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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

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Code Star

Summary: a code word you and Bucky share is used; but it’s not in a good way.

Warning: panic attack, ripping out hair, addiction(little bit)

Words: 2030

Masterlist!

"Agent. Agent. Copy agent?" Friday spoke through the speakers in your room, it was louder than normal and also in the middle of the night which was the reason you woke up with a gasp.

"C-copy," you spat out, you typically sleep with your mouth open, so it gets dry when you first wake.

"Mr. Barns is calling you, he says it's 'code star'." Your stomach dropped, from all the adrenaline from waking up with a scare and the code, you sprinted down the hall way.

It was late and you were in the kitchen, you were trying to separate from your sleeping pills because during your last mission you couldn't sleep because you forgot them, you were addicted to them. So you needed to take a step back, learn to fall asleep on your own.

After asking around there was a tea Wanda recommended, it was lavender tea and she said it's the best with honey. You were currently steeping your bag and had honey beside you.

You took the soggy bag out and turned to the compost bin, after dropping it in and turned around you almost slipped because Bucky was right there.

Standing frozen. Dead face. Staring at you.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You yelled, not caring if it woke someone up, "what's wrong with you?" You realized you clutched at your heart through your sweater.

He was on the other side of the island, but he seemed to be leaning over a bit, he looked down at your steaming mug and then back at you.

"I- I was going to say hi and then I liked the smell of your tea and then when you turned I looked up at you, I-I didn't mean to freak you out, that must have been really scary, sorry." He looked down into the cup again. "What is it?" He finally asked.

You let your guard down a bit, "lavender," you never looked away from him, "and honey." That was the most he'd ever said to you since he showed up two months ago, he stayed in his room the first month.

"Nice," he nodded, his metal arm coming up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"There's extra water, I can make you one." You knew he was going to ask for your cup, but you really need to hit the sack.

His face lit up in the dark, "perfect!" He half smiled.

You poured the other cup and steeped the another bag, then added honey as well. You both stayed where you were on either side of the island.

"Why are you up?" He asked while blowing on the tea, his voice was below normal level.

"Just can't sleep," you sigh and look over to the common room, no one was there but you really didn't want to meet his eyes.

"I get that," he spoke awkwardly and looked over as well, thinking you were studying something.

"I'm-...I'm trying to get if sleeping pills my shit therapist prescribed for me," you looked back at him, his eye brows raised and his head tilted forty-five degrees.

"Sleeping pills?"

"Insomnia."

"Oh..." he spoke to himself and looked down again, his thumb rubbing the smooth ceramic handle of the blue mug that wasn't his. "I get nightmares." He stated blankly, but he didn't look up at his statement.

"Is it..." you tried to find the right words to not trigger him, "before the war, like America...or later on…in life...?" You danced around the question, Steve had told you mentioning certain things can get Bucky really freaked out.

"My mind," he laughed sarcastically, "it likes to mix the two," he pulled one side of his mouth tight.

"Double-whammy," you whispered, then froze at the sound of a giggle, Bucky chuckled. "What?"

"No-I-I just...I get that reference," he seemed proud, his face seemed to fall quickly though, circling back, "my arm is weird, it's like my human arm but the star," he points to the red, "is like sewn in, I don't know what it means but..." he trialed off.

"Well, if you need help, just call a code star, I'll come to your room and bring you some tea, how about that?" You smile.

"What? Like a friend?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Okay," he smiled and nodded, "alright," his fingers drummed on the counter, "I'm gonna take this back to my room, but I'll remember that." He nodded and left, but caught himself at the corner to the rooms, "hey, agent," he spoke normal, you looked, "if you're gonna be my friend, don't ask 'what's wrong with me?', because trust me...I’ll talk you to your grave." He smirked.

“Noted, Sargent.” You’ve never seen him joke with you before, it felt comforting.

'Code star' had never been used for its newer purpose before, as the friendship and relationship grew 'code star' became 'code lavender', it happened after Bucky called 'code star' once while he was having a panic attack, you took so long to make the tea he was passed out by the time you showed up.

'Code lavender': make a tea, meet in the kitchen.

'Code star': panic attack, drop everything a come.

You sprinted down the hallway to the very last room, you could hear laboured breathing as you got closer. Typically you'd knock softly and come in quietly, not this time.

You whipped open the door to see Bucky staring slightly down on the edge of his bed, he was rocking back and forth as his fingers ripped and pulled on his long hair. His pupils blew wide and his lips curled causing his teeth to flash, he didn't even look up at you.

A loud bang from your knees hitting the hardwood didn't phase him either, you tired to duck down to meet his line of eye sight but you couldn't get down enough.

"Bucky, look at me!" You pulled his hands out of his hair, as you made him drop them to his side you found a pile of hair outside his thighs, "oh god," you whispered, your hand unlacing with his to pick up the locks, the free hand of his went straight back to tugging. "Don't do that, don't do that." You hushed and took it out again, a tuff came with it. "Bucky, look at me," you said calmer now, you needed to be the example. "Bucky, nod if you can hear me."

He didn't nod, his eyes stayed locked on your chest. They didn't move there, he was already looking there, it was like he was looking through you.

You kept his hands clumped in your right hand and your left hand began to trace around his face, starting at his cheeks that were dry, little circles led to cross the bridge the nose a couple times. You also started humming, a song you heard Bucky and Steve sing once while drunk and having fun.

His eye brows seemed to raise for a second at the tune, but he quickly fell back into his short shallow breathes. You kept going, your finger gently tracing his cleft chin, it was always something you pinched when joking around with him.

"Wake up, Bucky," you whispered after finishing the song, you started the tune again. His breathing seemed to slow a little and his almost black eyes moved around a bit, "there you go," you cupped his cheek, now just shifting your thumb back and forth. You didn't know if he'd start to pull his hair out again so you kept both the metal and flesh hand covered with your left.

His breathing went to normal, his rib cage expanding wide as he took voluntary breathes. His eyes were shut tight but you felt him lean into your hand that was still holding his cheek.

"Are you with me?" You asked softly, he leaned into your hand again, his hand slowly made it up to his face and he placed his hand over yours, gently guiding it down to his lips; his kisses to your palm were long and filled with their own language.

"I'm here," his voice cut out and became a breath, but you heard him. His eyes looked up before his head moved, he locked eyes with you and something changed.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time, eyes a little wide and confused; but knowing at the same time. They became misty the more he looked, he was never one to cry so he dropped his head to cover the tears.

"It's okay," you hushed, he dropped your hand and leaned forward, basically throwing his entire body weight onto you. You fell back to the floor and he cried in your chest, you saw some of his hair fall with him. "Let it out," your arms wrapped around him and began to rub all along his back, huge, gentle, soothing rubs.

"I-I killed you all," his voice sounded like a dog panting from his short breathes that came when he talked, "I- couldn't s-stop," his 's' slithered like snakes as he tries get sufficient air and talk.

"We're all here, just a dream." It was the same mantra, "we're all here, you're safe, it was a nightmare, you're out of it now. There you go, big breathes, you're doing great, you're a pro at this, keep breathing." You let the broken record play, he seemed to get smaller at every praise.

He sat up and leaned against the bed, Bucky pulled his sleeve around his fist to hold it tight. When he wiped his face it was aggressive, like he was mad at himself. He just stared at you like he always did, you were alway involved in his dreams so he needed to look at you to stay grounded.

"Sorry," his 's' still slurred, "I-...I'm sorry," he wanted to say something else, you could hear it in his tone. His head dropped, Bucky almost fell over at the sight of his hair, "did I do that?" He asked, his nose turned up.

All you did was nod, any verbal answer would've sounded almost grossed out or accusatory. He sighed and looked between the hair and you, he wanted to say something, he'd already stopped himself once.

"Tell me," you whispered.

"I want to cut my hair," Bucky responded softly, "I-I also want to sleep on the floor from now own." He seemed ashamed of the second ask.

"You like the cold?" You tried to figure him out.

"That and it's...comforting...I think," Bucky scratched his head, his metal hand slowing at the thin spot from tugging, "it just grounds me, I'm not used to fluffy things- nicer things."

"How about a mattress pad, you're back will scream at you in the morning." You tried to lighten the mood, he smiled a bit and then nodded. "How about you come sleep in my room tonight, just so I can keep an eye on you and if you want to sleep on my firm mattress you can hop on, how's that?" You stood and held your hand out, Bucky nodded and clapped his metal hand to yours.

You led him down the hallway and to your room, it was really quiet and almost off putting. You slept barefoot so the sound of soft footsteps from your feet was the only thing you heard, Bucky wore socks.

He went straight to your bed and felt the mattress, both hands pressing down on it to see the give it has. You felt a little happy when he was nodding in a positive way; his bottom lip also pouted out.

Bucky slipped in and you joined as well, he stayed still for a while, on his back and staring at the ceiling.

"Y'know, you can cuddle," you whispered, without another second to blink Bucky's face rested on your chest, his arm circled your body completely in a tight hug. Your hands found their way to his back and to his hair, softly lulling him to sleep, "I'll cut your hair in the morning."

"Love you," he murmured.

#bucky barns fluff #bucky oneshot #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #fatws bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barns

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saanphoenix · 4 years

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“Why do so many old-school FFVII fans think that Cloud took Zack’s memories?”

Alright, so first things first. We gotta start from the beginning. We gotta start with Jenova.

Jenova is the name given to the alien entity known as the Calamity. “Heaven’s dark harbinger.” This being, assumed to be female because of the body she was in at the Crater, was basically godlike in her natural abilities. Historically, she was able to shapeshift. She was telepathic. She had a nigh indomitable will. And she used her abilities to infect the race of human(oid)s that happened upon her crash site--the Cetra.

Now, Ifalna, within the English translation of the OG, states that Jenova turned the Cetra into monsters, nearly wiping them all out, and that the wee few that remained basically had to be sacrificed to seal Jenova away before she could do anymore damage to all life on the planet. The notes Sephiroth finds within the Shinra Mansion seem to corroborate this version of events, as he tells Zack that the Cetra chose to fight the Calamity while the other humans “hid”, thus being spared Jenova’s shenanigans, allowing them to become the dominant race on the planet, but ultimately being cowards unworthy to be the shepherds of any star, to quote Emet-Selch from FFXIV. Stay with me now.

We also know that the notes Sephiroth reads within the Shinra Mansion do not, in any way, call Jenova the Calamity. They still refer to her as a Cetra. Meaning that those notes are outdated, before the discovery of a living Cetra, a Cetra who is 2000 years removed from her own people’s history. Right? So.

(’Ah, but what about Genesis point-blank telling Sephiroth the truth? He knew what was up!’ Yes, because Hollander and Hojo found out from Gast’s recordings, and Ifalna herself, what Jenova actually was, and then Hollander told Genesis, who then said some stupid ass shit to trigger Sephiroth into looking into the wrong information, and now Nibelheim is not Nibelheim anymore and Cloud is missing one more family member than he was when he joined Shinra. Also, fuck Genesis. Anyway.)

HOJO, yeah? Hojo, in two separate novels written by Nojima himself, states to Aerith and Tseng separately that Jenova 1) will inevitably infect all life on the planet with her “cells” because of the very nature of the Lifestream and 2) turned the Cetra against each other via subtle manipulation and illusions of their loved ones, dead or alive, conceived from their own memories. She didn’t show up looking like the Eldritch horror with the eyeball nipple, she showed up looking like a run-of-the-mill Cetra. And she would further disguise herself as people a Cetra knew in order to gain their trust. And then, after she had gained that trust, she would say shit like, “Hey. Your friend over there hates you,” or, “Hey. Your friend over there wants to kill you.” And thus the Cetra, at the very least morally but probably also physically, became monsters and tore themselves apart.

You ever wonder why everything the Cetra had was booby-trapped and hidden behind riddles and self-sacrificial bullshit like their Temple? My guess is because Jenova made it so they couldn’t trust anyone, even themselves.

“Why did I read all that? What does that have to do with Cloud voring Zack’s memories?”

Because we gotta understand the mechanics of this bitch first so that we know what to look out for.

Now, we have an alien in stasis--presumed dead but definitely not--and a buncha scientists who really want a coveted spot sucking President Shinra’s dick as head of the Science Dept. who all think that taking the genetic material of a Cetra and splicing it into a modern-day human’s DNA will give them a Geiger counter to the Promised Land. Which they want to use as fuel because only some of them really understand what mako is and the others are just fucking stupid. Anyway, my guess is that they archeology their way to Jenova’s still-kinda-alive corpse and do some DNA testing and go, “Ah! We’ve found a Cetra. It has to be one! She’s by the crater, after all, and that’s where some of them were nuked by a Meteor! :) We’re geniuses!” And Jenova, in the Lifestream, went, “GOTCHA, BITCH!”

And through the power of dino DNA, out pops a lot of nonviable lifeforms, some monsters, and, eventually, a relatively normal kid with a flare for the dramatic who will become wholly obsessed with apples and very boring literature that he will insist on repeating every five goddamn seconds. As he was no Geiger counter to the Promised Land, out pops another relatively normal kid who will grow up to have dreams, and honor, and steal food from his neighbors because he was so damn honorable that he just could not ask for a handout.

With Hollander and Gillian’s experiments not producing anything of note other than children that need love and support, Hojo and Lucrecia decide to take a slightly different sample of Jenova’s cells and just start sticking them everywhere. They’re in Lucrecia. They’re in Lucrecia’s fetus. And...something strange starts to happen.

Lucrecia starts to feel the effects of Jenova. Lucrecia’s mind and body start to kind of deteriorate. Not the way that Genesis’ and Angeal’s do later on, but she is plagued by shit like severe depression and fatigue. She falls out on the floor multiple times. Her bodyguard is a little late on pulling the trigger of the gun aimed at her husband and, instead of doing anything productive about her husband proving he’s an amoral murderous fuckhead, she just decides to play doll with her kinda undead bodyguard, get even sicker, and then, finally, pops out a very strange looking baby. In fact, he looks a little alien.

“No, seriously, what does this have to do with anything?”

Genetics. How Jenova cells work. Whatever clump of cells they injected into Lucrecia, clearly different from those used in Project G, seemed to focus more on the mental fuckery aspect of Jenova than the physical, shapeshifting aspect of Jenova. I would also argue that one of the reasons Lucrecia was so adversely affected by the cells and Gillian was not is their mental well-being. Gillian, even when we meet her, seems very upbeat and doing pretty okay despite her husband having died from exhaustion a coupla years back. Lucrecia was depressed and very subservient even before she married Hojo. Losing her mentor--Vincent’s father--probably exacerbated that. And, later in Advent Children, that sort of mentality--hopelessness and despair--is what Sephiroth’s Geostigma feeds off of. That and thoughts of death/dying. But that is more speculation than anything.

So, Sephiroth’s cells are different from Genesis’ and Angeal’s, and they were all three bred differently, but they’re all kinda chimeras of Jenova’s. And once Genesis learns about his origins, it’s like the lightbulb goes off. This guy’s creating clones by infecting his 2nd and 3rd Class SOLDIERs with his own cells. And when he does that, their physical appearance becomes his own. As does their will. Whatever Genesis wants, the clones also want. And then he just grows a wing for shits and giggles. Once he tells his BFF Angeal the sitch, behold! He’s got monster clones--maybe because he realizes how fucked up overwriting a human being with yourself is--and wings, too. ...Why?

The power to do all of this shit was always there. It was genetically always there. They just had to be made aware of it, to have the puzzle piece put into place. When Sephiroth dies, that puzzle piece is put into place. And then he starts fuckin’ with shit. And turns into monstrous angels. And then dies again. And then comes back and finally grows himself his own wing. He did it, fellas. He’s a big boy now.

But we’re not here to talk about Sephiroth--ignore how much I talked about Sephiroth and his mommies previously--we’re here to talk about ZACK and CLOUD.

“What’s up with Zack and Cloud?”

First, what we must realize is that even though Hojo says that both Zack and Cloud are failed clones because they 1) didn’t take on any physical characteristics of Sephiroth, 2) didn’t seem controlled by Jenova (or Sephiroth) and, 3) didn’t exhibit the other signs of a Reunion impulse like the other clones in Nibelheim that does not mean that Sephiroth’s cells, Jenova’s cells, are not working on them.

As we’ve observed in other 1sts, abilities do not always manifest immediately or even noticeably. Clearly, Sephiroth’s physical appearance is a bit of a hint, but Genesis and Angeal look pretty damn normal and, if it weren’t for their mako injections, they probably wouldn’t be showing that much of an increase in physical capabilities. Theoretically. Maybe 10-year-old Angeal had biceps the size of a man’s head. I mean. Pff.

Zack’s tolerance to Jenova was strong due to his previous exposure in the SOLDIER program. Cloud’s mind broke pretty early on. Neither of these results matter to the fact that they both now have Sephiroth’s cells within them--just as Genesis’ and Angeal’s clones had theirs--and that their very wills are now going to be affected by Sephiroth’s. But they are also going to be a little bit like him in terms of power.

Zack’s hair, when ingested by a Genesis clone, a clone of a Type-G SOLDIER, transforms that clone into a monster. Zack doesn’t even have to do anything. The Jenova/Sephiroth cells within his body can just Do That, cause that change in another life form, of their own accord. I’m honestly shocked that, whenever they gave Zack these S-cells, HE didn’t turn into a monster. But that’s neither here nor there. I wanna talk about Cloud.

Cloud has mako poisoning, which the Remake describes as his spirit/soul being stuck between his body and the Lifestream. Weird. Anyway, he’s not fully aware of his surroundings at all times, and he clearly can’t control his body that much. He somehow has the ability to kinda get his feet shuffling, and I’m going to go on a limb and say he can chew whatever food Zack gives him, but most of the time, he’s a puppet with cut strings.

But he is also still recovering from a mind break caused by Jenova cells. The same cells that are just chilling in his body, like they are in Zack’s. And all the months Zack is dragging his ass across a continent, an ocean, and another continent, they and Cloud are listening to whatever the fuck Zack is saying. Cloud is also constantly in physical contact with Zack.

In The Kids Are Alright: A Turks Side Story, Kadaj has the power to not only read surface thoughts and memories just by being near someone, but he can also read deeper ones by making physical contact with someone. Because Jenova. And Sephiroth, whose cells Cloud and Zack have, in the OG demonstrates that he, too, can glean thoughts and memories from others. Because Jenova.

If this power is a genetic trait, as it is with Genesis and Angeal, then, sitting pretty underneath their skin, Zack and Cloud have this ability. Dormant. Snoozing. Kinda like the 1st Class Trio’s wings.

But Zack has a high tolerance and a high ignorance to Jenova and just what he might be capable of. Cloud’s mind is floating in and out at best. He’s not in control of himself. And when you have a situation like that, it is very, very easy to come to the conclusion that Cloud’s Jenova cells are passively absorbing the memories of Zack’s time in Nibelheim. That they are knitting these memories together with what little remain in Cloud’s head. That when Tifa comes across Cloud at the train station and calls him by name and remembers who he is that Cloud’s Jenova cells latch onto those memories in Tifa--as Sephiroth tells them they did--and they knit those memories with Zack’s and Cloud’s and the end result is the man we get at the beginning of the OG.

Because Cloud has visual memory of shit he never saw. It’s not just a visual medium telling a visual story. You wanna know how I know that for a fact? Because, in the Remake, Cloud remembers Sephiroth walking up to Jenova’s tank in the reactor from Sephiroth’s perspective. He is looking through Sephiroth’s eyes, through his memory, up at “Mother.” In that moment in the Remake, Cloud is Sephiroth. He’s not Cloud anymore.

Cloud sees Sephiroth delivering the speech of being an Ancient. Cloud wasn’t there. Cloud didn’t see that. Zack did. That is Zack’s memory.

The man writing the Remake is the same man who’s been at the head of MOST FFVII writing. He was on the OG, he wrote Advent Children, he wrote the novels, he wrote Crisis Core, he’s writing the Remake. He knows what these cells can do because he’s crafted this world-building for decades.

Cloud didn’t take all of Zack’s memories. He didn’t need to. Kadaj, in the novel, doesn’t glean everything from someone right off the bat. Because he doesn’t need to. Only when he needs to learn something else does he go digging. The same is probably true for what Cloud’s cells most likely did to be able to know what he knows. Hell! Kadaj gets punched in the novel and he ACCIDENTALLY picks up the emotions and memories of the guy who punched him. He didn’t want ‘em but he got ‘em!”

There is evidence within the OG, and even more within the Compilation, that lend weight to the theory that Cloud unintentionally read Zack’s mind when it came to the events of Nibelheim.

For years, people have wondered, “How the hell does Cloud know that if he wasn’t there?” For years, people have wondered, “How can he use the Buster Sword if he was just a little grunt that used a gun all the time?” The logical answer is, “Because of his Jenova cells. They can just do that shit.”

#long post #ffvii #ffvii spoilers #zack fair #cloud strife #jenova #sephiroth #jesus christ i wrote a novel

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nanaminsonyfans · 4 years

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Between Worlds; Chapter One

Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I really appreciate all the world of encouragement from all of you. This is the first chapter, I am very proud of this one, it was about four pages long in my google doc so have fun with that info! This is about 1634 words in it. I think I should just put this here, there will always possibly be mild language. I do not own any of these characters. Please enjoy this chapter!

i do not own this gif

y/n = your name

"Black snow?” You ask confused, your head still foggy. Then the smell of smoke triggered your memory. Black snow. “Fire Nation…” You spoke breathlessly and pulled your hand away from Appa. “You’re right.” Katara said, “They might’ve seen the glow when I bent you out.” Oh yeah. You remembered now. “I’m y/n...and you are Katara and Sokka yes?” You said smiling warmly. “Uhh how would you know that?” The snarky voice of Sokka spoke.

Shit.

“Uh..haha I’m the avatar duh! I know everything haha..” You say, trying to convince yourself more than them. “Right.” Katara said giving you a motherly smile that made you feel safe. “We better get going then.” You said as you climbed up on Appa. “Well? Hop on we’ll get there faster.” You gave them a childish grin, earning a soft giggle from Katara. Once the two siblings climbed up on the flying bison, you spoke the magic words.

“Appa! Yip yip!”

It felt amazing to say that, you always wanted to say that. You used to run around yelling ‘yip yip’ when you were younger. It was a fond memory but, those memories seemed so distant now, you felt conflicted. You tried to remember your mother’s face. You couldn’t. ‘Why can’t I remember my mother?’ You blinked back tears, they felt like icicles against your skin. You let go of the reins on Appa to wipe your eyes as you sniffled to hide the tears.

Katara moved to the edge of the saddle to look over at you. Your h/c hair blew in the wind as Appa landed behind the village. “Hey...y/n, are you okay?” She asked softly placing a hand on your shoulder before you slid down. “Hmm?” You processed what she said, leaving your little world. “Oh yes. I’m fine. Just...how long was I out?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to seem clueless.

“One hundred years.” Sokka spoke with a bit of resentment in his voice. “Oh. That’s a long time huh?” You asked yourself more than them. “Appa lay down. We don’t want anyone to see you, okay buddy?” You said softly jumping back up to the saddle to grab your glider. The black snow seemed to fall in thicker clumps. They were getting close. You knew how this went. You’d have to fight the Fire Nation, fight Zuko. You gulped. ‘Put on a happy face.’ You thought to yourself.

“Let’s go to the village. Everyone will be excited to see you!” Katara spoke happily, grabbing your hand as she ran in. Sokka followed, a bunch of children running to him with snowballs. You let out a soft giggle and followed Katara. She introduced you to everyone, it was a fairly small village, but the people seemed happy.

“This is my gran-gran.” Katara said gesturing to an old woman with grey hair and tanned skin, much like Katara. You bowed, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said in a respectful tone. “Oh dear, it’s alright. I’m honored to be able to live long enough to see you.” The grandmother spoke softly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Though, we all thought you were a male.” You turned pale, this has to be a dream. Your head started to hurt.

“Excuse me, Katara is there anywhere I could lay down for a while? I think I’m getting a literal brain freeze.” You smiled weakly rubbing your temples. “Oh! Of course, I’m sorry. I should have thought about this before. Follow me.” Katara leads you to a small igloo with a thin cot. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit.” She smiled sweetly and walked out. As soon as she left you pinched your arm.

“Ow!” You hissed quietly. You always heard that if you’re lucid dreaming, you can’t feel pain. You can feel it. Oh no. If you were stuck here...you would feel the lightening from Azula when she almost killed Aang. That was the most memorable moment for you. You gulped hugging your knees to your chest as cold tears rolled down your rosy cheeks. The scent of smoke was getting more forceful as it entered your lungs. You coughed before you heard the sound of something heavy slamming down on land. “Shit.” You murmured standing up.

“Where is the avatar?!” You recognized that voice, it was commanding yet, had so much hurt behind it. You swooned slightly at the fact that you could see Zuko face to face. Not just through your screen. Katara ran into the igloo in an erratic state. “They’re here to take you, so don’t go out.” She said pushing you deeper into the home. “Katara, I am the avatar. I can handle a few soldiers.” You narrowed your eyes at the other girl. “It’s the prince of the fire nation-” She was cut short by a few screams of children. “Katara, I’m not letting your people get killed.” You said sternly, gripping your glider tightly as you walked out. Your grip was so tight your knuckles turned white, blending in with the snow as you stalked over to him.

Prince Zuko.

As much as it hurt your heart, you had to do this. You let out a deep exhale, leaving a foggy cloud in return. “Leave them alone.” You glared at the teenage boy across from you. Zuko whipped around with a snarl. “The avatar...is a woman?” He hissed then laughed. “We were all told you were a man. This will be the last time you ever surprise me.” He growled staring at you as a small smirk formed. You twirled your staff like glider around your fingers. “Let’s make a deal, Prince Zuko.” You said as you started to walk in a circle, him following suit, eyes fixated on yours.

“What type of deal.” He spoke in a demanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. You smirked and blew a gust of wind at him, knocking him down. “If I win, you leave this water tribe and never come back, but if you win...I’ll go with you.” You sighed softly. “Deal?” Zuko got up with a hateful glare at you. Man, if looks could kill, he certainly would have slaughtered you. “Deal.” He growled kicking a wave of fire at you.

You let out a small yelp and backflipped away. You started to pant and sweat. Good Airbenders can control their body temperature right? You cleared your head as well as taking a deep breath then sent another gust of wind. It came so naturally to you, and it felt exhilarating. Zuko kicked multiple waves of fire at you, you dodging each one. He screamed in frustration and let out a punch of fire at you, getting closer as well. You exhaled bending back to dodge him, as well as tripping him with your staff. “Stupid Avatar!” He yelled irritated, good. You had to let him catch you. Zuko ended up tackling you, pinning you to the ground. Guards started to walk off the ship to assist him with you.

Zuko’s cheeks flushed pink by being so close to a female, especially a strong one...He gulped which was only noticeable to you as the guards grabbed you. The cold made everyone’s noses and cheeks pink, so he had an excuse right? Wrong. Firebenders have a warmer body temperature than anyone else. You noticed and tinted a light shade of pink as well. “Ahem- Take her to the ship!” He barked his orders and followed behind the guards that were carrying you. “Y/n no!” Sokka and Katara yelled from the village.

‘Y/n? What a stunning name…” Zuko thought, absentmindedly of course. He shook his head and turned to you, tied up against a pole on the first floor of the ship. He walked over too you examining your staff. “Hey! Give that back!” You screamed in anger as Zuko took away your staff glider. He smirked and handed it to Iroh, your eyes following it. You normally wouldn’t care for an object, but you felt a deep connection with it. “Take this to my chambers-” “Oh, I’d like to take you to your chambers!” You hissed at Zuko, you meant it to be scary and intimidating. It wasn’t. If anything it was pathetic, earning the prince to turn red as everyone laughed at you and him. “I’ll take care of it myself.” He hissed grabbing the staff and marching away, disappearing into the dark metal cavern.

You let out an irritated sigh blowing a strand of hair out of your face. You glanced around, seeing the old man. You smiled softly remembering how kind and loving he is. As you closed your eyes and relaxed your body, you knew what you must do. The ship shook as a powerful gust of wind went through the ship. It all happened in a blur to anyone but you.

Your body seemed to fly through the ship making a beeline for the prince’s chambers. You busted through, the metal door crashing down onto the floor. Alarms rang out making your head pound seemingly to the rhythm of the sirens. You groaned and grabbed the staff from Zuko forcefully. “Don’t you ever take something from a lady again.” You glared before leaving to the bow of the ship. You whistled calling for Appa.

You heard his call back and saw a gust of loose snow as he took off. You could see two figures on his saddle, you smiled to yourself. “Woah! Slow down there buddy!” You heard Sokka scream in a panic. You used your glider to fly up, the air hitting your face, it felt good. You landed safely on Appa’s head, holding onto the reins. “Hey there big guy.” You cooed as he flew through the air, he groaned in response to you. “Hey Y/N?” Katara asked in a motherly tone, you turned around. “Yes?” You gave her a childish grin yet again.

“Where are we going?”

“The Southern Air Temple.”

A/N: I really hope you like this chapter! I worked really hard on this and i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do!

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solastia · 4 years

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Abandoned homeless golden retriever hybrid Namjoon x Reader. 🥺

This was it. Today was the day you were finally going to get close to him.

You’ve been noticing a hybrid around the park the past few weeks and - while that itself wasn’t strange - the lack of any owners around or even a different set of clothes on the hybrid was. He’d been wearing that same pair of torn jeans and long stained blue shirt the entire two weeks you’ve seen him during your daily walks.

Homeless, then.

You’d felt guilty every time you’d gone home without saying a word to him, so you’d decided to try today.

You’d stopped by the convenience store first and grabbed a few things that you might be able to tempt him with and packed it all up like you were just going on a picnic and maybe got too much for one person. Easy to pull off without offending his pride, you thought.

You walked down the park path, basket swinging on your arm as you look around for the hybrid. He normally hung around the bike path, watching as everyone went past. Sure enough, you caught sight of him in his usual spot, a bench near a clump of giant bushes that you were pretty certain he’d been using as his shelter at night. His eyes were always trained on the front of the path like he was waiting for someone. His blonde hair that matched his ears and tail was looking even dirtier than it had before. But still, always in the same spot looking for someone.

So, most likely abandoned.

You sigh quietly to yourself, hating the faceless person that would treat anyone like that, hybrid or not.

Right next to the blanket is a wide open patch of grass and that is where you are staging your rescue today. Once you’re close enough, you send him a quick polite smile and promptly turn away like you’d barely even noticed him. You set down your basket and open the lid, pulling out your big blanket. You hum to yourself as you lay it out and sit down on it, ruffling around the basket some more.

You sneak a quick peek over at him and almost laugh when you notice his nose twitching like crazy, although he’s still facing the main entrance. He’s also got an ear aimed right at you.

You pull out one of the lunchboxes you’d picked up, tearing off the plastic top with an exaggerated sniff and sigh of contentment. The beef is still slightly steaming and you shove a bit in your mouth.

“Oh man. Nothing like a good dosirak and a bit of nature, you know?” you exclaim, looking over at the hybrid right as you take a huge bite of kimbap.

He gulps audibly, sneaking furtive glances at your full cheeks. You swear you even heard his tummy rumble.

“Hey, you allergic to anything? They had a buy one get one free deal, and that is wayyy too much food for me. You can have it if you want,” You grin and pull the other bento out of your basket, holding it out to him.

He’s finally turned fully towards you, glancing between you and the proffered tray.

“Really?” he finally mumbles, his voice much deeper than you’d anticipated.

“Really. You could even sit here with me and keep me company. I feel silly trying to picnic by myself, but it was just so nice outside I couldn’t help myself.”

He moves like you’re going to change your mind at any second, but he slowly comes down from his bench and sits carefully on the blanket. You hand him the lunchbox, noting how much his hand is trembling. Poor baby.

It’s clear that he would love nothing more than to shove his whole face into the food and hoover it up, but he eats carefully. Probably a good thing considering how long it’s probably been since he’s had such rich food.

You grab one of the big water bottles and set it next to him.

“Something to wash it down.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, shyly setting the tray on his lap to guzzle down the water greedily.

“You’re welcome. Hey, not to be nosy but are you here by yourself?”

His eyes flick back towards the park entrance, then they fall back to the food in his lap.

“Yes.”

“I see,” you say softly. You sigh, and bump his leg with your knee. “You know they aren’t coming back, right?”

He visibly droops, his ears falling flat against his head and his tail dragging in the ground. “I know.”

You nod and exhale loudly. “Well, I happen to have a spare bedroom. You could stay there in exchange for chores until you figure out what you want to do.”

“You don’t even know me. Maybe I’m a bad dog and that’s why he left me here,” he murmurs quietly, a tear building in one of his eyes.

“First of all, you’re not a dog. You’re a hybrid, meaning you can be treated as human as anyone else. Secondly, even if you were a jackass it’s still not okay to leave you on your own like this. It’s messed up and I really want to punch them.”

His lips tilt in a tiny shy smile at that, like he almost wants to laugh but doesn’t think he should. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

He blushes and tugs his tail to him with a nervous smile. “Namjoon.”

“Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. There, now we know each other. I live about five minutes away from here. Wanna help me pack this up and we can head home? You can shower and take a nap, then maybe we’ll go grab you some clothes because you’re too giant for mine.”

He nods and helps you pack up, insisting on holding the basket himself.

“Alright,” you grin up at him, looping your arm through his. “Let’s go home, Namjoon.”

The two adorable dimples that appear on his face make everything worth it.

#Anonymous #bts #namjoon #drabble #bts drabble #hybrid #namjoon scenario #hybrid!namjoon #I almost want to make this a series #should I?

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supercasey · 4 years

Text

Dumb thoughts on the Child Avatars AU

I dunno, just some dumb ideas I’ve had since I started talking about the AU online/brainstorming about it. (Putting it under a readmore for everyone’s sake)

The “Daisy kidnaps Jon” situation in this AU is Daisy riding her bike to Simon Fairchild’s mansion, holding a water-gun up to both Mike and Jon’s heads, and ordering them to ride with her to the grocery store to buy soda and hang out at a nearby playground for the day. Cue Elias flipping tf out when Jon isn’t at Simon’s place when he goes to pick him up later, Simon being half asleep because he was napping while the kids hung out, and Mike getting soaked by Daisy before he agrees to go with her, and since this happens in, like, late fall or early winter, he gets pneumonia afterwards and can’t hang out for awhile, leading to the kids jokingly saying he’s dead. Btw the only reason the trio was found is because Basira was invited after they made it to the park, and she convinced Daisy to let the boys go home. Daisy literally only kidnapped them because she wanted to play with someone.

Also the Buried!Daisy arc is Daisy getting eaten by a Buried controlled sandbox and Jon jumping in after her. The rest of the kids, who thankfully witnessed this, spent the next three hours digging for them, with Breekon & Hope eventually joining in to help since they were in the area. Daisy and Jon form a trauma bond afterwards and are now best friends.

Jon keeps getting marked by shit and it’s stressing Elias out because hE’S NOT READY FOR THE WATCHER’S CROWN YET!!! He needs more time to prepare, but his son is literally getting marked faster than fucking Sonic.

Speaking of Sonic, seeing as the “Console Wars” (Sega vs Nintendo) are happening during this time period, the kids take the rivalry Very Seriously. The biggest arguments are had between Sasha, Daisy, Julia, and Mike, who are all on Team Sega, and Jon, Martin, Tim, and Danny, who are all on Team Nintendo.

Sasha, close to tears she’s so angry: “Sega DO what NintenDON’T, Tim!!!”

When Martin was born, he only had one thick clump of curly hair that was white, but as he’s grown older and entered the Lonely multiple times, more of his hair has begun to turn white. As of the time of the AU “starting” (so when he’s 8 years old), he looks like he has white highlights in his hair.

Trevor isn’t a fully-fledged Hunt avatar yet, but the girls more or less are, so if you’ve ever watched Wolf Children, that’s pretty much the situation Trevor is currently trapped in. His daughters keeping changing into wolf pups and running wild as he frantically tries to hide their powers from anyone who isn’t Gerry.

(All of the kids secretly know already, even Basira.)

Basira is pretty much the only “normal” kid of the avatar children, save MAYBE for Tim, but he’s been deeply marked by the circus and has a few tiny powers (think S3 Jon as he was figuring out some of his powers, but wasn’t a full-on Archivist just yet).

The season 1 gang (including Danny) are the closest group of friends in the AU, save for Daisy and Basira’s friendship, and they hang out a lot at each other’s homes on the weekends.

Adelard usually brings Jane with him for his “trips” away from the institute, so it’s not unusual for her to be gone for long periods of time. But she always sends postcards and gifts to the institute for everyone!

Helen is three years old, so theoretically she should be able to talk, but she rarely does so, preferring to communicate via giggles and laughter. Only Jon, the Stoker brothers, and Michael can understand her, and they take turns translating for everyone else.

Whenever she’s brought to the institute, Helen takes to toddling around after Jon and Martin, giggling up a storm the whole time. Jon finds it a bit annoying while Martin is endlessly amused by her antics.

A list of the guardian’s/adult’s ages before I fucking forget (as of when the AU “starts” in 1994): Gertrude Robinson - 62, Elias Bouchard “Jonah Magnus” - 51 (200+), Peter Lukas - 55, Simon Fairchild - 83 (300+), Gerard “Gerry” Keay - 30, Michael Shelley - 32, Alfred Grifter - Unknown, Adelard Dekker - 48, Nikola Orsinov - 30ish (100+), Annabelle Cane - 34 (Unknown), Trevor Herbert - 47, Agnes Montague - 25ish (60+), Jude Perry - 35, Jared Hopworth - 29, The Admiral - 10.

The “good” parents all keep trying to set up some kind of PTA meeting so they can actually talk about how to raise these supernatural kids properly, but it keeps going horribly wrong; last time they tried, Alfred Grifter and his band showed up and nearly made Simon go deaf, so no one wants to initiate the next attempt at a meeting.

Tbh, at this point the Fear rituals are more successful than Elias’s shitty attempts at forming a PTA.

At some point in the AU Gerry, Michael, and Trevor all pitch in to buy a decently big house together, which leads to some serious Shenanigans now that Melanie is around Michael and Trevor’s kids/wards... let’s just say there’s gonna be a lot of knife related accidents.

Gerry taught Melanie how to fight when he took her in and it is the single worst decision he’s ever made in his short, goth life, even if he’ll never admit it. Melanie can now beat the shit out of everyone but Julia and Daisy, and it’s pure chaos every time. Tim puts up a decent fight, but he’s been spoiled on easy wins over his brother all his life. Jon tries and fails to so much as push her. Martin runs away crying before Melanie even throws the first punch. Needless to say, the other kids are very cautious about playing with Melanie now.

None of the kids have an education of any kind except for Mike. I’m serious; the only kid who’s decently educated is being raised by Foxy Grandpa Off His Shits McGee! Julia and Daisy have had some public education but not much, Elias refuses to do anything but home-school Jon yet he sucks shit at math, Tim and Danny don’t even know what a school fucking looks like, Melanie and Jane were too young to go to school when they became avatars, Martin has only recently been allowed near other kids so fuck public school (Peter can do math but Nothing Else), Annabelle fucking forgot to give Sasha any kind of an education outside of Web stuff, and Helen is still a very small child. None of these kids have gone to school for more than a few years at most and dear g-d is that gonna suck for them later down the line.

As a result of this, Basira has taught the other kids a few things when she’s come over and insisted on playing “school” with everyone, but she’s still just a kid and can’t always get them to pay attention during her lessons.

Because of this Rosie, Gerry, Michael, and Gertrude have all started making an effort to more or less home-school all of the kids, which has gone... well enough, I suppose. However, things have recently taken a weird turn since Jon keeps giving everyone the answers to assignments/tests via telepathy.

Jon: Whoa, you can make tea all by yourself, Martin!? Martin: Yeah, I’ve been doing it by myself since I was a toddler. I can also do laundry, mop floors, vacuum, and cook a few things, too! Tim: Wow, that’s really cool, Martin! I wish I could do stuff like that. Gertrude, off to the side: *Gives Peter a horrified look* I’m sorry, but did Martin just say he’s been making tea on his own since he was a toddler? Peter: ╮(╯ _╰ )╭ Unfortunately, I’m severely depressed.

Yeeeeeeeah, Martin’s in a similar childhood situation to his canon one, but at least there are people actually willing to help him out of it in this universe. Also, Peter will clean himself up at some point here, he’s just still dealing with more or less disowning himself from his family and learning hoe to not be so lonely.

Speaking Of Which, the Lukas family are pretty big antagonists in this AU, primarily through Peter’s mother (I’ll come up with a name for her later if I can’t find it on the wiki), who is trying to kidnap Martin and more or less feed him to the Lonely so Peter will get over his “childish feelings” and return to being her favorite child.

And yes, she DOES accidentally kidnap Jon instead at some point... this kid can literally not avoid getting kidnapped.

I like to think Mike and Julia are really good friends in this AU, being the closest in age and all. They hang out a lot since their dads are both so chill and won’t get upset about it, the two of them mostly just playing video games, watching movies, and biking around their respective neighborhoods together.

(Also they may or may not be responsible for a statement that involves a woman seeing a “flying wolf” passing over London... they’ve yet to confess to it, but Elias is dead certain they’re behind the incident.)

The worms incident is 100% Jane’s secret worm collection getting fucking loose... she was keeping them in the walls “for safe keeping” and No One Fucking Knew, not even Elias, until Jon saw a spider, punched the wall, and Revealed them.

Jon and Tim got their scars because Jane lost control of the worms and they burrowed into the kids. Cue a very panicked 999 call from someone in the institute and Child Services almost getting involved, but Elias managed to cover it up.

Afterwards, Jon is incredibly self-conscious about his worm scars, but Martin tells him “now we both have freckles!” and it honestly makes him feel a little better about the whole thing.

Also Adelard makes an effort to track down a child psychologist/counselor with institute ties so he can get Jane some therapy/help controlling her powers. He loves her to the moon and back, and he’s terrified of her getting traumatized by what she accidentally did.

During the incident, a Notthem gets loose from Artifact Storage and attacks Sasha, but seeing as Sasha is of the Web and the Notthem is connected to a Web artifact, it only manages to really hurt her, but thankfully not kill her. She ends up hospitalized for a few weeks, but comes out fine later on. The table mysteriously disappears afterwards, and no one knows if it was Gertrude or Annabelle’s doing, but either way, the kids never have to deal with a Notthem again.

At some point I wanna get into Jon’s paranoia in season 2 for this AU, but I’m considering changing it from being because of the Jane Prentiss issue to be because of Mr. Spider almost killing him. I dunno how exactly it’ll play out, but I think it has a lot of potential!

Okay, before I end this post full of weird rambling ideas for the AU, I wanna make a list of the powers that the kids have at the time of the story “starting”/the ones they develop down the line because Jonny Sims himself said that all avatars have different powers, and I really wanna infodump on my thoughts for the kids!

Current powers of Jonathan Sims-Bouchard: Can simply know things whenever he wants to (so long as the Eye lets him, but the Eye sometimes keeps him from knowing anything he isn’t mature enough to handle), can compel people to tell him things (the other kids are better at resisting it, and so are other people touched by the Eye), can survive on very little food if he’s fed mostly statements/other people’s trauma, can non-consensually feel the pain and emotions of the people around him, has some weak telepathy powers, and he can subconsciously summon tape recorders.

Future powers of Jonathan Sims-Bouchard: Increased healing abilities, can know most anything if he tries, ability to resist other Eye avatars’ compulsions, can survive purely off of statements/other people’s trauma, can choose whether or not to feel the pain and emotions of the people around him, has much stronger telepathy powers than before, can force himself into people’s minds and read their thoughts, and he can summon tape recorders at will (though some still show up without his knowledge sometimes).

Current powers of Martin Blackwood-Lukas: Can disappear into the Fog for several hours at a time (he cannot be seen by anyone but other Lonely avatars while in the fog), can summon clouds of fog that he can momentarily hide things in (including people), can “banish” most anyone into the fog, and has “Sea Captain Eyes” (he knows where the Tundra is at all times, and can lead someone to it without a map or compass).

Future powers of Martin Blackwood-Lukas: Can change his hair color at will (only to red, white, and a mix of the two colors), can see much better in the Fog and can find anyone he’s pushed into it, can more or less teleport using the Fog, and he has what’s more or less a pocket dimension of fog for storage/hiding his friends from danger (think the inside of Gems in Steven Universe).

Current powers of Tim Stoker-Orsinov: Can make small bipedal toys “come to life” for a few minutes at a time (they can’t talk or communicate; only move around and perform small tasks/dances), can tell when a Notthem is masquerading as someone else, is supernaturally talented at gymnastics, and can dance alongside the creatures of the Stranger without being fully corrupted by them.

Future powers of Tim Stoker-Orsinov: Better control over the powers he already has as well as a high tolerance for the Spiral.

Current powers of Danny Stoker-Orsinov: Can order around creatures of the Stranger against their will, can tell when a Notthem is masquerading as someone else, can dance alongside the creatures of the Stranger without being fully corrupted by them, is supernaturally talented at gymnastics, and can change his voice to anything he likes (not always intentionally, though).

Future powers of Danny Stoker-Orsinov: Can more or less “teleport” to other circus locations by walking into theaters, can now change his voice to whatever he likes with his knowledge and consent, can take over as the Stranger’s ringmaster if necessary, can trigger a mesmerizing dance whenever he’d like, and has a high tolerance for the Spiral.

Current powers of Sasha James-Cane: Can communicate with spiders and have them send messages to other Web avatars, can read minds if she tries really hard, can “trap“ other entities in large webs that she can summon (takes a lot of energy), and she has Spider-Man-like abilities (can walk on walls and ceilings, can carry much more than her weight should allow, etc).

Future powers of Sasha James-Cane: Can now read minds without too much effort, can navigate almost any area that’s being controlled/influenced by the Web, can create webs without nearly as much effort as before, can transform her body to have more arms, legs, and eyes, and she now has venomous fangs (which can thankfully be controlled and/or hidden).

Current powers of Alice “Daisy” Tonner: Can turn into a wolf at will/when she’s especially emotional, can smell blood from several miles away, and has supernatural senses/physical abilities.

Future powers of Alice “Daisy” Tonner: Can now track most any monster she’s hunting once she gets at least one good look at them, can communicate with other Hunters via howling, and can navigate the Buried if needed (though this is very triggering for her and will cause her to pass out afterwards).

Current powers of Julia Montauk: Can turn into a wolf at will/when she’s especially emotional, can smell blood from several miles away, has supernatural senses/physical abilities, can track most any monster if she knows their name, can communicate with other Hunters via howling, and she can shift into a bipedal werewolf when she feels like she’s in danger.

Future powers of Julia Montauk: All of her previous powers have drastically improved, plus she has better control of them now.

Current powers of Basira Hussain: She has common fucking sense, something almost none of the other children have.

Future powers of Basira Hussain: She common sense AND she has a werewolf GF now. :) ((No dating for the babies, not until they’re at least teenagers))

Current powers of Melanie King-Grifter: Can listen to Grifter’s Bone without being damaged in any way, the music of Grifter’s Bone makes her powers exemplified for a period of time after she listens to it, the smell of blood triggers her to become violent, she can summon sharp weapons (knives, swords, etc) from thin air, and she can see a red aura around other people who have been marked by the Slaughter.

Future powers of Melanie King-Grifter: She has much better control of her abilities now, she can perform Grifter’s Bone songs for people and keep them from dying/going feral, and she can now also summon other weapons from thin air (guns, baseball bats, etc).

Current powers of Oliver Banks: Can see people’s deaths a week in advance via his dreams, he sees dark tentacles around people who are going to die soon, can see but not talk to ghosts, and he can smell death on anyone who’s undead/controlling other people’s bodies.

Future powers of Oliver Banks: Can raise the dead and control them to do his bidding (takes a lot of energy), can speak cat (not End related; Admiral related), and he can cause people to die within the week if he touches them in his dreams.

Current powers of Georgie Barker: Can see a “death countdown” over people who are going to die within the next thirty days, doesn’t feel any fear whatsoever, can see but not talk to ghosts, and she sees a dark sludge staining the clothes of people who have been marked by the End.

Future powers of Georgie Barker: Can bring people back to life for a minute or so by touching them (think Pushing Daisies type powers), can speak cat (not End related; Admiral is best cat dad), and she can communicate with ghosts much better now.

Current powers of Jane Prentiss-Dekker: Can summon bugs of most kinds from her mouth and under her fingernails, can communicate with bugs, and can fight off most diseases without any trouble.

Future powers of Jane Prentiss-Dekker: Can now completely control bugs via a hive mind effect, can summon bugs from anywhere on her body, has much stronger healing abilities than Jon, and she can see invisible bugs crawling on the skin of those who the Corruption wants her to get rid of (it’s hard for her not to give in to it’s desires).

Current powers of Mike Crew-Fairchild: Can levitate/fly at will, can summon clouds of any kind (rain, thunder, snow, etc) in any conditions, has much higher resistance to the weather/temperature, and he can “banish” people into the Vast at will.

Future powers of Mike Crew-Fairchild: Same as before, but with slightly better control than he had as a teenager.

Current powers for Helen Richardson-Shelley: Can change the world around her to be more like the Spiral (adding more doors, changing the colors of things, causing hallucinations, etc), can change any door into a doorway into the Spiral, and she can amplify her voice (very hard to control as a baby).

Future powers for Helen Richardson-Shelley: Can now summon doors that lead to the Spiral from thin air, has much better control over her powers and abilities than before, can morph her body to be longer and sharper at will, and she can “banish” people into the endless hallways of the Spiral.

((Holy shit, that took awhile))

Anyways, here’s a playlist I made for the AU, feel free to scream at me for my very weird taste in music: Pinky Swear That You Won’t Go Changing

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arse-crack-thistle · 4 years

Text

rwrb winterfest - day 10 - snowflakes

@rwrb-fests

in which firstprince goes to a middle school dance bc i love little alex and henry so much!!

Alex knows tonight is going to be awesome! Normally, he wouldn’t be excited for a lame middle school formal, but he’s going to ask Nora Holleran to slow dance. She’s way too smart for him, but he can make her laugh like no one else can. It sounds like a bird, and being twelve, Alex can’t resist. If she says yes, this Winter Formal nonsense will all be worth it.

Outside, the D.C. air is chilly but bearable. Alex, his lacrosse friends, and their parents stand in front of his house, about to take pictures. His mother adjusts his red striped tie as he fusses with his black curly hair. June waits inside; she’s a high school volunteer tonight—much to Alex’s protests.

He shoos his mother away, slings an arm around his friend Liam, and smiles. His parents ready the camera, and Alex thanks Jesus they never fight in public.

Just behind closed doors when they think he and June aren’t listening.

The white Christmas lights shine behind the boys. His father tells them to focus and takes the picture. It catches Alex laughing at some joke Liam told, his eyes scrunched closed.

•••

Henry wouldn’t go to this thing if his mother weren’t forcing him. She reminds him it’s good practice for his future as he heads out the door to Bea’s car.

He hates these kinds of functions and having to socialize with people he doesn’t know and couldn’t be bothered to know. Because his mother is the British Ambassador, he’s gone to a few, but he doesn’t want a career in public office like the rest of his family. The Mountchristen name means something back home—they’ve had a few MPs, secretaries, and prime ministers—but that’s not Henry. He wants a quiet life away from the fuss.

A life in which he can finally be himself. And tell the truth. The Fox side of him.

Henry misses his father more than ever as Bea drives. Thank god, she’s here and playing Sufjan Stevens to match their moods. If his mother had been appointed any later, Bea would’ve been an ocean away like Philip—not that Henry misses his posh, Oxford brother all that much.

The buttons of Henry’s Burberry suit reflect the soft yellow glow of the streetlights outside. He knows he’s overdressed and that this will be the most expensive suit in the room, but it’s what his mother picked out. Yet another thing his classmates will pick on.

Especially Alex Claremont-Diaz.

Bea wishes him luck, and Henry groans as he gets out of the car. He really doesn’t want to be here.

•••

Alex dances in the center of the gym floor with his buddies to an Imagine Dragons song. Blue and white lights shine down on them. The whole place is covered in fake snow and light blue fabric. Shimmery snowflakes dangle from the ceiling. It’s cheesy, but Alex doesn’t care because he’s having a blast.

He just hasn’t been able to talk to Nora yet.

She’s been huddled with her friends from Tech Club all night. They’re watching something on a dude’s phone, and Alex knows that’s his in. He just has to make himself move in that direction.

An eighth grader, Pez, starts a dance circle and busts a few moves in his fluorescent clothes. Alex watches and cheers him on because everyone loves Pez. But they don’t love his best friend.

Ugh, Alex can’t stand that British guy, Henry. They may not be in the same grade, but they do Model UN together, and everything he says in that dumb accent riles Alex up. Partly because the girls—and some guys—swoon over him, taking some of the spotlight from Alex, and partly because Henry’s existence just irks him.

His perfect blonde hair. His judgmental blue eyes. His rich-boy wardrobe. The fact that he gets the right answer to every question asked of him. And the fact that he rides horses—like, riding outfit and everything.

Alex hates it all.

When a slow song comes on, he goes for Nora. She looks beautiful in a pale pink dress and with her hair done up in a bun. Alex feels stupid in his black church pants and white button-up.

Why didn’t he get June to help him pick out his clothes?

He asks Nora what they’re watching, and she tells him it’s an anime and laughs at something on the screen. After an awkward pause, he stutters out an invitation to dance. Thank Jesus, she says yes.

On the dance floor, he puts his hands on her waist, and she puts hers on his shoulders, and they sway to the music. A disco ball from the center of the gym casts sparkles all over them. This is their moment.

Which is why Alex asks her to go out with him.

Nora won’t meet his eyes, and Alex knows he screwed up. They’re just friends, she tells him.

His stomach hurts.

Alex misread the situation. He could puke right now. Nothing has felt this embarrassing. Not even last year when he dove for a volleyball in P.E., smacked his face on the floor, and chipped a tooth or in second grade when he called his teacher “mom” and the entire class laughed.

Nora comments on June’s dress to move the conversation forward, but Alex just nods. They finish the dance in silence, avoiding eye contact.

Alex’s face is hot and red. He doesn’t want his friends saying anything, so as soon as the song’s over, he thanks Nora and runs out of gym to the bathroom.

•••

For the most part, Henry is ignored by his classmates, which is good. He’s left to sit by himself at one of the tables. Someone sprinkled glitter all over the tablecloth, and flecks cling to his jacket sleeves. The speakers blast him with music, and the whole event is rather annoying, especially when chaperones bother him to ask if he wants anything or to encourage him to dance. Luckily, the high school girl serving punch just gives him a cup and tells him there’s only a few more hours left until they’re free.

Pez checks up on him every once in a while, but he craves a good party wherever he goes and only stays for a few seconds. Henry doesn’t mind. He scrolls on his phone, catching up on social media and eventually settling on a new Wolfstar fanfic. He peaks up from time to time to watch Pez try to impress the punch girl, but his eyes always end up on Alex.

He moves so easily. Whether it’s shaking his hips or fist-pumping to the beat or letting his head fall back in laughter, he just seems to handle everything so carelessly, so happily.

Henry envies him—can’t stand him because of it. There’s a ping in him every time he sees Alex.

Those curls. And soft brown eyes. The undeniable charm.

He walked into a Model UN meeting in glasses once, and Henry had a coughing fit and had to leave the room.

Don’t even get him started on the Spanish.

God, Henry cannot deal with these feelings right now. And he can’t find Alex in the crowd.

He stands up. Maybe he will dance. Maybe if he tries, he can think about something else. His father would want him to try. He’d give him a pep-talk and a hug that smells like his cologne and send Henry on his way. It’s how he convinced him to try polo and ask a girl to dance at his first gala.

Maybe this is good practice. To try to do things on his own.

But as Henry approaches a girl in his English class, someone scoots out their chair and trips him.

And Henry falls face first into a pile of fake snow.

The music still plays, but the students and chaperones are silent as Henry comes up covered in white clumps. It’s worse than the glitter on his suit, and it sticks to the gel in his hair. He feels the very last thing he wants: everyone’s eyes on him.

Henry excuses himself and leaves as fast as he can, stumbling into Pez and shirking him off on the way out.

•••

Alex finally feels cool again. He splashed some water on his face, unbuttoned his top button, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He looks impossibly chill considering he was just dumped.

Okay, not dumped. But he definitely feels better. Like Rafael Luna, his dad’s best friend. Luna carries himself with a swagger that Alex can’t resist.

After he tousles his hair one last time, Alex walks out of the bathroom, only to find Henry covered in faux snowflakes, looking like the abominable snowman from Monsters Inc. But he’s not cheerful like the yeti. He furiously swipes at his pant legs with one hand and curses at his phone in the other.

“Oh, man! Rough night, huh?” Alex says.

Henry freezes. He sizes up Alex and scowls. “Could you not?” He goes back to his phone, “Bea, just come pick me up when you get this, all right? Please,” and then hangs up.

“You’ve never looked better, honestly. I dig the winter chic vibe,” Alex teases. This is best thing that could’ve happened; his friends aren’t even going to mention the Nora thing when he gets back in the gym. For once, he’s not upset Henry has upstaged him.

Henry mumbles something and shrugs off his suit coat to wipe it down. Snow flurries from his clothing onto the cream linoleum flooring.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Unbelievable!’ As in, ‘Of course, the universe hates me enough to put you here right now!’” Henry’s face reddens.

Alex can’t believe this guy. He’s practically a prince! What could be wrong with his life? Well, his father’s death, but that was a few years ago.

Alex googled Henry once or maybe twice—it’s irrelevant—and read about his famous father, who is Alex’s favorite Bond, for sure.

“So you messed up your suit? Big whup. I’m sure you have hundreds just like it. If not, the Fox-Mountchristen estate could probably cover it,” Alex says, crossing his arms. He’s surprised no adults have come to check on Henry. He’s not really sure what happened, but it was probably hilarious and well-deserved.

“You insufferable prick!” Henry shouts and throws the jacket at Alex. Before he can duck, it thwacks his face. He tastes the bitter snow in his mouth.

Alex scrunches it and throws it back. “You dickish, little drama king! You can’t handle the slightest bit of imperfection, can you? Heaven forbid, you’re knocked from your pedestal, and the rest of us mortals crack up!”

He knows this is stupid; he wouldn’t want people laughing at him either, unless it was intentional. In fact, he fled before his charismatic reputation was tarnished. Henry just brings something out of him—not the worst of Alex exactly, but the fight in him. Many a Model UN debates can attest to that.

Henry turns around and slams his fist against the black lockers. He flings the coat to the floor and leans on his forearm. “You haven’t got a clue, Alex,” he says. He sounds tired.

The muffled music from the dance echoes down the hallway. Posters on the walls and lockers advertise the dance, midterm tutoring, and the school-sponsored Spring Break trip to Peru. Alex watches Henry’s back go up and down with his breaths. A toilet flushes, and the sink is run before a girl walks out of the bathroom, past the boys, without a second glance.

Henry is right: Alex doesn’t have a clue. He knows people can hide their home lives. He hasn’t even told Liam about his parents fighting. How he’s heard the word “divorce” from both of them more than once.

And he’s pretty sure losing your father is worse than that; he wouldn’t know what to do without his own, no matter how much time had passed. And then to be moved across the sea to a new school, let alone a new country.

Damn. Alex sucks. And now he has to do something that would’ve made him throw up yesterday.

“Henry,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

•••

Henry can’t believe this—any of it.

Firstly, Alex Claremont-Diaz comes out of the bathroom as if he knew his nemesis was out there and wanted to catch him off-guard with his beautifully disheveled look. Henry blushes at the thought.

Secondly, after a row of which no teacher heard apparently, the aforementioned Alex Claremont-Diaz apologizes for the things he said. “Even though some of it was true,” he clarifies. Henry knows he’s right.

Thirdly, he and the godforsaken Alex Claremont-Diaz have been sitting next to each other on the floor for the past five minutes, just talking. Occasionally, Alex’s arm brushes against his and sends a tingle up his back.

If Henry didn’t know he was gay after consuming hours of Drarry and Wolfstar content, he knows now. As in, he finally realizes why he always looks for Alex in every room and why that boy gets under his skin so easily.

He definitely cannot go to a lacrosse game, ever. He might die.

The bright bulbs from the bathroom and the blue hue from the gym doors’ windows light the otherwise dim hallway. Henry can make out the Coldplay song coming from the dance and plays the piano chords on his knees. The smell of old sweat and cleaner lingers in the air.

Henry likes that Bea insisted on a normal American education for the two of them and that his mother actually agreed; he just doesn’t enjoy the smells that accompany the experience. Or the horrid cafeteria food, for that matter. He tells Alex as much.

“Totally,” Alex says. “It must’ve been hard moving here. Even if I think you and your uppity family are ridiculous, leaving your home behind would suck for anyone.”

“Yes, it does. But Mum got this great job, which she wasn’t going to take until my grandmother and my brother Philip encouraged her to. ‘You need a fresh start,’ they said. She agreed, though I think her attitude is more about survival rather than actual happiness,” Henry says. “I, for one, would prefer to be home where Dad taught me to play cricket on the back lawn.”

He sighs. Alex doesn’t need to hear this, and giving him more information to use against him or to poke fun of is a disastrous idea. But it does feel good to talk about his father with someone who doesn’t know him and barely knows Henry.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Alex says. “I looked him up once, and he seems pretty cool.”

“He was, yes.” If Henry lets himself get too close to the cliff of grief, he’ll jump off and never be able to recompose himself, so he looks at Alex. “You looked me up?”

Alex sits up straight. “No, no! Your father!”

“You looked me up.” Henry smirks. His stomach flutters, and he doesn’t know what that means.

“I wanted to know what your deal was!” Alex says. “It’s not weird like that! I wasn’t stalking you or whatever.”

Henry laughs hard for the first time in a while. “I can’t believe I have enchanted you this much, Alex. What must I have done to peak your interest? Was it the defeat in during the foreign aid debate?”

“Okay, one, don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” Alex says, holding up a finger to silence Henry’s laughter, which it doesn’t. “And two, you were arguing on the behalf of an imperialist, asshole country. How was I, the humble yet fiery Mexican delegate, supposed to get you off your high horse after you started barking about your country’s economy?”

“Accept that I am the better diplomat.”

“I accept that you’re the bigger—what’s that British word? Wanker.”

Alex shoves him, but Henry shoves him right back. The two laugh together, and as it fades, Henry thinks that maybe they can finally get along—be friends, even. Though, he doesn’t know if that’ll make his heart race more or less when Alex is around.

“Want to go back in there?” Alex asks. “I know you’re still covered in fluff, but it’ll add to the ambiance.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Just then, Henry’s phone rings, and Bea’s name flashes on the screen. When he answers, she tells him she’s outside. Henry looks at Alex. While he has relaxed since the incident because of him, he’s not quite ready to face the rest of the school.

But the hesitation is duly noted and will be thoroughly examined tonight as he tries and fails to fall asleep.

He tells Bea he’ll be out in a minute and hangs up. “My sister’s here,” he says.

Dare Henry say Alex looks a little disappointed? The space between his dark eyebrows crinkles, and he shoves his hands in his pockets after they both stand up.

“Well,” Alex says, “maybe you and I could prepare for the meeting on refugees together when we get back from winter break.”

Henry blinks. “All right. We could do it at mine if you like.”

“Sure. I’m dying to see the palace,” he says. “Let me just get your number.”

After they exchange phone numbers, Henry watches Alex walk back into the gym. Thank god, he isn’t wearing better trousers, or Henry might’ve blushed. Actually, it doesn’t matter; Henry feels his checks get hot.

Outside, real snow dusts the school’s steps. Henry spots Bea’s headlights and walks to the car, enjoying the cool night air. He slips inside as his sister asks what the hell happened.

He knows it’s not the question she meant, but in his head he answers, “Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

Text

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures, Pt. 2

Electric Boogaloo

I actually have two more scenes planned to tie up this little story arc in my D&D AU where Stan is half-orc and half-elf. I originally was going to include those scenes in this post, but then these two scenes on their own were much longer than I expected. So, uh, here’s some awkward stuff, some angst, some “aww” moments, and most importantly, a whole mess of Stan being head over heels for Angie.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Stan couldn’t decide whether the expectation he did chores was the worst part or the best part of staying at the McGucket farmstead. On the one hand, he had to get up when Ole Tinbeak – the earliest rising rooster – crowed. On the other hand, the praise from Mr. McGucket never seemed to end.

“Excellent!” Mr. McGucket said cheerfully, watching Stan lug a bale of hay twice his size. “I must say, Stanaximus, yer the strongest elf I’ve ever seen, and yer only a child right now!” Stan grinned despite the straws of hay poking his face. “Would ya consider employment as a farmhand?”

“Thanks,” Stan said, slipping into the manners that Mrs. McGucket had insisted on drilling into him. “But I like being a ranger with Angie and Lute.”

“Fair enough,” Mr. McGucket said. Stan set down the bale of hay. His vision now unobscured, he spotted Lute standing a few feet away. Lute had never seemed that intimidating to Stan before, and his new age (and matching immature wardrobe with many pairs of shorts) only served to hinder his continued attempts. He was in his thirties, according to Mrs. McGucket, which made him like a human five-year-old.

“He’s only bein’ nice to you ‘cause yer a guest,” Lute hissed. Stan snorted.

“If you could see through all that hair, you’d know that’s not true,” he replied. Lute lifted the dark bangs that covered his eyes to glare at Stan.

“I can see just fine,” Lute snapped. Stan grinned.

“Aw, is someone grumpy ‘cause he’s overdue for a nap?” Stan teased. Lute blushed fiercely. The McGucket parents had insisted Lute have at least one nap a day at this age. Something about the extra rest being particularly important for growing elves. “Maybe you should go sleep.”

“You-” Lute started. Mr. McGucket came over. He took his youngest son’s hand.

“He’s right, Lute. Stan, think ya can finish the chores if Angie helps?”

“Uh, sure. But I don’t know where she is,” Stan said slowly. Someone jumped down from the barn’s loft, landing lightly in front of Stan. Angie beamed at him. “…How long were you up there?” Angie shrugged.

“It’s startin’ to get a bit dark, so ya best check the fence fer breaks first, ‘fore night falls,” Mr. McGucket said, leading Lute out of the barn. Stan and Angie nodded. Once Mr. McGucket was gone, Stan turned to Angie.

“We’re supposed to check the fence?” he asked.

“Yep! Follow me.” Angie walked out of the barn. Stan followed. They went to the enclosed cattle pasture and began to follow the fencing. “Luckily, breaks ‘re pretty easy to spot,” Angie said cheerfully. “And easy to fix, too. Just a quick Mending.” Stan nodded silently, trying to ignore how the setting sun made her golden hair turn a fiery orange. They continued to walk in silence for a few moments. “Don’t let Lute get ya down,” Angie said in a low tone.

“Huh? Oh, I’m not.” Stan shrugged. “I actually kinda like being a kid again.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m-” Stan rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. “I’m not in that big of a rush to get this curse removed, to be honest.” Angie came to a stop, leaning against the fencing. Stan did the same. His hands gripped the wooden slats. Angie turned her head to face him. A few long golden strands of hair loose from her braid bounced with the movement. The sun cast her form in a brilliant halo.

“Why’s that?” she asked. Distracted by how she looked in the fading light, Stan didn’t hear her question.

“Huh?” he mumbled. Angie rolled her silver eyes. As dusk encroached, they began to glow with a faint foxfire.

“Why are ya not in a hurry to be back to normal?” she asked. “I thought ya missed yer tusks.” Stan sighed.

“I mean, I do.”

“Then what’s goin’ on?”

“I…” Stan trailed off. Angie scooted closer to him. Her hand rested next to his, their skin touching. Stan’s heartrate picked up. Unable to stop himself, he blurted out the truth. “I forgot how much better people used to treat me.” Angie’s eyes widened.

“…Pardon?” she asked.

Shit. Way to go, Stan. This is what you get for being so easily distracted by pretty girls.

“I grew up in a mostly human settlement,” Stan said quietly. “The only elf who lived in town was my mom. Looking like her, I got attention. But it was good attention, ‘cause a lotta humans are obsessed with elves. Even travelers passing through would sometimes stop and talk to me and my twin brother. I think…” Stan furrowed his brow. “I think my mom said that, if we had grown up in a proper elf environment, we wouldn’t be allowed to interact with visitors. I guess elf kids are considered really important, so they get kept away from outsiders. At least, that’s how it was where my mom grew up.”

“Ma says things were the same way where she came from,” Angie said. “She ‘n Pa had some disagreements ‘bout it when we were little. So it’s probably a high elf thing, not a specific place thing.”

“Yeah.” Stan took a breath. “I liked getting all that positive attention. But then my tusks started growing in, and my hair got darker, and I got bigger in a way that elves just aren’t.” Stan looked down at the dirt. He nudged a clump with the toe of his borrowed boot. “I stopped looking like my mom and started looking like my pops. And I don’t have a lick of human in me, so I don’t look like a proper half-orc. By the time I was sixteen, I looked full orc.” Angie made a strangled sound. Stan looked at her.

“Sixteen?” she choked out, shocked.

“Orcs don’t live that long. Until I became an adult, I aged close to the same rate humans do. I think I was about twenty when my elf side kicked in to slow it down.”

“Oh. Right.” Angie nodded. “You told me ‘fore that you were in yer sixties.”

“Yep. Haven’t aged a day in the last forty years, thanks to Mom.”

“Yes. Okay, continue yer story.”

“Well, I dunno how much there is left to tell. I looked like an orc, and you know how people treat orcs. Visitors stopped giving me treats and started putting their hands on their weapons when they saw me. Since that’s how it’s been for the last few decades, I forgot that people didn’t always look at me like I was about to kill them.”

“Even if you don’t get the curse reversed, you’ll start agin’ on yer own,” Angie pointed out. Stan’s stomach twisted into a knot. “Sooner rather than later, you’ll look like yer father again.”

“Yeah. I know.” Stan’s head drooped. “It’s just-”

“No need to explain. I understand,” Angie said firmly. She placed her hand over Stan’s. Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s easier to be an elf than an orc.” She quirked a half-grin. “Though, just so’s ya know, I prefer yer orcish self to yer elvish self.”

“R-really?” Stan stammered. Angie nodded.

“Tusks ‘n all.”

-----

Stan had just finished his breakfast when Mr. McGucket entered the kitchen.

“Stanaximus?” he said. Stan looked over.

“Yeah?”

“Walk with me, son.”

“Um. Okay.” Stan deposited his plate in the sink and followed Mr. McGucket outside. “Did you need me for something?”

“I just need to have a lil chat with ya,” Mr. McGucket said airily. “But I think you’d prefer the chat happen where there aren’t ears to listen.” Dread began to build in Stan’s gut. The two walked off the main, cleared area that constituted the farmstead, and into the surrounding woods. Mr. McGucket moved through the trees like he was one with his surroundings, effortlessly silent and graceful. It was actually almost difficult for Stan to keep track of the man, as he blended in so well.

I mean, he is a wood elf. Makes sense.

“What did you wanna talk about?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket smiled.

“You courtin’ my youngest child,” he said simply. Stan stumbled over a root. Mr. McGucket caught him. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m-” Stan swallowed. “What makes you think I wanna court Angie?”

“I see the way ya look at her. Like she’s the sun, moon, ‘n stars. There’s no mistakin’ what that means.” Mr. McGucket looked at Stan. “You can deny all ya want after this conversation, but I want ya to be truthful durin’ it, okay?”

“…Fine,” Stan mumbled. He clenched his hands into fists and ground them into his eyes. “I…I really like Angie, and being a kid again has made it a lot worse.”

“Makes sense. Children have lesser control over their emotions, after all. Thank you fer bein’ willin’ to talk blunt with me.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Now, I encourage ya to court Angie, once you’ve all been returned to yer proper ages. But I needed to warn ya that a courtship with her won’t go without difficulties.”

“What- what do you mean?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket sighed.

“Politics. Yer a noble, and my wife, she…she was somethin’ sim’lar ‘fore she left her home to be with me. I don’t know whether she still has her title or not, and our children certainly don’t have any titles, but they do technically belong to a very powerful sun elf house. If you were a wood elf, or even just a reg’lar sun elf, I doubt it would be a problem. As it is, it might not be. But it could be. So I figured I’d warn ya.”

“But I’m not noble,” Stan said. Mr. McGucket frowned at him. “You guys keep insisting I am, but I’m not! Maybe my mom is, or was, but my pops, he was about as far from noble as you can get.”

“Was?”

“…Pops passed away a few decades ago,” Stan said quietly.

“My condolences.”

“I don’t need ‘em. He was a kinda shit father.”

“Hmm.” At Mr. McGucket’s thoughtful, though noncommittal, sound, Stan looked up. There was a troubled look on the man’s face. “Would that be related to the scars on yer back and arms?”

“How- how do you-”

“Harper saw when he took ya to the lake to swim last week,” Mr. McGucket explained. Stan stifled a curse. The oldest McGucket son, Harper, had showed up unexpectedly with his adopted children, then insisted on them all doing activities during his visit. Harper was an incredibly odd person, but Stan thought he was at least tolerable.

At least, I used to think that. Now that I know he’s a snitch? Nah.

“I want to revisit this at a later time,” Mr. McGucket said after a moment. “Right now, we need to talk about you courtin’ my daughter.”

Do we?

“There’s no doubt you have noble blood, Stan. Just yer full name is one that’s indicative of high status. Even if ya don’t have a noble title or upbringing, ya have it in yer heritage.” Mr. McGucket cocked his head thoughtfully. “Though not havin’ a title will prob’ly make it so Angie’s own royal blood ain’t a factor.”

“Did you say ‘royal’?” Stan croaked. A twinkle entered Mr. McGucket’s eye.

“Yes.” Stan’s jaw dropped. “Now, I will say- wait.”

“What?” Stan asked. Mr. McGucket now looked at him with visible concern.

“Open yer mouth, son.” Before Stan could comply or refuse, Mr. McGucket carefully pried his jaws open, looking at his teeth like he was determining a horse’s age. “Oh, no. Are these…fangs?” Instantly, Stan broke into a cold sweat.

Fuck! My tusks! They started coming in! Mr. McGucket released his hold and took a step back, worry etched on his face. Stan closed his mouth.

“It’s okay,” Stan said quickly.

“Son, you have two teeth what shouldn’t be there, and what look awful dif’rent from yer other teeth.”

“It’s, um…” Stan’s mind raced. “My pops, he got cursed when he was younger, and it got passed down to me somehow.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not a problem.”

“Maybe. But when we get this main curse off ya, we’ll take a look at this one that made ya grow fangs.”

“Maybe…”

Gods, no, there’s no way in any of the planes that I’d let some elf take my tusks away. Stan and Mr. McGucket entered a large clearing. Stan blinked at the farmhouse before them. Without him realizing, they’d walked back to the McGucket farmstead. Mr. McGucket put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yer a very interestin’ young man,” he said.

Damn, and he doesn’t even know I’m half-orc.

“I’d like to have many more conversations with ya. But since yer likely to woo my daughter, I have no doubt I’ll have plenty of opportunities to chat.”

“I might not court her,” Stan said quietly. The second he spoke, he knew it was a lie. There was no chance he wouldn’t shoot his shot.

“It’d be a shame if ya didn’t, since ya have not just my blessin’, but that of my wife, too.” Mr. McGucket squeezed Stan’s shoulder. “And not to mention, we wouldn’t push ya to court if we didn’t think it would go well.” Stan swallowed. “All right, ya can go back to denyin’ now. I have to go run a few errands, and you have some chores.”

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Stan headed for the barn. As he approached, Angie emerged from it. She caught sight of him and waved. Stan’s heart did yet another backflip upon seeing her. She came over to him.

“Were ya in the woods with my pa?” she asked.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, he didn’t try to hunt me or anything. He just wanted to talk.”

“What were you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“How you’re actually a long-lost elven princess,” Stan said casually. Angie gasped and punched his shoulder. “Nah, it was just weird stuff where he called me ‘son’ a lot and wanted to know about my family.”

“He called ya ‘son’, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds to me like he was askin’ ‘bout yer fam’ly ‘cause he considers ya part of ours.” Angie winked. “Good luck with that.” Stan grinned confidently.

“I think I can handle your family. I mean, I handle you all right,” he said. Angie threw her head back and laughed.

“I’ll let ya continue to think that.”

#hhhhhh I love writing Stan simping for Angie and vice versa. just love me some Stangie #btw no clue when I'll write the finale for this story arc #hopefully during my days off for Thanksgiving next week #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #Pa McGucket #McGucket Family #DnD AU #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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harrygroves · 4 years

Text

the time-travelers husband (harringrove)

There was nothing particularly endearing about that Thursday in October. It was quiet, normal, boring.

Billy liked boring. It was when he felt safest in the world. The thrill he got from a mundane afternoon was like what others experienced on roller-coasters.

He was wearing his favorite sweater, the thick, brown one that really made his eyes pop. He couldn’t be bothered with his hair most days and had it tied back, away from his face. The sweater kept the chill of the library to a minimum. But when he was locked in his humidity-controlled box where cataloging took place, he felt the beads of sweat roll down his back.

The library he worked at was the best in the city. It was old, held thousands of books, and he was in charge of the Special Collections. It gave him plenty of time to himself--he was alone most of the time anyways, exactly how he preferred it.

Most people had no need for the types of books he was in charge of. Artists, educators, academics--those were the people he interacted with, the ones who needed tomes of information or old books filled with black-and-white photos and copies of paintings, pages brittle and yellow. All the same, he was called upon infrequently, and that was fine, perfectly fine.

A colleague had requested special-edition biographies on that Thursday and Billy was walking them back towards the front, small steps that clearly indicated he had all the time in the world.

“Yes, Billy will be able to help you with that, he’s our Special Collections librarian.” His coworker said loudly, nodding towards Billy who set the books down as the customer turned.

“Can I help you?” Billy asked politely.

The man was admittedly attractive, around Billy’s age, with a mess of fluffy, brown hair and dark, brown eyes. He had a smattering of moles and his--perfectly pink--mouth was open, eyes widening a smidge, breath seemingly stopped in his chest.

“Billy?” The man whispered, adjusting his shoulder-bag.

“Yes?” Billy replied, confused at the familiarity in the customer’s tone. A tone that suggested the two had shared something special. Life-altering.

“Billy.” The man repeated, walking slowly forward. “It’s you.” His eyes are glassy, like he’s going to cry.

There were a few moments of silence between them and Billy gave a small shake of the head to signify that he was completely lost.

The man let out a short laugh. “Y-you told me this would happen...and I was supposed to act normal but I’m not acting very normal, I--”

Understanding gathers in Billy’s mind. He knows. This guy knows.

Billy reaches out and grabs the man’s shoulder, uncertain but firm as he pulls him away from his colleague, walks with the man towards the quiet rows of books.

“I’m sorry, I really have no idea who you are.” Billy says, aiming for apologetic but it comes out annoyed.

Billy lets his hand fall away from the stranger’s arm when they’re out of ear-shot from other people.

“I’m Steve, Steve Harrington. And--I--you don't know me. Look, I know how odd this must be for you--it’s odd for me but, I...would you like to have dinner with me? I’ll explain everything.”

Steve is looking at him with so much radiance, so much hope, and Billy’s never been looked at like that.

Well, not for years anyways. Not since he was a little boy. An image of his mother flashes through his mind but he clears his throat, shifts on his feet, looks left and right nervously and finds the eyes of his co-worker on them, watching with interest at what appears to be a personal conversation. Billy’s never had a visitor so he can understand the curiosity.

“Billy, we’ve been planning this dinner for a long time.” Steve says this with a toothy grin, like it’s an inside joke.

That feels weird. Billy tries to think of the version of him Steve knows.

Steve’s eyes are too bright, too seeing.

Steve knows him. Very well.

It’s unnerving.

“We have?” Billy raises his eyebrows.

“We’ll go to that diner you love, the one on Marsden, okay?” Steve asks.

Billy swallows roughly. He loves that place.

“Oh...okay.”

Steve looks him over. “You look like you’ve been having a hard time,” he says with concern. “It’s going to be okay.”

Billy can’t breathe.

Steve shakes his head, as if shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Okay, so--yes?”

Billy nods.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow night, alright? Seven?”

Billy just nods again.

Steve gives him another dazzling, toothy smile before turning and practically skipping away.

Billy almost doesn’t go. But at the last possible minute he throws on a clean shirt before disappearing, the clothes crumpling to the ground as he’s taken.

It’s snowing. He’s near a bridge. He’s stark naked.

It’s okay. He’s been here dozens of times. There’s a tall tree surrounded by clumps of bushes that he’s hidden a trash bag full of clothes and blankets in.

Once he’s dressed he watches the road from the bushes, watches the mail truck that starts spinning on black ice, sees his mother’s car unable to stop.

Billy watches their car get tapped, it swings round and round until coming to a stop.

He remembers the feeling of relief, and then the terror in the next moment when he watches as his fingers disappear.

The last thing he remembers of his mother is her concerned face watching him go.

Billy waits calmy. He never gets upset anymore.

A semi barrels into the mail truck, careening both vehicles towards his mother’s car.

And like magic, he watches his five-year old self materialize a few feet away from the bushes.

“Billy!” He shouts, running from his hiding place, throwing the blanket around the younger, naked him.

“Mom! Mom!” His past-self is shouting, watching the fiery mess of cars.

“Hey!, listen to me--listen to me, there’s nothing you can do, okay? Billy!” He shouts at himself. The child stops and looks at him. “You were in the car. Then you were gone and it was two weeks ago and you were reading a book with your mom. Okay? You time-traveled. Just like I did to come to see you. I know this is hard to understand but you will someday. I’m you when you’re all grown-up, okay? It’s not your fault. I know you’re scared but you’ll be okay, I promise.” Billy rubs the kid’s arms. “I have to go.”

It’s the last thing he gets out before he’s gone.

Billy’s late. He gets to the diner half past seven and sees Steve staring at the table, a glass of red wine in front of him, lost in thought.

“Sorry.” Billy huffs out when he reaches the table. “I was, uh. Detained.”

Steve isn’t angry or confused. “Are you alright?” He’s just worried.

Who was this guy?

Gorgeous was what he was. His hair was styled effortlessly, he was wearing a black jacket over a dark, wine-colored shirt and his eyes twinkled in delight.

Billy sat down, feeling sweaty and dirty.

He jumps right into it, cocking an eyebrow. “You do understand why it is I don't know you.”

A waiter comes up and asks Billy what he wants to drink.

“Beer.” Billy replies.

Steve looks confused. “You shouldn’t be drinking.” He says.

The waiter looks back and forth between them. “Beer.” Billy confirms, making stern eye contact with the kid, convincing him wordlessly to slip away.

“Why not?” Billy asks Steve when they’re alone.

“It. It makes you travel.” Steve says in a hushed voice.

“Okay, who are you?” Billy asks.

Steve flushes. “When you’re older, you’ll travel back to when I’m a little boy. For me, I’ve known you since I was six years old. You travel back to see me at the Meadow.” He’s rambling, eyes flicking all over the place, hands gesturing while he talks.

Billy stares at Steve, dumbfounded.

“This is...a lot.” Billy finally says.

Steve looks down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I...you told me to go easy on you and I’m not.”

From his lap, Steve produces a book--a journal, and places it on the table between them. It’s older, the cover bombarded with marker ink and stickers.

“I wrote down every time you came to visit me.” Steve announces proudly.

Billy stares at the book and nods a few times. He looks back up at Steve. “Which I gather I did? Or will do, fairly often.” God he’s thirsty. Where’s the waiter with his beer?

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “The last time I saw you I was eighteen. Seems like you go back to the same places a lot.”

It’s so strange to have someone else talk about this with him. “Yeah, it’s like gravity. Big events pull you in.”

Steve’s eyes sparkle. He leans forward, and in a small, cocky voice he says, “I was a big event.”

#my fic #harringrove #would anyone like a full fic of this?

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reifromrfa · 4 years

Text

Operation Sweet Tooth: Vanderwood x MC | Vanderzine fic

Hi guys! Here’s my piece for @vandyzine! :) I hope you like it ^^ It’s my greatest honor to have been part of this wonderful project! Do check out the blog for more great works about the most handsome secret agent!!! <3

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Operation Sweet Tooth: Vanderwood x MC

Damn. How much time do I have left?

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck and the secret agent hurries down the hallway. His eyes keep flicking back to his watch to check the seconds that have gone by, frustration and nervousness building up inside him.

Man...I could really use some back-up on this. Where is she?

There's a ding! and Vanderwood puts on the protective gear for his hands and decides he can't wait for back-up any longer; it's time to do this. The secret agent opens the door and a sweet smell infiltrates his nose, the scent already filling the room and wafting into the hallway. Great...he just gave away his position and the status of his mission. He waits for a couple of heartbeats, listening for any opening doors or footsteps on the stairs. When there's none, Vanderwood quickly reaches inside and grips the metal container before pulling it out. Feeling the heat of the metal even through the cloth, he rushes to the table and lays the container gently on top.

Ha...in all my years in the agency, never thought I'd be doing something like this.

He takes off the mittens and reaches for the toothpick container. Shaking one onto his palm, Vanderwood then glances at the open tablet on the countertop and reads the instructions. He cautiously pokes one of the cupcakes with the toothpick. Gingerly lifting his hand, Vanderwood gives a sigh of relief at the clean stick.

"Okay, I got the cupcakes right..." he mutters. Vanderwood takes the tablet and swipes for the instructional video, placing his elbows on the counter and leaning forward while watching the next steps intently. He barely notices the locks of the front door clicking; the sounds of the security codes being keyed in are drowned out by the video's joyous, tinkling background music.

Vanderwood unconsciously drums his fingers against the countertop as he watches the woman in the video frosting the cupcakes. Damn...how does she swirl it like that? Narrowing his eyes on the screen, he leans forward and swipes the screen back, rewinding the scene and focusing on her actions, committing it to memory.

Blowing a stray lock of hair that had fallen to his eyes, Vanderwood grabs the strawberry frosting and tries to mimic what he saw. Unfortunately, he squeezes too hard and a clump of frosting falls flatly onto the cupcake.

As a former secret agent, he had to sort through wires to diffuse bombs, follow intricate instructions to decode locks or cancel missile launches. Not to mention needing to slip into different roles to gather intel, or infiltrate heavily guarded underground facilities. But never did he have to learn how to bake cupcakes or "frost cupcakes and decorate as desired."

A string of curses is leaving his mouth when he hears a giggle. The man looks up and sees his wife standing by the door to the kitchen, the smile on her face easing away his worries. One side of his lips curl up, a playful smirk ready for his mischievous wife.

"How long have you been standing there, MC?"

"Not long enough. I wish I could have been here since the beginning, I'm sure you looked so cute while mixing the ingredients!" MC says, walking to his side.

Vanderwood can feel his cheeks warming and he averts his gaze, scratching his cheek awkwardly, his previous confidence vanishing. "Ahh, baby, I told you not to call me cute."

He feels her pulling his hand away from his face, his fingers replaced by her lips as MC tiptoes and kisses his cheek. "The cupcakes smell delicious, baby."

MC is about to walk away but his arm shoots out, encircling her waist and pulling her close to him. Vanderwood hears her gasp, and he smiles as he leans closer to her, eyes watching the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I think my gorgeous wife smells better."

Cupping her cheek, he brushes his lips over hers before capturing them in a passionate kiss. God...no matter how many times they kiss, the sensation of connecting with her in such an intimate way never dulls, never fails to make his heart beat a thousand times faster.

When MC first came into his life, he never thought she would become a big part of it; after all, she was the coordinator of an organization Seven shouldn't have been involved with in the first place. But damn...so much has happened after that. Vanderwood never meant to get involved with the RFA's matters, but somehow he ended up tangled in their affairs. Somehow, he ended up falling for the woman in his arms.

Pressing his forehead against hers, Vanderwood pulls away and meets her hazel gaze, a serene smile on his face. Thanks to the RFA's help, he and Saeyoung are now out of the agency and happily living their lives as normal people, with jobs at C&R.

"Welcome home, MC," he says in a low voice, so that only the two of them can hear. MC grins and gives him a quick kiss.

"Thank you, baby. I missed you while I was gone." MC pulls away from him and moves to check on the mess on the countertop, laughing. "I guess it's time for me to save the day."

Vanderwood rubs the back of his neck and moves to stand beside her. "Yeah...I wasn't sure how to do the frosting, baby."

Tying her hair back, MC washes her hands and tells her husband to stand back and watch as she gingerly squeezes the piping bag and makes swirls atop the cupcakes. Then, she places strawberry slices on top of the frosting, finishing the cupcake with a flourish.

"Tada!" MC exclaims. Vanderwood is about to respond when there are loud footsteps from the hallway upstairs.

"Uh oh." MC giggles. "It's your job to keep these cupcakes safe until tomorrow's party, Mr. Stark."

Vanderwood gives her a deadpan look, the nickname a joke between her and Saeyoung. But then he shakes his head and chuckles. Striding away from the countertop, Vanderwood steels himself for the tornado that's about to come. Sure enough, as the footsteps grow louder, two people appear in the doorway, both much shorter than him.

Before they could even take more than 5 steps into the kitchen, Vanderwood takes them by their waists and scoops them up. Happy squeals come from the children in his arms, the boy chuckling and the girl giggling.

"No fair, daddy!" the little girl says.

"What's not fair is you both eating all those cupcakes I worked so hard on before the party tomorrow." Vanderwood puts them down and bends so he's eye level with his children. "So you both can stay here and help mommy, but no eating, okay?"

The boy nods eagerly before running to his mother, climbing up a stool and asking if he could do the frosting for the next cupcake. Vanderwood stares at his daughter, who's shuffling her feet in that adorable way that she does, looking at him with her big hazel eyes...eyes like her mother's.

"Not even one teensy weenie bite, dad?" she asks in a sugary sweet voice.

Oh God.

Vanderwood remembers having to withstand the most painful of tortures before, and he never broke for his captors. But his heart softens at the little girl standing in front of him. It's too hard to say "no" to someone he cares about, especially when it's the sweet angel standing in front of him.

"Well..." Vanderwood begins, before he's interrupted by MC's melodious laughter.

"My love, you're spoiling our daughter too much," she says. "But okay, one cupcake for you both, but that's it! You can have more at tomorrow's party, okay? The cupcakes are for your friends after all, sweetie, since they'll be celebrating your birthday with you."

"Yes, mommy!" their daughter exclaims, giggling. "Just one!! It's my favorite, strawberries!"

Vanderwood straightens as his daughter joins MC as well, clapping gleefully. He chuckles to himself and for a moment, the former secret agents stands there and watches his family. MC is gasping, smiling widely as their son finishes frosting a cupcake successfully. Then their children choose their own cupcakes, each one radiating a gleeful innocence. These people in front of him make him believe that there is goodness left in this world, a goodness that's worth protecting. And even though he's done with being a secret agent, he still wants to keep this safe; he wants to protect the smiles of the people he loves, to make sure they keep smiling like this.

For a man who never thought he could ever be happy, never thought he could have something as beautiful and precious as this moment, Vanderwood feels like the luckiest man alive. No longer is he the tragic informant. No longer is he alone.

Now he has three people he truly loved and who truly loved him. His heart swells with emotions as he gazes at his family. MC meets his eyes and beckons him over but before he could join them, the phone in his pocket buzzes. Vanderwood takes out his phone and a smirk appears on his face. Their friends were logged onto the messenger.

Saeyoung: I made a special gift for RFA's little miss! Jumin Han: Just now...? I've had her gifts ready since last month. Yoosung: What!!! ;;;; It's tomorrow?? I don't have a gift yet! Saeran: Didn't MC send out the invites a month ago...? Yoosung: It's been so busy in the clinic T-T Zen, come buy one with me!! Zen: Oh...sorry, man, I can't tonight...I have a date! Jaehee Kang: Oh dear... V: Yoosung, let me accompany you. I can help you pick out a gift as well.

Vanderwood chuckles. He could never forget the RFA, of course.

"Dad, can I go on a ride with Uncle Saeyoung tomorrow after the party?" His son's voice startles him and Vanderwood shakes his head.

"Absolutely not! That guy drives like a maniac." Vanderwood answers. His wife finishes frosting the cupcakes and places them inside the fridge, then looks at the messy kitchen.

"Okay! It's time to clean!"

The two children share a look before climbing off the stools to make their escape, but living with a secret agent has taught MC a thing or two. Her hand shoots out with lightning reflexes and she manages to grip their wrists, that peaceful smile still plastered on her face. Vanderwood has to admit...his wife has moves --moves that never fail to astonish him up to this day.

"Now, now. Your father worked real hard on these cupcakes. It's time for you both to do your parts."

The kids look sheepish for attempting to escape but they start to tidy up the space. Vanderwood opens his arms as MC steps into his embrace, looking up at him and kissing him.

"Mission accomplished, Agent Vanderwood."

"Glad I survived it. I thought I was a goner, MC."

"Next time, we should try baking a cake."

"Ha...baby, we can bake anything you want to. As long as you do it with me, next time."

They share another intimate kiss before their kids start making gagging noises in the background. MC laughs and Vanderwood leaves her side, rolling his sleeves up; cleaning still calms him, and helping them would give him more time to bond with his children.

"Okay, I'll wash the dishes." Vanderwood's words are greeted with happy cheers from his kids. A sense of peace and contentment settles over his body, the once-foreign feeling of happiness making it hard to erase the genuine smile from his face.

This is his greatest adventure now. This is his life mission: to pursue his happiness, to live to the fullest and enjoy little moments like these. The former secret agent turns on the faucet and feels the cool water against his hands. Hands that protect, hands that will cherish this second chance at life.

"I'm home."

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I know I’ve been quiet for a while here on tumblr, but I’d really love it if you could support my new project @teamicamea-scl ;) If you like my works (or you know, romance and angst in general) then please check it out! The brilliant @rossyele is my partner for this fic and we’re both out to make hearts break melt :D

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3

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snowbellewells · 4 years

Text

Self-Promo Sunday: Keep You Closer (Can’t Let Go)

Most of the time, I try to pretend 6x10 and 6x11 didn’t even happen in OuaT. It was like they almost gave me everything I had wanted: them returning to the EF, Henry getting to be a knight, Emma experiencing being a princess and having been raised by her parents -- but then turned it all horribly on its head so that I couldn’t enjoy any of it. Needless to say, right after the episode (before I learned to just try not to think about that little plot side trip too much) I had to write fix-it/missing moment fic to soothe my pain. That - and a well-timed first listen of a country song - brought about this little fic.

This is a post 6x11 one shot, picking up almost from the very end of that episode, minus the sidetrack to August's typing shed. I just needed them to have a moment of private reunion…

(The lyrics at the beginning and end are from Florida Georgia Line's song "H.O.L.Y." and that’s the one which actually gave me the idea for this story with its little line about "…healing hands where it used to hurt…")

{Also available on AO3 and on ff.net}

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“Keep You Closer Can’t Let Go”

by: @snowbellewells

"I couldn't find a day, I didn't feel alone

I never meant to cry, started losin' hope

But somehow baby,

You broke through and saved me

You're an angel, tell me you're never leavin'

'Cause you're the first thing I've found I can believe in…"

After the commotion on the street subsides, the hooded figure from her vision has disappeared (Gold and Belle's son, as it turns out, because – of course it is, why not?!) and her pulse stops hammering in her ears, Emma Swan finds that she is still genuinely hard pressed to loosen her grip on either her son or her pirate. She finds that she has to a bit though, as Henry is starting to squirm and complain good naturedly that he's glad to see her too, but he still needs to breathe. Her father jostles in, needing to hold his daughter for a moment as well and reassure himself of her return, and in short, they can’t make it home for the night clasped in an awkward four-way hug as they are.

Of course, once that initial embrace of adrenaline-fueled relief and joy is broken, there is much to do – as there always is. They have to figure out where Gideon might have vanished and if there's an immediate danger from him, if they should track Gold down and try to force answers from him, and they also need to acclimate this new and different version of Robin to what must seem to him a strangely cockeyed modern world. When everyone has been introduced to him though, Emma is willing to leave that to a still flushed, rather wide-eyed Regina. For a moment – and she tugs on Killian's hand, shooting him a look he returns knowingly, giving her the sense he gets exactly what she is thinking with his affectionate smile – she wants to tease their mayor about 'yearning looks and doe-y eyes', but she holds back. The former Queen has not had her actual True Love himself returned to her, but rather some sort of alternate copy, and that is going to be more than enough for the other woman to shoulder. While Regina may be due some good natured ribbing in return for past snark, Emma can't find it in her heart to dish it out just now.

She wants to speak to August as well, but that will keep for tomorrow; now she wants nothing more than to go home and hold her family close. They all troop back to the house by the water, stumbling exhausted up their front steps. David at last reluctantly parts ways with them to relieve Granny of babysitting duty and check on her younger brother. Emma promises they will come for a late lunch the next day and seriously discuss what they're going to do to right her parents' curse once and for all. It is long overdue for their focus, and she sees it in her father's weariness and heavy heart.

She relishes another tight hug from him with his hand cradling the back of her head. It lends more comfort than she would readily admit after just being in a realm where he was gone and she could never have such an embrace again. Her heart warms with gratitude once more to know that alternate world wasn't real, wasn't permanent, as she watches her dad head off down the street to his and her mom's loft apartment.

Wearily, after stepping into the house with her True Loves, she shucks her leather jacket in the entryway, offering a faint smile of thanks to Henry as he wordlessly takes it from her to hang on the hooks by the door. When he comes back and hugs her tightly, clinging for a few moments in a way he hasn't for quite some time, tears start in her eyes for her brave, goodhearted boy swiftly becoming a man before her eyes. She holds onto him just as tight, swaying back and forth and murmuring soothing words under her breath. She's just thinking that he will love to hear about his Wish Realm self – a newly minted knight and prince of the kingdom riding out on quests wherever he is needed – when, with a sheepish grin and a surreptitious snuffle, Henry seems to want a bit of space to recover himself. "I'm gonna go call Violet and let her know you're back. She was worried about you too," Henry says. And then he's gone – clumping up the stairs all big feet and overlong, lanky limbs; the thumps from the floor overhead still sounding until they hear the muffled thud of his bedroom door close.

Shaking his head as if pleasantly amused by the lad's exuberance and changeable teenage moods, Killian is swift to take her hand and lead her forward into the living room. He doesn't have to do much urging to get her worn, dazed self to settle in the corner of the couch where she usually snuggles up, but she does shoot forward again and start to protest when he kneels before her and starts to remove her boots. "Killian, stop! You don't have to – "

But he gives her a terse shake of the head, searching her eyes with his encompassing gaze as he catches her hands reaching forward to halt him and brings them to his lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles. "Let me, Swan…Emma…please. I didn't know where you were…what was happening to you… Just let me do this?"

Sighing, she deflates, allowing him his way in whatever offers him a modicum of comfort and normalcy. In truth, she is so glad to be with him again, here together in their home, that in itself is enough to relax her nearly into slumber.

She closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the back of the couch, and savoring the feel of his strong hands caressing her aching feet as he bares them, wishing they could always be this close – that the world outside would finally leave them alone for even a few hours at once. Reaching her hand out sleepily, she runs her fingers through his dark hair, urging him up close enough to kiss fully and then mumbling against his lips, "Come here Pirate. I need to feel you next to me."

As requested, Killian is beside her in an instant, but before he can wrap her up in his arms and lull her sufficiently into a much-needed sleep, Emma stills him, reaching out herself to trace his beloved features, once more looking as she has come to know them. She smooths a shock of his coarse fringe back off his forehead, lovingly stroking the strands for a moment as if they are great treasure.

Her fingers move on to dance over his temple and the bridge of his nose, and for a moment her pirate's brow quirks in puzzlement, wondering what she is doing, but not willing to speak or break this quiet spell between them. As her fingertips trace the old healed cut high on one cheekbone and then the outline of his full, strong mouth, his eyes slip closed; relaxing under her ministrations much as she had done with his minutes before, surrendering himself to her need to touch, to assure herself that he is right within her reach.

Emma can't quit touching him. She needs the warm, soft feel of his skin beneath her hands as assurance that she won't blink and find him taken from her again. It's only when her small, deft hands slip inside his half unbuttoned shirt, and Killian feels her caressing each mark and brand, outlining each muscle and sinew, that he senses something else has happened beyond their painful separation, something that she is now trying to convince herself is over – or wasn't real at all – through feeling as well as sight, by cataloguing every dip and curve of him, to make sure he is as he should be.

Still, Killian makes no move to stop her, to ask questions, until Emma undoes the last of the shirt's fastenings, pulls it from his arms and off his torso with breathless help from him, and then presses herself against his bared skin, ear to his pounding heart, face buried in his scarred chest, and he feels a little shudder go through her, the one small outward sign of what he is more and more certain must be some dreadfulness she is hiding.

"What is it, Emma?" he whispers, hand coming up to smooth over her golden fall of hair, now loosed from its near-constant ponytail for the night and hook resting at her hip lightly.

From where she has curled herself nearly into his lap, his princess murmurs against his collarbone, "I don't want to let you go. Just stay here a little longer. Please, Killian?"

The soft, reverent pads of her fingers trace over his skin, scratching through the dark hair across his chest and stomach and around to his shoulders and back, along various marks of floggings, a survived stabbing, burns and the other traces of an abnormally long life full of violence and pain. Yet, as she does so, as those gentle fingers touch the places he still struggles to lay bare, even for her eyes alone, a soothing balm, an air of healing rolls over the scored and mottled skin – reaching both and easing their frayed sanity in each other's presence.

"I'm right here, Love," he manages hoarsely, lips in the soft hair at the crown of her head. "As long as you wish…There's nowhere else I would want to be."

"Good," she husks, the smallest of more normal smiles quirking the corners of her mouth up as she finally stops seeking every inch of him feverishly and wraps her arms around his torso, clearly preparing to settle in for the night.

There is a peaceful stillness between them for several moments before she offers, not looking at him, but still speaking into his skin, disinclined to pull away from her pirate, even for moment. "There was another you…in that realm. And he was…"

She pauses, obviously searching for words, and though Killian is now achingly curious, wondering if that is what has brought on her desperate need to be so close, to examine each detail of him now, he senses a bit of lightness is in order. "And was I still my devilishly handsome self?" he teases.

Her brow arches sardonically at him and she hums in her throat. "In a manner of speaking," she settles on finally. Then her face sobers, and his chest squeezes at the bereft looks that crosses it once again, "but that's just it…you weren't you. And seeing you there before me – but not – made me miss you even more. I needed you – the real you – so much it hurt." Her hand inches between their bodies to press against her own heart as if holding in the still physical pain.

He takes that hand in his gently and clasps it to his chest. "I am here now, Lass. Trust me, I won't leave you."

"But how long before we're torn apart by something we can't control? Before we lose each other again?" she beseeches plaintively, her voice small and broken, the fear plain in her green eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he says firmly, holding her gaze and blatantly offering the same comfort she gives him with her love and her trust. "Wherever we are sent, whoever tries to separate us, you will always find me. I have faith in that. And, Emma, I will always always find you."

When they both drift off to sleep some minutes later, tangled together in a tight embrace that the worst villain couldn't have unraveled with the most powerful curse, she has chosen to believe it as much as he. That vow, that security, has enveloped and healed them both.

"You're the healing hands where it used to hurt,

You're my saving grace, you're my kinda church…

'Cause you're the first thing I know I can believe in…"

Tagging: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thislassishooked @let-it-raines @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @thisonesatellite @shireness-says @mayquita @gingerchangeling @blackwidownat2814 @lfh1226-linda @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @teamhook @revanmeetra87

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #ouat missing moment ff #6x11 missing moment divergence #cs angst #cs fluff

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l0chn3ss · 4 years

Text

City Girl

Written for @se-rarepair-day August 2020 Prompt: Honey

Patty x Soul; Patsoul: Soul trades his city life for country life. He moves in with his recently married brother but gets lost almost immediately in the vast fields. Luckily for him, the country girl next door Patty is also from the city, AO3 | FFNET

Patty was a city girl through and through. She didn’t show it often, especially when she had mud up to her knees and straw hidden in her already bright blonde hair, but there were rarely moments when Soul questions where Patty was really from. Though she played the country bumpkin persona well, her New York style seeped through often.

Growing up in Queens— not the good part of Queens— Patty learned to talk quick and think fast. As a child, she had no issues with seizing what she wanted and when she wanted. As a young adult though, she knew how to bargain and play the system well. She’s grown more patient and cunning than a typical simple farm girl. Even an hour away from the nearest big city, months from when he last visited Manhattan, Soul was always reminded of his home when he’s with her.

Early fall, somehow, when Soul moved into his brother’s spare bedroom in the farm closest to her, he lost himself in a field until she found him a couple hours later into the evening. It was their first meeting, and she could already tell that he wasn’t from around town. Patty deposited him at Wes’s door and asked rather unabashedly, “This one of yours?” as if Soul were a lost cow.

Wes was too dumbfounded to reply, but his new husband briefly looked over Wes’s shoulder to say “That is.” He herded Soul into the house, leaving Patty and Wes at the front with all the awkwardness that came after. The next day, Soul was instructed to bring over bags of produce to thank their neighbor for finding him. The only problem with that was that he came back with an equal amount— if not more— of other goods from their farm thanks to Patty’s slick talking and free running mouth.

The two homes treated Soul like a pack mule until the following next week— a.k.a. when Soul (and the bag) finally snapped and a handful of apples went tumbling down the road. Patty helped him carry the produce after that and made truce with Oakley, Soul’s brother-in-law. Any debts were thereby repaid, on the condition that the Thompson household did not try to return the 3 dozen eggplants from the other day. The Evans-Beckett family refused to grill any more for the season.

However, Oakley asked Patty for one more favor— to show his new in-law around since it’d been two weeks since Soul came, yet he still hadn’t ventured off the boundary of their land. Soul blushed heavily; he had no excuse for himself. He supposed that he was still as unadventurous as he used to be, even though he promised himself that he would change when he left home.

She took just one look at Soul and asked Oakley, “You reckon he can last out here?”

Oakley shrugged, “Can’t imagine he can’t under yer wing, ey?”

To that, Patty laughed, and she took Soul by the hand to introduce him to his family’s own goats. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on, city boy.”

At first, Soul was being sensitive; he didn’t like being called that, much less by a girl he didn’t know. It got worse when he did get to know her. The nickname seemed too affectionate, too condescending to be towards someone who wanted to be her equal. Patty had the upper hand in a lot of things around the barn, perhaps even more so when she used to live in the city. He didn’t want to be a liability for too long.

——————————

One afternoon in the orchard, Patty swung her legs over the side of the branch, crunching on an apple that she deemed to be worthy. Soul was still on the ground, careful to not get his boots too muddy. He had his arms crossed and his lips set, unwilling to climb up like how she showed him.

Patty grinned in her signature carefree way. “You a chicken?”

“Don’t call me that,” he said rather harshly to her joke. He remembered often that she was a city girl, too, even when other townsfolk forgot.

Patty didn’t hesitate to respond though, as always. “Then prove ya ain’t,” she said in her most mischievous tone.

Soul knew that he couldn’t, at least by her standards. But, he hoped that soon, she could see him as a man and not as the city boy from the far away world that she loathed so much. The first step (maybe) was to go against her commands.

He grumbled something unintelligible, something she couldn't quite hear, and he turned to stomp away— again, minding his boots. Patty called after him until he was too far away. Then, once she caught up, she ran at him in a tackle hug.

She said, “Come’er, city boy,” laughing and unbothered still. “You mad at me?”

He was, and then slowly, he was not. Her cheerfulness could melt his emotions away and leave him feeling like a stranger to himself. Soul turned away from her, attempting to shove her off half-heartedly, and said, “I’m not.”

“But ‘cha are!” she laughed, hugging him tighter around his waist.

In that moment, it was clear that Soul was much taller than her, but she was much stronger. He was lean where she was sturdy, and he was serious when she was cheerful. She made up what he lacked, but maybe that wasn’t bad. However, he didn’t want to be just a neighbor who happened to come from NYC like she. He wasn’t just a dumb city boy who needed watching over.

Soul repeated that he was not mad, and by the second time around, it was the truth. However, he was feeling an odd way after all, one that made him awkward and her very determined to chase it away.

——————————

Later, after surviving winter, the wildflowers were blooming again in the fields. They stayed silent against the still air but shifted slightly when Soul walked by. He followed Patty to a little area away from her family’s barn where they kept a few bee hives, far enough from the other animals but a walkable distance.

She only warned Soul to not get any closer when he became visibly nervous around the bees; he heeded her warning gratefully. Patty, however, completely unbothered, approached one of the man made hives gently. On TV shows and movies, beekeepers always wore thick suits and a round face veil; that girl only had her overalls and rubber boots. She slowly opened the hive and scooped out a clump of bees with her bare hands, face relaxed and movements predictable.

From a distance, Soul saw that she was talking to them as she went. Maybe he was mistaken, but she seemed like a different person at that moment. He thought that even someone abundantly loud and naturally precarious could make those sort of soft expressions.

Eventually, Patty came back with her fingers dripping in honey. She held up the piece of honeycomb to his face and said gleefully, “Have ya ever had it fresh?”

He squinted at it, “Is it safe to eat?”

“Sure is!” she laughed, ready to take a bite herself.

“Anything you think is ‘safe’ makes me cautious.”

Patty hummed. “Like? I wouldn’t put you in danger.”

“You didn’t wear gloves when handling bees, though,” Soul said. His worry came out in strange ways, but obvious.

“You can accidentally squish them if ya do. Kinda nice to feel them, builds the trust between ya, yeah?” She spoke in a way that made it seem like common knowledge. “Now, you gonna taste?”

Soul looked at the mess in her hands. It was new to see the honey still contained in the combs; the only honey that he’d ever had came out of squeeze bottles or farmer’s market jars. He briefly remembered Wes’s visit home two years prior— when he first got engaged. Soul didn’t try honeycomb when Wes brought some to him, but apparently, it was a treat to eat it that way.

He reached out to take what Patty offered him anyway. She already expected his reaction to be positive, even though he hadn’t truly accepted it yet. As she licks her fingers, he appraised the yellow mass that became his. He didn’t like how the honey sticks to him immediately and how questionable things floated in small corners, but when he chews into the wax, he thinks it’s delicious in unfamiliar ways.

——————————

During a summer storm, Soul went missing during the worst of times. He was supposed to be checking on the animals in the Evans-Beckett’s barn, but he never made it back before the wind and rain rolled in. Oakley went out to see what kept Soul for so long, only to return alone with a grim line set on his face.

Patty, who had been visiting (as she did often), stood up abruptly from the breakfast table as quickly as Wes. They both jumped to the most terrible of conclusions, but Oakley merely waited for them to quiet down.

Ever calm and steady, he put his hand over his husband’s and said, “The kid will be back.” He didn’t have to address the storm or the dangers outside to convey his message. Soul would be ok, and the rest of them would wait for his return.

Wes had taken it harder than Patty, but they both understood. If they all chased Soul, it would do more harm than good in those weather conditions. They understood, but it was hard to sit still. Wes made himself busy instead while Patty planted herself in front of the radio, stone faced and listening.

Oakley gave her a knitted blanket, but she didn’t respond to him. She was only concentrating on the forecast and urgent warnings that spilled from the machine. He’d seen Patty so serious only a few times before— one time when he married her sister Liz, and once more when he divorced her. Both times, Patty expressed maturity beyond her age, knowingly that the path to happiness was fluid.

The two sisters were distant relatives of the Thompsons from next door, the grandchildren of Oakley’s neighbor’s mom’s brother— second cousins once removed, maybe. They came to the farm as young teens almost eight years ago, wild and grave.

But the seriousness didn’t suit her.

When Soul knocked on the front door under an hour later, it felt like a lifetime. He was soaked to the bone and his hair stood up more wildly than how he normally styled it. Wes came to his side immediately, but when Soul stepped aside, a small calf emerged from behind him. Oakley threw another blanket over it and led it inside after Soul, sighing out a year of his life from relief for both creatures’ safety.

Patty was far less forgiving. She took one look at Soul, and then the calf, and then back at Soul. Her rage was clear as day and stormy as the rain outside.

Soul explained first before she even asked. “He wasn’t in the barn, so I went looking.”

She didn’t let him finish nor did she cut corners. “Are you dumb?”

He winced, “I’m fine, though.” He made it back safely, so he thought it didn’t matter. “The baby cow is fine, and I’m fine.”

It did little to soothe Patty, who got angrier by the second. “That ain’t the issue, Soul,” she said lowly. She almost never called him by his name, only ever ‘city boy’ or other nicknames. To him, it was jarring.

“It would’ve been a bigger issue if we lost him.”

Oakley watched the two carefully while Wes awkwardly patted the calf dry. The former began, “Pat, he’s back.”

Ignoring him, Patty glared to Soul, “And what if you got lost, too? Then we’d have two.”

“Then, you’ll just have to find me again,” he said plainly. At her silence, he added in good humor, “Like how you led me back here like a lost cow before.”

He was cheerful when she was serious, and that melted her unsettled feelings away. Patty finally laughed at how ridiculous Soul could be and she hugged him despite his wet clothes.

“Dumbass. Spoken like a true country idiot, ey?”

The way she held him made his blood run to his face. She had her arms tight around his ribs and her face dug into his chest. He didn’t respond quickly enough to hug her back, but Oakley swooped in to guide Soul to the bath once Patty released him.

——————————

Soul’s first harvest and his second autumn came fast. He forgot to respond to his pestering parents about a visit to Manhattan, but Wes told him to send them boxes of vegetables before it was too late. It was a good idea because Soul couldn’t stomach another eggplant for the season. Even the Thompson household started to return bags that Wes snuck onto their porch.

Patty came by in the afternoon clutching plenty of cucumbers, hoping for some room in Soul’s already overweight box. His stomach lunged at the sight of her produce and he grudgingly made more space for it.

“Get another box.” She eyed his work. “One for each parent.”

“Good idea,” Soul agreed.

After he taped the first box shut, Patty sharpied on the address. He saw her following his paper carefully as reference up until she reached the city and zip code portion. She knew the last part by heart, like a city girl raised in the area. She didn’t have to think twice about the numbers and it was like the one thing that was unquestioned out of everything else she wrote.

When she caught Soul staring, Patty snorted, “What?”

“Dunno,” Soul said. “Just thought that you are definitely a city girl.”

#soul eater #nessie spills #patsoul #patty x soul #soulpat #delicious #i feed my children for the winter #se-rarepair-day #serarepairdays #august 2020

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dynamicduoau · 5 years

Text

Episode 2: Puppy Love

Summary: Logan Crofters lives his life by schedule. This changes one day though, when he makes one of his regular days to the Mystery Museum. After an argument, Virgil uses a power he never knew he had before. Now the three have to reverse it.

Words: 5544

Relationships: Platonic Moxiety, One-Sided Logicality, Platonic Analogicality

Notes: Original story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170951/chapters/47980744#workskin

Logan’s alarm clock went off right at 6am as it did every day. The thirteen-year-old got out of bed. His glasses were by his alarm clock, so he grabbed them and placed them on his face.

He walked to his bathroom and changed into the normal black polo, blue tie, blue sweater vest, and jeans. Logan grabbed his hair gel and slicked his hair back. All of it went back besides these two stubborn pieces by his ears. Once he finished, he walked down the stairs.

As usual, there was a note telling him that his parents have left already for work.

He thought that maybe today they could have driven him to the library. Though, Logan did not know why he thought that. They normally forgot when he asked, so what makes today any different?

With a sigh, he went grabbed his cereal.

He'd go to The Mystery Museum today. There were those two from yesterday, Virgil and Patton, he could talk to. Virgil seemed to be more reserve, but he also seemed to be the more intelligent of the two. Patton on the other hand was an odd person. He seemed to radiate sunshine and was full of emotions. The band of Logan’s existence. Still, they were two people that were Logan’s age, and maybe it would be best to talk to people his age. They were new to Gravity Falls, so they could not have that large of an opinion on him.

________________

Thomas had told Virgil to watch the giftshop while he ran some of the tours with Emile. Tours didn’t start for another hour, but Thomas need to stay at the front desk in case of any early customers. A regular tour took about two hours, so he had about three hours until someone came into the gift ship and human interaction began.

Instead of sitting in a chair, Virgil was sitting crisscross on the counter. It was lunchtime, but all Virgil had was his coffee that sat next to him. That was his fifth today. He didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so coffee was the only thing that was keeping him running. The journal was on his lap. After he could go to sleep last night, he spent most of his time reading it.

A sandwich was placed next to his coffee as Patton went behind the desk and sat at the chair behind it. The sandwich was peanut butter and grape jelly. Virgil hated every other jelly flavor.

“Thanks, Pop Star,” Virgil said as he turned around on the counter, making sure to avoid spilling the coffee and sandwich. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.”

Patton pulled at the polaroid camera on his neck, “Been working on our winter break scrapbook. Trying to incorporate this gnome bread hair.”

He pulled out a clump of white hair he had in his pocket. Virgil didn’t even remember when his brother took it.

“Why do you even have that?” Virgil asked in disgust.

Patton shrugged before stuffing it back into his pocket.

If Virgil wasn’t this tired, he would have been going on about the diseases that could come from that, but nope all he could think about was the journal and coffee.

He just sighed and took a bite from his sandwich.

Patton looked down at the journal, “Have you read more of it?”

“Yeah, I did during the night,” Virgil yawned. “Couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Patton looked him up and down, “How much sleep did you get last night?

“I don’t know,” Virgil sighed. “I couldn’t sleep with all the questions that were running through my head. Who is the author? What happened to them? Why was this book in the woods? So, in the end, I couldn’t sleep.”

His brother scolded, “Well, as your older brother, I say that you need to sleep tonight.”

“Five minutes, you are older by five minutes,” Virgil replied.

“That just means I have five more minutes of maturity,” Patton grinned. “Five minutes closer to adultery than you.”

“Patton, we talked about this,” Virgil rubbed his nose. “Besides, your face is covered in peanut butter.”

Patton began to rub his face with hand, trying to find any source of the mess on his face. Virgil just laughed, since there was nothing on his face. His brother was quick to figure it out and punched his knee.

That would teach him. Patton might be the older twin and the stronger twin and the more social twin…but Virgil was good at things too. Like he could recite any of MCR's and Evanescence's song.

“Salutations,” a voice came said from behind them.

“Ah!” Patton jumped, and Virgil rolled his eyes as he spun around to see Logan.

He looked just like he did yesterday. With his very nerdy outfit. Virgil didn’t understand what Patton saw in him. He just seemed like a guy that had a stick up his ass.

“Hi,” Virgil mumbled, placing his book back into his jacket pocket.

“Hello Logan,” Patton smiled.

Virgil sighed, Patton might like Logan, but Virgil was going to remain on his toes. After yesterday, he didn’t know what to except. Even if the guy didn’t try to force Patton into marriage, Virgil wasn’t going to take any chances. He could be some creepy scientist that wanted to dissect his brother's brain.

Nope, not going down that road again.

“So,” Patton smiled, “Logan, you come in everyday?”

“Mostly,” Logan replied. “With these weather conditions, I find it is better to walk here than walking to town.”

“Snow way you could get hurt,” Patton grinned.

"Did you just make a pun?" Logan asked.

Patton lifted his brow up grinning and even Virgil gave a chuckle.

"Of course I did," Patton smiled. "I'm just a punny guy. So, whatcha doing here?"

“I do not have anyone to talk to during the day, so I come here since it is closer than the town,” Logan shrugged turning around. “Human interaction is good for mental health.”

Patton frowned, “What about your parents?”

Logan shrugged, “They work for most of the day.”

“Well, you can always talk to us,” Patton grinned throwing his arms out.

Logan shook his head, “That is quite unlikely considering that once winter break is over you two will be gone.”

Patton frowned, “You can still talk to us.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “And what would we talk about?”

Patton blinked, “Well, what is there to do around here? Virgil and I haven’t been around town yet.”

“Well, juvenile things like the arcade, laser tag, some fake psychics,” Logan listed off. “However, when I do go into town, I tend to go the library.”

It was official, Logan was a nerd. Though, the library seemed like a good idea. Not around too many people and a calm place where Virgil didn’t have to worry about his anxiety.

In Virgil’s mind, he wondered if Logan has seen anything strange around here. Maybe, he could give some information on what goes on around here.

“Have you ever seen anything strange here?” Patton asked.

Virgil wonder if Patton could read his mind. He could voice what Virgil wanted to know and couldn’t really get out.

“Strange? How?” Logan looked at him.

“Well,” Patton started. “We’ve heard some of the rumors around here, and it just makes a person curious.”

“I do agree that this town is strange, but everything here can have a logical explanation,” Logan replied. “A “werewolf” sighting is simply a dog. These rumors are the only thing that gets people to come to this town.”

“That didn’t answer the question,” Virgil mumbled. “Have you ever seen anything strange?”

“I have not seen anything strange. And anyone that believes these strange occurrences is just paranoid,” Logan shrugged.

Something sort of snapped in Virgil. You could call Virgil many things and he wouldn't care. Actually, you could call him anything, but that word. Sure, Logan didn't flat out say he was it, but he implied it.

Virgil's hands tightened into fists. Patton noticed and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Virgil shook it off.

He grinned, “Really? You have a logical explanation for everything, Logan? Why ships have been bitten and wreaked at the dock? Or the reports of hauntings at the abandoned grocery store?”

All of his anxiety was gone in his coffee fueled rage.

The two began to glare at each other.

“Okay,” Patton moved between the two. “Virgil, go get some coffee and please leave the salt out of it this time.”

Virgil just glared as he walked away.

He heard Logan say, “Who puts salt in their coffee?”

God, the guy was jerk. He knew he shouldn't be that overprotective of his brother, but Logan was making him so frustrated. Virgil was trying really hard to restrain himself, but it getting more and more difficult.

The emo filled his cup with coffee and chugged it down. He got another cup and brought it with him.

Once he returned to the gift shop, Patton grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“He’s being a bit of a jerk,” Virgil shrugged as he sipped his coffee.

“You know I was joking about the coffee. Your heart is going to explode if you drink any more of it!” Patton whisper shouted.

Virgil simply shrugged, “Death will come when it does.”

Patton slapped a hand on his face, “Where is Thomas? He should be taking care of the gift shop?”

“He’s working the front,” Virgil shrugged. “Emile really needs to hire another person here or something.”

“So, do you really believe there are fantasy creatures in the middle of Gravity Falls?” Logan interrupted, tilting his head.

“Yes,” Virgil shrugged. “Can you completely prove that there is no such thing?”

“Well,” Logan looked down, “You have no proof of there being any supernatural creatures.”

Virgil had to restrain himself from pulling the journal out.

“Maybe there is,” Virgil replied. “No one has found it yet.”

Logan scoffed, “If someone made that big of a discover wouldn’t they want to share it with the world.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “What if their life was in danger because they stumbled upon something so great, they had to run?”

The two glared at each other.

“Okay, everyone needs to calm down,” Patton smiled.

“I am perfectly calm,” Logan didn’t look away from Virgil. “He is the one that is not calm.”

It was then that Virgil hissed.

Three seconds passed.

“Did he just hiss at me?” Logan asked Virgil.

“I do that when I reach my limit of stupid,” Virgil replied, pouring the rest of the coffee in his mouth.

“I am not the one that is being stupid and paranoid,” Logan growled.

It was then that something happened. Virgil slipped a hand through his hair and he glared at the ground. Frustration filled him as he tightened his grip around his stomach.

Logan was looking at him in astonishment, while Patton looked at him in a fearful way.

“Um, son,” Patton started. “Your eye is glowing.”

Virgil looked up. He felt the familiar energy surround his eye. No one was frozen. No one was moving by force. Before he could say anything a large blast came from within him. And everything went black.

_________________

Patton’s arm sort of hurt as he got up. He hoped it was only bruised. Looking around, he saw his brother passed out on the ground. The older twin went over to him and checked on him, making sure Virgil had a pulse. Once he was sure, he decided that it would be best if he left him. His son did need his sleep. And it wouldn’t be the first time that Virgil passed out from that much power.

“Logan,” he called out. “Logan?”

There was rummaging and Patton turned around not seeing anyone.

“Oh, please don’t tell me he also has the power to wipe a person from the plane of reality too,” Patton squeaked as he looked around.

A bark caught his attention.

Patton looked down and there was a dog. He had black hair and blue eyes. Something was familiar about him, but he couldn’t quite place it. The good boy wasn’t that big, but he was fluffy. Patton didn’t know where he came from, but it was a puppy, so he could resist the urge to pet him.

“Who’s a good boy?” Patton reached out to pet the doggo, but it backs up.

When he tried to reach out again, the dog reached out to bit him and began to bark once more.

“AAAAAAAHHHH!” Patton jumped up.

That seemed to wake up Virgil as he mumbled and slowly sat up.

“Did I just pass out?” Virgil asked, groggily.

Patton was quick to get to his brother, “How are you feeling, bro?”

“My head hurts,” he rubbed it as he looked at the dog. “Why is there a dog here?”

Patton shrugged, “Don't know, but he’s mean and tried to bite my hand.”

“Um…where’s Logan?” he asked looking around. “Um... Patton? Why is there a pile of Logan’s clothing next to the dog? And why does the dog looks a lot like Logan?”

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“AAHH!” the two screamed.

“How…what…when…Did I do that?” Virgil asked as he looked at the dog, Logan.

“What other explanation is there? It does sound pretty far-fetch,” Patton replied.

The dog tilted his head at the two. Defiantly him, Logan does that all the time.

Patton grabbed his brothers arm and pulled him over, “When could you change people into dogs?”

This is second time that some supernatural thing happened to his crushes. Though, this time Patton couldn't feel mad at his brother. It was a complete accident. A new power seemed to have formed within him. Or maybe he’s always had this power and something triggered it.

Virgil shrugged, “I didn’t know I could. I was just getting frustrated and boom.”

Patton turned, “Can you change him back?”

“I can't control my powers, and this new,” Virgil glared. “Maybe the book can help.”

His Misunderstood Shadowling began to scan through the book.

Patton moved back over to Logan, “Okay, Virgil is going to fix this. He just needs to figure out how to get you out of the dog days."

Logan only looked at him. Right, dogs could only talk in Patton's dreams. But…Virgil had telepathy, so maybe he could communicate to Logan instead. Back home when he read animal's minds, he told him it was strange. Like English but mixed with a bunch of gibberish. Since Logan is human, maybe he they could talk that way.

With that he ran out of the room and up to his shared room. He grabbed one of Virgil’s black hair bands that was lying on the table. With that he ran back downstairs with it.

“You put this one,” he puffed out as he gave his brother the hairband.

“Why?” he asked while looking at it.

“We can’t communicate with Logan,” Patton grinned. “He seems to still be Logan you should be able to read his mind. Mind sharing with him.”

Virgil tried to cover the small chuckle that came out.

Virgil slipped the band onto himself and pushed the book into his brother's hands, “Stop if it saw curse, magic, enchanted, or reverse.”

Patton nodded and began to scan through the book.

_________________

Virgil looked down at Logan.

“Okay, I’m going to try and see if this works,” Virgil mumbled. “You probably want an explanation.”

What did you do to me?!

“Well, I can’t really explain that,” Virgil replied. “You see I didn’t know I can change people into dogs until ten minutes. But I can do other things like freeze time, telepathy, and telekinesis. I just can’t really control them. I don’t know how I got them, but I do know that my eye is the source.”

Do you think I’m stupid?

“Do I think your stupid? No,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “I think your stubborn and arrogant. Besides, how do you explain that I can read your thoughts and that you’re a dog?”

Clearly, a gas leak is creating hallucinations.

“Okay, you stick with that,” Virgil got up moving the headbands so that it went behind his bangs instead. His hair covered his eye once again. He was done with Mr. Logic, “Find anything Popstar?"

“Fairies, witches, and Enchanted Lake,” Patton shook his head. “I don’t think we can find fairies and witches and a lake isn’t going to help us.”

“Enchanted Lake,” Virgil took the book finding the page. “Pat, it’s not a normal lake. It washes away curses and heals the body. Did you not read this all the way through?”

He boy pouted as he turned around, “I liked the fairies.”

“Okay, change of plans today. We are going to a lake in the middle of the forest,” Virgil replied. “Let’s just hope we can get back before the tour is over.”

“I’ll go grab some stuff,” Patton smiled, running upstairs to get whatever he thought they needed.

“Welp,” Virgil smiled. “Better wait for him.”

Soon enough, Patton reappeared carrying a backpack with him now. He knelt down and began shoving Logan's clothing into a backpack. His grappling hook was in the side pocket of the backpack.

“Wait,” Patton went up and pushed his brother's bangs back with the hairband. “Keep them pushed back, at least for today.”

He walked over the door, placing the journal back into his jacket pocket. When the other two didn't follow him, Virgil turned. Patton had knelt down while Logan growled at him.

I will not be carried.

“I hate to break it to you,” Virgil said. “But the snow is about a foot deep and you're teeny tiny. Let Pat carry you.”

“Yeah,” Patton added. “You’ll get cold.”

After a few minutes, Logan relented and Patton was able to carry him.

_____________

They've been walking for a total of thirty minutes and Virgil knew they were lost. The last time he read a map it was a family road trip and they got lost. Though, he blamed that on his parents since they were the ones that gave a seven-year-old the map to navigate. And, the trip ended up sucking anyway.

“If that’s that, and that’s that,” Virgil looked up at the map and at the forest. “We go that way.”

He pointed the west and began to walk. Patton was quick to follow his brother into the woods. Really, that was just a guess, but it was better than what they were doing right now.

“What if we see the gnomes again?” Patton asked.

“You kicked their butts yesterday, we won’t be seeing them for a while,” Virgil shrugged, as he looked at the book.

Wait? Gnomes?

“Yep, they wanted to marry Patton yesterday,” Virgil replied.

I do not follow.

“Patton explain yesterday’s predicament,” Virgil looked from the journal to get a sense of his where he was. He hoped he could figure out where he was.

“Oh, so after you left the store, I meet this really cute guy named Norman and I went out with him. He was so nice and sweet, but Virgil didn’t like him and thought he was a zombie…” he went on about him getting kidnapped and Virgil coming in saving him from the gnomes, but they turned into a giant gnome.

You know the rest.

Virgil traced his hand on a tree, “We need to find a twisted looking tree.”

Patton looked around, “I don’t see one.”

“Hello,” a voice said from behind them.

Virgil was fast to turn. There was a young woman in front of them. She had short dark brown hair that had loose curls. The ends were dyed blond. She had piercing green eyes and tan skin. What got Virgil was the black dress she was wearing. It went down to her knees. The only thing on her feet were a pair of sandals that's straps went up her legs.

Virgil knew that whatever she was, she wasn’t human. Virgil hugged the journal closer to his chest. It gave him some comfort.

“Hi,” Patton smiled. “We’re looking for an Enchanted Lake for my friend.”

He gestured to Logan.

She looked at the human-turned-dog, “Oh, what happened to him?”

“My brother…” Patton stopped himself from continuing. “We need to reverse a curse on our friend and the Enchanted Lake is the only thing that can help him.”

She nodded, “Yes, but I’m not going to let you near it.”

“What…” before anyone could move, she threw back a hand sending them all flying.

Large, feathered wings moved out from her back as she walked over to Virgil. The journal had fallen out of his hands. He managed to get up, but she was quickly advancing.

“I see human in you,” she gazed at him. “But I sense something that I’ve never sensed in any other human before.”

Virgil stumbled back, “Stay away from me.”

He fell. Virgil began to scoot back while in the snow. Snow seeped into his clothing as he stared at her. His chest began to tighten. When she was no more than a foot away from Virgil his eye began to glow purple and she froze him her spot.

He gathered the journal back into his hands and ran back to his brother.

“We have to go,” Virgil began move.

They began to run. Logan still in Patton’s arms.

“What is she?” Patton asked, as Virgil looked through the book.

“A fae or fairy,” Virgil replied. “They protect certain parts of the forests. Some live in groups, while others stay isolated.”

“A fairy?!" the other asked in awe.

"She's trying to kill us!" Virgil glared as they continued running.

"Why doesn’t the Enchanted Lake page talk about them?” Patton asked, switching the topic.

“I don’t know, maybe they weren’t there when the Author found it,” Virgil replied.

A growl came and suddenly the fae was behind them. She pushed Virgil to the ground and pushed Patton and Logan away from them with her other hand. The journal slipped from his grip and fell somewhere he couldn’t see. He tried his hardest to fight her, but her hands came around his arms and pinned him to the ground.

“I wonder,” she stared down at Virgil, “Not many can overpower me, but you did. Yet you can’t protect yourself from me now.”

He kicked out, “Don’t touch me!”

Suddenly, something hit her in the side of sending her off of Virgil. She hissed in pain.

Patton was glaring at the fairy. In his right hand was the grappling hook and in the other was the journal. Logan had been set on the ground, growling at her.

Once he felt the grip on him slip Virgil ran to the two.

His brother aimed the grappling hook at the fae again, continuing his glare. She glared back at him, and stood back up. There was a visible red splotch on her cheek.

Virgil took that as a sign to pick Logan off the ground.

“Don’t touch my brother!” Patton yelled, keeping his aim.

“What are you going to do?” she laughed, the red spot on her cheeks began to leave.

They did the only thing that they could. The trio ran as far as they could before she could grabbed them again.

They stopped behind a tree, lying flat against it. Logan was held tighter in Virgil's arms. Beside him, Pat had the grappling hook in his hands, ready in case she attacked them again.

What just happened?

“Shush,” Virgil whispered trying to keep his breath even.

“Where are you?” she flew in. "You can't hide from me."

They were behind the tree for a few seconds. Her footsteps crushed in the snow. The fae was getting closer and closer. Virgil stopped breathing. Logan began to tremble. Patton tightened his grip on his grappling hook. She couldn't have been more than ten feet away now.

A snap and a scream made them jump.

Patton was the first to turn around. Followed by Virgil and Logan.

Once they saw that she was stuck in a bear trap, the two looked snapped back to hiding. Virgil didn't remember seeing that when they were running for their lives, but to be fair they had bigger things on their minds. He was just happy that none of them had ran into it instead. They'd all be dead right now.

"She's stuck," Patton whispered.

“Fae’s can’t touch iron,” Virgil mumbled what he remembered from the journal. “It’s their weakness. Steel is an alloy of iron and carbon.”

“We can’t leave her,” Patton turned. “She’s in pain.”

“Pat, she's trying to hurt us," Virgil reasoned, but the look that Patton gave him made Virgil sigh, “Fine.”

They walked towards the fae with caution. Her eyes snapped up at them. She wasn’t pushing them back, so Virgil guessed that the trap weakened her powers. She struggled to get her leg free, but that only caused her more pain. She gave a small moan of pain and stopped her struggles, but she still had her guard up.

“We’re only here to help,” Patton reasoned he placed both hands up.

“Stay away,” she weakly gasped.

Virgil set Logan next to him and he followed the twins.

“We can help you get out,” Virgil replied.

Slowly, she let them come closer, but her eyes didn't leave them.

Patton knelt down and Virgil did the same.

Logan bark getting Virgil’s attention.

Ask if she can move her foot.

“Can you move your foot any?” Virgil asked.

She nodded slowly, while moving her foot around.

Virgil, you need to push down on the springs. When there is enough of an opening have here slip her leg out. Tell Patton to grab her hand, it is going to hurt.

“I’m going to push down on the springs. Patton hold her hand. Slip you’re foot out as soon as you can,” Virgil took a breath as he began to apply pressure to the springs.

Patton wrapped both of his hands around hers.

She gave a small noise as it began to open. Her grip tightening on Pat's hand. Virgil pushed down as hard as he could, creating enough of a space for her to pull her leg free. Once everyone was away from the trap, Virgil let the thing slam shut. He looked over to the fae, who's leg was bloody and slightly bruised, but he can see that it was beginning to heal by itself.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “How did you know that?”

“Logan told me,” Virgil replied pointing at him.

“You can communicate with him?” she asked.

Virgil nodded, “He’s human, just doesn’t look like it.”

She looked at all three of them. They gave her enough room to adjust herself and let her wings stretch out.

“You have no intention of hurting my people?” she asked.

“No, we really are just trying to help Logan,” Patton replied.

She gave them a sincere smile as he flew herself up a little bit to keep herself from using the injured leg.

“Thank you,” she turned towards them. “You could have left, but instead you helped me. Come, I will take you to the Enchanted Lake, so that you can reverse the curse on your friend.”

Patton had placed his grappling hook back in his backpack and handed the journal back to Virgil. He placed it in back in his jacket pocket and stood up. Pat had gathered Logan in his arms as they began to follow her.

“What are your names? I’m Rae,” she said.

“I’m Patton,” Patton stated. “This is my twin brother, Virgil. And this is our friend, Logan.”

She nodded as she took them to a lake that seemed to glow green.

Other fairies flew around.

“Here it is the Enchanted Lake,” she smiled. “You three are welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you,” Patton smiled. “I’m sorry about hitting you, I thought you were going to hurt my brother.”

“And I’m sorry about freezing you, that just happens sometimes,” Virgil replied.

“And I’m sorry for chasing you,” Rae smiled.

Patton took Logan and placed him at the edge of the lake.

He jumped in and after a few seconds he reemerged human again.

“That was not ideal,” Logan said and looked down. “I am not clothed.”

“We packed you’re clothing and a towel,” Patton pulled off the backpack. “We’ll turn around.”

Five minutes later, Logan was completely clothed.

"Goodbye," Rae waved to them.

“Bye. Thank you again, Rae,” Patton smiled.

“Thanks,” Virgil waved.

“Thank you and goodbye,” Logan thanked as he followed the twins.

They walked through the woods.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Virgil mumbled. “I...OH GOD! Someone knows!”

“I am the only person that knows?” he asked.

“Other than Patton,” Virgil hugged the journal. “I want to understand them, but they're just so random. My brother falls and I can catch him with telepathy, but the when I focus on trying to use them, I can't.

“Well, I will not tell anyone," Logan replied. "I'm sorry, I caused you distress."

Virgil gave a small smile, "It's fine."

Patton smiled, “You two are getting along now!”

They remained quiet for the rest of the trip. Though, Virgil didn't find this silence uncomfortable. It was more of a comforting one.

When the trio returned back to the museum, Virgil placed the journal behind the counter and tied his hoodie around his waist. He hoped that it covered some of the wet spots on him. They had thirty minutes before any of the tour groups came in.

“I’m going to go get a snack,” Patton announced before leaving for the two alone.

Once he knew that Patton was gone, Virgil knew he had to say it. It wasn't like he could hold it back anymore.

Virgil sighed, “My brother is fragile person and for some reason he has taken a liking to you. Now I understand if you don’t want to be anywhere near me anymore, but can you please not do the same to Patton. He takes it hard when people he cares about just turn on him. If I see you in the store, I’ll go in the opposite direction, and you'll never have to see me again.”

Logan took that in for a second, “Today was not ideal, but in all honesty, it has probably been one of the best days of my life. Most days I spend them either looking through useless junk or reading books I have already read before or just staying home. Today, I did something.”

Virgil found himself aghast, “Does that mean you’re not going to spray me with holy water.”

“Friends do not spray each other with holy water,” Logan stated.

Virgil gave him a look, “We’re friends?”

“Today you proved me wrong,” Logan looked down. “I mean this has all been under my nose and I haven't noticed. Maybe I could help you with your abilities. You opened my eyes up. I have to consider someone like that as a friend.”

“How are you going to help me?” Virgil questioned. Not that he didn't like it. It's just that he's tried for so long to understand them, he doubted that Logan would be able to crack the mystery that was Virgil's powers. He's been at it for a while, and he was never able to figure it out.

“I find experiments invigorating,” Logan replied.

“I get to be your lab rat?” Virgil shrugged. “You know what, I’ll do it.”

Maybe Logan Crofters wasn't that bad of a guy after all.

Patton returned and took a bit of a sandwich, “Are we all friends now?”

The two looked at each other, nodding.

Patton pulled them into a group hug. With a lose hand he pulled out his polaroid and snapped a couple of pictures of them.

“Thank goodness!” Patton squealed. "I need photos, so I never forget this!"

“Patton,” Virgil gasped. “Can’t…breath…”

“Sorry,” he smiled and released the two and collected the photos that had fallen out.

“I got to get behind the desk,” Virgil smiled as he jumped up on the counter. “Customers are going to start to come in.”

“We should take more photos,” Patton held up his polaroid again.

“Is he always like this?” Logan leaned towards Virgil.

“Yep, but you got to admit it’s pretty cute,” Virgil shrugged.

Logan nodded, “It is.”

Virgil grinned at the blush that formed on his brother’s cheeks. If Patton and Logan ever got together, Virgil approved of it.

____________

When Logan returned home later that evening, he placed his trench coat on the coat hanger. From the lack of other coats, there was no one else home. He took off his boots and went to start making dinner.

He pulled out a polaroid photo from his pocket. Patton gave it to him before he left. Virgil was behind the register a little bit startled from Patton grabbing him around the neck. Logan had been pulled in from the side by Patton. Patton was in the middle grinning.

Logan smiled a little before placing the photo on the refrigerator. He didn't know what he has just gotten himself into, but he did not regret it.

#dynamic duo #dynamic duo AU #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #Emile Picani #thomas sanders #gravity falls

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lilacflamesss · 5 years

Text

When I

Summary: Hinami has a surprise visit from an unexpected guest! (2.2k words)

Warning: Major character death.

A/N: I was bored and I miss Ayahina so have this! Please do reblog this and feel free to leave some comments!

Preview:

I thought we made it too, Ayato-kun.

Their world hadn’t changed at all.

When she hears the loud thump against her front door, Hinami doesn’t think much about it. Someone must have dropped something, or some kid must have been playing outside. She pays no mind to the sound. It’s only when she smells the heavy metallic tinge in the air that she responds. This isn’t just blood— it’s a familiar smell. She knows whose blood it is.

It’s seven in the evening and the sun has only just started to set. It’s normal for Hinami to be at home right now. Teaching is a day job. She has most of the night to herself. But not everyone is like her. The peacekeepers in the United Front and the TSC, for instance, have to work whenever they are needed to. When Hinami smells Ayato’s blood outside of her apartment, she knows something very wrong is happening. He should only just have started work today.

She’s at the door in a matter of a heartbeat. For that split second, she moves at the speed of an ukaku. She pulls the door open and Ayato falls forward, weakly managing to stop himself from falling completely with his hand. He’s lying in a pool of crimson, his clothes soaked and his skin stained in the same colour.

“Ayato-kun!” Hinami falls to her knees immediately, helping him up and leaning his trembling frame against hers. His breathing is so shallow, it’s almost as if his lungs are desperately fighting just for one more moment— perhaps, they are.

Ayato tries to sit up, pulling away from her, only to fall against her again. Hinami’s mind screams at her to do something, but at the same time, it stays a blank slate. What is she supposed to do when her beloved is bleeding himself out on her door? Does she call for help? Maybe an ambulance. Maybe calling Banjou would be better— no, that would be the best.

“Wait, I’ll call Banjou,” she says, trying to get up, only for him to pull her back down. Her knees knock against the floor again. Her white leggings and skirt are sticky, dyed dark red. Her favourite blouse is ruined as well— patches of red stain where he had rested himself on or had held onto.

“There’s no time,” he croaks out. Her stomach churns at the sounds of his voice. For a moment, she’s washed with relief that he’s well enough to talk, only for that brief moment of happiness to shatter from the realisation that he sounds far from okay. His voice is strained and raspy, like someone having just woken up with his throat clogged with sleep— except, it’s not sleep that’s clogging Ayato’s throat— it’s something else. The word dances in her mind, a horrifying capital ‘D’ flashing before her eyes. Tears sting at her ducts. No, that’s not happening. She won’t let it happen.

She’s fought so hard. She’s come so far. She had managed to make it here with everyone. She’s not losing someone again— she’s not losing him out of all people.

“You need meat,” she whimpers. He looks up at her, eyes narrowed amidst the cuts and bruises on his face. He watches her through his bangs. Drenched and sticky, the strands of his hair hang forward in clumps, plastered against his face. She’s thankful his hair is dark. At the very least, she can’t tell just how bloody his head is.

“You need meat,” she repeats, her voice weaker this time. She has no idea where to get meat in the first place. The new manufactured meat that ghouls are being made to eat nowadays cures their hunger but doesn’t help much with healing, not like raw flesh does. She looks down at him, surprised for a moment at how calm he is, watching her with a slight amusement on his face.

“Where are you going to get meat, Hinami?” he laughs.

She recalls something Touka had mentioned once. She’s seen some ghouls do it before. She adjusts their positions and undoes the button on her blouse. Her fingers fumble against the tiny buttons. She doesn’t realise how much her hands are shaking. Her body can barely function right now. Even though she isn’t the one losing blood, her limbs tremble to no ends, her throat constricts and her head spins from the nausea surfacing in her stomach. When the top three buttons are undone, she pushes her sleeve off, exposing her right shoulder. Ayato doesn’t seem bothered, aside from the way his eyes soften when they land on her bare skin.

“I’m not going to bite you, Hinami. I’m going to need much more than that to heal,” he says frankly. The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. He never says it that much. It almost feels like he’s making himself say it; like it might be the last time he gets to do it.

“I don’t care. You can take as much as you need,” she says quickly. The tears are falling already. Ayato laughs, shaking his head. He raises a weak hand to her face, swiping his thumb against the tear tracks on her cheeks one at a time. She feels the warmth of his touch, mostly from the blood he leaves behind, and all it does is create more tears.

“Human meat. If you have human meat—”

“Gonna kill someone for me now?” he chuckles. “Leave it, Hinami. You’ll get into trouble.”

“I don’t care,” she sobs. “If it’s to save you I don’t care.”

She’s such a hypocrite, she thinks. She remembers all the times Ayato had to work for her— all the times he had to take on additional burdens onto his exhausted shoulders— just because Hinami was so consumed with her morals and beliefs that killing is wrong and that she can never bring herself to do it. She wonders where those morals are right now. She wonders how she can’t even be bothered about them at this moment. She’s surprised, even, at how she’s silently hoping a human will suddenly show up before her right now so she can do that deed.

She had stopped Touka from killing the investigator the other time for revenge over her parents’ death. She realises now how difficult that decision must have been for Touka, yet how easy it is to make the choice for the sake of your loved ones. Like how Touka had killed to protect Hinami, Hinami realises she will kill if it’s to protect Ayato.

“Fucking idiot,” Ayato grumbles. He coughs, shaking his head as he stumbles to straighten himself out. He falls back against her right now. Hinami can feel his annoyance from the way he moves; he must hate feeling so weak. But there’s nothing that he can do, not when he’s not allowing her to do anything either.

“What happened—”

“I wanted to see you, Hinami,” he answers instead. “When I was lying there and bleeding the fuck out, all I could think was about how I wanted to see you.”

He pauses, breaking out into a coughing fit, blood spluttering out of his mouth. He heaves as he breathes. His breaths are tighter, like as if there’s a big hole in his lungs that is swallowing up all the oxygen he’s taking in, leaving him empty and grasping at nothing even when he’s fighting so hard to stay alive.

“Just like… when I was dragging the half-assed bastard out of Dragon. Or when we broke into Cochlea. Or when I tried to run back into the auction hall… I didn’t want to go, not without seeing you one more time. All I knew… was I just wanted to see Hina one more time,” he says. He coughs again and brings an arm up to his mouth, rubbing his sleeve against his lips. “Fuck… Fuck, not now… Fuck.”

“Ayato-kun, it will be okay,” Hinami says. She looks around her apartment. Her phone is just a short distance away. She can’t reach it with her arms, but with her rinkaku limb, she easily manages to pick it up and bring it over. She holds Ayato tightly against her with one hand as she tries her best to unlock her phone to call Banjou. It’s hard to use a smartphone with her hands being so wet and bloody. The screen refuses to respond. No. No no no. Please. She prays silently for help as she tries to work it. She’s right about to call Banjou when Ayato’s coughs again, his body lurching forward as he retches. Banjou fades to the back of her mind as he falls against her, limp and weak. Her phone falls to the floor, splattering into the pool beneath her. She’s holding him with two hands, hugging him as tight as she can while rubbing her back.

“No.” His voice sounds like a sob. She can’t see his face with him bent over like that, but from the way his body moves, she knows he’s crying. She’s never seen him cry before, not even at the worst of moments, not even when he was in Death’s grasp the last time. “Not now… Not now… I thought… we made it.”

I thought we made it too, Ayato-kun.

Their world hadn’t changed at all.

~~~

Her phone keeps ringing. She hasn’t met anyone since that day. She hasn’t talked to anyone. She hasn’t been to work. She hasn’t gone out. She doesn’t answer the door. She barely ate anything, surviving on whatever leftovers she has in her fridge. It isn’t too bad. She doesn’t have much of an appetite either, nor is she too fond of walking out of her room and into the kitchen. The kitchen is in the other end of the apartment, past the living room and past her front door, where that had happened.

The door had been cleaned. Banjou and Tsukiyama had taken care of that as she sat aside, shakily watching them in horror. The blood was wiped off completely. The smell had long faded. The doorway no longer held any evidence of what had happened. It’s like all of it never happened. It feels too hopeful— one day he might burst in with the usual scowl he has on his face before throwing himself on his couch and acting as if he owns the apartment.

But she knows that is merely wishful thinking. Her clothes from that day are still bloody. She hadn’t come around to do her laundry yet. She hadn’t changed her phone case either. It’s still stained red after she had left it in his blood for hours before picking it up again.

She can’t change the fact that he’s gone. Banjou had filled her in on what he believes had happened. It’s just a normal mission. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Someone of Ayato’s calibre and ability shouldn’t have run into any problem with it. The team had been small. When they ran into Shikorae, there was nothing they could do. They were overpowered. Of course, being the self-sacrificing idiot that he was, he had ordered his squad to retreat while he held off their former comrade.

Had Ayato always been that weak? Hinami hadn’t seen him fight in ages. They aren’t partners anymore. She isn’t there to support him any more. Maybe she should have agreed to fight as well. Maybe she shouldn’t have chickened out when she was given the chance to do something else instead. Even if she hates fighting and killing, maybe she should have gone along with him. They’re partners; they’re stronger together.

This is all my fault.

“Hinami,” Touka voice sounds out from the voicemail. “Hinami, the funeral is at 10. Please come. He’d want you here.”

Ghouls had always mourned their dead in silence. They had never been given the opportunity to commemorate their deceased with grandeur the way humans had. They never had the chance for final farewells. Not until now. But the thought of going there and seeing him again sickens her. She doesn’t want to see him one more time. She doesn’t want to see his pretty face all cleaned and made up. She doesn’t want that facade, not when she had witnessed the reality. He had not gone as peacefully and painlessly as his corpse might suggest in the funeral. In fact, it’s quite on the contrary. His body had been littered with wounds. He had been torn apart. He had bled himself to death. His final moments had been nothing but pain.

He’d want you here. How can the dead want anything? Going won’t change anything.

She doesn’t want to attend the funeral. She doesn’t want to go on without him. All she wants to do is lie in bed, curled up in his coat— his favourite fur-lined one which he had given her back when he saved her in Cochlea and she had forgotten to return afterwards. It no longer smells as strongly of him as it used to, but in her life that is now completely void of his presence, nothing can smell better. She buries her face into the fabric and she doesn’t bother stopping the sobs that escape her lips and the tears that continue to fall.

I’m sorry, Ayato-kun.

Come back, Ayato-kun.

I miss you, Ayato-kun.

Don’t leave me alone, Ayato-kun.

I love you, Ayato-kun.

~~~

A/N: I was really really bored. The title was based on one of my favorite BEAST songs called When I. I had meant to write more on Hinami’s thoughts after he died so I named it based on that song but then I got lazy so whatever. Once again, please please do reblog if you like this! It’ll really help me out. Feel free to leave comments in the tags/ reblogs/ replies or through asks!

#tg #tokyo ghoul #ayahina #kirishima ayato #fueguchi hinami #tg fanfic #geez whatever happened to never posting anything on tumblr ever again

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Making Sense - 5. Sound

Making Sense: A Hulkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bruce Banner x Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 2170

Rating: E

Warnings: Angst, Smut (Bi MMF threesome, oral sex, handjobs, anal sex, vaginal sex, Dom/Sub, switching, bondage, praise kink, rough sex, gentle sex, anal play, kinbaku, come play, ice play, erotic massage, sensory deprivation, mutual masturbation).

Synopsis: When Hulk starts making it difficult for Bruce to live his day to day life, Bruce starts pulling away from everyone. You and Clint take it upon yourselves to help the two of them to work more together better and Bruce to become more comfortable in his own skin.

5. Sound

“Thank you for giving him space last night.” You said rubbing your palm in a slow random pattern over the top of the Hulk’s large hand.

You, Clint and the Hulk sat together in the sun. Bruce had only just let him take control for the day and you wanted to get the talk out of the way first thing. That way the Hulk could spend the rest of the day just enjoying his last bit of freedom before returning to the tower.

Hulk huffed and nodded his head. “Hulk said he’d give Banner space.”

“Bruce has said he’ll agree to your terms.” You said. “If you can let him have room to be Bruce and not push on him, he agreed that once a month we can come out here and have at least a weekend. And if you both find it’s working like that, he’ll start letting you out back at the compound too.”

Hulk grunted. “Not always smash.”

“No. Just time to find out who you really are.” You agreed. “Does that sound good?”

“What about dog?” Hulk asked.

Clint laughed and patted Hulk on the arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll get a dog.”

The grin on Hulks face was huge and he clapped his hands.

“Alright. Enough talk. Let’s enjoy this last day.” Clint said jumping up, he tapped Hulk on the elbow. “Tag. You’re it.”

Hulk clambered to his feet as Clint shot up a tree and disappeared into the canopy of the forest. Hulk scooped you up and put you on his shoulders before taking after Clint. The rest of the day was spent doing most of the things you had already done. Clint and Hulk played their hunting/tag game for an hour or so before you all made your way to the waterfall and swam for a few hours. You had then gone back to the cabin and lit a big fire and cooked over it together. Hulk had really enjoyed burying potatoes wrapped in foil in the coals and was completely delighted to make smores. You had painted together and play fought.

By the end of the day, you were worn out but happy and sat under the tree watching the deer return to the field to graze.

“Hulk liked this week.” Hulk rumbled as he sat between you and Clint.

“Thanks, buddy. So did we.” Clint said, patting Hulk on the forearm.

Hulk made a deep contented rumbling sound deep in his chest. “Hulk love little bird and bossy girl.” He said, making the sign for I love you at the same time.

“Aww, buddy we love you too,” Clint said hugging Hulk.

You hugged him too and he placed a large hand on your back. “Yeah, love you too, Big Guy.”

Hulk hummed. “See you soon.” He said and shifted back into Bruce so you and Clint were hugging him as he took control again.

He hummed and nuzzled into you both. “I wish that’s how it happened every time.”

You and Clint both hummed in agreement, running your hands over him. “Definitely have to do it like this more often.”

Over dinner you, Bruce and Clint talked about how well the week went. How he’d been feeling more and more relaxed. How you and Clint now had zero doubts that the Hulk would ever hurt either of you. How Bruce was getting more and more comfortable and adventurous with his sex life even in the five days you’d spent here. You’d talked about other things he might want to try and had been too scared of. Things he wasn’t willing to do yet, and things he was willing to attempt given how calm and settled his mind was.

That’s how you ended up with Bruce naked on the bed while you and Clint carefully bound him using hemp rope. You were pretty good with a rope. Clint actually really liked being bound. He felt secure with the pressure of it against his skin. Safe. But while you were decent with bondage Clint was next level. He had a lot of hidden talents and knotwork was apparently one of them. Where yours was practical his also had an art too it. So when Bruce was fully bound, knees propped up, arms crossed over his chest, he looked beautiful.

The two of you ran your hands over him, creating pressure against him as you checked the ropes weren’t too tight or too loose. Unlike Clint, Bruce normally balked at being bound. It was something he was curious about but normally when you went to actually do it he freaked out about the Hulk and you’d have to abandon the entire thing and just go straight into aftercare. Not that you minded, cuddling and drinking tea together was nice too. It just meant that the fact you had already gotten to this stage was a testament to how much he trusted himself.

“How’s it feeling? Not rubbing?” You asked as you rubbed his chest in a deep deliberate motion. He moaned and flexed against the cords, his eyes already hooded in that sleepy, blissed out way he got as the endorphins began to kick in.

“No. Feels good.” He hummed.

“You’re positive you want to do this?” You asked.

“Mmm yeah… yes.” He replied.

“And you remember your safe words?” You asked.

“Amber to get you to back off but not stop. Red is to stop the whole thing.” He answered.

“You make sure you use them, B. You’re safe here with us.” You said.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said and you slipped on his blindfold. Clint grabbed the noise canceling headphones and you gave him a small nod and he slipped them over Bruce’s ears so that all he could hear was the sound of classical music.

You leaned over Bruce and kissed Clint deeply. He hummed happily as your lips moved with yours. You pulled away and nodded again and he smirked and began ghosting his fingers over Bruce’s body just so he tickled the hairs.

As Clint did that you picked up the cool steel buttplug from the collection of items you had planned to use tonight and began coating it in lube. It was medium sized. Big enough that it would stretch him but not so much he needed a lot of prep to take it. You moved between his legs and the soft whimpers he was making as Clint teased him turned into a long, deep moan as you coated his asshole in lube. He tried to raise his hips, pulling against the ropes and his cock jumped and leaked precome. You ran your hand down his hips and used the ropes to tug him into place. Seeing him like this was a huge turn on. It was unlikely you were going to come tonight but your arousal was enough. It dripped from you, soaking through your panties.

You pressed the plug against his asshole and slowly eased it into place. Bruce gasped and jerked up again. You rubbed his hips in soothing circles until he relaxed back down as best he could, continuing to whimper at Clint’s touch.

Clint moaned softly and you looked over at him and smirked. “Sounds good, huh?” You said picking up a feather and beginning to run it up the inside of Bruce’s thigh.

Clint hummed. “Is this what you get out of it? Getting to hear us like this?”

You nodded as you watched Bruce’s muscles twitch under the feather. You ran it up under his balls and they tensed and his cock jumped. “Oh god, please.” Bruce whimpered straining against the bonds.

“Pretty much. I’m not a sadist. That’s why I don’t use pain. Neither of you would enjoy that. But this… this fucking does it for me. The fact you trust me. Getting to see you enjoy it.” You explained as you ran the feather up Bruce’s stomach and teased his nipples with it. “You should feel how wet I am right now.”

Clint smirked and reached over pushing his hands between your legs and stroking his fingers along your pussy. He hummed and pulled his fingers away sticking them in his mouth. He picked up an ice cube from a bowl on the counter and teased it over Bruce’s lips. Bruce moan and his lips parted. “You ever want to be on the receiving end.”

You ran the feather up Bruce’s throat and watched as his nipples hardened. Clint ran the ice down Bruce’s throat and down his sternum. “Maybe,” You said eventually. “I’m not against it. But not if you and Bruce get put into a position you don’t like.”

Clint ran the ice over Bruce’s nipple and Bruce made a deep guttural moan. His hands opened and closed against him, each time making his muscles strain a little against his bonds. You put the feather down and ran your hands over him getting him to relax again as Clint continued to tease him with the ice. Clint moaned again and his hand went to his own cock stroking it to give himself some slight relief. Bruce’s cock was throbbing. A sticky smear of precum clumped the hair of his stomach together. “Please. Oh god, please.” He whimpered, rutting his hips as much as he could in their bonds.

You poured lube onto your palm and you began to stroke his cock. Bruce jerked violently on his bonds and groaned loudly his head falling back. Clint put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders moaning himself. “Oh fuck.” Clint hissed as he tried to soothe Bruce with his hands.

“Wait until you’re fucking him.” You teased. “You’ll be glad we are in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.” Clint made an impatient whine. “We’ll get there, little bird. Don’t worry. He’s already looking really close now.”

You teased your hand between Bruce’s legs, dancing them over his perineum to the end of the plug. You wriggled it inside him and started gently fucking him with it.

“Fuck! Oh god! God!” Bruce cried out bucking up again.

You hummed and leaned down, licking the head of his cock, the salty taste of his precome coating your taste buds. “I think you might be up, Barton.” You said pulling the plug free. You moved up beside them both as Clint moved between Bruce’s legs. You leaned over Bruce and began kissing along his collarbone and neck, placing each kiss between the ropes. You sucked on his throat as Clint grabbed hold of the ropes at Bruce’s chest and teased the head of his cock over Bruce’s asshole as he slicked it with lube.

“Please. Please. Clint. I need it. Please.” Bruce pleaded, twisting as much as the ropes allowed.

You kissed up along Bruce’s jaw and he tilted his head, lips parted, silently pleading for your lips on his. You kissed him, slowly and deeply and as Clint enter him he moaned and then pulled back groaning loudly. You kept kissing and running your hands over him, going between just ghosting your fingers and pressing hard with the palms of your hands.

Bruce got louder and louder. Clint’s moans joined them. Neither man holding back in expressing the pleasure they were experiencing. You reached between your legs, running your thumb over your clit and shoving two fingers inside of you to try and relieve the pressure you were feeling in your cunt. Their sounds were cutting right through you and it was like you were getting high on it.

Bruce jerked suddenly, his whole body seizing up and he came in ribbons on his stomach. Clint made a deep groan as he watched him and with a snap of his hips he came too, filling Bruce. You sat up and pulled your hand from your cunt. You ran your hands up up Bruce’s chest and along his neck before you removed his headset.

“Hey, B. You did so well. How are you doing, baby?” You said softly.

He hummed in that high far away way that let you know he was high on adrenaline and endorphins. “Yeah…”

You slipped the blindfold off and he blinked up at you slowly, his eyelids heavy. “You need anything? You asked.

“Mmm… thirsty.” You grabbed the carton of juice you had ready on the bedside table and offered it to him. He drank and you looked down at Clint who was wiping Bruce down and undoing knots.

“You okay, Clint?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Kinda weird being on this end.”

You rubbed his hip. “Alright, how about we get Bruce untied and get in the bath?”

He smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You looked back at Bruce. “Still you, B.”

He nodded. “Mm… all me. This was good. Feel safe.”

You hummed and began untying his bonds rubbing his muscles as you did so they wouldn’t seize up. You knew Bruce was always going to struggle with the Hulk, but for now, at least you knew you had him back with you.

~ END ~

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