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rainbowbutterfrosting · 4 years ago

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The Revived - Chapter 16:

This is chapter 16 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3504

Cw: implied loneliness, discussions of bad coping mechanisms, jokes about drugs, guilt

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The evening in the mansion was rather quiet and peaceful, all things considered. Michael had immediately handed the drawing to Wilbur, who reluctantly kept it close. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Tubbo or Ranboo to see it. Not so much because of his own appearance in it, but because he realized that the sight of his ghost counterpart would likely bring up some bad memories.

Another thing that was mostly quiet during the evening was the actual ghost counterpart, much to Wilbur’s dismay. It was simpler, to distract himself from it when Ranboo and Tubbo were talking to him during dinner, or when Michael wanted to show him something, but it bothered him nonetheless. Tubbo and Ranboo had let Wilbur stay in a medium-sized bed in an almost empty room, with a couple of boxes in the corner. Wilbur had promptly excused himself to it, once the silence in his mind, and the chaos from outside, became a little overwhelming.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur asked, once the door was closed safely behind him.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a quiet gasp. “Oh! Hello!” Ghostbur said, sounding excited to be addressed, but disheartened nonetheless.

“Did you have a good day?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath, a little relieved to hear the familiar voice again. “You didn’t say much, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, sorry!” Ghostbur said.

“There’s no need,” Wilbur said, gently. “You can talk if you want to, or remain quiet if you want.” He shrugged, because it shouldn’t matter to him after all.

“Right, right…” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure if it was understanding or defeat.

Wilbur strolled towards the bed, and sat down, at the tempting mattress. His limbs grew heavier at the feeling. He hummed, thinking of what to say. “Did you know Michael drew you?”

“Huh?” Ghostbur asked, a bit of interest creeping into his tone.

“He did! He made a little crayon drawing of you and Friend.” He laughed slightly at the sentence, “And me.”

“He did?” Ghostbur said, familiar excitement slipping into the words, “What does it look like?”

Wilbur went on to explain as many details of the drawings he could reasonably give, despite the minimalist art style. The ghost listened intently. It was strange, the peace Wilbur suddenly felt, as the ghost sounded gradually happier, and he was sitting there alone as the night grew darker outside. Eventually, the inevitability of sleep snuck up on Wilbur. It felt strange, unfair even, to leave Ghostbur hanging like that. Not that Wilbur concerned himself with it of course, but it was a bit sad to think about the silence Ghostbur would experience, as soon as Wilbur drifted off to sleep.

But it happened nonetheless, and the darkness surrounded him, carrying him to rest in a matter of minutes, all the events of the past day slipping away calmly. They wouldn’t bother him until he turned to the waking world again.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun barely visible, but still visible enough to fill the room with a faint light. He stretched in the bed, before lying there for a few moments. His mind wandered, mostly refreshing his mind of yesterday and if there was anything he was supposed to do again. He remembered Ghostbur’s gloominess from the day before with an awkward feeling in his chest. He mumbled, “Good morning.”

A few moments passed with no response. Wilbur slightly frowned, “Ghostbur?”

“Oh! You were talking to me!” Ghostbur’s tiredness showed through his voice. It wasn't tiredness from a lack of sleep that made your voice gently crack on itself, but rather an exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed with rest. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur sat up from the bed, swinging his legs over so he was sitting normally. “I don’t remember being able to sleep that well in limbo, can you?”

He hoped it was different for the ghost. That maybe he could also have a copy of Friend there for him instead of only having a faint grip of reality through Wilbur. “Nope. What did you do for fun here?” He heard a sigh from Ghostbur.

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I mean, it wasn’t really the best place in the universe.” He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “Sometimes I walked down the tunnel. I would go ‘til my legs were tired. Then I tried to go for longer.” The words slipped out effortlessly, yet his voice became quieter the further he got into it, “I timed myself in my head, the quickest I could collapse was… two minutes? There were some seconds added on, but I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” His voice wasn’t enthusiastic- something Wilbur was grateful for.

Wilbur shook his head, “No no no, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. You shouldn't follow in my footsteps.”

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll run the way you didn’t go! Wait- why shouldn’t I run where you did?”

Wilbur sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I just meant you shouldn’t do what I did. I’m just…” Wilbur wanted to say he wasn’t a good role model because while it certainly was the honest truth, he didn’t care for the truth all that much. Information gives you the upper hand. “It was just a dumb decision and I don’t want to waste your time.”

Ghostbur’s voice was clearly dismayed, “There’s nothing much else to do. I mean- sometimes I can imagine stuff in my head! Like when I would play with Michael!” His excitement picked up at the end, but it wasn’t at the same level it used to be.

Wilbur tried smiling, “Yeah. That’s good. You should continue doing that.”

“I try to, but then it makes me sad. The feeling doesn’t go away anymore.”

Wilbur would’ve stood up from the bed and walked downstairs, but he didn’t want to end the conversation. “Doesn’t go away anymore?”

Ghostbur sighed, “Yeah. When I was alive, I would talk to people. Then- I think something bad would happen. At least that’s what other people said. After it was over, I would be talking with friends again! It was nice because I felt better a lot sooner than other people would.” Ghostbur paused for a moment. “I’ve heard that people get sad for multiple days, and I’m glad that never really happened to me. I wish it didn’t happen in general though. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah… being sad isn’t that fun.” Wilbur felt oddly empty at the words, the simplification of them making him remember the past. The days he went without sleep, trying to figure out how to win the election. The look of concern he got when Tommy told him that he should rest. Yet, he supposed those days weren’t exactly sad. They weren’t cheery, but they weren’t sad either. They held an odd sort of void to him, blending together before he even knew they started.

He’d known about it, partially. About how Ghostbur was shaped by the good and didn’t remember any of the bad things Wilbur had experienced, nor the bad memories he had on his own. Yet it was quite another to hear him say it. To hear him speak of it as if it was something natural. Feeling better faster than others, because the memories slipped away. Wilbur hadn’t realized that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Perhaps forgetting was more merciful.

Wilbur stood up from the bed, “I’m gonna go eat some breakfast.”

Ghostbur seemed excited once more as he clapped. “I love breakfast so much! It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Wilbur nodded as he let out a sound of amusement, “Good choice.”

He walked to the door of the room, opening it slowly, afraid of disturbing any peace inside the house. He peeked his head out and looked both ways, yet he couldn’t see anyone awake. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. He carefully made his way downstairs.

When Wilbur entered the barely set-up dining room, it was as if the entire place hadn’t quite woken up yet. Tubbo was languidly standing on one side of the room, half doing the dishes, and half making breakfast. On the floor on the other side, by an open box of whatever furniture or household items it contained, Ranboo was sitting up against the wall, flipping through a book. Michael was sitting right next to him, once again leaning over a piece of paper, happily doodling on it with crayons.

He walked to where Tubbo was, making his footsteps loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. Tubbo turned around, a welcoming smile on his face, “Good morning.”

Ghostbur cheerily replied, “Good morning!”

Wilbur stood next to the boy, looking over his shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just cutting up some apples right now. Makin’ pancakes. American ones specifically, because Ranboo says English ones are just sad crepes.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He was surprised the centrist even had an opinion on food. He seemed to stay neutral on so many other regards, yet pancakes were where he drew the line, “What a weird guy. What should I start doing?”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before speaking, “You’re a guest, you aren’t going to be the one cooking.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as his tone returned gentle, “Like old times.”. He spent so many days making breakfast in L’Manberg that he hadn’t even thought that things were different. Most of those early moments were spent with Tubbo before he went undercover as a spy. They both couldn’t stay asleep or didn’t sleep soon enough and decided to just start the day. They formed the routine of the person in the kitchen, decided what they were making, and the other helped until it was finished.

Tubbo looked away, his posture more rigid. Wilbur pursed his lips, he ruined another moment. Another peaceful moment was torn out of Tubbo’s head by the hands of a person he only invited to his home out of pity. He forced words to roll off his tongue, ones that didn’t belong but had to be placed there, “Just joking, man.”

Tubbo hesitantly laughed, “Yeah,” He returned his gaze to the fruit in front of him. Wilbur slightly narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but the confusion that persisted ever since his return. Everyone asserted that everything was different, but it all lingered in his head all the same. He could picture L’Manberg in its glory along with the uniforms that fit his soldiers perfectly. Yet no one else could.

“Michael, no!” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly exclaimed, Wilbur immediately turned his head. He was met by the sight of Ranboo, worriedly trying to pull a piece of paper out of Michael’s mouth. Only a small part of it was stuck in there as if Michael had merely tried to lick it and had decided to chew on it afterward. “Let go, it’s not food.” Ranboo tried. With a sharp pull, Ranboo landed on his back with the paper in hand, and Michael looked disappointed.

Tubbo’s squinted, looking confused and concerned at the same time. “Didn’t we take away the yellow crayons?”

Ranboo sighed deeply, “Orange.”

“Michael doesn’t eat orange though?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo sat up and looked at Tubbo with a completely deadpan expression. “You haven’t considered the implications of light orange.”

Tubbo gasped with realization. “Oh,” he rushed towards the packet of crayons, picking out the orange ones hurriedly. Ranboo discarded the paper, and Michael watched with crossed arms, looking a bit annoyed at the whole ordeal. Wilbur couldn’t contain some light laughter as the scene unfolded.

Not too long after, breakfast was served. It was a lot less strained than Wilbur had perhaps feared. They chatted about Michael’s strange habits of eating crayons along with similar childhood stories. Light-hearted chuckles passed around the table, with Michael joining in occasionally. Even when they all finished their plates, they continued to sit. They only started moving when Michael seemed fussy with his high chair. Tubbo quickly took him out, setting him on the floor again.

Tubbo picked up the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean these up. You and Michael can play for a bit.” Wilbur nodded and got up from his seat at the same time as Ranboo. Wilbur felt a pulling sensation on his pant leg, he goofily smiled when he looked down and realized it was Michael.

Ranboo took the plates from Tubbo’s hands. “You cooked breakfast, it’s only fair that I wash the dishes.”

Tubbo gently pulled on them back. “And you played with Michael all morning.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he set the plates onto the kitchen counter. “Oh my, it’s so hard to be a Dad. Wow, it’s so difficult to just watch a child when the child is still waking up.”

Tubbo groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

Ranboo nodded. “I make such good points that you can’t even try.” While he seemed disinterested in the beginning, a small smile appeared on his face.

Tubbo sighed, “Yeah. I really can’t compete with the world’s best dad and husband. If only I could wash the dishes to pay him back.”

“Awww, I think they’re flirting again,” Ghostbur cooed.

Ranboo let out a laugh, “Sure sure, maybe tomorrow.” He quickly leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Tubbo’s forehead.

Tubbo scoffed, “Bitch.” He playfully punched Ranboo’s shoulder before heading off in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur even forgot he was there, wrapped inside the domestic peace of their family. He blinked and looked down at Michael, the child still pulling gently on Wilbur’s pant leg.

“We’ll be in Michael’s room,” Tubbo called out to Ranboo. Ranboo nodded and continued putting the dishes in the sink. Tubbo started walking up the stairs and Michael quickly followed. Wilbur was walking a bit slower than before. Cautiously perhaps, though he wasn’t certain why. He smiled at Michael.

“Ooh, what are we going to play with Michael?” Ghostbur asked, though it was said in such a way, that he likely didn’t expect a response. Wilbur let out a relieved breath, at least a little comforted by the fact that Ghostbur had been talking this morning. It was going to be alright. Wilbur held on to the faint thread of a connection for now, each word from the ghost feeling like his one chance to take a breath.

As they returned to Michael’s barely furnished room, Wilbur almost felt as if he’d settled into a routine. It was silly really, having been there for just one night, but the walls seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that was a lot less suffocating than most familiar walls Wilbur could think of. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to settle into that feeling. It wasn’t there to stay, but he could pretend it was for the time being. Though the warmth almost seemed to burn him.

Soon enough, he found himself sitting on the floor, playing with little toys shaped like various animals and other mobs. While Wilbur found it difficult to figure out exactly what they were playing, he released a scream from a toy he’d dubbed the Skeleton King, as Michael played the chicken protagonist, defeating the king for the last time. Ghostbur chimed in every once in a while, despite him knowing even less of what was going on. Ghostbur suggested that the chicken hero had a friend who was a ghost cow, and Wilbur had decided to incorporate it into the story. Partially just to please Ghostbur, though the smile on Michael’s face was priceless.

He looked over in Tubbo’s direction. The boy was feeling the walls when Wilbur realized they had a bit of crayon on them. Not much, but enough to notice if you looked close enough. He gasped quietly at the thought in his mind. He reached in his pocket, feeling the sugar cane in his hand. A small grin slipped onto his face as he discreetly crushed it up, forming a small pile of sugar in his hand.

He shuffled slightly towards the edge of the table, gesturing for Michael to come along. The toddler tilted his head but walked over to where Wilbur was. Wilbur barely resisted laughing as he put the sugar on the table in a thin line. It wasn’t the neatest one in the world, but it would have to do.

Wilbur spoke loud enough for Tubbo to hear, “Alright, first you get it in a line. It can be a bit hard to do sometimes, but you can always use the edge of a sword or a piece of paper if you’re really desperate.” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened at the scene. He immediately ran over, picking Michael up as he quickly placed the child farther away from Wilbur. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t understand the situation as he attempted to run back to Wilbur.

Tubbo grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders before he could go far, turning the zombie piglin around to see him. His voice was tense, but still light enough. “Michael, how about you play tag with Dad for a bit, okay?”

“Tubbo doesn’t sound okay,” Ghostbur supplemented. Although Wilbur could’ve been able to read the room himself, the ghost’s voice was always a nice echo in his mind.

Michael huffed, looking between Tubbo and Wilbur. Tubbo nodded, showing him the direction of the door. He even slipped a smile into his voice, although the one on his face seemed tense, “You can go down the stairs by yourself.”

Michael squealed excitedly as he ran out of the room, his footsteps heard as he excitedly ran down. Tubbo closed the door behind him as his eyes met Wilbur’s. A foolish grin sat on Wilbur’s face, “Your reaction was priceless!” He cackled as he casually pushed around the sugar on the table.

Tubbo sharply exhaled, “Wilbur.” His voice was sharp and jagged in a way Wilbur didn’t quite expect.

“It’s just some sugar in a line. C’mon, man, you can taste it yourself.” He picked a bit of sugar from off the table and put it in his mouth, making slightly exaggerated expressions as he emphasized that it wasn’t anything bad.

Some of Tubbo’s edge disappeared, but at least half of it remained, “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt Michael it’s just-” He cut himself off with a sigh. He looked away from Wilbur’s gaze and back at the wall with some crayon on it. “L’Manberg.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “What about it?”

They waited a few moments in silence before Tubbo hesitantly spoke, “Why did you start L’Manberg?”

Wilbur stated his answer automatically, “To declare independence from Dream. You were there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook his head, “No no, what was the original purpose of L’Manberg?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Tommy’s disks flew into his mind, but L’Manberg was never really centered on them, only Tommy and Dream did. He drifted onto the idea of community, but that was found after the nation was formed. Power maybe? Power seemed like a nice answer, but it somehow didn’t feel right on his tongue. He snapped his fingers as a look of realization came across his face, “Oh! We were gonna set up a drug empir- oh.”

History really does repeat itself in an ironic way.

Tubbo pursed his lips as he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s gaze, “Yeah.”

“Tubbo…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off before he continued again, “I mean, L’Manberg is over and done with. It’s not too big of a problem.” Wilbur scooped up the remaining sugar on the table and dumped it into his mouth.

Ghostbur seemed flabbergasted, “What are you eating? It seems… good? Is that the right word?” Wilbur nodded but Ghostbur couldn’t see.

Wilbur moved his gloves against each other, removing the rest of the remaining substance from himself. “Sugar never really loses its touch.” He stood up from the table. He slightly frowned when he spotted the cloudy look in Tubbo’s eyes. “You… okay?”

Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze for a moment before looking towards the door. “I know it was yesterday when you read the destruction of L’Manberg, really, it’s a new day. But-” Tubbo shakily exhaled, “Just because you got to destroy all of your hard work, doesn’t mean you’ll get to destroy mine too.”

Wilbur sympathetically looked at the boy as he walked closer. Tubbo tensed up noticeably. Wilbur stopped a few steps in front of Tubbo. “Tubbo.” A gentle assertiveness filled his voice, “Tubbo look at me.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes for a moment but met Wilbur’s gaze. Tears laced the boy’s eyes, the shine of them giving it away.

Wilbur took a breath, “Dream is in prison. L’Manberg is… gone.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. “I don’t have anything against you. I- I care about you being happy. I wouldn’t do anything to purposely ruin it.” Wilbur opened his arms for a hug.

Tubbo stepped forward as Wilbur’s chest lept and a small grin went across his face, but Tubbo side-stepped at the last moment, opening the door just a bit behind Wilbur. Before the door closed, Tubbo mentioned a whisper into the air, “It’s okay.” The words seemed to waver slightly as if they were meant to comfort himself and not Wilbur. The door clicked and he was alone once more.

#c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #c!ghostbur #ghostbur #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #wilbur angst #wilbur soot angst #dream smp #dsmp #ghostbur angst #tubbo angst #c!michael #michael_beloved #dream smp fic

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olaf-likeswarmhugs · 5 years ago

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Love You For A Long Time || Soft

Summary: YES this happened all the way back in June lmao-- Sindri and Olaf sit down and talk about having a queerplatonic relationship, complete with a helpful worksheet and so much communication. :)

@huldufolk-hjarn

SINDRI:

There was a word.

Sindri knew he was someone who found comfort in labels, so when he’d begun his search for a word to describe himself, he’d been maybe more than a little stressed out. Add to that all the stress he’d been feeling about Olaf and how he was supposed to define his feelings for his best friend and you had yourself one extra-stressed frost fairy. But there was a word.

Sindri found his very own word: demisexual, and having that label felt right. It was like all the worrying he’d ever done about how relationships work and how many people he’d had sex with or how many people he’d wanted to have sex with was just finally unimportant. There was a word for him which meant he wasn’t the only person who felt this way.

He knew that’s how Olaf must feel right now too. It was because of Olaf that Sindri found this amazing Sindri-word and he was very thankful. He was also nervous because he was currently on his way home to talk to Olaf about another word they’d found: Queerplatonic.

For the longest time, Sindri thought that to have a fulfilling life, he was going to have to find someone and enter into a Promise with them. He would do that and they would have a kid and everything would be perfect and Normal. Now he realized that he’d never really actually thought about if he wanted that or not. He realized that it was something that people just assumed would happen. That wasn’t right. It was stupid. It was so stupid and put all this stupid pressure on him and the more he thought about it the more he absolutely hated it.

Sindri didn’t want to give up Olaf.

Sindri didn’t want people thinking that Olaf was “just” his friend. Olaf was his friend. Olaf was his very best friend and anyone he dated shouldn’t be put above Olaf. Why was friendship less important? Why did Olaf have to feel like he was letting Sindri down because he didn’t want to date when their friendship was so special and important?

Sindri kept walking while all these thoughts swirled around in his head and all he knew was that he wanted to hug Olaf. He wanted to be around Olaf forever. Olaf was his person and he didn’t need to “date” him to prove it.

Queerplatonic was a very good Olaf-and-Sindri word.

He opened the door to their apartment and peered inside, his heart skipping around in his chest. “Olaf,” he called. “I’m home.”

OLAF:

Olaf was nervous-- but a good nervous.

For once, when it came to the topic of Olaf and Sindri, Olaf knew what to expect. He’d done the hardest part when he’d explained, to the best of his ability, how his mind and heart worked, and Sindri hadn’t thought he was a heartless monster at all. For a long time, that had been Olaf’s greatest fear-- that everyone would look straight through him and hate him for all that he couldn’t feel, no matter the warmth and bright, bright colours of what he did. Or worse than hate--and this, Olaf knew he’d have to brace for in the future-- they would look at him with a blank expression and not see him at all. They wouldn’t hear him. He’d be confusing, and odd, and no one would ever understand.

It made him feel so lonely… when people didn’t understand.

But Sindri understood him. Or he wanted to. And together, they’d pick through the rest maybe, or at least that’s what Olaf was hoping as he sat with the worksheets he’d printed out. He smoothed the paper out on his lap, his eyes darting over its details and its questions. Some of those questions made him more nervous than others. And there was a little voice in his head that was wondering if this would be right for them at all. What if Olaf didn’t like this? What happened if a QPR ended?

Oh, he should Google that.

Olaf Googled it. And actually, it took a tiny bit of time, but he came across a Tumblr called Queerplatonic and Aromantic Advice and started to pour through it, straying far far from his original question. He was still reading the blog, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, when the door opened.

Sindri!

“Oh, I’m in here!” Olaf called-- then laughed at himself and snorted. “Why did I say that, there are only two rooms in this place!” He put his phone beside him on the couch and then pulled up his legs so he was sitting cross-legged as Sindri approached. His nerves pinpricked--but that was all.

Mostly, he was excited. Yes, that’s what this feeling was.

“I got out the maltesers and crisps for a salty and sweet combination,” he added as he pointed at the two bowls.

SINDRI:

Being near Olaf had always been soothing for Sindri as far back as he could remember and that hadn’t changed. Any nervousness Sindri felt dissolved when Olaf’s heart-shaped smile lit up his face. He thought again about the way people were sort of expected to give up their friends in life as soon as they found a romantic partner. He thought about how stupid that was. Why was that the norm?

Sindri looked at the snacks Olaf had laid out and smiled back at his friend before reaching out for a crisp. As he chewed, he noticed the papers Olaf had stacked neatly on his lap. Was that some sort of cartoon hedgehog or something in the corner?

Fondness filled his chest and he moved to sit down next to his friend before he did something silly like cry. He didn’t want to cry and he didn’t need to cry. In order to avoid it, he had to not think about how Olaf it was to go and find a cute print out on the internet to help have a weird conversation.

“So,” he said after another moment. “I was sort of looking into stuff some more and I kept seeing people talk about how important communication is for people in QPR’s...well, for people in any type of relationship really, but I just wanted to make sure that everything is clear for us because I don’t want miscommunication to ruin anything.”

Sindri swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His nerves were back, but everything would be okay. He knew it would because he trusted Olaf. He sat up straight and met Olaf’s eyes.

“I just wanted to say to your face, in front of you, that I’m a little bit in love with you probably. I want you to know that because it’s true, but I also want you to know that I don’t want anything you don’t want. I don’t want to date you. I have never felt and will never feel like I’m missing something because I’m not dating you. I just want to hang out with you forever. I want to share my life, if that makes sense.” Sindri’s cheeks were definitely bright red now.

“I really want to understand how you feel and I promise I’ll never make you feel bad about your feelings. Okay?”

OLAF:

I’m a little bit in love with you probably.

Olaf wished he knew what Sindri really meant. His eyes softened and part of him wanted to reach out and squeeze Sindri’s hand. The way that Sindri said it was like a gift. That’s the way love often was for other people. They held onto it, waiting until they found a certain person to whom they could give it away, and it could only be for that person...well, unless something happened and then they had to keep it all to themselves again. Olaf wanted, just once, to feel it so he could really understand the bigness of Sindri’s words and the shape of this gift. Maybe if he felt it just once then Olaf would feel more worthy of it. Or… that wasn’t quite right. Everyone deserves love. He just didn’t know why Sindri had to give this gift to Olaf alone and why sometimes the giving could feel like...taking.

Though his feelings for Sindri were quite Sindri-specific. They’d never changed from when they were kids. He always knew that Sindri was his best friend and that he liked to do certain things with Sindri more than anyone else. For a long time, he thought that must be romantic love, but it really wasn’t. It was trust. It was friendship. It was affection. It was appreciation. And, yes, love, gentle and easy and reliable, like the lights in the northern sky.

The line though was still very blurry. He hoped he was going to do all this right, even though all the websites assured him there wasn’t one right way to do things at all. And ah, for Olaf, who quite liked knowing things, it was scary.

“Okay.” Olaf nodded. “I trust you. And I promise I won’t lie to you about anything anymore. And if I’m confused about how I feel about things, I--I’ll tell you that too.” He smiled sheepishly, blushing from one cheek to the other.

He handed one of the sheets to Sindri. “Okay! Are you ready to do this then? Isn’t the little aardvark cute?” Olaf pointed out the doodle in one corner of the sheet. “I also think that this list of stuff isn’t uhm, complete--there could be other things we want to talk about but we can write them on the back or something. Oh! What colour pen do you want? Blue?” He reached for the blue on instinct since it was such a Sindri-colour.

SINDRI:

Sindri took the blue pen with a smile and then looked down at the worksheet. It was seriously adorable. The little doodles went a long way toward making what could be a very stressful conversation into something cute and fun. Except that it was still a little stressful. It sort of put Sindri on the spot in a way, asking things that were sort of relative and making him judge the closeness of their current relationship.

He looked up at Olaf and the worry in his face softened. The worksheet, he knew, was just to help. They could talk about anything they wanted after it was done.

Sindri filled out the worksheet and thought really hard about the things he wanted. Did he want to celebrate and anniversary? No. That would be silly. They’d been friends forever. He didn’t know what day they’d become friends and starting to count now would be ridiculous. Plus anniversaries were stressful and came with all sorts of expectations. So no. Sindri put a big ‘X’ on that one.

Some of the other things were more complicated. Sindri didn’t need sex. Sindri didn’t even really want sex most of the time, but he wasn’t opposed to maybe having sex in the future. It felt wrong to cross it out, but when he tried to make himself circle it he felt a little bit sick. It wasn’t...sex wasn’t something that needed to be a part of their relationship.

Small kisses? Yes, Sindri liked those. Big kisses? Maybe sometimes he scribbled next to that one after he circled it. Holding hands and cuddling were a big yes from him so he circled those too and then sighed.

It felt nice to be doing this. It was special. Olaf was special and the whole idea of a platonic partnership just felt right to him. Sindri had looked into it more, of course, and someone had said the difference between a friend and a platonic partner was basically what he and Olaf were doing right now. QPRs had communication and an acknowledgement that sticking together in life was something all parties were committed to.

Sindri was committed to being Olaf’s friend forever. Sindri wanted to hang out with Olaf forever and he didn’t plan on leaving him. Ever.

Sindri smiled as he wrote friend into the space next to I want to call you my _____.

“Okay I think I did it,” he said, putting his pen down.

OLAF: What Olaf liked about this sheet was how it broke everything down into categories. It was like getting a one-sheet when he arrived at a certain talent for the day. Most talents had something like that to help the Helper-talents out, since it’d be difficult for a Helper to just seamlessly know what to do. So talents broke down their jobs into smaller tasks and then broke down those tasks into step-by-step instructions and Olaf learned that way. This worksheet was similar. Olaf looked at all the things on the sheet and thought, The sum of them make up most typical romantic relationships, but quickly followed up that thought with another: but not always.

The most important thing, as he’d read so far, is how you feel about those things and what they mean to you.

The other important thing was deciding on things together, with your partner. Or friend. Olaf didn’t know if he wanted to think of Sindri as a partner just yet. He had, um, mixed feelings, heh. Or he was still trying to figure those feelings out.

He picked up his sheet and moved quickly through most of the categories, because some were quite easy. Holding hands, cuddling, going out together-- though he had to clarify that one, because he didn’t want dates. Maybe he should write hang out? Or was the ‘going’ and ‘out’ part important, as in, leaving their flat to attend an activity together? Thinking about that made Olaf’s brows furrow and he nearly laughed, managing to suppress it. It just seemed rather silly that attending an activity together intentionally could be some kind of Big Thing when friends did it all the time.

Ah...anyway…

He paused when it came to sex, because that was another thing he didn’t quite know how he felt without talking to Sindri.

But the last question was very easy. What did he want to call Sindri? What he had always called him. Olaf wrote best friend confidently.

“Okay!” Olaf chirped and he looked up from his worksheet with an excited smile. “Let’s compare--oh frost, I put the checkmark all the way over there,” Olaf said as soon as he saw Sindri’s sheet. In the first category, where it had a gradient for how close you wanted to be, Olaf had checked much farther than Sindri did. “Though I guess I don’t really know what this check really represents. I just figured it meant cuddling.”

SINDRI:

Sindri’s eartips flushed red. Did he mess it up? If that little line stopped at cuddling, he definitely wanted to be closer to the far right. Urgh, see that was the problem with stupid little lines with no explanation! It was fine. Sindri knew the point of this was just to help them have a conversation and it was doing a really good job with that.

Each little section of the paper was something they could talk about. It was a nice guide and Sindri really appreciated it. Especially because he was super nervous right now. His fingers shook just a little as he reached out and poked at Olaf’s little check.

“I didn’t really know what it meant either,” he said, laughing a little nervously. “I sort of...well, I was thinking about how close people could be and I was afraid the far right meant like, suuuuuper close, you know? I didn’t want you to think I wanted us to be inside each other all the time.”

Another nervous giggle slipped past his lips and he scribbled out his little check, scooting it a lot closer to the far right. “If it means cuddling, I’m all the way over here too. I like cuddling.”

Sindri’s face lit up in a smile when he noticed something else on Olaf’s sheet. “We both want to call each other friend! That’s good! I mean, you put best friend, so really you’re overachieving,” he said, beaming. “That’s settled, then, right? We just call each other best friend? Like, ‘this is my best friend Olaf!’ when we introduce each other?”

Sindri looked back down at his paper and then back up at Olaf. “How are you doing so far? Are you feeling okay?”

OLAF:

Hm, a good question. How was Olaf doing so far?

Sindri meant mood-wise, but Olaf wondered about his performance in the context of aromanticism as a whole. He couldn’t help it. His whole life, Olaf trained himself to ingest and perform specific standards when it came to specific tasks. That assumed a kind of objective truth that Olaf knew didn’t exist here, but his training was very hard to ignore. And he was so new to all this, even to thinking of himself as aromantic, and so there were these brief moments where a question mark popped into Olaf’s head again as he thought to himself-- am I interpreting this all correctly? What if I’m not aro after all?

Thankfully, these moments of doubt melted away into thin air as quickly as they flurried in. He just had to keep reminding himself: there is no objective aromantic identity! And whatever you feel, let yourself feel it. Don’t be nervous.

Sindri’s smile helped. He was glad that he was here and they were doing this together-- but it could only really be Sindri, couldn’t it?

“I feel pretty good. Most of this sheet has stuff we have in common, so we don’t really have to talk about them--though I guess we could. Like, holding hands. When do you like doing that? Personally I don’t like how couples do it like-- over the table? You know, at Hatter’s, when they hold hands for no reason? At least I don’t know the reason, it seems you could use your hands for other things, like drinking a beverage. Really, in general-- when you’re sitting down. I don’t like it that much then. But when you’re walking places-- like when we go out to crowded places mostly, you know? That way I can make sure you don’t get lost.” He pat Sindri on the shoulder, his lips pursed playfully.

They both knew that Olaf was ten times more likely to get lost.

In fact, he had gotten impressively lost the last time they’d gone to Pottery Barn. His phone had died and Sindri had to call him over the speakers. Very nifty Sindri thought to do that!

SINDRI:

“Me?” Sindri asked, giggling. “Olaf, you get lost at least once a day.” His smile was bright as he laughed, and he had the urge to pull Olaf into the biggest hug of all time. The love he felt nearly overwhelmed him and he shone from the inside out. This was Olaf. His best friend. They were always going to be best friends. Unless Olaf got lost at a pet store and eaten by the rabbits. “Right, so hand-holding when navigating busy places. Got it,” he said, jotting down notes.

His eartips flushed when he realized that maybe notes were a little excessive, but he wanted to get this right. He wanted to make sure they were both on the same page. “I don’t really like when people hold hands across the table, either. I think it’s kind of silly. For me, at least. They can do whatever they want.”

Sindri looked back down at his paper. “For kissing I think we should keep the same rule we already have. If one of us wants to kiss the other person, I think we should ask first. I like that rule.” He looked back up at Olaf and smiled again. He was doing a lot of smiling, but he couldn’t help it. This whole thing just felt right and special and very much like them.

“What do you think?”

OLAF:

It was a good rule-- more people should have a rule like that in Olaf’s opinion. Though he did worry, just like last time, that somehow he might disappoint Sindri if he didn’t ask, ever. But Olaf was getting much better at catching these moments of doubt and worry and taking them apart on the spot. Because the worry had several assumptions in it, like that Sindri would care about something like that. And also that kisses were some kind of currency, to be passed back and forth, which they were not.

So he nodded and did not bring up his insecurity; they’d already talked about it before and Olaf didn’t feel the need to talk about it again. He would just keep working on it on his own, let himself be himself, and let Sindri be Sindri.

“Though we should talk about, er, big kisses?” Olaf said as he leaned over their sheets and saw that like him, Sindri had written something by big kisses.

“To be honest-- well, this is another vague one, don’t you think? What’s a big kiss, anyhow? Like kissing for a really long time, I suppose, though what's a really long time? Ten flits, twenty flits? Several minutes?” Olaf was mostly thinking aloud, leaning against one of his hands, his elbow on the back of the sofa. “Hmm. I guess usually we did that kind of stuff before we had sex.”

He spoke about it plainly, because to Olaf, it was quite matter-of-fact. He was not shy about sex, even though he rarely thought about it. When it came to his relationship with Sindri, sex had not given him as much pause as...the rest. Sex did get tangled up with The Rest in the end though. According to all the forums though, sex and romance really could be separate things for people, especially on the ace spectrum (though not always-- there was this thing called the split attraction model, or SAM, which talked about it)! Olaf was probably one of those people. But was Sindri?

SINDRI:

Talking about sex with Olaf wasn’t weird, but Sindri’s cheeks still turned a little pink. He was right. The only time they really kissed for a while was when they were going to have sex. But Sindri didn’t really want that to be the identifier for big kisses. Sometimes he had the urge to kiss Olaf when he didn’t want to have sex with him and he didn’t want big kisses to mean sex.

“I think my favorite kisses are the little cute ones. I think they are big ones when it turns into, like, making out, I guess?” Sindri realized that he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to think about putting his tongue in Olaf’s mouth. It wasn’t because it was gross exactly, it just wasn’t something he wanted to think about when he wasn’t in the mood to do it. Sex and kissing was kind of weird that way. If he really thought about it and broke it down into its little parts, he started to wonder why his body ever wanted to do those things in the first place.

“Big kisses are probably the kind where tongues are involved,” he said quickly, blushing. “I’m sorry. It’s kind of weird to think about kissing you like that when I don’t actively feel like doing it, if that makes sense? It’s like sometimes the idea of sex and kissing is kind of a weird concept to me and it makes me feel weird. I probably sound stupid since sometimes I really want to kiss you like that.”

OLAF:

Olaf shook his head. “I don’t think that sounds weird! Sex is the thing that’s weird, most of the time!” And a big grin broke out on his face in hopes of comforting Sindri.

He meant it though! Even if Olaf didn’t think much about sex, he saw the way sex could be for some other people. There were fairies who made sex into a huge deal and others who thought it just another fun thing to do with their friends during parties. Much like romance, sex existed on a spectrum. It was all snowflakes: never the same for one fairy as it was for another.

The only thing that gave Olaf real pause when completing his queerplatonic worksheet was that sex was so often tangled in romance. That was never the case for him. Sex with Sindri would be fun, just like if he had sex with a different fairy or person.

Well--then again… was that true? Because Olaf never thought about sex, he’d never really thought about what sex with someone other than Sindri would be like.

It would certainly be different. Not bad, different. Just. Different.

It didn’t gross him out though. He also didn’t feel the need to go and find out for himself.

Olaf tapped his pen against his sheet as some of these thoughts flurried rather haphazardly through his consciousness. “But I mean...well, I dunno. I think I didn’t circle sex because I felt like we should talk about it first, but also because I worry again about these things being different for you than they are for me…” His brow crinkled a little and he glanced down at the sheet.

That strange emptiness was clawing at the edges of his chest again, though he didn’t know why…

“Not that...I mean, I think sex is-- I like having it with you,” he tried, even as his ears got red, fearing that Sindri would think he was heartless. “It isn’t just sex when it’s with you, that’s not what I mean! It’s still special…”

SINDRI:

“I get it,” Sindri said, smiling at Olaf, and he did. Sex was a weird thing that meant different things for different people. “I know it’s special, and I know how sometimes it gets all twisted up in feelings and stuff so it might be kind of weird.”

Sindri took a second to think about exactly what he wanted to say. “I was reading about the split attraction model,” he said finally. “I think it makes a lot of sense. I think that sexual and romantic attraction make a lot more sense as different things and honestly it kind of made me feel better about myself.”

“There are a lot of times I don’t want to have sex,” Sindri said, looking over at Olaf. “I actually...don’t understand a lot of the hype around it or why it seems to be so hard for people to go without it.” He was rambling. “I guess I’m just trying to say that I only sometimes want it and I never want it with people I don’t know, but it isn’t like...totally wrapped up in feelings, if that makes sense. I understand that sex and feelings are different so you don’t have to worry about things meaning something different to me than to you.”

Sindri was definitely red as an apple.

“I think if one of us wants to have sex, we can just say it, right? And it’s just a normal thing. And the other person can totally say no and it’s fine.”

Sindri laughed and pushed his hair off his forehead. “Sorry. I’m just...talking about sex is weird when I don’t want it. Kind of like talking about big kisses. I guess what I’m trying to say is sex can be a thing we sometimes do but neither one of us should feel obligated, right?”

OLAF:

Olaf had also read about the split attraction model. At first he hadn’t thought it applied to him. Because he was aromantic, but he was also asexual, or at least asexual-ish (if he were understanding asexuality as well as himself) which meant his romantic and sexual preferences were sort of in line with each other. Except now that he thought about it, that still wasn’t entirely true. If things existed in different colours, then maybe his romantic and sexual preferences were...green, but different shades of green. His aromanticism felt bright, bold, noticeable, like one of those neon signs that would say something like PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE HAHA WHAT IS A DATE.

But sex would probably be a super soft, pale green. One of those greens where you were like, is that green? Or is it kinda blue-ish too?

This was a weird metaphor.

Anyway! Because he related to his asexuality differently than his aromanticism, the split attraction model made sense to him, even felt nice to think about. He didn’t have to completely dislike sex the way he disliked romance.

And everything Sindri said was right-- they just needed to keep talking about things like that

“Okay,” said Olaf and he started to write down talk about it-- though he paused because that wasn’t the only facet of the sex question. “Oh, what about-- having sex with other people?” Olaf blinked and glanced up at Sindri. Sindri only liked to have sex with people he knew very well, obviously…

Olaf didn’t know about himself. But still, they should talk about that. “Personally I...think it should be okay,” Olaf said slowly, hesitantly, hoping that wouldn’t make Sindri feel bad. “I um, kind of feel uncomfortable if I’m only allowed to have sex with you.” His cheeks got redder. “Not that I think I’ll have a lot of sex anyway, I just--I dunno. I dunno why I feel that way.”

SINDRI:

Sindri nodded right away. He didn’t want to stop Olaf from having sex with other people if that was something he wanted to do. Sindri knew that he probably didn’t want to have sex with very many other people, but if Olaf did, that was okay. Like he’d said before, all he wanted was to be Olaf’s best friend forever in a very acknowledged way, if that made sense. He wasn’t sure it did. It was just...Olaf was very important to him which meant Olaf’s happiness was also very important to him.

“I think it should be okay, too,” he said. Then he blushed again and looked down at his fingers. “I also think the same thing should maybe apply to romantic feelings too? I know you don’t want that for yourself, and I think I might be demi-romantic, too, which is a whole other layer we could talk about, but if I do meet someone maybe, I was thinking that should be something I could do too.”

“If I did it, it wouldn’t mean our friendship or QPR was over either. I think anyone I might have romantic feelings for in the future would be made aware that you are very important to me and I won’t be spending less time with you because I’m with them.”

This was something Sindri had definitely thought about. He was nervous because he didn’t know how Olaf would react, but he did know that no matter who he might be with in the future, if he was with anyone, would not take Olaf’s place in his heart. He wanted to make sure Olaf knew that.

“So, yeah. I think sex with other people should be allowed and romance with other people should be allowed, but I still think that we should talk about those things too. I won’t show up with someone I like one day out of the blue, you know? I tell you everything anyway, but I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m hiding things from you.”

OLAF:

Before finding ‘aromanticism’ and starting this conversation, what Sindri said would have made him nervous-- maybe even a little jealous. Because it was Olaf’s biggest, most secret fear: being left all alone.

He always figured it was going to happen one day. Pixies would pair up; that’s what pixies did. They’d have their promises and then their families and their partners would be the ones they went to the dances with. Olaf thought that was lovely too, he really did! Falling in love could be as beautiful as watching the dance of the northern lights...it was different every night, hard to describe, but stunning.

He just…

He wanted to be asked to dance too. He still wanted to be important and to feel needed and to have warm conversations late into the night while sipping hot cocoa. He’d like his friends to think of him sometimes when it came to special occasions.

Those things became extra important when he thought about them with Sindri. They’d always had such fun together. It was hard not to cling to it and wish desperately that it’d never change.

But of course, that wouldn’t be fair.

That desperation and fear still lingered, but quieter. Because queerplatonic was like saying: yes, I commit to this friendship and to taking care of it! Why be jealous as long as Olaf knew that Sindri would protect and honor this relationship too? And so he knew Sindri was nervous, but Olaf remained calm, nodding along as Sindri talked.

“Right! I agree. No out-of-the-blue surprises on stuff like that. Hmm, just ‘talking’ should really be on this sheet, don’t you think?” Olaf wrote it in the margin in capital letters and circled it. “There’s other things this sheet doesn’t have, like um, living together. I know we do that now and it really didn’t have anything to do with a queerplatonic partnership but um, I dunno, I like living with you…” Olaf squiggled over the circle he just made. “And cohabitating can be a part of QPRs... Though maybe it’s too soon to talk about that!” He finished, a bit flustered.

SINDRI:

Sindri brightened as soon as the words were out of Olaf’s mouth. Honestly, Sindri loved living with Olaf. He’d been happier these past months with his living situation than he ever thought he would be living in a human apartment. Something about Olaf was home for him and it made perfect sense to have Olaf around always.

“I like living with you, too,” he said, nodding. “I actually...I know it’s not good to assume and stuff, but I just kind of assumed we would keep living together, you know? I’m happy when you’re around. I think we make good roommates.”

Sindri picked at his jeans just a little and took a deep breath. “For me our relationship is kind of like a Promise in a way,” he said, his cheeks turning pink again. “I want to be around you and have you be my partner in all the big things in our lives, you know? We don’t..I’m not saying we should get promised in the future or anything, but I’m not against the idea. I really like how we are now. I like talking to you like this and being open about things.”

Sindri poked at his sheet of paper with his pen, doodling a little star. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I do want to live with you. I really like living with you and I think I would miss you if we weren’t sharing bunk beds anymore,” Sindri said with a laugh.

“Have we covered most of the big things?” he asked, looking down at the sheet. “Best friend. Lots of talking. Sometimes kissing. Holding hands so we don’t get lost. More talking.” Sindri giggled. “Good thing I really like talking to you.”

OLAF:

Olaf giggled too.

And you know-- a promise with Sindri seemed right. In the past, it hadn’t felt that way. Their friends used to joke about it, actually. As soon as they started dating--the two of them only apprentices-- their fellow apprentices would laugh and say stuff like How long do you think they’ll wait until they get promised? And well you two are practically promised anyway!

Those comments made Olaf want to zip to the other side of the room away from Sindri. Which was a horrible, horrible feeling.

But promises did not have to be romantic. It was quite rare that they weren’t. Most platonic promises were actually made between much older fairies, who had not found any romantic partner, but had decided to move in together to save the Hollow space and to have company. They often were old, dear friends; many of them shared the same talent. Olaf figured that would have been him eventually.

But if they picked each other to be best friends forever…

It made him feel better about that selfish wish of his--for things to never really change.

“Me too,” agreed Olaf. “I um...think that might be it, yeah! Does that mean we’re officially queerplatonic partners? Bells, I feel like we should do some kind of handshake or something.” Olaf giggled. “This was actually really fun too! Why were we so nervous?”

SINDRI:

Official queerplatonic partners.

Sindri felt a glow building in his tummy just thinking about it. It was a soft, warm, happy glow that made him feel bright and loved and safe. “I don’t know,” he said, because now that he was on the other side of it, the nerves didn’t really make any sense.

When Sindri really thought about it, nothing much had really changed. They were still Olaf and Sindri. They still lived together and slept in bunk beds. Sindri still knew how much Olaf loved thrift stores and Olaf still knew how much Sindri loved his coffee. Same friends. Same life. Maybe a little more secure now?

Sindri didn’t have to worry anymore about Olaf feeling weird about Sindri’s feelings. He didn’t have to wonder if Olaf thought Sindri wanted to date him. He didn’t have to wonder if he was maybe accidentally smothering Olaf from loving him too much. Communication was written right into their relationship at every turn and Sindri loved that. He loved knowing they were on the same page.

He also loved Olaf. That was the biggest thing in the room.

When he and Olaf were little, they used to say they would be best friends forever. Sindri sat across from his friend on the couch and smiled at him, thinking about how he’d just made little Sindri’s dream come true. They were still friends and they were committed to staying best friends forever.

“I feel so breezy,” Sindri said, giggling and doing a little wiggle-dance on the couch. “Wanna seal it with a hug?”

OLAF:

“A hug sounds-- oh!”

Olaf had already had one of his arms opening for the hug when a realization popped into his brain. His arms snapped back to his side. It was honestly just a little thing, but he should mention it anyway, shouldn’t he? After all, while this relationship had...hmm...maybe not changed, but finally fit itself, if that made sense, as if he and Sindri had been breaking in a pair of very hip friendship-shoes for over 20 years... other people wouldn’t have any idea.

Should they?

“Should we tell people?” Olaf asked. “I mean, it’s--obviously it’s between you and me, but I’m also not trying to keep this a secret, because why would I, but-- well, I don’t know, queerplatonic relationships could be confusing. Maybe people will ask questions…”

Olaf didn’t mind questions. At least, respectful and kind questions.

But he was a little nervous for those questions too. There were bound to be people who didn’t try to understand.

SINDRI:

Sindri wrinkled his nose. An image of someone asking them to explain their relationship, maybe even assuming they were just dating, invaded his brain and he hated it. He knew that would make Olaf very uncomfortable. He knew it would make him uncomfortable too. When people were faced with things they didn’t understand they could be kind of rude about it.

“I don’t know if we ever really need to just come out and tell people out of nowhere, do we? Like before we didn’t yell at people that we were best friends or that we lived together and stuff. This is kind of like that too. I think the only people we maybe need to try to explain it to are other possible partners maybe? Also I think Nemo would probably understand it. Pixies in general might be more open?”

Sindri wasn’t sure about any of this. It was all new territory for him too. He just knew he never wanted Olaf to feel stuck or trapped or anything less than completely cozy.

“Maybe we can just go by our comfort level? Like if it comes up organically we can talk about it? It’s not technically anyone’s business and I don’t think that means we are keeping it secret.”

OLAF:

After he asked the question, Olaf realized he had asked it more for Sindri than himself. Olaf didn’t think he cared in any way. If people asked him if he were dating Sindri, he would simply say no. Otherwise, they would just call each other what they always called each other: best friends. And now, flatmates. These things were enough for Olaf and he hoped would be enough for anyone else. Though...more than likely, when someone heard the term best friends, they wouldn’t think it meant everything it meant to him.

But that was okay. As long as Sindri didn’t think Olaf was trying to hide something, then he’d let people react however they wanted to react and not worry so much about it. Hopefully, heh.

He nodded. “I think you’re right. We’ll feel it out if it ever comes up. I just don’t want you to feel like it’s something you don’t have to talk about. I want you to talk about it if the moment and person is right. And I do too.”

And with all that said--Olaf opened his arms again. “Okay! Now we seal it with a hug.”

#soft #the first canon queerplatonic relationship!#i say canon bc im sure lots of relationships are kind of queerplatonic even if people are not defining it as such #but this made me feel super warm and good this was very good for me #olaf ur living the best life #para

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years ago

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Right-Side Up AU, Part Three: It’s the End of the World {AO3} {tumblr} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Two → The Radio

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Mike rubbed his eyes as he walked down the hall, stopping at Jonathan’s door. He could hear Nancy’s muffled voice, shouting something about how they had to hurry the hell up; Mike didn’t remember her saying she was staying over last night. He knew he should probably knock on the door, but, well, he wasn’t very good at that yet, and by the time he remembered that rule had been established he was already pushing the door open.

“Mike!” Nancy shouted. She had just thrown a dress on, shoving on a belt as she shouted. “What did we say about knocking?”

“I forgot.” Mike admitted, noticing Jonathan on the other side of the room, also throwing on clothes. “I thought you went home last night.”

“Yes, well, um. Decided to stay over. Surprise!” Nancy said. She gave him a smile, and continued, “But, unfortunately, we can’t do anything fun right now, because the power outage knocked out Jonathan’s alarm, we forgot to reset it, and if we don’t move we’re gonna be late for work.”

“You hate work.” Mike said.

“Work’s not that bad.” Jonathan said, quickly grabbing his camera bag.

“Maybe for you.” Nancy said bitterly. “They love you.”

“They love you!”

“Yeah, as a coffee fetcher.”

“Look, they’re gonna realize how great a writer you are someday-”

“Do you want me to throw them across a room?” Mike asked.

Nancy sighed. “No, but put a pin in that conversation. We gotta go. Tell Will we said ‘hi.’” She leaned over, giving him a kiss on the forehead, and said, “You’re taller than me now, stop it.”

“I’m taller than everyone, I can’t control it.”

Nancy laughed. “Alright, I’m going out the window.”

“Why?”

“Um, more fun.”

“Can’t argue there.”

Mike waved at Jonathan and Nancy, and then walked back to his room, where he’d forgotten his bag. He slung it over his shoulder, returned to the kitchen, and said, “Nancy’s climbing out the window.”

Joyce sighed, looking up from the table, where Will was drowning his pancakes in syrup. “I wish she wouldn’t. She can just say hello.”

“Why doesn’t she sleep over with me? My room’s big enough.” Mike said.

Will giggled, as Joyce very slowly said, “Well, she just… wants to spend time with her boyfriend.”

Mike nodded as he sat back down. “Like me and El.”

“...sure.”

Jonathan ran by, and Joyce jumped to her feet. “Oh, hey, hey! Wait up!”

Jonathan paused, an apology in his eyes. “No, no, I’ll eat at work-”

“No, cheek.” she laughed a little as she wiped a lipstick mark off of his face.

He gave her a nervous smile and said, “Alright, gotta run. See you later.”

“Alright!” Joyce turned back to the kids. “Will, slow on the syrup.”

“Yeah, it’s my turn.” Mike took the syrup and immediately dumped it onto his eggs.

Will glanced up towards where Jonathan disappeared. “Can you make him and Nancy stop being gross? They’re as bad as El and Mike.”

“Shut up.”

Joyce smiled a little. “I don’t think you’ll find it gross when you fall in love.”

Will hesitated, before stabbing at his pancake. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mike gave him a curious glance, but kept quiet.

“Now, hold on! Hold on!”

El groaned and turned around. “Dad, this bag of shit is heavy!”

“And Steve has to get to work, you don’t want him to be late.” Max added, tying her hair back into a ponytail; she’d recently got more used to tying it up, to keep it out of her face.

Hopper sighed and gave them all quick looks. “I don’t want you out late in the field.”

“Dad.”

“Back to the Byers’ by ten, okay?”

“Back by Dustin, got it.” Max nodded. “Can we go now?”

“And El.” Hopper gave her a look. “Three inches.”

El shot Max a glare, who shrugged an I didn’t tell him! shrug. “Dad, chill, it’s just Mike. What’s he gonna do? Feed me too many eggos?”

“I trust Mike,” Hopper said, and he put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I just don’t want you growing up too fast, okay?”

“Dad, don’t be weird.”

They heard a car horn beep from the driveway. “Great, now you pissed off Steve.” Max said. “Thanks, Hop.”

“Stay safe.”

“You, too.” El nodded. She and Max ran out the door, running towards the car.

“Seriously, though, chill with Mike for today, it’s weird.” Max said.

“You’re just mad cause you wanna date Lucas.” El said. “Seriously, Max, be more direct with your flirting. He was raised in a Lab, he doesn’t pick up on that stuff.”

Max’s face turned as red as her hair. “I’m not flirting with Lucas. I just like hanging out with him.”

“Sure.”

They hopped into the backseat, where Lucas gave them a wave. El slammed her bag onto the ground as Max shut the door, and Steve said, “You know, if I’m late for work, I don’t get money, and Dustin and Lucas don’t get arcade trips.”

“Sorry.” El huffed. “Dad was being weird about me dating again.”

“What does that mean?” Dustin asked, as Steve pulled out of the driveway. “Why would he be weird?”

“Because El’s not a baby anymore and has a boyfriend and keeps sucking face with him.” Max said.

“Max, I’m going to throw you out the car window.”

“Do it! I dare you!”

“No one’s dying in this car while I’m driving!” Steve said.

“Obviously she wouldn’t die in the car.” Max said.

“No mutinies or I turn this car around and drop you off at the goddamn grocery store.”

“I think we’re still banned from that.” Lucas said.

“Exactly!”

The kids burst into the Byers house just as Joyce was grabbing her things to leave.

“Hi, Ms Byers!” El waved, running past. “Where’s my boyfriend?”

“Will’s room.” Joyce said, smiling at the other boys. “They’re both in there. You’ll be alright?”

“Yep! Be back before dark!” Dustin waved.

“Won’t fall into any alternate dimensions!” Max added.

“Call if you need anything.” Joyce nodded. “Have fun!”

El was already gone, and the boys and Max shared a quick look before ducking into Will’s room. El was, indeed, already sitting beside Mike on the floor, the two of them locked in a kiss. Will was focused intently on his drawing, enough so that he noticed neither them nor the teens entering.

“El, we talked about this whole ‘being gross’ thing.” Max groaned, averting her eyes to the ground.

El flipped her off.

Will finally noticed everyone, sitting up from his doodle of a butterfly. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah, and we owe Mr Clarke money.” Max said.

El pulled away from Mike, glaring at her. “We’re borrowing it.”

“It’s a lot of shit.”

“He said we can do it so long as we show him. He likes encouraging science, and when we told him the boys had never built a radio-”

“This is gonna be the shit!” Lucas said.

“We better get going, then.” Max said. “Come on. You, too, lovebirds.”

“What, you don’t wanna draw?” Mike asked, eyes wide.

“This radio’s gonna take some time, now move your ass!”

“Geez, fine.” El rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be the dictator.”

“And you don’t have to be glued to Mike, but there ya are.”

“Max?” Will asked, leaning on Dustin’s shoulder while they walked, “Do we have to go so far?”

“Do you wanna carry the bag?”

“I could carry the bag.” Mike volunteered, stretching out his hand. The bag then flew out of Max’s arms, levitating beside them. “Easy.”

“Mike!” El giggled, though she tried to look stern. “Stop it, somebody could see!”

“We’re going up a hill, who else is here?” Lucas shrugged.

“I’ll just-” Mike waved his hand, and the bag flew to the top of the hill, up ahead.

To Mike and El’s confusion, Max looked a bit annoyed. “Cool. Thanks.” she said blankly, before moving back towards Will to say something about his art.

El glanced around the field as they finally made their way to the top. It was a bit darker than they’d thought it would be, but that was alright, they could stay out a bit late. It wasn’t as if they had anywhere to be.

“Isn’t Summer great?” El whispered to Mike, leaning on his shoulder. “No school, so we can hang out all day.”

“School sucks, you should stop going.” Mike said, fiddling with her hand, running his fingers inbetween hers.

“I dunno. You might like it. You like learning.”

“I don’t like crowds and sitting still.”

“You liked Mr Clarke, when he met you in the store.”

“Everyone likes Mr Clarke.”

“He was nice at the Snow Ball.” Dustin remembered. “He told me and Lucas that we looked good.”

“He was lying.” Max quipped, glancing back at him.

Dustin flipped her off. “We looked great! Didn’t we, Will?”

Will bit his lip. “I guess.”

Dustin’s face fell slightly. “You guess? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know what’s pretty and what’s not.” Will said quickly. “I mean, with clothes.”

“I mean, that much is obvious.” Max rolled her eyes and elbowed him. “You still dress like Jonathan.”

“I like looking like Jonathan.”

“You like looking like a nerd?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s a nerd?” Lucas asked.

“You all are.” Max said. “And we’re here.”

They stopped at the top of the hill, where the bag waited, and Max spread out her arms. “Look around, my labrat friends! This is what nature looks like!”

“I hate nature.” Lucas muttered, flopping onto the grass. “And walking.”

“Don’t call them lab rats.” El said, leaning her chin onto Mike’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, it’s funny, and we know she’s not being mean.” Dustin said. “When do we get started on the radio?”

“Right now!” Max knelt down to unzip the bag. “You know, I haven’t been up here since the mall opened. It’s weird having it in the view. Right, El?”

“Hm?” El and Mike had sat down beside each other. “Oh, yeah. I guess.”

Max bit her lip and turned to face the other boys. “El and I would sometimes come up here when Hop needed us out of the house. Play D&D or have a picnic or throw rocks.”

“Build radios?” Will asked, peering into the bag of supplies.

“Not really.” Max laughed. “This is new for us, too. Right, El-? Oh, they’re making out again, okay. You boys wanna help me get this up?”

“Of course!” Dustin beamed, racing forwards and brushing past Will to pull something out; Will backed up slightly, startled. “What’s this do?”

“Well, that’s part of the legs- no, don’t just- lemme get the instructions Mr Clarke made us first.” She pulled out a slip of paper. “It shouldn’t be hard. Once it’s up, we can try to hack into other radio signals.”

“To listen to people?” Dustin asked, uncertain.

“No, no. Just find music that stations around here haven’t got.” Max said. “El and I used to talk about doing this all the time, and now we can. Isn’t that great, Ellie?”

El didn’t respond, so Lucas said, “How do we start?”

Max smiled at him and spread out the instructions. “Alright, so- first of all, Mike and El need to get their asses over here.”

“Fine.” El said, her and Mike finally dragging themselves over.

“Now,” Max said, “We start with the initial setup.”

Melvad’s was empty again. Joyce had gotten used to this over the last few weeks, and had found new ways to occupy her time, such as fixing up old clothes for Will, or sewing an extra pillow or blanket with spare material. At the moment, she was patching up a shirt when Hopper came in.

“I’m going to guess,” Joyce said, barely glancing up, “That you’re here to complain about our children again.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“They’re spending the day out again, though.” Joyce said.

“It just worries me. I don’t like them running around without supervision.”

“They’re fourteen, Hop, what are they gonna do?”

Hopper smiled a little, leaning against the counter. “Well. You remember the shit we got up to when we were fourteen?”

Joyce finally looked up, a smile brightening her face. “Okay, but we were idiots, and four out of six of them have superpowers. And two of them can kill any threat without so much as breaking a sweat.”

Hopper sighed. “It just… you know, feels like El and Max are always gone.”

“Well, they’re at that independent stage.” Joyce shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, we always knew this was going to happen with our kids, when they hit that age they wanna try things on their own. It’s part of being a parent.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“So long as you don’t take it out on Mike.” Joyce said. “Because Nancy might kill you.”

“If she doesn’t kill her bosses first.”

Joyce bit her lip. Nancy had ranted to her about the sexism she faced in the office once or twice, and she was starting to wonder if it had been appropriate to mention that to Hopper. Of course she made him swear not to bother all the editors of the paper, because she knew if she didn’t he’d burst in guns blazing and find some reason to arrest them all, and that would just cause more trouble for Nancy. She was already doing so much for them, it would be unfair to throw her under the bus like that.

“Still, Hop, you know what Mike’s been through- what they’ve all been through. It makes sense they’re all a bit…”

“Feral?”

“That wasn’t the word I was looking for.”

“Joyce, Lucas and Dustin still dig through the trash whenever they’re over to try and find ‘useful things,’ and one time I swear to God I saw Mike bark back at a dog.”

“Oh my God.” Joyce laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. And that’s who El decided to date.”

“Well, first she decided to hide him in your attic and rescue his friends from a government base, and then she decided to date him.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I feel like you’re going to be reminded for the rest of your life.” Joyce hesitated, and then said, “Look, if it’s really bothering you, talk to them.”

“It feels like every time I try I just- you’re better at words than me, why don’t you do it?”

“Cause they’re not my kids.” Joyce said, leaning over the counter. “Listen, why don’t you write down what you’re thinking and use it as, like, a cue card? Get it all out and then you’ll remember-”

The door swung open, then, a small bell going off. Joyce stood up and said, “Hold on, customer. Be right back!”

She ran off to the door, smiling jovially at the woman who came in, looking for something for her son’s party. Hopper smiled after Joyce, content for the moment to just watch her. As she grinned, sunlight bouncing off her hair, he couldn’t help thinking how perfect she was.

Max flipped a switch, and grinned as they heard some fuzzy music. “Y’all! I found another channel!”

It was getting darker, and Lucas kept nervously checking his watch; if they were late back to the Byers’ house, they’d worry everyone. Will and Dustin were spread out on the grass, giggling and pointing towards the stars; Dustin had just gotten an astrology book, and was excitedly pointing out constellations to his friend.

“I had no idea there were so many stars.” Will muttered.

“I never would have thought of making shapes out of them.” Dustin said. “Who do you think was the first person to do that?”

“I don’t know, but sometimes I like seeing things in the sky.” Will said. “Like, there- you said that was the Dragon?”

“Draco, yeah. After the Latin name.”

“Well it kinda looks more like… a snake. There aren’t legs, but you can see the head. And that star down there, that could make a tongue.”

“Hey, you’re right!”

Lucas sat beside them, pointing up. “Look at those stars.” They followed his finger, as he moved it to point out specific shapes. “It looks like a bear.”

“Yeah!” Will nodded, sitting up a little.

“I mean, there’s already a bear constellation.”

“You mean the one that looks like a pot?”

Max glanced away from the boys’ conversation, her attention drifting to Mike and El; while he braided flowers into her hair, she was making some kind of grass chain. Max moved over, saying, “Hey, mind if I join in?”

“Not at all.” El said. She finished her chain and started tying it into a circle. “But we should probably get back soon.”

“We only barely finished the radio, though.” Max said, starting to tie two stalks of grass together.

“But it’s getting darker. They’ll freak, you know they will.”

“We’re probably late.” Mike said, not sounding very concerned.

Max sighed. “Well, maybe if you guys had been more help it would have been set up faster.”

“We were helping.” El said.

“Don’t fight.” Mike said, shrinking back slightly.

“Sorry.” El turned around, putting her hand on his. She glanced at Max and said, “We can come back later. Maybe tomorrow?”

Max bit her lip. “Sure.”

El waited a moment, to see if she would say anything, but after a while, she tried to shrug off the awkwardness, and then put her grass chain on Mike’s head. “Grass crown for the Grass King.” she said.

“What does a Grass King do?” Mike asked, smiling.

“He wears grass crowns and carries his Grass Queen back down the hill.”

“Alright, then.” Mike stood up, and El let out a delighted laugh as he picked her up.

Max rolled her eyes. “Listen, El, just because your boyfriend is tall-”

“Race back to the Byers, go!” El shouted, and Mike nodded at Max and took off.

“Hey, no fair!” Max jumped to her feet. “Player Two, get back here! You have to-” she groaned. “Boys, come on, we’re racing back!”

“Okay!” Lucas jumped to his feet, excited. “I’m faster than Mike, let’s go!”

“Um,” Will bit his lip. “I might stay here a bit longer. Stars.”

Dustin noticed his glance, and said, “I’ll stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Okay, but if you don’t meet us at the Byers’ in thirty minutes,” Max said, “Nancy and Hopper are gonna come up here and kill you themselves.”

Will’s eyes widened, until he realized Max was joking. Lucas waved at him and Dustin and then ran down, grabbing Max’s hand and dragging her after the rapidly disappearing Mike and El.

Once they were out of earshot, Dustin glanced back at Will and said, “What is it?” Will shook his head. “Come on, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

Will sat up, shaking his head again. “It’s dumb.”

“I doubt it.”

Finally, Will moved over to the radio. “I was… I was hoping we could… try and call Kali. And her gang. I… I worry about them. They’re still out there alone.”

Dustin watched him silently for a moment, and said, “That’s not dumb.”

“But they won’t have a radio. I don’t even know where they are. I was just gonna- gonna flip through channels until I-I heard something- this is dumb.”

“No!” Dustin scooted forwards, his eyes lighting up. “Here. Start flipping through, and I’ll try to force a vision. Maybe it’ll tell me what channel they’re on.” Will shook his head wildly. “Seriously, it’ll be fine. I’m getting better at it! I’ve been practicing when I’m bored, and I’ve been able to predict small things! Sometimes I can get the visions to tell me what I want! Let me try, okay?”

Will hesitated. “Only if you’re okay-”

“Of course! Come on, start flipping!”

Will hesitated. “How- how do I do that?”

“Shit, I forgot you don’t know… well, just gimme a moment. I’ll see something.”

Dustin scooted back, sitting cross-legged and gripping his hands together, hmming slightly. Will’s eyes widened, and he fiddled with the grass, watching his friend try to slow his breathing and concentrate.

After a moment, Dustin’s hands flew to the radio controls, and he started moving very fast, so fast Will blinked in amazement and leaned forwards, trying to pay attention to what he did.

“Did you see something?” Will asked.

“Just… a… flash…” Dustin said, very slowly. “Recently I’ve been getting small… flashes… hold on.”

He landed on a channel, and Will said, “Is it Kali? Wilder? Mick? F-”

“I don’t know, I just… had a flash…” Dustin leaned back. “Do you hear anything?”

Will listened, and then slumped. “No.”

“It- it could’ve been wrong. Or maybe the wrong time. I can try again-”

Will shook his head. “It’s not your responsibility. Mike and I should’ve- I should’ve figured something better than just running.”

“You were in a rush. And if you and Mike had arrived any later, we would’ve been Demodog food.”

“Well, that was mainly Mike. I… I wasn’t useful.”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “The hell does that mean? We were all useful! We all went into the tunnels and saved Mike!”

“I-”

At that moment, they heard a faint voice from the radio.

“What the…”

Dustin moved back to the controls, adjusting them slightly. “Does that sound familiar?” Will shook his head again. It sounded male, but it didn’t sound like Funshine or Axel. In fact, it sounded like gibberish.

“Didn’t Max pack a recorder?” Dustin asked. Will nodded, and ran to the bag, which she’d forgotten beside them. He brought out the recorder, remembering her saying something about how her and El used to sing into it and maybe they could do group karaoke or something. He brought it to Dustin, who had finally gotten the voice much louder.

And now that it was clearer, Will understood what the man was saying. He gaped, and turned to Dustin. Almost instinctively, he tapped on the side of the radio, several dots and dashes.

Dustin nodded. “That’s Russian. Mike knows Russian, right?”

Will shuddered, tapping out Papa taught him little. Enough?

“Record it, we’ll see if we can have him translate when we get back.”

Will handed him the recorder, thinking. He recognized one or two words thrown in- the boys had all been given basic Russian lessons, in case they were “needed undercover”, whatever that meant. But Mike had been given the most, because he could see people. In the Void. At least, they thought so. Mike never paraded his lessons from the Lab around, but Will remembered some of the doctors discussing “classes,” and occasionally Mike muttering words in other languages under his breath while visiting.

Dustin was recording, so he didn’t want to speak aloud. So instead he waved his hand until Dustin looked at him, and then he tapped on the ground. A simple question: Do you really think this is important?

Dustin responded very quickly. At least it will be interesting.

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things au #rightside up au #rsu3 #mine #st fanfic #my fanfic

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once-upon-a-pirate-ship · 6 years ago

Text

Bets & Walls

A gift for an old friend on her birthday. @frankierosizedletters

Will bets Killian $100 that he can't get Emma to go on a date with him. He really needs the money, and he can only hope that she's the charitable type.

(spoiler: she is)

Follow my main Tumblr @elisethewritingbeast

Also on AO3 here

Emma Swan was just a regular girl. Sure, she was a cheerleader, one of the “cool kids” perhaps, but she liked to think that she was normal. Maybe this word was so important to her because she’d only joined the Nolan family a few years ago, just before she started high school. Now, she had the best brother a girl could ask for, a best friend who always made her laugh, and basically a sister because she knew that one day her brother would marry that girl.

But Emma still found ways that her past slipped in through the cracks in her walls, digging a hole in her mind that made her think things she wished she could forget. She still felt lost sometimes, sitting at a table in the cafeteria with David, Mary Margaret, and Ruby, trying to listen to their mindless chatter about this and that but not really being able to, her brain pulling her back to her isolated ways from the millions of foster homes she fell in and out of in her time before living with Ruth and David.

She felt like she needed to give herself a mental slap, or maybe a real one. She was being ridiculous, really. She should be worried about the next football game her brother would play in, and what cheers she, Ruby, and M’s needed to remember. She didn’t need to be thinking of that time. The Dark Ages, as she so sweetly dubbed it. The name was fitting, because there truly was no light in her life until she met David and Ruth.

She left the cafeteria feeling a bit guilty, taking her time wandering to her locker and enjoying the mind-numbing buzz of the crowded hallways around her.

At her locker, she found what she needed for trigonometry and moved her hand to close the door, when a figure appeared beside her. That cute boy from her AP History class, Killian , she remembered.

He always had a book with him, usually a classic, and would often spend class doodling instead of taking notes. He never needed to, and despite his never paying attention, he knew the material better than anyone, except for maybe herself. He was quiet, kept to himself, and had that look in his eyes that she knew all too well.

“Hi,” he said shyly.

“Hi,” she wondered why he was talking to her; he never had before. It was a shame, really.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” he mumbled, obviously nervous. The way his hand moved to scratch behind his ear made her smile. She didn’t respond, just raised an eyebrow, so he went on. “Well, Will bet me one hundred dollars that I couldn’t get you to go out with me. I don’t think I could, but I really could use one hundred dollars, and I was hoping that you might be the charitable type…” he trailed off, so unsure of himself that she had to suppress another smile.

“Sure, but you’re buying,” she told him, and couldn’t help but laugh under her breath at the shocked look on his face. She turned to her locker, scribbling her number on a sticky note and passing it to him. “Here,” was all she said before she shut her locker and left to go to trig. She didn’t look back to see the look on his face, but she knew it would’ve made her giggle like a school girl. But wasn’t that exactly who she was?

They solidified their plans over the rest of the week, and come Saturday night, Killian Jones was picking her up at Ruth’s house. She inquired about just not going out but saying they did, but apparently Will wanted photographic proof.

David lounged on her bed while she finished her eyeliner, grumbling as he usually did. “Why are you going out with Jones again?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s nice, David. Get over it. Besides, it’s just one date,”

“Fine, but I can give him the big brother speech if you want,”

“No!” She nearly jumped. “No, absolutely not. Please don’t do that,” her brother was very intimidating when given the opportunity.

There was a knock on her door at seven o’clock on the dot, and she noted that he was definitely the punctual type. She swung open the door, and she honestly wanted to gasp at how honestly attractive he looked, but the way his eyes slid up her body and how he swallowed so nervously...it made her heart rate speed up ridiculously.

He held the car door open for her. “What a gentleman,” she commented.

Killian’s reply was quick. “I’m always a gentleman, love.” It made her weak in the knees.

He took her to the only fancy restaurant in town, a little Italian place, and they even had reservations. No one had ever made reservations for her. He even pushed in her chair, and she couldn’t believe how much she felt like a real princess. She brushed the skirt of her pale pink dress anxiously as he sat down, feeling a little out of place.

She’d had boyfriends before. Well, boyfriend, singular. Neal. It was a whirlwind romance that turned into no more than a summer fling. He beat at her walls with a baseball bat, but it hurt her when he swung. David had hated him from the start, and that really should’ve been enough to make her wary.

But Neal, Neal never treated her like this. He never sat across from her at the fanciest restaurant he could find, smiling hesitantly at her. He didn’t hold her door, or make reservations, or push in her chair. Neal was no gentleman.

“So, do you make bets with Will Scarlet often?” She asked conversationally.

He laughed, and she could see the tension leave his shoulders. “Not usually, no. But he was feeling particularly bored the other day, and well, I could use the money.”

“Makes sense,” she commented, and then their conversation was halted until they could order their food.

Once their waiter was gone, she relaxed slightly. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Jones. Had a lot of practice on that front?”

His eyebrow cocked and he smirked. “Are you asking me about past romances, Swan?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, you do plan a good night out,”

He shifted in his seat, swallowing. “To be honest, Swan, I was worried you might think it wasn’t enough. You deserve to be properly wined and dined, if you’ll excuse the cliché.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, and she fiddled with the chain around her neck. “I’m not so sure about that,” she muttered.

If she’d been looking, she would’ve seen the way his eyes darkened slightly at his words. “That’s ridiculous, Swan,” he almost scoffed.

She shook her head, finally meeting his gaze. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, Killian?” She changed the topic.

He chuckled. “What do you want to know?”

“I dunno,” she picked the first thing that came to mind. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“Well, it’s sort of embarrassing, really,”

“Why do you say that?” She found him fascinating, and she couldn’t help her outburst of curiosity.

He waited a moment, as if he were trying to figure out what to say. “It was my mum’s favorite movie, and we watched it all the time together before…” he cleared his throat, “when I was younger.” She knew not to push, and kept silent until he answered her question. “The Princess Bride.”

Her eyes widened, and she thought that if she were standing, she would need to sit down. “No way,”

“What?”

“That’s my favorite movie, too.” And then his eyes matched hers in size and they sat there for a few moments in shocked silence.

“What are the chances?” He wondered aloud.

“That’s crazy, really,” she shook her head in disbelief.

"Almost...inconceivable." They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

The rest of dinner passed with lively conversation, filled with laughter and (just maybe) a little flirting. She was absolutely stunned by how much she liked Killian.

After they left the restaurant, he offered an alternative to taking her home right away. “Fancy a walk down at the docks?”

“Sure,” she said, glad she had an excuse to extend their perfect evening.

The air was warm and the water was calm, and they walked with their shoulders just barely touching down to the edge of the dock, where Emma took a seat and let her legs dangle over the water. He joined her, sitting a bit farther than she had hoped he would.

“You never did answer my question earlier,” she told him, staring out at the soft waves in the distance.

“Hm?”

“My question. About girls,” she clarified.

“Oh,” he paused, eyebrows furrowing. “No, no girls. It has never really...come up before.”

“Really?” She asked.

He looked at her, smiling gingerly. “Does that surprise you?”

“Sort of,” she said, and when he looked at her curiously, she added, “you’re just good at this, I guess.”

“Am I?” His grin grew.

“Don’t get a big head or anything, but yeah. Definitely makes a girl feel like a princess.”

“Well, you deserve nothing less.” He was so genuine that Emma shivered. “Cold?” He asked, concerned. She shook her head, but he didn’t believe her. And as if it weren’t the most cliché thing he could have done, he shrugged off his leather jacket and put it over her shoulders.

They enjoyed the natural and comfortable silence that came with gently crashing waves and whispering wind. Emma and Killian sat there for a while, just basking in the peacefulness of it and appreciating each other’s company.

Anyone’s voice but his would’ve cut through the silence, slicing it and making it bleed, but his caressed the quiet, making her feel warm and light. “You seemed...surprised,” he said.

“Hm?”

“Surprised, earlier. At the restaurant, the reservations, it surprised you. Why?” He asked.

“Oh, well, I guess that my last boyfriend wasn’t really one to make reservations at the nicest place in town,” she shrugged.

“It was Neal Gold, right?”

“Yeah,” she still felt a stab at his name, but she also felt like someone was there to put pressure on her wound.

“Sorry, but he’s kind of a dick,”

She laughed, releasing the tension in her body. “Oh, absolutely. He did a lot of things and said a lot of things that I think my brother would’ve killed him for,”

“So he’s the reason you think you don’t deserve to be treated like a princess,” he stated, and it sounded nothing like a question.

“I guess, maybe. He just...reminded me of who I am,”

“And just who are you, Swan?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Perhaps I would,” he was so honest, so authentic that it made her heart shudder.

Another minute of silence passed between them before she spoke again.

“I was left on the side of the highway as a baby. I bounced around foster care for years, always the girl no one wanted. Just a lost girl, never anything more.” Her arms moved to hug herself almost subconsciously. “And then I found David and Ruth. I was fourteen when they took me in, and I could never have asked for a better family. I never dreamed I would even have one to begin with.”

He watched her carefully in the moonlight, taking in all her words and every flicker of her eyes. But what he felt wasn’t pity, it was understanding.

“My dad left us when I was seven, just after we found out mum was sick. My brother Liam took care of her–and me–until she died. They took me away from him after that. He was too young to be my legal guardian. He was only just able to find me again, right before we moved here.”

It was her turn to watch him, watch as the words fell out of his lips as if they’d been waiting to do that forever. The weight that sat between them had been lifted.

Emma’s hand moved slightly, just enough to cover Killian’s. His eyes flitted to hers, and then he flipped his hand so his fingers could lock with hers.

Killian Jones was slowly disassembling her walls, brick by brick. He was careful, and all he had to do was give it a slight tug, no breaking required.

It was late by the time they made it back to Ruth’s place (Emma’s place), but she still didn’t want the night to end. They stood on her porch, hands still intertwined.

“Thank you. For tonight,” she said, smiling up at him.

“It was truly my pleasure, Swan. I’m only glad you had a good time,” he told her.

“I’m really happy that Will made that bet,” she told him. “Oh my god, we forgot to take pictures! We don’t have any photographic evidence for him,”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to go out again, won’t we?” He smirked.

“I don’t think I’d mind that too much,” she murmured, her eyes catching on his lips.

“No?” He asked, leaning in somewhat.

“No, I don’t think I would.” She said, closing the distance between them and captured his lips with hers.

#once upon a time #fanfic #ao3 #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #cs ff #killian jones #Emma swan #elisethewritingbeast #writing #high school au #cheerleader x nerd trope #personal writing

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owlways-and-forever · 6 years ago

Text

Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity. Word Count: 3,518 (8,979) Links: ao3 | FFnet | Tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2

A/N: Happy Easter/Passover everyone!! This is the longest chapter so far, but it will not be the longest! Anyway, got some fun holiday stuff for ya this week, and I hope you all enjoy it! As always, comments are very much appreciated! <3 :)

Chapter 3

Christmas came quickly at Hogwarts, the temperature dropping and frost coating every leaf and blade of grass each morning. Students faced intense end of term projects and exams in nearly all of their classes, and so the library had become the most populated place in the school each evening. Teachers lit fires in their classrooms to add heat during the day, and everyone walked around, bundled up. The castle was beautiful, but the stone did little to keep out the cold.

Lily found herself adjusting to a new reality of her life. That she, of all people, was dating a prince - the Prince, the heir to the throne of the magical United Kingdom - was quite a shock at times. She wasn’t typically one to waver in confidence, but at times she felt astonished that a prince would choose her, want her. But then James would inevitably do something stupid and she would think that it wasn’t a prince that wanted her, but James Potter, her James. He hardly ever seemed like a prince - chewing on his glasses while he thought, and participating in reckless pranks with Sirius, Remus and Peter. The more time they spent together, the more he became her James, a secret person that no one else knew but her. He radiated heat when they cuddled and yelped when she touched her cold feet to his lava-like skin. He drew doodles on her skin and connected her freckles in patterns and constellations.

As term progressed, Lily spent more and more of her time with James. They walked together between classes, and sat together when they could. At meal times, Lily often sat with James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, but James sat with Lily and Mary and Marlene and Dorcas nearly as often. Sometimes the whole lot of them sat together, and Lily would nudge James sharply whenever she saw Mary eyeing Sirius with a blush on her cheek. They would study together, and relax together in the evenings, and go to Hogsmeade together as often as they were allowed. For quidditch games, Lily would wear James’ practice robes (she made sure he always washed them beforehand, after the first time), and paint her face and spray gold streaks in her red hair.

She kept her promise to James, and didn’t tell the girls his secret, no matter how much she wanted to. Marlene had added another reason why James likely was the Prince (Marlene overheard Peter teasingly call James ‘Your Highness’ and seen Sirius curtsey to him), and two more why he likely wasn’t (“he’s much taller than the Prince, didn’t you see the photos in the Prophet over the summer?”; the whole Royal family is supposed to be excellent potioneers, but you know how dreadful James is at Potions). She could imagine how Marlene would react if Lily told her that James Potter was in fact a member of the royal family, slack jawed and throwing pillows at Lily for not saying anything sooner, before peppering her with five hundred questions about James and the royal family, most of which would probably be inappropriate.

As the last days of term flew by, snow began to fall, promising a white Christmas at Hogwarts, and Lily and James tried to steal every last moment they could together. There were three days after the end of classes before students would return home on the train, which Lily and James spent nearly entirely together. During the day they often hung out with their friends, having snowball fights or playing games by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. But after dinner, the two of them would sneak off to be alone, wherever they could find space. Sometimes it was a deserted classroom, sometimes a squished broom closet, where every inch of their bodies was pressed together. On the last night before leaving for break, James took her to the Room of Requirement.

It had outfitted itself like a little studio apartment, and Lily didn’t realize that it was, in fact, a shifting room until James told her about how they had found it, the things that had happened there. On this occasion, there was a little sitting area, complete with a sofa, armchair, and a crackling fireplace. A small, round dining table stood directly in front of the door, set with candles and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. To the side stood a large king size bed, covered in plush crimson blankets and pillows that looked like clouds. Lily paled a little when she saw the bed, wondering if James was expecting them to go all the way. They’d fooled around, quite a bit, cuddled up in bed often, and even spent the occasional night asleep in each other’s arms, but they’d always stopped short of having sex. As if reading Lily’s trepidation, the room conjured translucent curtains that dropped from the ceiling, shrouding the bed. If James noticed the change, which he must have, he said nothing about it, just lightly letting go of Lily’s hand so he could drop onto the sofa, swinging his legs up and grinning at her.

“Excited to see your family?” James asked, making small talk.

“Yeah,” Lily said, still standing a little ways away. “I always miss them, but… Petunia’s been a bit more distant this year, so I guess I’m a little nervous too.”

“Gonna tell them about me?” he continued, raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend.

“If it comes up,” Lily shrugged, which elicited a pout from James. She laughed at his response, which relaxed her a little, and she sat down lightly in his lap. “Well, I’m not going to make a big announcement of it.”

James’ fingers found the ends of Lily’s red hair, rolling strands of it between his fingertips. She hummed happily and he watched the smile spread on her face, content to stay with her like this forever.

“I have something for you,” he said abruptly, tugging his wand from his back pocket. “A Christmas present.”

“But it’s not Christmas yet,” Lily protested, suddenly feeling guilty that her present for him was still bag in the girls’ dormitory, unwrapped.

“I know, but I wanted to give it to you in person,” he answered, flicking his wand in the direction of his bag. A shallow square box floated toward them, wrapped in plaid wrapping paper.

Lily unwrapped the gift delicately, revealing a jewelry box inside, and her heart leapt into her throat. It felt far too early in their relationship for him to be gifting her jewelry. Heart pounding furiously, Lily opened the box, and gasped. Inside, nestled against the blue velvet, was a beautiful ruby pendant. The teardrop-shaped gem was surrounded by a halo of small, crystal clear diamonds, all of which shone like liquid. The magnificent confection hung on the most delicate chain of white gold that Lily had ever seen, and it seemed to ripple and move as she shifted the box. She could tell that it was created and imbued with magic, something deep and ancient and beautiful.

“Do you like it?” James asked tentatively, his hazel eyes wide as he watched her, searching for any sign of her response.

“James, its… it’s stunning,” she answered, and his face lit up like the sun at her words. She wanted to tell him that it was too much, that she couldn’t accept, but he was so happy, and she couldn’t bear to take that away from him. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Good, good,” he sighed, looking so relieved that his gift had been received well. He took the box from her hands and lifted the necklace out of it, moving to clasp it around her neck. “It looks so beautiful on you, Lily,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For a brief moment, Lily felt like a doll, being dressed up and then congratulated on how pretty she looked, and she wondered if a future with James meant feeling like that forever. But she tamped the feeling down, reminding herself that there were good things about the monarchy, that they had some power and a great deal of influence. It wasn’t all fancy dresses and extravagant jewelry. And it really was very nice of James to get her something so beautiful, and so expensive.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyeing her with concern.

“I just… I don’t know when I’d wear it, it’s so…” Lily’s fingers found the pendant and brushed against it delicately as she tried to find the right words.

“No, no, it’s an every day sort of thing,” James insisted, his eyes growing wide, and he took her hands squeezing them. “It’s just a little pendant, nothing crazy. I didn’t want to get you something that you’d only be able to wear on special occasions.”

“Right,” Lily said, swallowing her discomfort and forcing a smile. “I just worry that I might lose it, or break the chain or something.”

“You won’t, it’s enchanted,” James replied, shaking his head lightly.

Lily smiled weakly at the thought and pulled her hands away, fingers finding the necklace once more. Perhaps in time she would grow more comfortable with it, and she could certainly try, for James’ sake. It wasn’t his fault that they came from such vastly different economic backgrounds, after all.

They continued talking, about nothing and everything all at once. Stories of Christmases past, the traditions that they looked forward to and even the ones that they hated. They laughed at Sirius, who had tried everything he could to avoid going home for the break. When they both got peckish, Lily summoned the strawberries over to them, and they gorged themselves, until Lily decided to throw them at James and see if he could catch them in his mouth. He failed miserably, and strawberries ended up scattered across the floor, collecting dust as the chocolate softened and melted.

The heat of the fire began to addle their minds as sleep tugged, and their antics became more foolish and drowsy. James stood at last, reaching for Lily’s hand and tugging her up to join him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, and nuzzling her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I rather fancy a kip, don’t you?” James teased, leading Lily toward the bed.

He shifted the curtains to the side and Lily saw two sets of pajamas folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and she sighed happily. He wasn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary for them then. Lily slipped out of her clothes and into the silk pajamas set out for her, enjoying the way they slid over her skin like water. Her fingers lingered on the necklace for a moment, wondering if she should take it off, but she decided against it, letting it hang heavy against her sternum. James pulled his own pajama pants on, but tossed the shirt aside. Lily knew that he usually slept fully clothed, but when he was with her, he preferred to go shirtless. She crawled into bed and he flopped down next to her, running his hand haphazardly through his hair as he yawned. They began to doze off quickly, Lily’s hands drifting across James’ chest in soothing motions.

“I love you,” he whispered, snuggling closer to her, and Lily wondered if he even realized what he had said. He didn’t seem to react at all, and not a few moments later he began snoring lightly.

“I love you too, James,” she answered once she was sure he was out, pressing a kiss to her sleeping boyfriend’s forehead.

* * * * *

Lily said goodbye to James as they boarded the Hogwarts Express back to London. They thought it was important that they each have some time alone with their friends, since they had spent the entire night together. As the other girls nattered away happily, Lily idly fingered the pendant around her neck, feeling the weight of it as she rolled it through her fingertips. It wasn’t just the weight of the stone and the setting and the chain that tugged at her, but the weight of the sentiment behind it. More than anything else this necklace, and the words that James had uttered in his sleep the night before, made what they had feel real, and solid, and unchangeable. She wasn’t sure if it scared her or made her feel safe - was it possible to be both?

“Look, Lily, we all know you have a super hot, super rich boyfriend to daydream about, but could you at least try to pay attention to our conversation?” Marlene snapped, bringing Lily’s focus back to their train compartment.

“Sorry,” she said looking at her hands in shame. It was possible that she hadn’t been the best friend lately. “What were we talking about?”

“I was saying that Mary should just forget about Sirius, because he’s definitely gay, but Dorcas disagrees and she thinks Mary should just ask him out, because ‘girl power’,” Marlene said, annoyance colouring her voice. “And Mary says she can’t possibly ask him out because she’d be way too nervous.”

Mary blushed a deep pink, and Lily tried to offer her a kind smile. Unfairly, blushing always looked so flattering on Mary, giving her a soft, feminine sort of glow. When Lily blushed, she just looked like some kind of multi-tone tomato.

“Well, I’m not sure if he’d be interested or not, but you could definitely ask him, what’s the worst that could happen?” Lily offered, not really sure what advice to give. It had only been a few months, but already she felt so far removed from the world of crushes and trying to figure out if someone liked you back.

“He could say no and everyone could laugh at me!” Mary whispered, almost like she was afraid that speaking the words would make them come true.

“That wouldn’t happen -” Lily began to protest, but Marlene scoffed at her.

“Come on, Lily, surely James has given some kind of hint about who Sirius might be interested it,” she insisted, brown eyes boring into Lily.

“I don’t really th -” Lily started, before a memory surfaced. “Hang on, didn’t Sirius ask you out?”

Marlene spluttered and Mary looked at her with wide eyes while Dorcas shook her head. Apparently, Marlene hadn’t chosen to share that information.

“I don’t think he was really interested in dating me,” Marlene said quickly, almost pleading with Mary. “He just wanted to get in my pants, and I said no.”

“Did you want to say yes?” Mary asked, her voice small.

“No, Mary, I would never do that to you,” Marlene replied.

“But did you want to?” Mary repeated.

Marlene was silent, and it was enough for all of them to know the answer to that question. Mary looked like she was about to burst into tears, and she stood up, moving toward the door of the compartment.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” she said, opening the door.

“Mary!” they all called, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay, I just need a minute alone,” she said, quieting them before leaving the compartment.

The moment the door was shut behind her, Marlene turned on Lily.

“Why would you say that?” she hissed, eyes flashing.

“I thought you would have told her!” Lily said, trying to defend herself.

“Why would I ever tell her something that would only upset her?” Marlene spat, anger pouring off of her in waves.

“Because we’re best friends,” Lily argued, her brows furrowing, “and we don’t keep things like that from each other. It would’ve been better for her to hear it from you, because you know she was bound to find out about it eventually.”

“Right, like you’ve told us everything about James,” Marlene said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Lily flushed red, very much aware that Marlene was right. She was hardly one to talk about keeping secrets. She wondered if it ever got easier... probably not.

“That’s different,” Lily stammered, trying to rationalize things. It’s different because he’s the prince. It’s different because he lives in hiding. It’s different because it’s not just from you, it’s from everyone. “I’m in a relationship with him, there are things that are personal, private, between us. But what you kept… it affects Mary, and you should have told her.”

Marlene crossed her arms, sulking against the back of her seat. Dorcas shrugged, content to stay out of this little fight, and pulled out a book, skimming through it quickly. Lily looked out the window, leaning her forehead against the cool glass as she toyed with the pendant around her neck. She wished her mind would just stop buzzing for a little while. It wasn’t long until Mary returned, finding them all silent and a little sullen, but she had a grin spreading across her face.

“You’re chipper,” Marlene said, looking a little bit pouty still, not that she really had much right to be upset with Mary.

“I did it,” Mary answered in an excited little whisper as she sat down in her seat again.

“Did what?” Dorcas asked, looking up from her book and sliding a marker in place to hold her page.

“I asked him out,” Mary said, bouncing in her seat a bit.

“Judging by your enthusiasm, I’m guessing he agreed?” Dorcas asked, and Mary nodded.

“Tell us everything!” Lily squealed happily.

“Well, I was just walking through the corridors,” Mary said, gesturing animatedly as she spoke, “just kind of thinking, and I bumped into him, as he was going to find the food trolley. And we were just chatting about school and break and everything, stuff, and I don’t know, I just asked if he’d want to go to Hogsmeade with me sometime when we got back from break. And he looked surprised, but happy and he agreed and we said we’d talk a bit over the holidays.”

“That’s great, Mary!” Lily gushed, leaning over to hug her friend. She wasn’t sure if Mary and Sirius were the best match (not least of all because his family was not likely to accept a muggle-born), but for now it made her friend happy, so she was all for it.

The rest of the train ride seemed to fly by, now that their compartment was filled with happier spirits. As they pulled into Kings Cross, Lily really began to feel the excitement at seeing her family again. Somehow she rarely fully realized how much she missed them while she was at school.

Lily bounded off the train and into her family’s arms, hugging first her mother, then Petunia, and then her father. He picked up her luggage for her and led them all to the car, Lily and Petunia walking with linked arms. It wasn’t until they were seated in the back seat of the little coupe and on their way home that Petunia noticed the glint of red around her sister’s neck.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked, poking at the little pendant lightly.

“Oh, um,” Lily hesitated, blushing furiously, “my boyfriend gave it to me for Christmas.”

Lily swore her father almost drove them off the road, in his surprise. Mr. Evans was usually a fairly calm and collected man, but when it came to his baby girl dating… well, fathers were just never ready for that.

“What boyfriend?” Petunia said, surprise evident in her voice.

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned James before,” Lily said, her face turning even more red. “But we started going out at the beginning of term, and I guess now it’s a thing…”

“Must be pretty serious if he’s giving you such fancy jewelry,” Petunia pressed, raising an eyebrow.

Lily turned scarlet, and she was sure she was glowing brighter than a traffic light at this point.

“I guess,” she admitted, wanting to talk about anything but her relationship. “How are things with Michael?”

“Over,” Petunia clucked sharply. “He was kind of awful.”

Lily giggled a little at that, and her laughter spread to Petunia, until both of them were doubled over laughing, tears welling in their eyes for no reason at all. It was always nice to find, whenever she came home, that some things never changed.

#marauders #jily #james potter #lily evans #Mary MacDonald #gen writes #ATtTR #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #petunia dursley

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slashyeen · 6 years ago

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What happened to Josie that made her a cyborg?

In the Mass Effect version, she’s blown up during the final battle on earth in 3; after surviving the first Reaper attack. I think she was eventually made into a cyborg but became a mercenary after the war (choosing the Destruction ending lmao, c’mon no Shepard without Vakarian! Dx)

Then there was the “Nixus” version of Josie sort of similar, as she was a rebel fighter that was captured and subjected into ‘soul transferring’ experiments. Dubbing her Subject 14. At first they tried to physically change her into the desired form but her body started to reject the change, resulting in her spirit being transferred into another body. A process that hadn’t worked until her, but it shattered her mind, resulting in “Nixus” being imbalanced and not quite right in the head. But I kinda treat Nixus as her own character rather than Josie, she just has Josie’s soul 8D

Think I’ll leave that Josie look to the Nixus universe, a friend of mine helped me re-designed her into the more sleek, swing design. (Booohira on other sites but tumblr devoured his blog here ;3;)

And in Overwatch, she was simply a victim of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. While performing at her studio (she was an entertainer, singing in a 1920s themed club), Omnics attacked the street, resulting in her club being demolished. Again she was blown up 8,D She survived and Talon plucked her up before she could be rescued. Now I haven’t updated Josie’s overwatch story since so much has been added and I haven’t kept up, but I think it’s safe to assume Moira took out her anime cat girl phase on her 8D

In the Slasher doodles, she’s completely human. Her hand got burned to sheit and her papa isn’t the nicest dude, but she hasn’t been blown up!….yet!

#arts #my art #josie #nixus

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hwarangbangbang · 7 years ago

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im jaebum » kiss the girl

i got the idea of doing this from reading a bed sharing AU i found on Tumblr, you can find it here. i take no credit for these prompts or gifs, however i do take credit for writing these stories.

title- kiss the girl prompt - “we fell asleep on the couch together on accident, how did my hand end up in your hair? were you breathing on my neck?! (why did I get tingly???????)” pairing - im jaebum/fem!reader tags - drinking, fluff, again hickies, suggestive snuggling, good morning anacondas, train to busan s p o i l e r s im sorry, they're meaningful hickies tho, is that even a thing, little mermaid reference ayyyye, bambam just rly likes hello kitty ok word count - 2,009 words author's note: im sorry this chapter was so shitty, i just got done with school and i have a job so i work like 5 days out of the week, and i have college and payments and bills and ew. But i will try to be as productive as i can with the other members! enjoy!

How you ended up like this, you have no idea.

The last thing you remember was boo-hoo crying along with Youngjae at the ending of Train to Busan, probably annoying the hell out of Yugyeom on Youngjae's left and Jaebum on your right of the couch.

Listen, as much as they wanna complain, Su-an deserved her fucking father -- the scene when he made her let go of him in the train car and he forced himself away was brutal to your heart strings -- and he didn't deserve to die in the end. Neither did the buff dude who's name couldn't come to mind at the time in writing this story.

"Hey, (Y/N)-ah?" Youngjae sniffled out your name, you remembered, causing you to look over and he wiped his eyes. "Could you get me another s-soju, please...?" He asked and you nodded, getting up from your spot next to an already passed out Jaebum, head tilted back on the arm of the couch, exposing his neck and god you had way to many drinks.

You remember wiping your tears and trying to worm your way through the sea of bodies across your living room, slung across one another in slumber.

However, there were six things you woke up to in the morning that you were prepared for.

And one thing you weren't.

BamBam was curled up on the coffee table with a Hello Kitty blanket and a neck pillow (you honestly weren't surprised he could fit on there, he's so skinny-).

Yugyeom and Jinyoung were on the floor to the right of the coffee table, Yugyeom using Jinyoung's sweater as a blanket, and Jinyoung using Yugyeom's stomach as a pillow.

Youngjae was laying on the loveseat, Coco (yes, he brought his dog) sleeping on his chest while Mark was on the floor in front of that sofa.

Jackson was snoring quietly in the recliner with one knee pulled up to his chest rather uncomfortably, and his other sprawled out on the foot rest.

All those were expected. Even your slight hangover was expected.

However, the thing that caught your attention was the thick arm curling around your waist, keeping you pinned beneath the owner and the couch. You were on your back, but you couldn't see the face of who was currently making you suffer from so much body heat. However, you could feel a few things that gave you an idea.

He was breathing in and out slowly, his mouth moving slightly against the expanse of your throat as he stirred and you weren't sure if you were still dreaming because no way in hell can this be who you think it is. But all the signs did scream yes. The silky black strands your right hand was entangled in, the piercings you could feel resting against your shoulder, the other hand poking into your thigh-

Wait a minute.

If your head is resting on one arm of his.

One hand of yours is in his hair.

His other arm is around your waist.

And your other hand is fisted in his shirt.

Oh-

Oh my god.

That's a dick.

That's his dick.

His dick is hard-

Im Jaebum's dick is hard-

and it's-

now poking into your leG.

p a n i c-

Then the lips that were pressed against your neck began to part. And that was when the panic began to low-key set in. Open-mouthed kisses were placed on the space just over your jugular, kisses that had you squirming in the best ways. You were actually enjoying yourself. Until you realized how incredibly wrong it was as to what you were doing.

You liked Jaebum, but he didn't like you. And it was wrong of you to let him do this to you, knowing that he had no idea it was you who he was doing it to. His morning wood had nothing to do with you, his closeness, his tongue technology (a to the g to the u to the sTD- sorry) all of it had nothing to do with you. It was just his dream, and it didn't involve you-

"(Y/N)~"

Or, dreams do come true and he just moaned your fucking name.

His voice startled you, causing you to jump. Which was a bad idea. Because that caused him to switch positions, so now he was on the bottom (hehe, bottom) and you were laying over him, his arms tightly around your torso so you weren't moving anytime soon.

aND YOU COULD feEL his dICK.

Anaconda. Cock-A-Doodle-Do. Pool Noodle. Hot Dog. Banana. Incredible Hulk. The terms are endless but it was there and o h m y g o d. Do you scream, do you cry, who the fuck knows.

You were about to wake him up when what he said next had your face redder than whatever 'set' he was complaining about. "Black makes you look sexier, (Y/N), more dangerous... I like it." Fuc- it's okay, you were fine.

"Jaebum... Jaebum-" You called softly, lightly patting his cheek but all that got was a nose twitch and a small groan. You sighed, before it dawned on you. You'd liked Jaebum for a while... when were you going to get another chance like this? You always thought since you were the third oldest out of the group of friends, two months older than BamBam, that he saw you as some kid. I mean, you two talked amongst each other about photography and such, but he never looked like he saw more of you.

Well, this was a game changer.

Taking all the courage you had, you leaned down and you kissed him. It was quick, barely even a full second, but you pulled back and scanned his face, but found no signs of consciousness.

Until he smirked a few seconds later.

"I knew you liked me, (Y/N)."

His sleepy smirk turned into a full on grin as he flipped the two of you once again, now both your hands on your stomach and his on either side of you, holding himself up. God, he looked gorgeous even when he was just getting up; his hair matted on one side, his voice deeper than ever, it rivaled Jackson's even.

You were pretty sure that you looked a mess. Ruined eyeliner from crying with Youngjae at the end of the movie – your breath probably smelled straight from a dumpster with how much you'd drank combined morning breath and it didn't sound like that good of a combination. You probably even had some drool dried on your chin.

You were sputtering like a dying engine trying to figure out what the hell to say. But he said it for you. "I... I know that I don't seem like I have feelings... for really anything." He confessed, catching your attention down to his plush pink lips just begging for yours. "Jinyoung and Youngjae have been working with me on that- I promise." He added, slightly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Oh my god, shut up I have a hangover let me sleep!” BamBam croaked out in his slightly deep voice – it was in English, surprisingly, rather than Korean or even Thai – and he just rolled over on his back to face the other way, the small Hello Kitty blanket barely covering his thin, lanky form.

This caused the tension in the room to shift. With you frozen beneath him, after the outburst from BamBam it caused you to go into a fit of giggles; ones you hushed yourself with your hand to keep from waking him up more. Jaebum was no better, biting his bottom lip to stop from laughing himself. After you two calmed down, he resumed his monologue.

Do you think he practiced it?

He totally practiced it.

For the sake of your own ego, you led yourself to believe he practiced it.

"I know I might treat you like a kid sometimes, but that's just because I'm scared of getting close to someone... someone I like a lot and have them leave me in the dust just for my fame. But I-... I know you won't do that to me, (Y/N)... right?"

God, it broke your heart to hear such things come from the singer's mouth. He'd been your friend since he was in the JJ Project, when you and Youngjae were just itty bitty trainees at JYP. Then, you'd landed a job in the production of GOT7, and were a on a team as a artist for their albums and their brand. But you always were honest with everyone, especially the GOT7 members, they were like family to you.

But Jaebum... he was more. He made your heart flutter with every passing glance.

You'd had a crush on him, even in his awkward blonde JJP phase with Jinyoung -- who was like an older brother to you. You would barely talk to Jaebum as a trainee, and when you weren't cutting it for debut, you were surprised to find yourself in JYPD-nim's office, and have him tell you that you got a job instead.

You didn't know it, but when Jaebum was told of the trainees that weren't debuting and were being let go from the company, he had to make sure you were kept on the team. He didn't know how to tell you of his feelings for you, but he would keep you around until he did.

And here he was.

C O N F E S S I N G.

"S-So, (Y/N), will you-"

"Yes. Yes, a billion times yes, just.. one thing."

He tilted his head, a big sleepy grin on his face at your acceptance of his feelings as well as reciprocation. "What's that?"

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

"Kiss me?"

And he sure as hell did. He kissed everywhere -- your eyelids, nose, cheeks, chin, lips, everywhere he could reach, leaving you in giggles. Until he kissed somewhere that had you making other noises that you had to clasp your hand over your mouth to hide.

He left exactly five marks on your skin. One for each year he knew you. One for each year that he should have told you. One for each year he left behind with you.

Just as he was finishing the last one, with you just barely managing to push him away from your neck so you could have a minute to breathe without it being into your hand, you heard a round of 'ooh's' sounding around the room.

"Jaebummie-hyung got some!"

Oh my god, Yugyeom. Go back to sleep.

"Good, now he'll stop complaining about her talking with Jackson more than him."

That was Jinyoung.

"She doesn't talk with me that much more!"

You were red in the face.

"Aish! You woke up Coco and now I have a headache!"

"Yah, Youngjae-ah, I think there's pills in the bathroom-"

Everyone was awake aside from BamBam, who was still snoring comfortably on the coffee table, passed out drunk.

And here you were, buried under Jaebum with marks littering your neck from him.

"Come, Jaebum! Kiss the girl!"

Jaebum looked down at you, a big grin on his face.

general masterlist

#im jaebum #got7 #jb got7 #got7 jb #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines

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unbreakablejemmasimmons · 7 years ago

Text

Dear Yuletide Writer,

Thanks for signing up for this superfun exchange! This is the fourth year I’ve participated now, and I’ve always enjoyed it-- I hope you do, too.

Below you’ll find the following:

General Likes/Kinks

General DNWs

Fandom Specifics/Prompts

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - Rebecca Bunch, Greg Serrano

Schitt’s Creek - Stevie Budd, David Rose

The Good Place - Eleanor Shellstrop, Trevor the Demon

Newsies - Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Jack Kelly

I’ve tried to list some varied prompts for each fandom, but please don’t feel like you have to stick to what I’ve come up with! If the rest of my letter gives you another idea you’d like to write, I’d love to read it!

A little about me to start:

My AO3 name is SuburbanSun; you can also check out my Tumblr if you’d like, and my tags for each of my requested fandoms (that I’ve posted about before-- apparently that excludes Schitt’s Creek!) here: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, The Good Place, Newsies.

General Likes/Kinks:

I’m a big trope fan in general– faves include rivals/enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, bed-sharing, trapped in an enclosed space, mutual pining, secret dating/sneaking around, slow burn, FWBs that turns into something more. Subversions of tropes are also great, so don’t feel like you have to go the obvious route if you choose to write something tropey!

I have a weird (not weird because it’s uncommon, more weird because it doesn’t fit in obviously with the rest of my likes and favored tropes) love for Secret Service/bodyguard/witness protection AUs and private eye AUs.

Epistolary fic, either as part of a story or as all of it, is always fun to me, if it’s up your alley.

I love strong female friendships, strong-but-flawed-and-realistic female characters in general. Ladies kicking ass, preferably through cleverness and wit and competence as much if not more than through brawn, is the best, and I love it when they’re allowed to make mistakes and fuck up and dig themselves into a hole, too. That said, I will literally never turn down a Vampire Slayer AU. They’re among my faves. (I loved the one I got for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend last Yuletide, but am always excited to see more of them for other fandoms!)

Smut is cool and fun and here are some kinks that I like to read: Teasing. Phone sex/sexting. Semi-public sex (not actually getting caught though). Workplace sex. Dirty talk. Light domination (aka more like just bossing each other around rather than actual D/s stuff). Oral sex. Playfulness/joking around during sex.

General DNWs:

Darkfic. Sad endings. Gore/intense violence. Miscommunication that could super easily be avoided. Babyfic/kidfic/pregnancy in general. Self-harm/abuse. Noncon/dubcon. A/B/O, mpreg, incest, bestiality, hard kink. Poly/threesomes/orgies. Members of my ships being paired romantically with other people (unless it’s just briefly, on the way to an OTP-happy ending). First person POV.

Fandom Specifics/Prompts:

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Rebecca Bunch, Greg Serrano

I love this show so much. It’s clever, it’s feminist, it’s funny, it’s real (even as it features elaborate musical sequences!), and the characters are so flawed but so great. I got a couple of great giftfics for this fandom last Yuletide that I loved, but I’m always excited to read more.

I ship Rebecca and Greg so hard, in spite of their many flaws, and am bummed that Greg’s gone, and hope they find a way to bring him back someday. I just love their chemistry– bickery battle-of-wits style relationships are a huge favorite of mine. I also really just love Rebecca as a character. She’s such a mess and makes so many mistakes but I find her really relatable.

I’m very interested to see where the show goes this season with Rebecca’s revenge plot and seeming descent into (back into?) madness, but I don’t know that Greg easily fits into that trajectory for now, so don’t feel like you need to write something that takes place in current canon. I’d be happy with a story set while Greg was still in West Covina, or a future fic, or just a total AU.

Prompts:

Rebecca/Greg + any number of tropes– stuck somewhere together; inconvenient bed-sharing; fake dating, the works.

Rebecca’s blindness toward money is intriguing to me, in a “when is this shit going to REALLY hit the fan” kind of way. What if that had come to a head somehow and she had to get a second job at Home Base? How would she and Greg have taken to working together into the wee hours of the night? (Store-room sex could be a good addition here if you’d like!)

What’s their dynamic like in a couple of years when Greg returns from Atlanta? Are they over each other or not quite so much?

Conversely, what if a couple years go by, and Rebecca feels compelled to leave West Covina? Maybe she moves back to NYC (hopefully after a few hundred hours of therapy with Dr. Akopian to give her the coping mechanisms she needs to be happy there). Maybe Greg moves to NYC for a job after graduating Emory. Have they kept in touch enough to know they’re both in the same city again, or do they run into each other randomly, an echo of her NYC run-in with Josh in the pilot, only better, because she’s older and wiser and hopefully better-adjusted?

Schitt’s Creek Stevie Budd, David Rose

This show is so funny, dry and ridiculous at the same time. I love how absurdly out of touch the Roses are, and how the show balances their outrageousness with the humdrum middle-America of the town of Schitt’s Creek.

I can’t help but ship Stevie and David, and I hope the show leans into that. If you aren’t into them romantically, though, that’s okay-- they are also fab as begrudging BFFs. I love how they challenge each other and one-up each other, always smirkingly pushing each other’s buttons.

*Note: Season 3 was only just added to Netflix US this week, so when I wrote this letter I hadn’t seen it yet. I just marathoned it (loved it obvs) and it’s pretty clear that they’re not going go lean into Stevie/David, and that’s ok! I’m really digging the Patrick thing so far too. For the purpose of Yuletide, feel free to write something that takes place earlier in the series, or goes AU, etc.

Prompts:

David finds out Stevie’s birthday is coming up, and decides (or perhaps is convinced by Alexis) to throw her a party, as posh as the parties of his old life with the limited resources of Schitt’s Creek. Of course, everything goes wrong.

I love Stevie teaching David how to adult. What other normal things has he never experienced before that she needs to walk him through?

Schitt’s Creek throws a fall festival, complete with a parade. Stevie gets chosen to be Sweet Potato Pie Queen or something equally ridiculous, and David will never. Stop. Teasing. Her. Until the Sweet Potato Pie King (or similar) comes down with shingles and Roland insists David step in.

Somehow (perhaps through a series of dares?), Stevie winds up running for local government.

The Good Place Eleanor Shellstrop, Trevor the Demon

There’s not much on Earth I love more than a Mike Schur show, and I’ve always loved Kristen Bell, so I was pretty destined to dig this show. It’s just so clever and interesting and fun to watch!

That said, I wasn’t really shipping anything on the show yet. I like all the characters but nothing leapt out for me romantically. But then they introduced Trevor, and the thing is, Adam Scott is my weakness. If he exists on a show, I can’t help but ship him with somebody, and I have loved his and KBell’s chemistry together in other shows (Party Down! VMars!). I’m not proud of it, but my mind immediately went there.

But things are a little more complicated now! Is Trevor just a Bad Place demon who was acting like the head of the Bad Place, or does he actually hold some kind of leadership role? Is “Trevor” even his real name?? There are so many possibilities! I’m cool with fic that assumes any of them are true.

Prompts:

Trevor has a bad day at the "office," because he's really just a Bad Place underling who enjoyed the chance to play a big-shot evil-doer in Michael’s first attempt. He somehow runs into Eleanor get sloppy drunk together.

Eleanor and Trevor have to team up for some reason-- so he can get ahead in Bad Place bureaucracy, and so she can try to defeat Michael, for instance. How does that work out?

Any sort of stuck together/trapped in an enclosed space tropefic would be great– especially if they start to have feelings for each other.

Nothing wrong with a little good oldfashioned hatesex.

Newsies Jack Kelly, Katherine Plumber Pulitzer

A friend of mine invited me to go see Newsies when they did the first Fathom Events screening early this year, and I had nearly no familiarity with it-- hadn’t even seen the movie. So naturally, I loved it and immediately fell down the Newsies rabbit hole.

I love Jack and Katherine individually and together. I love how cocky he is, and the vulnerability that cockiness masks. I love how headstrong she is, and ambitious. I would love to see fic for them that takes place after the events of the show-- what happens next? How do they begin to have a real relationship, as different as they are, now that the strike is over? Does Jack take that cartoonist job? Does he keep selling papes, too? Where do they live? What do they do on dates?

Prompts:

Even out from under her father’s thumb, Katherine’s lifestyle is certainly a bit ritzier than what Jack’s used to. How does it go the first time she has him over to her apartment?

Jack likes to leave little notes around for Katherine to find, sketches, doodles, and the like. I’m not opposed to epistolary fic here or elsewhere.

Katherine has to plot with the other newsies behind Jack’s back, for some reason (surprise party? Surprise gift?).

So, that’s that! I really hope you enjoy the whole process this Yuletide season, and thanks for participating! Happy writing!

#yuletide 2017 #yuletide letter #yuletide

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