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luvdsc · 4 years ago

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mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged.

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play.

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode.

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold.

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you.

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

3K notes · View notes

screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years ago

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 24 - Sci Fi

The battle with the Hive, and the traveler! Moving onto the end game after this. (Still will take a few parts, but the end is in sight!)

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense.

“The numbers don’t look good.” General Gladus stared at the display with a frustrated sigh. “We just have the few Mechs stationed in the Fifteenth Sector. The Hive have a full colony… thousands of drones, directed by a Queen. They have already landed on the nearest moon, destroying the defense base there, and will be within striking distance of the planet in..." He rechecked his numbers. "Eighteen hours.”

Pointing his finger at the hologram, the display zoomed in on the larger dot surrounded by countless other smaller red dots. “The Queen is the key. She controls all the drones. If we take her out, we can halt the invasion long enough for true reinforcements to arrive.”

I nodded, trying to follow along. “So if we don’t have the numbers to defend the planet, we go on the attack and try to strike the Queen?”

“It can take a whole squadron to take out a Queen. “ He quickly put a damper on my excitement, frowning. “A normal Hive drone is the size of a human. She’s larger than two Mechs put together, around six stories tall, with armor to match.”

I thought about the story, what I knew about what technology was available years ahead… Hadn’t Chris gotten a special Mech to fight Queens? “What about a bigger Mech? Big enough to take on the Queen?”

The general paused at that. “The military engineers at the academy have been working on some prototypes… but the bigger a Mech is, the harder it is to control. In a few years we might have one that a single Guardian could operate, but the ones we have now? No one would have the capability…”

“I do.” I interrupted, speaking with certainty. “Let Liam and I try it.”

“Honey, I know you’re a Grade S Guardian, but…”

“I’m more than that. You remember that I almost destabilized? It was because of a sudden increase of my power” Because I’m not really your daughter. “I’m much more powerful than a grade S… “ I reached out and grabbed Liam’s hand. “And that’s not even to mention our 100% resonance match.”

Liam grinned, squeezing my hand. “Trust us, General. Alaira and I can fly anything they can build!”

The General stared at us, obviously unnerved at the idea of sending his daughter into the worst of the fighting. I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Trust me, Dad. I’ll make you proud.”

“…” He let out a long sigh. “I’m already more proud than I could ever be…” He rubbed his forehead. “Fine. Let’s see if you can work the thing… but if you can’t move it perfectly, then the plan gets canceled. I’m not sending you out there to die.”

“Thank you!” Awkwardly hugging him, I felt a twinge of guilt as he patted my back gently.

I wish your daughter could be here to feel your love and pride in her.

“Don’t celebrate too soon… Even if you’re big enough to take on a Queen, we still have to get you to her.”

I stepped closer to the display, studying it. “She’s directly in the center of the army… hiding away on the moon in the ruins of the defense base. With their numbers versus ours… we just don’t have the firepower to get there.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

As the blue writing and loud warning appeared only to me, I felt no fear, no terror at my imminent doom. It was now more annoying than anything else.

If you're not going to suggest anything helpful, then shut up!

Warning!...

SHUT UP! I screamed in my head, feeling a thread of shadowy power emerge from around me, erasing the words from existence.

The warning fell silent.

What… what was that? Some sort of magic? How much about myself is still hidden in my lost memories?

Enjoying the new silence in my head, I looked over at Liam who was staring at me with a worried look.

“Are you okay? You weren’t responding.”

I reached out, smoothing out his forehead, which was wrinkled with concern. “Yes. It’s difficult to explain, though. What did you say?”

“If we don’t have the troops to blast our way to the Queen, then what about a diversion?” He pointed at the area of the diagram between us and the Hive. “We act like we’re staging a frontal assault, and when they’ve deployed enough forces to weaken the rear, you and I strike from behind!”

The General nodded slowly. “It would take quite an attack to make the Hive divert forces to the front… Even if we threw everything we had and left nothing to protect you two, it might not be enough.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry about protecting us.” Grabbing Liam’s hand I added. “You forget who I matched with. We can handle our own defense. All that’s left is to figure out how to make a big enough distraction to give us a way in.”

“DID SOMEONE CALL FOR A DISTRACTION?!”

Princess Ilene pushed past the guards at the door with the two other girls in her group at her sides. “Sounds like a job for the Harem!”

Liam raised his eyebrow. Harem? He mouthed silently at me. I shook my head, not wanting to get involved.

Alaira’s father did not look impressed. “Princess. I don’t recall you showing any interest in military matters previously.”

“That’s before the Hive kidnapped Chris!” Ilene cracked her knuckles. “Now I gotta go crush some space bugs.”

Who says Chris was kidnapped?

“YEAH!" "We're going to save him!” The other two girls struck dramatic poses on either side of Ilene.

“…” The room stared at them in silence.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing away my headache. “Princess, maybe this would work better if you explained to my father what skills you three brought to the table? “

“… I suppose.” She sniffed, gesturing at Wen grandly. “She has designed a Mech with the ability to tow 50 mini cannons.”

Wen grinned, explaining further. “The guns are strapped to a small engine, and will fly at evenly spaced intervals behind the controlling Mech. It’s still a work in progress… You can’t target, and you can’t control them individually… at least not yet.”

“But that’s still 50 extra shots for one Mech.” General Gladus looked much more interested. “How many have you made?”

“Just one, but if I add a small hologram projector to the guns, it will look like we have 50 fully operational Mechs with us! THAT should get the Hive’s attention.”

Ilene and Allie chimed in. “ We’ve already practiced piloting the Mech and can operate it smoothly.”

“… That… might just work…” He shrugged. “Strong work, Ladies…”

“We call ourselves the Harem… Alaira came up with the name!”

“Don’t credit me, please..”

The General glanced at my cringing expression and chuckled. “…Glad to have you aboard… I think.”

“All right!” The young engineer high-fived her companions, grinning proudly. “I was originally saving this invention for Chris, but now I’m going to use this to SAVE Chris!”

“YEAH!”

“…” The General was now staring at me with a look of consternation, to which I raised my hands helplessly. “…Sure.”

“So that’s the plan then.” I took a deep breath, calming the fast beating of my heart at the thought of the fight to come. “The Harem will distract the Hive, and Liam and I will take out the Queen.”

We’ll save the world.

We’ll complete my mission.

It will work… it has to.

“We’ll strike first thing in the morning.” General Gladus watched me with a worried gaze, but obviously held back from speaking further. “… Good luck.”

_____________________________

Liam and I tested out the massive Mech prototype called the “Queen Killer,” able to move it with an ease that shocked Alaira’s father and the engineers. After confirming the plan a final time, I returned back to my dorm to get some rest before the battle.

I found myself too keyed up to sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling. If we complete the mission, will I get all my memories back? Will I stay in this world or be forced to leave? Will Liam stay with me? My frantic thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on my door.

Wary, I checked the security system, quickly opening the door once I realized who it was.

“Liam, what are you doing here? It’s still a few hours before we’re supposed to meet for the mission.”

Liam wrung his hands together, staring at the floor quietly. “I… was hoping…”

“What is it?”

“Can you come with me?”

At my nod he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. I started to ask where he was taking me, but seeing the determination on his face, fell silent. I didn’t feel any wariness, despite my lack of knowledge of our direction.

_____________________________

“Aren’t you scared?” A voice asked, coming from high above me.

“No.”

“Why not?” The despair in the voice was heartbreaking. “Everyone else is.”

“Because it’s you.” I grinned. “Can’t be scared of you, Liam.”

_____________________________

I blinked, my gaze once again resting on our clasped hands.

I’ll keep trusting you Liam.

He took me to the upper deck of the academy, a large platform surrounded by multiple gardens. In the dead of night, the multicolored flowers and trees were barely visible. Rather than a clear sight, it was a combination of the senses: of impressions of movement, of gentle sounds of the wind swaying the branches and leaves, of brief flashes of colors in the light of the multiple candles that lit up the platform.

In the center of the platform stood a minister, the elderly man looking tired but still smiling gently. Off to the side were the Harem girls, watching silently, and Alaira’s father who stood by with a combination of tears and joy.

The King and Queen were nowhere to be seen.

“This.is…” My voice trailed off, filled with awe at the sheer amount of work it must have taken to move everything up here from the ballroom we had planned it in.

Liam knelt down, holding my hand with a solemn look.

“Alaira... I don’t know if we’re going to survive this battle, but I know one thing: If I’m going to die tomorrow, I want it to be as your husband.”

His hands were shaking with nervousness as they held my own.

“Please marry me.” His words were simple, but they struck my heart with a force that made me sway on my feet.

_____________________________

“Please marry me.” A trembling man held me close.

_____________________________

I smiled at the thought that I had answered this question before. “Yes.”

Liam let out a sigh of relief, standing up and hugging me gently. “Thank you…” He hesitated. “Bel.” The name was spoken only for me to hear, sounding like a prayer.

“You realize we had already planned to get married today?” I chuckled. “You didn’t have to re-propose.”

“I needed to hear it again.”

With a wide grin, he led me over to the center of the platform. There, in front of friends and family, the minister led us through the vows. As I spoke the words, holding Liam’s hands tightly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done this multiple times before.

How many lifetimes have I already spent with him? How many times have we been married?

Liam leaned in to kiss me, the gentle movement the barest touch on my lips, and then hugged me tightly against him.

“I love you.” He whispered in my ear.

My father stepped forward and clapped us both on the shoulder. “Alright, kids, that’s enough excitement pre-battle. Go get some sleep. I’ll throw you a combination victory party and wedding reception once we survive the Hive.”

Laughing, Liam and I left the party behind. We were unable to sleep, and simply laid in each other’s arms. My head rested against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breaths. Closing my eyes, I prayed that we would make it though this battle safely.

And just maybe, if we survive this, I’ll figure out how to get our memories back.

I thought of the shadowy power I had displayed to shut the system warning down, an ability I had tried to repeat without success several times since. I don’t know who or what I am… but I do know one thing:

I won’t accept my fate.

_____________________________

Soon it was time for the battle.

Liam and I boarded the Queen Killer Mech and flew it around the battle site, staying out of range of the Hive’s sensors. We floated in Space watching the holographic display from the Mech's communication system as the Harem and the few soldiers Alaira’s father had brought with him advanced from the front. It looked as if there were over a hundred Mechs, an intimidating site, but we knew it was just an illusion, holograms attached to remote guns. Their actual numbers were quite pitiful compared to the army in front of them.

We could only hope the Hive would fall for the trick.

“Advance!” The General’s voice came over the intercom. I felt myself tremble with nervousness at his serious tone. I wasn’t really his daughter. Most of the time I felt like the worst fraud when I was with him. But I genuinely cared for this gruff, strange man. He loved his daughter, and wasn’t afraid to take on the world to protect her.

I hope he makes it. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach at the thought that he might not.

But if we don’t fight, none of us will.

The army of Mechs, both real and fake, moved forward. As the Hive flew to meet them, I got a close look at them through my headset. I had seen their appearance in Alaira’s memories, but somehow, seeing them with my own eyes was all the more horrifying.

Large insects, each the size of a human, with a black and red exoskeleton that coated everything, even the wings. Enormous pincers grew outwards on their heads, sharp enough to tear a Mech open, to cut a human in half. Their dark, multifaceted eyes took in the space emotionlessly. They were unstoppable, insatiable. The Hive’s only goal was to devour, to destroy. They numbered in the thousands; enough to make even seeing the moon the Queen was hiding on difficult.

I felt a deep feeling of terror growing within me, fear and despair mixing, threatening to take away my reason.

It’s not my emotions.I tried to push down the feeling, but they continued to grow, trying to overwhelm me. It’s Alaira’s.

She had died there, next to that moon, surrounded by the Hive. Their pincers destroyed her Mech, pulled her out from the safety of the piloting sphere. She was overwhelmed, and even with the fracturing of her mind she knew she was doomed.

“Are you okay?” Liam’s voice in my ear calmed me down. “Your strong emotions are interfering with the Connection.” I took a deep breath, repeating silently.

You are not Alaira. You are not Alaira.

I knew exactly what it would feel like to die in battle with the Hive, though.

The Hive started swarming to the front, line. The Queen was directing them to defend her against the “larger” threat. There were only a few hundred left to guard the rear.

“It’s working!” General Gladus’ excited voice sounded out. “They’re falling for it.”

“Then we’ll get to work.”

“… Good luck, Alaira. I love you.”

I hesitated. “… I love you too… Father.”

It was time. I grabbed Liam’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Focus on your shield.”

He took a deep breath. “You know I can’t control it.”

“You can let me in, Liam. You are in control. Use it for its purpose: to protect yourself. To protect me.”

He closed his eyes, positioning himself behind me within the Connection chamber in the Mech. His hands were on my back, and through the physical touch I felt his nervousness. The air around the Mech seemed to shift, and I knew that I had to act quickly before the mental shield weakened.

I flew the Mech forward, quickly reaching the highest speed. At the noise of our passing one of the drones turned to face us. Soon they had swarmed around us, their pincers opened to attack.

FEAR.

Alaira’s emotions were running full force, but I pushed them down once more, going faster. I could feel Liam behind me, keeping the connection between me and the Mech easy despite its enormous size. We flew into the swarm, and the sturdy alien insects splattered against the mental shield, which held firm under the blows.

Liam and I sighed with relief.

“See? You CAN control it!”

“We still have the Queen to deal with.” Liam’s voice was worried, I could feel his concern though our connection. “She’s a little big to be squished by a shield.”

“Well that’s why we brought the big guns.” After a few more moments we broke through the Hive’s line of defense, and landed on the Moon, trying to locate the Queen.

“Where is she?” The scanners were starting to scramble, as if interrupted by an unknown signal. The Hive shouldn’t have that kind of technology, though.

“I don't see her on the Moon's surface. Has she left? First, let’s try the defense fort. It should be big enough to hide the Queen.” At Liam’s suggestion we flew forward, making our way to the building. The clear defense dome seemed intact, the computers opening an airlock, allowing us to pass forward after communicating with our Mech and confirming our identity.

“How would the Queen be here without destroying the dome?” I muttered, trying to scan the surroundings and noting that it was picking up several lifeforms, even if it was still too scrambled to give a clear location.

“ I don’t know, but I don’t think that hole was there before.” Liam tapped my back, and I looked towards the Hanger, the largest building in the complex. A six story hole had been torn out of the front wall. Wary, I moved the Mech closer, ducking down and entering the main area, which was fortunately tall enough to accommodate our oversized Mech.

The area was mostly lit up, a few of the florescent lights sparking and flickering from recent damage. The few Mechs that had remained had been torn to shreds and tossed in a pile. The space was wide-open, extending outwards into shadows.

“What the…?” My voice trailed off in shock as I stared at the unbelievable sight in front of me.

In the center of the hanger stood the Queen. She was bright white with red and black markings along the side of her rotund torso. She brandished hundreds of spiky claws like a millipede, with large bright red wings extended behind her. Towards the top she sported multiple large pincers, with a final one extending from her head. Her eyes glowed with a bright white light, staring at us with fury.

She was frozen into place, unable to make a single movement.

“What is going on?” I whispered to Liam.

“Bel, you actually made it this far!”

A cheerful voice rang out, causing both of us to groan with frustration. A Mech emerged from the shadows, we couldn’t see the pilot, but Liam and I knew who it was and spoke his name together.

“Chris.”

“I keep telling you, it’s not Chris.” The voice coming from the Mech seemed annoyed, the large robot swinging a sword back and forth. “As always, you two are wrong.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, clenching my fists at my side within the Connection Chamber of our Mech.

“Exactly what I told you, Bel: I’m ending this.” He lifted up his Mech’s free hand, and in it was a large bomb blinking with a bright red light. A single red button marked the trigger, and I tensed up as he caressed it lightly with a large metallic finger.

“That’s a uninite bomb.” Liam spoke up. “You’d destroy the moon with one that big! You'll kill us all with the Queen!”

“Exactly! I’m willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to save everyone. Not like you… monster.” He spit out the last word, his voice filled with hatred. “I’m the HERO. I’m the one who everyone cares about. I’m the one SHE SHOULD LOVE!”

“Oh, SHUT UP!” I activated the opening on our Mech, and slid down a cord to the ground, pulling off my helmet to reveal my face. The air inside the defense shield was slightly stale but breathable.

Liam was startled, jumping down to stand beside me. “Bel, wait!”

“It’s okay.” I grinned at him. “Trust me.” The Mech straightened up behind us, falling into a standby position. I looked up at the Mech controlled by the Pseudo-Chris.

“If you’re going to threaten me and insult my husband, then do it to my face.”

“Nice try. If I leave the Mech, I can’t control it. All you’ve managed to do is to give away your only advantage!” He laughed confidently. “I am in control, Bel. The Hive, the Queen… all of it! I’m the only one who can save your soul from destruction.”

“You brought the Hive here… you’re the one who advanced the story so quickly.” I paused, thinking it over. “How come you can go against the story? I always get warnings whenever we stray too far away from our characters.”

“You don’t understand. You never have. All that matters is that the roles are obeyed, that we follow our fate. I may have taken a… detour… but in the end I will fulfill my role as a hero, and save everyone, at the cost of my own life.”

“Why are you doing this?” Liam growled, standing close to me.

“He was hoping that I would give up.” I answered for him calmly, staring up at the Mech with a disgusted expression, “He made a seemingly impossible situation, hoping I would see accepting my fate as my only option.”

I thought of the system's warning that I had no chance of survival. They had tried to manipulate me. Tried to force me to do what they wanted.

But I hadn't.

“You see things so clearly sometimes, Bel.” Chris’ voice showed his approval. “And even though it didn’t work, I can still just end things here. I’ll destroy the Queen, which will complete your mission. The system can erase your memory again and we’ll start over.”

I felt a sense of fear at his words. How many times has this already happened?

“No matter how many times we have to do this, there will only be one outcome in the end: you will accept your fate.”

_____________________________

“You will accept your fate, Bel.” The young handsome man stared at me with disappointment. “You can’t keep hiding with this monster forever.”

“He's not a monster. Besides, you’re the one who sent me to Liam.” I grinned. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“It was temporary. You were supposed to be his prisoner.” He snapped. “Now, because of you, he’ll be the first to be destroyed. You can’t distort the higher realm. Everything depends on it.”

“It’s not right…”

“It’s the reality of our roles. Now enough stalling. What will you choose? Will you follow the rules, or will you let everything be destroyed to protect your precious independence?”

“No…”

“Even you can’t be that selfish.” He growled, reaching out to grab my arm painfully. “Accept your fate, Bel.

“NO!”

_____________________________

“NO!” I shook my head, clearing aside the memory. “No matter how many times you ask me. No matter how many worlds you drag me through. No matter how many times my memory is wiped. I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT!”

“Fine. Then it’s time to move to the next world…” His Mech raised its hand holding the bomb.

“You’re pathetic.” My words were quiet, but seemed to echo in the otherwise silent hanger. “Even when we were in the higher realm you were always trying to trick and scheme to get things to go the way you wanted. You thought by forcing me to Liam’s side as his ‘prisoner’ you could force me to accept my fate, but that backfired too, didn’t it?”

“… “ There was a long stunned silence.

“You… you remember?” The Mech’s head shook back and forth in a jerky movement. “No, your memories were wiped!”

I quickly thought through the few memories I had experienced over the last few weeks. “You wanted me to play my part… but I didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with you. I would solve things my own way, which pissed you off.”

“YOU… NO! YOUR MEMORIES ARE GONE!” The whole Mech was shaking slightly.

“No matter the realm, no matter the roles we play, one thing remains constant: you’re a pathetic loser.” I smiled. “And I like Liam more than you.”

“HE’S A MONSTER! YOU CAN’T LOVE HIM! YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME!”

“Bel…” Liam whispered. “You realize you’re making the unstable man with the bomb angry, right?”

“Trust me, I have a plan… probably.”

“Oh, good.”

I looked up at the Mech, raising my voice. “I’ll never love you!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“Get used to disappointment, loser.”

The Mech was shaking more violently as he whispered hoarsely. “Y-you’re lying… you have to be. You don’t have your memories…”

I AM lying. “Too bad for you I’m telling the truth. I remember everything important.”

“…Then what’s my name?”

I spread my hands out helplessly. “Oh buddy, I just said I remembered everything IMPORTANT.” I leaned forward. “You were never important to me. You still aren’t.”

“SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!” The Mech was rocking back and forth with his screams and then suddenly became very still.

“Got him!” I pumped my fist in the air victoriously.

“What’s… what’s happening?! I can’t control my Mech!”

I chuckled at his panicked tone.

“You see, there’s a difference between you and me. You might be the hero, but I’m the one with greater than Level S Guardian abilities. In fact, you used that very trait of mine to try to force me to partner with you. It was a burden before I formed a Connection with Liam, but now?” I reached over and grabbed Liam’s hand. “It makes things really easy. One of the skills I’ve practiced was controlling Mechs from a distance.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible? Only if you’re weak. The distance makes things challenging but it’s still fairly simple for me.” I paused. “By the way, I WAS lying earlier. I needed you to have strong emotions to disrupt your Connection with your Mech so I could take it over.”

“…” Enjoying his stunned silence, I gestured, controlling the “Queen Killer” Mech to step forward.

“Now I could let you blow yourself up and kill the Queen to complete the mission, but unlike you, I don’t feel any satisfaction out of sacrificing myself or others needlessly. I’m also not going to let you die, because I have a feeling that could have negative effects on this world.”

The Queen started moving, whatever restraints the pseudo-Chris had placed on it obviously released. I could feel her anger at being obstructed in her mission. Her overwhelming need to consume life and move on drove her constantly, and even the briefest of pauses enraged her. Her hungry eyes focused on me, sensing a threat.

I released all my abilities to the limit, feeling a light throbbing headache at controlling two Mechs at once, and one of them being the large Queen Killer.

“It’s time for this story to end.” I whispered, feeling satisfaction as the giant robot pulled out a sword and brandished it.

“My mission will be completed.” The sword tore a huge rent in the Queen’s side, spilling green blood. The insect queen screamed in rage and pain, her pincers tearing off some of the armor on the Mech’s arm.

“The world will be saved.” A second strike hit, cutting off several claws. The Queen clamped onto the Mechs’ chest with her mandibles, trying to burrow into the center. I was glad I wasn’t in the suspension gel, feeling the pain of the attack.

“And it will all be done without you.” My Mech swung the sword downward, and the Queen’s head separated from its body. It still clamped onto the chest of the robot, its eyes’ light slowly fading away.

“NOOOO!” Pseudo Chris screamed out, but it was too late. The Queen was dead. Her army would become useless.

The world was safe.

A beautiful chime rang out, and bright blue words formed into the air.

Congratulations!

Mission 100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

Stay in this world?

YES/NO

“It doesn’t matter if you completed the mission or I did. I still have the next world, and the next and the next!” The Mech was still frozen into place, but it didn’t stop his angry words. “Time is on my side!”

I sighed. “No. It’s not.” As I had completed the mission, I felt a strange surge of power. A similar sensation to when I had stopped the system voice from speaking earlier. I focused carefully, and a shadowy power poured out in the world around me, much stronger than before.

“Bel?” At Liam’s worried question, I turned and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Liam. It’s just time to change the game.” He grabbed my hands and nodded silently at my words, supporting me.

I turned my attention to the System’s message.

“We will not stay in this world any longer.” The shadowy power around me increased.

…

WORLD TRANSFER FAILED. UNKNOWN INTERFERENCE.

“Oh, that’s just me. You see… this world’s victory was all I needed to finish piecing together my soul.”

…

“I really do remember everything now.”

And I did. Who I was. Why I had made the deal I had made.

“I fixed every world you sent me to. Without memories. Without my protected status as the heroine. Just a hated side character or villain. Admit it… I won.”

… NOT YET.

“You’re right. There’s still one last story to be fixed.” I grinned at Liam, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “The Higher Realm.”

Our world.

YOU MUST ACCEPT…

“I must do nothing.” The dark power that surrounded me erased the blue words in the air before they could form that hated sentence. “YOU must transfer us back. Back to the beginning.”

…

“Do it.” I gave no room for argument.

…

WORLD TRANSFER INITIATED. LOCATION: THE HIGHER REALM.

“I love you Liam.” I hugged him tightly. “Let’s get married one last time.”

“I love you too… But what do you…?”

TRANSFER COMPLETE.

#writing #please fix the story #writeblr #sci fi #violence #memory loss #the end is near

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champion-leon-imagines · 3 years ago

Text

Chronicles of Galar - Prologue 3: Y/N L/N

The Chapter you all waited for. Don’t worry, we’ll get to your past soon enough in the story, so stay tuned. Amila is a fake region my best friend made. He is also your brother in the story and the Professor of Amila. And don’t forget to save the tag Chronicles of Galar for updates ^_^ You can also find the story on AO3: Here

[Prologue: Y/n L/n]

Light footsteps echoed through the darkened Slumbering Weald, Galar. You tried to make your way through the thicket and a white Vulpix kept you company. The little Pokemon had a very shy and timid nature and was trembling with fear all the time. The unknown has always had a tense effect on the pre-stressed Pokemon. No wonder, when you thought about what those monsters from Team Skull in Alola must have done to it. You didn't want to think about that anymore and took out your smartphone to dial your brother's number. "Yes? [Y/n]? Man, we're looking for you everywhere. We were supposed to meet at Wedgehurst station. Are you lost again? " a male voice sighed at the other end.

“What does 'again' mean here? Sorry for not memorizing the entire map of a new region the first time I explore. Not everyone can have such a photographic memory as our Professor Mamoru [L/n]. ”You countered jokingly. "Very funny. Where are you?"

"If I'd know that. There is a forest here. I followed a little Pokemon that I don't know yet. That was so cute. Such a small blue creature, a bit similar to Ralts, with pigtails. I HAD to go after it, that's why I ran after it. "You explained, describing the Pokemon Hattrem, the intermediate form to the Pokemon Hatterene, a Galar Pokemon with the dual types fairy and psycho.

".... You walked into an unknown forest because of a 'cute' Pokemon?" Mamoru sighed and covered his face with his hand. That was just so typical of you.

"Pff. If it had been a new Arcanine Pokemon, you would have done the same. ” You shrugged your shoulders and heard a woman's voice laughing on the other side. "Hello Aki."

While you were talking to your brother, you did not notice at first that a fog was coming up. At first the fog was light and transparent, but soon you couldn't even see your own hand in front of your eyes. "Damn. Where does this fog come from all of a sudden? Hello? Mamoru? Can you still hear me? Hello? “ You asked several times after you didn't get an answer. You looked at your cell phone and then saw the connection go dead. "Strange."You muttered and tried to connect again.

Connection failure. The empty wifi symbols blinked mysteriously and that made you even more alarmed than you already were.

Vulpix jumped into your arms, the fog must have made it even more frightened as it snuggled into your chest. You pressed the fox creature close and tried to calm it down. “Don't worry, I'm here. We can do it, ” You whispered in a calming tone.

Suddenly there was a rustling in the bushes next to you, made you stopping in your tracks. You swallowed and hugged Vulpix even closer. "Okay .. keep calm. That is .. just the cute blue Pokemon from earlier .. definitely .. I'm sure of it "Your mantra died in your throat when a large, wolf-like Pokemon came slowly walking towards you. It was mostly blue and the tail, as well as his shoulder jewelry and a long, pigtail-like fur chain, were in a red. The animal looked graceful but also dangerous. You knew from your trainer battle experience when a wild Pokemon is too strong to risk a fight. Since you had not brought any other Pokemon to Galar except Vulpix and Primarina, you did not dare to challenge this mysterious Pokemon. Especially since the fog was too thick for a real fight.

You backed away as the unknown wolf pokemon stepped closer. It seemed to be assessing the situation without actually giving the appearance of wanting to attack. You didn't wanted to risk anything and so you turned around and tried to escape. You held Vulpix with all your strength so that you wouldn't drop it while running.

However, it turned out to be a wrong decision to run through an unknown forest in thick fog. At every corner you almost bumped into the trees and one time you could not avoid the roots that were on the way and stumbled. At the last second you were able to turn your body to one side so that you wouldn't crush Vulpix with your body.

In return, you fell so hard on your shoulder that you had to cry out in pain. Vulpix whimpered helplessly and tried to comfort it's trainer by licking your cheek when you got up again and wanted to run away. To make matters worse, you were getting tired too.

It wasn't long before you passed out when you let go of Vulpix and collapsed. In this unknown fauna with a wolf on your back and nobody knew where you were. Was that the end?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Char?"

You had a headache and your shoulder hurt badly when you slowly opened your eyes. You felt as if you had been grilled with a Rapid Spin. Above you was a shadow that turned out to be the head of a Charizard and that made you blink.

"Oh? You are finally awake? " a male voice, unknown to you, spoke up. You straightened up before you realized you were covered with something. A blanket? No. A cape? It was red with a yellowish border and next to the red check pattern there were many different symbols, probably from companies from Galar. Sponsors maybe? Then you looked at a campfire.

A young man was sitting there, no more than 1-2 years older than you, and gave you a sincere and charming smile. His irides were amber and glowed from the fire. His purple hair was moving gallantly in the blowing wind and his parted goatee gave him a wise and manly touch. He wore a kind of leotard with a sword and a shield, short white trousers and long, equally white leggings underneath.

"What happened?"You wanted to know and held your shoulder. The memories, of what happened, were rather vague. “Charizard found you. And at the right time. You passed out right in front of a cliff. “ the man said and crossed his arms. "However, it took a while to save you, because your little protector thought we were enemies at first." the purple-haired man smiled and then pointed to a white fur ball next to you. It was Vulpix who slept next to you. You blinked and looked up. "W-what?"

The man's smile widened. "It really wanted to protect you heroically, even though it was trembling with fear."

[Flashback after you passed out]

[Leon's POV]

Charizard scanned the area to find a way out of the thick forest. If my brother ever finds out that I'm still lost in the Slumbering Weald ... I sighed and continued on my way through the fog. It was strange, the last time there was a fog like this, I looked for Hop and Gloria. The two reported about a rare Pokemon. Had it reappeared?

"Char-Charizard!"

My faithful companion drew my attention to something. A person was lying near the cliffs. Here in this part of the forest people rarely got lost, so I was astonished to meet someone here. Charizard and I stepped closer to identify the person. It was a woman. Just as Charizard was only a few steps away, a Vulpix attacked us. But it looked different from what I knew. It was snow-white and otherwise looked slightly different. Was that a so-called "Shiny"? I've never seen anything like it in my life! It had to belong to the woman. “Don't worry, my friend. We mean no harm. We want to help you. " I tried to calm the Pokemon. It stood protectively in front of its trainer and growled at us. But I also realized how scared it was. His entire body was shaking and his eyes showed despair and uncertainty.

I leaned down so I didn't looked so tall and held out my hand slightly. "Do not worry. We are not enemies. ”I tried again, but the Vulpix barked and shot an aurora beam at both Charizard and me. Wait? Aurora beam?!

I had no time to be confused about what was going on with it's element.

Charizard intercepted the attack with his wing and tried to counter. “Charizard stop! Don't fight. “, I ordered him and looked back at Vulpix. Just as I was trying to figure out how to make it clear to the Pokemon that I just wanted to help, it seemed to run out of strength and it collapsed. "That poor thing. Who knows how long it had been so weak and it kept on its feet the whole time to protect its trainer. "

[End of flashback]

"Vulpix must love you very much." The man added gently to his story and you smiled gratefully when you lightly petted the head of the Pokemon. "Oh Vulpix .." you whispered softly. “By the way, my name is [Y/n]. And your name is..?"

Now the man looked surprised, almost shocked. Or maybe .. disappointed? But then he had to smile again. "And I thought I am most famous trainer in Galar," he said, although his tone was not arrogant. "So you're not a fan of me, unfortunately." he added jokingly. "Hahaha. I'm sorry. But I'm not from Galar. “ You explained to the young man. "Will the most famous Galar trainer tell me his name?", You asked, a little amused yourself, whereupon the friendly stranger had to laugh gently. "With pleasure. My name is Leon. “, He finally introduced himself. "I am pleased to meet you. And thanks for the rescue. “ You replied kindly. "You're welcome. Where are you from, if I'm allowed to ask? ”Leon asked curiously.

"Of course. I grew up in Sinnoh. But originally I'm from Amila. ”You explained proudly. “Oh, I've heard a lot from Amila. Has your family moved to Sinnoh? "

"No no. It's a somewhat complicated story and, frankly, a bit too private. "You answered the question with an apologetic smile. Leon seemed to understand your intention and nodded. "Then of course I won't ask further. But it's nice to see that trainers from so far away are drawn to our beautiful Galar. But what are you doing here in the forest and why were you passed out? "

"Um .." You scratched your cheek in slight embarassment. “I wanted to meet my brother and his fiancée in Wedgehurst. Then I saw this real cute Pokemon and followed it blindly into the forest. At some point I lost sight of it and then this thick fog came. There was this Pokemon .. graceful, big, blue and red .. and I fled from it because I didn't fight unnecessary fights .. At some point on my escape I dislocated my shoulder and then passed out from exhaustion.“ You sighed in frustration. Oh man, that really sounded like a story that could only happen to a beginner. Leon grinned slightly. "So, a cute Pokemon got you into this misery. Well, you seem to me to be a very caring trainer and also very cautious tactically if you don't risk fighting against the unknown. ", Leon began and put his hand under his chin in a thinking pose. “You remind me of me. I'm just as devoted when it comes to Pokemon. And I ... uh, have no sense of direction. I even get lost in houses ... “, he then admitted with a laugh. "So? Is that why you walk around here by yourself too? Are you lost? In an area that should seem familiar to you as a well-known trainer of Galar?“ You tried to tease him. "Well .. at least I'm not so clumsy that I hurt myself." "Touche."

The silence between you two lasted a very short time until Leon spoke again. "And which Pokemon fascinated you so much that you walk into a dark forest that you are not familiar with?" He asked while he went to you with a first aid box. He was probably trying to fix your shoulder. You smiled and were grateful that you liked to wear strapless shoulder tops. So you didn't even have to undress and Leon got to the affected area without any problems. “Well, it must have been from this region because I didn't knew it. It was small and blue, with two braids and a white body. It looks a little like Ralts or Kirlia .. " You described while Leon took care of your shoulder and made a professional splint from a piece of a big leaf and bandages. “Oh, you mean a Hattrem. You can find them here in the forest, but quite far inside. They are also considered to be very shy when it comes to human interactions, because they react strongly to emotions. So I'm amazed that you saw one far enough from the forest to follow it. ”Leon wondered and blinked. “Then it was obviously my day of luck and bad luck at the same time. Because it got away from me. “You giggled and thanked him for the treatment. "Are you hungry? My cooking skills are modest, but so far Charizard and I have not had any food poisoning, "Leon laughed and handed you a plate of homemade curry. You accepted the food with a thanks and ate a spoonful. Leon paid attention to your facial features and at the moment when the corner of your mouth went down slightly, he laughed embarrassed. "So bad?"

You giggled slightly and swallowed the somewhat tough curry. "Well, some spices are missing, but it still tastes better than when one of my brothers tries to 'cook'." You said and ate the rest of the curry. It wasn't quite as bad as he had advertised it. Leon smiled and then looked at the sleeping Vulpix. "I think your little protector is waking up," he said and pointed to Vulpix. Its small head rose and it noticed that its trainer was no longer next to it. "Vul ..!" It shouted happily when it saw that you were awake and jumped joyfully into the arms of its trainer. You hugged it lovingly and breathed a quick kiss on the Pokemon's head. "There is my heroine."You said meekly and Leon couldn't help but smile happily while he saw the interaction between trainer and Pokemon. There weren't many trainers who had such a close and friendly relationship with their Pokemon, which was actually very sad. Many saw them only as toys or tools, as battle puppets, to become famous. Many did not care how the Pokemon are feeling. But that was exactly what the champ of Galar wanted to change.

"If you feel fit enough, then we can look for a way out together." Leon suggested after you gave your Vulpix some PokeBlocks from your home to eat. After all, you didn't wanted to let the poor thing suffer from the bad curry.

"Yes, I am. Vulpix surely too, right little one? “You asked and Vulpix replied with an enthusiastic: 'VUUU!', Whereupon both trainers had to laugh and went on their way. On the way you held a little small talk, about your wisdoms on how to take care of Pokemon, about the fact that you wanted to settle down in a region at some point in order to run a fairy gym, since this position was already taken in Amila . And in the other regions that you had traveled to. The subject came up about the strange colors of your Vulpix. "I wondered something. Is your Vulpix a Shiny? Because I've never seen a white Vulpix before. His fur is also a little different. ", Leon said and looked next to him. You walked next to him while Vulpix made herself comfortable on your not injured shoulder.

"No. But it comes from Alola. You know, the Vulpix in Alola had to adapt to the changed weather conditions and basically ... changed their element. These Vulpix are ice and fairy type. "You explained and now it made " click "at Leon. "Aaaaah, that explains why it attacked with aurora beam," he laughed then. "You have never seen an Alola form?" You asked, flabbergasted. "No, we actually never have trainers who come from Alola," Leon answered thoughtfully. "I think you're the first one I see with an Alola Pokemon in my 10 year trainer career," he added. It was a few more hours before you reached the exit. You two noticed that you got along pretty well and that your chemistry was really good. You laughed a lot, of course you didn't try to get lost again and you actually felt a little wistful when you got out of the forest. Because that meant that the ways of you and this personable trainer parted again.

"Hey! Sister! ", Mamoru shouted, who was already waiting in front of the entrance with his fiancee Aki and an unknown young man.

"Huh?" You blinked and ran to your brother. "Who is this?"

“This is Hop. He lives in the village and is currently visiting his mother. We got to know him and he wanted to help us find you. But as I can see you've found your way back. ", Mamoru grinned mischievously. You knew that grin. "Brother!" Hop called and hugged Leon. You blinked. So Hop was Leon's brother? If that wasn't a coincidence. "Really, have you got lost in the Slumbering Weald again?" The younger sighed and put his arms on his hips. "You know how bad my sense of direction is." Leon laughed and raised his hands defensively. "However. Mother would like to see you again, so move your bum to her and say hello, "he ordered.

"Well, then it's probably time to say goodbye first.", Leon said and turned to you. "Um .. Here, this is my league card. You can all have one. ", He said a bit embarrassed and first gave Mamoru and then Aki a card. He gave the last one to you and grinned. You looked at it and blinked.

"... Champion Leon .. Wait, you are the champion of Galar ?!", you asked completely perplexed and pointed at him. "That offends me now, that you are shocked." Leon laughed and winked at you.

"No of course not. That somehow makes you sympathetic that you are so absentminded. "You smiled. Just as Leon was about to reply, Hop poked him in the side. "Stop flirting and get on your way, brother."

Leon laughed, then turned back to you. "Now that you now know who I am .. Is there a chance that you will become a fan of mine after all?" He asked you slightly teasingly. You smiled back. "I already am." Your answer surprised him and your next words made him even a little blushy. “You are my savior after all. My hero. Of course I'm your fan. "You added and also winked.

Leon just stood there with his mouth open and everything he wanted to say died in his throat. Hop grinned broadly and then pulled his brother behind him. "Maybe we'll see each other again, folks!"

"See you then, Hop! And Leon. ", Mamoru shouted afterwards with a laugh, until he turned to his sister with a grin. "Already Found a little romance here yet? ”He teased you. "Dont talk nonsense. I do not know him. But he was .. nice. “You said and then looked at his League Card. Under the name was soemthing written in small letters: 'Turn the card'. You blinked and looked at the back of the card.

....

You grinned broadly and hugged the card when you laughed softly. "What's going on?", Aki wanted to know. "Oh nothing."You smirked and took your smartphone to type Leon's home number, which he had attached to the back with a small message, into your phone. He was kind of cute and this was just the beginning of a new wonderful friendship. You were sure about this.

#Chronicles of Galar #leon pokemon #leon #pokemon leon #champion leon #pkmn leon #Leon x Reader #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shsw

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years ago

Text

TFA Bulkhead/Bumblebee

Bulkhead, hoping to paint Bumblebee, finds a number of unexpected hurdles in the form of a willing but very fidgety model.

Got a lovely commission that the commissioner was okay with me sharing, so here it is! I had so much fun writing this, and remember, I'm always open if you'd like a fic for yourself.

Working up courage wasn't something one had to do often when they were as big and strong as Bulkhead, but he'd needed every bit he could spare to approach Bumblebee with what he'd feared was a ridiculous request. The fact he could expect his friend to say yes had brought him little comfort, because being rejected just scared him too much. He didn't want to admit how long it had taken him to prepare…

But finally, the day had come, and he approached the little bot as one might an armed explosive.

"Uh… Bumblebee?" he spoke softly, tapping his big servos together to try and call himself down. Bumblebee was relaxing and watching something on TV, and Bulkhead was so nervous he couldn't even tell what. Primus, he was just grateful they were alone, or else this would have been impossible! Bumblebee thankfully noticed him right away, lifting his helm to look at his friend with a smile.

"What's up, Bulk?" he said in greeting, half turning back to the television before doing an actual double take back to the big bot. Concern crossed his features, and he raised a curious brow ridge before he spoke again. "You feeling okay?"

Bulkhead realized just then that his nervousness was probably showing through like a beacon, and he gulped in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to disappear on the spot. Just his luck that things would already be going poorly… Steeling himself, he took a deep vent and put on the biggest smile he could manage. "Yeah, f-fine!" he gasped out, trying not to tremble. Wishing he'd written down what he wanted to say, he just managed to put some words together and speak, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. "I just wanted… wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Bumblebee asked, expression not changing once. Near to collapsing, Bulkhead soldiered on, wondering with every word if he'd made a huge mistake.

"Well you… you know I've been painting a lot lately, and I was wondering…" he gulped again, closing in on the final thing he'd come to ask and hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake in the process. If this worked, it might just be the happiest day of his life…

"I'm kind of tired of painting trees and flowers… could I paint… you?" he asked, not even waiting for a reply before he clarified extensively. "Paint a picture of you, I mean! Like… would you want to model for a painting? That's… what I meant…"

"Oh, model?" Bumblebee repeated, optics lighting up like a supernova as he repeated the word. Bulkhead felt relief like nothing he'd ever experienced wash over him as the question got exactly the answer he hadn't dared to hope for, enough so that he struggled to stay standing as he sighed. Bumblebee hopped upright and stretched, lean little frame already eager to get moving as he stepped beside his much larger friend. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Yeah, sure!" Bulkhead said with enthusiasm, trying his hardest not to cry a few happy tears at the turn of events. Moving as fast as he could, he followed Bee to his room, where all of his supplies were waiting for them in the unlikely event this worked out. The big bot had done everything in his power to get all the paint and brushes he would need if Bee said yes, so hopefully he did indeed have enough, or at least what he'd require to get started. He'd gotten so many shades of yellow…

When they arrived to his room, he briefly scolded himself for not fixing it up better, not that Bumblebee ever bothered to clean his own room, but he wanted to be a good host.

Pointing to the smushed couch he sometimes liked to relax on, which was also in a good spot for lighting, he tried to ensure he was calm despite his still fluttering nerves. "You can, uh, pose however you like. How about there?"

"Sure, sounds fun!" Bumblebee replied, quite enthusiastic as he hopped on over. Not minding that the furniture was beyond lumpy, he began finding a comfortable way for his frame to lay, moving his tiny self about as Bulkhead got everything ready. Trying not to blush at how happy he was, the big bot grabbed a spare canvas and his favorite cans of paint, along with a few brushes in his size. Someday he'd have to properly thank Sari for introducing him to art, and being kind enough to provide tools in his size as well. When his easel was in place, he looked up to see Numb laying himself over the couch and grinning in his usual goofy way. "Paint me like one of your French bots, Bulkhead…"

Even if he hadn't been so distracted by what he was feeling, the big bot would have had no ability to make sense of what he'd just heard. All he could manage was a one word reply of total bafflement. "...What?"

"It's a… a human quote. I don't get it either." Bumblebee mumbled in reply, likely referencing some movie he and Sari had watched together at some point. Not wanting his friend to feel awkward, Bulkhead happily helped the conversation continue, smiling as he grabbed a brush.

"Oh, well um… how about we start small? Just sketches and stuff, you know?" he offered, trying to think of the best way to proceed. It was hard to plan much of anything when he was this happy, especially because he didn't want Bee to know how he felt, in more ways than one. He had to keep going as if this was just a casual thing, and not something that really meant the world to him.

"Works for me, just don't forget to get my good side… which is all of me." Bee said proudly, striking a pose and grinning as he did so. It was a perfectly in character position, so Bulkhead got to work right away, carefully articulating his large digits to control the brush. While small mistakes were just part of the process for painting, he didn't want to make one here. This piece was going to be perfect, so every stroke had to be the same, and thus his digits had an almost vice-like grip. It didn't escape his attention how few bots got to pursue their greatest wish like he was doing now. Keeping his smile to himself, he cast his optics to Bumblebee and back to the canvas, wanting to have the perfect grasp of scale before he began. Having a friend with such particular proportions wasn't going to make this any easier.

Sticking with the core of his muse, he made a few careful strokes to get the basic gist of his friend's pose, hoping to capture both his sense of excitability and his current relaxed mood. It would be hard, but he was more than up for the challenge. This would be worth every last second of work...

"Actually, hang on, my arm looks better like this."

Bumblebee surprised him with the words and the sudden movement he made to match, his arm swinging about to rest almost opposite to its original pose. As he hadn't yet started drawing that particular spot, Bulkhead let it go, having expected a little bit of restlessness. It was also only fair that Bee liked the final result and was comfortable with the process. Getting back to work, the big bot wondered if his friend's face might be a good place to start. His horns certainly added an additional detail for him to take into consideration… Perhaps he'd ask if Bee wanted his face to be more in profile or at an angle. All he wanted was to capture the essence of the bot he was so close to.

Bumblebee coughed, optics looking about bashfully as he blushed and shifted on the couch to move his other arm. It wasn't a big move, but the small bit clearly realized it was inconvenient, and looked guilty for the move. "Need to change this too, it's not working. This look better?"

"Oh uh… yeah!" Bulkhead replied quickly, uncertain how he should respond beyond acceptance as the last thing he wanted was for this to be uncomfortable for either of them. Some small changes would need to be made to what was already on the canvas, but that was hardly a bother. Getting more paint on his brush, he tried to work a little faster as he got the bottom layer established. Not that he didn't trust Bee to keep his word, but the little bot often fidgeted without even meaning to. Sticking out his glossa in concentration, Bulkhead worked fast, using up a fair amount of paint as he got what he presumed to be the core of the piece. Next would come the much tricker details…

Or at least they would have, if he hadn't glanced up to see Bumblebee in a completely different pose and half asleep...

"Bumblebee?" he said on reflex, coughing to try and gain his friend's attention. Startling awake, the little bot looked around in surprise, seeming to have forgotten exactly where he was and what was going on. When recognition dawned on his features, embarrassment wasn't far behind. A light blush lit up his cheeks as he shrunk down on the couch.

"Scrap, sorry, wasn't thinking." he apologized, trying to remember how he had originally been posed and failing to do so. Bulkhead felt a bit of frustration stirring, but he kept it well under wraps. Just because this wasn't going according to plan, didn't mean he was going to give up.

"That's okay! Just… need a new canvas." he said, keeping his smile even if he was a little more flustered. With a little bit of white paint he could salvage the canvas and use it later for something else, plus it wasn't like Sari didn't provide him with plenty of supplies. Getting set up all over again, he looked back to Bumblebee, who was once again settled in what appeared to be his position of choice. Hoping to begin in earnest, he was careful as could be when he broached the question on his mind. "Is that the pose you want?"

"Definitely!" Bumblebee said enthusiastically, giving him hope that he'd be able to paint for real this time. Not wasting even a moment, he painted as fast as he could, glancing back and forth between the painting and his subject to make the process as smooth as possible. It was an effective strategy, as it allowed him to get the outline twice as fast. This time he wanted to fully capture his friend in the picture as he'd been trying from the start. Some part of him just knew it would be worth it, and that they'd both be thankful he put in all this effort.

Or, at least, he thought he knew...

"Actually, sorry about this, but…" Bumblebee was bashful but not especially hesitant as he moved to lay on his side, stretching as he moved into an entirely different position. The poor artist felt his spark drop at the loss of progress all over again, even as his friend tried to cheer them both up by looking as chipper as possible. "That was so much more uncomfortable than I was expecting. Go on!"

Bulkhead didn't say a word as he grabbed another canvas, and did his very best not to look as discouraged as he felt. It didn't seem like this was going to stop any time soon, as much as he wished it would, and that didn't bode well for his wish to get this done. Perhaps he'd been far too hopeful…

Still, he did everything in his power to stay positive and make the painting he'd dreamed of become a reality.

Painting faster than he ever had in his entire life, the big bot ignored the imperfections that came from moving so rapidly, setting his jaw tight as little flecks of paint spattered across the canvas. At this point, such little things hardly seemed to mind. What really mattered was getting this done. A familiar form began to take recognizable shape on the canvas, and the artist started to plan ahead for his next move from then on. Shading would come after these little details, which he'd be able to put together thanks to having a lot of his friend's appearance memorized. Hope blossomed in his spark as he finally saw Bumblebee in the picture he was painting.

Getting so close to what he wanted made seeing a repeat of what had happened before hurt more than it should have.

Catching himself, Bumblebee blushed and shrunk down on the spot, smiling bashfully in apology for his unintentional movement. It really wasn't something he was doing on purpose; he wanted to see his friend happy! Sitting still just didn't work for him. Seeing Bulkhead look hurt, however, made him feel especially bad for the mistake.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Bulkhead said with a sigh, putting yet another canvas to the side and looking quite deflated as he did so. There wasn't anything he could think to do that might change this, and he was ready to just throw in the towel. Perhaps this was just the one thing he wasn't meant to paint.

"Aw come on, why not?" Bumblebee pressed, aware of the answer but hoping there was something he could do to fix it. Staying still just wasn't in his programming, but perhaps… he could get some tape? That wasn't realistic, but he wanted to try something to make up for this. Bulkhead only sighed again.

"You won't stay still?" he said simply, frustrated but not antagonistic in his summation. It was something neither of them could change, and that left both more than a little helpless.

"I…" Bumblebee stuttered off, tapping his digits together as he saw his friend get even more sad. Unable to help getting a little defensive, he got up from the couch, throwing up his arms as the big bot cleaned up some of the mess. "Come on, Bulk! You know me! Staying still isn't my thing, and I can't force that!"

"Well yeah, but… couldn't you just stay mostly still?" Bulkhead asked, still not ready to just give up all at once. Even if he had no idea how to fix things or make it work, he wanted this painting too much to just give up, no matter how many canvases it took. All he needed was a little bit more time than he had been getting. His determination must have shown, because Bumblebee furrowed his brow ridges in consideration.

"I… I can try! I…" he faded off as the pressure weighed on him, and thankfully his friend caught that quickly. To be clear; he wanted this a lot, but he could never want anything badly enough to make Bumblebee uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best they rested a bit, to restore their patience and approach this with clearer heads. He certainly needed a minute to relax from all this frustration...

"How about a break? We've been trying for a while, maybe a bit of down time will help." he proposed, already feeling a little better at the prospect of cooling down. Bumblebee shared the sentiment straight away, visibly relaxing on the spot and letting out a tiny sigh of his own.

"Great idea Bulk! Let me just grab something…" he said happily, darting off and leaving the big bot alone with his supplies. Deciding to clean a bit to ease his mind, Bulkhead sorted the discarded canvases, hoping that he could paint over the unusable pictures with some white and reuse them. Seeing how much and how little progress he'd made at the same time made him wonder how he might improve on their next attempt. Nothing was coming to mind just yet, but that didn't mean he had lost hope. There had to be something on this planet that would motivate Bee to stay still, and by Primus he would find it!

As he was wiping up some paint that had managed to drip onto the floor, Bumblebee quite literally skidded back into the room, coming to a dead stop after running at full tilt.

"I'm back! Just wanted to grab my game!" the little bot declared happily, waving the device about as he went to sit back on the smushed couch. The game had been a gift from Sari as well; some kind of earth console that had been sized up a few times over to better fit the servos of a Cybertronian. Smiling in acknowledgement, the big bot nodded as he went back to cleaning. Digital music met his audials as his friend started up the system and began to play, reclining on the couch as he settled in for a much needed break. Bulkhead had only had middling success with the games popular on earth, owed in large part to his size, but he was at least happy his friend could have some much needed fun with them.

When the floor was finally cleaned up, he took stock of his slightly diminished inventory. There was still plenty of paint, and more than a few canvases, but if they continued at their current pace… He'd have to figure out a strategy before they tried this again, because otherwise this just wasn't going to work. Looking up at Bumblebee, he briefly considered proposing that they try this another day before his thoughts were systematically interrupted.

Laying on his back over the pile of stuffing that had once been a couch, the small mech was entirely engrossed in his digital world, optics focused only on the screen as his digits rapidly tapped away on the controls. Other than the occasional shift of his expression, he was entirely motionless. It took Bulkhead a moment to process what he was seeing. Bumblebee was so rarely still, and never for this length of time… He didn't need to think much before he was reacting the only way he could.

Moving as silently as a mech of his size was able to, he grabbed what he needed, gathering his paints around himself as he got a fresh canvas and sat down before his easel. He couldn't have asked for a better setup; the pose, the lighting, it was all perfect. It was almost too much to hope this was real. Considering how many false starts he'd had, most could probably understand why he felt that way.

Daring to take his time, the big bot made every brush stroke count, trying to think of all the reasons he liked Bee so much as he made each one. His friend was confident, energetic, brave… All those thoughts motivated him every second he worked, and the results were soon apparent. The form of Bumblebee began to take shape rather quickly, coming together far more smoothly thanks to how relaxed he was. A base layer was ready to go in what felt like only a few minutes.

Oblivious to everything, Bumblebee kept right on playing, occasionally sticking his glossa out as he did so. Bulkhead contemplated including that detail in the piece, but ultimately decided against it. This was going to be a somewhat more dignified painting than that.

When the time came to add lighting, he was almost over the moon, but he kept all the excitement to himself. Colors mixed together beautifully on his palette, forming the light and dark shades to the vibrant yellows and deep blacks that made up his friend's paint job. It was far more satisfying than painting even the most beautiful landscape he'd ever seen. Perhaps he was just a little biased on that front, but he did believe that painting things you truly cared about just brought them to life. One only had to glance at this piece to understand how much this bot meant to him.

It almost seemed like he was dreaming when each and every glance revealed Bumblebee to be sitting perfectly still, without a hint of movement beyond the minor. If this did turn out to be a dream, he'd at least be happy it was going so well. Fate had truly designed the perfect setup for them to finally get this done without any stress for either individual.

Everything came together with what felt like only a few of the most well done strokes he'd ever painted. At long last, the bot he'd wanted to paint so badly had been captured on canvas! It was so exciting he couldn't hold back an exclamation as he set his brush down theatrically.

"Done!"

"Huh?!" Bumblebee gasped, half jumping on the spot as his game nearly flew from his servos. Looking about in a daze, he put the pieces together when he saw his friend, at which point guilt crossed his features. Time had slipped away from him even more so than it had for the very busy Bulkhead. "What? I… oh, Bulk! I didn't mean to get distracted! You could have stopped me earlier, I wouldn't have minded."

Waving off the appreciated but unnecessary apology, the big bot only smiled and wiped some paint from his servos, rising from his chair to puff his chest out with pride. "That's okay, I'm already finished."

"How?" the little bot gasped in awe, checking his internal chronometer to see just how long he'd been wrapped up in his game. It had only felt like a few minutes, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten lost in a video game.

"Well, you were pretty content playing your game, so…" Bulkhead allowed his friend to put the rest of the pieces together, and in no time understanding dawned on the little mech.

"Oh, I gotcha!" Bumblebee replied happily, quite relieved to have not held them up. If playing video games was what it had taken to make his friend happy, then he was quite fine with that. All he wanted was to get a look at the results, which he was certain would be incredible. "Here, let me see!"

Feeling a bit of shyness amongst his pride, Bulkhead handed over the canvas, careful to avoid the still drying paint.

"This is amazing!" Bumblebee proclaimed without hesitation, trying to be delicate even as he felt a surge of excitement upon beholding the painting. Of course he knew his friend had talent, but this was incredible! "Look at me, I look even better than usual!"

Bulkhead looked down to the floor and shuffled his pedes, doing his best to hide the blush creeping along his cheeks. "Well, I had a pretty great model."

"That's gonna sell fast, Bulkhead. No doubt about it." Bumblebee praised as he gave the painting back, confident in what he was saying. It didn't hurt that he was a good looking bot, but his friend had really done an especially good job on this one, and he was sure it would be bought up in no time. Taking the piece, the big bot smiled softly as he beheld it again. It had taken a lot of courage for him to get this, and he was quite proud of himself for that. As such, he held the painting very near and dear to his spark.

"Maybe, but… I think I'm gonna keep it, actually." he said softly, wanting to see it every day. There was a perfect place for it where he could do just that, not that he would say where that was. Bumblebee didn't mind the decision in the slightest.

However, when the little bot ducked in his friend's room later to pick up a borrowed item, he learned the true value of the painting to Bulkhead. On a wall reserved for only his most precious of works, the portrait sat high in a position of honor. Usually unable to say everything that came to mind due to overwhelming volume, Bee had been rendered speechless by the sight. Only a soft smile revealed how touched he was by the gesture.

#transformers animated #tfa #bumblebee #bulkhead #commission #my writing #my commissions #fluff

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jumpingjaxx13 · 3 years ago

Note

📚 📖 📓📕📒📔📘📗📙

Lol

The joke's on you. I have a ton of these and I'm about to make it everyone's problem.

Put "📓" into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

(I'm gonna cheat a little. The ones with * are ones that I have started writing, but are incomplete/have been WIPs for a long time/nowhere close to being done. I feel like that counts just because of the amount of daydreaming/not writing that goes into them lol)

(Also, if there is any that someone is particularly interested in reading once it's finished, just leave a reply and I'll reach out with a link once it's published!)

This is going to be a long post, so I'll put the answer under a read more!

📚 *

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ships: ShigaDabi (primary), TodoDeku (background, maybe)

An AU where Tenko Shimura was found by Inko Midoriya instead of AFO and raised as Izuku's brother. He winds up becoming Hawks's secretary, meets All Might and learns about his grandmother, and gets to proudly watch his brother follow his dreams. Things start to change when he meets a strange man outside of a cafe and falls for him. How was he supposed to know that Dabi was a villain!? From there, Tenko has to do a lot of self reflection and decide what he wants to do after learning about his boyfriend's identity, especially when he found out that his boss had known all along. Does he chase after Dabi? Join him? Turn him in? I'm not 100% sure how I want to end this, but I am tempted for it to lead to the "birth" of Tomura. Any suggestions would be welcome!

📖*

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ships: N/A, maybe background Duo Holders?

Essentially an AFO origin story focusing on his relationship with Yoichi over the course of his descent. I take a few snapshots of the brothers together, starting as teens and going through to his death, and showing how their regard for each other changed. It finally ends with AFO speaking to Yoichi's grave years later. I'm a fan of DFO, so I'm going to be using the name Hisashi for him, but if/when his canon name comes out, I'll be changing it to match!

📓

Fandom: Death Note

Ships: LawLight (primary), MattMello (secondary)

An AU where Roger Ruvie dies early on in the investigation and, with the entire world under suspicion, L can't afford to replace him. Instead, he sends the majority of the kids off to other houses that Watari had built, save for his top three successors. Near, Mello, and Matt all move into the Task Force HQ and, despite L's "best efforts" to prevent it (read: he's totally just pretending to stop them to please the others), they continually find themselves thrown in the middle of the investigation. I'm also not 100% certain how I want this to end, but I do know that it's going to be endgame L/Light and Matt/Mello.

📕*

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Ships: RanPoe (past), ODazai (past, platonic or romantic), SteinCraft (past, background)

A sequel to Unstoppable Force. I've had a few people express interest in the culprit, so I've decided to write up an optional sequal that explains it. I debated not doing it, but I know that a lot of people enjoy closure, so I thought it would be fun! I invented a new villain and a new ability and I found an excuse to drag some Guild members into it as well. Essentially, Ranpo reopens the case after the funeral and uses the strange behavior of Steinbeck to corner and catch the elusive ability user. I'm personally proud of the ability I created, so I'm going to keep it a secret for now.

📒*

Fandom: Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun

Ships: TeruKane (primary)

This one is actually based on a post that has since been deleted proposing the idea of a soulmate AU where the name of your soulmate is written on the inside of your book in the Four O'clock Library. I shook it up a bit and added the idea that if you read your soulmate's name, people will begin to forget they exist and you have to confess your love to them within a week or they will disappear from existence entirely. Akane didn't think it would be a problem to go and confirm his soulmate-- it's obviously Aoi-- only to discover a very different name written in his book. Knowing his time limit, he struggles to find a loophole in the curse that would help him avoid confessing a love he doesn't feel. In the meantime, people are slowly starting to forget who Teru Minamoto is, with Akane being the only one to remember, forcing them to spend even more time together. This one is going to have a happy ending, but it's going to be a really close call!

📔

Fandom: Robihachi

Ships: Robby/Hatchi (primary)

This is a sequel to Lovely that I've been playing around with. Someone expressed that they wanted to see how Robby's father would react to their situation and that got me thinking about it. In a misguided gesture of good faith, Hatchi's parents invite Robby's family up to the moon to help celebrate either his birthday or their first anniversary. Much to Robby's surprise, they agree to come, leaving him with an awkward mess of judgement to deal with until they leave. I still haven't decided how this will end, but I know it's going to be on either a positive or bittersweet note.

📘

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ships: EraserMist (primary; may be romantic or platonic), Tomura/Touya (secondary)

Sequel to Purpose. Kurogiri and Tomura move in with that kind hero, Aizawa, after what happened in the alleyway. It takes a lot of getting used to, but it is leagues better than living out of a hotel. Kurogiri juggles working to obtain his hero license with raising Tomura (made easier with the new help) and investigates just why that hero seemed so familiar... Later on, when Tomura enters UA, he juggles making friends for the first time, proving his heroism despite his quirk, and a concerning new crush on the hot upperclassman.

📗

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Ships: MatchaBlossom (primary), Renga (secondary), ShadOka (maybe)

This one is going to go through a week of after-hours visits at Sia la Luce. Each day, someone drops in while Joe is closing up, needing one thing or another. From relationship advice to a pleasant escape to pleas for forgiveness, Joe finds himself to be the center of all of their attention. It's just a collection of seven mini-stories that are all collected throughout the span of one week in-universe. Everyone is going to give Joe a visit for different reasons and I'm excited to see how it turns out!

📙*

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Ships: Shin Soukoku (primary), Soukoku (secondary), more potentially TBA

A fantasy AU in which Fukuzawa and Mori are the kings of two rival kingdoms, Ada and the Port Kingdom (I'll probably change the names lol). Fukuzawa has no genetic heirs, but he had taken in a number of wards, one of which will be chosen to succeed him. Mori has two children, and the prince was born with a terrible curse that leaves his reputation soaked in blood. Atsushi, one of Fukuzawa's wards, is also cursed and feels that Prince Ryuunosuke is just like him; that he can be saved with some kindness and compassion. Despite being warned not to, he sneaks out and attends a ball intended to find the prince a suitor. While there, he unknowingly defends the prince from a number of attackers, which, while unnecessary, piques Ryuunosuke's interest. The two run away together, but wind up being sidetracked by an advancing enemy and wind up lost. Chuuya, a knight from the PK, is sent by Mori to go and find his son. Dazai, Atsushi's mentor and ward of Fukuzawa, is sent to go and locate the weretiger after he does not come to breakfast in the morning. Chuuya and Dazai run into each other while searching for their respective people, which leads to them teaming up to find them while Atsushi and Ryuunosuke are trying their hardest not to be found.

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purpleyellow · 4 years ago

Text

Freaky Holidays (1)

Originally BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“With only 3 days until December 25th, the Christmas spirit turn things around and make us wonder: What would happen if Sunny was a NCT oc?”

a/n: so I’ve wanted to do a oc/group swap for the longest time and the occasion just sort of fell into place. I tried not to make it too centered around the festivities but it was kind of inevitable so apologies to those who don’t celebrate it, next week things will go back to normal. Please let me know what you thought of it, your feedback is always welcome💜

Sunny’s peaceful sleep got interrupted by her roommate throwing a pillow at her head before carefully taking it back and sitting on the edge of her mattress to tie his shoes.

“I’m going to buy some of my secret Santa gifts, do you want to come with me?” Doyoung asked in the process and turned to her sleepy figure blinking aimlessly “I can give you fifteen minutes to get ready”

“No, you can go. I told the dreamies I’d spent the day with them, so there’s that” The girl stretched herself sitting up.

“Yep, wouldn’t want to annoy that bunch” The boy shivered before getting up “Well, do you want me to see anything for you at the mall”

“Nah, I have Jungwoo for the secret Santa stuff and he has yours truly so we decided to buy our own presents this time” Sunny nodded and suppressed a smile at his annoyed face.

“What? You told each other?” Doyoung waved his arms around in frustration “What part of the secret thing you didn’t get”

“It’s not like we’re ruining everybody else’s experience. We just agreed getting something we’d actually want was better than spending money on something the other would end up returning” Sunny rolled her eyes pushing her blankets aside and also getting up

“You two and your weird ‘we were born the same day so we understand each other’ thing. Seriously, if Christmas sucks this year I’m blaming on you both” Doyoung called out as she walked into the bathroom making her giggle and send him a wave.

“Have a nice trip to the mall, Oppa”

After doing her morning hygiene and putting on something more formal than the sweats she used to sleep, Sunny walked to the kitchen just in time to sense her favorite morning smell.

“Got your coffee ready” Johnny promptly handed her a mug as she sighed happily. “I tried some new brew today so tell me if I should throw it on the trash or just add it to our flavor rotation”

“That’s why you’re my favorite” The girl took a sip and pondered for a while before adding “I like it but not too much”

“Same. I think it should go to the every other week pile then” He nodded turning around, which led him to get scared and flinch when she suddenly shouted towards the rooms “Haechan-ah, let’s go!!”

“I’m almost ready” The boy’s muffled voice screamed back making her sigh and sit on the table, pulling out her phone to answer some texts. Taking another sip from the mug she nodded “Every other week sounds about right”

“Here, we can go now” Hyuck showed up putting on a coat.

“What about Mark? Did you hear from him?” Sunny asked, not wanting to forget anyone as they walked to the door.

“Not sure, he said he’ll meet us in the coffee shop if he has time” Haechan answered waving Johnny goodbye as they went down the stairs.

“It’s seven in the morning, what on earth is he doing that he doesn’t have time to grab a coffee”

“Probably simping over that Seventeen chick again” He joked, making her laugh.

“I already said I can set him up with her but he always denies it.” Sunny rolled her eyes and hid herself deeper into her jacket as they met the cold in the street “I don’t know what’s wrong with him”

“Me either, Noona” Hyuck shook his head in embarrassment making her laugh and intertwine their arms together. “Me either”

Making to the coffee shop, the pair scanned the place finding the rest of the dreamies sitting at the back. Gesturing for Haechan to go meet them, Sunny headed to the counter and ordered a few pastries as her treat for the boys.

“Looking astonishing as always, Noona” Chenle smiled brightly at the sight of the food and she rolled her eyes, setting the plate in the middle of the table and sitting next to Jaemin.

“Good morning to you guys too,” She said ironically, getting a few mumbles as an answer and an actual good morning from Renjun. “Anything fun going on?”

“You know what’s fun?” Jaemin cheered up from her side as she stole a sip from his coffee and nodded casually “I’ll let that slip, but only because I was at the mall yesterday and saw this cool-”

“I’m Jungwoo’s secret Santa so you can spare your energy” Sunny rolled her eyes when she noticed where he was going and Jaemin slouched back in his chair.

“Hey, don’t go around sharing who you got” Jeno fake scolded her making the girl throw a napkin at him “I’m serious if Doyoung Hyung hears-”

“I already told him and I’m here to tell the story” She raised a challenging eyebrow and the boy raised his hands in surrender, making a shocked face before grinning. “Anywho, anyone got some fun that doesn’t have to do with our gift exchange?”

“Well, now that you brought it up. Are you going to get your favorite dongsaengs something for Christmas?” Haechan made an innocent face that got a scoff from her.

“I thought the point of the secret Santa was so we wouldn’t have to buy 23 different presents. If I'm counting right, at least half of you are my dongsaengs”

“Well, you don’t have to give all of us something” Jisung sneakily added and her incredulous smile only got bigger “Just like… your three favorite”

“And you think you’re on her top three?” Renjun smirked and the youngest nodded.

“I’m confident in the first place, just didn’t want you to feel bad” He shrugged, making Sunny gasp.

“Who gave you this confidence kid? And keep going, I like it” She smiled proudly fist-bumping him. Cleaning his throat, Jaemin nodded to the table. “Well”

“Well?” She repeated earning a few annoying groans.

“Who’s your favorite?” Chenle asked, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I’m not sharing that” Sunny crossed her arms making all of them sigh annoyed.

“But why? We won’t make you actually get us individual presents” Haechan whined and she gave him a look telling him to knock it off “Oh, it’s me isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t matter who it is. And I’m not sharing because I know for a fact that, if it is any of you, you are not going to use this information for good”

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bat-besties · 4 years ago

Text

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Remus is the most eccentric customer who visits Janus and Virgil's café. When he goes missing after talking to a mysterious stranger, Janus resolves to investigate further- and Virgil isn't letting him go alone.

AO3 10k

Huge thanks to @mariniacipher, I could not have written this without her. She let me talk about the idea for hours, it has somehow developed into a series, and the story itself took a real twist because of talking to her! Another massive thank you to @5-crofters-jams, who did a marathon edit of the entire piece for me, and has made the story so much smoother and more effective (and much less British because my original dialogue did upset her American sensibilities XD) Also thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, who knew everything I needed about pigeon corpses!

CW: dead bird, touching the bird corpse, bird funeral, Remus levels of comments about gore and innuendo, drug mention, mention of vomiting, kidnapping and captivity, feeling nauseous from anxiety, light dehumanization, brief allusion to racist violence

Remus was...

(There was usually a little gesture there: Virgil’s rolled eyes, or Janus’ helplessly fond smile, or a disapproving look from Remy-)

....Remus.

Their anarchist cafe saw its fair share of unusual customers but only one of them was, well, Remus.

Morning sunlight threw beams which striped the posters covering the walls- old propaganda posters mixed with ads for tutors, food banks, and drag shows. There was a quiet chatter of customers, occasionally broken up by bursts of laughter or a called greeting to another patron as they came in. Kids from the skatepark sat on a pile of beanbags charging their phones, having given up the comfortable chairs for a small group of elderly butches with stretched tattoos who were now speaking with slang from fifty years ago. A mother whose baby was trying to grab onto her braids was trying to feed him with one hand and hold her husband’s with the other. A college student frowning at their laptop screen and consuming coffee at an alarming rate was seemingly oblivious to the punk trying to discreetly read their laptop stickers. One of a Pan-African flag matched the full-sized one on the wall, swaying with wafts of coffee and baked goods along with spider plants and assorted pride flags. Old photos of a Black Panther group in the town, reprinted and signed by some of their patrons, were framed proudly on the walls.

Since everyone had been served, Virgil was taking a few breaths to check over the register and prepare for the next rush. The rhythm of checking, preparing, and letting the background chatter fade into the background blended into a pleasant, thoughtless routine. Cups out. Setting out more sandwiches. Look over the register. Maybe get something from the back-

“Morning, shitwad!”

Virgil ducked under the counter as something thumped into the coffee machine behind him, and a few of the regulars laughed in good nature.

“Oh, good morning, darling,” Janus replied smoothly, appearing from the kitchen. He was wearing a yellow shirt which contrasted with his deep brown skin perfectly, as well as a bowler hat and dapper bow-tie. He pulled plastic gloves over his hands with all the elegance of a debutante preparing for a ball.

There was a shrill wolf whistle. “Those are some sexy wrists!” was the next comment, followed by a squawking laugh, and Virgil rolled his eyes as his friend brought a flustered hand up to adjust his collar. Every day, he faced the deep attraction between the most sophisticated person he knew and the most outlandish, and he didn’t know which was more obnoxious. As Virgil popped back up, Janus reached over to the projectile on the back counter. It was the small, feathery body of a dead pigeon, carefully wrapped in cling wrap.

Virgil gave Janus a long-suffering look and got out a bottle of disinfectant. “Morning, Remus,” he grumbled, despite his irritation. “What can I get for you today?”

“My friend died at 3am last night,” he replied instead. “I need to store her in your fridge until you both get off work, and then we’ll hold her funeral!”

When they were alive, Remus treated the pigeons as gently as they did each other-

That is to say, he was ruthlessly protective of chicks, ready to grab and move anyone encroaching on territory, and, if pecked, was fully ready to bite back. Still, at his two-tone whistle a whole flock of assorted birds would fly down to meet him. His eyes would shine bright as they flew around him like a feathered whirlwind, and settled on the surfaces all around him like a hopeful congregation as he fed them with whatever he had. Despite their number, almost all had names and ascribed personalities.

Exactly how he could tell the difference between two seemingly identical pigeons Virgil had no idea, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Remus wasn’t fucking with him about it.

“Why did you throw her if you’re trying to preserve her?” Virgil said, but he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. In fairness, it didn’t look too damaged by the blow. It would take a lot to change the kindness Remus showed the doves, as roughly as he showed it.

“I thought you’d catch her, emo! It would have been a beautiful moment!” he protested, throwing his grey eyes open wide.

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “You know what? Yeah, maybe it would have been. But you forget-”

“Fight or flight,” Remus filled in. He shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

As usual, he was dressed in as many layers as he could be, with only a hint of pale skin showing on his face and through a pair of fingerless gloves he had cut himself. Everything else was an amalgamation of black and brown leather, denim, flannel, a puffy coat, a long flowing skirt in leopard-print, and fishnet tops over cotton T-shirts, leaving barely any Remus-outline at all. It didn’t matter what the weather was; his outfit might change components, but it never revealed so much as his neck.

Everyone had their reasons, Janus would quietly say at almost anything their customers said or did. It wouldn’t have crossed their minds to ask why he covered himself so much, but it was something Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about sometimes.

Maybe Janus was right and Remus was handsome, but his face was so obscured by his moustache, stubble, and makeup in purple and green- or whichever colours he felt like- that he seemed to be aiming for ‘gives you a headache after you look at him too long’ more than anything else.

His hair was almost literally a bird’s nest. He had completely rejected offers of a hairbrush or a comb, insisting he preferred it the way it was. The third co-owner of the cafe, Remy, with whom he was staying at the moment, had made many attempts to detangle his hair, all of which had been met with screaming and gnashing of teeth. After each clash, Remy would send Virgil a barrage of complaints by text. But while Janus had offered for Remus to stay at his own apartment, Virgil and Remy had made a mutual decision to save them from 24/7 pining by volunteering instead. Janus had refused even considering dating him the very first day he had barged his way into the cafe- and into its founder’s affection. As long as Remus came to them for food and shelter, it would be an unfair balance of power.

Remus reached into an inner pocket of his coat and slid a purple pin with a spider silhouette on it over to Virgil. “You could stab this into those big brown eyes of yours,” he said, widening his own at the barista.

“Sweet, thanks,” Virgil said, pinning it onto his apron string. It did match with his spider-web hair design. “Then I won’t have to look at Janus getting flustered any more.”

Remus grinned at Janus, who was trying to act as if he’d been so invested in carefully holding the pigeon that he hadn’t heard. He leaned on the counter and dropped his voice into a stage-whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I think he’s sexy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Virgil whispered back. “I’m going to throw up in your coffee.”

He shrugged. “I’d still drink it. Then I’d just be able to judge you based on your stomach bile.”

“You’d be so fucking impressed by my stomach bile,” Virgil retorted. “It’s so acidic from anxiety it would kill you immediately.” He turned to start wiping down anywhere the pigeon had even possibly touched.

“Bartender!” Remus yelled in an exaggerated English accent, banging on the counter. “Bartender! I would like a coffee and a sandwich, please!”

“One moment, my dear,” Janus said in a more passable impression, opening up the freezer door and placing the tiny corpse into an empty ice-cream container well away from the rest of the food. “I’m just cryopreserving- what’s her name?”

"Her name is Loki,” Remus supplied, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone which was surprisingly tender coming from him. “She's good at stealing chips from tourists. And flying and shitting at the same time.”

Janus threw away his gloves, thoroughly washed his hands, then made a small note: "Loki: not for consumption." He glanced up at Remus so he could see the note, who repaid him by throwing his head back so he could laugh. Janus' mouth quirked into a snicker too, and the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fall away from the two looking at each other.

"We're going to get a violation," Virgil interrupted, because that was the expression of a Janus who would complain and pretend not to pine for hours after Remus left. He turned on the coffee machine to hopefully distract from the moment. "It's a dead fucking animal."

"So is the rest of the meat," Janus dismissed without looking at him. "And it is wrapped up and away from the rest of the food."

Ever since Virgil had joined the team and the cafe had begun to establish itself as a firm success, the city council had done everything in its power to shut it down. Each time, the cafe had won, even if their most recent fight was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of his life, and their personal lives had been dragged through the dusty carpet of every courtroom in the city. Each step of the way, Janus insisted that the risk was worth it.

After all that, Virgil was not letting the cafe close on account of a dead bird, as skilled a thief as she might have been.

"It’s a pest animal you let in here," he insisted.

Janus dismissed him with a shrug. "Come now, so is Remus."

The customer grinned. "You flatter me, rattlesnake." His eyes traced Janus' face as they scrunched up with joy. "Can you tell me about Dodgy Knees again?"

He closed his eyes as if pained. "Diogenes! Diogenes! I'll break your knees if you mispronounce-"

"Kinky!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, is that so?”

So Virgil tried to ignore the disaster scenario of the cafe being shut for good, fixed a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Remus, and somehow got caught into a conversation about the pros and cons of leaving society to go feral in the woods.

“No, I do agree, but wolves-”

The door rattled, and an older white man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pinstripe suit walked in. He wasn’t entirely out of place amongst the clientele, but he honestly looked more like the businessmen in some of the cartoons Janus had papered one wall with. Remus ignored the bell as he leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his sandwich as he talked to Virgil while the barista came up to the register.

“How can I help you today?” Virgil asked the man, who was glancing around the decor. That type of customer was almost certainly drawn by the coffee, all blends hand-picked by Remy.

“I’ll be in and out in just a moment,” he replied with a small smile, and Remus stopped talking. “An espresso to go, please.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, a moment-”

A blush crept up Remus’ cheeks, and he ducked his head with uncharacteristic shyness. As the man caught his eyes his entire expression softened, the hard lines of his face seeming to melt as his lips parted slightly, like he would say something. But, for once, he was speechless.

Janus looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “Are you acquainted?” he asked, in such a casual tone that Virgil knew he was deeply hurt. He arched an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

“I- yes, I believe we are,” the customer gave a genial smile in return, his eyes fixed on Remus’. “Some time ago.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Where do you know him from, Remus?”

There was a crinkle of plastic and leather as Remus shrugged. “Long story,” he said distantly.

Virgil slid a cup of coffee over to the man, who tapped a black card to the card reader and gave him a quick smile. “Keep the change,” he quipped. It was a tip some ten times greater than their recommended 20%.

“Thanks,” Virgil mumbled, but his focus was on his friend, who was drifting out of the door, as he tended to do at the end of a conversation. “Hey, Remus, we’ll see you later?” he called after him.

“Sure, Virgey!” he replied, giving him a quick grin before he held the door for the businessman, and the two of them walked out together. The older man ducked his head to whisper something into his ear, and Remus laughed and linked their arms as they headed into the street.

As soon as the door swung shut, a cloud settled over Janus’ expression. “Well,” he said, adjusting a sandwich which was just slightly out of line with the rest. “They say a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. It takes all sorts. To each, indeed, their-”

Before he could utter another saying, Virgil interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Janus asked caustically. “Remus was acting unusually, yes?”

“Sometimes people get nervous,” he ventured. “If they like someone-” There wasn’t a single trait Remus said wasn’t his type; a silver fox with money was as good as any.

“Don’t say ‘like’, it’s so middle school,” he snapped, and Virgil flinched at the tone in his voice. He grabbed a cloth and headed over to a table which some regulars he knew were just vacating to wipe it down. Poor Loki’s funeral was going to be a tense event.

Except, as night fell and the cafe began to glow with the golden lights and the warmth of the ovens, and as Remy arrived to help them with the evening rush, Remus didn’t show up for the body in their freezer.

The brief liveliness Janus had shown bustling between the kitchen and the front faded as the final family trickled out. He waved away most of their offered money, seeing as it was a birthday party and he knew them, and Remy and Virgil made meaningful eye contact but didn’t protest.

As they closed, Remy filled the awkward silence with chatter about the men he was dating, the new hair product he had tried, the fact Remus never washed up when he was told to, and he was, like, so sick of it-

But no Remus appeared to defend himself, even after they left half-an-hour late and each one tried to call him.

He didn’t appear at Remy’s to sleep overnight, and he didn’t come into the cafe at all the next day.

That next night, Janus disappeared into the back, leaving Virgil to clean up by himself.

His stomach was upset, and he couldn’t help but think about that man over and over.

Long story- what exactly did “long story” mean?

Remy used the phrase when it really was a complicated story full of exes and rumours and friends of friends-

Virgil used it when he was asked why he didn’t speak to his family any more.

But he’d never seen Remus look like that before, and the guy had seemed nice- and there was an obvious suggestion for why his friend was busy overnight.

He realised he’d been wiping down the same table for the past five minutes.

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly behind him.

“Yeah?” he turned, and his brow immediately furrowed at his friend’s sombre expression.

He had his phone in one hand, and his hat in his other. “I’m going to ask you for a favour,” he said slowly. “You are quite free to decline it.” He paused. “I want to go to the house of the man who Remus went out with, and check that he’s alright.”

“I...don’t know that’s a good idea,” he said, twisting the spider badge on his apron so he could avoid the weight of his friend’s expression. “I mean...it could be an invasion of Remus’ privacy, if that was an old friend or-” Scared of causing further upset, he tilted his head to fill in ‘something else’.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed, looking out into the night through their plate-glass windows. “You know I’m not one for hunches-”

“Eh, you turned out a guy for being an undercover cop in like two seconds because he asked about ‘The Antifa’-”

Janus gave him a look with almost the level of exasperated fondness Remus engendered, and Virgil fell silent.

“I’m not one for hunches, but I’m usually right when I have them, then,” he finished lightly. “I have a very bad feeling, and a Google Search for anyone in the town who could possibly have a black card doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Anxiety coagulated in his stomach, but he tried for his final hope. “Are you sure it’s not...jealousy?”

He gave him a long, tired look. “The thought has never even been a worry of mine,” he said drily. “Still, I can go by myself, and make my own self a bother, worse, a fool.”

And it wasn’t really a question at all whether Virgil would let that happen. “Two of us is just a bother,” he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel, unclipping his badge from his apron and slipping it into his hoodie pocket.

Janus hung up his hat and put on a neat suit jacket over his outfit. “Thank you, really-”

He shook his head, opening the door so that a rush of petrichor and tarmac washed out the pervasive smell of coffee and food from the cafe. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the night, still damp from the earlier rains. The lights of the shops around them reflected against the wet tarmac, and music pumped out of passing cars giddy with the promise of the coming weekend. They headed to the bus stop, Janus politely greeting every person they passed, and Virgil ducking his head so he didn’t have to. He didn’t know if the people who replied were familiar to his friend from the neighbourhood, or just trying to be polite in turn.

As soon as the bus stopped with a hiss of steam, Janus led him down to the back, and sat by the window, checking the map on his phone again. “It will be some time,” he said. “But, I ask you to be patient.”

“Course.” Virgil rested his head on Janus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just tell me the stop before and I’ll be...right with you.” Moving vehicles lulled him to sleep anyway, and he would just worry the whole way otherwise.

“Of course.” Janus wrapped an arm around him, so he wasn’t jolted as the bus started again.

As Virgil dozed in fits and starts, the window changed from views of convenience stores and fast food shops to blocks of apartments, to anonymous offices and retail outlets, to high-walled parks, and then houses set back from the road by sweeping drive-ways or pavements almost as wide as the road was. Finally, his head was jostled off Janus’ shoulders, and he blinked as the stop dinged, too loud after the fog of sleep. Outside, it was pitch black but for the pools of light beneath the streetlights, and the golden glow which the mansions kept far behind barred gates.

They stumbled off the bus, and Janus checked his phone just once more before they headed off down one of the identical sides of the road.

Virgil pulled his hoodie close around him against the night chill. He considered putting his hood on to protect his ears from the nipping wind, but they were already two black men alone in a very white neighbourhood. It wasn’t worth it when his stomach was already rolling with anxiety. He rubbed his thumb over the badge in his pocket and tried to breathe the cold air in 4-7-8. They walked over empty roads, past rows and rows of similar houses, until they turned a corner and cars lined the road, piling into a single driveway which was illuminated like a Christmas lights display. A few fancily-dressed guests stood by the cars, but most of the noise came from inside. The house towered even its neighbours, and was built in the faux-Classical style which he hated.

Janus checked the address against his phone, then nodded. “That’s it. What did you call those, again? False temples?”

“Temples to dumb rich Americans and bad architecture,” Virgil supplied with a quirk of his lips.

“Quite right,” he replied, assessing the entrance. “And in all likelihood, Remus is stuck inside with his…”

“Yup.” He looked between his own patchwork hoodie and Janus’ dapper suit. “Maybe you could sneak in, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in.”

He straightened, and adjusted his bowtie. “Then we’ll go around the back,” he replied.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope, that’s- Jesus Christ, no, that’s a great way to get arrested or even shot. No.”

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly. “These past two months, Remus has visited us every day except that brief time after the fight over the milk cartons, or whatever it was-”

“I asked him to clean up a drop of milk and he poured the rest of the carton over my kitchen,” he said sourly, which he felt he was entitled to despite the situation.

“Yes, yes,” Janus dismissed. “Anyway- he always comes, doesn’t he? So now-”

“I have a really, really bad feeling- and bad thought, and bad everything-” he protested, backing away from the gate.

An orange sports car swerved past them, and parked horizontally across the driveway, and a young white man in a tracksuit the same colour as his car leapt out and gave them a wide grin. “Hey! Hey! Hello!” he yelled, and flashed them peace signs, to which Janus replied with a pained smile and Virgil a small wave. “Everything’s started- have they done the fireworks yet? Or the, shit, thing with the melted chocolate and it flows-”

“Chocolate fountain,” Janus supplied with the smile he reserved for his more aggravating customers. He slipped his arm into Virgil’s and pulled them forwards. “We were hoping to arrive for that too, ah-?” He waited for the man to supply his name, but instead-

“I like your hair!” he said to Virgil, admiring the spider web design. “Rad!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, subtly trying to pull them backwards as Janus marched him to the door after the guest. “Your car is...yeah, that sure is a car.”

“Sure is!” he replied with a blindingly white smile. He flashed something at a bodyguard at the door- who had sunglasses, earpiece, everything- Virgil noted with a sickening thrill of fear.

“And your friends, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah, yeah!” The guest tossed his car keys at his chest and headed through to a foyer filled with well-cut suits and low-cut dresses, champagne glasses and trays of canapes. Marble floors reflected the lighting, which glinted out from chandeliers above. A wide staircase glided up to the hidden upper floors.

“Oh, hey! Hey, you!” the young man yelled as soon as he got in, bounding over towards a woman who greeted him with a grin, raising her glass like a toast.

Janus and Virgil just blinked at each other. “Are you...sure?” Virgil asked quietly. “Remus is here?”

“I’m honestly not so sure any more,” Janus muttered to him. “But let’s not rely on whatever chemicals are keeping our dear friend happy, and start looking around.”

They moved through a throng of people and out into a wide ballroom, filled with yet more guests and a live string quartet playing in one corner. Along with the music was the trilling of occasional birdsong from tropical birds fluttering inside several oversized golden cages dotted around the room. A few others held white marble statues, but they couldn’t compare to the shifting flurries of reds, blues, and greens. Without agreeing on it aloud, the friends first went over to a small party congregated by one of them, in case the birds had attracted Remus.

“No, but then I said-” A balding man was proclaiming. “I said, Rudy, that’s not the Dow Jones Industrial Average at all.”

The group burst into laughter, Virgil gave Janus a bemused look, and they moved on.

Everyone was well-dressed, in sparkling necklaces or ties in jewel colours or even in more casual clothes, like the man from the sports car, which still seemed to drip wealth. Wearing sneakers with a suit wasn’t that fancy a look, but when even Virgil recognised that pair from an ad campaign for a luxury fashion line which would come out next month, he guessed it didn’t matter. Nobody looked at them twice. Still, there was nobody dressed in the contents of an entire rummage-sale bin with purple eyeshadow used as contour.

“There-” Janus whispered- “Is that?”

They both froze as they watched a man with a moustache waltz past in the arms of a lady dressed in black. It wasn’t Remus.

Virgil scanned the room again, eyes passing over the gilded cages, and the tropical birds and statues inside them- nobody in the crowd admiring them was any business of his-

As they parted, the figure inside the tallest gold cage became clear. It shifted position- an animatronic? He looked more closely as it moved after everyone had turned away, fiddling with golden chains around its-

“Oh God-” he whispered. “Look.”

Virgil was an avowed atheist, but if the person inside the cage wasn’t a statue, he must have been an angel. His shining hair was cut short to show of the clean marble lines of his face. His chest was sculpted too, covered in scars which looked like they must have come from a golden sword like the one he was gripping. He looked as if he would swing it into position if not for the gold chains wrapped around his arms, tethering him to the delicate bars of the cage. He was gazing out into the distance.

Most striking of all, dove-grey wings crested over his shoulders and trailed all the way down to his ankles. His white tunic contrasted the hints of pale purple, pink and blue shimmering in his wings.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Virgil had ever seen.

He glanced at Janus for his reaction.

He found only an expression of absolute horror. Janus was completely silent for a moment, struggling for words, before he gasped. "Oh, Remus- what did they do to you?”

A cold feeling washed over him.

No- those were their friend's grey eyes, and that was the shape of his face, stripped of his facial hair and usual tacky makeup. No wonder Virgil hadn't recognised him.

Compared to the usual chaotic spark in his expression, he looked blank. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely- or like he'd been drugged.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn back to his wings; they were hyper-realistic, even twitching as he tried to tense his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the chains on his arms. And the amount of feathers it would have taken to make that shifting, downy gradient...not even all of Remus’ flock had that many. It was compelling, but sickening.

It felt wrong to look over his arms and legs when he was usually so adamant about covering them, so he dropped his eyes and tried to erase the knowledge of how muscled Remus was beneath his usual shapeless outfit.

It wasn’t that Virgil found his friend attractive exactly, but with wings like that, dressed like that- he was a centerpiece, clearly, and even as his stomach churned with the wrongness of the display, it was a palpable effort to keep his gaze from snapping back to him. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered to Janus.

“He’d never, ever choose to dress himself like that in front of everyone," Janus whispered, anger crackling red at the edges of his quiet voice. "And even if he did, he’d never shave off his moustache.”

He shook his head. “So...what do we do?”

In response, Janus sauntered over to the left, took a champagne flute from a waiter, and then gestured for his friend to follow. They zigzagged through the crowd until they got closer to Remus, whose eyes remained glazed and distant.

They stopped just by him. Up close, it was clear the tunic was some kind of cotton material, and the sword had blunted edges. He was wearing makeup too, and a lump in his mascara made Virgil feel another sharp pang of pity. As ridiculous as painting them on would have been, how real the scars looked in comparison to the rest of the outfit was jarring. He was built and scarred like a fighter, and all the little touches to make him look delicate only emphasised how roughened he was. Both were at odds with everything he knew of his friend.

“Remus,” Janus whispered. The name fell like a plea. “Remus, it’s us.”

All of a sudden, the man’s eyes snapped to them, his expression melting into disbelief. “Remus?” he echoed. It was as quiet as a whisper from a crypt. “You know him?”

“You’re-” Janus’ face fell. “Remus, that’s you-”

The man almost imperceptibly shook his head. “Twins, we’re twins- you know him? Please, is he okay?” He looked almost identical, though up close the differences began to stand out. He was probably more muscular, but who could tell under all of Remus’ clothes? The main differences were a gap between this twin’s front teeth and, more than that, his eyes. Even as he looked at them desperately, there was something missing from them, some jolt of hope or excitement which just wasn’t there. Their heaviness was an uncomfortable weight on Virgil’s face.

He wrapped an arm around himself. “Sorry, he went missing-”

“But we tracked the man he left with back here,” Janus filled in. “Isn’t he here too?”

The man shook his head again. “No, I- I’ll earn more information, after this. I don’t know anything,” he whispered. “I just know he found him, and he wants him to come back without a fight.”

Virgil never should have just watched as that man walked Remus out of the coffee shop. Long story his ass- “What the fuck is happening?”

Remus’ twin tried to shrug and then winced as the movement tugged on the chains. His wings fluttered with the movement. “They just tranqued us the first time. I don’t know why he’s delaying recapture-” He took a deep breath. “Just tell him to run away as soon as he can.” His grey eyes hardened to steel. “He might as well keep doing it.”

“I will if I can find him, thank you.” Janus took a small sip of his champagne. “What exactly was the capture for, if I can ask?”

The captive glanced around the room, and at the movement Virgil cut his eyes to the side. Nobody watched that he could see. “The wings, of course,” he said with a bitter smile. “Yes, yes, they’re real, go ahead and look at them.”

Janus’ eyes widened, subtly taking in the wings.

“My name’s Roman,” he continued in a low, urgent voice. “Tell him that Roman said to run, okay? Don’t listen to any of their offers or threats. I’m not a gladiator anymore; I’m here instead. It’s...not too bad.”

As Janus opened his mouth, Roman shook his head. “Don’t talk to me too long.”

“We can get you out,” Virgil said before he knew what he was thinking. “Whatever this is-”

“Go,” Roman insisted. “It’s not worth trying to do anything for me. And don’t call the police-”

Janus rolled his eyes. “You really don’t need to worry about that.”

“Fine.” he lifted his eyes to the middle distance again. “You should go now. Please.”

Virgil gave a little nod, taking Janus’ arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go.”

“Thank you,” Janus added. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then let Virgil lead him away.

He steered them back through the ballroom with their backs to Roman, trying not to glare into the eyes of each of the guests they passed. It would almost have been easier if there was a big fuss and show about the captive man, rather than the chatting and dancing and gossiping with, oh, a living being as a conversational curiosity-

As they came back into the entrance, Janus began to turn towards the sweeping staircase.

“No,” Virgil said under his breath, trying to tug him back to the doorway. “No fucking way. I know you’re angry but-”

“I’m not angry,” he replied coolly. “I am, rather, curious. Because I don't think they tell everything to Roman, and we’re not going to get luck like this again. Any information will help.”

He glanced up at where the staircase twisted out of sight. If Remus was up there, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And, despite his words, Janus was throw-ignorant-customers-out-of-the-cafe mad. Except, he wasn’t quoting memoirs of increasingly obscure activists or putting neat yellow gloves on in warning, so Virgil didn’t know what he would do.

On cue, Janus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the gloves. He slipped one on, tugging it into place. “Better for fingerprints, and more neat.” He glanced at Virgil. “You don’t have to come with me, in fact it may be better if you didn’t.”

It wasn’t fair for Janus to pull on his ridiculous gloves like a boxer about to face a much bigger opponent, and ask him not to fight by his side. Even if Virgil had decided to leave the party, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“I will,” he said, tucking his hands into hoodie paws. His heart was thumping against his ribcage as if it would break out- that was a thought to tell Remus when they saw him. “I’m gonna complain about it afterwards.”

Despite his apparent composure, it took Janus a moment too long to answer as his eyes traced Virgil’s face. “Of course.” He took his arm. “Shall we?”

He was half-expecting an alarm to blare as soon as they set foot on the first stair- but nobody noticed. They took another few steps, feet sinking into the thick red runner. The back of his neck prickled with stares, but he knew from long experience that those were imagined. Or were they? No, that was anxiety. Janus’ hand tightened on his forearm and he stopped. Above, someone paced past on a wooden floor in the measured rhythm of a guard. He gagged.

“Deep breaths,” Janus murmured.

“I hate this,” he replied. Then he forced a breath in his nose and out of his mouth.

After the footsteps faded, they kept walking until Virgil moved his heavy boot onto the polished wood floor as gently as possible. Identical two-panel white doors stretched along the hallway without any noticeable distinction, until the corridor took a right turn at the end of the row.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Virgil whispered, and Janus nodded.

With their footsteps echoing almost too loud on the floor, they each crept to the far ends of the hallway. There was nothing beyond the corner except another staircase, and thankfully no more doors.

He tried the door handle on the far right with his sleeve over his hand, and it turned. He nudged it open and peeked in to see a huge bedroom strewn with suitcases and clothes, and a sparkling necklace of diamonds carelessly draped over a black dress. But no Remus. He shut it and moved onto the next.

Locked. The next was too. His hands were shaking like there was a motor in them.

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, trying to ground himself in the sensation. Okay. Next one- unlocked.

It was a bathroom, all white marble and gold like downstairs. He closed the door and glanced over to Janus, who shook his head.

He glanced at the staircase before crossing the corridor and turning the handle of the middle door slightly.

A voice rose behind the door, deeper and smoother than Remus’. “Hello?”

Virgil reached in desperation for the next door handle as footsteps sounded from inside, and tugged it open in time for Janus to walk in quickly and efficiently in the rhythm of the security guard. He followed with a few strides, shutting the door behind him in with a fumbled click. The room was an empty guest bedroom. Janus was hiding himself under the bed before Virgil caught his arm and pulled him out. He headed to the big sliding window.

“Please, please-” he whispered to himself, trying to lift it. Locked, locked, oh God-

Janus searched the mantelpiece for a moment before pressing a cold key into Virgil’s hand. He tried to put it in but his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn’t-

Janus took it off him. It fit with a click.

Virgil pushed up the window in a rush of cool air. He climbed out onto the little ornamental balcony running between a few windows and stood flat to the wall, chest heaving, before Janus followed with a tumble. He reached over and shut the window while Janus crouched down below the sill. The room was still empty.

Virgil slid down the wall, trembling hands over his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was sure he would be sick-

Janus had curled into a ball, forehead to the stone of the balcony.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.

After a while, they ended up both sitting side by side in the space between the two windows, hands twisted together. It was silent.

Virgil glanced back into the room. “It’s empty,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Janus nodded. “One moment-” He crept towards the other window and peeked in the bottom before he dropped to the ground, hand over his mouth.

Virgil widened his eyes. On cue, his heart finished its brief rest.

Janus pointed to his suit jacket, then made a rectangle shape with his fingers. Virgil frowned. His friend repeated the gesture, and it clicked. Black card.

He so, so badly wanted to run now, but instead he crawled over to poke Janus in the side so he would move over to give him space by the window. Their eyes met, and Virgil pulled his hood over his cold ears to settle in for a wait. He kept his head down, pillowed on his forearms, while Janus risked peeking up every few minutes.

Suddenly, Janus grabbed his arm. Virgil lifted his head. He could just about see Roman standing in the doorway, rubbing at the deep red marks around his forearms, and the captor leaning back in a leather armchair holding a glass.

Janus put his hands up to the window-

“Janus,” Virgil hissed, but then the window slid a crack upwards and voices travelled through.

“Quite the party, wasn’t it?” the captor said, pouring himself a drink.

Roman nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, attempting a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, which were fixed on a closed silver laptop on a side table. “Yes, it was...very grand!”

He rolled his eyes. “What did you think of the decor?”

“Quite magnificent! Like a- an aviary in a palace.” His wings were trembling as though there were a breeze running through them.

Tilting his head and looking Roman up and down, the captor spoke just as genially as he had in the cafe. “You really aren’t as interesting as your brother was. Too many blows to the head, no doubt.”

Roman’s mouth tightened. His fists had too.

Against the deep, comfortable, red-brown tones of leather and what must have been genuine mahogany, and the backs of books all bound neatly and sticking out of the shelf as though frequently read, Roman’s outfit stood out as even more fake. Gold accents in the sandals he was wearing matched the subtle gold trimmings of the room, but if the study were a convincing stage, Roman looked like a badly cast understudy.

The captor laughed. “Predictable. This isn’t the fighting pits.”

Virgil and Janus shared a look before watching again.

“Your brother’s been living like a tramp and he’s still more beautiful than you are, under all the mess,” he commented, as casually as if he was observing the weather. Roman’s eyebrows drew together, watching for the end of the statement. He brought up a hand to cover a scar along the edge of his neck. “He’s not as scraped up as you, of course. And he really-” He swirled his whiskey for a moment before taking a sip of it. “He really is genuine. You can imagine worse things than this, can’t you?”

He paused, then nodded.

He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s the difference.”

Janus grabbed Virgil’s hand. He curled over and pressed it to his own forehead. Virgil rested his hand on his back and bent to whisper in his ear. “Hey, only I need to listen, so-”

He shook his head and Virgil cut off, peeking back over the windowsill.

For just a moment Roman glanced at the window before he asked, “So, where is Remus anyways?” He seemed to freeze as he waited for the answer, a statue once again.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He held his hand out and Roman looked at him blankly. “The laptop,” he snapped.

“Oh!” He grabbed it from the side table and tried to hand it over from a distance.

He took it and flipped it open. Roman stepped back immediately, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. Virgil felt himself tapping on Janus’ back in sympathy.

The captor flipped the screen open and typed for a moment before he began to read something. Virgil felt Janus’ chest go still.

The captor laughed. “Oh, would you look at that- “Queer Eye’s Karamo Brown urged to cut ties with Salvation Army”.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite- did you know about this?”

Remus’ brother’s jaw tensed and he shook his head.

He carried on reading for a little while, tutting, and then switching to another tab. “Okay, fine- come and look.”

He crossed the room to stand behind the man, hands gripping onto the back of the sofa as if he would fall over without its support.

“Don’t touch the furniture.” With a roll of his eyes, he reached his hand behind him, twisted his hand into his captive’s wing- then tugged. As he pulled a handful of feathers away Virgil winced, but Roman only reacted with a tightening of his hands. Then he took a measured step back from the couch.

“You know,” the captor said so softly that Virgil had to strain to hear him. “You know, Remus would have cried and cried at that.” He scattered the feathers, spotted with blood, over the floor. “That, or started swearing- and the crying would come after that.”

“You’ve told me before,” Roman snapped. As soon as he spoke, he froze again. “Oh, uh- I’m sorry-”

The laptop clicked shut. “I asked you to behave this evening,” the captor said, getting up and tucking it under his arm. Virgil and Janus crouched down further. For some reason, a tiny chip in the stone paving caught Virgil’s eyes. A tiny fissure ran from it into the rest of the solid slab. “That meant all of this evening.”

“Please-” His voice broke, and pitched high it sounded like Remus’. Janus’ hand tightened on Virgil’s until it hurt.

“Out.”

Virgil tugged on Janus’ hand and bent his head to his ear. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Janus looked up. His eyes were shining, and at the same time Virgil felt like a monster for not crying and a sharp annoyance that his friend had given into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and both feelings passed. He tugged on his hand again. “Okay, time to go,” he whispered.

He decided not to risk closing the window while the man was still in the room, just nudging Janus to the side. They crept across the balcony, slid up the far window, and climbed through one after the other, painfully slow.

They padded through the empty room, then opened the door and slipped out together. Downstairs, the last of the party guests were trailing out, either upright with exhaustion shining in their eyes to match the sparkle of their jewels, or with the help of a few discreet employees supporting champagne-soggy legs. Wordlessly, Janus slung his arm over Virgil’s shoulder, and he let his friend lean on him as they passed security and walked down the long drive to the dark street. He was heavy, but Virgil was careful not to stumble.

They carried on walking that way until the corner, when Janus straightened up and adjusted his jacket. Still, they crossed the road side-by-side and didn’t speak.

As they walked, the bottom of the sky was being washed out into greyness. The houses were unlit now, and they looked smaller in the dark. It just barely smelt of metallic dew. Virgil thought he might start screaming if he opened his mouth.

They reached the bus station sooner than expected. There was half-an-hour before the first early-morning bus. With a huff of air, he sat down on the pavement and leaned his back against the pole.

“Well that was just what we expected, wasn’t it?” Janus said lightly. He stayed standing, facing the mansion they had come from. Virgil looked up at him in silence. “I’m going to murder that man,” he continued in the same tone. “The security for that house is shocking. I’m sure it isn’t that hard. Perhaps I should let the twins do it, though.”

He nodded. “I’ll help bury the body.”

“You know, Virgil,” Janus met his eyes. “You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

"What?" he mumbled as he looked down. "He was a dick."

"Come now, you also broke into the house of someone connected to illegal fighting rings whose interior decoration tended to the alive and miserable.”

Heat flooded into his face. “Least I can do.”

“Quite a bit more than the least.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Especially for someone who was terrified of talking to customers a year ago.”

"Oh, shut up." He poked Janus' neat brogue with his boot. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes here figured out the whole thing anyway." His chest felt funny, and he hugged his arms around it.

"Well, Watson," He took a deep breath and decided to stop tormenting Virgil with his tenderness. "I have our final deduction- the man had no clue where Remus is."

"Really?"

Janus shook his head. “He was just looking for an excuse for Roman to slip up the whole time. Taunting him, the furniture, physically hurting him- it was all trying to push him to some tiny ‘infraction’ so he could bluff about the information.”

“Huh.” He replayed the events and nodded slowly. “Sure, I can see that. Still, we don’t know if he’s always like that. He didn’t deny the information when Roman touched the furniture- which is a fucked up rule, Jan- I don’t know if him not saying where Remus is was an excuse at all. He said Remus was better than his brother, and he gets pissed when you suggest cutting those clumps out of his hair. He must have been-” He regretted saying it to Janus, but it was deduction time. “He must have been really- cruel to him for Remus to act anything like Roman. He enjoys being cruel, clearly.”

“You’re right.” He twisted the finger of his glove. “Still, surely telling Roman about how scared Remus was would upset him. And he didn’t, so something doesn’t add up.”

Well, his intuition hadn’t lied before. “So what do we do?”

“We find Remus first.” He straightened his shoulders. “Remy would have texted if he went back to the apartment, we can assume he’s not at the cafe since he was found there, and he could have gone to his usual parks and streets but if he’s being watched he wouldn’t. So, where would he go?”

“It wouldn’t be anywhere with a lot of people,” Virgil added. “Or maybe even with a lot of birds, since they all come to him. Somewhere abandoned?”

Janus nodded. “I think we could check out some of the old warehouse districts.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a start. That one’s only ten minutes after the home one.”

They waited quietly, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bus to their district began trundling past until it slowed down for them and the door opened.

Janus shook his head at the driver. “Sorry, we’re not coming.”

She began to close the doors again without comment.

“Wait!” Virgil waved at her. “Wait a moment! Wait-”

She stopped with a huff almost as loud as the bus’ exhaust. Janus let Virgil pull him through the door by his hand, tapping his card dutifully.

He raised an eyebrow as they stumbled into some seats.

“Where’s the place we were talking about running to just before, uh, bird-friend left?” Virgil whispered, even though he doubted the tired commuters would be listening in for names and details. “And where can you bury the kind of bird friend in our freezer? And where wouldn’t be a place you’d search?”

“The forest?” he replied. There was only a scrubby patch of it outside the city.

“Yup. Look, we should go back to the cafe to get Loki, anyone asks and we’re just, you know, getting rid of the health violation in the fridge in a way which isn’t a health risk to a park or anything.”

Janus stifled a yawn. “That’s very smart.”

“Thanks, it was kinda impulsive, but-” Virgil shrugged as he looked out the window at the unrelenting row of houses. “I’m happy to be out of there.” He tucked his arm around his friend. “And you can nap until we get there.”

“I’m just fine, Virgil,” Janus replied, affronted. “Besides, I don’t want to rumple my outfit.”

Virgil gave an exaggerated yawn himself, and Janus immediately followed. He glared at him, which only made Virgil give him a small grin. “Bedtime.”

He was met with a head thunking onto his shoulder. “You had better wake me up in time,” he threatened.

“I will.” He readjusted so he was more comfortable. “We’ll be fine.”

By time they reached the cafe the sky was white and grey. Virgil waited by the bus stop, leaning his head against it as a half-asleep Janus unlocked the front. After enough time for Virgil to consider if he could sleep upright (five minutes), he reappeared with a canvas bag with a rainbow flag hand-printed on it, and a stack of three sandwiches, which he handed to Virgil.

The bus came soon after, and they collapsed into one of the back seats.

They had barely finished the sandwiches by the time they reached their next stop. They got out onto a cracked bit of sidewalk and looked at the trees rising above them. Silent, they walked forward until the concrete suddenly ended.

Virgil breathed in the stench of wild garlic and dug his toe into the slimy layer of dead leaves. Damp air curled in his mouth as though it would die peacefully there. Something chittered in the distance, and then cut off suddenly. He tried to tilt his head up to look at the trees and suddenly the vertigo of only sleeping for a few hours on the bus journeys hit him.

It was a world away from the gilded cage and the dizzying party.

He took a deep breath. “This feels right.”

Janus nodded. He tucked the bag under his arm carefully. “I hope…” he trailed off softly. “Well, Virgil, let us venture onwards.”

He touched his friend’s elbow for just a moment before he walked into the dark trees. After a moment, Janus followed, and they walked on together.

There was occasional litter, plastic bags and water bottles, but as they got deeper into the thick trees and tangled brambles along the forest floor it disappeared. Janus winced as he tried to lift his perfectly shone shoes over a muddy patch Virgil’s leather boots trudged through with ease. The trees were stout and gnarled, fungus protruding out of them like infections.

They wandered without any real direction, just trying to make their way further into the labyrinth of trees.

Virgil suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and he grabbed his friend’s arm.

It could have been a pile of abandoned clothes and torn out feathers-

But there was a glimpse of leopard print, and the vague outline of wings, and a low crooning coming from the figure curled there.

Janus crouched down six feet away from him, laying Loki’s bag by his side. “Remus,” he said so softly that Virgil barely heard it. “Remus, it’s Janus.”

Remus froze. Then his wings curved up around him. They were a lot taller than Janus was crouching. A pair of grey eyes came up to meet Janus’. His lips parted as he looked over the two of them. His purple and green makeup was smeared together until it looked like a black eye, and even his moustache seemed to have its own case of bed-head.

“We-” Virgil cleared his throat against a sudden lump. “Well, Janus, mostly, he found the guy’s house? And we went there, and, uh, we were worried about you so we looked.”

His eyes widened.

“We found your brother,” Janus said in a quiet voice. “Roman. He told us to tell you that he wasn’t a gladiator any more; he was there instead. That it, uh, wasn’t too bad.”

For a moment, Remus stopped breathing. Then he brought his hands up to his head, slumping his shoulders and letting his wings wrap around himself. “Bullshit,” he said hoarsely. “What else did he say?”

Janus bit his lip. “He told you to run away as soon as you could, and not to listen to anything they offered or threatened.”

Remus made a strangled yelping laugh which set Virgil’s teeth on edge. His wings were trembling so much that there was a slight breeze on his face. “Roman’s saviour goddamn hero bullshit-” He twined his fingers into his hair and started tugging. “He’s not- fuck,” he winced as he caught a matted section. “Not pathetic enough for that job.”

Janus tried to reach a hand out to untangle his hands from his hair, but Remus only stilled and leaned his head into his glove. Janus gently tugged at his wrist, but Remus wrapped his fingers around his hand and held it to his hair.

“Dude, you’re not pathetic. You broke out of that place all by yourself?” Virgil found his voice off-putting in the silence, but he kept speaking. “That’s hard. And you hid in the same town, in plain sight, for ages. And-”

“I ran away,” Remus said into his knees. “And I knew he’d get punished or die. He had to fight people. All goring out eyeballs and pulling out guts by the handful. Or the clawful. Depended on what kind of people were captured.”

“There are more people like you?”

He shrugged and, just like his brother, the movement made his wings move. “With the weird animal thing? Oh, sure. I would rather have a tentacle dick but you get what you get.” He spoke without humour.

Janus pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his hand, not seeming to care about the smear of dirt on it. “Darling, I’m sure you’re well enough endow-”

“No!” Virgil yelled, holding his hands up. “I have risked myself too many times today for you two to have to listen to that from you.”

Remus shrunk back further into a ball. “Sorry.”

For a moment Virgil was struck genuinely speechless. Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, no, I was just teasing.”

Janus turned to glare at him. He widened his eyes in response. Maybe he should have guessed Remus would be more delicate, but, well, it was Remus.

“Anyway, it’s okay, alright?” he attempted.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his head and smudged his makeup even more with the heel of his hand. “Fine.”

Virgil pulled the third sandwich out of his pocket and handed it over. “Figured you’d want that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Remus took it and began to carefully undo the wrapping. He took a small bite of the corner. “Mom and Dad are normal but Roman and I just were just born this way- oh there ain’t no other way,” he sang as he shimmied his wings. “But we lived in the middle of nowhere, and we stayed at home our whole lives, even though we talked a lot about hiding ourselves so that we could move. We kept ourselves to ourselves and we had a farm.” He threw his crust to the forest floor, seemingly by habit of having his flock around him. “Hope they didn’t search there for me; that would suck. Our parents saw us get captured, so at least they know what happened.”

Janus nodded as he listened. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Goodness,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine.”

The corners of Remus’ moustache twitched up into a smile. “Nah, you couldn’t. Thanks,” he said through the remains of his sandwich.

Virgil waited for him to finish eating.

“We brought Loki with us, in the bag,” he said. “We figured it would be a good cover, and we can hold the funeral here.” He reached into the bag to pull out a trowel. They definitely hadn’t had one in the cafe, so Janus must have stored it there after Remus disappeared.

Janus reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a bag of classic Lays. He handed them over to Remus. “I do hope the flavour’s alright. I think it’s a classic.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. He stumbled up to his feet with a wince, holding his wings out for balance. Even without them fully spread out, the wingspan blocked the entire section of tree behind him. He rolled his shoulders back and flapped his wings.

Both of them stared.

Remus grinned and widened his eyes. “I can fly, you know. I could shit on you midair like-” All at once, his face crumpled and he held a hand up to his mouth. “Sorry, it all hit me again,” he said with a voice like sandpaper.

Virgil put his hoodie sleeve over his mouth as he swallowed back a guilty laugh. He started digging into the soft forest soil to distract himself.

He heard a flutter of feathers- had he been missing that under the whisper of all Remus’ shifting clothes before? - and then sobbing into a suit jacket. It was kind of scratchy on your face, Virgil knew, but it hid tears pretty well. He moved his whole shoulder into his digging, watching a depression form as the other two murmured words of upset and comfort to each other.

“I thought it was you,” whispered Janus against the shell of Remus’ ear. “And- my heart just stopped.”

“I wish it was.” Remus leant his forehead against Janus’ chest.

“But then how would I hold you, hm?” he replied, and there was the brush of fabric on fabric. “We’ll get him out.”

“You promise?” Remus said, and Virgil’s hand clenched around the handle. It wasn’t a good idea to-

“Promise. Split my chest open with a pickaxe and hope to pickle my heart.”

There was a wet laugh. “Kinky.”

“Come now, that was romance as well as kink.” His best friend’s voice was unbearably soft.

A warm feeling settled in Virgil’s chest despite the chill of the weather. Dammit. He stabbed the trowel into the ground again, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes.

He kept digging, until a set of feathers nudged into his face. “Did you poke me from all the way over there?” Virgil asked incredulously. Remus’ wing was as wide as he was tall, and he used it to poke him in the cheek again. It was a little disconcerting to see how much it moved like, well, a limb of his.

A feather brushed over the tears on his cheek. The wing retracted, and Remus came over to kneel by him and take the trowel. He sunk it into the ground, gouging out a huge section of earth with a small battle-cry. He flung it over his shoulder rather than adding to Virgil’s careful pile and then grinned at him.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bag. “I think you finished the grave.”

He carefully wrapped the pigeon in the canvas bag Janus had chosen for her and handed it to Remus.

He looked at the little bundle in his hands for a long moment. Then he took her out of the bag. He began to unwind the plastic wrap.

Janus winced.

“That’s not clean-” Virgil whispered.

“It’s going to pollute the forest otherwise,” he replied without looking away from the corpse in his hands. “This is more natural. Besides, they’re pretty clean birds.”

So they watched in silence as he carefully took it all off and placed her in the grave. She was still intact, though her body had stiffened. “Thanks for being here, even if you were technically using her to stalk me,” he said. “Um, this was Loki. She was mischievous, and bold, and really smart. I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat and nodded, eyes wet. “Okay. Ready.”

Virgil scooped a handful of dirt with his trowel and scattered it over her. It pattered softly against the earth. Remus was staring hard into the distance. A few rays of sun poked through the trees as he pushed the rest of the dirt back into place. “Should we leave some rocks or something?”

Janus nodded. “I can collect-”

“I thought Roman was dead until a few days ago,” Remus interrupted. It sounded like a statement from a scratchy vinyl recording. “Ghosties are easier to carry around than big living brothers who got jacked from murder. Whatever you need me to do to get him out, I’ll do it. Killing, going back- whatever.”

“I don’t need you to do those things,” Janus said firmly. “All I need you to do now is come to my apartment,” he turned to his friend. “I’m not putting you in any further danger, Virgil-”

“Bullshit.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “Beg pardon?”

“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “This is the part where you’re you’re going to think you’re being really smart about everything,” he held his hands up, “but you stick to your principles too much and you risk yourself and maybe those two-”

“Thank you for your confidence, Virgil,” he said acidicly.

“Anyway.” This was a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m helping.”

Defensive, his voice grew more formal. “If this is about the court cases, or the job, I promise you that you owe me nothing-”

“I like you, and I like Remus, and I don’t like what’s happening.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big thing; it’s just as simple as that. Okay?”

After a moment, Janus gave a nod.

“Aw, you like me?” Remus cooed. He wiggled his shoulders and grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Course.”

Janus gave Remus a helplessly fond smile. “Then it’s decided. I think we could all use some sleep, then we start this evening.”

#ts fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #hurt/comfort

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feminaexlux · 4 years ago

Text

Branded

It’s the @lukanette-exchange fic! After a long while it’s here!! @kingsglaivian I hope you enjoy! Also thanks to LBSC and @quickspinner in particular for finding the cool soulmark prompt lol

I am super, super excited to share this with you!

Original prompts: “childhood friends AU, soulmate AU, and an AU of the exchangee's choice.”

∴

It’d been just a few minutes after they first met when she first wrote her name on him.

She had come closer and stared over his shoulder when she saw he’d been drawing something. Was it a drawing? It looked like he had been drawing circles on a bunch of lines. Oh, Maman had showed her how music was written, it was music! “Hi! Are you drawing music?” She had asked cheerfully.

The boy had startled, apparently not having seen Marinette earlier. His pencil had marked across the entire page. “Aah!”

“Oh no!” Marinette whined. “You messed up!”

“Y-you made me do that,” he frowned. “You scared me.”

“Are you drawing music?” Marinette continued asking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I am,” he said, turning the pencil around and erasing the errant mark. “I think about music all the time.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked, poking at his paper.

“That’s uh… that's…” he thought a bit. “I think that’s D and the next one is F and another D but this one’s higher. It’s a song from a video game.”

“You play video games?! Papa and I play games too!”

They talked back and forth about a bunch of different little things and he completely forgot what he’d been doing. Then it got to the point where Marinette had pulled out one of her markers and started writing her name on his arm. “– and if stays tomorrow it means you found your true love!” Marinette smiled up at the boy she’d been talking to. He looked like he was a few years older. Maybe he was even 10? Maybe he was younger, he looked really kinda small to be 10.

She was at the playground next to her family’s bakery. She’d been running around and playing with a few other kids there, but she saw this one boy sitting by a tree in the shade. He looked like he was alone and Marinette wondered if he’d been bullied. She knew what that was like, even at the tender age of 5. But it was easy to talk to this boy, he was much less Crazy Mean Boy than Kim was. He was more like Nino! And Nino was nice.

“Is that your name?” the boy asked, staring at her neatly written letters. “Marinette?”

“Yeah!”

“So if it stays tomorrow you’re my true love?” He asked, confused. “Mom told me that writing names on other people is bad… But why?”

“Maman and Papa have their names on each other’s arms,” Marinette said. “It’s not bad! Oh but you have to draw over it ‘cause it’s important that you do it,” Marinette added.

“Why?”

“It’s important,” she clarified. It looked like he was going to keep asking why until his mom called out.

“Ay laddie, it’s time to go,” a lady with a long braid said in their general direction. She had a girl on her hip and was walking over to the boy. “Why hello there lass, are ye makin’ friends with me boy?”

“I’m Marinette,” she said up to the lady. She wasn’t Lass, she wanted to say.

Marinette saw the boy quickly pull down his sleeves from his hoodie to hide her name. “Itwasnicetomeetyoubye,” he said quickly, before Marinette could whine about him hiding her name. He ran away to hold onto his mom’s hand. “Let’s go mom,” he continued, pulling his mom away in a slightly embarrassed fashion.

“Don’t ye want to say farewell? We won’t be ashore fer a while son.” Well, she didn’t know at the time he had wanted to run away and hide so the nice new girl wouldn’t be weirded out by his mom like most people were.

“See you tomorrow!” Marinette yelled after him.

She didn’t.

∴

It’d been just a few days after they first met.

Luka scrubbed and scrubbed at the M on his wrist but it wasn’t coming out. He’d scrubbed himself raw at the sink, his flesh feeling tender and his skin close to bleeding. He’d written over the girl’s marker with a pen a few days ago, idly curious if the mark would stay. At least he’d written over just the M, thinking about the nice girl who’d been curious about him.

“Luka?” He heard his mom call out. No, no, no. It wasn’t coming out and his mom would see it and she’d freak out and he’d have to make an excuse or find some of her makeup or something. He’d been told to take off his hoodie by… that man and so he ran back to the bathroom to try to do something about the M on his wrist.

Anarka opened the door. “Luka, my boy what are ye–” Oh no oh no she saw the mark. He put his hands back in the sink and kept scrubbing, starting to cry. “Luka what…” His mom started, initially alarmed and then… and then she came over to hug him.

“Mom what do I do?” He cried. “It’s not coming out!”

“Who'd… no, it doesn’t matter. Luka stop doing that, it’s not going to come out. It doesn’t, lad.” His mom took his hands from the sink and started to dry them. “It stays no matter how hard ye try to get rid o’ it.” She spoke to him with the rare moment of solemnity. “Ye'e been Branded, and there’s nothin we can do about it.”

“I don’t wanna be Branded!” he wailed.

In a quiet, heated hiss Anarka whispered “This is why I told ye to never write names on yerself!” She looked at her son crying and sighed, shaking her head. Luka would realize later she’d been more disappointed in herself that she’d let him get Branded like he did. She thought she warned him, but how could she blame him for something no one ever thought would happen at 7 years old?

Who finds their soulmate at 7?

But it’d be a shackle for the rest of his life. Luka would grow up wondering if this M would ever be part of his life again, whether M would even want to be his partner. If he did find someone else to be his partner, they’d wonder if they’d ever be loved like whoever this M was. “Here,” Anarka sighed. “Ye can’t get rid of that Luka. But ye can cover it. Forget about it now, lad,” she said gently, taking off the wide leather cuff she had on that had covered her own Brand. “This 'ere’s yers now. I’ll get ye all freshened up. Granpa’s waitin for us,” Anarka said, pasting on a fake smile.

Luka hated that man. He was angry and hateful and mean, but Anarka had wanted to see her own Ma again, to have her Ma help guide Anarka in the raising of two children Anarka never originally planned to have. Granma was nice. But Granpa? No. Luka swore to himself he’d never be like Granpa.

His mom put the cuff around Luka’s Brand, looping twice to fit the small wrist better. “All covered up now. Is that fitting, Luka?” He nodded, staring at the “S” on his mom’s wrist.

“Was… that dad?” Luka asked, pointing at the Brand.

Anarka laughed. “It stands for Scotland,” she said lightly. “It stands for the Sea. It’s not yer da, no,” Anarka lied.

∴

It’d been a few weeks since Marinette met Adrien Agreste.

She’d been convinced Adrien was her True Love, and was continually disappointed every morning when his name disappeared off of her arm. “Tikki, it disappeared again,” Marinette sighed.

Tikki shrugged. “Maybe he’s not ready?” The Kwami had seen this before. The Brands were a form of magic that humans had that linked two souls together, signaling that they’d found their soul’s mate. A person would have to write another’s True Name on themselves somewhere, and it would disappear at sunrise if it wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes, though, it depended on if the other person was even capable of loving back. A Brand that had disappeared earlier might “take” later, when the soulmate was ready.

Tikki wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for Marinette that Adrien wasn’t capable of loving Marinette back yet. Maybe Adrien had a different name? The kwami wasn’t going to put forth the suggestion that it might not be Adrien at all. Marinette seemed convinced, and Tikki knew better than to doubt her bearers.

Marinette’s parents proudly wore the names they had on their arms, a very simple “Tom” on Sabine’s wrist and a beautifully formed script of “Sabine” scrawled across Tom’s massive forearm. Of course it simply encouraged Marinette into writing several names on her own arms throughout the years, even if most people found writing names on themselves taboo.

Recently, though, it’d just been Adrien’s.

None of the attempts ever stuck.

“It’ll happen one day!” Tikki said cheerfully. “I believe that you’ll find your soulmate one day. But right now you should get ready for school!”

∴

It’d been a few months after Juleka showed him that the picture curse was broken that he met the girl that’d been able to break it.

“I’m Ma-ma-ma-Marinette!”

He’d laughed a little and it hurt her feelings. Good job, Luka, that was a great first impression. Luckily he was able to apologize and smooth it over.

It tickled him, just a little bit, that he’d met another “M” in his life that he actually ended up liking. He ended up liking her a whole lot, which… ultimately kinda sucked because she’d been interested in someone else. Well, that was alright. He’d been used to the idea that he’d never find “the one” since he technically already had and lost them so many years ago.

But this one? This “M”? She was pretty cool and he found himself more interested than he’d ever been in anyone before.

There’d been one other “M” in his life a couple of years ago before his mom decided to move them all back to France, and Paris in particular. Her name had been Meryl and she was a pretty awesome girl, but she’d been several years older and already in University. She’d still given Luka some attention though, apparently finding it cute that she had a boy doting on her like he did. She was nice and she said he’d look good with some blue in his hair, and it’d been the last thing she said to him before she found herself her own soulmate. It hadn’t been Luka, of course.

He’d gotten into a fight with Granpa over his hair after Luka had dyed it. Juleka joined him by dying her hair purple. Anarka had finally had enough of her and her kids being put down and said she was going to go back “home”. It’d been a hard conversation with Granpa, but after Granma had passed Anarka and her kids had little reason to stick around in their Scottish family house. Anarka’s little wildlings were less little, and Juleka and Luka were both in their tweens to teens, largely old enough to handle themselves now.

Anarka had found some nearly-derelict fishing barge and spent a few weeks with her kids fixing up the ship, making it their new house, and they left Scotland as soon as they could. She sailed the newly christened Liberty back into Parisian waters, claiming the Seine as her new home. She gave a little wink to Luka, a nod to the new “S” in Anarka’s life that her Brand now represented.

It’d been good to see his mom coming back into her old self, the wild, chaotic, free spirit that she’d always been. He was no longer embarrassed of her like he’d been so many years ago. And he had to be honest to himself, the boat wasn’t the first choice he’d make in having a place to come home to, but something about Paris just felt right.

Juleka had been feeling better too. The younger Couffaines had been under their Granpa’s oppressive shadow for too long. And now they were slowly discovering more of themselves over time.

Rose was one of the first friends Juleka had made after coming back to Paris a few years ago, and they were “best friends” since. Today, Juleka showed him a neatly written “Rose” in a flourishing script on the back of her right hand. Juleka apparently hadn’t minded getting the Brand at all. “Marinette did this too,” Juleka smiled. “She’s been drawing names for people who ask. It’s so cool,” Juleka mumbled.

“She’s amazing,” Luka said out loud. Jules gave him a look and even he couldn’t figure out what it meant. “What?”

“She’s got eyes on Adrien, you know.”

“I’ve heard your schemes, I know.”

“I’m on team Adrienette.”

“Alright.”

“She deserves to be happy.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’d be weird if you two dated, anyway.”

“But we’re not dating. She doesn’t seem to notice me.”

Jules frowned at that and grumbled something that sounded to Luka like “she notices and it’s weird.”

He thought to himself, Not where it matters.

∴

It’d been a year since Adrien lost his mother, and Marinette finally said the words “I love you” to him.

Yes, it was a video recording and yes, Felix had apparently gone through and deleted it before Adrien ever got to see it, but she’d done it! She’d done the thing! She could do it again! It had to be easier the second time, right? The second… time.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It’d been nearly a full year of her attempting Adrien’s name on her arm, and nothing changed. She’d stayed up and watched it fade out when the sunlight hit it during a few fitful mornings. She wrote his name so often it stopped looking like a word and more like a familiar pattern. Just shapes and no meaning.

Marinette had tried out a few different names over the year as well, just so she’d be certain… in a slightly unsettling way. She kept it discreet, writing on her ankle or in another place easy to cover up in case it was… taking. She’d written “Nathaniel”, once. It disappeared. She’d written “Chat Noir” and nearly sighed in relief (and maybe deep down in slight surprise) when it disappeared. Not that it was his real name anyway.

She’d secretly tried “Nino” once, even though he and Alya had gotten together. It hadn’t stuck. Nino and Alya hadn’t asked for Marinette to write each other’s names down, and maybe… maybe that was actually healthy? Like they didn’t need any external validation in order to really enjoy time spent with each other.

There might have been a lesson in that.

She tried “Kim” and “Wayhem” and “Theo”, even though the last one kinda creeped her out a bit. She tried “Kagami.” Nothing stuck.

There was still one name she hadn’t tried but… but she’d been absolutely terrified of it. Luka had more or less admitted to the world at large that he loved her after he’d gotten akumatized. There’d been genuine affection that was unfiltered, unbiased, uninfluenced by whatever the magic was that made names stay on people. He didn’t seem to mind that she was so, so into Adrien. Even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he’d love her.

S-So she’d be able to do that for Adrien! Yes, that made sense. Yes, that soulmate stuff was all kid fantasy anyway. Even if it was demonstratively real.

But if Adrien found his soulmate and it wasn’t Marinette… what was she supposed to do? Just step out of the way?

∴

It’d been a decade since Marinette and Luka first met except neither remembered that first time when they were young children, even if they’d been in the same place: the park nearby the bakery.

He’d held onto her as she broke down crying about the heartbreak and how tired she was. Luka told her he’d listen and be there and hadn’t lied about any of it. It was why she chose to sit next to him after letting her infatuation go and stepping out of the way for Kagami, watching Adrien and Kagami have their Sweetheart’s ice cream together like it was always meant to be Adrien and Kagami instead of Adrien and Marinette.

Marinette chose to sit next to Luka instead of going home.

She went to bed that night deciding that the whole names and soulmates and True Love thing was just a big huge distraction from what she really needed to focus on, which was getting through school, defeating Hawkmoth, and getting her name out there as an up and coming Fashion Designer!

It lasted all of 3 days until she finally gave into her curiosity and wrote an L in the crook of her left arm before going to bed. She really had meant to write out the rest of his name, but then her phone buzzed and there’d been an akuma alert. She sighed and rolled into action.

Her Lucky Charm gave her a guitar pick. That was a little too on-the-nose, Tikki? Ladybug zipped over to the Liberty, somehow not surprised that Luka was still up and leaning against the Liberty to overlook the Seine, looking cool and thoughtful. Actually, scratch that. He looked a little haggard and worried, and he’d been expecting to see Ladybug. Well, at least it meant she didn’t have to go in and wake him up.

“… you must return the Miraculous after…” Ladybug trailed off, noticing as Luka reached out to take the bracelet that he hadn’t been wearing any of the normal… accessories he chose to wear most of the time, most notably the leather cuff he usually had on. Something bothered her and she caught his hand before he touched the bracelet. She turned his right hand over and looked at the pen mark on his wrist. “Is that an M or an E?”

Luka pulled back his hand immediately, embarrassed. “An… M,” he said reluctantly.

Then Ladybug remembered it’d been incredibly rude of her to ask. “Oh, I’m so sorry I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It's… been 10 years since I got that, I don’t even remember much about it,” he shrugged.

Ladybug smiled, biting back a sudden urge to scream, and offered Luka the snake Miraculous again. “If you agree… I’d like your help, Luka.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Viperion were able to save the night and have everyone able to go to bed on time. She picked the Miraculous back up from Viperion, who seemed to be confused the akuma victim wasn’t who he’d expected it to be. “Anything wrong, Luka?”

“No… no, I’m glad I was able to help. I’m okay,” he said, clearly still a bit frazzled. Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows at him and he eventually sighed. “I guess I’m worried about a… friend. She’d been going through a lot so I’d been… I’d been waiting to see if she’d either call me or… or God, I don’t know,” he laughed, a little bit in disbelief. “I almost thought she’d been akumatized tonight. I’m so glad it wasn’t her. But it kinda makes me feel like crap for even thinking that.”

“It’s kind to be worried about your friend. W-Which friend by the way?” Ladybug asked. “I could pay her a visit if you’d like?”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate that, actually,” he sighed. “She can kill me later if she wants, but yeah it’d be great if you’d check up on her. It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Instead of being worried that Luka was worried over her, she asked “Is she your M?” Ladybug got blindsided by her own question, but she only felt the impact and implication after she asked it. “Oh no, no, I’m so sorry I’ve been so rude.”

He blew out a breath. “I wish,” he mumbled. “I don’t know,” he said, his tiredness making him slightly more obvious about being miserable. “I guess I could know for sure by writing out her name.” That was said like he had been convinced it’d disappear…

“I’m pretty good at writing out names. If you want I could write… the rest of her name out on your arm?” Ladybug offered impulsively.

“… Sure,” he agreed. He watched her as she grabbed a nearby marker and wrote out Marinette on his arm. “Wow, that… looks pretty dead on to her signature.”

“Pfft,” Ladybug laughed. “That’d be the worst identity reveal ever. Marinette’s signed a few things for me too, I’ll have you know.”

“You might have a future in crime with your forging skills if you ever decide to stop being a hero,” Luka chuckled.

“I’ll stick to saving Paris, don’t worry,” Ladybug giggled. “You do have to write over it yourself if you want it to stay. I mean… if she is… you know…”

Luka nodded. “I know. Probably a long shot. Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll check up on her. Thank you for caring, Luka,” Ladybug smiled. “And you know, I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” she said quietly, biting her lip while tapping his arm. “I’ll be off. Have a good night, 'Bug out!”

Ladybug landed in her bed and detransformed. Tikki floated back to her little nesting spot while the kwami watched Marinette pull out her phone.

hey luka just got a visit from LB! thanks for thinking of me

Marinette looked down into the crook of her arm, grabbing a marker and filling out the rest of Luka’s name. She’d recognized that M on his arm.

Had it really been 10 years when she first met him? It was kind of funny that she didn’t remember until now. He hadn’t given his name back then but she remembered the disappointment the next day when her new friend didn’t show.

Had it really been a whole year of writing… the wrong name on herself?

It’d been months since Luka told her she’d been the melody in his head. Months.

And she had spent a week in heartbreak over the wrong boy.

It’d just been a few days since she decided she was going to let Adrien go. And she found her soulmate after that? How lucky was she? Marinette looked up at the sleeping Tikki and squinted suspiciously. Maybe she was Lucky™, except that she had apparently met Luka when she was 5.

Marinette stared at her phone, watching the minutes go by. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

The sun rose after an agonizingly boring time of rolling back and forth in her bed, too excited to go to sleep but too tired to do anything productive. She kept checking the name on her arm and it’d still been there all throughout the night, but now at first light… she was… scared. She closed her eyes and covered her head with her pillow, half dreading what she’d see if she looked down at her left arm where she wrote his name.

“It’ll be there,” she said to herself, feeling more certain of that than anything. The warmth of sunlight hit her left arm. She lifted the pillow off of her face but kept her eyes closed. Slowly she opened one eye.

His name was still there. “It’s you,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall from her eyes.

She launched herself out of bed, turning into a little hurricane of activity. She threw her jacket on and ran downstairs, kissing her Maman and Papa on the cheek and telling them she’d be out for a while. They’d been too surprised to see her up at the crack of dawn to complain much, just insisting that she take her phone with her and that she wear proper shoes.

She ran down to the subway entrance and guessed the nearest station where Liberty would be moored, taking the subway train there. She emerged from an entrance about 10 minutes later, ignoring the confused looks the other commuters shot her since she’d been a mess of pigtails and pajamas. She ran toward the Liberty, climbed up and leapt over the railing onto the ship when she saw that the gangplank wasn’t extended.

“Marinette!” she heard Luka’s alarmed shout. She knew he’d be up. She knew it! He ran over to her. “What the heck–” He’d been wearing a different hoodie, a long sleeved one that covered up both his arms. She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“S-So are you! And you’re-you’re here? What’s wrong?” His voice had dropped from a high pitched panic to his deeper, concerned tone in the span of two words.

She took off her jacket and extended her left arm. She saw him flush but start pulling up his hoodie from the hem, taking it off and tossing it aside. He turned his right palm up to show her the name written across his forearm.

Their names had stayed. He breathed out. “Did Ladyb–” She cut him off, her hands on either side of his face to pull him down, planting a kiss on his lips. They pulled back a second after, looking at one another in surprise.

“It’s you,” she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder. To be honest she’d been embarrassed that she’d just kissed him in the disheveled state she was in, having left to see him as soon as she got out of bed, but she felt giddy and… right.

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her to hug her tight. “And… it’s you.”

#marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #lukanette endgame #soulmarks #fxl fic #lukanette exchange 2020 #lukanette #endgame lukanette

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maluminspace · 4 years ago

Text

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Michael Clifford/Female Reader

Prompt: Person A goes to in costume to a Halloween party, to find no one else is really dressed up except Person B

Word Count: 3k

Content: mostly just cute Halloween fluff, Michael in drag, there’s also a bit of side lashton,

Trigger warnings: Alcohol, strong language, references to sexual activity including public sex (nothing too explicit)

A/N: Okay, so this is my second attempt at writing something for this collab. My first one turned out huge and not really very halloween-y so I re-assessed and this is what I came up with! I hope you guys like it <3

Please check out the masterlist and support/show some love to all these amazing writers.

***

When your best friend in the entire world, Luke, had first invited you to his new boyfriend’s Halloween party, you’d taken it as the perfect opportunity to blow off a little steam. Work had been busy lately and you hadn’t had much chance to relax. Furthermore, Luke had told you that Ashton (the new love of his life) had a couple of hot single friends, so you’d figured your costume should be on the sexy side.

You’d spent weeks deciding on the perfect outfit before finally settling on a black cat outfit that was just the right side of tasteful. The bodysuit was figure-hugging, showing off your curves perfectly. The elegant velvet ears and tail matched it well and you finished off the look with some cute whiskers painted on your cheeks and a red choker with a little gold bell on it.

Luke let out a low whistle when he met you outside the house he’d given you directions for. “I wish I could say the same for you!” You huffed, surveying your friend’s very lackluster costume, if you could even call it that. “Where’s the pirate costume I helped you pick out?”

A slightly guilty expression coloured Luke’s pretty face as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I mentioned it to Ashton and he kinda hinted that he didn’t like tacky costumes so I went for this instead.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“And what exactly is this supposed to be?” You asked, gesturing to the plain white shirt and black jacket. “You just look like you’re about to go to work at the office, what the fuck, Luke?”

“Wait…” He said, his face brightening a bit as he pulled on a wig that you hadn’t even noticed he was holding. “I’m Vincent Vega!” He announced.

You rolled your eyes, fully disappointed in your best friend’s decision to side with his new squeeze over you. “I preferred the pirate costume, you’d have looked super hot.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, buddy…” Luke giggled, “but you’re not the one I want to impress tonight.”

You clutched your chest in fake pain and shock. “And here I thought it was me that you wanted to fuck you senseless whilst a huge queue forms outside for the bathroom we claimed.”

An embarrassed blush rose in Luke’s cheeks as the memory of the specific situation you had described filled his tiny, horny brain. “We were drunk, and if he’d whispered in your ear with that sexy, gravelly voice to tell you how beautiful you looked in the new shirt he’d bought for you, you’d have begged him to drag you to the nearest bathroom, too.” He huffed as he started off up the driveway, his ridiculous wig almost falling off with the force of his dramatic head toss.

Suppressing a giggle, you followed your friend to the front door. “You’re forgetting one important detail there, Lukey.” You reminded him with a smirk. “I’m not as big of a slut as you.”

“That costume begs to differ.” Luke replied, raising an eyebrow proudly. “Calum is probably gonna pop a boner after just a glimpse of your ass in that tight suit.”

“And Calum is one of the hot ones?” You asked, remembering Luke’s declaration of Ashton’s stupidly handsome best friends.

“Yeah, he’s the one with the cute dog and swanky apartment near the beach.” Luke explained as he opened the front door. “Michael’s probably a bit more your type, through. You have about the same mental capacity as each other.” He snorted.

Choosing to ignore the weak jibe at your own intelligence and that of the as yet unknown Michael, you focused on Luke’s lack of manners instead. “Shouldn’t we knock?” You asked. “It’s rude to just walk in to someone’s house, even if they do ‘rearrange your insides like no one has ever previously managed’.” You added, taking a great deal of joy in quoting Luke back to himself.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Luke hissed. “I told you that in confidence!” He shook his head as though to clear it (probably from another X-rated memory) before he answered your question.

“Ashton told me we could come right in. So stop worrying about stupid stuff and get in here!” He laughed.

For the second time in the few moments since you’d met him outside, you rolled your eyes at your best friend, but this time the exasperated gesture was accompanied by a small laugh.

Your merriment soon died away when Luke led you into the main sitting room, which was already packed with people…people who were not in Halloween costumes. People who were very much giving off a sophisticated air as they sipped their wine and stood around talking to each other comfortably over the music that was playing at a much too sensible volume for a party.

In your peripheral vision you noticed Luke tear off his wig and hide in the oversized vase he was standing next to before any of the other guests saw him wearing it. Without that ridiculous little prop, Luke would probably blend right in. You, on the other hand, were going to stick out like a (very scantily clad) sore thumb.

“I thought this was meant to be a Halloween party, Luke.” You hissed, offering awkward smiles to the few people nearest to you, who were regarding you with ill-concealed smirks.

Your best friend gave an awkward laugh before ushering you towards the kitchen.

A few spiteful glances and giggles followed you as Luke pulled you through the crowd of people.

Luckily the kitchen was pretty much deserted, with just three people huddled over by the microwave. You only recognised one of them. Having met Ashton a couple of times previous to this evening, you had no problem identifying his muscular form and the sweater/jeans combo outfit he favoured at the moment, even though you could only see the back of him.

The second man had a very handsome profile. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a white shirt, with very few of the buttons done up as far as you could tell from this angle. He looked kind of athletic, with strong, muscular arms and thighs. His curly black hair was styled neatly to perfectly frame his face.

Ashton and Muscles were mostly obscuring the third person from your view. But you could tell by the tone of their voice that they were not at all happy about something. “- cannot expect me to stay here like this!”

Unsurprisingly, Luke gravitated to the little knot of people, dragging you along with him until you finally got a glimpse of the irritated man leaning against the counter.

Suddenly, your own embarrassment at your chosen costume vanished. In comparison to this guy, you definitely weren’t going to be the center of attention.

The third man was dressed in a long blonde wig, albeit a very cheap-looking one, styled into high pigtails. His cute, unshaven face was painted in badly-applied makeup. The tight white dress that he’d squeezed into left you with no doubt of who he was meant to be dressed as, and the realisation pulled a snort of laughter from you.

Luke failed also to suppress a giggle as he let go of your hand and instinctively curled into Ashton’s side, as though the slightly older man was some sort of magnet. “Wow, you sure as hell didn’t get the memo about the ‘adults drinking wine’ vibe either, huh?”

The angry ‘Baby Spice’ glared at Luke with what you just knew were usually very pretty green eyes. “Don’t you start, lanky!” He huffed. “I’m already this close to ending your boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Ashton interjected, his voice calm and smooth in comparison to his friends’. “First of all, don’t talk to Luke that way or I’ll be the one ending you. Secondly, it wasn’t me that tricked you into dressing as a Spice Girl.” His last two words were accompanied with a snigger and it only made his angry friend’s face get redder.

“I swear I’ll rip your-” Baby Spice began before Muscles cut him off.

“Now, now, Michael.” Muscles smirked, “don’t you think that’s a bit too much.”

You were apparently the only one to pick up on the reference as your burst of laughter sounded much too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

For the first time Muscles’ and Baby Spices’ eyes snapped up to meet yours. Their reactions upon noticing you properly for the first time were at opposite ends of the scale.

Muscles became instantly flirtatious, his brown eyes lighting up with a charming smile as he greeted you with a smooth. “Oh! Hi there, beautiful…”

Baby Spice on the other hand, looked as though all of his nightmares had come true. The fear and embarrassment on his face were unmistakable as you focused on him over his friend. “It looks like you’re in the market for a new best friend too, Baby Spice.” You smiled gently, hoping to ease his discomfort a little. “I’m looking for a replacement, too.”

There was something about the genuine look of surprise in his green eyes that really endeared this stranger to you. Now that you were standing closer to him, it was easier to see the handsome features that the untidy lipstick and foundation were covering.

“Yeah…” Baby Spice laughed awkwardly, all of his anger vanishing as he tried to adopt a more casual stance. “My ex-best friend thought this would be funny.” He said, gesturing to his outfit, that up-close was much worse than you’d originally thought. His hairy chest, arms and legs protruding from the cheap costume dress made for a comical sight, but you fought back your amusement, intent on befriending this man so that both your night and his might take a turn for the better. “I’m guessing Luke pulled a similar prank on you, too?”

“Actually, he didn’t.” You explained, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, this is what passes for a Halloween costume in Luke’s tiny, dumb brain.”

Luke’s offended noise was lost beneath his replacement’s beautiful laugh as you stepped forward and offered Baby Spice your hand to shake as you told him your name.

He took it, still smiling bright enough to make his emerald eyes sparkle. “I’m Michael.” He confirmed. “And I’d be more than happy to be your new best friend.”

***

In the following couple of hours you made two amazing discoveries;

Alcohol consumption was the best cure for embarrassment.

Michael was fairly close to being your actual ideal man.

Despite the fact that he was obviously gullible, most of Michael’s other qualities were very much to your liking. In the short time that you’d known him, Michael had proven himself to be kind, funny and incredibly easy to talk to. What’s more, as the night went on and more and more of his makeup wore off, you’d found out he was even more handsome than you’d originally thought he was.

“So did you mean what you said to Calum just now?” Michael asked, suddenly looking a little nervous as he dropped his gaze to the bottle of beer in his hand. “About not being interested in him, I mean.”

A couple of times, Calum had wandered over to the corner of the kitchen that you and Michael had claimed as your own, trying to flirt with you. On each occasion, you’d made it perfectly clear that you’d formed an alliance with Michael and that sneaky ex-best friends were not permitted to flirt with you under any circumstances.

If you were reading the signals right, Michael was a little jealous of his friend. That was understandable; Calum was conventionally good looking and was as charming as they come. On a normal night, you’d have been more than a little tempted to see if his smooth moves translated into decent bedroom skills, but tonight your attention was completely focused on Michael.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “He seems nice and all, besides screwing you over on the costume thing.” You giggled. “But he’s not really my type.”

Michael looked mildly confused. “I’ve never heard a girl say that before.” He admitted. “I thought he was just everyone’s type.”

“I can recognise that he’s hot, but I like my men a little softer and my number one turn on is someone who can make me laugh.” You replied honestly.

A light blush rose in Michael’s cheeks as he apparently realised you’d been describing him. Judging by the shyness emanating from him, people admitting they were attracted to him didn’t happen all that often. You couldn’t understand why; he was absolutely beautiful.

“C’mon, Baby Spice.” You smirked, “Lets get another drink and then you can show me some of your best dance moves.”

“Oh, I can’t really dance?” Michael confessed, his blush deepening a bit as he headed over to the counter where numerous bottles of alcohol were laid out.

“I find that very hard to believe!” You gasped in fake shock. “I mean it’s easy, isn’t it? You just slam it to the left, shake it to the right.... Y’know, go round…” You smirked.

Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to stop right now with those Spice Girls lyrics, kitten.”

The pet name made your insides dance excitedly. It could have easily sounded like a cheap, tacky term of endearment from anyone else but Michael’s cute mannerisms just made it sound adorable. “Yeah, okay.” You teased, nudging his arm playfully. “I don’t want you to have to say goodbye, my friend.”

Michael let out a reluctant laugh as he surveyed the drink options. “I can tell you were a huge fan, I’m flattered.” He said, playing along easily.

“What’s with the past tense, Bunton?” You continued. “The Spice Girls are timeless.”

Michael nodded as he continued to stare at the bottles of alcohol as though he couldn’t decide which to go for.. “I agree, I always had a bit of crush on Posh…”

“That’s basic!” You reprimanded him.

“Rude!” Michael scoffed. “Who’s your favourite?” He asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you if you hurry up and decide what you want; I’ll be sober by the time you pour a drink at this rate!” You laughed.

Michael shook his head, smirking a little. “Don’t rush me kitten, I need to weigh up all of my options.”

“Oh, come on Michael!” You scolded when he still hadn’t made a decision a moment later. “Just tell me what you want, what you really, really want so we can continue getting trashed.”

“That was your worst one yet.” Michael sighed dramatically. “I may have to disown you after that one, kitten.”

Excitement bubbled in your chest at the use of the pet name again, knowing it wasn’t just a one time slip of the tongue meant that it might stick and you couldn't put into words how much you’d like that. “Fine, just pour us both a vodka and lemonade so that you can show me those spicy dance moves.”

Michael couldn’t hold in the fond chuckle that rippled out of him as he obeyed your request. “So are you gonna answer my question about who your favourite Spice Girl is? Or do I have to guess?”

“Baby’s always been the one I crushed on the hardest.” You replied easily, deciding to forgo the guessing game.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “What attracted you to me?” He asked before panic flooded his features. “I mean her! Sorry...I wasn’t being-”

You cut Michael off with a giggle as you allowed your already tipsy brain to capitalize on the alcohol-fueled confidence you always seemed to develop after a few drinks. “I think it’s your terrible makeup skills, quick wit and those pretty green eyes that attracted me to you the most, baby.”

You never really noticed how close you’d gotten to him until you felt the little puff of breath from his quiet “Oh…” ghosting over your own lips.

If there was ever an opportune moment to kiss him, that was it. Without any good reason to stop yourself, you tentatively wrapped your arms around his neck. “I can’t believe I’m about to kiss a Spice Girl.” You chuckled, loving the way his hands felt as they rested on your waist.

“I hope I don’t disappoint you, kitten.” He replied, tilting his head to one side slightly so that you wouldn’t bump noses when the gap between your lips was finally closed.

It was you that took the final step, pressing a soft kiss to Michael’s lips. They felt every bit as soft as they looked and used them perfectly, kissing you back with just the right amount of enthusiasm.

Usually, it’d take a lot more than a shy first kiss for a guy to fully win you over, but somehow you found yourself melting into Michael’s hold, prolonging the simple kiss for as long as possible. Michael didn’t seem to mind that at all, holding you closely as he parted his lips allowing you to deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue teasingly against his.

When the two of you naturally drew apart a few moments later, your head was spinning from more than just the alcohol. Michael was well and truly intoxicating in a very different way. “I’m gonna need a lot more of that to keep you on the top spot of my favourite list, Baby.” You said, trying not to let your voice sound too breathy.

“That’s definitely a promise I can keep, kitten.” Michael smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Glad to hear it!” You proclaimed. “Now, let’s drink up so that we can move on to somewhere that our awesome costumes will be more appreciated!”

Michael raised a questioning eyebrow. “Leave Ashton’s party?” he asked. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

Nodding, you picked up your drink and took a long swig, “My favourite bar always has an awesome Halloween event.” You confirmed. “I was gonna go there but Luke wanted me to meet his boyfriend’s friends so I came here instead.”

“Well, I’m kinda glad you did, to be honest.” Michael said, his cheeks reddening slightly.

You pecked another kiss to his lips before taking another drink. “I am too, but it’s time for us to be the life of a new party.”

Michael nodded in agreement as he finished his drink in one go. That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to you, yet there you were practically drooling over a man in the worst drag outfit and makeup you’d ever seen, wiping vodka and lipstick off his incredibly plump lips with the back of his hand. He reached out with the hand that didn’t have bubblegum pink smeared across the back of it and took hold of your hand with the full confidence of the drink he’d just downed.

“So where are we going?” He asked. “I trust you, so don’t let me down and take me somewhere lame, kitten.”

“Oh, don’t worry. This place is amazing.” You promised, smirking as your final Spice Girls joke of the night slipped past your lips. “It’ll really spice up your life, baby.”

***

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Tag list: @h0tsos @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @loveroflrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @wildmichaelflower @wildfl0wer-meg @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @wildmalumflower @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings @lowpowermodex @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @celticclifford @5-secondsofcolor @queer-5sos @Secret-Diary-of-an-Aquarius-blog @babylon-corgis @paradigmax @koalacal @treatallwithkindness @lovelybonesetc @morguleth @atlcalm @mantlereid @malumsmermaid @lashtonswildflower @mermaidcashton @mysticalhood

#michael clifford #michael clifford fluff #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford blurb #5sos fluff #5sos imagine #5sos blue #5sos fic #michael clifford fic #mgc #michael #michael 5sos #5sos #my writing

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday (pt 2)

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was October thirteenth.

Luz’s first birthday without her mother.

She hadn’t told anyone what today was. She had mentioned it before, during the summer. But Eda and King weren’t known to be the best at remembering something so small from a single conversation.

They were already worried about her, it would only make things worse to remind them.

She saw the worried glances Eda and King gave her. Even Lilith looked concerned. Luz assured them she was fine before she holed up back in the library and, later, her room. Which she had made into makeshift into a study area.

Just because it was her birthday didn’t mean she had to stop trying. Even if it was her quinceañera.

‘Mamá must be worried.’ Her mind murmured.

‘She probably thinks you ran away.’ Added a snicker from the back of her mind. ‘She must think you hate her.’

Luz shook her head and hunched back over her papers. This wasn’t the time to mope and worry. This was the time for research! Even the words ran off the pages and her mind kept wandering.

‘You shouldn’t have gone through that door.’ Her thoughts spoke up again. ‘How bad could a reality check camp be, really? Would you really rather spend an eternity here, where your madre will never know if you're alive or dead?’

“Will you be quiet?” Luz snapped to no one.

‘Look at you,’ Her mind sneered back. ‘Talking to yourself. Maybe you did need that summer camp.’

Luz groaned and thunked her head on her desk, hands collapsing behind her neck. How was she supposed to work under these conditions?

She should’ve asked Gus to research with her. Out of all her friends, he was by far the most willing to spend all-nighters reading and searching for anything human. Any single link to the human realm.

This wasn’t to say Willow and Amity didn’t help her. They did, plenty of times. But it was always Gus she could call at two in the morning and ask to travel with her to some long-forgotten ruin on the slim chance it had even a sentence of human language on its stones. Amity was definitely a close second.

Everyone had tried. Even before the summer was over they had tried. Luz still beat herself up about not searching harder when she didn’t have to worry about her madre thinking she was lost somewhere. Every day that ticked by didn’t seem to bring her any closer to making it home.

The first week when summer vacation was over was horrible. Luz barely got any sleep and practically tore the library apart looking for any book on the human realm. She had crashed on the fifth day and slept all of the sixth. While she slept, her friends had taken up researching for her. Even Eda and King. Well, King tried. He couldn’t read all that well, but Lilith was happy to help.

Luz tried to at least get a few hours of sleep each day now. She still had bags under her eyes and her footsteps still dragged, but at least she wasn’t about to collapse anymore.

‘Mamá would tell you to go to sleep.’

Luz lifted her head and looked towards the window. It had originally been a hole in the wall courtesy of one of her recent adventures, so Eda had turned it into a wonky window instead of bothering to fix it up.

It was dusk. How had time gone by so fast?

Luz dug around in her desk for her glyphs and pulled out her light spell. She tapped the paper and it transformed into a small ball of light. She let it float next to her for a moment, simply watching it.

“She would like this spell.” Luz said to herself. “It doesn’t cost any bills to keep up.”

She almost laughed at her own joke. Almost.

‘Yeah, like she’d be proud of anything you did here.’

Luz sighed and turned back to the pages spread out before her. She stared blankly for a few moments, repeatedly telling herself to focus and failing to do so.

Then her bedroom door slammed open.

“LUZ!” King cried.

Luz yelped and shot backwards, tumbling out of her chair and hitting the wooden floor.

King winced and scurried over to where she lay, giving her a nervous look.

“Eh heh, sorry…”

“King! Don’t scare me like that!” Luz scolded, sitting up and rubbing her head.

“Sorry, but it’s important!” King said, waving his little arms. “Come on, come on!”

“Is something wrong?” Luz worried, standing up as King tugged on her cape.

“Well, no,” King said, still pulling her out of her room. “But it’s still important!”

Luz, more confused than ever, followed King as he finally let go of her cape and scampered down the stairs, practically shaking with excitement.

A part of Luz was expecting some prank he and Hooty had concocted. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them these days.

Luz wandered down the stairs as King skittered towards the living room. She heard murmuring and frowned, slowing her steps until she was right by the doorway and peeked her head in, one hand resting on the doorframe.

Willow, Gus and Amity were sitting on the floor around the couch. They had pushed a table up in front of it. A cake sat on the table, and Amity was currently trying to stick in a candle shaped like a five next to the one shaped like a one, though was clearly having trouble as the candle was made of something very squirmy and kept shifting into something that looked more like a weird S.

Gus was trying to help contain the candle as Willow looked on with concern, holding a small square lidded box in her lap.

Eda and Lilith were sitting on the couch directing Gus and Amity with little success. As Lilith was also dealing with Hooty continuously bugging her with questions or whatever he ate outside that day.

King had just arrived and was now climbing onto the table, promptly freaking out everyone else who clearly didn’t expect him to be back so soon.

“Guys…?” Luz blinked, taking a step into the room.

Everyone's heads whirled around to her, none of them having expected her to make it downstairs faster than they anticipated.

Hooty, as per usual, was the first to break the silence.

“Hi, Luz!” He greeted. “We made a cake!”

“You didn’t do anything!” Lilith snapped. “All you did was be a lookout. A very lousy one, at that!”

“Hey! I deserve credit for doing something!”

“What...is all this?” Luz asked, deciding it was better to cut in before Lilith and Hooty started arguing again.

“What does it look like, kid?” Eda snorted, snatching the five candle from Amity and sharply sticking it into the cake, making it lopsided and causing clear distress to Amity’s OCD.

“This is what human birthdays look like, right?” Gus worried, sitting upright and putting his hands on the table. “Was there supposed to be streamers? I knew we should’ve gotten streamers,” He grumbled.

“No, no, it’s just…” Luz looked over everyone before her eyes landed on Eda and King, who had hopped onto the couch beside her.

“You...remembered?” She asked quietly.

“Of course we did! The King of Demons never forgets!” King said proudly.

“Yesterday you forgot that you drank your own apple blood and threw a fit because you thought someone else drank it.” Amity deadpanned.

“That was one time!”

“Happy birthday, Luz.” Willow said, gesturing for her to sit down and setting the small box on the table.

Luz slowly walked towards the table, sitting on her knees at the end of the table. Still stunned, she slid the gift closer to her and pulled off the lid.

Inside it was a book. It was dark blue with golden lining along the edges. It’s title in gold cursive read; Glyph Spells & Other Written Magic .

“Thought you could use one of those,” Willow said casually. “Since you’ve got your own students to teach now.”

“We all pitched in for it,” Eda said gleefully.

Amity gave the witch a very pointed glare. One that Eda sighed in response to.

“Alright, we all pitched in to look for it. Little Miss Rich over here paid for it.” She relented, pointing a thumb towards the girl.

“I tasted it!” Hooty added happily. “It tastes like old dust and death.”

Luz carefully lifted the book out of the box. It seemed like well-kept book. Though the frantic scratches among the cover here and there proved that it had likely been quickly cleaned before placed in the box. The pages were yellow and crinkled, and there was the occasional stain or tear. But overall, it wasn’t unreadable.

“Do you…” Amity swallowed. “Like it?”

Luz kept her eyes on the book for a few quiet seconds. She pulled the book close to her chest and lifted her head, trying and failing to fight back the tears welling in her eyes.

“I love it.” She said hoarsely, a wide smile stretched across her face.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging.

“Does this mean we can have cake now?” King asked, impatiently tugging on Eda’s dress. “I’m starving!”

“Nope!” Hooty chirped, his head popped up beside Luz and startled her. “It’s group hug time!”

“Wait, wait, Hooty NO--!”

Hooty was faster than any of them could react and wrapped around them all, pulling them into a tight ball with Luz squished in the middle.

“A little more warning next time?” Gus wheezed from where he was currently being suffocated by the insistent bird tube.

“The cake!” Willow exclaimed.

Everyone craned their necks downwards towards the table.

Sure enough, amongst the struggle to get everyone in a circle, the cake had been knocked off the table and onto the floor, completely smashed against the carpet.

Everyone stared at it for a few moments.

“Floor cake!” King exclaimed. “The best kind of food!”

Nobody knew who laughed first, but it wasn’t long before everyone had smiles on their faces. Now, it didn’t seem to matter how human they made her party.

“Thanks, guys.” Luz said once she’d calmed down. “I...I think I needed this.”

“Any time, Luz.” Eda smiled.

Luz giggled and looked towards the stained windows of the Owl House. She could already hear Lilith and King arguing with Hooty again, probably to put them down, but it was tuned out.

The sky was completely dark now. And though the sky back home looked different than in the Boiling Isles, Luz couldn’t help but wonder if her mom was looking up at the stars, too.

She glanced back to her friends, still not processing any of the arguments or conversations they were having as they tried to free themselves from Hooty.

Yeah, she’d be okay.

Luz smiled and relaxed. Even if her mom didn’t know where she was, Luz could at least rest assured that she’d make it home, eventually. And she’d have real friends helping her out.

‘Keep that light on until I get there, mamá.’ She silently asked.

‘Te veré pronto.’

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surohsopsisofclouds · 5 years ago

Text

Spicy Facemasks Can Lead To Confessions?

“Remus, for the last time, no!” Deceit shouted desperately, his hands tugging at his hair, his hat having been tossed onto the couch haphazardly.

Logan walked into the room slowly, equal parts curious and worried about just why Deceit sounded so close to murdering Remus.

Normally, what with him being fairly desensitized to all of Remus’ shenanigans, having lived with him for so long, Deceit would sound bored as he asked Remus to stop, or even just plain ignore him. Right now, however, was obviously an outlier.

“Do, do I even want to ask what seems to be the issue?” Logan asked, causing them both to turn towards him; Deceit with an almost dead sort of hope in his eyes, and Remus with a frankly worrying amount of glee.

“No.” “Yes!” They said simultaneously. Remus shoved a dirty cloth in Deceits mouth, much to his and Logan’s mutual disgust, before turning to face Logan with a broad grin.

“I’m going to put a pepper and pepperoni face mask on! With some capsaicin for an added zest!” He proclaimed proudly, hands resting on his hips as he wriggled his whole body in delight at the utter chaos he had just let unfurl, much like a cut of cloth, flapping in the wind.

Logan’s face drained of color, his arms raising to move around as though to physically brush away the chaotic words. “No! No, do you even know what that would do to you? Do you want burns all over your face!?”

At this point Deceit had spit the disgusting piece of cloth out, and rinsed his mouth out with some quickly summoned water for good measure. He gazed at Logan with a tired look, as if to say ‘you think I haven’t tried to tell him that?’

Logan thought for a moment, racking his brain for something that would throw Remus off track. It had to be something similar enough to catch his attention and keep it, but far enough away from the original idea that he’d forget what his original plan was… Hmm…

...He could- no, that wouldn’t work. ...What about if he- no, that would link back to it within sentences. Oh, what if he went with this- no, that would just start another prank war between the two creativities, stars knew they didn’t need another one of those so soon...

What if… oh. That might work.

Logan refocused on the conversation, Remus now rocking back and forth on his feet as he gleefully explored what might happen to his face out loud, as usual not sparing a single, gruesome detail. Ah, that was why he loved him, wasn’t it? Well, time to get things back on track, now.

“What if you were to try an edible face mask, Remus?” Logan offered.

The aforementioned side perked up at this, leaning towards Logan rather dramatically; nearly falling over in the process, yet somehow still managing to keep his footing. Now, the plan.

“Bananas, honey, milk, yogurt, and oatmeal. Mix them together, and put them on your face for roughly half an hour. It can also be consumed as a breakfast dish.” Having finished rattling off his quickly remembered recipe, he focused his attention on Remus’ face, watching him quickly pick up the potential of the information given, and running off with it in a metaphorical sense.

Delight washed across one face as relief swept over another, Deceit sinking out with a silently mouthed ‘thank you’ in Logan’s direction. Logan nodded his head ever so slightly towards the snake-like side, before returning his attention towards Remus, just as he began to speak.

“Oh! Does that mean I could eat the face mask ‘right off my face?’ That’d be a cute date idea, just eat each others face masks.”

Logan blinked at that last part. What? Why did he suddenly move onto date ideas?

“Face eaters! Monch.”

And now he was back at his usual spiel.

“Crunch crunch, time for lunch!” Remus giggled before adding a “Ssssslllluuuuurrrrppppp!” to the end of his sentence.

Logan allowed himself to just barely smile at him, an odd emotion overcoming him. What was it called again? Oh yes, fondness. He was feeling very fond of the chaotic side right about now, watching him take a simple topic and expanding upon it so grandly filled him with lo- fondness. It filled him with fondness. Nothing more.

“Just imagine!” Remus suddenly shouted, making the logical side jump slightly. “Without warning, just a,” he made his fingers into claws and moved his arms apart, one up, the other down, before bringing them back together swiftly. “Cronch!”

He turned towards his left, manipulating his voice to sound somewhat deeper, and a bit flatter, too. “Hey, give that back!”

Here he turned towards his right, his voice going back to normal as he spoke again. “Cronchcronchcronch-”

He turned a final time towards his left, his voice changing back to the one he did moments prior. “DON’T CHEW FASTER.”

Remus moved to once again face Logan, cackling wildly to the point where tears were coming out of his eyes.

Logan’s smile grew at the sight, an involuntary sigh of “I love you so much.” slipping out.

They both froze.

Logan’s face turned beet red, his hands coming up to wave frantically in front of him. “I mean- that is- I did not-” His voice rose in pitch, coming out as a squeak of words as he finally admitted. “I- did not mean for those words to come out.”

Remus stared at him for a long moment, something like awe coming to swim in his eyes as he seemed to see ‘something’. Logan didn’t know what that something was, but it appeared to be what he was searching for, as the chaotic side quietly whispered two questions.

“Do you mean it?” and at Logan’s nod of affirmation, “Can I hug you?” After another brief nod of his head, Remus quickly threw his arms around the logical side, hugging him as though to let go was to wake up from a beautiful dream.

“I love you too.”

#intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #Sanders sides #sanders sides fic #suroh writes #I don't know how I made this #but I'm happy I did #don't you just love it when stories write themselves?#my writing

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nerdettedreamteam · 4 years ago

Photo

robstar week 2020: day six

day six everyoneeee and once again i’m posting this right before midnight but oh well, i present you with a robstar/dickkory wedding B) (please check out @samdraws715 blog for the original art post! she’s insanely talented and it’s what my prompts for this year are based off of!) hope you enjoy!

Wedding Bells

It had been a wonderful day. All their old and new friends had come to see them, the cheerfulness and upbeat vibes filled the air and everyone was happy.

Everyone had been mingling at the reception and, as it was their wedding, Dick and Kory had been socializing with all the guests. Everyone had been wishing them their congratulations and had engaged in some conversation with them.

The wedding was held on top of titans tower. The both of them figured it would be the best choice considering it was where they made many of their memories together before deciding to move and settle down in Blüdhaven. Plus, the tower rooftop was always a great spot for hosting events such as these, and it being on the water during sunset added a nice romantic touch to the event.

“So... what’s this called again my bumgorf?” A booming voice had asked Kory.

“That’s just punch, Galfore.” Kory had laughed a little.

“Oho! I see...” The big man had carefully poured himself a glass, which was pretty tiny in comparison to his huge hands. He took a sip of it. “This is delicious! I don’t recall there being a drink quite like this on Tamaran...”

His gaze shifted all the way to the far right of the reception area, where there was a large chocolate fountain flowing with rich chocolate. “Kory, what is this supposed to be?” Galfore asked with fascination as he dipped his large finger in the chocolate. He pulled it out examining it. “How strange...”

Kory smiled at his curiousity of earth foods, it reminded her of her wonderment of such things when she had first arrived. “That is called a chocolate fountain. That’s what is on your finger. Try it!”

Galfore gave one last look at the brown substance and stuck it in his mouth. His eyes widened almost instantly and a surprised expression soon filled the man’s face. “Why... this is incredible! An eloquent device that flows such a wonderful tasting substance which you can eat, it’s simply genius!”

He turned to Kory. “If you are still interested in having another wedding on Tamaran, do you think it could be possible to have these “chocolate fountains” present at the reception as well? I do very much enjoy them.” He beamed happily in which Kory returned the smile.

“We shall make it happen then.” She put a hand against his arm still keeping the happy expression.

Dick had walked over to them, and Galfore took notice right away.

“Ho ho! Richard! It is very good to see you.” Galfore took Dick’s smaller hand into his own.

“It’s good to see you too, Galfore.” Dick had looked up at him.

“I suppose I should be heading back to my table then...” Galfore began. “Mr. Wayne and I are having a very interesting discussion about our new familial relations. We are simply overjoyed to have this newfound bond!” He beamed proudly.

Dick had chuckled to himself. Of course that’s what the two of them were talking about.

“I shall see you two later on.” Galfore said before hugging the both of them.

“Bye, Galfore!” Kory had said as he walked away.

Both of them took each other’s hands and made their way to the mingling crowds of people near the dance floor.

Everything was going perfectly. Everyone had put on nice outfits and Dick and Kory were dressed to the nines in a sharp looking tux and in a beautiful white flowing dress. They both looked elegant and everyone had seemed to agree, especially Dick who, during the ceremony, wasn’t able to stop staring at his now wife as she had walked down the aisle.

“So, it finally happened.”

Dick and Kory turned to see who had suddenly walked up behind them, their expressions changing upon realizing who it was.

“Garfield! It’s so good to see you!” Kory exclaimed.

“How are you guys?!”

“We’re doing amazing.” Kory beamed as she leaned in to hug him.

“Better now that you’re here. It’s been a while.” Dick said.

“I mean, if you count only a week since we last saw each other a while, then sure.” Gar teased and kept a smirk on his face. “Just kidding, it’s good to see you too, dude.”

“Where is Rachel?” Kory had asked him.

“Oh she’ll be here in a moment, I think she went to get us some drinks.”

Suddenly, Dick felt somebody ruffle his hair from behind and turned around quickly.

“Victor!”

“Soooo, how’s married life been treating y’all?” He had asked as he pulled Kory and Dick in for a hug.

“I assure you, the last thirty minutes or so have been nothing but fantastic!” Dick said to him jokingly, causing everyone to laugh.

“Gar, I have the drinks-“ A voice had said from behind them. It was Rachel, and as soon as she noticed the rest of her friends in front of her, her expression changed to a happy one.

“Rachel!” Kory had immediately went in for a hug in which Rachel returned.

“I don’t think I had the chance to say this yet, but you guys look amazing.”

“Yeah!” Gar had chimed in. “And oh my god, speaking of amazing, you should’ve seen Dick once he saw Kory walk down the aisle.” He began laughing in his usual high pitched tone. Even though they had all gotten older, it seems as if nothing’s changed. “Dude, you were a total blushing idiot! I was right next to you, you shoulda seen yourself!”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Well maybe I couldn’t help myself...” he said before sneaking a glance at Kory. “Besides,” he ruffled his hair. “you’ll understand once that day comes for you.”

“Hey! Don’t mess up my do! It took me hours to get it right!” Gar said as he frantically tried to fix his hair.

The random movements suddenly caused his phone to fall out of his tux. He bent over to grab it when his face lit up.

“Oh! Dudes! Let’s take a picture!”

Gar pulled his phone upward and turned it sideways, putting Dick and Kory in frame.

“Wait, that looks good! Stay still! I wanna remember this day...”

Dick and Kory got close together and smiled for the picture. At the very last second however, Gar photobombed them and stuck his face in right at the bottom, snapping it just in time before Dick could react.

“Uhhh... I thought you said you wanted to remember this day?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, I do! What better way than to take a picture of the best couple ever? Well, not counting me and Rachel at least, heh. And besides, this pic was just for me.” He said taking a look at his phone beaming at the picture he just took with the three of them. “I’ll definitely take more for you guys later if you want.”

Dick and Kory exchanged expressions and shrugged at each other, smiling. “Thank you, Gar.”

Upbeat music was changed to slow music, and it was something both Dick and Kory had recognized.

“Is that...”

“Our song?”

“Ooooohhh,” the other titans teased.

“Maybe you guys should head out there now, everyone’s already clearing the dance floor.” Rachel have one last smile at them before taking Gar’s hand and walking away.

“See ya dudes!” Gar called out.

“Yeah, we’ll be watching y’all the whole time.” Victor nodded before nudging Dick in his arm playfully and winking at him before he walked off to join Rachel and Gar at their seats.

Dick looked back at Kory.

“Shall we?” He extended his hand outward.

Kory giggled and took his hand, the both of them now making their way to the dance floor.

Once they arrived at the center for everyone to see, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her waist. They began slowly dancing and swayed to the music.

“You look gorgeous.” Dick whispered to her.

Kory but her lip to contain herself from smiling too hard. “Hmmm... and you look especially handsome.”

Dick had spun her around gracefully and she soon came back to him as they continued to dance.

“I’m really lucky to have you, Kory.” Dick began. “On the night we met, I really thought I’d have a better life if I went out on my own, but ever since that day I’m really glad I’m not on my own anymore.” He looked into her bright green eyes. “You’ve helped me in so many ways and I love you more than you could ever know. I’m forever grateful that from now on, it’s going to be the two of us, always.”

Kory’s eyes welled up with tears. “I love you too, Richard. I always will.”

They shared a kiss, and coincidentally the song had started to end just when they did that. Everyone at the tables started clapping; cheers and whistles being heard from the crowds of people.

Gar, Rachel and Victor gave a standing ovation. “Those are my best friends!” Gar had said loudly clapping with tears in his eyes.

“Uh, reminder, they’re all our best friends.” Victor corrected him.

Rachel shushed then. “Don’t ruin the moment.” She had looked on at them and smiled.

Everyone watching Dick and Kory in that moment could tell that they were meant to be together. That had been in love with each other for years and finally seeing them get married was a day no one would forget.

Dick and Kory stayed in their position a few moments longer. No words, just hand holding and foreheads touching. They finally had each other at last. Who knew what the next chapter in their lives would bring them? That was for them to find out.

#teen titans #robin #starfire #robstar #dickkory #robstarweek #robstarweek2020

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

Text

GF - Boxing

The beautiful, talented, amazing and wonderful @artsymeeshee has been going through a lot lately and I’ve been wanting to do something for her, so (since I can’t draw chibi Stans or think of a good fic that follows that theme XD ) I thought I would write this for her! Seriously, guys, she’s incredible in every way and deserves all the love in the world, so go give it to her!

I hope you like this fic, girl, and that you’re doing okay. - N.S.

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started back when the Pines family first arrived back at the Mystery Shack. Mabel was up in the storage room (It was much fuller than wise, but the attic was used as a bedroom at the moment.) and had dragged Dipper along with her to help find some old photographs. With only two weeks to work on her special birthday present for her grunkles, she needed all the help she could get in making them the perfect gift: a new scrapbook full of old photos of Glass Shard Beach and pictures Mabel had saved on her phone and was going to print of the old sailors out at sea.

Mabel had her hands on a box full of baby photos that she was totally going to use as blackmail. She squealed and then covered her mouth quickly so they wouldn’t get caught when she found a photo of two twin boys sitting in little sailor-suits on their parents’ bed. The one with six-fingers on his tiny fists didn’t look happy, but his brother was laughing and was proud of his new suit. Mabel tucked it into her folder to use for the scrapbook and checked another box. She opened it and was surprised to find news articles for boxing events and pictures of her uncles training. “Wow, Dipper, look.” Mabel said quietly and Dipper sat with her by the box. “Whoa, Stan was really good.” The boy commented as he picked up photographs of a bruised-looking, war-beaten, teenage-version of Stan had a fist up in the air in victory and a trophy in his grasp. Ford was by his side, enjoying stealing Stan’s gimmick of wrapping an arm around his neck and pointing at him as he beamed with pride. “Check out all these first places.” “Wonder where all his trophies…” But then Mabel stopped. There were boxes in this room labeled “trophies”, but all of those were Ford’s from science fairs and spelling bees, because this had originally been his house. Since Stan was kicked out and didn’t exactly have time or space for memorabilia, the trophies were long-gone, probably tossed out by Dipper and Mabel’s great-grandfather. Mabel’s blood boiled and her teeth clenched in a very un-Mabel way. “If I ever see Blendin again, I’m using his time-machine to go back in time and punch that jerk in the face.” She growled. “Yeah,” Dipper sighed and held out some good pictures of when both of the twins were boxing in elementary school. “But hey, these will look great in the new scrapbook.” He pointed out, trying to make his sister forget Filbrick. It worked; Mabel smiled and took some of the pictures. “These are great, thanks!” And she added them to the folder. “They look so cute! And they look like they might be having fun.” Dipper shrugged; to this day Stan still enjoys watching a match and he still gave awesome left and right-hooks. “So, do you need more pictures, or…?” “I think… I dunno, I was hoping to find one of them with Grandpa or Ma Pines. Do you think they’d want that?” Even after the scrapbook had been made and delivered, Mabel still thought back to Stan and Ford’s old boxing days. It was interesting and cool to her, so one afternoon she asked Stan to teach her some moves. She had never seen that old man look so happy. (Except when he announced that he was going to be sailing around the world with Ford.) He took her out to the backyard and taught her how to take a proper stance and how to give good hooks and how to dodge properly. Mabel found she liked the feeling of the gloves and the poses and moves came relatively quickly to her. By the time the sun was setting Stan was laughing and calling her a natural. About a week or so later, Stan left his newspaper on the table to help put out a small fire Ford had started due to an experiment gone bad, and Mabel saw an ad for boxing tryouts. There was a team right outside of Gravity Falls and the whole thing was over by the end of the summer, so Mabel could join if she wanted. When Stan came back and finished his newspaper, he put it in the newspaper bin (used to start campfires or for arts-n’-crafts) and Mabel swiped the article for the date, time, and location. Dipper woke up the next morning and found Mabel’s bed, as usual, empty. But then as Dipper was scrubbing his eyes he heard something weird outside. He looked out the window and stared to find Mabel in pink work-out shorts, a white t-shirt, and her hair up with a scrunchie as she punched a tree with boxing gloves. Dipper slipped on some shoes and his hat and vest and hurried outside. “Mabel, what are you doing?” He asked when he got behind her out in the crisp morning air. “Training for the boxing tryouts.” Mabel said as she worked, punching a tree so hard a branch fell off. Dipper smiled proudly and said, “I wanna help.” And so history repeated itself as Dipper hurried to the library after breakfast and found books on proper diet techniques and he looked up video-tutorials on great workout routines. He rode his bike besides Mabel and used her megaphone to cheer her on as she jogged down the dirt road. He wore a full on pillow-bodysuit so Mabel could punch something that moves and tries to punch back. Dipper even made her protein shakes with raw eggs and other stuff to help her keep her energy and he poured her Mabel Juice down the drain, earning him a raspberry courtesy of his twin. The kids were careful to keep it a secret, Mabel insisting she wanted to surprise Stan and Ford by coming back with a real boxing uniform and a declaration that she made the team. Dipper supported her one million percent and on the day of the tryouts, they hopped on a bus for the gym. Dipper walked with Mabel in her workout-gear, hands in his vest and a proud smile on his face. They walked into the correct room, the one with a big ring and some bleachers, and found Mr. Poolcheck’s cousin, Mr. Boxcoach. The cousins had the same tight-face, sharp jawline, and popping vein, and they were both equally scary, but Mr. Boxcoach’s legs weren’t skinny and perfect for swimming, rather bulky and perfect for boxing, and he had oily brown hair. He wore a blue-jacket over a white t-shirt and he had a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in hand. Boys from neighboring towns were there to try out, too, and more were approaching. Mabel and Dipper walked up to Mr. Boxcoach to properly introduce themselves and before any of them said a word, the scary man asked with his eyes down at his clipboard, “What’s your name, son?” “Oh, no,” Dipper shook his head and patted Mabel’s shoulder. “I’m not here to try out, but my sister is.” “Hi! I’m Mabel.” She said cheerfully, almost bouncing where she stood with excitement. Mr. Boxcoach finally looked at them and snorted. “Yeah, no. I’m not putting a girl on my team.” Mabel’s smile dropped. Dipper saw the devastated look on her face and he had to try extremely hard not to lose his temper. “Why not?” He asked. “Whaddya mean, why not, she’s a girl.” Mr. Boxcoach said like it was obvious and he tucked his clipboard under his arm. “I mean look at her, a butterfly clip in her hair and a bright-pink scrunchie. They’d eat her alive out there.” “So what if she takes good care of her hair and likes pink?” Dipper snapped. “Last I checked, that has nothing to do with how good she is. She’s really tough, just let her try, she’s got a great left-hook!” “Listen, kids, it’s anarchy out there…” “She can handle it!” “... there is no way I’m letting a girl on my team.” Mr. Boxcoach said firmly. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl in my boxing ring.” Dipper narrowed his eyes, seeing red, his whole body shaking with rage. “You won’t even let her try out?” “Nope.” Dipper was ready to yell and make Mr. Boxcoach rue the day he underestimated Mabel Pines, but one glance at her told Dipper that she looked ready to go home, so he put an arm around her shoulders and walked her out the door. “Forget that jerk. Wanna stop by that new candy store in town? I think they have a new safer Smile-Dip.” He offered softly. Mabel shook her head and pulled her hair down, her scrunchie on her wrist. “I’d rather just go home.” “Okay, sure.” Dipper tried to smile comfortingly at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes and Dipper could tell that she didn’t need smiles right now. ~~~~~~~~~~ Waddles was asleep under the card table while Ford and Stan played poker on the table. Ford slammed his cards down as his brother laughed maliciously and scooted the loot to his side of the table. “You cheated!” “Probably, wanna try to prove it, Wise Guy?” Stan dared. “Oh, you little…” The door opened and closed and the old men smiled to see the kids return, but they were unhinged to find Mabel in unusual attire and hurrying up the stairs with tears in her eyes. The bedroom door slammed shut and Waddles woke up and trotted up the stairs. “What’s wrong with Mabel?” Stan asked. Dipper sighed and collapsed in the armchair. “Mabel wants to be on the boxing team.” Ford and Stan exchanged proud and surprised looks, but they also remembered that their little girl was upset right now. “Did she not make the team?” Ford guessed sympathetically. “She didn’t even get to try out.” “Why not?” Stan pressed on when Dipper fell silent and didn’t look in a hurry to tell more of the story. He gave them both a careful look, like he was debating if it was worth telling them, but he eventually said, “Coach says he wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl in his ring.” “WHAT?!” Stan stood up quickly and looked just as mad as he did back when he discovered that Mable and Gideon were dating last summer. “And you were okay with that?!” “Stanley,” Ford scolded lightly, not enjoying the fact that he was assuming Dipper didn’t do anything about it. “No! I tried, but there was no changing his mind.” Dipper defended and crossed his arms over his chest. Stan marched across the room. Ford stood up and asked, “Where are you going?” “To be mad at somebody new!” “Uh, oh.” Dipper said as Stan angry beyond reason. When Mabel heard Waddles scratching at the door, she forced herself out of bed to let him in. He hopped up on the foot of the bed and let Mabel lie her head on him and cry on his soft pink body. She hugged him and cried her heart out, disappointed and feeling stupid for thinking she even had a shot at boxing like her hero. A soft knock came at the door and Mabel looked up to find Stan at the door. She quickly wiped her tears away and her face dry; she didn’t want him to see her cry and think she wasn’t tough anymore. “Hey, everything okay, pumpkin?” Mabel smiled weakly and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay…” “C’mon, Mabel, you can’t lie to an old conman.” Stan said and sat by the head of her bed. “Plus Dipper told me what happened.” He added, unable to take all the credit on him just being that awesome and smart. Mabel’s eyes filled with tears and she shut her eyes to try to hide it. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed. “Snitch.” Mabel mumbled, making Stan snort. “I wanted to surprise you, make you proud.” “Whoa, hey,” Stan halted. “First off, I’ll always be proud of you. Always. You’re my little fight, whether you’re on some stupid team or not. That’s sweet that you wanted to surprise me and rub it in my face that you’re way better at boxing than me, but you don’t have to hide anything from me.” Mabel hiccuped a laugh over his little joke and she wiped her tears on her arm, feeling much better. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.” “No problem, sweetie.” He looked her dead in the eye and asked, “Do you really wanna box?” Mabel wasn’t sure if he was asking because he wanted to make sure she didn’t want to box only to make him proud, or he was about to do something stupid. Either way, she wanted to be honest. She nodded and gave that Pines-gleam in her eye, the one that promised trouble and was fed off of determination, pride, and hard-work. “Yeah, I do. But the coach…” “I don’t care, get your gloves and let’s go.” Stan motioned a hand for her to follow and she did as she was told, following her great-uncle out of the room and eventually out of the house. ~~~~~~~~~~ Luckily the tryouts were only half done when Stan had Mabel’s hand and was walking her back inside the room. Her soft brown eyes found the scary Mr. Boxcoach and her hand tightened around Stan’s. “That’s him.” “I got this.” Stan muttered back. “OY! Veins! You and I need to talk!” Mr. Boxcoach had to whistle a match to stop and he turned to the new arrivals that stood outside his ring. Stan climbed up swiftly and had his hands on his hips, a suave, strong man in a suit looking deadly with cold brown eyes and tight fists just right for throwing a good punch. The atmosphere got ten degrees colder as Mr. Boxcoach realized he had talked badly about Stanley Pines’s girl. “Yes, sir?” He asked casually. “You tell my grandniece she can’t box?!” “Oh, well I was only looking after her…” “Well she doesn’t need you to look after her! She can look after herself and do a better job at it than most grown-ups!” Mabel, meanwhile, was turning pink with pride. “And you’re gonna give her the same chance you would give any other boy!” “Or what?” Mr. Boxcoach snarled. “Or we’re gonna have problems.” Stan growled and even Mabel felt a shiver go down her spine. Despite being the same size, Mr. Boxcoach looked significantly smaller than Stan. Mr. Boxcoach swallowed and then huffed, “Fine. Kid, you’re next. You’ll go against Drake.” “What?!” The pale sandy-haired kid with freckles yelled. He was one of the two already in the ring. “I’m not boxing with a girl!” “Why not, your friend is.” Mabel snapped. Stan swelled with pride and the other boy, a dark-skinned boy with brown curls, “oh”ed with a smile and said he’d fight her. Stan patted her back and said, “I’ll be in the bleachers. Kick their butts.” ~~~~~~~~~~ Ford and Dipper were watching the Used To Be About History Channel when Stan and Mabel came back home with huge smiles on their faces. “Guess who’ll be in boxing matches this summer?” “Mabel, that’s wonderful!” Ford cheered and gave her a hug when she hopped up on his lap in the armchair. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.” “Me, too.” And Dipper ruffled her hair from the dino-skull end table. “I knew you’d make the team!” “And I got a date!” Mabel added joyfully and punched the air in victory. “You did?” Ford asked, bewildered how boxing could lead to romance. He looked at his brother for clarification. “She did?” “It was a productive afternoon.” Stan simply said as he hung his suit jacket up. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel climbed up into the ring, her hair up in her pink scrunchie and her little butterfly pinning back her hair so she could see her opponent. She wore red and the enemy wore yellow, like gold without the sparkle. She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth, taking her stance. The big, nasty boy with crooked teeth snarled at her, ready to take her apart, free to dominate and humiliate a girl, but that wasn’t going to happen. Just before the bell rang, Mabel glanced over to the bleachers and saw her boys screaming and cheering her on. They had painted their faces red with a white stripe down the center and Stan wore his red Hawaiian shirt, Ford his turtleneck solo, and Dipper held a sign that read “GO MABEL GO!” in big red letters with stars all over it and tons of glitter. He cleared his throat mid-shout and coughed up glitter, proof that he had made the sign himself. Mabel grinned and focused on the scummy teenager in front of her. The bell rang.

#GF #gravity falls #boxing #mabel pines #stan pines #everybody love protective stan #artsymeeshee #fanfiction #seriously thank you so much for always making me smile #or cry #that's good too

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