee shops and local bars, but recently whenever I play, people's emotions become.... Razzled. Now, when ever I do, theres no cheers, no applause, just tears, sobbing, and once another person started a fight. Ever since..." He stopped talking, his hand squeezing the bench. He looked to his side and whispered, "I dont regret it. I made my choice." Then looked back at Steven, his eyes wide. "Im sorry, ive just been rambling on and on." The man let out a small chuckle and looked back down. "It's. It's fine, r-really. I ramble sometimes too. Especially when I'm talkimg about Egypt." The man's eyes lit up, and he sent a small glance behond him before looking back at Steven with a big smile. "You like Egyptian History?" A small shine was in his eyes when he asked. Steven began to smile too. "Yeah, I've been researching it since I was a kid. You like it too? Whats your favorite story?" Y/n's eyes lot up and he turned around completely, now sitting on both his legs. "The story of Hathor and Sekhmet." Stevens smile grew, and he grabbed Y/n's hands. "I love that story!" The two just stared into the others eyes, smalls on both their faces, hands in each other's hands, the only sound being their breathing and the fountain. That is until they hear footsteps and a sharp click. They turn and see a man dressed in black, pointing a gun right at them. "Steven, close you eyes." He heard the man say from next to him. "But..." He turned and looked at y/n, whos face was hard and serious. "Close your eyes." Steven felt Marc trying to front, but he listened to y/n and closed his eyes, feeling y/ns hands slip from his and hearing him get off the bench. "Give me all your money! Hey, what.. What are you doing? Oh god!"

I stood in front of Steven, the mugger pointing his gun right at me. "Give me all your money!" Y/n closed his eyes and let Sekhmets rage envelop him. His jeans and hoodie melted away, being replaced my a red leather cuirass and a lions pelt kilt. His shoes disappeared, leaving him barefoot and leathers bracers appeared on each arm. His h/c hair lift up into a small bun on top of his head and a small gold crown enveloped his head. "What are you doing? Oh god!" Y/n charged pulling a dagger from his cuirass and slashing at the gun, cutting it in half. He kicked the mans chest, sending him flying into a tree and then stepped forward, and punching him in his face until he passes out. "Hathors preace." He whispered and the armor disappeared, leaving him in his regular clothes. Y/n tossed the dude to the side and went back to Steven, who still had his eyes closed. "Hey, Steven, its okay now." When Stevens eyes opened, they no longer held the same warmtg, they were colder and scanned over y/n, seemingly checking him for injury. "What happened, are you all right?" Steven spoke in an American accent now, and his hands grabbed y/n's face, scanning him before looking behind him and seeing the beat up man. Y/n heard two gasps, one was gentle and soft, the other was sharp and akin to a roar. He looked back and saw Hathor anx Sekhmet watching the pair closely. "Khonshu's avatar." Hathor said, hand moving from her cow mouth. Sekhmet scanned him with her lioness eyes. "I smell Khonshu's stench, but it's faint, like the morsel doesn't realize the pigeons there. "Hey, hey!" His attention snapped to Steven, whos eyes were filled with worry. "Uh, yeah?" He was thinking about what his goddesses said. How could Steven not realize he's an avatar? "What happened?" Steven asked, his eyes narrow. "I beat him up. I pretended I was giving him my money, amd when I got close enough, I disarmed him, kicked him in the chest and knocked him out. And I may have broken his nose." Y/n looked at the sleeping man on the ground, blood on his face. "Okay, I'll call the cops, you relax." Y/n sat on thr bench, looking at the two women next to him. "This was an interesting night." He whispered to them. "Yes, I'd say it was." Sekhmet said, leaning over the body, sniffing it. "This was a lovely first date for you two!" Hathor said, clapping her hands together. "What?" Me and Sekhmet asked, both pooking at her. "Whats that?" Steven called out from where he was talking to the cops. "Nothing! Thought you said something!" Y/n called out, then looked back at the cow headed goddess. "This wasn't a date, we just met!" Hathor shook her head. "Think about it, first you play him a ballad right under thr full moon, then you two talk about your lives to each other, then you hild hands while staring into each others eyes, and then..."

"You beat a man who tries to kill him half to death. Truly romantic."

Sekhmet was now standing to my right, staring at Hathor, who was sitting on the fountain edge. "It truly is." She said, sighing dreamily. Y/n shook his head, crossing his arms. "Im pretty sure theres less bloodshed on first dates." Sekhmet sighed dissapointedly, "thats a damn shame." Y/n looked at the lioness with narrow eyes before turning to Steven, who was walking back to him. "The cops are on their way." Steven said, sitting down next to me. "Steven, why are you talking like that?" He asked, staring at the man questioningly. Stevens eyes widened before rolling into the back of his head. "Oh you know. Stressful situations and such." He said, now talking in the British accent he was when they met. "Okay, anyway, my names y/n. I just realised I didn't tell you." Y/n said, scratching at the leg. "Thats a pretty name." The American accent was back. Y/n looked up to see Steven shaking his head. "Thank you." Yn smiled at him before laying his head on Stevens shoulder. "So, what do we do while we wait?" Y/n asked.

Steven sat on the bench, y/n leaning against him. "What do we do while we wait?" Steven felt Marc try to front again and decided to step back while he did. "I like what were doing right now." Marc said, faking a British accent. Y/n looked up at him, and Marc looked down giving him a soft smile. "I do to. We should do this again." Marc wrapped his arm around y/n's shoulders. "Cuddle on a park bench after beating up someone? I agree." Y/n and Marc laughed and y/n scooted a little closer to Marc. Marc was feeling guilty though. Y/n thought he was cuddled against Steven the anxious nerd who gets flustered easily, not Marc, the ex-assassin who was famous for not showing how much he truly cared for anyone, not even his wife. "Your really easy to relax around, anx talk too." Y/n said, staring at the fountain. "You too." Marc said, feeling a small tightening in his stomach. "I hope I get even easier to talk to, so you can introduce me to who ever was speaking in the American accent." Y/n said and Marc tensed. He knew, how did he know. Marc looked down at Y/n, who was now looking up at him. "What?" Y/n sat up, putting a hand on Marcs leg. "Im not rushing anything Steven, you'll tell me when your ready." Y/n said and laid back down. Marc was about to say something but thats when the cops pulled up. Marc watched as Y/n approached them and started talking. The cops went from concerned, to defensive, and then a few started crying, and then they nodded, took the guy on the ground, and left. "What did you say?" Marc asked y/n, who was watching the cops leave. "Just explained the situation, nothing more." Y/n reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Now, I want to meet up again sometime, so heres my number." Y/n said, opening his phone and handing it to Marc, who typed it into his and sent a quick little hi to him. Y/n smiled and nodded, before kissing him on the checking and leaving to grab his violin. "Bye Steven, hope to see you again sometime soon." Then he left Marc and Steven alone, to walk home and think.

Sorry bought the way Steven talks, I don't know how British people talk so I just wrote it in an American accent.

#moon knight x male reader #steven grant x male reader #marc spector x male reader #avatar reader #hathor #sekhmet #egyptian gods #mugging

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mccoyyy · 3 years ago

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so i’ve never shared my fics before. but the jurassic world trailer has me utterly reeling and i ended up writing this and i’m kind of proud of it? so uh yeah here x

invisible string

The blazing heat of the sun hit the back of Ellie’s neck the second she stepped out of the jeep. It was the oppressive kind, the kind that took no prisoners, not even in the shade. If it where anywhere else in the world, then the occasional breeze would have been a welcome relief from the inescapable heat, but not here. Not in the Montana Badlands. Here, it was just as disgustingly hot and dry as the sun, and brought with it dust that hit your face and any other exposed piece of skin with such force that it stung. It was unappealing, inhospitable to even the most hardened of creatures, and quite possibly the worst place on earth.

And God how she had missed it.

She had taken a step back from field work after Charlie came along, choosing projects a little bit closer to DC over the month-long excursions, and then after Grace she had stopped entirely. She knew it was irrational, but even years after what had happened at the park, being too far from Mark and the kids left her uneasy.

She let a smile grow as she walked through the pits filled with a mix of volunteers and students and towards the cluster of caravans and tents ahead, the ground crunching under her boots. She loved her life. Loved being a mother, loved the teaching and writing, the academic work. But a little piece of her heart would always be out here. Spending hours in the blazing heat crouched over a five-by-five plot of land and chipping away at dust, rock, and dirt waiting for that first flash of off white within the rock.

There was a grad student standing by the water fountain filling up a canteen, or at least trying to. She was looking directly at Ellie with a look of dazed shock and mouth slightly agape and hadn’t noticed that her hand had drifted away from the tap, the water going right past the canteen and puddling at her feet. Ellie smiled at her, and she went bright red, quickly unfreezing and going back to filling her canteen, clearly embarrassed that she had been caught staring.

More heads started to pop up from the pits like meerkats, people nudging their colleagues and whispered debates over whether it really was Doctor Sattler walking through the site. No one stopped her as she walked towards the tents at the centre, no security checks, or inquiries into why she had suddenly appeared, presumably uninvited and clearly not dressed to work. A flush grew at the base of her neck. They knew who she was, so they clearly knew why she was here. Or rather, who she was here for. Her and Alan were never exactly a secret.

Walking into the tent felt like she had stepped back thirty years. Every surface was littered with paper, drawers, and stray notes. Bone casts and miniature raptor skeletons lay on the table in front of her, and books were piled up in seats and on the floor, her own lying open on the desk closest. Cups, canteens, and bottles hung from the roof of the tent and the walls were littered with planners and maps, and she ran her finger along the drawings pinned up on the notice board. Alan had stopped drawing after the park, and it warmed her to see that somewhere along the years he had picked it back up again.

It dawned on her at that moment just how long it had truly been. How much she had missed. Her move from field work to academia had been the final nail in the coffin for them. Dinners and coffee faded into run-ins at academic conventions, birthday and thanksgiving cards lost through changing addresses, and they had slowly fallen out of contact. A part of her regretted it, letting them fade out of each other’s lives in the way they did. He was once her constant, even after their relationship ended. With everything they’d gone through together she couldn’t imagine him not being a part of her life. And now, here she was. Waiting for him like a stranger.

Were they truly strangers though? even without his physical presence in her life, he was still very much a part of it. The research papers, the et al’s, the faded photos in her study, just behind the kids first days and graduations, Charlie’s faded memories of the dinosaur man, and his childhood love of fossils that never fully faded.

Even now, standing in the tent of a man that she hadn’t spoken to in over twenty years, a part of her still felt at home. There was no worry about awkwardness, or distance between them, because this was Alan. It was them.

Taking in her surroundings fully, a small laugh left her. No computer. How very Alan. It comforted her in an odd way, that even after all this time some things never changed.

Turning to face the right wall, a flash of faded white caught her eye. Sellotaped to the front of a cabinet was a photo of them standing in the middle of some desert. Her heart twisted a little bit. God, those where the days. When hours were spent under the blazing sun and the time could be measured in empty crates of beer. Before Hammond came along and changed everything.

When they were just Ellie and Alan.

She was lost in memories, leaning in closer to read the items on the wall. His notes and memos littered with his dry humour; excerpts of books filled with his critiques, hearing his voice through the written remarks. It was the clang of a dropped shovel that pulled her out of her reverie.

“Ellie Sattler”

His voice was slightly breathless and more gruff than she remembered, but it felt just as familiar as it always had.

She let the smile fill her words. “Alan Grant"

much love to the wonderful @iam-bironman and @mobbucky who are both my platonic soulmates, as well as utter TALENTS and read whatever i send them x

#i post what i write now apparently #i have so many thoughts #ive absolutley made this ten times more romantic than the actual scene is going to be #but i dont care because they are in love xxx #i have never posted my shit before and i am legit terrified please be nice #oh also dont steal this please #jurassic park #jurassic world #jurassic park fanfic #jurassic park fanfiction #ellie sattler #alan grant #alan x ellie #alan grant x ellie sattler #alan/ellie #alan grant/ellie sattler

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gamerbearmira · 3 years ago

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Can we get a story from house broken where someone in the village spots the kids or a mermaid au where there was a heatwave and one of them dried out and the parents didn't know why they where choking sorry if it's specific

Of course! I'll be doing the heatwave one, since I want to get out more mermay content---but maybe once I finish up the other asks, I'll do the one for housebroken ;)

Written by: Me!

Warnings: Near Death, Fear of Death, Choking

Words: 950

-----

Heatwaves

Today was one of the hottest days in the Encanto. And it wasn't humid heat--it was dry heat, which was worse.

Luisa had just finshed up her work for the day; it wasn't a lot, just helping some of the townsfolk move some rocks from the quarry. But now she had to actually walk back home.

On most days, that would seem so bad. But today? It just seemed impossible. Even her Tia Pepa had tried to get it to rain, but the cloud never stayed for long enough to be of any real help.

"Alright...Now I just...gotta get back to Casita," Luisa panting and sweating like crazy. She felt light-headed and dizzy. Her throat felt unusually dry and she could barely breath.

Reluctantly, she made her trudge back to Casita.

Good Lord, was it hot.

The heat was beating down on on her back, and that feeling of not being able to breath had gotten worse.

"Halfway there," she mumbled as she passed by the fountain and went up the hill. For some reason, she reached up to touch her neck. She drew her hand back quickly in shock. "What the--?!"

She had felt her gills and they were so...so...dry!

This wasn't normal and she knew that. From what she had seen for the past 14 years, her, her siblings and her cousins' gills were generally pretty damp; occasionally they had to dunk their heads in water to regain that, but other than that, it was no problem.

"I need to hurry...Maybe Isabela or Dolores can help me," She wheezed out to herself, picking up her pace.

Casita came into view, much to her relief. She would go in, drench herself in water, and be fine.

Luisa pushed open the door, and saw her Tia Pepa sitting on a chair nearby, reading a book. "Ah! Hola Luisa. ¿Cómo está?" She was right about to greet her, looking in her direction, raising her hand and then-

Luisa dropped to the floor, a thump sound coming from the tiles.

She couldn't breath, why was it so hard to breath? Has the air always been so dry? Her tia shot up from her chair, dropping the book and rushing to her side.

"Luisa? Luisa!" Pepa shrieked, a cloud was already beginning to form as she worried more and more.

Pepa shook Luisa, but the woman wasn't getting up. She kept calling her name, but Luisa was out of it. What had happened? She was fine when she was outside, and now she comes back and she's on the verge of passing out?!

"What is all the commotion here?" Julieta asked, walking into the room. When her eyes landed on Luisa, she rushed over. "Luisa?! Pepa, what happened?"

"I don't know! She walked into Casita and then just fell to the floor! I-I don't know what to do!" Pepa cried, worried etched hard into her features. "I-It sounds like she's choking, she's barely breathing!"

"We need to lay her down, help me carry her!" Both women carried Luisa up the stairs going into her room, throwing her onto her bed. Both were relieved when Luisa's sweat seemed to slow down, seeing how her room was naturally on the cooler side, much like Pepa's.

"I'm going to go get some food and a cold towel, you go get Bruno and Agustin!" Julieta said to her younger hermana. Pepa nodded and both were off while Luisa was left in her room alone.

Luisa's eyes kept rolling back as she struggled to breath more. It felt like someone was choking her, she could feel her throat closing up. It was horrible.

She felt her breathing slow down, and it scared her. She couldn't stop it. She felt so helpless.

"Help me..." she coughed out quietly. She was scared. She just needs water. Just some water.

Just when she was about to shut down, she felt something cold and wet pour onto her face. For the first time in the last 30 minutes, she could breathe properly. She took in a death breath, eyes opening widely as she continued to take in deep breaths.

"Are you okay?" She heard a voice whisper quietly.

Turning her head slowly, she saw who was behind the voice. It was her youngest primo, Antonio. In his hands was a small empty bowl. Looking down and feeling how wet her face and pillow were, she could tell that Antonio most likely poured it onto her. Looking just behind him, Luisa could see Dolores as well.

"Antonio? Dolores?" she asked just as quietly as Antonio did. "What are you doing here?"

"Lola heard you wheezing and not breathing very well, so she came back to Casita and told me to dump this water on you because your gills were dried out." Antonio explained. Dolores nodded, confirming what the little boy said.

Luisa nodded in understanding before laying back down onto her pillow.

"We know you're a bit tired, so we'll leave you to rest. I hear the other adults coming, so we'll leave you alone." Dolores said to her prima. Luisa nodded and Antonio dashed out of the room, Dolores stopping in the door threshold to look back. "Please don't scare us like that again Luisa. Drink more water if you feel that hot and dry."

Luisa nodded once again, taking her words in.

She'd never do that again.

She watched her mama, papa, tia and tio rush into the room, fretting over her. She had no energy to tell them she could breath, so she let them care for her. But she decided:

She would never let her self get caught up in a heatwave like that and dry out again.

Never.

_______

I hope you all enjoyed this little short story! I decided to use Luisa since I don't write for her often and I wanted to use her ;)

Feel free to ask more about this May-exclusinve AU, Mamabel, Paptonio, Housebroken or any other AU's you find on this blog!

I also take art suggestions for any AU's on here (+Cocooned!)

If you have an AU idea you want me to expand on, send it in and I'll get you a basic outline :D (No OC Au's please!)

#encanto #encanto au #encanto mermay #encanto luisa #encanto dolores #encanto antonio #encanto julieta #encanto pepa #mermay au #mermay #mermay 2022 #my asks #my asks are open #please send requests #my writing

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years ago

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99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #67

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

The Janitor (Love, Love, Love)

Forty-two years. That is how long Jim Mallory has worked as a janitor for Dalton Academy. Forty-two mostly decent years, and in all that time, he thought he had seen everything. But, as he pushes his broom, the rose petals gathering together in one big clump, he thinks that he’s never seen anything quite like the display that had been put on that afternoon. He shakes his head as he gives another heave of the broom. What a sight.

During the past four decades, he has had to clean up pretty much everything these boys have thrown at him. Nasty fist-fights that have left blood sticky on the floor. Rainy days where mud would track in and dry stubbornly on every surface. And, god, that one time in the Eighties when the boys thought a pee-balloon fight had been a good idea. At least the Headmaster then had put his foot down and made the boys clean that one up. He thought the smell of urine might never quite leave the place. But as much as Dalton often reeks of young boy, Jim does his best to make the place as shiny and clean as the day it first opened.

Of course, this isn’t the first proposal Jim’s witnessed on the grounds. The boys would often sneak girls into the dorms (and thank god he isn’t in charge of cleaning the dormitories - bless Sandy and her crew that he’s only in charge of the classrooms and common areas). Most of the girls left as hurriedly as they’d come in, but every once in a while, one of the fellas would come back and want to propose. The Headmaster would insist on making sure things looked especially clean for the occasion - never know when reporters would be around, but usually they’d take the ladies out to the gardens and get on one knee near the fountain. Still, it’s been a while since they’ve had one. Maybe even a decade has slipped by. Jim can’t remember.

It’s also not so uncommon as some might think for the boys to hook up with each other. He’s caught many of them making out with each other. He’s not sure if that’s what happens when you keep the girls away or if it’s just regular human nature that sometimes pushes them that way. He isn’t there to judge, even if he doesn’t get it himself. Love is love, as he hears the kids say these days. As long as they aren’t making messes, he doesn’t mind what kind of shenanigans they get into.

He stops his sweeping for a moment to survey the grand hall. It can be busy with all the kids, but rarely do they clog everything up on the weekends. And my, what a mess they made. Flowers and roses petals litter the ground everywhere - those pretty girls in the blue dresses sure were enthusiastic about throwing them. There are also streamers and balloons and glitter. He’s not sure where the glitter came from but he’s sure the place will be sparkling long into summer. When the Headmaster told him a student wanted to propose, he didn’t think he'd spend an entire evening cleaning up after them.

He had been there, of course, to witness the proposal. Couldn’t help himself when he heard about it -- as much as Jim prefers to be in the background, his curiosity sometimes gets the best of him. And when has he ever seen one boy propose to another? He figured he should at least stick around to check it out. And there he stood, waiting far in the back, leaning against one of the door frames as the crowd shuffled past him. Not just Dalton boys had been there, but two or three other student bodies had crammed in as well. They all settled in, a quiet nervousness running through them.

He had heard the commotion before he saw it -- like a parade crashing right through the doors, making its way towards them. He couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement of it, and as a group burst through the doors on the floor above, the music blaring as they entered the hall, it felt like a wave of happiness crashing forward over them. It had been like nothing Jim had ever experienced before. It reminded him of those old black and white musicals his grandmammy used to make him watch. He never had much of a taste for them. Seeing it live, however, had been surreal. A little like he had walked into some, strange fairy tale. However, in fairy tales, no one makes you clean up.

He shakes his head, with a little laugh, as he starts up sweeping again.

The Headmaster had mentioned that both those kids had once been students there, but Jim’s memory isn’t what it used to be, and he barely remembers faces these days. He could barely see them from his vantage point anyway. Sill, he had watched as they came together on the staircase, bold love in their eyes. Jim isn’t sure why they needed such pageantry. It had been clear that the only two people in that room who mattered to them had been each other. But perhaps, such a magical atmosphere can help push out the rest of the world.

Jim has a soft spot for them, even if they are still incredibly young. And he only hopes that there is some substance beneath all the sparkling display.

There are voices coming down the hallway. Jim looks up to see a bunch of kids in their street clothes led by a blond-haired boy and an Asian girl. He recognizes a couple of the Dalton kids among the group, and pretty much all of them had been there earlier for the proposal. They’re carrying brooms and mops and sponges and buckets. Jim smiles as they come towards him.

“Dude, you must janitor,” the blond-haired kid says, pushing his hair behind his ear. “It’s totally awesome that you want to help, but we got this.”

“Mostly I’ve got this,” the Asian girl says, a bit of an attitude on her. “Blaine put me in charge, and if we’d had left it to you, we’d still be picking out cleaner at Walmart.”

“We’ve got to have the fancy stuff for such a fancy place,” the blond-haired kid argues back. “Besides, Blaine promised the dude in charge we’d come back and clean it up. And, we said we’d help.”

“Why are we the ones stuck doing this anyway?” The Asian girl asks, dropping her bucket to the ground with a clang.

“Because Blaine’s our friend - and you know he’d be here helping us out if we needed him,” a round-faced boy comes out of the crowd. Jim recognizes him as one of the Dalton kids - a sweet one at that.

“And because he’s busy having sex,” another kid says - a pleased-with-himself grin on his face.

“Sebastian, gross,” the round-face kid says. He then comes to Jim. “We’ve got this. The Headmaster says you’ve earned the night off.” He pats Jim on the shoulder.

Jim grins. He knows these kids are going to do a terrible job, but he doesn’t even care. He finds a warmness in his heart for these kids. He has nothing but hope for them. They may drive him crazy, but every once in a while, they’ll surprise him. He doubts he’ll see anything quite like that proposal for a long, long time.

#99 perspectives #s.o. writes #kinda like getting back on the horse #gotta get going if i want to finish by the end of the year #s.o. writes things

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growing-yet-into-magic · 3 years ago

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Globetrotter in Point Pleasant, NJ

So my friend who took us to Cauldron in the Cupboard? They have another local friend in Point Pleasant. Dean runs Globetrotter in the summer, which is decorated from ceiling to floor from every angle with the commissions he orders while traveling the world. He knows every item in here personally, which is an admirable feat considering just how MUCH there is. And this is just the inside-- the outside garden is packed in with ceramic pots and statues and bird baths and floats of every glaze, color, and size. It's a sight to behold. Pictures don't do the depth justice.

Walking through this shop is a real experience. There are no price tags. Anywhere. It feels like walking through a museum with the giddy knowledge that one can take something home with them, if they can match the price. There is always gentle music playing. The shop is laid out in different areas to explore, with several laid out like sitting areas, makeshift shrines, or dry and decorated fountains. And that's just downstairs-- upstairs is laid out like a garden, with potted plants and huge handmade statues. Trying to describe the vibe here is impossible. I consider the Philadelphia art museum my personal spiritual haven, and this shop was the closest I have ever felt to it since my last visit in 2017.

This is not a witchcraft shop, but it is, in a sense, a spiritual one. It's an import shop. The vibe here is purposely meant to be explored. If you find something, phenomenal! But the shopowner was clear when he let us in that even if we didn't, the space was meant to be explored for exploration's sake. It was certainly his haven he wanted to share, full of the amazing art he was able to commission from the artisans he knew everywhere he went. We were released on the shop like kids in a museum gift shop, only with more museum inside it and much better lighting.

It's also one of the most COVID safe shops in Point Pleasant. Masks on, only 7 or so people in the, and I can't emphasize this enough, HUGE shop, and no touching. Take a picture, bring it to the counter, and he'll tell you what the item is and the price. It's a wonderful shop to visit, and such a great improvement from the small place Globetrotter moved up and out from. I can't help but wish everyone had a local shop like this-- or was able to visit Dean's!

Blessings!

#growing's nonsense #shop #witchblr #growing-yet

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

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A Reading: Part 7 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death/blood/killing, implied canon typical violence, witchcraft, kissing??

Word Count: 2.6k~

We love having a plot- exposition chapter bay-be

"You let them go?"

You couldn't help but wince at the words. You stared at him, at the snow-white haired vampire in front of you. He had been hard to read before, but now his reaction was plainly clear. He was livid. With the way he was staring at you, you thought that he may even look murderous. You gulped, glancing at the others. As if any of them would possibly be any help.

Paul looked between the two of you, but he lost his usual smile and clamped his mouth shut. Dwayne had sat up as well, but he was staring at David. For a moment, you thought perhaps he was silently communicating with him. Trying to help. Quickly, that thought was dashed from your mind. Your eyes flicked to Marko, who had suddenly become very interested in his own nail-beds. It had only been a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity of silence had passed when you looked back at David and gave him a nod. Before he could say, or do, anything, you started,

"They're just kids-" But David was cutting you off.

"They're hunters." You could hear the anger in his voice. You were half expected him to grab you, to drain you dry and call it a night. "You're the one that saw our deaths. Those kids? They kill us." He said, and you quickly looked away at the reminder. You knew. You were the one that had seen it in the cards. You decided to take a page out of Paul's book. You shut your mouth, avoiding his eyes as you opted to stare at the blanket you were under instead. But David had stopped. He didn't continue, and you knew that you were going to have to plead your case. Change his mind before he decided you weren't worth keeping around.

"I can't just kill a couple of kids, David." You whispered. You almost expected him to grab you, kill you then. You knew he was probably considering it. But when he didn't, you continued. "The course is changed anyways. Marko didn't die. They took Star, but-" And you were cut off again, but this time by the blonde besides you,

"They took Star?" And you looked over at him. You thought that was what you heard, and you gave him a shrug. You weren't sure.

"Laddie?" Dwayne asked, and this question truly had you stumped. They were quick to see that you didn't have any answers, and the boys exchanged a look. Your potential death was put on pause for now, as the boys realized they had a cave to investigate.

You had gone through the cave first. You were supposed to see if they had left any traps, and you were near certain that they hadn't. You remembered how the boys had screamed, running away from potential danger like a couple of terrified toddlers. It made you more sure of your decision, even if you knew David was still pissed. He hadn't spoken to you since you'd left their hideout. The boys were looking around, but all of their stuff was still there. Nothing had been taken or set. Well, besides the two half vampires. Dwayne picked up Laddies bear, holding it as he stood besides the bed where the little boy slept. You watched him, biting your lip.

You wished, for a moment, that you had done something to stop them. But, you couldn't have without leaving the sub-cave. Without abandoning the boys and leaving them for anyone who slipped past you. You went over to him hesitantly. None of the boys had really spoken to you, and you carefully reached to hold Dwaynes hand. He let you, letting out a sigh as he placed the bear back on the bed.

"He won't sleep without it." Dwayne said quietly, and you looked down at the little stuffed animal. Dwayne was frowning, and you could see the distress in his brow. You gave his hand a squeeze. You hadn't known them long. Not long enough to know much about the younger boy. But, you could guess that, to Dwayne, he'd been like a little brother. Perhaps to all of them, you thought as you glanced around the room. You were even considering that, in another timeline, maybe Star had been like their sister. You saw it in the way Paul hung around her room, frowned at the things she left behind as he went through them lightly. You could guess what he was thinking, because you were thinking the same. Would she come back for them when things were all over? When they were dead? You watched as he picked up one of her books, throwing it against the wall. She'd betrayed them. That was clear. Marko was yanking the taller blonde away from Stars room before he had the chance to destroy it. You watched as they passed, and you could practically see the telepathic conversation they were having in their heads.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment before you looked to where David had stopped. He was standing by the chandelier, looking around the room meticulously. Looking for anything that may be out of place. Anything that may harm them.

"They're kids, David." You reminded him. "They probably don't even know how to set up a trap." You said, and, from the glare David gave you, you were almost positive that he wasn't going to respond. He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, before he said one singular cold word.

"Yet."

You sat on the floor of the cave, shuffling your cards. Paul sat besides you on the floor, Dwayne perched on the side of the fountain, and Marko stood. David was busy looking unimpressed in his chair. The boys were too anxious to see their new futures, so you'd chosen a different angle. You knew what Michael looked like, and now even knew his full name. You knew that, for the boys, he was the harbinger of death. If you could glance into his future, perhaps the four of you could avoid it. If only you could actually pick three cards.

You slammed your deck against the ground, letting out a noise of frustration. You'd shuffled it for five minutes, but nothing was happening. Nothing was calling you to stop. You ran an angry hand through your hair and said,

"Something's wrong. It's like his future- it's like Michael is being blocked." It had never happened to you before. You didn't even know why it was happening, but you had a few ideas. The first was that it was because he wasn't right in front of you, but you knew that wasn't a cause for an entire block. You'd get his future, just not a clear picture.

"Blocked?" Marko asked, and you couldn't even think of a way to explain. You reached for the cards again, but even with just the intention of the brunette in mind made you feel a disconnect. You sighed,

"Hidden." You clarified. Protected, you thought. It was like he didn't exist, as if the name had no relation to the boy you had in mind. Quickly, Paul suggested,

"Try his brother." And try you did. Again, nothing. No call from the cards. It was exactly the same as before. You ran another hand through your hair. Both of them, both of the Emerson's were being hidden from you. You wished you had known the name of the boys Sam was with, then you could get somewhere. You knew, in the eyes of certain boys, your usefulness was quickly seeming to run thin. You had to think of something quick, so you went with your intuition.

"Something is blocking me. Protecting them. I think-" The second you tried to think of who it could be, what could be blocking you, a haze went over your mind. You reached for your forehead, grimacing when your head began to swim. It was a haze that made you pause, before you were standing up and pushing yourself to find your journal. The boys watched you, watched you scramble. "Something's wrong." You said, standing and flipping through your pages. You stopped when you reached a drawing you'd done. It was a map of Santa Carla, and you ripped it out to put it to the side. "Do you know if there are any witches in Santa Carla? Any besides me?" You asked, and David scoffed.

"What?" Paul asked, and David was quick to say.

"Besides you? Of course not." And when you gave him a look, his face flattened into a frown as he said, "We'd know." For some reason you doubted that. You gave him a look before waving a pencil towards you. You used the map you'd drawn a few days before, sketching it out and using it as a guide. "What are you doing?" He asked, and you had half a mind to ignore him to focus on your sketch. You were doing it quickly, not paying attention to detail. Instead, you said,

"This is a trick my mother taught me. Sketch a place with a map as reference and whatever you can't draw," You paused. You hadn't paid fully attention to what you were doing. Hadn't put any intention behind it as you finished it. You looked up at David, and showed him the messy sketch with the more detailed one besides it. "Is protected."

In the messily drawn picture, there were two houses missing. Ones that you'd been able to draw before.

You and the boys had looked over the pictures. You were quickly told that one of them was the Emerson house. The other one? They had no idea. You'd explained that whatever was going on, whatever was blocking you from the Emerson's, was blocking you specifically. And that they hadn't started blocking you until you'd aligned yourself with the vampires.

You'd moved to the couch, staring at the chandelier. It was well past sunset. Well past whenever the boys would probably search out the Emerson's. You were thinking about how stupid you'd been. Not only had you walked into vampire territory, but you'd walked into another witch's territory. You almost wanted to blame yourself for not having scoped the area out enough, but not even the boys had known about them.

"Whoever this is, they're protecting the Emerson's." You said. You wondered why. What would a witch have to do with a family like the Emerson's? The boys had told you that they'd just moved to town, so how were they able to score protection so quickly? Especially from someone as powerful enough to block another witch? But David didn't let you linger in your thoughts for long. He was sitting in his chair, seeming half ready to explode at any second. You knew he liked control, you could guess that. And now everything seemed to be out of it. With the block, you weren't even sure you'd be able to get an accurate reading of their futures.

"What do we do?" David asked. You looked over at him. You could tell that the question practically pained him to ask. You stared at him, before your eyes flicked to the others.

"Honestly?" You said, lifting your hands just to let them drop. "Move." And David didn't seem particularly impressed by your answer. But, really, what else could they do? They'd lost to a couple of kid hunters and halves before. Now, there was a witch? A powerful one? Even you had to admit that they were screwed. Even if it meant your own potential death.

"We should just go to their house and end this." Marko suggested, but neither you nor David seemed impressed by that suggestion either. David took a drag of his cigarette, and you shook your head. "We have the numbers!" Marko said, his voice rising. But even that wasn't for certain. Five vampires and a witch? Against three humans and two halves? And whatever witch they had protecting them, or whoever else they had on their side? It was too risky.

"You'll get yourselves killed." You said flatly, and even David didn't argue with you on that. Despite the attitude he'd been throwing your way all night, he seemed to silently agree with you. It was a stupid idea. It made sense when Paul agreed with him.

"Listen, we didn't have Marko last time. Now, we do and he's- He's our fighter. Whatever we get into- We can take those little shits" You could hear the emotion in his voice, see it in how he punched his own open hand. The desperation to do something. Anything. He wasn't thinking clearly, though he hardly did, and you shared a look with both David and Dwayne. Even if you couldn't hear their thoughts, you could guess. Definitely not happening.

You motioned for Paul to come closer, to sit besides you. He listened, sighing heavily as he settled next to you. You reached up to hold his cheek when he rested his head on your shoulder. You could practically feel the worry radiating off of him. You could guess why he was so tightly wound, so ready to spring. Sure, you'd made it past the first phase, but now you were blind. You couldn't tell them what was coming, or how to stop it. But, he seemed to relax some when you stroked his cheek. Marko seemed to take personal offense from how quickly the taller blonde had been swayed.

"Well, then what?" He snapped, and Dwaynes eyes went to you. You looked back for just a moment, before your eyes retreated to David. He didn't say a word. He was staring a hole in the wall, and you finally sighed. You had an idea, one you'd been keeping from crossing the forefront of your mind.

It was a bad idea. One even worse than all of theirs. But it was the only one you had, and the only one that could possibly result in not having the wannabe hunters show up at sunrise.

You looked at your detailed drawing, and then up at the house in front of you. You knew, to some degree, that this was the worst idea that you had ever come up with. But, really, what else could you do?

You were alone. The boys had dropped you off down the street, their bikes rumbling as they sped away towards the night. They were going off to get something to eat, something to build their strength. You were here to confront the other witch, and, hopefully, come to some sort of understanding. For a moment, you briefly thought about how hesitant Dwayne had been to let you walk up the street. He'd cupped your cheek, his eyes telling you everything. Though, it had been Paul that had said,

"You sure you wanna go alone?" And you'd given him a nod. You'd given both Dwayne and Paul a kiss, even sparing one for Markos cheek. When you came to David, you'd met the same icy eyes that you had before. Though, they seemed to have melted a fraction. This was dangerous. For you more than any of them. He'd brushed your hair out of your face, before he told you,

"Try not to get yourself killed." And you could see that he'd meant it to be reassuring. In his own way. But, now, you'd wished for something a little kinder. You half expected to not be able to walk up the driveway, for something to push you back or turn you around. But nothing did, and you made it all the way to the front of the house. You'd had to pass by a couple of cars, one of them being a truck with imposing spikes piled into the back. You gulped, trying to push down your anxiety as you approached. You held your crystal out of instinct, trying to ground yourself.

You stood on the porch, taking a second to breathe before you lifted your hand. Just before your knuckles could make contact, the door opened. Startled, you pulled your hand back. You watched as an older man appeared, one with gray hair that looked as though it was tied back in some sort of ponytail. He was wearing a suit, and, despite your initial startle, he was wearing a warm, broad smile.

"Ah, she told me you were outside. Your friends with you?" And you stared into the scruffy face of the old man. You hadn't been expecting more than one person in the house, and, for a moment, you wished they were. You shook your head, and he said, "Good." Before he was leaving the door and leaving it open. He hobbled inside, and you stared after him, thinking once again about what you had gotten yourself into.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

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americasmarauders · 3 years ago

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Hey Luiza!! Ok so I don’t know if this is too big of an ask BUT would you maybe consider, if you’re comfortable with it, writing up (from prompt list 1) #24 that leads into #11 with Tim Drake?

author's note: has this been sitting in my ask box for, what, 4 months? yes it has. I'm deeply sorry for that, love, but suddenly life got in that way, and I found myself unmotivated and uninspired. But now, hopefully, I'll have a couple of weeks of peace and I managed to complete this request. I hope you don't mind, but I put my own spin on the prompts, slightly altering them. Hopefuly it's up to par with what you expected. I re-worked an old draft of mine, one that was supposed to be a royal!au based on Love Story by Taylor Swift, to fit the prompts. It's still a royal!au and it still has some colors of Taylor Swift, nevertheless I hope you like it.

prompts: #24: banter in which one of them’s like… “i love you” and the other person’s like “ok” and the first one’s like “say it back” and the other one’s just like “no 😝” and the first one gets frustrated because “why wouldn’t you say it back we always say i love you before we leave”

#11: when one of them is hurt by the antagonist… and their lover goes… absolutely ballistic and does everything in their power to get to the person they love, to the point in which the antagonist and it’s crew have to physically restrain them… and it still doesn’t stop them… they just keep kicking… doesn’t matter what happens to them… doesn’t matter if they get beaten in the process… as long as their lover is safe… words: 3,982

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She leaned to the railing of the balcony, summer air gently brushing on her skirt and her skin, a small smile playing at her lips. Her hands fidgeted nervously as she waited for her love to encounter her in that abandoned corner of her family’s palace.

A sigh escaped her lips as she attentively listened to the noises around her. The rumble of the party could still be heard, even if faintly. There were barely any rounds in that part of the castle, especially with the big ball her father had decided to throw. She had millimetrically chosen that balcony: something far enough from the ballroom, so they wouldn’t be bothered, but not too far in case they got caught. She could see the moon clearly from where she stood, its light illuminating the fountain down below beautifully. She thought about how his eyes would be beautiful under the Moon’s light and her heart fluttered.

She had been warned about the Waynes, mostly by her adoptive Father, who wasn’t exactly a fan of Bruce Wayne, King of Gotham. Their relationship was civil, but it wasn’t safe from animosities, many that had happened in their past, when both were still young princes trying to get their bearings of their upcoming roles. A war was brewing back then, a war that had not ended as of yet, and she remembered her Father telling her how palpable the tension in the air was, how exasperated his mentor was that he was as prepared to be a king both militarily and educationally. She only imagined King Bruce’s mentor felt the same.

Unfortunately, the antipathy extended to the plethora of adopted children King Bruce had. Her father always spoke of them with a corner of disdain, his lips twisting into a frown. He had to have contact with them, the trades of their kingdom depended on Gotham a whole lot, but he had shielded his children from the Wayne kids. When she was smaller, when she had just arrived in the castle fresh from the streets, she had believed every word from her Father. She had stayed away from them, actively avoiding them when she saw a pair of raven hair and bright eyes looking in her direction. When she grew up, she stopped thinking about dodging their attention so attentively, but still stayed out of their way, not wanting to get on her Father’s bad side.

The way she saw it, she didn’t exactly mess with the Waynes, in fact it was the other way around. Tim had stumbled onto her life, and he had been quite persistent, in spite of her trying to be cold towards him. He knew she really couldn’t resist him somehow, he always knew more than he ever let on, he saw the way she smiled when he’d pass through her on a stupid ball his Father threw for whatever reason. She pretended to not see him, to not feel his smile etched into her brain forever.

Tim managed to crawl his way to her heart and now she couldn’t imagine a life without his clever remarks and easy going smile. She remembered vividly when they danced for the first time. He had asked her, the first time he’d even whispered anything to her. It was like every eye was on her while she was hesitating to grab his hand. Her eyes flickered to his face, his smile faltered for a second. She remembered feeling her heart tightening at his deflation, and grabbed his hand immediately after.

His grip tightened on her hand, his smile firm and reassuring. She felt herself tense when they finally arrived on the dance floor, his other hand respectfully laying on her back. He whispered to her gently, begging to not let her eyes drift away from his. She listened to him, her heart beating fast, a mix of anxiety and something else, something better and new. He made snide comments about the people present at the Wayne ball, making laughter bubble underneath her skin. He had vanquished her nerves with a smile and bright eyes.

Hands slipped on her middle, hugging from behind. Tim’s scent flooded her, a smile blooming on her face. She moved to turn in his arms to face him, his hands allowing her movement. He was classically handsome, his blue eyes accentuated by the moonlight, sending butterflies to her entire being. His smile floored her, her hands finding his face, caressing lightly his cheeks.

“No one saw you?” she whispered, her forehead leaning on his, her breath mingling with his.

“No,” he shook his head, his forehead grazing on hers. His hands cradled her face, his eyes closed. “You look breathtaking tonight,” his voice was steady and precise.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she smirked, her hands falling to his shoulders delicately. Her eyes were filled with an inexplicable love, something that consumed her wholly. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his lips ghosted over hers, tempting her to close the tiny gap between them. She chased the smile growing on her lips, closing the space between them and interlocking their lips. Tim had promptly responded to her kiss with a gentleness only he was capable of, kindness that made something inside her explode.

She rested her forehead on his, looking deep into his moonlit eyes with an adoration that couldn’t be contained by the vessel of her body anymore. Her heart felt calm again, next to him it was like every cell of her body was finally settling into some level of tranquility. The sinking hole she felt when he was miles away back in his kingdom was rapidly filled when he smiled at her and rested his hand on her cheek. The world was filled with screaming colors once again.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he confessed, his voice barely over a whisper, his hands cradling her face carefully.

“I know, Tim,” the whisper fled from her lips, “I feel the same, but we have to, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” a sigh escaped his lips, defeated and resigned. He took a step back, putting space between them. She immediately felt his absence, a coldness settling inside her. His elbows rested brutally on the railing of the balcony, his knuckles as tense as his jaw. She felt it in her bones that something was deeply wrong with him, something inside him had shifted. “We could run, you know?” he suggested, his eyes finding hers once again, full of hope. “I have a safe house far away, Kon helps me keep it. We could settle down there, live a calm life.”

“Where’s this coming from, Timmy?” she whispered, her eyes closed imagining the life Tim had laid out for her.

“I’m so tired, love,” his head shook from side to side, “I'm so tired of fighting, of briefing meetings and seeing innocents die. I don’t know if I can’t take it anymore.”

“I know,” her hands rested on top of his, “but, Tim, we can’t. We can’t leave everyone behind, this is bigger than us.”

“Why not?” his voice grew with a strong tone of anger. “I just want one thing, Y/N, one thing. I want to be able to love you, without all this weight on my back that I’ve been carrying ever since my parents handed me to Bruce when I was 12. I’m exhausted all the time, I miss you like I’m missing my own heart all the time. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Tim...” she started, her voice soft and understanding, but he quickly interrupted her.

“Marry me,” he turned to her abruptly, grabbing her hands tightly. Her mouth was agape, her heart beating out of her chest. “We can get married quietly at dawn, and then we’ll live at my safe house, we’ll make it a home.”

Her eyes flew crazily over his face, looking for any hint that he was playing a prank on her, pulling purposefully on the strings of her heart. His face didn’t betray any signs of any lies, her mouth got dry and her hands started to sweat. Her brain ran a thousand different scenarios, trying to grasp onto some hope that maybe what Tim had suggested to her might work. She found none.

She shook her head, her throat tightening up. “We can’t,” she whispered, her hands slipping from his. “It wouldn’t work, Timmy. We would be hunted down, we wouldn’t have peace at all. We’d have to live a life constantly running from our past.”

“So we’d do it,” he went to grab her hands again, but she didn’t let him, his hands grasping into summer air. “I can find other houses across the continent, I can make sure we are not found.”

Tears escaped her eyes, betraying her feelings to Tim. She shook her head, her arms crossing over her stomach. “No,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

“Hey,” his fingers lifted her chin, making her look at him, “penny for your thoughts?”

She couldn’t handle being touched by Tim, his touch poisoned her thoughts. If he touched her, she’d make a decision she’d regret, and she wouldn’t have that. “I can’t do it, Tim, I can’t leave everything behind.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” he started, “but we’ll make it.”

“You’re not understanding,” her voice showed the bubbling anger and fear inside her, “I can’t abandon everything like you’re suggesting, Tim. I can’t leave all those people who depend on me, all those families that expect me to show up and give them some comfort,” she sniffed, brushing off a couple of tears running on her cheeks. “If I leave, Tim, I’d be miserable.”

He took a step back at the brutality of her words. “You’d have me,” he whispered, “I’ll love you until the end of my days, I’d never let you be miserable.”

“It wouldn’t be enough,” she replied, her knuckles tight. “I love you, Tim, with everything in me, more than the number of stars in the Universe, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover the guilt I’d feel.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, his hands gripping the railings angrily. “I’m leaving to battle tomorrow,” he stated, his voice steady and impassive.

“I know,” a mutter left her lips.

“This is your last chance before I go,” he turned to her briskly, “please, run away with me.”

“No,” she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

Tim huffed and left, his footsteps heavy and angry. But it wasn’t that that had broken her heart. They always said ‘I love you’ when they had to say goodbye.

Tim hadn’t said ‘I love you’.

Out of everything Tim was expecting from his day -- to dying on the battlefield, to ending a war, the list was practically endless -- he hadn’t expected receiving the letter that was in his hands.

He didn’t even know Roy knew about them. He must have guessed, though, she told everything to Roy, she loved him deeply, a love he sometimes wished resembled the love he shared with his own brothers. But things in the Wayne household were different, more secretive and cold. Sometimes, Tim thought back on how different his life would have turned out if his parents hadn’t dropped him off at Wayne Manor to run. Maybe, he would have followed in his father’s footsteps and became a fine swordsmith, maybe worthy enough to work for the Wayne family like his father before him. Maybe, it would have happened what his parents feared the most: they would have run out of business, losing every penny they owned and living in poverty for the rest of their existence.

Tim was ultimately glad his parents had made that tough decision, he wouldn’t be a Prince if they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met his soulmate if they hadn’t.

Her. He had royally screwed up with her, he shouldn’t have pushed her too far, he knew where she stood on the subject. But he felt his impatience grow inside of him, his frustrations got the better of him and soon he was blinded only by his undying love for her and the anger he felt at the world for failing him once again.

Tim hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to her when he left. It was that realisation that pained in his chest even now, as Jason handed him a foreign letter from Roy, her brother. It was that regret that flooded him when he read the rushed words scratched on paper, his heart picking up a beat as his eyes processed the fatalistic words presented to him.

He stood up briskly from his seat, ignoring Dick rambling about the strategy they were supposed to adopt to overturn their enemy. He heard some complaints, Bruce calling after him asking where he was going. Tim ignored, only capable of focusing on the letter and his last conversation with her, the things he did not say to her and the regret he felt on the things that had been said.

Tim didn’t have anything on him other than his sword and that cursed piece of paper, but he still made his way to the stables, overlooking the weird stares he received on the way. His horse was softly munching on some hay, unaware of the ride she was about to be put on. The letter found its way to Tim’s pocket hastily, as he put on his saddle on his mare, his jaw tight with emotion.

“So that’s it?” Tim heard, closing his eyes at the voice. “You’re just gonna march to Star City, because Roy sent you a letter?”

“It’s not that, Jason,” Tim muttered, hyper-focused on securing the saddle on his horse.

“I wish I could make you do shit that easily, I would’ve made you do my field notes ages ago,” Jason liked teasing his brother, Tim guessed it was because it was easy to get a reaction out of him.

“It’s not that,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, aggressively releasing the lock of the saddle. His mare complained at the gesture. Even her found a way to scold Tim.

“Then what is it? What’s more important in Star City than here, with your army, fighting for our people?” Jason cleared, watching the anger rise in Tim’s expression quickly and overwhelmingly.

Tim shook his head, not allowing his brother to have the satisfaction of gaining a reaction out of him. He promptly got up on his horse, gently guiding her towards the exit. Jason got in front of his horse, stopping the motion completely. “Get out of the way, Jason,” Tim’s voice was low and menacingly, “I won’t warn you a second time.”

“You don’t scare me, Timothy,” Jason scoffed at his brother’s attempt of intimidation. “Get over yourself, baby bird, you can’t scare me. Now, tell me, why such a rush?”

Tim’s eyes hovered on his brother’s face, looking down at him. The letter was fished out of his pocket and tossed to Jason. His brother caught it, and hastily read its contents. “So? If they needed help containing these rebels they wouldn’t have sent you a letter,” Jason argued, his hands motioning to his brother.

“Jason,” Tim softly said, “read it again.”

His brother looked at him weirdly and did as he said. His eyes moved more slowly now, taking in the words that had ripped Tim’s heart out of his chest. “Oh,” Jason muttered, looking up at his brother once again, “oh.”

“Get out of the way, please,” Tim begged, his voice breaking.

“What are you gonna do when you get there?” Jason asked, confused at his brother’s reaction. “It’s not like you have any medical expertise, Tim, you’re not going to be able to help her.”

“I don’t know, Jason, I just have to be there,” he responded, briskly. His voice was full of contained emotion, like if Tim mad one false step everything would overflow and he would inevitably break. “I can’t lose her, I just can’t.”

Jason sighed, one of his hands resting on the holster of his sword the other on his waist. It was like he was thinking everything through, analysing thousands of scenarios Tim couldn’t even fathom. Jason was the brother everyone underestimated. He was exceptionally strong and big, he had a knack for violence no other Wayne boy had, but he was an incredible strategist, maybe the best out of all of them.

He stepped out of the way not before saying “I’ll cover for you, but I can’t promise they won’t find out.”

With that Tim ran off, the wind whipping angrily at his hair, reflective of the storm inside himself.

Tim dismounted from his horse just outside the gates of her family’s castle. The guards looked at him suspiciously, as he strode proudly toward the gate that separated him and her. He eyed the guards with an austerity he reserved for a few occasions, he never liked making people feel inferior, but his morals were askew in light of the news weighing down his chest.

“I demand to be let in,” he ordered, his voice stern and tight.

The guard in front of him raised an eyebrow, appalled by Tim’s audacity. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Prince Tim, of Gotham, and I will get in the castle, so please move,” he gathered all the authority he could muster inside him, and spoke as if he was the monarch of that kingdom.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you do not have authority here,” the guard shook his head, his hand sliding to his sword slowly. Tim took that as a sign of hostility, trying in a peacock kind of way to show he was the one with the upper hand in the situation.

Tim scoffed at the pathetic demonstration, jumping at the throat of the guard and slamming him to the wall behind him. “Listen here, I have been riding for the past 5 hours, I have not stopped once and, at this point, I’m fuelled by spite and anger,” his voice was low and threatening, and he could see fear rise in the guard’s eyes. He couldn’t scare Jason, but he could scare other people. “I’m not going to be stopped by some mid-level pathetic guard,” it was weird saying insulting things to other people. Tim rarely bad-mouthed, but at that moment it felt liberating.

“Tim,” he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, “release the guard.”

Tim looked over his shoulder, Roy standing there with a calm expression, something that contradicted the feeling in his eyes. Tim shoved the guard out of his hands, dropping them violently to his sides. Roy ordered a guard to take care of Tim’s mare, gently leading Tim inside the castle’s grounds.

“She’s been asking for you,” Roy stated, his voice elusive and calm. “No one understands why, but I do.”

“How is she?” the words that Tim was afraid of saying slipped past his lips. Asking how she was made everything that had happened to her, something he had just found out, incredibly real.

“Considering that she spent the past few days being held hostage, considerably well,” Roy conceded, rubbing his hands behind his back. “A bit bruised and shaken up. But, as far as I know, well.”

“Good,” Tim swallowed the lump inside his throat, relieved to hear what Roy had said. They walked down a straight hallway, something he guessed took them from the main gates to near where she was staying.

“She told me what happened between you,” Roy manifested, filling the awkward silence growing. “She’s been beating herself up for it.”

“It’s my fault,” Tim shook his head, “I shouldn’t have said anything, I already knew her answer, it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t, trust me, if I was in the same position as you, I would’ve probably done the same,” he shrugged, turning a sharp left, “probably worse.”

Tim laughed, humourlessly, at Roy’s comment. “Listen, kid, I get it, truly. But with this,” Roy waved his hands around, “sometimes, you gotta play the long game.”

“I hate the long game,” Tim muttered, like a little kid.

“No one said it was going to be easy,” Roy scolded him, like his brother would have done. “But if you truly love her, like you say you do, then play your cards right.”

They stopped, in front of a dirty pink door, Roy’s hands gripped the handle, a small smirk on his face. Tim straightened his posture, shedding the young brother façade he unwillingly slipped on and reverting to the young Prince ways. He took a deep breath, shuffling to organize his emotions inside his brain. Roy opened the door and pushed Tim inside the room, rapidly closing the door back up.

He had never been to her room, even of all those years of courting secretly, sneaking into dark hallways, and kissing under the moonlight. Her room had always felt off bounds to him, even if it had never been expressed as such. He slowly walked into the room further, watching how every corner had her imprint in it.

She was sitting by the window, the curtains opened, a soft summer breeze gently moving her hair out of her eyes. She only wore a simple gown, almost a nightgown, making Tim feel incredibly overdressed. There were bruises littered over her arms and neck, and he felt a mixture of anger and guilt bubble underneath his skin. He struggled to contain it, hoping the people that had done that to her were already six feet underneath the ground.

Her gaze flipped to him, and his stomach somersaulted inside him. She opened a shy smile, waving timidly for him to approach her. He walked calmly towards her, his hands behind his back fidgeting nervously. She got up from her seat, and stood waiting patiently for him.

“Hi,” he whispered, in front of her. His hands itched to touch her, bring her closer and cradle her as if she was the most precious and delicate thing in the world. To him, she was.

“Hi,” she looked down at the ground, her feet bare. “I’m so--”

“No,” he interrupted her, “don’t. I’m the one who should be sorry, I’m the one to blame.”

“Tim, you didn’t do anything.”

“I did everything,” he admitted, “I didn’t say ‘I love you’,” tears sprung to his eyes, ones that he had been trying to keep at bay for a long time. “I left and suddenly you were in danger and I wasn’t there to help you. All because I was stupidly proud and bitter and I--”

“Stop,” her hands found his face, her thumbs brushing carefully on his cheekbones. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. I certainly didn’t.”

“I should have…”

“No, Timmy, you’re just a man,” she took a step closer, her body hovering next to him warmly. It was like the ice that had settled on him instantly melted when she stepped next to him, “one that I love very much. But I made mistakes that night, and so did you. And it’s okay.”

He breathed right for the first time in days. The guilt he had been carrying like a cross on his back felt lighter, almost nonexistent. A smile made way to his face, albeit a timid one, and he grabbed her hands, the warmth she irradiated seeping into him. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him, a smile no longer free of hurt, but full of more meaning than before. “There was a question you asked that night,” she whispered, her breath mingling with his, “one I didn’t answer.”

“There was?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her nose brushing on his delicately. “Ask it again.”

“Are you sure?” Tim looked into her eyes, looking for a sign of uncertainty or regret.

“Just ask it.”

“Will you marry me?” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

“Yes.”

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake x reader #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x oc #tim drake #batfamily #batfam #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #royal!au #my masterlist

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applejuizz · 4 years ago

Text

laughter of youth.

the scout regiment has managed to rescue eren and recover annie’s crystal from their enemies, yet at the cost of many soldiers’ lives. levi learns a valuable lesson of trust. characters: levi ackerman x gn! reader (platonic!), historia reiss, sasha braus, jean kirstein, mikasa ackerman, eren jaeger, connie springer warnings: canon violence (vague descriptions), mentions of blood/wounds word count: 1.764 inspired by attack on titan 2: final battle and the story of “our man”, the customizable in-game character.

Paperwork after paperwork after all the paperwork...

Levi had come to dread the sound of hasty footsteps pacing up to his wooden office door and its prolonged creak as Miss Four Eyes allowed themselves in carrying yet another pile of experiment reports, barely containing their unreasonable excitement. While they fervently sought the tiniest free space to fit the monstrosity held in their arms, their flow of Titan anatomy ramblings never ceased.

Levi, you won’t believe what Eren managed to do today...!

Victor - who the hell is Victor? - stood awake the whole night and was as energetic as ever in the morning! This new breed of Titans is quite interesting!

I keep naming these Titans and I won’t shut up already and I should slap myself before you kick me across the fields, Levi! - he couldn’t possibly describe the joy these words would bring him coming out of Hange’s mouth. Too good to be true, unfortunately.

He shifted into his chair, straightening his back and shaking off the annoyance that had been constantly pulling on his nerves for three days already.

Thankfully, his office was quiet and the hallway was blissfully empty. Hange had taken a day off from experiments to let Eren rest. On that note, Jean and Eren had stopped arguing for once, Sasha had ceased her relentless search of meat and he could finally relish in the silence surrounding him. It wasn’t often that he got to have such quiet moments to himself.

And because they were so rare, only when he got the chance to savor them did he realize how much he actually hated them.

It wasn’t that he disliked being alone - on the contrary, he loved solitude a little too much for his own good. Instead, he found that whenever he allowed his mind to rest, he was assaulted by intrusive thoughts and memories that he’d rather bury deep in the back of his consciousness. Perks of being a soldier.

His eyes took in rows and columns of observations on the papers in front of him. His hand signed each and every one of them away promptly, yet his mind was drifting, conjuring up crimson fields, disgusting Titan flesh sliced in half, the blood-curdling screams of soldiers trampled off their horses or chewed to their demise. Nothing he wasn’t used to. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t make his skin crawl sometimes.

He thought back to commander Erwin, weak and thinning, laying in a hospital bed with only an arm left. Levi knew his superior was a strong man; he didn’t worry much about his recovery. What did plant the seed of doubt in his heart was the fact that somehow, the man he’d thought nearly invincible had been so badly wounded, and that alone was a strong indicator of the deep shit they all were in.

And of course, the one member in his squad that had never returned from the battlefield hung dark and heavy over his consciousness, a shadow of guilt, the same damn story repeating itself over and over again. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, it came crawling back like an awful nightmare, looming over him along with the deaths of all the other people he has trusted and cared for. Isabel and Farlan, Petra, Eld, Günther, Oruo… and now them too.

I won’t die on you, sir!

Like hell you won’t.

Their promise rang in his ears as if trying to mock him. The shadows of his consciousness sneered at him: look what happens when you decide to trust people, you twerp. Should’ve known better. Haven’t you learned your lesson?

“Tsk.” He set the cup he’d mindlessly lifted back on his desk. The tea had gone cold. He’d have to ask someone to brew him another. Not exactly pleasant, but enough to distract him from the dark path his thoughts had gone onto.

Before he could even stand up from his chair, though, loud voices boomed from downstairs through the whole hideout and caused the floor beneath his feet to vibrate. They were followed by clattering of pots and Jaeger’s unmistakable yelling, obnoxious and over dramatic as always.

So much for his quiet moment.

With an exasperated sigh, Levi picked up his cup again and left his desk and the piles of papers behind, shaking off the last of his melancholy. These damn brats can’t get anything done without wrecking havoc first…

The kitchen was right beneath his office, so all he had to do was climb down the short flight of stairs, put the cadets back in their place, ask horseface to brew him some more tea and go back upstairs. Simple enough.

He came to the sight of Eren, Jean, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha and Connie all hunched around in a compact group, chattering loudly and all over each other. Historia’s dulcet tone surprisingly prevailed amongst deeper voices, although she was nowhere to be seen.

“Wait! You need bandages before anything else! The gash in your side isn’t looking good…”

“Yeah! You’ve literally been through hell and back!” Jean marvelled.

“No, guys! They need food!” Sasha exclaimed as if she'd made a grand discovery, grabbing a half-boiled potato straight out of the pot.

“Sasha, no! The potatoes aren’t done yet-”

“Oi, what the hell is going on here?!”

“C-Captain Levi!” Jaeger stumbled back on his feet, broom in his hands, his headscarf sitting askew on his head. The huddle immediately dispersed, everyone had gone dead silent. Levi scanned the room quickly, not paying much attention to the soldiers’ faces and rolled his eyes.

“I thought I told you to clean up the kitchen, not turn it into a pigsty!” He passed a critical hand over the table, gathering up the dust in his palm and making a grimace. Cleaning supplies, pots and cups were scattered all over the floor and the table, as if the cadets had all come to a mutual agreement of dropping everything at once just to see how many white hairs Levi would gain in his hair.

“B-but-”

“Get back to work and stop yelping, you’re turning my brain into mush.”

But before he could open his mouth to bark another order at Jean, his eyes finally landed on who was once the centre of the huddle: Historia Reiss holding on to a hunched figure’s arm, obviously attempting to provide support, but ending up resembling more of a lost puppy clinging to someone’s sleeve.

“Captain Levi!” the petite girl exclaimed, a hint of relief present in her voice, “I-I went to get water from the fountain and I found them there! They seem stable, but I think they might need a doctor-”

His thoughts were running at light’s speed, yet he couldn’t get his body to wake up from its frozen state at the bottom of the stairs. What must’ve only been seconds felt like hours. As if time had decided to finally slow down, to finally stop the nonsensical blurry of days, months, years passing by only to give him a chance to breathe. A chance to understand. Was it just too good to be true?

“Captain…?” Springer trailed off, eyes bulging out of his little bald head, and quickly recoiled as Jean subtly elbowed him in the stomach. Only then did Levi notice that he had been standing among the shattered porcelain of what used to be his teacup, his hand still hanging in the air as if clinging to the ghost of the object.

The cadet finally raised their eyes from the floor, face bloodied and battered, yet still brightened by youth and devotion.

“Captain Levi… sir.” They saluted in a weak voice, raising two fingers to their temple.

Their last name rolled off Levi’s lips in a stronger tone than he thought he’d manage, yet still trailed off a bit in disbelief. Clearing his throat, he stepped over the broken porcelain.

“So. You came back, huh?” Out of all the words piled up on the tip of his tongue, begging to spill out, the best he could come up with was a rhetorical question. But the soldier still let out a dry chuckle, straightening their back as much as their wounds allowed them to. Their legs wobbled and the Ackerman girl, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, immediately jumped in to offer extra support. Seeing the usually stone-faced Mikasa’s facial expression filled with a flurry of emotions similar to those churning in his heart allowed him to relax a bit.

“Of course.” The wounded cadet answered. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

Levi gave a slight nod, features stoic, yet he felt his heart grow with pride in his chest. The same glint of determination glowed in their eyes as it did back then, during their rookie days, when they had placed their fist over their heart and had sworn to stay alive. He had heard the same promise come out of so many of his dead comrades’ mouths that realistically, he shouldn’t have expected this particular soldier to honor it. Yet for some reason, unknown even to himself, he had chosen to place his fragile trust in them. Maybe it had been their thirst for revenge, or their sheer willpower which, dare he say, could surpass Eren’s; whatever it had been, he did not regret it.

He drew closer, steps light as feathers on the wooden floor and took advantage of their hunched position to card his fingers through their hair, ruffling it affectionately. These damn kids keep getting taller… he thought bitterly to himself. The gesture managed to transform their wince of pain into a look of total and innocent wonder. The look in the eyes of a kid who's just got the utmost gesture of validation from a parent.

“You’re a good kid,” he conceded, patting their scalp twice before letting his hand fall back to his side. He could barely recognize the gentle tone of his own voice. “Although were you not wounded, I’d have roundhouse kicked your ass for scaring everyone like this.”

The phrase hadn’t even been that funny, in his opinion, but they let out a joyous, loud laugh, contagious to the people around them. It even pulled a chuckle out of Mikasa.

And as he stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the laughter of youth, he finally understood. Placing his trust in these kids, fighting alongside them, protecting them with the price of his life were worth all the risks because they were humanity’s last hope. And he would do anything to one day see their joyful faces wiped clean of crimson wounds and dirt and death. Anything.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot imagines #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #connie springer #jean kirstein #historia reiss #sasha braus

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