#i’m having a moment while sitting on my rocking chair that’s on my porch

[munsonsfairy]

slow dancing with gator while patsy cline plays in the background softly. your head is on his chest really close to heart with his arms around you. the world is quiet and it’s just the two of you. he kisses your forehead and you wish moment could last forever.

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden~Yandere! Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are well! Today I bring you a Yandere! Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) story. I do apologize if he's OOC, I tried to make him a bit suave. I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2105

Warnings: Snakes, Kidnapping, Swearing

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I hummed as I slipped on my straw hat and sandals. Today was gardening day and I was very excited to be outside. My garden was my passion. It was something to look forward to each day after work. It was especially nice in the eighty degree weather we were having, cool breezes making it bearable to be outside. 

Grabbing my metal bucket with my shears, trowel, and gloves, I made my way out the back door of my house. My neighbor Terry was sitting on his porch rocking in his chair, basking in the sunshine. When he saw me he waved. “Yello, Y/n! Enjoying the day?”

“Of course! How about you Mr. Johnson?”

“Oh you know, just taking a sunbath while the wife is out grocery shopping. If you catch my drift.”

“Perfectly.”

“Well have fun, little lady!”

“Will do, thank you!”

I gave a simple wave and headed towards my small garden. It wasn’t the most spectacular thing, only having five or six rows of vegetables, but I was so proud of my little paradise. I set my bucket down and walked down the row of beans, inspecting each one. My humming continued as I began picking and gently setting the vegetables in my pail. As I was working I heard something hissing. Confused, I looked around and didn’t see anything. I turned back to my work. It was silent for a moment until the hissing continued. I glanced around when suddenly my eyes caught sight of something white in the bushes. I stood up and walked over, pushing the foliage to the side. I gasped when I saw a white snake, its pale pink underbelly had a large gash. I slowly reached down and stroked its back. The snake turned its head, the red eyes staring me down. “Hey there, little fellow. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt ya.”

As I continued to stroke its back, the snake must have understood my message. “Let’s get you patched up, little guy.”

I gently grabbed a hold and made sure to cradle him close. Walking back inside, I set him in my kitchen sink and went to grab supplies. I made my way to the bathroom where I grabbed some gauze and disinfectant from a cupboard. I then returned back to the kitchen. I lifted my scaly friend to flip him over and started to rub some disinfectant on his gash. I grabbed some paper towel and dabbed it dry. “Almost done, little fellow.”

Ripping off some gauze, I carefully wrapped it around the wound. Tying it off, I sealed it with a kiss from the fingertips. “And, all done! Not my best work, but it’ll do.”

The snake’s tongue flicked out in appreciation. “You know what? I think I’ll name you Red. You know, after your very beautiful red eyes!”

The white snake hissed and slithered closer to the edge of the sink. I picked him up and cuddled him close as we walked back outside. When we made it to my garden I gently let him down before I went back to work. Red stayed the whole time I was outside, slithering alongside me. When it was my time to head inside, I said my goodbyes and watched him slither back into the bushes.

After my run in with Red I would see him every time I entered my garden. I would lay out some greenery for him to eat and some water to drink all the time. He would even wrap himself around my arms as I worked. One day as I was preparing my small table, Red came out of the bushes as per usual. He slithered up my leg and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Red, that tickles! Stop! I have to get this ready!”

He just stayed there. “You silly boy.”

I caressed the top of his head and set up my nice (favorite color) tablecloth. Just as I was placing two mugs down, I heard a male voice call my name. Red slid off my leg and curled down by the table leg. I turned to see my boyfriend s/o standing at my back door. “S/o!”

I ran at him and gave a big hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Me too. We’ve been planning this little lunch date for a while.”

I led him over to the table and we sat. “I made us some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, honey. You know I’m down to try anything.”

We both took a sip from our cups. “So, how has your garden been going?”

“Pretty well actually. All of my vegetables have been thriving, which is nice. I even met a new friend!”

“A new friend? Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Hold on one second.”

I leaned under the table and gently picked up my snake buddy. “This is Red. Isn’t he gorgeous? I’ve never seen a snake with a pink underbelly before.”

“Me neither. Can I see him?”

“Of course!”

I started to hand him over when suddenly Red struck forward and sunk his fangs into S/o’s hand. “Ow! God dammit that hurt!”

“Red!”

I set him down and gently took my boyfriend’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“No, your fucking snake bit me!”

I sucked on my teeth. “It does look bad. Here, let’s take you to the clinic.”

We stood up and walked to my car. I had him sit in the passenger seat while I drove.

Hours later I had dropped off S/o at his apartment. We had gotten him some antibiotics and luckily Red wasn’t poisonous. Thank god. I sighed as I slipped off my shoes and walked into my living room. I was looking at the floor when suddenly I let out a gasp. Standing staring at some of the photos on my wall was a short man, his back towards me. From what I could see he wore a big white hat, white and red jacket, white puffy pants and tall black boots. At the sound of me entering, the man turned and I couldn’t help but let out another gasp. The stranger had white skin, short blonde hair and red circles on his cheeks. His red eyes were quite striking as they seemed to stare into my soul. “Ah Y/n, you’re back! Jolly good.”

“W-who are you?”

A black cane with an apple on top magically appeared and the man gave a theatrical bow. “How rude of me. My name is Lucifer dear, but you’re probably more familiar with calling me Red.”

“R-red? But you’re a person and he was a snake…wait a minute. Lucifer? As in the Devil?”

He let out a dark chuckle and I stepped back upon seeing the two rows of sharp teeth. “Exactly!”

I gulped and ran off, trying to head for my front door. I screamed when he appeared in front of me, but this time dressed in green. I bolted towards my back door but he reappeared, this time in red. A few more Lucifers in different colored clothes surrounded me, parting to let the original through. “Look Mr. Satan sir, I didn’t summon you, nobody sacrificed me, nothing like that! Why don’t you just return to Hell and forget this ever happened!”

His cane came up under my chin and lifted my head to look into his eyes. “And forget the lovely lady that helped me? Not a chance! I was lucky I stumbled upon you that day. You see, I had gotten into a fight with a contractor and he got quite a few hits in. I got away with a stomach wound and that’s when I slithered into your life. You patched me up and made me whole!”

His face got closer to mine as he told his tale, our noses almost touching. “You’re so intoxicating, dear. Just like the apple I offered to Eve.”

My breath hitched as his lips got close. “Okay, I helped you. Now why can’t you just go away?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Please, leave me alone.”

A few tears collected in the corners of my eyes and he was quick to wipe them away. “I’ll explain in due time. But I’ve wasted enough time. We need to get going.”

“Going?”

“Yes! You’re coming to Hell with me!”

My eyes widened and I attempted to flee. His arm wrapped around my waist and with the other he waved his cane in the air. Golden dust began to accumulate on the floor, swooshing around and around until a portal formed. The arm around my waist forced me to walk with him. He threw his cane into the air and like magic it disappeared. “Now this may cause a slight headache but I’ll be sure to tend to it when we arrive.”

“No please-”

“In we go!”

He forced us to jump forward and I let out a shriek. I tightly closed my eyes and my stomach lifted into my throat as we fell. This feeling stayed until I landed on something soft. My body was tense as I slowly opened my eyes. It seemed we had landed in a foyer of sorts. The large marble fireplace had a roaring blaze going and from what I could see out the large Victorian windows it was night outside. The dark red clouds swirled like my nerves as I watched Lucifer fluff his jacket. He turned to me and smiled. “I apologize if I frightened you, my dear. It wasn’t my intention. I know first time portal jumping can be quite tedious.”

He adjusted his hat before sitting next to me on the deep red velvet chaise lounge. “Now then I know you skipped lunch since you took your little boy toy to the hospital, so how about some dinner? I can cook a mean steak!”

The situation was starting to be too much to handle and I couldn’t help the sobs that wracked my body. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Shh, shh. There, there.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms around me in a hug and I could feel his claws combing my hair. “It’s alright, little apple. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He just made me cry harder. “I just want to go home!”

“This is your home now. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but I promise if you give Hell a chance you’ll forget all about silly Earth and that wretched boyfriend of yours.”

His claws dug in a bit when he brought up S/o. It made me shudder. “But he doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for you and that’s most important.”

He pulled away slightly to wipe at my eyes, his touch gentle compared to before. “You know what will cheer you up? A nice cup of spiced hot cocoa! I’ll be right back.”

He stood and made his way towards the white door. Before leaving he gave me a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The door shut softly. As soon as he was gone I quickly looked around trying to find an exit. I spotted a door opposite me. I ran to it, threw it open, and rushed out of the room. My legs carried me far as I dashed through the spiraling halls, rushing down a grand staircase, and arriving at what I assumed was the front door. I yanked them open and before I could step out an angry hiss made me pause. Two large golden snakes sat on the doorstep and stared me down harshly. I slammed the door shut and urged myself to breathe slower. “I see you’ve met David and Goliath.”

My head shot up to see Lucifer standing there without his jacket, a faint smirk on his lips. “Why the heck do you have giant snakes on your property?!”

“To protect us. Being the rulers of Hell comes with a target on your back.”

“What do you mean rulers?”

“I brought you here for a reason, Y/n, silly goose!” 

He began walking towards me. “I intend to court you and make you my Queen. I’ve been alone for seven years. My wife and I split and my daughter and I don’t have the best relationship. However, I intend to rectify that, my sweet apple. You and I are going to be together forever.”

He stopped in front of me and held my face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing my cheekbones. My heart sank as I realized I wasn’t getting out of this any time soon and the look of adoration in Lucifer’s eyes made that fact.

[annwrites]

i'm willin' if you are

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you confide an end-of-the-world wish to shane & he makes you an offer.

— tw: mention of past suicidal tendencies

— word count: 2,057

Shane comes up onto the porch, his boots thumping against each step.

He stops, standing in front of you, watching you for a moment as you sew a button onto one of Dale’s shirts.

The button is near-silver in color, whereas the shirt is white, but it’s been the closest match you'd been able to find in the collection of them Maggie had let you sift through a little while ago. So, silver it is.

You look up to him, his hands on his hips, a small smirk on his lips as he watches you with mild interest.

You raise a brow slightly.

“This seat taken?” He asks, nodding to the rocking chair beside you.

You shake your head and he sits.

He leans back. “You the camp seamstress now?”

“There’s always work to be done. Even if it’s just mending a shirt.”

“Dale can’t do that himself?” He asks, his tone not betraying the mild dislike it seems he’s recently developed toward the man.

You can't understand what's occurred between the two to cause such a sudden rift, but you don't bother asking, either. None of your business, and not your problem.

That's the issue with near-everyone in this camp: dealing with walkers and supplies constantly dwindling, then needing to be replenished—if not the occasional injury or loss of life—isn't enough. No, they need to further their problems by causing more with others by sticking their noses where they don't belong, nor where they're wanted.

And that includes Shane.

More than includes him, perhaps. At least at times.

But he’s always been kind to you—helpful. Not that you don't know why: you pull your weight. You hardly ever stop working, really. Because when you do take a break, it allows your mind to wander. Not that it doesn't anyway, but at least this way you're always exhausted at bedtime, so there's no opportunity for you to dwell on troublesome thoughts when it's quiet, and dark, and you have nothing else to think about than the horrors you’ve endured. The losses you’ve suffered.

Finally, you shrug, continuing to sew. “I don’t mind.”

Shane leans back. “Somethin’s on your mind.”

You look at him and he continues. “I can tell. Not very good at hiding it. At least not from me.”

You pull through the last bit of thread, then snip, setting the shirt and sewing materials on the small table settled between both your seats.

“I’m fine.”

He sits back, rocking in his chair. “Heard that before. And it was a load of bullshit then just like it is right now. So, you want to give me the truth, or am I going to have to break out Officer Shane to get it out of you?”

You glance to him, and he has a playful smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, but you don’t laugh.

“Just thinking about my bucket list.”

His smile disappears. “That somethin’ I need to be worried about: that you’re thinkin’ like that?”

You settle back in your seat, bringing your left leg up, bending it at the knee, resting your foot on the seat as your other continues to push against the floorboards of the porch, gently rocking the chair.

You face him, back turned toward the front door behind you. “No.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You have to give me more than that.”

You’d expressed a loss of will to live to him weeks ago at the quarry, but had stated the only reason you bother to keep breathing is due to the unknown of what death—caused particularly by suicide—will hold.

And then you'd considered staying at the CDC with Jackie and Jenner, but he’d talked you out of it, pulling you along beside him—his hand holding so firmly to yours you were sure he’d dislocate your shoulder as he pulled you along—out of that building. Then he’d covered your body with his as the building exploding, sending debris in every direction.

After, as you traveled the highway, he’d—every now and again—rest his palm over your knee. A reassuring touch that you aren't alone is all it had been; you have no doubt about that. Just innocent bodily contact.

Once the group was stranded at the highway, though, that sense of fear you’d felt watching the CDC burn had calmed. Your will to live dissipating once more. As you scavenged abandoned vehicles for supplies, you hadn't even thought to use any of it to keep yourself on your feet.

And then you’d collapsed from dehydration.

You’d woken up in Dale’s RV, Shane holding a bottle of water to your lips…begging you to wake up, cursing you for being just one more person to try and leave him. That he wouldn’t let you.

He may’ve been understanding of your behavior, but he’d not been pleased that you’d nearly died…again. He’d made as much clear. Had made you promise to be smarter in the future. To think before doing. To take better care of yourself going forward, or he would do it for you. And he assured you that you did not want Shane Walsh as your designated baby-sitter.

Neither of you have discussed the things he’d whispered to you in the RV that day when he’d thought you unconscious. You know that he knows you’d heard some of it, but neither of you are going to acknowledge the soft, desperate words he’d uttered while pressing a cool cloth to your forehead, his hands shaking out of fear that you'd slip away.

In truth, you can't understand it: why he cares so damn much what happens to you. He so often implies that he has no patience, nor need, for the weak. And that’s what you are, aren't you?

Then again, he’s told you more than once how he admires how much of a hard-worker you are, even if it’s gotten you in trouble with him more than once now, because perhaps you’ve been working too hard… Just a few times, though.

And now you're here, working yourself to the bone again, just like you’d done at the previous camp.

You clearly never learn your lesson.

Finally, you sigh. “If I do, you have to promise to keep it to yourself. And that…that you won’t laugh at or mock me.”

“I give you my word,” he states, eyes not leaving you.

You nervously wrap your hands around your bent knee, not looking at him. You feel so stupid even thinking it. The fact you're about to say it out loud? Even worse.

“Given the current state of things—not just the world, but right here with all of us—I want you to know that I know just how stupid and selfish I’m about to sound.”

Your eyes flit to him. “It’s why I planned to keep it to myself. It’s not the sort of thing you share with others.”

He doesn’t speak, just continues to listen, waiting for you to give him the answer to the mystery of what has seemed to be on your mind all day.

“I’m also about to sound incredibly cliché.”

You internally cringe before finally speaking it aloud. “I don’t want to die a virgin.”

You don’t look at him when you admit it.

“I don’t mean that in some ignorant I-just-want-to-finally-get-laid kind of way. I just…I just want to know what it feels like to have that with someone; that experience.”

You look at him, tears shimmering in your eyes. “I thought I’d have more time. I wanted to do things ‘the right way’. I wanted to fall in love, get married—and, yes, I know how old-fashioned that sounds—but I thought I’d one day get that opportunity. Now? Now I just wish I’d done it. Gone to a bar, gone home with some stranger, and gotten it over with. But it still wouldn’t have been the way I wanted it to be. Now, I just wish it could be, at the very least, with someone I care about. And if I’m lucky, they’ll care about me, too. If not?”

You shrug.

You expect him to at least give you a look which insinuates that you're being ridiculous for thinking about such things. Such frivolous and literally useless things.

Sex. That's what you're thinking about lately.

Not food, or water, or ammunition, or literally anything that will help to keep you all alive.

You're thinking about something that just…doesn't matter. Not anymore.

But he doesn’t give you such a look. Instead, you find understanding in his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s any of those things you said at all: stupid or cliché or selfish. Hell I…I get it, y’know. It’s one of those things—life experiences. Somethin’ most of us want to have at some point. Not everybody cares whether it’s with a stranger or the love of their life, but some do. Nothin’ wrong with that. I’m not judging you for wantin’ that.”

A tear slips down your cheek at his understanding, which you quickly wipe away. In truth, it isn't just about being intimate with someone. It all comes down to just how utterly lonely you are. How desperately you wish to have someone of your own.

But that isn't going to happen now. Not in this new world.

You won't just bump into someone in the grocery store, or meet someone online now.

Now… This is your life now. And you need to live with that.

You’re both quiet for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the campfire a few feet away, clanging of dishes being washed after the last of the camp finishes up their supper, some idle chatter coming from inside the farmhouse, and crickets and frogs singing as a choir of the forest.

Until Shane speaks. And what he says next takes you completely by surprise.

“I’ll have sex with you.”

Your head shoots up and in his direction. Your eyes widen, but he quickly holds his hands up in a gesture which says ‘let me explain first’.

“I don’t mean it in that kind of way, as in ‘you’re wanting to get screwed, and I think I’m the man for the job’, which really translates to me just wantin’ to get lucky. You want more than that—something deeper and…and actually meaningful, I mean. Like I said: I get it. You want someone who cares about you, and…hell, you know I do. Saved your life more than once, as I recall, at that,” he says with a smile. “I just…it’s somethin’ for you to think about, I guess. That I’m willin’ if you are.”

You’re left speechless for a moment.

He’d offered himself up so easily that it makes you wonder if he’s thought about it before. Being with you in that way, that is.

You glance over to the campsite, Lori and Rick talking amongst themselves, Carl having already gone to bed.

You then look back to him and speak lowly. “Lori wouldn’t get jealous?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you—”

You cut him off. “Please, Shane, spare me. I may be quiet and keep to myself, but I’m not blind. I’m nothing if not observant. I’m not judging you. Either of you. You both thought Rick was dead; you were grieving and scared. And you were all the other had. You were already practically family to one another.”

He remains quiet.

“I get it, Shane. I just…I’m not willing to give myself to a man who’s in love with someone else. I’m sorry, but thank you for the offer.”

He nods, refusing to meet your eyes now, perhaps out of shame.

You pick up Dale’s shirt, ready to give it back to him now that it’s been tended to, until Shane speaks again.

“Anybody else know?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. Or, if they do, they haven’t shared as much with me. Not that I talk much to everyone here to begin with, I suppose,” you say with a small laugh, fairly devoid of humor. “And you don’t need to worry about me telling anyone, either.”

“I know that,” he says, reaching over to rest his hand on your thigh.

You stand, then, heading over to the RV.

Meanwhile, Shane’s eyes never leave you.

[writing-fanics]

then she ran: coriolanus snow x freader [heavy angst]

summary: he’d become something colder than his very own name. she was no longer staring into the eyes of the coriolanus snow she’d fallen in love with, and so she had to run]

(some spicy scenes will be added)

more about it this is a little preview

she sacrificed a lot just to be with him. leaving behind her family in the capitol just to be with the man she loves. once seeing the small cabin by the lake with lucy gray’s covey, she realized that this was the life she truly wanted. a life away from the capitol away from panem.

she told this to him the life she wanted with his head lying on her bare chest, with only a mere blanket covering their bodies. how she would love to have him by her side in that life, living away from the capitol away from panem. going up north.

but that of course never happens as we all know. here’s a little sneak peek of what I want the ending to be.

a little girl is singing “the hanging tree” which she overheard her mother singing one day. she started singing it even though she didn’t understand the meaning behind the song.

“Briar, how do you know that song?”

Briar stopped singing and turned back towards her mother, looking down thinking she’s in trouble. “Am I in trouble?” Briar asked, looking at her mother.

She shook her head and sat down beside her daughter, “No, my little rose thorn,” She said, looking at her little girl.

“I heard you singing it one day,” Briar said looking at her mother, who sighed. Y/n knew that one day her daughter would overhear her singing a song from her past. A song that in a way told her story of how she ended up here.

“what’s it about?” she asked curiously. her mother bit her lip nervously while watching as Oscar the family dog and protector of the little cabin. Ran around in the yard.

“It’s complicated sweetheart, but I’ll tell you when you’re older.” She said, looking at her daughter. Who frowned in disappointment hearing this.

“You’re still very young my little one,” y/n said cupping her daughters cheek, smiling as she stared into her daughters blue eyes.

“and I know you have so many questions, and I have answers that I’m just not ready to give to you just yet.” She said and her daughter looked at her, despite being five years old. Briar was definitely a lot more mature than her age, she was smart and headstrong. Knew a lot of things heard only little things about the happenings outside their tiny cabin. But not much.

A/n:

I might make it more cheerful though or bittersweet, maybe making briar two years old and she’s playing outside on the porch. Y/n sitting on a rocking chair while her daughter plays with Oscar

she goes inside for a quick moment to get something telling Oscar to watch her and the dog barks understanding the assignment.

when she looks out the window it’s snowing, and briar is like. “mommy mommy! s snowy” she exclaims, watching as the little girl plays in the snow.

yes her love for snow is gone now, having moved on. but still couldn’t help but imagine how different her life would be if he was here with her..

Imma write this

[crazylittlejester]

RAHH your wars smile post has given me so many thoughts

first off it’s sad that the fact that wars is at his most genuine the time he really smiles just because he feels happy is when he is literally alone and by himself.

second off the FIC THIS COULD MAKE DONT GIVE ME IDEAS BRO like wars thinking he’s alone when they’re all at the ranch and wind and twi are having fun outside, legend and Hyrule and wild are causing mischief, sky’s taking a well deserved nap, fours reading by a tree, and time gets to spend TIME (pun haha I hate myself grr) with his wife. And wars is just, happy genuinely because everything’s fine he’s on the porch alone in a rocking chair, the most relaxed and happy he’s ever been in forever and they’re just this goofy little grin on his face because my man is happy LET HIM GRIN. and if time saw it from the corner of his eye out the window then that’s his business. and yes eventually legend and twi have to drag him in cus he took a snooze but shhh they’re all happy

okay first of all i love absolutely everything you’ve just said, but wanna add somethin’ cos I ran out of the ability to add more pictures to that post so the yap was cut a bit short, but you reminded me of another thing I’d meant to say alkhgfjhfdg SO I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND THE YAP:

Yes for the most part, Warriors’s real smile is almost a ‘hidden’ thing, it only comes out in full when he’s alone or no one’s looking. HOWEVER: There are a few instances where his little crooked smile is a bit more clear, even when he’s still talking with the others (not fully 100% his real smile, but you can see the one same side of his mouth a tad higher than his fake straight smile). And it’s always moments where he just seems a little bit more relaxed. Specially in ‘Regroup’ when he and Hyrule have just come back and Legend has his bright pink hair and Wars is teasing both him and Sky. When he first comes in and he’s being a bit over the top his smile is clearly more even and straight, even when he’s teasing the others a bit

@/linkeduniverse

but the thing i find interesting about this is he’s standing up talking to a group of people sitting down. He’s the center of attention, he’s aware of it, they’re all looking at him and he knows it. He’s probably a lot more focused on how the others are looking at and perceiving him, they’re LITERALLY physically looking up at him. He’s taller than them because he’s the one standing. On the page AFTER this one, however, once he’s sat down and towards the end of his conversation (including the entire page so people can see how everyone else is physically existing in the space):

now here he seems a little bit more relaxed, and while in the first part of the page the way he’s acting and speaking still comes off as performative, that last panel of him on the bottom seems a little bit less of an act. He doesn’t come off quite as (for lack of a better description) cocky, he seems a little more genuine and down to earth and chill in the way he teases Sky right there, and his smile is a little more crooked than it usually is when he’s joking around with the others. He just went on this whole thing about how he and Hyrule totally had it handled and the two of them were very badass, but he’s poking fun of Sky in an extremely lighthearted way and now that he’s reaching the end of what he has to say he seems… Not like he’s running out of ENERGY, but like he’s just taking the dramatics down and acting just a bit more like himself

Also: He’s no longer standing above them and being intentionally larger than life. He’s still acting a bit, he almost always is, but he seems much more relaxed, and he’s actually put himself in a position where he’s physically beneath the others with the only other person sitting on the ground is Legend. And as someone who is a certified YAPPER, I know when I have a yap coming, I stand up and I say my shit but when I’m getting to the end of the yap I sit down and take a chance to be quiet. And this might just be me, but that does seem like what Warriors is doing here. He’s done his bit, he got his yap in, but he’s done now and probably tired after battle and walking all over the place, and he’s bringing himself AND his energy down to get ready to eat and calm down for the night

The others may not have really seen his REAL smile (or if they did Wars has no idea because he wasn’t aware he was being watched), but they’ve certainly caught glimpses of it in moments where Wars is able to relax just a little more. And I feel like maybe they’re even able to recognize that. Maybe it makes them feel a little bit sad when they realize that Wars’s flashy obnoxious grin isn’t a ‘real’ one at all, because I’m sure to an extent he probably does feel a bit happy when he’s laughing and joking around with the others but that straight, even smile is a controlled thing and not a true expression of his happiness

Now this may be completely a headcanon of mine: But I do feel like Warriors is a person who greatly values his physical space. He likes being alone (not being lonely), he likes getting to take time by himself to just breathe and appreciate what’s around him, and he doesn’t have to deal with the crushing pressure of being the person everyone thinks he is. He can smile at things and not worry about the fact his real smile isn’t perfect because no one’s watching him. He can allow himself to maybe actually be happy for a second when he’s alone because he can really just relax

IF YOU WRITE THAT FIC AND SHARE IT ANYWHERE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING YOU TO SEND ME A LINK 🥺 I love the idea of him just falling asleep on the porch in a rocking chair OUGH. IM OBSESSED WITH IT.

anyways sorry for yappin, i turn into an unskippable cutscene when people mention Wars

[bettyfrommars]

Stop the World and Melt with You//Eddie Munson x fem! reader//Part 5

🚨18+only, MDNI, adult themes, magic realism, fantasy, talk of dimensional travel, fear of the unknown, smoking cigarettes, sense of fear, held hostage (not reader), getting slapped (not reader), mention of blood, mention of being restrained (not reader), storyline involving people other than reader, sense of being hunted down, eventual smut, talk of tattoos. Word count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist

💜disturbed by the temporary tattoo you got from the quarter machine, you cut your time with Eddie short. Time goes on, you get a job at the motel, and meet Robin Buckley who says you remind her of a girl she used to know. We meet some people behind the scenes of your trip to Hawkinsgate.

A/N: Brought to you by my love of Eddie Munson, parallel universes, and The Twilight Zone, this story is for anyone who wants something a little different--definitely not for everyone. This is something I'm writing to relax my brain while I work on a longer series. Parts will be short, updated hopefully every other week. ALSO, forgive me, but I lost my tag list for this, I know there were a couple of you xoxo

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

Part 5: The Flicker

"This place is like someone's memory of a town, and the memory is fading."

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

In the real world, we live on the hands of a clock, digital flashes that remind us that we’re always aging in this free fall, on a rock plummeting through space. In Hawkinsgate, you felt like you were living in moments, some of which didn’t even belong to you. Like a peddler somewhere in the universe sold you someone's memories, without any structure or reason, and you were now a permanent resident in one.

Eddie leaned over. “What is it?” He asked. You had your hands positioned like you were holding a book in front of your face, blocking him from seeing what you had while you tried to make sense of it.

The first words that escaped your lips were that it must be a mistake, yet a mistake would imply that it existed in the realm of possibility, but this did not. How could it?

Eddie was worried about you, your skin had gone ghostly pale and you weren’t saying anything to him, you were just staring down, mouth a bit slack.

Your tattoo was an illustration of a pineapple wearing Eddie’s denim battle vest; not just any pineapple, but your pineapple.

You showed it to Eddie. “How can this be? Look---” you pointed to the tiny, specific details of the pins on his vest, right down to the pocket that was unbuttoned. Strange little green flourish of pineapple hair sticking out from the collar like a real cool exotic fruit boy.

Eddie didn’t know what to make of it. Sure, strange things always happened in Hawkinsgate, but they seemed to be getting stranger since you arrived. Eddie’s tattoo was a grim reaper, complete with a scythe, a bit menacing for a quarter machine, but nothing to get alarmed about, all the same.

“It’s a good thing though, right?” Eddie lifted his eyebrows. “That way you will always remember him.”

Eddie seemed to be missing the point of why the existence of it was freaking you out. Or, maybe he fully comprehended the magnitude of your situation and wanted to try and make you feel better somehow by minimizing it.

“I have to go,” you whispered, grabbing your bag off the chair.

“Wait, no, stay. Please,” Eddie stood halfway and lingered there, hoping you would come sit back down. As long as you didn't see what was in his bedroom, everything would be fine.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I just...I need some air,” and then you were out the door, jogging down the steps, throwing yourself into your truck as quickly as you could as if there were a killer at your heels. Eddie stumbled out onto the porch with a wave, watching you yank the gear shift to reverse and peel out. You threw a wave over your shoulder at him, made sure you were out of his line of sight, and then you burst into tears.

------- Somewhere Else--------

A short, blonde man studied an obscure map on the wall, his hands behind his back, mumbling to himself, “where can she be...where can she be?”

Just then, the doors to his study open and two officers in dark blue jumpsuits enter.

“We have Lorelei,” they tell the short blonde man, and then there is a sparkle of satisfaction that stretches across his face.

Lorelei is tied to a chair in a slightly damp cement room, with weeds growing up from the corners and cracks in the floor; a tiny window with metal bars above her head, and a bare mattress against the wall. She’s wearing a long, purple dress, her bare feet are dirty, and her long red hair is dotted in dried mud.

She tucks her chin to give the blonde man a Cheshire smile when he walks in.

“Lorelei,” the short man with the receding hairline says, tucking a yellow file full of paperwork under one arm. The two guards in blue jumpsuits are with him, guns holstered at their sides. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello Ronald,” Lorelei purrs, batting her lashes a few times at him. “This is an odd way to let me know you have a crush on me.”

“Hilarious,” Ronald returned, handing the file under his arm to one of the guards. His hands go into the trouser pockets of his tan suit, his smile fading. “But this is no time for jokes. You know what I want.”

Lorelei sniffed and licked her lips, her resolve set; there is a tinkle of laughter in her voice: “You’ll never find her.”

Ronald loses his cool instantly, his face screwing up, his fists flexing at his sides. She could almost see smoke coming out his ears like a whistling tea kettle. She enjoys the sight of his frustration while it lasts, but then he calms himself with a deep breath.

He takes a few steps toward her, flexing his mouth, scooping two fingers in to stretch his shirt collar away from his neck. “See, now, that’s where you’re wrong,” he chided. “This little game of yours has been entertaining, albeit a complete waste of time. You know I’ll find her with or without your help, my dear.”

“You can try,” Lorelei replied with an air of smugness, a dull laugh escaping her throat.

Ronald was shaking, the whites of his eyes cracking with bloodshot veins. It took him years to find out which dimension you were in, and when he finally did, that cunt Lorelei was somehow able to move you, and it was really grinding his gears. He was tossing and turning at night, fully obsessed.

He came up and snatched Lorelei’s chin, squeezing her lips together, forcing her to look up at him. His words were a venomous hiss. “Oh, I’ll find her, and when I do, you’ll be sorry you played this little game with me, you fucking bitch,” and then he threw her chin so that her face jerked to the side, hair falling in her eye.

Defiantly, Lorelei turned to meet his intense gaze again. “She’s growing stronger, I can feel it. If you do find her, it will be too late.”

Ronald’s hand came down, smacking his palm across her cheek in a slap. “You know I hate it when you make me do this!” He barked, his hands going to his hips as he started to pace in front of her.

Lorelei continued to exude calm and patience as she watched him unravel before her very eyes. She licked her teeth and made a smacking sound, tasting blood.

He turned his back on her, facing the door. “Why couldn’t you just let me have this one?” He asked in a softer tone, cheeks red, eyes dry. “You could’ve had anything you wanted; a home, a life, freedom. But instead you choose this,” his hand gestures around at the concrete room.

She thought about her words for a second. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me!” Ronald shouted as he turned on his heel to face her.

A dreamy look passed over Lorelei’s face as her eyes shifted to the ceiling, thinking beyond it, to the sky. “Because I love her,” she replied, a partial smile exposing a tint of pink blood over her teeth. “She’s one of the last Creators, Ronald. For all of your faults, I know you can appreciate what that means.”

There was a gold wedding band on Ronald’s finger and he twisted it as he frowned at the ground. “Wherever she is, you can’t keep her there forever. You’ve been on the run for too long, you’re getting weak, Lorelei.”

Lorelei felt the pang in her empty belly, and the ache in her sore muscles, but her spirit was strong. “I can keep her there long enough,” she answered in a hush.

Ronald cursed. “Long enough for what???” He belted, flapping his arms out wide and then letting them slap down against his legs. “It’s always goddamn riddles with you people.”

His flare for the dramatic never ceased to amuse her. Ronald continued to pace, running his hand down his mouth, until he stopped, abruptly, and turned to her with an unnerving smile pressing his lips against his teeth.

“You put her with him, again, didn’t you?” He bleated, a thrill rising in him when he noticed the way Lorelei’s gaze flickered away, unwilling to meet his gloating stare. Ronald clapped his hands together, giggling like a toddler.

“He’ll protect her,” Lorelei squared her shoulders, wrists flexing in the ropes at her back. “He doesn’t know he can yet, but he will.”

Ronald chuckled, wagging his finger at her. “You’re too much of a romantic, Lorelei, that’s your problem. You could’ve sent her to a dimension on Saturn to sit in a cave and stay safe, but you just had to reunite those two like the incredible sap that you are.”

“Love is stronger than fear,” she said with a lift of her chin.

“Oh, shut up!” Ronald shook his head, signaling for the guards to open the door. “Thank you Lorelei, you’ve been very helpful.”

Pausing in the doorway, Ronald jerked his thumb over his shoulder at her. “Make sure she eats something, will ya?” He looked over his shoulder at her, and then patted the guards arm. “Not too much, though, wouldn’t want to spoil her.”

----------

A week went by and you were still living at the motel. You mentioned to Mrs. Henderson that you were running out of money and things to trade, and as it turned out, she said she was in desperate need for some part-time help at the front desk, so you had yourself a job.

The pineapple tattoo on your forearm was fading, but you brushed your fingertip over it, thoughtfully, wishing it would stay.

You didn’t see Eddie that whole time, but you did notice that his van drove extra slow down the street in front of the motel a few times on his way to or from work, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t deserve to be ignored; he had done nothing wrong. Nothing except be a part of this obscure place that held you captive, where nothing made any sense. The other day, there was a pile of mismatched socks on your doorstep; not a single pair in the lot of them. You asked Claudia about it and she didn’t have an explanation, but said you could keep them if you were interested. You doubted there was any value in a pile of single socks, so you put them in with the lost and found at the office.

You started your job the next afternoon, flanked by your three office helpers; cats named JoJo, Henry, and Clarice. Cleaning out their litter box was one of your nightly duties, and they loved to watch you as you did it, twitching their whiskers with pride as you collected the gifts they’d left for you. Every so often there was the random husband having a fight with his wife who got a room for the night at the motel, or the occasional friends who were having a “girls night” and wanted to sit by the pool out back. One night, a shifty couple with sweaty palms asked if they could rent a room for a couple hours, but you regretted to inform them that they would have to pay full price. The Grove was the only motel in town, and they ended up trading with a bunch of food supplies like gold chocolate coins, oranges, and an unopened box of Honeycomb cereal.

You made a friend, her name was Robin Buckley. She worked as the part-time maid, and she also worked at a Family Video down the street.

She went out back by the dumpster to have a smoke, and you went with her. She offered you one from her pack, and you took it, thinking that maybe this was as good a time to start smoking as any.

You took an aggressive inhale, and then sputtered and coughed.

“Couldn’t remember if you smoked or not?” Robin asked with a crooked smile.

You choked a few more times, throat burning. “What is it with people coming here and losing their memory?” You asked, hoping maybe Robin would be the one withholding some answers.

Robin leaned against the side of the building, hiking one foot up behind her, both of you staring across the alleyway at the metal fence and the diner that was down another block.

“I wish I knew,” she admitted softly. “I met a girl once…” she drifted off, taking time to flick her cigarette. “She was...like you, but also, not.”

You turned to face her, interest piqued. You put the filter of the cigarette between your lips but did not inhale before lowering it.

Robin continued. “She remembered stuff, from her other life.”

From her other life…

Robin looked around, as if to make sure no one was around, as if she shouldn’t be talking about it. “She had these tattoos all over her body,” she used the hand holding her cigarette to gesture down her leg and over her shoulders. “She said they were like passport stamps for all of the different dimensions she’d traveled through.”

You swallowed hard, thinking about your own tattoos.

“Anyway,” she snorted, scratching her elbow. “Everyone thought she was crazy, but I loved---I thought she was funny and brilliant. I believed her.”

Robin seemed to follow where your mind went and both pairs of eyes traveled to the tops of your feet that were visible through your sandals. There was a circle with dots around it on your left foot, and three parallel lines on your right foot; a thick black circle around your big toe. You also had some on your stomach, your sternum, under your arms, behind your knees, just behind your ear. They were all geometric shapes and markings, and none of them made sense to you, but you figured that, whoever you were before was into that sort of thing.

“Hers were the same, but different,” Robin assured you, without you having to ask the question.

“What else did she remember?” You asked reluctantly, a part of you almost afraid to know.

Robin swallowed, clearing her throat after taking another drag. “Supposedly, this place---” she looked around at the sky and the building, “--was designed to be like a safe house for travelers like her...like you.”

You made a face, clenching your eyebrows together. “So this place isn’t real? You’re not real? It’s all just a dream or something?”

Robin put her hand up, palm out. “Touch me.”

You obliged, spreading your fingers and pressing your hand against hers to feel the warmth and the callouses.

“Do I feel real?” She asked.

You nodded, deciding to run your fingers down the brick of the building to also see if it was real.

“She said there are billions of parallel lives, and we’re all living them at once, moment to moment,” she snubbed the last of her smoke out in the ashtray. “What this place is called is a flicker, like a blink, a sliver that exists in between each of our simultaneous existences.”

To be honest, it made you head hurt a little. But you didn’t want her to stop talking, you wanted to know more, you wanted…

But then the bell at the front desk rang to alert that someone needed service, and Robin was getting ready to head to her other job, but you asked her when she’d be back.

“Not for a couple days,” she told you with an air of reluctance. “But come by Family Video sometime, I’ll introduce you to the King of Hawkinsgate.”

You didn’t know what that meant, but you knew you wanted to talk to her again.

“Is there a VCR in your room?” Robin asked. “If not, we rent them at our place. I could get you all set up.”

The bell rang again, this time the person was tapping their hand on it over and over.

As Robin backed away, she waved to you. “Hey, don’t be afraid, okay? Wherever you come from, I’m pretty sure you were a badass. I know she was.”

----------

Eddie dropped down on the couch in the living room of his trailer with a grunt. He was still in his work clothes, hair and face filthy, mouth parched. His grim reaper forearm tattoo was almost gone, and so he ran his hand over it vigorously to peel the rest of it off, bits of his sticking to his arm hair. He was tired of convincing himself not to go over to the motel and see you. He was tired of listening to people, especially Gary, telling him he was doing the right thing by staying away.

If only they knew…

He pulled the bandanna off of his head and let his hair go loose, thinking about what sounded good to eat. It had been over a week, but he still had some of the cans of spaghettiOs you’d left behind, and he figured that was as good as anything for dinner. He turned the TV on and slipped the movie Halloween into his VCR so that he could have something on while he cooked.

In the bathroom, he washed his face while the shower got hot, and then he opened a can of beer and jumped in, sipping the beverage as he washed the grime of the day away.

Standing on the blue bathmat, he turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around his waist, hair long and wet down his shoulders. On his chest and back were strange markings he’d always known as birthmarks: the outline of a crude triangle, a letter C with a line through it, two vertical wavy lines. He used his hand to wipe some of the fog off of the mirror on the medicine cabinet, making a squeaking sound as he went.

He continued on down the hall to his bedroom, stopping at the closed door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, wondering what you would think of him if you ever saw what he had in there. The paintings, the drawings, the letters. The songs he had written. The nights he had paced the floor wondering why he kept seeing your face; and then one day, there you were --- appearing to him in the flesh.

First order of business after he ate was to finish the mix tape he’d been working on for you.

Scorpions, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, those were all a given, but he had some other things planned for your listening pleasure as well.

That night, you both had the same dream, and shot out of bed in your separate rooms with a start, clutching the blankets, hearts racing, tears of joy brimming in your eyes. But the second you were fully awake, it was gone; another precious memory lost in the flicker.

——-

[onemoregayapollokid]

Threads of Time

Fandom:

Charaachter: Will Treaty, Halt, Alyss(mentioned)

Triggers: death? It's not a explicit death by any means

Description: Death keeps running into Will. Finally, at the end of Will's life, they sit down for a conversation.

A/N: This has been sitting half finished in my drafts for MONTHS and inspiration finally hit me tonight. Let me know your thoughts, I guess? Or don't- I'm not your parent.

-------

Death knew the man before him well. He had seen him many times over many years, always passing by him while accompanying another person to their afterlife. Death watched silent and unseen as the elderly ranger reached down and patted the black and white dog that lay beside him. Death had watched this man grow up, a unique and uncommon occurrence for the one normally working with the dead. The man sat back against the seat, sighing contently. He glanced up at Death, and for a moment, Death thought he could see him. But that was impossible. No one could see him unless they were dead, and the man was very much alive.  

“Hello, old friend” The man greeted, a soft smile on his face. Death shook his head. Of course this man could see him. He ghosted closer, surveying the old ranger. Grey hair and beard, though Death knew they used to be brown. His brown eyes still held a spark of humour, as if he knew a joke no one else did. His face was weathered from a lifetime of being outside, with wrinkles that spoke of years of laughter. 

“Hello, Will” Death replied, returning the man’s smile.   

“Sit with me?” Will offered, gesturing to the chair beside him. Death quirked an eyebrow but sat down, nonetheless.  

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Will offered, gaze centered on the trees just beyond the porch. Death nodded. Most rangers, if they weren't lost in battle, spent long years waiting for Him.  Most of them weren’t as aware of Him as Will was though. Will continued, never looking away from the trees.  

“I was always aware of you. Even as a child. Then as an adult, I saw you often, on battlefields and missons. I always knew you’d come for me one day. To be honest, I thought it would be a lot earlier. After all, I was 15 the first time I met you.”  

“No Will.” Death’s voice was gentle. “You were much younger than 15.” At this, Will finally looked at Death, looking at him without flinching, a look of confusion on his face.  

“You were just an infant, when I took your mother. You were there and I knew there was something special about you. You looked at me and you saw me. Will, very few people in my millennia of work have seen me.  I’m glad the other man was there, otherwise I would have taken you too. It wasn’t your time but I’d rather you have the mercy of a swift end, than slowly starve to death.”  

“Halt. “Will said softly, a ghost of a smile on his face. “That was Halt. He was my mentor, and the closest thing to a father I had in this life”  

“ Halt was one of the ones I hated to take.  He had more time than he should have, but I just couldn’t bear to rip him from this world. I gave him more stolen moments than I should have and it still didn’t feel like enough time. I hated to take him from you, to take another father from you. “ 

“His death rocked me to my core.” Will admitted. “ I had known him since I was 15, and even all those years weren’t enough. We talked often, in his last days, of our first days. He finally told me how scared he was when I faced that boar. “Will’s voice softened.  “That boar. I still wish I had been braver when I faced the boar. “Death shook his head.  

“ Will, you were a child. A child who faced terrible things and kept your humanity about you. That is worth more to anyone who matters than how brave you were. And you had plenty of bravery- I don’t know anyone else who could have handled the things you did without losing your spark. “  

“I did lose it.” Will murmured, eyes returning to the forest. “When Alyss died... I lost everything. “There was no bitterness in his voice, just acceptance and pain. “When she died, I wanted to join her. I wanted to go into the forest, and let the moss reclaim my body, and let the trees take my breath. “Will took a ragged breath, eyes misty as he thought of the time at once eons ago and also yesterday. 

“I know Will.” Death’s voice was low, his pale face somber.” I don’t write your story- I just come when your time is up. But Fate played a cruel trick on you and for that, I am sorry. I wish I could have given you more time together. Just as I wish I could have given Horace and Cassandra more time together. “  

“Horace and Cassandra.” Will whispered with a pained smile. “At least they went together. “Death nodded.  

“It was the final kindness I could give them. “He explained.  

“Cassandra kept me alive in Skandia.” Will offered.” Skandia.” He chuckled lowly. “I saw you everywhere in Skandia.” Death nodded, thinking of the thousands of souls he had helped cross in Skandia.  

“The Skandian slaveyards under Ragnar kept me very busy indeed. So many souls in need of assistance, so much pain that I often had to choose to cut their time short, just to save them suffering. And you, Will. You were there, slipping closer and closer towards me every day. I longed to take you away from that and was also desperate to keep your soul connected to your body. You were a conundrum, always intertwined with the soul I was there for.  I was glad when I saw you leaving Skandia.” Will agreed silently.  

“I didn’t think I was going to leave Skandia alive” Will admitted. “I knew Halt would come for me, I never doubted that, but I thought I’d be dead by the time he found us.“ Death shook his head, surveying the man in front of him.  

“ Halt would have died before leaving you there.” Was all Death could say. Will nodded, knowing that Death spoke the truth.  

Silence reined over the cabin, broken only by a songbird. Will’s eyes took in his cabin, the place that had been home for him for most of his life. The woods he had spent so many hours in, training first with Halt and then with Horace. The small lean that had held so many horses, each sharing the same name. The path leading to the Village, worn from years of use. The cabin itself that held the echoes of laughter. Will sighed as he stood up. He glanced back at Death, still seated on the chair.  

“What comes next?” Will asked softly. Death smiled.  

“Well now, that depends on what you believe. I am just the messenger, where you end up depends on you. “Will was silent for a moment more before he said “ I believe I’ll end up wherever Halt is” Death smiled. He stood up and slowly made his way down the stpes of the cabin. He turned to look back at Will, who was gazing at the cabin again.  

“Do you need more time?” Death asked softly, understanding. Will glanced at him before moving to stand beside him.  

“No. I’ve had plenty of time. I’m ready to go. Ready to see Halt and Alyss. Just saying goodbye.” Death nodded leading the way to where he had come out, a small tree with twisted branches forming a doorway between this world and wherever Will Treaty was headed. Will stopped directly in front of the tree, glancing back at Death on last time.  

“Thank you, old friend” Was all he said. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway and vanished from sight.  

“ Goodbye, Will Treaty. May your rest be long and your journey peaceful” Death whispered, closing the doorway with nothing more than a thought. He turned his back on the little cabin nestled in the woods, and like he had so many times before moved on to the next transfer, but his thoughts remained steadfastly  on the man who he had spent so much time with over the course of his life.  

Will blinked as the light that had blinded him faded. Halt’s cabin was jsut as he had left it, smoke curling from the chimney, the smell of coffee in the air. A figure lifted his head as Will approached.  

“Hello Will. Halt said with a smile

[doeeyeseddie]

For the soft prompts:

16, Buddie

how could i resist writing something for "laughing while kissing"? thank you for sending the prompt <3

[read on ao3]

It’s late, the kids are in bed – even Chris is in his room, though he’s probably still up reading or on his phone, Buck only made sure he turned off his laptop – and his husband is waiting for him by the back door with a smile.

“Sit outside with me?” Eddie asks, and Buck grabs the hand he’s holding out. He’d follow Eddie anywhere, and their backyard is one of the least scary places he’s followed him to.

The backyard is lit by the string lights they put up last year, a few months after they moved in. One of the neighbors is having a party, laughter and the distant sound of music wading over to them.

They’ve got a Hollywood swing on the porch, one of the big 4-seater ones that Christopher insisted on getting, now that they have the room. Buck and Eddie often sit on it in the evenings, and Buck always thinks of that cliché of an old couple on their rocking chairs. If he and Eddie get to grow old together on this swing, he’ll have fulfilled a dream he’s had since before he could articulate it.

Tonight, though, Eddie leads him past it and off the porch into the middle of the backyard.

“Where are we going?” Buck asks, curious but not worried. “I thought we were just gonna sit out here.”

“Changed my mind,” Eddie says, grinning in that playful way he’s only started doing in the past few years, in the time after his breakdown and his way out of all the pain and repression. Buck loves it.

Eddie pulls on his hand sharply, and Buck stumbles into him, bracing himself with a hand on his chest. Still grinning, Eddie wraps an arm around him and lifts their joined hands in the approximation of a dancing pose.

Buck laughs. “We’re dancing?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, swaying them back and forth in the rhythm of the song playing in the distance. “We’re dancing.”

Buck smiles and steps closer, letting go of Eddie’s hand so he can wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. Eddie adjusts easily, leading them in small circles around their backyard.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” Buck asks quietly after a few minutes, his temple pressed to Eddie’s.

“If someone had told me that first day we’d end up here, I would’ve sent them in for a brain scan,” Eddie answers, and Buck pinches his chest lightly, grinning into his neck. Eddie laughs. “No, I don’t know. I mean, after a certain point I hoped we would, but I don’t think I really believed it until we got married.”

“Sometimes I still don’t believe it,” Buck admits, and Eddie turns his head to kiss his cheek, his lips trailing all the way back to his ear.

“Well, believe it,” he murmurs. “None of us are going anywhere.”

Buck smiles, thinking of the rest of their family in their house behind them. This is his life, and he gets to keep it. Gets to keep them, be kept by them.

“I love you,” he says, and Eddie squeezes his waist, kisses the spot right below his ear.

“I love you,” he echoes, and Buck will never ever get tired of hearing those words from him.

The music in the distance switches to a more uptempo song, and Eddie speeds them up too, spinning faster. Buck grabs his hand again and lets Eddie spin him, laughing.

“I’m gonna get dizzy,” he warns, and Eddie wraps him in his arms for a moment before twirling him again.

“I’ll catch you,” he promises.

He will, he always has, but Buck changes the placement of his hands anyway, using Eddie’s surprise to spin them once quickly, and then dipping Eddie.

Eddie lets out a yelp that turns into a laugh halfway down, his hands clinging to Buck’s shoulders tightly.

“You dick,” he laughs, and Buck kisses his bared throat, keeping them in this position for now. 

“Revenge,” he says, laughing when Eddie kicks a leg up and tries wrapping it around the back of Buck’s. 

It’s not a big change and doesn’t make Eddie much heavier in his arms, but it’s still enough to make Buck lose balance. He tries to catch himself unsuccessfully but topples over, trying to control Eddie’s fall as much as possible, which means that his hands are so busy catching his husband that he can’t catch himself and lands right on top of him with a breathless, “oof.”

“You okay?” Eddie asks, and Buck lifts himself onto his elbow so he doesn’t crush him anymore.

“Yeah, are you?” he asks back. “I’m sorry–”

“It was my fault, Buck,” Eddie interrupts him, grinning again already. “And you know I don’t mind having you on top of me.”

Buck snorts. “You could’ve just said. There are easier ways to get me in this position.”

“Yeah, I know exactly how easy you are,” Eddie teases, and then he’s laughing again, his body shaking under Buck’s, and Buck can’t help but join in.

“You’re an idiot,” he says without any heat, and Eddie’s hand comes up to cup the back of his head.

“But you still married me,” he says, sounding so pleased about it that Buck has to laugh again, and bend down to kiss him.

“What can I say,” he murmurs, his grin meeting Eddie’s. “You’re my idiot.”

Eddie laughs into his mouth and keeps kissing him, right here on the dry grass in their backyard, someone else’s music the distant soundtrack.

[tf2-oneshots]

Can you do a sfw one shot of when heavy introduces medic to his family (besides Zhanna) ?

Ooh yes!!

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

Medic straightens his tie in the car before fixing his glasses. In his lap sits a bouquet of flowers he picked up earlier with Heavy. Reassuring himself that he looked fine, he turns to see Heavy opening his door for him. With a smile, the doctor steps out.

“Such a gentleman. How did I get so lucky, Misha?” The two share a kiss, chuckling at Medic’s playful tone. Hands clasped together, they walk onto the porch and enter the house.

“Was raised to treat lover well.” With their jobs as mercenaries complete, Heavy bought the home for his mother, Nadia. There, she spends her days babysitting grandchildren and enjoying the warm days in her rocking chair. A pleasant way to retire after years in the tundra.

“Mother? I have Doktor.” They walk down the hall where Nadia emerges from the kitchen. She takes off her apron, approaching Medic with a warm smile. She’s always dreamed of the day her precious son would bring someone home. No more worries about fighting and hiding in the wilderness. Now, Misha can enjoy his life.

“You must be Ludwig. My Misha always speaks of you.” The remark makes Heavy blush! She brings Medic into a hug before accepting her flowers. They look beautiful and miraculously match the carpet. Such a kind gesture of him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Nadia ushers the two into the dining room where Zhanna, Yana, and Bronislava sit at the table. Zhanna welcomes them whereas her sisters rush over to greet the esteemed German.

“You are the handsome doctor brother mentions!” Yana gives him a hug while Bronislava looks over the man. He’s exactly as described. Tall, well built, and handsome as ever. Medic looks to Heavy only to see the man blushing even harder now.

“Sisters! Do not embarrass me…” Heavy groans as the two giggle and return to their seats. Quite the handful of siblings he has, but he loves them dearly. Seated at the table, Nadia sets dinner down. As dinner goes on, Medic is hit with endless questions. Where was he born? When did they meet? When will the wedding be?

“Aheh, I’m flattered to have your blessings so soon. We’ll be married soon enough. That I promise.” Little did either men know that they both had wedding bands stashed away, saved for the perfect moment.

[mathisshiftss]

A scenario in my Coffee Shop DR

Spencer comes by my apartment and meets my neighbor for the first time. I help her out and he knows about that, he’d never expected to meet her, though.

It’s a nice day out. Not too busy, not too hot, the perfect weather for bumble bees and my 68 year old neighbor, Margaret to be sitting on her porch. I hadn’t even thought of that when I decided to bring Spencer home with me. It isn’t like it was the first time, but it is the first time that Margaret was on the porch, watching people go by while doing her crossword.

We walk up the porch steps and she turns to me, smiling kindly.

“My Mattie! How have you been?” She says, standing up. I walk over and hug her, as I know that’s what she’s expecting.

“Hi Margie.” I say softly. “I’ve been g—“

She interrupts me with “Who’s this?” She lets go of me, walking slowly over to Spencer.

“I’m Spencer..” He says, holding his hand out to her.

“He’s the one I told you about.” I say gently.

The woman is small, old. Her hands are shaky and her hair is stringy. She always smells like baked goods, as she spends most of her time baking. Save for days like this, which she spends sitting on the porch.

“Oh!” She says with a smile. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“A— A lot?” Spencer stutters. I giggle.

“Nothing bad.” I say softly.

“No, nothing bad. My Mattie doesn’t say anything bad about anyone, I just stop hearing about them.” She says with a smile. “He is absolutely smitten for you though, Doctor.”

Spencer looks confused. “Doctor?”

“Well you are a doctor, right?” She says.

“I am, I have a doctorate. Well, a few, actually.” He admits. I notice how he rubs the back of his head.

“I hate to go inside on a beautiful day like this, but I’ll make an exception for my favorite boys, I have cookies in the oven and I’d like for you to hang out for a little while until they’re done.” She says with a smile, opening the door.

Once we’re all inside she shuffles over to her rocking chair and she sits down. One of her two cats joins her and sits on her lap. Her apartment is cozy. Small, like mine. She’s lived here her whole life, so there are stories around the whole place. There’s a piano with books and flowers on it, there’s a couch with the classic grandma print. She isn’t a grandma, though. She never had any kids. Spencer looks around while I take my seat on the piano bench, as I always do. She loves when I play for her.

“Matt’s my little helper.” She says with a smile as Spencer walks around. “Sometimes I have days where I have a hard time taking care of myself, he checks on me just about every day.”

“I have a key.” I say with a smile.

Spencer makes his way over to a small table, it has a candle and a photo of a man in black and white. He studies it for a moment and Margaret notices.

“That’s my husband.” She says. “Isn’t he handsome?”

“Very.” Spencer says with a gentle smile.

“He passed away in ‘nam.” She says with a melancholy smile. “I never remarried.”

“Margs is loyal like that.” I say gently.

“Oh, Matt, you should play us something.” Margaret claps her hands together excitedly. I smile and turn around, picking the key cover up.

“Any requests?” I ask, my fingers resting on the keys.

“Something by Chet Baker.” She says with a smile. Then, she turns to Spencer. “He’s my favorite.”

“Chet Baker it is.” I say. Then, I play the intro to a song. The song Everything Happens To Me fills the room. I sing it smoothly, softly under the piano. Spencer sits down on the couch, watching me. I can hear the conversation Spencer and Margaret are having. Something about Spencer’s job. Then, the subject shifts to Margaret’s husband.

Then, somehow, they talk about me. When I hear my name I stumble over the words in the song. I know that Margaret would want me to keep playing, so I do. She used to be a music teacher, so she’s like that.

Whenever I finish playing the song, Margaret excuses herself to take the cookies out of the oven. She calls for me and I come running in.

“Yeah? What do you need?” I ask quickly, glancing briefly into the living room. Spencer is looking through Margaret’s books.

“I need to talk to you.” She says with a smile, setting the cookies one by one on a cooling rack. “About that boy of yours out there.”

My heart drops and I go pale. She doesn’t like him, I’m sure.

“Oh, what? What about him?” I ask. I rub my forearm nervously.

“He’s a very nice boy.” She says with a warm smile as she sets the cookies down. “He likes you quite a lot.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She says. “I have an eye for this kind of thing, Mattie.”

“I know you do, Margs, I’m—“ I pause. “You really think he does?”

“I think you know he does too.” She says with a smile. “Cookie?”

“Sure.” I say, taking one. “So—“

“Mattie, don’t ask me again.” She says, looking over at me. “Really, he’s smitten. Trust me. You can go back out now.”

I nod, and leave the kitchen, walking over to Spencer. I lean my head on his shoulder as he cards through one of the books, quick reading it.

“Is it good?” I ask softly, looking at him with affection.

“Mhm.” He says, nodding. I kiss his cheek before going and sitting down.

We hang out with Margaret for a couple of hours, both inside and out. I help her with her dishes, her hands get too shaky and weak so it’s hard for her to put them away. After everything, Spencer and I go upstairs, saying goodbye to Margaret. He ends up staying the night and we talk a lot about Margaret. I tell him about the stories she’s told me, that she’ll probably tell him in the future.

————

By the way, the song that was mentioned in the scenario is beautiful, you should absolutely listen to it if you get the chance. Chet Baker is (was?) an insanely talented musician! Definitely give his songs a listen. Everything Happens To Me and I Fall In Love Too Easily are my favorites by him!!

[whumpr]

Stay a While

“Y’ come to see me just to sit?” He asked.

Let's look back to younger Cedar! He's going through it. Needs some good old fashioned late night porch therapy.

Contains: Comfort, Emotional Whump, Identity Crisis/Doubts, Gender Dysphoria, Brief Mention of Detransition

____

It was December, close to Christmas. But the air was warm and light like late summer. Cedar stared out over the field in the darkness, nothing between him and the horizon. There wasn’t a sound around him but the rustle of the cool wind over the tall grass. He looked up to the sky overhead, unnaturally vibrant and dazzling stars danced in constellations he didn’t recognize.

A screen door swung shut behind him. He turned to see a house standing alone, old wood and a faded red door cast in the welcoming orange glow of a buzzing porch light.

An old man settled into a rocking chair with a mug in each hand. He set one down on the floor next to him, and the other on a small side table beside a rickety porch swing.

He didn’t look at Cedar.

Cedar made his way to the porch steps.

“Is that for me?” He asked, fingers following chipped paint and splintered wood.

“If y’ want it.” The old man replied.

Cedar looked into the mug on the end table; steam drifted out of pitch black coffee. It smelled like it’d been made over a campfire. Somehow, that unfamiliar night sky swirled through it like cream.

“Am I asleep right now?” Cedar asked.

“I’m sure you are, somewhere.” The old man answered.

Cedar looked at the old man, then back down to his coffee. He sat down on the porch swing and pulled his feet up under him.

Neither one of them spoke for a while. Cedar watched the empty field in silence. The old man lifted his mug off the floor, took a sip, and set it back down.

“Y’ come to see me just to sit?” He asked.

Cedar looked over at the old man. He still didn’t look at Cedar.

“…I don’t know.” Cedar answered after a moment. He pulled a blanket off the back of the swing to cover his legs. “Nothing important enough to be here.”

“Must feel important.” The old man answered. He lifted his mug off the ground, took another sip, and set it down again. “T’come all the way out here.”

The silence stretched on for a moment longer.

“I just don’t wanna waste your time with it.”

“I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

Cedar looked down at his hands, at the dark hair just starting to creep up the backs of his wrists. He wondered if people still thought his hands looked feminine.

“I just…” He started, folding his hands over the top of the blanket. “What if this isn’t right?”

The old man didn’t say anything. Cedar didn’t want him to.

“I mean, I just started T and I… I mean I’ve wanted this for so long. But now that I have it I just feel…” He hesitated. Self hatred felt heavy on his tongue. It felt wrong to admit. “I feel gross. I feel awkward, and clunky, and my facial hair hurts like hell when it’s growing in. And I’m self conscious all the time. I’m just realizing how I’ve never, really related to people before this. It’s like I’m starting from scratch. It’s like I’m a kid again. I feel too young.”

The old man raised his eyebrows. One leg crossed over the other and he reached down for his mug again.

“I mean. I’m 19.” Cedar added sheepishly. “I am young. I know that. It just feels like no one else is as young as me. It feels like everyone else knows where they’re going. And–”

Cedar gripped the blanket tighter. His voice tightened in his throat. “I know I’m not wrong. But what if I get to the end, like, five years down the line and I don’t like it? Then I’m like, halfway through my twenties? Halfway through my twenties and I have to start over, I have to figure out something else.”

He looked out over the old man’s land. Darkness swallowed the landscape only a few yards past the porch. It felt like they were the only people alive.

“I just, I know I’d never go back. I know I’d never go back. I don’t want to detransition, or change anything, it's just…” His voice was soft and small, his hands gripped the blanket tighter to keep from shaking. “It’s hard right now. What if it doesn’t get better?”

He lifted the collar of his shirt to wipe his eyes, looking up to see he was in the passenger seat of the old man’s truck. It was bright out, and the windows were down. The wind was blowing noisily through the cab, and the sun was setting behind them in a way that it glared off the face of the radio and kept Cedar from checking the time. The old man drove with his hands at the top of the steering wheel.

“Does it feel right?” The old man asked.

Cedar blinked, looking up at him. The old man’s hat cast a stark shadow over his eyes. Cedar noticed the cigarette hanging between his fingers.

Cedar’s voice threatened to waver if he spoke again too soon, but he cleared his throat and spoke anyway. “Uh. I guess. Yeah. It feels right… where are we going?” He fumbled for a switch for his window beside him, finally looking over to see the crank sitting lower on the door.

“Woah,” Cedar wiped his eyes, leaning down to roll up the window manually. “How old is this truck? You keep it running yourself?”

“She doesn’t give me much trouble. My boys take care of her when she does though.”

He didn’t answer the other questions. Cedar decided not to press it. He rolled up the window and stopped halfway, just enough to keep the wind from drowning out the conversation. He leaned his head against the doorframe, watching the road curve and straighten in front of them as they drove.

“Where are we going?” He asked again.

“Just wanna show you something.” The old man answered.

“Can I lean my seat back ‘til we get there?”

The old man gave a hum of approval. Cedar searched along the side of his seat for the lever and let his seat fall all the way back. He was standing again when he opened his eyes–this time at the quarry where he used to spend his summers. He hadn’t been back since his senior year. Transitioning had made it too uncomfortable–his binders never mixed well with swimming, and he could never shake the feelings of strangers’ eyes on him.

This time, no one noticed him, he stood like a ghost in the shallows of the water. People around him screamed and laughed and shared drinks out of cheap looking coolers. Music echoed off the walls of the quarry. Cedar could feel the sun on his chest.

“How’s that feel?” The old man’s voice asked beneath the noise.

Cedar reached a hand up, closing his eyes and letting his fingers spread flat over his bare chest. He felt the ridges of new scars, not yet healed and not yet ready for the sunlight, warm under his fingertips and soaked in light against some future surgeon’s wishes.

“It feels right.” He answered.

He opened his eyes again to find himself back on the old man’s porch. The field in front of him was filled with the soft blinking of floating fireflies, cicadas cried distantly, filling the space between Cedar and the horizon

He looked over his shoulder, the old man sat in his rocking chair with his empty mug in his hands. The porch swing rocked gently in the breeze.

“I have to go back soon.” Cedar said.

“Sooner or later.” Time replied.

Cedar walked back to the porch swing, having a seat on the edge. The fireflies danced over the tall grass.

“Can I stay to finish my coffee?”

“I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

[fromasgardandback]

Avenging His Death

Wanda Maximoff x Platonic!Reader

masterlist | oneshots

It was extremely hard for Wanda to do what she did to Vision. She essentially killed the love of her life to save humanity. Her actions pained her from the moment it was the only option to the current time. She never let it go and it showed in everything she did. Wanda and the entirety of West View, New Jersey knew the extent of her pain. Now that she’s moved away and secluded herself in the cabin somewhere in Canada it has been quieter, but too quiet for your liking.

You traveled to where she was after taking a couple of days to find her location. You rolled up to her driveway, parking next to a sign that said: “only peaceful memories here”. 

“Wanda?” You said closing your driver-side door and locking it. You looked around at the beautiful landscape behind the house in front of you. It was beautiful mountains and a lake and pine trees that lead into a forest to the left. You walked up to the front door, knocking on the distressed wood. “Wanda?” You called out again.

“Y/N? How long did it take you to find me?” She said opening the door and walking into the kitchen. “I guess you’re here to discuss West View?” A drip of annoyance and regret come from her lips.

“No, I came to check on my best friend. I heard what happened and before I could make it to New Jersey, everything had dissipated. I needed to know that you were alright. I needed to know,” You paused before saying the truth. “I needed to know that even through the grief and pain, you were still alive.” You said holding back some tears.

Since Thanos’s snap in Wakanda and Wanda disappearing, you took everyone’s loss hard. You didn’t blip, but she did. She was your best friend through and through. It had already been an extremely difficult five years, but adding West View on top of it? You didn’t know if you would find Wanda alive or dead.

“I’m not going to kill myself, although, I have thought of it.” She said leaning against the kitchen counter. “Any other reason you are here; to come for my arrest?” She said coldly.

“Is that what you think of me? No, Wanda I am not here to arrest you or ask you to turn yourself in. I came here because I love my best friend. You’re a sister to me and I understand how painful it is to lose the one person who knew you, the one person who understood you. I get that and it pained me to see him go. But I came here on my own, Wanda. Whether you like it or not, I’m not leaving.” I said hurt by her comment. Its understandable that she’s in pain, but for her to make accusations out of anger and misery isn’t called for.

We talked about life and how everything happened so quickly. I explained the pain I endured during the five long years and the battle against Thanos. Where we all went off too and how we ended up their after it was all over. I stayed with a few of our friends from time to time trying to regain the normalcy of the life we had before. Wanda explained to me what West View was truly like for her. The happiness she felt and betrayal of the people she thought she knew. Wanda understood that kidnapping an entire town in New Jersey wasn’t the right decision to make, but she did nonetheless.

“I need to fight, to fight for them. I cannot sit here and do nothing while they exist somewhere without me.” Wanda sighed deeply.

“Where are you going?” I said sitting up straight in the rocking chair.

“I’m going to avenge Vision’s death. My Vision, real and fabricated along with my sons. I was pregnant. I have birth to those boys and the didn’t deserve what happened to them. I love my family and I will stop at nothing to get them back.” She got up from her chair to stand against the wrap-around porch, staring at her small farm to the side of the home. “Are you coming with me?” Wanda turned around eyeing me with a stare that could kill.

“To get your family back?” I stood up walking towards her. “Where do we begin?”

[bludraws094]

if i had a nickel for every time i accidentally wrote a poem that was exactly 404 words long i would have two nickels, which isnt a lot, but its weird that it happened twice

anyways its under the cut bcus of how long it is, i feel like itd be annoying to scroll past

You sit down in the chair next to mine,

The old rocking chair

With a wicker seat that cannot take much more.

You fear that you may break it,

And so,

Not wanting to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

You refrain from doing what it was made to do.

I sigh,

In the plastic lawn chair you bought for me a few weeks ago,

Yet is already on the brink of breaking,

And ask what you want.

You don’t respond,

Not at first,

That is,

And simply stare off at the sunset.

You comment on how beautiful it is.

I make a small sound of agreement.

It is your turn to sigh,

As you tell me that you worry about me.

I scoff in response.

You say that you know I don't like it,

That I don't want anyone to worry about me,

That I believe I’m not worth the worry,

But you still worry regardless.

You say that you think my stubbornness will be the end of me,

That I need to accept that nothing will stay the same.

You go to say more,

But I cut you off,

Saying that I know things cannot stay the same,

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

You don't have a response,

So we sit in silence for a few moments.

The sunset really is beautiful.

It’s much more yellow than usual,

And I can see the building storm on the horizon.

It casts everything in that sickly,

Yellow hue.

A few gaps in the clouds allow for pillars of light to shine through.

I finally break the silence,

Saying that it’s getting late.

You agree.

We both get up from our chairs,

Being wary not to break them,

As lightning strikes far in the distance.

The thunder follows,

Right as I step inside,

And shut the door.

The next day,

The ground is wet,

And the lawn chair is lying in the yard,

Smashed to pieces,

While the rocking chair is still intact.

I sit on the steps of the porch,

Thinking.

You come outside,

And sit next to me.

I sigh,

And say that I would rather you not continue your lecture,

But you don't respond.

You simply look off in the distance,

At a flock of crows.

They make hypnotic patterns,

As they fly through the sky,

And as we both sit there in silence,

Watching them.

[coramatus]

Under the City Streets (part 8)

The Old Man of the Mountain and the not-very-sudden-but-very-inevitable betrayal.

or

Happy New Year! Have an update!

For why Emmet and Volo are bothering with a weird old dude who might be Arceus in disguise, read part 7.1 - 7.5, but mainly 7.5.

When Emmet and Volo reach the foot of a mountain (more like an overlarge hill) with rotting wooden steps dug into the side, Volo insists that he is going no further. Emmet doesn’t care and says Volo can do whatever.

And yet Volo still frets as he watches Emmet ascend the steps.

As Emmet crests the hill, he finds a decrepit old shack surrounded by a veritable junkyard of wood and metal objects. A covered porch lines the sides of the shack, where an old man sits in a rocking chair facing away from him, whittling away at a piece of wood into some kind of doll.

“Hello!” Emmet greets the old man, sharply adopting his signature point and call pose, “I am—!”

“Emmet!” a chipper wizened voice finishes for him. The man doesn’t turn around as he chuckles, “Don’chu worry none. I know who ya are.”

Emmet’s pose slips. He’s never been interrupted like that before.

“Um… then, you are—?”

“Yep! I’m the Ol’ Man yet lookin’ fer. Be wit'cha inna minute, kiddo,” the man quips easily, “Just gotta put on some finishin’ touches fer ya.”

The carving knife is set aside in favor of a stump of an old black grease pencil which deftly makes a few marks on the doll.

“Aaaand done!” the Old Man announces. He turns to face Emmet with a gap-toothed grin as he tosses a small wooden doll at Emmet, who barely catches it in time. The man eyes him expectantly, “Whaddya say? Pretty spot on, I reckon.”

Blinking in confusion, Emmet gets his first look at the doll and is given pause.

It’s a simple, stylized human figure, its stumpy left arm pointed forwards with its right pointed to the side. It’s painted in white with trademark brown bands along the sides and along its flared sleeve cuffs. A familiar white hat sits on its head, bearing the distinct blue and white livery of Gear Station. Its simple face bears a v-shaped smile and unmistakable pointed gray sideburns.

“O-oh! This is… me?” Emmet says with a puzzled tilt of his head. For a long moment, he stares blankly at the effigy of himself before a faint smile breaks across his face, “Neat.”

The man snaps his knee with a gleeful cackle, “Boy howdy, you’re the first fella in a while to not up and run off on me! The second I give ‘em their doll, it’s like they seen a ghost! I like ya, kiddo!”

“Thanks?” Emmet says, his smile hesitant, not entirely sure why anyone would flee from a display of an omniscient person’s power.

He looks back down at the doll, noting that it depicts him in his complete outfit, not his current shredded, torn and injured state. A state he wishes he could go back to. Pushing past the feeling of loss, he refocuses on the Old Man, smiling with faint hope,

“Then you really know everything?”

“Just about. ‘Round these parts anyways. And whatever else comes through!” the Old Man laughs as he rises from his chair onto stooped legs to hobble past Emmet. A shaky hand grips a knobbled, white cane, its pointed tip covered in polished brass. He shakes his head as he pushes open a sliding, wooden door and shuffles in, “Ain’t never a dull day in these here parts, kiddo. Always folks wantin’ to find answers until they get ones they don’t like. Then it gets real messy.”

Old Man invites Emmet into a mildly hoarded out cabin. He is a very gracious host, offering food and drink. But Emmet cuts to the chase.

“Something happened to my brother and I need to know what that was. People call him the Woodsman but his real name is Ingo.”

“Straight to the point. I can respect that,” the Old Man nods as he hobbles along. He prepares some tea on a banked fire, as he recounts, “Yeah, I know that fella. Kid’s got a real mean streak in him. And he used to be so nice too.”

“Yep… he was the nicest…” Emmet confirms, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips. However, it quickly fades as reality reasserts itself, a deep sadness settling in his chest, “But now I’m not sure who he is anymore…” He looks up to the Old Man, pleading, “What happened to him? I need to know.”

The Old Man sucks on his pipe, his previous manic demeanor falling away to an alert calmness, staring at him evenly, “And why would that be?”

“Because I do not understand!” Emmet shouts, shooting to his feet. His fingers grab his hair as he paces the cabin, his thoughts and feelings boiling over as he rants in desperation, “I cannot understand! Why won’t he listen to me? Amnesia does not explain his refusal to listen!” He groans, despairing, “What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?!”

Emmet is left shaking and panting, struggling to hold back tears. He’s not sure why he lost control like that in front of someone he just met, but it hardly matters now. He doesn’t resist as the Old Man guides him to a seat. The Old Man patiently stays by Emmet’s side as he works his tangled knot of emotions under control, taking careful, controlled breaths.

“I’m sorry…” Emmet whispers, his dull voice choking with pain, “I just want him back so, so much…”

The Old Man soothingly rubs Emmet’s back, not unlike a doting grandparent would to an upset grandchild, “That fellah’s got no clue how lucky he is to have such a wonderful brother lookin’ out fer him.”

“How wonderful can I be if I can’t even get him to believe me?” Emmet answers mournfully.

He shifts but he accidentally jostles his burn, making him cry out in pain as he doubles over. He’s left cradling his injured arm to his chest, shaking and whimpering as fresh tears form in his eyes.

The Old Man offers to take a look at the wound and Emmet lets him, holding out his trembling arm. With great care, the Old Man unwraps Emmet’s tie and audibly winces at the sight. But as he examines Emmet’s burn, his expression darkens. He asks if Emmet is feeling any different, to which he just sighs and admits that he feels a lot more tired. The Old Man warns him that he needs to keep a closer eye on his moods. This wound has the potential to take his life if he's not careful.

Emmet isn’t sure what he means but guesses that it could get infected and go septic. He just nods along halfheartedly, letting the Old Man apply a salve to ease the pain before wrapping his arm back up.

From Emmet’s sullen demeanor, the Old Man surmises that he’s had it rough enough and could use a real break.

So the Old Man offers a wager. He likes Emmet and will give him information no matter what. But which sort of info that will be depends on if he can best the Old Man. If Emmet wins, the Old Man will tell him that which he wants to know. If Emmet fails, he will be told what he needs to know. Emmet figures the end result will be the same so he easily agrees.

The Old Man nods sagely.

The challenge?

“Hit me.”

Emmet stills, uncertain he heard correctly.

“…say again?”

The Old Man grins wide at him with his nearly toothless mouth, “You heard me. Hit me. Deck me. Punch me. Slap me. Kick me. Ya land a hit, ya win. If you don’t by the time I get bored, then ya lose.”

Emmet thinks about this. He pushes up his tattered sleeves. With a spark of life back in his eyes, he drops into a fighting stance, declaring,

“I am Emmet. And I like winning more than anything else!”

“I know ya do, kiddo,” the Old Man gives him another gap-toothed grin.

Unfortunately for Emmet, the Old Man is far more spry than he lets on. No matter how much Emmet swings at the Old Man, his opponent slips just out of reach or catches his blows and throws him off or simply trips him. More than once, Emmet finds himself crashing into a wall.

In the end, Emmet doesn’t hit the Old Man. But he does tackle him, which is better than not touching him at all. The Old Man laughs at his clever tilting of the rules. Emmet didn’t win but neither did he lose.

So the Old Man offers Emmet a tidbit of both what he wants and needs to know.

Emmet is told how his brother disappeared. Simply put, his brother did not leave of his own free will, slipping through an unexpected tear in space-time. It was just bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time.

A weight lifts off Emmet’s chest. He was always afraid Ingo left because he’d grown sick and tired of his weirdo twin. It’s a relief to know Ingo didn’t choose to be here.

As for why any of this happened?

The Old Man won’t say it himself, but he grimly informs Emmet that he needs to ask his little Starly friend.

Volo knows exactly why.

Volo hops back and forth before the hill steps, sort of a Starly version of pacing. He’s deep in thought, having begun to piece things together. For a moment, there’s a faint flutter of hope that perhaps his ordeal might see an end.

But when Emmet returns, Volo needs only one look at him to shatter that hope.

Emmet’s thin smile has vanished entirely. He watches silently as Volo tries fussing over him, nervously asking if he learned anything useful.

Instead of answering, Emmet quietly asks Volo what he has to do with everything that’s happened.

Volo’s heart sinks as he realizes what the Old Man must have said to Emmet. He tries to beg off but Emmet isn’t having it.

“Tell me the truth, Volo,” Emmet says, his flat voice rendered positively frigid. His silvery eyes bore burning holes into Volo, “Are you the reason why my brother was taken? Was Ingo’s disappearance your fault this whole time?”

“I-I can’t… I wasn’t targeting him specifically-! He came through by accident-!” Volo sputters, unable to stop the words even as he internally screams at himself to shut up.

Emmet’s eyes widen in shock, but it’s quickly replaced by a disgusted glare.

“You knew,” he hisses.

Volo is quick to make excuses, his wings outspread, pleading, “I-I’m sorry! It was such a long time ago, I didn’t think-!”

“This whole time, it was your fault,” Emmet whispers. He turns away from Volo, unable to face him as his voice trembles from barely restrained anger, “…I trusted you.”

“E-Emmet, it was an accident-! I didn’t think he was anyone important—!”

Emmet can’t even look at Volo, only uttering a single word:

“Leave.”

“Emmet-!”

“I SAID LEAVE!!!” Emmet screams, spinning on his heel to glare daggers at Volo. His face, usually so open and friendly to a fault, is now twisted into a snarl of such pure rage and hatred that it stops Volo dead in his tracks. For a split second, Volo thinks Emmet is about to stomp him flat. But instead, Emmet sharply turns away from Volo and storms off without another word.

All Volo can do is watch as what was once his only friend walks out of his life. Anger bubbles up in his chest, the unfairness of it all making him snap.

“Fine! Fine! You know what?” Volo spits back at Emmet, furiously flapping his wings to hover in place, “I will! I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again! How do you like that!!”

Emmet doesn’t even acknowledge him. There is not a hint of hesitation as he marches forwards in furious determination. His eyes are set ahead, resolutely ignoring everything else around him.

This just sets Volo off even more, “Yeah! That’s right! Leave! Just walk away like everyone else! Don’t bother looking at the only reason you even got this far! I don’t matter to anyone in the end!!!”

But by this time, Emmet has already walked well out of sight. Realizing he’s completely alone, Volo’s indignant fury deflates, fluttering to the ground, his wings drooping and despondent as he stares out at where he last saw Emmet.

For all his rage, even Volo knows he deserves this in the end.

“Emmet… Sinnoh, I am so sorry…”

Part 9

[supersapphical]

Post canon Billiewena :)

OH billiewena, one of my favorite pairings!!!! Not gonna lie, keeping this one short was a challenge because post canon billiewena makes me want to write a whole fix it fic BUT I hope I did them justice in this short fic.

Billie and Rowena share a moment together at the end of the world. Read on AO3 or under the cut.

The reshaping of a universe without Chuck would take time, is taking time, did take time and also took no time at all. Time had to be reinvented during the reshaping of the cosmos and it took centuries and it took milliseconds and it is still taking place and has been taking place since before Chuck came into existence.

Billie, as a being of the cosmos, can feel all the other cosmic beings reworking their way through the strings of creation and she can also feel one cosmic being who is uncharacteristically still among the frantic busyness of a universe being remade.

Rowena, ruler of Hell, is sitting along the coastline of St. Ninian’s Isle, sipping a carefully brewed cup of tea. She’s in a rocking chair on a porch looking out towards the coastline off in the distance. (The entire residence will be undone in the remaking of the new world; in fact, it has already been undone.) It’s overcast but not currently raining, with enough of a chill in the air that a human might be bothered by it.

“You’re having a cup of tea at the end of the world?” Billie asks her, appearing by her side.

“There’s nothing a nice wee cup of tea can’t fix,” the queen of hell responds, calmly taking a sip. “It’s Scottish blend, the finest. Do you think it will taste different after all of this is done?”

“To us, yes,” Billie replies. “To the humans, probably not.”

Rowena sighs, “Another lovely thing lost to the passage of time.”

“More like the restructuring of time,” Billie says.

“Would you care to stay and watch for a while?” Rowena asks her.

Billie moves to stand beside Rowena in her rocking chair, looking off into the distance in the same direction Rowena does.

“I don’t suppose you’d care for some?” Rowena asks, indicating the mug in her hands.

“Human creature comforts aren’t really…my thing,” Billie says, raising an eyebrow.

“They used to be my thing,” Rowena sighs. “All I ever wanted was…”

“To be unkillable and to have every comfort in the world,” Billie finishes for her.

“That’s not too much to ask, is it?” Rowena asks primly, taking another sip of tea.

“What’s troubling you, Rowena?” Billie asks. She can feel Rowena’s energy, so still among a universe of movement. The only stagnant area in the whole of existence right now is this quiet moment Rowena has manufactured.

“Every particle in the universe is changing and most people won’t even notice the difference,” Rowena says softly.

“You’ve seen a lot—for a human,” Billie says.

“I’m not a human any longer,” Rowena sighs.

“Do you wish you still were?” Billie’s never been human but she knows how sentimental they can be, she can feel all living things deeply through their connection to death. “You’re more powerful now than you ever were before.”

“No amount of power can make you happy. I learned that over the years,” Rowena says. “And my son…he sacrificed himself rather than stay in the role I currently have.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Billie says.

“No one can stay a human forever,” Rowena replies, eyes distant as she looks towards the coastline. “Not even in this new, hopefully better world. I suppose my post human life is better than others.”

Billie refrains from pointing out that that answer is still a non-answer and instead she says, “This is different to the creation of the world and yet—still so similar.”

“You’ve seen a lot—for a reaper,” Rowena says.

“I’m not a reaper anymore,” Billie says.

“Do you wish you still were?” Rowena asks, taking another sip of her tea.

“Being Death is…different,” Billie shrugs. “Sometimes there’s no better or worse. Things just are the way they are.”

“Like my becoming queen of hell,” Rowena says, the tea cup in her right hand gently clinking as it hits the saucer in her left hand. “Though I suppose the transition was easier for you.”

“Perhaps not,” Billie says.

“It wasn’t easier for you?” Rowena asks. “Aren’t reapers and Death made of the same…stuff? You feel similar to your reapers.”

“I suppose it's true we were made from the same cosmic powers,” Billie says. “We are connected but we are not…one. And being Death it’s…the grand scheme of things is clearer. I’m no longer a reaper working as a single cog in the mechanism of fate. Now I’m…”

“The engineer sent to fix the mechanism of fate?” Rowena suggests.

“Hm, I suppose that’s an apt enough metaphor,” Billie says.

“And that’s hard for you? Hard enough that you think this change was easier for me?”

“Human beings…they’re in a constant state of flux,” Billie muses. "For a human to become something that is no longer human is just another change for you in your ever changing lives.”

“You thought you’d be a reaper forever,” Rowena says sympathetically.

“I’ve been a reaper since before this world was born, I always thought I’d be a reaper when it ended,” Billie says quietly.

Rowena sets her teacup down and stands up. Moving close to her, she gently places her hand on Billie’s face, her thumb stroking Billie’s cheekbone. Billie can feel her energy reaching out and Billie sighs a bit and allows Rowena in. Rowena had been one of the most powerful humans Billie had ever met but she had still been human. Now, as ruler of hell, she’s made of something more celestial. Rowena’s energy washes over her. Her steadfast resolve is something that Billie has always admired. Rowena has been knocked down many times and she has never failed to get back up again. It’s so very human of her and something that comforts Billie in this moment, when everything around her is changing. Rowena’s energy flows through her, an energy that knows how to meet adversity and bend but not break. Billie remembers when she comforted Rowena with words when she was a witch. Words were the only thing her human brain would have understood. Now Rowena is able to soothe her with a cosmic exchange of energies a human would never understand.

They stand there together while the reshaping of the world goes on around them, for a single moment and for many moments and for every moment that ever existed and ever will exist. They stand there while time stretches on and wraps around them and skips ahead and reverses and repeats, swirling frantically around this one moment held still by Rowena’s powers.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it,” Rowena gives Billie a sly smile. “And how are we feeling?”

“I feel fine,” Billie’s mouth twitches but she doesn’t allow herself to smile at Rowena’s joke.

“Will we still have that song in this brand new world order?” Rowena asks.

“In some iteration or another,” Billie says.

“I suppose I’ve been idle long enough,” Rowena sighs, letting her hand fall and stepping away. “Time to dive back into the chaos, then?"

“Well, it wouldn't be much of a universe without either of us," Billie says.

Rowena gives her a small, satisfied smile.

Billie dematerializes first, her consciousness moving away from the frozen moment she shared with Rowena and out towards the magnificent chaos of a whole universe being reorientated. Rowena soon follows, chasing after her into a swirling mass of primordial atoms that were to become and have become and are the brand new universe.

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

I’m really struggling with my relationship rn and how exactly I feel about my boyfriend. I know I’m asexual and on the aro spectrum but when I first starting dating him it didn’t seem like the aro thing matter cause I was so sure I had romantic feelings for him. It’s been almost a year and throughout the relationship there have been little moments when I was thinking about breaking up with him and I’m again in one of those but it’s different this time. My friends keep asking me like “well can you imagine growing old together? Like sitting on your porch in rocking chairs together?” And like…idk yes and no. A romantic relationship I’m not sure but as something else…maybe. And i can imagine our child to the point where it physically hurts to think about breaking up with him because then she’ll never exist and that makes me so sad. And there’s the ace thing I’m ace and he’s not and it’s one of the biggest issues because he wants to do stuff I know deep down he does but I just can’t like I won’t. I don’t think I can do this traditional relationship but I also don’t want to lose him but I also lowkey want to live many lives and have a non cis het man. Idk there’s so much and idk what to do about any of it.

The big question to ask yourself Anon is what do you want to do? What feels right for you?

It sounds like you've got three main options. You can stay in the relationship, and then you have to decide if the situation now is one you want to stay in.

You can break up, and while it may hurt in the short term, it may be better in the long run because it will free you up to find the type of situation that does feel right for you.

You can try and change the type of relationship you have with your partner now. This one is tricky because you can't predict how your partner will feel about it until after you talk to him, but if you feel like a traditional relationship isn't working, figuring out the kind you do want with him and seeing if he's open to it may be worth it. It may also help to research other types of non-traditional relationships like QPRs.

This isn't a decision you need to make right away, you can take some time and think about things. Journaling or talking things out to someone who's good at listening (though for relationship stuff you also want someone who's not a gossip) can help give perspective too.

Remember to focus on what feels right for you and what you feel would make you the most happy.

All the best and good luck, Anon!