#going to the opera next week!!!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
the moral of the story is, that sometimes if you wait a couple weeks out of both laziness and hesitation to spend that much money, you too can wake up to emails offering you $25 opera tickets.
#going to the opera next week!!!#no I don't fully understand how dropping an opera ticket's worth of money for groceries seems reasonable;#while dropping that exact amount of money for an opera ticket is punishing.#math? maybe one of those kinds of calculus I didn't study.#celestial emporium of benevolent knowledge
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
the carpentry crew got sick of listening to the same pop playlists at work yesterday (Spotify algorithm makes everything so samey even if you try vastly different starting points) so for the last two hours of the workday I went out on a limb and requested opera bangers. it went over terrifically despite initial skepticism. makes sense once I realized that classical music (“classical” in the broadest sense) is what we use culturally to signal elevated moments of high drama or emotion. even sweeping sawdust feels epic when carmina burana is the soundtrack
#i got a good grade in workplace music taste something that is reasonable to want and possible to achieve#I’m so shy about music requests bc my actual listening habits are either a niche we have not explored as a group#ie irish-language folk tunes or kpop (could go over well but likely polarizing and I’m scared)#or things I know other people also like but are not gonna get us through the workday (soft folkpop/folk rock for contemplative lesbians)#many people at work enjoy listening to hozier but in a week is simply not gonna give you the oomph to pick up the 300 pound wall#the coworker who is most irritated by the samey playlists is in fact a surprise opera enjoyer so I also satisfied his tastes! HAH!#i will go mad with power and next thing they know they’ll be trapped in four hours of 15th c Italian madrigals#tree.txt
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Is it bad that I've not felt genuine excited about a big finish release for a long time??
#big finish#ive not felt this excited for a big finish release probably since time war 1? back when we had the gallifrey squad back#i know with the announcement of goth opera is very cool and i do hope they do pick up with more novel adaptations#but idk man#lately their quality not been the same for me :(#and the new 9th doctor and benny audio out next week#past me would be thrilled by the idea#but now im just feeling meh#im going to get it for benny obviously#but its not an urgent desire or want?
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
chan and berry will never not make me cry
#not to be personal but my cocker spaniel i grew up with passed away a couple years ago#so seeing spaniels always makes me miss her#but also it's really bittersweet how before he went home he made jokes about how she probably forgot about him but she was so excited#to see him:(#and sat in his suitcase when he was preparing to leave:(#i hope he can go home more often but we all know jype won't let him#and it was only for a couple days last time i hope next time can be longer#they need at least two weeks home but also i'm sure like a month or more would be great#i honestly cried when chan suddenly went live and showed felix and the opera house#theo.txt
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Imagine accidentally walking into a military dive bar by yourself, not knowing that the customer base was mainly military folk, and just kind of rolling with it
Imagine you dressed cute, your hair was done, and it had been a long week- you deserved a good ol' night on the town, damnit, and you didn't want to pay another Uber to go to another bar
Imagine you making your way up to the bar to order your first drink of the night and when you order a simple cocktail, the bar goes quiet for a split second because who orders a cocktail in this place?
Imagine not knowing that since the second you walked in that door, you've had eyes on you. Of course you've had eyes on you since you walked in, but one pair in particular stayed glued to your form as you walked through the bar
Imagine looking around after getting your drink from the bartender to see where you'd try to sit for a bit to sip on your drink
Imagine there being an empty table near the far end of the bar that you decide to claim as your own as you continued to scope out the bar patrons
Imagine finally locking eyes with the one man that has had his eye on you since the minute you walked in the door
Imagine freezing as you look into his eyes from across the bar, suddenly aware that this huge, masked military man had been looking right at you
Imagine deciding after a second fuck it and you just gave him a smile and a small wave before sipping your drink. After all, he had been looking at you first, right?
Imagine seeing him look away briefly after your wave and you finally turn to look around the bar again, idly sipping at your drink
Imagine not even a minute later, that very same man is now standing right next to you- how the hell did he get there so fast-? And so quietly-?
Imagine the silence that ensues, neither one of you wanting to say the first word (well, it was either not wanting or not knowing what to say)
Imagine the first thing you speak to Simon 'Ghost' Riley, unknowing who he is or what his reputation was, being, "So, uh... Come here often...?"
Imagine that really being your best line for this strange man
Imagine Ghost letting out a soft grunt as he nodded, "Often enough. Never seen you here before."
Imagine you giving him another smile, this one softer and more genuine as you reply, "I didn't realize this was so... Military oriented. Am I even allowed to be here?"
Imagine hearing a small huff from the man, his eyes indiscernible as he says, "Course you're allowed. I'd like to see them try to kick a bird like you out."
Imagine giggling softly, "A bird like me? What's that supposed to mean?"
Imagine all the while, Simon 'Ghost' Riley's teammates are still sitting at the bar, watching this all go down like it was a soap opera. It was, wasn't it? Their Lieutenant going out of his way to flirt with the little bird who accidentally wandered into a military-centric dive and still ordered the little cocktail you liked.
ugh just imagine
masterlist
#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#simon riley#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley imagine#ghost imagine#simon riley imagine#simon 'ghost' riley imagine#simon 'ghost' riley x reader#simon 'ghost' riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#reader walks into a military dive bar#the rest is history#call of duty#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#task force 141
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
and just as the clock struck 12:17 the morning of september 1st i finished my gravity falls rewatch bawling my eyes out.
#despite this being a show that changed me to my core i don't think i've watched more than the occasional sock opera since 2018#i would say see you next summer but judging by the amount of tears rn i don't think i'm gonna be able to wait that long to watch it again#i think i pushed it away for so long bc growing up has always been a touchy subject for me. change and life and all that#but now i'm turning 22 in a couple weeks and. im here. i did it.#i don't know. it's late and my feelings on life and the passage of time are complicated#i'm just glad this show got to be a part of it. back when i was the mystery twins age and now that im gonna to be as old as soos#and as much as i pushed it away i never REALLY stopped thinking about it. i quote it all the time#and even without that. as scary as my teenage years and growing up as a whole still were i think those kids made it just a little more ok#despite the fact that i turned 13 the year the world went to shit (2016). there's only so much a tv show can do to help you with that#i don't know where this post was going. anyways gravity falls means a lot to me alex hirsch i owe you my life#sassy speaks#gf#also that timestamp is when i finished the show i've been sitting here being sappy for almost 20 mins. IT MEANS A LOT TO ME OK-
0 notes
Text
CLAUDIN FOR THE WIN!!!!!
@hobbitmajora
Propaganda
Job Skeffington (Mr. Skeffington) - God, he breaks my heart. Here's a man who's only desire is to be loved in return. The entire movie, he's made fun of, brushed off, and cast aside. He's such a gentle guy and, like the name suggests, has the patience of a saint even when you'd suspect him to snap. He goes through so much in this movie that my heart aches for him. On the flip side, he's a wonderful father and the scene where he tearfully tries to explain why she shouldn't stay with him truly makes my heart bleed. He's also subtly and may I say, expertly, funny when he's spouting dry lines and even when he isn't talking, steals the spotlight anyway. He was robbed of that Academy Award, I swear!
Erique Claudin (Phantom of the Opera) - My favorite Phantom! Does it differ wildly from the book? Yes. Do I care? NO! Claudin starts the movie by BREAKING YOUR HEART IN TWO and then after the first act he gets to lean into the creep factor by murdering people who get in the way of him helping his daughter achieve her opera goals. While the father/daughter story was cut from the final film, you can 100% see it in Claude Rains' wonderful performance that this is a man so filled with regret at leaving his infant daughter 20 years ago, that he is willing to do anything to help her succeed…even if she doesn't know that he's the one helping her.
This is round one for The King of The Claudes tournament and other matchups can be found here!
Additional Propaganda under the cut!
Job Skeffington
A man with the sweetest brown eyes that I'd follow to the ends of the earth for. Job is such a sweetheart and he doesn't deserve all the shade and slander from Fanny and the others throughout the movie. We definitely needed more screentime for him and the movie's rightly called Mr. Skeffington.
Erique Claudin
This movie is gorgeous and the storytelling is a masterpiece! I don't care what anyone says, this is my favorite adaptation of Phantom and Claude sells it perfectly. He's excellent at toeing the line between a masked mad man and a caring individual and I will be forever fuming about how the father/daughter relationship wasn't official. To me, it will be! He's just the right amount of soft fondness and I was squealing because of how adorable he is when he stammers.
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
#prepare yourself because this is all I'm going to be talking about for the next week#claude rains#phantom of the opera#phantom 1943#he was wonderful in mr skeffington#but i will never not vote for anything phantom '43#and he gives such a fantastic performance as Claudin
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Phantom of the Manor
AKA "The Batfam unintentionally start giving ritual offerings to the Phantom. Danny, who's been mistaken as the Phantom of the Opera, is wondering why his hoodie pockets are full of tomato slices??" prompt idea!
Headcanon that Ghosts become more powerful the more people believe in them, kind of like deities. Danny's never really had to deal with the whole "ritualistic sacrifices to Bloody Mary" or "superstitious prayers against Davey Jones" because Phantom is a Hafta. Danny doesn't need people to believe in him or worship him.
So, he's never gotten a ritual offering before.
Which is why he's absolutely baffled when he shoves his hand into his hoodie pocket to grab his phone and feels something... squishy. And cold. Both Sam and Tucker scream as Danny jolts to his feet with a squeamish shriek. He damn near Goes Ghost as he tries to tear off his hoodie, regardless of the staring mall-walkers. Danny finally manages to fling the hoodie onto their table, scrambling to Sam and Tucker's sides, trying to breath through a panicked: "There'ssomethinginmypocket!!"
Sam carefully pokes around until she finds... squished tomato slices? They're oily and salted like a tomato caprese without the cheese. Which is an interesting choice for a snack. You'd think Danny would at least use a Ziplock bag or something?
("Ancients! Of course, I didn't put them there, Sam!")
Fast-forward a couple of weeks. Danny's going insane because why the hell are there tomatoes literally everywhere? Every couple of days (or hours, depending on the day), he finds different types of tomatoes all over the place. In bed when he wakes up. In his jean pockets at school. Even in the shower, he'll be blindly trying to find the shampoo bottle and come across a handful of grape tomatoes. He can't. Handle. It. Anymore. Danny's going to become the "Tomato Man" at school from how often he randomly pulls out tomatoes from his pockets. Like he needs another reason for Dash to mock him.
The last straw was when Danny was Full Ghost and felt something... itchy in his suit. He knew before he saw it. Danny tentatively pulled the sleeve of his suit open, silently praying that it wasn't what he thought it was, and- yeah. There's V-8 smeared from his goddamn elbow to wrist. He had to fight with tomato juice in his suit for several hours. And that's it; Danny literally can't take it anymore. He goes to Frostbite, begging the Yeti to help him with his Tomato Problem.
Only to be told he's receiving offerings. Which are apparently incredibly sacred and should be appreciated. (It'd be easier to appreciate if it was, like, cash or something. Maybe a Nintendo Switch. Instead, his patrons are worshipping him by offering... tomatoes. Great.)
So, clearly, the only option is to go straight to the source (i.e., his patrons) and tell them to Fucking Stop Giving Me Tomatoes. The next time he feels something weighty in his pocket (gross!), he follows the thready connection of his worshippers through a portal.
And Danny steps out in his full Ghost Regalia (because clearly they're worshipping Phantom, right? So Danny can't exactly show up in ripped jeans and his favorite NASA hoodie). The family sits at a dinner table... which is a little weird, since he'd expected an altar or something. But even weirder is the beady, predatory that look borderline-violent staring at him from everybody at the table. There's an uncomfortable silence more tense than dinners at Vlad's mansion.
Then, Danny carefully scoops out the soupy, baked grape tomatoes from his pocket and dumps them on the table. He doesn't wait for them to question it, just points to the tomatoes and says, "I appreciate the offerings, really, but it's gotta stop. It's gross. I have to wash tomato juice out of my clothes every day. If you're gonna leave an offering, no. More. Tomatoes. Please."
The oldest man seems jolted out of his stupor.
"Excuse me, but could you please explain why you've come to our home?" The man asks cordially. (As if Danny couldn't see him carefully gripping his steak knife like a throwing dart. And that's just rude, honestly. Danny was invited.)
"Uh, I'm Phantom? You literally give me offerings every day. Again, I appreciate it, I never thought I'd have diehard fans, but I don't even really like tomatoes. I mean, they're fine in salsa and stuff, but even I won't eat pocket-tomatoes."
"I believe there may be a misunderstanding. We don't worship a deity named Phantom nor have we left any offerings." The oldest says. He seems like he's about to continue when one of the black-haired adults interrupts him with a nervous, "Uh, B? About that..."
So. Yeah. It turns out Dick Grayson and Jason Todd forced the family to watch Phantom of the Opera, which spawned the joke of offering any food they don't like (i.e., tomatoes) to "the Phantom" (i.e., their trashcan). More than half the family doesn't like tomatoes and Alfred uses it as a punishment for breaking something, overworking, etc. They'd gotten pretty sneaky about scraping their leftovers into the bin but had gotten into a habit of saying "this one's for the Phantom, a treat for the Phantom," or something incredibly stupid like that.
Danny's just... a little relieved, honestly? Because he's literally fifteen and wouldn't really know what to do with followers if he had them. Plus, now he doesn't have to worry about waking up with tomatoes in his bed or making excuses for all his tomato-hoarding while at school. (Which was not necessarily the right thing to mention to Bruce "Serial Adopter" Wayne. Practically the whole table turned to stare at Bruce when Danny mentioned he's apparently an underage deity, waiting for Bruce to sweep in with a well-executed, "Well, it's getting late. Why don't you stay the night?" Because Bruce apparently can't help himself from collecting another black-haired, blue-eyed kid.)
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.
They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.
The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.
The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.
Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.
She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.
She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.
------
Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.
Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.
Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.
Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.
The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.
In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.
Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.
------
Eddie's never been one to fall in love.
He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.
But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.
It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.
You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.
It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.
Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.
Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.
But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.
------
Steve's not stupid.
He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.
But Steve isn't looking closer.
His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.
Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.
The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.
Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.
And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.
Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.
Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.
But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.
The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.
#steddie#stranger things#dreamer speaks#fanfiction#eddie munson#steve harrington#nancy wheeler#robin buckly#this one is a little different#but it's been floating around my head for a while#lmk what you think!#Edit: 12/22 for spelling and gramatical errors
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
i hope I'm not too sleepy to watch spiderverse 2 a second time. I stayed up a bit late yesterday
#Once again thinking about how movie theaters would literally be so nice to nap in if it wasn't for the fact that it costs money#One of my fondest memories of a nap is falling asleep for a bit of le nozze diFigaro (opera). Those chairs were soooo comfortable#and I woke up in time for the end!#The other thing I remember about that is that the actress for cherubino was really hot.#Also my teacher sitting next to me (it was a school trip) Anyways.#I'm going with my sister this time. She just watched the first movie this week & loved it so I hope she likes the sequel too#It's a good movie but it rings a bit sour with the recent news of how bad the workers were treated in order for that to be true#rosa talk
1 note
·
View note
Text
what 2 am with them looks like



seventeen × gn reader comfort, healing (kinda, idk) warnings: mentions of making love, food wc: 1.3k author's notes: this was a random thought, and has been in my drafts for so long, so i decided i had to complete it. writing this gave me a peace i didn't know existed, so i love this work very much. i hope you guys love it too <3
➼ choi seungcheol
in bed. he's probably fucking you into the next week, making you cum at least 5 times before he kisses you gently and washes you up and prepares to sleep. if not this, then you're probably on your side of the bed. the other side of the bed remains empty, because your cuddly clingy boyfriend is wrapped around you, strong arms trapping your movements and legs tangled together.
➼ yoon jeonghan
dumb conversations. lying in bed, your head resting on his arm, your arm wrapped around his torso that shakes with the laughter. it's probably one of your lame jokes that only he finds funny, or one of his hilarious stories about seungkwan and chan, but it's got you both clutching your stomachs after a while. he pulls you close with his arm that's under your head and presses a light kiss to your forehead before finding another interesting topic. when do you sleep that night, that's a question you both have no answer for.
➼ hong jisoo
deep conversations. you're both sitting in your bedroom, hugging pillows as you slip into deep conversations about the universe and your future. you aren't sure how you got here, you were in your bed to sleep one moment and in the next, you're both sitting as you talk about your wedding and your house and the stars and the moon and his mom and his job; the conversation flows easily into the next topic. he only stops when he sees you suppress a yawn for the 3rd time before kissing you and suggesting you both go to sleep.
➼ moon junhui
watching cat videos. it all started a few hours ago, with you and jun on either side of the bed, scrolling through phones. you roll over to him, perfectly landing your head on his chest as you show him your screen. "look junie," you said as you shoved the phone into his face. he chuckles before holding your hand and focusing on the video of an orange cat tripping over it's own feet. he laughs watching it, and it ends up in you lying on his chest as you both watched every single cat video available on the earth. your laughs filled the room and tears filled your eyes, but it felt so good, spending time doing silly things like this.
➼ kwon soonyoung
passive watching soap operas. its the time of calm and quiet after the rush of the day, so when you turn on the tv after dinner, you stay like that until late hours. except the focus has moved from the drama on the tv to drama from work. from sitting at the ends of the couch, you end up tangled somehow - his head resting on your lap or him sitting on the floor, hands held with yours. the tv drones on at a low volume, but by then you've both shared all the tea from your work and are giggling over the littlest of things. in the morning, you're both probably on the floor, one of the cushions as a pillow and keeping warm by hugging each other.
➼ jeon wonwoo
playing games. after much practice and pain, you'd finally gotten better at the games wonwoo often played. most nights you'd be a team going against your other friends, but sometimes you prefer to play against him. and when that happens, it ends in either of the two ways: you're winning and start shaking your hips, or he's winning and decides to deliberately lose to help you win. either way, he wants to see your happy lil dance.
➼ lee jihoon
in his studio. jihoon's seated in his studio, working on a new track. when you arrive, he immediately pulls you to him, making you sit on his lap as he hands you his headphones. you look at him, confused, but wear them anyway and listen as he plays the track he was just working on. as you fall deeper into the melody of the song, he grips your hips in anticipation. it was a song to you, from him, containing the most heartfelt emotions he'd felt for you, but couldn't communicate properly. so he decided to put them into a song, a language he speaks so well and one that you understand.
➼ lee seokmin
having breakfast cereal. you'd gone through great lengths to find and buy the brand of cereal you both highly enjoyed. so now that you have it, why wait for the morning? when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, anxious and groggy about your reaction, he'd worried you'd judge him. but maybe it's the sleepiness hanging in his mind that he forgot you both basically share the same braincell. so the next minute you're stumbling into the kitchen, looking for bowls and cartons and giggling over spilling milk and noisy spoons. by the time you're done, your stomach's filled with food and heart's filled with love.
➼ kim mingyu
moments of soft intimacy. the evening goes by peacefully: you both come home, tired and exhausted; have a silent dinner mingyu lovingly prepared and talk about work; after some leftover work you both head to bed. but slowly, the stroke on the cheek becomes kissing, drawing shapes on your back as you kiss and nip at the base of his neck. mingyu's vulnerable now, only with you, but neither of you are in a rush to haste. his hands cup over your ass and thighs; your hands are braided in his hair. his palms knead the flesh of your breasts; your fingers gently brush across his chest and abs. whether or not you make love comes later, but you sleep peacefully in each other's embrace.
➼ xu minghao
sky-watching. when you poke him awake, he's definitely concerned, but the first thought that pops to his head when you say you cant sleep is to go sit in the balcony. so now, at 2 am, you're in the balcony, a cup of warm tea in your hands and xu minghao at your side. its silent, but its a comfortable silence that wraps around you like a blanket, and warmed up by the tea he specially made for you. and although for others, the silence might seem awkward, minghao knows that this is exactly what you need to escape from the thoughts racing around in your mind.
➼ boo seungkwan
late night walks. seungkwan's energy peaks after he comes home and sees you, so walks to tire you both out becomes a staple in the routine. youre walking the streets in matching hoodies (that's because you take one of his) and even in the cold, he makes it a habit to hold your hand in his. you wander through new streets every night, discovering new neighbourhoods, having a quick snack from the convenience store, and usually stumble over a park or play area. you can feel seungkwan's eyes light up and the next thing you know, youre on the swings, side-by-side. with the little squeeze of your hand, he lets you know he's ready to go back.
➼ chwe hansol
watching a movie. to hansol, any logical being would be asleep at this hour. (un)fortunately for him, you weren't as logical as he thought. but maybe he enjoys it because why else would he allow you to keep him awake at this ungodly hour, watching 'Tangled' for the twentieth time now? all frowns erase the moment he sees pascal on the screen, and a smile places itself. he becomes so engrossed in the movie he doesn't even notice that you'd fallen asleep about halfway through the movie. when he does notice tho, he silently closes the laptop and places it away, before slipping back into the bed to get his precious sleep.
➼ lee chan
listening to him talk. chan loves to talk, and you love to listen to him talk. while mostly by this time you're both dead asleep, sometimes you end up in the balcony, the wind playfully ruffling his hair as he goes on and on about something he's so so passionate about. it could be the most trivial things, but the way his eyes go wide as he's expressing his emotions and the way they catch the moonlight in them like little stars. you're gonna be pretty tired the next morning, but when chan's with you, you couldn't care less.
#svt#seventeen#svt x reader#seventeen × reader#svt scenarios#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#scoups x reader#jeonghan × reader#joshua x reader#junhui x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#dk x reader#mingyu x reader#the8 x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#dino x reader#articles.ris
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#saw a ballet tonight and i really liked it#havent seen one since i was 13 and went with my mom#was also the first time i went to a production at the opera house by myself bc none of my friends had time to come with me#and it was fine!! lots of people went alone! its fine!#and i cant say this enough thank u for letting me see all these productions for only 8 euros#the arts really is the only thing where u get a good student discount#im going to a baroque orchestra concert next week for half the prize this is so awesome#also going to a metal concert tmrw life is good#ALSO my friends cat gave birth yesterday and im gonna go and see them on sunday!!! kitties!!!!
1 note
·
View note
Text
Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You
Sylus x gn!Reader
Apparently my brain can only cope with angst if it has a happy ending rn @comatosebunny09 YOU DID THIS (/positive)
Inspired by this post
Title from "All I Ask Of You" from Phantom of the Opera
Warnings: blood, injury, self-destructive behavior, swearing, requited unrequited love, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, kissing, ignoring the red string of fate, jealousy, soft Sylus
Word Count: 1,900
Main Masterlist
Love and Deepspace Masterlist
The Raven Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
The repetitive thwack of the punching bag keeps you going. Harder and harder, faster, more precise.
Your knuckles are bleeding. It stains the vinyl of the bag. They sting with every slight adjustment of your hand, with every punch. They’re probably misaligned, too. On the verge of breaking. But it’s not enough.
Sweat drips down your forehead and back. You’ve been down here for hours. You don’t want to leave.
It’s so fucking childish - you know that. But it hurts so fucking bad. Hearing the way he speaks to her, like you’re not in the room. The way he seeks out the banter and teasing conversations they share. The way he looks at her…
Is the only thing you’re good for your loyalty?
And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed the way you distance yourself. He’s brought up your over-the-top silence, saying he hasn’t heard your voice in a week. He’s tried asking what’s wrong, but you never answer. And when you stopped sleeping in his room altogether? He looked exhausted the next day, staring after you like he was working to decipher why he’d been left to sleep alone. The only company you seemed to seek anymore was that of Mephisto’s.
God, Mephisto. That crow had shown you their excursion to enhance her ability. You couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction you got when she still couldn’t Resonate with him, whether it’s because she found him “disgusting” or some other reason… But why did he have to look so offended by it?
You hit the bag so hard it rips. Sand pours out of the tear like water, draining onto the floor. You’re mesmerized by it. The slight hiss of the sand moving together, pouring out like a faucet and pooling on the floor into a steadily growing pile. It’s almost soothing.
Almost.
You kick the sand to the side. It fans out across the black floor in an arc of dappled white.
The prickle at the back of your neck puts all your nerves on high alert, but you know not to be afraid of it. You know the source. The cause of all your rage. The last person you want to see right now. You’d even take Little Miss Hunter over him.
You turn and meet his eye. Crimson, sharp with concern to match the furrow in his brow. It burns through you, all too familiar and, once upon a time, comforting. When he could look at you and so easily know exactly what you were feeling, even before your deal. They flicker down to your hands, crusted over with blood.
“It’s not like you to hide away when something bothers you,” he states, shifting his weight to his other foot as he crosses his arms. He’s right, too; for a while now, if something - anything - bugged you, he was the first to know, usually seconds after it started grating on your nerves. Still, you don’t say anything.
Sylus sighs. You’re nothing if not stubbornly persistent. He holds a hand out, motioning toward your own.
You think about obeying. Ever since Little Miss appeared, you haven’t really touched him. It was of your own volition - a sacrifice to pull yourself away and watch from afar - but you can’t deny how much you miss it.
His frown deepens when you stay exactly where you are. “So it’s something I’ve done.” Your face remains set and unemotive. His hand returns to its crossed position, finger tapping against his leather jacket. “Something so terrible you’d rather hide away from me.”
He looks you up and down, studying every small tell he can find, any twitch or involuntary muscle spasm. He doesn’t find any. Another frustrating skill of yours. The only thing he can latch onto is the state of your hands. He’s not used to seeing your own blood staining your knuckles. If you used your bare hands at all, the only blood you’d be covered in when all was said and done was that of your prey.
“And enough to harm yourself.”
He meets your eyes again. It almost feels familiar. That intense insistence on knowing you, on wanting to know every single thing about you even if it takes eons. But now it’s not out of an innate desire to unravel the secrets you wrap yourself in. It’s prying. It’s grabbing bolt cutters and breaking away each chain link one by one.
He takes a slow step forward, testing the waters.
You don’t move.
He takes another, dropping his arms to his side.
You study him in return. He’s tense. You see it in the set of his shoulders.
He’s five feet away when Mephisto appears in a whirl of smoke on your shoulder. He caws twice before projecting a video on a little holographic screen.
Little Miss Hunter, searching for the brooch. Yesterday, Mephisto had snuck it off Sylus’s body and brought it to you. You’d had a brief moment of fun teasing Little Miss with it, silently taunting her as you twirled it lazily between your fingers while she threatened you. You have no doubt after hiding it that it found its way back to Sylus.
You watch his face as he watches the screen. The intensity leaves his eyes, replaced with the calculating stare of a businessman in his trade. He watches her frustratedly try to break the lock on a cabinet, determined to check behind every item on display to make absolutely sure the brooch isn’t hiding behind them. When she turns to the bookshelf in a huff, she pauses. Sylus’s eyes narrow a fraction. She runs over to the shelf and starts emptying it out book by book, fanning through pages for any sign of a secret compartment to hide something inside. There was one book of such a nature; you’d hid the brooch inside of it, just to see if she would be hell-bent enough to search through every single one.
He looks away from the projected images, eyes softer than before. He’s figured you out, you’re sure of it.
“Search me,” he says. It’s not a demand, it’s an offer. Your expression falters for a millisecond, but he catches it. Of course he catches it. He opens his arms, inviting you in. Mephisto’s video feed disappears from view as he flies up to sit on the broken punching bag. “Find the brooch.”
You glance him up and down. There are plenty of places for something that small to hide.
Hesitantly, you step forward. His eyes follow you, but he remains still. This close, you refuse to look at his face. You haven’t been near enough to feel his radiating heat like this in so long…
You feel his sides first. The pockets of his leather jacket, both inside and out, are empty. There’s nothing concealed in his waistband. You don’t look at his face as you reach up to feel along his collar and lapels.
You pat along the length of both his arms. Aside from muscle, you find nothing. You reach into his pants pockets, but the only thing you pull out is his phone. You slip it back in before feeling down the long length of his legs. You pull up the bottom hem of his pants and check the top of his socks that peek out of his shoes, but there’s still nothing there.
You stand up, hands falling back to your sides. You meet his eyes. He doesn’t have the brooch.
Mephisto caws again. You turn to look over your shoulder. Little Miss Hunter, surrounded by a pile of books, triumphantly holds up the red-jeweled brooch, dropping the book you hid it in into the mess. Gentle fingers glide along your jaw to turn your face back to him.
Sylus looks at you in a way you never thought you’d see again. He’s leaned down to reduce the strain on his neck and be closer to you, but there’s still about a foot of distance between you. Even the way he touches you is reserved, like he’s waiting for you to pull away or punch him.
“I’m sorry.”
Your breath hitches. He… apologized? Of all the things he could have said, you never expected that.
“Whatever binds me to her,” he whispers, “it holds nothing to you. I should have made that clear much sooner.”
“What binds you to her?” Your voice is raspy from disuse. His shoulders relax, just so relieved that you’re speaking to him again.
He shakes his head slightly. “A past I should have buried a long time ago.”
It’s vague, he knows it. You wish he would tell you more, tell you exactly what happened that has him so inextricably connected to Little Miss Hunter. But he never pried into your own past, for better or worse. Maybe you both need them to die, buried at least 12 feet under and covered with a block of cement.
You lift your hand to trace his cheek. He sighs, leaning into the touch. Your fingers are rough and cracked, blood drying on your knuckles. The copper twang is hard to miss. He turns his head to kiss your palm, eyes closing in reverence. You fully cup his cheek and draw him in, kissing him softly at first.
Your lips tremble with overwhelming emotion. The anger that burns in your heart is slowly snuffed out by the soothing balm of his quiet sigh, a hushed whisper of your real name, not your moniker. You wonder for the first time since this began if he felt the same loss you did when you began distancing yourself from him. When you went back to your old room instead of sleeping in his bed, if he looked so tired the next night because he couldn’t sleep at all without you there beside him.
You get your answer in the way he desperately pulls you into kiss after kiss, burning with passion and trying to catch up for the time lost. In the way his hands hold your face, tangling with the hairs at the back of your neck as he keeps you close. In the way he sighs and gasps so longingly, savoring everything you give him.
He feels how much you missed him in much the same way. In the way you step closer until your bodies are pressed together. In the way you grab onto his jacket’s lapel. In the way you dig your bloody fingers in his white hair.
You’re both panting when he finally pulls away, breaths mixing in the centimeters between your faces as he refuses to move back any farther, forehead resting insistently against yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment, basking together in the quiet aftermath of the storm.
His hand is warm and gentle when he pulls yours from his hair. He turns it over to press featherlight kisses along your busted up knuckles. “Let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hm?” His eyes are half-lidded with affection when he looks at you. “The auction is tomorrow night. I need to show everyone just who I belong to.”
Your heart skips in your chest as you draw him in again by his leather jacket, biting down sharply on his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, but groans with want when you pull away. His eyes are drawn to his blood on your lips. “I’ll make sure they never forget.”
---
Tag List:
@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021
#fanfic#fanfiction#sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads#lads x reader#lnds#lnds x reader#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#angst#hurt/comfort
615 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could we perhaps get a blurb/chapter of when Eliza was born - maybe Eddie thinking back that this is so different than how Brittany was, when Y/N got into labor, where they were and how they reacted?
+ could you write about Eliza being born? I would love to see their reactions and eddie helping reader out plss
+ Please, let us in on the labor with Eddie and Reader from "As you wish". Did Y/N curse Eddie out, threatening to kick his ass or did Eddie do a prince Harry (God I hope not) and use all the gas?
I thought this would be a good chance to tell the story of two births of two very important Munsons, ten years apart 💕
Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, Brittany, not a warning but the italic sections are flashbacks/in the past
Words: 7.5k
[As You Wish masterlist]
The blaring wail of Eddie’s alarm clock wakes you up from your night of fitful sleep. It’s hard to remember the last time you had a full peaceful eight hours. The soreness in your lower back and the increasing pressure in your pelvis have been your loyal companions for the past few weeks, determined on not letting you have a moment of comfort.
Next to you, Eddie smacks his hand against the clock. The whining stops and the bed shifts as Eddie rolls over and presses a kiss to your cheek.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
Your answering groan makes your husband let out a soft chuckle as he pushes himself up into a seated position. Figuring it’ll be better to get up than continue to lay there so uncomfortably, you roll onto your side and shove yourself up until you’re sitting. A look down at your feet reveals that your ankles are swollen. Again.
“Know what today is?” Eddie asks as he opens his underwear drawer.
“Uh huh,” you hum. The mattress springs squeak as you stand up.
“Think she’ll make her grand entrance today?” he asks.
“Doubt it,” you say through a yawn. “Babies are never born on their due date.”
Eddie strips off his shirt and comes around the bed to give you a proper good morning kiss.
“How you feeling, baby?”
“Peachy,” you grunt. “Gonna go get the boys up.”
Luckily, neither Ryan nor Luke gives you any trouble waking up or getting ready for school. They know how you’ve been feeling lately and have been great about helping you out when they can.
“Bye!” Ryan says as he slips his backpack on.
“Have a good day,” Eddie says, ruffling both boys’ hair.
You press a kiss to the top of their heads and Luke rubs a hand across your swollen belly.
“Be good in there, Eliza!”
A smile grows on your face at his words. They head out the door to the bus stop, Ryan giving you one last wave before you close the door.
“Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Eddie says. He walks over and cups your face in his warm hands. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” you assure him.
He nods and presses a sweet kiss against your lips.
“Relax and get some rest.”
“Okay.” You give him another kiss in return. “Have a good day at work.”
“Love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.”
Not even two minutes after Eddie walks out the door, you plop down in front of the television with the remote. The only thing on at this time of day are soap operas, which have started to become an addiction of yours since there’s nothing else for you to do.
Fortunately, one of today’s plotlines is so boring and you predicted the identical twin brother twist a week ago, so you manage to fall asleep. It’s only a cat nap, but you’ll take anything you can get these days.
A different kind of discomfort awakens you this time. Your stomach growls so loudly it feels like it rattles the windows. You rally the strength to get up from the couch, and with a little help from the arms and back of it, you’re standing.
An infomercial for some Chuck Norris Total Gym blathers on as background noise as you walk–or more like waddle–into the kitchen. A peanut butter and banana sandwich has been a go-to for you during this pregnancy—after Luke happily introduced it to you one day over the summer. There’s something about the rich nuttiness and the sweetness of the fruit together between two pieces of bread that makes Eliza very happy in your womb.
Once you’ve got peanut butter spread on both slices of bread, you move to grab a banana from the fruit bowl. The moment your hand touches the yellow peel, you feel a twinge of pain shoot from your lower back, through your tummy, and down into your pelvis. Your hand braces you against the counter as you breathe through the pain.
What the hell was that? You think to yourself. That fucking hurt.
You take a deep breath and grab the banana. As you turn back to your sandwich and peel open the piece of fruit, it hits you.
Were those…contractions? No, you tell yourself, shaking your head. It had to be something else.
“No one ever actually has their baby on the due date,” you say into the quiet kitchen. “Maybe I have to pee again. I swear, this little girl thinks my bladder is a trampoline.”
Once you’re finished up in the bathroom, you head back to finish making your sandwich. But the minute you pick up the butter knife, another stab of pain attacks.
“Oh boy,” you say, one hand dropping the knife and going to your lower back, while the other rests on your bump. “You’re ready to come out, aren’t you? You heard that doctor say ‘October 7th’ and you made a note on a calendar, huh?”
The mental image of the baby in your belly marking the date off on a calendar makes you smile as you waddle over to the phone hanging on the wall. The line rings twice before someone picks up.
“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Mark speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Mark.” You breathe through another twinge of pain. “Is Eddie there?”
“Yeah, let me go grab him for you,” Mark says.
“Thanks.”
It feels like an eternity as you hear the phone being put down, shuffling noises in the background, then low murmuring voices, until finally the phone is being moved again and you finally hear your husband’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” you say. “I, um, think I’m having contractions.”
“You are?”
It’s hard to tell if that’s excitement or urgency in his voice. Probably both.
“Yeah, the first one I just waved off as a fluke. But they’ve happened a couple of times now.”
“Alright, I’m on my way home, princess,” Eddie says, and you can already hear him moving around, starting the process. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you assure him. “They’re quick and not too close together yet. I’ll start counting when I feel the next one.”
“Good.” The sound of his keys jingling comes through the phone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.”
A hint of giddiness is already creeping into his tone. He’s wanted a baby girl for so long, and she’s finally ready to make her appearance. You make a mental note to think of Eddie’s excitement anytime a contraction overwhelms you. Of course, you have your own excitement, and lots of it, but seeing Eddie be so truly happy is one thing that could get you through all the pain in the world.
Eddie unsheathes his sword as the azure dragon flies overhead. Too far for him to even reach if he threw his sword. The blood red skies cast a purple shadow on the giant winged creature. But Eddie’s almost there. He can see the tower in the distance, normally not a rough journey, but there’s bound to be something guarding the locked-away maiden.
As he gets closer, Eddie sees that it’s a female Cloud Giant tasked with keeping people like him away. Only the most noble who dare to help the poor young thing locked away.
Eddie picks up speed, his sword at the ready as he approaches the giant, then—bam! Something lands against Eddie’s cheek. He looks up, seeing if the dragon perhaps swooped down to swipe the knight with his tail. But the skies are clear. So, Eddie continues forward. Bam! What the hell is—
Eddie is jolted back into consciousness by his own pillow smacking his face.
“What the…” Eddie grumbles in a scratchy, sleepy voice. “What’s going on?
He rubs his bleary eyes and sees that Brittany is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him.
“Britt?”
Eddie stumbles to his feet and clicks on his bedside lamp before walking around the bed to check on his wife. The first thing he notices is that the crotch of her nightgown and the sheets below her are wet.
Wow, this baby must really be messing with her bladder if—wait.
“Your water broke?” Eddie's voice suddenly has no trace of sleepiness in it.
“Yeah.”
Brittany isn’t looking at him. Instead, she looks down at her hands resting on her large bump.
“Come on, let’s get you changed,” Eddie says, gently slipping his hand beneath one of her arms so he can help her up.
Brittany groans once she’s on her feet and Eddie hurriedly turns towards their dresser and digs for something she can change into.
“Contractions?” Eddie asks as he grabs a pair of sweatpants.
“Mhmm.”
“It’s okay,” he assures her.
Eddie quickly helps Brittany into her clothes and grabs her already prepared overnight bag from the closet. He slowly leads his wife into the living room so she can rest on the couch while he grabs Ryan.
The twenty-two-month-old is sleeping soundly in his crib. Eddie hates to disturb him, but the ball is already in motion.
“Wha?” Ryan croaks as Eddie scoops him up and holds him against his chest.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he tells his son. “Go back to sleep.”
Ryan thunks his head down on Eddie’s shoulder and immediately begins lightly snoring.
The soft whistle in his ear makes Eddie smile as he steps into the kitchen to use the nearest phone. He quickly dials a number he knows by heart and waits for someone to pick up at the plant.
“Yeah, hi, is Wayne there? Yeah, Munson,” Eddie says into the receiver. He hikes Ryan up a little higher on his chest while he waits for the phone to get passed.
“Hello?”
Eddie’s never been happier to hear that gruff voice.
“Hey! It’s, uh, me. So, Brittany’s water broke and Ryan needs—”
“I’ll punch out right now and meet ya at the trailer.”
God, Eddie loves his uncle.
“Okay, see you there.”
Eddie heads back into the living room and helps Brittany up with one hand while the other keeps a good hold on Ryan. Somehow, Eddie manages to get them both in the car, all buckled and ready to go.
“Whew.” Eddie takes a deep breath in the driver’s seat. He takes one more before he starts the car. “Here we go.”
The moment Eddie walks through the front door, he makes sure you’re sitting down and comfortable. Sitting down? Yes. Comfortable? Not so much.
But you’re content with your peanut butter and banana sandwich as your husband presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Nine minutes apart,” you inform him through a mouthful of peanut butter.
Eddie chuckles at the muffled words.
“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, then call Wayne so he can be here for when the boys get home.”
You nod and take another bite of your sandwich.
Eddie comes back just as another contraction is starting. You set your plate down on the couch to your right and Eddie takes a seat on the other side of you. One of your hands braces you against the cushion you’re sitting on, and Eddie slips his hand into your free one.
“Just squeeze my hand, okay? And breathe.”
The pulsating wracks your body as you focus on taking in a large lungful of air. You hold it for a few seconds, counting time by the number of gentle squeezes you give Eddie’s hand, then let it out.
“Ugh,” you groan when the pain releases you. You flop back on the couch, tipping your chin up as you try and catch your breath. “That was the longest one so far.”
“We’ll start timing that too,” Eddie says.
He presses a kiss to your cheek before pressing a few to the back of your hands. His hands stall when you let out a deep sigh.
“Do you not want me to be touching you? What do you need?” There’s a shake in his voice that angers you, because you know exactly why and who made him unsure of how to comfort a woman in labor.
“Yes, I want you to touch me,” you say, grabbing his hand in both of yours. “Your touch calms me.”
It doesn’t escape your notice that his shoulders sag in relief before he wraps an arm around your shoulders.
“Just let me know what you want me to do,” he says.
“This,” you reply, leaning into his arms. Your eyes slip closed as you snuggle up to the warmth of his body. “Want you.”
“I’m not leaving your side, princess,” he assures you. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
You nod against his neck and Eddie swipes up the remote. He flips through the channels, but it’s the middle of a Tuesday, so there’s not a whole lot on.
“I can grab a tape or a DVD?” your husband offers.
You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.
“Don’t want you to move. Whatever you find is fine.”
“Alright, well…I guess we’ll watch The Scarlet Pimpernel.”
Eddie feels your chuckle rumble against his chest.
“That’s fine,” you say.
It’s only seconds before another contraction starts, and Eddie can tell by the way your fingertips dig into him. This one lasts about as long as the previous one, and you’re able to get semi-comfortable against your husband again.
The house is quiet, the two of you on the couch, watching a movie that neither of you have any real interest in. The low volume only makes the loud pop that echoes through the room even more pronounced.
“My water just…”
“Yes, it did.”
A heavy pause hangs in the air as the two of you stare at one another. It’s obvious you have to get up and get going now, but the realization that this is really happening is sinking in for you both.
“Holy shit,” you breathe out in a whisper.
This breaks Eddie out of his trance. He starts to laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Here we go, sweetheart.”
He helps you up off the couch and into your room so you can change clothes. With your husband's help, you slip into a dry pair of sweatpants, an oversized Ghostbusters t-shirt Luke got you when you complained that there were no comfy maternity shirts, and one of Eddie’s hoodies on top of it—even though you can’t zip it up. Your old college backpack has been filled with supplies for weeks, all in preparation for this moment. Eddie slides onto one of his shoulders and walks with you to the front door.
Just as the two of you step into the living room, the door opens. Wayne steps inside and it takes four seconds for his eyes to go from you to Eddie, to the bag hanging on his shoulder, then back to you.
“Thank God you’re here,” you sigh in relief.
If for some reason he hadn’t arrived here before the boys got home, you knew they’d be okay for a while, but you’ll be able to relax more knowing that their grandpa is here with them.
“Heading out to the hospital?” Wayne asks.
“Yeah,” Eddie answers with a nod. “Her water broke.”
A smile graces the older man’s features, and it softens him.
“You got this, darlin’,” he says as he opens the front door wide enough for you and Eddie to get through.
You shoot him a grateful smile as you step outside.
“We’ll call when we have any update,” Eddie tells his uncle.
Wayne just nods and pats Eddie on the back as he passes. The two of you walk to your car together and Wayne watches from the entryway, not wanting to go inside yet in case he can help in any way.
Once you’re securely in the car, Eddie waves to Wayne before slipping into the driver’s seat. As he adjusts the rearview mirror, his eyes catch on the car seat that’s been installed for the past two weeks. It brings a smile to his face as he starts the engine.
“Let’s have us a baby,” Eddie says as he shifts the car into reverse.
As soon as you arrive at the hospital, it’s very quick work when Eddie alerts them you’re in labor. You’re brought right to a room and hooked up to lines and so many wires you’re not even sure what they’re all for.
Your doctor shows up not too long after you’re settled into your bed and says you’re not quite ready to push yet. Your contractions are getting closer together, but they’re not quite at the active labor phase yet.
Now after being hurried up to this room and all set up to go, there’s nothing to do. The flurry of activity kept your mind off the pain that was creeping up in intensity each time it snuck up on you. But now that there’s nothing to occupy your mind, it feels like it’s all that fills your head.
“Do you want some pain meds, baby?” Eddie asks, slipping his hand into yours.
He must’ve noticed the way you were gritting your teeth hard enough to wear them down to nubs.
“I can have some?” you ask.
“Sure, sweetheart. Let me go get the nurse.”
Eddie is right and the nurse is able to administer some medicine that allows you to relax a little. It takes enough of the edge off that you’re able to focus on and appreciate Eddie’s attempts to distract you from the pain and boredom.
Your husband had prepared ahead of time and had slipped his battered and well-loved copy of The Two Towers into your overnight bag. He now brings the story to life for you, reading with such passion, and doing different funny voices for the different characters.
“‘Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours,’” Eddie reads to you. “‘But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’”
Then it’s time for the doctor to check how dilated you are and the timing of your contractions. It’s still not time, she tells you with a sympathetic smile before heading out to attend to other patients.
Now, Eddie finds a pile of old magazines and newspapers strewn about a small table in the corner. He picks up an outdated print of the Washington Post at random, sits in the chair he’s positioned near your head, and begins to read a news article in an over-the-top news anchor voice.
“The first musical number epitomized the kind of commercialized outrageousness that MTV has perfected in recent years. It featured Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, decked out in white wedding ensembles in a homage to Madonna, who famously wore a wedding dress on MTV's first Video Music Awards broadcast in 1984, when she performed ‘Like a Virgin.’ Madonna appeared dressed as a groom, and the number, which also briefly featured Missy Elliott, provided the evening's first gyrating rumps, as well as a truly yechy moment: The sight of oversexed old Madonna tongue-kissing oversexed young Spears. It didn't seem outrageous or sultry; it smacked of desperation.”
“Such outrage,” you joke with a shake of your head.
“Kids today,” Eddie says with an over dramatic sigh. “All their music is just noise.”
You giggle and reach for his hand. He gladly takes it and laces his fingers with yours.
“How are you feeling, princess?”
“I’m good,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “My wonderful, loving husband is doing a great job of keeping me entertained.”
A smile that can only be described as adoring grows on Eddie’s face. He leans forward and presses kisses to your knuckles.
“Anything for you.”
By the time the hospital staff gets Brittany up to her room and hooked up to all the equipment, the doctor says it’s not long before she can start pushing. Which also means that there’s no time to give her any drugs—no matter how much she begs.
“Ugh! This sucks,” Brittany complains once it’s just her and Eddie in the room.
“I know,” Eddie says.
“Do you?” she snaps back.
“I mean, I…” Eddie stutters over his words. “I was there when Ryan was born. I know the pain you were in then.”
“At least they were able to give me something for pain then. Now I can’t even get a fucking Tylenol.”
“Do you want to talk about something to keep your mind off it?” Eddie offers. He scoots his chair up to the edge of the bed and rests a hand on Brittany’s blanket-covered thigh.
“Fine,” the blonde grunts out. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Um…what about middle names? We haven’t decided yet.”
“Didn’t we?” Brittany sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“No,” Eddie replies. “Just first names. Luke for boy, Lucy for girl.”
“Fine. So, Ryan’s middle name is after your uncle because you just had to do that,” Brittany rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “What about from my family?”
“What names do you like?” Eddie says between clenched teeth. She's having my baby, she’s having my baby, she’s having my baby, he reminds himself over and over again.
“Anatoly,” Brittany says. “For a boy.”
“Luke Anatoly Munson.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at how the name sounds out loud. “I don’t think that goes.”
“Fine.” Brittany’s silent for a moment as she considers other names. “Andrei?”
Eddie internally sighs. He’s always thought it was cool that much of Brittany’s family emigrated from Russia, but the land’s native names don’t flow well with “Luke Munson.”
“Aleksandr,” Brittany suggests, pulling Eddie out of his own head.
“Huh.”
Eddie leans back in his chair, letting the name roll around his brain. It's a good one, he thinks. But…
“Should we use the American spelling?” Eddie asks.
“Why, so he can be named after your dad?” Brittany bites out.
The room is silent as Eddie furrows his brow. He shakes his head in confusion as a nurse steps in to check on the monitors Brittany is hooked up to.
“That’s not…Britt, that isn’t my dad’s name.”
“What?” Brittany stares at her husband as if he has three heads. “Of course it is.”
“People called him ‘Al’, yeah,” Eddie starts. “But his full name is Alan. Not Alexander.”
“Oh.” Brittany waves a hand dismissively as if not knowing her husband’s dad’s name after years together is nothing—a common mistake, even.
Eddie shakes his head, shoving the irritation to the back of his mind for the time being. There will be plenty of time later to be annoyed by Brittany’s ignorance and apathy. After the baby is born.
The tension grows in his neck, so Eddie rolls his shoulders and leans back in his chair.
“So, Luke Alexander Munson for a boy?” Eddie checks.
“Sure,” Brittany says as another contraction washes over her. The way her eyes squeeze shut so tightly and her teeth clench with a vengeance pangs Eddie’s heart.
“And for a girl,” Brittany grits out, obviously trying to talk through the pain in an attempt to ignore it, “Lucy Alexandra Munson.”
“That’s pretty.”
Eddie goes to take his wife’s hand as her body relaxes from the fading contraction. But Brittany snatches her hand back.
“Please, just don’t…touch me.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
Eddie barely has time to feel the sting of rejection before the doctor is back in the room to check on Brittany’s progress.
“Good news,” the doctor announces. “You’re dilated enough. It’s time to start pushing.”
“Oh boy,” Brittany mutters, trying to garner strength from her exhausted body.
The room is a flurry of activity as nurses prepare everything the doctor might need.
Eddie stands and goes to reach for his wife’s hand before remembering she doesn’t want to be touched. But as another contraction wracks her body, Brittany reaches up and grabs his hand. It brings a small smile to Eddie’s lips, despite how hard she’s gripping it because of her pain.
“Alright, Brittany,” the doctor says as he gets into position at the end of the bed, “we’re going to try pushing now.”
“We?” Brittany barks out in a strained and breathless laugh.
“Well, mostly you,” the doctor teases as a nurse goes to stand on Brittany’s other side, opposite of Eddie.
“Alright, honey,” the nurse says, putting one hand on Brittany’s shoulder. “Push when the doctor counts to three.”
“One, two…”
He doesn’t even get to three before Brittany starts squeezing the life out of Eddie’s hand. Eddie just clenches his teeth and takes it though, willing to soak up any pain that he can from his wife.
“Jesus, fuck!” Brittany shouts through her pushing. Her face is already sweaty, matting hair to her forehead. Eddie’s quick to brush it away with his free hand.
“You’re doing so good, Britt,” Eddie encourages. “You’ve got this.”
Brittany nods, either in acknowledgment of his words or just because she wants him to shut up.
“Almost there, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says.
Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. When Ryan was born, they were at it for a while before he decided to make his grand entrance into the world. People had told him that second babies tend to come out quicker, but Eddie didn’t know this one was practically banging down the door to get out.
“This one’s got some mettle,” Eddie says.
“Just like Dad,” Brittany grits out and it takes Eddie a second to get her joke.
Mettle, metal? He got it.
Eddie huffs a laugh, honestly impressed by her ability to come up with a joke while she’s trying to pass a human being through her body.
“Okay, now just one more biiig push,” the doctor says.
“Come on, hun,” Eddie cheers, bracing his hand against Brittany’s as she channels everything in her to push.
“Almost there, almost there…” the doctor repeats.
Suddenly the shrill sound of an infant wailing fills the small room. It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard.
“It’s a boy,” the doctor announces, holding the newborn up enough for the parents to see.
Brittany drops Eddie’s hand out of pure exhaustion, but there’s a smile on her face as she drops back against the pillows. The baby is handed to a nurse for initial cleanup.
“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie says softly to Brittany.
She tilts her head up and gives him a sleepy smile.
The softness in her gaze has Eddie leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Surprisingly, she kisses him back.
“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” the doctor asks.
“Yes,” Eddie responds before the doctor can even finish the question.
He walks down to the foot of the bed and takes the pair of scissors to the umbilical cord, snipping it in two. Eddie hands the scissors back blindly, as his eyes never leave his newborn son. No detail escapes his notice as he watches a nurse gently take him and lay him on Brittany’s chest.
“Oh, hi,” Brittany says, one hand covering the entirety of his little back.
Eddie comes back up to the head of the bed and beams down at his wife and baby. Brittany glances up at him, then back down.
“Look at this beautiful boy,” Eddie coos.
Brittany chuckles and Eddie leans down to kiss her head, then the newborn’s.
“Beautiful little Luke,” Brittany says.
A nurse takes him back to fully clean him up and swaddle him in a soft white blanket.
“You want to hold him?” the nurse asks Eddie.
“Yes.” Eddie nods emphatically and holds out his arms.
The moment the gentle weight lands in his arms, Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.
“Hi, my boy.”
“To place a call outside of the hospital, please press nine.”
Eddie does as the automated voice tells him and leans back in his chair. You let your head loll to the side, the scratchy pillow brushing against your cheek as you watch your husband. This brief respite from contractions allows you to smile when you hear the echo of Ryan’s voice come from the phone.
“Hey, you,” Eddie says, grinning as well. “How was school?”
“Good! Isthebabyhereyet?”
His eagerness makes Eddie chuckle.
“No, no baby yet. Just figured I’d check in with you guys.”
“What he say?!” Luke shouts in the background.
“No baby!” Ryan tells him.
The phone shuffles back and forth before Luke says, “Just share it!”
“Uh, you both there?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah!” they say at the same time.
“Did you ask—”
“Not yet, I—”
Eddie tilts his head to the side as they bicker. He somehow deciphers that they want to talk to you.
“You can talk to her if you hush up and behave.”
Both boys fall silent at that. There’s a small pause before Ryan says, “Okay.”
“Good.” Eddie nods and hands the phone over to you.
“Hello?”
“Hi!” two young voices call at the same time.
“How do you feel?” Ryan asks.
As if his question summoned it, a contraction rears its ugly head. Your forehead furrows as you try to ignore it and focus on the conversation with the boys.
“I’m doing okay.”
“Do you hurt?” Luke asks.
Your free hand bangs against the bed rail in an attempt to keep from shouting in pain. Eddie sits up straighter in his chair, concern filling his eyes. He motions to the phone, silently asking if you want him to take it back.
“Little bit,” you grit out to answer Luke while shaking your head to answer Eddie.
“Did they give you any medicine?” Ryan asks.
“Yeah, a while ago. So, uh, what did you guys do at school today?”
“Nothing really,” Luke says. “Oh, you and Dad have to come down to the school and get the meat thermometer.”
“The what?” you ask.
“The meat thermometer.”
“Luke, what are you talking about?”
Eddie looks at you, questioningly, and you shrug your shoulders.
“Me and my friend Kevin wanted to test the temperature of the cafeteria hot dogs, so I brought the meat thermometer. But then we got caught and the lunch lady took it. So now you need to get it.”
“You did what?” You hear Wayne’s muffled shout.
“We wanted to make sure it was safe!” Luke defends.
The contraction finally releases you and you’re able to relax as much as you can in the lumpy hospital bed.
“What about you, Ry?” you ask.
“I didn’t care how hot the meat was,” he says, completely serious.
You laugh and it helps your body wash away that lingering whisper of pain.
“No,” you say. “What did you do at school today?”
“We have to write papers for history class, and we started today.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the paper on?” you ask, trying to think of anything except the next contraction.
“Everyone got assigned some kind of job we have to study. I got dentist.”
“And what did you learn today?” As much as Luke’s shenanigans can keep you entertained, they can also stress you out. But Ryan loves to go into detail about what he’s working on at school and this shall hopefully provide you with a relaxing distraction.
“Uhh…” Ryan hums as he thinks. “The first dental school in America was founded by Horace H. Hayden and Chaplin A. Harris.”
“When?” you press.
“1840. In Maryland, in case you were gonna ask!”
It’s impossible not to smile at how well the boy knows you.
“Good job, Ry,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”
The beginnings of a new contraction appear, and your fingers tighten around the phone receiver. You spy your doctor out in the hallway and use it as an excuse.
“Alright, boys,” you start, “my doctor is coming so I gotta go, okay? Daddy will call when there’s an update.”
“Okay,” Ryan says.
“Love you!” Luke adds.
“I love you both, too.
Eddie hangs up the phone for you just as your doctor actually does walk into your room.
“How are we feeling Mrs. Munson?” she asks you.
You’ve been “Mrs. Munson” for eight months now but it still gives you butterflies every time you hear it.
“Contraction-y,” you tell Dr. Hahn.
She chuckles and nods her head in understanding.
“That makes sense, you know, with the contractions and all.” She tugs two medical gloves out of the box marked “medium”. “Alright, I’m just gonna check how your dilation is going.”
As you lay back to let the doctor do her thing, Eddie leans forward and raises an eyebrow at you.
“Should I be concerned about whatever it is that Luke did now?” he asks.
“I think it’s okay,” you say with a chuckle. “Apparently, you just have to go to school to pick up a meat thermometer he brought to check the temperature of the school hot dogs.”
Eddie stares at you, his face almost as blank and emotionless as you’ve ever seen it. You can practically see his brain attempting to digest this information, but it thinks it’s reading the data incorrectly.
“He what?” Eddie finally asks.
Luckily, Dr. Hahn saves you from admitting you have no idea what goes on in the mind of Luke Munson.
“Well, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says, “the time has arrived. You’re fully dilated now; time to start pushing.”
You’ve known all along that you’d have to do this—hell, you’ve known it for about eight months now—but the reality of actually pushing a person out of your body is sobering. How did this moment finally arrive? Weren’t you and Eddie just sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test? And now you’re supposed to start pushing? You feel as if you’ve had no time to prepare. Prepare for this labor, prepare for taking the baby home, prepare to be a fully-fledged mom to a newborn.
A moment of serenity washes over you as your mind reminds you of one important factor, though: this is your and Eddie’s baby. You are bringing a child into this world that is half you and half the man you love. A baby who is the product of the love that you both easily fell into and fought like hell to make work. Suddenly, labor doesn’t seem so bad. It may hurt, but to you it is a privilege and honor to bring this little girl, and everything she stands for, into the world.
“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” you assure him with a small smile. “I’m ready to meet our baby.”
The infectious grin that spreads on Eddie’s face warms your heart and gives you a boost of strength to get this show on the road.
Eddie stands up as Dr. Hahn gets everything situated. He slips his hand into yours and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.
“I’m right here with you, princess,” he says softly. “You’re the strongest woman—no, person I know.”
His words have your eyes filling with tears and the hormones certainly aren’t helping.
“I love you so much, Eddie.”
“I love you, too.”
“Oh, here comes another contraction,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitors that you’re hooked up to. “We’re gonna try pushing on this one, Mrs. Munson, okay?”
“Okay.”
The wobble in your voice is clear. Eddie presses a kiss to the back of your hand. Just as his lips brush your skin, you feel the now-familiar pressure that precedes a contraction.
“Oof,” you groan as the intensity increases.
“Alright, now…push,” Dr. Hahn instructs.
You take the deepest breath that your pain will allow, grit your teeth, and clutch your husband’s hand as you begin to push.
“Great job, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Keep it going.”
And it does keep going. And going. And going.
But fifty-three minutes later, you hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life.
Shrill, high-pitched wails fill the room, and you immediately begin sobbing.
“Here she is,” Dr. Hahn says, holding her at an angle you can see. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”
Even covered in vernix and blood, your new daughter is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. A nurse places her on your chest, and the moment you feel that skin-to-skin contact with her, you’re done for. She already has you wrapped around her little finger.
The newborn continues her cries, escalating to a new pitch every time she gets another lungful of air. It’s as if she’s a royal, informing all her subjects of her many woes.
Eddie leans in and kisses your lips, the tears on your face mingling with the ones on his. When your husband pulls back to stare at his baby girl, his face is filled with awe and adoration.
“She’s here,” he whispers to no one in particular.
“Do you want to cut the cord, Mr. Munson?” Dr. Hahn asks.
Eddie reaches for the scissors a nurse is holding out to him and he has them in his hand before you could say “Ryan and Luke’s new baby sister.”
This is Eddie’s third time doing this, so he knows right where to line the scissors up even before Dr. Hahn instructs him. Eddie severs the cord and a nurse takes the baby so she can have a proper cleaning.
Neither your nor Eddie’s eyes leave the newborn as she’s swaddled up in a nice warm blanket.
“Do we have a name yet?” The nurse asks as she slides a pink hat onto the tiny baby’s head.
“Eliza,” you say proudly. Tears fill your eyes at the sound of her name out loud. Out loud now that she’s here. This precious little bean that’s been growing inside of you for so long is finally here, a real little person you get to hold and love on.
“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says, the same emotions that you’re going through reflecting in his voice.
“Well, Dad,” the nurse says as she picks up Eliza and turns towards Eddie. “Would you like to hold your baby girl Eliza?”
Your husband nods emphatically, reminding you of Luke when he’s asked if he wants to go to the toy store. The nurse gently transfers Eliza to her father’s arms, and you watch as his face morphs as he holds his daughter for the first time.
“H-Hi, Eliza.” Eddie sniffs and clears his throat, trying to shove the tears away. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. I can’t believe that I actually have a daughter.” Slowly, Eddie leans in to press his lips to her soft, smooth forehead. Eliza coos and her face scrunches up adorably. “You wanna know something, Eliza? You have the best mommy in the world. And now I have the two most perfect girls in the world.”
Eddie looks up at you with a gentle smile. Tears are falling down your cheeks so rapidly that it feels like you’re playing whack-a-mole as you try to wipe them all away.
Your husband stands next to the bed and nods at you, signaling for you to ready your arms for the baby. You gladly accept the warm little bundle, and more tears begin to cascade as you gaze down at her gorgeous little face.
“Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy.” Saying the words aloud sounds odd to your ears. Sure, you’ve basically been a mother to Luke and Ryan for years now, but you never introduced yourself to them as “mommy.” But that’s what you are, from Eliza’s first breath, you’re her mom for her entire life.
“You okay?” Eddie asks. He reaches down and rubs a warm hand against your shoulder.
“I’m wonderful,” you say. “It’s weird, though. Having Eliza from this very first moment of her life, I now wish even more that I could’ve known the boys as soon as they came into the world.”
Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and places a kiss to the top of your head.
“Trust me, princess. This has been the least dramatic and stressful of all the kids’ births.”
You chuckle as well, and the sound seems to tickle Eliza. Her tiny head moves from side to side slowly, as if she’s shaking her head no in slow motion.
“I can’t wait for them to meet her,” you say.
“Guess I need to make a phone call home.”
The door to the hospital room clearly needs some oil as it squeaks open. Wayne steps inside, a curious Ryan in his arms. The almost-two-year-old gazes around the room with wide eyes, taking in all the unfamiliar equipment.
“Hey, you!” Eddie says as he takes the little boy from his uncle. “Did you have a good day with Grandpa?”
“Yep,” Ryan says, still taking in his new surroundings. “Play catch.”
“You played catch?” Eddie asks, his pitch rising in that faux excitement adults use when talking to young children.
“Uh huh!”
“That sounds like fun. Guess what?”
“What?”
“You’re a big brother now,” Eddie tells him.
“Baby?” Ryan asks.
“Yes! Mommy had the baby. Do you want to meet him?”
Ryan nods enthusiastically, trying to look around his dad’s head to catch a glimpse of his mother. She comes into view as Eddie turns and walks towards the hospital bed, where Brittany is cradling a sleeping Luke.
Eddie gently sets his older son down on the bed next to his mom.
“Hi, Ryan,” Brittany says softly. “Come here, look at the baby.”
Cautiously, Ryan shuffles forward and peers at the blanket-wrapped bundle.
“This is your little brother, Ry,” Eddie says. “You guys are going to be best friends.”
“Do you want to hold him, Wayne?” Brittany asks, fighting back a yawn.
“‘Course.”
Brittany carefully hands him over, and Wayne looks down at his new grandson in absolute wonder.
“Well, aren’t you the sweetest baby?” Wayne says to Luke.
As the older man cradles the baby, Ryan stands up and taps his dad’s arm. Eddie hums in question and raises his eyebrows at the toddler.
“Up, up,” Ryan says, holding his arms up.
It melts Eddie’s heart that Ryan wants to be held up next to his new brother. The room is quiet, save for the echoes of hospital sounds drifting in.
Luke starts to squirm, unable to move much in his swaddled state.
“Britt?” Eddie looks over his shoulder at his wife. “Do you have the pacifier?”
“Oh, yeah.” The blue pacifier that Luke has already shown an affinity for is on the bedside table, and Brittany hands it to her husband, who pops it into the baby’s mouth. Immediately, Luke calms back down, sucking furiously as he slips back into sleep.
Ryan leans over as far as he can in his dad’s arms, peering down at his brother in awe.
“My baby,” Ryan declares.
The adults in the room chuckle.
“Can you say hi to Luke, Ryan?” Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down the elder boy’s back.
Ryan grins, his adorable baby teeth on display. He’s mesmerized by the new family member, and it fills Eddie with a warmth he’s never felt before. Ryan tries to lean over even more, wanting to be as close as possible.
“Hi, Luke!”
The comfortable quiet in the hospital room cocoons you, your husband, and your daughter as you all lounge in the bed. Your head rests on Eddie’s shoulder while Eliza sleeps soundly in his arms. Both of you are just staring at her, already completely wrapped around her little finger.
“She’s so beautiful,” you whisper.
“Just like her mom,” Eddie replies, just as quiet.
“Her mom needs a shower,” you say. “Badly. I feel all gross after getting all sweaty.”
“You still looked gorgeous, even giving birth.” Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair.
The slight movement causes Eliza to fuss, wiggling like a little worm in her father’s grip. Her whines hurt your heart.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie coos. He lays his head against yours.
Eddie begins to hum, and you quickly recognize the song as Sweet Child O’ Mine. All it takes is a minute of her dad’s soothing tone to lull the baby girl right back to sleep.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#older!eddie#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fan fic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#dad!eddie#AYW#AYWS#request
449 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 77 of human Bill Cipher being a prisoner with terrible fashion sense: beach episode!!! Well, lake episode. Close enough.
And a few other people come to town.
Just after dawn, a sleek, nondescript black government SUV, now dusty from a long drive, parked in front of the Gravity Falls Police Department. Three agents in sleek, nondescript black suits stepped out.
As they left the car, Blubs came out to meet them, Durland trailing behind him. "Agent Powers, Agent Trigger! Good to see you again." He shook Powers's hand, then glanced at the new agent. "And you are...?"
"Agent Dale!" The rookie shook Blubs's hand next, beaming. "Very pleased to meet you. I was just saying in the car—you have a beautiful town here, just beautiful."
"Wouldn't stop talking about it," Trigger muttered.
Blubs chuckled. "Why, thank you. We're quite proud of it ourselves."
Durland said, "Say, Agent Dale—don't you agents usually have tougher-sounding codenames?"
"Agent Clyde S. Dale. Like the horse."
"Ohhh. Yup, that'll do it."
"Sheriff Blubs," Powers said. "I trust you have the requested materials?"
"Right inside," Blubs said. "We've got the readings on last week's gravity anomaly from McGucket's scanners, and reports on this weekend's power surge."
"No overlap between the incidents?"
"None anyone here detected."
"Hmm. Has anything else strange happened since we were last in town?"
Blubs hesitated. "Well—never mind all that." He quickly shifted topics, "Say, I like your 'honk if you want to be arrested' bumper sticker." ("Oh is that what it says?" Durland asked.)
Agent Powers said solemnly, "I can get you the contact information of the shop where I bought it. It's a very nice small business run by art students."
"Would you? That'd be delightful."
Powers paused before following the cops and his agents into the police department, glancing out at Gravity Falls' town square—the modest little main street shops, the town hall, the statue of the town founder, the distinctive water tower with the faded muffin graffiti, and the familiar mountains surrounding the little valley town.
And then he let out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Fine," he muttered grumpily, glaring at the town as though it were an old rival as annoyed to see him as he was to see it. "Let's just get this over with."
He followed Blubs into the police department.
####
"Attention, everybody," Stan said, standing in the entryway with his fists on his hips, Soos beaming behind him. "I've got some great news!"
Abuelita and Bill glanced up from one of Abuelita's soap operas; Mabel and Dipper craned their necks to see Stan from where they were having dinner at the kitchen table.
Stan announced, "It's finally time!"
Dipper and Mabel blinked. Bill said, "Great. I'll get the ritual daggers, you can set up the blood red candles. Dolores?"
Abuelita said, "I will put out the good sacrifice altar." Bill laughed in delight.
"Yeah, yuck it up, you two," Stan said. "We're going fishing tomorrow! I've got the bait, I found everyone's rods, Soos and I patched up the old boat, I even—" He paused at the sound of the vending machine opening. "Hey! Ford!"
Ford ducked in from the gift shop. "What?"
Stan chucked a hat at him. "I made you a fishing buddy hat! See, it's got your name! That's pretty good!"
"Oh." Ford inspected the letters haphazardly stitched onto the hat. "Why?"
"Fishing tomorrow! Half the summer's gone by, and we haven't gone fishing once! The guys from the lodge probably think I'm too ashamed to show my face. But it rained this weekend, the weather's just cleared up, now's the perfect time for fishing!"
"Oh," Ford said again, trying to drag his thoughts from magical tapes to fishing. "If you'd let me know earlier, I'd have built another fish-summoning beacon like the one on our boat." (Bill glanced curiously at Ford at the mention of an invention he didn't already know about; then stubbornly refused to be interested and dragged his gaze back to the TV.)
"No beacons! This isn't fishing for survival, this is about the sport! Asserting our manhood! Just the skill, strength, and patience of three men—and some women and children—against the lake!" (Soos beamed at being included amongst the men.)
Ford considered that. He didn't assert his manhood very often; usually he just sort of let his manhood hang around minding its own business, like an old cat that wants to be in the same room as you without socializing. It sounded like an intriguingly novel experience. "Okay, great. What time?"
"I want everyone on the road tomorrow morning! By six thirty at the latest."
The kids groaned.
"C'mon, dudes," Soos said encouragingly. "It'll be fun! After about three hours, once you're awake enough to think."
"No griping, we've gotta be there early to get a prime fishing spot," Stan said. "Tomorrow's a lodge fishing day. We're going home with a haul so big they'll be embarrassed they kicked me out!"
Dipper asked, "You mean the lodge for the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, right? Why'd they kick you out?"
Stan sighed, "Once the town found out about Ford, they realized I'd spent the last thirty years attending lodge meetings under his membership. Since I'd never undergone the—" He rolled his eyes and made finger quotes, "'sacred angler initiation rites,' they booted me. And they said I can't try to join again, just because of that one dumb little white lie! And my extensive criminal record."
Ford hurriedly crossed the living room to avoid blocking Abuelita's TV view. (Bill looked through him like he wasn't there.) "Stan got a lot more out of my membership than I did—once I'd finished my initiation I probably only ever attended three meetings. I tried to petition the Mackerels to let him rejoin."
"How'd they respond?" Mabel asked.
"They kicked me out too."
Bill scoffed. "Big deal! The Fishmasons and all their subordinate organizations are just a big boring social club that got you hotel discounts three hundred years ago. The mystique around them is more interesting than anything they actually do."
"Figuring that out is why I stopped attending after three meetings," Ford said. "I joined to learn about the dark secret underbelly of Western politics—not sit around eating charcuterie and fancy nuts while everyone talks about baseball and makes fun of me for not knowing what a fly ball is. It's a stupid term! Doesn't the ball always fly?"
"Really, they aren't even worth joining," said Bill Cipher, the only person to have ever been kicked out of seventeen separate Masonic lodges in seventeen separate bodies.
Reminded of the fancy nuts he was missing out on at this very second, Stan set his jaw in determination. "Yeah, well, they're a big boring social club that'll rue the day they kicked out Stan Pines! Out the door, six thirty, on the dot!"
"I don't have an alarm," Bill said. "Hey star girl, wake me at five."
Mabel shuddered at the thought of setting an alarm that early. "No way. You can borrow my radio."
"Hold on, I didn't say you're invited," Stan said. "We've already got a full boat! Me, my brother, the kids, and Soos and his girl. Nobody wants to sit on the lake with you for eight hours."
"I wanna sit on the lake with Bill!"
"Nobody but Mabel wants that."
"Relax! I don't want to sit on a boat with you underpainted clowns either," Bill said. "I just want to sit on the beach! I miss sunlight! Sunlight without being forced to hike through half the valley on no food or sleep."
(Ford decided that was his cue to make himself scarce. He scooted into the guest room.)
"Well," Stan said, "we're not staying thirty feet from the shore, we're not leaving anybody behind, and we don't trust you to stay put on the beach without your dumb magic bracelet—so how do you expect that to work."
"I'll just stay with Dolores."
Stan and Soos stared at Abuelita. Soos said, "Abuelita? Do you want to come?"
Abuelita considered it. "Sure. The weather is nice. I can catch up on my reading."
"Yes!" Bill hopped off the couch. "Then it's a plan!"
"Hey, hold on," Stan said as Bill breezed past him, "I didn't agree to—"
"Hey star girl!" Bill leaned into the kitchen. "Need your fashion services! I need a swimsuit before tomorrow."
Mabel gasped in delight. "What kind?"
"Whatever exposes the most skin without getting me arrested. I'm absorbing as much sunlight as possible."
"With sunscreen, right?" Soos said.
Bill turned and gave him a blank-faced stare.
Soos hopefully repeated, "With sunscreen?"
"Don't need it."
"You totally do, dude. Not many people talk about this? But having more melanin doesn't totally protect you from sun damage, it just slows it down," Soos said. "Trust me on this. When I was like eight, I went to this water park—
"Uh-huh, and three days later you were peeling off flakes of your own dead flesh," Bill said. "It's cute how you think you know more about humans from 23 years of passively being one than I do from 500,000 years of actively studying them."
"Oh."
"C'mon, star girl! No time to waste!" Bill grabbed Mabel's hand and tugged her off her chair.
"Wait, my sandwich—!" Mabel grabbed the rest of her dinner off her plate and shoved it in her mouth as Bill dragged her upstairs.
Abuelita shot him a dirty look as he passed, but turned back to her soap opera.
####
Just past five in the morning, Bill crept by the guest room door. He glanced through the wall as he passed; good, both of the Stans were in bed and sound asleep. Bill wouldn't have had a chance to get up to his mischief if Ford had decided to sleep downstairs.
He snuck behind the vending machine; paused to squint toward the future and confirm that when he looked at the stairs, he could only see himself using them anytime soon; then down to the elevator; and down, down to Ford's study.
Bill sighed in relief when the elevator slid open and he saw that Ford had left his study door ajar. He crept into the room, feet socked, hands gloved—Ford was the kind of paranoid to actually check for prints if he suspected anything, and Bill's triangular whorls were very distinctive—and looked through the objects piled on the shelves and furniture for any concealed sensors or cameras. The coast was clear.
He idly scanned the nearby shelves for any sign of his stolen time tape, didn't find it, but didn't expect to. That wasn't what he was here for.
He knelt in front of a half-disassembled filing cabinet, flipped through the files in the removed bottom drawer until he found several folders together about curses and hexes, and flipped through them until he found the one labeled "Curses & Hexes (w/ ingredients)". Good old Sixer, left everything exactly where Bill remembered it.
He rifled through the pages—"aha!"—until he found the paper he was looking for and pulled it out. Handwritten at the top of a ragged-edged piece of notebook paper were the words "Reverse Sunscreen". Bill read through the list of ingredients—"Oh, pepper juice, not pepper flakes, right."—then put the paper back.
He glanced back and forth between the past and present to ensure he put the files back exactly where he'd found them—again, considering Ford's paranoia, he might notice any difference.
And then he returned to the elevator and headed upstairs.
The whole time he was in the study, Bill didn't let himself glance at the back of the room where Ford's shrine to him used to be.
####
"Heya, pal," Bill said. "It's been a while! Where have you been hiding all summer?"
Gompers blinked up at Bill.
"I guess we both look different than we did the last time we met, huh? I think your makeover went better than mine, though! You didn't fall as far as I did." He didn't have as far to fall.
Gompers accepted the backhanded compliment with utter indifference.
"But hey, why talk about the past! Let's let bygones be bygones. Here." Bill knelt, pulled one of Ford's nutrition pills from the folds of his beach towel, and held it out. "A peace offering! A little snack for you."
Gompers eyed it warily.
"Come on, you've eaten worse things than this."
He delicately ate the pill out of Bill's hand.
"Thaaat's right. Tell me how you like that thing later."
Leaning on his car, Stan—the only other person who'd actually been ready to go at 6:30—looked over Bill's shirt and trout slippers, and asked warily, "You didn't forget that humans need to wear pants, right?"
Bill got to his feet, shoved his makeshift umbrella-cane under the same arm as his beach towel, and pulled up the hem of the puma shirt he'd stolen from the gift shop to reveal his bikini bottom. It was teal with little puffy gold triangles painted on. "Cover-up dress. Your arbitrary fashion rules are different for beaches."
Stan considered whether a t-shirt counted as a dress, decided he didn't know enough about dresses and he might as well give this one to Bill, and grunted. "Fine, you're legal."
"Am I free to go, officer?"
"Never compare me to a cop again."
"Stop acting like one!" Bill trotted off to his ride to wait for the other humans to assemble.
There wasn't room for all eight beachgoers in one vehicle; the Pines piled together in Stan's car, while the Ramirezes (including Melody—honorary future Ramirez—and Bill—magic braceleted to Abuelita) took Soos's truck. So that Abuelita didn't have to squeeze past the front seats into the back, Bill and Melody were assigned the back bench; when Bill greeted Melody and she only responded with a vague mumble and an averted gaze, he scooted closer to the middle of the bench, spread his knees to take up more space, and smugly pretended not to notice how Melody squeezed herself against the door.
By the time the Ramirez vehicle parked at the beach, the Pines family was already out of their car: Stan was glaring up the beach with his fists on his hips, the kids were unsuccessfully searching Mabel's supply bag for Dipper's sunscreen, and Ford was lingering back at the car, pretending to check the contents of their tackle box but actually trying to shake the sudden memory of weightlessness and water in his throat. As Bill passed, Ford muttered, "I'm surprised you wanted to get this close to the lake so soon. Considering." It had been less than a week since their joint near death experience.
"Why not? Nearly drowning was the most fun part of that hike." (Ford wondered whether that was a red flag, an underhanded comment about how unfun the rest of the hike had been, or just Bill being Bill; and, for his own peace of mind, decided it was probably the third thing.) "Looks like you got something fun out of the trip, too." Bill snapped the shoulder strap of Ford's waders.
Ford shoved Bill's hand away. "As long as I have them, I might as well use them."
When everyone caught up with Stan, he was scowling at four men, ages ranging from 50 to 80, wearing fishing vests and hats with the Holy Mackerel's distinctive stylized fish symbol. "Eugene," Stan muttered. "Eugene and his goons wanted to kick me out of the lodge for years. Just because I have a grating personality and am generally unpleasant to be around! And tried to get the lodge to pick a local affordable housing fund as our charity for fundraising one year!"
Ford gave Stan a surprised look. "You never mentioned you worked with an affordable housing charity."
"Yeah. The Compassionate Angel's Fund For Gravity Falls Tourism Business Owners Who Are Behind On Their Mortgage Payments."
Ford snorted.
Bill said, "I think you should've gotten away with it just for being funny."
"Don't even look at them," Stan instructed the group. "These jerks aren't worth it." The collected group studiously avoided looking at the Mackerels, except Bill and Abuelita, who didn't care.
As they walked up the beach toward the pier and veered around the Mackerels, Stan suddenly stopped, turned straight toward them, and said loudly, "Why, Eugene! What a coincidence! I almost didn't notice you!"
A tall, elderly man with a fishing rod over one shoulder and a black wooden cane in his other hand glanced over at the Pines/Ramirez party. "Oh," he said, with a voice like he'd found a fly stuck in gum on his cane. "Hello, Stan-ley. We haven't seen you out on the lake this summer."
Stan laughed loudly, as if Eugene had told a hilarious joke. "Oh, that! I was just waiting for perfect fishing weather! I'm not about to waste my time out on the lake on a bad fishing day!" He gestured behind himself, "Besides, I had to wait until my whole family was free to come along."
(Soos elbowed Melody and whispered excitedly, "He called us his family!")
Stan clapped his hands proudly on Dipper and Mabel's shoulders—who looked like they hoped the sandy beach would swallow them whole—and said, "I don't see your family, Eugene, where are they?"
"Dead." With mournful dignity, Eugene said, "I outlived my wife and all three of my children. Remember? You ate potato chips during my daughter's funeral."
Stan opened his mouth, shut it, and said, "Was that the really boring one that went like an hour?"
Ford, who didn't always have the best social instincts but could tell when Stan had screwed up, started shooing the rest of the family away from the scene, elbowed Stan, and said, "Let's get to the boat. You wanted to get a prime fishing spot, right?"
Eugene looked at Ford. "Ah. You must be the real Stanford Pines?" he said. "So I'm assuming, anyway. Apparently it's hard to tell you two apart."
Stan scowled; but before he could retort, Bill pushed past him to butt into the conversation. "Is it ever! Listen, take it from someone who's made this mistake—you've got to count the fingers on these two, every time."
Eugene huffed sardonically. "So it seems." (Ford self-consciously hid his hands in his pockets and shot Bill a dark look as he shuffled off with the rest of the family.)
"Say, while I've got your attention—name's Goldie, by the way—I couldn't help but admire your cane!" He tapped the tip of his umbrella against Eugene's cane. "I'm in the market for an upgrade from this substitute I've been using! That's no blackwood, right? That looks like true ebony."
"Good eye," Eugene said, surprised. "Yes, genuine Gaboon ebony."
"Must've dropped a lot of gold on this thing," Bill said appreciatively. "You've gotta tell me where you got it."
"I'm afraid I don't remember off the top of my head..."
"That's fine! Look it up—" (he twisted around to speak over his shoulder as Stan grabbed his arm and dragged him away) "—I'm sure we'll meet again!"
About fifteen feet away, Stan growled, "What was that?"
"Networking. I've got plans for that guy," Bill said. "Hey, did you hear him? Gaboon ebony?" He laughed condescendingly. "Easiest way to make a guy look like a moron, start talking about 'true' ebonies. Didja know the word 'ebony' comes from Egyptian? And when they talked about 𓍁𓈖𓏭𓆱, they were talking about African blackwood. Wood so hard it sinks and you have to tool it like a metal! Gaboon ebony is a flimsy usurper!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"But you don't pretend you do, and that's what makes you better than that guy." Bill tugged Stan down by the shoulder. "Listen, Fisherman. I can't tell you where the fish are biting but I can tell you where they're swimming. It'll give you an advantage, but you'll need to do the rest."
Stan squinted mistrustfully at Bill. "What's the catch."
"The catch is you have to accept my help. Do you want it or not?"
"And why are you offering?"
"Because I think these lodge guys are a bunch of snobs. And they should've chosen your charity. It was funny."
That, plus Stan had been the most reluctant to let Bill live; Bill had to convince him he'd made the right choice.
Bill gave Stan directions to a bunch of fish he could see underwater by the Island Head Beast's right earhole; and then, his good deed for the day done, he headed off to claim a spot on the beach.
Ford had gone into Tate & Backle's to properly purchase the clothing they'd borrowed after the eclipse, and Soos was helping set Abuelita up with a low beach chair and a large umbrella. Bill smoothed out a patch of sand about ten feet from Abuelita so he could lay out his beach towel and dump his supplies for the day beside it. While Mabel and Melody got the boat ready, Dipper wandered around looking for sunscreen to borrow. He saw Bill's tube, snatched it without asking, and generously coated his arms, legs, and face. Bill fought back a grin and pretended not to notice.
He tossed aside his t-shirt and fish slippers, settled down on the towel in his bikini, carefully squeezed several horizontal lines of reverse sunscreen across the front of his abdomen and thighs, and drew a few vertical lines in between to break them up.
Ford trudged over from the bait shop to tell Bill, "I thought you'd like to know those ridiculous fish slippers were thirty dollars."
Bill laughed. "Whoa! Seems like a lot of money for some cheap novelty shoes! It's too bad you decided to trap me in a position where I'm too destitute and powerless to make my own purchases, isn't it?"
"All right, all right." Ford's gaze caught on the bruise-blue line discoloring the skin from Bill's left shoulder to his right hip—had he gotten injured during one of his hikes the past week? Or had that always been there? Ford didn't think he'd ever seen Bill's body shirtless, maybe it had always been here—but then he noticed Bill's lines of sunscreen and barked a laugh. "I suppose you're not planning to rub that in."
"Brilliant observation." Bill began smoothing down the lines with a finger, maintaining the pattern he'd drawn.
"You wanted to come out here to suntan? I'm sure you're already aware of the cancer risks from tanning."
"If I'm in this body long enough to get cancer, I'll welcome it." Bill lay down, laced his hands behind his head, and gave Ford an obnoxious smile. "Anyway, basal cell carcinomas are delicious. There's something kinda romantic about them, you know?"
Ford ruminated on that with thoughtful bafflement, shushed the voice in his head trying to point out that Bill was waving ever more red flags, and concluded that perhaps humans weren't meant to comprehend the romanticism of skin cancer. "Fine."
"What's everyone standing around for?" Stan asked, trudging up to Soos and Ford. "C'mon, we're burning daylight! Let's..." He trailed off, staring at Bill.
His bikini top consisted of two triangular red cups. Each cup had an enormous staring eye.
"See something ya like?" Bill asked dryly.
Stan quickly looked away. "Ugh. That's indecent."
"What is?"
"That—design!"
"What's indecent about eyeballs?"
"It looks like...!" He gestured vaguely but emphatically.
"What? What does it look like? Tell me what it looks like, Stanley."
"Never mind!" He turned away with a huff and muttered to Ford, "Can you believe him?"
"I honestly didn't notice anything until you pointed it out." Ford waved back at Bill dismissively as he followed Stan toward the boat. "Enjoy your sunburn."
"I will! I haven't had a good sunburn in centuries! That's one of the best features of earthling bodies!" Bill got comfortable and shut his eyes.
Soos finished getting Abuelita settled, headed toward the boat—but hesitated as he passed by Bill. Bill opened an eye a crack to glower up at him. "What?"
Soos mumbled, "You could've just told me you wanted to get sunburned. I mean—yesterday."
"But you didn't ask if I wanted a sunburn," Bill snapped. "You just assumed I didn't know how they work. And that's the point: you assumed I was stupid instead of considering that maybe you didn't know my plan."
"Oh. Uh... sorry." Soos rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to make you feel stupid."
Bill's irritation flared higher. He sat up. "I didn't say you made me feel stupid," he hissed, voice low, talking fast. "There's nothing that you could do to make me feel stupid. But that doesn't mean you aren't treating me like I'm stupid, does it?"
"Whoa—!" Soos raised his hands defensively. "Chill, dawg. I didn't mean—"
"What's the phrase, do ut des? 'Do unto others'? Your species's phrase. Don't treat me like I'm stupider than you and I won't have to return the favor—sound like a fair deal, Question Mark?" Bill stared up at him challengingly, brows raised.
"But th— I w— You..." Soos's protests that he'd been doing nothing but trying to do-unto-others Bill got jumbled all around under the force of Bill's spotlight glare. His shoulders slumped. "Sure," he mumbled. "Sorry."
"Good." Bill lay back down. "Get out of my sun."
Soos trudged away; and Bill took a deep breath, tried to get in a meditative mindset where he could shut off his mind, and focused on the feeling of sunshine on his body.
He'd just about managed to drop into a proper trance when Abuelita called sweetly, "Bill? Would you grab a bottle of water for me?"
His face twitched toward a frown as he was dragged back to full consciousness. Hadn't Soos left them close enough for her? Some grandson.
"Bill?"
He tried to think of an excuse to stay where he was; then growled in irritation and sat up. "Okay, okay." He couldn't afford to offend the chef with access to the poisons.
The bag with the water bottles was right behind Abuelita's elbow; but maybe her joints were stiff. Bill knelt to unzip the bag. "Another bodice ripper?" he asked, glancing at her book.
"A powerful sorceress queen has been captured by her enemies. She just learned they are led by her former apprentice."
"I can sympathize with that." Bill dragged the bag up next to Abuelita's knee so he wouldn't need to grab another bottle for her later. "Who's the love interest—guileless guard? Heroic rescuer?"
"The apprentice."
"Sympathy's gone." Bill glanced toward the boat to see what the rest of the household was up to.
They'd already reached the spot Bill had indicated and started fishing. Soos was excitedly reeling in his line; the boat listed to one side as everyone crowded around him to see what he'd brought up. Stan dipped a net in the water to scoop up his catch.
It was a boot.
Everyone's faces fell in disappointment.
Except for Ford's, who gleefully snatched up the boot he'd kicked off during the eclipse when he fell in the lake. He dumped the water out of his boot, switched places with Soos, and began fishing the same spot.
Abuelita said, "My grandson has been very nice to you."
Bill looked at her warily.
"Hasn't he?" She had a polite smile and daggers in her eyes.
He had the oddest feeling that this was going somewhere dangerous. "Yeah yeah yeah, sure he has," Bill said. "Nothing but nice. I think I'll take a little stroll, stretch these legs! See ya!" He stood to escape.
He only got a step away before the enchanted bracelet pulled tight around his wrist. He turned around to stare in amazement.
Abuelita had wrapped the slack of the bracelet thread around her hand.
Bill had made a severe miscalculation.
"So," Abuelita said. "Why are you being mean to my grandson." It was a trap all along. She'd agreed to be handcuffed to him so she could corner him for an interrogation.
"Whaaat," Bill said. "Me? No way! I'd never!"
Abuelita stared at him patiently.
"I don't even talk to him," Bill said, trying to think of a conversational escape route.
She raised a brow.
Got it. "He's just too nice, you see! I don't know how to talk to a guy that nice," he lied. "Makes things awkward!" How could any grandmother complain about her grandson being called too nice? "Yeah—not Jesús's fault at all. I don't hold it against him."
"Ah," Abuelita said, "you aren't used to people being nice to you?"
Sure, they could go with that, try to get him some pity. "Yeah! You know how it is. King of Nightmares, scourge of the multiverse—I'm not a popular guy."
"But you have friends, don't you? The scary ones you brought with you to town last year? Are they not nice to you?"
Bill hesitated, trying to figure out his story now. "Sure—they're nice to me. They're my friends! They love me! They'd do anything I say!"
"Oh. So, you're only comfortable with people being nice to you when you can control them." Abuelita smiled sweetly.
Swift, efficient, and brutal. Bill gaped at her.
"I'm glad you have nothing against Soos," she said. "And that you won't be rude to him."
Bill snapped his mouth shut. "Of course not." He gave Abuelita a tight smile. Played like a fiddle. Even though he'd been lying, she still managed to make him look like a loser. How embarrassing. "If you don't mind, I've got a sunburn to get back to."
"I'm not stopping you." She let the extra thread on the bracelet cuffs unwind from her hand and drop to the sand.
Bill trudged back to his towel, snapping as he went, "I hope this is one of those books you hate where the couple only gets hitched because they've got a baby coming."
"The sorceress has magical birth control."
"Course she does."
Bill flopped onto his towel again and stared at the sky. Ouch.
####
(I've been promising Agent Powers AND a beach episode for ages, and we finally get to them both at the same time. Let me know what y'all think so for!)
#bill cipher#human bill cipher#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher#(Dec 12 edit: chapter has been renumbered)
446 notes
·
View notes
Text
Injured (Jenni's Version): Future
Grace Clinton x Reader
Summary: You need to leave
"Mami! Mami! Mami!"
You smile slightly, continuing to pack your suitcase as your son lays back on your bed.
"Yes, my James?"
He grins at you. "Can I come?"
You shake your head. "You know you can't."
"But why?"
"Because Paris is a long way away from Lyon." You add another set of pointe shoes to your bag. "And I need you to do a very special job for me."
You sit down on the bed, patting the spot next to you.
James is more than happy to crawl towards you, leaning close to hear his special job.
"You're a very responsible boy, aren't you?"
He nods. "I helped Mummy pick up Ollie's poo yesterday on our walk!"
Ollie's your family dog. Grace had gotten him for you when the first two rounds of ivf didn't take and you'd been so down about it. You were right in the middle of your third round and losing hope when Grace had come home with a German Shepherd puppy.
You called Ollie your good luck charm because two weeks after you'd successfully potty trained him, you fell pregnant with your other golden boy, James.
"That's very responsible!" You tell him," Because I need a very responsible boy to help me out."
"I'm responsible! I'm responsible! What is it?"
"I need you to be in charge of the house while I'm gone," You tell him," That's why you can't come with. You've got to make sure Mummy doesn't order takeout every day and cleans up Olivia's toys when she's done playing."
Olivia's the other light of your life, your nearly one year old daughter.
You didn't particularly want to leave either of them but you'd been called up by the Paris Opera Ballet to be their guest Principal for one of the shows they were putting on and you loved dancing in their venue.
Originally, you were going to say no but Grace pushed you to accept. She was more than capable of looking after both of the kids at once.
"I'll make sure Mummy eats healthy and cleans up!" James tells you," Can I go tell her I'm in charge while you're gone?"
"I'm sure she would love that."
James goes bursting out of the room and you take the time to finish packing.
Ollie whines a little as you zip up the bag.
"I'm sorry, Ollie," You say, gently stroking his head," You know I'll back soon."
Ollie's the family dog, technically, but, secretly, you know he's yours. He had been incredibly protective over you when you were pregnant with Livy and he had been super excitable as a puppy when you were pregnant with James.
Fully grown now, he loved being in the same room as you. He adored the kids and Grace, of course, but you had always been his person.
Frankly, you were getting a little worried he was lonely in the house alone all day so you and Grace had been in talks about getting Ollie his own puppy.
It was only fair to Olivia as well.
Ollie grew up with James. It's only right to have a puppy for Olivia to grow up with too.
But, that was a conversation for when you got back and after your planned trip to Spain in the summer.
It would be nice, you think, to have a puppy for Ollie to be the best big brother too just like how James is the best big brother to Livy.
Ollie follows you down the stairs, his favourite tennis ball in his mouth as you start pulling your suitcase down.
Grace appears at the bottom, hurrying up to swap the bag with Livy and carry it the down for you.
"Careful, beautiful," She says as you swap," You don't want to strain anything before you go on stage." She winks at you and you roll your eyes.
"Did James tell you I've left him in charge?"
"He did," Grace replies with a grin," I think he's already planning on demanding Big Bed access."
"Don't let him," You remind her but your wife just shrugs.
"I don't know. He's making a convincing case. Says that it would be cold without you and he should be there to warm it up."
"If you get him in the habit of sleeping in our bed while I'm away, Grace Clinton, then you're in trouble and I'm choosing what breed the next puppy is."
"Oh, come on!" Grace is laughing though so you know she isn't taking your empty threats too seriously. "Cab's here though. You finished up just in time."
"Okay." You pull on your coat surprisingly well for someone balancing a baby in the other arm.
You litter kisses all over Livy's face as Grace calls James to the door.
"I'll miss you, Mami," He tells you and you crouch down to give him kisses too.
"I'll miss you too, James," You say," I love you, baby."
"Love you too."
He curls into your arms and your rock him side to side softly before pulling away.
"Remember, you're in charge, okay? So I want you to boss around Mummy and make her eat healthy, deal?"
He nods. "Deal."
"I'll see you in a week, amor," You tell Grace, pecking her lips a few times and laughing when she tries to chase your kiss each time.
"Love you, beautiful."
"Love you too."
626 notes
·
View notes