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worth-more-than-two-thousand · 3 years ago

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Omega’s Observations

Request: Congrats on starting the blog!! Pumped to have a new writer's work to read 🥰 If you need some requests, how about an echo/gn!medic reader who he develops a crush on, for a little of that sweet sweet mutual pining action✨ Dunno if you write pre-citadel or just BB echo, but I'm happy with either. Have a good weekend!! :) (@krussyfed)

Author’s Note: Whew! This took a while for me to get to a place where I felt good about posting it. Honestly, as most of my writing does, it got a bit away from me, but that’s because I love fleshing out a story, showing-not-telling, and building on events from the canon. But if I saw this through until the end, I probably wouldn’t end up posting this for months! So I hope what I have here is worth the wait, and if you want more, let me know!

Story Notes: Unbeta’ed, no obvious warnings.

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Ask her brothers to describe her, and ‘still and quiet’ would not be two of the words any of them would use.

Hunter would call her curious to a fault, then ruffle her hair to let her know that he meant it in the nicest way possible.

Wrecker would boom with laughter, proclaiming her one of them (“Always ready for action and adventurin’! Let’s go get those gundarks!”).

Tech would probably consider for a moment, then use a four-syllable word. Like effervescent.

Echo would call her young and energetic, but his brow would furrow as though this might be a bad thing. Then he would inevitably follow up with a reminder to stay within sight and keep out of trouble. She didn’t mind. She knew he just worried about her. Omega would always reassure him that she would keep close to her brothers. Of course, whether it actually happened was usually another thing.

Crosshair, if he was with them, would probably call her troublesome.

But really, this was a tactical advantage. Her brothers never expected her to be still and quiet, so she could settle in and be observant when it was least expected of her.

Omega was actually quite accustomed to being taciturn, at least when she needed to be. Her time with Nala Se, after all, was mostly like this.

Watching over like a stone guardian as Nala Se pored over the capsules containing her modified brothers…

...being as unobtrusive as possible during another endless meeting with Lama Su…

...laying noiselessly and without complaint as Nala Se inserted a needle into her arm for yet another blood sample…

These days, Omega could be as boisterous and vivacious (two more words Tech had taught her) as she wanted to be, so long as there was no chance of enemies being around. The only time she was obediently still by choice during these times was when she was being treated by Y/N, Clone Force 99’s on-board medic.

Again, this was mostly out of habit from her time with Nala Se, but it wasn’t as bad. For one thing, Y/N fielded all of Omega’s questions with unending patience. And their hands were less clinical, more gentle than Omega was used to. Nala Se was efficient, not a movement wasted in her examinations. Y/N, however, always offered a comforting touch on the back after a scary encounter, and would gently but firmly place their hands on Omega’s face to look her in the eye to assess emotional well-being.

The first time Y/N had done this was on the Ordo Moon, as Y/N was finishing wrapping up Omega’s small scratches on her hands and knees from her misadventures in the underground tunnels.

At this point, not used to such close eye contact, Omega averted her eyes and looked over Y/N’s shoulder for something to distract her from the unusual awkwardness she felt.

Her eyes met Echo’s.

Her awkwardness vanished as he seemed to startle, a faint flush appearing on his neck, as he coughed, crossed his arms, and turned away, suddenly much more interested in examining the ship’s ceiling than anything else.

What an interesting reaction. Her brain filed it away, curiosity piqued.

Then, over the course of a few weeks, Omega confirmed her suspicions.

Echo was always watching Y/N. Echo liked Y/N.

Omega caught him absentmindedly gazing at Y/N’s hands as they tapped thoughtfully on a datapad while Wrecker carried new medical inventory aboard the Marauder during a supply run.

After Wrecker’s successful inhibitor chip removal on Bracca, and Tech volunteered to go next, Omega watched Y/N’s hands fly across the medical controls, fierce determination sharpening their features. Glancing up, she saw that Echo’s attention was similarly arrested, a look on his face that was bordering very close to adoration.

He seemed most captivated by Y/N’s hands, however, whenever they were treating him personally for any ailments or injuries. Echo always sat pin straight, almost comedically robotic (it would be funnier, but his history brought a sort of cruel irony to the thought) and allowing Y/N to turn his body and maneuver his prosthetic arm however was needed without any fidgeting or complaint.

But his eyes were another story. Darting back and forth everywhere their fingers touched, such a stoniness to his face that Omega was certain he was committing every graze, every feather-light touch, to memory. Y/N, as always, was so focused on the medical work that they never seemed to notice.

Omega saw things, though. Echo was like Y/N’s shadow, often slipping into the same room or area Y/N was in, like a ghost. She observed with fascination how he always angled himself to face her whenever there was a conversation in the cockpit. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of them, or if the entire squad was there and discussing a mission, it was as though he had attuned himself to wherever Y/N happened to be and was drawn to them.

Like a sunflower always facing the sun.

She saw in the field how Echo, not Hunter, was usually the one to call the Marauder to check in or alert Y/N to any injuries that would need to be treated when they returned. How the space between his brows would crease whenever they would radio in but only receive the static of communications interference.

Or worse, no answer at all.

Echo wouldn’t say anything, but Omega felt that her brother’s steps would quicken, just a little. And she wasn’t sure she was just imagining a sudden sense of urgency in the air as they completed the mission, with just a bit more efficiency, a bit more ruthlessness than was usual.

Omega saw how Echo always let out a tiny breath in relief, as though he had been holding it the whole time, whenever they returned to the Marauder with its medic unharmed.

And she would never forget that one time they had returned to the Marauder, doors blasted open, interior trashed, with no medic in sight and droplets of blood leading away from the ship.

Omega had never been in war, had only heard about it passively from the conversations between Nala Se and Lama Su, then a bit more directly from her brothers once she was allowed out of the private lab.

She had once asked Tech about the war, but his response clearly paled in comparison to the dark look on Echo’s face, as they battled their way through enemy after enemy to rescue Y/N.

Omega felt as though she understood war a little bit more after this. At least its motivations.

It took longer for Omega to figure out whether her brother’s feelings were reciprocated. Y/N’s affection wasn’t as obvious, but the trick was to watch more for their actions than in body language.

Since Y/N and Tech slept the least, they would swap bunks and so were usually on opposite sleep schedules. This meant that Y/N would stay up late into the night well after the rest of the boys had retired to their bunks, face alight in the glow of a datapad. They would concentrate fiercely, chewing on their thumbnail and pausing often to tap notes into the margins.

Omega eventually managed to snatch and break into Y/N’s data pad, and saw that they were working their way through a series of medical journals, detailing the latest treatment for prosthetics. There were also several articles on treating post-traumatic stress disorder for former prisoners of war.

Omega had even checked Y/N’s search history, and discovered that they had been using an encrypted channel to search for chatter on the whereabouts of the former 501st legion and its various members. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Y/N had much luck so far, but if the number of searches were any indication, they weren’t giving up.

Omega wondered incredulously how none of her other brothers had yet caught on to the two’s clearly mutual affection for each other. Until she realized that no, they already knew.

Once, when Omega had offered Echo some of her Mantell Mix, Echo had sniffed it, much to her amusement. Her giggles subsided immediately when Echo murmured apologetically that he sometimes had trouble digesting pretty much any food that wasn’t nutritional paste, due to half his digestive system being completely artificial.

Of course, this meant that he must have been experiencing constant abdominal discomfort, as they hadn’t had any nutritional paste on the ship since their escape from Kamino. Hunter once mentioned to her that even the plainest of rations seemed to bother him, but he gamely never complained.

One day, Hunter was giving out rations in the cockpit, and had already given Tech and Wrecker their usual. Then he pulled out a green, unlabeled squeeze packet instead of the usual rations bar, and handed it to Echo, who took it with some confusion.

“What’s this?”

“New brand. It should be easier on your digestive systems than the usual stuff. Tastier, too.”

Echo glanced at the packet skeptically, unscrewing the cap and sniffing at its contents.

“It smells...fresh?”

“Try it,” Hunter urged him, to which Echo obediently tried a small amount.

His mouth rounded in a surprised ‘oh’. Omega wished she could have captured the look on his face with a holovid. He stared at the packet in his hands, with a look that was a bit like wonder and amazement.

This didn’t escape Wrecker’s notice, who immediately stood up in protest. “What? Why does Echo get something new to eat?” He glanced forlornly at the slightly crumpled, stale rations bar in his hand. “I want some!”

“They’re too expensive for your appetite, Wrecker,” Hunter replied, just a bit too quickly, though none of the others seemed to notice. “Besides, you probably wouldn’t like it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Wrecker proclaimed, swiping the packet from Echo’s hands despite Hunter’s attempt to chastise him. Wrecker took a giant slurp.

...and immediately spat it out, some of it splattering on poor Gronk.

“Blech! That tastes weird.”

“Probably because it’s made of fruits and vegetables,” Tech said dryly, “Your palette likely isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate the subtle bitterness and natural sweetness that are characteristic of those food categories.”

Echo eyed Hunter skeptically. “And we have the money to keep buying these?”

Hunter hummed, closing the rations box and turning away from the cockpit. “Omega’s paying for it from her holochess winnings.” She startled at the sudden mention of her name. “We have extra to spare, for now.” Hunter subtly winked at her when the others weren’t looking.

“Oh. Thank you, Omega,” said Echo, looking at her with true gratitude. Omega flushed a bit, but mostly because it actually didn’t have anything to do with her. She played along, however, and insisted it was no problem. It did seem to make him happy, so there was no harm in a small lie like that, right?

She cornered Hunter later, though, and insisted on him telling her the truth. After wearing him down a bit, he finally relented.

“Okay, but you can’t tell the others, all right? Believe me, I’ve already tried to talk them out of it. But Y/N has been doing some medical work on the side, working at one of the clinics near Cid’s bar. They’ve been using the money to buy these.”

Omega’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why can’t you just tell Echo that?”

Hunter sighed. “Because they don’t want Echo to know. Figures that Echo wouldn’t like them going out on their own to work in the slums for his sake. They’re probably right, of course.” He rubbed at his forehead, a sure sign of an impending headache.

Omega frowned, then decided to go for it.

“You know they like each other, right?”

Hunter blinked at her, looking surprised. At her determined stare, he gave a sigh and muttered something like, ‘I’m getting too old for this’. He proceeded to explain patiently to her that perhaps Echo and Y/N liked each other, but pointed out how awkward or difficult it could be to have a romantic relationship in such close quarters, especially when they as a team also had bigger things to worry about.

It sounded like Hunter had given this exact speech at least twice before.

So Tech and Wrecker knew, then, but were being polite about it (or, in Wrecker’s case, had probably gotten an earful from Hunter earlier about tact and ‘minding one’s own business’).

Well. That wouldn’t do.

By the time Echo got up the nerve to say anything, he’d probably be old! (Omega wouldn’t, but she tried not to think too hard about that particular fact.)

So, she began to scheme. Quietly.

She had the tactical advantage, after all.

#fic request #arc trooper echo #echo x you #echo x reader #echo #tbb echo #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb omega #echo x g/n reader #unbeta'd

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queen-ofsunflowers · 4 years ago

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DadWorth AU: Part 2 (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney)

More DadWorth AU! And here we finally get into the details of the games, so the parts that remain the same will be briefly touched upon. This is gonna be longer than the last post, so here we go!

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Turnabout Sisters

Things actually start a bit before the game does, and its with Kay at age fourteen and ready to start high school. (to me her birthday is in December, so she would be fourteen by the time the school year begins). And she has a certain one in mind.

I’ve mentioned before that Kay ends up idolizing Mia and follows her cases. Being surrounded by law for the past couple of years and wanting to help people (because Kay has yet to learn about the true Yatagarasu), Kay decides that she wants to be a defense attorney like Mia as opposed to a prosecutor like her dad and Miles (I am one of few people that I think subscribe to the idea of Defense Attorney!Kay... but that’s where we’re going here.)

Miles hestiates when he learns that Kay “wants to be a lawyer”, but after pressure from both Franziska and Gumshoe, he agrees to the idea. After studying and working hard, Kay ends up getting accepted to Themis Legal Academy in the defense attorney course -- something she hides from Edgeworth because she’s afraid that he’ll disapprove. But this is something that she really wants to do. i have an idea, shhh--

So, Kay’s first day of school just happens to fall on September 6. If anyone recognizes this date, it means Edgeworth is going to be home late, as he almost always is when he’s working on a new case. Because this is where we hit Turnabout Sisters.

Kay’s first day of school goes pretty well. It’s all getting to know you stuff, so it’s gonna be easy. Everyone tries to keep Kay from finding out about the details of Edgeworth’s newest case throughout the course of the day, but this fails because Miles doesn’t know that Kay looks up to Mia. So he gets very much confused when she gets upset upon learning Mia Fey had been murdered when he goes about their usual conversation about his latest case the next morning.

So, she’s upset and Miles has no idea why. On his side, he finds out the defense attorney for this case is Phoenix Wright. So he’s not doing so well because the past is coming back to bite him in the butt, and Kay goes to school feeling like crap. And things only start to get worse from there when two students in the prosecutors’ course decide its a good idea to mess with one of the students in the defense attorney course.

Enter Sebastian Debeste and Klavier Gavin. (i know klavier’s a good guy, but he still needs the character development to happen) They are not the nicest of people when Kay first encounters them. She’s down, and they decide its a good time to kick her while she’s down.

She confides in this to Ema, who gets super mad about this. She knows that she needs to tell an adult about it, so she somehow manages to tell Gumshoe about this (how they know each other, i’m not sure, probably happened after she met Kay.) And then Gumshoe goes to Miles while they’re investigating the next day and tells him that Kay’s been having a tough time adjusting (Ema had left out the bullying bit, since Kay had made her promise not to tell, thinking it would make things worse.)

Miles takes things into consideration a little bit (he’s too focused on his case), and promises to pick Kay up from school the next day if Gumshoe drops her off (an idea that came up from Gumshoe mentioning it would be a good idea to have someone she trusts there after a bad day.)

The date is September 9, Gumshoe drops Kay off at school as planned while Edgeworth goes to trial. And everything for both of them goes downhill from there. Edgeworth gets his ass handed to him by Phoenix and gets his first loss. Kay’s bullying continues. Too absorbed in his loss and the repercussions of it, Miles forgets about Kay entirely. Kay’s left outside of Themis, heartbroken and her trust in Miles barely even remains. After about an hour or so, she calls Badd to come and get her since she knows he’ll always be there if she needs him.

Miles hears Kay come home, and gets confused when she runs past him and up to her room. Badd explains everything and how Miles is an idiot.

So, Badd’s pissed at Edgeworth. Gumshoe gets mad at Miles when he finds out about what happened with Kay. von Karma is pissed at Edgeworth for losing at case to a rookie of all things. Kay’s upset with him because of what happened. Franziska’s mad at him on both fronts. The media is having a field day with his record being broken. It’s the second worst day of his life.

Turnabout Samurai

So, time goes on since the horrible, no-good very bad day. Miles is trying to deal with everything and everyone being mad at him. He’s becoming emotionally unavailable and Kay’s not helping at all since she’s pulled away from him. Since he forgot about her, she thinks he doesn’t care about her anymore. She just stays out of his way.

Miles is emotionally out of the window and does just what he needs to do to keep Kay happy or so he thinks. He’s too absorbed in his work and stressed out from his previous loss to try and reverse the damage caused to his reputation. Meanwhile, Kay’s bullying at Klavier’s and Sebastian’s hands continues. She doesn’t know what to do about it (even though Ema continually tells her to tell someone, Kay doesn’t want to make things worse.)

Things come to a head for her right around the same time that Edgeworth gets assigned the Steel Samurai case against Phoenix Wright. Kay’s absolutely done with Sebastian’s and Klavier’s treatment of her and remembering Ema’s words, she acts.

Kay ends up punching Klavier in the face when he pushes her over the edge, much to everyone’s surprise. They both get dragged down to the office by a teacher after the fight escalates a little (if it even can be called that, only physical blows traded was Kay’s punch.)

They’re in trouble, they start arguing over who started it, etc. The teacher (who I should note is Courte) puts an end to it, believing that they are both to blame for what happened -- Kay for retaliating the way she did and Klavier for antagonizing her in the first place. With the principal’s agreement, both of them are sent home for the day after their guardians are called.

For Kay, she immediately gets called back by Edgeworth while waiting. Edgeworth is in the middle of the Steel Samurai case, so he can’t do anything. He actually grows irritated over what Kay did, not listening to her explanation over what happened and only saying that they’ll talk about it when he gets home. Kay tries to find someone else who

Meanwhile, Courte takes Klavier aside and tries to find out what happened to cause the whole mess in the first place. Something got into his head that this was how it was supposed to be with defense attorneys and prosecutors (what this is or who that was that planted it is up for debate). He’s told that he’s wrong. They’re both on the same sides of the law, and they’re both there to find the truth -- not to fight about it until there’s a victor. They are allies. Not enemies.

And then Klavier comes back and overhears Kay’s conversation with Edgeworth with Courte’s words echoing in the back of his mind. Klavier’s just like... “okay, she may be a defense attorney, but i don’t think she’s that different from me at all”. Kristoph is a terrible guardian, but the only one that can take care of Klavier, and he understands a bit of what Kay is going through right now because of that.

And immediately feels like shit for how he treated her prior. So when Kay goes to apologize to him from ya know... punching him, it’s him that starts apologizing. And after a very, very long conversation, they decide to start over and Klavier invites Kay to eat lunch with him and Sebastian the next day and even offers to see if he can get her a ride home. Kay reluctantly agrees.

And so their friendship starts there.

It takes Sebastian a bit longer to warm up to Kay like Klavier has, but eventually takes to her when she doesn’t hesitate to point out the mistakes he makes. She corrects him without missing a beat. Kay’s not hesitant to call him out on bullshit when needed. As a result, Sebastian’s a bit smarter than compared to canon.

So, the chaotic duo of Ema and Kay grows to include Klavier and Sebastian. (ema has no reason to hate klavier yet, that’s not until phoenix is disbarred if my theory is right, but his attitude does tick her off sometimes).

Things are starting to get better for Kay, that’s for sure. Miles, on the other hand... not so much.

We all know what happens with him. Unnecessary feelings, questioning just about everything that you know and who you are, etc. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Kay, who wants to try and do something to help. What that is, though, she doesn’t know yet.

Turnabout Goodbyes

Winter break is coming up, and it’s pretty clear at this point that Sebastian and Klavier (the latter moreso than the former) are in tight with Kay and Ema. Kay wants to do something to fix her relationship with Edgeworth, leading to a suggestion of being honest with him about how she feels. If he listens (unlike their guardians), then that means things could turn around.

Kay declines this idea as the first thing they decide Kay should do is tell Edgeworth that she’s in the defense course. She’s still wary about what he might say or do if he finds out she’s going to be a defense attorney rather than the prosecutor he thinks. She does, eventually, agree to talk to him about how she feels. Confessing to being in defense does still linger in the back of her mind.

Christmas starts to draw nearer and nearer, and the two usually spend it together (a tradition born from the first one they had. As bad as that time of year is for Miles, he tries to not let it show for Kay’s sake. Kay doesn’t know about DL-6 and he wants to keep her as far away from it as possible.) So Kay is confused when he heads out Christmas Eve.

Kay has no idea who to turn to... except for one person. So, Christmas morning, while Gumshoe does his best when it comes to figuring out the truth with the investigation, Kay runs all the way down to Wright & Co. Law Offices. (Edgeworth had talked about Wright before in conversations that Kay overheard. That, and it was talked about that he was the only one who managed to take down Edgeworth at school.)

This is the first time that Kay meets Phoenix face-to-face, so he’s pretty confused about as to why a teenager is banging down his door on Christmas asking for help. But, he’s not someone whose going to say no, so he and Maya head down to the detention center with Kay.

Imagine their shock when they learn that the person Kay was talking about is Miles Edgeworth. Who immediately turns around and refuses their help. At all. Because he wants them as far away from this as possible.

Phoenix and Maya leave with Kay, and two out of three are not about to give up so easily. So, yeah. Kay’s finally part of the main storyline.

She helps Phoenix and Maya on their investigation and in the process does learn about DL-6. And her heart just breaks when she learns that her guardian went through all of this. Which is why Kay is relieved when Miles finally

In the meantime, Phoenix and Maya are trying to figure out what Kay’s connection to Edgeworth is since neither of them explained. And all they can get Gumshoe to say is that Kay is someone that knows Miles rather well. (something that’s supported with Kay knowing about Edgeworth’s fear of earthquakes.)

Kay’s in the audience during this case, primarily because Miles expresses that he doesn’t want her anywhere near von Karma (especially for something that would technically be her first trial). But she’s also not going to leave, so she just watches. Kay gets excited when Phoenix starts tearing von Karma’s case apart. (at this point, Kay only vaguely knows von Karma from Reminiscence. She knows that he’s Miles’s mentor and nothing more than that.)

She helps with the DL-6 investigation. The one thing I should note surprises her the most about it is the date which it takes place. Added angst for this whole case (primarily comes from my headcanon birthday for Kay) -- It’s revealed that Miles was careful on December 28th to not let Kay know what was going on with him since it was also her birthday.

Kay has only known Larry for two days, and he’s already giving her a headache (and making her question how Miles and Phoenix are friends with him a little bit). But she’s super excited that he was able to help in the end. She also finds the story about the class trial super sweet, remarking how it reminds her about how Edgeworth used to be like when they first met.

She ultimately is incredibly worried about Miles as the case goes on. Especially with how he thinks that he killed his father. The man Kay knows would never do that -- even on accident. She wants to help as much as possible, even if she can’t stand with the defense. She also wants to stick it to von Karma after everything he’s done. Especially after the confrontation in the evidence room, where Kay lets loose more information than she should, so von Karma (along with Maya and Phoenix) end up finding out about Kay’s relation to Miles.

Phoenix asks her about this later, and Kay explains everything. She begs him to get Miles a Not Guilty verdict since she doesn’t want to lose yet another father of hers. He promises her that he’ll try.

So we get to the final trial day. Kay thinks that Phoenix calling the parrot as a witness is one of the most hilarious things ever later on, but in the moment, she thinks he’s gone crazy, but it works. Miles is declared innocent and she couldn’t be happier... until he flips the switch and confesses to DL-6 after von Karma brings up

Kay gets so mad and upset about this. She corners him in the defendant’s lobby, which is not a pleasant conversation. She knows that Miles is innocent. They’ve been fighting this whole time and he’s just willing to give up that easily? Kay feels like she’s being left behind all over again. She doesn’t understand why Miles won’t “believe in me, who believe in you”. And she storms out. So there’s a bit more guilt on Miles’s shoulders, and a small bit of incentive for him to actually get a not guilty.

So, it cuts to Kay in the hallway making her way back to the gallery. She’s relaying to what’s going on to her friends over a text conversation (understandably, they’re all pissed) when she bumps into someone on her way back.

Yeah... Kay runs into von Karma again. And knowing what she does about him, Kay’s just fucking pissed. There’s a confrontation between the two where Kay comes to understand why Miles is so afraid of this man. He puts an immense amount of fear into her. She just wants to get away.

Kay hits his shoulder by accident in the process and notices the amount of pain it causes him after she runs off. So, long story short, Kay manages to figure out where the second bullet is before Phoenix does, and the trial concludes similar to how it does in canon, but with Kay’s intervention. She’s beyond relieved that Miles is free and von Karma is arrested.

She also feels horrible about yelling, and decides to take her friends’ advice to heart. She almost lost Miles once, and if that ever happens again, she wants him to know the whole truth.

The first thing Kay does after Miles is declared innocent is confess everything to Miles. She’s stammering and nervous and is barely through it when Miles cuts her off because he already knows Kay’s studying to be a defense attorney. She’s not as slick as she thinks, Gumshoe had mentioned multiple times that Phoenix could be someone Kay could learn a lot from, etc. That, and he is Kay’s guardian. He keeps in contact with the school.

He’s not disappointed in her either, which is the one fear that Kay had. He understands not following in your father’s footsteps. If it makes her happy, then that’s fine with him. He is surprised that she finally told him the truth, though. Kay promises not to keep anymore secrets from him. She wants to trust him again.

Things end well between them... as well as they could be after that whole mess, but their relationship is steadily on the mend and all is right with the world.

...until February.

Rise From the Ashes

IF YOU ALL REMEMBER SOMETHING THAT I MENTIONED IN PART 1, THEN YOU KNOW THAT THIS CASE IS GOING TO GET WORSE FOR ONE MILES EDGEWORTH THAN IT ALREADY IS.

Kay gets dragged into this one by Ema when she comes by in tears over Lana getting arrested. Kay mentions what happened back in December and says that Phoenix might be able to help, so Ema drags her down there. Phoenix is responsible for two teenagers rather than one. Again.

let’s just pretend that they don’t have school for whatever reason

Not much changes other than Kay’s involvement in SL-9. People keep bringing up the fact that Ema was not alone. And Kay’s thief skills starting to show up a little bit. Again, she won’t discover the truth about the Yatagarasu until later down the line.

She also wants to kick Gant in the shin more and more as the case progresses.

When it gets to the point where they find out that Miles is going to resign,

It’s only during the last day of the trial that Phoenix (and by extension, everyone else but Maya) finds out about Miles’s connection to Kay when he brings up the fact that there was another witness present when Ema was attacked. And Miles isn’t able to hide who it is any longer.

So, Kay has to testify. And it’s not fun. It all ends with her asking them to leave Edgeworth alone, since he didn’t do anything wrong (or he didn’t know that he was doing anything wrong -- something that is later provable.) So, this case is full of family feels, and Phoenix feels like shit for having to do this.

But in the end, Kay’s memory is a bit more clearer than Ema’s, which leads to Gant’s arrest being a bit easier. Ema still leaves the country to study forensics in Europe, and there’s a tearful goodbye and promises to stay in touch between her and her friends. But the impact that the case leaves on Edgeworth does not change. He feels like he isn’t fit anymore -- as a prosecutor or as a guardian for Kay since he couldn’t protect her.

So, the night of February 25, Kay’s woken up in the middle of the night by Miles. She’s half-asleep, and really doesn’t understand what he’s saying at the moment. He’s saying that he has to leave for a while, and tells her that he cares about her. She’s just like “okay” and ends up falling back asleep.

The next morning, Kay wakes up and the house is just about empty. She can’t find Miles anywhere. She just thinks that he’s busy with a new case that needed him in the office early, or they needed him to help clear up what happened yesterday or something, so she doesn’t think much of it.

That is until Gumshoe picks her up from school early. He never does this. No one really does this without warning, like if its a doctor’s or dentist appointment or something.

Her entire world falls apart when he tells her about the note that they found on Edgeworth’s desk that morning.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death.

And that ends Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. Kay doesn’t interact with the story all that much, but we already have Egdeworth’s perspective on the game for the most part. A lot of this takes place from Kay’s POV... including Justice for All. Which I have some... interesting things in mind for.

#ace attorney #ace attorney au #miles edgeworth #kay faraday #ema skye #phoenix wright #maya fey #dick gumshoe #klavier gavin #sebastian debeste #manfred von karma #queen speaks #dadworth au #kay edgeworth au

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antiadvil · 4 years ago

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Somebody to Love

summary: Dan and Phil’s first meeting in 2009, loosely inspired by the song Somebody to Love by Queen

rating: PG13

wc: ~3k

notes: for the @phandomreversebang! art provided by @anironsidh and betad by @awkwardest-sam. writing this fic was... a journey, and they were a really great and supportive team the whole time and I really appreciate them <3

read under the cut or on ao3

Dan’s train was running late, and he couldn’t stop his anxiety from running absolutely wild. He hadn’t missed it, had he? Maybe it had showed up early and left before he got there. Maybe it had showed up while he wasn’t paying attention and left already. Maybe it had-

The train pulled into the station. Dan relaxed his shoulders. He wasn’t going to miss his train. He managed to stay calm for a few minutes after he boarded until a sudden new thought hit him.

What if he missed his stop?

He groaned, letting his head drop into his arms. He couldn’t even get a ten minute break from his ridiculous thoughts.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on something else. To try to distract himself, he pulled out his pen and notebook to work on a few video scripts.

He had finally gotten into a groove, allowing himself to forget his worries, when the train lurched as it approached its first stop, sending Dan’s pen and notebook spilling to the floor. He picked up the notebook, but his pen had already slid out of sight.

Great. Looks like he was going to have to find some other way of passing the remaining two and a half hours of his train ride.

He stared out the window, trying to calm his nerves, but his leg was bouncing up and down almost uncontrollably. He put his hand on his knee, forcing it down.

It was hard to believe that after months of nonstop texting and skyping, he was about to meet the boy from his computer screen in person. He still remembered the first time they had spoken, when he had finally gotten up the courage to message that cool youtuber on twitter.

He had sent him a message about a Queen song, and was shocked to receive a reply. He still was a little bit shocked every time Phil messaged him. Every time, he thought Phil would get tired of him. Every time, Phil kept coming back.

They had talked about their favorite band for hours that night. Then the conversation had shifted to themselves, their families, their hopes and dreams.

They still talked about music sometimes. It was a nice excuse to be in constant contact.

His fingers itched to text Phil, the way they always did when he was anxious, but he and Phil had been trying to stick to Skype lately. Last month’s phone bill had not been fun to pay. He shouldn’t text Phil until he arrived, to tell him where he was so they could meet.

His leg was bouncing again. He sighed in frustration, wishing he hadn’t lost his pen.

He bought a magazine to flip through. It was surprisingly entertaining. He managed to lose himself in it for nearly half an hour before he checked the time again.

Fuck the phone bill. Dan gave in and pulled out his phone. nervous (^_^;), he sent.

good, Phil sent back nearly instantly.

good?

im nervous too and im not allowed to be the only one

Dan laughed. His phone buzzed again

in a few hours we can be nervous 2gether

Dan couldn’t think of anything to send in response to that other than a smiley face.

now go away u spork remember ur phone bill

Dan let a smile break across his face. Phil did that to him frequently. fine, Dan sent quickly.

He returned to his magazine, calmer this time. It was silly to be so worried. It was just Phil. Phil, who he had known for months now. Phil, who he wanted to meet. Phil, who wanted to meet him.

Everything was going to be alright.

When his train arrived in the station, Dan climbed out, letting his eyes search for Phil. Quickly, they landed on a tall, pale boy with dark hair wearing a green plaid shirt. “Phil!” he shouted.

The boy brightened, looking to find the source of the noise. “Dan!”

“Phil,” Dan said again, running towards him, and the other boy was running too, and suddenly they were in each other’s arms, finally, after all these months of imagining.

Phil was holding Dan tighter than he’d ever been held, but it didn’t hurt. It was one of the nicest things Dan had ever felt.

After what felt like an eternity, Phil pulled back. “How was the train ride?”

“Good,” Dan said, his smile so wide he thought his face might split in two. “How was your bus ride?”

“Someone recognized me,” Phil pouted.

Dan laughed. “You’re a proper celebrity now.”

“I don’t want to be a proper celebrity,” Phil whined.

“You’d be a good celebrity.”

“How is someone a good celebrity?”

Dan shrugged. “You’re cute.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” Dan giggled, though he hadn’t meant to. It was silly, he thought, a nineteen year old giggling over a boy.

Phil was smiling, too, though, and a bit of pink was showing through his pale skin on his cheeks, so he must not mind.

“Where to first?” Dan asked.

“Starbucks,” Phil said, bouncing up and down. “Starbucks, Dan, we have to-”

Dan laughed. “You’re such a sugar fiend.”

“C’mon!” Phil tugged at his hand.

Dan looked down at their hands in shock, surprised to find them tangled together.

“Sorry,” Phil said sheepishly, dropping Dan’s hand.

Dan wiped his hand on his jeans, then immediately cursed himself. He didn’t want Phil to think it was because of him, his hand was just sweaty. “No, you’re good- um.”

“Yeah. No. We’re in public, I should have-” Phil stuffed his hands into his pockets. “So, uh, Starbucks?”

“Starbucks,” Dan agreed, gesturing for Phil to lead the way.

“Right,” Phil said, heading down the street. Dan followed. “What are you planning to get?”

Dan shrugged. “Whatever you get. You’re the expert.”

“Well, I haven’t actually decided what I’m getting yet,” Phil explained.

“Oh really? What are the frontrunners?” Dan asked.

Phil spent the rest of their walk explaining his various drink options, each sugarier than the last. “So I think maybe the caramel macchiato. Maybe? I can’t decide.”

Dan interrupted before Phil could go through his list again from the beginning. “You should get the caramel macchiato.”

“You think so?”

“I think so,” Dan confirmed, opening the door to the starbucks.

Phil bought their coffees, over Dan’s protests. “You’re the one who came to visit me,” he said. “Let me do this for you.”

Dan gave in. “I’ll buy you coffee if you ever come to Reading.”

“Deal.” Phil took a long sip of his coffee and let out a long, relieved breath afterwards. “So good.”

“The caffeine or the sugar?”

“Yes,” Phil said.

Dan took a sip of his own drink. It was good. Maybe not as good as Phil thought it was, but good.

“I’m trying to cut back on coffee,” Phil said mournfully. “I only had three cups this morning.”

Dan snorted. “Only three?”

“Yes.” Phil stared glumly at his already half empty cup of coffee.

Dan shook his head in mock sympathy. “You poor thing.”

Phil finished his coffee with disturbing speed. Dan did his best to keep up, but to avoid burning his tongue, he had to finish about ten minutes after Phil.

Phil’s tongue must be nearly burned off from how quickly he had

Dan should stop thinking about Phil’s tongue.

“Where do you want to go now?” Phil asked, saving Dan’s mind from going to some places it really shouldn’t be going right now.

“Can we just walk around for a bit?” Dan asked.

“Sure!” Phil was bouncing on his toes, already ready to move.

Dan wondered if he was as thrumming with nervous energy as Dan was. “Lead the way, then.”

Phil knew his way through Manchester better than he let on, pointing out a few shops and landmarks he recognized along their walk. “There’s so much to do here. We’ll have to come back sometime.”

Dan absentmindedly agreed. It was nice, the thought that this would happen again. That he could come back. That Phil didn’t seem to hate him yet.

Dan almost missed the apple store when they walked past, but he saw it out of the corner of his eye and stopped. “Wait,” he said, “I want to post a selfie.”

“Ooh,” Phil said. “Good idea.” He opened the door and gestured for Dan to follow him.

They got lucky when they were immediately able to snag a free laptop. Phil opened photobooth and messed with his hair in the camera. Dan did his best to straighten out his hair, and struck a pose.

Phil put on a (ridiculous) facial expression and took a photo.

Dan stepped up to take a look. “Wait,” he said, stepping back. “My hair looks wrong. Can we retake it?”

Phil rolled his eyes, but stepped back into his pose to take a new picture.

About 20 pictures later, they had finally taken one Dan was satisfied with. He logged into his dailybooth account quickly, doing his best to ignore the line of people growing behind him.

“There,” he said, pressing post and logging out of his account.

He did his best not to make eye contact with anyone in the line behind them as they left the apple store.

They found a bench in a nearby park and spent the next few hours people watching, making up stories about the people they saw.

“She’s in an unhappy marriage,” Dan whispered. “She’s having an affair with him.” He pointed to the man across the playground from her, where her daughter was playing.

Phil took a bite of the sandwich he had bought from a nearby cafe. “Does her daughter know?”

“Of course not, Phil. She’s like, five.”

“Just hoping for maximum drama,” Phil said around another mouthful of sandwich.

Dan grimaced. “Stop chewing with your mouth open. It’s gross.”

Phil swallowed. “Your mum’s gross.”

Dan hit Phil on the back. “Take that back.”

“You first.”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” Phil looked almost sad.

Dan snorted. “Let’s disagree to disagree.”

“How does that work?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t put much thought into it yet.”

Phil laughed, taking the last bite out of his sandwich and brushing a few crumbs out of his lap.

Dan checked the time. “Is there anything else you want to do before we go back to your place?”

“Well,” Phil said. “I, uh. Have a reservation for after dinner.”

“A reservation?” Dan looked down at his clothes. He hoped it wasn’t too nice.

“The sky bar,” Phil said. “I don’t know if you know it, I’m sorry, I-”

Phil looked so anxious. “No,” Dan said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “It’s fine, just… unexpected.”

Phil smiled in relief. “We should get going if we’re going to make it on time.”

When they got to the sky bar, Dan looked at the menu and tried not to panic at the prices.

“I’ll pay,” Phil said quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

That only made things slightly better.

Phil must have noticed that the worry didn’t fall from his face, because he tried to reassure Dan again. “Really, it’s fine. Get whatever you want.”

Dan nodded, but he scanned the menu for the cheapest items and ordered those anyway. Phil had just graduated uni; he wasn’t exactly rolling in money, and Dan didn’t want to feel like any more of a burden on him than he already did.

It didn’t matter. His drink tasted incredible.

“Is it alright?” Phil asked, still anxious.

“It’s perfect,” Dan said. It was. The sun was beginning to set, and the view from this high up was beautiful. The view next to him was even prettier.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring out the windows and watching the sun bathe everything in a warm, golden glow.

Dan reached for Phil’s hand under the table. Phil reached back.

***

It was dark when they boarded the bus back to Rossendale. The bus was nearly empty, but they chose two seats in the back, as far away from everyone else as possible.

“Busses are weird.” Dan yawned.

Phil giggled. “It’s not even late. Are you tired?”

Dan glared. “Shut up.”

Phil stuck out his tongue. “Make me.”

Dan hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Shut up,” he managed to squeak out.

Phil sat back in his seat, smiling in satisfaction.

“Shut up,” Dan whined, poking him.

“You sound like a broken record. Do you say anything other than shut up?”

“Shut-” Dan stopped. “Yes,” he insisted.

Phil smirked. “Prove it.”

“I’ve said so many things other than shut up today.”

Phil shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Dan leaned back into his seat, trying to project confidence.

Phil shrugged again. “I believe you,” he said, with the air of someone who absolutely did not believe the person they were talking to.

Dan sighed, and changed the subject. “How long is the ride?”

“About half an hour, hopefully,” Phil said.

His train ride had been much longer than that. He could survive this. Especially with Phil with him.

“I met a boy on the train once, you know,” Phil said, startling Dan out of his thoughts.

Dan looked up, slightly confused. Why was Phil telling him about some other boy? “You did?”

“Yeah,” Phil laughed. “He was really cute, too. We spent the whole train ride talking, and it turned out he actually lived really close by. This was when I was in uni. But anyway, at the end, he asked me for my number, so I gave it to him, and then-” Phil paused to hide his face.

“Then what?” Dan asked, perplexed.

“I texted him,” Phil said, muffled.

“What’d you say?”

“I asked him if he was asking me out,” Phil said, still with his face hidden in his arms.

“Was he?” Dan asked, though he suspected the answer by now.

“No,” Phil whined, lifting his head up. “He wasn’t. He was straight.”

Dan couldn’t help a horrified giggle.

“It’s not funny,” Phil said, though a smile was starting to peek through his carefully composed sulk.

Dan wanted to stop laughing, he really did, but he just couldn’t. His giggle grew until it was the dumb hyena laugh he always felt self-conscious of, but with Phil sitting next to him, he didn’t mind.

Phil was starting to laugh a little bit too. He buried his head in Dan’s shoulder to hide it. “You’re the worst.” He landed a half-hearted punch on Dan’s ribs.

Dan just laughed harder. “That’s awful, oh my god.”

“So stop laughing!” Phil whined.

Dan finally managed to quiet his laugh. “It’s a good thing, though, really. Because now you have me instead of stupid bus boy.”

“You’re so much better than stupid bus boy,” Phil whispered, reaching for Dan’s hand to give it a quick, reassuring squeeze.

The warmth of his hands lingered even after they were gone.

***

Phil’s house was dark and quiet when they finally arrived. Dan didn’t know what else he had expected. Phil’s parents weren’t home; that was the whole reason he was visiting right now.

Dan declined politely when Phil asked if he wanted a full house tour, instead choosing to dump his backpack on Phil’s bedroom floor without asking first. He thought, halfway through doing it, that maybe he should have checked first, but Phil didn’t seem to mind, so he just left it.

Phil’s bedroom looked different than it did on Skype. Less grainy.

Phil dropped himself onto his bed, gesturing for Dan to follow him. “Wanna play some music?”

“Sure,” Dan said, sitting down next to Phil. “Queen, probably, it’s the least we can do to thank them for bringing us together.”

Phil laughed. “Not because they’re good?”

“No. Just because gay.”

“Freddie Mercury would be proud,” Phil said.

“He probably would be,” Dan admitted.

“What song?”

Dan thought about it a bit, chewing at the inside of his lip. “Somebody To Love,” he finally said.

Phil grinned. “Excellent choice.”

“Thank you,” Dan said, basking in the glow of Phil’s approval as the piano started playing. “I can play this on piano, you know.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. I can play most Queen songs.”

Phil tilted his head. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“But you don’t have a keyboard.”

Phil tilted his head. “Guess I’ll have to visit you sometime.”

Dan couldn’t help the nervous thrill that ran through his stomach. “A shame, really. You have no other option.”

“I’ll survive.”

Dan hummed along to the chorus.

Phil poked him. “Just humming? Coward.”

Dan startled. “What?”

“I want to hear you sing.” Phil’s eyes were twinkling with the slightest bit of mischief.

“No. Absolutely not.” Dan crossed his arms.

“Fine,” Phil said. “I guess I’m going to have to sing myself.”

“That’s almost worse,” Dan said.

Phil pouted. “I’m a great singer.”

“I’m sure.”

Phil began to sing along, his voice warbling.

“Shush,” Dan said. “I want to hear Freddie Mercury.”

Phil sighed, but switched to dramatically lip syncing instead.

“Much better,” Dan said, trying to control his facial expression so Phil couldn’t tell that he was being a little bit cute right now.

Phil’s performance was so over the top it was honestly funny, until he reached the end of the song. He sang along, softly this time, looking directly at Dan in a way that gave him goosebumps.

Dan couldn’t help but look away.

“How was my performance?” Phil asked.

“It was alright,” Dan said, leaning back on his elbows.

“Oh yeah?”

Dan sat back up. “Not too relatable, though.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve already found somebody to love,” Dan said, smiling at Phil.

“Really,” Phil said, teasing. “Who?”

Dan felt his cheeks warm. “You probably don’t know him. He goes to a different school,” he managed.

Phil laughed. “I like you too.”

Dan didn’t think it was even possible for his cheeks to be any warmer. “I guess you’re kind of cool too.”

“Shut up,” Phil said, pulling Dan closer.

“Make me,” Dan said.

“Okay,” Phil said, promptly kissing him.

Dan shut up for quite a while after that.

#my writing #phanfic #phanfiction #prb #2009!phan

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onthepageoftears · 4 years ago

Text

Hold Them Closer ~ Ch.13 [Jaskier x assassin!reader] || Witcher

A/N: two chapters left!!! I love writing this series omg this is so sad :,( also im actually really proud of this chapter so lemme know what you thought!!

Your kind words and reviews mean a lot to me, so please don’t afraid to leave a message/comment!

Summary: Love always conquers fear.

Warnings: language, ANGST!!!, jaskier pov, lots of loving but lots of sadness, mentions of blood/killing/death, angst angst angst but comfort!!

Words: 2,530

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The darkness fell over the small town in Velen gradually as Jaskier ventured the wide paths. He hummed to himself with a slight pep in his step, nodding to any folks who ventured out of their homes at this time of night. Holding tightly onto the fresh meal he gotten from a nearby shop, he made his way into the fairly small inn, greeting the innkeeper despite her grumpy stature.

Jaskier continued on, the smile on his face never faltering. He was trying, as best he could, to stay positive. He always did, always tried, but he found it especially important now. You needed positivity and someone to back you up. You needed someone to keep you as strong as you normally were — someone to hold you up when you couldn’t hold yourself.

Jaskier knew you were strong. Of course he did. It was one of the many things he loved about you. Even then, he knew everyone had their weaknesses. Everyone was a little bit stubborn about those weaknesses — you especially so.

So Jaskier did what he could. He wanted you to know you weren’t alone, and that you could get through this. You would get through this. As always.

He was thinking of you as he walked down the hallway, the fresh dinner he got for you in his hands. He was thinking of you as he used his key to open the door, and he was thinking of you when he opened it and you weren’t there.

Jaskier frowned. You had been here for the past couple of days, standing at the same window with that frown sewn onto your face. And now you were gone.

At first, Jaskier felt relieved. Maybe you had finally gone to confront your mother, as you had always set out to do. Maybe you realized that your mother would welcome you with open arms, that she wouldn’t push you away like you feared she would.

After a moment, though, Jaskier faltered. Something felt off. You were independent, sure — but something inside Jaskier told him you wouldn’t leave without telling him. If anything, he would be the first person you told about finally confronting your mother.

Leaving the fresh meal on the table of your shared room, Jaskier made his way to the witcher’s room just down the hall.

He shoved the extra key Geralt left him in the lock, swinging it open with no hesitation.

Geralt was sitting at his table, sharpening his steel sword.

“Do you knock?”

Jaskier ignored him, concern beginning to show on his face. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Geralt hesitated, blinking at the bard in front of him. “No.”

“Hm.” Jaskier closed the door almost as quickly as it was opened, leaving a confused Geralt with nothing but silence.

Jaskier’s stomach turned. He stood outside of Geralt’s room, keys in his hand. Something was off. Something was definitely off.

Within an instant, the bard made his way back down the hallway and out the front door of the inn, this time ignoring the grumpy innkeeper as much as she ignored him. He walked out into the darkness, not feeling nearly as peppy as he did before. The cold air made him shiver as stood outside, his head swiveling to look around.

His eyes fell on Roach, who was dozing off in front of the post he was attached to — but Jaskier’s eyes widened at the absence of another.

“Where did you go?” He asked no one in particular. He wasn’t even sure if he meant you, or Buttercup, or both — but now that he knew Buttercup was gone, his uneasiness turned to panic.

Jaskier began rushing through the village. He didn’t know what he was looking for; it wasn’t terribly late, but not many people walked the streets. Jaskier knew that if you took Buttercup you wouldn’t be in the village — still, he told himself he was looking for clues, for some reason why you would leave. It would be helpless for him and Geralt to go riding around without a clue where they were going, so instead of completely panicking, he tried to think logically.

You wouldn’t just up and leave without a place to be. You certainly wouldn’t go back to talk to Arnet, who Jaskier could tell made your blood boil. You had already found your mother anyway, so visiting Arnet was useless. And there was nowhere else you could go that would be connected to your mother, since your mother was already here.

Jaskier stopped next to a torch, his face falling into a frown. You weren’t scared easily, but perhaps confrontation wasn’t easy for you. The last time you confronted someone, Jaskier had gotten himself stabbed. In your perspective, any time you tried to do something for yourself, it got someone hurt.

Jaskier sighed, mentally kicking himself. No wonder you were so afraid of speaking with your mother. You were strong, you were brave, but that didn’t mean you weren’t afraid. Your past was unforgiving, so why would your mother be?

Of course, Jaskier knew that wasn’t true. Anyone would be lucky to know you, to love you. He knew he was. But now he understood the way you were probably thinking — and that made his heart fall, just at the thought of you being alone, dealing with all of these thoughts right now.

He had to find you, and soon.

Jaskier kept going, this time letting mind guide him rather than his feet. If he were you, he would want to be distracted. He would want to use his fear and channel it into anger. So, he went towards the village notice board.

He was surprised to get there and see a familiar face.

“What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than he intended, but Theo just rolled her eyes.

“This is my village. What are you doing here?”

Her sarcasm barely phased Jaskier �� instead, his eyes fell on something in her hands.

It was a knife. Your knife.

“Where did you get that?”

Theo rolled her eyes again, this time turning to Jaskier. In the darkness, she could see how white his face had gotten — he was scared. Instead of teasing, she shrugged.

“I found it on the board. Right there.” Theo pointed with your knife, and Jaskier walked up to the board. Sure enough, right in the middle of one of the notices, there was a stab mark. Jaskier ripped the parchment from the board, his eyes searching the page with his jaw slack.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He spoke, not realizing he said it out loud.

“What’s going on? This knife is your friend’s, right?”

Jaskier blinked, almost forgetting Theo was there. The normal condescending tone she had was gone, replaced by actual…worry. He looked down at the girl, who suddenly looked a lot more mature than before.

He shook the thought away, focusing on Theo once more. “Y/N. You remember Y/N?”

“How could I forget an ex-assassin?” She joked, but when Jaskier didn’t respond, her smirk fell. “Is Y/N in trouble?”

“Not exactly.”

Jaskier stared at the space above Theo’s head, his mind racing. You definitely weren’t in trouble the way Theo thought you were. The post mentioned bandits, and though he was still worried, he knew you would be able to fight your way out of it. Still, he was more concerned about how you were mentally — stubborn, sure, but you were never the nicest to yourself.

With a slight nod, Jaskier settled his eyes back on Theo. “I need your horse.”

“What?”

“We need to find Y/N, and soon. So I need your horse.”

“What about that other dude with the horse? The bulky one?”

She had a point. Jaskier could get Geralt to help him, which would probably be easier. But that meant he would have to go back to the inn, brief Geralt on what he knew (including the fact that your mother was also Theo’s mother — which was enough to explain on its own), and beg him to ride on Roach. It would only take more time.

Jaskier rolled his eyes this time, waving his hands dramatically. “Do you want to help me or not?”

Theo opened and closed her mouth, for once at a loss for words. Finally, she rolled her eyes and mumbled, “My mom is going to kill me.”

—

Jaskier held tightly onto the horse below him, squinting in the increasingly dark night. Theo sat in front of him, leaning forward on her horse (that she wouldn’t tell him the name of, or let him ride). Despite him letting her take control of the horse — him knowing that she was too stubborn to let him do anything of the sort — Jaskier yelled to her almost constantly, asking where they were going and if they were any closer than they were two seconds ago. If Theo was annoyed, she didn’t show it. She simply didn’t respond to him, or responded by commanding the horse to go faster.

While the two traveled through the darkness, Jaskier suddenly became quiet. Instead of bothering Theo with his incessant questions, he studied the back of her head — this girl, the one he had practically just met…she was your sister. And now that he knew it, he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before. You were raised under very different circumstances, sure. But even in the slightest ways — the scrunch of her nose, the stubborn nature, the mocking tones; it was like you two had grown up under the same roof. Jaskier reckoned that once you talked to your mother, the three of you would get along very, very well.

And could he see himself in that group? He hadn’t seen his own family in quite some time, not since he went off to follow his dreams of being a bard. And since then, since gaining some sort of a name and, more recently, meeting you — well, to him, you were all the family he needed. He loved his folks, but having love through blood was never the same as meeting a stranger and learning to love them. Especially when that stranger originally tried to kill you.

“It’s right down here!” Theo yelled, making Jaskier blink at the back of her head. His heart thumped in his chest even more-so than before. He knew you were fine. You had to be. But still, he thought the worst.

Theo didn’t bother stopping the horse, instead slowing down slightly when she made it into the narrow pathway. Squinting, Jaskier noticed what looked like a small source of light — a fire. It was dying down now, but it was certainly there.

Theo saw it too, whispering for her horse to gallop in that direction. Jaskier kept his eyes open, so much so that they began to water. He finally blinked when he noticed the first body.

Even in the darkness, it was a gruesome sight. Jaskier could tell there were pools of blood covering the dirt area, surrounding bodies that have been dead for quite some time. He tried counting them: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Five bandits. Well, five dead bandits.

And then there you were, in the middle of it all. You were hunched over, staring at your hands in the small illumination from the fire. Theo’s horse pulled to a stop, allowing Jaskier to slide from its back. He gave Theo a silent look, one that told her to stay where she was. In some part of him, he wished he could stay there too. He wasn’t scared of you, no, he was…well, he didn’t want to see you like this. So…broken. It had happened before, with Joneta. The way you were silent for so long, how your eyes glazed over. The blood coating your skin — perhaps that’s what you were thinking of as well. Perhaps that made it so, so much worse for you.

Finally, Jaskier walked closer. “Y/N?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. Instead, as he kneeled down in front of you, he heard your near-silent sobs. It didn’t sound like you were hiding them, but rather you had been sobbing for so long that your voice was hoarse. “Oh, love.”

Jaskier hugged you with every ounce of love he had, every ounce that he could possibly give, not even caring that you were stiff in his arms. He could feel you trembling, feel you sob into his chest, this time a little louder. You were in a trance, it seemed, until he got there. You were stuck in your past, and Jaskier was your present. He was your future.

Jaskier pulled away, taking your face in his hands. His eyes searched it, studied it, while trying to wipe away at some of the dried blood. “Are you hurt?”

“You should leave.”

Jaskier faltered, but quickly recovered. “And why would I do that?”

You took a moment to speak, lips trembling. “Leave.”

Jaskier winced at the crack in your voice, at the fresh tear that rolled down your cheek and washed some blood with it. He could tell you wanted to say more, or that you didn’t want to say anything at all.

Jaskier kept your face in his hands, his eyes locked on yours, “I am never going to leave you. Ever. Not until I choke on my last dying breath — and even then, I will damn any god who wants to take me away from you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. His eyes, so tender as they gazed into your own. A face you had grown to love, so, so much.

Jaskier waited, not daring to take his gaze from yours. And in that time, he watched you frown, and close your eyes, and take a sharp breath in.

“What if she doesn’t want me?”

Jaskier blinked, a frown forming on his face as he looked at your own. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Once he found the right words, he lifted your head again, making you open your eyes.

Softly, he spoke. “If she doesn’t want you, she doesn’t deserve you, love.”

Again, you blinked at him. Jaskier didn’t falter, didn’t look away. And because of that, you gripped the hands that were on your face and kissed him. Jaskier was surprised, to say the least. He could taste your tears on his lips, your desperation. But most importantly, he felt your utter and absolute love. Your devotion. And as you pressed yourself into him, not caring about Theo waiting on her horse, or the bodies around you, not caring about your fears or hatred or past — Jaskier swore his heart grew twelve sizes bigger. You, who never liked to show your affections in front of people. You, who didn’t like being vulnerable, who even behind closed doors still hesitated before giving him a kiss — you fully welcomed Jaskier here, fully opened up to him. You had trusted him before, even wholeheartedly — but this was…different.

Jaskier knew he was completely taken by you. Completely yours. And he was more than happy to be.

———————————————————————————————————

AHH AHH AHHHHH LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS!!

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readerinsertfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Code: Red

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

A/N: @yenanng keeps on creating wonderful pieces of art that makes me want to write Ikesen Cyberpunk. We’re continuing to explore Atlantis with Masamune, this time with Mitsunari at his side. I also managed to introduce reader, poor reader.

Appeal |

As a penal colony Atlantis has an extensive security system that protects the inhabitants of the city, but also is meant to keep the people inside under control. The Citizen Credit System being the most obvious example of crowd control. However, there are more systems in place, noticeable or not. One of them is largely unseen and most of the time barely noticed unless chaos breaks out. It is the very last security measure that Atlantis has and with that also the toughest. To the citizens of Atlantis, first generation and those born within the city the system is merely known as: Code: Red, for when this security system is triggered the usually blue casted city, bathing in neon light, becomes a bright and alarming red colour. It is also the moment in which the entire city shuts down, forcing all citizens back to their homes as nothing is accessible anymore.

Code: Red was about to be triggered.

With Masamune standing watch over the entrance of Atlantis, eyes focused on the security guards unloading the goods, there was someone hard at work underneath all these layers of security to bring the man the sign he needed.

“Mitsunari?” Masamune growled, his voice impatient as he was eager to enter into action. The one-eyed daredevil was not made for idleness and waiting, but he had to if he wanted this plan to succeed. After all, it was a critical one.

“I’m in!” a voice chirps, sweet and light in tone. It contradicted the dark nature of the task at hands, but it was so very fitting to the man from whom it came. Mitsunari Ishida was someone one would never expect in the city of Atlantis, and perhaps that would have been true if it wasn’t for his parents. As a true second-generation Atlantis inhabitant Mitsunari knew no better than that the penal city was his cage and home.

“Just give me a bit more,” Mitsunari’s voice sounded through Masamune’s helmet. If one was to look at the other side of the line they would see a young man tapping away happily at flashing screens and lines of codes that he seemed to comprehend with perfect understanding and speedy interpretation. It helped that he was familiar with the screens pulled, having reviewed them beforehand for an efficient execution, but of course with an security system this advanced there were always bound to be complications that even took Mitsunari some time to break through.

And just as Masamune was to count down the seconds in which he would speed off anyway, sign or no sign, a blaring alarm sounded through the city. The screens that usually displayed the latest news, or other information that interested the populace turned black before angry red letters scrolled past informing the citizens on the street that the city was about to shut down. The traffic on the road all found themselves blocked, as traffic lights turned red and the blockades pulled themselves up. Masamune could see the display of his vehicle also flash an angry red, though unlike the rest of the city his would still drive despite the interruption.

Atlantis was cast in red, the security of the city running around to coordinate the people, whilst the guards that had been unloading the goods had to stop their job and seal everything off until further instructions.

This was Masamune’s sign, and in his ears he could hear Mitsunari once more cheer in that jovial tone; “done!”

A wicked grin splashed across Masamune’s face as he revved up his motor, racing down from the height that he had been watching from as he could hear a beeping and blinking from the other side of the communication, the hum of the anti-gravity shield hard at work underneath his vehicle to catch the reckless fall.

“Good luck, mr. Masamune!”

The male could only chuckle at the politeness of the hacker, but it endeared him, just as it amused him to hear Ieyasu and Hideyoshi nag about the dangers he put himself through.

The guards were still in disarray, some of them standing watch surrounding the goods that had just entered, the other half stuck in the cubicle with their ankles still in the water. Code: Red had caused the doors of Atlantis to shut off as well, meaning that the water suction to the elevators was paused and thus disabling the doors from opening.

Child’s play, honestly.

As the guards outside rounded up, trying to secure the tank in which they had their goods stored Masamune swept in, circling around the guards who in a startle all left their jobs unattended as the attention drifted towards the madlad that had raced right into their hands.

“You shouldn’t be here!” one of the guards pointed out the obvious, “immediately return to the city and get home, it is not safe!”

The order was laughable to Masamune who geared up his motor once more, the sound roaring through the bleating alarm.

“Yet here I’m. I suppose that makes me the danger, not?” the one eyed dragon responded, his voice dropping an octave as he then drove right at them, towards the truck.

On instinct the guards jumped to the side, abandoning their precious goods brought in, forgetting their post as they valued their lives. The weapons were all but forgotten until Masamune produced one of his own. From the side of his arm a blade flipped out, the sharp end of it glowing up a bright blue contrasting the red shade in which they found themselves.

Easily Masamune landed on top of the truck, leaping off his motor as he stared down at the guards surrounding him below, most of them taking aim with their guns. It was exactly the thrill he had been hoping for, but Ieyasu was grumbling in his ears, telling him to hurry and use the contraption and Masamune was left with little choice but to pull out the smoke bomb from his pocket and blind the rest.

It was ironic how such an ancient contraption could still find its use in this hypermodern city. It was only the flash of his blade that could still be distinguished, but none of the firing guards seemed to be able to take proper aim at him, hitting air all the time. Sliding himself down to the front and cutting the door open Masamune was quick to pull out the guard inside as he climbed in, his other hand pushing in a chip into the key of the truck before he pressed down the gas.

“Go!” he ordered, and from the other side a sequence of actions followed up after each other once more. The dashboard of the car lit up once more and the vehicle came to life. Masamune was good to go. That is, if he could see, but even that didn’t daunt the man when he immediately started with a sharp turn to the left.

“Directions!” he called, though it was clear that Masamune didn’t care for them much. Luckily someone else did.

“Start with a S pattern favouring the right,” Ieyasu’s voice sounded, tense and clipped, mind focused on making sure that Masamune wasn’t about to run anyone over, or do worse.

“Shall I open Gateport 8 leading up to line Z?” Mitsunari piped up, earning a grunt from Ieyasu in approval.

“Give me the left side!” Masamune chipped in, finding the conversation amusing and even more when Ieyasu made a clear disgruntled voice and heaved a sigh.

“Don’t do that. RIGHT--- No, just. Masamune, left--- Eugh, open both sides, Mitsunaru. Who knows if you even (right, right!) know which side is left.”

Laughing heartily Masamune steered as per Ieyasu’s instructions, the stress evident in the voice of the young blond.

“Both sides sound like a good plan! Line Z is empty anyway,” Mitsunari chirped, in response, unaffected as ever by Ieyasu’s jabs as he continued his work, moving away the blockades for Masamune to pass.

“Do you know which side is left?” Masamune continued humorously, never missing an opportunity to have a little extra fun to the side.

“We don’t have ti--- Swerve!”

“Left is the hand that makes the ‘L’-sign right?”

The choir of sighs and laughter after Mitsunari’s answer blended with each other in a familiar tone.

“You should be able to see now, I’m logging off.” Disgruntled Ieyasu did exactly as he had said once Masamune had moved himself out of the smoke, clearing up his sight once more.

“Ah, but you seem to have a passenger, lord Masamune!” Mitsunari’s innocent addition earned a genuine expression of surprise from Masamune who whipped his head to the side, staring straight at one last guard he had missed from earlier.

“But no one concerning, I believe!” Mitsunari’s assessment came, a profile lightening up from the dashboard that revealed the identity of the guard, “a new recruit, you see? First day on the job, and judging by the heart rate right now the poor thing is startled.”

Had this report come from anyone else Masamune would have felt sorry for the recruit next to him. However, Mitsunari was incapable of throwing out genuine insults and thus the man could only laugh it off, noticing that the guard was indeed arrested in all movements and reactions, curled up into themselves as they held the handles for dear life.

“Do you like my style?” Masamune questioned, but he didn’t wait for the answer, pushing in the gas further as he sped off even faster.

“I will pull up the walls behind you!”

Mitsunari’s angelic helpfulness was what made the whole operation even better in Masamune’s opinion.

Mitsunari Ishida:

Political Integrity: 8/9 Economic Credibility: 9/9 Social Integration: 7/9 Judicial Credibility: 8/9 Total: 8978

Second generation Atlantis habitant

Grew up in a state-orphanage, however as his parents died young

Got picked up by Hideyoshi who noticed the wasted potential in Mitsunari

Fastest and nicest hacker of Atlantis, but in overall an logistics expert

Never had to write an appeal, everyone finds it hard to believe that he can misbehave at all

Is known for his terrible sense of direction, but still knows where everything is located on a map

Usually will say yes to whatever request is made of him without any questioning, he just has to like you

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen masamune #ikesen mitsunari #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #cyberpunk au #ikesen cyberpunk au

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 5 years ago

Text

Shackled

Chapter 1

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Warning: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester)

Word count: 1,895

Author’s Note: This story would not be possible without @thoughtslikeaminefield , who convinced me to write and finish this story, cheered me on every step of the way, and convinced me that even after over a year of not finishing a single thing, I hadn’t lost my writing after all. MJ, thank you for poking the story til it squeaked. And for the banner. And lots and lots of other things. If you’re reading this, hi! Have a seat and strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride (in the best way!).

“Hey, Miriam, it’s Sam...Sam Winchester...I don’t know if you remember me from-”

“I remember you, Sam. Not likely to forget a Winchester, much less...it’s one in the morning, what’s up?”

“I need to call in that favor.”

“All right. Where do you need me?”

…

Miriam stared blearily at the road as it stretched out in an infinite blur of dismal sameness, each expanse of asphalt and surrounding fields a dreary replica of the one before.

The last couple hundred or so miles had been hypnotically wretched, especially with the remnants of her headache hanging on by the tips of its claws since Sam Winchester had woken her with a phone call a few hours ago.

Caffeine and aspirin had taken the edges off, but straining her eyes into the endless darkness, alternating occasionally with too-bright headlights shattering the night (fucking halogens), had done nothing to ease the sharp ache that wouldn’t quite dissipate.

If she was being honest, the headache had been hanging around much longer than just a few hours, and if Sam’s call hadn’t woken her, the nightmares would have. They always did. She couldn’t really remember what an uninterrupted night of sleep felt like anymore. Exhaustion was her state of existence; it was preferable to feeling anything else.

“Suck it up, Miri,” she muttered into the muffled quiet of the car. Even her GPS was set on silent; the soft hum of the engine was the only noise she allowed to permeate her cocoon of quiet suffering.

Aaron would have been blasting some stupid metal band on the stereo, slapping her hand away every time she went to turn it down or change the station. He wouldn’t offer to drive and let her sleep off any physical maladies, but she wouldn’t have accepted anyway. He was a shit driver, and she always said she’d rather live long enough to let the next case kill her rather than the inevitable wreck if her brother was behind the wheel.

“Suck it up, Miri! Take another pill and quit whining!” he would have told her in the middle of an air drum solo.

Would have.

“Shut up,” Miriam muttered aloud. She drove on.

She pulled up outside something she would have dismissed as public waterworks or an electric station if Sam hadn’t told her what to look for. No cars outside, no mailbox, nothing to tell her this was an actual residence and not the setting for a seventies slaughterhouse flick. She checked her phone.

Text me when you get here; I’ll come let you in.

Alrighty, then.

Sam met her at the door and led her into the last sort of place Miriam could have imagined, a cross between a sci-fi/post-apocalypse novel and some sort of Cold War relic. He gave her the briefest of explanations as he led her through the bunker, saying something about legacies and a secret society, information which mostly passed right through her fatigue-addled head.

Pretty nice home base, she thought as they walked through the meeting room and past the library.

The research-oriented part of her itched to run her fingers over the spines of those books, to find out what was inside. Miriam cringed internally as she heard the echo of Aaron’s voice calling her a nerd, equal parts affection and ridicule in his voice. Then she throttled the pain down, locked the thoughts away, and dragged herself back to the present.

A few minutes later, Miriam was slinging her duffel down on one of the nicest beds she’d been able to claim in any capacity in months, maybe even years. Absolutely spartan and about six decades out of date, almost military in decor, but it was clean, and it had air, electricity, and both sheets and blankets on the bed. No nasty or rotten surprises left by former inhabitants; definitely an upgrade on a few of the shitholes she’d stayed in.

“We’ve got a fully stocked kitchen just down the hallway, and showers. Let me know if you need anything,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his head.

Miriam decided to save him further discomfort and cut to the chase.

“Fancy digs, Sam. It’s been a few years. You wanna tell me what’s got you so bothered?”

She’d noticed a distinct lack of the elder Winchester on the way in, but Miriam’s own recent history had done nothing if not jam a filter firmly in her mouth that kept her from sharing any and all thoughts that flowed through her mind.

Sam’s mouth quivered at the corners before he schooled his features into a mask of control that failed to hide the depth of his worry.

“I...Dean is why I called you. It’s...complicated.”

She took advantage of the awkward pause to re-evaluate Sam Winchester. He’d aged a lot in the few years since she and Aaron had run across the Winchesters. He’d grown broader since she last saw him, and he gave the impression of being even taller than she remembered, to say nothing of the length of his hair. She resisted the urge to offer him a hair tie for his shaggy mane.

Her gaze flicked down to his injured right arm, bound to his chest in a sling. She waited for several beats, but when he didn’t continue, she crossed her arms sternly, letting a shade of her impatience show on her face.

“You called me, Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat as if he still couldn’t get the words out. Miriam sighed. Her headache flared, burning the inside of her skull like a wash of acid between her eyes. Fatigue pulled at her, weighing her down towards the bed, but she locked her knees and straightened her back until she could trust her weary body not to betray her to gravity.

“Sam, we’re not close friends, I get that, but you called me here because I owe you, and hopefully because you know you can count on me. I haven’t been in the field recently, wasn’t planning on it any time soon. I’m tired; it’s been a hell of a year. If you want my help, talk to me. If not, I’m taking advantage of your hospitality to catch a few hours sleep in a decent bed, then I’ll head back out.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

His bald declaration woke her as the coffee she’d consumed after his phone call hadn’t.

Wasn’t expecting that, she thought as her eyebrows threatened to meet her hairline.

“Demons aren’t my area of expertise, Sam. And, let’s be honest, it’s fairly common knowledge that the Winchesters can exorcise a demon. What do you need me for?”

Sam shook his head, tension making the movement jerky and stiff as his jaw tightened. He had circles under his eyes to rival hers, and his shoulders slumped with a weight she knew all too well.

He reached up, awkwardly tugging down the neckline of his shirt to reveal a tattooed symbol she vaguely recalled from research she’d done years ago.

“Neither of us can be possessed,” he said, shrugging his shirt back into place with a wince of discomfort. “Dean is...Look, just come with me; I need to check on him anyway. You'll see.”

Making a physical effort to keep her jaw from hanging slack, Miriam followed Sam from the small bedroom. The whole situation was surreal, and the bland, institutional walls of the bunker only added to Miriam’s sense of dissociation.

She raised a curious eyebrow as Sam led her into what looked like nothing so much as a large file storage room.

Their footsteps echoed strangely; the space felt somehow emptier than the full shelves should have allowed. The ceiling, higher than what seemed necessary, continued much further back than the shelves. And what kind of shelving needed caging to connect it to the ceiling? The metal screen wasn’t what drew her attention, though.

The second she set foot in the room, Miriam felt an inexplicable pull to look behind those shelves, to push past Sam and shove the files out of the way. There was a presence in the room, something that spoke to a place deep inside her that she’d trained herself not to acknowledge, something familiar and forbidden all at once.

For the first time in months, she felt something more than tired, foggy despair.

Whatever was back there, Miriam wanted it.

It took her a second to realize that Sam was speaking.

“Don’t...um...don’t let him get to you, okay? It’s Dean, but it...isn’t,” Sam finished lamely with a grimace.

Miriam tilted her head to the side, considering his words. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shrugged, bracing herself for whatever it was Sam didn’t seem to be able to explain.

His shoulders slumped for a moment as he struggled to pull himself together.

Miriam hadn’t spent much time with the Winchesters, just the couple of weeks they'd worked that witch case all those years ago. Sam and Dean had been so in tune with each other, working the case with instinct and skill on a level that she’d both admired and envied. Then they went and saved her stupid brother.

Sam had been so much younger, then, not exactly sure of himself, but much more solid and in control than the tired, injured man in front of her.

“I owe you, and I mean it,” she’d said back then, shaking first Dean’s and then Sam’s hands, looking each brother in the eyes.

“You need someone to watch your back, to help you take something down, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t normally speak for that asshole,” she nodded at her younger brother, currently sleeping off the leftover ill effects from the hex bag that had nearly taken his life, “but I’ll go ahead and vouch for his dumb ass, too. Call me if you need me. Don’t lose my number.”

She hadn’t heard from them since.

Oh, she had heard plenty of them. What hunter hadn’t? All sorts of misadventures and exploits, taking down creatures most hunters had only ever heard of, much less encountered. But Miriam had gotten no phone calls from them, no requests for help. She figured they'd probably forgotten her and Aaron the moment they’d left town, rock blasting from the speakers of their legendary Impala as they cruised on to the next town, the next case.

“Why now, Sam?” Miriam asked quietly. “After all this time, why call me now?”

There were approximately a thousand more questions she wanted to ask, chiefly what the cage behind those shelves was holding, but she held her tongue after the one. Sam had obviously brought her here for a reason, so she reminded herself to be patient and ready for whatever happened next.

The younger Winchester hung his head for a moment longer, then turned eyes on her that were so familiar, her heart seized in her chest. She saw those same eyes every time she’d looked at her own reflection in the mirror since she’d returned from that last job, with one more scar and one less brother.

“Because I knew you’d understand.”

And then Sam straightened, and she watched as he willed steel through his limbs, stiffening his spine and hardening his features. He pulled on a narrow section of shelving and rolled it out of the way.

“Heya, Sammy.”

...

Chapter 2 is up!

#demon dean #demon!dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #demon

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technicolor--dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Letter from Gene Kelly to his daughter Kerry

If you speak french, you can hear the whole letter being read here. Also, special thanks to @mostlydaydreaming for helping out during this journey trying to find the whole letter and translating it, and for letting me upload it in its entirety even though she originally posted the first half on her page.

P.S. grab a tissue, it’s very moving!

March 1943

Dear Kerry,

I can't wait until you're old enough for me to talk to you Kerry, and for you to talk to me. I have a lot to tell you and I want to make sure you understand me.

But maybe I shouldn't say that I want you to grow up. You’re so pretty now, I’m already worried. Imagine how worried I will be when you are seventeen ...

Kerry, when you grow up, I hope you will be an actress. If you’re not an actress, I hope you’ll be a singer or a dancer… Because I think it’s the most awesome profession in the world, with the most awesome people.

I especially hope that when you grow up Kerry, you will be able to work at what you like and raise your children in a less painful time than the one we know.

And if, as you grow up, you become an actress, I know you will work hard and try to do well. Because, believe me, it is only by trying to do things very well that, even if you fail, you will realize yourself and enjoy your work.

I always keep trying to be an actor, Kerry - and here are the things I learned along the way: you are useless when you are not honest. Honest in everything we do: studies, shows, attitude.

If you keep this honesty and sincerity in your work, and you have a certain natural talent, you will inevitably learn something and become brilliant.

... But it is I who must instill in you this notion of sincerity. Even if for that, I have to write it at the bottom of your cereal bowl.

Let’s skip all of your younger years, Kerry - I know it’s going to be a lot of fun for you, your mom and me. Because after the war, we are going to travel to small places where we went before your mother and I, and that we would like to see again. Strange little places that almost nobody knows or visits.

Maybe then we can spend a weekend in China or elsewhere, by plane, and you can see all the places your old father always wanted to see, but he never actually managed to visit.

And Kerry, please, for the love of Heaven, have a sense of humor. This is one of the blessings and virtues that you will never learn in catechism. But it’s a gift from God as wonderful as faith, hope and kindness ...

Always be ready to smile at anything and make people smile with you.

And it doesn't matter if it's old-fashioned: don't forget to work hard. Because it doesn't matter if you become beautiful and brilliant, you will never achieve anything without it.

Be nice to people, Kerry. Try not to hurt them. But don't get me wrong: I don't want you NOT to be a fighter, and not to fight for your rights. But be nice. The nicest thing in the world is to walk down the street and have people say "Hi, nice to see you! ", Really thinking it.

Let me tell you why I wanted to be an actor: I know that when you’re an actor, a good actor, you have to be an artist and look at the world that way. And when you’re an artist, a good artist, you do a lot of good.

Your old father knows all about it because he would like to do this job for this reason. Hopefully one day he can really say that he is an artist.

Don't be scared off by people who tell you that acting is tough, Kerry. Or that of singer, dancer, or any other theatrical profession. Because it is.

But all these hard knocks and struggles - believe me, you will often face them if you evolve in the world of the theater or in another similar medium - are good for you. And if you keep that sense of humor that I told you about, you’ll have a lot of fun too. Even when times are sad.

Also, being in the entertainment industry is always a thrill. Each new film, each new play, each new musical, each new ballet is a new adventure and marks the beginning of a whole new world. And that Kerry is something. Because it fuels interest in humanity. You have to stay interested ... I hate bragging about the woman I married - who, by accident, happens to be one of your loved ones, Kerry, by blood - but one of the things I love most about the show business is that it allowed me to meet your mother, my wife.

When you are a little older you will read the story of “Cinderella” and other fairy tales to whom wonderful things happened. But let me tell you a real, realistic fairy tale that will never cease to be a source of amazement for me.

I was putting on a show for Billy Rose in New York when a young red-haired girl with stars in her eyes came to me for a job as a dancer in the choir. She was an excellent dancer. She got the job. A few weeks later, I started going to lunch with her, then inviting her to dinner, and then taking her home the evening after the show. One evening after the show, we ran into a friend of mine named William Saroyan who, after a five-minute conversation, gave him the lead role in one of his new plays, "The Beautiful People".

She had never played a role on stage before. But he was so impressed with her sincerity, honesty and obvious beauty that he knew, from the first time he saw her, that she could play this excellent dramatic role in her important production, a great play New Yorker. It looks like one of those scenarios that nobody believes in in the movies - but it happened to that girl. Yes, that girl was your mother, Kerry, as you guessed I guess. The play was a success, and so was its performance. Then another of those miracles that theater makes possible happened.

I remember now what my mother and father told me about their childhood, the mistakes they made and the things they would like to have a chance to do again - all of this “went in one ear and out the other”...

And here I am a father now, trying to tell my child about these things that my parents have no doubt told me before. I hope that you will be smarter than your father and that you will remember some of them.

When I was going to school in Pittsburgh when I was a little boy, I was always afraid of doing anything "different". I always had to do what all the other boys did. Even though sometimes I didn't want a boy to pick on someone else and everyone to join him, it seemed normal to do, since it was what the whole world did, and that’s having enough courage, Kerry - to refuse to do something just because everybody does it.

I remember when my mother sent me to take dance lessons. I was, you could say, in a gang, and they all thought that dancing was for sissies and that real guys didn't do this kind of thing. I was often beaten while going to dance classes, and then when I got home, white as a sheet and the recipient of black eyes in many fights with the children who used to bother me. Now I love to dance. But because everyone thought it was a sissy thing I fought terribly with my parents until they finally let me quit. Bless them for their patience dealing with me!

Of course, Kerry, being a little girl, you're not exactly gonna get the same problems I've had when I was a little boy, but you may have similar ones and when you will have to face them, you’ll need the courage to make your own decisions, even if that means you have to be different, because, you see, those are the things that can make you successful. I'm in the theater - today I'm a dancer, so…

Kerry, if there's one thing that you really care about, do not be afraid to do it, no matter the number of people who make fun of you. Tell yourself that if you care so much about something, it has to be done. It's the same for the Curie school.Try to find out what you wish the most to do. Personally I hope you will go to university, but if you decide on the contrary it's okay, because what you'll get out of your studies will be proportional to your interest. I wasted many years when I was in college, but it wasn't anybody’s fault but mine, plus, the more effort, the more you learn. Nobody learns when you throw things in their face.

Even if some knowledge remains, I'm already thinking about the book that I'm going to buy you when you're old enough to read it.I really want for you to find out these great, adventurous, worlds of excitement and knowledge that others have lived and that you too can live, even as a child, thanks to these books. I just hope you enjoy reading enough, so you don't spend all your free time listening to all those radio shows we throw at children in these days.

I hope you'll use your imagination and that you won’t have any superficial ideas, but please, Kerry, don't grow up too quick because I'm crazy about you, I want to keep you close to me as much as possible.

But when you grow up, marry and have children who will look like you, I won't realize it right away, but it's the most amazing thing in the whole world.

With all my love, daddy.

#gene kelly #honestly i cried when i read this #especially as i translated the second half #his gentleness and strenght and moral grounding really pop out in his writing #and it's very touching

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penzyroamin · 5 years ago

Note

not to be a basic sad bitch but can we get back to december + javid 🥺

oh i CELEBRATE what a basic sad bitch u are kath 🥺🥺🥺

ok so this got…. long as FUCK. this is 5.4k words. that is the longest prompt response i’ve ever written. however in my humble opinion. so yknow, sit back and enjoy the Canon Era Gay Guilt, Reconciliation, Vulnerability, And Time Jumps. this is also gonna get posted on ao3, because its… 5.4k words.

ain’t nothing but missing you

April 1906

Jack hasn’t seen Sarah Jacobs in a couple years, but when the word around the street is that she’s got a kid now, he decides he might as well drop by. As he walks over, he practices nonchalance, trying to remember what he acted like five years ago, when he felt comfortable at the Jacobs’ home.

He thinks he’s about prepared when he’s finally at their door, muscle memory carrying him across the city and to their tenement and up a couple levels.

(Sarah supposedly has her own place with her husband and daughter by now, but Jack was told she was stopping by, so he’s trying to cover all his catching-up bases.)

One, two, three quick knocks on the door, and then it opens.

Jack’s breath freezes in his lungs, and the smile he’s put on falters.

Davey blinks at him. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Jack manages, and then Sarah arrives at Davey’s side.

“Jack Kelly, what’re you doing here?” Her little girl’s resting at her hip, and Jack regains his smile, more genuine this time.

“Here to say hello, especially to this little one.”

Davey clears his throat. “Well, I’d better be getting home, Sarah.”

“Back to Boston?” Jack asks, and Davey’s gaze returns to him, intense and curious.

“No, I just got back to town a week ago.” Davey smiles at him tightly, his lips pressed together, and moves past him to leave. Their shoulders brush together as he says, “Have a good night, Jack.”

Jack watches him leave, and when he turns back to Sarah, she’s giving him a certain kind of look. It tells him, in an instant, that even if Davey hasn’t told her, she knows. “Would you like to come in?” she asks.

She knows, and Jack remembers.

April 1901

Davey’s tiptoeing on the edge of being too old to sell papers, and Jack has his job doing cartoons, but the newsies still see them as ringleaders as much as ever. And so, they’re watching in the lodging house while everybody plays poker. Someone’s clearly robbing someone else blind, but Jack’s distracted by Davey’s chin on his shoulder, knuckles brushing against his thigh.

They’ve always sat close. He doesn’t know why it feels different recently.

He hears Davey laugh softly, and even though it’s because of something outside of their little world, Jack can’t help but think it feels distinctly private. Davey moves his hand to rest halfway over Jack’s, their fingers partially intertwined, and Jack swallows hard, trying not to look at him.

May 1901

“What’re you gonna do?” Jack asks, distracting himself by fiddling with Davey’s fingers. They’re stretched out on the roof of Davey’s family’s tenement, and Davey’s hand was resting on Jack’s knee until Jack took it. Davey has his head resting on the wall, his eyes half-closed, and he sighs.

“Not sure. Maybe look for something nicer for a bit, but I’ll probably wind up in a factory.” His nose wrinkles a little. “Hope I don’t have to make bullets.”

The idea of that twists up Jack’s throat for a moment; Davey, who has always been so sweet and good and peaceful and smart, stuck on an assembly line to make items of war. There’s no war going on right now, not with a military. But when Jack sees the troubled furrow of Davey’s brow, he can’t help but feel that there’s one at home.

“I’ll see if the World’s got anything for ya,” Jack says. “You’s real smart, smarter than me. If they got something for me…” He trails off, the implication obvious, and Davey rolls his eyes.

“I can’t do art like you, and I can’t write like Kath. What’d they want me for?”

“You could interview for things. Hey, maybe even go undercover, you talk to people so good!”

Davey sighs, the beginnings of a smile gracing his lips as he turns his head to look at Jack. “I didn’t used to be. S’all recent.”

“Recent or not, you got a knack for it. Getting people’s trust, and all that. I think you’d be good.” The words are starting to get a little heavy in Jack’s throat– he’s never felt the need to heap so much praise on someone before, and it’s only a little uncomfortable. But it’s what Davey deserves, and for some reason, Jack is desperate to give Davey everything he deserves and more.

(Except he can’t, because he can never give Davey children, and a family, and the sort of normal, happy life that he truly deserves. And Davey’s parents will never approve of them, and they can never get married, and all of those are things that Davey deserves.)

Nonetheless, he continues: “Anybody who can’t see it’s just an idiot.”

He’s looked away from Davey, not quite comfortable with seeing his face right now, but still holding his hand. And then he looks back at him, gets only half a second to take in Davey’s eyes, dark brown in the dying sunlight, and the way Davey’s breath hitches.

Only half a second, and then Jack’s being kissed.

Davey’s free hand rests on the back of Jack’s neck, and Jack clutches his other hand tighter as he moves closer to him.

Jack knows, logically, that it’s a bad idea. Because, again, he cannot give Davey a real life, not the kind that he should have. And if he can’t give him a real life, then this will end, someday, and the thought of never being able to kiss Davey like this again makes Jack want to hold him so tightly that he’s never able to leave.

But he’s spent so long wanting him, longer than he probably realizes, and he tries to be invincible, but Davey Jacobs is his Achilles’ heel.

June 1901

It’s not unbearably hot, but the sun is too bright for anyone’s comfort. Jack’s accompanying Davey along across the city, helping him carry baskets of his mother’s washing to her clients.

When they finally drop off the last basket, Jack bumps their shoulders together, and Davey looks at him with a delighted grin. It makes Jack dizzy, and he nods towards the shaded alley.

They nearly collapse, sliding down the wall together, and Jack carefully puts an inch between them. It’s still light out, and there are people walking by just a few feet away, and they really aren’t concealed by anything, and Jack knows that they need to be cautious. He has to stop from looking for too long, because Davey’s hair is curlier than usual in the humidity, and he’s got his head tilted so his jawline is sharp and gorgeous, and if Jack keeps watching him sit there and breathe, he’s going to do something ridiculous.

Finally, Davey says, “Thanks for helping. Lord knows I needed it.”

Jack knocks their elbows together. “It would’ve just taken ya twice as long.”

“And I wouldn’t see you.”

Jack’s gaze flitters towards the pedestrians not too far away from them, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter than before. “Romantic.”

“Possibly,” Davey says, his voice no more than a murmur, and when Jack looks at him again, he finds Davey’s eyes on him.

He doesn’t understand why it’s easy, so so easy, for Davey to do this. He kisses Jack like he’s never thought about the repercussions, even though he thinks about everything. He can look at Jack and never once lose his restraint.

Jack looks at Davey for a few seconds, and he wants to fall apart.

He presses his tongue to the roof of his own mouth to hold himself back, and when he gets back to the tiny shitty apartment he can barely afford, he goes to sleep fighting tears.

July 1901

Jack knows Irving Hall like the back of his own hand, so he knows every place you can hide in the back corridors. There’s one place in particular where you can faintly here the music and the applause, but no one will find you for decades, besides maybe Miss Medda.

So he and Davey are hidden there, fading into the sound of soft brassy music and the feeling of being the only two people in the world.

Most of the time, when they kiss and they’re all alone like this, it’s a little rushed, hasty, and hot. But something about the whole situation has made this moment softer. It’s time truly to themselves, without anyone else or even the thought of them. Jack smiles against Davey’s lips as they kiss, slow and sweet.

He knows they’re going to have to go back outside, to the real world, soon. That Davey should get home and go to bed. That Jack should walk back to his place and fall asleep alone and still craving Davey’s hands on his hips.

But he tries to forget it, he really tries.

August 1901

It’s a vaguely normal day in terms of the two of them– Davey talks, Jack talks, Davey seems effortlessly restrained, Jack is willing to kill for the ability to hold Davey’s hand for just a few minutes.

Davey comes over for dinner, which is the nicest thing Jack could scrape up, and that already gets Jack a little antsy because he’s realizing this is the first time Davey’s been in his apartment when it’s just the two of them. The sun is down, and it’s almost dark outside, and Jack is keeping his eyes fixed on his plate because really, this is supposed to be a sweet, civilized dinner.

And then Davey says, “My mama’s trying to get me keen on this girl from synagogue.”

Jack bites the inside of his cheek. “What’s her name?”

“Liza, I think,” Davey sighs. “She’s sweet, but also… you know.”

“I know.” The words scratch out of Jack’s throat, and suddenly everything in front of him feels a little stupid– because someday, some girl is gonna get Davey’s life, and she’ll get to be with him and wake up next to him and raise his family, and she’ll never know Davey quite like Jack does. But why does Jack even try to know him so bad, why does Jack need Davey near him, when that phantom girl’s always ready and waiting to scoop up her chance as soon as Jack messes up? And when he knows that that’ll be better for Davey, because Davey needs a nice girl to fulfill every domestic fantasy he deserves, so why is Jack being selfish?

“Are you…” Davey pauses, blinking in disbelief. “Are you jealous?”

Yes. Yes, he most definitely is.

They finish their food, and Jack stands after a moment. Davey gets up from the little table and walks around it, placing his hand on Jack’s waist and leaning forward to kiss him. It’s achingly gentle, and Jack’s fingers start to cramp with the effort not to touch him.

Jack pulls away. “Should you get home?”

Davey looks hurt for a moment, and then he asks, hesitantly, “Do you want me to go home?”

His eyes are so, so gorgeous, and so kind.

“No.”

“Then I’ll stay,” Davey says, sure and steady. Jack’s about to ask what exactly that means– for just a little while longer, for the night, but Davey’s already dragging Jack back, and their lips are together again.

Jack clutches at the back of Davey’s shirt as Davey kisses along his jaw, and they stumble across the room so Jack is pressed against the wall.

Jack Kelly has broken a multitude of laws before, and so has David Jacobs, so Jack doesn’t really know why this law, the one they’re definitely about to break, feels so much more insurmountable.

September 1901

They’re eating dinner with Davey’s family, some soup that’s much more broth than substance but is the best they could scrounge up. Les, nearly a teenager now, has long since devoured his serving, and is watching with keen interest as his parents discuss the romantic prospects of his siblings. Jack sits awkwardly, trying to pretend like the thought of Davey being engaged, married, to any odd girl doesn’t make his throat sore with envy.

“David, you’ve talked to Liza?” Esther asks, kind and hopeful but also annoyingly persistent. She sounds tired, and Jack pities her for a moment, trying to carve out a future for her children.

Davey’s eyes are fixed on his soup. “No, Mama, I ain’t.” He winces, then, and glances up, correcting himself. “Haven’t.”

The proper accent school had forced on him faded away two years ago, but Davey still has moments of caring about maintaining it, especially around his family.

“Well, it’d be nice if you could call on her family.”

“Yes,” Davey says, his voice spilling with false promises. “I’ll try and set up a dinner when I see her Saturday.”

Esther beams. “That’ll be lovely.”

Jack’s hand is clenched in a fist under the table, and Davey’s hand imperceptibly moves over to rest on Jack’s. It’s a moment of calm, a reassurance that they won’t vanish forever come Saturday.

Jack hasn’t ever met Liza, but he kind of hates her. Which isn’t fair, but he does, nonetheless.

That Friday night, they manage to steal maybe a half hour away, and Jack practically begs for Davey’s affection. They can’t do the real thing, not here on Davey’s goddamn rooftop, but he still presses chaste kisses to the back of Davey’s neck. He does so again, and again, temptingly brief, until Davey sighs slowly. It rumbles a little in the back of his throat, which is just a little too intoxicating, and in a few seconds, he’s pulling aside the loose, open collar of Jack’s shirt and the extra layer of his undershirt and leaving bruises along Jack’s collarbone.

Nobody will be able to see the marks, since Jack doesn’t let anyone but Davey ever see this much of his skin. But it’s material, far more material, than anything Liza has of Davey.

“I didn’t peg you as the jealous kind, baby,” Davey mutters against Jack’s shoulder, just a few minutes before they have to head inside. They were in that phase of trying to calm themselves down and make themselves presentable, but the name hits Jack’s system like a fever, and his ears go hot.

“Didn’t think I’d need to be,” Jack says, the words coming out a little strangled.

Davey huffs a soft, quiet laugh at that. “You don’t. She’s nothing like you. Nobody’s like you.” His thumb grazes over Jack’s cheekbone. “There’s only you.”

And that– the confirmation of everything Jack knows, everything he feels, pushes him dangerously close to tears. But he can’t cry, not now, not in front of Davey, so instead he drags him close, his arms around Davey’s waist to get him as near as possible. They kiss, bruising and sweet at the same time, until Davey has to pull back and get them calm all over again.

October 1901

As a general rule, Jack doesn’t cry in front of anyone.

He’ll cry alone, when there’s no one there to see him, no one to lose respect in him. But he refuses to be weak in the eyes of others, refuses to let other people see that he’s barely nineteen, and he’s not ready, not strong enough to do what life is going to force him to do.

But it’s been a horrible, fucked-up week. Pulitzer rejected idea after idea for his cartoons because they “catered to the lower class”, rent on his shitty place got hiked up, and then, of course, there’s Davey.

Nothing’s wrong with Davey, of course. But the circumstances of this thing that they have are getting worse and worse.

It starts with their friends starting to get confused as to why Jack, who was seized by infatuation every other second a year ago, suddenly talks of no one.

Davey has a few dinners with Liza’s family, and always assures Jack afterwards that they are incredibly boring. Jack worries less about them being boring, and more about them being safe.

And there is pressure on both of them– to start looking for a nice girl, to start figuring out what they want from their lives.

Jack is slowly realizing that he wants to spend his life with Davey, and that’s truly horrifying, because he can’t.

There is no future here, he tries to remind himself. This is temporary, and then it will go.

But his week has been utterly awful, and then when he meets Davey on the rooftop one night, and Davey presses soft kisses to the line of Jack’s jaw, it all comes crashing in on him. Davey is so gentle and fiery at the same time, so good and kind, and Jack cannot possibly keep him.

He almost goes numb, and barely registers his own tears until Davey is gasping and wiping them away for him.

Jack brings himself back to reality to the sound of Davey murmuring soft, reassuring words and kissing his forehead. “It’s okay, Jackie, we’re alright. Whatever it is, I can help. I’m right here, darling.”

That breaks right through all Jack’s shields, all his insistence that he doesn’t cry. Slow, quiet tears turn into wracking sobs, and he buries his face in Davey’s shoulder as his body shook.

Davey keeps whispering to him, rocking them back and forth. He starts singing some old Yiddish song, his voice a little raspy with the cold, and Jack clutches onto him. He wants Davey near him every second of every day, and he cannot have any of that, and that just makes him cry harder.

He tries not to think about the way Davey keeps him warm and safe from the wind, tries not to think at all– somewhere along the line, his tears slow, and he is calmed by Davey’s hand rubbing circles against his back. Davey pulls back, only far enough so he can look Jack in the eye.

“What’s going on?” he asks quietly, his hands cupping Jack’s face. “Did I do something?”

“You do nothing wrong. Not to me,” Jack says, and Davey’s eyes are soft and disbelieving. “It’s just… been bad. A bad week.”

Davey hums at that. “You wanna tell me about it?”

He can’t tell the full thing, he can’t tell Davey just how much the temporary state of them makes him want to rip his own heart out. Because then Davey will blame himself, and none of this, not one bit, is Davey’s fault.

But he tells him the abridged version, the part full of anger at the world for fucking him up so badly, frustration at Pulitzer and his landlord, fury at the world.

And when he finishes, he’s not crying, but he feels close to it again, and Davey wraps him up in another hug.

It’s that moment that makes him realize. The way Davey holds him impossibly close, the way that he does it without a second thought, the way that Jack can picture them staying right here forever.

He loves David Jacobs. He is in love with him. Irreversible, sticks-with-you-for-eternity kind of love, the kind of love that people get married over the dream of.

He loves him, and he doesn’t know how long he has, and he doesn’t know how long he will. But he knows it isn’t safe.

November 1901

There are a few moments after that in which he almost thinks he can make this whole thing work.

Davey stays the night over at Jack’s apartment– they have a while worth of burning kisses and grasping hands, trying to keep away the cold. After that, though, they lay as close as they can, Davey’s arms wrapped around Jack’s waist, and Jack’s just on the brink of falling asleep.

He opens his eyes just a bit to see Davey asleep, his lips just slightly parted, and that’s the last thing before he falls asleep.

The few times he’s gotten to wake up next to Davey, he’s always been up first, taken the time to sketch out the slope of his cheekbones. This time, though, when he wakes up, Davey’s sitting up next to him. He’s reading some massive book, and he’s smiling just a little.

He looks like a prince in some storybook. He looks enchanting.

Davey notices him, and his smile widens, reaching down to brush Jack’s curls out of his face. “Morning, neshomeleh.”

(That’s the thing with nicknames– Jack has always given them so frequently that whenever he calls him David, it feels like walking on holy ground. But Davey distributes them so sparingly, and usually just little quirks on people’s names, so every “lover” or word Jack doesn’t understand is a treasure. The first time they really discussed what they were, Davey asked Jack to call him David– he needed to be sure that Jack was serious.)

“Morning,” Jack says, and he wants so many more moments like this.

But then Davey has to go home, because they have lives, and those lives cannot be abandoned.

December 1901

It begins like this: Davey comes running up to Jack in the street.

Before Jack can blink, he’s enveloped in a hug, and Davey is laughing joyfully. The laughter fades for a moment, and Davey whispers, “Rooftop tonight,” with his lips close to Jack’s ear.

Then, he starts laughing again, and claps Jack on the back before he runs away.

That night, Jack climbs up the ladder on the side of Davey’s tenement to find Davey already sitting there, silhouetted by moonlight with his old coat pulled around him.

Jack steps towards him hesitantly, and as soon as Davey sees him, he rushes forward. Jack is taken aback when Davey kisses him, an ecstatic and almost aggressive press of lips before Davey backs up, holding Jack’s shoulders.

“You wait ‘till you hear my news,” Davey says giddily, and Jack blinks.

“I don’t wanna wait, mind telling me now?”

Davey laughs, that perfect firecracker laugh, and he drags Jack to sit down with him. They sit so they can face each other, Davey’s eyes bright and Jack’s eyes most likely confused.

“You know I got a cousin in Boston?” Jack nods. “And you know I’ve been looking for a job.” Another nod. “He talked to some folks up there and found someone willing to hire me.” Davey pauses, for dramatic effect. “As a teacher! A teacher, Jack, for littles, I can–”

Davey keeps speaking, but one word rings in Jack’s ears: Boston.

“You’re leaving?” he finally asks, interrupting Davey, his voice hoarse.

It doesn’t break Davey’s smile. “No, yes, but– Jack, this is the best part, he doesn’t know anything about me besides me having schooling and being good at running a crowd. And he’s found a place I can move into, and Jack, I already asked, and he said you could stay there, too.”

That’s too many words for Jack’s brain, too quick a series of additions, and he tries to focus on the last piece. “I can… move to Boston.”

“With me, Jack, you can move to Boston with me, and we’ll have a place, and nobody knows us! Jackie, lover, this is perfect, we can–”

Davey’s words fade into the background once more, and Jack starts feeling sick to his stomach, because he’s always thought that Davey knows that they’re impermanent.

He’s hated their impermanence, but he’s always thought Davey’s realized it.

And now, he thinks that maybe, Davey’s still clinging to childlike hope.

Of some accord that’s not his own, Jack starts speaking again. And then Davey speaks, and then Jack, and then both of them, and Davey, who was previously so thrilled, gets angry.

“I don’t get what you see wrong with–”

“This is never going to be perfect, Davey! We will never be safe, we will never be able to just exist– David, look at me!”

Davey’s eyes snap up to Jack’s face, and they’re filled with such hurt that Jack wavers. But he swallows down all the “I love you”s that he’s never said before, and he just says, “This can’t be forever.”

“We could try, though,” Davey says, sounding more desperate than angry now. “C’mon, Jack, listen to me. Believe in me, this is our chance. I’ll have a job, a real job, and we can wake up and fall asleep with each other and say whatever we want in private and not have to worry about my parents–”

The picture he’s painting is so goddamn pretty, and Jack needs to tear it apart, for both of their goods. Because Davey can be incredible, if he just lets go of Jack, and maybe Jack will learn how to live without him, someday.

“No,” Jack says simply.

Davey presses his lips together, looking at the ground. “I need to go. I need a job, a stable one. I need to go, and I need you to go with me.”

“You want me to. That ain’t good for either of us,” Jack says, praying that Davey will blink and then understand, but he doesn’t.

“So you just intend to quit this the second it’s real?”

“You want us to live together, David, to have a life. We can’t do that, we’ll never have that! No matter how much anybody wants it!”

There are a few more words. Tears start welling up in Davey’s eyes, and if Jack looks at that any longer, he’ll feel like the worst scum on Earth.

So he says goodbye, and he climbs back to the ground, leaving Davey on the roof.

And that’s how it ends.

April 1906

For five years, Davey has been in Boston, living a life that Jack could separate from his own.

And now he’s in New York again. He has a place, according to Crutchie, and a job teaching littles in the Lower East Side, the same neighborhood Davey grew up in.

Jack smiles to himself thinking about how Davey must feel– coming home, teaching in his own neighborhood, and finding it now quickly filling with Jewish families like his own. It must feel more like home than before, surrounded by the buildings of his childhood and by his people.

Jack never thinks so often about home, except when he’s thinking about Davey.

It takes him a few years of dawdling and wringing his hands and asking for second opinions before he finally gets up enough courage to find Davey’s little apartment. It doesn’t look too different from the Jacobs family’s apartment, but it’s all Davey’s.

He knocks on the door, thinking that he’s ready to see his face this time.

But Davey opens the door, and Jack’s never been ready.

Davey looks noticeably taken aback, and he steps away, a sliver more distance between them. “Jack. Hi.”

Jack swallows, taking off his hat. “Mind if I come in?” Davey doesn’t say anything, just moves to give Jack space to walk into his apartment.

Davey busies himself around the apartment for a while, cleaning up cups and scattered newspapers. Jack takes the time to observe him.

He’s still ridiculously gorgeous.

He outgrew his last bit of lanky awkwardness in Boston, making every step he takes now a little more confident. There’s a dark splattering of early-spring freckles across his face, and his hair is a little longer and curlier. There’s a short scar along his jaw that wasn’t there before, and Jack worries for a moment.

Davey turns, and his eyes fix on Jack, intense and suspicious. “What are you here for?”

“I wanted to check in,” Jack says, and the words seem hollow, even to himself. Davey huffs out an empty laugh.

“Well, you have. I’m fine.”

This is going downhill quickly, so Jack squeezes his eyes shut and manages, “Dave, I wanna apologize.”

Davey blinks, and then crosses his arms and tilts his head, telling him to begin.

“I never shoulda told you all that, before. I shoulda believed you, shoulda tried. I was a coward.” He looks down at his hands. “I thought… if I could make you leave me, maybe you could be normal.”

He looks up when Davey gives a frustrated sigh. “Jack, did you think you’d be the only man I’d ever think about?” Jack falters, his mouth falling open, and Davey rolls his eyes. “Only way that’d happen is if you’d left with me, if I had you. And you stayed, don’t see how you could fix that now.”

“I know. I know, Davey, really. I just…”

“You know I told Sarah I was gonna ask you to go with me?”

That explains some things.

Jack shakes his head, and Davey drops his hands to his sides. “I was so sure you were gonna say yes, Jack. We felt… I dunno, it felt like we were really something.”

“I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

Davey laughs hoarsely. “We all believe in magical true love when we’re eighteen. I was dumb, it’s… it is.”

Denial is on the tip of his tongue, he’s about to say that he didn’t believe in all that. And then he thinks about May, a few months before he was nineteen, and kissing Davey on the roof. Maybe he did.

He’s shaken out of the thought when Davey reaches a hand up to rub at his own temple, clearly tired. “Whatever. I left, you didn’t.”

Jack bites down on his tongue to avoid saying something stupid. “I wish I had. I shoulda, Davey, I’s regretted it every day.”

Davey’s eyebrows furrow. “You never wrote. You never tried to contact me. Never visited, never gave my mama a message to send to me. That ain’t regret.”

“It was different when you was away… abstract, sorta.”

“So, what, you like it better when you don’t have to feel guilty about me?”

“No!” Jack says, the word tripping out of his mouth. “Not that, swear, no, it’s just…” He can feel Davey’s willingness to let him stay draining quickly, and all he can think about how terribly, horribly wrong his life will be if he never sees this man again. “It’s just that I love you.”

Davey swallows, hard, and Jack realizes all over again that neither of them ever said it.

“I love you. And I did then, and I’s still doing it now, and Christ, every time I see you I never wanna look away. And I made myself think we couldn’t have nothing so I’d stop hoping for it.”

He tries to look Davey in the eyes. “I love you,” he repeats, for posterity.

Davey exhales slowly, his breaths shaky. “Lord. Jack, I…”

“You ain’t gotta say anything. I’m just sorry, is all. Nothing you gotta do about it.”

“What if I want to?” Davey asks, sounding a little faint, and Jack’s heart jumps to his throat. “If I forgive you right here, are you gonna leave again?”

“Never. You want me here, you want me anywhere, I’m there. I’s never gonna leave, promise.”

Davey tilts his head up, looking at his ceiling. There’s a long moment of silence, and Jack wrings his hands, praying silently. When Davey speaks, they’ve been quiet for so long that it surprises them both.

“I love you, too.”

Jack opens his eyes, realizing only now that they’re closed, and finds Davey’s gaze meeting his own. His breath catches in his throat, and he isn’t sure what to do.

“It’s gonna take some time,” Davey says, his voice soft and raw like Jack remembers it being in the mornings. “I… I’m gonna forgive you, but it’s gonna be a second.”

“I can wait,” Jack says, barely registering the words. “I can wait, Dave.”

Davey smiles delicately, and then, “Say my name. My real name. Tell me you love me, I need to know it’s real.” The half a room between them is stifling and impossible. Jack tries to breathe, tries to give Davey the sort of moment that Jack’s never been good at.

“I love you, David Jacobs,” he says, and before the last syllable has even left his lips, Davey is hugging him as tight as possible. Jack buries his face in Davey’s shirt, letting tears leak out as they breathe together. “I’m gonna love you right this time.”

Jack doesn’t know if they’re allowed to have a future together. But he knows they will, regardless of who refuses it to them.

The city of New York buzzes outside as they cling to each other, cherishing their reprieve and knowing that the April air next morning will be so different from December’s night winds.

quick note for those who dont know: nesholemeh is “sweetheart” in yiddish. the single take-away for this fic is that i’m soft for davey calling jack pet names

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #penzy writes #chaotic yeehaw vibes tag #anyways thank u so much for this kath this is a GAY MESS

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chaoartwork · 5 years ago

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Zimvoid: Issue 2

Genre: multiverse, adventure, comedy, friendship

Characters: 2k, Palindrome, the Zims

Rated: G (Mild Violence)

Summary:Two people, each in their own alternate universe and are both the same Irken named “Zim”, respond to an Irken distress signal that leads them to travel into a vortex located on one of Earth’s ocean. This causes them to be trapped in a planet filled with their thousand alternate selves called the Zimvoid.

Given the world providing no major equipments, along with their Girs destroyed, and the Zimvoid having a hierarchical society, no Zim can figure out how the Zimvoid came to be and how to get back home.

As a result, when two Zims end up bumping into each other, they decide to partner up in a resistance group, attempt to recruit more Zims and take down the leader of the Zimvoid in order to find the source of its origin and find a way to get back home.

Based entirely on the Invader Zim comic arc “Battlevoid” (Issue 46-49)

Prologue:https://chaoartwork.tumblr.com/post/616874776757174272/zimvoid-prologue

Previous:https://chaoartwork.tumblr.com/post/617973015079272448/zimvoid-issue-1

He felt....ridiculous. What is even a point to this errand? Why did they make such a thing? Sure, it’s better than suffocating to death as a result of working in the boiler room. But now he feels like they are just mocking him because of how he looks. He can just be watching the other slaves, or check the sewage. But here he is. Standing behind a short column with only his head showing off. And given that he wearing glass bowl filled with water in order to breathe, he basically just looks like a fish bowl sitting on the column with a big fish swimming inside there.

At this point, he felt more like he was put as a decoration rather than an actual person. Is this what being a slave is even like? Even so, he gave an unamused expression. In fact, why is HE letting other versions of himself tell him what to do? If anything, HE should be the one ordering them. He is the real Zim after all, right? But he tried to forget the thought of doubts. He needs to find a way out of this void. And to do that, he needs to contact his servant. He glanced about to make sure any Zims nearby weren’t looking. He let his PAK open automatically to pull out a communicating device. He tried to not even think of what happened to him, given the “false” memory that still linger before he crashed in this crazy place.

He let the device get close to him. “Gir!” He whispered, “Zim here! At least your real Zim if you happened to bump into those people who claim to be the real me. If you haven’t, it’s better you stay away from them. They might lock you up for testing or...something more horrid.” He thought for a moment at that last comment. “Not....that i care either way....” He shook the thought out. “Anyhow! I’ve been captured by them. I’m located somewhere within some walls and they’re treating me like I’m some sort of slave. But i can’t seem to find a way out. There’s too many and using my PAK’s weapons would possibly be too risky, given how clever ‘mes’ there are.”

“So! What I want you to do is-“ “Hey there!” 2002 harshly flinches and immediately make the communicator float back into his PAK. He glanced about to who was calling him. “Psst! Up here!” The fish Zim blinked and looked up to see a Zim on top of a high ladder and easily reaching the ceiling. He was holding a spatula for some odd reason with some stuff on the ceiling that look sticky with different colors. Strangely enough, he looks just like a regular Zim. Is he the only one without a “thing”?

“You must be 2002, right?” He asked with a smile on his face. 2002 paused for a moment and glanced about the hallway before answering with a, “Uh...yes? How do you know when you can’t see my number this f-?” “Yes yes, I saw you!” The normal looking Zim replies, “I was in my cell when those guards brought you in, but I guess 501 forgot to mention me! I am-“ “Zim?” His eyebrows raised, know that it was obvious everyone is Zim.

“Uh, no?” He said looking a bit offended for a second before smiling again, “I am Carl!” The new slave stood there for a beat. “Carl?” He gave a confused expression. “Yep! The Zims here call me by 1200. But why should I even be called a number when I can just go by my real name? If anything, I might be the only one here who’s name isn’t Zim, which makes me the most significant!”

The fish irken blinked. “Rrighhht. And what are you doing all the way up there?” He pointed out. “Ah this. I’m just scrapping bubblegums off the ceiling.” “Bubblegums? We have bubblegums in the Zimvoid?” “Nooot exactly,” he smiled awkwardly. “You see, we have a Zim guard here that patrols this hallway every so often. And his thing is that every time he breathes out, he blows out a bubble of gum that floats up onto the ceiling. So it’s my job to keep the hallway’s ceiling nice and clean!”

“Oh. I see.” That explains it, he thought to himself. “And what about you?” Carl almost immediately replies, “what are you doing standing behind that column?” 2002 felt a sense of embarrassment. “Uh,” he looks away trying to act careless, “it’s nothing.” “Aw come oooon,” Carl gave a pleading smile, “it shouldn’t be as interesting as mine. Just say it!” It took few seconds, but the fish hybrid finally gave in with a sigh. “My job is to look like a fish in a bowl that’s resting on one of the columns.”

“Heh! That’s funny. Why is that?” “They say it’s to make the castle more ‘decorative’ or something pathetic like that. They say it’s the only thing that can suit well for me.” “Hm! Interesting job! Of course, not AS interesting as the ONLY brilliant Carl! But I’m sure you can be good in other jobs! Like weapon grinding! I mean those teeth of yours are hilariously sharp and huge! you can grind good weapons out of it!” 2002 blankly gaze at him in hidden surprise. “...although no one can grind better than Carl,” he adds confidently.

2002 blinked. “Uh. I would use my teeth for anything if it didn’t mean requiring to take off this bowl. But at least you are the nicest Zim I’ve encountered so far.” “It’s Carl.” “Right right-“

“1200!” They both flinched and turned to see one guard, his identity hidden from the head armor, marched near the ladder that Carl was. “How many times have we told you that you are not allowed to talk to anybody during your job?” “Well it never hurts to talk to someone every once in a while,” he easily replied, “and look!” He showed bunches of gun within the bucket proudly, “look how many gums the great and only Carl was able to collect!” “That doesn’t excuse your distractions, 1200! What if 501 saw you like this and reports this to Number 1? Do you want to join the other Rejects?”

“Rejects?” 2002 asked questioningly. “Pshh,” Carl continued, “there’s no way Number 1 can do that to me. Not when my name NOT being Zim makes me so unique.” “No matter what your thing is, your distraction is what will make you forgotten one day.” “I will never be forgotten!” The slave claims, “And I will never join the rejects in that wasteland! For I am-!” The guard finally grew impatient. With no warning, he kicks off the ladder, causing the slave to topple off and fall head first unto the ground. And given how high he was, it was obviously a hard fall. The new slave was taken back and looked down stunned by the slave he was talking to earlier laying almost motionless on the ground. The only thing that told 2002 he was still alive was the sound of his short grunting and the twitching of one of his legs.

The guard straightened up and let out a sigh, resulting in a bubble made out of gum to appear out of his shadowy face and float up unto the ceiling. “I don't think it will teach him a lesson. But it at least helped to make him stop his yapping.” He looked down at the fallen slave for a short while before looking at another slave who witnessed the whole thing. “You there!” 2002 flinches and looks at the guard. “What did you expect, a theatre play? Get back to your position!”

He wanted to say something, but he instead obeyed, his body still feeling shook at what he saw. The guard was a bit please before remembering something. “Besides him wanting me to check on how you’re handling the job, 501 wanted to let you know that you have few more hours left till your 13 hour shift is finished. Then you can go to your cell and think about your life.” 10 hours....has it really been that long already? It’s amazing he hasn’t felt his PAK’s energy drain. Though it’s not like his body has done much other than standing behind a column.

The guard stayed silent for a short while. Before 2002 can realize that he was waiting for him to respond, he crossed his arms, “Huh. So they’re not joking when the say the newcomer is very quiet.” Not wanting show that it was true, he opened his mouth to say something. “No matter,” the guard unfortunately cut him off, “just continue your work and no slacking.” His ear fins lowered in a bit of humiliation. But he watched as the guard turned and walked away.

A groan was heard again, cutting his thoughts off of the guard and looked down at the other slave that was now trying to get up with much effort. “Ugh. Well at least it wasn’t my back that hit the ground.” Strangely enough, there was a soft part of him that made him worry of this complete stranger he met a only short while ago. “Uh. Are you ok?” “Psh. Of course I’m fine,” he grunt more when he tries to stand, “I am Car-oof!”

He lost balance and fell back on the ground. “...ok, this is a tiny bit embarrassing.” 2002 frowned more. He glanced to make sure the guard was completely gone. Then he left his job position just to walk fast paced and kneel beside the other Zim. “Here,” he held him by his shoulder. The moment he did so, Carl looked at him in confusion. “What are you doing?” “Helping you get up.”

“Funny,” Carl eyes furrowed, “a real Zim should look after himself.” “I DO look after myself!” He snapped, causing the other one to quietly look at him more confused. 2002 sighed. “Look. I’m only helping you because you’re myself, so it’s the same thing. Let me just help you up before the guard decides to come back.” Carl didn’t question any further and just let’s the new Zim help him get up. “Hm. You’re a stranger Zim than I thought.” “Heh,” he tries to smirk a bit, “that’s what makes me the best.” “Who told you that you were the best Zim?” He argued with him.

Meanwhile, a little far out from the hallway and behind the column, a guard peeked out and looked at two Zims. His eye set the most on the newcomer that aided an injured Zim and squinted his eyes. He looks down at a paper he was holding and writes something down. He puts it down and completely leaves the hallways.

It took a while for the guard to join the chamber and approach the same guard that confronted the two slaves. He noticed him approaching and turns to him, “Did you find anything suspicious about our newcomer?” “Don’t worry,” he took off his helmet, revealing to be 501, “I think I got to know everything about him. All that newcomer needs now at this point is pure luck.”

—————————————————-

Quick panting sounds are heard as each feet kicked back the dirt for how fast he was running. A yellow-skinned Zim with redder eyes and a bug-like wing, revealing to be a hybrid a bee, ran while hugging a bag for dear life. But he soon came to a dead end by huge piles of junk blocking the alley. He glances in fear to see the shadows appearing and drawing closer with a distant voice shouting in the distance. The bee Zim looked at his his small wing and sigh, “Come on wing, it’s not that high.” He looked back up at the pile, focusing on his goal, and started flapping his wings. The more effort he put on it, the more he started to hover in the air. It was taking all the energy from him, but he tried to ignore the limit, continuing to focus as he gets closer and closer to the goal. He pants but smiles, “Heheh heheh....I’m doing it! Heh! I’m doing it! Victory for-!!”

He lets out a grunt of of surprise as a rope is thrown unto him and tightly grips around his body. He is then yanked down, making him tumble onto the ground for a second or two. He was now feeling too weak to get up at this moment due to the energy he costed on his PAK. Even so, he weakly turned his head to look at a Zim with a cowboy outfit looking down at his catch. He hacks up and spits out saliva before turning behind him, “I got ‘im, Sword Cat.” “Hah!” A brown cat Zim with a sword tucked underneath his belt came next to him and looked at the bee Zim with a mischievous smile, “great work, Sheriff! Now then, little bee guy.”

He approaches the captured Zim on the ground, who was still holding the bag, “Why don’t we all just call it truce and give us that little honey of yours? We won’t do any harm by leaving you all tied up on the rope until there’s luck that someone might get you.” A ninja Zim came up to the left side of Sword Cat, “Uh. Sword Cat? I think that lie was a little too obvious.” “No it wasn’t!” The cat angrily looked at his ally, “if anything, my tactic on lying to that Zim about not leaving him tied up was a brilliant success!”

The cowboy leaned close to his side, “Uh. You straight up just revealed it again.” “No I did not!” “Dude,” the bee Zim said unamused despite still hugging the bag, “you know how I can hear exactly what you said.” “Oh yeah?!” He gave the captured irken hybrid a challenging glare, “then tell me, little buzzer! What did I say?!” “That you’re going to leave me tied after you take my honey.”

“NO I DIDN'T! I-!” He cuts off and takes a moment to think. After a short while, he shook his head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he pulls out his sword and points it to him, “give us the honey.” “No!” The bee Zim hugs it more dearly, “it’s the only honey that survived the crash! My small glorious wings will not flap better without it!” “Well we don’t care. Give it!”

“No!” He tried to use the strength he hope he has by look directly at him with a squint, “if you want it, you will have to get through me first!” Sword Cat quietly stared at the weak Irken. “....Really?” “I-I’m serious! Y-you will regret it!” The cat once again quietly gazed at him with unamusement. Then he looked at both of his two members, who seem to agree on his thought about his unworthy motivation. He looks back at him. “Alright.”

He raised up his sword again with the two others gathering around him, their eyes sharply at him, “Let’s see what you got.” They started walking towards him. The bee Zim quivered, but still tried to remain determined. “G-get back! Don’t come any closer! Y-you will definitely regret it by....b-by my ambush!” “Oh yeah?” The cat lifted his eyebrow smiling with a challenged expression, “by what army?”

“None other than me!” A child-like voice shouted out.

The Zims paused in the position and looked about. The bee Zim grew confused as he was looking for the source. “Who said that?” “Aha! Look above you!” When they heard more clearly where the voice was coming from, they looked at one of the building nearby to see a small figure standing on top of it proudly. He jumps up, revealing to be holding onto a rope as he swings unto a wall and used his rope to push his feet off of it. He slides down the rope in time to land in front of the Zim that was in trouble with in a heroic looking landing pose.

His head raised to look at the gangs with a determined smile. “Sword Cat! We meet again!” All the Zim went quiet.

The gangs showed to be pretty annoyed as the cowboy one facepalmed and sighed. “Here we go again.” The bee version blinked and his face turned into confusion. “Uh. Am I looking at myself....as a baby?” “Heh!” The smeet glanced at him still confident, “I may be a baby. But I am still a Zim at heart!”

“What. Are you doing here, Baby?” Sword Cat asked in irritation. “My name is not Baby!” The smeet narrowed, “I am Zim! Better nicknamed as 2K. Which is a nickname more brilliant than than any Zim has to go by-!” “Right right right,” the cat Zim said impatiently, “but what are you going to try this time? What’s with the sudden change of not trying to ambush us?”

“Well,” 2K started to state out, “as I was looking back at the few attempts I have made on my plans, I have come to the realization that my unnecessary failures did not come from ambushing you out of nowhere. Instead, I have come to the conclusion, thanks to my brilliant mind, that in order to defeat someone, I need to show just how threatening I really can be!” “....And in order to do so was to make your grand entrance?” “Yup! Pretty neat, huh?”

The gangs stared at him unamused. “That’s...the dumbest thing I ever heard,” the ninja said. “It done sure sound like you ran out of ideas,” the cowboy spoke. “No I haven't! And besides, this is my best plan yet-“ “Just like you have said with your previous ones,” Sword Cat crosses his arms. The smeet hesitated. He growled and clenched his teeth in frustration, “Nnnnnngh it doesn’t matter! You will be defeated this time!”

He charges over and launches onto him, only for Sword Cat to catch him by grabbing his antennae. 2K grunts in pain and flails his leg shouting, “Nngh! Ow ow! Let me go! Stop it! You won’t get away this easily! You will regret the day you messed with-“ He continued to yap about while attempting to punch and kick him with his tiny arms and legs, which barely hit him whatsoever. The leader of the gang remained gazing at him unamused before tracing his eyes to the cowboy version. “Sheriff, do me a favor and tie this annoying chatterbox up. I’ll take care of the bee.”

Sheriff nods and goes over to be the one to hold onto the smeet by the atennae. He walks off to do what he is told. The Sword Cat walks over to the bee and kicks him down, causing him let out a sound of a harsh grunt and leaving him half conscious. He bends down and took the jar of honey from him before fully standing to look at it in pride. “Heheh, yes yes. Guess what we will be having tomorrow night, Zims.”

“Gah!” 2K voice can be heard, “hey! That’s too tigh-gh!” “Quiet, will you?” The cowboy said before making the last knot. 2K was now laying on the ground all tied up by the rope as he squirms about violently there, trying to break free. “That should just about do it,” Sheriff stood up and turned to the cat, “will you like me to do anything else with him?” “Eh,” he shrugged, “you can let him and the bee be as they are. We got the honey. So let’s get out here before some guards see us.”

“You think the guards will care?” The ninja asked. “They will care if they see me. Now let’s go already.” They went ahead and walked off. The bee grunted and was regaining consciousness as he weakly looked out at the gangs walking away. “Nah...no...my honey! What am I going to do? How will my wings be able to work again? How will I be able to fly around the town?!”

2K stared at the distressed alternate version of himself. “Uh...hey! I got an idea,” he smiles, “I know exactly where their base is! Maybe if you can untie me and join the resistance, we can go over and get your honey back. Sounds cool?” “Sounds cool?” The bee angrily looked at him, “why would I join a group when they have a member that can’t even defend himself?” 2K sighed, “Ok. Maybe I may have lost this time. But this time will be different!” “Whatever,” he shakily gets up while fighting back the injury, “I’ll find a way to get through this void without. Thanks for the help.” He walks off. 2K blinks in realization of something. “Uh. Hey. Can you at least tie me? Hey. HEY!”

He struggles violently again and even tries to bite the rope off with his buck tooth only with his collar being in the way. “Nngh! Stupid! Collar! Agh! I WILL GET YOUR HONEY BACK FOR SURE!” He angrily shouts out while alone in the alley, “THEN YOU WILL LOOK BACK TO THIS AND WISH YOU COULD HAVE JOINED THE RESISTANCE EAR-!”

———————————-

It was now night time. All the Zims in the underground town were already closing their doors and calling it a day. 2K remained stuck at one of the alleyways, already have exhausted himself from shouting the entire day. He can do nothing but lay there facing up in boredom as he looked at each stains on the wall. “46.....47........47, 48....49. Wait did I count the stains right? I think I might have said ‘47’ twice.” He wondered out loud to himself. “....eh. Who cares. If anything, I’ll just try again.” His eyes traced to the first wall stain he sees and starts counting from the beginning. “1,2,3....”

With the smeet counting again, a local Zim can hear a child-like voice within one of the alley way. He hops over to see who it is until he can see a familiar figure. “Mmmph?” 2K immediately stop counting. He softly turns his head to see who it is and saw a baloney far off looking at him. At that point, he did not show any change of expression. Ofcourse he would be the one to find him here. “Oh. Hey, Meat.”

#zimvoid #invader zim #2k zim #palindrome zim #palindrome ladybug #2k ladybug #iz comic #iz comics

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ambiengrey · 4 years ago

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I keep making coffee, but because I don't drink milk, only creamer, I have to wait for it to cool a bit to drink it, but I'm so focused on the episode I keep forgetting about it and then it's cold when I remember :(

.::don't forget to mind the spoilers ahead::.

S2 E8

The Seven Stages? Of grief? :|

Into the Custody of Mr Cooper. :/ that's so cringe-worthy.

Ohhhhh. Yeah, I was thinking 'Vanya' is Russian. Is she the baby that was born in ep 1, from the swimming lady. They were Russian right? The apocalypse is because of Vanya, again??? D: it's a misunderstanding this time though, for more real than last time.

Divide and conquer.

Oh it's only Klaus. Ohemgee XD

Dude, I feel kinda bad for you.

Yeah, I didn't mention but I was wondering about the origin of those cannisters and wondering if the Swedes were ever gonna figure out The Handler was behind it.

Diego's like. What. Even. XD

It's Mom! Or, you know, Grace.

Televator?

Mr H is so Cool.

He does seem to sincerely care about Grace though. Aw, I feel bad for him. :(

Are you gonna try and travel through time again Five? I don't quite understand. Ah! It's the thiiiing! Yaaasss.

I was hoping this would be relevant. Also, Five, you a smarticle.

Also, there was a post on tumblr that I accidentally came across, with Five and like, seven things in a list, and OP was like: someone who doesn't watch TUA, caption this. And, I had no idea what those were, either, because we hadn't been there yet. But I've realised now: first thing was dehydration, and the second was itching, which was weird, but okay. I forget the rest of the list though I think the last was like... Rage? or something. And nooooow, here's the ep for context, and I'm thinking, these seven things are like, things that happen to you when you come across yourself or are in the same place as You from an alternate time? I guess we'll see.

Side effects! There's the list! Got my dehydration in the wrong place :/

I love how the seemingly obvious, don't exist in close proximity to your other self-rule of time travel is a thing, but in its own unique way.

Also, I love Luther's whole demeanor throughout this conversation.

That's unpleasant.

I like how they all look like the way she knows them? Does that make sense for what she remembers? although, Ben being visible At All, is like, a little more of her memory coming back along with this childhood setting.

Ah! See, this is what I've always been wondering about. But Five's confirmed it then, what you do Does influence your future self or whatever. Since, if Old Five doesn't travel, present Young Five won't exist.

Luther's got it memorized. XD

Don't freak out XD

The Timeline is what? Don't you hate it when they do that.

Diego are you gonna try and thieve a briefcase? :D because if you were any kind of smarticle.

I want to see the video. Lila, yuuuu. Are a lil cringe melove.

I was wondering about it, and I don't know if there Was a briefcase, in the flashback when we saw Five jump forward in time. I feel like he left the gun against the wall? But no briefcase? Is this why? He gives it up here? Or am I remembering it wrong? It doesn't seem right, because present Five, who is old Five in his young body didn't ever mention being spoken to by his younger looking self when he was old? Like, is what's happening Now, a Change from the original day when Five traveled back? I feel like it is, because Five didn't seem to Know he was going to speak to himself and he wasn't at all Sure of how his Old self would respond. He would know, if it had already happened this way, right? But then, if he Was going to go back to 2019 anyway, and he Had a Briefcase, why wouldn't he have Used That to travel? Does it only ever go backwards?? And to and from the Commission? He must not have had the briefcase in the flashback where he broke his contract after all, because he needed to travel using his own power. But then, in the original go around, something else must have happened to the briefcase he had? Or he worried they would track him if he took it? This is me theorising based on my lack of remembering if there was a briefcase in the flashback XD so mostly I'm just talking at myself, I expect this to be explained or I'll go back to the other episode to fact check later when I'm less lazy. XD

Stage Three? :o

If you can't trust your own self. Also, if he travels with the correct calculation and stays an adult, would Young Five change? That seems plausible.

Congratulations, you have selected infinite switchboarding! Have a nice work day.

Lol. Yeah, Herb. XP

It's Vanya in the FBI building right?!

Oh, Vanya. :(

Emphasis on Case.

Not on purpose though Luther :o

His response is like, Fair enough. Like, it's understandable. XD

These two Fives are equally affected by the psychosis and it's kind of hilarious.

On the original occasion, there was a shot still, after Five traveled away, not an explosion. Which means to say, that, Five is definitely meeting himself for the First time in the timeline now? I like to note these things, because I was writing a confusing time travel story in my youth XD and I kinda just love how things are being Put Together in this show. How we get to see both the original timeline and its consequences, and also the very first Redo of events. I love how it's all Presented and how it...makes sense? Does it though? XD

Even in dreams Ben is the nicest one.

Here, have a brain, you're missing one.

Harlan is having a response because of the glowy lights that went in him when Vanya saved him?!

At least Diego is polite XD

Of course you do. :|

Aw. :(

That's what you get for sleeping on the job XD

Are they gonna get to her in time?? D:

Even if they do, what does this mean for Harlan? If they can't get close to her how will they help?... Ben???

This is a tiiiiiime. I dig it.

#The Umbrella Academy #TUA Season 2 #TUA S2 spoilers #TUA spoilers

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studentville-struggles · 5 years ago

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Blind Date // Draco Malfoy

Post-war AU thing?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Words: 1588

Summary: What will happen when the friends of a witch avoiding magic, set her up on a magical blind date?

TW: mild angst, suggestions of PTSD? mentions of war, fluff

Part 1. Check out more of my work here

You had pretty much left the wizarding world after the war.

You still saw your friends, you still lived in a predominantly wizarding street in London, however, your wand sat in its box, tucked in the back of your wardrobe. The last time you had used it had been during the war. The last time you held it, not long after.

Instead of becoming an Auror as you had always dreamed, you had gone to muggle school, a university. You became a research scientist, marvelling in the advancements the muggles had somehow made without ever figuring out magic.

It had been nearly six years since the battle and you were, whilst content in not using magic, starting revising the work from your school years having realised you were forgetting even basic spells. This had worried your friends who were concerned by your immediate walk away from the magical world. They had thought initially it was the shock of the war, that you would recover and come back. They didn’t know about the nightmare, the awful things you saw every night when you shut your eyes once more.

You knew it was a worry to them, and you made sure to reassure them and make sure not to slip too far away into the muggle world; even if that would be easier for you.

This week you were out for dinner with your friends, at a cute little restaurant in Camden. Owned and operated by witches but the local muggles never seemed to notice.

“You have a date tomorrow by the way.” You nearly choked.

“I’m sorry I have a what now?”

“A date. A blind date, a magical dude in case you didn’t guess. Better get your robes cleaned.”

Oh no. This can only end badly.

Preparing for your date you pulled on your nicest robes, double checking your hair was okay before leaving your flat for this mystery date. You thought about taking your wand, but today was not the day.

Walking in a robe was somewhat strange, not quite as comfortable as you had remembered, although you couldn’t ignore how fabulous and important it made you feel. It wasn’t a long walk to the restaurant, and you were grateful your friends had chosen such a place to help keep you comfortable.

You were the first to arrive, taking your seat at the table, you relaxed watching the other couples and families around you.

This was a blind date indeed; your friends had blindsided you totally. The man sitting down at the table opposite you was none other than Draco Malfoy. The two of you hadn’t spoken much at school, his reputation leading you to steer clear from him in an attempt to make your life easier. What you did know, however, was the side of the war he fought on. The side that killed your father and you were not okay with it.

“Y/N”

“Draco.” You were curt and you felt a little bad for how it came out.

“Did you know what they had planned?” He seemed nervous, though at least he was making an effort.

“No, they only told me about this yesterday.” Even if you didn’t particularly like him based on what you knew, your friends picked him out for a reason.

“Oh wow, Blaise told me last week.”

What surprised you from the evening, was the ease you had talking to Draco, even when the conversation had involved magic. Draco had offered to take you home afterwards, to which you had raised an eyebrow, assuming correctly that it involved apparating you home.

Your landing was a little less than graceful, making Draco chuckle at you a bit.

“Shhh, I haven’t done that in a while.” Draco looked at you confused.

“Wait, then how did you get to the restaurant?”

“I walked.” Your voice showing your confusion, like how else would you get there? “Can I get you a hot drink? Tea, coffee, cocoa?”

“Tea please.”

You set to work, filling and boiling the kettle and Draco looked baffled.

“What are doing?”

“Making tea, why?”

“Why don’t you just use your wand and boil it?”

“One: not the way you should make tea, it needs to brew properly. Two: I don’t have my wand on me.”

“What do you mean you don’t have your wand on you?!” Draco seemed almost alarmed that you wouldn’t always have your wand on you.

“That’s a bit too personal for a first date I think.” You were expecting the Draco from Hogwarts to return, for him to invade your personal business. Except he didn’t.

“Well, in that case, I think I should learn the correct way for making tea for the second date,” Draco said, sidling up next to you to see what you were doing. You didn’t expect him to drop the subject so quickly but you appreciated it none the less.

“Someone’s eager.” Draco merely hummed in response.

“What’s that?” The questioning had begun.

“A kettle.”

After teaching Draco the ‘proper’ way of making a cup of tea, you sat in your living room chatting the rest of the night away. You had long decided that whilst you were very much not a fan of his father and what he stood for, you couldn’t judge Draco on that without giving him his due. You were so glad you did or you wouldn’t be sat on your sofa laughing until your stomach ached.

Once the clock struck midnight, you both said it was worth saying goodnight lest you not be well for work the next day. Having confirmed a day for you to visit Draco at his house for dinner, he left a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before apparating home. Your home was quiet once more.

It was four days later and Draco had sent you an owl asking if you would like him to apparate to your house to pick you up. He had written saying it was too far to walk and if you weren’t comfortable to ‘apparate alone’ he was more than happy to come over. You thought it was very touching that he thought of you and had remembered you avoidance of wand talk, and that it had been a while since you had apparated before your last meeting. In reality, whilst Draco had remembered you saying it had been a while, he mostly just wanted to see you as soon as possible.

It had been a long time that anyone outside of his close friendship group had given him a clean slate upon seeing him. He had remembered seeing you at the battle of Hogwarts, though not for long. Before that, his memories of you were few and far between but the constant theme was grace and elegance. He had thanked Blaise for setting him up with you as soon as he’d returned to his house, Blaise shocked by the light blush and wide grin present.

You had eagerly sent the large brown owl home with your response, making sure she had eaten, drunk and had some rest. As requested, Draco arrived promptly outside your front door, knocking as the hour changed.

This time you had dressed somewhat more casually, wanting to be able to relax at Draco’s house, and no one ever wore robes at home anyway.

Dinner was amazing, though Draco admitted to using magic to make sure he didn’t mess up. He wined and dined you for hours, laughing and smiling throughout the night. You were amazed at how comfortable you felt.

Weeks passed and you and Draco practically together. You spent many a night together in both houses. Your friends were over the moon! There was the obvious teasing, but they loved seeing you come out of your shell properly, for maybe the first time since the war.

Like most other nights, Draco and yourself were lounging on the sofa, music playing as you chatted and nursed your wine after dinner.

“Darling?”

“Yeah, Draco?” You replied, looking up at him from your warm spot on the sofa.

“Why don’t you use your wand anymore?”

“What I did with it was too bad to use it again.”

“Oh no love, you could never-” You didn’t even let him finish.

“Draco, I killed people. I killed people during the war and I can never take that back.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I just, every time I pick it up I’m reminded. So I put it away.”

“Well, why don’t we make new memories with it?”

“What?”

“We do different things using your wand so that you think of those memories when you hold it rather than the bad ones?”

“You think that will work?”

“I’m willing to try.”

The nerves and tension had left you, amazed that anyone would want to do such a thing for you. Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you. The kiss was soft but meaningful, conveying everything you needed to.

Pulling away you whispered to Draco, the first step. “I think I’m going to reconnect my house to the floo network.”

A soft smile graced Draco’s face. “Careful, I’ll be popping in all the time.”

“You can do that any way you fool, you apparate over all the time.” You chuckled.

That was all that was said on the topic that night. As soon as you got home, with Draco insisting he ‘apparated you home’ because he had to be a proper gentleman at all times, you sent an owl to the ministry requesting access to the floo network.

Part 2

Part 2 coming very soon! What do you think will happen? What do you want to happen?

What a tag? Drop me a message!

#studentville-struggles #rachel tries to write #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco drabbles #draco fanfic #draco malfoy drabble #draco malfoy fanfiction

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thatsgonnaleaveamark · 5 years ago

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500 followers appreciation post

ive been here since january and i def posted more in the beginning so the speed of gaining followers has declined a bit (not that that matters) but yeah 500 people is a lot! im so happy people like my art cause im rather new to it and my This or That posts have gotten a lot of attention which im super grateful for :D

anyway, since i cant think of anything else i decided to just make an appreciation post for all of my followers (love you) and specifically for some of my favorite blogs on here (this is gonna get slightly long)

@straight-to-the-pain i think youre the first person ive actively talked to on here so thats awesome! love your writing (Sam and John are great characters and you write them so well) and youre just a really cool person

@its-not-too-bad i enjoy talking to you a lot (though i often just..forget sorry lol) and you Know i love Charles (and wow you drew Arlo i still look at that all the time)

@drawyourwhumpee thanks so much for always reblogging and saying the nicest things on my art!

@adrenaline-whump really appreciate all the nice words youve said to me, and i am also eternally grateful for In The Wind. probably my favorite thing ever, ive read it so many times and its still amazing.

@mosswhump also one of the first blogs i followed when i made this blog! great content, writing and characters, also youre awesome

@secrettheoristofwhump i love your blog! and i enjoy talking to you, even though we havent talked too much

@pythagoreanwhump your writing is really good and i really love reading about your OCs (espionage whump is amazing) also youve motivated me to write more German stuff

@deepwoundsandfadedscars i dont interact with you too much but i really enjoy seeing all those gifs of fandoms i like, also thanks for buying my bracelets!

@shameless-whumper i just love your writing a lot, Jericho is a fantastic character and reading about him is so much fun

@whumpprompts the Best whump prompts and the Best writing damn

@vleermuizen awesome content, and i love that you enjoy my music, it made me so happy seeing what you thought of it

@i-blame-my-love-of-whump-on-ryan amazing writing, amazing person and fluff fridays are super cute

@shsl-whump i am just in love with your OCs and keep rereading everything with them

@scars-and-vulnerability we also havent really interacted but you seem like a super cool person and i love your writing and characters

@whumpitywhumpwhump thank you for always reblogging my posts, i see you in my activity all the time and it makes me happy

and of course @fyeahvulnerablemen youre the first whump blog i followed, like a year before even making my own blog. ive found so many shows to watch off your gifsets and tag list and i get whumperflies every time!

and under the cut, some of my favorite awesome whump blogs that make the community and my dash a better place

@whumpalicious @aliceinwhumperland @whumpology @the-whumpy-fangirl @thewhumpster @justwhumpythings @boneywhump @whump-my-dear-watson @voidwhump @alllhurtnocomfort @bubba-whump-shrimp-co @whumpadoodle @whumpandbandaids @whumpty-dumpty @let-the-whump-commence @maythewhumpcommence @bringingthewhumperflies @imnotasadistiswear @chifechi @mickeymckeown @the-wandering-whumper @beautifullytorturedsouls @gentle-and-fierce @whumping-newbie @too-exhausted

#not whump #com #ive had ups and downs here but im really happy to be part of this community and you people are all awesome #hope i didnt forget anyone #also grateful for all of my followers who dont have a whump blog youre great #some art coming up later #love you guys

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archivedatl · 18 years ago

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AP web exclusive: All Time Low tour diary

Posted by Scott Heisel on 08-Dec-06 @ 04:43 PM

Last month, Baltimore pop-punkers All Time Low took to the road with Sugarcult for a series of shows on the West Coast. Here's some of what they saw, in words and pictures. Learn more at www.alltimelow.com.

#1------------------------------------------------------------ Ooohooo So last night we celebrated two awesome occasions...well 3 since matt's molars finally grew in...anyways yesterday was Haloween and our first night of our tour with Sugarcult. I must say, it is pretty strange touring with a band who I spent the better years of my middle school life watching on MTV. Regardless of where this band has been, it definetly didn't eff with their personalities. They were all super nice to us and each came up and introduced themselves. The show went pretty well but it wasn't a good judgement of our the whole tour is going to be because Sugarcult didn't even headline, the Eagles Of Death Metal did, and the tickets for $25 on Haloween night :) I'm sorry but I would never go to a show if those were the circumstances...I'd be out expanding my collection of holiday treats. Tonight the 'real' tour begins so we will see how it goes. We are playing Washington State University in Pullman Washington. We haven't done too many college shows, so this should be interesting...anyways before we got on the road a couple days ago we were couped up in Ben Harper's (formely of yellowcard, now in amber pacific) house/studio in long beach, CA working on our new CD :). We demoed some hot licks that were going to send over to our producer matt squire so that he can put in some input. I heard my blogs are going to be posted on the Alternative Press website for this tour, so if that's the case then...helll yeah! Well I just woke up from sleeping in the van so I am gonna walk out into the freezing streets of Pullman, WA crack my back and grab some Qudoba. Much Love, Jack --jbstar #2------------------------------------------------------------ Yoo dooodds, So I'm gonna update you guys on the passed couple shows...on Wednsday we played Washington State University. Those kids are freaking crazy! Everyone seemed to be having a good time and we made some awesome new friends. I cannot stress enough, how cool the Sugarcult guys are. Which is really cool because I have been listening to those guys since 6th grade! Anyways before we played, matt thought it would be a good idea to have a fork and knife fight backstage...yeah it turned pretty ugly and we should have some footage online soon enough. That night we partied at 'The Christmas House'. Lets just say that I'm pretty sure alex made out with a dog...I really miss Hit The Lights :( Anways...we played Seattle after the college show and it was offf the hoooook. Everyone in the room was dancing and it got pretty redic. As soon as we told them the alex/dog story they went nuts. We met up with the Pink Spiders that night. We were nervous about that because we've heard some stuff...but for real those guys are the shit. There all super nice and we have no complaints about them. We have yet to tour with a band who we don't get along with (fingers crossed). We also heard that we may be doing a few shows with Cobra Starship in Dec, if that happends that would be sick. I'll keep you guys updated. Someone made us a bucket of the craziest donuts ive ever seen at the portland show last night!! They were reallly good. Sorry for the lack of pics, I'll make sure my next post has more, its just hard to take good pics on a sidekick :). Talk to you guys soon!!Jacko #3------------------------------------------------------------ Yo Babaayyss, Last nights show was off the hook! I love playing at The Boardwalk in orangevale calii. The crowd was as wild as usual and a bunch of kids were singing along. A lot of the same kids who saw us there on the Amber Pacific tour came back. Its always cool to see so many familiar faces,,,cough cough hint hint nudge...you get the idea folks! The next couple shows should be interesting...reno and vegas. I wont be able to gamble but at least ill be able to look at a lot of lights. We all have family comming out, so that should be exciting. I havent seen my brother and sister in ages and i know their gonna be wasted so that means they will be even more friendly :) Also Meg n Dia join up in vegas which is sick, SO SIKED FOR THAT!!! We met them on warped and their super nice. anyways i think its time, i go to In and Out because after this tour im not going to be able to go back for a while :( im going to eat there everyday twice a day until we leave Arizona. Ive attached pics from our set on the Epitaph stage at this years Bamboozle Left and also some pics of our acoustic set the 2nd day! Thanks to everyone who watched us either/both days :) love you peace peace n a bottle o' hair grease, jack #4------------------------------------------------------------ Wow...vegas has to be one of the strangest places on this earth. First of all we showed up in Reno (shity city) only to find that only sugarcults crew was there and the show probably wasnt going on. We were welcomed by a hooker in a pink tanktop and no teeth asking if we had any shirts we could give her...Thankfully we have power windows and middle fingers. Thankfully zack was asleep or he might have took her up on some of her offers...he's getting desperate you know..just kidding! Anyways we decided to hang out with sugarcults crew for a little then start the drive to vegas early since it was 8 house. We got to go over the Hoover Damn which was sweet. It's seriously Vegas Vacation all over again! Anyways, we got to vegas around midnight and it was a fantastic site! My bro and sis were staying at the MGM so thats where i headed. Rian to the Excalibur, Alex and Matt to the Venecian and Zack to the Luxor. We all split up and hung out with our fam for the evening. My brother took me around vegas and boyyy was it interesting. I was approached by numerous drunk people. It was basically like an Ocean City, Maryland for older people. It's just a place for adults to drink, walk around drunk, act like teenagers and maybe gamble a bit here n' there. it was Akward to say the least. Anyways the next day was the show at the House Of Blues at Mandalay Bay...probably one of the nicest venues we have ever played. We introduced ourselves to the Meg n Dia folks and got to know our new tour mates as we shared a dressing room. We soon found they are awesome people and they share a love for getting wild! The show was pretty cool, and the crowd was big. It was weird though because the merch was not in the venue, it was in the cassino haha. Anyways Vegas was an experience we wont forget, and I cant wait till we go there again. I hope the next time we go, were 21...actually nevermind because that would be three years :)stay rad, Jack #5------------------------------------------------------------ Lame! Tonight was our last show on the Sugarcult Tour featuring The Pink Spiders and Meg n Dia :( Damone will be taking our place on this great lineup. I am jelous that they get to join up! Anyways we made some lifetime friends on this tour and it was a great experience for everyone. Every single show was amazing and the fans never let us down. Traveling to bumfuck arizona and hearing a couple hundred kids sing your song is the coolest feeling ever. Sugarcult was very warming towards us and their personalities suprised the shit out of me. they were such cool guys and even when zack was sick they made him soup and gave him Emergen-C. WHO DOES THAT !?!? Thats like something my mom does...so in a way Sugarcult are our parents. They actually reffered to us as their younger brothers on stage. At the last show of the tour in Little Rock, Arkansas us and Meg n Dia ran on stage during "Bouncing Off the Walls" and started bouncing around and took over Tim's Guitar n Mic, Marko's (my twin) guitar and Airens Bass. It was so fun to bro down with a band that ive been listening to since middle school haha. Alex also got to soundcheck with sugarcult at Texas AM College because tim was at the hospital taking care of his sickness (i think he had a nasty cold). It was so crazy to see alex soundcheck with a band who for the past few years have held a special spot on my ipod and in my cd player :) I attached a pic of him sound-checking for fun. At the end of the show we said our goodbyes and gave our hugs. This is'nt the end of these friendships though, only the beggining...now we head home to write a new cd. Catch us on the road in the northeast in december when we head out with Cobra Starship! Stay safe, Jack

#2006 #blog #Jack Barakat #text #alternative press #all time low #sugarcult tour

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ringa-starr · 5 years ago

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What you Mean to Me Ch 4

A/N: Hey Dudes and Dudettes! I wanted to take a bit of a break from the drama and make this chapter more of a comedy :) Don’t worry though the drama will for sure continue in the next part!

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even though I wrote it in a matter of hours and it really just came from one single idea I had.

Needless to say, t doesn’t feel like my best work, but I hope you guys like it anyways.

Please leave any comments, suggestions or ideas you have for this fic down below or in my inbox because I would LOVE to read them!

As always, stay excellent and breathtaking and be excellent to each other!

I love you all,

-Deidra

It was almost 6 in the morning and Bill’s party was finally over.

As you can probably imagine, his parents’ house looked like two tornados had gone through it: pieces of shattered glass were all over the place, empty soda bottles and red paper cups littered the floor, CDs were all over the place, chip crumbs of all kinds crunched under your foot with every step you took, paper plates both clean and dirty filled the floor as well, and finally stains of God only knows what covered the entire downstairs area.

The only people who were in the house now were Bill, Ted, Emily, Deidra, Ashley and River which meant it was up to them to clean up the party evidence.

Thankfully, Bill’s parents weren’t due back until the next morning.

“Dude!” Bill gasped as he and his friends slowly and carefully walked around the now silent living room.

“How’re we gonna clean all this up?” Ashley asked, really thinking out loud to herself.

“I don’t know”, River said with a shrug, accepting the large, black garbage bag Bill had just handed him. “One section at a time I guess.”

Deidra placed a hand on her pounding head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Would you guys please stop screaming?” she moaned. “My head’s killing me!”

“Ahh the first hangover”, Ted said with a large, goofy smile as he filled his own trash bag with cups. “You never forget it.”

“How would you know?” Bill asked Ted with a teasing smirk. “You’ve never been hungover a day in your life.”

Ted’s only response was giving Bill one of his signature smirks before continuing with his cleaning, Bill shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Ew, guys!” Emily cried from the spot she was cleaning in the hallway. “Come here and look what I found!”

She started laughing as everyone ran into the hallway.

Smirks as well as confused looks filled her friend’s faces at her find: a pair of dentures lying on the hardwood hallway floor.

“Where did those come from?” River asked, disgusted.

Bill and Ted looked at each other and started laughing.

“Maybe they’re Bart Applegate’s”, Ted said with a laugh, thinking of one of San Dimas High’s tall, bulky football players.

Bill laughed even harder.

“Yeah”, he agreed. “Rumor is that big, dumb tub-of-lard’s teeth rotted out of his dumb skull.”

Pausing for a minute, Bill looked at the pair of fake teeth and narrowed his eyes, smirking as an idea came to mind.

“Hey, Ted”, he said to his best friend as he picked up the teeth, the smirk never leaving his face. “Check this out.”

Opening his mouth wider, Bill slammed the dentures into his mouth, causing disgusted gasps from everyone except Ted.

“Eww!” Emily cried out, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Grrr!” Bill cried, giving his friends a wide smile, causing Ted to burst out laughing.

Bill walked back into the living room and pointed up at the ceiling fan, another idea hitting him.

Taking a chair from the kitchen, Bill placed it under the fan and climbed onto the chair.

Ted, knowing what his best friend was going to do, having seen it on tv once, walked over the stereo and put in a CD before moving the chair out of the way.

Ted then flipped on a light switch next to the front door as The Sabre Dance by Aram Khachaturian blasted from the speakers.

https://ringa-starr.tumblr.com/post/186600054397/armenianppl-aram-khachaturian-sabre-dance (You can listen to it here)

Everyone looked up at the ceiling as Bill started spinning around and around on the ceiling fan with the dentures in place, Ted biting his lower lip to keep from laughing again as Deidra, Emily, River, and Ashley looked on in part amusement, part disbelief.

The stereo, of course, was already turned up to full blast so it was no surprise that Bill’s elderly next door neighbor Mr. Fredrickson could hear everything that was going on.

The old man lay in his bed, one of his pillows slammed over his head to block the noise out, the exact position he had been in all night long.

And now he had finally had enough.

With a furious growl and a scowl to match, the elderly man slammed his pillow down on his bed before throwing on his bathrobe and slippers.

“Lousy good-for-nothing kids!” he grumbled angrily under his breath as he walked out the front door. “Why when I get my hands on that little punk, I’ll…”

Bill’s house was vibrating again as Mr. Fredrickson stumbled up to the living room window and looked inside.

He could see Bill spinning around on the ceiling fan only it took the little old man a few moments to realize something.

Eyes going as big as plates, Mr. Fredrickson gasped out loud.

“MY TEETH!” he screamed, although it sounded more like ‘My Teefs!”

Feeling his blood pressure go up, Mr. Fredrickson pounded on the window as hard as his little bony fists would allow, causing the teens to look in his direction.

“I’ll handle this, guys”, River told his friends before walking to the window and opening it.

River knew that Mr. Fredrickson liked him; basically, everyone did and why not?

River was one of the nicest, most respectful teens in San Dimas.

River gave the old man a kind smile as he leaned his elbow on the windowsill.

“How are you, Mr. Fredrickson?” River asked kindly.

“How am I?” Mr. Fredrickson asked, his voice rising. “How am I!? I didn’t get a lick of sleep last night due to my loud-mouthed good for nothing teenaged neighbor hosting a throw down last night! Arrgh!”

River frowned. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Fredrickson”, he told the old man sincerely. “Really I am.”

Mr. Fredrickson sighed, his expression softening.

He knew River had no control over what his friends did, and yet, Mr. Fredrickson asked himself why such a good, honest, trustworthy boy like River Phoenix hung out with a group of troublemakers like that.

Mr. Fredrickson gave River a kind smile after a moment’s pause.

“River”, he said. “You’re such a good boy. Why do you choose to hang out with these hooligans?”

River turned his head around to look at his friends, Bill still spinning on the cealing fan.

With a sigh, River looked back at the elderly man.

“With all due respect, Mr. Fredrickson”, River replied, “Even though it doesn’t look like it, my friends are actually good people.”

Mr. Fredrickson slowly nodded his head, his lips formed in a thin line as he watched what happened next.

As if on cue, Bill was wiggling loose from the dentures’ hold, causing him to fly backwards and slam into a nearby wall, falling into a large pile of garbage, the dentures still perfectly in place on the ceiling fan.

In Mr. Fredrickson’s opinion, that moment alone made all he had went through the previous night worth it.

The old man was laughing his butt off as Bill’s friends ran over to see if he was okay.

“Bill!” Ted cried as he and Emily started throwing paper cups and plates aside. “Are you ok, dude?!

Bill slowly opened his eyes halfway, seeing Emily and Ted spinning in front of him.

A moment later, the blonde gave his friends a goofy smirk as he slowly tried to stand up.

“Granddad”, Bill said groggily, his legs feeling like Jell-O and his whole upper body sore. “You ran another stop sign.”

That was all the teenager said before falling backwards head-first into the pile of trash, Mr. Fredrickson laughing so hard he thought he was going to wet himself.

River ran into the bathroom to get a cold washcloth as Emily got down on her knees in front of the trash pile.

She didn’t care if pieces of broken glass were scrapping her legs and knees to pieces as she dug through the trash pile, finding Bill moments later unconscious.

She carefully took her boyfriend in her arms, cradling his head as she eased the cold washcloth River had just given her on Bill’s forehead.

Ted scowled as he looked at the old man outside Bill’s window.

“Whooo-boy!” Mr. Fredrickson cried happily. “Boy, this right here makes all the hell I went through last night worth it, I tell ya hwat!”

Ted turned off the switch and put the chair back under the fan.

Carefully, and still scowling, the long-haired, chocolate eyed, teen grabbed Mr. Fredrickson’s teeth from the ceiling fan before walking over to the open window.

“Aw take your teeth and shove ‘em up your ass!” Ted cried angrily before throwing the old man’s teeth out the window as hard as he could.

“Hey, you little punk be careful with-“

Mr. Fredrickson didn’t get a chance to get another word out before Ted slammed the window shut; his way of telling the old man to fuck off.

Emily let out the breath she was holding when Bill started groaning lightly before slowly opening his eyes.

“Oh, thank God!” Emily cried with relief as she kissed her boyfriend’s face. “Are you alright, baby?”

A smile slowly crept its way onto Bill’s face as the memory of what just happened came back to mind.

“That…was…excellent!” Bill cried as if he didn’t hear Emily’s concern about him.

Bill made eye contact with Ted and they did their signature guitar move, Emily and River looking at each other and smiling, rolling their eyes.

“He’s fine”, the siblings said in unison before laughing.

Taglist:

@shhh-no-ones-home? @celestiaelisia @derangedcupcake

#keanu reeves #ted theodore logan #bill and ted #keanu reeves fanfiction #ted theodore logan fanfiction #bill and ted fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #ted theodore logan fanfic #bill and ted fanfic #keanu reeves fic #ted theodore logan fic #bill and ted fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #my writing

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