#i remember kyle and was like.... add him to the au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 25 days ago

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Monster (S)mash - Task Force 141 x Female Reader - Porn Star AU

Content & Warnings: Porn Star AU, group sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, cnc, restraints, anal sex, double penetration, haunted houses, masks, knifeplay, creampie, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Group Sex)

On the set of Monster (S)mash, the monsters come out to play. It's your first themed porn film and it's set in a haunted house. You're eager. Excited. But you've never taken something like this on before. You're filming with four of the greatest names in porn, and you don't want to mess this up.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Would you like to review the scene? Go over boundaries again?"

Kate Laswell, the Intimacy Coordinator, takes a seat on the opposite couch.

"I'd like a refresh," replies Johnny. "Now that I'm in character." He grins, gesturing at himself, and you almost laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

Johnny MacTavish, known in the industry for his many creampie videos, is dressed as a crazed clown with a red wig and exaggerated makeup. His clothing is nothing more than a black industrial vinyl apron covering up the important bits. Kyle Garrick, a connoisseur of the cam world, sits next to him in a fresh white robe with a Jason Voorhees mask sitting on top of his head, the elastic band digging into his skin behind his ears.

Kyle taps away at his phone. "I should go before you, mate." Kyle glances up and winks at you. "Since I’m up first."

You feel heat rush to your cheeks. Kyle is incredibly handsome—all four of them are—but Kyle has a gentle swagger that flusters you a bit every time he addresses you. The two others, John Price and Simon Riley, are still in the makeup tent transforming into a werewolf and a demon.

While you've been on various porn sets, this one is far more complex than previous films you've been a part of. Monster (S)mash is set in a "haunted house." You'll go room to room, each containing one of the four men before it ends with the five of you partaking in each other. Filming is expected to take all day and possibly into the next.

Kate finds a comfortable spot on the sofa and addresses the two of you. "Your scene takes place in a forest with a cabin. They'll be a fake machete. We're looking at knife play. Some c-n-c. A bit of a chase. What do you think about that?"

Kyle shrugs and then glances at you. "Sounds fun. I'm excited. But it's what you want." He gazes at you expectantly.

You shrug. "What we talked about during our meeting yesterday is good with me."

Kyle nods. "I remember."

"And we know the safe word and the non-verbal signal in case anyone needs to stop?" asks Kate.

"Apple," says Johnny.

"Three fingers with a wrist shake for non-verbal," adds Kyle.

Kate smirks. "And what if someone is restrained and cannot shake their hand?"

"Then three fingers will do," you finish.

She smiles, clearly content with that answer. "Very good." She clasps her hands and then pushes up from the couch. "My assistant and I will be standing off to the side watching and listening for a signal."

Rodolfo, the director’s personal assistant pops his head in. “We’re ready for the first scene.”

Kyle groans as he stands, returning the Jason mask to its proper place. The robe is gone and tossed onto the sofa beside Johnny. Kyle is completely naked underneath it all. You follow him out, robe still on.

"Head that way to mark," Rodolfo says to Kyle and then he gestures at you, beckoning you closer. "Stand here."

You find your mark and then remove your robe, handing it off to Rodolfo who politely keeps his gaze averted. Unlike Kyle who wears nothing, you're in a skimpy black thong that's more string than material.

“Quiet on set!” comes Alejandro Vargas’ voice from the director’s area. He’s standing behind a monitor, watching whatever is coming through on the camera.

There's some minor rustling before all goes silent.

"On three...two...one."

You stand just outside the entrance of the fake haunted house. Taking a deep breath, you count to three. Glancing over your shoulder, you deliberately stare off-camera, and then head inside. The camera moves forward as you walk, focusing in on the makeshift sign.

You will be touched, carried, restrained, played with...

The camera lingers on the sign for a few seconds before following you into the dark.

"Cut!" Alejandro calls out. "Let's hold there. Get her to mark two."

Rodolfo appears, gesturing toward the first "room" of the haunted house.

Each set is separated by curtains. With the lights on, it looks a bit silly, but during filming and post-production editing, no one will know that these scenes weren't filmed in an actual haunted house attraction.

As you step up to your mark, a tingle of excitement swells in your belly. You've always found your job fun and enjoyable, but this is the first themed film you've attempted. While the film crew and intimacy coordinator have solid reputations in the industry, the four men you're working alongside are known for their decency, politeness, and general kindness when working with others. During yesterday's meetings, they were incredibly focused, asking questions, and spent extra time wanting to know and remember your boundaries and limitations.

When you first started out, that was unheard of. You’d show up to set and hope for the best. Discussions about limitations and boundaries were few and far between.

"Going on three...two...one."

You enter the first room.

It's arranged to resemble the front of a cabin in the middle of the woods near a lake. The cabin is just a facade anchored onto a wall while blue lighting creates water-like ripples off the front of the cabin. The path to the "exit" is lined with two folding chairs, a metal picnic table, and a makeshift campfire with fake flame included. Ambient nature sounds play in the background, but it's only loud enough to create an unsettling atmosphere.

Slowly, you step around the two folding chairs and walk past the picnic table, glancing around in feigned nervousness as if danger lurks around every corner. That danger is just Kyle in his Jason mask.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Kyle appears. Standing near the makeshift exit, he is completely naked other than the mask and the machete clenched in his right fist. You freeze, holding up your hands in a placating gesture.

Kyle rolls his shoulders and neck. You hear the audible pop from where you're standing. He saunters forward, turning the machete handle end-over-end in his palm. Though you know the machete is fake, and that Kyle won't harm you, your fight-or-flight response kicks in. It fuses with your excitement and underlying arousal, sending your senses into overdrive. Your vision narrows, focusing on Kyle as he swaggers toward you.

"No," you whisper, backing toward the spot you entered from.

Kyle lunges, and you shriek, turning on your heel to dodge out of the way.

Spreading his arms wide, Kyle blocks your way forward. You step to the left and he matches your movement, the machete blade outstretched. While the two of you discussed this scene with the intimacy coordinator, the chase is entirely improvised. You don't know what Kyle will do or how he'll eventually trap you. The idea is thrilling, warming your body with heightened anticipation.

Stepping around the edge of the picnic table, you aim to dart around him on the right side. Kyle leaps over the fake flames and lands in your path. He swings the machete and you duck. The blade is nothing more than rubber, and his aim is purposefully wide.

As you turn away, Kyle follows, his stride casual and calm. It's infuriatingly sexy how sure of himself he is. And somehow, you're flustered by him, even as you try to make for the exit.

But there is no escape—and it's not like you want to get away from him.

Kyle's muscled arm catches you by the stomach. He hauls you against his chest, even as you wiggle and squirm, lashing out as if that will do anything. His strength is apparent in the way he confidently keeps you close, unafraid that you might accidentally clip his jaw with your knuckles.

The camera moves in as he brings the machete up to your throat, pressing the rubber blade against your jugular.

"Stop moving," he growls, the mask muffling the sound.

You cease your squirming, both hands grasping his forearm. The edge of the mask digs into the side of your face, and his hard cock presses roughly against your back.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asks. The low gruffness in his voice sends a bolt of heat straight to your pussy.

You whimper, but say nothing.

Kyle lightly slaps the inside of your upper thigh. "Answer me."

"I'll be good," you gasp, the sting of his strike causing your muscles to clench, ass bucking into his pelvis.

"You'll be what?" This time he squeezes your thigh.

"A good girl."

He makes a pleased sound as the machete falls away and his arm releases you. Grabbing the back of your neck, Kyle uses his grip to turn you around, to force you to look at his face. With the mask, all you can see are his eyes. They're in shadow, but fuck, they're gorgeous.

With a final squeeze, Kyle forces you to your knees. His cock bobs in front of your face. Your lips part, but Kyle keeps a firm grip, allowing nothing. He is in control.

Your gaze is entirely focused on him. You have no idea where the camera is, and there is no point in looking. It's not your concern.

"Wider," he instructs, and you present your mouth to him, tongue out. "That's it."

The head of his cock taps against your tongue and then slides back and forth over its surface, teasing what's to come.

You want it. You want him.

Kyle's hand moves from the back of your neck to the top of your head. He fists your hair there, and then guides your mouth around his cock, forcing you to take every inch of him. The cool rubber of the machete presses against your neck. Your hands rise, anchoring yourself by grasping the front of his bare thighs.

You hold on as he fucks your throat. Keeping your gaze on the mask, you relax your muscles, focusing on not gagging. Kyle is more length than girth, and the head of his cock roughly hits the back of your throat with each stroke.

"That's a good girl," he rasps. "My perfect slut."

The praise is wonderful. Perfect. You hold on to it, humming with contentment around him, the vibrations making him shiver. In your peripheral, you notice the glint of a camera lens but you don't glance over. You focus on Kyle, and how eager you are to get both of you off.

Kyle is rough but not overly slow. He's careful not to go too far. His movements are restrained but controlled, and that only turns you on more. One of your hands slips between your thighs and you find yourself blissfully wet.

You circle your clit and then dive downward to slip one finger, and then two, inside your pussy. Repeating the motions only builds the oncoming orgasm like a viper hidden in a pile of leaves, waiting to strike.

"Are you fucking yourself with your fingers?" Kyle's question isn't meant to be answered. It's rhetorical. He knows you are. He can see it.

With his cock in your mouth, you're unable to answer. One watery tear rolls down your cheek and Kyle lightly taps the machete blade against your throat.

"Not being a good girl. Didn't tell you to do that."

The machete disappears. Using his grip on the top of your head, Kyle guides your mouth off and away with a wet pop. He drags you to your feet, and as you move to run from him, Kyle presses the tip of the machete against your stomach.

"Get on the table," he growls. "Now."

You glance over your shoulder briefly to figure out where it is. The path is clear—just a few steps and you're on it. Kyle prods you with another poke of the machete.

Moving backward, you eventually bump into the edge of the table. Kyle does not help you up but the top is just below hip-level. You get on easily.

"On your back. Legs spread."

The command in his tone is undeniable. You do exactly as Kyle says. The camera is directly behind him, following his forward advance. Kyle wraps his hand around your ankle and tugs, dragging you to the very edge until you're close to falling off.

Without ceremony or elegance, he tears away your thong and tosses it aside. Kyle lines himself up and thrusts.

"Fucking hell," he groans.

You moan loudly, toes curling as your pussy takes all of him. The stretch is just enough to hurt but entirely euphoric.

Kyle slams the machete down onto the table next to you. In seconds, he has one hand over the front of your throat and the other on your inner thigh, keeping you wide as he drives in and out of your body.

This is where he's roughest, and you don't care at all. It's delicious. Glorious. From this angle you can watch every corded muscle shiver as he moves.

And the eye contact.

Kyle won't stop looking at you. His gaze is firm. Heavy. You are trapped by it as much as by his strength. His hand on your inner thigh slides further inward until he's almost on your pelvis. The camera shifts to point directly at where your bodies meet just as Kyle's thumb starts rubbing slow circles around your clit.

The building orgasm shivers outward, stretching into your limbs. A sense of numbness comes with it, as if you're floating above your body. It lingers there at the heightened apex before crashing down around you.

Your body tenses—seizes. Kyle groans, continuing to thrust through it. His thumb keeps stroking, and the intensity continues, wave after wave flooding through your system until you near overstimulation.

Kyle's thrusting increases, a pounding rhythm that signals his coming end.

"Fuck," he groans, hand around your throat tightening slightly.

The fingers on your thigh dig in, and Kyle stills, his sigh a gentle rainfall. You feel your pussy flood with warmth as his release hits him. You see the shudder, watch as his eyelids close behind the mask, and the keen pulse of his veins in his arms.

Kyle thrusts once. Twice. And then with a heavy sigh, grasps the base of his cock, stroking it as he slowly eases out. The camera comes into view, panning inward to catch the sight of his cum. Kyle keeps you still, gaze lingering on you. He's waiting for the camera's retreat.

Just as it backs away, Kyle's grip on you loosens. You're the pretend, helpless victim no longer.

Gripping the machete, you strike out. Kyle avoids your terrible swing, and that gives you your change. Off the table and onto the floor, you rush toward the exit, not looking back though you hear his enraged growl and the swoosh of air as he lunges for you.

You disappear, nearly stumbling into the next room as the director calls for the end of the scene.

"Cut!"

You catch yourself before falling forward, a little breathless. Poking your head out from behind the curtain, the set team comes rushing in, moving objects out.

"Let's set the next scene."

As you step out, Rodolfo and someone from the makeup department rush in. You're offered your robe which you politely decline but accept the water.

"You good, love?" Kyle approaches, removing his mask, gaze expectant and observing.

"Yeah. I'm good," you reply, taking another gulp of water.

His observation isn't one of keen interest but one of concern. He's checking you over. Making sure he didn't harm you.

"I didn't hurt you?"

You're a little sore but it feels good. "No," you answer. "Promise. I'm fine."

He grins, relief clear on his face. "Thought I might have been too much."

You shake your head. "Not at all."

Rodolfo checks his watch. "Ready for the next scene? Or would you like a break?"

You cap the water and hand it to him. "I can handle it."

He nods. "Be ready in five."

After a bathroom break, a brief touch-up, and a gentle cleanse between the thighs, you're herded to the next mark.

"We're going in ten...nine..."

Your robe is removed and water whisked away. The camera is somewhere in the room already, ready for you to step out from behind the curtain.

"...three...two...one."

You emerge, knowing that this might be the scene you need to call a stop to. Not that it'll be Johnny's fault, but the place is absolutely ghastly.

It's set up like a meat processing warehouse. The room is bathed in red light. Fake bodies wrapped up in cloth hang from the ceiling along with a few hooks on chains. There are two "exits" covered in plastic strip curtains. One is a true exit and the other is where Johnny is supposed to emerge from, but you have no idea which.

The camera follows your forward movements as you navigate around the hanging set pieces. Against the wall is a stainless-steel table. On it are bloody body parts all haphazardly stacked on top of each other.

As you make it to the middle of the room, Johnny appears—not that you see him. You don't notice him at all. It isn't until he revs the chainsaw he's holding that you do. It startles you so bad that you stumble backward into a fake body, almost tripping on your own foot.

Johnny charges forward, much faster than Kyle. The hanging bodies, hooks, and chains are in the way. You try to push them aside, to run as you're supposed to, but it hampers your movement.

Johnny catches you quickly.

Cornering you between a trio of hanging bodies, Johnny circles the space, revving the chainsaw as he walks. There is no chain on it, but he doesn't point it at you. He keeps it pointed away from his body and yours.

Transferring the chainsaw to one hand, Johnny snags your upper arm, dragging you against him. You beat at his chest, the vinyl apron slippery when your skin makes contact. Nothing happens. Johnny is solid.

With his grip on your arm, Johnny hauls you toward the body-covered table. He sets the chainsaw down and then both hands are on you. Spinning you around to face him, you attempt to fight him off even as he restrains you, attaching handcuffs to your wrists with ease.

“Let me go!” you shriek, but Johnny only laughs. It’s manic and high—completely deranged. It’s wonderful acting. You’ll give him that.

With a sharp tug on the connecting chain, Johnny sends you stumbling. He steps out of the way, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp slap. You yelp but manage not to fall. The smirk on his face tells you everything. He’s loving this.

You attempt to strike out at him but Johnny is so much stronger.

Using his massive, muscled arms, Johnny wrestles for control, winning easily. You’re herded to the center of the room. At one of the hooks, Johnny lifts your arms over your head, hooking the connecting chain on the nearest one.

Everything stretches, but it’s not painful. It's a good stretch and just enough to keep you on your feet but appear as if you're hanging in the air. It's a great trick. You're on full display for the camera and for Johnny.

You’re facing away from Johnny, and you have no idea where the camera is. All you’re aware of is your breathing, and the swelling tightness in your muscles as the stretch starts to curl forth a gentle ache.

You’re hanging there. Untouched. Waiting.

There’s a gentle brush against the back of your thigh. You jerk against the touch, tilting your head to catch a glimpse of him. Johnny appears before you like a phantom. He steps into your view slowly. The red light bathes him in a blood-tinged glow.

Johnny grins, grasping your chin in his hand.

“Are you going to remain a good girl for us?” His Scottish lilt is sinful. You find yourself leaning forward as if you’ll kiss him. That grin softens, and then becomes a wicked thing.

Johnny drops to his knees before you.

His hands grab the backs of your upper thighs, lifting you off your feet. He guides your legs over his shoulders, hands adjusting to support your ass. Johnny’s mouth is on your pussy immediately, tongue teasing your entrance. The fake plastic nose he wears perfectly presses against your clit. It rubs back and forth against it as he devours your pussy.

The orgasm comes quickly and with sharp intensity. You scream out your pleasure, head falling back, eyes closed as Johnny continues to feast between your thighs. Your toes curl, the muscles in your lower back seizing and relaxing with each wave.

With a final lick, Johnny tilts his head back, smug with himself.

You’re gasping for air, chest heaving as Johnny returns your feet to solid ground. He ascends, hand undoing the ties that keep his black vinyl apron in place. He circles you as he does it, a teasing dance before it falls away.

Your gaze immediately drops, and fuck—Johnny is thick. There’s a decent amount of length but this man is all girth.

He palms his hard cock, gaze enraptured with the sight of you. Circling you like a predator, Johnny takes his opportunity to run his hands over your body, to touch everything. It’s been he comes to a stop behind you that the anticipation builds.

Johnny’s face presses against your neck as his hands grab hold of your hips. His cock rubs against your ass and then slides between your thighs. He rocks back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. The head of his cock pokes at your sensitive clit.

You whimper, and Johnny gives you relief.

With his grip on your hips, Johnny angles himself at your entrance. A quick thrust, and Johnny is home to the hilt. Your thighs are pressed against each other, and the thickness of Johnny’s cock is only intensified by the limited space.

He remains behind you, pumping steadily as you hang from the hook. Johnny’s hands on your hips delve, squeezing your thighs. He brings one palm down in a quick slap against it, your thigh jiggling from the strike.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers into your ear, and you know that’s only for you to hear.

While Kyle was a bit rough with you, but Johnny is steady, his rhythm hitting all the right beats until you’re numb with lust. You fall into it, heading leaning back against his as Johnny as his way with you.

At his end, Johnny’s groan morphs into a whimper. He comes inside you, his grip tight as he holds you flush against him. A few more thrusts and then Johnny is pulling you, forcing your thighs apart to show the camera the mess there.

You expect a pause as the camera lingers there. What you don’t expect is for Johnny to put his mouth back to your pussy, to suck his cum out of it, to stand and force your head back, slipping his fingers between your lips only to spit his cum down your throat.

He grins at you, licks his lips.

This dirty fucker.

Your thumb finds the small button on the cuffs. Like everything else, it’s a prop. You press the button. The chain breaks as it’s supposed to. The moment your feet are flat, you take off, rushing toward the exit.

You hear pounding footsteps and then—

“Cut!”

Johnny almost knocks you down on the way out. “Shit,” he gasps, grabbing on to you before you topple forward.

“Take ten!”

A robe is thrust at you, and Johnny is pulled away as someone else shoves another water into your face and someone else fusses with your hair and makeup.

It’s the maze that’s next. This one is completely staged compared to the other scenes. At a certain point, you, Johnny, and Kyle will converge on a singular point. Johnny on one side of you. Kyle on the other.

When you’re set, you enter into the makeshift maze. You don’t need to go far. Just a few feet. Johnny is right behind you, every step heavy and loud as he navigates the maze. Only a couple striders further and you’re trapped.

Kyle steps out of the dark and you come to a halt. But as you retreat, Johnny is right there, blocking your exit. Their hands are on you immediately. You have no control. You give in to them, allowing them everything. It’s nice to surrender, to hand control off to someone else.

They move you into position. Johnny’s cock slides home, filling your pussy. Kyle takes the other side, and then you’re full in both holes, groaning loudly with each thrust. Your hands seek, fingers digging into whatever they can find.

Over your shoulder, Kyle pushes up his mask enough to reveal his lips. You go in, tasting Kyle’s sweetness. His hand grasps the front of your throat, dragging you in for a deeper kiss.

Johnny isn’t one to be left out.

As Kyle breaks away from the kiss, Johnny reaches for him, the two men locking lips next to your face as they both move in and out of your body. You drape your arm over the back of your Johnny’s neck, and all you know is the perfect way they fill you, and the feel of their lips against your skin.

And when it’s over, you’re a little disappointed that it couldn’t continue.

There’s another break—this one longer than the others. Kate’s assistant massages your muscles, and she checks in before the graveyard scene with John Price. You’ll truly need some rest before the final scene with Simon Riley and the rest of the men, but you can do one more.

But only one.

And it’s the easiest of the bunch.

There is no chasing. No running.

You play the helpless damsel, pushing at John’s chest as if you don’t want it. All around you is smoke and shadow. The headstones around the two of you create a little circle, almost as if you’re in the center of a ritual.

You’re put on your hands and knees on the ground, the fog from the fog machine swallowing up your hands and legs. Price is behind you, already pumping, already taking from you like the wolf he’s supposed to be.

The makeup department did wonders. They gave him sharp teeth, yellow contacts, and a partially transformed look to him. It’s brilliant, really. He looks very much the monster.

Each stroke is deep. John presses on your lower back, forcing you into a different position, pushing your ass higher into the air. Your legs widen and then John increases his pace, his pelvis smacking loudly against yours. Skin meets skin, and your pussy quivers with excitement as the orgasm builds.

You stroke yourself between your legs, leaning on one side to keep yourself upright enough not to slip. You’re slippery between your thighs, and you can’t help but trace where your bodies meet. Your nail grazes John’s cock, and he emits a low moan.

John grips your ass harder, and then he’s pounding into you, using your body like it belongs to him. You lightly bite your lip, trying to focus on your building orgasm. Each stroke comes with a spank, jerking you against your teasing fingers.

“Oh—fuck,” you mewl as your orgasm comes raging forward, curling outward.

John fucks you through it, growling like a fucking animal behind you. When your orgasm wanes, his hand grasps the back of your throat, holding you in place as he continues. All you have to do is sink into it, to grin with contentment and let him have what he wants.

There’s something primal to the way he holds you down and fucks you. It’s different from the way Kyle kept you in place or the way Johnny fucked you. Even in their roughness they were sweet. John is all business, and you’re perfectly fine with that.

His cock is fucking perfect, his dominating demeanor a soothingly sensual experience. There’s something to be said about giving in—to submitting.

But it’s after the extended break that completely alters your brain chemistry.

Simon is the last. The very last.

There is no chase. No true lead up.

This room is set in hell. There are fake flames, reddish-orange backlighting, and a throne. Simons sits on that throne, lounging casually, legs wide, his cock and heavy balls on full display. He’s dressed like the devil, but there are no plastic horns or dollar store red cape. He is perfectly painted in red and black. From his head are twisting black horns that curl up and back. They’ve given him red contacts and fake canines for a vampiric bite.

You are in his thrall, sitting at the base of his throne when the camera turns on. There is a leather collar around your neck connected to a silver chain that Simon holds in his fist. He lightly tugs on it, urging you forward.

Your hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, coaxing him toward hardness. You tease the head with a swirl of your tongue before taking him into your mouth. Simon fists the chain, twisting another link around his fist. Every time you take him deeper, Simon shortens the chain further and further.

At first, there is no tightness. It grows shorter. Shorter still. The leather begins to bite into your skin. With each twist of Simon’s wrist, the leash shortens. It draws you closer to Simon, leaving no room for you to retreat—to get air.

Your nostrils flare as you breathe through your nose. Relaxing your throat, you suck him down, cupping his testicles gently in tandem with your movements. The only sound he makes is a grunt and you have no idea if that’s good or bad.

But his cock is hard. Solid. You can’t take all of him or you’ll fucking choke on it.

He tugs sharply on the leash. "In my lap, pet."

You do as Simon instructs, standing between his legs before turning around toward the camera. You sink down into his lap, and Simon leans back, gently guiding you to straddle his lap, legs wide and draped over his thick thighs. He rubs his cock against your pussy, and then you’re sinking down on him.

John arrives from the dark, still in costume. He prowls forward, coming up to the left side of the throne. He grabs your wrist as he comes to a stop, guiding it to his cock. You fist John just as Simon thrusts upward.

Kyle arrives soon after. He kneels in front of you and Simon, teasing your clit with his fingers. It starts as a gentle stroke before his tongue replaces them, swirling little circles against your clit. Simon thrusts upward again, and your pussy clenches.

Just before your orgasm crests, Kyle’s tongue descends, stroking against the space where Simon’s cock intrudes. He descends further, lightly sucking one of Simon’s balls into his mouth. It’s brief. Just a blip. And then his tongue is back on your clit.

Your orgasm comes raging forward, but just as your mouth opens to cry out, Johnny appears, grabbing the back of your head, filling your mouth with his cock.

Your body is theirs to use.

Theirs to enjoy.

Simon thrusts upward, and Kyle draws back, his lips glossy with your arousal. He puts the mask back into place, and Simon lifts you off his cock. You’re picked up. Turned around. You sink back down on Simon’s cock, and Kyle is right there, adding his cock to your pussy. It’s an incredibly tight fit. They rock their hips gentle as John and Johnny touch your body, guiding your hand and mouth back to them.

One of them comes inside you—but you have no idea who before you’re full of just one cock. There are two sets of hands on your ass, bouncing you on whoever’s cock is filling you up. You’re simply clinging on, fingers digging into Simon’s shoulders. His head dips, the horns brushing against your cheek as his tongue circles a nipple.

John grabs the bottom half of your face. “Open,” he instructs and you do so, eagerly sticking out your tongue. John jerks himself until his cum explodes on your tongue. He tips your head to the side and Johnny follow suit.

“Swallow,” growls John and you do exactly that.

Someone groans, and whoever is inside you comes. You’re lifted off Simon’s lap, brought to standing, and then promptly bent over the arm of the throne. Simon’s cock returns to your mouth, and someone settles behind you, spreading your legs before sliding inside.

Every time someone comes in your pussy, you’re moved. Switched. Bent over. Spread wide. Forced onto your knees. You take it all. Enjoying every orgasm. Enjoying every touch.

As your energy fades, it is Simon that takes the final fuck, who brings you into his lap. His hands are firm on your ass, bouncing you up and down his shaft as the camera zooms in on it. You are lost in him—lost in the bliss that pulses throughout your body.

You are perfectly fucked.

Perfectly content.

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@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@marispunk @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @spookyscaryspoon

@ash-tarte @waves-against-a-cliff @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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flamingpudding · 8 months ago

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I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

------------------

"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

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queenhunter102 · 8 months ago

Text

The Cod boys in my AU

Simon 'Ghost' Riley In my AU I see Si, as being big and burly like, he is all beefy and hairy and just...everything but he's not like just ripped hes like fatty ripped (If that makes sense) and it just adds to the intimation factor, just this giant beefy man. And he's obviously a lean mean killing machine, but he's not that intimidating off the field, he's still distant and witty, but not all glares and growls. He knows more on things he shouldn't like NBOC. Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Now Kyle is different, he's a lot smaller than what Simon is and is also significantly less hairy, think of him like twink sized (Stereo-typically) like he's still got that beef, but not as much as the Simon and he takes extra care with his body hair. Now Gaz is the most informed about Omegas (Considering his brother is an Omega) So he has better understanding of how omega's act in society, as well as the after effect of laws. Johnny 'Soap' McTavish Johnny our boy, our favorite Scot, He's physically a lot more narrow and lean that both Simon and Kyle, he's got them abs still, there not super defined but still got that line down the middle now the hair on his body is wild compared to Kyle but significantly better kept than Simons. Now Johnny didn't grow up with much interactions with Omega's coming from an Alpha only pack, but his parents where major politicians in bring change to the health, welfare and survival of Omegas, after the Omega scare in the early 2000's, and due to him still being too young he doesn't remember too much what it was like. Alejandro Vargas Alejandro is like the happy medium of the group, he's not too narrow like Johnny, but more defined than Kyle and can certainly pack on the beef if he wanted to match with Simon. But he likes to keep himself in the middle like a way to balance out the group and he keeps himself practically hairless, not liking the feeling of having the smell of sweat, dirt and grime stick to him for too long and knowing that hair can trap that too him? yeah he shaves it, he used to wax it but he got the piss taken out of him for waxing like an Omega... Now Alejandro comes from a pack much like Kyle and Johnny, one where Omegas where treated like they were royalty so coming into a society that deemed them worse than the shit they scrape off the bottom of their shoe was a COMPLETE culture shock for our sweet man. "Like what do you mean, your no means nothing?" But he does remember during his time about certain laws coming into place and the outrage from other alpha's concerned that they would't have round the clock access. Captain John Price John Price the father of the team and the father in our lives, this man has for lack of a better word let himself go but not completely, he still does his daily workouts but they are not as intense as the rest of the team is, they are far more light, more just to keep that damnable belly from growing. Since he stopped going into the field that often he didn't feel like it was that necessary don't get me wrong he will drop kick if he has too, now that body hair is Wild and I do mean WILD, like some of that shit has matted.

I feel like he doesn't care about it because it is hidden under his uniform and as long as A) It doesn't get in his way and B) Doesn't make him look like a bag of mince, he doesn't care too much, hence why his beard is always in some form clean and well maintained. Now John to me, is a fair bit older than the rest of the boys, meaning that he has seen a lot more, he KNOWS what it was like before the laws came into place, he KNOWS that Britain was lawless and vicious to everyone that wasn't an Alpha and that included it's own, he remembers what it was like for those poor male Omegas, he remembers the locker abuse those poor Omegas getting in the 'family way', he remembers the screaming the crying... He remembers the outrage of Alpha's when Omegas gained rights, he remembered watching in the news the break ins, the attacks, the beatings, he remembers every last detail, he remembers that gory world that is not so different not so distant to the world his new member has managed to emerge from, his only hope is to teach them how to survive without him.

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godihatethiswebsite · 6 months ago

Text

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 8 - On a horse with no name

Let's just assume from now on that I'm incapable of writing anything that could conceivably be referred to as a 'normal length', shall we? I already broke this up with part 7 and I didn't want to give you three chapters of just desert.

Also I have an Ao3 now if any of you would prefer to read it over there instead. All of my works will be cross posted.

Buckle in for this almost 13k monstrosity! :)

Traveling the first leg of the desert was definitely not a glamorous endeavor. Adjusting to a horse’s gait was far different than that of a camel’s pace. Whereas you were familiar with the lateral walk of the former which had diagonal leg pairs moving together, the latter moved in a syncopated rhythm - both legs on one side progressing forward at the same time.

You quickly learned it was imperative to let your body sway along with the rockiness as it plodded along, tensing up only serving to add discomfort to an already strange motion. It took some getting used to, but once you got past the years of conditioning from riding horseback and into the hang of it you found it a rather enjoyable experience lumbering along over massive sand dunes.

The sweat beaded on your temples, dripping from your brow bone and skiing down the ridge of your nose. The sun scorched your skin and chapped your lips, tongue darting out to relieve the worst of it as you tried to be sparing with your water consumption.

The breaks were few and far between, but that was to be understood when you were voyaging through a dry, arid wasteland with an average temperature of over forty degrees celsius. You’d made the journey across the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian Seas multiple times in your life, accustomed to the vastness of the blue rolling waters laid out as far as the eye can see. It was easy to see how civilizations believed the world was flat for millennia when there was nothing to break up the horizon.

You distinctly remembered your first crossing as a child. You’d ended up clutching onto your mother’s skirts in horror the first time you sailed away from the coast out into the English Channel. It was an unsettling trick of the eye; as if you were staring at the most beautiful painting of sky and sea… but if you got too close you’d sail straight through the canvas and off the edge of the world.

The same could almost be said of your current environment, sand seemingly endless no matter how far the camels trudged onward. The landscape was broken up only by the occasional rock formation, areas of packed earth along the flats where the brittle cracks spoke of how parched the ground was.

There were no views to entertain the mind - just nothingness. Over nine million square kilometers of it.

The boys spoke at length the first day, the topics of conversation ranging from the recollections of their past to stories of their recent. Some of these were ones you’d already heard from your cousin that they were more than happy to revisit. The occasional argument broke out about the particulars of the events, one saying this while the other said that, the two of them squawking like ruffled geese that refused to secede territory to the other.

Kyle once looked back at you as if expecting your input to be a tiebreaker, something that genuinely made you laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you reminded him that at no point had you ever been to Cambrai nor did you understand the logistics of how to take apart and rebuild an SMLE.

So far as your own input to the discussions, you left most of that to the men to engage with you. It wasn’t as if you were being antisocial - hard to attempt with two chatterboxes for company - but you spent more time being an active listener than a willing participant. In truth, it was nice to turn your brain off for a bit and be swept away by the tales they’d spun of their times together.

How many nights had you spent curled up in the parlor, legs tucked up under you with a glass of port in your hand while Kyle whiled away the midnight hours stirring your imagination of the many things he’d seen out there in the wide open world? His voice became a soothing balm on evenings where sleep eluded you, taking over for the comfort provided by your father after his untimely passing years prior. You would never object to a recital from him, certainly not now when it was aiding to take your mind off the harsh unimpeded sun battering down on your group.

What really surprised you was the amount you found yourself enjoying the rougher Scottish lilt of your other companion. There was a brashness in the way Johnny spoke compared to your cousin that could be borderline offensive to the ear at times, but it was oddly refreshing to hear the candidness of someone who hadn’t grown up afraid to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. And the man had charm for days that came so naturally to him you could brush off anything that left his lips with an exasperated but secretly fond sigh.

Johnny tried numerous times to drag out your thoughts on certain matters pertaining to things you might have some knowledge or experience in, but more often than not you didn’t take the bait to start up a conversation, not even when the topics turned less ‘civilized’.

You weren’t a prude. Whilst you had no experience of your own to speak of, you were certainly educated by this point in time of the way life goes that certain subjects and suggestions didn’t rattle you the way it had in your youth upon first discovery. And swearing was a bad habit you picked up as well if the occasion called for it.

So despite Johnny’s best attempts to shock you into giving him some sort of response he could work off of, you didn’t bat an eye at his crass language.

You ignored the way his eyes lost a bit of their luster every time you shrugged off his attempts, though he lost none of the determination to sway you otherwise. It wasn’t until Kyle took sympathy - on you or Johnny, you couldn’t say - and steered it back to other topics that Johnny relented and went back to their own merry prattle.

Part of you felt bad at your treatment towards Johnny, but there was still a small nagging in your gut that kept reminding you there was a dangerous man hiding behind that dazzling smile.

Did you think he was going to do something untoward in the middle of the night to either you or Kyle? No. He’d proven as much the two times he’d saved you from a premature end. But it didn’t feel right to be fraternizing with someone who only a few days prior had been locked up in a Cairo prison for crimes that hadn’t even been addressed by him yet.

Just because he was kind didn’t erase the fact that he was a felon.

Still, despite your reservations on the man, by the time you all stopped for the night and passed around rations for your supper, the animals grazing on nearby fauna as you settled down into your own spaces, you found yourself longing to get back on the camel if only for the simplicity of getting lost in his oddly enchanting brogue.

You couldn’t sleep. You’d been trying for the better part of an hour now, but at every turn the concept seemed to have eluded you. By all accounts you should’ve had a better time of it than the previous night, equipped as you were now for the next days travel through the desert; a colorful sleeping mat providing a protective layer between you and the hard rocky ground, your rolled up bag propped under your head for support, a weaved blanket warding the chill off your bones. Even the light of the smoldering campfire was helping to ease your nerves of being out in the middle of nowhere. But you were lacking the exhaustion of last night even with the added ache in your body from a full day’s ride on camelback.

You could practically feel your joints creak in protest as you sat up from your prone position, pulling your dress down over your legs as you brought your knees up to your chest to sit more comfortably. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, you took note of your cousin asleep on his own mat opposite the fire, flayed out on his back snoring quietly. Your other companion lounged back against his own bag, half upright with one leg sprawled out in front of him and the other knee bent. A book rested propped up on the latter, a pencil in his hand as he kept his attention on the pages in front of him.

You watched him quietly for a few moments, lost in thought of nothing really tangible. Merely caught up in observing the way his writing instrument flowed across the paper.

“Have a curious habit fer starin’, don’tcha hen?”

It startles you out of your stupor, lifting your gaze to his face to find him still focused on whatever it is he’s working on. You made sure to keep your voice down so as not to rouse Kyle.

“I could spend my time counting the grains of sand if you’d prefer.”

That garnered a small smirk to his face, something that warmed your insides even if he had yet to glance over at you. “If ye like. Not gonna judge a lass fer her choice in hobbies.”

“Says the man judging me for people watching.”

Johnny paused his writings as he considered your words, nodding his head in a way that suggests he knows when he’s been beaten. “Fair ‘nough.” He placed his pencil between the pages of his journal like a bookmark, closing it and setting it off to the side. It’s only then that he finally lifts his gaze to yours. Even in the shadow of the night, there’s a flame inside those eyes that has nothing to do with the one flickering in the middle of camp. “Gather yer havin’ a hard time sleepin’?”

“Legs are too sore to get comfortable,” you grumble out with a small grimace, fully aware of the throbbing on the inside of your thighs now that you were paying attention to it again. “Not used to having them spread that far apart for so long.”

It was only when Johnny suddenly and violently barked out a bout of laughter that you realized the unintended double meaning to your statement, ducking your head as your face began to heat in mortification. It also had you cringing at his volume, fully aware of the other member of your party slumbering nearby.

“Don't wake Kyle,” you scolded softly despite your embarrassment, glancing that way to make sure his sleep remained undisturbed.

“Not tae worry, hen. Man sleeps like a wee bairn if given the chance. Ye’d be surprised the things our ears are trained ta pick up on. If he needed tae be awake, only then would he be.”

He stated it so matter of factly that it gave you pause. It was weird hearing the person you grew up knowing talked about in that kind of light, one tinted with a red hue that made you ponder how much you really knew him nowadays. You’d seen the effect of war on the men who came home, deceived at first into thinking that your cousin had been spared the crippling memories when he first waltzed through your door looking as polished as always. Once the sheer joy at your cousin’s homecoming softened, it was then you realized there were shadows lurking behind those big brown eyes you’d never seen before.

But what if what happened to him wasn't the only reason for his changes? Maybe it was more than trauma that turned the gorgeous smile into something with a subtle bite.

Taking a look at his relaxed sleeping form, you weren't sure how many molecules were left of the boy who once yanked your pigtails, broken down and remade into something maybe not befitting this kinder world anymore.

“Sometimes I feel like a different man came home to me,” you confided softly, Johnny quiet and still as he allowed you your space to vent. “I know it’s not fair of me to have expected him to return untouched by battle when I’ve seen so many others shaken to their very core at experiences they still won’t give words to. But it’s like there’s a whisper of a thing prowling beneath his skin that occasionally slithers out to take many forms. Sometimes it’s sadness and grief swimming at the bottom of a bottle. Other times its words sharp as knives spat out and guarded behind bruised knuckles. I’ll look at my cousin and not know if I’m talking to the man I left behind or the creature that remains.”

It was a hard thing to admit out loud - this weight you carried with you. Even odder still was the fact that you were sharing your innermost thoughts with a man you’d had the scantest of conversation with prior to this. What was it about him that made words spill unbidden from your lips that you’d hardly acknowledged yourself?

“Ah’ll not try tae explain the complexities of war tae ye, hen, but when ya send a man tae greet his God there’s a sliver of yer soul that goes with ‘em.”

You’re instantly drawn back to him as he speaks, expecting to see him burning a hole right through you with the intense truth behind his words, but finding him engrossed back in whatever project he’d taken up in his book. It’s almost like there’s something in his eyes he doesn’t want you to see, revealing it to the pages instead. You’re being spared from something that you have no clue what it is.

“Garrick is a fierce fighter, one ah’m glad tae have mah back in any sort of danger ye can fathom. Comparatively, he’s also one o’ the most easy goin’ blokes ah’ve had the pleasure ta serve with. Has a good head on his shoulders, that one. The lad can ease even the most ruffled o’ feathers and leave ye with the biggest grin tae grace yer face in ages. Ah owe him fer more than jus’ the skin off mah back.”

You knew exactly what he meant. After the death of your parents, Kyle had been instrumental in keeping all the broken pieces of your heart from fracturing even further. Curious to think the man who was currently heaping praise on your cousin was also the same man Kyle wrote home about in such high regard.

“From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have a certain gift for doing that yourself.”

The small smirk that appeared on his face seemed to have cleared away whatever cobwebs he’d collected on his soul, eyes full of mirth as he looked to lighter subjects - and you. “Warmed up tae me now, ‘ave ye lass?”

“Didn’t need warming up when we were never chilly in the first place.”

“Not from where ah’ve been standin’.”

“That’s not true. I–” The look he gave you sunk deep into your bones and spoke volumes, having the decency to avert your gaze as he pried out the truth from your attempted denial. “You didn’t exactly make the best first impression is all…”

Glancing up at his heavy sigh, you watched him rake his fingers through the long strands of his mohawk for a few moments as he collected his thoughts into words. “Cannae fault ye fer that. Must’ve appeared like a right scoundrel tae ya. Dinnae mean tae upset ye so badly, hen. Ah’dve much rathered our first meetin’ have happened someplace more befittin’ a warmer introduction.”

You figured it was as good a time as any to inquire as to the particulars of his incarceration, having learned nothing from your cousin about the subject when pestered. Part of you couldn’t deny being nervous as to his answer - if he would even give you one.

You kept your voice soft as you implored him for some reason not to think the worst of him. “What happened, Johnny? What put you in there?”

“Defendin’ a lass’s honor.”

His unexpected response gave you pause, finding yourself sitting up a little bit straighter at the seriousness in his tone. Given his nature, you weren’t so much surprised to find a brawl landed him behind bars. It was the noble reasoning to his actions that had you reevaluating your views on the man.

“Stumbled out o’ the gin joint one night after comin’ back from a job. Happened upon a bloke overpowerin’ a poor thing on mah way out the door. Gave the fucker the privilege o’ findin’ out wha’ happens when the tables turn and yer not the one with the power anymore.” He held his head up higher as he went on. “Two broken ribs, shattered patella, fractured jaw, dislocated shoulder, black eye, punctured lung, and a feedin’ tube. Copper said it was assault. I said it was re-learnin’ manners.”

His eyes held no trace of deceit, but there was undeniable pride in himself at what he’d done. Not a single ounce of remorse shined through - just pure sated venom. He might have named himself a predator, but Johnny wasn’t a mere coyote out to stalk the wandering herd of sheep for stragglers.

He was the livestock guardian dog who came back home with a reddened maw and chunks of flesh between his teeth.

It curled something within you as you took him in, the weight of past grievances off your chest that had kept you from truly acknowledging his character. He may have been a little rougher around the edges compared to the gentlemen you normally kept company with, but how many times had those knobby knuckles been split wide on the face of a man who deserved it?

“Gonna make ye think a wee bit better of me now, lass?”

You considered him for a moment. “I think I’m finally getting a clearer picture of the man Kyle always claimed you to be.”

There was something akin to subtle relief in the look Johnny gave you, the way his shoulders minutely untensed in previous preparation for a different verdict. You didn't think your opinion of him would have mattered so much, though you supposed most people didn't want to be viewed negatively by your peers.

You didn't try to dig into a further reasoning beyond that.

“You know, he would prattle on about you all the time.” It was easier for you to stare into the fire as you spoke of your cousin’s ramblings, feeling odd recounting such things to his actual person. “He’d write me letters almost every day if he could. Said it was for my own peace of mind to let me know he was still breathing, but I think he was also reassuring himself of that notion as well. He often wanted to chat about home, a distraction from everything and a way to dodge the questions I fielded him concerning his own life. But he also spoke of his adventures out in the real world. Heard about the mischief you lot entangled yourselves in all the time.”

There was a fondness to your smile as you recalled certain tales of misbehavior, numerous as they were. “I know he must’ve sugar coated things for my benefit more often than not, but what he did share with me…” You shook your head in mild exasperation. “How the two of you survived with only a single brain cell between you I’ll never know.”

“Ah’m an upstandin’ citizen, hen.” There was a twinkle in those sapphire hues as he spread his arms wide in playful boastfulness. “Couldnae find a scrap of funny business in me if ye tried.”

The chuckle in his voice was infectious, a giggle bubbling up from your throat making its way past your lips and into your speech. “Oh really?” You challenged, “Then what say you about the incident involving the Mark IV and that bottle of Macallan?”

Johnny scoffed. “Rust bucket was highly volatile after sufferin’ heavy damage durin’ a previous skirmish. Minor malfunction in the tank’s firin’ mechanism led to a unexpected implosion.”

“Interesting way of saying you dropped a stick of dynamite in a freshly downed bottle of single malt whisky and left it in the center console to go boom.”

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed through that cheeky smirk. It was a good look on him. “Lad’s gotta find a way tae keep morale up in the troops, hen. What’s a harmless bit o’ merrymakin’ between comrades if it means givin’ us a well earned respite from combat?”

“And that time you and Kyle snuck into a German occupied hotel in Brussels to avoid sleeping out in that deluge?” You’d had some choice words for your cousin in that fervently written reply.

“Simple reconnaissance mission.”

“Mmhmm.” Wow. The audacity to say that with a straight face…

“Ye know, yer not the only one familiar with the other, hen.” It was a change of subject mainly to get the heat back off of him, but it did its intended purpose as your interest was piqued. “Couldnae stop hearin’ Kyle bletherin’ on about his precious dolly back home. Made the lads jealous fer havin’ such a pretty bird, even if ye were related.”

You squirmed in your seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that you proceeded to twirl around your finger as a minor distraction. It made you strangely uncomfortable to hear yourself be spoken of like that - not at the fact Kyle shared things about you with the others. Moreso the way he did. “I’m afraid my cousin has probably put me on too high of a pedestal then. I’m far less interesting than he would have undoubtedly led you all to believe.”

That must not have been the response Johnny was expecting from you. There was genuine puzzlement as he glanced you up and down, almost checking to see if he was addressing the right woman. “Didnae think one such as yerself was never taught how tae take a compliment, hen. Yer much more than ye seem to realize.”

To be fair, up until now you were confident you knew how to take one as well. It was part of being out in society; knowing how to dole out false modesty at praises while simpering behind a fan as fancied lords did their best peacock impressions in an effort to win your favor. You’d never been overflowing with suitors in your youth, but you’d eagerly smiled and blushed while returning their flattering remarks.

‘How accomplished you are at dancing, my lady.’ ‘What remarkable needlework you’ve created!’ ‘Your skin is positively radiant. What cosmetics do you use?’

This felt different though. It was easy to impress people whose whole livelihood was dedicated to the art of faking being impressed. Amongst the people who did something that actually mattered, all those years spent mastering the arts of elocution and poise were paltry in comparison. What good does perfecting a chain stitch or curtsey do in the real world?

“I was brought up to be the very model of a well bred enchanting heiress; hardly a lifestyle made for excitement or spontaneity. Of course there were my studies in Egyptology that were all self taught, but even there I'm much more a phantom floating through the halls of the Cairo museum in search of new knowledge than someone of actual importance to the place. I’ve never been one for real adventures. Ask Kyle. He was always the one dragging me out on some silly thing or another.” Much to the displeasure of your parents.

“Only ‘cause he wanted tae give ye the things ye always dreamed of but never let yerself ‘ave.”

That caught you off guard - not to mention it didn't make much sense in the first place considering how many times you’d objected to Kyle’s ventures before you predictably gave in to his fervent harassing.

Your silence gave Johnny the chance to elaborate at your quizzical expression.

“Look… yer a proper lady, hen, and there's nothin' wrong with embracin' that part of ye. Ye should never feel ashamed of yer sex or how ye were raised fer a world much different than most. But ye would think up such grand ideas knowin’ full well ye’d never get the chance tae experience them yerself and it broke the poor lad’s heart. Ye were a willin’ participant to a way of livin’ that kept ya from actually livin’. Garrick just had the guts and half a brain tae put action ta yer silly imaginin’s, even if ye dinnae realize he was doin’ it at the time.” Johnny shifted his posture to get more comfortable, intertwining his fingers and resting them on his abdomen. “So far as ah'm aware, ye were the mastermind behind all yer youthful endeavors.”

That wasn't true. I mean, there was no denying that Kyle had taken up a massive part in a lot of your formative years, playing pretend and going along with the stories you crafted in your mind. The pair of you were thick as thieves whenever one of your families made the long trip to visit each other. It was easy to admire the way he moved through the world so effortlessly, a perfect blend of casual arrogance and easygoing confidence. He was everything a well brought up man should be, only with a mischievous streak that often got you in trouble by association.

It was a well known fact that you were the innocent one in all his schemings.

There was that time he…

Or maybe when…

…but what about…

Suddenly you were sat there staring blankly at your lap, mentally combing through memories of your childhood trying to justify all the times you and your cousin wandered off only to be scolded at the end for something he roped you into participating in. However, each time you peered closer at the unfolding events of the day, you were finding it harder to argue that you’d been as passive as you'd always believed.

You’d constantly been praised growing up by the adults for being a sweet, demure, amiable good girl. Kyle was the one who was the delinquent of your duo… wasn’t he?

Sensing your confusion, Johnny offered up an example to help your brain along. ”How’s about when Garrick put ye up on the handlebars o’ his bicycle and ye nearly crashed into a carriage on yer way down the hill? Wouldnae ‘ave happened if ye hadn’t opened yer mouth minutes earlier and asked how fast the bloody thing could go.”

The temptation to go over and kick your cousin awake just so he could tell Johnny otherwise was strong, but he kept talking before you had the chance to move from your bedroll. “Then there was the time ya snuck into yer da's study tae steal a cigar because ye were upset when he denied yer request tae try a puff. Said it wasnae proper for ladies ta partake.”

You recalled that night quickly, Kyle fiddling with a small set of tools in his hand that he procured from god knows where to unlock the top drawer of your father's desk and steal one of his finest from his collection. It had ended up being a ghastly affair, choking down smoke as your cousin laughed at your inability to handle it the way he could.

You'd been fifteen at the time and hadn't touched one since.

But that had been on a dare, hadn’t it?

You scrambled for something to latch onto as the uncomfortable truth of your once accurate beliefs stared you in the face, hidden pieces of your spirit put on display. There must be something–

The garden wall.

When your cousin conned you into climbing it with him and you scratched up your legs on the thorny rose bush at the bottom. You would’ve been four at the time to his six. Mother had been so cross as she tended to your bleeding cuts while Kyle’s father gave him a stern reprimand in the other room. That had been the first day you’d met and set the tone for the rest of your lives.

The incident that started it all.

Voice nearly teetering on hysterics, you held tight to your victory as proof of your innocence. “He was–” For a moment you forgot the subject in question was still dozing ten feet across from you, lowering your voice down to a harsh whisper. “He was the one who wanted to go over the garden wall!”

“Because ya complained the wall stole yer sunset and ye wanted it back.” His stare held no room for argument - no escape to try to back away from.

And just like that, the shimmering veil draped over your remembrance fell away as a long buried part of that day came to the surface.

An afternoon spent outside playing in the grass, darting between trees and through rows of flowerbeds, your cousin at your heels. Your mother fussing over the dirt on your hem while your aunt placated her with a chuckled ‘let them be children’. The disappointment of the darkening sky signaling the end of your visitation.

‘But I wanna keep playing!’ You pouted with a quivering lower lip and watery eyes, not quite ready to leave your new friend and return home. ‘Stupid wall. Why’d it have to take away the sun…?’

A readied hand reaching down for yours. ‘Then let’s go get it back.’

Oh.

Johnny watched the emotions change on your face, letting you stew in them as long held perceptions suddenly gained a new clarity. It was quiet after that, the only sounds to be made were the camels' occasional gruntings in their sleep and the soft crackling of dry wood burning away in the campfire. It seemed you had a lot of things in your past to come to terms with.

“How come I don’t remember it that way?” There was a tinge of frustration at how faulty your memory apparently was, but it was more out of sadness than fury.

He shrugged, though not without a look of sympathy. “Ye were young. And Garrick didnae want ya tae feel like ye weren't bein’ a dutiful daughter. So he gave ye the push and took the fall himself. But ye cannae look me in the eye and tell me the bumps and bruises hadnae been worth it fer all the smiles it gave ya.”

You didn't quite know how to process all that; the fact that a complete stranger had more insight into your life than you who actually lived it. Your voice soft, “He told you all that?”

“Aye, he did. Feels like there's not much I dunnae already ken about ye, hen.” Johnny reached down to where he’d discarded his book from earlier, opening it up to the bookmarked page before inspecting his writing utensil with a frown, apparently finding it wanting.

You scoffed at his words even as part of you started to believe him, hard not to with the evidence he laid at your feet. But even the gesture itself was more of a soft exhale than something mean. "I hardly think it counts when all the stories you’ve heard are just ones parroted about Kyle that I happened to be involved in.”

“There’s a field beyond Garrick’s property in Kent where he’d always find ye in the summer playin’ amongst the Meadowsweet as a wee lass. Ye liked to weave it into yer hair and pretend ye were the Lady Guinevere waitin’ fer her Lancelot.”

The look of utter surprise on your face must’ve been a sight to see, but Johnny wasn’t paying you any mind, taking a small blade from his boot to the blunted tip of his pencil as he started unravelling the particulars of your life. There was a fondness in the crinkle of his eyes as if it was a beloved memory of his own rather than one of yours.

Why were these the kinds of stories Kyle told him about you and why did Johnny find them to be worth enough to remember them?

He continued while he sharpened. “Ye once spilled cherry juice all over yer new spring frock after sneakin’ intae the pantry fer a bite ta eat before a picnic with some o’ yer parents friends. Ye were such a sensitive bairn that yer da’ had only ta look at ye wrong fer ye ta turn tae tears and beg forgiveness. Ye’ve avoided the fruit ever since, but yer a right fiend fer strawberries.”

”The Early Dynastic and their burgeonin’ household religious practices are amongst yer favorite aspects of ancient history, but ye froth at the mouth o’er anythin’ concernin’ the mysteries o’ the First Intermediate that were lost tae time and pillagin’.”

”Yer allergic tae cats, but ye pet ‘em anyways. Got grounded fer a week after yer ma’ discovered ye’d made a shrine tae the god Bes in yer wardrobe and were prayin’ tae that every night instead. Yer decent at piano, but where ye really took a shine was in yer drawings. Seen some of the work ya tucked away in the pages of Garrick’s letters.” Johnny finally glanced up from his whittling at that mention, a glint of something in his eyes at your stunned expression. “‘Ave tae say, lass, ye can color me a might bit impressed.”

He was starting to scare you with the knowledge he possessed, but not in a way that gave you any true fright. Quite the opposite in fact. The butterflies had never been quite so prevalent in your stomach.

“Yer inexperience twists ya tae be a bit unsure of yerself even when ye ‘ave the skills tae get by jus’ fine. It takes ye a minute, but when ye finally find yer voice Lord help the poor lad who finds himself swiftly charmed outta hearth and home. Got a dangerous pair o’ eyes and a honey sweet tongue, ye do.”

With every fact he spewed, it seemed like the entire point of this conversation for the past few minutes was to pick you apart thread by thread until you felt more bare than you had when you were sopping wet in a translucent nightgown for anyone's eyes to feast upon.

“Ye convinced yet, hen?” The teasing glint in his eyes should’ve been outlawed.

“You sure know an awful lot about my life for someone who’s never been a part of it,” came your response, wrapping the blanket around your form tighter as if to ward off his deeper inspections into your world.

Johnny chuckled at that, pencil finally returning to paper as he went about with whatever it was prior that your presence had interrupted. “Cannae help it if talks o’ sweet lassies back home were a welcome distraction from moldy rations and the bitter chill on harsh winter nights. Blokes in the trenches fought fer the raunchy pinups back home and the honor o’ makin’ wives outta the young nurses who cared fer their wounds. But me and Garrick knew who we were fightin’ for.”

“Not even your own family?” You meant your words to be more ribbing, something to take the weight off your chest after all the focus being on you.

But he didn’t reciprocate the tone.

“Nah, hen. Twas yer smile ah was protectin’ each time ah fired mah rifle.”

You thought he’d shocked you enough with his bluntness to last you a lifetime, but you couldn’t have been more wrong as he flipped through to the back of his book, pulling something out that had been wedged in the creases and flipping it to face towards you.

It was old and worn at the edges, smudges of dirt and water damage evident in the way it crinkled. But there was no mistaking the face staring back at you on the small grainy black and white pocket sized polaroid.

You remembered when it was taken, the camera a recent purchase of Kyle’s on a holiday in Marsa Matrouh. You’d traveled there with your families on one of your cousin’s leaves, giving him something to help take his mind off of the horrors he’d witnessed and remember the peace he was fighting for.

You’d been out in the sun all day, basking on the rocks along the shoreline as the Mediterranean waters lapped at your heels. Your hair was still damp and stringy, coarse with salt as it shifted in the summer breeze. Kyle had been taking pictures all day, but this was the first time he’d pulled out his camera since you all went swimming, dressed in your newest swimwear all the way from New York with an exposed neckline and a mid-thigh length skirt. It had taken some adjustment on your part getting used to being so revealed, but after your mother ordered it from a magazine and you put it on for the first time you couldn’t help but feel lovely in the garment.

Kyle had caught you off guard when he snapped it, a wild carefree smile on your face as you turned to face him when he called your name. What the camera didn’t show was the ensuing chaos that took place immediately afterwards as you ran after him for having taken that without your consent, the pair of you sprinting along the shoreline in good fun until he suddenly halted to avoid stepping on a crab, causing you to run smack into him and bowling the two of you over with uncontained laughter.

You knew he’d developed the film before he left, but never what ended up happening to the snapshot. It could’ve been placed in a box in the attic for all you were aware. Who’d have thought you’d come across it almost ten years later in the ownership of someone like Johnny, tucked away in the pages of a book for safe keeping.

“That’s who ah was endeared to. The soft-hearted lass with more courage than she realized.”

Intense was the only way to describe him.

There was a weight to his stare that bordered on indecent. You were mostly covered from view by the blanket draped over your form, but it wasn’t your gown he was undressing with his eyes.

It was your soul - cracked open and exposed to feast upon like a vulture.

Ravenous in his hunger, there wasn’t a meaty morsel that went untouched. Johnny’s eyes were the most expressive you’d had the pleasure to get lost inside, dark cerulean orbs that swept in like a rogue wave and dragged you helplessly beneath the surface gasping for air. It was his one weakness; his one tell. You could learn everything you needed to know about him if you were only capable enough to figure it out. It was an experience unlike anything you’d ever encountered - and, gods, it was just a look.

If this revelation about the picture had come about yesterday instead, you had no doubt you would have promptly demanded he return the precious item to your charge. Now, it only did things to your insides thinking of how many times your visage might have kept him company on lonely nights.

As he tucked the picture back inside his book and flipped to his previous pages, he turned the conversation towards something related but a welcome change of subject. “Speakin’ o’ honey, exactly how did ye get me outta jail, lass? Ye never did say.”

Oh god. Of all the topics he could’ve picked. Johnny really enjoyed seeing you squirm thinking about how ‘bad’ your behavior had been lately, didn't he?

”My father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. Or, at least, he did… up until his passing. It’s now run by one of his old business partners, but his name is still included in the title.” Thank god for that or else your plan would’ve never worked. “I convinced the prison warden that you were a treasure hunter of world renown and that I had been sent there with my colleague on behalf of the CEO to allow your release - in exchange for a handsome sum upfront that would be paid again once you’d retrieved a very precious ceremonial headdress that was stolen from one of the shipments earlier that week.”

He cocked a brow at your explanation, the gears turning as he followed along with your simplification of the encounter. “And he jus’ believed ya? Without proof nor payment?”

The smug look you gave him felt very satisfying indeed. “I told him I’d lost the official documents stating such when my purse had been stolen by a local street rat on our way there. Even included waterworks for added discomfort.”

In your experience, men didn’t know what to do with a crying woman. Most just wanted to shut you up or make you go away as soon as possible.

Mother would’ve been proud of your acting skills.

You could see Johnny putting the pieces together in his mind, even if he was skeptical at the loose threads you left hanging. “How did ya manage tae get yer hands on official lookin’ documents?”

Weirdly enough, that had been the easiest part of the whole ruse once you’d gotten the language right.

“I never cleared out my father's study after he passed. All the important papers he’d kept on his desk were removed, but the drawers are still full of blank pages of letterhead - as was his personal seal he used. So long as the warden doesn’t look too closely into the present day chain of command at the company, he’ll never have any reason to suspect he’s been made a fool of.”

That earned a barked laugh that filled you with joy, his gaze tilted back to the sky as he shook his head at the heavens. “Fuckin’ hell, lass. Yer a right clever one, ye are. Why ye might jus’ be the most dangerous one ‘ere.”

“Wait a mo’.” He interrupted his own amusement once he realized you’d left out an important part of this whole operation. “Ye didnae take the funds fer mah freedom from the company too, did ye lass?”

There was a pregnant pause where you debated about lying, but you weren’t sure you could last under his careful scrutiny. “...I may have reached into my own coffers to front up the payments.”

Six hundred pounds sterling. Well, technically thirty six thousand Egyptian would be more accurate since that’s what was agreed upon. But he didn’t need to know just how much his pardon had cost you. Granted at the time you weren't exactly thrilled to be forking over such a large amount for a ruffian, but you’d considered the investment and decided it was well worth parting with a few coins.

Johnny could have rivaled your father with how much he masterfully emulated that reproachful countenance that only someone who’d been half responsible for your existence could have managed. You’d been on the wrong end of that look enough times to know there was a lecture coming on you’d rather not have. “Hen–”

“Sooo, Mr. MacTavish,” you smoothly interrupted with a smile of perfectly faked innocence, “when you’re not incarcerated for bashing in the skulls of brigands and ne’er do wells, what have you been up to since leaving the service?”

He held your gaze for a few moments longer, immune to your batted eyelashes until he looked away with a huffed out sigh, relenting as he must’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the oxygen.

“Ye weren’t too far from the truth when ye told the warden ah was a treasure hunter. Sometimes ah spend mah days scroungin’ through desolate areas in search of valuable commodities, others ah sell myself out fer hire doin’ mercenary work. Not the most excitin’ occupation dependin’ on the job, but it pays good coin.”

“Hard to believe you didn’t stick around with the military.” Kyle had mentioned that by the time he’d retired that Johnny still hadn’t, but that was years ago now.

“Well ah stayed with it far past mah initial recruitment contract. Only been out a wee bit longer than two years this October. Earned myself quite a bit o’ chest candy fer mah troubles.” Considering he’d joined up the same time Kyle did, that meant almost ten years fighting in His Majesty’s army. “In truth, ah didnae mind the bloodshed; ah was the best at what ah did and took pride in mah ability ta complete the missions too dangerous fer others tae endure. But when the people I was loyal tae stopped bein’ loyal ta me...”

The clench of his jaw, the ice in his veins bleeding into the blue of his eyes; you could only guess what happened to make a decorated war hero and career soldier jump ship.

Glancing down at his hand, you could see the way it white knuckled around the fragile pencil, almost anticipating a snap that you were surprised somehow never came. Even when he was blistering from whatever wrongdoings the bigwigs at the top had done to cause offense, he was still aware of and in control of his own strength.

“That’s how ah ken the city is real, lass.” He spoke up shortly after. “Because mah commandin’ officers sent me there tae die with the rest of mah squadron over pipe dreams o’ golden halls and buried treasure. But when we got there… all we found was sand and blood.”

There's a stillness as the words settle in your bones, a warning of events yet to come. But thankfully it doesn't last as he blinks away the shadows of bygone times, half turning around to fiddle with the bag he’d been using to rest his back against.

“That reminds me,” Johnny perks up as he rummages around in one of the pockets of his rucksack, his previous frosty disposition left in the past and giving you a case of emotional whiplash.

“Found this,” you barely managed to catch the small object he sent flying your way, fumbling it before securing it in your grasp, “amongst my stuff. Garrick must've pinched it for ya before jumpin’ overboard.”

Your attention turned to the thing clasped in your hold, letting out a jubilant shriek of delight that rustled your cousin but who otherwise remained at rest. Turning it over in your hands, you couldn’t believe you were somehow reunited with the ancient metal box that you were sure you’d lost to the river. You practically sobbed in relief as you hugged it to your chest as if it were a beloved stuffed animal, completely ignoring the amused (slightly judgemental) regard coming from your travel companion.

“Now Dr. Price doesn’t have to carve out my entrails and feed them to the Nile!” You cheered with bright eyes and an elated smile, making quick work stuffing the box in with your other belongings. For a moment it appeared like Johnny was wanting to question just what exactly you meant by that proclamation, but thought better of it as he returned to his scribblings, merely shaking his head with something muttered under his breath.

“Best ye try tae get back ta sleep, hen. I ken we’re not doin’ much, but the desert has a way o’ sappin’ yer energy and ye’ll be comfier noddin’ off ‘ere than on the back of a camel.”

That you didn’t doubt, practically feeling the crick in your neck already at the image that conjured up.

“Alright, be that way.” You rolled your eyes with a teasing huff. ”I know a dismissal when I��ve heard one...”

Johnny gave you one more glance with a quirked lip at your cheekiness, something soft around the edges hidden within his sight. “G’night, hen...”

Giving him another smile, you situated yourself back on your sleeping mat so as to be laying on your right side facing the fire. The glow wasn’t too harsh on your eyes, and truthfully it also gave you the excuse to glance over at your companion every once in a while. You knew he had one ear open while he worked, keenly aware of his surroundings as he kept guard over your small group. If the previous night was anything to go by, he’d be waking up Kyle in a few hours to take over sentinel duty so that he could get some rest as well.

Hearing the charcoal gently scrape across the parchment as he engrossed himself in whatever his project was, your eyelids grew heavy as you allowed the ambiance of his scribblings to lull you into the pleasant hum of unconsciousness.

The next morning brought with it a change of atmosphere within the group.

Where formerly you had only actively engaged with your cousin over breakfast, that was no longer the case, giving Johnny a small tentative smile as if you were still unsure that last night's interaction had properly smoothed out the wrinkles between the pair of you. Your fears were abated when he returned it enthusiastically, tossing you a wink for good measure that had you feeling giddy at the playful gesture.

Unaware of your previous heart to heart, Kyle glanced between the two of you in befuddlement to a question that went unanswered. You merely greeted your cousin with a peck on the cheek and a lasting hug you didn’t care to explain, remembering Johnny’s words only hours ago at just how much he’d been caring for you to a degree beyond what you’d ever realized.

Falling into step with Johnny felt just as innate as it was with Kyle, years of getting to know one another condensed into a single conversation.

Admittedly it had thrown you off to hear him speak so candidly about your history the night before. It was odd listening to him recite the stories better than you remembered them, the unfiltered truth about your personality that you’d never suspected. But you ultimately ended up not minding his thorough knowledge of your life (god knows what else your cousin told him that he didn’t mention). If your youthful recollections granted him with any small measure of escape from the dark claustrophobic trenches day in and day out then you were honored it had been your picture that had provided him with a little comforting light.

Touching was something you were still adjusting to though; the small casual hand on your lower back as Johnny scooted around you to tend to the camels. A lot of that had to do with the fact that it only made it harder to tamper down the slightly inappropriate thoughts that began to spring up as of late. It was easier to be physically attracted to a man you disliked. There wasn’t any risk of actually falling for him because you knew in the end that he was too much of a prick for there to be any real connection. A handsome face was all he’d ever be and that had been reassuring.

Which made it a bit unfair that he’d ended up being a really. great. guy.

Did he have a bit of a temper? Sure. But so far you’d only heard of it being directed towards people who deserved it. How could you be upset that he’d put a man in the hospital for trying to hurt an innocent woman? You didn’t gravitate towards violence, but you certainly were familiar with it when your cousin would come home with a disheveled appearance and bloody knuckles.

Looks, charisma, hard working, intelligent, dedicated. They might as well have wrapped him in a bow and placed him on your doorstep on Christmas Eve. If you would’ve had any female companions to gossip with on this pilgrimage then one John MacTavish would have been the only topic of any interest.

Still, you did your best not to pay any heed to the swirling vortex of bad decisions clouding your brain. You weren’t some cheap harlot falling at the feet of any ol’ fella who was hungry enough to rake his eyes over you. This wasn’t a tropical vacation; this was work. Dangerous, harrowing work. And Johnny was both your guide and your cousin's best friend. Not to mention you were familiar with his type from hours being paraded in front of society's elite.

You’d attended balls and soirees full of the opposite sex all hunting for a prize to bring home and breed to carry on their legacies. A few well placed compliments and they’d be racing you down the aisle of holy matrimony.

Johnny was certainly just another heartbreaker through and through - a game you would not let yourself be swept up in no matter how tempting the reward.

It was easier to be distracted from your thoughts once you involved yourself in the discussions taking place amongst the group, far more interested in joining in now that your reservations had been proven false. It was all easy smiles and shared laughter as you slowly began to grow endeared to the Scot the more he carried on.

You were delighted to discover he had two younger sisters and a large extended family that he was exceptionally close with. He didn’t speak of his siblings with complaint either, only true fondness as he recounted how much he’d looked after them as the protective older brother. Johnny’s smile turned melancholic as he confessed to how much he missed them, but it softened up when he brought up the extensive collection of postcards he was constantly sending back home. He couldn’t always receive letters when his life continuously had him on the go, but with that at least he could still feel connected to his family even if they were thousands of miles away.

Johnny happily regaled you with tales of his old life back in Scotland as a ‘wee lad’. Helping out around his grandfather’s farm during the summers. His favorite home cooked meals. The local ceilidh’s with lively music and lovely lasses. An incident with law enforcement he was sworn to secrecy on for another eight years.

Each new revelation had you drawn ever more into his orbit, interested in the minute details of his life as opposed to the grand schemes he’d fall into with Kyle. They might have been mundane in comparison, but in your opinion they were vastly more important. Anyone could be an adrenaline junkie with a death wish and ambitions, but who they were in the slower quieter parts of life was more telling of their true nature.

Of course it wasn’t all just pleasant strolls down memory lane. One can always trust that boys will be boys after all. To break up the long stretches of conversation, the pair of them took to engaging in a friendly competition to see who had the worst jokes imaginable. Apparently this had become a favored pastime back in Verdun amongst the soldiers.

Each attempt had you burying your face in your hands. If you didn’t want to have to go back and fetch it afterwards you would be throwing things at their heads by now.

So it came as no surprise when at some point a crude joke was told by your cousin comparing a woman to a camel. Honestly you were more shocked it had taken this long.

“How can you tell the difference between a woman’s mouth and a camel’s?” The accompanying groan was actually not from you this time.

“Come now, Garrick. No desert puns. I thought we’d agreed that–”

“Only one of them swallows.”

Two dumbstruck heads immediately whipped in your direction, faces aghast as the illusion of chasteness melted away from their preconceived notions of their female companion. The shock was short lived however as the three of you fell into the most uncontrollable fit of laughter, howling and convulsing atop your mounts.

Kyle looked like he was trying to claw the mental image your words conjured up from his brain. “Bloody hell, dolly! I didn’t need to hear that from my cousin!”

“A lady indeed!” Came Johnny's reply, both of them struggling for air as you unexpectedly proved to them there was more to you than appearances would suggest.

You caught Johnny’s gaze as you wiped the tears from your eyes, a glimmer of approval in those sparkling sapphires that threatened to take your breath away all over again. Above all you had been rewarded with his unbridled joy and infectious laughter.

It was a sound you were quickly falling in love with.

Partway through the day, you had the unfortunate luck of finding yourselves headed towards a massive wall of brown in the distance, towering over the landscape like a rogue wave. One glance at your guide told you everything you needed to know in the stern set of his brows and hard neutral expression.

You were delving right into the heart of it.

You weren’t a stranger to sand storms, but you couldn’t say you had the pleasure of experiencing one out in an area that had no hope of shelter in which to ride it out. Your steed must have sensed the unease that gripped your emotions, starting to shuffle underneath you in distress that had a shocked gasp leave your mouth at the abruptness of his jostling. Kyle was quick to grasp your reins, making calm soothing sounds to the animal as you ran a hand along its neck with a soft ‘settle’.

When the words were finally spoken aloud that there was indeed no avoiding it, you pulled the dark piece of cloth out of one of your travel bags that the older Bedouin woman from the village had given you in case of such an event. Your hands made deft work of wrapping it around your head, securing it in the way you’d been shown to conceal most of your face. The other two did much the same, waiting for you all to finish getting settled before glancing over with a firm nod as you ushered the beasts forward towards the imposing storm in the distance.

You’d onced asked your father as you listened to one raging outside and rattling the shutters on your home just how strong he thought the winds were, wide eyed as he explained they could move as fast as a train could ride. You felt every bit of that power now.

As much as you mentally braced yourself for the experience, the physicality of the storm was quick to erode your steeled nerves. Gale force winds whipped and battered your body, your knuckles white and painful from where you gripped the pommel of the saddle to keep from falling off your steed. The miniscule grains of sand stung the small uncovered portion of your face, abrasive and irritating to the skin as you tried your best to shield your vision.

It was as unpleasant as you predicted, trusting your camel to follow along after Johnny’s when it became too much to keep your eyes open. The beasts were more than capable of braving it, blazing through unencumbered by the shifting sands even if only at a slightly slower pace. Your care was in their charge now.

You hadn’t put much faith in the gods of old, but in that moment you found yourself praying to Seth that he would calm his fury and let his storm pass swiftly. Not like it could hurt if you were wrong…

You jerked in your saddle as partway through a firm hand grasped at the meat of your bicep, head flying up to see your cousin peering at you through his own face coverings as he pointed off to the side, barely able to make out something in the distance that he led your camel away towards. Johnny was already dismounting from his own, crowding behind what you realized was a grouping of sandstone pillars that you’d never been more grateful to see.

Kyle helped you off your camel, Johnny already holding up a blanket and ushering you under as they each grasped an end, throwing it over the three of you huddled together and holding tight to keep it from being swept away into the desert. You all were winded from the exertion, Kyle mumbling something about needing a bloody break as you sat squished in between them, leaned back against the rock as you untensed. There was no way of telling how long the storm lasted or how far you’d trekked, but your limbs were sore and stiff from remaining clenched throughout the endeavor.

Thankfully Johnny had better insight than you did, motioning at the waterskin he’d fetched ahead of time that you plucked off his person. Uncapping it, you didn’t think twice before bringing the opening to his lips, watching as he tilted his head back to allow the cool liquid inside to flow down his parched throat, doing the same to Kyle shortly after. You might not have been able to help hold down the fort so to speak, but you could certainly take care of them while they protected you.

You didn't know how long you remained like that, sharing the waterskin between you three and ignoring the mildly darkened look in Johnny’s eyes every time you accidentally made eye contact while helping him drink, leaving your stomach feeling warmed. How a man could be so intense even in a situation such as this was beyond your understanding.

Nature finally took pity on you later on in the day nearing sunset, feeling the gusts lessen enough to at last push the covering off which had become weighed down by the sand that accumulated during that time. The camels looked just as unbothered as you left them, laying down nearby as you all finally got to stand at full height for the first time in what felt like ages.

There was brief talk about what to do next as Johnny corrected your course, having veered only slightly off the intended path. The sandstorm had caused you to be vastly behind, adding an extra day onto your travels that you couldn’t afford to waste. Thankfully - as Kyle pointed out - your transport had been able to rest for quite some time and should be able to carry on through the night in an effort to reach the city sooner. You weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of having to sleep on the back of a camel tonight, but you weren’t going to argue over the sentiment when it made so much rational sense.

‘The life of an adventurer’, aye?

Whoever signed up for this life must’ve had a certain level of masochism ingrained in their psyche - you decided - in order to better deal with the curveballs and minor inconveniences that came from it. Food was eaten on the backs of your mounts that evening, an uncomfortable annoyance resulting in having nearly choked on your rations as the rocking motion of the camel had you swallowing wrong and sending you into a minor coughing fit. You took smaller bites after that, opting to have a little less than normal to balance out the risk of it happening again.

Sleeping was only a mildly better affair. You’d fallen asleep sitting upright in a high backed chair enough to know you’d be feeling it in the morning - especially considering there was nothing to support your figure as you bobbed along. Slipping in and out of a restless slumber, you were vaguely conscious of your surroundings; the gentle clomping of footfalls from the great beasts hauling you into the night, the even breaths of your companions, the soft whistle of wind throughout the valley.

At some point in your groggy state, you could've sworn your head ended up cradled by something firm yet comfortable underneath your cheek, the phantom sensation of thick fingers brushing over your strands relieving the tension in your bones. You went pliant under the calming ministrations, accompanied by gentle murmurings that you were unable to make out but sounded foreign to your ears.

You couldn’t tell if it was rooted in reality or simply a figment of the half dreamlike rest that overtook you at some point. All you knew was that waking up the next morning wasn’t as horrendous an ordeal as you’d anticipated, the joints in your neck much less creaky than if you’d have dozed off holding a book in your bedroom.

The desert was still bathed in the cool tones of the blossoming morning when your cousin nudged you awake, a hand on your shoulder to steady you as you blinked your eyes open with a yawn. A small bundle of breakfast was already being placed into your hands before you could acknowledge it, along with instructions to eat up quickly as you were almost at your destination.

That woke you up more than anything, practically shoveling the meager bits of food in your mouth much to the amusement of the others. You’d come all this way for this moment - enduring hardship and near death experiences - but it was all about to be worth it to be one of the first people to step foot into a long lost piece of ancient civilization in over three thousand years!

What if it wasn’t everything you ever dreamed of? What if the image you’d conjured in your head didn’t live up to the expectations and grandeur promised of a city as important as Hamunaptra? Your insides were twisted, the sweat on your brow having nothing to do with the climate. Nerves were dialed up to a thousand as you busied yourself with readying for the last leg of your journey.

Come hell or high water: this was it.

It took maybe another fifteen minutes further ride west before you were led down into a wide valley, becoming more anxious with every step. You weren’t allowed the peace to smother your concerns, though, as who should appear on the opposite side of the dunes than those you had last seen on the other side of the Nile.

You finally got your first look at the man they called Graves, picking him out from the rest as someone you hadn’t noticed in the mess hall on the ferry and as the one currently leading their group. By all accounts he looked a simple man; a short neatly styled haircut, a light blue button up cuffed at the elbows, a faint scar slashed across his right cheek the only hint that he’d had a life that wasn’t quite so white collared.

“MacTavish, Garrick.” A thick Texan accent rolled off his tongue with all the charm of a rattlesnake. “Ma’am.”

You were used to fake niceties, but even this man had something slithering underneath the skin that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Seems like you folks all found your way here without any issue. Even went a little native by the looks of things.” There wasn’t anything thinly veiled in the slightest as he took in your appearance, squirming uncomfortably in your seat at the implied racism despite the company he himself kept. Then again, they were all hired hands. If ‘folk like him’ ran cheaper you were sure he’d be using them instead.

Kyle flashed him a sneer so vicious you were sure he was about to drop down off his mount and give that man one hell of a beating. It also didn’t escape your notice how Johnny brought his camel up a few paces, hiding you from view of the others with an obvious glower of contempt sent their way. You almost wished Graves would attempt something just so you could see what Johnny looked like when he was ‘re-learning manners’.

But it seemed like neither of them thought it was worth the effort to respond to the instigated heckling.

A large gap in the middle separated the two factions as you all lined up facing the east. Where your group had camels, they all had horses. You were briefly jealous of the fact, but realistically you had no complaints about your own steed as you reached down to give it an affection scratch on its head.

Moments passed with no movement from anyone.

“So we just gonna sit here like morons till the sun comes up or somethin’?” The question came from one of the Americans who’d played poker with Kyle back on the deck of the ferry. ‘Hutch’ if you recalled correctly. Certainly didn’t seem to have much in the way of patience, a sentiment echoed by his compatriot.

“Just settle down, pal.” Graves placated his teammate with a slightly raised hand. “I guarantee you it’s well worth the wait.”

“Friendly reminder, gents.” It was the woman - Roze - who spoke up this time with a cocky grin. “Got a hundred bucks cash on the line. Lookin’ forward to having my pockets filled with English coin.”

Your cousin clearly hadn’t forgotten, patting his pockets in a ‘come and get it’ gesture that had the four cowboys chuckling in response.

“Get ready fer it.” Came the voice of your Scottish companion to the right, your eyes flicking between where his own were focused on the desolate landscape before you and his awaiting expression.

“For what?” you inquired.

“We’re ��bout tae be shown the way.”

You ignored the mildly ominous undertone in Johnny’s words, turning your attention back to the view the same as the thirty or so of you gathered together.

Navy skies turned from amethyst to crimson and light sienna, the large golden sun rising up over the horizon as Ra began his day’s journey across the sky in his Mandjet Barque. Everyone on both sides sat in bated breath as it climbed ever higher, waiting for something that none of you outside your guides understood.

Scanning the flat lands to the northeast, you couldn’t possibly see how anything could be revealed when there were no shadows on the ground to hide something as large as that of a city. You had just begun to open your mouth to make some sort of comment implying the dubiousness surrounding this whole–

Wait.

…what?!

You blinked your eyes multiple times to be sure of what you were seeing, going beyond all reasonable explanation that your mind conjured up. Emerging like a ghost out in the valley, the shimmering visage of a once great realm slowly unveiled to the shock of those who bore witness. There it was - beyond all reasonable doubt. One could mistake it for a convincing mirage if it wasn’t for the way it solidified in front of you. If that wasn’t enough, you trusted your companion to have not steered you wrong. If Johnny didn’t think he was hallucinating then neither were you.

Heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears. You were positively breathless, only vaguely aware of Kyle to the left slapping at your arm in slack jawed stunned astonishment. It was comforting to know you weren’t the only one losing your mind at the moment.

All around you could hear everyone else's startled gasps, hushed voices speaking up in awe at the wonders held before their eyes.

“There it is!”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well I’ll be...”

“The legends were true!”

“Hamunaptra.”

“‘Ere we go again.” The last comment came from Johnny, a weary sigh of resignation as he found himself once again in the presence of this place.

It amazed you how much you found yourself not giving a damn about that, selfishly uncaring to his emotions right now as you were too busy trying to keep up with the influx of your own. All those times being mocked or looked down on for daring to believe in childlike wonderment that some legends were too real to be fake were finally proven wrong. There it was as plain as daylight, holding all the mysteries of the New Kingdom if you only reached out with your fingertips and touched it.

All it took was a single shout before all hell broke loose, the men’s thoughts turning from ones full of veneration to their jangling coin purses. It startled you out of your reverie. The calls and whipping noises from the fellows across the way urging their steeds forward had your own reacting instinctively, joined by Johnny and Kyle as you found yourselves racing across the vast stretch of desert - you to claim the site first, the men to win their wager.

The speed of the animal surprised you, having grown up seeing the creatures lumbering through the city hauling goods and occasionally people. But Cairo was full of tight corners and bustling streets. This was the Sahara - wide open and free from any obstacles that could keep it from achieving its full potential. Plenty of room for a camel to catch its stride.

You’d never endured a bumpier ride.

What confused you the most was the fact that your own mount was apparently a cut above the rest, keeping pace with Johnny and Kyle as well as a small handful of horses on the other team. It breezed across the compacted sand, drawing whoops and hollers as you urged it forward. You’d put a horse at full gallop before, but this had an air of exhilaration that could only come with the heart racing promise of awaiting adventure.

Slowly but surely the others fell back from their positions until Grave’s was the only one of the rival group remaining as competition. It was clear his horse was quickly wearing out despite how brutally he whipped the creature's hide. Once he came to the same realization you did, he did the only thing a weak man knew how to do: resorting to cheap tricks.

You startled as suddenly he turned his beating cane on your own beast, making you lurch forward as the camel groaned in pain and tripped over its own legs.

“Nothin’ personal, sweetheart!” He bellowed over at you as he took another swipe.

Unfortunately for him, both Johnny and Kyle were not about to allow his actions to go unpunished.

They took the opportunity when you steered your camel away in an effort to escape the beatings, coming up alongside his horse and boxing him in. Johnny grappled the reins from Graves’ hold, Kyle wrapping his blue neckerchief around Grave’s throat as he tried to fight off their combined hostilities. The pair shared a look as they both tugged on their objectives at the same time, Johnny yanking the horse right out from under him as Kyle choked him off the saddle, sacrificing his own place as he let you and Johnny speed off in his stead.

You dared a glance over at Johnny, the most wicked grin of devilish intentions on his face as he mirrored your excitement with his own, dropping the horse's reins and calling for more speed from his own animal. But you weren’t about to let him beat you that easily, not when you had every confidence in your own ability as a rider!

It was just the two of you now - neck and neck battling it out for bragging rights. It didn’t matter at this point who won; you’d all come out victorious in the wager either way. This was just two individuals pushing each other to the limit, hearts pounding from more than just the thrill of the race as you both had trouble peeling your eyes away from the other.

The wind in your hair; the untamed wilderness consuming your spirit. This was what you’d been missing in your life - this thing that a dangerous man like Johnny could offer you.

You weren’t prepared as he reached across the space between and landed a heavy handed slap right to the back of your mount, the beast crying out as it surged forward at an unprecedented pace. You could only hold on tight, shrieking in a mixture of surprise and elation, hearing your cousin in the distance cheering you on as you approached the looming structure.

There were no words as you made it to your destination, coasting past the massive stone obelisks at the mouth of the entrance with the biggest smile, galloping down the thoroughfare and between the crumbled ruined gates of the city.

Finally, had you arrived. The lost sacred City of the Dead.

Hamunaptra.

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moonmoonthecrabking · 6 months ago

Note

Would you happen to have any good fic recs (can be wip or completed, or some of your own) :D

hi anon!! it really depends on what you're into, though i've been posting more about hatchetfield i'll give you recs for that!! i'm going to sort this by ships, because it works in my mind so!! hope this helps!! not all the fics i like, but here are really truly just some!! especially since i couldn't find some i really liked unfortunately but, such is life. i generally like monstery themes and supernatural elements, so that's going to be a common theme in these recs, but not all of them.

jagertitty (grace x max) shameless self promotion - siren/werewolf au, incomplete, longfic @owlhari - ghost!grace and max meeting for the first time, she saves him from dying in the waylon prank, oneshot prince_doomed - another version of grace's dream of ghost!max?? the description on ao3 does it better, but either way it's very beautifully written, oneshot

lautity (grace x steph) shameless self promotion - tgwdlm au, i had fun, and it was nice to make grace instantly okay with being queer for fucking once, oneshot @vesperione (sorry for the late tag, i came across this scrolling through queer hf and realised i never fixed the post!!) - the fic is called good luck babe, what it says on the tin, gracie is repressed, oneshot @theiloveyousong - first meeting when steph and grace were little kids and adorable and you should read it, oneshot

lautski (steph x pete) @the-spaced-out-ace - pete is a mermaid, and Fun (emotional torture) is to be had, in progress but seemingly coming to a conclusion :) @max-will-one-day-be-okay - vampire steph vampire steph VAMPIRE STEPH- (in progress)

lautskity (grace x steph x pete) @max-will-one-day-be-okay - grace has a sexual fantasy about steph and pete, oneshot, :) @jklovesfandoms - generally great works for this ship, i say start with comfort her (in progress) and go from there :)

paulkins (paul x emma) slytherlynn - this fic is abandoned in the middle of very plotty stuff (so be warned it is incomplete and i doubt it will ever be complete), but it has infected!paul and i remember reading it on the train into high school YEARS ago, and i really like all the character dynamics @hotchocolateboy - very alice woodward centric, slice of life sort of stuff (my girl is going THROUGH it) but i just!! really like it!! in progress @affo-gatto-gateau - mermaid!paul fic, in progress, it's fun i'm enjoying it!! there is lore being set up and i am HERE for it

the npmd jocks (kyle x max, as well as brenda x stacy) @nibblelinephym - stacy and brenda are oblivious lesbians who are in love with each other, oneshot @tnoy-keraxis - a night (so yeah oneshot) where many people are in love and we get a peek into their lives, framed by max and kyle being useless and oblivious and tragic (they aren't useless, it's internalised homophobia)

duke x ted @amethystunarmed - duke is helping ted get custody for pete. duke is going through it. oneshot (part of a series)

i can safely recommend all of these fics, and other fics by these authors (even if they aren't listed here). happy reading!!! and ofc feel free to add recs in the reblogs!!!

#i already took up too much space but know that i'm gushing over all of these fics internally #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #hatchetfield #fic rec #jagertitty #lautity #lautski #lautskity #paulkins #queerleaders #is this about what i sent to the confessions blog like a month ago??

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cocogrrrl · 1 year ago

Text

daffodil

you had grown up liking kyle from a comfortable distance, never thinking about making possible wounds. you, however, only just figured that out right now. unfortunately, you're overcome with the hanahaki disease likely because of it

kyle x stan's twin + gn!reader (hanahaki disease au) cw: major character death (kind of?), not necessarily an ed but mentions of struggles with eating, hospitalization, implied floater friend behavior if it makes anyone uncomfortable wc: 5121

an: this is part of an sp au where different versions of the reader has hanahaki and is in love with the main three! read the other two parts here!

Hanahaki is a disease something that affects many daily. From a small seed in your lungs, you’ll experience petals and flowers coming out from your mouth. It could take days, weeks, months, or even years to develop. Many hypothesize that it happens because of a love not returned, a love waiting on a bench.

Fortunately, it isn’t something that everyone will experience in their lifetime, although it is common. For those who catch the illness, you only have a few choices to pick from.

First, the sickness doesn’t last because the affection is returned. Many of those who survive this still need to receive medical attention for the healing process, depending on how severe the sickness had become. Many of these people who experience this are bound to live a happy life, though.

Second, you undergo a safe medical procedure that, while cures you, makes you devoid of any sense of love anymore. These operations usually do not pose many health risks, and the survival rate is high.

Lastly, you could just bear the pain, although you will suffocate to death.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Growing up in the Marsh household was no easy task. Existing there was tiring because of the constant chaos that was your father, sometimes even mother to an extent. You grew up spending time in other people’s houses because of this, finding more comfort in others’ families than that in your own.

Luckily, you did still have a member of your family you knew you could always trust. That person was your twin brother, Stan Marsh. You two had always been connected to the hip. Sure, you two always bickered and picked on each other, but you were siblings. It was a regular occurrence.

You found yourself hopping from friend group to friend group growing up, unlike Stan, who had always stayed strong with just one—although you did catch him hanging out with the goth kids a few times. It felt a little bit lonely, being known by nearly everyone but not really being that liked to have a steady friendship with someone. You were on good terms with everyone, but at what cost?

That’s what makes you grateful to be so close to Stan, though. He often invited you to hang out with his friends whenever he noticed you were alone. He knew you preferred to be surrounded by people than be alone, so even if his friends could be pieces of shit sometimes, he welcomed you to his group.

It didn’t happen all the time, but whenever it did, you found yourself often wanting to be close to Kyle. You didn’t know why you were so drawn to him. I mean, he seemed like a pretty respectful guy, being the voice of reason in his respective group, but that wasn’t the sole basis of your feelings.

Maybe it’s because he was thoughtful and kind? You remember that there was this one time he, Stan, and you were out playing. Stan and Kyle were on their bikes, and you were on a skateboard. For shits and giggles, you thought it’d be fun to hang on to the back of Kyle’s bike, so you held on to the pillion of his bike. You lost balance, though, falling off your board and scraping your knee really bad.

While Stan was telling you off for being irresponsible and reckless, being the protective brother he is, Kyle laughed it off and pulled out his handkerchief to wrap it around your wound. You viscerally remember Stan proceeding to joke about how Kyle blew his nose into that handkerchief earlier.

To add onto his thoughtfulness, for the following few days after the incident, whenever Kyle was at your place—which was most of the time—he’d always check up on how your wound was. Perhaps he felt bad, freely letting you hang onto the back of his bike like that. It was the consequence of your own stupidity, though.

That was back in middle school, though. You had only ever realized your feelings for Kyle during your junior year of high school.

As cute as it sounded, it really wasn’t. Recently, after your shocking revelation, you began to take notice of flowers bubbling up in your chest. Quite literally. From time to time, you’ll find a few petals, sometimes even a flower, being coughed out of your mouth. How unlucky you were to be the selected few to experience this.

You should’ve expected it, though. Ever since you were a kid, you would start coughing up small petals whenever you were a kid. Although those instances were rare, that didn’t mean they didn’t happen.

You were cooped up in your own room, facing your own mortality. You knew Kyle probably didn’t like you. No way. He’s had a few girlfriends over the years, you being none of them, obviously. Wouldn’t he have already asked you out if he liked you? Besides, you often spotted him at school seemingly interested in other girls.

So now, there were only two solutions to your problem, it was either to face death itself or to get surgery. On the one hand, you could embrace a life of love and immaturity but ultimately meet your demise earlier than it should. On the other hand, you could live longer and have a shot of being successful but sacrificing all the wonderful colors of your life. Luckily, you weren’t knee-deep in the stages of your condition yet, giving you plenty of time to think.

Your train of thought was put to a halt as you heard a knock on the door. “YN, sweetie, dinner’s ready.” Your mom said, opening the door just enough for her to send her message clearly.

“Alright, Mom. I’ll just fix my things.” You said in reply. As she sweetly nodded and closed the door, you checked the petals that littered your bed—white, daffodil petals and flowers. You cleaned your mess up, holding in a deep breath as you made your way downstairs.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Luckily, dinner was pretty uneventful. It was pretty uncomfortable with your food, though. You could intensely feel the flowers rustling in your chest as your food passed through your throat. How fun.

Once more, you heard a knocking on your door.

“Come in,” you called. The door opened wide, your brother leaning on the door frame.

“Hey, uh,” he paused, retracing his words and thinking of what to say. “Me and the guys are gonna hang out tomorrow. If you aren’t busy and want to come along, no one’s gonna stop you.”

Whenever Stan asked you to hang out with him, it made you smile. It was a thoughtful action for him to invite you to come with his friends since he knew you desperately needed some sense of a stable friendship in your life. You still struggled with the same things you’ve always had trouble with as a child, and he was always there to help you out whenever you needed it.

With a smile, you nodded. “Sure, I’ll come. Where will you guys be?”

“Kyle’s place around noon. You can come with me if you wake up early enough.” He said, critiquing your fabulous sleep schedule before he closed the door and left you on your own.

You were definitely going tomorrow.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As you and Stan stood in front of the door, he rang the doorbell. Sheila opened the door and happily welcomed you two. You found your spot in the room by the left side of the couch, Stan sitting beside you and Kyle sitting on the very right. Soon enough, Cartman and Kenny had come over as well.

Whenever you spent time with Stan and his friends, you kind of just basked in the atmosphere, even if it is often just a bunch of sweaty guys screaming over some video game.

It’s not a bad thing, though—you actually find it comfortable to be standing by the sidelines. You saw the energy between the guys, and you were just happy to experience sharing a moment with them, even if it felt like you were in another room listening to their conversation.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get some water. Do you guys need anything?” You asked, getting up and looking at them. Cartman ordered you to get a bag of Cheesy Poofs and a glass of Coca-Cola, while Stan, Kenny, and Kyle just asked for water.

You headed into the kitchen, grabbing five glass cups. You filled four of them with water. Now, just Cartman’s Cheesy Poofs and Coke.

Cartman asking for such was nothing new that's why you knew he needed a straw to go with his coke. You check the refrigerator for any Coke. In your favor, there was. You poured some of the soft drink into the glass, filling it just right. Seeing how there were some straws in a tall container, you got one and placed it in the drink.

Lastly was the bag of Cheesy Poofs. You look inside the cupboards, hoping there was some. Sheila was strict with what children ate, so there was a chance that there wasn’t any. You were looking around the kitchen, but no Cheesy Poofs to be found. You were about to take the drinks back when you were interrupted.

“Here’s his Cheesy Poofs.” A voice said behind you. It was Kyle’s. “Mom recently found out that they may not be kosher after all, so she completely banned Ike and me from eating them.”

“So why do you still have some lying around then?” You raised a brow, confused.

“I keep an extra just for Cartman.”

“I thought you hated him.”

“I do, for sure, but I have to be a good host to my guests as well.”

You chuckled. He seemed to have sacrificed his money and good hiding spots just to let Cartman have it his way. ‘He’s a really thoughtful guy,’ you thought.

“What are you doing here, though? I thought you were trying to be a good host—playing with them and all.” You said a little mindlessly, not really thinking before you spoke first.

“I could be an even better host by helping you out and giving Cartman his Cheesy Poofs that he might’ve never gotten.”

“Oh, well, thank you. What a nice host you are.” You smiled.

He shared a grin back, and you shared a moment of silence. For a second, you wanted to lean in. That was until you were attacked with a violent coughing fit. Kyle quickly rushed to your side as you were hunched over, patting your back.

“Are you okay?” He said worriedly.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.” You said, catching the petals that fell out of your mouth as you stuffed them in your pocket.

“Is everything alright?” You heard Stan call out from the other room.

“Yeah, don’t worry!” You yelled back, straightening your back to look back at Kyle. His eyes were on you, flickering to your lips. However, as his eyes landed there, he suddenly looked more concerned than he was just a moment ago.

“You have some blood on your lips. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, pointing to where the blood was.

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I think I should get it checked soon.” You were lying. You knew what was the problem. You felt guilty because, even if he wasn’t doing anything, he was contributing to probable demise. “Just… don’t tell Stan.”

You were worried. If Stan found out you had Hanahaki, he would find out that you had a huge crush on his best friend. There was a chance that he would push you to confess to him, and it would be absolutely crushing to hear him tell you that he didn’t like you back.

“Why not?”

“Whenever he tries to protect me, he always just ends up getting on my nerves.” You felt guilty for lying again. Although what you said was true, that was definitely not the reason why you didn’t want him to find out. “I know he means well, but it’s exhausting sometimes.”

“Oh, well,” you pleaded in your head for him not to tell. “Your secret’s safe with me. Just make sure to get checked soon, okay?” He said worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright.” You nodded.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Right now, you were in history. It wasn’t something you were necessarily good at, but it wasn’t something you struggled most with either. You were given free time to finish remaining projects, do homework for other subjects, and study for upcoming tests currently.

For now, you were catching up on a project worth 45% of your grade. As you typed on your laptop to plan out the structure of your project, you felt someone slide right beside you. You take a look to see who it was—Kyle.

“Hey, YN.” He greeted.

“Hello, Kyle.” You returned, your tone a little confused.

“About the thing the other day,” he said. Right now, it was two days after the coughing fit of your life, so you were sure that Kyle was going to ask you about it. “Have you gotten it checked yet?”

Honestly, no. You didn’t care enough to have it checked. It’s not like there was an antibiotic to have it go away. “Ah, yeah. The doctor said it was a chest infection.”

“Why are you here then? Shouldn’t you be at home? What if the infection worsens?”

“Oh, my doctor said it wasn’t that serious, so he just prescribed me some antibiotics.”

“Alright,” he smiled at you. “You really scared me, YN. You seemed so pale that I thought you were about to pass out.” He sighed, distraught.

“I’m so sorry.” The guilt chipped through the cracks of your brain. You felt bad for making him worry so much.

“It’s not your fault. I just get worried easily whenever someone’s sick.”

“Ahh, thank you,” you said, staring everywhere else than at Kyle. You couldn’t look at his face. Not at least when you’re lying to him like this.

“Hey,” his voice caused your head to snap back at him. “Uh, I know it’s usually Stan’s place to ask you this, but he and I are gonna head to the arcade later afternoon. Do you wanna come?”

“Cartman and Kenny aren’t coming?”

“Kenny is currently chaperoning his little sister somewhere,” he explained. “Cartman’s… doing Cartman stuff.” You two shared a laugh amongst yourselves, knowing the type of insane things your schoolmate can get himself into—even up to now.

“So what do you say? You wanna come?” He asked. “You know, for old times’ sake, I guess.”

Your mind clicked back to your middle school days when it was often just the three of you. You became closest to him during those days, but high school slowly drew you apart. You were sure why either.

“Let’s see—I’ll think about it.” You returned a polite grin.

“Alright.” He nodded. “See you later, or not.” He got up and made his way across the classroom.

Your eyes were glued to him as he chatted with Bebe. She immediately put his arms around him as she leaned into a kiss. Apparently, he seemed to be embarrassed by PDA, seeing how he gently pushed her back—looking around his surroundings to see if anyone saw them.

Huh. I guess you really didn’t have a chance with him. Should you go to the arcade? You would love to, but perhaps it’s best not to come if you feel like you were going to just sulk all day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Days turned into two weeks, and it seemed like you weren’t getting better anytime soon.

Eating became the most rigorous activity ever. Breathing was difficult because of the flowers clogging up your chest. You wore masks to lessen the likeliness of the petals falling out of your mouth. The lie about your chest infection had spread all around town. Everyone believed you, even your parents too.

No one knew a single thing about this—until today.

“YN, can I talk to you?” Stan asked, peering through your door.

You had your mask on still, saying you didn’t want to infect anyone as much as possible. You even ate your food in the comfort of your own room. You only ever went outside your room when you needed to use the restroom, go to school, or buy something you needed.

“Sure,” you replied nonchalantly, slipping on your mask and shoveling the flowers into a trash can.

Your twin brother slowly closed the door before sitting beside you on your bed, a look more worried than you’ve ever seen. “Dude, I’m just gonna get straight to the point—what the fuck is going on with you?” He was extremely upset. You could hear it in his voice.

At this point, you had already made your mind up. You knew what route you wanted to take, and you were going to tell Stan today. Fortunately enough, he was the first one to approach you.

“I,” you paused, thinking of any other way of breaking the news. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “I think I may have Hanahaki Disease.”

“Huh? That shit’s real?” He asked. He didn’t seem like he was judging you. He seemed more so confused.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your mask down. Your speech was distorted because of the amount of flowers in your mouth. You could hardly move your mouth. You pulled some petals out of your mouth to make yourself more intelligible, tossing them to the side.

All Stan could do was watch in shock. “For how long now?”

“I guess ever since I was a little kid, but—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?! Or even better, why didn’t you tell Mom?”

“You know how stupid the adults are here! Besides, it wasn’t that serious until recently.”

“YN, coughing up flowers is not not fucking serious. Are you joking yourse—”

“Stan,” you called his name as calmly as you could, although you were starting to get pissed off. “Let me explain… Please.”

He sat there, rolling his arms as he was ready to listen.

“I only got worse when,” you hesitated, saying his name. “When I realized I liked Kyle, which was about a few weeks ago.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You like Kyle? Like, Kyle Broflovski? My best friend Kyle? You like like him?”

“Ever since we were kids, I guess.” You were embarrassed. “When we were younger, I started coughing up petals already. I never thought it was a big deal because a bunch of weird shit happens here anyway. I thought it would just pass.

“That was when, as I said, I realized I liked Kyle. Ever since then, I’ve just gotten worse and worse.”

There was a long pause between you two. You could feel his eyes tearing you apart. You knew he was upset and angry with you. Who wouldn’t feel the same way? A somber “What will you do now?” was all he said, though.

“I want to get surgery.”

One beat.

“Haven’t you even thought of confessing?”

“Stan, you and I just know for a fact that Kyle doesn’t like me.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that-”

“Has he ever mentioned me whenever you two are together?” Stan shook his head. “You’ve noticed him and Bebe recently as well, right?” He seemed a little confused.

“Your logic is so stupid.”

“Wouldn’t you do the exam the same thing if you were in my position?”

“No. if I were you, I would ask Kyle if he liked me first.”

“I just think I should go with the surgery.” You sighed. “I know I’ll become a completely different person, but I can at least still be able to continue with life, you know? Be able to do something worthwhile in my life.”

“You know what happens when you get surgery, though, right?”

“I’ll become devoid of any emotion whatsoever.” You rolled your eyes, exasperated. ”Yes, Stan, you think I haven’t thought this through?”

“You’re my twin! I don’t want you to become a hollow piece of shit!”

“Would you rather have a dead man of a sibling or someone you can still talk to?”

“I’d be talking to a literal robot, YN. Both of the choices fucking suck. I’ll still mourn you either way.”

“Those are the only decisions I have. Who are you to decide for me anyway? This is my life, Stan. I’ve already made my decision.”

“Well then, I hate your decision,” Stan pouted as he pulled you into a tight hug.

You felt warm tears fall on your shoulder. You didn’t know what came over you, but you started to cry with him as well. In the back of your mind, you knew that this would be the last few special moments you’ll have with him.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It took your parents some convincing, but now you were seated in a worn-out, faded hospital room. You quickly grew weak in the span of a week, unfortunately. You found it difficult to hold your body weight up. Eating became so difficult and uncomfortable that you simply just survived on heavy liquids.

Many people were bidding you their goodbyes, all of them of which you cried. It was like you were about truly die.

Even if you’ll still hold the memories of your past, everyone will just see you as a living reminder of what could’ve been. You will become nothing more than a living statue, something that symbolized something.

Despite all this, there was one goodbye, though, that was more painful than most.

Kyle entered the room, holding a bouquet of flowers for you. “Hey, YN. I hope you like these.” He said, handing you the flowers as he took a seat.

The second he stepped inside your room, your heart broke. He seemed exhausted. You didn’t bring it up, though. It’s no good to make people more upset than they already are.

“They’re beautiful, Kyle. Thank you very much.” You said, cuddling the bouquet instead of setting it aside with all the other flowers you had gotten—funnily enough.

There was a haunting silence that fell over you two. He was the one person you regretted lying to most since you specifically told him that you’d go to the doctor and try to get better. You knew it was a lie you’d never be able to get yourself out of, so why did you say it anyway?

“I hate to ask, but,” he said remorsefully. “The thing at my house, where we were joking about me being a good host and all, then you got into a coughing fit—did you already know back then?”

A few beats passed before you spoke. “Yeah.” Guilt nipped at your brain. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. I thought everything would’ve been resolved already by then.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault as to why that person didn’t like you back or anything.” He sighed, giving you a hopeful little smile. How ironic.

You returned the gesture for what would most likely be the last time. “Hey, Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just curious, and I know is it’s kinda out of nowhere, but are you and Bebe together?” You wanted to ask just to solidify your assumptions. You were at your end anyway—why not be blunt for once?

“Huh? No.” He seemed confused. “Where’d you get that?” He lightheartedly chuckled. It in no way eased your entire situation, but it did make you a little happier. How selfish of you.

“Oh, I thought I saw Bebe kiss you once.”

His face turned red as he facepalmed himself. “The one a few weeks ago? Yeah, no. She liked me. I’m not into her at all, so I pushed her back, rejecting her.”

Now this time you felt embarrassed, covering your face in your hands. “Sorry…” You quietly muttered.

“It’s fine.” He patted your head.

Silence fell between you two, but you decided to break it. “Thanks, Kyle. I’ll miss you a lot. Even if we never became super close or anything, I’d still consider you to be one of my best friends.”

You suddenly felt a force push behind you. Next thing you know, your face was right against his chest. You could feel your hair get wet, feeling teardrops like rain fall upon you. You were holding tears before this, and feeling him sob on top of you just broke you as well.

You two stood there, crying until your heads burst from pain. You had many discoveries as people bid you their goodbyes—this was no different as well.

You were at your end, that’s for sure. The moment you step out of that surgery room, it will be over for you. The surgery was a dream-crushing procedure, literally. You still had morals in the end, but you wouldn’t really have a personal driving force within you.

You hated that. You wouldn’t experience heartbreak and anxiety anymore, sure, but you’ll never experience happiness and love as well.

You’ll miss how your brother invited you to hang out with his friend. You’ll miss how your mom took care of you whenever you caught a bad cold. You’ll miss sneaking out at night to do a bunch of things you’ll regret the morning after. You’ll miss squealing over a mundane text that Kyle sent. You’ll miss it all.

You didn’t want to kill the person you are right now to escape your pain. You would keep the person you are currently if you could. However, that wasn’t a choice. Will it be worth it? Who’s to say? At least you still have a chance to pay your parents the money you owe them. At least it was the more logical thing to do as well, you figured.

One of you pulled back—you weren’t sure who it was since your head was all dizzy. You couldn’t look at him in the face and believed he thought the same thing as well since you saw in the peripherals that he couldn’t look down at you.

“Before you go,” you muttered, reaching behind you and pulling out a letter, handing it to him. “This is yours.”

The letter was all of the things you wish you could’ve told him. You couldn’t leave him at such an abrupt ending. You cared about him too much for that. So you told him everything you needed to in this letter. You even included your biggest mistake in the letter: liking him.

“Oh.” he was taken aback as he read the back of the envelope. It read, ‘Open me after surgery, thanks!’ He smiled at the thought of receiving a letter, hoping it would lighten the mood. “Thank you, YN.”

Moments later, he wiped his eyes and made his way to the door. “I’ll see you soon, alright?” You nodded, not being able to trust your own voice much more.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Kyle. Sharon just called me,” Sheila said to Kyle, opening his door. “She said that YN’s doing better now. She told me that they should be out of the hospital in a few days from now. You should visit them.”

“I will, Mom. Thanks.” He smiled. Sheila then left, closing the door right after.

YN’s note sat by his desk. He hadn’t checked it yet. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Seeing how they had gotten out of surgery, though, he should probably check it right now. He felt a sense of dread the closer he inched to his desk, to YN’s letter. He picked it up, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was even holding.

The envelope was decorated neatly. There were cute stickers plastered pretty much everywhere, except for the dead center, where the words ‘Open me after surgery, thanks!’ were written.

Hi, Kyle.

Hopefully, you’re reading this after my surgery. If not, come back later! It’s not fun to watch a movie knowing the big twist. Although, that does sound fucked up in this context, lol.

Now, you should be back right now. After my surgery, yeah? I don’t know where I should start.

Actually, maybe I do. To start off, you’re the only one I gave a letter to. Now don’t feel bad—I did tell everyone what I wanted to tell them before I got my surgery. It’s just you who didn’t get their full message. Sorry.

I think meeting you was my greatest mistake. If I didn’t take up Stan’s many invitations to hang out with you guys, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Of course, he was just being a good person, but I guess you could also blame him for all this mess as well. Kidding.

I really like you, though, Kyle. I know that you don’t like me back. There’s no need to say it. Even if you are reading this post-surgery, there’s no way to tell me that. It’s such a shame, though. I have to throw all my hopes and dreams like this just because I find you cute, witty, and charming.

It’s not your fault, though. I’m sure you know that. You’re a pretty smart and sensible guy. If you blame yourself for this, I think I’m gonna fall out of love with you.

I know I’ve been joking around in this letter, and while everything I have said is true for the most part, I’ll be genuine for a second.

It’s quite pathetic this disease is. Imagine dying because this person you like doesn’t like you back. It’s really fucking stupid. I wish I never liked you just so I could be with you right now. That seems a tad bit too paradoxical to be true, no?

I have and never will love anyone like I loved you. I thought it was a small crush. It was something more, after all. This is probably what I’m meant to be.

Sometimes, I wonder if you became embarrassed of me, seeing how you started to grow more distant from me when became a little older. I don’t know. I hope I’m just reading between the lines a bit too much.

It feels so embarrassing to admit this all to you. I hope you won’t treat me differently after I get the surgery.

I hope that there is another universe that is straight out of the dreams I made of you and me. Where we’d live happily together and cook pies or something. I’m sure, that if we were living together, you would make even the most mundane and tedious things worthwhile.

I’m gonna bury the person I am right now into a daydream with you that’ll last forever.

Yours in every way possible,

He stood in the dark of his room. Mind blank. He didn’t know how to react.

There was only thought in his mind, though: he could’ve saved you if he simply told you how he felt as well.

#south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #cocogrrrl's writing #cocogrrrl's hanahaki series

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whalehouse1 · 1 year ago

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So far the teams, it's not really concrete "this is where they are", they can move around like they have in the comics. So for example, Connor could have been on YJ for a bit, either with Kon or if Kon was gone doing something else and met M'Gann there or she was on the Outsiders for a bit. But also, I had only watched season one of YJ and just somehow recently found out that she tried to erase his mind of a fight and given my absolute hatred of comics Raven for casting the love spell on Wally, Dick and Damian to get her way, it really made me dislike Ms. Martian quite a bit. It could be written out and I honestly can't see her doing it except the writers wanted drama, but at least with her it's just a bad taste and a one-time mistake, unlike Raven.

The Teen Titans' origins aren't different though. Wally, Dick and Garth teamed up for the first time in The Brave and the Bold and that comic was popular and DC decided to make the Teen Titans and added Donna for a girl character and they didn't realize Donna was actually just a younger Diana in the comics. As I love Donna, I'm happy with this mistake, but it's stupid. Roy just started as a guest star along with others teens and by the time he became a permanent member Garth had left, I think it was due to something happening in Aquaman, but I could be misremembering. And I wouldn't call it a break-up, only because it wasn't a bad thing, it was them moving on to another side of life but they were still friends. They weren't a superhero team but they were still a group. But that's semantics and Star, Victor and them wouldn't have come on until after Dick's stint at college and that. And Wally still won't join back afterwards (but again I hate Raven and so I'm fine with just ignoring all of that BS and it's not like after Dick dropped out he wouldn't be able to call them up and invite them all back together and things go well for a bit and then crap hits the fan, but that goes into my Nightwing rewrite AU which trust me you do not want that monster.) And as The Origin of Donna Troy was my first comic with her in it and my absolute love for it, that is her origin, she gets all the moms. And Dick and Kori do get married. It's biased, but also my AU, why would I not have it? Especially when I want Bruce being a grandpa and I love Mar'i and Jake. And yes Kole, I didn't remember her being tied into Lilith's origin-and now it is all coming back to me, they can use the Teen Titans show's origin then. And Lilith's origins can be changed, but I haven't really liked any of them, but as long as we aren't doing Williamson's version of the character is fine by me. And Rhea can still be a villain just a bit of rewriting.

Oh Matrix's name would be different, Matrix would probably just be the name of the project to make her. There's a lot of options for it, but it is low priority for me for deciding on which on I like though.

Oh, I'm not set on her being involved, I was just curious if it could work. And I'm fine with the Darkseid hideaway (despite my dislike of Apokolips and New Genesis, they're just boring to me), but I like Donovan hiding him away himself better. Spread some paperwork around to hide it and hide the electric billing in other bills. And then he could pick and chose what Connor learns and influence his actions, since I felt a big thing for Connor in the show was learning for himself. He was made to be a weapon and has to learn to be a person so I think that gives a reason for that storyline to take place.

But yeah don't read too much into the teams, it's how I see them, but again it's malleable and based more on how I view the teams and their inner workings function.

Somehow I just completely forgot that was Kyle's origin…I don't know how I forgot that. I think Paralax could still happen and he could recruit the other Lanterns who have had similar issues with guardians of Oa. The guardians are kind of pricks so it shouldn't be too hard. The only thing I would add to the GL war would be, I would like a select few of the GLs (like Tomare or Kilowog) to be selected by the Guardians to take the central battery and hide it so it can't be destroyed if their prototypes fail for the new rings. I can't say if I know that the battery can be removed or not, but I like a good Palladium in a story. I do like the idea of after Kyle giving up the power of Ion (despite me liking the look), if he adjusts the criteria for who gets these new rings and does so without the guardians' consent. So some, like Razor, would be granted the red ring, since his rage is justified, but Atrocitus ( I misspelled it sorry) would not. Similarly, Tai's villain would get a yellow ring, Sinestro would not. So those villains would still try to steal the rings from who has one, but also try to make their own rings by tapping into the emotion spectrum. It gives them something to do. And also since the rings are now given out via Kyle's pre established criteria (it would be able to match the person's morality, i.e. if something is considered good in their planet, it wouldn't be judged by an American-Latino's moral compass, but that civilization's morality as a group) it would make it so characters in the corps could earn the rings without the need of someone granting them. Heck, Ion was basically a god, he could fashion the hidden green lantern battery into becoming a ring maker and distributor.

@thefaeriefeatherdark Sorry, I just haven't had either the time nor the energy to write up a response to your thoughts on the AU and I apologize because this is basically stream of consciousness and not edited, but a few things about my 3 Superboys AU, which thanks to Jon is technically 5 but another time.

Okay, the Superboy AU has actually gotten worse thanks to Leah Williamson (long story, but now we have two Jons). But to answer your questions as best I can given my limited Super family knowlege. Connor is a Cadmus creation, he is straight up the series origins. Made by Cadmus with Lex's funding with Lex's and Clark's DNA. The main difference is he is the first attempt at being cloned and Cadmus lies and tells Lex the clone had deteriorated once he was out of his clone tube. If you want to add Contessa to this, you could have her doing this to spite Lex. I know nothing about her besides what you said in your post, but I'm sure she has good reasons to be spiteful to Lex. And you know to try to keep and groom a Superboy on her own.

As for Lena Thorul, I know nothing about her, but since I am a fan of random characters from Kara's original series (I want that trade if it will ever exist), I don't see any issue with her being involved. My only issue with Kara in your idea, is I hc her around the ages of the original Teen Titans from the comics. At most a year younger, only because I think it's funny that Dick will call her an old hag even though he's physically older, but she's older than even Clark by a decent amount.

I mean all three are Clark and Lex clones, so they will look alike, but as Connor and Kon do have other's DNA mixed in with them (Maik is the only 100% just those two's DNA), they're can be variation. I think Connor looks distinct enough, it could have just been the cartoon style, but he seems more muscular and taller. He's more of a football player, while Kon is more Baseball player in terms of general build (it's a very bad description, but the best way I can explain it without drawing it, sorry). And Maik is 12, he's baby shaped. But he's basically built thicker than Jon, but not really by much since again, babies. Connor doesn't have the earring like the other two do, but I think Maik in terms of appearance does get mistook as Kon's younger brother since they look a lot alike. Maik has much better fashion sense though, cause is it Kon if he is dressed well? Maik has the gray eyes from the movie cause they're very striking compared to everyone else's bright blue ones. I also just like grey eyes and there's not a lot of of them in comics. So Kon and Maik will look alike and will argue about who stole whose look, but it comes down to just their age and clothing. I think Maik will end up looking a bit more different when he gets older, but I think those two will resemble each other the most with the eyes and fashion being their difference sadly. As for their outfits, don't they all need those super awesome jackets? Connor sadly gets his black shirt and pants, it's boring, but you know which Super it is when you see this. I did liker Kon's outfit in Kelly's run and YJ98, but Maik's would start out as the same as in the movie, but I think he would keep a more subdued coloration in his outfit. I also think as he gets older, he would make his costume more punk-rock than just spiked shoulders. I'm not sure how exactly, but I like him having a music industry plant type of idea behind his creation and so I want to incorporate music styles into his older costume if that makes sense.

Well, we have how many Flashes now? It should be fine, right (laughing in DC's inability to give codenames to established heroes for mantle passing)? They would get new codenames, but I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Also their names would have to use some of their personality and stories (Nightwing coming from Clark's story, Troia coming from Donna's stay on the Greek Moon planet thingy, Tempest coming from his water magic, etc.). So that would take a bit to get a good codename for them. But them and both Jons would evolve into having their own codename. Kara at last could go for Superwoman (since as far as I know there isn't one running around (watch me be wrong and there's like 5).

Oh, I completely forgot about Matrix. I want to say since the goal of this AU is to give Ma and Pa Kent the biggest amount of grandchildren, I want to at first instinct say yes, but from what I remember about that, it's still just Kara just merged with another. Also, I just didn't enjoy the bits I've seen of it. But since I haven't read the whole story, I'm not going to say definitively no, but that was just a weird bit of Supergirl's history to me, but not enough for me to just, "yay, no" it. If you want those, ask me about Nightwing XD.

As for the "it's gotten more complicated" it might actually be more fun for you, since you like the paternity bit more, but again I haven't had a chance to read Kon's solo yet (I've been reading from the beginning and I haven't made it to Superman comics yet and until the 90's, there's not really any writer who I'm just going to skip (I can't with Dixon anymore. He can write good plots, but he's such an awful garbage person and it bleeds through too much for me. And actually between him and Fitzmartin, I almost started to hate Tim, but one of his fans actually helped me with that), so I still have awhile and time is a dick. But to the actual point, Connor is the first actual clone, but he isn't "alive" to the world as Contessa is keeping him a secret from Lex and so Lex decides to cut his losses and tries again and that's how we get Kon, but Kon on top of Lex and Luthor's DNA also has Westfield's DNA in the mix. So he'sd the first clone the world gets to know. As for where Contessa and Cadmus is storing Connor, I'm not 100%, since I really, really hated the clone tube, so they probably have a facility underground that they "trained" him in so that he would be perfect for their nefarious schemes. He 100% will keep Wolf, I don't know if it would be from an Outsiders' mission or a one off mission with the Titans, but he's getting Wolf. And I'm fine with him on the farm, the Supers can come and go from there and since it's centrally located, it's not a bad place for him to join up with others. He doesn't have flight, but he's fast and can jump. Also he can get the stickers from Lex again and one of the heroes could probably figure out a way to replicate them without the addiction issue, there's enough scientist to figure it out. I know absolutely nothing about Indigo, but as long as she isn't going to take him to the Legion of Superheroes I'm fine with it (still bitter about that arc with Kara in the show, it just never sat right with me). But I do like your idea of him staying at the Outsiders HQ until Clark invites him to the farm. I think Connor has more of a relationship with the Kents than Clark, because Clark just doesn't know him and after Kon doesn't know how to deal with this new, but older clone. And he has to deal with raising Jon, so he can't just drop everything to help raise this kid he never knew existed. I think it makes him more understandable than what YJ did with him where he just came off as a prick. The powers are right, the heat vision and cold breath aren't as strong as Clark or Kara's, but that can be enhanced with the shields and that's ofc where the flight comes in as well. I do think he has the most strength out of the three in terms of raw physical power. Kon's TTK though obviously wins in terms of actual strength.

Now, because I just want to make things over complicated for no reason, I get you like cybernatics, but as I'm not a big sci-fi fan, when Maik was being cloned, in an attempt to see if they could remove the kryptonite weakness, they had some red kyrptonite in the room where they were cloning him. He still has the weakness, but instead it warped his Kryptonian abilities to an extent. So for example, he has heat breath and frost vision. His superstrength isn't as strong as the others, but (thanks to your boiling water Kara thing), I think he has the strongest durability out of the Supers. This wasn't meant to contradict you, I just think it's funny Kara doesn't want to get him hurt, but if he's not around kryptonite, the kid could get punched by every other Super at full strength and he'd barely feel it. He's still strong and could punch a hole through a solid steel building without a problem, but he's losing the arm wrestling contests. He is also the one Lex had the most see-over on though so he is the smartest since he was basically being taught by Lex approved tutors and that. He also since he actually is the one clone that "got to be a kid" and if the aging thing was retconned, I'm fine with it, he started out as an actual kid, so he and Jon actually are one year apart (Jon's a year older, kid Jon, not teen Jon, as I said it got complicated, but another day), and he would have absorbed some of Lex's "morals", so he could have a good character arc of growing out of that greed inspired mindset and learning to see humans as humans. I do think the Danvers would be a great set for this. The Kents would be too, and they 100% get to help with their grandson, but the Danvers had Kara, who was a teen when they adopted her, with (depending on the timeline) good or bad Kryptonian ideaolgies and previous connotations on Earth and its inhabitants. So they have more experience with that than the Kents. Also, since he and Jon are essentially the same age and Maik starting as an antagonist, that would be a good start for them since it would give a chance of kids figuring out things and influencing each other and given what Jon has been through, it's not like he's 100% rainbows, unicorns and sunshine. He's been through the ringer, possibly more than any other Super, 3 years under Ultraman torture will do that to a person. More so, being left for dead and having to watch that person living your life. But yes, as Kon would have YJ and Connor would be best (for me personally) for the Outsiders with helping out the Titans and YJ at times, Maik would fit in perfectly with the amount of child heroes that exist right now. He might feel redundant if he joined up with Damian and Jon and the people I have on their youth team I have, but what's the harm in having two supers? But even excluding that fact, there's a large amount to make a team out of. And heck, he could even start on my Damian team, butt heads with him (not hard to do) and take a few with him to make his own team and get some of the others Damian couldn't recruit. Even more fun if it splits up the West twins so Wally and Linda have to listen to who has the better team at dinner at least twice a week. And for villains, they would have to fit a theme for him to grow, so if I were to write stories for him, I would want to figure out a good balance for that. I would have to think of a few examples, but someone targeting him for being Lex's son, clone, "hero", "weapon" wouldn't be bad, someone who isn't able to control their actions for one reason or another, I think an evil Toyman would be good to as well, a villain who wants the spotlight (like Punchline, but not as annoying, sorry I just don't like her), he'd be very good for a social media type of villain or a eugenics villain. There's potential for others, but for villains, I think the moral theme for the story should come before their gimmick for a good story (can you tell I'm a batbrat?).

As for the DNA samples, I think it'd be a cute story that Maik and Jon are wanting to be the babies (the twins come in after this so it's all pointless), and also just worried that since Cadmus and Lex both have had access to controlling all three clones, with each one being a stronger control (Maik even having a microchip just in case that Kara made inert whether through Kandor or heat vision, doesn't matter, but one of those), teaming up and Jon using some lockpicking skills he get from Damian and Maik knowing the layout of the building, breaking and entering and destroying the DNA samples Lex has and scanning the building for anything he could possibly use for more DNA and eradicating it. It doesn't even have to be a stressful comic, just a fun little one of them having fun destroying untold and unsolvable property damage to Lex Corp. Everyone wins. And I'll give you this for the cybernetics and Lex being more involved with him, we can give him electric touch. So he could be a human taser or stronger. Lightning has been shown able to incapacitate the Supers, so it wouldn't be a bad thing for Lex to put into the one he has the most control over, until he defects. But now relooking at the timeline you gave me, I don't know if Contessa could have been around for all three cloning attempts. If so, Maik could be the one she doesn't lie about to Lex, but if she couldn't have been in charge for Connor, the pettiness isn't needed. But I do like them lying to Lex that Connor was a failure, so when he finds out he's still alive and functioning, he tries to be a "good" dad with the stickers and to give him resources that Connor knows better than to accept after the incident with the stickers.

#superboy au #maik el #kon el #connor kent #so this is a lot of me going on tangents cause god forbid I don't do that ever #but the TL;DR is don't get hung up on the teams they change every now and then it's more just how I group some people in my head #it's not concrete and never will be except the Steph team since they're characters that don't get really used and I like a lot #although going through the later issues of City Boy and them trying to hype him up the way they are isn't my favorite #they did it to Yara and look where she is now freaking Trinity screw that DC stop letting people overwite the POCs who are good #sorry I've just been lost in the Damian tags and everything has been nothing but Talia and DC's history with nonwhite characters #and I would love to say I need to touch grass but I've touched so mucht he last four days it's just aggravating #when characters you like just get pushed to the side for a writer to make a mark on the character which will be forgotten about in five yea

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noodlepai · 3 years ago

Text

(OKAY okay so I've come to provide more information on the AU, I'm still working on it a lot so things might change or be added but I got a basic idea of what things are like rn !!)

Info dump moment rn, also TW for slight trauma mentions/hints

• Sam had managed to save the Wii from melting itself all those years ago, and is a pretty big person on tech, so she likes to experiment and try new things, and actively tries to help Eteled out or transfer him through devices so he isn't just stuck in one place all the time, with lots of trial and tons of error, especially since she knows the Wii's getting old and that it can be unstable occasionally with glitches

• Kyle has also taken a liking to learning more about technology through Sam's influence so he sometimes comes over and they both will just study and brainstorm ideas

• Sam moved out of her home and now lives in her own apartment, is in college to pursue her dream of working around and creating technology, hasn't really considered making a job out of it since she mostly does it for fun and likes to achieve her dream goals, Nathan and Kyle also occasionally visit to just hang out and do whatever, usually resulting in the three staying up very late into a movie or game night, and Eteled having to talk Sam into getting sleep for the next morning

• Even though Sam is big on all tech, consoles and video games, she still has a soft spot for old generation consoles in particular

• Sam, Nathan and Kyle had all gotten pretty close growing up so they're like a dumbass trio /lh

• Will moved out of state or some shit

• Kyle wakes up from his villain arc and makes a truce with Eteled /J.. FR though Kyle softens up and becomes more understanding of Eteled's side after they start talking it out, while what happened did bother him at the time all those years ago, he just kinda grew up to the point where it didn't have such of an effect on him anymore, I mean all he saw was a Mii get slice and diced, no need to go beast mode over it, so they forgive each other of the past

• Kyle and Nathan are besties to homosexuals, homie love

• Sam made a Mii of herself from when she was younger to keep Eteled company when going out or having to attend school, Eteled appreciated it but wouldn't wanna admit how it wasn't the same and about how much he would miss Sam when she had to get off the Wii

• Gives Eteled abandonment issues because I love being evil

• He's actually clingy on the inside but would never admit it to anyone

• Also views Sam as a sort of daughter figure besides just a friend but is too nervous to mention it, he wants Sam to be safe, loves whenever she talks or rants to him about anything or shows him something she made or is proud of, or even just anything at all, father Eteled is proud of his child/bestie

• He like, genuinely feels loved around her and would definitely cry about it but would never show it, or at least try not to

• Eteled has the favorite Mii pants because Sam put them on him, with quote "I think it's about time my best friend gets to rock a new style", and yes it did make him almost cry on the spot

• Austin is like, mentally conflicted as hell

• Austin and Eteled both feel guilty for what they've done to each other over the years, aren't sure they can or are ready to forgive the other but they're very slowly learning to tolerate each other

• They're like enemies to kinda friends in a way

• They're traumatized mfs

• They still sometimes fight but it's usually just yelling or saying shit now, they don't do the chair, deletion or axe really anymore since they at least got to the point where they respect each other's boundaries and triggers, and there's no point to keep doing the same old for over 10+ years, for the most part, they still slip up sometimes

• They do fuck up though occasionally so that's why Eteled has scars and Austin is a bit more bashed up

• They still have a rooted dislike for each other they're trying to get over but they sometimes chill out or talk, usually when Sam is asleep or off the Wii for a while, the two just will maybe visit or sit around to at least try to understand the other better

• Sam knows Austin is still around, and it took a while but with time she grew to accept him when he didn't seem like a big threat anymore, and that he was just as important of a soul as Eteled was, she still didn't like the fights and didn't know the full story

• She'd probably section them away from the other with a child gate if she could

• Austin of course has an ego and would never tell another soul that he has many nightmares of the server room and about what happens if he gets caught off guard or is sleeping when Eteled decides to attack him again, Eteled wouldn't do that, and Austin knows it but it's just the deep rooted fear he can't get rid of, even though he's much taller and technically more powerful than the smaller Mii

• Eteled is just tired, usually just sleeps in the Mii channel, especially when under stress or tires himself out if he's going through a moment, like triggered memories or emotions

• From all the deleting and the chair, and more crap from his early life, Eteled is just terrified of it all so even the idea of them scares the fuck out of him, so as a natural response he just tries to defend himself with his axe even if he would be shaking like a chicken, he really tries not to pull it out but he can't always stop himself

• The axe itself would probably also bother Austin a bit, but he would still try to cautiously calm Eteled down since he knows he's just afraid, so afterwards they'd probably have to awkwardly apologize for what the fuck happened at that very moment

• Sam sometimes offers them both to play a game together with her, or plans on playing with Eteled and invites Austin along, as a way to make them bond, they do end up having some fun though

• Eteled has seen and/or been around or within newer Nintendo consoles, but personally prefers being in the Wii since he's used to it the most, and it's the most comfortable and homey to him

• Oh yeah, if Austin or Eteled is having an episode or is deeply upset then the other will try to help sometimes if it's really bad, Austin tries to hide it more but it doesn't always work, yeah they have reasonable reasons to not like the other, but they aren't complete assholes

• They both got trauma memories and aren't gonna just watch the other suffer through it

• Austin may or may not have taken in what Eteled had said all that time ago about "Learning to move past the past", even though that technically makes Eteled a hypocrite when he's constantly beating himself up about shit mentally, even after years, they are both doing it tbh

• Also Kyle doesn't know about Austin 100% but is curious to know his story and who he is and used to be, and how he got in the Wii, especially after the passing of his family member of the same name, little does he know..

• Sam also doesn't know about any of it, neither Sam or Kyle know of what happened or Austin's story, Austin being in a tight spot since he doesn't wanna reveal his identity yet, knowing the possible reaction, for Eteled's sake, Sam's and especially Kyle's, and Eteled being absolutely fucking terrified since the fear of losing someone like Sam could become real, and the small but growing friendship he was slowly making with Kyle could go right back to hatred and wanting the small Mii deleted, not including the fact that he still eats at himself for his past actions so it being brought back up again would be a ✨mess✨

• Austin doesn't know if he forgives Eteled or not, but wants to try to move past it and not be reminded in any way

• Nathan is still a little lowkey scared of Eteled ngl, doesn't wanna upset him or anything and Eteled can tell, he probably sighs to himself but he can't blame the guy

• Kyle has thought about making another Mii of himself on what is now long been Sam's Wii, now that he's older and him and Eteled are rather chill, but decided against it since he wasn't sure, not because he didn't trust Eteled, but because he figured it could potentially remind the Mii of the past, so whenever he plays on it he just uses Eteled

(That's all I can really recall on the top of my head for now, whenever I remember more or add on things I'll probably make a new post about it)

#eteled #henry #corrupted mii #austin #sam #kyle #nathan #will #wdy #wii deleted you #au #still not sure what i want to do with the considered bully characters #if i decide to add them #or what i would do with the parental figures #still a lot to think about and work on but yeah #i dont mind ideas or possible suggestions for some characters #im just vibing with my au and having fun #*does a little dance*

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erratic-brainrot · 3 years ago

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Okay ALL of your aus sound really fucking cool!! I'd love to hear about your post covid part 2 rewrite-au though, I'd love to see how you would handle it!!

Okay apologize if any of this sounds weird, I accidentally left tumblr to double check the script and lost the wip of this, so I’m gonna probably approach this more casually.

But regardless, “Post Covid part two Rewrite/Post Covid Divergence” is basically an Au I made due to my own over eager expectation of mystery and time travel and forgetting South Park is here for a good time and not taking things too seriously in the terms of physical reality. Which, like? No shit and tbh I set my own self up for favour.

ANYWAYS,

The plot:

It was suppose to return us back to Kenny’s lab, after Kyle’s speech and Cartman affirming that he’s gonna fuck up his plans because he loves his family and hates Kyle (which I’ll put a pin in, as cartman over all characterization is a bit more discusses here, because I like the way he is portrayed in post covid as an abuser bending the story. But I also want more Justice for Kyle)

Randy still meets Tolkien at the Denny’s Applebee’s Max, where Tolkien returns him to McCormick’s lab due to the reference of Tegridy Weed. He is annoyed most of the time thou because Randy is kinda… Randy. Wendy actively trying to crack all of Kenny’s equations. Noticing a lot of odd secrecy done within his work. Codes, nicknames, symbols used in replacement of certain numbers that don’t apply to typical mathematical basis, etc.

It’s within these notes that Wendy does find the name of victor Chaos (Chouce) which she mentions some weirdness about the name spelling or something but is kinda cut short by the urgency of the situation. Basically informing them of Chaos’ whereabouts and there plan to work try and get the machine working.

The machine disfunction was going to be different as far a I remember. More mechanical or related to Kenny being some supernatural cryptic. Or the aluminum was needed to be placed on those outside of the machine since it’s suppose to bounce the rays off from the victims. It’s hard to remember but shit was different because idk the machine needed cool vibes but I still wanted to add in jokes.

So, like directed, Stan, Kyle, AND CARTMAN, go to meet chaos.

Unlike with canon, the boys don’t actually realize it’s Butters. Simply seeing the name as weird, vaguely hitting them, but aren’t left with the proper background story to provide its Butters. (Also with making the sentence of “phones confuse him” make more sense)

Instead, they are told about Kenny private colleague. How they worked together since the near beginning of Kenny’s work. With Victor actually being one of Kenny’s head engineers, before he was admitted to the mental asylum for “snapping”, which gets all the boys nervous. Hearing stories of Victor apparently destroying the time machine and possibly acting out violently. Blah blah blah. It all makes the group on edge.

So they’re all on edge when they finally meet Butters. Not aware it’s him. And since I was gonna make it a comic I was gonna have the scar identifier because idk it’s fun. But basically they’re able to recognize its Butters from his voice, the blond hair, and maybe references to him and Kenny being “childhood friends” before opening the door. With Butters turning to show the scar and all of key indicators.

They’re in shock for a second, daring to approach near asking, “butters?” With butters already taken aback by recognizing who they are. Getting violently defensive asking why the hell they are there. And basically getting close before being told to back up by the doctors or risk getting basically detained. But butters still expresses his piece of mind about what awful shit bags they are for abandon Kenny.

Once Butters calms down and basically told about Kenny’s death… basically being plead with that they need his help to stop Kenny death, maybe bring him back. Butters specifies that he will help, for Kenny’s sake and Kenny’s sake alone… but admitting he isn’t the same around machines anymore after what happened.

Lore introduced. Introducing the story of Kenny and Butters climb up in the world, with Kenny’s inability to move on. Beginning to develop his time machine. Butters had mix feelings about it the whole time, but agreed to work on it after Kenny’s pleads.

However, due to the governmental pitch for a grant and research privileges… they end up having a lot of people in their business even if Kenny’s motivation is personal. But… despite all efforts to keep the project a secret, it ended up being found out by the Chinese government… which also means to profit off this basis.

The Chinese government already had a firm hold on America through further means of capitalism interest and basically becoming the new empire of the world. Aka why there was so many ads of that Asian lady.

But basically when they were realizing how threat the Chinese government was posing… butters began to kinda lose his shit. Insane but valid paranoia hitting him, constantly checking around him and trying to destroy the information… but Kenny begged him to not… with them agreeing finally to a plan. That butters would house himself at the asylum to protect the information and express failure to anyone around… and try to divorce the time machine from the American government too. An independent project

After dealing with getting butters out, and randy being cocky about being “right” about China despite not actually really being right. I forget if I had Chinese government steal the weed or not

Butters then explains how Kenny did update him about the development periodically for his advice and to hopefully change time… for the both of them. And explains Kenny’s main goal was to fix the gangs friendship… and that they can find Kenny by locating where he was in time. That they’re are multiple showings, they just need to find the right time where Kenny was at to bring him home to either treat his covid properly, or to catch him before it.

And that’s where the meat of the story is. Basically they go in time to the bridge fight, but can’t find Kenny. Deal with sore memories and accept that they can’t find him there. Attempt to jump (with a watch that basically allows them to hop through) to a different time period. With them all arguing different times due to Kenny “pin pointing what was the fall of their friendship” exposing what they thought was the real rot between their ties (mainly Stan end kyle), what was the start of the end.

However cartman is a cunt and basically ends up trying to fuck with the machine to stop kyle from going back and they end up stuck in their timeline and needing to utalize the help of their younger self, Santa and other insane creatures.

I could say more but holy moly I need to like her easier about these kahsksh haha

#south park #cartoon #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #tweek tweak #me talking #south park au #randy marsh #post covid #post covid south park #south park return of covid #south park ask me #south park asks

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tippenfunkaport · 4 years ago

Text

Tippen's Fics Megapost

Here’s a list of every fic I’ve posted so far. On AO3 * FanFiction.net.

Tips are super appreciated! ko-fi.com/tippenfunkaport

I will update this post whenever I post new fics so you can find the complete list all in one place.

Series

I’ve collected my one-shots in the order they happen in two main collections for easier reading.

SPOP Missing Scenes - Collection of missing scene fics (mostly Glimbow)

SPOP Canon Compliant Post-War Fics - Collection of all my fics that happen Post-Season 5

Key for main ships in each fic

😻 = Catra / Adora (Catradora)

💖 = Bow / Glimmer (Glimbow, Glow or *sigh* Blimmer)

🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 = Mermista / Sea Hawk (SeaMista or Merhawk)

🦂💐 = Perfuma / Scorpia (Scorfuma)

🥼 = Entrapta / Hordak (Entrapdak)

Key for fic status

📕 = Multi-chapter completed

📄 = One Shot

📖 = Multi-chapter work in progress

Ongoing

📖 Glowing Up: The Princess and The Pirate (Friendship / Fluff / Adventure) - 💖 The origin story for how Bow and Glimmer met!

📖 Prince Bow and Archer Glimmer (Romance / Adventure) - 💖 AU where Glimmer and Bow swap roles!

📖 Going There (Romance / Adventure) - 💖 Series of missing scene fics from Glimmer and Bow’s perspective of Season 5.

Ensemble or Platonic Fics

Fics that either feature multiple pairings (aka the whole gang together) or just friendships and family relationships.

📄 An Outside Perspective (Comedy/Fluff) - 😻 💖 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 🦂💐 An average Etherian and his mentor travel to Bright Moon to attend Queen Glimmer’s ceremony honoring the regular people who acted heroically during the Horde War but why does the Queen’s boyfriend look so familiar? (Almost everyone is in this one!)

📕 The B-Team (A Catra and Bow Buddy Adventure) (action/adventure) - 😻 💖 Catra and Bow try to save their stubborn magic girlfriends from themselves and accidentally become friends along the way. (50/50 Glimbow and Catradora)

📄 Bow White and the Seven Princesses (A Bedtime Story, as told by Sea Hawk) (Comedy/Fluff) - 💖 😻 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Sea Hawk and Mermista are babysitting the children of Bright Moon and Sea Hawk tells them a special personalized version of the classic fairy tale featuring their parents in the starring roles.

📄 Pride and Princesses (Another Bedtime Story, as told by Sea Hawk) (comedy/fluff) - 😻 💖 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Uncle Sea Hawk is back! This time he’s reading the children of the Super Pal Trio a tale of epic ROMANCE and ADVENTURE, the classic love story between Adorabeth Boomnets and Fitzmeowmoew Catsy. (Yes, it’s a ridiculous SPOP version of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.)

📕 SPOP Palentines - A collection of 15 one-shots (mostly funny but a couple of serious ones) celebrating friendship, family and other more complicated dynamics! (Table of Contents here)

📄 Web of Lies (Family/Fluff/Romance) - 💖 Bow tires to tell his dads about what happened at Princess Prom without spilling all his secrets.

📄 Of Its Kind (Fluff/Family) - 😻 Baby Melog kittens!!

📄 OK With This (fluff) - 🥼🧜🏽‍♀️🔥A Mermista and Hordak friendship? More likely than you might think!

📄 Fraternize, Co-Captain or Assassinate(Fluff / Angst) - 😻💖 The Best Friend Squad plays sleepover games.

📄 Glimmer’s Crazy Day (fluff) - 💖 Glimmer writes in her journal about a really crazy day she had, the kind of wacky day you can only have by totally random chance… right?

📄 Kyle, Lonnie and Rogelio Plot to Steal a Freaky Demon Baby (Fluff/Friendship/Family) - The Horde Trio hanging out in the Crimson Waste and deciding to go back and get Imp.

📄 Good Trouble (Fluff) - 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Sea Hawk drops Double Trouble off after the events of Perils of Peekablue.

📄 Moonlight Ghost - 💖 Something nameless is haunting Bright Moon castle and interrupts the royal family at dinner.

📄 The Fire Prince (Action/Adventure/AU) - 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Beginning of my Beasts AU, Sea Hawk as arsonist Robin Hood

📄 Captain Mermista (fluff/comedy) - 💖 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Swap AU! Adora, Prince Bow and Archer Glimmer come to Seaworthy to hire a ship to take them the see Prince Sea Hawk in Salineas... but they're not sure what to make of Captain Mermista.

Romance / Shippy Fics

📕 Cans of Tuna and Redemption Arcs (Romance / Fluff) - 💖 😻 Pure fluff modern AU in which Catra is Glimmer’s literal pet cat and Adora is Bow’s golden retriever and they all meet cutely. (Technically complete though I sometimes add new chapters randomly)

📕 Save the Archer (Angst / Action / Romance) - 💖 😻 Save the Cat goes wrong. Glimmer gets left behind. Bow gets chipped.

📄 Getting Warmer (Romance/Angst with Happy Ending) - 💖 It’s only a few hours before they’ll be going to rescue Catra and a traumatized Glimmer is having nightmares of having to face Horde Prime again. When she wakes up screaming, the only person she wants to comfort her is still mad at her, their relationship damaged beyond repair. Or is it?

📄 Another World (Angst/Romance) - 💖 Post Princess Prom Horde Glimmer AU

📕 First Kisses We Didn’t Have(fluff/romance) - 💖 A collection of one shots where Bow and Glimmer might have gotten together if things in canon had happened just a little bit differently.

📕 A Merry SPOP Shipsmas! (Fluff / Romance) - 😻 🥼 💖 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 🦂💐 Collection of one-shots inspired by famous holiday songs, one for each major canon ship!

📄 Just Like Always (Romance / Fluff) - 💖 😻 Adora and Catra think they’re helping Bow and Glimmer with an elaborate marriage proposal but their friends have pulled a bait and switch.

📄 “Yes, your majesty.”(Comedy/Fluff) - 💖 Bow accidentally refers to Glimmer as “your majesty” during a Princess Alliance meeting. But, it’s fine, she should be able to make it through this meeting without getting completely distracted by sexy thoughts, right?

📄 Babysitting Arrows (Comedy/Fluff) - 💖 😻 Comic antics ensue when Catra thinks Glimmer might be pregnant and Adora’s Aunt instincts go into overdrive.

📄 Time and Space (Romance/Smut) - 💖 When Bow and Glimmer have their first big fight as a married couple, Glimmer just wants to skip ahead to the part when she’s forgiven. But when an apology isn’t enough and Bow’s still mad at her, she uses magic to recreate a moment from their past with a sexy twist.

📕 Glimbow Shorts (Romance / Fluff) - 💖 Various short fics I wrote for Glimbow Week. This is made up of…

Prompt: Memory: Bow tries to get Glimmer to remember the ridiculous names of all his siblings. (Post Canon)

Prompt: Injury: Bow patches Glimmer up after she gets injured on a mission. (Missing Scene)

Prompt: Touch: The Best Friend Squad is having a sleepover the night after their visit to Plumeria and Bow wakes up to discover he’s been unwittingly cuddling Glimmer in his sleep. (Missing Scene)

Prompt: Princess Prom / Jealousy: Glimmer wakes from a nightmare with a question for Bow. (Post Canon)

Prompt: Family: Glimmer talks to Micah while he enjoys a snack in the Bright Moon garden. (Post Canon)

Prompt: Swap: 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Glimbow and Seamista swap places for a scene from Princess Prom (AU)

Prompt: Wedding / Proposal: Shortly after Angella’s disappearance, Bow and Adora discover that new Queen Glimmer’s been getting marriage proposals from would be suitors (Missing Scene)

📄 The Gift of a Lifetime - (Romance) 💖 It’s Bow’s Birthday, and the whole gang is getting together for a big party. Everyone keeps saying he doesn’t look a day over 30! Problem is… he’s turning 50.

📄 Shells (Angst/Friendship) - 💖 Bow trying not to have a breakdown about losing Glimmer to Horde Prime while cooking for Adora.

📄 Scars - (Angst / Romance) 💖 Bow is all healed from the Pulse bot but there are still a lot of open wounds between him and Glimmer.

📄 Kowl Jr. (Fluff with a wee bit of Angst/Romance) - 💖 Bow and Glimmer are called to investigate reports of poachers in the Whispering Woods and find a creature long thought extinct.

📕 The Wrong Princess Prom (Romance / Drama) - 💖 Key moments from Princess Prom through Battle of Bright Moon from Bow’s perspective

📄 Parenting is an ADVENTURE! (Fluff, Romance)- 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Sea Hawk and Mermista being domestic with their kids!

📄 Booty Call(comedy / romance) - 💖 Glimmer indulges Bow’s pirate fantasy. Sexy but not explicit.

📄 Did Someone Say Seabowmista? (comedy) - 💖 🧜🏽‍♀️🔥 Joke fic I wrote for April Fool's Day where all may not be what it seems when Bow agrees to a threesome with Mermista and Sea Hawk.

Find my fics on AO3 * FanFiction.net. Only AO3 is linked from the titles to simplify my life.

#spop fanfic #spop fanfiction #shera fanfic #shera fanfiction #spop #glimbow #seamista #fanfiction #fanfic #tippen's fics

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youngjusticeslut · 4 years ago

Text

Center Stage (Chapter 4)

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Characters: Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Bow, Mermista, Sea Hawk, Kyle, Perfuma, Frosta, Angella, Micah, Shadow Weaver Ships: Catradora, Glimbow, Seamista, Kygelio, Scorptra Rating: T+ Summary: A Catradora Ballet School AU AO3

Adora wakes up long before her alarm goes off.

First day of classes. Big day. Her phone tells her it’s a little past six in the morning, and a quick glance to the side of the room tells her that Glimmer is gone, bed unkempt. Carefully, she crawls out of bed, hoping not to wake Catra. Though judging by the girl’s soft snores, there’s not much to worry about.

Six am means she has two hours to kill before her first class. Two hours is plenty of time. Enough for a quick workout, a thorough stretch session, and maybe even a bit of breakfast. If her stomach calms down enough to eat, that is.

From her bedside table, she grabs her earphones and plugs them into her phone. Quiet as can be, she starts with a series of pushups, followed by crunches, bicycle kicks, and leg lifts. Three sets, rinse and repeat. It helps Adora work her nerves out, and lucky for her, Catra sleeps through the entire thing, unaware of it all. She takes extra time to stretch out her muscles, especially her feet. They’d be put through the ringer today, the least she can do is prepare them for what’s to come.

By the time she showers and grabs a couple of muffins from the cafeteria, Catra’s just waking up. She smiles, seeing her awake when she enters the room. Glimmer is still nowhere to be found, it seems. “Hey there,” Adora greets softly, trying not to startle her roommate. “Late start?”

“Not an early riser,” the brunette responds. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. Still got about thirty minutes until class.”

“Shit.” As if on cue, Catra’s stomach growls. She glances away in mild embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” Adora says, tossing her a muffin. Catra catches it without missing a bit. “I came prepared.”

Adora tries not to relish the look of surprise on Catra’s face. Score a point to her, for being the best roommate ever. As Catra nibbles on the muffin, Adora rifles through her drawers, pulling out her black leotards and pink tights. Boring, but apparently the required uniform at Bright Moon.

She keeps her back to Catra as she’s changing, humming to herself as a distraction. At the moment, she doesn’t even remember the name of the song she’s humming. It’s a Spanish one, something Mara would sing most mornings as she made breakfast. The routine quells the little bit of homesickness that she’s feeling.

Once she’s dressed, she walks over to the mirror and starts to pin up her hair. By now, Catra’s finished the muffin and has also begun to get dressed. “Want to walk to class together?” she asks, hoping to continue extending the olive branch. She’s not great at making friends, but she promised Mara and Razz that she’d make a better effort at it.

“Uh, sure. I have to brush my teeth, though.”

“That’s okay, I’ll—wait, is that what you’re wearing?”

Catra glances up from adjusting the straps on her leotard. “Yeah?” She pauses, cocks her head to the side and gives a little smirk. “Doesn’t suit your taste?” Unlike Adora, she wears red, with nude colored tights. It looks far better than it should, and Adora can’t help the blush that tints her cheeks.

The question leaves Adora flustered, more than it probably should. It’s too early for this. “What? No. No, it’s fine. Cool actually, super— I mean��” She stops rambling and collects herself with a deep breath. “What you’re wearing is nice, but Bright Moon has a uniform.”

“Uniform?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read the orientation packet?”

Catra’s face says that she very much hadn’t, but the girl shrugs it off and takes off the hair tie from around her wrist. “Whatever. It’ll make me stand out.”

“I don’t think it works like that. What if you get in trouble?”

The brunette pauses from tying up her hair, shooting a quick look at Adora. “Worried about me?”

Adora scoffs and crosses her arms. “I’m trying to save you from getting your ass kicked out on the first day.”

“They won’t throw me out. Trust me, once they see me dance, they’ll forget all about what I’m wearing.” Her words are strong, but something in Catra’s eyes doesn’t exactly convince Adora. It comes off more like a front, a facade to protect her. Part of her wants to call Catra out on it, but something stops her. Truthfully, it’s none of her business. Who is Adora to stop Catra from doing what she wants?

“Hey, it’s your funeral,” Adora ends up saying.

Catra finishes to tie up her hair, leaving it in a sloppy bun with bangs framing her face. It’s a stark contrast to Adora’s sleek, neat do. “I appreciate the concern,” she says with a wink.

While Catra scoots past her into their shared bathroom to brush her teeth, Adora checks the time on her phone. Class starts in fifteen minutes. She pulls at her fingers for something to do, resisting the urge to chew on her lip. They’re cutting it awfully close. What if all the good spots are taken by the time they get there? She really wants to show up early, scope out the other girls, make a good impression on the teachers.

“Almost ready?” It comes with a bit of a whine, and Adora mentally kicks herself. Now Catra probably thinks she’s such a goody-goody. It doesn’t matter, though. There’s no answer. “Catra?”

“Nearly done. If it’s getting close, go on ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch up.”

Permission granted, Adora grabs her already-packed ballet bag and slings it over her shoulder. She barely remembers to grab her room keys on her way out the door. Part of her feels guilty for leaving Catra behind, but she really doesn’t want to be late. Especially not on the first day.

Thanks to her strategic mapping technique from the day before, Adora is able to make it to class in less than five minutes. The dorms aren’t too far from this particular studio, and for that Adora is eternally grateful. As expected, several girls are already there in various points of preparing their pointe shoes. Glimmer stands off to the side, testing out a shiny pair of shoes. In comparison, Adora’s faded ones look abysmal. She really needs a new pair.

Adora takes her place in the center of the room, close to the barre. When class begins, she’ll be front and center; perfect for watching the teacher, and right up front to get her noticed. Easy. Almost too easy. Her pointe shoes are already broken-in, so she takes the time to prep her feet properly before slipping them on. No distractions today. She has to be at the top of her game.

Her nerves aren’t nearly as bad as they were on the day of her audition. Maybe it’s because she’s already in and the hard part is over. Or maybe it has something to do with being inside the gorgeous dance studio again. Last time she was in here, it felt like a dream. Today, it’s her reality.

“Adora!” Perfuma waves at her, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s your first day, how are you feeling? Did you eat breakfast?”

Any other morning, this amount of energy so early in the morning would have turned Adora off. She doesn’t mind it so much today. “Yeah, I got something to eat. And I’m fine. Excited for it to start, really.”

Perfuma places a hand on Adora’s shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Glad to hear it. No stress?”

“Not really.”

“That’s great! I’m sure you’re going to be amazing.” For some reason, Perfuma’s encouragement actually helps Adora feel better. She knows that she’s only met the girl a day ago, but there’s something really calming about her general demeanor.

Adora’s about to respond when the doors to the dance studio open. A flock of boys enter the room, and the excitement increases tenfold. Returning students hug and squeal and group together. Off to the side, Adora finally locates Glimmer. She throws her arm around a boy, who cheers and spins her around in delight. Following right after the boys are a group of adults. Teachers, she assumes, judging by their higher air and the way they watch the students interact. Adora recognizes Angella, Spinerella and Netossa from the audition. Angella holds herself at the front of the room, standing beside a dark-haired man.

“Good morning,” she announces, bright and chipper. The energy in the room immediately simmers down, and many echo the words back to her. “We are so pleased to welcome everyone to the first day of what I am sure will be a wonderful year.”

As she welcomes the new students, Adora scans the crowd for Catra. She doesn’t find her. Biting her lip, she attempts to focus back on Angella. Why is her roommate like this?

“You are our senior class, which means that this will be your last year attending Bright Moon Academy,” the man beside Angella continues. “At the end of the year, we will be picking the top dancers to join our company.” He scans the crowd, and offers a kind smile. “While I’m sure that all of you are incredible, this year we will only have room to add six students to the company.”

Six students? Adora clenches her fist in determination. She’s faced worse odds.

“Throughout the year, we will be observing you and your talents as ballet dancers. However, we will not make any final decisions until we see how you dance in the final workshop performance. With that said, we wish you all the best of luck, and advise you to make this your year.”

When Angella finishes speaking, the group claps. The door opens again, and Catra walks in, completely neutral, not a hint of shame on her face. The man beside Angella raises a brow. “So nice of you to fit us into your schedule, Miss…?”

“Catra.” She grins right back at him. “And no sweat.”

The class snickers at her response, but if Catra cares, she doesn’t show it. Adora sucks in her teeth. Late, again? Really. Is Catra actively trying to get herself kicked out, or does she just not care?

“One more thing before we dismiss you for classes. As you may have heard, the company gala is taking place this weekend. We always invite our senior students to attend the performance and help out at the party afterwards, so please plan accordingly. We do expect you all to attend,” Angella says. “Thank you all!”

That said, the teachers trickle out of the room and the boys bid their goodbyes before leaving for their own class. A dark-haired teacher remains at the front, hands clasped tightly. Catra catches Adora’s eye and gives her a wink, but her expression changes completely once she sees the teacher. That’s weird.

“You may call me Madame Weaver,” the woman continues. “In this class, we will be working on technique, sequences and formations three times a week. At the barre,” she instructs, giving no pleasantries. Needless to say, the girls toss their bags to the side and scurry to their positions at the barre. Adora already has her spot, and Catra manages to grab the spot on the opposing end. Their hands are inches away from the other. Adora’s not sure why, but it makes her nervous.

“Let’s start with our pliés. First position, demi, and stretch. Full grand plié and return. Port de bras forward. Full port de bras back. The same in second, third, and fifth positions, and then rise and take a balance in fifth.” She speaks a little too quickly for Adora to fully understand what she’s asking, but since she’s good at following along, she’s not too worried.

Madame Weaver nods to the pianist in the room, who begins the opening transition. To no one’s surprise, the girls move through the pliés seamlessly. Thanks to her rigorous stretch earlier, Adora feels nice and limber.

The teacher walks around the room with something to say about everyone. Mermista needs to relax her fingers. Perfuma needs to work on feeling the support from her center. Glimmer is complimented on her technique. Adora glides through the movements, feeling confident and waiting for Madame Weaver to no doubtedly comment on how wonderful her technique is.

When she gets to her, she pauses. “Your name?” Madame Weaver asks.

“Adora.”

“You need to work on your turnout. Without it, your dancing suffers.”

It’s not the advice Adora expected to hear. She looks down at her feet and adjusts her turnout, feeling less comfortable. “Better,” Madame Weaver says before moving on. As Adora continues her plies, she watches from her peripheral as Madame Weaver approaches Catra.

“You will be on time to my class and wearing appropriate attire. You would do well to remember that your place here is subject to my approval. Do I make myself clear, Catra?”

Adora doesn’t hear a response, but she assumes that Catra agrees, for Madame Weaver moves away and proceeds onto the next student. Something about her interaction with Catra unsettles her. It’s almost like they know each other. With a slight huff, she forces the thought out of her mind. She can’t think about that right now.

The class continues. They spend an hour on barre work alone. From there, they move on to floor work and practicing routines across the room. As much as Adora would like to admit otherwise, she struggles. She comes out of turns too slow and stumbles one time too many for her liking. Madame Weaver works quickly and she isn’t always able to catch everything she says. On the whole, she feels like she has much to improve on.

When class ends, Adora sinks down to the floor and yanks open the laces of her pointe shoes. Her feet throb and she just wants to be out of them. Lunch sounds good, too. The lonely muffin she had for breakfast is long gone, and she needs more than just a salad today.

“Hey.” Adora looks up to see Glimmer, offering her an apologetic smile. “Don’t let it get you down. The first day is always rough.”

It’s hard not to take her words personally, especially not after an entire class where Glimmer was the model student. She swallows any bitterness and smiles back. “I guess you’d know, huh?”

“Trust me, there are days I mess up too. Do you want to go have lunch?”

Adora slips into a pair of slippers and stuffs her pointe shoes in her bag before standing up. “Lunch sounds great. I don’t think I’m in the mood for salad though.”

Glimmer laughs and interlocks arms with her. The action is unexpected, but welcome. They head in the direction of the cafeteria, arm in arm. “Hard same. What are you thinking?”

“I could go for a sandwich. Grilled cheese?”

“Deal.”

In less than ten minutes, the two are in line at the cafeteria waiting to pay for their food. Adora steals a fry off her plate, nibbling at it to quell her hunger. “So, it gets better, right?”

“So much better. Weaver never gets easier though.” Glimmer chews on the inside of her cheek before looking off to the side. “She’s just very… particular.”

Adora remembers the short conversation she overheard between Madame Weaver and Catra. Note to self, stay on Weaver’s good side. Couldn’t be that hard, right? Glimmer seems to have figured it out. “She likes you, though.”

“I wish she didn’t. Believe it or not, I kind of hate being the teacher’s pet.”

“What? No way.” When it’s her turn, Adora sets down her tray and pulls out her student ID to pay for the meal. She’s so lucky that she qualified for Bright Moon’s scholarship program. Mara and Razz were more than willing to chip in, but Adora’s never been comfortable with putting more financial burden on them.

“Way.” Glimmer pulls out her card to pay for her food when she looks up and her eyes widen. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Glimmer!” Angella meets them at the cash register, a stack of papers in her hand. “You haven’t answered my texts. How was your first class?”

Glimmer flushes in embarrassment and grits her teeth. “Mom, you’re holding up the line.”

“Oh, you’re right. Here, let me pay, Dear,” she says, handing the cashier her credit card before Glimmer can argue. Once they’re all settled, Angella walks with them toward a less crowded spot.

“Adora, this is my mom,” Glimmer introduces reluctantly. “Mom, Adora.”

“Yes, Adora. I remember you, from the audition.” Angella takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “It’s so nice to meet more of Glimmer’s friends.”

“Mom.”

Angella clears her throat, smiling bashfully and letting go of Adora’s hands. “Right, sorry. How was the first class?”

“It was good. Nothing to worry about. Right, Adora?”

Adora nods, quickly trying to swallow her mouth full of a couple more fries. “Yep! Just fine,” she says, hoping that Madame Weaver hasn’t already soiled her reputation to Angella.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. I won’t pry any more, you girls go on and enjoy your lunch, I just wanted to say hello.” Angella takes note of her daughter’s tray and rests a soft hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “I thought we agreed on salads for lunch. We spoke about this, Glimmer.”

Glimmer turns as red as the ketchup on her plate. It clashes horribly with her hair. “Mom, I know. I promise, salad for dinner,” she mutters, unable to look at Adora.

The answer pleases Angella, for she pecks her forehead and lets go of her. “Good. Keep an eye on your phone, and call me tonight?”

“Yeah, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will. Bye girls.”

Adora watches after her as she leaves before following Glimmer to where she’d hunkered down at a nearby table. Glimmer angrily stabs a fry in some ketchup before tossing it to the side of her plate. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she warns before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Fair enough. My family can be a lot too,” Adora says, trying to make Glimmer feel better. “Was your dad the guy standing next to Angella this morning.”

“Yeah. I may have mentioned it yesterday, but they run the school and the company. My dad takes a bigger role in the company, and my mom the school. It works out.”

“Must have been cool to grow up around all these ballet dancers. You must have been able to learn so much from them.”

Glimmer nods, swirling a fry around in some ketchup before popping it in her mouth. “Something like that.”

As Adora digs into her grilled cheese, she notices Catra sitting at a table not too far from them. She talks to a girl with platinum hair and she looks… upset. The tall girl attempts to comfort her but Catra moves away. It seems that Madame Weaver’s words really got to her. “Kind of serves her right,” Glimmer notes after following Adora’s gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Who does she think she is, showing up late on the first day? And breaking the dress code at that! Catra’s just asking to be kicked out,” Glimmer scoffs, taking a bite of her grilled cheese. She chews, mulls it over, and smirks. “Or maybe she just likes attention.”

Glimmer’s words don’t sit well with her. Adora crosses her arms and takes a shaky breath. “Look, I know you and Catra don’t get along. But you didn’t hear what Weaver said to her. It was… way harsh. Harsher than it should be.”

“That’s just how Weaver is.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not saying what Catra did was right, and I’m not going to sit here and make excuses for her. But I’m also not going to sit here and badmouth her.” Adora looks down at her plate. “That’s not who I am. Okay?”

Glimmer reaches for her hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Let’s just talk about something else?”

“Yeah.” Adora looks back in Catra’s direction, but the brunette is no longer there. Maybe she’ll talk to her later, see what’s going on. “So, about the Gala thing this weekend… Can you wear jeans to that?”

#she ra #spop #catra #adora #catradora #center stage #ariel's writing #spop fanfic #glimmer #angella #shadow weaver

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anditendshowyoudexpect · 4 years ago

Note

Au When eugene was son of korean immigrants who first of taste of rock when he was nine he listen rock and roll songs, years later he become rockstar in America

wellllll this was unexpected. i’m not really sure if this is a prompt (i’ve never done prompts and i don’t think i’m good at them) or just a share, but it seems it only takes a little spark...

so there you go, Eugene Choi Superstar

🎸🎸🎸

anyone can play guitar

She's not looking at him, is she? Surely not. Is she? If she is, she must be new. They all know by now how absolutely atrocious he is as an interviewee, mumbling, blushing, making awkward little grimaces, which his fans for some unfathomable reason find cute and adorable and god knows what else because he usually scrolls past those comments after the first dozen...

"Go Ae Shin from Go on Key magazine, I have a question for Choi Yoo Jin-ssi."

Damn it.

Yang Hwa, the band's trusty PR manager, flashes the reporter her trademark sly grin.

"Are you by any chance related to a certain Uhn Gi Go?"

The young woman frowns.

"Go Uhn Gi," she drawls calmly, deliberately reversing the order of the media mogul's last and first names, "is my grandmother but it doesn't have anything to do with my question to Choi Yoo Jin-ssi."

Yang Hwa folds her arms neatly in front of her on the table, still smiling, but Eugene knows her well enough to see in the slightly changed twist of her mouth and the cold glint in her eyes that there'll be no love lost between her and this new addition to the host of musical journalists writing about her boys.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Go," he says hastily. "I'll be happy to answer your question. Unless it concerns my private life."

"Well, Choi Yoo Jin-ssi," she seems rather persistent with the Korean honorifics, "that depends on whether you see your ethnic identity as part of your private life. I'll elaborate," she adds when he blinks uncomprehendingly. "Half of your band members have Korean origins, you yourself were born in Seoul and came to the United States at the age of eight. And yet, if one didn't know your name, your face or anything about you, it would be impossible to guess your roots--not from your songs and not from your interviews. It's all the more surprising, given your huge Korean fanbase and how much attention Korean popular music has been getting--take BTS. Tell me, how does it feel to be--or to allow to be--constantly overshadowed by your white Anglo-Saxon frontman? Is it a conscious choice? Are you ashamed of being Korean?"

The conference hall is suddenly very, very quiet, not a cough, not a rustle of paper breaking the shocked silence. Eugene sees Kyle quickly leaning over to cover the mike standing in front of Dong Mae, who looks ready to jump to his bandmate's defense.

"As his white Anglo-Saxon frontman," Kyle says, too loudly and very playfully, "I must remind you that I do bring some diversity to the table. My utter gayness is my second redeeming quality, after my rugged handsomeness."

Go Ae Shin looks unperturbed and completely unaffected by his charm.

"With all due respect, Mr. Moore, the question wasn't for you. Choi Yoo Jin-ssi, don't you think you should be an example to young Korean Americans, who tend to if not reject then ignore their heritage? I'm a descendant of Korean immigrants, just like you, and I believe I'm doing my best to never forget it. Oh well. I guess the American dream looked too... enticing to you."

"Just like me? My family left Korea to survive. Yours--to get even richer."

That's what he would say to this young, young woman, if he were Dong Mae. It would also make even more sense for Dong Mae to say it, given his more tragic family history. And Dong Mae would make a more striking picture while saying it: a sardonic snarl, torso slightly leaning forward, long hair falling on his face, broad tattooed shoulders deceptively relaxed, drumsticks clutched in his fist almost menacingly. What does she know, Dong Mae would say, what kind of world has she even seen from the windows of her grandmother's limo? (Dong Mae is convinced that all very rich people ride exclusively in limos. That's why he rides exclusively in limos himself.)

But he is not Dong Mae, so he says instead, "Miss Go, as much as I respect the undoubtedly commendable intentions behind your slightly insulting fiery rhetoric, songs come as they come. If my ethnic identity doesn't feel like being put to music, I'm sure as hell not going to force it, even for the sake of young Korean Americans.”

He can’t hold back a smirk but the words come out without an ounce of stale, bitter bile in his voice--unlike Dong Mae, he's long used to keeping his emotions in check. Emotions are no use, emotions don't put food on your table, and while he personally doesn't care about Go Ae Shin's opinion of him and his values, he doesn't want to get confrontational with someone with her family's connections in the business either. Who knows what the high and mighty of this world can get up to if they get up on the wrong side of the bed... Of course, he hasn't exactly been penniless for years, but somehow this fact keeps surprising him and he still keeps avoiding any kind of conflict because of possible implications for his band's future. It doesn’t mean, of course, that he will let anyone walk all over him.

“And answering your questions: one, being overshadowed by my white Anglo-Saxon frontman feels great, because I don't care for spotlight. I also enjoy looking at him from behind. It’s a nice view. It was not a conscious choice, but an instinctive one--mine, not his--since we were teenagers and nothing has really changed. In fact, you might remember that he was the one who pretended to have laryngitis one night to make me sing the entire concert, because he always believed in me, even though I didn't believe in myself. Two, I am no more ashamed of being Korean than I am of being a human being. But I don't think of Korea as my home country and I don't feel indebted to it. I feel indebted to my parents who sacrificed so much to bring me here to give me a better future--a debt I can never repay, so I write about them and my love for them. And three, no, I don't think I should be an example to anyone. Trust me, you don't want me as your role model."

It's more than he's said in all of the band interviews in the past five years combined and now he seems unable to stop himself.

"May I ask you a question now?" He asks before she gets the chance to retort. He looks her straight in the eye. Somehow, she looks oddly familiar. And pale. And furious. But she nods anyway. And shrugs. And folds her arms across her chest defiantly. She is beautiful, the spoiled brat.

this is all i’ve got so far, and unfortunately, i think this is all i’ll ever write because i’m too lazy to write everything i will have to write if i keep thinking about this version of Eugene (brevity is not my forte), so the rest will just have to live as it is - as my headcanon facts.

#mr. sunshine #eugene choi #eushin #lee byung hun #rock star au #asked and answered #i mean not really #but it comes as it comes or it doesn't at all

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echo-bleu · 5 years ago

Text

By The Sword

Malex Musketeers AU. I’m reposting this little series here (from AO3) ahead of the @alterarnm fic I’m hoping to finish by Thursday (movie fusion, though it’s a show). This was originally written for the Whumptober prompt “Stab Wound” but it also fits with today’s theme “Pre-1900s”.

Alex barely makes it all the way to the garrison before he collapses. He falls to his knees the moment he's inside the large doors, with no energy left in him to make it to his quarters.

“Captain!” someone calls out. “Liz! Maria! The Captain's back, and he's injured!”

“Alex!” This time it's Maria's worried voice. Alex feels her crouch beside him. “Alex, what's wrong? Where are you hurt?”

“Shoulder,” he murmurs. Maria gently pries his hand away from the wound on the inside of his left shoulder, not far above his heart, and hisses.

“Alex, you got stabbed?” she asks. “Kyle, get over here!”

“Alex!” Liz calls, joining them.

“I'm okay,” Alex murmurs, trying to stand back up.

“No you're not,” Maria says. “You have a stab wound and you've lost a lot of blood. Now how about you let us get you to bed?”

Alex just nods and relents. Liz slings his right arm around her shoulders and pulls him up. Alex tries not to put too much of his weight on her, but between the bloodloss and his leg, he's unable to stand under his own power. Liz supports him without flinching, though. She may be short, but she's stronger than she looks−otherwise she would never have made it through Musketeer training.

Maria stays on the other side for balance, though she doesn't touch his arm. Alex is grateful for that, because he almost passed out the last time he tried to move his shoulder. The three-hour ride back to the garrison has been hell.

Kyle, the garrison's doctor, joins them halfway to Alex's quarters, his medical bag in hands. He helps Liz lower Alex onto his bed and immediately starts removing Alex's leathers.

“Your shirt isn't salvageable, but these can be cleaned,” he says, handing them off to Maria. “Good leather is pricey.”

“Kyle, no offense, but we don't really care about his uniform right now,” Liz says, annoyed. “How about the wound?”

“Get me some water to clean it out, and I'll tell you!” Kyle rolls his eyes.

Alex only barely follows the conversation, exhausted. He grits his teeth as Kyle runs a wet cloth on the partially scabbed wound.

“It's not life-threatening, as long as it doesn't get infected,” Kyle diagnoses. “But it definitely needs stitches.”

Alex winces. He expected it, but it's never fun. He's had his fair share of injuries over the years−more than his fair share, actually, since an infected wound took his right leg in the last war. Everyone expected him to retire then, or at least retire from the field, as he'd just been made Captain, but he got thoroughly bored of desk work after a week, and Liz and Maria were simply not as good a team without him. So he worked his ass off to get back on his feet and train to fight with his new prosthetic, and within less than a year, they were the best Musketeer team of all Antar again.

Liz hands him a glass. “Bourbon,” she says. “You're going to need it.”

Alex nods his thanks. He barely has time to swallow the drink before Kyle digs into his injury, checking for dirt, and he arches back, biting back a scream. Liz offers him a cloth to bite onto.

“I'm going to bind your arm to your chest for now so you don't tear the stitches,” Kyle says when he's done with the stitching. By then, Alex is exhausted and covered in sweat, so he doesn't protest. His leg has definitively cured him of his tendency to take injuries lightly, anyway.

He gestures to his leg, which is painful and raw after the abuse it took today. “You want me to remove it?” Liz asks. Alex nods.

“So, who was it this time?” Maria asks, while Liz pulls of his boot and works on the latch of his prosthetic.

“My father's men, who else,” Alex answers tiredly. “But they had someone else with them, I couldn't see his face.”

He could swear he recognized his stance, though. But it's impossible. The man it belonged to is long dead. But the way he ducked left, right before plunging his blade into Alex's shoulder…

Alex doesn't know many people who can fight that well. He's one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, even now, and this person bested him like he already knew all his tricks.

He ponders on that for a long time, after the other file out of his room. He's spent but restless, the pain preventing him from sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. He can't find a comfortable position to lie in. His free hand keeps going to the pendant around his neck, as his thoughts wander. He traces the gold ring, and then the medallion, without opening it.

Why did this man, cloaked and hooded, remind him so much of the man he once almost married?

He swipes at his eyes before the tears can fall, angry with himself for letting his thoughts take him there. Of course that man wasn't Michael: Michael has been dead for ten years. The anniversary is coming up, Alex realizes. He died the day their wedding was set to take place, a reflection of his father's twisted mind. Ten years, in less than a week. Maybe that's why Michael was on his mind so much today.

Sitting up, Alex decides he's done lying in bed. He can be careful of his arm and still make himself useful. Putting his prosthetic and his boots back on is hell with only one hand, but he manages after a few minutes. He rummages his chest for a clean shirt and pulls it over his head awkwardly, leaving the left sleeve empty as his arm is strapped to his chest.

“Alex!” Liz exclaims from the courtyard, when she sees him coming down the stairs. “You shouldn't be out of bed yet!”

“I'm fine,” Alex says. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.” He knows Liz is just as scared as he is of him getting another infection, but he really wants to shake off her concern. This whole business has put him in an awful mood, and the fact that he's light-headed from bloodloss and in pain doesn't make it better. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“The king requested us to escort his children tomorrow back from the summer palace,” Liz says.

Alex sighs. “Are we on babysitting duty again?”

The twin prince and princess, Max and Isobel, who are about Alex's age, aren't really as annoying as children, but they tend to scoff at having bodyguards, and regularly ignore the Musketeers' safety requests. They like to travel a lot, especially between the royal houses all over the country, and the king has taken to requesting his best Musketeers to guard them since the latest threats on their lives, even though it should be a job for his royal Guard. But everyone knows Valenti's Musketeers are better fighters than Manes' Red Guard, especially with Alex Manes at their command. Something that angers his father to no end.

“They're not that bad,” Liz shrugs. “You won't be going anyway, you're injured.”

“And you're not saying that at all because you have a crush on Prince Max,” Maria interjects, handing Alex a bowl of soup as he sits at the table. “How are you feeling?” she adds to Alex.

“I'm okay,” Alex says. “Just sore.”

“You're the one who keeps flirting with Princess Isobel,” Liz retorts to Maria. “What, you thought I hadn't noticed?”

Alex shakes his head at his friends' antics. They've been inseparable ever since he first joined the Musketeers. They're the best of friends in every situation, funny and supportive. With them, he even forget, sometimes, the life he left behind.

“What's got you so worked up?” Maria asks, and Alex realizes he's gotten lost in his thoughts again. His hand has made its way to his pendant against his will, and Liz and Maria are both giving him knowing look.

Over the years, they've become really good at gauging his moods, and especially at noticing when he's taken by bouts of melancholy. He's never told them anything of his former life, and he doesn't intend to, but they know which subjects to avoid.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just...I hate being injured.”

“We know,” Liz says, putting her hand on his arm. “But you still need to rest up, okay?”

“I know,” Alex sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone march up to them. “And I guess it's time for me to report,” he adds, standing up to welcome Commander Valenti. “Commander.”

The woman looks him up and down with severe eyes.

“Captain. Who did you piss off this time?”

Six days later, Alex is in the foulest mood. He's been dreading this anniversary for months, and it's proving as bad as he thought it would be. Everything is going wrong. His arm still isn't healed enough to use, now resting in a sling, so he's been on desk duty for the last few days, and he's remembering exactly why he hates it. And then, whether the effect of his injury or simply the time of the year, the nightmares started. The anniversary of the day he lost his fiance and the day he lost his leg are just two days apart, and it's always a bad time for him, filled with alcohol and fevered dreams.

His team is set to spend the day at the palace again, and this time the King specifically asked for his favorite Musketeer despite his injury. Alex doesn't understand why, but as he's not bed-bound, he has no choice but to obey. He hoped to be able to take the day off and drink the pain away, but the universe is against him. To top it off, both his shoulder and his leg are killing him, and he's forced to ask an aid to hold his horse's reins on the way to the palace, because he barely has enough balance to keep himself on the saddle.

“Come on,” Liz tries to motivate him, as he mopes on his horse. “It's going to be okay. There's to be some kind of celebration planned, for some noble guy who just came to court.”

“That's usually not good news,” Alex remarks. “Means we'll have to be twice as vigilant.”

“Leave that to us,” Maria says, bringing her horse to his other side. “Just because the King requested you doesn't mean you should overtax yourself.”

“My father will be there,” Alex sighs.

“And you can't help showing off your Musketeers in front of him, in hope that he'll acknowledge your accomplishments someday. Alex, you don't need him. Everyone knows you're better than him.”

“He's still the Prime Minister, and he has the King's ear. He could have me executed if the fancy took him to see me gone.”

“The King loves you far too much for that,” Liz says. “That's why your father is reduced to sending his Reg Guards to fight his battles and try to off you in a skirmish.”

Alex sighs and readjusts his sling. “We're here,” he says.

As usual, the day at the palace involves a lot of waiting around and standing guard, far more than Alex's leg should really be put through today. But sitting in front of the Royal Family is simply unthinkable. He watches Prince Max and Princess Isobel, lounging in comfortable armchairs under a canopy, with envy and a twinge of resentment.

“Who's this?” Liz asks him, midway through the day. She discreetly points to a man on the other side of the canopy. He's wearing red like the Red Guards, but his uniform is richer and perfectly clean, and his stance isn't that of a guard. He has a hood over his head, hiding his hair and his face. Alex frowns. Someone who can get away with hiding his identity in the middle of a royal event must be high-ranking, probably from the Royal Family, but he can't think of who that could be.

“Watch him closely,” he tells Liz. There's also the option that he's an imposter.

He's not. Minutes after Liz notices him, the man approaches the canopy at a sign from the King. The king stands up, and everyone immediately stops talking.

“I would like to introduce to the court my natural son, Michael,” the King says, one hand on the man's shoulder. Alex feels his breathing pick up, like his body has already figured out what his brain refuses to understand.

The mysterious man reaches up and removes his hood.

“Thank you, my King,” he says, kneeling quickly. “I have lived my whole life in the shadows, and I will go back to a modest life as soon as my purpose is complete. I have come to court for one reason only: to challenge Captain Alex Manes of the Musketeers to a formal duel.”

Alex gapes. Liz and Maria rally around him, confused. “What?” Liz frowns.

Michael stands back up, and turns to look straight at Alex. It feels like a punch to his gut.

“But why? Alex, do you know him?” Liz presses in a murmur. The court is getting agitated, the announcement raising eyebrows. A King introducing a natural-born son to give out a title and a land is not uncommon, but for that son to challenge the Captain of the Musketeers? That's unheard of.

“Yes,” Alex mutters, still in shock.

“Who is he?” Liz asks.

“Michael was my fiance,” Alex says. “My dead fiance.”

“What?”

“He can't be alive,” Alex breathes. “It's not possible. He was hanged because of me.”

Liz looks about to shake him, but she's interrupted by Michael raising his hands. “Do you accept?” he shouts across the space between them.

“But he's injured!” Maria shouts back.

“No,” Alex says, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. “Reparations are deserved. I will duel you. Choose your field of honor.”

He meets Michael's eyes for a moment, and the emotions are almost too much to keep inside. Alex feels like he's going to burst. Michael is alive. The man he's missed so much that he would have ended his life, had the Musketeers not given him a purpose again.

Michael takes a step back and looks toward the King, who nods.

“You will duel here,” he says. “The two of you are likely the best swordsmen in my kingdom. This should be entertaining. Please refrain from killing each other, though. Although my court may well be bloodthirsty enough to enjoy the show, I have uses for both of you.”

Michael bows deeply, and Alex scrambles to do the same. His leg gives out of under him, and Liz has to hold him up as he straightens again.

“Elizabeth and Maria will serve as my seconds,” he says when he's balanced again, waving at his friends. “Who are yours?”

“Oh, I was hoping for sweet Maria,” Michael tilts his head. “Are you as good with the sword as you are in bed?”

Alex looks at Maria in shock.

“I didn't know who he was,” she whispers hurriedly. “It was just a drunken hookup.”

“I know Michael,” Alex murmurs back. “He's a charmer alright, but he didn't approach you by chance. He was fishing for information.”

Maria frowns in anger. “I'll stay with my friends, thank you,” she shouts across the field.

“Then, will my King allow his daughter to second me?” Michael asks, bowing respectfully. “Obviously the heir cannot risk a hair on his head,” he adds with a smirk to Max.

“Did you have to make me second choice?” Isobel whines.

“You can never be a second choice, dear sister,” Michael assures.

It's only then, that the King's proclamation from earlier makes it to Alex's brain. Michael is the King's son. How is it possible? A man who came to him poor and alone, with no family and no name, is the King's bastard? A man, as he discovered, convicted and branded for thievery?

Did Michael know his heritage, back when they were together? Did he hide that from Alex, too?

For the first time today, Alex looks over to the chair to Max's right, a little to the back, where his father sits. Jesse Manes gives him back an enigmatic look. Alex has no way to know if he knew about this, if he knew that Michael was alive and who he was this whole time. He closes his eyes in dismay.

“I will allow it,” the King says. “Now prepare yourself.”

“Alex,” Liz shakes his good shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? You don't look good.”

“I'll be fine,” Alex says. He doesn't know if that's true. He's the one who taught Michael to fence, and even back then, he was amazingly good at it. God only knows how much he's improved in the last ten years. And he's able-bodied and uninjured, while Alex can barely stay on his feet.

He's read to be beaten, though. It's only what he deserves.

He removes his sling, keeping his left arm close to his body. It's useless, but he needs to be able to move for balance. He gives Maria his hat and his blue uniform cape, and draws his sword. He'll give Michael a run for his money, if nothing else. Michael has always enjoyed the challenge.

Trying not to limp too much, Alex approaches Michael, in the middle of the field everyone else has vacated. They have an audience, a good portion of the court. Duels are a highly-valued form of entertainment to the noble class.

When he's close enough to Michael, he turns toward the King to bow deeply, then gives Michael a smaller bow, without taking his eyes off him. Michael returns it with a smirk.

“You look good in blue and leathers,” he says, low enough that only the two of them can hear.

“How are you alive, Michael?” Alex asks in the same tone.

“Not thanks to you,” Michael shrugs. “I've come for revenge. You had me hanged!”

Alex averts his eyes.

His father gave the order, when Michael was exposed as a thief and a fraud, and Alex wasn't strong enough to stop it.

That's why he joined the King's Musketeers. To become strong enough.

“Fight!” the King shouts.

Alex raises his sword.

I’ll be posting part 2 in the next few days, and then the new stuff Thursday or whenever I manage to finish it.

#roswell new mexico #alteraroswell2020 #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #whumptober2019 #alex whump #violence tw #blood tw #wound tw #mine #echo's fanfiction #musketeers au

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