#i never wanna draw the attic again

[the5n00k]

Stargazers before and after

“I’d heard that…if you’re looking up at the stars, there was a good chance that there’d be someone out there looking up at those same stars with you. Something about how you’re never alone, even when you feel like you’ve got nobody."

(quote from/loosely inspired by this fic by @fallen-gravity go read it it's good)

[lunarmango]

Flickering Lights

Demon Alastor x Human reader fic? ON IT. I'm so siked to make this a series and I hope who reads this enjoys this as much as I do. I wanna get into writing. (I don't write, I draw) and I was thinking of making a longer fic, the details were so hard to piece together. I really enjoy the concept of demon Al with human reader. So here we go!

Word Count: 2k

TW: None for now? Pretty mild stuff haha.

Chapter One: Moving in

New Orleans, Louisiana

1946

Where wandering spirits were said to roam, walk and explore more frequently, being an area where people would find it easier to communicate with them, or so you were told. You were convinced it's utter nonsense to be completely honest. The whole notion of spirits was so far fetched you just couldn't bring yourself to even fathom them. Though not opposed to being proved wrong.

It's been years, saving for a house. Your apartment was small, cheap and far too crowded with furniture and items you just can't let go of. From a suffocating apartment to a house. You were practically buzzing from excitement. Like, literally almost shaking.

A new chapter in your life.

When you walked in, you suck air through your teeth in anticipation, the cool air hitting your teeth invigorating you, fingers fumbling with the old metallic keys that jingled in response, finally able to slot the correct one in the door and push open the dark wood hastily, the hinges swinging and the door practically flying.

You winced at the loud thud when it slammed on the white painted brick wall. Taking a few deep breaths, you decided it was best if you didn't wreck your new house on the first day. You think you would actually cry if you did, and you were not willing to test that theory. Checking the wall where the door hit with a small grimace of anticipation, you close the door behind you, relieved to see the wall is fine, your face relaxing again as you take yet another deep breath through your nose.

House tour!

Kicking off your shoes at the entrance, you begin wandering from room to room, you take in the spacious kitchen and living room. Though it lacked a certain homey touch. But you were aware why. There was no furniture after all. You had a vision for the house. Just had to wait 3 days before you could make it happen and the furniture would arrive. You had big plans, that did not pair well with your lack of patience. You already had multiple shitty sketches of how you roughly wanted each room to look. The furniture is all you need, it'll arrive soon enough. Hopefully.

You're going to need to find a way to pass the time.

First things first, you still haven't explored the upstairs! Running your hand gingerly along the wooden railing as you hop upstairs, the hard floor creaking occasionally under your feet every few steps, you take a sharp left and step into the master bedroom. It was massive. You feel a grin etch at your face as you peek your head inside. You're definitely getting a king sized bed. With a nod you left the room, confident you were going to be a pro napper at least a month within getting your new bed.

You open the door to the bathroom. Spacious enough, room for a decent sized tub and shower. Although you never really saw the point in baths if you wanted to get clean. You step out and look into the spare bedroom. Maybe a potential study? That or the attic. You always were sure that the environment can heavily affect the quality of ones work.

Was such a big house going to make you feel small? Possibly alone? You scoffed to yourself. Who cares when you have such a house?! Expensive too. Ho ho you were going to have fun "subtly" showing off this house to your friends.

With a quick, dismissive peek to the spare room you turn on your heels, going up the stairs to the attic with cautious steps, the worn wooden panels making such loud noises in retaliation to your steps that you were afraid that they would give in. Your hand gently opens the rattly metallic doorknob and open the door, squinting only to see a small switch on the side of the door. You flick it on and hear the buzz of a weak warm light turning on above you, fully illuminating the room the best the small warm light can.

First thoughts? Dusty. Very Dusty. Every box, book and the long desk and chair at the end of the room practically black and gray from the abundance of dust. A sigh escaping your lips, realising just how long you were going to be cleaning for, a task you were not mentally prepared for yet. Making your way to the desk, you approached a large wooden desk, most of the surface blocked by a large panel with knobs, switches, dials and little doodads that slide up and down. The sliding doodads having small, mini light bulbs at the top of each. You look at the corners and edges of the panel, looking for an on switch or something.

Nothing.

It was probably unplugged?

Nevertheless, as foreign as the panel seemed to you, a surge of determination drives through you to figure it out. It seemed expensive. Whoever used this probably cared deeply for it, the text of the brand faded, showing the love and use the panel had been provided with. If it was so well used, you had to figure out just why it was loved so much.

To begin, you had to figure out just what it is. Turning it on seemed like the obvious option.

Crouching under the table to look to where the cables lead, you notice a microphone on the floor. Wrapping your hand just above the flat base of the microphone, feeling the coolness of the metal and the sandy texture of the dust between your skin and the metal, you try to lift it. You were suprised to find your hand faltering slightly at the sheer weight of the microphone, dropping forward onto your knees to provide a better position to pick it up in, using both hands to stand up and set it in front of the panel with more ease. It wasn't that heavy. But you didn't want to drop it. Wasn't this supposed to have headphones...?

Once more, you go down on all fours, looking under the desk, when no sign of somewhere to turn on the panel or headphones appears, you circle round to the back of the desk, finding a wire and an unplugged plug. With a small huff that caused far too much dust to fly in the air, triggering a cough from you. Slotting the plug in the panel above you hums to life and flickers on once more. A small hushed yes emerges from you as you slowly stand up, brushing the dust from your knees, then your hands.

You walk back in front of the desk, flipping some random switches for the hell of it, satisfying metallic clicks and clanks as a result of your tampering. Then proceeding to tap the microphone, you blow on it to rid it of the pesky dust, stepping back to let the dust fall.

You took a moment to appreciate just how expensive this radio setup must have been, so big and complicated it made your mind whirl just trying to decipher what each control did. You brush away some more of the dust from the panel, running your finger between the buttons, trying to look for labels, or some sort of guidance, only to find them worn out, white writing so etched and scratched at on the metallic reddish-brown surface that it was unreadable. A soft smile tugging at your lips in realisation of just how loved this equipment really was.

You’ve seen the basics of what a radio setup should look like, without having to remember the separate into bitty details of the control. Panels, a microphone. Where were the headphones? You look below the desk, bending at an uncomfortable angle to the shelves situated under the left of the desk.

Nothing.

Not like you could broadcast anything even if you wanted to. Why do they use the headphones? To listen to the sound of their own voice? How proud and snobby must one be to love their voice that much? An audible scoff from you. You know you wouldn’t be able to put up with anyone of the sort.

Using both hands, stabilising the microphone properly, you pick it up, with a smart smirk, looking at the empty wall you begin speaking to your imaginary viewers, mocking the accent radio people had to use to the best of your ability. “Hello my dear viewers! Welcome back to my boring ass show, talking about shit that probably serves as background noise” A snicker escapes your lips as your smirks stretches wider in amusement, gently putting the microphone back down.

Eager to make your made up show more believable, you move away from the desk, eyes scanning the worn wooden panels of the floor. Remembering you looking earlier you let out a hefty sigh. Were you really going to spend hard earned money for a few minutes of make-believe mucking about like a child?

Oh definitely.

Lost in thought, still staring at the floor, chuckling in thought a distinct noise snaps you out of the haze of your mind.

Click

You look over your shoulder to the direction of the noise, the desk, trying to place the exact location.

Another click

It was from the panel? You turn back to the panel, looking down on the panel as the clicks increase in frequency, switches being flicked, dials turned. A particular pattern caught your eye being the fact that during the abundance of alterations to the controls of the panel, no knob or slide was altered twice, almost if it was altering itself the clicking now a steady rhythm. What a ridiculous idea, as clueless as you were about the technology you were almost certain it wasn’t that advanced.

The clicks slowly come to a stop, one last slider slowly going upwards to a certain line before it stops completely.

“Eager to hear my voice?” You mutter under your breath, a dial slowly turning, one of your eyebrows quirking up in response. Spirits and ghosts don’t exist.

There’s always a what if.

What if they do exist?

What if you’re the first to fully realise this?

What if you’re living a ghost story?

After all, things moving on their own in the dusty attic of an old house was never a good sign.

Yeah no who were you kidding.

But just to make sure.

You bend at the waist, your lips as inch away from the crosshatched metal of the top of the microphone.

“Can you hear me?” You say in a teasing low purr, holding back a laugh in your lungs, helping to alleviate the tension you’re beginning to feel rising up in you, pressing in on the sides of your head. Jokes always help. Well. Not always. However you can’t exactly help it either.

A flicker of the small light bulbs, emitting a warm light above the sliding controls. You couldn’t help but still be sceptical. Your voice now has a newfound edge, the whole situation making you uncomfortable.

“You- can?”

Another flicker from the same small light bulbs.

A nervous laugh rumbling from your chest.

You had to figure this out, because you wouldn’t put going insane past you. Maybe a break from the attic would be good. Probably buy some headphones. As unsettling as the panel is, having the set incomplete irks you unnecessarily, and it was an enigma you couldn’t help but feel determined to figure out.

[pitot-0]

Easter eggs for player's name (spoilers ahead if u wanna discover it urself!)

I'll be including the dialogues when you enter it as the name/nickname

-maleyanderecafe

"Clever, are we? Do you want a round of applause?"

"Well, then you should know how it ends..."

"Don't you?"

-C4, Candy, Lunar

"Haha, what a sick individual."

"Perhaps it's best not to act so innocent..."

"When you know what you are already."

-Alpha, P1

"You just wanted to be accepted into the world, didn't you?"

"To be friends with everyone just like in the stories..."

"But what happens when..."

"You finally break?"

-Beta, P2

"You just wanted to be loved, finally and forever..."

"But they never would have stayed with you otherwise."

"I mean it's not really your fault..."

"It's theirs."

-Scientist

"Kind of a strange name for a prodigy, wouldn't you say?"

"But the guilt you feel is pretty immense..."

"This is all your fault..."

"And it always has been."

-Gamma, P3

"Why do you always pretend to be the villain?"

"You try so very hard to be unlikable and yet..."

"Hahahaha..."

"When will you finally succeed in making sure everyone despises you?"

-Delta, P4

"It must be really sad all alone like that..."

"You want to forget, you really do but..."

"Well, you just know more than you ever should..."

"Maybe like the fact you're playing on a ___ system or something?"

"Haha...just kidding."

-Emil

"With a smile of gold to hide a darkened heart..."

"Doesn't it feel like it's in your nature?"

"First Impressions are everything."

-Thella

"What a noble person to tarnish."

"But then again, it's just as they say..."

"First impressions aren't everything."

-Ryan

Eris: Why would you ever want to be him?

Eris: How disgusting.

-Milo

Eris: That's your perfect creation.

Eris: Let's not tarnish him just yet, alright?

-Desmond

Eris: Why would you want a name like that?

Eris: He's simply too meddlesome for his own good.

-Seph

Eris: Oh dear, that won't work out at all...

Eris: He's only interested in monsters after all...

Eris: And not the kind that you are.

-Valli

Eris: She's a bit too much of a chatterbox, isn't she?

Eris: That's not really your style though...

-Holly

Eris: It's a bad idea.

Eris: She will have your head otherwise.

-Y/N

"What a dull an unremarkable name."

"That doesn't suit you at all."

-Bussy, Fart, Butt

"Hahaha!"

"Very clever!"

"Now watch this!"

game closes

-Dick, pussy, bitch, boobs

"Ah, a prankster, are we?"

"That's pretty funny, I have to say."

"But oh well."

game closes

-Espoir

"My, hello there. It's you. And everyone else."

"You know I heard that using a certain Ashy name might give different results."

"But that's just a simple rumor..."

"Who knows if it's true."

-Ally

"Oh? Ally? How curious."

"It's such an Amiiable name..."

"It's unfortunate you won't live up to it."

-Tsu, Tsumachi

"Oh? It's you."

"Sorry...there's not really any white hair boys in this game..."

"Haha...hope you're not too disappointed."

-Reiynm

"Oho. It's you."

"Such pretty drawings you make."

"I adore them so."

"I wonder just how pretty the thumbnail would be..."

"Haha...it's nothing. Let's continue."

-Lionel

"Ah, so I'm not the only one who is watching."

"I've been watching you for a while."

"So I hope you enjoy."

"Alright?"

-Cherry

"The one and only."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll end up in the attic at some point."

-Mari

"You know, I have something special for you."

"Deep inside of the code..."

"Let's check it out, shall we?"

-Veronica, Jason Dean, Heather

"A song hums in your brain."

"I was meant to be yours..."

"We were meant to be one..."

"Don't give up on me now..."

"Finish what we become..."

"How fitting."

-Strade

"Oh, it's you."

"Well, isn't that something..."

"You'll fit right in!"

-Vance

"Don't you wish you were held more?"

"Don't you wish that someone could hug you...?"

"Even if it drove them insane?"

"So desperately you will crawl to make someone love you..."

-Virgil

"Child of the stars. Child of the galaxies."

"You take on many forms, many shapes..."

"Stay with me, you tell them."

"Force them to stay if you can."

"They have no choice."

-Mychael

"Was it hard living in the forest alone?"

"Some terrifying being that wanted to be loved..."

"Well, don't worry. You'll be loved soon enough."

"By force or by..."

"Suggestion."

-Nick

"...You look awfully hungry."

"Should you get something to eat?"

"An arm or a leg...perhaps?"

-Momo

"A peach grown with a small child that comes out."

"A demon ritual made to get the love of your dreams."

"What will be the ending for this tale?"

-Toma

"A older figure to some, or a cage for others."

"You will be taken whether you like it or not."

"It's a promise."

-Cro

"It's weird... I feel like I remember you..."

"Somewhere in a train going down the line."

"You didn't let me leave."

"Did you?"

-Catsket, Dorian, Aeron

"...A god?"

"...No, the devil..."

"Bloodless Art, perhaps..."

"Remake him into your own."

-Cassanova

"Let's try not to get our hands too dirty."

"We can't eat him up just yet."

-Theo, Riese

"Oh my, you should be careful where you tread."

"I've heard vampires like to come about around here."

"Just be careful when you walk around baring your teeth."

-Ezra

"My, I've heard that you have experience..."

"Let's put that to good use."

"Let's hope it ends up well."

-Krow

"An omen of something to come."

"Be careful of what misfortune you bring."

-Fone

"Don't worry, I can hear you."

"You will be found soon."

"I promise."

-Jack

"A ghost of that who comforts."

"At least, that's what it seems

-Alan

"A song hums in your brain."

"Do you know the Hatchet Man?"

"The Hatchet man, the Hatchet man..."

"Do you know the Hatchet Man?"

"Who lives within the woods...."

"How fitting."

-Louie, Mica, Allar, Josh

"My what a colorful name."

"So pretty and yet unexpected."

"Well now, Valentine."

"Try not to eat his heart out."

-Ren, Redacted

"There's no need for you to try to be someone else."

"You will make them accept you and love you."

"He doesn't have a choice.

-Tenebris, Keith

"Of flowers and monsters."

Keith:

"Such a pretty person...and for what?"

"Being too jealous isn't a good look for anyone."

"Tenebris:

"Ah, be careful that your rage doesn't break them."

"It's unfortunate to destroy something before they're even made."

-Aster

"An angel. Someone who lives for you."

"Well, that might have been what you were suppose to be."

"But now it's time to find someone else to be able to fufill that role, hm?"

-Leumin

"It's raining, it's pouring~"

"Milo is snoring~"

"Hahaha..."

"Let's see if he'll enjoy this rainy weather we'll be putting on then..."

-Koolie

"Ha. Are you some sort of dog?"

"Ah, that's kind of funny..."

"Hopefully this doesn't turn out to be as tasteless as milk."

-Zecharias

"Just as memory serves right?"

"Sometimes you can't find your perfect muse..."

"You have to make them."

-Sal

"The evil white shark of the waters..."

"You just wanted to be loved right?"

"Well..."

"Don't we all?"

-Sol

"A name like the sun..."

"Or so they say."

"When you're simply the kid in the back..."

"Would anyone even notice?"

-Eli

"You were made to be loved, weren't you?"

"Sometimes though, you have to make sure you follow your directive."

"And you just have to do it yourself."

-Zachary, Simon, Seth

"This world isn't really that colorful..."

"At least thats what you think."

"Don't look at it through some colored gaze then, alright?"

-Bo, Dachabo

"You look like such an innocent puppy."

"But it's wrong isn't it?"

"You're more like a wolf who lusts for more."

-Liu

"Watch carefully through that door of yours."

"Your eyes darting about."

"You had always watched him from afar."

-Ashton

"Ah, did you jump from another game or something?"

"Don't forget your garden sheers."

"Maybe you might need them."

-Harper

"Ah, are you taking a break from camp?"

"Well hopefully, you find someone for you..."

"And try not to murder anyone, okay?"

-Morgan

"Hm? Are you a librarian or something?"

"Ah, sounds like a quiet job."

"Well, you can hear a lot of secrets, I'm sure."

-Riker

"Ah, so many different endings, so many different faces."

"Keep it together for your love, okay?"

"You're going to need him."

-Griffin

"Ah, like the bird, huh?"

"Did you guys meet on IndyCent or something?"

"Haha, I jest."

-Dameon, Stalker

"What a fluffy figure you have..."

"You must be good at following the things you like, don't you?"

"Well, let's track him down then..."

"Our Perfect Love"

-Nial

"A parasite bringing someone to death..."

"A blue enigma with a killing blow..."

"Let's hope you can keep him alive..."

"He's going to need it."

-Z

"Ah, a real demonic character, huh?"

"Have you taken interest in someone?"

"Let's keep them closer to you..."

"So they can never leave."

-Gold

"Ah? What a peculiar name."

"You wouldn't perhaps have someone who is in a coma, right?"

"Ahaha. It's just a jest."

-Klein

"How long did it take you to finally get what you pleased?"

"Behind that plastic cover..."

"You'll finally break free."

-Friend

"Ah, what a friendly name you have."

"Despite all that, it's quite ironic."

"After all, being friends with you is rather...unfortunate, isn't it?"

-Adam

"Ah, you have experience hurting others, don't you?"

"Says the one above..."

"I'm sure you will get what you deserve."

-Doc, Dre

"Do you like vengeance?"

"You probably do, don't you?"

"Then please..."

"Enjoy to your heart's content."

-Valk

"May you be watched and possessed..."

"Just as you deserve..."

"I hope it's to your liking."

-Melencholy

"Ah, I remember you. You do your best, don't you?"

"Carried us when we all needed it..."

"Please, let's have fun..."

"Creating our very own perfect love."

-Sox

"A perfect househusband or a perfect wife..."

"Maybe both, maybe neither..."

"Well, I'm sure that this will end with someone being taken care of."

"Whether you'd want it or not."

-Calem

"As I've heard, you really are something."

"You love it when someone watches you from above."

"Like a cat, ready to pounce."

-Meru

"The one of the stars, the one of love."

"I've heard them say you're quite the artist."

"Let's make him into a piece of art, shall we?"

-Techno

"Oh? What a curious name..."

"Like a small, little hamster..."

"Well, they do say that if someone dies next to a hamster..."

"They use their face as bedding."

"That's a fun fact, huh?"

-Madelyn

"I did promise something for you, didn't I?"

"Someone or something that's quite cute or cuddly..."

shows image of a cat

"Someone like this then, hm?"

"Haha. I did promise."

-Jablue

"Can you hear him hiding in the walls?"

"Watching...waiting..."

"There's always someone out there, you know..."

"Begging for your love."

-Bambi

"A deer in the headlights, watching so carefully."

"Will you enjoy the corruption that has been brought?"

"It's more fun when they fall by your hand, you know?"

-Song

"A monster in the making is just as fun..."

"Watch as he twists and turns into his new form..."

"Watch as he hatches into something that's just for you..."

-Flaine

"Ah, welcome back, boss!"

"The cheeriest of all, the one who speaks loudly..."

"May we corrupt the one we love the most..."

"Don't forget to finish your comic..."

-Quiet, Quietaxis

"Did I forget about you?"

"You seem familiar..."

"Like you'd be friends with a cute pink character."

image of kirby

"Kind of like that? I suppose?"

"Haha, that's cute."

-Stranger

"Surprising..."

"I didn't think you'd be here."

"The god of death themselves."

-Manly, Manlybadasshero

"Ah, so it's you. And everyone else."

"I've been wondering if you would pick this up."

"So hopefully you enjoy."

"It would be a shame if you didn't."

whew that's a lot lol

I'd separate the nickname one since there is plenty

[spectralscathath]

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A Gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 3- Monster Truck

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a truck-stealing creature, not scary movies, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

"A sleepover, Stanley, can you believe it?" Ford beamed as he screwed in another bit of plating on his magnet gun, Test Design #1. Lucky that the attic that had been turned into their room had a bunch of stored random stuff he could use. He'd cleaned up a bit in preparation for tonight, made more space. "We've never had one before!"

"What's all the 'we' about?" Stan flicked through one of The Grimdark Chronicles comics, lying on his bed. Ford had gotten the first one in the series because he thought he'd like the supernatural mystery story, but it was just depressing. Stan seemed to like it though, at least. 

Maybe it could get him to start drawing again? Ford missed reading Lil Stanley, it was funny. 

"Sixer?"

"Oh. Sorry." Zoned out again, too stuck in his head. It kept happening. "I just mean- we've never had friends to have a sleepover with? Aren't you excited?"

"They're your friends, poindexter," Stan rolled his eyes and munched on toffee peanuts. Ford had been trying to get him to store his food in the kitchen, where food was supposed to be stored, but Stan was convinced something was eating them. It was probably Grunkle Dipper. "Why would I be excited?"

"I- because-" didn't Stan want a sleepover? "What's going on with you?"

"Nothin'." Stan flicked a page of the comic and offered the bag of snacks. “Want one?”

"No, I don’t want a toffee peanut! Something's going on with you!" Ford knew it, he knew it- "First you don't wanna go to a party even though we've never been to one, now you don't want a sleepover? These are normal things boys our age do, it's exciting."

Stan sighed and closed the comic, sitting up and stretching. "Yeah, for you, maybe. Bet you're gonna do a whole buncha nerdy stuff. No thanks."

Ford pouted. "C'mon, Stanley, you could at least give it a try. Tad said he'll bring over his MonsterMon cards and his Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons kit. I've always wanted to play those." But dad thought they were frivolous.

"You know that stuff's got too much math for me," Stan laughed. 

"I could help you with the math!" Why didn't Stanley want to play with him? "Are you mad at me?"

Okay, now Stanley was looking at him like he was being dumb. Which was weird, because he normally made that face at Stan. Being on this end of it was not normal. 

"What? I'm not mad at you, doofus." 

"Then what are you mad at?" It had to be something. 

"Hot Belgian Waffles, I'm not mad at anything," Stan rolled his eyes. "You gotta stop overthinking things."

"But I-" was that what he was doing? He fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, pulling them over his hands a bit. "Hm."

"Told ya." Stan shrugged.

"What are you gonna do instead then?" The idea of Stanley being alone didn't feel right. Maybe he still felt guilty for ditching Stan at the party.

"I was gonna ask Grunkle Dipper if I could watch one of his old horror movies he's got beside the TV."

"Stanley, those are scary!" And absolutely none of them were PG-rated. 

"I know, right?" Stan's eyes sparkled. "Maybe he'll let me watch one of the really scary ones."

Ford pulled a face. "Then I'm definitely not joining you."

"Yeah, I figured," Stan snickered and hopped down off the bed, stuffing his toffee peanuts in his vest with a singsong. "Doo-dilly–doo, hidin' my snacks- You comin'?"

"Where?"

"To let your friends in?" Stan looked at him with That Face again. "It's four pm already, nerd."

"Oh my gosh, is it really?" Ford jumped to his feet like he'd been shocked and ran downstairs, nearly tripping over his extra toes in his haste to get to the door.

He adjusted his glasses and pulled it open, beaming wide at Tad and Fiddleford, Fiddleford's hand raised as if to knock. "Hi! You got the right door!"

"The gift shop entryway looked crowded," Fiddleford smiled, a banjo in his other hand. 

"Hi. I brought various activities." Tad lifted the boxes in his hands to show them off, and Ford forgot completely about everything else because there it was: Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons! 

Finally, he could put all those ideas he had for characters and enemies and dungeons into play! He'd done so much research!

"Come in!" He held the door open for them. "You've met my brother Stanley-"

"It's 'Stan' to you guys," Stanley leaned against the wall, jumping when Dipper leapt into the room, in full Mr Mystery gear, fists raised in a fighting stance.

"I heard intruders and I know Dan's fixing my truck! Come get some!"

"... and that's our Grunkle Dipper." Ford sighed. "Dipper, you said I could have a sleepover yesterday, remember?"

"Oh." Dipper relaxed from his fighting stance and scratched the back of his neck. "I did?"

"Yep. You were sleeping in your truck before though, mighta forgot." Stan confirmed. 

"Well." Dipper looked like he was processing before he waved at Tad and Fiddleford. "Hi, I'm Dipper Pines."

"Hello."

"Aft'rnoon."

"You both live in town?" Dipper joined Stan in leaning against the wall, scanning both of Ford's friends in interest. What was he looking for?

"I'm from Tennessee. Got sent up here to stay with my pa Tate on account of-" Fiddleford paused. "Reasons."

"Wait, the lake guy?" Dipper tilted his hat up. "Huh. I'm banned from renting boats there."

"Yeah… your picture's up on the 'banned forever' wall beside Old Lady Chiu's."

"Okay, we're gonna go set up, thank you!" Ford tried to rush his friends past his weird Grunkle. "Our room's up this way."

"Don't touch my stuff, poindexter," Stan reminded him before he turned. "Grunkle Dipper-"

#

"- can I watch one of your scary movies?" Stan asked, certain he'd get a yes. Dipper was pretty 'free-range' in his guardian style. 

Dipper stared up the stairs. "Was that kid holding D, D, & More D?"

"Yeah, Ford's always wanted to play it," Stan shrugged. "What a nerd, amirite?"

"Oh, I love that game," Dipper blinked a few times before he seemed to zone back in. "What was the question again?"

Stan groaned and smacked his forehead. Really? "I wanna watch one of your horror movies while my brother's having a sleepover. Can I?"

"You don't want to play with him and his friends?" Dipper's brows did that furrow they did every time he got puzzled. He seemed to do it a lot when talking to Stan and Ford. 

"Nah." Stan shrugged it off, stuffing his hands into his pockets and staring at an old stain on the floor. "His friends, after all. I don't really like all that stuff anyway." 

He wasn't lying when he said he wasn't angry. Just wasn't happy either. He and Ford were supposed to do everything together, they weren't meant to have anyone but each other. But Ford did now, he had friends, and Stan wanted to be a good brother, be happy for his brother's success, like always. Ford succeeded and Stan stayed outta the way, that was how dad preferred things.  He could do that. He and Ford could hang out another time. Stan was no leech.

Dipper knelt down to his level and put a hand on his shoulder. Stan tensed a bit, just because. He wasn't big on touch, he and Ford just weren't. 

"Hey. I get it." There was a faraway look in Dipper's eyes before he focused. He and Ford both did that a lot, got stuck in their heads. "How about this: I gotta go give a tour before I close down for the day, so how about you go and get Dan to show you some car stuff, and after dinner you can pick a movie and I'll watch it with you. They're better when it's dark anyway."

Stan perked up. "You wanna watch a movie with me?" And not play Ford’s nerd game he said he liked?

"Kid, they're my movies," Dipper laughed. "Like heck I'm missing a chance for a rewatch."

"You got yourself a deal," Stan grinned and stuck out his hand to shake. 

Dipper's whole body retracted like a mollusc Stan once saw on Glass Shard Beach, staring at Stan's offered handshake like he was going to be sick, before he put on a smile and ruffled Stan's hair instead. “Now go bother Dan."

"Okay." Stan grinned toothily and grabbed his sneakers, pulling them on and running outside, past the remaining tourist cars still in the dirt patch that was technically a parking lot. Some of the cars were nice, he thought, if he knew cars. 

He didn't know much beyond what Shermie had told him, but it sounded like knowing cars was a cool thing. Not only that, but Shermie finally buying his car with his own money had been the first time Stan saw what freedom looked like on someone else's face. Stan's freedom might have been a boat and a promise to sail away, but cars could be a good Plan B. 

Boyish Dan was elbows deep in Dipper's truck, flannel sleeves rolled up his biceps. He had to be the only sixteen-year-old Stan knew with a beard. He was huge. 

"Hi, Dan." He still didn't know how to talk to this guy. He seemed loud. "Grunkle Dipper said you're working on his truck?"

“Yeah!” Dan grabbed him with one hand and hefted him up onto his shoulder, no hesitation or strain in it.

Stan laughed in disbelief and waved his arms to keep his balance. "Jeez Louise- what do they feed you out here, Dan? I'm not that tiny!"

"Yeah, you are!" Dan grinned at him through the beard, a gap between his front teeth. This close, it looked a little wispy in places, but still. It was a beard. Stan didn't have one, didn't even have stubble. "Don't feel bad, Mr Pines ain't the biggest guy 'round either, but he's definitely the best!"

"Yeah, I'm curious about that," Stan admitted bluntly. "You're like, some sorta hardcore woodsman, right?"

"Whole family is!" Dan boasted proudly. "You seen that big mansion on the hill? Us Corduroys cleared that whole mountain and built it hundreds'a years ago!"

"Wow, so it's like, in your blood. Hardcore."

"Yeah, but my uncles are kinda weird about it." Dan's volume dropped to a normal speaking level, something Stan wasn't sure was possible. "They drive my mom crazy, always yellin', doing stuff just 'cuz they think it's manly. I love 'em, but I don't wanna stress out my mom too. And Mr Pines is the manliest guy in town and he doesn't do that stuff!"

"You think my uncle's manly?" He listened to girly music and did all the cooking. That wasn't very manly by Pines standards. 

"Listen, little man!" Dan closed the hood of the truck, lifting Stan to stand on it. He still wasn't sure about being lifted around in one hand like a kitten, but it was also super cool, so he could live with it. "Mr Pines is the smartest, toughest, strongest, bravest, MANLIEST man in Gravity Falls! And if he hadn't told me not to punch people for saying otherwise, I'da punched everyone in town who does! But I don't gotta punch 'em, because being a man isn't about throwing your weight around just because you can!"

"It's not?" Stan blurted out. Dad threw his weight around all the time. He had so much weight that all it took was a word sometimes. 

"NO!" Dan paused and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Workin' on a 'inside voice'. My uncles think that way sometimes. The Gleefuls think that way. But I ain't seen them take on a manotaur without blinking!"

"A what?" Did he say that right? Wasn't that one of Ford's myth stories? Stan didn't remember.

"I said what I said! Bein' a man's 'bout a lot more than flexing muscles and thinkin' you're the best 'cuz of it!"

"Is that why you work for him?" Stan still wasn't sure how Dipper was meant to be any of that stuff Dan said. 

"Yeah! And my mom thinks it'll be good for me, said a job might make me chill out!"

"You can tell her it's working." Stan couldn't resist a little sarcasm. 

"Yeah!" Dan threw his meaty fists up in the air. "So you ready to learn about trucks, little man?!"

"You kiddin'? 'Course I am- uh, big guy!" Dan was kinda weird, but not bad weird. Fun weird. He scrambled back onto Dan's shoulders as Dan opened the engine up again, and decided to be nice in return. "Hey, want a toffee peanut?"

He pulled out the bag of toffee peanuts and shook it in offer, a few crumbs falling into the truck. 

He didn't see a tiny three-fingered hand reach out from beneath the engine block and pull them in.

#

"Wow, you even have minifigures!" Ford's eyes were huge behind his glasses. 

"I do," Tad smiled serenely, setting out all his D,D, & more D stuff. "I'm not very good at being a dungeon master though. Would either of you like to take the role?"

Ford wanted to, so so bad, but- "Fiddleford?"

"Gracious, no, I'm fine being a player. Too much to keep track of," Fiddleford looked around Ford's room in interest, steering clear of Stan's stuff that Ford pointed out. Stan did ask them to stay outta it. "I like all the splinters."

"You sound like Stan," Ford laughed. "I hate splinters. You know- yesterday Waddles Jr. was on my bed? Sometimes Grunkle Dipper lets him in the house."

"Pigs are very affectionate creatures," Fiddleford smiled fondly, poking at the stained glass window. The window had a strange design, arrows and diamonds and circles. It looked a little like an anchor, but definitely wasn’t. "I like the design here, very intricate. Looks freshly put in?"

"Yeah, a lot of the windows are new," Ford had noticed as well. "Not sure why they all need to be Waddles-themed or question marks or whatever that thing is, you'd think he could keep the branding to the tourist part of the house."

"There's a recurring issue with property defacement in town." Tad noted, setting out all his dice in neat rows. "People find windows broken and scratches in buildings or landmarks. Very strange. Perhaps Mr Mystery was the most recent victim."

"Really?" Ford reached for the diary. If Fiddleford and Tad were going to tease him on it they would have done it already. "There's no mention of that in this diary."

"I was meaning to ask about that there book of yours," Fiddleford crossed his legs as he sat down. "What is it?"

"It's a diary of someone who came to Gravity Falls, I think they were… maybe a researcher?" It was ambiguous. "But they catalogued all of the weird supernatural stuff here, it's fascinating. And the pages stop halfway through, it's so cool!"

"Gravity Falls is quite unusual," Tad smiled, pulling emergency bread from his backpack. "My parents moved here from the Southwest, they quite like how it reminded them of their old town. Personally, I like how unique it is."

"So you grew up here? Maybe you know some stuff the diary missed?" 

"Maybe," Tad shrugged with a smile. "We'll compare some time."

"I'm not very fond of all that spookifying stuff myself." Fiddleford reached for his banjo, plucking the strings in a random pattern. "Back in Tennessee my family would tease me a lot, make up scary stories about things, things that sound like people but aren't, things that live in the fields and watch you, things that take the pigs in the night. Fake stuff, I told myself. But- I swear I saw somethin' in the lake here one time, somethin' big."

"Really?" Ford pulled out a pen. "Where did you see it? Did you get a look at any defining traits?"

"No. I wish I could forget it," Fiddleford sighed and tuned a banjo string. "I don't handle that type of things very well."

"That's okay," Ford hesitated before he patted Fiddleford's shoulder. "You just like other types of science better than cryptozoology, I guess."

"We can phrase it that way, sure," Fiddleford stated dryly. "You sure your brother doesn't want to join us?"

"Nah, Stan said he doesn't wanna play. Je and Grunkle Dipper are gonna watch a movie instead." Ford started setting up D, D, & more D. "Maybe after this you could give me some pointers on my magnet gun idea?"

"Sure can."

Ford smiled as Tad set down a figurine on the graph paper, and rolled the 38-sided die across the back of his fingers, blushing only a little when he fumbled it. He just had to practice.

Fiddleford and Tad were fun to play with, making good use of a Rogue/Cleric duo as they began working through the starter adventure provided by the guide. Ford grew more confident, starting to put his own spin on things, add in new enemies, build towards a twist in the plotline. 

They had just cleared their third encounter, a group of coldbolds with a surprise buzzbear from Ford drawn by the noise, and had entered the main starter dungeon when Boyish Dan threw open the door and yelled, "The truck! Ate! Stan!"

Ford dropped the handful of dice he was holding. "What?!" 

"I was showing him how to check tire pressure!" Dan pulled off his hat, clutching it in massive hands. His knuckles were raw and red. "I tried punching it and it didn't give him back!"

"Can you get Mr Mystery?" Tad smiled brightly. 

"He's doing a tour, he's doing a tour now." Dan fumbled with his hat. "Help?"

"Yes!" Ford yanked his shoes on. He couldn't even be mad that Stan had interrupted his sleepover and his game. How did a car eat someone? "Boyish Dan, did you see anything strange?"

"The back of the truck grew a trunk lid! And scales!"

"Scales…" Ford flipped through the diary. "Here! Gremobiles, it's a type of gremlin- they're a subspecies of the goblin family- that can meld with a vehicle, the author had to fight one that stole a bus and had to rip it out of the engine block." The caricature of the angry monster was super funny, the author gave it a silly face.

"How?" Fiddleford looked over his shoulder, scanning the page as well. 

"Grappling hook, apparently." Ford put the diary away. "If my magnet gun was finished I'd use that-"

"I can finish it," Fiddleford promised and pulled out his tools from his belt. "Go get your brother."

"Tad Strange would welcome the excitement of fighting a living vehicle." Tad grabbed a baseball bat from the pile of random stuff that the twins shared the attic with and gave it a twirl.

"Let's go." Ford nodded at him and Dan and rushed down the stairs, past the museum area of the house.

"Behold!" Dipper's voice was muffled by the closed door. "Genuine cursed pirate gold! Look at how the coins turn invisible when removed from the water! Who wants to try and grab a coin? Twenty bucks if you do!"

Ford scoffed at the shameless scam and followed Boyish Dan out to the dirt parking lot, looking for the offending Gremobile. 

Dipper's truck did not look like it was supposed to. The faded blue paint had been replaced by green-brown scales, the hood popped open to show the top half of the little monster fused with the engine block. The headlights glowed red and the back, normally open, had more of those scales, grown over the open space. The lil monster had a mohawk, shoving something in its mouth and chomping away. Ford recognised the packaging. 

"Toffee Peanuts. That must have been why it ate Stanley!" So maybe Stanley was right about something stealing his snacks.

Ford could hear muffled banging from inside that space and swore his vision went red, like that time Crampelter broke Stanley's nose and knocked out a tooth. Ford hadn’t been as good at boxing as Stanley, but he’d still pounced on Crampelter like a rabid possum, biting and clawing to protect his twin. 

"Over here!" He yelled at it. "Everyone spread out, we need to keep it distracted until Fiddleford finishes the magnet gun! Then we can hold the truck still and rip the Gremobile out!" He was gonna break every part of its face. No one hurt Stanley. Not in front of Ford.

#

Stan's hands hurt from where he'd been trying to punch his way out. He tried not to think about how much his braced wrist- two days 'til that was off- hurt more than the other. It was basically healed anyway, how much damage could he do?

Also- it had started getting really slimy and soft and slippery in here, and that was making it hard to find anything he could hit. 

He reached into his pockets, wondering if maybe now was the time for the pocket knife, he didn't think he could smoke bomb his way out. It was dark too, he was too old to be scared of the dark, but-

He heard the engine rev and roar before he was thrown around a bunch, elbows and knees knocking against the sides. The slime coated him and smelt gross, he clamped his mouth and eyes shut, hands over his ears so it didn't get in any of the holes in his face.

There was one massive move that knocked him against the far side, right as it stopped being all soft and squishy and sunlight hit him. "HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!"

Ow. His head hurt. He cracked open an eye and squinted up at the sky. Ford's face appeared right in front of him and he yelped, leaning back and hitting his head again.

"Stan!" Ford beamed. "You're okay!"

"Sweet Moses, Sixer, warn a guy first," he grumbled. "What happened?"

"You were eaten by a gremobile, which must have gotten a taste for your candy. My magnet gun held it still long enough for Dan to rip it out- Look!" Ford pointed and Stan poked his head out of the truck bed. 

Dan held up a tiny weird thing in his massive fist, scaled and green-brown, with a wild mohawk and no legs. It held an empty packet of-

"Hey, my toffee peanuts!"

"Ready for a home run?!" Dan prepared to drop the evil little critter, trying to gnaw through his hand like an angry ferret.

"I'm a bit rusty, but we'll see." Tad stood right beside him with a serene, unblinking smile, and drew back a baseball bat, winding up a swing.

Dan dropped the monster and Tad knocked it clear into the woods, its fading shriek all that was left of it as it went flying off to probably die somewhere. Fiddleford stood beside them and whooped at the sight, holding Ford's magnet gun.

"Okay that was cool." Stan admitted. "Help me up?"

"Uhhhhh-" Ford leaned back from him. "I think that's some sort of mucus. Or saliva. Or- uh, other fluids. I'm good."

Stan looked at the slime covering him and got an evil idea, grinning at his brother as he shifted his weight. Slime time. Ford looked at him, recognition sparking followed by immediate horror.

"Stan? Stanley Pines don't you dare- STANLEY!" Ford shrieked like a girl as he jumped out of the truck, Stan's goop-covered pounce barely missing him. 

"Coward!" Stan clambered out of the truck after him, laughing even as he slipped and landed face first in the dirt. 

"Ohmygosh are you okay?" Ford dithered, just enough hesitance for Stanley to grab him and smosh ooze into Ford's hair. 

"Gotcha!" Stan went for the noogie, really wedge it all in there.

"Ew! What's wrong with you, I don't wanna get slimed!" Ford yelled, but he was giggling as he pushed Stan off.

Stan felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed, looking up as Tad Strange lifted his hand, examined the goo, and slapped his own face with it. 

"Slime fight." He looked way too pleased with himself.

"That's no slime fight," Fiddleford chuckled, standing with Boyish Dan with his arms crossed. "When your cousins dunk you in a pig pen- that's a slime fight."

Stanley's eyes sparkled as he glanced at Waddles Jr's shed. Since when were Ford's nerd friends into gross things? And giving him tips on messing with his twin? "Ford?"

"Do it and I'll dye your hair pink." Ford warned him. "I'm not joking, Stanley. Also we need to go wash off."

"C'mon, Fordsy-"

"No, seriously, this is disgusting." Ford's hands hovered over his hair, unwilling to touch the gunk. "Tad, why would you do this willingly?"

"I am driven by an insatiable curiosity."

"I like you, Strange, you and Fidds are pretty cool," Stan announced, brushing himself off a bit. His head wasn't even hurting anymore. 

Dan lumbered over to kneel down in front of him, face pulled in a scowl. "I'm sorry you got eaten, little man!"

"All good, big guy," Stan gave him a thumbs up. "You gotta show me more car stuff some time, it's really interesting."

Dan's frown turned into a smile and he hugged Stan so tight it mighta cracked a rib, hefting him off his feet. Stan froze up, fists clenching on instinct and sending a bolt of pain up his hand before he relaxed. He should have figured a hug from Dan would be like getting hugged by a furnace. A furnace with a chokehold. 

He patted part of Dan's arm, wheezing the words out. "Gotta breathe, big guy."

"Right!" Dan set him back down. "No injuries?"

"Nope!" Stan gave him a big thumbs up. "Thought I'd have to chew my way out though!"

"That would severely damage your teeth," Ford informed him. "Fiddleford, Tad? You alright?"

"I barely had to see that nasty lil beast," Fiddleford twirled the magnet gun over and over in his hands. "Workin' on a solution sure does help."

"Tad Strange has never felt more alive." Tad hefted the bat across his shoulders, and Stan…

Well, they were Ford's friends first, but maybe he could be okay with them. He could be friendly, or as friendly as he was capable of. These weren't going to be the kinds of kids who played mean games like 'pretend to be a friend to play a mean prank'. That happened once and Stan made sure it wouldn't happen again. Tommy-Tim still had a scar through his eyebrow from where the skin split.

"Whoa- what's going on out here?" All five heads shot to the entryway to the gift shop. Dipper stood with his hands on his hips, some of his Mr Mystery attitude in place. 

"Slime fight." Tad informed him. 

"It's coolant!" Fiddleford jumped in with a lie before anyone could tell their grunkle about the genuine supernatural creature. Stan clicked his tongue. Ford wouldn't be pleased about that.

"Oh- you should not have that on your skin," Dipper winced. "Anyway- everyone, outta the parking lot and out the back, this tour's on its way out of the gift shop and I don't want anyone getting hit by a tour bus, so go on, get, skoosh, shoo." he waved them towards the back of the clearing.

"Yes, Mr Pines!" Dan agreed, before he physically pushed the truck back into place, because Dan was a beast and Stan was quickly placing him high on the 'cool person' list. Not above Carla, but still. 

"And clean up before dinner! Don't get gunk all over my house!" Dipper called as Dan started ushering them around the back, towards Waddles Jr.'s pen.

Fiddleford stopped at the edge, reaching over and giving Waddles Jr. a friendly scratch behind the ear. "Golly, that was terrififying. Are you alright, Stan?"

"Eh," he shrugged it off. His hand would be fine.he punched Ford's shoulder, not too hard. "Told you something was stealing my snacks."

"Okay, okay. You told me so." Ford smiled, punched him back. "Knucklehead."

"Nerd." Stan sat on the grass. "How's your nerd game going anyway?"

All three of them immediately began chattering in excitement, and he felt surprisingly okay with it. Ford and his friends dropped their nerd game to save him from an evil car, maybe that meant something. 

#

Dipper set down a big bowl of popcorn and sat on the couch, aching joints glad of the softness that fit him perfectly after many a movie marathon. "Whatcha picked out, kid?"

"There's so many good ones," Stan looked over all the DVDs, stacked higher than the TV. "You've got a lot."

"Yeah, I got way better stuff than the Gravity Falls Horror Movie Rerun Channel, they exclusively have B-movies." He still watched them though. Guilty pleasure. "I got all the classics."

"How about this one?" Stan held up The Exorcist. 

"That's something a responsible parent probably wouldn't let a kid watch," Dipper commented. "Good thing I'm an uncle! Let's do it!"

"Yes!" Stan scrambled to his feet and started setting it up. Dipper watched him as he had some popcorn. The Exorcist, huh? He remembered seeing it in theatres when he was on his own. Scared him half to death at the time. Now he could probably recite the whole script off by heart.

"Got it!" Stan finished setting up and sat back on the rug.  

"Hey, you wanna share the couch?" Dipper offered. "And the popcorn?"

"Really?" Stan looked at him, suspicious and hopeful. 

"Yeah, get your butt up here or I'm gonna eat it all myself." Dipper pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it in Stan's face.

Stan laughed and hopped up on the couch, settling in on the other end as Dipper got the lamp, the room plunging into darkness as the title flashed on the screen. 

"Grunkle Dipper?"

"Shh. Movie time."

Stan hesitated, voice surprisingly quiet from such a boisterous kid. "Thanks for watching this with me. I know you like Ford's game."

Dipper paused, hand in the popcorn bowl. "Yeah, sure, but who wants to have a sleepover where an old guy plays a board game with them?"

"Ford wouldn't mind. He said once it's a game that's best with more players. And you're smart enough to be great at it, I bet." 

"Yeah, true." Dipper didn't want to admit this but fine. "I didn't really… aw man. Look, I-I wasn't a sleepover kid growing up. But-" Mabel and her slumber parties, he used to hate them- "your gramps was. Had 'em all the time."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I know it can feel-" irritating, lonely, jealous, bitter, what's wrong with me- "annoying, being the one that doesn't want to do what everyone else does." 

“Yeah.” Stan pulled his knees up on the couch, wrapping his arms around them.

He reached over and messed up Stan's hair, still damp from where he'd gotten clean. "But you can always come watch a movie with me, kid."

"Heh." Stan smiled, eyes still on the screen. "Cool."

"Yeah, yeah, now shh. You're missing key plot information." Pazuzu was a hack.

#

"Wow, pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles?" Ford had never seen so many colours on food before. 

"Eh, someone once told me it was perfect sleepover breakfast food." Dipper flipped a pancake over the stove. Ford had been woken early by Fiddleford, who apparently woke with the sun on account of 'farm life'. 

It had been weird to see Dipper reading a book when he came downstairs, an arm around a snoring Stan, even as Ford felt a pang of something that wasn't worth investigating. It was good Stan wasn't alone for the night, he probably wouldn't have slept great anyway, they stayed up really late playing MonsterMon after finishing the starter dungeon and defeating the evil wizard, a servant of Probabilitor called Algebraius the Beatable.

"How ya holdin' up there, Stan?" Fiddleford checked in.

Stan had dark rings under his eyes, haggardly cutting into a pancake and nursing a glass of milk the way mom did with her morning coffee. "Pfft, I'm fine. No nightmares at all. That screaming you heard last night was coyotes."

"Well, Tad Strange slept great." Tad had denied the offer of pancakes, instead buttering some of his bread and adding sprinkles to that instead. 

"I did too," Ford agreed. "I had a super cool dream, I was playing chess in space." The other details had slipped away, as dreams did.

"Nerd," Stan poked him with a tired laugh. "Of course you did."

Ford poked him back. He didn't remember much else, but… he felt like he was playing chess with a friend.

[delopsia]

Thinking about autumn in Wabang.

When the sweltering heat subsides into chilly afternoons and crisp breezes that nip at your skin. The crickets chirp a little louder, and the tree in the front yard transitions from vivid green to warm yellows and reds. Delicate leaves falling from sturdy branches and landing in the driveway, crunching beneath the tires of an old blue GMC Sierra.

It's that time of year when Rhett comes home with furrowed brows and frigid hands, grumbling about how "it's 'bout time we get them damn shirts outta the attic again." And gradually, his wardrobe begins to shift to thick flannels, cozy hoodies, and hefty jackets that insulate heat a little too well.

Those rodeo nights grow colder, and the adrenaline-laced kisses that follow get a little warmer. Festivals pop up in the fields around town, pumpkins mark the corners of Wabang streets, and corn fields are converted into twisting mazes. Fragments of broken leaves cling to the wild curls that rest on the back of Rhett's neck, picked up from wrestling with farm dogs and napping beneath trees.

Saturdays are consumed by venturing to neighboring towns to visit festivals, buying decor that you don't need, and sharing treats that you've never heard of before. The house perpetually carries the warm scent of the season. Rhett's lips taste like caramel apples and cider.

"Rhett," your palms roam across those thick, broad shoulders as you sneak up behind him, "is that apple cider or beer?"

His head tilts backward, messy hair bumping into your cheek, peering up at you through thick lashes, "You'll have to kiss me to find out."

You already know that it's cider.

It's always cider.

But you kiss him anyway.

Cowboys are the first to notice the change in the seasons. Can detect the first golden leaf of the season simply by the scent of the air. Overly familiar with the sight of extravagantly colored leaves and the musky, sweet scent that they bring. Seeing it so often that such a sight should be boring.

Yet, Rhett insists on those cheesy nature walks anyway. Content to hold your chilly hand in his as your shoes crunch through a leaf-littered path, marveling at the beauty of the season.

Sometimes those walks are filled with endless conversation, laughter loud enough to rattle leaves off trees, so wrapped up in your stories that you hardly recall what you saw. Others are quiet. No need for words as you sit on a frigid bench, unable to shiver because a warm arm has long since wrapped around your shoulders.

Sometimes the days are too cold for just an arm.

Those days end in a heavy jacket resting over your shoulders instead. Your hands tucked into pockets filled with hard candies and an oddly shaped rock that he found. And it's like the first days of your relationship all over again, giggling, bickering about who needs the jacket more, and rubbing cold noses together.

There are things that never change.

Just as the forests change color every year, Rhett brings you his jacket during every frosty rodeo. Always seems to come wandering over when the temperature drops and your skin has begun to go numb from the sharp bite of the wind.

"Y'look awful cold, darlin'," he hums, his breath like smoke, puffing past his lips in thin, wispy clouds.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready to ride?" The crowd erupts into a roar of cheers as you speak, nearly erasing your voice entirely.

That big arm slides around your waist, drawing you up to his burning chest, frozen lips stealing a kiss, "I got a couple minutes to spare."

He leaves you with a heavy coat draped over your shoulders, a lazily scrawn note hidden in the left pocket.

'Everything s'more fun with you :)

Archie's having a bonefire tonight. Wanna go?'

And, of course, your answer is yes, because Archie's bonfires are nothing short of spectacular. His speakers always softly hum the tune of indie artists you've never heard of, and though there's alcohol, it's never the center of the event. His wife ventures out in her pajamas, sleepily making conversation with you as Rhett and Archie argue over their idea of a perfect roasted marshmallow.

"Y'aint got a fuckin' lick of sense 'n you know it, Rhett!" If Archie's hands weren't preoccupied with crafting his wife's obligatory s'more, they'd be waving in the air. "What kinda fool chooses to char the shit outta their marshmallow?"

Rhett's head shakes, fumbling with a graham cracker, "I do!"

And that's all it takes before Archie's attention turns to you, defiantly ignoring Rhett. "Yer boyfriend's got more teeth than he does sense."

Despite the warm, crackling fire, these nights always end the same. Tumbling through the front door, all cold noses and frozen hands as you both make a mad dash for the shower, each vying to be the first to hop beneath the hot water. Limbs awkwardly tangling and bodies bumping into one another because this shower wasn't meant for two.

Then comes the honorary plaid blanket as you snuggle on the couch, not ready to sleep yet, but getting there. Your head against Rhett's chest, heart thumping in your ear, his unshaven chin scratching at your forehead.

You don't recall falling asleep, but the next time you open your eyes, you're in bed. Wrapped up in the arms of a snoring cowboy, flakes of snow pitter-pattering off the windows, listening as he sleepily asks for just five more minutes.

[inkribbon796]

Egotober 2023 Day 15: Makes and Models

Summary: Yancy’s getting bigger, stronger. But he’s not strong enough for everything yet.

A/N: It’s 3rd Sunday. You know what that means . . . Yancy angst.

Prompt: Strong

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

It was a calm but otherwise quiet Sunday. Dark didn’t like them being in the warehouse all week. He barely let them work at the warehouse, they could loiter around in his office but that was it.

But Illinois didn’t like being in Dark’s offices all day, even his larger warehouse office. Maybe he’d go later in the day to bother Patton and Arthur but for now he was wandering around the Manor. Sometimes even getting himself lost.

When Illinois opened a door it was into the garage which wasn’t the weirdest thing. He was supposed to be going into the attic, not the ground floor. But he’d been spat out in weirder places than this.

Yancy was in the garage, working on one of the cars in the garage. The garage doors were pulled open. An old Chrysler Windsor that Dark just let Yancy tinker around with because it sure wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey,” Illinois called out and Yancy stuck his head out a window.

“Oh, hey, Ills.” Yancy smiled at him. Grease on his face and hands. “What’s up?”

Illinois shrugged. “Oh, nothing, was just bored and wandering around. How’s the car coming along?”

“It’s fine, still learning.” Yancy was climbing out of the car through the window with a large piece of metal. He’d recently started another growth spurt but wasn’t taller than Illinois and he certainly was nowhere near Arthur already was. Even if all three of them hadn’t stopped growing yet. “I’ll get it eventually.”

“Definitely,” Illinois said, admiring the mess of a car.

They were quiet for a little bit as Illinois watched Yancy and Yancy went off to try and scrub his hands clean. Illinois looked out at the mess of parts and how Illinois couldn’t lift half of this stuff.

Then. “I’m gonna try and convince Appa to get me a motorcycle.”

Yancy looked back at him. “Today.”

“No,” Illinois said. “After the fight to get into the Network I need to work up to it. Really seed out that I want one and gauge his reaction to it.”

“Yeah, well good luck,” Yancy scoffed.

Illinois spent some time with Yancy in the garage. Yancy grabbed and organized a bunch of his tools and scrap. Illinois only helped a little bit and tried not to feel bad that a fifteen-year-old was stronger than him. They were just talking about random stuff and then they decided to take a walk in the woods.

It was nice for a while, walking in what most people thought was a hell scape of twisting woods that only soon-to-be-dead people, and the Warfstache-Doom walked. For the Lost Ones the haunted, cursed woods just spat them back out to the Manor. All they had to do was decide if they wanted snacks or to keep doing their walk.

They talked about random things like what was going on in the Network, how Patton and Arthur were doing, and anything that came into their mind.

When the Manor was in sight again, they paused.

“You wanna keep walking or you good?” Illinois asked.

Yancy just looked at the Manor, thinking about something. And then he just kept staring at it.

Illinois let it go for a minute, enjoying the peace for a bit. But after a while he spoke up. “Hey, Yance, you okay?”

Yancy startled a little, “Huh, oh sorry.”

“You want me to call Appa?” Illinois asked.

“No, I’m good,” Yancy said.

Illinois felt like he should pry, but Yancy never had so he didn’t. He would forget before he realized he would regret not asking when he had the chance.

They went inside and Yancy went up to his room to grab something and on his desk he saw a childhood drawing he had done when he was little and Dark had placed it in a simple wooden frame for him. A crude nine-year-old’s drawing of Yancy with his parents.

The older he got, the harder it was to remember them and Yancy hated that. But anytime he made a thought to remind Dark about finding them he would forget by the time he got Dark’s attention.

And that never sat right with Yancy. He didn’t know why it happened and he hated it. But neither he nor Dark had any answer for why it was happening.

Maybe he would, maybe he’d be strong enough to break whatever was happening to him.

Maybe.

[sydneyofalltrades]

i remember a post you made where you said moni and noel sometimes has sleepovers on the weekends so maybe you could write that if you want to :)?

yes, i would love to! i, however, have just woken up anon, so this will not be some of my best work.

“Hey, rockstar.”

Moni looked up from her tablet. “What?”

She saw Noel’s head poking out from the attic hatch. “Wanna have a sleepover?”

Moni frowned. “What’s that?”

Noel climbed into her room. “Come on, you’ve got to know what a sleepover is.

Moni shook her head. “Does it require staying at someone’s place for shelter at night?”

Noel stared at her like she had cursed his bloodline. “You, poor child, are having a sleepover with me. Grab your pillow and a squishmallow and get downstairs!”

Moni blinked as he left in a huff and slammed down the hatch. Was it something she had said?

Regardless, she did as she was told and found herself in Noel’s room. There was the inflatable mattress she had used while her mom was getting her room set up, and there was a pajama set already spread on the mattress.

“Noel? What is this?”

She looked up and saw him smiling massively. “Come on, your French disapproving face won’t work. I got you matching pajamas because that’s how it works!”

Moni looked back at the outfit and then looked at her brother. “What else happens in sleepovers then, oh wise guru?”

Noel grinned wickedly. “Little sister, you’re about to find out.”

He dragged her into the kitchen and they both made a mess making some snacks for what Noel assured her was part of the plan. Once their snacks were ready, he dragged her again to his room.

“Noel, I’m covered in flour and sugar and probably egg yolks. Can I please just take a shower and go to sleep?”

Noel laughed. “You don’t sleep during sleepovers, that’s just what they tell you. You can take a shower and get ready but we’re not even halfway done!”

“Merde, I’m going to murder you!”

“Wouldn’t want that on your conscious, petite sœur! Hurry up!”

Moni fumed but did as he asked. Her only weakness was when Noel used her native language.

Twenty or so minutes later, she sat on his bed as he did her nails and they were actually having a good time. Matching pajamas and all.

“I never realized how silly and fun this is,” Moni said giggling, “I think I really like your idea of a sleepover, poet.”

Noel finished her nails and smiled. “Finally, she acts like a proper girl.”

Moni stuck her tongue out at him. “Jerk.”

She looked at her fingernails and saw he painted them a deep blue with black undertones. It was a very good look for her.

“Okay, now we get into the most important part of a sleepover.”

Noel grabbed their snack tray and placed it on his bed. He clapped his hands eagerly.

“The gossip!”

Moni rolled her eyes. “Noel, please, we’re not doing that.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve gotta have something you’re dying to share.”

Moni pursed her lips. “Well.. there is something.”

Noel was intrigued. “Ooh, spill.”

Moni snorted. “For fifteen bucks.”

Her brother frowned. “Why?”

Moni smirked. “My information is a transaction. You get the gossip, I get the cash.”

Noel nodded. “Touché, you evil witch.”

“I’m not evil, I’m just a bit petty, is all.”

Noel attacked her in a hug and she laughed. “Stop being so silly and give me the details, Moni!”

Moni tickled him off of her. “Not happening! You’re getting popcorn all over your bedsheets.”

Noel frowned but gave up. An idea popped into Moni’s mind and she grinned.

“Stay here, I have an idea.”

She ran up to her room and grabbed a bunch of paper and pencils. Running back down she placed them on Noel’s bed.

“We could have an art challenge! For fun, we can both draw something and let the other finish it.”

Noel nodded. “That’s actually a fun idea, Mon!”

They both ended up with the silliest works ever and were laughing about them for a decent few minutes.

Moni curled up next to Noel as they watched Mean Girls, Noel’s recommendation, of course.

“You know, big brother, this was actually a very good first sleepover. I’m glad you knew what you were doing.”

Noel shrugged. “Hey, you have to know what you’re doing when your little sister never had a sleepover, so that makes the 16 years of her life pretty pointless.”

“Oh, shut up.”

They continued watching, talking, eating, goofing off, having a pillow fight that Moni surprisingly won, and eventually fell asleep in Noel’s bed, both two tired to properly lay down.

An hour or so later, their mother arrived from work and saw them, matching pajamas and all, and took a quick picture. She would definitely want to keep this memory on hand for years.

[innytoes]

Some jerk convinced the kid I’m a Big Brother/Big Sister for that Santa wasn’t real and they’re heartbroken so I need your help with an elaborate plan to make them believe again because they can’t deal with any more heartache this year for Reggie & Carlos obviously (but if you wanna throw in some side PeterPatterLina I wouldn't be mad)

I aged Carlos down, obviously, because 12 is perhaps a liiiittle old to believe in Santa.

Being a Big Brother was just about the best thing Reggie had ever done in his life. Like sure, he was part of a super awesome band, and sure, after three years of pining and Alex threatening to quit the band if they didn't get their shit together he finally asked Luke out. But that was all personal stuff. This was for like, the greater good.

Carlos was the coolest, funniest little dude, and Reggie loved him to death. His aunt had signed him up after his mother died, and he'd been paired with Reggie because they both liked music, pizza, and Ghost Files. Even if Reggie was a total Shaniac and Carlos was a Boogara.

He took Carlos out for ice cream, to the arcade, and helped with his homework (well, helped with his math homework, at least. Thank god Carlos' dad knew about the other stuff, but apparently math had Changed and Mister Molina was Big Mad about it). He dragged Carlos to band practice after getting permission from Mister Molina. He’d promised the other guys were all big giant nerds who happened to play music, not scary sex-drugs-rock-and-roll rock stars. Mister Molina had laughed at that. He seemed like a good dude.

They had long talks about all kinds of stuff, from the ridiculous (ghosts, not real. Bigfoot? Totally real!) to the serious (Chad Whitman is a racist little douchebag and you shouldn't listen to him, also please don't tell your dad or your aunt where you learned the word douchebag.) Carlos knew he could come to Reggie with anything, and he'd never ever laugh or blow him off.

So when he asked Reggie in tears if Santa was real, Reggie was a little flummoxed. They hadn't covered this in the Big Brother Handbook. He teased the story out of Carlos, about how Jaedynn McKenzie from the school bus had told him Santa wasn't real and that he probably wasn't going to get any presents this year anyway because his mom was dead and everyone knew moms did the presents.

He'd managed to calm Carlos down, saying of course Jaedynn McKenzie's mom had to buy his presents and pretend they were from Santa, because he was on the Naughty List for sure.

"She probably gets up suuuper early to hide all the coal he got, just so her spoiled precious baby aaaangel doesn't get hurt feeeeelings," he said, drawing out the words in a Karen™ voice, making Carlos laugh.

After he'd dropped Carlos off and gave Mister Molina a quick heads up, and Alex had talked him down from finding and punching a sixth grader, he sat down with Luke and concocted a Plan. Because this wasn't going to stand. Sure, Mister Molina was probably going to make sure Carlos got lots of cool presents from Santa, but that wouldn't take away the niggling doubt.

The plan was simple. They were going to go to Carlos' house on Christmas Eve, climb up on the roof, and give him something to believe in. Bobby helped them make something with broomsticks that would sound like reindeer hooves on the roof, and Alex swore he wouldn't help with their stupid plan but got them the Santa Costume from his attic anyway.

He and Luke met up at the studio at midnight, getting everything ready. They decided Luke would be the one to dangle from the roof in front of the window, since he had the Arm Muscles to do so. Reggie would hold on to the rope and make the reindeer noises.

Getting on the Molina roof was pretty easy. Of course, they both had a lot of experience with sneaking out. Reggie found what he was pretty sure was Carlos' window, and they got to work. Jingling some bells, clip-cloppy hooves on the roof, and big booted footsteps. Then, Reggie tied the rope to the chimney, and gently lowered Luke down.

"Ho ho OH MY GOD Reggie she has a knife!" Luke shrieked, which was not the line. Reggie dropped the rope in his fright, and Luke dropped down the extra foot and a half, rolling off the roof in front of the dormer and landing with an ‘oof!’ on the roof of the back porch.

"Luke!" Reggie whisper-shouted, leaning over the edge of the dormer window. Below him, Luke was thankfully getting up, and then a head popped out of the window which was decidedly not Carlos. Long curly black hair, a fierce glare and oh yep that was a knife.

"Reggie?" Julie, Carlos' older sister asked incredulously. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We were trying to give Carlos a visit from Santa," he said, thankful when she lowered the knife. "He's already been through so much this year, I wasn't going to let stupid Jaedynn McKenzie ruin this for him too."

Julie's face crumpled, and her eyes filled with tears. Oh no. He and Luke shared a look of panic. "That's so stupid," she said wetly, laughing through her tears. "And sweet." She pushed the window open a little further, leaning out as Reggie slid down to the edge next to it. He helped Luke clamber back up, and he pulled his itchy beard down to give her a sheepish smile.

"Um, Julie, this is my boyfriend, Luke," Reggie said. They'd only really talked once, at one of Carlos' baseball games. She seemed really cool, even though she was also obviously struggling with her mom's death. She was also very pretty when she wasn’t threatening people with a knife. "Luke, this is Carlos' sister, Julie."

"Um, hi. Thanks for not stabbing Santa," Luke said awkwardly.

Julie snorted. "Carlos' room is over there," she said, pointing to another set of windows. Also, he sleeps like the dead," she said. "Give me five minutes, I'll go wake him up and tell him I heard something."

She gave Reggie a firm but cute glare. "Don't drop Santa this time."

"Yes boss," they both said.

In the end, Carlos got The Magic Of Christmas back, and Luke and Reggie got to hang out on the roof and eat the cookies they'd left out for Santa, talking to Julie until the night sky started to lighten.

[starlit-lion]

I posted 7,008 times in 2022

That's 89 more posts than 2021!

7 posts created (0%)

7,001 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@docxie

@stampothy

@pikablob

@winter-changeling

@sharkiethedork

I tagged 216 of my posts in 2022

#ellywick - 56 posts

#bellona - 47 posts

#spoilers - 8 posts

#lion's posts - 6 posts

#noel - 6 posts

#lion's art - 5 posts

#artificer alchemist - 3 posts

#dnd oc - 3 posts

#kid cosmic - 3 posts

#amphibia - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and i'm gonna try to play that as this thing where its just. hard to tell her no. she helped you out and shined your shoes right off the bat

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Any OC stuff you wanna share right now? 👀👀👀

I was thinking about something about Ellywick I wanted to ramble about a while back ^^; But one thing about her that never really got stated explicitly or explored in a significant way is that Ellywick is like mildly... Whatever the exact opposite of claustrophobic would be. Aka, she’s uncomfortable in spaces that are too open (the term might be Agoraphobia but I think there's a lot of other fears tied into that too? I'd have to do more research). Being a rock gnome, she grew up in burrows that were sized appropriately for gnomes, and even at the university she attended, I think it was still primarily gnomish and still in a borrow-like arrangement well within Ellywick’s comfort zone. Where the last game I played her in started, she had been messing around in Waterdeep for a while prior to the events of the campaign, so she wasn't totally unused to being in larger spaces. But I definitely had her make some quips about everything being 'too big' in the city, and act in a way really consistent with preferring darker, more enclosed spaces. Like, she would prefer to crawl under a table if the party was hanging out in a tavern for any length of time. And whenever sewer encounters came up, I always had her revel in it while the other party members complained. Because despite the smell (which let’s be honest she’s breathing in toxic Alchemical fumes all the time I wonder if she has any sense of smell at all at this point) she was actually just really happy to be underground again. She also just really consistently avoided sleeping in beds, since beds are too large for her and make her feel exposed. At the party's home base she slept under her desk (though that was also swept up in a joke about her being a workaholic). In inns and stuff if she was sharing a room with another party member and it got mentioned, I would usually say that she slept under the bed or some other piece of furniture. I even wanted her to live in the basement of the party's home base, but she ended up taking the attic and shuttering all the windows because the rest of the party wanted the basement to be a wine cellar (and then later a place to hide 500k gold pieces we stole by putting the 'heist' in Waterdeep Dragon heist lol). I worry a lot things got dismissed as ‘just Elly being wacky again!!’ but I actually do have a consistent logic to a lot of her actions when I play her :p

5 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

#4

A weird little alchemist with her weird little lab assistant

8 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

#3

Fanart of Percy de Rolo from @pikablob‘s crossover AU and fic The Coldest Equation! I had a lot of fun helping with this design and drawing it! :D

8 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#2

Ellywick ‘Asbestos’ Wormwise, Gnome Alchemist

8 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My Alchemist’s Homunculus Servant. His name is Silly :)

23 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[theheadlessgroom]

For the ship ask game, I wanna see the answers for 4, 11, 14, 18, 33, and 44 for the main couple, please! (If it's not too much trouble!)

Thank you!

4. Emily is often the one who initiates, ostensibly because Randall, despite having been married to her for several centuries now, still feels a touch uncertain about it, a touch self-conscious: Although he's generally very secure in his relationship with his wife, he still sometimes can't believe she actually loves and desires someone who looks like him, and thus lacks the confidence to be forward in terms of showing his affections, at least physically. He prefers when Emily takes the reins, allowing him to follow her lead-it makes him feel much more at ease.

11. Both of them welcome pet names: Dear and darling are the most common ones used between them, but there's certainly plenty of others that have cropped up that are a bit more personalized for them. For centuries, Randall has called Emily my heart, and even after all these centuries of marriage and love, it's a term of endearment that never fails to make her ever-beating heart flutter and skip a beat.

14. These two tend to be very private in their affections, a holdover from their mortal days, when it was a necessity to keep their true feelings behind closed doors: Considering Emily was an upper-class woman engaged to be married, and Randall was a lowly haberdasher of Irish origin, no good could've come from being open about their relationship and, as such, they kept it hidden. Even though they no longer have to do so, they're still very reserved about PDA, instead preferring to keep it confined to the privacy of their attic home.

18. Emily is very relaxed about the care that she gives: Of course, she'll bring her husband soup and medicine and whatever else he may need to feel more comfortable, whether it's adding extra blankets to their bed or drawing him a hot bath, but overall, she makes for a very calm nurse.

Randall, on the other hand, quietly frets and panics whenever his wife is under the weather: He'll drop everything to take care of her (whether she asked him to or not) and can barely be pried from her side all the while, worrying to no end about her well-being. Fortunately, Emily's reassurances can help keep his worries at bay, and help him relax and see that she'll be alright, given a little time.

33. Although they tend to keep their flirting to themselves, much like with their PDA, anyone who's heard them (chiefly, Dorian) knows these two are awful flirts: Little inside jokes about monsters, puns relating to Phantom of the Opera, if something classic horror-related can be construed into something flirty and playful, they'll do it. It works like a charm on both of them, but to anyone else who'd catch wind of it, it's ridiculously corny and cheesy and eye-rolling!

44. These two are very cuddly, again, albeit behind closed doors: To describe both of them as being touch-starved wouldn't be too far off the mark (Randall, being such a prickly fellow, isn't often keen about others being physically affectionate towards him unless he really trusts them, while Emily is used to being treated like a porcelain doll, meant to be looked at but seldom touched), but when they're with one another, that desire to be held so lovingly, to kiss and caress and play with one another's hair, to take solace in each other's arms, that feeling is more than met, and they treasure each and every moment spend in each other's embrace.

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #34: UXM issue 171

This isn't a special issue that I was gonna give its own post, but it's in between two two parters so I don't wanna lump it in with one of those just for formatting. We begin with a brief conclusion to the events of the last two issues, where Ororo decrees to the Morlocks that they can no longer prey on the surface world lest they feel her wrath. She's exchanged her cape for Callisto's vest, and she speaks arrogantly and cruelly to Callisto as she leaves. Kurt watches, worried about what's happening to his friend and more worried that she doesn't seem to care about it. In Alaska, Madelyne wakes up from a nightmare and finds comfort in Scott. She was dreaming about the day the plane she was piloting crashed and she was the only survivor of the burning wreckage. To Scott's shock, it happened on the same day Jean died. Outside Boston, Carol- who kinda disappeared the last few issues- is visiting her parents. Thanks to Anna's identity theft, she feels no emotional connection to them, which hurts both her and them. At the school, Kitty is throwing a tantrum about the New Mutants stealing her floppy disks until Illyana points them out under her keyboard, at which point Kitty calls herself a jerk. It's a nice moment of self awareness about how she treats the other students, and she definitely needed a reality check after what happened a few issues ago. Peter is in the kitchen trying to cook, but his efforts are interrupted by the arrival of Anna (just a reminder, I'm calling her Anna, but everyone in universe calls her only Rogue until like 2004). She's come begging for Xavier's help, because having two psyches in her brain is causing her incredible mental pain and anguish. The X-Men are unsympathetic to the woman who destroyed Carol's mind, but Xavier decides to help her and sends his students away to the Danger Room. They ask Illyana to set a training sequence, and she conjures holograms of Belasco's chambers, complete with an evil Kurt and dead Peter. When Kitty asks her why, she goes into a trance and draws a glowing sword from nowhere. She attacks Kitty, who to her shock isn't able to phase through the swords blade and gets a cut on the cheek. She knocks the sword away, and Illyana is herself again, now with memories of Belasco that she had repressed. Ororo goes up to the attic, and we finally get a glimpse into her thoughts. She feels like she's at a crossroads. The person she's becoming, the person who struck to kill against Callisto, is the person that life as an X-Man has made her and the person best suited to lead the team. But it's at odds with everything Ororo used to value. She can't bring herself to leave her family or responsibility to the world, but when Xavier calls her downstairs, she screams at him that it was his fault she joined. Also in this scene, Ororo's plants have been wilting without her, and as she faces her inner turmoil, she accidentally summons a storm that destroys them. When she does go downstairs to meet everyone, it's to learn that Xavier is taking Rogue in and putting her on the team to help her, both with her mental problems and with her redemption. Ororo refuses, saying that it's her decision as leader and that she won't fight alongside an enemy. Just then, Carol returns and punches her into the upper atmosphere. Peter manages to calm her down when Anna returns. Although Ororo and Kurt threaten to walk, Xavier reminds them of what Ororo said about Logan back when Warren left the team. She said that while he wasn't the best person, he had the potential, and the point of the X-Men is to help people like him. People like Anna, who without the X-Men's help are condemned. Eventually, the X-Men agree, minus Carol, who flies off into space. Ororo spends some more time in somber reflection, and concludes that no matter what, she can never be the person she was. The only thing left for her is to stick to her duty as an X-Man and find out what she will become. In format, this issue was similar to 168, a downtime issues with special focus on one character, in this case Ororo. Her sense of self has been torn by the Brood and Callisto, and now she has to pick through the pieces to find out who she is. Over the next few years of the book, whenever she's close to finding herself again she'll be ripped apart again. It's some of the best character development I've seen in comics, and I'm so excited to dive into this part of my reread. Before I end, I wanna talk a little about Anna. Up until this point, she's gotten very little character development or depth, which is usually not what you want for a redemption arc but in this case works perfectly. The reader feels the same shock and anger that the characters do, and Claremont gets to build Anna basically from the ground up while still having a fully formed supervillain background for her. She's one of my favorite characters, and yet another thing to look forward to as I continue my reread.

[missmonsters2]

HERE WE GOOOO 🖤 first one i'm thinking soft!dark wanda - reader finds their own body in the attic but doesn't remember dying, only their married life with wanda

oBVIOUSLY we gotta kick off spoopy drabbles with the loml & ofc I love that you started it with some real horror 🖤

pairing: Soft!Dark Wanda x Reader

warnings: soft!dark wanda is the warning. very ominous tones.

count: 1.1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's no concrete proof that it's your body.

After all, you're staring at a thick metal cylinder case melded shut with not even a glimpse of what could be inside. It could be empty for all you know. Nothing more than a metaphor for those who linger.

But you know.

There's something sick that pulls at your stomach as you look at it, something gnawing and digging underneath your skin. It draws you closer and closer despite the ice in your veins and the rigidness of your limbs. That's how you know.

You've spent hours and hours with your eyes unmoving from your coffin.

Strange, you laugh humourlessly to yourself. You don't recall ever seeing this metal contraption.

There are plenty of things you remember. You remember this attic, the never-ending smell of baked goods and cinnamon, the sound of laughter in the house. You remember being married to the most wonderful woman you had ever laid your eyes upon.

But you don't remember this casket in your home.

You don't remember dying.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Before

"Do you think we got married too quickly?"

Wanda turns her head to you, finding a frown on your face as you scroll through your phone.

"No," Wanda answers as she rubs your arm. "Why?"

You sigh. "Everyone in my group—friends, families, coworkers—has apparently been talking behind my back. They're surprised I could get married to someone after just 6 months of dating."

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth before gnawing on it. "I mean, I suppose it's rather unlike me..."

Wanda merely chuckled before she tugged at you until you were in her lap.

"I think you should praise me for being able to sweep you off your feet," she teases as she pinches your side, causing you to yelp. "But time is relative, honey. Some people know maybe after years and years of being together. Some people, like us, know four months in. I think we're lucky to know quickly that we want to spend our lives together, don't you?"

You let out a content smile as you lean your body into Wanda's, relishing her warmth and security. You wrap your arms around her, pressing a kiss against her lips before you rest your chin over her shoulder.

Wanda had shown you love could be so tender, so fulfilling. She had shown you that partners could be competent and accountable.

You had gotten a glimpse of forever with her love.

"So very lucky," you agreed before you teased. "Hopefully this isn't doomed to end like everyone's saying."

Wanda laughed.

"I would never let this end."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now

She was here again.

Wanda came by every day—always at the end of it. After work and whatever responsibilities took hold of her, she would come to you.

And she would sit for hours and hours and hours in silence as she sat unknowingly next to you as she stared at the casket.

The first night you realized you were nothing but the lingering air left behind, you heard her crying night after night. Your heart ached at your grieving wife, who apparently—was grieving so hard she couldn't even bear to give you a real funeral or burial spot.

But you knew grief had a strange hold over people. And for someone like Wanda, who has faced more loss than anyone should ever have to lose, maybe one more person was the tipping point.

"Why did you go?" You heard Wanda mutter to herself. "How could you let this—us—end?"

You watched Wanda swallow the lump in her throat harshly. You looked down to the ring in Wanda's fingers—The ring that should be on your left hand.

She fumbled with it in her hands, the diamond she bought you digging into her soft skin.

Her grief was your fault. But maybe it was Wanda's too—for not doing better to keep things from ending. If she did, maybe 'us' wouldn't be separated by breathing atoms and lingering air.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Before

Love bombing. Mania. Obsession. Adrenaline.

Wanda's love is an exploding grenade only ever capable of going off over and over and over. She's the first date butterflies and nausea that never seems to go away. She's the wave that only ever seems to build and is never ready to crash.

There's a part of you that does love it. You love that Wanda can love you like it's always the first month of being together. It's always all-consuming, and you had longed for such a love for such a long time.

But despite time passing, it feels like you never get past the honeymoon stage. Even though you've talked about all there is to talk about, you feel like there's a wall. There's a wall that can never come down unless the wave of all that's Wanda comes crashing down too.

But she never does. Wanda takes you higher and higher with no lows in sight.

People are usually happy about such love, aren't they?

"Wanda, I need more," you beg her. "I can't—we can't keep going on like this. It's not good for us. How we are...I wanna grow old together."

But Wanda just stares at you like she always does.

Focused. Manic. Obsessed. Hers.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now

This is what it looks like for Wanda to crash—for her wave to break down her wall.

It's ugly.

Nothing like the first date butterflies at all.

Mascara stains. Despondent. Anger. Constricted pupils.

Still, the obsession lingers. Maybe that's all Wanda is ever truly capable of.

You turn your attention away from her and back to your metal casket. You wonder if Wanda hates it—not being able to see you.

The night seems to finally come to an end as it does every night. Wanda crawls towards the welded metal, a hesitant hand out before touching it.

"We don't have to grow old at all," Wanda says quietly. "Growing old means one day, things will end—and I told you I'd never let things end."

Wanda strokes the surface softly, your ring clanking against it softly. "We'll try again. We'll try as many times as it takes until we're perfect. We're so close, honey," she sighs before the corner of her lip quirks slightly upwards. "With the amount of times I've gotten to know you, maybe you'll praise me if I can sweep you off your feet and get you to marry me in three months."

With a kiss goodnight to the cold metal, Wanda gets up and silently leaves the room, leaving you with the looming shroud of metal.

The house is always the same. The smell of cinnamon and baked goods never goes away because you think it comes from the many times before. You weren't wrong when you said it was unlike you to ever fall quickly—a few lifetimes could never constitute as fast.

You never remember much, but you never remember dying or ever seeing this casket.

You wonder if you can convince her this time to grow old with you.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Spooked

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Thanks for sending it in, I had so much fun with it! :)

Pairing: best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀

Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?

So, so much.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: they are touring a haunted house, so there’s gonna be some scary story/spooky things going on. hopefully there’s enough fun things/fluff to counter it? 

a/n: this was longer than I expected it to be...but I was having fun with ot7. hopefully nobody minds lol

It wasn't your fault that Hobi had never seen "A Quiet Place". He had mentioned it as you scrolled through the options on his TV while lounging on his couch like an overgrown cat. Everyone else was in the process of scarfing down their dinner, popping popcorn, and laughing over whatever Jimin and Yoongi were bickering about.

Obviously you had to watch it.

Naturally, the conversation had drifted to a bit more spooky topics. You'd come back from grabbing more popcorn surprised to find Jin talking about his friend that wanted to open up a house they'd inherited for ghost tours.

After nudging Jimin out of the way, you took up your usual spot next to Taehyung. They all watch you with amused eyes, knowing full well that Taehyung is the only one that willingly scratches your back on movie nights.

"Really, like is it the kind of haunted house where people dress up and scare you?" Jungkook asked, his interest piqued.

Jin shook his head. "No, not really. It sounds like they just walk you through the house and tell stories and stuff."

You and Jungkook share a look, already thinking the same thing. A glance at Hobi shows him clutching a blanket to his chest, caught between the events of the film and the conversation taking place.

"We should go," you ventured, immediately earning a startled stare from both Jin and Hobi. The others chuckle in response, Namjoon swatting Jungkook's hand half-heartedly as he tries to steal more popcorn from him.

"...noooo," Jin began. "It's not like it's up and running yet, they're just working on getting it ready for the fall-"

Jungkook picks up where you left off. "Perfect! We can be their test group. That way they'll know what they can do for the general public, get an idea of what works and what doesn't."

You jump in again before Jin can protest more. "C'mon! And besides, this may be your only chance just to go for fun! Otherwise you'd have to find a way to go without running into all of those people, and have to contact management about it..."

Jin sighs, looking at Hobi who stares back at him with an expression of defeat. You grin, Taehyung chuckling beside you.

"Fine."

It was all too easy. Standing here now, you can see just why they want to open this up for ghost tours. Of course you won't admit it, but you already have chills running down your spine.

Or maybe that's just because Jung Hoseok is currently breathing down your neck.

"Alright," Jin's friend, Gina stands at the top of the steps, smiling down at you all. "Everybody ready?"

Jungkook and Taehyung, completely riled up, let out whoops and cheers while everyone else grunts in acknowledgement. Hobi clings to the back of your jacket, whimpering like a lost puppy.

This should be fun.

Jungkook doesn't bother to wait for everyone else, heading straight inside after Gina. Taehyung and Jimin are hot on his heels, joking about something back and forth. You follow after them, glancing back at Hobi with an amused grin.

"Oh," he realizes that he's still clinging to you. "Right." Extracting his hand from your jacket, he lets you move forward. He remains close behind you, Jin at his side.

Namjoon and Yoongi bring up the rear, hardly paying attention to anything that's going on as they chat about a business they saw not far from here.

"We'll begin in the front study here," Gina adopts a spooky tone as she stands in the candlelight. Shadows dance along the walls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Suddenly you wish that Hobi was still holding onto you.

Slowly, so as to not draw the attention (and teasing) of the maknae line, you step back until you're between Namjoon and Yoongi.

The two of them smirk down at you, knowing full well that you're already spooked.

"What are you doing?" Jin whispers back to you, eyes wide while he rubs his arms as though he's cold. "Trying to abandon us to the ghosts?"

You shake your head fervently, hoping that they don't notice the way you're sneaking your hand into the pocket of Yoongi's jacket.

"No, the middle is the safest place," you argue. Yoongi gives a breathy chuckle beside you, his hand finding yours in the warmth of his pocket and giving it a squeeze. Thankfully the house is dark enough that the blush on your cheeks shouldn't be visible.

Absentmindedly you link your other arm through Namjoon's, hardly able to breathe properly when he instinctively moves closer.

What were you even saying?

"A-and now you've got three in front and three in back. You're totally safe."

Hobi and Jin look at each other like they know exactly what you’re up to, but don't push it as they suddenly begin walking again. Gina leads the way toward the dining room, weaving a tale of how the estranged wife of the owner of the house swore she would never leave the property.

"Did she?" Jungkook asks from the front, peeking in closed off rooms along the way. You can't help but marvel at his fearlessness.

Gina's eyes glow with excitement, almost as though she were waiting for someone to ask that. "No. Years later, when the owner sold the house, the new occupants said they found a sealed off room in the basement." You gasp, the sound echoing through the hallway. You miss the look Jimin gives you, too attached to the story.

"What..." you clutch Namjoon's arm, the fabric of his jacket bunching in your hand. "Did they ever open up the room?"

Gina grins. "They did. They hired someone to come and open the sealed door. However, the man they hired only got about halfway before quitting. He was terrified."

Yoongi leans down to whisper in your ear. "Are you trying to cut off my circulation?"

It's only then that you notice you've been squeezing his hand with startling strength. "Whoops." Going to remove your hand from his, he frowns, holding it tighter before you can move.

Well, if this isn't a rollercoaster of emotions.

"Why was he so scared?" Namjoon pipes up beside you, a hint of a smile gracing his features as he reads the expression on your face. Oh, you're so screwed. "Did he find something?"

"It's not so much what he found as what he didn't," Gina replies. "But we'll have to save that for last. For now, the dining room. Come on in, everyone."

Hobi looks back at you, a mixture of horror and overall curiosity on his face. “Oh, she’s good.”

Indeed, Gina definitely seems to have a way with words. You’re just having a hard time understanding them as your heart beats loudly enough to drown out any other noises. Yoongi has taken to tracing circles on the back of your hand, which you think are meant to be soothing. 

It only serves to send your heart rate skyrocketing. You stare at the portrait on the far end of the dining room, practically boring holes into the painting of the young woman. 

Breathe, don’t do anything stupid.

“...alright?”

You blink, finding yourself to be the sudden center of attention. Jungkook grins widely at you. 

“What?”

Jungkook repeats his question. “Are you doing alright?”

“Oh.”

Jimin bursts out laughing. “That’s not an answer, jagiya. Need us to protect you from the ghosts?”

Your wide eyes immediately give you away, and even Gina is offering you a look of pity before deciding to continue on with the tour. Before you embarrass yourself even more, you slip out of Yoongi and Namjoon’s grasp, sneaking up behind Jin and Hobi.

“Hello boys,” you drawl, making Hobi nearly jump out of his skin. You earn a laugh from the group, Jin chuckling at his scared friend. Hobi just glares at you. 

“This sucks,” he whispers to you, pulling you up to stand between him and Jin. Immediately they stick to your sides like magnets and you realize that you have indeed done something stupid as Jin’s breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he goes to whisper something to you.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem. Your heart certainly agrees. 

“I’m not scared, you know,” Jin whispers. You take a deep breath, reminded yourself that these idiots are your best friends, not menu items. 

You shoot him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

He grins at you, eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. “You’ll see.”

Tearing your eyes away from his and hearing his deep chuckle, you wonder if it’s too late to ask Gina where the nearest exit is. 

Don’t do anything stupid.

“Shall we head up to the attic?” Gina asks. “It’s a small space, we can only go three at a time. However, there are some really interesting old photographs up there that we should look at.”

In the blink of an eye everyone is paired off, and you find yourself face to face with Jimin. He grins at you like the Cheshire Cat, making you wonder if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this house. 

Jin and Hobi have the glorious opportunity to go up together while Gina leads the way, and several screams accompany their little trip. In the middle of the candlelight in the hallway, you chuckle with the rest of your friends. 

“It’s been interesting so far,” Jungkook muses. “I really want to know what they found in that sealed off basement room.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Mmm. Or rather, what they didn’t find.”

“What does that even mean?”

Nobody is given a chance to answer Jungkook’s question as Hobi and Jin come scrambling down the ladder, faces pale even as they laugh. Gina chuckles from above, beckoning the next pair to come up.

Jimin looks at you with an arched brow. “Wanna go next?”

“Sure.” You follow him up the ladder, laughing as Jin recounts how he swore the woman in the photograph blinked. 

The attic is filled with moonlight, and under other circumstances it might be pretty. However, amongst the old heirlooms sits an ominous scrapbook, filled with black and white photos of less-than-happy people. 

Jimin reaches down, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet as you look around. When he lets go you aren’t sure whether or not to be disappointed. 

You’ve hardly made up your mind when he leads you to where Gina stands beside the scrapbook and slips behind you. A moment later his arms encircle your waist, chin propped up on your shoulder. 

So there’s that. 

Gina points to the first photo, a grim-looking man standing behind a chair where a young woman sits smiling. “This is the estranged wife, before she was estranged, of course. And this is the owner of the house. From what we’ve been able to dig up about his past - no pun intended - he was always deathly serious.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations going straight into your spine. Unsure of what to do with your arms, you gently place them atop his arms around your middle. 

You swear he smiles for a moment before turning pensive again. “Why did they separate?” You manage to ask, applauding yourself for getting a complete sentence out while Park Jimin hugs you from behind. 

“Rumor has it she cheated on him with his best friend,” Gina whispers, pointing to another photo where the solemn owner stands beside a smiling man. “He was driven mad with jealousy. Terrible, isn’t it?”

Gina gives you a long look, and suddenly you straighten your spine. “I-uh, yeah. Horrible.”

She shows us another photo, explaining something about it while Jimin mumbles out a couple of questions. You hardly process any of it, staring at Gina and wondering if she thinks that you are somehow cheating.

But on who? Jin, maybe? Since that’s her friend?

“Alright, send up the next pair,” Gina croons. Jimin detaches himself from you, suddenly leaving you cold. You turn to follow him, but stop as Gina places a hand on your arm. 

“Yes?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone even. Gina motions for Jimin to keep going, pulling you back to the scrapbook. She tilts her head to one side. 

“Forgive me for maybe overstepping a boundary but...” she motions toward the ladder, where everyone waits below. “Don’t tell me you’re flirting with all of them.”

Your eyes widen, and a breathy laugh comes out. “Me? What? N-no. They’re my best friends, why would I-”

Gina laughs, the sound too loud for the small attic. “Well, they’re flirting with you.” She playfully elbows me. “Speaking from girl to girl...enjoy it. For the rest of us.”

Nearly choking, you frown but nod all the same. “...ok?” When she makes no move to say anything else, you head down the ladder. The boys look up at me with confused looks, Jimin waiting at the bottom to make sure you get down safely. 

“What was that about?” Jin asks, looking a little nervous. “She didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable, did she?”

You blink at him, wondering for a moment if the boys have always been like this around you. Surely not. It’s just the haunted house bringing out this protective side, right?

Right?

“No, she just wanted to show me something else. She’s actually really nice.” You think.

The other groups go up, and nothing else happens to pique your interest. Gina comes down last of all, giving you a wink before walking down the hallway. 

“I think we’re ready to go down to the basement, everyone!”

Somehow you end up at the front, surrounded on all sides by the maknae line. You crane your neck, looking back to see the older boys all lost in a heated discussion. Hobi catches your eye after a moment, elbowing Namjoon who looks up at you with fake innocence. 

You frown, Gina’s words coming back to you. “They’re flirting with you.”

You must have lost your mind. Was the haunted house really that traumatizing as to make you start coming up with such ridiculous things? How silly of you. 

The feeling of a hand resting on the small of your back has you yelping, jumping to face forward again. Taehyung gives you a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gently pushing you forward to stand in front of him. “Are you really that spooked?”

“I...no.” You fail to come up with a complete sentence, but shrug it off. Taehyung smiles brightly at you, gesturing for you to head down the stairs. 

“You seem distracted tonight, are you alright?” 

The way your heart had begun palpitating calms down as you notice the obvious concern on Taehyung’s face. You give him a small smile, allowing yourself to relish the feeling of his fingers splayed against your back as you move down the stairs. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Just distracted by the story.”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment longer, not quite believing you but shrugging it off. He brings both hands to your shoulders as you enter the basement, an obvious chill in the air. 

You fight off a shiver, Taehyung noticing and beginning to rub at your arms in an attempt to warm you up. Gina immediately notices the action, hiding a smile as she pretends to cough. 

“Well,” she says once her ‘coughing fit’ subsides. “We’ve made it to the final leg of the tour. How’s it been so far?”

This time everyone cheers with renewed vigor, although a part of you has a hunch that it’s because Hobi knows he’s nearing the end of this scary experience. The thought makes you grin. 

“Earlier, you guys asked me what was found in the sealed off room. It’s easier to show you, rather than explain.” Gina walks backward, motioning for everyone to follow her. It’s darker down here, only a few candles light the way. Despite being surrounded by people you trust, you can’t fight the fear that sneaks inside of you. 

Rounding a corner, you see a small hallway with a half-open door. Jin curses behind you, clearly feeling just as freaked out as you.

“Remember how the estranged wife said she’d never leave this place?” Gina nods toward the door and dark entryway. “In that room there’s evidence that she may have had an...extended stay here. It’s very small, and the door only opens to a certain point. Almost as though whoever designed it didn’t want to have an easy escape point.”

Chills run down your spine, and even Taehyung’s ministrations pause for a moment as he takes in this new information. 

Jungkook speaks up, ever the curious one. “Wait...her body isn’t still here, right?”

Gina shakes her head. “No, although we think that she may have been buried somewhere on the property. We have yet to find her, though.”

“That...” you shake your head, shuffling from foot to foot. “That sounds so ominous. Like she still walks the property or something.”

The smile Gina sends you is enough to make your blood run cold. “We haven’t ruled anything out.” She gestures toward the door. “Due to fire hazards, we can only have two people at a time in the hallway and in the room. Do I have any volunteers?”

Jungkook’s hand immediately shoots up in the air, and he looks at his hyungs pleadingly. You remain still as a statue, refusing to look up for fear of being called on. 

You swear you can almost hear Taehyung sigh before he speaks. “Well, obviously you have to go.” He nudges you forward, and you whirl on him in absolute horror. 

“What?!” You shout. “How could you betray me like this?! I- no way!”

The boys can’t help but laugh at you, Namjoon clapping Taehyung on the shoulder. Taehyung gives you an apologetic look, shrugging. 

“C’mon, I’ll keep you safe,” Jungkook promises, his big pleading eyes on yours.

You hate how you can never say no to him. 

Gina pats your shoulder as you walk past, laughing lightly. “Have fun,” she croons. “Ok everyone, let’s go into the open area just around the corner-”

“You’re leaving us?!” You shout again, stopping in your tracks. “Noooo, no no. Not happening.”

“Jungkook will take care of you,” Yoongi says over his shoulder. “Or do you not trust him?”

Jungkook pauses, looking at you with those big brown eyes. “You don’t trust me?”

Yoongi chuckles darkly before leaving the hallway, and you know he’s aware of what he did. You’ll have to make him pay for it later. 

Possibly in the form of food.

“No, I do Kook,” you sigh. He extends his hand out to you, waiting patiently. 

You take it a little too quickly.

Gina was right, the door only opens to a certain point, leaving you no choice but to shimmy through. Jungkook inspects the entire area, pointing out what looks to be scratches on the doorframe. You shiver. 

“It’s not real,” he reassures you, keeping his hand in yours as he shimmies into the room. You hesitate for a moment, daring to glance at where your hands are connected before following after him. 

It’s nearly pitch black in the room, hardly allowing for you to see anything. “Can you even see anything?”

Jungkook laughs, squeezing your hand. “Nope. I think we’ll have to wait for our eyes to adjust. You good?”

You squeeze back. “Yeah, I think-”

The door is shut.

The door is shut. 

Suddenly delved into complete darkness, your breath hitches in your throat. “Jungkook,” you whimper. “Jungkook, I’m scared-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook hushes you, pulling you closer until you bump into his chest. “You’re fine. They’re just pulling a prank on us.” 

Without thinking anything other than, I’m too young to die, you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, burrowing your head against his chest as he chuckles. 

“I can’t die, Jungkook,” you mumble into his chest. “I’m too young. I have so much to do. I have a test this week to take, and I’ve studied so hard for it, I have to take it. That’d be so stupid to die before taking that dumb test. And I have to yell at Yoongi or something, I don’t know-”

Jungkook’s giddy laughter pulls you out of your daze, and if you weren’t so scared you would be glaring at him. He laces his fingers behind your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers into the dark, making every last thought eddy out of your brain. “Have I ever told you that before?”

Finding just enough willpower to move, you shake your head. Jungkook harrumphs above you, the sound almost pulling a giggle from you. Then you remember the situation you’re currently in. 

Jungkook sighs. “Well, you are. That, and a lot of other things. Would you like me to tell you what else I think you are?”

Hands bunching in the fabric of his clothes, you find your voice. “...yes.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Scary smart. It’s horrifying.” A chuckle bubbles up from your chest. “And inclusive. That’s so underrated these days, you know? But you’re always making sure everyone is involved and enjoying themselves.”

You can tell that he’s holding his breath from the way his chest has stopped moving, and you’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he hesitantly runs his fingers through your hair. 

If that wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, he lets out a shaky breath before continuing on. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you those things before.”

You manage a laugh. “I’m sorry that it took us going on a haunted house tour for you to say it.”

Jungkook smiles down at you, your eyes finally adjusted to the dim room. He stares at you for a long moment, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

You wonder if you’d let him.

He must see the question in your eyes, but he gives you a knowing look before heading toward the door, making sure your hand is in his. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, testing the door and giggling at your sigh of relief when the door is unlocked. 

“Worry about what?” You feign ignorance. Jungkook sees right through your, tugging you along as you head out the door. 

He shrugs, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes as pink no doubt paints his cheeks. “You know...overstepping any boundaries.” He looks down at his feet. “Making a move.”

“Why?” The question comes out before you can stop it, and you inwardly curse yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at your inquiry. 

The sound of everyone chatting makes you almost want to cry with relief. They must be just around the corner, waiting for you to return. 

Jungkook leans over, whispering to you. “Because we have a pact.”

You turn to question him further, eyes wide. He anticipates this, taking long strides until you find yourselves back in the open area with everyone else. 

“We’re back!” Jungkook announces, shooting you a smirk. You can’t help but stare at him, mouth slightly agape. 

A pact?

Gina smiles broadly. “How was the room? Did you find anything interesting?”

You shake your head, trying and failing to stop yourself from overanalyzing every glance the boys give you. “...no. I was too freaked out to even look around after the door closed on us.”

“Yeah, who did that? We didn’t even hear you guys,” Jungkook asks. 

Everyone looks at the two of you before looking at Gina, clearly just as confused. 

Gina, on the other hand, looks absolutely terrified. 

“Ummm...” she begins, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself up. “Remember how I said that we haven’t ever found the body of the estranged wife?”

You nod your head but stop, the words sinking in. The hairs on the back of your neck rise up, and you find yourself shuffling over to stand next to Jin, clinging to his arm. 

“Yeah...” Namjoon says, eyes darting around the room.

Gina sighs. “Alright, everyone, single file line. Head out as quickly and quietly as possible.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

masterlist

this has been turned into a series!

 series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

oooh so spooky ;) 

[rphelperblog]

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

inspired by @thecourtofthedamned​ - feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

A threat to one of us is a threat to us both." 

"Here we go again."

We don’t need a reason to torment mortal boys.” 

"Let's go to Hell and get my boyfriend back."

"Claim the throne." 

Penny dreadful for your thoughts, cousin?”

"If you want the crown, you're going to have to prove yourself worthy of it." 

You wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s why I love you.”

There’s nothing we can’t handle. As long as we’re being honest with each other.”

Had to fight off a giant squid for it, but anything for you.”

I just… I wanna forget, whoever or whatever that was… and just be here… with you right now. Is that okay?”

Because I love you, and I trust you to do the right thing, and to tell me the truth. In fact, I trust you more than I do anyone else right now.

I love you. I’ll always love you.

There’s no flying in my life without you,”

Of course not. Take us to the children.”

I never really thought of you as a cat person, but… okay.”

He hasn’t defiled you, has he?” 

You’re suggesting a witch hunt? “

My grimoire is your grimoire.”

If you say another thing about my mother or father to anyone ever again… I’ll choke you to death on your own blood.” 

You can’t keep killing me. “

Aunties! We have a big problem! “

Oh. I was right. That is a blood curse. Oh, it’s lingering. So, untreated, that is gonna eat slowly away at your health, your will, and your sanity.”

Well, um, who doesn’t enjoy a good scare every now and again?”

"I can choose to be afraid of my powers, or I can use them." 

"Hell's under new management now."

You’re a rebel. That’s how I like my witches.”

"Embrace your destiny." 

Alright then. Get me a bit of her hair and I’ll make all her teeth fall out.

"This is uncharted territory." 

"It can't be all Hell all the time."

"Being queen of Hell isn't a summer job." 

"Resurrection of witches."

The power to warp reality itself." 

"That's my girl." 

"In the town of Greendale, where it always feels like Halloween..."

"Honestly, first purgatory, now Hell. What's next? Heaven?"

"I feel I must warn you, this is who I am." 

A witch’s dark baptism is our most sacred unholy sacrament.”

Who’s talking about witches? Give me their names and I’ll make sure they stop talking about anything. Permanently. It’s just terrible when teenagers slip into comas, isn’t it?”

Satan in hell, what am I wearing?”

So he tricked my father and used my mother? And now he expects me to fall in line? Well, I say not today, Satan.”

Ghastly water. Basically water you get from wiping down corpses.”

Mephistopheles save us from the melodramatics of a teenage witch.”

If you could get past security by yourself, and that’s a big if, you’d never be able to find your way around. It’s like a maze down there.”

A map? To what? This isn’t The Goonies.” 

Could you draw me a map? “

to be clear, I have a boyfriend.”

Word travels fast amongst the damned, it seems.”

All contact sports. Then, it’s the movies and Chinese food.”

We’re talking about murder here!”

Ritual sacrifice. It’s slightly different.”

Great! So I’m supposed to spoil the girl who harrowed me.

Preferably with figs and wild berries to sweeten her meat before the feast.”

Oh, come on, cuz. It is a little funny – Prudence getting her just desserts by literally becoming the dessert.

Boys. Lots and lots of mortal boys. To torment. And seduce. Or both. “

Maybe you’ll find the meaning of life at the highschool.”

Oh, you had me at boys to torment.”

sleep like the dead.”

I like the ghosts in it.”

Well, Christmas is the best time for ghost stories.”

Seriously, what is it with witches and cannibalism?”

Everything. I mean, we’re not even officially boyfriend and girlfriend, and yet tomorrow, we have to take part in some crazy bacchanal.”

Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m terrified.”

Yeah, right. I caught you in the attic with my cousin having an orgy.”

I’d like to lodge a formal complaint”

He sent me to help you get ready for the ball, like a satanic fairy godmother, I suppose.”

Call me daddy.”

How’d your reformation go over?

You know, shockingly, the kings of hell didn’t embrace my ideas with the gusto I was hoping for.

Ooh, blimey, what would I wear? “

I’m a hobgoblin.”

That is not how public school works.”

You knew? You knew the entire time and you didn’t say a word?”

Earlier, I was an ass. I freaked out, which is okay, but I should have said, “I love you, and I’m here for you, all of you, witch, Sentinel, co-president.”

Let’s say… I wanna be at your side, on the right side of history.” 

 Puritanical masculinity? And principal Hawthorne is the most intolerant, the most buffoonish, the most misogynist of all.”

But I want both. I want freedom and power. “

He’s a man, isn’t he?”

No one should get to decide what we can and can’t read.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't 

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

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Betting on Bullets

Daily Speedwrite, finally stopped keeping count.  I’m sure lots of people have written scenes similar to this, so please let me know if I hit too close to anything existing.  

It was a Sunday afternoon when it happened.  Everyone was at the house for a family dinner--Ian and Mickey included, despite the latter’s protests that better things awaited them at home--and they gathered around the table as the oven timer ticked away.  

Carl was telling some story he heard from his partner about a shootout outside the old Macy’s, complete with his own colorful commentary. 

“Then, POW!” he shouted, jolting back in his seat with the kickback from a fake shotgun.  “Jones got one of ‘em in the leg.”  He relaxed again with a shrug, adding at a normal volume, “other one got away though.”

Mickey hmphed, taking a long sip from the beer bottle he had been dangling from loose fingers.

“Damn cops,” he muttered.

Carl raised an eyebrow at him across the table, ignoring Ian’s headshake and Lip’s widened eyes.

“What?” Mickey asked roughly when he caught the look.  “I said what I said.”

“Bet I woulda taken both of ‘em down,” he challenged.  “Gotta keep criminals off my streets.”

“Here we go,” Tami murmured under her breath, standing and taking Fred from Lip’s arms.  “We’ll be in the other room when you all calm down.”

“Me too,” Liam said, jumping down from his chair and hurrying through to the living room.  Tami turned to follow as the remaining boys started in on each other, then paused at the counter. 

 “Franny, why don’t you come with me?” she suggested lightly.  The little girl shook her head without looking up, completely absorbed in doodling on a scrap of paper that used to be a water bill.

“She’s fine,” Debbie said absently from where she sat next to her daughter, texting someone.

“Kid, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn,” Mickey dismissed behind them.

“You wanna grab a gun and try me?” Carl goaded loudly, and Debbie finally looked up, right into Tami’s expectant eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” she grumbled.  “We’re coming.”

House rules left with the children, apparently, and things got louder behind them as they moved into the living room.

“I could outshoot you any day, Gallagher,” Mickey announced.

“Mick,” Ian warned, lost under Carl’s response.

“Please, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

“Alright, alright!” Lip cut in.  “Let’s settle this the old fashioned way.”  Everyone quieted as he took charge.  “Ian, go get one of those targets you used to steal from ROTC, think we’ve got one in the attic still.  Carl, Mickey, go get your guns and meet us under the L.”

“What guns?” Mickey asked innocently, wide eyes fixed on Carl.  “I’m an ex-con, man, I don’t got no guns.”  He thumbed his brow.  “Least not while there’s baby cops in the house.”

“I’m not gonna turn you in, Mickey,” Carl said, rolling his eyes.  “Just gonna prove I can take you.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed.  Seeing it, Ian sighed, getting up from the table with a groan and heading upstairs to find the target.  He knew not to fight that look.

Behind him, he could hear Mickey say, “Oh, it’s on.”

-----

Twenty minutes later and the four of them are gathered under the train, target set up along the length of the tracks.

“Alright,” Lip said when he finished adjusting it.  “Here’s how this is gonna work.  We all get three shots.  Go for head, heart, and groin.”  He gestured to the appropriate areas on the target.  “Carl and I will use his gun, Ian and Mickey use theirs.”

“We’re part of this now?” Ian asked his brother, exasperated, but Lip just grinned.  

“What, you were gonna let your husband have all the fun?” His grin turned sharp.  “Or are you worried you can’t hack it?  All that army stuff was a long time ago, little brother.”

Ian, tight-lipped at the sudden mention of his old dream, didn’t respond.  Mickey just muttered, “asshole,” under his breath, and stepped forward.

“My turn first,” he decided, raising his gun and shooting off three quick rounds before Lip could even get clear.

“Fucking hell, Mickey!” he yelped as he flinched away.  “Give me some fucking warning next time!”

“Nah,” Mickey replied.  “Gotta have my fun, right?”  He spun his now-unloaded gun around his trigger finger, showing off.

“Jesus,” Lip said under his breath, taking out a marker and writing “MM” next to each hole in the target.  Mickey hadn’t done too bad for such a quick draw.

“I’m next,” Carl declared, stepping into position and taking his stance.  “Out of the way, Lip.”

Lip took a few exaggerated steps to the side before nodding, and Carl squinted for a second before firing off his own shots.

“Not bad,” Lip said when he returned to mark them.  “Looks pretty close, actually.”  He leaned back to get a better look, then gestured Ian over.  “What do you think?”

Ian glanced over the spread of bullet holes, shaking his head.  “I think it’s a shame,” he offered.  He got three confused looks in return, and clarified, “all that lead-up, and neither one of you can shoot for shit.”

Carl just gaped at him, but Mickey snorted.  “Oh, excuse me,” he started, “think you can do better, Mr.--”

He was cut off by Ian grabbing the gun from his hand and shooting three times in quick succession, the sound drowning out the rest of his taunt.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and then--

“Fuck,” Lip breathed.  “Ian wins.”

“No fucking way.” Carl walked up to peer at the target, where a new hole sat right between his and Mickey’s shots at each point of interest.  “How did you do that?” he asked as he faced his brother, but Ian was locked in an intense staring contest with Mickey, and didn’t hear him.

“Uh, guys?” he tried, and it snapped Mickey out of it enough to grab Ian by the arm and start dragging him away.

“We’re leavin’“ he said gruffly, and Ian brokered no argument, casting a giddy grin over his shoulder at his brothers.

“But I haven’t even gotten a turn!” Lip called after them.

“And unless you wanna watch your brother’s perfect aim in a whole new way, you’re not gonna!” Mickey returned.

They never did make it back to the house for dinner.