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frogsmulder · 4 years ago

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Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 4 Home is What I’ll be Dreaming of

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

6k words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

"Mom?"

"Dana?"

The image of opening the door to her daughter's frightened face flashed before her eyes as she put the key into the lock of Dana's apartment.

"I'm sorry, mom, I don't have much time... but I'm leaving."

"Leaving where? Dana, you're not making any sense."

Margaret Scully stepped into her daughter's world still smelling fresh like the owner had popped out to work that morning. She half expected Dana to appear around the corner at any moment.

"I can't say. I don't even know myself. The trial– it's–"

"Fox. I understand."

Running her finger along the top of a cabinet, she rubbed the particles into the pad of her digit– the dust had barely started settling on the surface. She remembered embracing her daughter, Dana clutching back like it would be the last time she would get to. Maggie liked to believe she had more faith than to believe that.

"Mom, there's something I need you to do for me because I won't be there and I don't know if I'll be back."

She picked up the envelope on the side; held it firmly in her hands as she took a long look at the room; all the idiosyncrasies scattered about, neatly organized on bookshelves and the mantelpiece in the way that was so Dana. Sitting down on the couch, she sized up the task at hand: pack a life into boxes, for everything must go. She opened the envelope– the lease on the apartment ended next month.

She started in the bedroom, where all of Fox's possessions hadn't been unpacked yet. They were stuffed into the bottom of the closet, hidden away like bad memories. Maggie knew what it was like with her husband away at sea, not knowing when– if he'd be back. But she'd had her children, her friends, her church group, her faith. She may have felt lonely at times, but she was never alone. She knew her daughter; knew her tendency to shut people out when she needed them most; her need to prove her strength. She worried for Dana.

Pulling the first box out, she lifted the lid and looked inside. Scraps of newspaper clippings littered the bottom, disguising a picture frame and what she suspected was a case file.

"Oh, Fox," she sighed, returning the lid and his privacy. She was transported back to her own doorstep again, hugging Dana before she left. "You promise me one thing: you look after him."

In another box were all of his university books, editions of the Lone Gunmen magazine; another family heirlooms like silverware sets, photographs, inscribed books, a velvet box, a pocket watch. Maggie sat down on her daughter's unmade bed: the only sign that Dana had left in a hurry. The pillow askew revealed a knot of cloth, the top of William's baby hat. "Oh, Dana." She whispered like when she had hugged her tighter on the doorstep. "And you let him look after you."

Maggie shook her head. She wouldn't do it. All of their things, they were not things to be thrown out. She took the hat and carefully folded it, putting it away in a box, saving the good memories, saving all of them.

----------

"Mom?"

"Dana?"

Dana stood dumbfounded on her mother's step, pinching herself with excitement, relief, and nervousness. She rushed into her mother's waiting arms, finally coming home after what had been an eternity. "Oh my God, mom, I've missed you so much!"

The thud of crashing into the embrace jolted Scully, opening her eyes to the bright Mexican sun beating down through the windscreen of the car. Gasping, she bolted upright, clutching her hands by her thighs, before she bolted out of the door. Stood in the bright sunlight, she caught and held her breath. In. Hold. Out. It wasn't the first dream like it she'd had, but she was shocked every time by how real they felt and how tangible her mother seemed. Calmer now, she looked at Mulder in the passenger seat, drifting roughly in and out of sleep. His eyes opened groggily as he slowly stirred, stretched, and groaned. He offered her a warm smile that melted some of the ache in her chest and watered a different, better kind into bloom. When he stumbled out of the car and over the dusty ground to join her, Scully turned away, looking out across the open land. He slipped his hands around her waist from behind, stooping to rest his chin upon her shoulder.

"You had a bad dream again," he mumbled into her shoulder.

Scully leaned her head defeatedly against his. She turned in his arms and buried her face into his t-shirt, breathing in his warm, sleepy scent and sighing. Rubbing her hands up and down his sides, she huffed and pushed herself from the wrap of his arms. "I thought I was home again," she said simply, looking up at him.

"Yeah, me too," he hummed. "Well, actually, we were in the office and you were throwing paperwork at me, telling me you would chew my ass before Skinner could even get to me if it wasn't done on time."

She might have chuckled but Mulder doubted that she would share her dream so freely, despite his effort to tease it out of her. He understood her need for privacy but he wished at times she would be a little less unforgiving, building her walls twice as quickly as he could chisel them away. Resolutely, he stood up straighter, holding out his hand out in invitation. She queried him with her eyebrows, so he flexed it imploringly. "Take a walk with me."

"Where?" she laughed.

"Anywhere, everywhere." He chipped away at her guard with a smile. "This fine foreign land has many fruits to offer."

"Okay–" she took his hand cautiously– "but not too far."

They ambled awhile aimlessly with no destination in mind. Taking each step at a time, it was pleasant living in the moment with no expectations. The liberation of no judgement from the open expanse drew them closer together. Between them, they spoke in silences, admiring the craggy landscape decorated with scraggy bushes. As Scully walked along, her thoughts drifted like the thin, wispy clouds on the breeze, back to her mother and the home she no longer had. She hadn't told Mulder yet, not because she couldn't bring herself to tell him, but because with all that had happened, it had slipped her mind. Everything she had now was all ahead of her and everyone to the side of her, holding her hand and swinging it gently like a pendulum. Life seemed simple when reduced to its basic measures: food, water, shelter, Mulder. She wondered how long she could live on that.

Mulder's voice broke through the cloud of her thoughts like a siren returning her to the moment. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Scully looked at him, surprised that he could see into her mind so easily.

"You may keep things closer to yourself these days, but I know your thinking face when I see it." He said it kindly but the honesty of his words punched a hole through her gut. She tried to tell him these things but she also had to figure them out for herself first. She only regretted that she'd ever hurt him in any way being caught in the brunt of her storm.

"It's been a month." The words surprised her as they tumbled out without her knowing.

He cocked his head. "What has?"

"Us..." she breathed. Scully made a point of looking him in the eye, even if it stole the breath from her lungs to see him focused on her so intensely. "... living like this."

His thumb shakily stroked the back of her hand. "You're counting?"

"I find it hard not to."

Mulder nodded.

She sighed. "I– I couldn't tell you what day it is, but I... I don't know– have the need to keep a tally; a record of some kind." It was like her body clock was scratching tally marks on the walls of her mind. Like she was a prisoner in her own skull. "I do it to keep me sane but does it make me mad?"

"Sometimes the only sane response to an insane world is insanity," he answered.

"That's not helping."

"Sorry." He paused in thought, taking a breath whilst trudging onwards. "I know what you mean... When Samantha first went missing and I was waiting for her to come through the bedroom door, I used to count the nights she didn't."

Curiosity claiming the better of her she asked, "When did you stop?"

"If I'm honest, I don't think I have. I just lost count somewhere along the way; found other days to count. Like when I was in hiding–" He took her other hand and pulled them to a stop, standing in front of her and looking into her blue eyes flickering with worry. Mulder could tell she would take what he was about to say the wrong way, so he tried to assure her with a squeeze of his hands and a loving look. "Every night I would cross off another day until I could see you and Will again... Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going."

He felt her tense in his hands anyway, saw her eyes mist up as the walls grew thicker, yet she refused to let the tears spill. He steadied her at the shoulders, rubbing tender circles gently through the cloth of her t-shirt. Bending lower, he brushed his lips softly over hers, pulling her from the pain she harboured. Yet Scully remained frozen, unresponsive to the warm life of his lips, the hole in her gut tearing a little more. Pulling away to see her stone-faced, he whispered, "Scully, please don't do this to me. You have nothing to be sorry for."

She licked her lips and swallowed, allowing herself to sink to the bottom and the troubled waters calm over the top. Moving out of his grasp, she continued on their wander as if she could physically leave the memories behind.

Mulder's hand loosened on her shoulder, trailing down her arm as she walked away. A sharp tug drew him from the well of despair. As their hands met, she held on tightly coaxing him to follow, which he did so gratefully. She stopped them after a few paces, placing a hand upon his chest. On tiptoes, she raised herself to meet his lips, returning his kiss with mellow grace, not breaking until she had to breathe.

"Scull–" he questioned but was cut off by the press of her lips back against his, delicately answering him.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled against his mouth.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he repeated in a whisper. His hand rested at the small of her back, guiding her as he turned back the way they had come. "Come on, let's get some breakfast."

----------

Along the back roads of Mexico, they traveled for some time before they came across a small town. The one street through it was lined with sand-coloured buildings that glinted in the sunlight, some rising tall, others spread wide. All of them looked welcoming and homely and Scully, gazing out of her window, wondered what it would be like to live in one of them. As they drove past, she wondered about the lives of the people who did live in them. Did they argue about who took the trash out? Did the children constantly ask what was for dinner? Did they gather around a television in the evening with their families? It was a life that for the longest time she had dreamed of and at one point had mourned the loss of. Now, she was indifferent to the idea of getting out of the car, hardened by years of abnormalcy, or so she told herself. Home was just a dream; the car was all she had for a life. Yet still a small part of her dared to dream; dared to envy the people in this town of their families and their homely comforts. And at the same time, she feared that normalcy wouldn't be enough for her.

Mulder pulled up outside a storefront, eyeing the swathes of people moving in every direction. Despite its size, the town was full of bustling people going about their daily lives.

"How good's your Spanish, Scully?"

She gave him a withering look. "You know I took German in college."

"Mhmm, and I did French in high school. Where's Monica when you need her?"

Scully followed his line of gaze to the crowds of people. "Mulder, I don't think we should go in together."

"What?" He whipped his head around to look at her. "Scully, we're fine. Nobody knows us out here."

"I still think we'd be better off if only one of us went in."

"But what if one of us needs help?" he questioned quietly, scared by her sudden urge to be alone.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," she smiled, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Anyway, you need to drive the getaway car."

Scully left him in the car to his own thoughts spiraling with concern.

It was eerily quiet inside the store. The jingle of the bell above the door and the radio playing quietly in the background only heightened the silence within. Scully perused the shelves, picking up odd pieces like cereal bars, bottles of water, and a packet of sunflower seeds. By the counter, there was a rack of postcards, mostly just pictures of the map of Mexico or the flag with writing she didn't understand. She picked one up and thought of her mother who had no idea where she was or how she was. It would be too complicated to send without revealing their location, she knew that, but maybe when she got home she could give it to her mother like documentation of where they had been.

Scully had always wondered what it would be like to go traveling– her father's worldly trips had partly inspired her and she had been raised with what he called the Scully Adventurer's Spirit. Charlie had started his world trip in Mexico, although his journey had been an entirely legal affair. He hadn't crossed into new territory miles away from border control. Scully turned the postcard over in her hands, reminding herself how far from home she was. Yet strangest of all, she didn't feel like she was.

"Do I know you?"

The voice made Scully jump and instinctively she held the postcard behind her back.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, trying to keep her tone as calm as possible whilst blood pulsed in her ears.

A man, who looked to be in his late forties, had appeared behind the counter with his brow furrowed in concentration and his sight set on her. He rubbed his chin contemplatively. "I know you. You are American, no?"

Scully stuttered, unsure of how to answer. "No, I– I don't–"

"Yes!" he interrupted her. His smile grew with his enthusiasm, unnerving Scully more by the second. "I see you before somewhere, on the television perhaps?"

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

Scully left some money on the counter and swiftly weaved back through the aisles. At a brief glance, she plucked a random box of hair dye from a shelf, self-conscious of her entire appearance. If she had to, she would scrub down her skin until she looked like someone else, but first, she had to get out.

The man behind the counter clicked his fingers in recognition. «¡Ah! ¡Cops! ¡Y el hombre lobo con el FBI!» he laughed and shook his head.

Mulder saw Scully burst out of the shop, arms laden with groceries and an expression he couldn't fathom. She crumpled into the passenger seat, quickly stuffing the things into the footwell. "You'd be no good in a robbery," she quipped.

"Scully, what's wrong?" he immediately asked.

She gave him her usual answer, passing him a cereal bar and his seeds. "I'm fine. Let's just get out of here."

Mulder took the food and started the engine, driving away despite the uncomfortable feeling that told him she was hiding something. He didn't want to press her further though, so he bit his tongue and focused on the road.

After a couple of minutes, Scully turned to him, worrying her lip between her teeth. She relented, speaking softly. "There was someone in there, Mulder, he recognised me."

Mulder let go of a breath that he didn't know he was holding, relieved that she had finally said something. "Are you sure? I mean they couldn't have been mistaking you for someone else?"

She shook her head, doubting herself already. "I don't know, he said he'd seen me on TV. Mulder, what if they have our pictures out on the news?"

"I don't think they'd do that. They don't want to draw unnecessary attention to themselves," he reasoned.

"But they could dress it up as something else. Get the unsuspecting populous to do their dirty work without telling them who or why. Mulder, seriously, how haven't we been caught yet?"

"Don't know, but I'm not going to question it either."

"But don't you think it's strange that if they really wanted to find us they could have easily done so already?" She looked at his profile, judging the minute movements of his jaw muscles, saw them flex unconsciously as they did whenever he was forced to admit a hard truth.

"Perhaps we're not as important as they would have us believe," he tried, glancing at her for reassurance. "Maybe they're busy developing a vaccine or ordering their super soldiers into neat, indestructible lines. Everyone's got bigger aliens to fry." He chuckled perfunctorily.

"Mulder, they were determined enough to kill you that they rigged your trial," Scully turned to gaze at the roadside zipping past and said quieter, "I think there's something bigger at play here."

Mulder properly laughed and she stared at him with a frown stitched upon her brow.

"You're doing a very good impression of me, Scully," he chortled.

She smiled despite herself, trying to hide it in a dip of her head. She hummed, having to agree. Maybe she was being paranoid, maybe she should be. The little Mulder voice played in her head, It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you. Shifting in her seat, Scully scuffed her feet on the box of hair dye in the footwell. She was reminded of the haunting feeling of being reeled into the snare, the need to change shape and escape. I see you before on the television.

"Could we find a motel tonight?" she asked warily, cognizant of the contradiction to her previous argument.

"Yeah, sure." He reached out for her hand, lacing her fingers with his. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes," she smiled. "I'm fine."

----------

Scully stood behind Mulder at the front desk, listening vaguely to him trying to communicate to the owner of the motel. She stared out of the window at the fading light, smiling as she clutched their only bag of belongings. Resting her cheek to Mulder's shoulder, she heard the muffled sound of his broken Spanish.

«Uno habitación. Uno err noche,» he stuttered earnestly.

She chuckled, remembering of all the times they had booked two rooms just to keep up appearances and Human Resources of their backs. It wasn't that both rooms never got used, more the connecting door left open was an invitation too tempting to resist taking. Mostly, she relished the frequent nights he had slipped into her bed under the cover of darkness and fallen asleep curled around her.

«¿Te gustaría una o dos camas?» The man nodded towards Scully and she smiled politely.

«¿Excusa?»

«¿Una cama o dos?» the man repeated.

«Una cama por favor, señor,» Scully answered.

Mulder muttered, "Feel free to save me from looking like an ass any time."

"I was enjoying listening to you butcher a beautiful language," she teased.

As soon as Mulder was through the door, he flopped onto the bed and sighed contentedly. "One day, Scully, we'll have a place of our own and I will never sleep on a couch again."

She eyed him suspiciously as she rummaged through their bag. Was this where he thought this was going? The end goal a house out in the country with a little wooden porch and surrounded by fields to play baseball in? She tried to imagine it, sitting on the porch, drinking ice tea on a sunny day, a good book and Mulder for company. A cozy log fire crackling in the stone fireplace on long winter evenings. She sometimes thought about the fairy-tale ending but she couldn't imagine herself in that story. Somehow, Scully was always on the outside looking in.

Clutching the box of hair dye behind her back, she stood purposefully. "I'm going to use the bathroom."

Mulder followed her with his head until the door clicked shut behind her. Hearing the water run in the en-suite, he turned over on his side. The creaking of the pipes was oddly comforting and he closed his eyes to it. The mechanical lullaby was, however, annoying enough to keep him from drifting off even though it was the first time he'd laid his head down on a pillow in a month.

A month– Scully was counting. Every day he had woken up next to her and gazed into her clear, blue eyes, she had been counting. He now understood half of what had been wearing her thin, forcing her to guard herself as he'd forged ahead to try and break through. Maybe now was not the best time to pick at her walls. Instead, he promised to find a small window and let in some light. He lay flat on his back, exhausted, and rubbed his hands down his face. Maybe he shouldn't find a window. What if he did find one and somehow manage to block the light out against his own intentions? Perhaps all she needed was space and time to heal. Time away from him and pain he brought with his existence. It was so hard to know what to do when she didn't speak to him. Not about the important things; the things that truly mattered. Not that either of them had been very good at it in the past. It had only ever been drips of conversation at a time, providing a Petri dish for overthinking and false assumptions and doubt. Things that built up like a damn over time until the structure burst and it all came flooding out at once. He didn't want to lose Scully and he didn't want her to get lost.

Restless, he turned onto his other side.

Emily's little face peered up at him from over the side of the bed.

"Jeez, Em," Mulder laughed nervously. "You scared me."

Her young face, too innocent still to be morose, hung dejectedly before him. Her eyes were wide, almost tearful, trying to tell him something he wished he could understand.

"Emily, what is it?"

She simply padded over to the bathroom door and pointed.

"Dana," he breathed, rushing onto his feet and knocking on the door. "Scully? You okay in there?" he called urgently.

"It's open," she replied and he noticed how she avoided his question. Turning the handily delicately, as if he was intruding, Mulder opened the door ajar and peered inside.

"Scully?"

Her t-shirt was crumpled on the floor with a towel next to the bathtub. She had her head hung over the ledge, damp tresses of hair dangling before her face. Various bottles from a box were scattered around in an unorganised mess that was so unlike her.

"If you need to use the toilet, just be quick," she said.

He cleared a path and kneeled down beside her. "Scully, what are you doing?"

Scully turned her head to look at him, dragging her tongue across her top lip in a condescending manner. "Mulder, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Is this why you wanted to stay in a motel tonight?"

"Does it matter?"

He carefully reached for her hands, untangling them from the ribbons of her once red hair. "Of course it matters. Why didn't you tell me?"

She looked down at their hands. "Am I obligated to tell you everything, Mulder?" she quizzed, returning her gaze to him as she uttered his name.

"No," he searched her eyes for some meaning, but it was hidden away in some depth he couldn't swim to. "But you hardly tell me anything anymore. I think I see a glimmer of what you keep locked away in your heart, but I don't know if it's just a smokescreen, Scully, I can't tell."

She pulled her hands away, combing her fingers through her hair again. "I would never lie to you, Mulder," she said candidly.

"That's not what I said."

Huffing, she stopped, resting her arms over the rim of the bath and giving him her full attention. "Then what are you saying?"

He didn't know. He'd lost sight of his thoughts when he'd seen her troubled; only ever her in mind. He paused, taking a breath. "Why do you need to change yourself?" he uttered softly.

"I'm not changing myself, I'm just dying my hair. It's nothing new or special."

"Why now? Why so suddenly?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "I told you: someone recognised me. I can't just shrug that off like it didn't happen because it did. This is our reality, Mulder, we can't wander through it blindly an– and just hope we'll make it out alive!"

She caught her breath, taken off guard by her own sudden outburst. Licking her lip, she composed herself, affecting an even tone. "I'm not shutting you out, Mulder, if you'd just listen..."

He watched her silently, absorbing her words. Eventually, he nodded timidly. "Let me help then," he whispered.

"No, I'm fine," she brushed him off.

But he refused to lose her. "Scully, let me help."

She sighed, giving in. Snapping of the rubber gloves, she handed him the pair: they had been too large for her hands anyway. "I've died my hair before, but this is bleach, and all the instructions are in Spanish," she admitted.

"I think you're doing fine, Scully," he smiled, rubbing the mixture from the tips all the way to the roots of her hair. Once he'd checked everywhere was covered, he sat with her, waiting patiently by her side until it needed to be washed out. Grabbing the showerhead, he made sure that the water temperature wasn't too hot and massaged her scalp. Scully hummed in appreciation as the warm water cascaded over her head and his fingers worked their magic.

"Do you think I should bleach my hair too?" he asked, partly to make her laugh and partly because he knew that she was right: this was their reality. And she did laugh: the shaking of her shoulders accompanied by a small chuckle made him sigh in relief.

"What's so funny?" he teased. "Would I not look cool with bleach blond hair? I could take up surfing."

Laughing again, Scully elbowed him playfully, making the shower spray everywhere. Her giggle was a welcome sound for sore ears, breathing life back into the empty silence that had followed the burst of the damn.

He turned off the water and handed her the towel. She sat on the ledge of the tub, patting carefully at her now blonde hair, eyeing the alien colour curiously. Mulder grabbed another towel and started on her other side, drying her hair with just as much care. He seriously thought about how he should change his appearance, although he didn't want to. He didn't want to look in the mirror and see someone else's reflection staring back, his own image lost and forgotten. Seeing Scully now, she didn't look like the same person he had known for nine years. The blonde brought out the ice in her blue eyes; her stares once hot like fire now cold and hard. He knew it was just a costume to wear; an act to play, but he feared it becoming a warped version of reality. He should find his own costume to don too; if not becoming the obnoxious surfer-dude type, then what other outfit should he assume? Mulder doubted novelty glasses with the big nose and moustache would cut it, not least because he already wore reading glasses and his nose– well...

Absentmindedly, he asked, "What if I grow a beard?"

Scully turned suddenly serious. Her icy, blue eyes, still fiery, melted his heart.

"Don't," she said definitively and pulled him into a searing kiss. Her fingers curled through the hair at the nape of his neck, dropping the towel and bringing him closer. She felt a well of hunger for him build in her like she'd been starved of his touch.

His hands traveled from her sides, down around the shape of her thighs, lifting her from her perch on the bathtub. He pulled her body into his, pressing them together, all the while she stole his lips with fever. With his hands under her ass and her legs wrapped around his waist, Mulder maneuvered them towards the bedroom.

"No. Here," she breathed.

"Dana–"

She rested her forehead again at his. "Please."

Mulder turned around and placed Scully on the corner of the sink unit. Grinding softly into her, he traced a hand up to cup her jaw, locking lips reverently. She tightened her grip, pulling him closer at the hips and binding her ankles behind his legs. She sucked his full bottom lip, ripe and refreshing like a plump summer fruit, biting it and soothing it with a swipe of her tongue. He hissed when she continued down his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and lovebites until she reached the neckline of his t-shirt. Impatiently, she tugged at it and set him free, dropping it by his feet.

Her hands wandered his torso. It was softer than before, leaner and less muscular. There was still tension in his muscles, a defined shape to them, but she could feel the difference. She reached the waist of his jeans, slipping her hands down further, but Mulder grabbed her wrists, making her look up at him. When Scully saw into his eyes, she understood that he wanted to slow down, but there was a fire unfurling through her, setting her body alight and cultivating an insatiable thirst. The last time they had taken things slow, she'd had too much time to think, and she didn't want to think: just feel.

The moment passed between them, eyes locked onto one another, their telepathy flying with the sparks.

Mulder tenderly let go of her wrists and cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across the rose flush that tinted it. Scully sighed, leaning into his hand and placing her own on top. He bent down to capture a kiss, his lips soft yet firm with resolution. She responded in kind, opening up to the taste of his tongue, of desperation, of hope, of the sunflower seeds he cracked between his teeth all day. Her fingers wound around his hand, bringing it from her cheek to her hip. She slipped down off the cabinet and he unbuttoned her pants. They fell to the floor with a rumpling sound that seemed to echo off of the tiled walls. She stepped out of them, climbing on top of the unit, tugging him between her legs. A second rumpling of jeans and he was buried inside of her, clutching her closely.

He began to move leisurely, kissing her with indulgence. But his body was strung like an archer's bow, taut with resistance, holding something back. Scully moved against him insistently, one hand scratching at his shoulder, the other twined through his hair. She kissed him like a diver plunging into deep waters; the taste of exploration too sweet not to bite.

"Faster," she pleaded in his ear.

Mulder complied, giving in, releasing built-up tension with the snap of his hips forward. In quick and jarring thrusts he drove into her until it was too much and she came with a gasp, collapsing into his chest. Time seemed to slow. The pulsation of where they were joined throbbed up through him to his ears and pounded through his chest. He heard every lungful of air he took; every small, panting breath Scully puffed. Every plunge pushed him further until he too, gasping for air, broke the surface, floating euphorically on the waves of the ocean.

An indeterminate amount of time later, when it was moving at roughly the normal speed again, Mulder lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with his arm outstretched and Scully's head resting on it. She was drawing aimless patterns around the scar tissue of where she had shot him. Moby had been rescued from their bag of belongings and the white whale was snuggled in the space between them. Everything should have felt easy.

"Scully..."

"Yes?"

"I– I..." He thought of Emily's face staring up at him. He wanted– needed to tell her about the hallucinations that haunted him but he didn't know if he could place that kind of burden on her. He shuffled onto his side and watched her watch him back. He was about to open his mouth when he saw Emily sat on the bed behind Scully, frantically shaking her head. He itched to make Scully turn over and see for herself the impossible. But there was something in that little girl's eyes, so like her mother's, that made him think of Scully first: how angry she would be if he said he could see her; how broken she would be if she saw her for herself.

"Why did you get those sunflower seeds?" he eventually fabricated to fill the silence, bottling his ghosts up and burying them for another time.

"What?" she asked, understandably bewildered.

Ignoring the nagging feeling that he was walking down the wrong path, aware it was still early enough to go back, Mulder sighed and continued, "You didn't have to get them, so I just wondered why you did."

"Because you like them and I saw them." She leaned away from him, questioning him and trying to gauge what was running through his mind. "Did you not want them?"

"No, it's not that. I wasn't expecting it– I didn't ask you to get them..." he continued to ramble.

She silenced him with a kiss, smiling. "You didn't have to."

When Scully pulled away from him, Emily had disappeared and he wondered why at all he was taking advice from his own deluded mind. Mulder looked up at the ceiling again. There were things he needed to get off of his chest, but Emily was right, even if she was only an apparition or a figment: he couldn't tell Scully, not at the moment. Maybe sometime in the future when the moment was right. Yet the longer he left it, the harder it would be to explain what was happening– to explain why it had taken so long to confide in her. The longer he left it, the harder it pressed against his chest; another weight to carry around. The harder it pressed, the more it weighed on his mind; another thought to worry about. The more he thought about it, the harder it pressed against his chest. It was like something inside him wanted to scream when he reflected upon it. So, he didn't. Instead, he pulled Scully closer and lost himself curled around her. Her warm skin against his own grounded him; her scent wrapped itself around him and tied him down. He focused on her breathing, matching his own to the same pattern until he was made up of a tiny piece of Scully that kept him sane and whole.

"Mulder," she mumbled. "Are you okay?"

"Shh, it's nothing," he whispered. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "Try and get some sleep."

#my fic #msr #on the run #fox mulder #dana scully #maybe there's hope #the x files #xf fanfic

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jeranasblog · 4 years ago

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Starker Kink Advent Calendar - Day 2

Summary: Peter marries Tony because he wants to keep working. Tony marries Peter because he doesn’t want the boy’s brilliance to go to waste. Neither one of them expects an overwhelming attraction to unfold between them. Feelings, insecurities, and doubts tangle together until they find themselves inextricably linked. And what happens when a surprise turns everything upside down?

24 days, 24 chapters, 24 kinks

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Rating: E

Notes: Hey guys. I’ve decided to write a “Starker Kink Advent Calendar” this year, so 24 chapters with 24 different kinks. Thanks to everyone who helped me find 24 different kinks. It’s tough time-management, so please excuse all the mistakes. I did edit, but not as thoroughly as I usually do, and I didn’t rewrite chapters, even if I don’t like them that much. I aimed for 2k chapters, so you still have something to read every day <3

Warnings: A LOT of sex tags. Please check them all on Ao3

Read on Ao3

~⭐~

Day 2: Rimming @itfeelssogoodmrstark

When Tony woke up next to Peter, it felt like a dream. The Omega was beautiful in his sleep. Peter’s lips were parted, full and inviting, making it difficult for Tony to pull his thoughts out of the gutter. During the night, one of them had apparently kicked away the blanket so Tony could admire Peter’s body in the morning light.

The Omega was lying on top of Tony, their legs intertwined and Tony smiled when he watched Peter’s nose twitching. This Omega, this beautiful, magical creature was his, and Tony would do anything to protect him and make him happy.

Tony had never dared to imagine he would get the chance to marry someone like Peter. When he had first met the Omega, on Peter’s first day at SI, Tony had been awestruck. Sure, the boy was objectively beautiful, but there were a million beautiful Omega’s out there, bending over backward to marry an Alpha as rich and powerful as Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries. It was Peter’s mind that made him irresistible.

The Omega was by far the cleverest person Tony had ever met. He had graduated MIT with nineteen, even though he was only the fourth Omega graduating MIT at all. He was independent, fierce and loyal, everything Tony wanted in a mate, and the thought of some knothead Alpha holding Peter back was so horrible that Tony decided to marry Peter himself.

Tony had started to woo Peter. He had brought him flowers and chocolate, a clear sign of his intentions, but he also courted the Omega with tech. Tony would never forget how awestruck Peter had been when he was the first to see Tony’s arc reactor technology. Peter wasn’t like any other Omega and Tony would work every day not to treat him as such.

It didn’t matter if he was only a savior for Peter, giving him the opportunity to work and helping him to live his normal life. If Tony could be the reason Peter was allowed to show his brilliance to the world, he would marry him over and over again.

When Peter shifted in his sleep, Tony’s patience was tested. The Alpha had promised himself that he wouldn’t rush Peter. His Omega was a virgin, innocent, a gift Tony would treasure, and he would wait until Peter was ready, even if he wanted nothing more than to spread the Omega’s legs and bury himself in the warm wetness.

Last night, Peter had thrown on an old t-shirt of Tony and nothing more. It had ridden up in his sleep, showing off his delicate waist, his pale thighs, and the plump little ass that wasn’t even covered by the lacy panties anymore. They laid somewhere on the floor, ruined by Peter’s slick and Tony’s seed, and the Alpha decided to buy his husband a million more.

Unfortunately, Peter had spread his legs as he had shifted, rubbing one of his thighs against Tony’s growing erection while his other leg was still intertwined with Tony’s.

The billionaire swallowed. His Omega was so close and almost naked. It would be easy to move until Tony got the angle right. He just had to shift a tiny little bit, his cock a little bit to the right, his hips almost in position-

Fuck, everything around them smelled of sex, and Tony hat to fight the fog of Alpha-rut-hormones that threatened to take over his control. Peter was a temptation, but Tony couldn’t violate his husband’s trust like this. He was a good Alpha, he was-

Before Tony would lose control, he slipped out of the embrace, put on sweatpants, and walked over to the kitchen. His cock was throbbing, and Tony had to fight the urge to turn around and bury himself in the Omega. Bonding hormones made resisting harder and harder, but Peter deserved more than a knothead taking him without enough prep.

Tony busied himself with making coffee, a huge black pot for himself and a normal one with milk and sugar for Peter. He would wake up his husband properly, with coffee and not with sex.

But when the Alpha came back into the bedroom, his resolve faltered. Peter had woken up, sitting in the middle on the bed and looking at Tony with huge, innocent eyes. Tony’s shirt had slid down, revealing the Omega’s neck with Tony’s mating mark. He looked gorgeous. Pale, delicate, and still a little disorientated. Tony couldn’t resist.

In less than a second, Tony was back in bed, the cups of coffee forgotten on the bedside table.

“Can I eat you out, baby? God, you’re tempting.” Tony dug his nails in the mattress, waiting for Peter’s permission.

When the Omega eventually nodded, his face red with embarrassment, Tony couldn’t hold back anymore. He grabbed Peter’s naked thighs and turned his husband around until he was properly presenting. Peter was beautiful, bashful, sweet and shy, but Tony could still smell the fresh slick that dribbled down the boy’s thighs.

“You’re so wet, sweet thing. Dipping your slick all over me.”

Spreading Peter’s cheeks to get the first look at the wet hole was enough for the Omega to moan shamelessly. Tony was enchanted. His husband was perfect, so needy and impatient, and Tony already planned a million wicked things he would do to the boy. He could introduce Peter to all kinds of pleasure, keeping him happy and satisfied.

Peter looked tight and wet, making Tony’s length twitch with desire, and he had to grip the base of his cock to calm himself. He already knew his husband would feel good, but now wasn’t the time. Tony had to put Peter first.

Before his instincts made him go crazy, Tony focused on his plan. He had promised Peter to eat him out, and he couldn’t wait to taste his husband for the first time.

“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart. Show me exactly where you need my tongue.”

Peter whimpered in response, high-pitched and embarrassed, but the boy’s hands wandered behind his back and he pulled his cheeks apart. He was a vision and Tony couldn’t stop the deep growl. Desire was raging inside of him and the Alpha leaned forward, dying to get the first taste.

The slick was sweet, and Tony couldn’t get enough. He was already addicted. His tongue teased the fluttering rim, catching every drop that tried to escape, and he savored the little sounds Peter made. It was obvious the Omega was enjoying himself. He whimpered every time the Alpha pressed his tongue in, even if it was just an inch.

Tony tried every technique he had learned in his life. His tongue danced around the rim, teasing, licking but not breaching yet. Each second Tony dragged it out, Peter got more and more aroused until finally, his husband started to sob. The Alpha purred in pleasure.

He loved his Omega like this. Helpless, lost in his own arousal and completely at Tony’s mercy. The Alpha could see his husband’s hard cock dangling between his legs, but Peter didn’t even think about touching himself, his pleasure given into Tony’s hands.

When Peter’s moans turned into helpless whines, Tony finally had mercy. One hand wandered between Peter’s thighs, caressing the skin until Tony gave the Omega what he needed. Two fingers were pressed into the tight heat while his tongue was still playing with the edge of Peter’s rim.

The boy sobbed in pleasure, and Tony didn’t remember ever hearing something sweeter. Peter was beautiful in his pleasure, whining for Tony’s affection like a little slut. The Alpha could feel his own cock leaking with the thought and he let his free hand wander between his own thighs, gripping his cock tightly and starting to stroke.

As soon as Tony’s finger hit a certain spot, Peter started to babble. “So good, Alpha. Need your knot. Need you to fill me up.”

God, the thought was tempting. Tony wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the tight heat and knot his Omega until the entire world could smell they were bonded. He wanted Peter to reek of his scent, stuffed full, maybe even bred, so he could carry Tony’s pups, but he respected Peter, and the boy had wanted to wait yesterday. Tony wouldn’t knot him until his husband was completely sure he wanted Tony like that.

So instead, Tony doubled his effort. He searched for the spot again, rubbing it until the Omega’s eyes rolled back in pleasure. His tongue was still working around the rim, licking up every drop and setting Peter’s nerve ends on fire.

Tony's own hand sped up as well. He gripped himself tighter, increasing the pressure around his knot, and clutching the last grasps of his control. He wouldn’t just fuck his husband, even if he begged even if he cried for Tony’s cock.

Peter came when Tony slipped his tongue in alongside the two fingers. His entire body was shaking, riding Tony’s digits and his tongue, and the Alpha could smell the Omega’s release hitting the mattress. Tony leaned back, but his fingers were still snugly nestled in his Omega’s heat, milking every last drop, every last twitch out of Peter’s body.

The boy was gorgeous in his pleasure. Flushed, needy and so shameless. Tony felt his own desire rising. He could barely hold back anymore, pleasure buzzing through his entire body.

“Can I come on your hole, baby? Let me mark you up. Let me cover you in my scent.”

Peter was too far gone to reply properly, but he managed to nod weakly. Tony came almost immediately after that. His cock exploded, shooting surge after surge of come on Peter’s body. It spread over his lower back, over his thighs and his dripping hole, and the sight made Tony growl in possessiveness. This was his Omega. Marked up and dripping his come. Before his senses came back, he was already rubbing his seed into Peter’s skin.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. Such a good boy. Mine.”

Peter whimpered, still a little shaken from the orgasm, but Tony felt him coming back more and more with each passing second.

“Morning, sunshine.”

The words earned him a chuckle and Tony couldn’t stop looking at his husband. He looked even better than before, cheeks flushed and hair tousled while the shirt slid down to cover Peter’s waist again. Tony still couldn’t believe his luck and his Alpha side purred with the knowledge that Peter was covered in his scent.

“Did you bring coffee?” Peter asked and reached out for his cup on the bedside table. He took a sip and grimaced. “Yikes. The coffee is already cold.”

“I’ll make you a new one,” Tony promised, but he pulled Peter against his chest instead of getting up. “Give me a minute.”

The Omega tensed for a second before he relaxed into the embrace. “Don’t bother. I can make one myself.”

Tony didn’t want him to make coffee on his own. He wanted to provide for his husband. He wanted to dote on Peter, care for him, and that also included making him a new cup of coffee.

When he felt the beautiful body pressed against his chest, Tony knew for certain that he would fall in love with Peter sooner or later.

“I’m so happy you’ve agreed to marry me. You’re the best that could have ever happened to me.”

For a second, he imagined seeing doubts on Peter’s face, but it was soon overtaken by a huge smile. “You’re perfect, Alpha. I’ll do anything to make you happy. I want to be perfect for you, want to be the best Omega in the world.”

Something inside of Tony settled with the words. Peter was already perfect, and Tony wanted nothing more than to take care of his husband, and maybe, one day, start a family with him.

#starker #advent calendar

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thomasxsides · 4 years ago

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Snake-Imposed Self-Care

Fandom: Sanders Sides Ship: Thomceit Words: 2,425 Rating: M for Mature/X for Explicit/A for Adult (only read if you’re 18+) Warnings: reptile anatomy, smut Characters: Character!Thomas, Janus Sanders Additional Tags: fluff, “self-care” and by that I mean Janus is the one taking care of c!Thomas, handjobs, mutual (?) handjobs, Janus teaches Thomas how to touch him, thigh worship A/N: This is based on prompts sent to me by @theprincey and an Anon. I decided to combine the two (pictured) into one story. Enjoy :) Also, Janus’ lies are shown in bold. Please remember, reblogs get a lot farther than likes so if you really like my work, consider reblogging. Thank you! Feel free to send me a Thomas X Sides prompt! (only send NSFW if you’re 18+)

Working out obviously had its benefits, but Thomas was regretting it as he had apparently pulled a muscle in his shoulders. Or maybe it was the way he sat for hours at a time working on editing, but he’d rather blame the exercise than the job he loved so much. His eyes were on the TV- Parks and Recreation, again- but his mind was on the pain as he tried to contort his arms like a pretzel to massage away the pain and he was struggling with it, gradually getting more and more frustrated. Cue Janus. The half-reptile Side appeared at Thomas’ side, startling him. “Oh. Hi, Janus.” “You know why I’m here, don’t you?” “At this point, I’m afraid to ask.” Janus rolled his eyes a little to himself. “Thomas, you’re in pain. In a way that suggests you’re not taking proper care of yourself. You once knew me as ‘Deceit’, but I happen to also be your sense of self-preservation. Things like this are my responsibility.” Thomas huffed softly. “Sure, I get that. I’m trying to take care of myself. But it’s my shoulder that’s bothering me and I can’t seem to--” “You need a shoulder massage. Well, I can help.” Thomas turned to properly look at Janus finally. “You... you’ll do that for me?”

“Of course. Thomas, it’s... it’s just my job, I don’t care about you at all outside of that. As my host.”

Nodding softly, Thomas turned his back to Janus a little. “Okay. Thank you, Janus.” Janus hummed softly as if to nonverbally say ‘Don’t mention it’ and he moved in nearer to Thomas, closing his eyes briefly as he took in the inviting heat radiating from Thomas’ body. He placed his hands on Thomas’ shoulders and hesitated a moment before withdrawing his hands; he carefully, hesitantly removed his gloves and leaned over, placing them neatly on the coffee table out of the way. Thomas noticed but he said nothing, fearing making Janus self-conscious or insecure about it, but it makes his heart flip.

Taking a breath at this new state of vulnerability, Janus put his hands on Thomas’ shoulders again, starting with a gentle pressure and being rewarded with a soft hum. He kept up this way for a moment before pressing into the muscles a bit more firmly, working them loose with dedication and care. Thomas groaned quietly at the relief it brought. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone did this for him and Janus was particularly good at it. With Thomas distracted and facing away from him, Janus let out another pair of arms to work on the rest of Thomas’ back, working deep into the muscles and loosening knots, releasing tension. Thomas noticed there seemed to be more than two hands touching him, but he felt so wonderful that he couldn’t bring himself to be repulsed or even really care. He closed his eyes and let Janus do what he’d offered to do, relaxing and groaning softly at Janus’ touch. An innocent shoulder rub, maybe, but the sounds Thomas was making, even as soft as they were, caused Janus’ mind to wander a bit to the other ways he could take care of Thomas, relieve him, soothe his stressed and tense body and mind... It was only when he noticed that he was, in fact, erect that he withdrew his hands from Thomas’ body and moved away a bit, clearing his throat and putting his gloves back on as he returned to a two-armed form. “Well, then, Thomas... That should do it. I’ll be going then.” A soft, warm hand wrapped around Janus’ own, still ungloved, and the Side turned to give his host a puzzled look. “Thank you, Janus... I appreciate you always taking care of me. You don’t... have to go if you don’t want to.” The air between them seemed to buzz silently with a warmth Janus was... not unfamiliar with, but unused to. Silent, save for the sounds of their breathing, though Janus wondered if the beat he heard was Thomas’ heart or his own. Loud, heavy, persistent, quickening by the passing second. Janus wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they were pressed together, sealed by their lips and Thomas tasted of watermelon Jolly Rancher and strawberry lip balm, too sweet and not sweet enough at the same time. Addicting, comforting, enticing. Together, they moved both too quickly and too slowly. A bowler hat and capelet landed on the floor, joining a pair of patent leather shoes and yellow gloves. Thomas made patient, steady work of the closures on Janus’ shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. It was Janus’ instinct to recoil, to hide, but when Thomas appeared unafraid and instead delicately ran his fingers over the scales on the left side of Janus’ body, Janus sighed, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Seeming to have noticed Janus’ unspoken insecurity, Thomas captured his lips again gently as if in reassurance, making Janus melt. When they parted from their kiss again, Janus carefully, and with Thomas’ silent encouragement, pulled the T-shirt he was wearing up over his head and pressed slow kisses to Thomas’ soft, smooth, warm skin, moving down his beautiful neck and across his collarbone. Thomas was receptive to Janus’ attention, making the sweetest sounds, encouraging the Side and running gentle fingers through his hair, down the scaly half of his back. Janus pulled away almost reluctantly. “May I touch you,” he asked, not wanting to go any further without Thomas’ explicit consent. “God, Janus, yes please...” Janus smirked a little, his eyes brighter than usual, as he opened the button and drew down the zipper of Thomas’ jeans, working them off his hips and thighs as if unwrapping a present. And it was, in a way, a gift: this intimacy, this trust, this affection; just the two of them and no one else. Just a Side and his gorgeous, generous, warm Host. Thomas leaned back against the arm of the old sofa that so often seemed so uncomfortable and yet now was the most comfortable place in the world. He spread his legs and the sound that left Janus- desperate and awed- made him laugh softly. Hands- one of them scaled- caressed the outsides of Thomas’ thighs as softly trembling lips pressed reverent kisses of adoration to the insides. A forked tongue made an occasional appearance to taste the warm flesh of the human’s thighs; teeth grazed and sank in gently and love bites began blooming over the pale skin, leaving barely an inch untouched, unappreciated. Neither of them had any idea how long Janus’ brazen worship of Thomas’ thighs had gone on, but it left Thomas squirming. Unwilling to let Thomas go another moment uncared for, Janus finally sat up and curled his fingers in the elastic waistband of Thomas’ boxers, pulling them down and off, discarding them on the floor with the rest of their garments. Thomas flushed as he was fully exposed, his cock hard and pink, twitching occasionally with need and throbbing in time with his elevated pulse. “I’m going to take care of you, Thomas,” Janus promised. With a snap of fingers, a bottle of lubricant appeared in Janus’ left hand and he poured a small amount into the palm of his right hand, setting the bottle on the coffee table. He was left handed, but he felt Thomas would be more comfortable being touched with flesh than scales. He wrapped his hand around Thomas’ cock and began slowly, gently stroking him, finding a good pace and establishing a rhythm. Thomas’ head fell back against the arm of the couch and he moaned softly, but encouragingly. The sound ignited Janus’ own blood, but he remained patient. Thomas was his priority. He gave a slow, experimental twist of his wrist and Thomas’ cried out in unmistakable pleasure. Soon, Janus had sped up and established a rhythm that had Thomas’ moaning and his breath hitching as his thighs tremored with euphoria. He moved steadily and quickly from head to base and back again, twisting his wrist on occasion, enjoying how much that made Thomas gasp. “Ja-Janus... I’m... I’m close, I’m gonna...” “Shh. I’ve got you. I’m taking care of you. Let yourself go for me, Thomas.” And let go he did. Thomas went slack against the sofa, moaning out almost constantly between panting breaths. Janus watched with delight as his face flushed bright red and the muscles in his stomach and thighs tensed just before he came, arching slightly off the couch cushions, toes curling as he moaned loudly, unrestrained. “Janus... oh! Oh... ffffuck... Janus...” Thomas’ hands clenched into fists and relaxed again and he pushed his fingers into his own hair, unsure what else to do with them as the waves of his orgasm continued to pulsate through his body. His moans finally quietened as his orgasm began to subside and Janus finally stopped stroking him, not wanting to push him too far into overstimulation. Slowly, Thomas opened his eyes to stare up at his ceiling, his mind whirling and his heart racing, pounding heavily against his ribs as he tried to catch his breath. Janus smirked to himself as he cleaned off his hand and gently, carefully cleaned Thomas’ stomach, cock, and thighs. “Can I touch you now?” The question caught Janus off guard. “What?” Thomas sat up and looked at Janus, repeating his question: “May I touch you? I... I want to return the favor.” “Well, Thomas, I was supposed to be taking care of you. Self-care, you know.” “I know, but... I *want* to.” “I...” Janus sighed. “Okay, but... there’s something you need to know.” He didn’t see a way around this. He could either tell Thomas and prepare the man, or Thomas could be unpleasantly surprised. Either way, it was likely to frighten him off. And this way was easier to accept rejection. He took a deep breath. “My anatomy is... not... average.” Thomas neither moved nor spoke. “You see, because I am half snake, I have... a... ‘hemipenis’. It is not scaled. It’s made of flesh, same as yours, but... it looks...” Janus ran a hand through his hair, huffing in frustration at his own nervousness. “It looks like I have two. They are... identical. They sh-share a... base and... an internal... system, though I do still have external testicles. They are... well, for lack of better description, they are side by side. I just... didn’t want to scare you off.” “Oh.” Thomas took a second to process this information, not sure what he should have expected. This felt a little like a paper bag marked Dead Dove, Do Not Eat that contained an actual dead dove. Janus was half snake. Of course he would be different. “Okay,” he said at last. “Okay?” Thomas nodded. “I think you might have to teach me how to touch you, but I still want to, Janus.” A little blown away, Janus nodded and leaned in for another kiss. Thomas cupped both sides of his head gently and held him there a moment longer before they parted again. Janus removed his own slacks and underwear, revealing his hemipenis. The scales on the left side of his body continued down to his toes, but just as he’d said, his cocks and testicles showed no sign of ever having had scales. The human half of him was hairless much to Thomas’ surprise, but it wasn’t anything more than surprising, and he’d already been prepared for the surprise. “Wow,” Thomas whispered. “And you can use both at once?” “Yes. It feels best that way.” Janus gently took Thomas’ hand, but he didn’t move beyond that. “You still want to touch me?” Thomas licked his lips and nodded once more. “More than anything.” “Then, I will teach you.” Cautiously, in case he still decided to recoil and retreat, Janus guided Thomas’ hand to his cocks and showed him just how to touch them, stroking first one, then the other. He then taught Thomas how to take both of them into one hand with a firm grip and stroke. At first, Thomas’ touch was barely there, uncertain and insecure much like Janus himself in that moment, but he built confidence and started a rhythm like he’d done this a dozen or so times before. Janus moaned softly and mostly let his hand fall away since it was clear Thomas could handle it on his own. “Yes, Thomas... Mm, that’s it, darling. You’re doing... ooh-- perfectly...” He moved his hand down, touching the delicate folds of skin between his cocks at the base, stroking them and moaning loudly as it increased his pleasure fivefold. Awed, Thomas couldn’t look away; he watched his own hand moving over Janus’ cocks, aided by a generous amount of leaking precome. He watched Janus touch himself in what was evidently a very sensitive area. It was thrilling to experience something so new, so unheard of, and it caused a shiver to run down his spine. “Kiss me, Thomas. Please. I long to taste you again.” Without hesitation, Thomas captured Janus’ lips with his own once again, swallowing down his sweet, indulgent moans as he continued stroking his cocks, speeding up steadily. The feeling of Janus’ forked tongue brushing against his lips and then moving into his mouth and gently moving against his tongue made Thomas moan softly. Janus’ free arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close even as he broke the kiss. “I’m very nearly there, Thomas. Please... please don’t stop.” Thomas continued determinedly, stroking Janus’ cocks firmly and quickly until the Side began to tense and moan louder between gentle gasps for breath. “Oh god, Thomas... Oh--” Janus lifted his hips from the sofa, his eyes rolling back and falling shut as he came hard, making twice as much mess as Thomas as he spilled over Thomas’ hand, his own hand and thighs, and his own stomach. He let out one last moan and shuddered as the final wave of his orgasm passed through him like a tidal wave. Thomas slowed to a stop before gently releasing Janus’ cocks. Lazy and orgasm-dizzy, Janus waved his hand, making the mess disappear from both of them without a trace and he gave Thomas a sleepy smile. “That was marvelous, darling.” He pulled Thomas in for a soft, sweet kiss. “Thank you for letting me take care of you.” “Thank you for being willing to be taken care of in return. You’re important to me, Janus. I love you.”

#thomas x sides #not safe for sanders #no minors #thomasxsides #thomceit #c!thomas x janus #c!thomas x janus sanders #character!thomas x janus #character!thomas x janus sanders #janus x c!thomas #janus sanders x c!thomas #janus x character!thomas #janus sanders x character!thomas #janus sanders #fluffsmut #smut #fluff #c!thomas #character!thomas

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plethora-of-imagines · 4 years ago

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Autumn in a Day

AN: I missed it still being @how-masterful‘s birthday by about 25 minutes but the power of time zones makes it still her birthday my time!! Enjoy all of the soft that I tried to write for you!!! (The ending is somewhat abrupt/ less edited but it should still be decent)

Word Count: 3330

Description: You experience as many of your favorite autumn actives in a day as possible with the Master.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You laughed as you ran through the fallen leaves away from the Master. The smell of autumn fresh in the air. You joyously kicked up leaves left and right with each step as you ran away from him. His shout of protest in the background as you enjoyed yourself. You were tempted to fall into the thick pile of multicolored leaves. It was something you hadn't done since you were a child, but you were sure it would be just as enjoyable as it had all those years ago.

You squealed as two strong arms unexpectedly wrapped around you, lifting you up off the ground and twirling you around. The Master had caught up to you sooner than you had expected, and he claimed he didn't ever run! He had to have run to catch up to you. Your giggles mixed with the Master's as you spun, round and round. When your feet were finally on the ground again you could feel him subtly nuzzling into you. He wasn't subtle enough to avoid your detection, but you would be merciful and not bring it up. This time.

"Caught you," he whispered seductively into your ear.

You let your eyes close as you leaned into the Master's chest. You felt so loved, it was nice. You took a deep breath in, enjoying the crisp air. You were going to savor every moment of the day that you could.

"Now, I believe we have a few more apples to pick before we go searching for the perfect pumpkins you wanted."

You smiled, he was correct. You did want to pick out some more apples, even if running off might have given a different impression.

The Master surprised you again by kneeling down. He was getting his pants dirty on the- well, dirty ground. He buried himself in between your thighs. His head in quite the compromising position.

"Master! I'm not about to get frisky in a field!"

Just as you had finished reprimanding him he stood up with you now resting on his shoulders. Oh, it wasn't meant the way you had interpreted.

"Get your pretty little human mind out of the bedroom, love. I'm only trying to make gathering those few more apples easier."

You absentmindedly played with his hair as he approached the nearest tree that still had some apples left. The one problem with waiting so long to go apple picking was that there were few apples to be easily found. Still the Master and you had managed to find a decent amount. A small nip to your thigh made you squeak and pay attention.

"Much as I love the attention, your hands do have some actual work to preoccupy themselves with now."

You had no comeback prepared to retaliate with so you started to pick the ripest apples you could find without responding. Twist and pull, twist and pull. One hand held up the end of your shirt to use as a makeshift basket while the other picked the apples from the tree. As you worked on picking apples the Master's hands held you steady by your calves and he drew small circles against the fabric of your pants. Once the few apples in an area had been picked the Master dutifully brought you to more.

"I think we have enough now..." You focused on trying to keep all of the apples contained in your shirt, to keep them from falling. All of your efforts would go to waste if they fell from this height. "We can head back to our basket now. I know I made you abandon it to chase me."

The Master didn't respond with words, letting the comfortable silence you had settled into while working continue. The only sounds were the crunching of leaves underneath his feet and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. It was peaceful. If you didn't have the apples to worry about you would have started to play with the Master's hair again. Unfortunately, your hands were already preoccupied. You instead took the chance to enjoy the sea of colors. Warm reds, oranges, and yellows mixed in with patches of still bright green leaves. A rectangle of orange standing out from the more spread out rows of trees. The pumpkin patch of the apple orchard, still a ways in the distance. Your next destination.

With great care the Master lowered himself down so that you could stand once more on your own two feet. The moment you were steady he grabbed the bag of apples off of the ground, lifting it up so that you could more easily place the apples gently inside. You lowered your shirt back down once it no longer needed to work as a sling to hold apples in safely.

The Master offered his arm to you and you eagerly nuzzled in close to him. Head resting on his upper arm as you walked towards the pumpkin patch. You almost couldn't contain your excitement to be experiencing all of these autumn activities with the Master. You hadn't expected him to agree to some many human traditions. A few maybe, but all of them? He seemed to surprise you in new ways every day.

"We can pick out our pumpkins and then we can bake when we get back to the TARDIS. While the cookies are baking we can carve the pumpkins, warm-," the Master interrupted your excited recitation of your plans for the day.

"Warm up some cider and then enjoy snuggling in some blankets while watching Addams Family. I'm well aware of your plans, love," the Master finished your ramblings as you made your way down the hill together. "It's absolutely precious how excited you are for them."

You would have pouted if you thought he actually meant to demean you for your child-like excitement. Instead you let the comfortable silence return without complaint. You knew that he meant his comment fondly.

There was a small shop near the pumpkin patch meant for visitors to explore and find more to buy. You paid it no mind for now rushing forward into the patch to start your search. You started examining the pumpkin in front of you intently. That one was too small while the others around it were too big. You frowned. It was going to take more time to find acceptable pumpkins than you thought, and you were aiming for perfection, not acceptable. The Master wouldn’t be much help either. The master may know all sorts of things about the universe but you knew Halloween. You would be the one ensuring the two of you had the perfect pumpkins to carve.

"I'll be back in a second. Something's caught my eye over there."

You looked to the Master wondering what could have possibly stolen his attention, "please don't manage to get us in trouble before I'm ready to leave Master."

It was too late for your warning, he had already started to wander away. Fine. If he wanted to look at something else he could. Meanwhile you would find the perfect pumpkin. The search wouldn’t be easy but you would persevere. You laughed to yourself over your mental dramatics. It took ages to find the first pumpkin that you approved of. It was just the right size with one slightly flat side, perfect to carve into. You picked it up so that you wouldn’t lose track of it and carried it like you would a small child.

The second pumpkin took less time to find, you were less picky with the Master’s pumpkin. He wouldn’t care as much what it looked like. Still you found a nice second pumpkin, not as perfect as yours but still decent. You were still holding your chosen pumpkin in your arms while hovering near your second choice when you sensed the Master's return.

"I believe I have found the perfect crown for my queen of the pumpkin patch," a soft felt like fabric covered your eyes as the Master forced the hat onto your head.

Your pumpkin was pulled from your arms so that you could push the hat out of your eyes. Feeling along the length of the hat you could tell it was a witch's hat, it was all long and pointy at the end. He was right, as always, it was the perfect crown for a Halloween queen. The Master was showing off his strength as he held your pumpkin against his side with just one arm.

"Rude," you teased.

As soon as you could see again he booped your nose. You just rolled your eyes. You handed over the apples hanging off your arm in their clear bag to the Master's free hand. Bending down to lift up the second pumpkin. Pumpkin securely in your arms your eyes met the Master's.

"Are we planning to pay for any of this?"

"I'm not," with a laugh the Master started to run towards the TARDIS.

You gave an outraged shout of, "Master!", as you ran after him. You couldn't believe he took off without warning you.

You ran with all of your might towards the closest apple tree, the TARDIS' current camouflage. If you dropped the pumpkin you would not forgive the Master for making you rush after him. Even if it was his revenge for you making him chase you earlier.

You rushed into the TARDIS only seconds behind the Master, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Laughing with him in exhilaration. As your laughter died down you both stood staring into each other's eyes. Neither wanting to break the moment.

Finally in a quiet voice the Master broke the silence, "little thieves need to pay their getaway drivers."

You brought your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Pulling away with a stereotypical kiss noise -mwah- just for your own amusement.

"Is that sufficient payment, Master?"

He smiled lovingly at you.

"Yes, it is love."

The TARDIS lit up with energy as she dematerialized. There was no need to steer her yourselves, she already knew where she was going. Into the comfort of the vortex where no one could bother the two of you.

You waltzed away from the Master. Making your way to the kitchen to deposit your stolen goods. He, of course, followed your lead. The TARDIS liked you, so you were sure to know the correct way.

The TARDIS being fond of you extended beyond just being able to find the kitchen with ease. The kitchen itself was made to be perfect for you. Anything you could ever dream of having in a kitchen, the TARDIS provided. As someone who loved to bake it was a wonderland straight out of your dreams.

You deposited the Master’s pumpkin onto the table, trusting that he would place the other pumpkins and the apples down to start helping you grab ingredients for the cinnamon chocolate chip cookies you wanted to bake. The two of you fell into a rhythm, practically dancing around each other as you prepared the batter. The Master had memorized the recipe of your favorite cookies long ago, so it was easy for the two of you to quickly get the first batch into the oven.

You smiled over at the Master when you saw that he had already started to get sprinkles and marshmallows ready for the chocolate apples you were going to make next. You took to melting the chocolate on the stove top, not bothering with the microwave. Mostly due to the Master having the chocolate in a metal bowl already. He loved to tease you anytime you used a microwave for being impatient. You refused to give him the perfect opportunity to tease you more today. Bringing the melted chocolate over to the table for ease of chocolate apple assembly you joined the Master in preparing the apples. He was enjoying stabbing the apples with sticks with a wicked smile on his face.

Once the apples were all prepared to be dipped the Master chose to wrap himself around you instead of working by your side. Trapping you in between his arms as he worked in tandem with you. Both of you playfully fighting to dip your apples into the chocolate. The timer going off for the first batch of cookies handed you your win as the Master regretfully freed you to take the cookies out of the oven. Without him to distract you, you made progress on actually making the chocolate apples. You had almost finished by the time the Master had put the next batch of cookies into the oven. He had spent a long time being a bit of a perfectionist and trying to make all of the cookies even. You already knew that it was a hopeless effort but you couldn’t help but be fond of his efforts.

The Master dipped his finger into the cooling chocolate and held it up near your mouth. You teasingly tasted it off of his finger, gently sucking on his finger while you did so.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he groaned out.

“Well if you are going to provide such tempting opportunities to tease you how can I resist?”

“I’m going to start warming up the blankets for the blanket nest you are going to want while we watch the movie later, little mischievous witch.”

He gave a light swat to your ass as he left the room. The warmth of his body hovering near yours disappearing and leaving you a tiny bit cold. You had been able to feel his hardening cock against your body before he left, so you knew that the blankets were an excuse to have a moment to himself. He needed to take a moment to calm down after you teased him. It was sweet that he was making sure that he didn’t bend you over the table before you had finished all of your planned autumn activities. He knew that if you had sex now you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of each other long enough to get back to your plans today. You had begged him for the perfect autumn day and he was determined to deliver.

“Hurry back so that we can carve the pumpkins!” You yelled after him even if there was a chance he wouldn’t hear you.

You may really want to do all of these autumn activities but they wouldn’t be as much fun without the Master with you. The smell of cinnamon in the kitchen grew stronger as you prepared the pumpkins while waiting for the Master to return. You already missed him. You were incredibly emotionally attached to him if you already missed him this much after just a few minutes of his absence. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care too much about being considered needy. The Master was just as needy as you were. The two of you were the perfect match for the other.

You finished preparing the pumpkins sooner than you expected to. Without the Master to distract you, you could finish your task quicker; however, it wasn’t as much fun without him by your side. Now you were just waiting for him to return, and missing his presence.

“How is my mischievous little witch doing?” The Master teased the moment he returned.

Rushing over to your side and grabbing your arm to press passionate kisses from the tip of your fingers up your arm in a playful mimicry of Gomez and Morticia. You knew that he paid more attention to the movies than he let on! Tilting your head away from the Master’s lips you attempted to avoid his affection. You smiled as he growled at your actions. He was so easy to tease today...

He forced your head to face his as he brought your lips crashing together. You melted into his passion, letting him hold you up. Foreheads pressed together as you both enjoyed the feeling of each other’s breath against the other’s lips. The timer for the second batch of cookies pulled you apart again.

The Master’s hand darted out to stop you from leaving his side, “let them burn,” he begged.

“It’s tempting but no, not this time Master. Besides, the TARDIS would hate us for catching her on fire when it could have been avoided. I would like to stay on her good side. Last time I annoyed her she made me wonder for 10 minutes before I could find the rooms I was trying to find for weeks.”

He groaned as he let you go, “unfortunately that’s the smart choice. The TARDIS can be vindictive when annoyed.”

“You can start carving your pumpkin if you want Master. I’ve already prepared them.”

“Which one is mine? I do not want to deal with you if I pick the wrong one when you have a knife in your hands.”

“The one on the left is yours, and I wouldn’t actually stab you! I would just threaten to stab you,” you joked.

You transferred the batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. The Master had managed to use the rest of the cookie dough so you turned off the oven and put the bowls into the sink. You would worry about cleaning them later, much later.

The Master had already made decent progress on carving his pumpkin. The start of a detailed human skull taking form. Picking up the second knife you started to work on your pumpkin, you chose to carve bats and ghosts into yours. They were some of your favorite spooky symbols after all. You stayed focused on your pumpkin, making sure that you didn’t make any mistakes. You didn’t want to be reckless and ruin your hard work.

You were only halfway done when the Master stabbed his finished pumpkin with his knife with a showy, “ta daa, a spooky Halloween victim!”

The skull the Master had carved was highly detailed, and had a knife now sticking out of it. You hadn’t had any ideas as to what the Master would carve into a pumpkin but looking at the finished product it was exactly what you would expect the Master to do. You couldn’t help but admire the details for a few minutes.

“It looks so detailed! I’m almost done. Can you heat up the cider while I finish up Master?”

“Of course, love. I’ll also go start setting up the blanket nest too.”

You hummed in response as you finished carving another bat. It needed one more ghost and then it would be perfect. You absentmindedly noticed the Master press a kiss to your temple as he carried two mugs out of the kitchen. Once you finally finished your pumpkin you placed your knife into the sink with the dirty bowls. Unlike the Master you were not going to stab your pumpkin, while it worked for his design it would ruin yours. Even if it would be kind of fun to do.

The TARDIS led you directly to the media room where the Master already had a dozen warm blankets set up in a blanket nest. You rushed to settle yourself into the nest. It was so warm and cozy! The Master pressed play on the Addams Family before joining you in the nest. Yanking you into his lap.

“Get comfy, love, because I’m not letting you leave my lap at any point during the movie.”

You grabbed the blankets to readjust the nest now that you were settled in the Master’s lap. Cuddling with the Master in a warm blanket nest was the perfect end for your autumn day. You took the offered mug of warm cider from the Master’s hands, taking a sip of the just the right temperature liquid.

“How long has it been since we’ve cuddled, love?”

You smiled lovingly up at him with the reference, “oh Master... hours!”

You would treasure this perfect autumn day with the Master by your side to enjoy it with you.

#the master x reader #dhawan!master x reader

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howwnowbrowncoww · 4 years ago

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10 Characters, 10 Fandoms

thanks for the tag @vidramon! I’m going to refrain from picking Malroth since it’s a total given for me lol and since you already wrote some pretty great stuff about him. These aren’t really in any order and I picked off the top of my head so I’m sure I’m missing a few I’d really be able to chat your ears off about, but this was fun anyway!

Oops, editing this to say anyone can try it out! Not tagging anyone specific this time, but if you want to talk about 10 characters you love, please add on an share or make your own post and tag me because I’d love to see!

1. Bado (Rune Factory 4)

Honestly, I love all the characters from 4, but this loser holds a special place in my heart. His half-hearted passion for getting rich quick but lack of follow through when it comes to negatively impacting people around him with his schemes is oddly endearing. I equally want to wring his neck and be his best friend. I also will die mad that he wasn’t a marriage candidate>:T

2. Tamaki Amajiki (BNHA)

It was a toss up between him and Shinsou, but I picked Tamaki because I can relate more to him. I love seeing him fight with determination and courage despite how much anxiety he has. He works hard despite all his perceived faults, and his supportive friend group makes me so happy for him! I left off mid season 4 of the anime but I want to pick it up again just for him and Shinsou lol

3. Ghirahim (Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword)

Okay, I know, major leap from anxious Tamaki, but Ghirahim is a fave on the complete opposite side of the scale. This guy is obviously an asshole. A total jerk. Dickhead supreme. But he’s a very fun and interesting villain (in the worst way) imo. I’m also a huge fan of WindWaker Ganondorf because of his drive as a villain, but I picked Ghirahim since SS is getting remade soon. Idk, his design is eye-catching, every time I got to meet him in the game, he always had interesting dialouge (putting it lightly), and his personality uh...leaves much to be improved upon, but he HAS ONE! I’m tired of boring villains with lackluster motivations. Okay, his motivations were kinda expectable too, but his overwhelming desire to kill me in an extremely over-the-top dramatic fashion at all times was refreshing.

4. Sophie (Howl’s Moving Castle)

I know a lot of people have a favorite Sophie (either the book or movie version), but I like both equally for really different reasons. I related to movie Sophie a lot as a kid (still kinda do), so I have nostalgia going for me there, but book Sophie is a wild card. I lover her. She’s nuts, she won’t hesitate to throw acid, she can and will do whatever the hell she wants. I really want to be her.

5. Fenris (Dragon Age 2)

It was SO HARD to pick between him, Bull, and Dorian, because I haven’t played any of the games, but I want to meet them all so damn bad lol. I OWN all the games, I just haven’t played them yet /cries/. Ironically, I took a quiz the other day and it said I’d be Fenris, and I honestly was just more concerned than anything considering his backstory lmao. Anyway, I love an elf who can wield a greatsword and rip people’s hearts from their bodies while avoiding his emotionally traumatic past:>

6. Galo Thymos (Promare)

Look, I absolutely ADORE everyone in this entire movie, but this moron just hits all the best character traits for me. He’s passionate, he’s stupider than all get out, and he’s constantly shirtless while almost dying and saving the day through sheer god-defying luck and a refusal to lay down and die. There’s just something about himbos that gets me, ya know?

7. Kurapika Kurta (Hunter X Hunter)

Kurapika has what Sasuke could NEVER. Literally, Kurapika has such a more satisfying revenge/redemption ark than anything I’ve ever seen. I love his interaction with Melody and the main group, the red eyes thing is so BADASS (again, still cooler than Sasuke’s), the chains are both aesthetic as HELL and insanely, terrifyingly effective. Never seen a cooler anime character in my entire life. I also just really, really want to give him a fucking hug, like wow he really needs one.

8. Apollo Justice (Ace Attorney games)

Apollo is a new love of mine (also from a game I haven’t played yet) as well as another character for me to eventually project onto;) He’s anxious, he yells a lot, he’s oblivious as fuck, but he has the passion I love in all my characters. This boy is in for a world of hurt (from the many spoilers I have run into by browsing the game tags prematurely lol), but I know he’ll pull through! He has his family by his side!;-;

9. Sakura Haruno (Naruto)

Don’t even get me started on Sakura>:O I love her so much. I did not appreciate her near enough as a kid (maybe understandably since she was written for shit). Instead of going back and rewatching the show to face inevitable disappointment, I just read fics that fix all of the crappy things the show did to her:) This girl could crush me like a bug and I am looking respectfully!!

10. Tadashi Hamada (Big Hero 6)

Saving the most underloved one for last;-; Tadashi I miss you. I rewatch this goddamn movie just for you (and sometimes Baymax). I have the only shirt I could ever find with him on it and I also have his hat because once I latch onto a character, I apparently never let go. It’s a shame Disney had to kill him off to further the plot. I was so desperate for more content of this character that I found myself falling down theory spirals about how he may come back as Sunfire (that name may be wrong, it’s been a few years lol). Ultimate big brother, great best friend, everyone loved him and knew he was creating good things for the world, super goofy: literally I think I just aspired to be more like him when I first saw the movie. Mad respect for this dude.

#long post #tag tag #my post #not really but i want to be able to find it later

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jamiebluewind · 5 years ago

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Fantasy High Characters 2.12

I'll go back to ep 2.11 eventually, but I wanted to get this one out while it's still the newest. As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warnings: canon typical violence, gore, blood, gross mention, vomit, fantasy racism mention, disturbing imagery, panic attack mention, threats, murder, alcohol, injury

***

Ally (on the fig/ayda kiss): Two young Sheldon's makeing out XD

Lou (on the second fig/ayda kiss): Yes-ah! Yes-ah! Yes-ah! Yes-ah! I bless this union! Yes-ah!

Brennan (on forgetting to change the music for the arcane crime scene): -this is the wrong music for this moment

***

New Characters

Craf-me Rootdrinker

Gnome and druid

Gave his life 200 years ago to reclaim Arborly from the curse

Was very kind

Avoided "cleric nonsense"

Nuathura (New-ah-thoo-ra) the Fox

Older red fox who was awakened as a pup by Craf-me (was his familiar/companion)

Spry and slinky despite his age

Fluent in silvian, elvish, and gnomish

Runs the town (basically the mayor) and offers the adventurers every resource in their village at their disposal

Appreciates it when he is shown respect and is more open to outsiders and outsider tech than Mira, saying that the Nightmare King was once defeated by a strange band of Solesians and that they were delighted to have them

Likes shrimp and was given one by Fabian and four (one on each paw) by Kristen

Was told the crown of the Nightmare King was kept deep under a pit under a pyramid where it could never be found (and was understandably upset to discover that it was instead kept on a shelf in a dean's office and now in the hands of Adaine's mom who is trying to get into the forest)

Mira Silverbough/Silverbow

Wood elf and leader of the rangers who guard the town (of which there are 40 standing on bolders with arrows nocked when the teens wake up)

Intense angular face with steal gray eyes and long black hair on the top of her head (that might hang down in her face) with shaved sides that appear to be turning gray/salt and pepper

Dressed in dark forest green with leather archer's bracers and gloves with

"Ah. Not TRULY children. These are almost adults grown. Come here!" *gestures for the teens to come over*

Racist against those with infernal lineage, goblins, and orcs, but seems to be racist against all other races in general

Was put off by technology she doesn't understand

Referred to Fig as a troubadour (poet who writes verses to music or specificly a French medieval lyric poet) and the van as very small house of wheels

Furrowed her brow at Adaine being the Oracle

Second to Nuathura and very protective of him

Krumpkin Springbill

Head of the Tinkerer's Hall

Round as a pumpkin with a shiny bald head and a mustashe like a push broom

Dressed in soot covered goggles (which he pushed up) and a leather apron filled with tools

He and the other gnomes come up to Gorgug's mid thigh

Two unnamed gnomes

Person with a huge handlebar mustache and a top hat with gear in the side of it

Woman with folded canvas ornithopter wings

Unnamed Bartender

Works at The Owl And The Harp

Was told by Adaine that she was looking for her mom and was shocked by her crystal (used to show him a picture)

Said Elianwyn was staying on the top floor, but thought the kids couldn't afford the substantial outstanding debt she left behind (after leaving without checking out) of 10 gold

Was paid 12 gold by Adaine, then 5 gold by Riz, then another 5 gold by Riz (which was wet), and shown a very round frog by Adaine

Told them that they were acting very suspicious despite being warned about them by the rangers

Most likely has no idea the damage Elianwyn did to the suite she was renting

Vraz the Mean

Executive Potenti of the Dominion of Avernus (first/topmost layer of hell) and Arch Secretary to Blozo the Undimenished who is the regnant of Sloth

Came through a burning oval doorway opened by Fig's magic (which opens to red firy sky and blasted red plane)

Dressed in black steal plate armor and horned helmet, covering all but her face

Beautiful woman's face with porcelain skin, ruby red lips, and a seem at the edge of her helmet where the rest of her skin had been flayed off her body

Burnt scarred skeletal remains of wings

Carrying a burning scroll to serve to Fig

Killean

Wood elf, resident of Arborly, drunkard, and a cruel man

Worked for Elianwyn and was rude to the tinkerers while picking up wax, ink components, and fiddle faddle for her

Had short cropped brown hair, hazel eyes, and a small amount of facial hair

Seen in scry as a puppet with a slit throat. Not wearing a shirt or boots as he left bloody footprints. Blood dripped from his burning dull red glowing eyes into his beard. His sternum was broke open and a fire was roiling within the open exposed wound where a gem was glowing.

Shone a dull red glow 20 feet ahead of the group which causesd a path to open in the dark, twisted, and grarled forest like a subterranean tunnel

Established Characters

Elianwyn (Adaine's mom)

Stayed at The Owl And The Harp for several months

Kept to herself, save sending Killean to get things for her at the Tinkerer's Hall (they had spell components that could be used by both them and wizards)

Vanished with Killean and Aelwyn the night Aelwyn arrived

Murdered Killean and did a spell that left him a puppet with Gorthalax's gem in his chest

Went into the forest, using puppet Killean to cause the briars to retract

Was wearing a deep elven traveling cloak and covered in nasty scars related to a curse (but might be due to a Fallinel curse and not the original crown curse)

Aelwyn

Arrived at Arborly a night before the bad kids (and 2 nights before the bad kids talked to the locals) and was still uncontrollably and explosively gassy (which reaked), worse for wear, and started crying

Changed into wood elven travel garb and traveled with Elianwyn into the forest

Dispelled Adaine's scry without seeing it

Calina

Told Kristen that if they make it through the wall, she would kill them all (starting with Tracker) and that the only reason they were alive was because they were a nuisance (not a full problem) and never got between her and what she wanted

"I want you to stay out of that fucking forest."

Riz didn't see Calina despite being right there and the grass wasn't bent or disturbed where she was supposed to have been standing

Pok's sleeve wasn't disturbed where she was supposed to be standing either and she couldn't drink (or possibly hold anything at all)

She gave Riz sleep paralysis, but never hurt him

Most likely doesn't exist anywhere physically

Is in their heads, but still had to ask questions, so she can project herself into their minds but not read their minds

Note: The unmade goddess turned her familiar (a black cat) into a plague

Kristen

Told Tracker she shouldn't be guilty about passing on any kind of sickness because she believed it had to do with both of them due to her secrets combined with Tracker being a carrier

Suggested doing spells through a dental dam as she had a bunch from Jawbone (who kept insisting that she use them)

Found a bag of loose crab meat and used it to make crab nachos (which she always makes when she has the choice as her parents always made it for parties and never let her have any)

Got drunk and tried to make Riz kiss a shrimp when he got upset, offered Fig a "shrimp secret", tried to throw Fig 2 beers (which Gorgug smashes and she thought was awesome), called Gorgug a scientist when he said he was a little crab, and called Riz "king crab king!" when he was down on himself.

Saw Calina when nobody else could and responded by screaming "Fuck you!" at her

Drank a cortada and stayed cool while Calina was there (talking shit about her as Calina threatened her and the group) but freaked out after she left, asking everyone to hold her and dogpile on her before she vomited coffee and shrimp

Was okay once she was pressed into the grass by all her friends

Tried to get Tracker to stay in town and not go into the forest, offering handcuffs and asking as officer Kristen (and even colonel Kristen using an order)

Tracker

Still rocked after the Galicia sister thing saying that the elven church and the priestesses she knows are nothing alike, but they both worship the same goddess and what the elves did was causing her to have a lot of questions for the first time

Took precautions during things like the life transference spell to avoid passing on lycanthropy, but had never thought to protect herself from something coming back the other way

Had a good talk with Sandra Lynn and gave her a solid shovel talk

Translated the gist of what the others were saying in elvish (to Nuathura and wood elves) for Gorgug and Ragh

Got drunk, balanced crab nachos on her head, and told the others to "Let [Fig] use the shrimp tub!" which resulted in a "shrimp tub" chant

Comforted a freaked out Kristen by rubbing circles in her back

Shivered when she entered the Shrine of Thorns, her eyes flashing yellow as she suddenly felt nauseous and generally not good as the shrine basically repelled her until she exited it

Adaine

Had a message chat that's mostly jokes and memes (that Fig wasn't in on due to losing her phone)

Wanted a fluffy robe

Her crystal has meditation and non-fiction (like a hystory on mage hand) instead of music

Found bellinis and caviar to eat (instead of crab nachos) and shared with Fabian

Drank half a beer, got a little drunk, wondered where Fig was (but was silenced by Kristen), wanted to go in the hot tub with Fig, and pretended to be a crab

On rather they should be honest with the wood elves "Maybe? It makes me nervous. Everything majes me nervous. Sure. Why not?"

Slipped behind Fig during the wood elf standoff and held up a fist while saying "yeah!" to support her, but jumped in with her status as the Oracle, saying it was a prophesy and going into the forest was "A thing we have to do." (which made the wood elves lower their bows and whisper to each other)

Admitted that her sister and mother were trying to get into the forest too, but that they were working against them

Started searching for Calina nearby after her sister booted her from scrying

Told the bartender at The Owl And The Harp that she was looking for her mom (with picture) and paid off her outstanding debt of 10 gold for the suite (with a 2 gold tip) before going upstairs to discover the crime scene her mother left behind

Ragh

Found a bunch of kippers for Fabian

Munched on an entire bone in ham

Got drunk, got shirtless and started screaming "More lobster! You're not lobster enough!" at Tracker

Pointed out the obvious (one guy in town has 4 refridgerators) when Fabian was worried about introducing tech too soon

Gorgug

Got drunk, did a "crab stand", made his arms look like a crab, chanted "crab king" at Ragh, became crab king, said the shrimp tub was not for peasants (when Fabian told Fig about it), smashed the two beers Kristen threw to Fig out of the air (followed by a celebratory yell and him pumping both arms in the air while the bloodrush boys chanted "hoot growl!"), said "I'm a little crab." to Kristen, and finally gave Riz the crab king crown and said Riz? *points at him* You're the crab king now.

Walked up to Nuathura to say hello in gnomish when he heard Nuathura mention tinkerers

Told the tinkerers that he repaired the Hangman, but failed to make a working mechanical butt for him

"Showed" the tinkerers his crystal and headphone as well (and by that I mean the were crawling all over him like excited 5 year olds)

Riz

Started setting up a tiny conspiracy board in Hollyhill minutes after getting there

When asked how he got a certain picture of Kristen, he said "You know... you take pictures; you hang um. That's what you do."

Said "I'm gonna snoop around. In a suspicious way, NOT in a party way." and finds Spyre tech and receipts showing that the guy is expensing stuff to his corporate card that have nothing to do with his work, resulting in him telling the others that it was a tax haven and illegal, so he felt less bad about having a party and more like Robin hood stealing his beer.

Got drunk, somehow stated acting/dancing like a shrimp, pointed out that Gorgug was a crab, started crying and got emotional because "Shrimp are so little and sometimes they get caught in the nets and stuff!" and told Kristen "I'm not gonna kiss the shrimp! It's dead Kristen. And we killed it.", cried again before Fabian comforted him, and became the crab king saying "Honestly, I just wanted to be the crab king. This whole time I've just been the shrimp and I feel like I've been the shrimp my whole life and I just wanna be the crab king. It means a lot that you guys made me the crab king."

Is super hung over the next day as well as super sweaty and nervous about being around a bunch of people, but still tells the elves that there is a demonic plot

Saw that something was off with Fig and thought for a moment that she might have kissed someone, but ends up going with "Did you have... good crab?"

Discovered what his fate would have been if the group hadn't rescued him when Adaine scrys Killean

Vomited over seeing Kristen vomit

Didn't see Calina despite looking exactly where Kristen was and checked the grass with his magnifying glass to find that the grass wasn't bent or disturbed where Calina was supposed to have been standing

Gets super sweaty and unhelpful when trying to talk to the bartender

Had no idea when to stop trying to bribe the bartender and said that the money was so wet because he ate a lot of shrimp

Fabian

Got in a small argument with Adaine on rather or not it was okay to touch your dad's butt (he said it's fine)

Still has the sheet with him as well as the sword Faun-drang-goorh

Got drunk, excitedly said Riz was a shrimp and that Gorgug was a crab, said "I'm a little shrimp!" over and over while dancing, tried to explain everything that had happened to Fig (including that the hot tub upstairs was filled with shrimp), tried to comfort a crying Riz by telling him "The Ball, it's going to be alright. The shrimp will be fine.", and wrapped Riz in his sheet, looked him dead in the eyes (with one hand on either side of Riz while gripping the sheet), and told him "I believe in you. *licks lip* Spring break.", before giving Riz his first ever bardic inspiration

The next day, gave Nuathura a shrimp from his pocket

Rebbed engine of Hangman as Kristen tried to give an inspiring speech

Fig

When opening Hollyhill, said "What did I say? Has your girl ever not delivered?" followed by a resounding "Yes!" from the group

Found a ghost white mushroom with a black skull imprint on the top of it while looking for psychedelics and wanted to eat it

Hears whispering coming from the briar wall

"Sometimes one of the fun things about friendship is just being a chorus on nonsense together and you don't have to hear each other; it just feels really good to talk really loud."

Sees nonsense as a good way to escape when things get too heavy or dark

Talked down about her abilities, especially when compared to Ayda

The thorns don't try to attack her, so she used burning hands on the thorns and the vines sucked up the magic, moving it to the Shrine of Thorns and leaving behind a charred handprint

Didn't want Ayda to know she was a virgin

Cast greater invisibility on her and Ayda

Rolled bad on insight checks on Ayda (trackerbees take two! XD)

Is terrified of saying nice things to others and vomits a little in a bush before telling Ayda "I actually think you're perfect the way you are" before skateboarding away and down an 80 foot near vertical tree, coming out of invisibility so Ayda could see her trick.

Couldn't go anywhere on her skateboard in the ferns and dirt

Wrote up a "contract" after Ayda's confession that said if Ayda made fun of her for what she was about to say, she could give her a wet willy. Before Ayda could sign, she took Ayda by the chin, said "Just so you know, I've never done this as myself before', kissed her (as the fire on Ayda's head swelled out and she became uninvisible), and tried to skateboard away behind a tree, peaking out to see what Ayda thought of it.

Slinked out from behind the tree, apologizing and admitting all of it terrified her before Ayda asked for another kiss.

Admited she started the whole party so Ayda would stick around.

Made out with Ayda until a bit before dawn and tried very hard to get Ayda to stay

Gave Ayda the ear cuff from her left ear which has blood on it (Ayda replied that she will treasure it and can use it)

Went back to Hollyhill to find her drunk friends before locking herself in the room with the hot tub and was still kinda pruney the next day

Name drops Grover to the wood elves, explaining that he offered to let them stay there (to try and deescalate things with the rangers)

Shook hands with Nuathura the Fox

Was honest to the wood elves (that the group were going into the Nightmare Forest), resulting in the rangers pulling back their bowstrings (and her backtracking)

Random note: Try to contact your warlock patron Fig!!!

Burned 1 or 2 luck points to keep a perceptive Riz from finding out that she made out with Ayda

Found a charred handprint in the shrine of thorns and recognized it as the same one her magic left at the top of briars and that the vines took somewhere

Lied to Tracker and Kristen, saying she was up by the briars working on song

Used burning hands again, causing the fire to spread into a stretching oval shaped burning doorway

Was served a burning scroll by Vraz the Mean on behalf of the regnant of Sloth

Ayda

Was invited to the party (which the group decided to have immediately, starting at 1 or 2 in the morning)

Stood in a corner looking around awkwardly before/during the party before following Fig out

Thought nonsense was bad, but Fig showed her that it could also be good and made her willing to try it

To Fig about disguising herself "Uh... yeah. That's interesting. I... can't understand that because if I was you, I wouldn't want to be anyone else because you're... very exceptional."

On Fig saying that she was different than Ayda thought she was "Being mistaken about the nature of something and discovering its true nature is my favorite thing in the world to do."

Turned herself and Fig invisible (look like a translucent version of themselves, like a pale outline to each other) and flew to the briar wall to give Fig a closer look.

Lit with Fig in the low looped saddle of two treetrunks that were fused together right next to the briar wall

Ayda's flaming hair and wings still cast a dull glow on her surroundings, even while invisible

Complemented Fig on her magic

Analyzed the wall and saw it was a very powerful and old abjuration (keeping them out but also keeping other things in) keyed to powerful devils (arcons, princes, and monarchs) where even dimension door would cause all roads and pathways to lead them back out.

Thorns tried to attack her

Thinks that everything Fig has done has been cool

"We all have a nasty legacy, in one way or another."

Laughed with a squawk

Spent a lot of lifetimes building Compass Points Library

Is part phoenix, so when she dies, she comes back but with no memory from her previous incarcerations. She left extensive notes and instructions for herself. This incarnation is 17 years old, but an Ayda has been on Leviathan for a little over 150 years

On why she never just reinvents herself when she reincarnates "Every time I come back, I don't know anything and I guess I trust the versions of me that knew more? I don't have a lot of self confidence and I don't... want... to make mistakes."

Said she could die when she goes back to Leviathan attempting to shut down the library as it's a dangerous city.

"The future's never guaranteed. We don't have anything but today and even that might get cut short."

Said she had information for Fig, but would only share it if Fig signed a contract (on ancient wizard scroll held in a binder that turns into bright fire and whips up into her palm when signed) that stated that Fig wont make any inference based on the information or think anything judgemental or critical of her. The information is "At any waking moment outside of combat that you and I have been together, if you had tried to kiss me on the mouth, it would have been received favorably."

Said Fig's contract was less of a contract and more of a threat

After Fig ran to hide behind a tree, she asked if it's normal for people to run away after that (kissing)

Shed firy tears over Fig starting a party so she would stay, admitting parties frighten and terrify her, but she stuck around because Fig was there

"In this version of my life, this is the greatest moment of it."

Enthusiasticly initiated their 3rd kiss

Said the library meant a lot to many past hers (her current incarnation and 3 others)

Offered to research plane shift for Fig at no charge and said that people ask things of her, but even if she cared about them, they never cared about her (save Fig who does care which makes it different and that's exciting)

Pulled out a firy feather with a squawk and handed it to Fig (if Fig holds if aloft and says her name, she will know)

Said if anything happened to Fig in the nightmare forest, she would "... start over" because she would never be able to forgive herself

Said she would go back to Leviathan to research Plane Shift and would return after that, intending to shrink the library later

"Goodbye for now. By the nine winds and the seven stars and all the secret names of the earth and beyond, I shall see you again. This is my vow." (resulting in Fig replying "Fuck yeah [is/that's] my vow." and Ayda saying "God you're great and cool. Goodbye!")

Sandra Lynn

Was more affectionate with Gilear than she had been the rest of the trip

Left Hangman in charge while she slept in the van

Spoke to the wood elves and Nuathura on behalf of the teens (while they slept til 1pm)

Gilear

Was trying to move the van to get ready for the teleport to Leviathan early that morning. Had the van in neutral with the door open when he tried to let his feet skim over the morning dew on the grass. He had put his apple in his mouth to shift when his trousers caught in the axle of the wheel, tearing them and sucking him under the left wheel well (WHY DIDN'T VAN SAY ANYTHING to anyone!???)

Really had to pee even before he got stuck and only made it 10 minutes before he gave up

The apple was jammed into his mouth (and later covered in ants). He couldn't bite through it because it was pressed against the carriage of the van and he couldn't scream to loud because ants would get in his mouth

Overheard the dance and spent most of his day sweating and crying

Was found later that night, still caught in the front left wheel well, covered in rubber residue and oil, with a browing ant covered apple in his mouth

Didn't need medical attention, but admitted that he did piss himself while under there

Got a hug from Kristen, Gorgug took his apple and tossed it, and Fabian tried to be nice to him about Hallariel not noticing him missing until Gilear asked for an honest response, which he answered with "Of course not Gilear, don't be dumb!" to which Riz said "Guys, he's not dumb; he's just pathetic." (Also found out Hallariel ate all his yogurt)

Adaine mended one of the tears in his pants, but then said "I'm not gonna mend your piss pants, here's another pair." and gave him new ones from her jacket followed by a boot cut pair of pants, Chelsea boots, denim vest, chambray embroidered shirt, and a beret. The kids (including Fabian) approved of his new look. His favorite part of the outfit was the beret.

Said he preferred pants with very narrow ankles and a wide front and back carriage to the seat

Fig told him that she loved him and apologized for not realizing where he was

The teens gave him one hot tub to himself

Was given a massage by Sandra Lynn while laying on one of the day beds in one of the public rooms (when she told him that he needed to make it a part of his routine, he responded that he was extremely broke)

Slept in the van that night

Spoke to the wood elves and Nuathura on behalf of the teens (while they slept til 1pm)

Decided to make sandwiches for everyone for their trip and looked a little different than normal, stood up straighter, and was wearing his new outfit

Baxter

Sat on a branch on top of Hollyhill and slept outside

Grabbed Kristen and Tracker in his claws while Fig and Sandra Lynn road on his back to Shrine of Thorns

Van

Left inside fenced in area at Hollyhill (can't cast fly on him)

Hallow extends out 60 feet from him, so the kids camped outside on matresses from the house

Hangman

Was left in charge during the party, but told the kids "No rules."

In the middle of a dramatic speech defending Gorgug, the tinkerers jumped on him (to examine him with their artificers glasses), resulting in him very much wanting to run them over

***

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whirlybirdwhat · 5 years ago

Text

Sea of Monsters - Chapter 15

You want 5.8k of Sabo? Have 5.8k of Sabo

Sabo makes promises and promises (its in his nature) but he finds two promises he’ll never break (the circle of Goa can’t trap him anymore)

Or: Sabo finds his brothers and a dream

Edit: THIS NOW HAS A PODFIC TO GO WITH IT THANKS TO THE AWEOSME @oceanaromantic!!!! Please go check it out, its absolutely awesome to listen to! (Part 1 Part 2)

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and authors notes! Gen, creepy, featuring all of the Straw Hats, multi-chapter story. (Tag “Ficart” on my blog should also show some fan art for this fic!)

“The East Blue has a different nickname to those in the Grand Line, and those who hail it as home have a few… unique traits.”

Promise? - Sabo

The walls of Goa have stood for a thousand years, and will stand for a thousand more – or so the legends say, whispered in the allies of Edge town and declared loudly from the pedestals of high town.

They aren’t wrong, not entirely.

Goa’s walls, old, decaying, but uncracking (somethings locked inside), have stood for a thousand years, and maybe a thousand more.

Sabo, three and watching from besides his father’s knee as Edgetown inhabitants walk near the walls and never come back, knows it will hardly last a hundred more.

(There’s old magic in the walls, entrapping and tangling, like something got trapped there and never quite managed to find the key out. It’s something not quite dark and not quite light – sometimes, on moonless nights, Sabo feels as if it is watching him.)

His parents tell him that the walls keep him safe – bad things are out there Sabo; don’t you want to make Mommy and Daddy happy and stay alive? - but Sabo always wonders why they don’t tread near it.

Why no one does.

(Is it the presence? The not quite thing that stares at him in the night and sings songs of breaking and ruin, of young kings and ruined empires?)

Hightown is not a real town. Or at least, Sabo doesn’t think it is. Everything’s pretend here, hinging not on their own politics, but the outside world they don’t ever speak of.

They don’t speak of harsh words to perfect children behind golden doors, they don’t speak of the occasional too hard slap, and they certainly don’t speak of the pointed ears adorning each of their heads, or the wings shifted under clothes.

Or – they do, and its applauded and praised if you have gold lining your pockets, and cursed if you have a single smudge of dirt on you.

Its pretend, because Sabo doesn’t know what is real or not.

(Does he do as the king does, and shed his cloak and sleeves to show the world the wings upon his back, crafted of gold and iron and a metal of not here, show them the spots of glowing blue dancing along his shoulder blades and how pointed his teeth can get if he smiles just so? Or does he do as his parents do, as the rest of the country does, and hide, hide, hide -)

There’s a man Sabo sees when his family rides a carriage to the docks, to greet some royalty or other. Sabo wasn’t paying attention, too distracted by the itchy cloth tying his wings to his back and hidden under a weighted cloak.

But he does see the man – because the man is so very different.

Sparks of gold and shimmering elsewhere scatter across his limbs as he walks bare-chested towards the gate of the city. His back is bloody – two gouges, flesh torn and horrendous, are placed in the spot where Sabo’s own winged limbs attach.

There’s no pain in his face, eve as people shout at him from the street corners, young children tossing rocks at his face. It’s only a serene calmness as he looks straight into Sabo’s eyes.

His mother doesn’t even try to hide him from sight.

“Ah. He didn’t follow the rules. Shame.” She sniffs, and the carriage continues onward.

Sabo suddenly gains the sense that something is terrible, near irreversibly wrong. (Everything’s a contradiction)

He doesn’t wonder if should bare his back anymore.

His parents have always told him to be quiet, to listen, to obey, to put your wings down and stand up straight, can’t you follow the rules for once, you summoned child?

And Sabo hates it, but can’t protest against them, because rules and laws are what keeps the society of High Town together, and if someone were to break it, well, someone always wants to try children’s blood to keep them young.

Sabo understands it all now, because he’s five, and he’s figured it out – he’s figured it all out.

(Have you ever been trapped inside a faery ring? An old one? No? Well it goes something like this.

There’s a circle of rocks, incomplete and alluring, inviting travelers in. In the circle is a wondrous life of peace and serenity, so people go and dance and dance.

But then, so suddenly, somebody decides to shut the entrance, slide a rock into a place that should never be filled, let the power wash over and drag the darkness in.

Suddenly, the people aren’t dancing anymore. Suddenly, they are puppets on a string, dancing because stopping means death, and continuing does too, but maybe if they are pretty enough, perfect enough, they will be the exception?

(They never are)

Suddenly, there are rules and laws. Suddenly, a promise is binding by the soul not just the heart, and wings are wrong and lights are bad. Suddenly, the people aren’t happy being themselves, being the people who wanted to dance in the light in life, but want to be like them instead.

Those outside the circle.

Suddenly, only the powerful are worthy to have limbs of freedom and rules bind everyone else, because if there is no order, no truth then this kingdom of deceit shall eat itself in its wild dance of slavery.

Thus, the circle is endless around Goa, making more within itself, because the people keep on wanting to dance and dance and dance, but oh, they never truly will.)

Sabo doesn’t want to dance anymore.

In the dark of the night, Sabo shucks off the heavy long shirt his parents swaddle him in, and looks at the mark between his shoulder blades in mirror. It glows, ever so faintly, and Sabo remembers what his parents like to call him when he’s being impolite.

Summoned child.

He touches his ears, and wonders what his parents try to imitate, what race exists beyond these walls that they try to be so bad that his mother cut her ears and bound her wings.

Why do they try to pretend?

Three circles mean three gates to break, but Sabo has been nothing but persistent since the day he was born.

(Oh, Outlook, look he has the markings!

What! He was summoned, he should be like the Outside! Witch, what is this?

I told you, my powers are limited! The witch of the mountain has all the true capabilities!

Damn you! Out! Didit, kill the thing.

What?

You heard me!

But we already told the neighbors that we were with child, what happens when there is no child?)

He’s lucky enough that the highest one doesn’t bind him (yet, if his father has anything to say about it,) but Hightown likes to call him back at night.

Sabo knows, though, he knows the weakness within.

He runs away to Edgetown on a moonless night, and that is his first mistake, because the next night the pale moon bright beams are just enough to illuminate what stands at the edges of the outer wall.

The streets aren’t safe at night, and not because of any human(?) presence, and Sabo spends the night walking the line between known and unknown. The alley he nests in has a view of the sea, normally a comfort for Sabo, but tonight, as he wraps his wings around him, he can only think of the haze of mist looming over the Watergates like a resting tiger.

The white lights blinking lazily at him from the harbor do not help either.

(The harbor lights are normally gold)

A night in the cold and a night in the streets, a night of using a blade of iron and cold silver to chip a small whole in the wall, (break the barrier break what has been set and Sabo will be free from what call him back,) and Sabo is ready to venture out.

He has never been out before.

(What will it be like? A shining paradise, like his parents fantasize when they invite foreigners to dine? Or a terror born of hell, like his parents whisper about in the shadows? Wil it be warm and inviting or freezing and alienating?

Sabo wants to know.)

No one notices him as he approaches the ivy-covered gates at the edge of the city. They are rarely opened, even by Edgetown inhabitants, and the bronze along the edges has eroded. With age.

There are no guards, nothing to prevent Sabo from cutting his hand open and pressing it against the wall.

(There’s a creature in the walls, don’t you know? Faery circles aren’t just made of stone and magic.)

I promise, he whispers in his mind, feeling like any audible noise would break the eerie silence that has fallen over the land around him, I shall bring ruin.

A shift, and his hand isn’t there anymore – blood drips from his open wrist, plinking against the stone ground.

Drip.

There is no pain, only a numbness settling deep within Sabo’s chest as he stares at the empty place.

“Oh,” he says, the first audible word he’s said in this realm tonight, and takes a step forward.

He didn’t expect the shadows to be warm.

(A promise made, a promise kept, break these walls and passage shall be granted.)

He wakes up surrounded by fire and screams. A brief thought crosses through his mind, wondering if he awoke in hell, but a look at bright sky destroys the notion.

He’s not in hell – he’s Outside, and all that remains of his promise is the scar wrapping around his wrist, like it’s been there for years not a – a – how long has it been?

Whatever. He’s outside and it’s so much more than he thought it would be.

Here are the rules, unspoken and followed in the circling kingdom of Goa.

One – do not rebel.

(Broken)

Two – do not bare your back in public. Only the king is worthy.

(Broken. The coat falls from his shoulders like water.)

Three - do not go outside the walls.

(Broken - he’s free)

It takes him a month to get used to the outside. In that time, a time of starving of cold and terror, Sabo learns and sees, and doesn’t mind not being seen anymore.

In Grey Terminal, there are people, who have washed up on the. Shores and never quite managed to. escape, instead hiding underneath homes of broken logs, and People, like Sabo, with the blood of darkness running through their veins.

It’s easy enough to tell the difference. In Goa, traits such as theirs were shunned and hidden (though they could never quite manage it -), a curse that only royalty could wield, and the absence of it was praised in children.

Outside, the people thrive with it. Tails and scales and claws and wings creepy by Sabo’s hiding spot every night, glowing eyes in every corner, and the hazy mist of Goa’s walls never quite manages to seize them in their grasp. The people are starving and dirty and terrible but they are prideful.

(They scare Sabo, because Sabo’s been trapped for so long that he’s so weak, but he’s learning he’ll be proud too – can’t you see how sharp his teeth are getting?)

Despite this though, they don’t leave the Terminal. There’s something in the woods, they whisper, something dangerous, and the Lord of the Coast patrols the waters for any tasty snack. Sabo doesn’t disagree – he sees the looming beast and glowing red eyes that don’t dare tread past the torches on the edge of the trash heaps, and the foot prints (five times as large as anyone in Grey Terminal) that do.

He doesn’t sleep much for that first month.

But Sabo also learns that they know how to enter the kingdom without getting caught up in its tangling web. (An underground passage hidden under Trash Heap Mount, a gate guarded by a sleeping dog that can be bribed with the right type of meat to get in.

There are a lot of disappearances in Grey Terminal.)

He doesn’t dare go back, not yet at least.

Not until he meets Ace.

In a place like the Terminal, the people have nothing better to do than eat, sleep, fight, survive, and talk to remind them of something other than their miserable existence.

It’s no surprise that rumors run rampant – but one does more than others.

(Hey – you hear it happened again?

Damn, Devil child is back?

Burnt down a shack – killed a man – stole our goods – beat up twenty men – isn’t he only five?-)

There’s a child, they say, that lives in the woods. He’s half beast and half monster, half hellfire and half killer. He has eyes like the pits of hell and hands that burn anything he touches, and if you give him an answer he doesn’t like, he’ll kill you.

(He likes to go into the city a lot. Passage is needed after all.)

Sabo doesn’t want to meet him, but at the same time, he’s so goddamn curious that it's killing him not to seek him out.

In the end, though, it’s not a choice, because Ace takes one look at his shiny wings and socks him right in the face.

Its stupidly strong for a five-year-old, and maybe Sabo should be smarter than this but instead of running away he punches right back.

“What did you do that for, you asshole!” Sabo waves the pipe he found threateningly at him. The person (creature?) in front of his is his height, but with half charred tan skin and fire licking up through cracks in his skin. His hands are sharp, and the freckles that would have made him childish are a glowing hot red. Black hair, matted with blood (his?) covers his eyes slightly, and there’s dirt all over him, but what Sabo can’t look away from is his eyes.

He looks just like Sabo did when he looks in a mirror.

“'Cause I felt like it, asshole! Now give me your goggles!”

“What! Hell no, back off you dick!” He doesn’t care about his eyes anymore, just beating this idiot into the dirt because in hindsight that punch didn’t hurt that much, just stung a little.

“No!”

“Then I’ll just take them!”

Sabo readies his claws and twirls his pipe with little skill. The blue patches on his shoulders glow and wings flare threateningly from where they hover over his back.

“Try it flame freak!”

The dust doesn’t settle for another two hours.

“You ain’t half bad.”

“Neither are you.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

(A promise made, a promise kept.)

Ace doesn’t attack Sabo anymore. In Grey terminal, it seems to be a form of protection – people still try to gut you if you talk to them or tread too near to their territory, but Sabo doesn’t have to worry about people attacking him unprovoked.

(Unless it’s the pirate gang that’s settled on the shores. But he’s too underneath their notice anyway.)

It’s a nice life – fun even.

He and Ace team up sometimes to get more loot, to grab food, or to even fight. Its less like a truce, and more like an alliance now.

Sabo learns some more.

(He knows when Ace’s grip will burn and when it will crack, when he’s safe to touch and when the fire inside heats up the world outside. He understands will Ace will punch and when he will kick, how to move in tandem, how Ace will shift ever so subtly to keep from hitting his wings, and how Ace likes staring at the glowing things when they see the sunrise together.

He learns.)

But it not until they start sparring on the cliffside that he learns the truth.

(“Do you have a dream Ace?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“'Cause I think I figured mine out”

There’s a book hidden underneath Sabo’s hideout, old and fraying, but sturdy in his cover and pages. It’s a captain’s log, a pirate captain’s log, and suddenly Sabo has an inkling to what he wants.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I think I’m going to be a pirate.”

“Really? Me too…”

“…”

“Hey Sabo? I have an idea.”)

And a friendship is formed.

(His first– and it’s a so much bigger promise than any he’s ever made before.)

The first thing Ace does it take him into the forest. And the first thing he tells him is don’t look back.

Sabo doesn’t question it, and follows him in

It’s quiet at first, normal, but Sabo notes. the wide berth Ace gives the pawprints in the path and copies him.

Soon the path isn’t there anymore, and the sky isn’t either, tall trees consuming it all. There are odd sounds Surrounding him, creeping in, hot breaths running down his back but Sabo doesn’t look back, even when one of the voices sounds like a human scream.

Ace looks back at him, gives him a wicked smirk and presses a finger to his lips and dashes off. In silence, with completely wild grin, Sabo dashes after him.

He ignores the deer he sees three times, each time more rotted than the next till all that’s left is bleached bones, and ignores the giant wolf with six eyes in the caves they play before. Ace jumps to the trees in the game of impromptu tag. They started, and in a spur of instinct, Sabo flies after him, wings beating with a. power he didn’t know he had. Ace laughs, and it’s like the spell is broken – it’s like acceptance, like the final binds that tied him to the circle of Goa have broken and he’s free to be free in this monstrous jungle of half-dead things – he can look back now, but he doesn’t feel like it anymore.

Sabo laughs too, and tackles Ace to the ground, tumbling in the weirdly red mud together.

He could get used to this.

He does get used to it, for the next five years. He and Ace know the best way to get to Edgetown and all the food there (apparently, the dog likes it when its offerings are. drunk and confused), know to combine heat with flight and claws with claws. Sabo knows Ace uses the lights scattered across his limbs as a nightlight, sometimes. He learns Ace lives with the Witch of the Mountain, that he has a Grandpa with wings different that Sabo’s with a thousand eyes and Fists of Love that are really Fists of Pain. He learns whose son Ace is, and Ace learns his heritage.

They don’t care though – but if Sabo will a little more brutal to anyone who curses the child of the Pirate King, and Ace will subtly cover up the mysterious appearance of Outlook’s second child (the same night his other fled – faery circle faery rules, soul for soul and child for child – this one is a much better fit anyway), then no one is going to say anything.

Sabo gets used to the forest, the jungle, with its Trees that blot out light anywhere but the deadliest center, with its alligators with three mouths and tigers that sometimes have human hands and face (but still so bloody.) He gets used to the scratches (gouges more like) that appear in the wood around their pirate stash, and the drags in the dirt that are bigger than anything he’s seen so far. He looks back, sometimes, when he’s feeling brave. Each time he gets the feeling that he’s barely escaped death.

Sabo gets used to flight, the way he can’t quite get above the trees (are they endless in this forest?) but he can fly Ace over trash heaps and stone walls. He gets used to wings being free and not bound to his. Back, and. The claws along his finger tips that he can bare proudly without fear.

The people of Grey Terminal start whispering about two Devil Children now, one of the woods and one of the city, born of hell and hell raisers who don’t have the morality even people in the East Blue have.

(Sabo’s oddly proud the first time he catches the whispers – they call him fallen and fae, and can’t you see how his wings have turned from gold? He’s just as feared as Ace now – maybe more, because unlike Ace, he sleeps in the same place as the Grey Terminal folk.)

It’s all good - Then it all changes when Ace comes back with stories about a new boy in the mountain witch’s hut, made of rubber and hunger more than anyone can satisfy.

The kid starts chasing Ace through the forest – Sabo is surprised he hasn’t died yet. He, meaning the brat (Luffy, was that his name?) of course. Ace tells him how he falls down ravines and gets crushed by falling longs and eat by crocodiles, but every time he comes back alive, ugh.

(In whispers, Ace tells him how he kicked the kid down the ravine, the one with the wolves at the bottom, the ones who limbs are too thin and claws to long. How he came back a week later, covered in blood, too much just to come from the scratches along his limbs. He whispers how Luffy’s movements are often too quick to see, and how the shadows bend toward him, how Luffy not quite monstrous in the same way there.)

It’s fine, until Luffy finally manages to make it to the edge of the woods and hears about the treasure. Of course, the brat would want to be a pirate, shouts it out to the world. They time him to the tree, and it’s as he’s crying for them not to kill him Sabo starts to see him.

His teeth are sharp, and even though the Veil shouldn’t really affect him, Sabo can’t really focus on him entirely. His limbs are weird, but Sabo’s sure that’s just the rubber, but there’s the oddest haze above his head and his teeth are as sharp as daggers. His skin tends to fade out of focus (is he scaled or furred? Sabo can’t tell) and his tears aren’t quite the color they should be.

But he’s loud, so they have to shut him up, but as he prepares to kill him, the men from Bluejam’s crew, the one people who aren’t afraid of the Devil Children, round the corner.

And there’s nothing Sabo can do as they take Luffy, who refuses to spill their secret, away.

They move the treasure, but no one’s come to check the hiding place. Sabo’s always been a smart child, that was the one thing his parents got right about it, so he easily puts two and two together and –

“Oh no.”

Shit.

They arrive in crashing commotion, but when they look around only Porchemy’s still standing. There’s red smattered all over the room and several limbs without bodies on the floor. Porchemy’s terrified, his spiked gloved hands bloody, but so is Luffy, blood in his mouth and many, many bleeding holes and cuts ooze sluggishly.

He’s hanging from the ceiling wrapped in chains that dig into his skin. Seemingly over kill for a seven-year-old, but –

“YOU KILLED THEM! YOU ATE THEM! YOU MONSTER! YOU’RE THE WORSE OF ALL THE BEAST HERE YOU UNATURALFREAK -DEVIL FRUIT TEETH AND WHATEVER’S GOING ON IN THAT WEIRD BODY OF YOURS – HOW DARE YOU!”

BY Porchemy’s words, it might not be.

Whatever. Luffy clearly hasn’t spoken, even if he is terrifying, so Ace and Sabo have to save him – a debts a debt.

He goes down easily enough, a huge bite mark in his leg slowing him down. He’s not dead, not yet, but maybe he’ll pass on the message to Bluejam that they’re called the Devil Children for a reason.

Sabo feels Luffy smile blindingly into his back from his position on Sabo’s back and thinks maybe it’s worth it.

Luffy becomes their friend and makes Ace want to live (only a little) in the span of five minutes, after they patched up his bruises and holes and cuts, so he’s not that bad. They carefully don’t mention the three other thugs that were with Porchemy, and only ask about his devil fruit power.

(Sabo wonders why being alone hurts him so much, so much more than anything. The pain in his eyes was something he hadn’t even seen in Ace.)

They make their way to the Witch’s hut after that, because if Bluejam isn’t terrified of them, he will be after them, or maybe even make a hunt (it’s been done before) for them, so Sabo can’t live in Grey Terminal anymore.

(It’s a good thing he and Ace put their most valuable stuff with the pirate stash, or else Sabo wouldn’t have his log book anymore.)

The Witch of the Mountain has been said to live there for 1000 years. Ace tells Sabo that’s a lie, because Dadan’s just super ugly not super old, but seeing the mountain hut, strong and sturdy with marks of age in the old corner and a power wreathing about its borders, a sense powerful and dark, he has some doubts.

Doesn’t stop him from calling her a hag to her face though. If he’s gonna live here it’s gonna be on his terms.

She’s mad, tells him she’s a bandit not a hag or witch, but he doesn’t miss how she whispers something over him at night, something that makes the pressing sense of the border disappear.

It’s good.

Soon, the people speak of three Devil Children, start calling them the Three Devils, and Sabo can’t help but laugh in joy at it.

Here out in the forest, surrounded by two children with dreams just like his, he can finally breath without the force of Goa’s circle pressing down on him – not even a memory can hold him back.

With Luffy and Ace, he trains his skills, becomes stronger than he ever was before.

Ace is still on equal footing with him – but Luffy has absolutely no control over his devil fruit. Its comical at times, other times terrifying because he rockets himself into the river the idiot, but that’s okay.

Ace and Sabo will help him.

(What they don’t mention is how Dadan takes him away sometimes, when the bandits are going on a raid. How Luffy isn’t afraid of the beasts of the jungle, how the rotting deer bows its head at him as they go past, how Luffy gets quiet when they mention he can’t that much, how he’s always, always hungry, how he can move faster that Ace and Sabo if he so wills it occasionally, and how his claws leave huge gouges in the dirt. How his eyes flash red and he becomes a little less Luffy and a little more beast.

They don’t like to talk about it.)

The useful thing about Luffy is that with a third person they can look like an adult when they sneak into Edgetown and get free food.

Dine in dashes are great - actually cooked food – could it get any better? Something that wasn’t Magra’s cooking?

(The secret useful thing about Luffy is that they don’t need an offering anymore to get passed the guardian of the hidden gate. They tried, the first time, but Luffy chomped at the beast, the flesh-eating beast, and it cowered before him and let them through. Luffy was kind enough to let the beast still have its snack.)

This time they’re eating at a place that Ace swears is fantastic, and it is, so they’ve eaten through a hundred bowls and they’re on their hundred and first when the tentacled cook finally discovers them.

Sabo’s laughing as he shoots out the window, flapping wings to keep him above his brothers as they crash to the ground, food still shoved in their cheeks.

He’s flying, flying, flying, and everyone’s staring and laughing, but he doesn’t care so much but then – oh but then-

“Sabo?”

He tells his friends who he is, fearing the crash and fall – these kids he stares at have been feral from birth but Sabo was a part of the Faery Ring, of the curse of Goa, where everyone’s trapped but- They don’t care.

And Sabo knows he’s found something great, so he tells them of another great secret, of how he’s going to see the world as a pirate and write it all down and publish his captain’s log, and maybe, just maybe, change the world so that nothing like Goa exists.

He shouts it to the cliffs, to the sea, to island and worlds itself, and he thinks the hazy being lounging on the walls of Goa nods in approval.

Ace goes next, voice just as proud, and vows to be a famous pirate, with his name spread across the world.

Then Luffy goes, face brave and bold and declares in a voice and tone Sabo’s sure he will hear a thousand times again –

“I’M GOING TO BE THE KING OF THE PIRATES!”

And well, doesn’t the world shake at the flames Sabo sees above Luffy’s head?

An hour later, and Ace is pouring sake out for all of them.

“Don’t you guys know,” He says, proudly, finishing the last pour, “That when men share a drink, they become brothers forever?”

Luffy grins, eyes wide, and Sabo can’t help but mirror it, taking a cup for himself.

“TO BROTHERS!” Ace cries, and holds out his cup.

“TO BROTHERS!” Sabo cries in return, the same as Luffy, and then they throw back their drinks, laughing like they have nothing to worry about.

And inside – Sabo feels the promise taking place, wreathing around his heart and binding him tight to these people beside him – no, he won’t ever forget them, lose them, be without them.

This vow is his promise, and it’s the one rule Goa has that Sabo hasn’t been able to break.

(A promise made, a promise kept, after all)

Now that they’re brothers, Sabo also has a new grandpa.

He doesn’t like his new grandpa, but at least he’s officially part of the family?

Garp – Gramps, sorry- makes a good pillow anyway. His wings are super soft.

They run wild and rampant still, even more than before. Goa kingdom, Hightown, everything is a far-off memory now.

No one ever tries to reign them in, lets them be feral and free as they please.

Makino’s the only one who really tries anyway, but no one ever wants to make her mad so they listen to her. (Mamakino, Luffy calls her sometimes, Mama, and Sabo wonders if it’s what a motherly touch should feel like.)

Sabo figures out how to coexist with his brothers, more than just sharing a room, but now a tree house, everything.

He knows that Ace likes to use his glowing spots as a night light (nothing new), and Luffy is endless fascinated with his wings and his stories. He knows that the biggest piece of meat, even if it’s not the best one, should go to Luffy or else he gets twitchy, and you can’t let Luffy be the last one in the tree house or else the beasts will creep in. He knows that Ace is dumb, and will try to start fights with the true beasts, but if you chuck Luffy at him they won’t always fight back (and if they do, and they can’t take them down, they should run to Dadan’s as fast as they can.) he learns that words hurt, and his brothers have some bad views on themselves (he’ll curse Porchemy for the rest of his days) but he’s here so that’s okay.

Sabo knows that he (they) can be free.

(But – the people of the Grand Line whisper about the East Blue – say that it’s a sea of monsters, and they aren’t wrong, not at all.

But that also means even the smallest ones are monsters as well.

There’s one winter, a harsh one, when Sabo is eleven. There’s not enough food to go around and people would rather starve to death than face the cold. He and Ace fail to notice Luffy getting twitchy, fail to notice how his eyes are crazed and how he doesn’t meet their own eyes and instead remains fixated on the ground, don’t notice till Luffy lunges at one of the visiting bandits and Garp is too slow to catch him and oh hell-

The blood.

Sabo’s not proud that he can’t look at Luffy or be defenseless against him for a month after that.)

Faery Rings don’t like it when their prey escapes, don’t you know?

His father sends out lackeys, threatening his brothers and he has no choice but to let them lead him back to the dance as they shove him over the gates.

(A promise made, a promise kept.)

He’s back, he’s back in hell, and there’s someone in the place that was never meant for him (Stelly-) So why do they want him back, why can’t he be free, he made the deal didn’t he?

(A promise made, a promise kept.)

His wings are bound so tightly and his shirts covering up what can glow, and Sabo feels like he can’t breathe.He can’t – he can’t, is he the only one who hears the screams outside as they burn the terminal down? Don’t they know that the monsters are inside not outside?

(A promise made, a promise kept.)

Sabo’s not a part of Goa anymore. He can’t be, not like this. He’s decided, he had a plan, a promise, but now there are only two promises he swears he’ll keep.

One – to the being of the circle, that’s been so quiet now that he’s back and not half-feral - I shall bring ruin.

And two – the most important (To brothers!)

He sends a letter off, and prepares to leave, trusting that he’s brothers will live and he will meet them both out on the Grand Line.

(A promise made, a promise kept.)

(But what happens when the promise breaks?)

He has a flag above his head, a compass in hand, and a boat and waves beneath his feet. He sails out of Goa’s harbor, the only safe one, sure that he can make it past the big ship that’s rolling past him. He waves at the island, and ignores how the shadows reach back for him.

The wings on his back stretch, and finally, finally finally he is Fr-

Fire.

There’s so much fire – it burns, oh god it burns help and he’s drowning water everywhere, his dream no- Ace Luffy HELP!

Darkness.

“Who am I?”

(A promise made, a promise unkept.)

(Who knew a fae who didn’t keep to the rules?)

26 notes · View notes

all-hail-the-witcher · 6 years ago

Note

May I request angst for any pairing to combat the fluff

this anon knows my brand thank you vvv much

this is my first time writing canon era i think i did an okay job

___________________

why didn’t you tell me sooner? i could have helped you

ship: ralbert ofc

genre: angst / hurt comfort the end turned accidentally fluffy oh well

word count: 1350

warnings: stabbing, knives, passing out

editing: heck no

__________________

Race ducked into an alley, his feet pounding on the sidewalk, paper bag banging against his hip. He wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten into this situation. One minute he was trying to sell a paper to an older gentleman who had just bought some fruit from a fruit cart and the next Oscar and Morris Delancey were chasing him down the street, the knives in their hands glinting in the sunlight.

As he rounded the corner, Race ran into an old milk crate and stumbled, barely regaining his footing before the Delanceys were right on top of him.

One of them - Race couldn’t tell who - lunged forward and sliced open the back of his shirt. The cool metal of the knife ripped into his skin as one of the brothers created a long gash on the right side of his back. Race screamed out in pain and stumbled, giving them the opportunity to kick him to the ground.

Race rolled on the pavement before landing flat on his stomach, the wind entirely knocked out of him, ears ringing and a sharp pain coming from where the knife had been. He thought that the brothers had left when he heard Morris’s voice from somewhere above him.

“That was for cheating your way out of paying this morning,” he spat, stomping his boot on Races cut and slicing another one into the back of his shoulder blade.

Oh. So that was what they were after him about? Race cheated his way out of paying for papers all the time by telling crappy jokes and ridiculous pick up lines, it was about time they noticed.

“Next time you better pay, punk,” Oscar hissed. “Cmon Mo, let's get out of here. We’ve got better things to do than beat up homeless orphans.”

Race fought the urge to fire back a line about how all they ever seemed to do was beat up homeless orphans, so he couldn’t imagine that they actually had anything better to do, but he was already feeling a little bit light headed and didn’t want to risk getting another cut and passing out where no one would find him. As it was, he already felt like he might die. The pavement felt nice and cool against his cheek and he closed his eyes letting himself drift and-

Nope. No dying. Not today. He had papers to finish selling and there was a poker game tonight that he had promised to kick Jack’s ass in. Plus he was meeting up with Albert in a few hours so they could sell their last couple of papers together.

Hm, Albert. He was going to kill Race for getting stabbed, twice no less. Race began to haul himself up off the ground, wincing in pain. Wait, he thought, an idea coming to him. Albert can’t kill me if he doesn’t find out. Painfully, Race made his way back to the lodging house, a plan unfolding in his brain.

•••

Albert stood on the corner across from the flower shop, trying desperately to sell his last 15 papers. The sun was beginning to set and he wanted to see Race before the poker game tonight.

Speaking of Race, where was his obnoxious boyfriend? He was supposed to meet him here at least an hour ago so they could finish selling together. Albert began contemplating whether or not he should go out to look for him, it wasn’t like Race to be this late, maybe some-

“Hey Albie.”

Albert was pulled out of his thoughts by the familiar sound of his boyfriends voice. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey there Racer,” he said, snatching his cigar out of his mouth. “I was just gonna come lookin for ya.”

“Why?” Race leaned over and grabbed his cigar back, adjusted his paper bag and pulled one out, holding it high in his left hand. “Extra, extra! Fishing boat sunk off the coast!” He called out.

“Cause I was worried about ya,” Albert said, reaching in his own bag to pull out a paper. “It ain’t like you to be so late, thought ya got soaked or somethin.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, but there was a waver in his voice that made Albert question the accuracy of that statement. Before he could question it, through, a middle age woman came over and bought one of Races papers. As she was paying, Albert noticed that Race had on a blue flannel shirt instead of his usual green one. That was odd, Albert swore Race had been wearing the green one this morning.

“Did you change your shirt, Racer?” He asked before yelling out “Carriage accident takes the lives of three! You heard the story right here!”

Race winced, hesitating slightly too long and leaning against the lamppost he was standing near. “Ah, yeah, actually. Had to go back to the lodge cause I tripped and fell into some mud and got it all over my shirt. And I hafta look nice to flirt with the customers.” He pulled another paper out of his bag.

“Was that why you were late?” Albert asked, accepting a penny from a passer by for one of his papers. “Thank ya mister”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“S’okay Race.” At least it was just that. Thank god Race wasn’t hurt or anything serious. He turned away from his boyfriend to face an oncoming wave of people. “Extra, Extra!” But before he could blurt out a fake headline there was a loud thud from behind him. Albert whirled around to see Race laying on the ground next to the lamppost, his eyes closed and his chest rising with heavy, uneven, labored breaths.

He dropped his unsold paper on the ground. “Race? Racer? Tony?” He called out frantically, dropping to his knees beside him. Race didn’t respond.

Albert took off his hat and slapped Race lightly on the face. “Tony? Tony please, please wake up.” Albert didn’t know much about being a doctor, but he did know that people passing out was bad.

Luckily for him though, Races eyes began to flutter and he groaned. “Albie?”

“I’m right here Tones.” Albert pushed Races hair off of his forehead.

“Wha appened?” Race slurred, reaching down to touch Albert’s hand.

“I don’t know,” Albert admitted. “One second you were talking to me and the next you were on the ground.”

Race tried to move his head and winced. “I think i hit m’ ‘ead on th’ lamppos’” his speech was still slurred and Albert was beginning to worry that something else was going on.

He slid his hand behind Races head gently, causing his boyfriend to whimper in pain. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured soothingly. He didn’t feel any cuts and his fingers didn’t come away bloody so there was probably just a bruise. He removed his hand and laid it on Races right shoulder, causing him to let out a pained moan.

Albert’s eyes narrowed. Race hadn’t said anything about hitting his shoulder, what was going on here? Curiously, he moved his hand along Races shoulder, front and back, and was alarmed when his hand met hastily put on badges and came away tinged with blood. “Tony?” He whispered. “What happened?”

Race looked defeated. He knew there wasn’t any way he could hide it any longer. “Da D’lancies ‘elled a’ me fir not payin fir papes,” he mumbled. “Got me back too.”

Albert’s blood began to boil. How dare those two come after Race and hurt him. And how dare race hide it from him? “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked. “I could have helped you.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad…” Race said sheepishly.

“Oh, Tony,” Albert sighed. Sometimes Race could be so dumb. “I could never be mad at you. Now let’s go back to the house and get you cleaned up, okay?”

Race nodded and let Albert cradle him in his arms, and walk carefully back to the lodging house as though not to disturb his wounds. Race could be an idiot sometimes, but Albert still loved him.

______________________

race is a stupid idiot. Incase you missed what he did there he went to the lodging house, put on some bandages and changed his shirt like Albert wouldn’t notice lol.

spies ch. 2 out tonight stay tuned (also I think the tag list is half broken, if you’re not getting a notification lmk I’ll try to fix it and by try I mean scream at tumblr)

send me an ask/ message if you wanna be on the tag list

tag list

@fairly-awkward-trashcan

@well-the-kids-do-too

@racetrackcook

@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

@ughwaitwhat

@aw-jus-let-em-try

#saphie scribbles #ralbert #hehehe #Race is a stupid boi #that seems to be a theme in my fics #ro please don’t kill me i tried my best

41 notes · View notes

chronically-illustrated · 7 years ago

Text

Ego Activity Timeline

(July 10, 2016 - May 15, 2018)

EDITED: May 15, 2018

Since I’ve only been here a short time, I’ve had to do a lot of research to get up to speed on previous ego appearances and Antipocalypse hints. So, I thought I would put together a timeline to help out other people in the community who are in the same situation, especially since a lot of you have finals going on and you don’t have time to go digging through all of this stuff. It may also help jog theorists’ memories with things that could be linked to the current Seánanigans. I’ve spent a lot of time gathering all this, but it’s not comprehensive, so please feel free to add on!

July 10, 2016

Welcome to the Game #2

- Jackieboy Man's origin

August 11, 2016

Jacksepticeye Power Hour #1

- Marvin's origin, though he is not yet an official ego at this time

September 15, 2016

Jacksepticeye Power Hour #2

- Dr. Schneeplestein's origin

[Hints leading to first Antipocalypse – I wasn't here for this, so I don't know all the places to look, but I think the ones in Sister Location are particularly significant]

October 31, 2016

Say Goodbye

- Antisepticeye's first official appearance

December 24, 2016

Amateur Surgeon Christmas Edition

- Dr. Schneeplestein’s second appearance

March 10, 2017

Antisepticeye takeover at PAX East

April 11, 2017

Bro Average

- Chase Brody's origin

June 18, 2017

Bio Inc. Redemption #2

- Jack kills Chase Brody

- References Dr. Schneeplestein at 16:45

- In-game Chase Brody dies June 18, 2018

- Jack acts as if Chase is not an established character, but a random name he came up with

June 24, 2017

Bio Inc. Redemption #4

- Dr. Schneeplestein's third appearance

August 3, 2017

Kill Jacksepticeye

- Jack feels nauseous, leaves the room, and Dr. Schneeplestein comes in

- Antisepticeye takes over Dr. Schneeplestein while the doctor tries to save in-game Jack

- In-game Jack dies on March 5, 2018

October 23, 2017

South Park: The Fractured But Whole Part 2

- Jackieboy Man’s second appearance

October 31, 2017

Jacksepticeye The Silent Movie

- Jameson Jackson's origin, though he is not yet an official ego at this time

- Anti attempts to take over when Jameson cuts his hand

- “Still here,” “Puppets,” “Run,” and “Still watching” flash onscreen

- Jameson appears to regain control of his body and finishes the video, doing Jack's usual outro

December 5, 2017

Doki Doki Literature Club Part 5

- “imtalkingtoyou” and “irememberwhathapened” are in the tags in zalgo text; these tags are later removed

December 15, 2017

Overnight Watch

[I don't know much about Overnight Watch, but I’ve been told it involved showing previously-used footage of Anti during the night of the holiday stream]

March 14, 2018

Giant Smelly Feet

- Usual intro is missing

- At the end of the video, instead of the usual outro, the camera moves into the bathroom where Jack sits hunched with his feet in the tub, muttering in a Gollum-like voice. When he realizes he's being watched, he slowly turns his head, then lunges toward the camera screaming, “Get out!” The video cuts to black and there is no outro.

April 6, 2018

During his PAX East panel, Jack says he wants to do a story involving all the egos later this year, and confirms Jameson Jackson as an official ego

April 11, 2018

Jack posts a picture on Instagram for Chase's birthday

April 18, 2018

Postcard Incident on Tumblr

- Jack posts what appears to be a postcard that says “Wish You Were Here.” Community members determine the background picture is from a beach in Germany. As the hours pass, the picture changes several times, getting more blood-spattered and glitched with each update. The image is then deleted from Jack's blog less than 12 hours after it was posted.

[I believe it's around this time that Jack answers a question about which egos are canon during a stream and makes it clear that the six official egos are Anti, Jackieboy Man, Dr. Schneeplestein, Marvin, Chase Brody, and Jameson Jackson]

May 1, 2018

Bendy and the Ink Machine Chapter 4

- “I’m hearing something. Maybe it was the sound of my own brain eating itself alive inside my head.” (5:28)

May 2, 2018

Monster Prom

- “I thought white noise was taking over my brain and I was about to die.” (4:12)

- “There was that sound again. I thought I was going deaf.” (6:09)

- “Sorry, my brain switched off there for a second.” (7:28)

(credit to @videogames-and-stardust for writing this info down)

May 3, 2018

Jack posts a picture of Dr. Schneeplestein on Instagram with the caption, “Vacation's over!”

Jack renames Bro Average and The Silent Movie as Power Hour videos with the egos' names

May 4, 2018

100% REAL DOCTOR l Gastric Bypass, Liposuction Surgery

- “Dr. Jacksepticeye” parodies Dr. Schneeplestein's intro from Power Hour #2

- Dr. Schneeplestein returns, but his “good friend” Jack doesn't seem to recognize him and asks, “Who are you?” Instead of greeting Jack like a friend who's been gone for a while, Schneep responds, “I am the good doctor, and that is my chair!” It has been noted that his expression shows both anger and fear, and that Jack's face displays not confusion, but a startled look as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't by someone he didn't expect to see.

May 5, 2018

Welcome to the Game 2

- Jack asks, “Where is Jackieboy Man when you need him?”

Stories Untold Chapter 1

- The usual intro is missing. While doing the outro, “Jack” stops and says, “What was that? Did you hear that? It sounded like somebody…” He tenses up as we hear the sound of the door handle turning, and looks over his shoulder as the door creaks open behind him. After a flash of lighting and crack of thunder, we see the desk from the game, and a staticky black-and-white image of Jack appears on the computer screen.

May 6, 2018

Barry Has a Secret

- Jack gets through part of his intro, then goes into a super creepy voice and Anti-like grin.

- At the end of the video, Jack is talking about having nothing to hide, then the video starts to fade to black as he shouts, “Hey, where are you going?” This is followed by a found-footage-style skit similar to that at the end of Giant Smelly Feet. The person holding the camera goes into the bathroom; the video glitches, speeds up and rewinds intermittently as the person reaches out to open a cupboard and finds a small plastic hand inside. Off-camera, we hear Jack's voice say, “Hey, what are you doing?” The camera turns and he is standing very close by, grinning and saying, “Hey. You weren't supposed to find that.” There are more glitches during this part as well. Just like in Giant Smelly Feet, there is no outro after Jack reaches for the camera and the video cuts to black.

Stories Untold Chapter 2

- The usual intro is missing, replaced by the SU-specific intro

- Jack's outro is interrupted as the screen starts to flash white and the facecam video appears to speed up, showing him going limp just before the screen goes white and then cuts to the image of the floating, glowing machines from the game

May 7, 2018

Stories Untold Chapter 3

- The usual intro and outro are missing

- At the end of the video, the screen goes dark and we hear, “Jack. Jack! This is Chase. You need to wake up.” We then get Morse code saying, “Where am I?”

Jack posts a picture on Instagram of him wearing Chase's shirt with Marvin's mask partially visible in the background. The photo is deleted less than 24 hours later.

May 8, 2018

Check Please

- Jack says the word “magic” several times and pretends to do a magic trick with the candle

- Jack talks a lot about his dad leaving the family and being a dad with kids

Stories Untold Chapter 4

- At the end of the video, Jack tosses and turns in bed, and we hear whispers saying, “Close the door.” Jake wakes up, looks directly into the camera, and says, “I remember what he did to me.”

Fortnite Stream

- Marvin's mask is hanging on the whiteboard in the background; Jack takes a “pee break” and removes it after viewers post about it in the chat

May 9, 2018

Try to Fall Asleep

- In the static after “Flee,” we see Marvin several times, Jameson once, and the words “You need to” appear above “Flee”

- More references to magic tricks

Colourblind Test

- Marvin's mask is hanging on the whiteboard in the background

May 10, 2018

Thanos Infinity Gauntlet Mode | Fortnite Battle Royale

- Marvin's mask is hanging on the whiteboard in the background

- Footage from before the stream on the 8th

Jack is out of town this day filming something he can't talk about but is excited to show us

May 11, 2018

Community members notice an emoji in a social media post. Jack usually uses :D, :P, etc., so it was strange to see him use an actual emoji. @viostormcaller was able to predict Chase's appearance on this day from this clue.

Tie – A Game About Depression

- This is Chase playing. We get absolutely indisputable confirmation at the end that we’re seeing Chase. He talks about one of his best friends being in a coma, which is most like Jack, hence hearing him say, “Jack. Jack! This is Chase. You need to wake up.” There is a distinct transition at 11:03 where the shirt he’s wearing changes - it goes from a black shirt to Chase’s shirt. Even before this, he’s talking about being a single dad with two kids and struggling with depression. At the end of the video, we see Chase drinking while looking at a photo of the family he’s lost. He sets his hat down next to the bottle of alcohol at the very end.

- Here is a transcript from @21antisepticeye of all the ego-related statements made in this video.

May 14, 2018

Dark Silence

- The light in the recording room flickers and Jack looks up, saying, “Oh, god” as it appears to shatter and the lighting turns red.

- Toward the end of the video, the in-game character is wandering a hospital with a flashlight when the overhead lights in the hallway start turning off one by one, the darkness coming closer and closer. Jack says, “I know where this is going” just before the last light goes out; we hear the character scream as the screen goes dark, including the facecam.

- We cut to Jack (possibly Chase) flicking on a lighter. He wanders a dark hallway, and we hear children’s cries and whispers similar to those in Stories Untold Chapter 4. A red glow washes over him, and we see Antisepticeye, silhouetted by red light in a doorway. Jack/Chase asks, “Who’s there?” and Anti turns his head, grinning, and a bright green light ignites in his right eye (left to the viewer). Jack/Chase asks, “Where are they? What do you want from me?” Anti stalks toward the camera, glitching, and the video cuts to black.

May 15, 2018

Baldi’s Basics

- The video appears normal except for the skit at the end, in which Jack has changed into Chase’s shirt. He scribbles on a piece of paper and pleads with the teacher, hunching up in fear before the cut to the Sam animation. After the animation, he sits up and smiles, which is very reminiscent of the ending scene from Bro Average/The Jacksepticeye Power Hour - Chase Brody.

Here is a recap from @lum1natrix detailing the events of May 2018 up to May 11.

Here is a playlist of all the videos with ego appearances up to Dark Silence.

To be continued!

#jacksepticeye #mayhem2k18 #egopocalypse

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ailithnight · 7 years ago

Text

Heyo! Another fic for ya’ll. This one was inspired by two other posts. This by @all-da-fandoms and this one from @pirate-patton. Been working on this for a while now. Felt like Virgil’s Birthday would be a good day to drop this on you.

Title: Gifts from the Dark Side Words: 2945 CW: Angst. Lots of angst. Mostly angst. Kind of teeters on the edge of a panic attack but never actually becomes one. Some self-deprecation. Tell me if I need to add anything.

Tags: @moose-squirrel05, @didsomeonesayprince, @readeatfightlove13

They appeared every year without fail, for as long as the three sides could remember. Patton, Roman, and even Logan had long since stopped trying to stay awake to see where they came from. It had taken a lot of the mind to shrug it off as one of the idiosyncrasies of the mindscape. Of course, just as Thomas had, the sides had long since stopped believing in Santa Claus. Yet every year, without fail, 3 mysterious presents would appear under the tree without so much as a tag to say who its for or who its from. It was obvious to tell based on the wrapping whose was whose. Patton’s was always wrapped in light blue paper with the same print of puppies and kittens in Santa hats. Logan’s was sleek, blue and black in a plaid pattern, methodically wrapped. Roman’s always came wrapped in a shimmering gold paper that could easily be mistaken for polished metal, each time with a bright red ribbon tied around it in a perfect bow. Every year, the gifts inside were different, but no less thought out than all the years prior.

In years past, Patton had received a coloring kit, a light blue apron with white embroidery saying ‘My Cooking is Eggcellent,’ a photo album with a picture a day from that year, and even the Heart’s infamous cat onesie had been gifted by “Santa” last year. Logan’s onesie had also come from the mysterious gifts that year and years before had provided him with an astronomically correct poster of the constellations of both the northern and southern hemispheres, plenty of books of poetry and other literary works, and one year a scale model of a space shuttle in a bottle. The play on words there was not lost on the logical side. Roman had not been gifted a onesie last year, a fact that was a slightly sore subject to the creative one. But he had received a wonderful painting of a fantasy kingdom where a princely looking figure stood atop his castle, bravely facing a massive dragon. Before, he had been gifted the collective works of William Shakespeare and one year a massive, three-foot pen designed to look like a sword. Logan had taken pleasure in teaching the Prince of the old saying “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

The presents appeared every year without fail. In turn, there would always be cookies and milk left out and space left under the tree for the anticipated gifts. Those three would be left for last and after each recipient opened his, and in some cases regained enough composure from giddy glee, they would speak aloud, thanking Santa for the generous and thoughtful gifts. For more than 20 years, this was tradition. But around year 27, something changed.

Just a little longer. I just have to stay awake a little longer. Everyone should be asleep within the hour. Then I can drop them off and fall asleep. Just a little…bit…longer. Virgil stared dully at the computer screen, not even seeing the Tumblr posts he was scrolling past. He was dead tired after the last week and a half. First, Roman had approached him saying he was going to be in a video and Virgil had dared to have hope. It was instantly dashed when he had been showed the script. The script that portrayed him as a villain Thomas had to defeat. And of course, who better to help than Roman, Creativity, The Prince. And sure, the script was all like things he had said and done before, but he’d never been this heavy handed with it. Still, Virgil had played his role, the same role he had been playing for years now, and tried not to let the knowledge that there would now be 2 million more people in the world knowing of and hating him hurt. He didn’t really succeed with that. But that’s okay. That’s his job. Anxiety.

Between filming and editing and posting the video on the 19th and monitoring its reception and trying not to let all the “thank you for helping me with my anxiety” and “anxiety sucks, I’m sorry you have to suffer it too” leave stinging gashes in his heart, Virgil had hardly found the chance to finish his projects in time. Logan’s had been easy. The book all about Native American constellations had arrived weeks ago. Even Patton’s stuffed kitten, matching his onesie, had been completed a week ago. But Roman’s had taken a lot of work. The Prince had sulked after not getting a onesie last year, but Virgil just couldn’t seem to find the right one. Finally, he had settled for painting him something and he would learn to sew and make Roman the perfect onesie this year. The pjs closely resembled Roman’s normal garb, from the shirt and sash to the boot slippers and even a stuffed crown sewn onto the hood. Virgil was immensely proud of that creation, despite having only finished it a few short hours ago. Now it was carefully wrapped in the traditional gold wrapping, sitting by his door with the other two gifts, and waiting for the moment the others would go to bed so Virgil could sneak them downstairs.

While waiting and nearly drugged by exhaustion, Virgil’s mind wandered over the Christmas’s past. He could remember sneaking down every year, starting since before any of them could read or write, hence the lack of name tags. Despite never inviting him to join in the festivities, Patton always hung a stocking for him and filled it with little treats. Someone, Roman probably, would always top it off with those chocolate coal nuggets and one year, when the Prince had discovered his summoning prowess, actually coal nuggets. Patton had told him off for that when he discovered the black powder on the white fur, so it hadn’t been real again. Still, it was a harsh reminder each year that even though Patton was too kind to give him nothing, Virgil was still naughty and naught people got coal for Christmas. But Virgil would always ignore the stockings. He’d come down later to claim it before the treats were simply stolen from him. Instead, Virgil would set up the presents first, taking extra care to arrange them in just the right way. Then he would turn to the cookies and milk.

As much as he may want to just eat them all, seeing as they were the only Christmas cookies he got, Virgil would restrain himself. He drank half the milk and ate two and a half of the five cookies. While he reveled in the sugary sweet, he’d let himself pretend, for just a moment, that they weren’t for an imaginary Santa. He let himself imagine that the treat had been left as a thank you specifically for him. For three minutes every year, early in the morning on Christmas Day, Virgil let himself believe that the other’s appreciated his efforts, that they cared about him, maybe even loved him. But inevitable, someone would shift in their sleep upstairs and the illusion would be broken. This wasn’t for him. This was for Santa. And even if Santa was fake, even if for all intents and purposes Virgil was Santa, it just wasn’t the same. At the end of the day, his companions still cared more for a fairy tail than their real, living counter-part. The cookies would become bitter on Virgil’s tongue, the milk would spoil in his stomach. With heavy heart and light footsteps, Virgil would sneak back to his room. He’d close the door and climb in bed and try not to cry (loudly) as he fell asleep.

“But WHY?!?” Virgil jerked into consciousness at the sudden exclamation heard from the creative side. Confused, he peeled his face off of his keyboard, rubbing at the indents left on his cheek from the pressing plastic. He distantly heard a muffled conversation as bleary eyes tried to see and a tired mind worked to figure out where he was. As he looked around, his eyes landed on the colorful stack still sitting by his door. His eyes widened and horrified panic filled his veins as Virgil realized his mistake.

“I fell asleep. I fell asleep! HOW IN THE HELL COULD I FALL ASLEEP!?!” He whispered to himself. Virgil tried to breathe through his fear, not really wanting to have Thomas start the day with a panic attack. With great difficulty, he managed to put a lid on his own terror. “Okay. Okay. I can fix this. I can… fuck how do I fix this? I can’t. I screwed up. I’m a failure. Pointless, pathetic, No. Stop. Not helpful. Just. Breathe. Think.” Virgil continued to fight off his panic. After a few moments of calm breathing, an idea occurred to Virgil. A wonderful, beautiful idea. He concentrated on Thomas, sensing the hosts current placement. He was still in his bedroom, searching for something warm and festive to wear. A wry smile appeared on Virgil’s face. He scrambled out of his chair on over to the gifts. He grabbed the three boxes and sank out of his room, appearing in his new place on the stairs. He marched over to Thomas’s tree were a small group of presents sat addressed to various friends and family members. Virgil carefully cleared a space under the tree and added the gifts to the mix. He stepped back to inspect his placing, pleased by the way his custom wrapping seemed to shine out of the amalgamation of festive paper. He was about to leave when a thought struck him and he nearly facepalmed himself. “How would they know they’re here? How would Thomas know who they belong to?” He groaned. After a moment of deliberation, he darted into Thomas’s kitchen, finding the nearly empty pack of tags and a pen. He went back to the gifts, slightly upset about having to mar his wrapping with the gaudy stickers, but it was necessary now since I fucked up. He hastily scrawled names on the tags. Or, titles really, seeing as Thomas didn’t know their names yet and Virgil wasn’t looking to screw up any worse today. Once he was done, he stepped back again to appreciate his work. For half a moment, his hand reached towards the table where the cookies and milk would usually sit. Realizing his mistake, he scolded himself. “Stupid. Whatever. Now they’ll never know. They’ll never know…” Virgil quickly sank out, oblivious to the eyes that had been watching him from the top of the stairs.

Thomas had no idea what to make of the situation. Coming downstairs to find one of his sides there without him was strange in and of itself. For that side to be his Anxiety was even weirder. He had noticed the spike of anxious energy that had hit him 15 minutes ago, but it had vanished and he’d dismissed it. Then, for Anxiety to be messing with the Christmas presents was absolutely baffling. Surely, he wouldn’t be so bitter as to try and ruin the gifts he had gotten for his friends? Thomas was about to call down, questioning the dark figure when he abruptly stood. Thomas froze, watching him a little longer. Anxiety nodded to himself. He seemed to reach to grab something off the table, but stopped mid-way. “Stupid.” The bitterness there made Thomas wary and once again he almost called down. “Whatever.” Thomas was once more paused. “Now they’ll never know. They’ll never know…” The defeated tone was the last thing Thomas would have anticipated from his malicious, cocky Anxiety. He watched the side sink away and only once he was gone did Thomas come down the stairs and inspect the tree. The three new gifts were impossible to miss. He glanced at them, noting the names on the labels. Logic. Creativity. Morality. His other three sides. Gifts for his other three sides. From, Anxiety? That didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Thomas decided to summon the three.

“Creativity, Morality, Logic!” He called, the summoned sides appearing in their normal spots. Thomas didn’t miss the tear tacks on Morality’s face, the confusion on Logic’s, or the anger on Princey’s. He gestured to the three boxes. “Know anything about this?” Morality gasped.

“Our Santa gifts!” He wiped his eyes, tears drying instantly. “Why are they out here?”

“Santa gifts?” Thomas queried. Logic cleared his throat.

“I can explain, Thomas. We celebrate Christmas just as you do. Each year, on Christmas day, we have come to find a gift for each of us in that exact wrapping, sans labels, under our tree. We have all agreed they do not come from one of us, so it has been chalked up to the strangeness that comes of living in a mind. It is possible that, within the mind at least, Santa is real enough for the subconscious to generate these presents each year.”

“Oh. But, I saw Anxiety-”

“Aha!” Princey shouted, startling the other three. “I bet this has been some cruel prank on his part!” Morality frowned.

“Do you really think he would…?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He has been sulking an awful lot since the video. He probably wanted some sense of revenge for being bested.” Morality still looked uncertain and Thomas wasn’t too sure himself. Even though nothing else made sense in his mind, this still didn’t seem right.

“I don’t know, Princey. Don’t you think you might be jump-”

“ANXIETY!” The Prince roared, the summoned side suddenly appearing on the staircase, stumbling slightly at the sudden teleportation.

“JESUS Princey! The hell is wrong with you! I could have been asleep. What would you have done if you dropped me unconscious down the stairs?” Probably laugh at you, Virgil.

“Did you put these out here?” Roman gestured to the gifts and Virgil felt his throat close up.

“Wh-” He had to clear his throat around the forming lump. “What makes you say that?”

“Thomas saw you.” Virgil looked at the host, who was just watching the situation unfold. Virgil dropped his head, shame at having been caught, fear at having his weakness preyed upon, and maybe just a tiny bit of hope that if they knew it was him all along, they might actually warm up to him.

“I- yeah. I did it.”

“I knew it! You stole them!” Virgil looked up startled and suddenly there was a sword pointed at his throat, a seething Prince on the other end. He tried not to imagine that blade piercing his neck, pretending he wouldn’t be at least a little relieved to die. “What else did you do? Did you tamper with them?” Virgil didn’t know how to respond. It took a moment for the word’s meaning to sink in. He thinks I stole them. THEY think I stole them. They haven’t realized…Virgil refused to feel wounded, despite the ever-present hollow ache in his heart spazzing painfully. No. This is good. They don’t know. They think I’m just being a dick, but how is that any different than normal? Virgil forced a sneer on his features, convincing seeing as it’s the same one he always used.

“Why don’t you open them up and find out? Unless you’re scared.” He taunted. The thought of actually being able to see their reactions to his gifts was definitely not a motivator to his statement at all. Certainly not. Nope. Not at all. (Yes.) Roman’s seething intensified. He pressed the blade closer to Virgil’s neck, making the anxious one shudder, whether in fear or anticipation, he himself knew not.

“If this is a trap, I’ll run you through.” He ground out. None of the others said a word. Virgil took this to mean their agreement to Roman’s threat and Virgil once more shuddered. Roman held his gaze as he reached down to pick up the gold gift. The sword vanished from his hands, but Virgil was well aware that he could summon it back in half a heartbeat. The ribbon was removed, then the wrapped, and finally the box opened. When nothing sprang out, Roman glanced inside. Virgil felt a tiny sliver of pride when he saw the way Roman’s eyes lit up looking in the box. He quelled it quickly, not wanting to reveal himself after all this trouble. Roman’s eyes came back to Virgil’s, squinting suspiciously.

“There, not a trap. Can I go now?”

“If it wasn’t a trap, why didn’t you say so in the first place, Kiddo?” Virgil turned to Patton, noticing the shocked silence that seemed to cover Logan and Thomas.

“Would he have believed me if I did?” Virgil caught from the corner of his eye the way Roman’s grip tightened on the gift. “Now, if we’re done wasting each other’s time, I’m going back to my room.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t stolen them in the first place.” Roman grumbled. Virgil sent him a wry smirk.

“My mistake. Next year, I’ll leave your presents alone. Maybe I’ll just incinerate the tree instead.” Before anyone could respond to that, Virgil sunk out. The second he was back in his room, he collapsed on his bed. The computer had hardly made for a very restful sleeping place. Virgil was still tired and now with the familiar Christmas day heartbreak setting in, he wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers until the sun went away. And if that meant that by the time he went back to the commons, his stocking had been emptied… well, that was just part of the consequence for screwing up. It wouldn’t happen next year.

#Sanders Sides #Thomas Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Self Deprecation #Almost Panic Attack #Angst #Now #Lets see who reads tags #Before ya yell at me #Part 2 is in the works #My Writing

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pendragonfics · 7 years ago

Text

Family

Paring: Jim Hopper/Reader

Tags: female reader, adopted children, family dynamics, journalism, domestic fluff, spoilers for Stranger Things 2.

Summary: Sometimes, family isn’t nuclear, with the happy little American love story where it’s all good and well. Family is two adults who found each other in their times of need, and a miracle child.

Word Count: 2,355

Current Date: 2017-11-03

It’s dark when he comes home, but you’re awake. You’ve been awake for almost fifteen hours, and despite sore eyes, an aching headache, and sore limbs, you’re sitting up, to see the door open, and close very slowly. To see the way Jim takes off his shoes, peels off his socks, puts his hat upon the rack by the window. He looks as tired as you feel – in the moonlight through the window, you can see the lines above his eyebrows, beside his eyes.

Jim’s barefoot and stifling a yawn, working on undoing the buttons on his uniform. You watch as he walks toward you in the kitchenette, but as he turns the paraffin lamp, he jumps a little, but still quiet. You’re sitting on the bench, beside the sink, legs dangling like a novelty made-at-home dolly, wearing one of Hopper’s holey old shirts and boxers.

“You scared me,” he says, low, quiet. “What are you doing up so late?”

You shrug, gesturing to the cup of tea growing cold beside you. “Story came to me, couldn’t stop, and then couldn’t sleep.” You take a sip from your cold tea, and wince, “Why are you home so late?”

There could be a myriad of answers. Kids egged a house down on an avenue in town – perhaps he’d helped an elderly lady at the grocery store pack her bags into her late husband’s station wagon, maybe the paperwork wasn’t done on time and Flo stopped him until it was completed. But there wasn’t any egg on his wrinkled uniform, nor groceries in his arms, or ink on his hand.

“Found a kid walking around town, all alone. Drove them home.” His smile wan, he moved past you, flicking the stove on heat up the soup you made earlier for yourself and El. “Flo wanted to know how the story’s coming along.”

You make a noise. “Slow. Be better if I didn’t screw up my last typewriter.” You hummed, showing your hands to your boyfriend, hands that were covered in pen scratches and ink transferred from the paper.

“________, those things don’t come cheap,” he mutters, taking his dinner from the fridge, shoving it in the microwave.

“Ellie went to bed happily again.” You change the subject, tapping your bare foot lazily on the cabinets.

Jim raises an eyebrow. “Ellie?” he asks.

You shrug, drawing a knee to your chest, watching as the screen on the magical microwave oven counts down the seconds until it pings! “She doesn’t like me calling her Jane, and you know I feel funny calling her a number. She’s a teenager, Jim, Ellie suits her, I think.” You pause, and sliding down from the countertop, you add, “She was kind of bummed she didn’t get a goodnight kiss from her dad.”

The clock on the wall clicks over to the new hour, reading the hour that the witches come out to play. Or at least, that’s what your mother used to tell you back home in Boston, before the split as a child when your dad moved you to Hawkins.

“She called me Dad?” Jim asks, just as the sausages and gravy are ready.

You nod. “Right before nodding off. Said she missed your scratchy kisses.” You grin, eyes scrunching up like there’s no greater happiness in the world than seeing the person you love described so simply. “I missed your scratchy kisses too.”

Jim takes his meal to the table, smiling to himself. You stand there in the kitchen, still, swaying. It’s almost like you’re caught between being awake, and overtired, or perhaps you’re imitating a ghost caught between this world and the one beside it, swaying in the breeze of life. But you snap out of your moment when Jim’s fork clanks against the table, and carrying the paraffin lamp to the table, you sit opposite, silent.

While you’re not as important in your workplace as Jim; you’re just a journalist at the local newspaper, writing the little things that happen around the place. The editor in chief had a ‘real’ writer for the larger stories, saying you were second rate because you were more creative, and wrote things that weren’t real (or maybe because you were a woman). One day you’ll be published, a shiny hardcover in the hands of the nation – but until then, you wrote about the effects of the weather on chicken farming in the outer-regions of Hawkins.

It was a strange paring, your father said – you, and Jim. The divorced recluse of a police chief, and the daydreaming old maid who wrote. But you hadn’t talked to him in ten years, so what he thought didn’t matter to you. You weren’t that old. Thirty-five was just a number. Hopper insisted you were young – but then again, he’d gone to hell and back, fought in the war, lost his first family. He thought he was as old as the mountains themselves, and at the best of times (as well as the worst) doubted why you loved him as much as you did.

“________, you’ve got the thousand-mile stare.” Jim hums, and you’re brought back to the moment, instead of inside your head. He glances to his dinner, almost all eaten, and says, “What about you head to bed, and I follow?”

You nod, too tired to speak. But when your head hits the pillow, you’re gone, consumed by sleep’s touch.

---

You’re standing before the mirror on the basin, hairbrush in hand. Except, it’s not your hairbrush, and you’re not checking out your reflection in the mirror. Instead, you’re carefully carding the tines through your adoptive daughter’s hair, trying to get her in the habit of brushing her unruly locks. El’s face is composed of unadulterated joy, eyes bright, mouth stretched wide with excitement.

“Big day today,” you say, running your fingers through the last bit, untangling a knot the size of your thumbnail. “First day of school.”

She bounces on the balls of her feet at the sound of the word school, meeting your eyes in the mirror. When you first met El, she’d acted all shy like a woodland creature, then, after time went on, moody like a storm about to break. That was before all the commotion with the Hawkins lab and the passing of Mr. Newby. Now she’s sunshine in a bottle, threatening to explode.

“What was your…favourite?” she asks, selecting the right words.

You beam. “I loved the library. They have books on everything there.” You fluff out her head of curls with both hands, the hairbrush tucked under your arm, and add, “But my favourite class was where we read the books.” You peer out of the bathroom, seeing where Jim is lacing his boots, a piece of toast between his teeth as he rushes out the door, “Your dad liked it more in gym.” You remember the way he looked back in high school in the uniform, and you chuckle.

“Gym?” El asks. “Mike said it’s hard.”

You shake your head. “You’re not Mike, though, are you?” You ask her, and moving before her, you kneel, pushing the hair from her eyes away, you add, “Hey, Ellie,” you see your reflection in her eyes, a hesitant smile now on her lips. “You’ve got this.”

“I’ve got this.” She repeats.

“Okay, time to go!” Jim calls out from the other room. At this, El runs around you, her new overalls sliding down her legs, curls bouncing. “________, have you got the keys?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, jangling them from your pocket. “Have you got Ellie’s bag?”

“I’ve got it!” She shouts, the sound of the sheriff’s wagon door slamming followed suit. You’re almost out of the door, and from the backseat, El makes the horn toot and hollers out the open window, “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

She’s not late – in fact, when you two walk her into the administration building with her, she’s run away as her class schedule is handed to her, off to walk to class with Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Max and Will. Mr. Clarke stills her running, and from the window in the wall, you see her smile is big, group of friends even bigger.

“Your daughter seems excited to be here, Mr. and Mrs. Hopper,” the older office lady smiles, handing you a copy of El’s class schedule.

You glance to Jim, and he to you, scrambling over your words, until you manage to say, “We’re not – I mean, we’re just –,”

She raises an eyebrow, and goes on to say, “School ends at three, and if we have any trouble, I’ll make sure to get Principle Coleman call.” She smiles once more, and looks at your hand, holding Jim’s, “Are you sure you two aren’t married?”

---

You’re at work, staring at the typewriter that’s screwed to the desk, waiting for the fingers attached to your creative soul to pick up something and translate it to words. But sitting there doesn’t help, and when you return from the coffee machine, you’re face to face with your boss, whose fingers are pawing through your reporter’s journal, eyeing the notes you’ve made over the last six months in its pages.

“Saw you were stuck, ________,” he places your notebook down, the cover thwacking the desk very un-quietly. “You’ve been all over Hawkins, and still, found nothing worth writing about.”

You nod, cradling the cup of hot coffee close to your chest. “That’s right, sir.”

He hums. “Maybe what you need to consider is something a little closer to home?” He asks, and with that, goes off on his way by Debbie the copier for his regular demands of the poor P.A.

You still. Closer to home? You think about how boring your home life is, until you realise how un-boring it is, and inspired, you sit, and over the next four hours of the work day, manage to churn out and edit something that could be read by the people of Hawkins.

---

I grew up alone. I suppose we’re never alone; we have a mother, a father, a community. My parents left each other when I was young, and my father worked nights when I was at school. People didn’t want to be my friend, since I was a loner. I had my books, I had my mind, I had my mind to write the passages for books to come.

When I was at college, my boyfriend was fighting in the end of the Vietnam War. When I was starting at the newspaper, my boyfriend was married to another woman. When I re-met my boyfriend, he had acquired the position of sheriff at Hawkins Police station. He had lost so much in his life, and when we met, not for the first time as gangly teenagers who wanted so much more than what fate would give us, but when we were adults, hardened by life in our own ways, brought into moulds by our own hardships, there was something there. That feeling of loneliness.

This was not a conventional love story. I never wanted to grow up to be in a cul-de-sac, to do what any of my relatives could have done. I am a woman, making decisions for myself, loving a man who can make decisions for himself. And together, we love our girl, who can make decisions very well for herself. Sometimes, family isn’t nuclear, with the happy little American love story where it’s all good and well. Family is two adults who found each other in their times of need, and a miracle child.

You see, together, you are not without hope. You just can’t be – two heads, two hearts are better than just one. Since this we have solved mysteries buried deep beneath the dirt under Hawkins, Indiana, and found something that wasn’t loneliness to bond ourselves.

“It’s, uh, pretty feminist,” your boss commented, glancing up from the type-written paper near the end of the working day, “Is this what you’re willing to submit?”

You nod.

“It’ll be printed for tomorrow.” He slides it into his pile, extinguishing a cigarette in a cup on his desk. “Keep an eye out, ________.”

---

You’re waking up slowly, gently, when there’s what feels like an earthquake. But no, there isn’t another disaster falling over Hawkins – instead, it’s El, bouncing on the bed, wearing the Star Wars t-shirt that you bought her when you took her to see Return of the Jedi. In her hands is a crumpled newspaper, scrunched by her hands. You glance beside you, to see what Jim makes of this morning tyranny, but he’s not beside you, snoring as usual. Instead, he’s behind El, watching the both of you.

“What is this, a bouncy house?” you ask, pushing yourself up from the covers. “What’s the news, Ellie?”

Her grin widens. “You’re famous, Mom!”

You’re caught on the word famous, and peering forward to see what your daughter has, you almost miss the word mom and you feel overwhelmed. But then you see on the newspaper page caught between El’s pre-teen fingers your name, and beneath it, your words. You feel faint suddenly, even though you’ve been awake for all of two minutes, and let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m famous?” you ask, pretending to peer closer at the page, and instead, take El in your arms, and tackle her to the bed. “How about I’m the luckiest lady in all of Hawkins!” you laugh, tickling your daughter’s side. She squirms, laughing, and from the doorway, so does Jim. “Come on, let’s have a big family hug.”

El laughs, and before you know it, you’re all sitting on the bed, cuddled up like you’re hiding from a snowstorm, but instead of it being bad, you’re all in a fit of laughter. When El excuses herself to call Mike on the walkie-talkie, Jim leans into your ear, whispering, “You have no idea how much I love you both.”

You raise a brow at that, replying, “I’m pretty sure you do, Chief.” You kiss his cheek, and glancing to the door, where El could appear any second, and murmur, “She called me Mom!”

#jim hopper #chief hopper #jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #Female reader

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baker-mayfield · 7 years ago

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Just Keep Breathing - Seth Rollins (2)

A/N: sooo I’m back at it again. here’s part two!!! honestly didn’t think you guys would enjoy it as much as you did. thanks to all your nice comments and likes. it means the world to me. as usual, sorry for any errors or mistakes. i tried to read over and find them all. next time, i’ll try to work on keeping it shorter lol. enjoy! edit: i totes forgot to add in everyone that wanted to be tagged!

TAGGED: @shieldgirl95 @spine-buster @alexekaydus (if you want to be tagged let me know) <3

WORDS: 2.3K

WARNINGS: angst and swearing.

Here I was at Summerslam,the biggest party of the summer. Any other time, I would have been happy to be here. Okay, I was happy to be here. I was in the presence of some of my old-time favorites backstage.

The inner fan girl in me just couldn’t stay calm about it. When I arrived to the Barclay Arena, I had a hoodie on along with a hat and sunglasses. No one was supposed to know I was there. I was supposed to be this big secret, which I liked. It meant the longer I could go without Seth knowing I was backstage. However, that didn’t stop me from telling Becky the big news. It just happened to slip out of my mouth “by accident”.

I was sitting in the women’s locker room, far away from the small corner of the arena I was supposed to hide in until I had to go into the crowd mid-show. I couldn’t help myself. She was my favorite person, and since she didn’t have a match tonight, I figured we could keep each other company until I made my debut tonight… In a few hours.

“Remember when you got so nervous you almost puked?! I swear I saw you turn green.” Becky mocked as she brought up that dreadful moment of my life. I always cringed at that moment. If anyone had a bad debut, it was me. I was 100% sure that Hunter used me as an example of how bad your first match can be.

“Thank you, Becky. You try stepping in the ring with Charlotte and tell me you wouldn’t be nervous!” I laughed while shaking my head. It was the first time I had to fight someone and it meant something. “The only thing I could think about was me stepping in the ring with Ric Flair’s daughter. Okay. He’s a legend which meant I was facing a legend’s daughter.” As if that made a difference. Becky was still laughing her ass off and I waved her off.

“I’ve faced her so many times, Y/N! Just admit it, you were nervous! Poor Seth had to be a trooper and tell you that you didn’t suck because… you did.” Becky was still laughing and by now, I had stopped. I played with the sleeves of my sweatshirt and forced myself to smile. Seth. I had totally forgotten about him. Now, all my worries were coming back up again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”

I waved her off and continued to smile- even if it was only a half ass one. She would have never said anything on purpose to make me uncomfortable. She knew more than anyone that Seth was literally my world. When we broke up, she had been the one that I cried to for hours. Even when I had cried about everything on repeat - she would listen to me cry and tell me all her bad puns.

“Becks, it’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle seeing my ex boyfriend. After all, we’re co-workers. We can handle this.” As I spoke, I was sure I was talking just to convince myself rather than her. I didn’t know how well I can handle this, but I was willing to try since we had no choice but to be on the same brand these days. Becky sighed and she opened her mouth to talk again. “No, I don’t need you to kick his ass for me.” I laughed while shaking my head. Becky wanted to fight him the moment I had texted her a long essay about what had happened.

She nodded her head and placed a hand on my knee as she looked at me. She was probably looking for any hint of nervousness. But, I should admit- I was hiding how nervous I was pretty good. Maybe it was because I had already came up with a list of worst case scenarios and all my options. Most of them ended with me calling it quits and just walking out and going to ROH. Hell, TNA sounded good right now. I refused to be that girl to have her life dictated over a stupid ex.

“If you need anything, call me.” Becky told me while smiling. “If you had came up two years ago, we wouldn’t have to worry about you cheating on me with another best friend!” She pouted with a wink. She was still a little upset that I had moved to the main roster a year after she had been moved to Smackdown. After all, she was the one begging for me to come to RAW before the break up even happened.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I will take you on that offer.” I told her while standing up and leaving. We said our goodbyes as I left the locker room.

With my hands in my pockets, I walked to my designated area. My hoodie was up. The baseball cap covered my face. There was no way anyone could’ve leaked that I was backstage. I looked like I was ready to join The Usos at any moment. I understood that management wanted to keep me a secret. But damn. Couldn’t they have given me Brock Lesnar’s locker room and let him change with the other guys? It was the least they could’ve done. On my way there, I had bumped into someone. I quickly said sorry without looking up at the person.

“Watch where you’re going!” They shouted at me. I cringed and just kept on walking and I could hear the person saying something but I didn’t stop to talk to them. I wasn’t supposed to be talking to anyone.

When I was far enough to look at them without them noticing, I looked at them. More like, I stared until I recognized the person. I must sound like an idiot but there are way too many guys with long black hair on the roster. But then, I saw the words Crossfit. If I didn’t have to throw up earlier, I sure as hell did now.

I just stood there staring at Seth. It had to be Seth. No one religiously wears shirts that says Crossfit the way he does. Actually, I don’t think anyone liked Crossfit as much as he does. He looked a lot better now that there wasn’t blonde in his hair. I told him it was a stupid idea, but he went ahead and dyed a section of his hair blonde. I wouldn’t stop with the bad jokes about him never letting go of his emo side. Thankfully, he listened to me. I made him promise that once the blonde fade, to never dye his hair again or I’ll break up with him. It seems really ironic now. My heart was skipping beats as I thought about the last two years and I thought about our past. I was surprised that he didn’t recognize me. Maybe it’s not too late for me to tell Vince that I would rather be fired than be on RAW.

After a moment, I picked up my feet. No, I didn’t need to fear Seth. This was what I’ve been looking forward to for years. It’s my fucking moment. He wasn’t the only person that can run the place. I was going to be the future of the Women’s division. If he didn’t like that I was there, oh well. I worked my ass off for two years. As ungrateful as I sound, I really wanted this too.

It was during the RAW Women’s Title match. Sasha Banks vs Alexa Bliss. I was in the middle of the crowd, blending in until my cue. I watched as Sasha climbed onto the turnbuckle ready to do a frog splash. Alexa was laying on the ground. Sasha was too busy hyping the crowd when I ran down to the ring and pushed Sasha off and watched as she hit the apron. I was wearing my hoodie and hat. The crowd was booing and chanting for Sasha until I took off my hoodie and hat. Throwing them into the crowd. It was at that very moment- I felt like I had the world in my hands. There was no longer people booing for me, they were also cheering me on. I smiled and did my finishing move on Sasha before sliding out the ring and embracing in the cheers and boos. The referee had rung the bell, disqualifying Alexa Bliss, and all I could do was smile. Other than the fact that I was trying to play a major heel, I was happy that the fans were actually reacting to me. I was no longer the NXT girl. I was the future of the Women’s Division. If only I could hear what Corey Graves had to say about me. Thank God for the WWE Network.

After going out with the girls, I was sliding into my hotel bed. Thankfully tonight wasn’t one of the nights where I was the life of the party. I had only been on the main roster officially for a few hours. I charged my phone for what seemed like the first time in forever. Just as Nia Jax and I were about to take a picture, my phone died much to my disappointment. I wanted to see the fans reactions, which were so far nice and positive. I rolled over to start to sleep, which is when I heard my phone go off. I was going to ignore it, but it seemed like one ding after another. Groaning, I rolled over and read the messages…

Unknown Caller: Hey, it’s Seth… I have no idea if you changed your phone number by now.

Unknown Caller: Wow, wouldn’t it be funny if you did?

Unknown Caller: Your debut was amazing, and I’m happy for you. You’ve worked so hard for it

Unknown Caller: You’re mad at me, I know but since you’ve blocked me on everything else I didn’t know how else to contact you…

Unknown Caller: Fine, you don’t have to respond to me. But, you can’t avoid me forever, we’re on the same show.

I cringed and closed my eyes enough to take this in. He texted me. After two years, he texted me. He didn’t text me when I won the NXT Women’s Championship, so what’s so different now? Matter of fact, he texted me five times. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he knew my number. He was the only one that can remember it and had to repeat it back to me one million times during our friendship and relationship. Leave it to Seth to remind me that we were on the same show. I turned the sound off and put my phone down as I laid down. Do I text him? Do I not text him? After all, it’s been two years. Clearly, I’m not upset anymore… I sat up and replied to his text message.

Thanks.

Straight to the point. There was nothing to show how upset I was. No hidden meanings, just me telling him thanks. My debut was amazing. Instead of thinking about it some more, I laid down and went to sleep. I’ll deal with it in the morning. If I see him tomorrow night- oh well. We’re grown adults, we can do this.

RAW was done for the night. I made my RAW debut by surprise attacking Sasha in the middle of her promos before dropping my own about ‘why Kurt Angle needed me on the RAW roster’. I was pulling my luggage behind me and on my way outside with Alexa and Sasha beside me. While the three of us were laughing and joking, I stopped and looked at Seth, who had done the same thing. That was the first time we saw each other all night. It was an uncomfortable silence as Sasha and Alexa head to our rental car. “I am still driving!” I yelled after them and Sasha waved me off and I rolled my eyes.

It seems like he had a lot to say, and for once I had nothing to say to him. After our breakup, I had so much I wanted to say to him. But now that we had to work together, I don’t think I could. Instead, I just looked at him. He was a stranger to me instead of the guy that used to make me feel like the most important girl in the world. This Seth wasn’t the guy who would go to every McDonald’s while we were traveling just to find one who’s machine wasn’t working

He laughed at me, and shook his head. “You were such a bad driver...” I couldn’t help but smile at him. It wasn’t exactly a lie. There was a reason why I bought him a coffee tumblr for all those long nights that he had to drive.

“Yeah, but not anymore. You’ll be happy to know that I don’t miss exits anymore.”

“Oh really? About time.” He was still laughing at me, and I couldn’t help but join in. I was terrible and Seth always made sure to joke about it with everyone on the NXT roster.

“So, um. Thanks for those text messages last night. They were… Nice.” I told him while looking down at my feet.

He nodded his head and began to look at his feet too. “You’re welcome.” He looked ahead of me, and I looked behind me, seeing that there wasn’t anyone there. “I have to go. I think Cesaro is waiting for me. You know how he is.” Just like that, he grabbed his suit case and started walking outside.

“No, this won’t be awkward at all.” I mumbled to myself as I walked outside too.

#wwe imagines #seth rollins fanfic #wwe #let's see how this goes #imagines #seth rollins imagines #seth rollins

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animehead · 8 years ago

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The Evolvement of Jesse McCree

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Eventual McHanzo, maybe others

Warnings/tags: Slowburn, violence, disability, werewolves, loss of limbs (arm), werewolf!McCree, alternate universe, lazy editing

Characters (in this chapter): McCree, Gabriel, Ana, Hanzo, Genji

Summary: Jesse McCree has big plans to open a diner, but an attack by a vicious animal leaves him injured, and forces him to pick up where he left off. But Jesse quickly discovers that learning to recover and get on with his life is the least of his problems.

A/N: Bear with me. I’m rusty, and a bit new to writing Overwatch fic.

Chapter One

Although the key fits, it takes a bit of elbow grease to get the door open. Jesse McCree shifts his stance, leans forward, and shoves his shoulder against the door. He does this twice. The first time with a curse, the second with a grin as it finally gives way and swings open.

He takes a step inside the building, coughing slightly as he inhales several years’ worth of settled dust.

“Christ,” Gabriel Reyes says next to him, thumb and index finger pinching his own nostrils shut. “What the hell is that smell?”

“Yeah,” Jesse chuckles, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. “Ripe, ain’t it? Got a bit of a kick to it.”

The two of them step further inside the building, fanning at the air, and looking over the place. It was a popular diner at one time, Kept up with the hustle and bustle of the years before him. Built in the 50s, but with an 80s feel to it. If he closes his eyes, Jesse can imagine the diner full of people. Good food, good conversation. Friends and family. All it needed was a bit of organizing, a shitload of cleaning, and it’d be as good as new.

“You sure you want to do this, kid?”

“Relax, pop,” Jesse says. He reaches over to pat his father on the shoulder. Gabriel wasn’t his actual father, but he’d taken care of Jesse as if he were his own. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s signature on that co-signer line, Jesse wouldn’t even be standing in this rundown diner, planning for its grand opening, and his future.

“Running a business is a lot to take on. We could always just sell it.”

“Barely let the ink dry, and you’re already counting me out, huh?”

“It’s not that.” Gabriel walks over to one of the tables, and fiddles with a section of chipped laminate on its surface. “There’s something off about this place. Rubs me the wrong way.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Jesse replies. “Other than it being a shit hole right now. Couple weeks, I’ll get her all fixed up, and you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“You know, most twenty-five year olds would rather be out chasing tail than taking on the restaurant business.”

“Well, I ain’t most twenty-five year olds, am I?”

Gabriel snickers, scratching at the hair along his chin. “Yeah, you damn sure ain’t.” He looks around the diner, dark eyes narrowing at all the work that needs to be done to get the place in order. “Well, then. Where do we start?”

Jesse walks toward the bar, lifting up the part of the counter that will allow him access behind it. It pulls from its hinges, rusty screws sticking out of the lower portion of the countertop like long, stained teeth.

“Hell, I reckon’ anywhere.”

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Jesse thinks as he stares at the mountain of trash scattered around the diner’s dumpster. He thought he was doing a good deed by feeding a couple of stray dogs the rest of his lunch. But they clearly weren’t satisfied with his offerings and went digging around in the garbage, pulling trash bags out with their teeth, and leaving the mess strewed around the back of the restaurant.

“Damn, mutts,” he mutters, crouching down to pick up some of the mess. He supposes it could have been worse. The diner isn’t open yet, which means the dumpster is only filled with the garbage he and Gabriel have dragged out of the diner for the past six weeks. Picking up shards of broken wood, and the occasional Twinkie wrapper was better than having to pick up spoiled food.

It’s probably time for him to head home. The sun went down hours ago. But knowing that he was just a few short weeks away from the diner’s grand opening keeps him there after hours. He still has so much to do. The interior and exterior are mostly done, but there’s still the matter of hiring people. He doesn’t know the first thing about that, but it has to be done. Can’t run a restaurant all by himself.

A spring breeze blows past, cooling sweat slicked skin, and rustling the leaves of the many trees in the wood directly behind the diner. With a handful of shredded plastic, Jesse stands up, tilts his head back and stares upward. It’s a full moon tonight, big and beautiful, like a giant pearl smack dab in the middle of the sky. Clouds sail past, like puffs of cotton. The leaves rustle again, and that’s a bit peculiar.

There’s no breeze.

He tosses the plastic into the bin, and wipes his hands on the thighs of stained jeans. The rustling continues, leaves smacking against one another, pulling his attention away from the remainder of the mess he needs to pick up.

“You mutts get on outta’ here now,” Jesse calls into the woods. “Go on now, get.” He turns, facing the woods, trying to spot one of the dogs.

The rustling stops immediately, leaving an eerie silence behind. Jesse takes off his hat, and scratches at the skin above his right eyebrow. It’s difficult to be sure. Trees and moonlight have the habit of casting shadows, and tricking the eye. But he’s certain he sees one of the dogs next to one of the trees. He narrows his eyes, makes out its form crouched low, head bowed, sniffing at the tree’s trunk.

“Hey.” He slams his hand against the trash bin a few times, strong palm smacking against metal, the sound loud in the quietness of night. “I said scram. Stop sniffing around. I ain’t got nothin’ left for you.”

The dog raises its head, muzzle incredibly long and extended. Maybe it’s the moonlight. It has to be the moonlight. Its eyes seem to glow, a startlingly bright yellow, pupils big and black, centered in the middle of its irises. It opens its mouth, teeth like sharpened porcelain, long and white. It lets out a low growl, deep and guttural. The most threatening, terrifying sound a dog could ever make.

And then it raises up on its hind legs.

And Jesse realizes, eyes wide, staring at the large hunch of a back, and the long hanging arms, that whatever that thing is standing next to the tree, it sure as hell isn’t a dog. It’s not. It just isn’t.

“Aw, hell… Fuck!”

Jesse bolts, boots pounding against the ground, legs carrying him as fast as he can go. He hears the animal racing after him. The thing that definitely is not a dog is closing in on him, moving at speeds no animal should be able to run. He reaches the diner’s back door, throws it open, and rushes inside. But it’s all futile. He’s not quick enough. The animal is right behind him, slams its strong, furry body into the center of his back, causing him to fall forward.

Jesse screams. Claws tear at his shirt, his back, and pierce his flesh. The animal is a weight upon him, sharp teeth digging into his shoulder, breaking skin, and drawing blood. He feels heat where he’s been bitten, so hot he can’t stand it. It paralyzes him, leaves him unable to move, only scream as the animal continues to attack him.

The pain is unbearable.

He doesn’t feel it when the creature forces him onto his injured back, and snatches away his left arm with his teeth, severing it completely from the bone. But he knows it’s happening, can only yell for help, and even that’s in vain because there’s no one there to hear him. There’s nothing he can do but wait for his inevitable death. To silently apologize and ask for forgiveness from the people he’s hurt in his past. To apologize to Gabriel for not sticking around long enough to make him proud. If he’d known he was going to die tonight from being attacked by a beast in the diner he worked so hard for, maybe he would have done things differently.

“Hindsight,” he whispers, and follows with a depressed chuckle. So this is how it ends, scared and alone, unfeeling, and at someone, something, else’s hand. Well, yeah. That sounds about right for him.

He closes his eyes, and waits for the creature to finish him off. He’s lost so much blood that his vision begins to blur. “At least I won’t see it coming,” he murmurs, the room spinning around him. He blinks at a space on the floor where there’s nothing but blood where his arm should be.

The animal howls, the sound so loud it rattles the new glass windows. Not the windows, he thinks when it howls again. He hopes they don’t shatter. They cost so damn much. So much money for some fucking windows. He can no longer open his eyes. His body lies motionless on the floor, waiting for the creature to deliver the final blow.

“At least I won’t see it,” he says again.

And then… darkness.

He doesn’t come to all at once. Instead it’s in snapshots, Gabriel shouting his name, the blaring alarm of sirens, the hushed murmur of voices. He’s moving, the ground several feet below him. Then darkness. He comes to again. Latex glove covered hands, blood soaked bandages, and a clear, plastic tube resting gently across his face. Darkness. Bright lights now. White halls. People in scrubs rushing up and down the halls. A child crying. Maybe an adult? Someone asks him for his name. He can’t answer.

“Jesse,” he hears Gabriel shouting his name. Must be serious. Gabriel hardly ever calls him by his first name, unless he’s in trouble. Did he do something wrong?

“You can’t come in here, sir,” someone replies.

Gabriel’s shouting now. Arguing and throwing around curses. Jesse hears the word ‘security’ screamed, and the scuffle of a fight.

“Calm down, pop,” he whispers, wishing he could say it louder, but he doesn’t have the energy, or the strength. Darkness again.

Brown eyes flutter open. He’s awake. More importantly, he’s alive. Now it’s just the matter of figuring out where he is. A room. Dimly lit. The diner maybe? Nah, it’s not the diner. Too small. Doesn’t smell like fresh paint. Home? Nope. Doesn’t smell like vanilla candles stunted by the scent of stale cigars. A television. That’s nice. A bit small, though. Chair next to the bed. Looks leather, but it’s probably not. Big ole’ white erase board on the wall inquiring about rates of pain. Ah, well, that clears things up.

A hospital.

He sits up, winces, and lies back down. His back aches, stings. He reaches up to survey the damage, except there’s nothing where his hand should be. Or his arm for that matter. They’re both gone. Vanished. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Nothing.

He screams, his only other arm gripping at the bandages wrapped around his elbow. Someone runs into his room, holding him, tells him to calm down. She has a nice, soothing voice. Old woman with silver, whitish hair that reminds him of Christmas tree tinsel.

“Calm down. Calm down.” She puts an arm on his chest, pinning him down against the bed. “All right. Easy now. You’re okay.”

“My arm’s gone,” Jesse says, frantic and shock making his words break. “It’s gone.”

“But you’re alive,” she says. “You’re here. Breathing. Do you understand me?” She takes his free hand, careful of the IV needle he has taped into it, and presses it against his chest even through his panicked flailing. “Feel.”

“Nah, nah.” Jesse shakes his head. “This ain’t right. It ain’t right.”

“Life hardly is. But we make do. Now take some deep breaths. In and out.” She waits until Jesse follows her lead, breathing long and slow, chest rising and falling. “Very good. Perfect.”

“You a doctor?” he breathes out, hand tugging at the nasal cannula hooked over his ears.

“Nurse,” she answers. “Leave that alone.”

“What happened to me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that. But your father might.”

“My father?”

“Gabriel Reyes. He gave the doctor’s quite a fuss downstairs. Almost got himself kicked out.”

“He’s here?”

“He is. Sent him downstairs to get some coffee. Poor thing looks exhausted.”

“He alright?”

“Look at you,” she says, a soft chuckle escaping her lips, “wake up in a hospital bed, and the first thing you do is ask about someone else. He’s fine. You worry about healing.” She stands upright, groaning a bit as she stretches her arms above her head.

He watches her, takes notice of the navy blue scrubs and the several ID badges hanging from a lanyard. There’s a name tag above her right breast. The name ‘Ana’ printed in bold, black letters.

“Oh, before I forget. Here.” She reaches into her pant pocket, pulls out a card, and offers it to him.

He reaches for it, first with what’s left of his left arm, and then with his right. “Guess I gotta’ get used to that,” he says, taking the card and reading it over. It’s a business card for a psychiatrist, Fareeha Amari.

“Not much for talkin’ to shrinks.”

“I highly recommend that you reconsider,” Ana replies. “Give her a call when you’re discharged. You have a long road ahead of you, Jesse McCree.”

“Yeah, well,” he scratches at the thin layer of scruff along his cheeks and chin, “I guess you’re right about that, Ms. Ana.”

The door glides open, and Jesse feels relief wash over him the moment Gabriel pokes his shaved head through the door. “Hijo?”

“Hey, pop.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Ana says, and leaves out of the same door Gabriel enters.

“How you feeling?” Gabriel asks, settling himself down into the chair next to Jesse’s bed.

“Like I got rundown by a John Deere,” Jesse answers. “What the hell happened to me?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Don’t know. Was calling you all day. You didn’t pick up. Came to the diner to check on you, and found you half dead in the middle of the floor. You can’t remember what happened?”

Jesse shakes his head. “I don’t know. I think maybe it was a dog, or something.”

“What the hell kind of dog did you piss off to deserve this?”

“I don’t know, pop.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and then lowers them to his forehead where he rubs at his temples. “I don’t know what I’m gonna’ do about the diner.”

“What you mean, you don’t know? You’re gonna’ heal, and then you’re going to get your ass back in there.”

“What if…” he pauses, thinking back to the attack. Everything’s a blur now, but he still remembers those glowing, yellow eyes, “whatever did this to me comes back?”

“We’ll figure out a way for you to protect yourself. That way if it does, you’ll be ready. But don’t worry about that for right now. You just think about getting better.”

“You’re being awful kind tonight.”

“What kind of dad would I be if I kicked my only son when he’s down?”

“Heh. Probably my old man,” Jesse says.

“Enough.” Gabriel leans forward, and plucks a can of strawberry jello off the portable tray next to Jesse’s bed. He peels the aluminum lid back, and stares down at the contents with a frown.

“Thought you didn’t like jello.”

“I don’t. But you do.” Grabbing a plastic spoon next to a can of cold ginger ale, he raises himself to his feet. “Now stop talking and open your big mouth.”

“Aw, come on, pop. I don’t need you feedin’ me.”

“Shut up, and open it.”

Jesse groans, eyes closing as Gabriel pops a spoonful of jello into his mouth. “I’ll make sure to return the favor when you’re an old man,” he says between chews.

Gabriel snorts. “Dealing with you, I’m already an old man.”

“Thanks, pop. I’m glad you came looking for me.”

Gabriel offers him a small, tired smile. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

The air is cool and fresh, unlike the taxi they rode to the hospital in. Genji Shimada cradles his arm against his chest, dark eyes scanning the digital marquee board several hundred feet away from the front of the hospital.

“They are giving away free flu shots, brother. Should we get one?”

“Quiet, Genji,” Hanzo Shimada says, after paying the taxi driver with foreign currency that he’s still not quite used to. “Why must you always involve yourself? Raunchy American parties and wheelboards. Now green hair. Ridiculous.”

“Skateboards, brother,” Genji corrects him. “We are only here a short while. We should interact with the locals. They are friendly, and fun.”

“They are idiots. Greedy and loud. And selfish.” He huffs. “Americans. What were you thinking? Look at yourself. You’ll be lucky if you haven’t broken your arm. We’ve been here for five days, and I already have to bring you to the hospital.”

“It’s probably just a sprain. Besides, I’ve received much worse from sparring with you. Or otherwise.”

Hanzo is quiet for a few moments as the two of them move closer to the hospital’s entrance. “I do not like America. I want to go back to Japan.”

“We are only here a few more days.”

Hanzo shakes his head, stepping to the side to allow Genji entrance through the glass, motion sensor doors. “You are so much trouble. What would father think?”

“I assume not much, considering he’s dead.”

“Enough, Genji.”

Genji quietly reads the signs, trying to figure out which direction the two of them must move. “It seems we took the wrong entrance. The emergency room is that way.” He uses his uninjured arm to point down a long hallway.

“Fine,” Hanzo replies with a sigh. “Let us go.”

Jesse surveys the room one last time. He’s only been there five days, but it seems so much longer. He’s still sore, still stressed, and still trying to figure out how he’s going to adjust to only having one arm. But he’s smiled a couple of times, so he’s on a slow track to getting back to his normal self.

Gabriel brought him some clothes to go home in. No more wandering around his room in a hospital gown with his hairy ass hanging out. He pats at his jean pocket, making sure the card Ana gave him is in there. He’s still not sure if he’ll actually see this Dr. Amari, but he supposes a check in or two couldn’t do much harm.

“You got everything?” Gabriel asks him, fingers buttoning up the flannel shirt Jesse’s wearing since he hasn’t quite gotten used to buttoning things with one hand.

“Reckon’ so,” Jesse answers.

“Got the number to the doctor?”

“Which one?”

“Prosthetics.”

“Yeah, got that one, too.” Eventually, he’ll see about getting a prosthetic arm. Something to make him feel a bit more comfortable in his own skin. For now, though, he’s just going to take it easy. One day at a time. Recuperate. He’s got to hurry up and heal. There’s a diner waiting for him with his name on it, and it sure as hell isn’t going to run itself.

“Discharge papers?”

“Got ‘em, pop. Got everything.”

“Then let’s roll out.”

They take the elevator to the first floor. Him riding in a wheelchair being pushed by Ana while Gabriel walks next to them. When they reach the gift shop, he begs Ana to let him walk the rest of the way. A man’s got to have a bit of pride and dignity after having all types of doctors and nurses poking and prodding at him, seeing his unmentionables. She’s probably not supposed to, but Ana concedes, and lets him go about his way without the use of a wheelchair.

“You take care now, Jesse McCree,” she says with a smile. “And give Dr. Amari a call.”

“You can count on me, Ms. Ana,” Jesse replies.

“Look after yourselves.” She waves at Gabriel and Jesse who both wave back.

“Take care,” Gabriel replies.

They begin their journey past the gift shop, then past the emergency room entrance when someone walks right smack into Jesse.

“Oh, pardon me,” Jesse says, and gives a polite bow of his head.

The man who bumped into him says nothing. Long, dark hair tied at the ends with a silk, blue sash. A pattern decorates the fabric, trimmed in glittering gold thread in the design of dragon scales. He stares up at Jesse, intense and unspeaking, dark eyebrows narrowed. His gaze drifts from Jesse’s face to the empty sleeve hanging by his side, and Jesse nearly cringes from the unwanted attention.

There’s a tattoo on the man’s left arm. Jesse can’t quite make it out because it disappears beneath his shirt sleeve. He almost asks if he can see it, but thinks better of it.

“Brother,” Genji says, nudging his older brother with his elbow.

“My apologies,” the man finally says, crosses his arms, side steps and continues on his way, him and the green haired man walking side by side.

“Those two clearly ain’t from around here,” Gabriel says next to Jesse.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees. “The one with the long hair seemed meaner than a pit bull with a cobra for a leash, didn’t he?”

“Sure as hell did,” Gabriel replies. “Probably don’t know any better.”

“Real pretty though,” Jesse murmurs.

Gabriel raises a brow and shakes his head. “Wanna’ go chase after him?”

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t think love is in the cards for me right now.”

“Who said anything about love?”

“Everything is about love, pop.”

“Everything, huh?”

Jesse grins. “Yessir, everything.”

“Whatever you say, kid. Now let’s get you home.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

After a brief mix up involving where Gabriel parked the car, they find the car and climb inside. Jesse stares out through the window, watching the scenery go by. Just a few days ago he had everything going for him. And he supposes that maybe he still does. Sure, he’s covered in wounds, and is missing and arm, but it could have been worse, right? He could be dead. Gone from the world, snatched away right in the prime of his life.

You ain’t seen nothing yet, Jesse McCree, he thinks, and the thought startles him. What if that thing eventually came back to finish the job? He’d need a weapon, something that would keep him safe. Something that would ensure he had a quiet, peaceful, protected life.

“Hey, pop.” They’re stopped at a red light.

Gabriel unwraps a peppermint and pops it into his mouth. “Hm,” he murmurs around the hard candy.

“What would you say to me getting a gun?”

“You want a gun?” He turns his head toward Jesse. “Thought you said having guns meant someone was overcompensating.”

“Yeah, well. The tune’s different once ya’ manage to survive being killed by something that clearly wants ya’ dead. Anyway, I just want something to keep things smooth. You know, to keep the peace. A peacekeeper.”

“Peacekeeper, huh?”

“That’s right. Peacekeeper.”

Alright then,” Gabriel replies. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jesse taps his fingers against the arm rest, and closes his eyes. Yeah, a peacekeeper. That’s exactly what he needs.

#overwatch #ahoverwatch #i tried to keep everyone mostly in character #mchanzo

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