#is like. a rebellious teenager showing up in a spread. and he is TWO so he’s at that stage of his life

[schisms]

liam got this picture of marvin in my lap while i was giving him a tarot reading

[derekhighwaytf]

Poindextrin

This is something a little different for my nerds out there so bear with me if that's not your thing.

Every woman wants to fuck you and all men want to be you…and also fuck you.  Who can blame them?  After all, you’re Etch, a famous rockstar who can fuck anything he wants! And after yet another adrenaline-rushed concert, you need something to take the load off. Your ears are still ringing with the echoes of screaming fans, your muscles thrumming with a mix of exhaustion and sex appeal. You're sweaty, high on the thrill of it all, and you reach for a pill bottle handed to you by a zealous groupie. Hallucinogens, you think. Just a little added kaleidoscope for the night. The label reads "Poindextrin", but you shrug it off as some quirky branding.

A few minutes pass and although you’re not higher, your voice definitely is.  Midway through a laugh, it squeaks up an octave or two, emerging from your lips high-pitched and nasally. It's like the voice of a caricature of a geek from a corny 80s movie, and you're momentarily shocked, a ripple of unease breaking your post-show high.

But it doesn't end there. You feel a strange lightness spreading through your body, a shrinking sensation that's both alien and deeply uncomfortable. Your tattoos, those symbols of rebellion, dissolve into clear, untouched skin. Your pecs, your arms, the product of hours spent in the gym, deflate as if poked by an invisible needle until they're just skin and bone. Your solid abs flatten out, vanishing as if they were never there.  Instead of a gym-bound rock God, your body has become stick-thin, almost like you’ve never worked out a day in your life.

Looking for assurance that this is just some bad trip, you stare into a nearby mirror, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize what’s happening, especially when you see your wild blonde hair start to recede into your scalp, your rebellious mane getting shorter and shorter until your left with a crisp, sharp #2 buzzcut on the top of your pale white head. The reflection then blurs, your vision wavering, and you fumble around for something to clear it. You’ve always had perfect eyesight, but now you can only see a handful of colors, like a kaleidoscope, but not the type you’d planned to see tonight.  Your hand lands on a pair of glasses with lenses as thick as soda bottles. Sliding them on, you’re taken aback by how large the world appears through these comically oversized glasses.

A glance down reveals a different set of clothes than what you remember putting on. Your stylish, rebelliously worn attire has been replaced with buttoned-up shirts, high waisted pants, a neat bowtie, a plastic pocket protector crammed with pens, suspenders and a pair of the clunkiest loafer shoes known to man. It's as if you've been dropped into a different world, a world where you are not the leading man banging chicks left and right, but instead the side character getting his lunch money stolen and being dunked in the toilet.

Your usually nonchalant demeanor begins to crack, replaced by an alien neuroticism that compels you to straighten your bowtie and adjust your glasses. Your once raucous hotel room seems overly cluttered, dirty. A wave of anxiety hits you, a compulsion to clean and order things taking over.

Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, an uncontrollable urge overcomes you. The panic is momentary, but the shame that follows the realization that you've peed your pants is far more potent. This is something you’ve never experienced, but starts to feel more and more familiar, an embarrassing incontinence problem that’s marred you since you were a teenager. Just another mark against your former coolness.

But the most distressing change comes last. Memories of rocking stages, of endless nights of passion, and the artistry of music start to blur, replaced by memories of a past that isn't yours. You remember being shoved into lockers, the stinging humiliation of public wedgies, the nights spent huddled over a Dungeons & Dragons game instead of getting head from a gaggle of groupies. The word virgin comes to mind, because that’s what you are, a virgin.  A gay virgin who’s never had the confidence to make the first move.  Thinking about such an act makes your acne-ridden cheeks heat up. 

Finally, you recall a name that is not Etch, but instead Ernest.  Ernest Bartholomew Humphries. Your hands shake as you run them through your buzzcut, wondering just how on earth you’d stayed up this late.  You need to get some rest for your new IT job tomorrow, dork.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 11

hope u enjoy this :D and please comment and reblog! each and every one of them warms my heart up so much <3

credit to @brekitten for betaing this. Seriously she was lowkey amazing and i exploded from it

and by lowkey amazing i mean just straight up amazing

credit to @adonneniel (at least I think that's them. I'll correct it next chapter if not) for the I Spy joke inspiration :3

MASTAPOST

Jack Fenton’s mad driving had them racing up the mountain path. Bruce couldn’t even enjoy the beautiful scenery as every corner seemed to invite a brush with death. He wasn’t sure if the orange man was insane and lucky or one of the best drivers he’d met in his life. In no time at all, they reached the top of the mountain, a noted campsite for many an adventurous teen or young couple.

Many teens, except for the missing trio at this moment.

Bruce already knew Daniel Fenton wouldn’t be here in all likelihood. And if he wasn’t here, there was little chance his two closest friends would, either. No, it was almost certainly a lie to disguise some other kind of activity, but it didn’t sit right with him that they might be doing something normal for a rebellious teen. Gangs, drugs, petty vandalism, dares. Something about their secretive demeanour and false aloofness pointed to a more fantastical answer. A more dangerous one.

As Bruce and the Fentons hopped off the SAV, they confirmed his suspicions. All he could see was trees, campfire stones, and bits of litter.

From his profile of Sam Manson, she would never tolerate such a thing. Every time he saw her, it was a protest of some kind, or loudly accosting litterers and people wearing leather jackets and carrying crocodile handbags, which practically confirmed his suspicions.

“Let’s spread out, we’ll cover more ground, and then meet back here in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, the three parents returned to the SAV, utterly empty-handed. Jack looked distraught, and Madeline was idly squeezing the handle of another gun. He hadn’t noticed that before. How many weapons did these people have?

“No sign. Nothing. Zilch.” Madeline muttered. “Why would they lie to us?”

Why wouldn’t a teenager lie, to be honest?

“Have you ever seen them do anything strange or out of the ordinary?” Bruce asked, the softer voice of a worried father.

Jack gasped. “What, like drugs?! Gangs? We chased those suckers out of town years ago! Danno would never get tangled with them!”

That was a story that Bruce would probably have to look into later.

At the same time, Madeline’s brow furrowed. “He did go missing half a year ago…”

Jack’s expression softened. “Yeah, kid was so shaken he never spoke about it. Can you imagine? Gone for a week, then shows up back home outta nowhere and didn’t even wanna talk about it.”

Bruce nodded, understanding fully what they had felt. Jack punched his open palm. “I oughta find whoever was responsible and tear them apart. Molecule by molecule.” His body slumped, voice losing its vigour again. “But Jazzy told us it was only gonna hurt him, pressing for info, so we haven’t.”

“After that, his grades started dropping. Danny’s a genius I tell you. A Fenton in every way, but after we got him back, he started skipping class, and making vague excuses all the time…” She shook her head and sat down, body seeming to gain days of exhaustion in a second. “It’s like he’s changed, somehow.”

Bruce considered this info… Sixth months ago? The timeline was suspicious. Six months ago, Daniel Fenton had gone missing. A week later, he shows up out of nowhere, refusing to speak of his experience. Soon after, sirens began to terrorise the city, with Phantom playing sometimes hero, sometimes criminal. Daniel Fenton’s behaviour changes drastically. Daniel, his two friends and Damian disappear on the same day. What was the connection?

Jack Fenton crouched on the ground beside his wife, frowning. “But that’s surely gotta be some kind of trauma response, right? That’s what Jazzy always says.”

“Maybe…” Bruce muttered.

Jack picked up on this, and looked up to where Bruce was still standing. “Maybe what, Brucie?”

“No, it was just a curiosity I had. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering about Phantom. Didn’t he appear six months ago too?”

Instantly, the Fenton parents scowled. Madeline clenched her fist around the gun. “That damned fishboy. He parades himself as a hero but we all know he’s a menace! Just last week he stole one of the prototypes for the Fenton Wrist Ray! How?! He doesn’t even have legs!”

And that right there was the big question, but there were a few hang-ups before he could move forward with his theory.

“I thought some of the previous sirens who attacked had legs.”

Jack shrugged, his hands making a so-so motion. “Well it’s actually kind of interesting. See, sirens’ bodies are based on a-“

Maddie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Honey, maybe we should keep the explanation short this time.”

“Right! The answer is we don’t know!”

Madeline face-palmed. “Some sirens demonstrate the ability to shift between their true form and a human-passing form. That being said, we’ve never seen Phantom’s human form, so we don’t even know if he can’t, or just hasn’t. We know for a fact there are some sirens that straight up can’t shift, but what determines that fact is unclear.”

Bruce hummed. A moment of pause before the next thought. “What if he didn’t need to shift?”

The Fentons’ mouths gaped open. “Are you saying…?”

“The last time I talked to your son before he disappeared, he didn’t seem to share most of your opinions towards the siren race. He seemed… evasive.” More than that. Daniel Fenton looked like he had the world on his shoulders, and he couldn’t share it with anyone. Or rather: couldn’t share it with his parents.

“That’s impossible! Danno would never-” But Madeline interrupted her husband.

“He has been running off a lot. Jack, how else would our inventions get into Phantom’s hands?”

Jack Fenton stared at his wife for a minute, eyes slowly opening in horror. “Floundering fishes. The punk’s brainwashed him!”

Bruce waved his hands back and forth frantically. “Maybe that’s going a bit far, don’t you think? I’m sure there’s-”

Madeline grabbed his arm and yanked him into the SAV with surprising might. “No time! I know where the kids are!”

Bruce startled, even as Jack Fenton jumped into the driver’s seat. How on earth did she make that deduction?

Of course, he didn’t doubt their intelligence, only their sanity. They were smart enough to figure out all of this tech, but detectives they were not (the profile he had done on them was thorough). Perhaps he underestimated them.

Hold on, what was he thinking? His deduction was that the kids were somewhere on the coast, in one of the many coves around Amity Bay, where they likely snuck out often to contact Phantom.

In that case, why on earth was Jack not turning the duckboat around?

“Dr Fenton, what are you doing?!” The high-pitched squeak at the end of his question was regrettably not entirely fake.

“The fastest way to rescue the kids!” Jack said, a manic gleam in his eyes visible via the rear view mirror. The mad scientist slammed the gas. Bruce’s seat slammed into his back. The billionaire braced himself.

The SAV charged through the campsite, weaving in between trees and rocks and debris. Up ahead the woods cleared to reveal the ocean over a cliff.

Jack did not slow down. He sped up. The cliff came closer. And closer. Jack sped up further.

There was no longer any ground beneath the wheels.

We cut to preserve Bruce Wayne’s dignity.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the ocean…

Damian scanned his left. He scanned the right. He glanced up into the clear sky. He peered down at the dark. He took a peek behind his shoulders. With his decision made, he made his declaration with poise and finality.

“I spy with my little eye, something b-”

“IT’S THE WATER!”

Damian’s eye twitched.

Danny nodded eagerly, like a lost puppy begging for attention. Scratch that. Lost puppies were far more lovable. “Come on. It’s the water, right? Right??”

“I spy. With my. Little. Eye. Something beating. You imbecile.”

“Crap. Uhhhmm…” Danny blinked, eyes turning sky high as he searched for answers. “Is it a bird? Because some people call their movements wingbeats.”

Damian’s jaw dropped. “No! It was your heart! Your heart beating!” He punctuated every word with an aggressive tap at Danny’s translucent chest, a still frighteningly visceral display case for his blue heart.

“That’s stupid! I could’ve come up with a better one!”

“The last three you did were the water, the sky and the sun respectively.”

“I said I could, not that I would!”

…

“I do admit. I did not account for birds’ wingbeats.”

“HAH!”

Back to the parents…

Never had Bruce ever feared for his life more than what just happened.

May he never speak of it again.

“See Brucie? Jack Fenton is an ace driver. You’ll never fear for your life in my capable hands!”

Madeline nudged her husband. “Honey, focus.”

“Oh sorry. Where to, sweetie?”

“The cove!”

Bruce shook the adrenaline off. Back to business. Coincidentally, he’d just received a pertinent message from the Cave.

“Hey B.” Tim’s voice filtered through the tiny ear piece Bruce kept at all times, accompanied by rapid clacking, almost fast enough to merge into a continuous clackackckackackack. “Half the footage you sent was corrupted. I saved the other half, but I haven’t been able to look through it. Currently fighting a hacker and trying to get back into Amity’s servers. Just got a breakthrough though. He’s based in Amity, currently location: the cove just underneath the mountain on the main island. RR Out.”

Bingo.

That cove being a hollow space in the mountain carved out by seawater and erosion. There was a small waterfall covering the entrance and obscuring view. As the SAV drove past the barrier, Bruce heard two gasps of shock.

There they were. A black boy in a yellow shirt and red beret, skin caked in sweat, hunched over a desk with a laptop glaring brightly in the otherwise-dimly lit room. Beside him, a pale girl in all black, clutching an old tome and glaring viciously at him.

But where on earth was Daniel Fenton?

And where was Damian?

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

imagine nanami being our butler and we just use him as a human dildo

say something like "dildos don't moan Kento." and he replies "y-yes ma'am"

Oh my GOD

And it started young too, the two of you as teenagers fooling around in the stables when you were feeling rebellious, wanting to show that you can make your own choices. So you choose the aloof servant that's around your age and seduce him and use him for your pleasure, rolling around in the dirt and hay.

As you get older, you both take on more responsibilities. He's in charge of the estate now, and you often represent your family when you go out. Your parents want you to find a suitor, but none of them interest you. Still, you're human and you have desires that need to be quelled.

It was simple at first, ordering him to finger you or get you off with his mouth, but you're insatiable. You need something hard and thick deep inside you, ruining you in the best way. You coax him into undressing and lying down for you, keeping his hands to himself as you bounce yourself on his dick

"Dildos don't moan, Nanami," you scold gently, all high pitched and breathless. He swallows hard, clearing his throat before nodding hurriedly.

"Y-Yes ma'am. My apologies."

He's always so cute when he tries to be quiet, you know it's hard for him when your precious cunt is so wet and squeezes him so deliciously. You always make him pull out, but maybe you'll let him cum inside this time. He'd probably look adorable when he realized what you were up to, panic spreading over his blushed features as he feels his orgasm building, your hips only going faster. You wouldn't mind having his babies. You'd always wanted blonde children.

[griffintail]

The Lost Ones

Summary: Several of the SMP members find an infant in a place they didn’t expect and decide to care for them.

Pairings: Platonic! Parental! Tommy, Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, Eret, and Dream x F! Child! Reader

Next

Warnings! : Swearing, Village Raid, Minor Violence, Minor Deaths (Mostly mobs), mentions of blood

A/N : I’m the biggest sap for child readers. Dating back to 2014. I literally couldn’t help myself. Just so everyone knows, I suck at writing in gender neutral terms, that’s why the reader is specifically female in all of these (Including Tommy’s, Minor Spoiler, Tommy’s just an idiot and doesn’t look). So, sorry about that.

I’ll most certainly will make more of these. I won’t always have it just like this, I might write a certain character individually in a scenario. It’s all dependent on my mood. I might add more characters! This is just basically the introduction. So yeah...ENOUGH RAMBLING! Hope you enjoy :)

       Tommy (Before the First Disc War)

        Tommy smirked proudly to himself as he tucked his new disc safely into his inventory bag before starting the walk back to his home. His adventure was successful, he managed to get a rare disc and it was now all his. Walking through the small bit of woods, he rested his hand on his sword handle. It was still night time after all and the monsters were out to play.

        As he could see the lights from the small town of the Dream SMP, he heard a cry. Looking back into the woods, he frowned before grinning.

        Someone is in trouble! He’d save them and get a payment—er— “willing reward” from them. Pulling his sword, he ran over towards the sound of another cry, this time the sound being continued. He rolled his eyes, someone was crying, what a pussy. As the crying was practically on top of him, he frowned in confusion as he only found a skeleton, which was trying to shoot at a basket hanging in a tree. There was no one there to be crying.

        He shrugged regardless, taking his shield off before going for the skeleton. It only managed one arrow before Tommy killed the mob. Looking at the basket, Tommy hummed before putting his weapon and shield away to climb up. As he got to a safe place to reach the basket, the crying now made sense as his eyes went wide.

        “You’re a fucking baby!” He shouted in surprise.

        Said infant noticed the new face and their wails quieted, but small cries still came out.

        “Quiet down. You’re going to bring monsters!” He hushed, moving carefully, getting the basket off, and brought it to himself. “How the hell did you get up here? Who just leaves a baby?”

        He looked down at the baby as he sat back in the tree. He couldn’t help but think how small she was, had he been that small when he was this young?

        “Guess you got nowhere to go huh?” He asked as the child looked up, their cries having gone silent seeing the boy much closer.

        They played with their blanket and he hummed as he held the basket close, making his way down the tree.

        “You’re lucky, a big man saved you! I don’t live far, so you’ll come with me. Of course, I wouldn’t just leave you here again.” Tommy rambled, despite knowing the infant couldn’t respond back. “I’m not some kind of monster!”

        He made it back to his home, putting the basket on his bed, and looked down at the baby with his hands on his hips.

        “If you were left out there like that, you’re alone.” This time, the baby gave a small babble and he couldn’t help the small smile that came on his face. “Well, then I’ll take care of you! I’m a big man and can do it easy! Phil took care of my brothers and me after all and he’s old and stupid. I’m young and very wise, so I can do it. I suppose you’ll need a name now.”

        If anyone had been in the room with Tommy, they’d be surprised how gentle he picked up the small human. Carefully, he held them properly, only knowing how as Phil had once shown him when they were helping a village out after a raid when he had taken the younger boy to trade.

        “Hmm, I’ll call you (Y/N)!” He decided. “And I will be the greatest father ever! And I know the perfect way to celebrate today!”

        Going into his bag, he grinned as he pulled out his new music disc. Putting it on the jukebox, he sat on his bed as the infant looked over at the object making the beautiful sound. His grin went into a gentle smile as he watched (Y/N) listen to the music. They’d both be happy; he’d make sure of it.

        Twenty Minutes Later…

        Tubbo sprinted down the stairs of his house as he heard frantic knocking on his door and the sound of crying. Swinging the door open, he let out a startled noise seeing a distressed Tommy holding a wailing baby.

        Of course, he’d need some help since there was just a little bit of a learning curve.

          Wilbur (Right after Declaration of War)

        Times were hard. Wilbur had just started a new nation to free himself, his friends, and his family from the iron grip of Dream and his friends, but they did not like the loss of power and declared war on him. As well as the war, Fundy had become a rather rebellious teenager and Wilbur wasn’t sure how to handle all of it. He didn’t let it show to the others though. He’d be a strong leader for them.

        He looked over his map of L’Manberg. They needed better defensive points…they fought with their words but Dream fought with weapons of destruction. They needed safe spaces to protect themselves…

        Wilbur jumped, knocking over an ink bottle over on the table when there was pounding on the van door.

        “Damn it.” He grumbled, quickly flipping the bottle back up and moved the map out of the way before going to the door.

        He opened the door to see Eret standing there, making Wilbur raise an eyebrow as Eret was on guard duty at the moment but looked shocked seeing what the other man was holding.

        “Hello, sir. They were just outside the gate. I didn’t see anyone else around.” Eret rapidly explained to his leader, the small infant wiggling in his hold. “I brought them here because they were cold.”

        “Get inside,” Wilbur instructed, going into the back of the van again quickly.

        He heard the door close as he grabbed his spare coat.

        “Hand them over,” Wilbur muttered, Eret carefully transferring his hold to the other man.

        Wilbur saw they had a blanket but it was thin and the child was cold to the touch. Wrapping his coat around them, he instructed Eret to light a furnace, which he did post haste.

        “Hello there, love.” He whispered quietly to the infant, rocking them lightly. “We’re going to get you warmed up and something to fill your stomach, how does that sound?”

        The baby didn’t fuss, too tired and cold to even thinking about making one. Wilbur stood next to the now lit furnace and looked up at Eret.

        “Is anyone out there?” He asked, his proud leader voice coming out.

        “No sir, I was worried about the child.”

        Wilbur nodded. “I commend you for saving their life, but I have it from here. Send someone to fetch milk and then please stand guard again.”

        Eret nodded before leaving the van.

        Once the two were alone, Wilbur sighed heavily as he sat on the floor, still close to the furnace. He felt the child’s forehead, feeling them warm up to his relief.

        “You gave us a scare little one.” He chuckled quietly. “But don’t worry, you’re in a safe place. L’Manberg will care for you. I suppose it was lucky you were left here rather than the Dream SMP.”

        He hummed quietly as he gently rocking the child, their eyes closing as they relaxed in his hold. As they relaxed, he gave a quick check for their gender.

        “Welcome little one. You’re the first woman of L’Manberg.” He smiled lightly.

        For a short while, he was able to forget about everything outside the van. He could relax himself and let his mind clear as he watched the little girl in his arms. They were both at peace.

        After a few minutes, he looked up as he heard the van door open. As he was standing up carefully, his own son Fundy came in holding a bucket.

        “Hey, Eret said you needed…What the hell is that?!” Fundy exclaimed in surprise, startling the girl in his arms, tears appearing in her eyes.

        “Shh, it’s alright,” Wilbur whispered to her as he rocked her again and he wiped her tears away with one hand.

        Fundy cautiously came over, raising an eyebrow. “Who are they?”

        Wilbur paused thinking for a moment, before smiling. “Meet your new little sister my son. (Y/N), the newest member of our great nation.”

          Philza (Right before Wilbur’s Betrayal)

        Phil shook out his wings as he landed in a village. He needed to rest them for a bit before continuing on his journey to L’Manberg. He had gotten word of how the tides had turned badly for his sons in the new nation they made to try and live peacefully. Originally, they hadn’t asked for his aid as Tommy and Wilbur had made contact with Techno and they believed with their older brother, they could surely turn it back. Yet, Tommy had sent him a letter with worry for Wilbur’s state of mind and Phil decided he needed to be there for his sons.

        Yes, he wanted them to learn the world on their own but there were some times when Phil needed to be there to help them.

        Looking at the sky, the night was fast approaching so he managed to get a house in the village for the night. Keeping his sword by his bedside, he went to sleep for the night…

        Startling awake, Phil heard the sounds of the village bell.

        “God damn it,” Phil mumbled, scooping his sword and bag before putting his hat on his head.

        Running out, he saw the cause of the panicked ringing. A pillager raid, and it was already out of control. Fires were crackling madly and blood littered the paths.

        “Shit.” He swore as a pillager spotted him and he dodged the arrow before running them through with his sword.

        The few surviving villagers ran from their homes and Phil went to follow when he heard a wail, the wail of a child. His throat tightened as he looked back to the burning buildings, his fatherly instinct along with his good nature kicked in.

        “God…” He muttered before spreading his wings.

        With ease, he was able to dodge between pillagers and ravagers alike as he followed the sound. Landing at the house that was most certainly ablaze, Phil kicked in the door. Holding his arm to his mouth and nose, he rushed in and found a small nursery, the flames engulfing the walls and ceiling. Rushing to the crib, he found the small child and quickly picked them up.

        “Let’s go kiddo.” He said as he rushed back out.

        Once he was outside, he took flight again and flew high enough to be out of arrow range, and flew far from the village. As he did, he looked the small child, of which he found out was female, over for injures as she screamed and cried. She had no visible injuries but Phil knew she had to have inhaled smoke. So, after a handful of minutes flying, he landed and shushed her quietly.

        “It’s alright kiddo, hang on,” Phil told her quietly as he went into his bag taking out a health potion. “I got something that can help you.”

        Being gentle, he gave them a few drops of the potion to hopefully clear out any smoke and heal the damage it might have done. The little girl gave hiccups and small cries.

        “It’s alright. You’re safe now.” He bounced her lightly, slowing down her cries to nothing. “There we go. We’re ok. Once morning comes, we’ll find the others of the rest of your village and see if we can’t find your parents.”

        The little girl’s eyes merely drooped and he gave smile before he frowned as he looked up to see the fires in the distance. They were a human child and he didn’t remember seeing any humans running away with the survivors but he’d try. And if not…

        “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you,” Phil assured the now sleeping infant.

        Technoblade (Start of Retirement)

        Techno shouldered the bag of wood he had gathered over his shoulder, his axe on his belt as he made his way home through the snow. The voices were relatively calm, not hungry for blood at the moment, and Techno was able to have a peaceful moment. As he trudged closer to his house, he slowed to a stop seeing footprints by the stairs and the voices kicked up as his thoughts went wild.

        Phil always gave him notice on his walkie if he was on the way and whoever had been there had gone up the stairs then walked away in a different direction from where they came.

        The voices were bringing up the question of if he was being scouted out. Who could have found his house? How did they find it? They started to demand blood.

        Technoblade took his axe off his belt while putting down the bag of wood. Going towards the porch carefully, he held it ready to expect the worse when he entered his house but he didn’t even go up the stairs to find something. On his doorstep, there sat a large huddle of blankets.

        Furrowing his eyebrows, he came up to the huddle carefully and slowly with his axe raised. Stopping when it was fully in view, he stared in even more confusion.

        “What the hell?” He questioned, lowering his axe slightly as he looked around the snowy tundra. “Who leaves a child on my doorstep!”

        In the middle of the huddle of blankets was a sleeping child, who wiggled slightly at the loudness of his voice.

        They’re an orphan now

        You know how you feel about orphans

        Blood for the Blood God

        Techno winced at the sounds of the voices as he looked at the child. They were right…they were an orphan now. Someone had left them on his doorstep and now they were abandoned. He gripped his axe tightly as he looked down at the infant.

        It’d be quick and easy…

        The small human opened their eyes slightly, squirming slightly as they saw him. Techno’s grip loosened, the voices screaming in protest. They were so small and so defenseless…he wasn’t calling for blood anymore.

        Grunting, he put the axe away, going back down the stairs to grab the bag as he clenched his jaw at the loud noises of the voices before going back and picking up the child with surprising gentleness as the child was startled slightly. He shouldered his door open, dropping the bag of wood next to the unlit fireplace before making his way upstairs to his bedroom. He put the child down, who watched him in silent curiosity as Techno took the walkie off his belt.

        “Phil, you there?” He questioned into it.

        It took a minute but the device crackled.

        “Yeah, what’s going on?”

        “I got a…issue. Come over as soon as you can.”

        “An issue? What kind of issue?” Phil asked in surprise as usually, Technoblade could handle most of his issues.

        “It’s hard to explain, just come over.” Techno rubbed his temple at the screams of the voices.

        “Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

        He put the walkie down as he looked over at the child watching him.

        “What?” He huffed.

        Then the child gave a small giggle, trying to get their hands free to hold them out to him. The man stood there in shock as his heart melted. He had not felt something like that in a long time. Scrunching up his nose slightly before coming over and taking the infant out of the blankets and holding her as he used to with Tommy.

        “What the hell am I going to do with you?” He muttered and the small human held lightly onto his shirt, making even the voices slow down.

        He down a level in his home to wait for Phil, keeping the child in his hold as he just decided to do his normal routine. He started a fire and began to brew a few potions when the knock came on his door.

        “Come in.” He called.

        In stepped his father, who immediately dropped his bag in surprise seeing what Techno was holding as he added a new ingredient to his potion.

        “Hello.” He greeted the older man without looking at him.

        “What the hell did you have?” The older man questioned.

        Techno looked over at him confused. “Blaze powder.”

        Phil took his hat off as he ran a hand through his hair. “I meant the baby!”

        “Oh! Yeah, this.” Techno said casually, the older man freaking out. “Someone left them on my porch.”

        “Oh god…are they ok?” Phil asked, coming over.

        “Yeah, they’re fine. They were swallowed by blankets.”

        The child tried to take a bottle in their hands and Techno simply moved it from them and kept working like it was the most natural thing in the world. Phil stood in surprise at how casual Techno was, he knew about the orphan thing and how vicious the voices in his head could be.

        “What…what are you going to do with the child?”

        “That’s why I called you,” Techno said, before holding the child to the man. “You take it.”

        “What?! Techno, I can’t just take this child. I…” Phil’s hand shook slightly at the thought of Wilbur. “I can’t have another child right now. And L’Manberg will question where I even got them in the first place.”

        “Well then what do I do with it?!” Techno huffed as he was surprised by the quietness of the voices.

        “Well…you could take of them.”

        “I don’t know how to take care of a child. I don’t even like children, have you seen me with Tommy?” Techno rolled his eyes.

        “You seem to like this one.” Phil pointed out as Techno was holding them willingly and at the gentleness, he had with them.

        Techno frowned as he tried to think of a good reason. “That’s because they’re quiet.”

        “Look…I know you don’t want to hear this but maybe you should look after them, even just for a while. I can see if I can find someone who wants a child.”

        No, you found them.

        They’re rather cute…

        Keep them!

        The voices had done a full turn around from when they first saw the child. They were demanding Techno care for them and protect the fragile being. Techno couldn’t disagree with them because in his heart…he wanted to protect the child that had been left on his doorstep.

        “Fine, I’ll take care of them for a while but you need to help me, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

        Phil chuckled. “Of course, son. We should look them over first to make sure they’re alright.”

        Techno rolled his eyes but agreed, listening to Phil as he told him what to do. The father was smiling proudly as even though Techno was frustrated with the new task, he continued with it. Once she, as they discovered, was checked over, Phil put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

        “What do you want to call her?” Phil asked.

        He looked down at the child, who was giggling as Phil smiled at her.

        “Blood Child.”

        “Techno!”

        Later, Techno actually decided on (Y/N) and for once, the voices were on his side.

          Eret (Before the founding of L’Manberg)

        Eret chuckled to himself as he walked down the path back towards his castle. Tommy’s antics for the day had been particularly ridiculous that it still brought a chuckle to the older gentleman as he went back to his home. He knew the days around the Dream SMP certainly wouldn’t be boring.

        Walking to his castle, he stopped as he noticed a basket left in front of the door and peered inside.

        “Why hello there.” Eret smiled seeing a small face peering back up at him as they squirmed slightly in discomfort. “What are you doing here little one?”

        He carefully picked up the basket and went inside his castle. As he got to his bedroom, he carefully took the infant out struggling a bit but managed before searching a bit in the basket.

        “Hmm, no note or anything.” He muttered as he looked at the child squirming around. “Well, someone made a mistake leaving you behind. Let’s see if I can’t figure out what’s making you so fussy.”

        After a bit of trying, first checking to see if she needed a diaper, he figured she needed some food and managed to get milk, putting it in a clean potion bottle to help her drink it easier. That also took a few trials, but he managed to help her drink until she stopped fussing.

        “There we go, now I can see your lovely face better.” He smiled as he sat on his bed, wiggling his finger in front of her making her giggle.

        As he played with the small girl, he frowned slightly as he looked over the basket that she had been left in. Why would someone leave someone so precious on the doorstep of his castle? It was truly a shame for those that did leave the little girl as Eret couldn’t help but slowly smile again as the little girl grasped onto his finger.

        “You’re not going to have to worry little one. You can stay here with me and you can be the princess of this castle.” He promised her, hugging her lightly, making her giggle. “I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. It will take me a little while to learn how to do it all properly but I’ll learn. How does that sound…(Y/N)?”

        He chuckled as he moved his head back as she reached for her glasses. Yeah, this sounded like a beautiful idea.

          Dream (The Very Start)

        Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask as he heard George screaming in the distance, Sapnap laughing wildly in return. Those two never know how to stop.

        “Come on you two! We need to build a house before the night comes.” Dream called to them. “Stop goofing off.”

        Yet, he could still hear George’s high-pitched scream and he just chuckled and shook his head at his friends’ behavior. They were the company he kept and he honestly wouldn’t trade them for anything.

        Eventually, they did stop screwing and they were able to get to work on building their first home of the new land they had. The three of them joked and there was some arguing still between Sapnap and George but it just made it peaceful for the three of them. It was how their lives were.

        Dream went to go look for some sheep to get wool for beds before night fully struck, leaving the two “children” at the house. As he went searching, he jumped when he heard the sound of screaming, but it wasn’t liking George’s scream. It was quieter but still a scream.

        “Hello?!” Dream called as he pulled out his stone sword.

        As he went towards the noise, he realized it wasn’t a scream of terror as he first thought it was. No, it was a screaming cry, the kind a child would make. He started sprinting at that thought and skidded to a stop as he found the infant that was making the sound laid on top of a rock, a group of three zombies trying to get it.

        Dream gripped onto his sword before shouting to get their attention and moved back, quickly taking care of the mobs. He pushed his smiley mask to the side of his face as he finished them off and rushed over to the baby.

        “Hey! Hey. It’s ok now.” He told them as he climbed up next to them, dropping his sword at the bottom. “All the bad things are gone.”

        He gently picked up the baby, shushing them as he put a hand on top of their head. Slowly, they quieted down and Dream smiled wiping their tears away.

        “Hey, there you go. See? There’s nothing to cry about.” He chuckled before screwing his face up to look funny.

        The child giggled and he grinned.

        “There we go. Now, let’s check you out.” He muttered, looking them over. “No injuries. That’s very good princess. Now, what are you doing out here?” He asked as he looked around, seeing no signs of human life other than the two of them.

        Dream’s blood boiled slightly. Someone would just leave a child out here? If it wasn’t for him, she would have died!

        “You got nowhere to go huh? Well, you don’t have to worry.” He said, carefully sliding down.

        He picked up his sword, putting it back in its sheath, before walking back towards his friends.

        “I’ll take care of you. You’ll be the princess of our new land! You, me, and your two idiot uncles.” He laughed, the tiny girl giggling at the sound. “And I’ll make sure you always have a reason to smile.”

[deans-baby-momma]

The Story of Us-Chapter 14

A/N: This is a rewrite of a story my good friend @spnbaby-67 allowed me to take and rewrite. All mistakes are mine. This is canon divergent, meaning some things that happened in the show will still happen here but with my own twist to it.

Summary: She and Dean met when they were kids. Even at such a young age, she knew that he was her soulmate. Being the daughter of a hunter, Michaela (Micki) Singer knew the life he led came with a price, but she was up to the challenge.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Michaela Singer

Warnings: Flashbacks are in italics, fluffy stuff, angst stuff, character death, kidnapping, depression, semi-dark themes

A/N2: This chapter has what is known as an inception flashback, or in layman terms, a flashback within a flashback……I learned something new today because I didn’t think it was possible. LOL

Summer 1997

Dean stayed at Singer’s Salvage after prom, telling John that he was taking on a hunt of his own when, in reality, he stayed back to spend time with Micki. Bobby, of course, never said a word to John because he thought the kid needed to be a rebellious teenager anyway. It’s a rite of passage for children; to disobey their parents’ rules and learn some lessons ‘the hard way’.

Dean and Micki were inseparable day in and day out. The only time they were apart was at night. Bobby might have been okay with his daughter and Dean dating but he was in no way going to condone them sleeping in the same bed. Not under his roof!

It’s been six months since prom and Dean was still living in Bobby’s basement. At breakfast one morning, he walked up behind Micki while she’s cooking breakfast-bacon and egg of course- and informs her that he is taking her out on a date that night.

“Really?” Micki asked, turning her attention from the pan of frying foods to look at her boyfriend. “Where are we going?”

Dean smiles and bends to peck a kiss to her lips. “Just out. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, beautiful. I have it all planned out. Just meet me out front at 5.” 

After eating the delicious breakfast that she had prepared, Dean went out to help her dad in the garage so Micki went about cleaning up. She was giddy and excited that Dean had made plans and they were going out, like a real actual couple. 

Not that they hadn’t had dates before, or as far as Bobby knew they were dates, but most of the times while her dad thought his daughter and Dean were at the movies or out getting dinner, the two lovebirds were parked on some deserted, backwoods road, fucking and giving each other immeasurable pleasure.

Micki sighs as she remembers just last week, they were in the backseat of one of the old jalopies from the junk yard, and they’d done something new but scary; had sex without a condom.

Flashback

Dean begins kissing down Micki’s neck as his hand snakes between her thighs and up to the hem of her shorts, his fingertips dipping under the material. Micki moans as she throws her head back.

“Why don't I help you take those shorts off?" Dean mumbled against her skin. With a bit of maneuvering and accidentally bumping their heads together once, the two lovers eventually succeeded and Micki laid back against the backseat of the Chevy. 

Her legs were spread to accommodate Dean's body as he leaned forward and captured her in a passionate kiss, one of his hands finding purchase on her breast while his other was holding onto the back of the cushion.

After kneading her tit and flicking her nipple until it puckered, Dean's hand traveled south slowly but with purpose. As soon as his fingertips met her sodden folds,  Micki moaned into the kiss.

"You like when I finger you, dontcha sweetheart?" Dean asked with a smile. "You like these-" he continues as he taps his digits against her core. "- rubbing all over this sweet little pussy, inside and out, hmm?"

"Yes, God yes!"

Dean uses his forefinger and ring finger to open her lower lips and rubs her clit with his middle one. He can already feel the nub swelling and pulsing against his touch.

"Baby, look at me."

Micki opens her eyes, she didn't even realize she had closed and looked into his viridian irises. Dean smiles down at her before telling her,  "I like watching you as I do this."

His finger slides down and into her entrance,  crooking at his fist knuckle to flick at the spongy part just behind her clit. 

Micki whimpers and grates her hips but Dean doesn't falter as he keeps pushing and pulling his finger out of her, ultimately adding another and another until Micki's walls are stretched around his three thick digits.  

"Fuck, look at how well you take it Mick! That pussy is squeezing my fingers."

"Dean," Micki groans as she feels her first orgasm approaching. "Don't stop! Please don't stop!"

The moment his thumb grazed across her turgid clit, Micki's back arched off the leather  and her limbs tensed as her release flowed out, soaking his hand, wrist and interior of the vehicle.

"Damn baby," Dean says, astonished. "You squirted everywhere."

Before Micki could respond,  Dean had removed his fingers and covered her whole pussy with his mouth, sucking and locking the remnants of her climax from her.

He spent what seemed like hours down there, nibbling on her clit, locking into her entrance and sucking hickey's onto her labia.  Micki thought she'd go mad!

When he finally relented, she had had another orgasm from just his mouth and it was evident on his lips and chin when he pulled away from her.

"I gotta fuck you now before I explode!"

Dean hurriedly unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down, his hard dick bouncing up against his stomach.

"Shit!" He suddenly exclaimed.  "Shit. Shit. Shit."

"What-" Micki asked.

"We don't have a condom. Fucking hell! I forgot to replace the one we used the other day."

"Oh. Well I could suck you off?" She suggested, sitting up and wrapping her hand around his shaft, pumping her fist up and down his length

"What if," Dean began and then swallowed. "What if I promise to pull out? Please? I kinda want to fuck you bare. See if it feels different, better."

"You promise?" She asked as she continued jerking him off. "You cannot cum inside me!"

"Pinky promise," Dean said, holding his free hand up, the pinky finger extended. As soon as Micki's wrapped around it, he smiles. "This is gonna feel awesome!"

Sweat was beading on his forehead as he plowed into Micki's welcoming body. Dean could feel his release but didn't want this to end, so he stayed it off. He bit into his bottom lip until he tasted blood, his hips thrusting without abandon.

"Oh fuck! That feels good. God, I'm gonna cum. Oh god, oh god!"

Micki starts pushing against his chest. "Pull out Dean! Pull out! Now!"

But it was too late. Dean had already discharged a few spurts into her body before he could remove himself to finish on her stomach. 

"Goddammit Dean!"

End Flashback

The sound of the screen door creaking open and then slamming shit brought Micki back to reality as she watched her father stroll in to refill his coffee thermos.

"Hey sweetie," he says as he pounds the liquid. "Dean tells me y'all are going out again?"

"Yea.Probably just going into town for a  burger at the diner," Micki says, shrugging. 

"Well, don't stay out too late."

"We won't Dad," she smiles as her Dad comes over to kiss her on top of the head before disappearing out the door again.

Present Day (2008)

Bobby goes to rush to Dean, realizing the boy is devastated as he's been lied to-by an angel, no less- and that Micki isn't awake.

But as he glances past the man on the floor to the younger Winchester, he is confused by the smile on Sam's lips  

"She woke up about an hour ago," Sam explains.

Bobby hurries to the bedroom door, stepping around Dean and looks inside.

Michaela is sitting up, against the headboard with her feet planted on the mattress and her daughter laying against her raised knees.

"Hiya Dad!”

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @atc74​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​  @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @hoboal87​ @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @maggiegirl17​ @chriszgirl92​

[drabbles-mc]

Handled

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Combining 2 Anonymous requests for this: I was wondering if you could do a Juice x female reader, where reader has been kidnapped by a rival gang and beaten for info, that she doesn't spill. And, in a sort of exchange, two men stab her in front of the sons, including her old man (Juice), and she instantly rages and just does some out of the blue ninja shit that they didn't even know she could do, and takes them out before dropping to the floor. & what if, we/you had a scenario where the reader drops into the splits to trip up two guys because they're charging her or something - literally don't mind which guy is for the pairing and whether fluff or stuff ensues. I kinda just want to see it written in your style. Like, "since when could she do that" and, etc.

Warnings: language, depictions of violence, blood, injuries, murder

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written a fight fic but I think I did alright! Had to throw in a little bit of Juice being a lil softy because it isn’t truly a Juice fic from me without it haha. Enjoy! xo

SOA Taglist: @mijop @adela-topaz-caelon @masterlistforimagines @garbinge​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff (If you want to be tagged in my fics don’t hesitate to reach out and let me know!)

You’d been put in a lot of compromising positions because of your proximity to the club. You’d been hauled in for questioning more times than you could count, and you’d gone toe-to-toe with a lot of people that you never wanted to have to cross paths with again. Being involved with the Sons meant you had to know how to defend yourself, because they weren’t always going to be around to do it for you. They might be your second family, and you might be someone’s old lady, but for you that was never an excuse to not be able to handle your own shit.

Long before you even knew who Juice Ortiz was, you were involved with Samcro. Growing up in Charming you couldn’t avoid knowing about them, and somewhere along the lines during your rebellious teenage years, you fell into the fold of the club and the community that surrounded it. You went from a silent presence, to a true friend of the MC, to an old lady. It was the wildest ride but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You remembered when Juice started prospecting—all smiles and full of jokes. If anyone had asked you for your opinion then, you would’ve said that the MC was going to chew him up and spit him out. But you would’ve been wrong, and in the midst of all the chaos the two of you ended up together. He was good for you, always kept you laughing. And you were good for him, too, helping him not spiral out and get ahead of himself—you kept him grounded. The bedlam was manageable when you faced it as a team.

All of that was running at hyper speed through your head as you found yourself bound to a chair in the back of an old warehouse. Being detained in an interrogation room at a police station was a stay at a five-star hotel compared to what you were going through now. It made you miss it. The metallic taste of blood coated the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto the concrete, staining it red. You mustered the deepest breath you could as you looked back up at the men who had taken you.

“I told you,” you shook your head, “I don’t know shit. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” you pulled against the restraints on your wrists, “I’m not a fucking rat.”

You felt another blow land to your stomach and you grunted, trying as hard as you could to bite back the pain. It was bad enough that you were stuck in this situation to begin with, you didn’t want to give any extra satisfaction of showing more pain than you had to. You were fidgeting and twisting your wrists relentlessly as you tried to loosen the binds. For a moment you thought that you were getting somewhere, but that sense of victory quickly got pushed to the side when you heard a clamoring coming from the other end of the warehouse. You had a feeling that you knew exactly who it was that was causing the ruckus, and you had never been so relieved to hear the yelling and cussing of some of your favorite men on the planet.

“Go!” one of the men shouted to the other, nodding in the direction of the noise, “Handle that. I’ll take care of her.”

As soon as the other man was a few strides away, you figured you weren’t going to have a better moment to try and catch him by surprise. You’d managed to wriggle one hand out of the rope that had previously been tied around it, and the slack gave you the opportunity to untangle the other. Your wrists were raw and bleeding but you didn’t care—you were closer to freedom than you’d been in hours.

You kept your hands behind your back and waited for the right moment. There was a gunshot and the man in front of you was visibly torn—not wanting to leave you unattended but also not wanting to leave his partner to face the gunfire alone. Neither them nor you even knew how many people the Sons had sent your way.

“Fuck,” he muttered and took one last look at you before taking off towards the chaos.

As soon as his back was turned you reached and freed your ankles. You stood up and ran at the man’s back. You leapt and threw your arms around his throat, choking him as you took him down to the ground. You collapsed on top of him, arms still tight around his neck as he attempted to elbow you off of him.

By that point, the two pockets of disarray found each other. You had no idea what had happened to the guys’ guns but there was no shooting as they approached you. You looked up for a moment to see your other assailant sprinting back towards you, and you assumed that he was being chased by at least Juice, if not someone else as well.

The split second made your grip falter just slightly, and the man underneath you flung his head backwards, hitting you directly in the nose. You cursed as it knocked you backwards, blood instantly beginning to gush out of your nose. You saw the man rising to his feet and you did as well, as quickly as you could manage.

The blood dripping from your nose completely faded from your mind as you assessed the situation in front of you. The man who had just given you your bloody nose reached down into his boot, pulling out a switchblade. You would’ve been lying if you said that it didn’t send a jolt of fear down your spine. Fighting two-to-one was difficult enough, but being outnumbered and one of them having a knife was pushing it even for you.

You stanced up, ready to fight and do whatever you had to do to survive. You were able to dodge a few blows from the man who was empty-handed, all the while keeping the knife in view. It was just a matter of time before the two of them closed in on you and you knew that, you were just trying to buy yourself enough time to get some backup.

There was a sharp pain in your side as you felt an arm wrap around your throat from behind. You screamed out in pain, eyes clenching shut for a moment as you tried to focus on anything besides the fact that you knew there was a blade sticking into your side.

When you opened your eyes you saw Juice and Chibs come crashing onto the scene. In all the time you’d known him, you had never seen Juice look so hurt, so angry as when he was taking in the scene in front of him. Just as he stepped in to try and help, you reached, yanking the knife out of your side and swinging your back to jam it into the thigh of the man behind you.

He grunted, grip on your throat tightening for only a moment before loosening as he leaned forward onto you. You took the brief moment of weakness to twist yourself and sweep his legs out from underneath him.

The other man ran at you and without thinking you dropped down, legs splitting as you tripped the man running at you. You swung your legs and body so that you were straddling the man you stabbed before you ripped the knife from his thigh and repeatedly sank it into his stomach and torso.

You were just about to turn around and finish the job when you were gripped tight by the back of your neck. You instinctively threw your elbow back and were rewarded with a cracking sound. Just as you spun your body around you saw that Chibs was already grabbing the man, pressing a knife to the base of his throat.

You weren’t sure if it was the relief of knowing you finally had a helping hand, or the blood loss from the stab wound in your side, but suddenly the tension began to disappear from your body. So much had happened in a matter of seconds that even you really couldn’t process it all. You stumbled a few steps before you felt Juice’s arms wrap around you to keep you from falling completely to the ground. You let him support your full body weight as you pressed your hand against the gash in your side.

“Get here faster next time,” you let out a humorless laugh as you shut your eyes, trying to ignore the searing pain that was spreading through your body.

“In our defense, love, you had it handled jus’ fine on yer own,” Chibs was walking towards you and Juice, wiping blood from the blade of his knife onto his jeans.

“Can we finish this conversation later?” Juice’s voice was dripping with concern as he tried to figure out the best way to help you move without making your injuries any worse.

“I’ll be fine,” you shook your head slightly, not expecting to feel so lightheaded.

“You ripped a knife out of your own body and killed somebody with it,” Juice couldn’t take his eyes off of your face that was streaked with sweat and blood, “and while seeing you Hulk out was shocking and impressive, you also did just about the dumbest thing you could do with a stab wound.”

“But it at least looked cool, right?”

He shook his head, “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

You knew that his annoyance was rooted in concern. You would’ve been more concerned if they had shown up any later than they did. You weren’t going to heal up quickly by any means, but you’d survive. There was no doubt about that.

“I would’ve gotten that other guy too, you know,” you looked over at Chibs.

He chuckled as he stepped in, bracing the other side of you to help Juice assist you with walking, “I know. Just wanted in on the fun, that’s all. Next time I’ll leave it all to you.”

“There’s not gonna be a next time,” Juice shook his head, staring daggers at Chibs for even joking about the possibility.

“When yer all healed up, you’ll have to get the rest of us flexible enough to do that little drop and spin move ye did back there.”

You mustered what you could of a laugh as they helped you into the back of the van, “Liked that one, huh?”

“Will you stop making her talk?” Juice snapped.

Chibs held his hands up in mock surrender as he walked to the driver’s door, “Sorry. Jus’ didn’t know you were dating a lass who is a goddamn black belt.”

Juice stayed in the back with you, applying pressure to your side as he cradled your head in his lap. You could hear the unsteadiness in his breath as he tried to stay as calm as possible. He’d been in plenty of situations with bloodied and injured people before, but it was never you, it was never this bad. You reached and rested your hand on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze when you saw the sadness starting to creep into his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” you allowed yourself a small smile, “C’mon it’s gonna take more than a couple guys with some rope and a knife to do me in. I’m tougher than that.”

“I never said you weren’t tough.”

“I just feel like you should be a little more impressed, that’s all,” you laughed, immediately wincing once you did.

It got him to crack a small smile, “I’ll take the time to be impressed once you don’t have blood gushing out of your side or your face. Is that fair?”

“I guess,” you smiled, “I’d ask you to kiss me but I don’t think you want that right now.”

He dipped his head down, pressing his lips lightly against yours for a moment in a gentle kiss despite the blood all over your face, “That’s not to reward reckless behavior, you know.”

“All of our behavior is reckless,” you shook your head slightly.

“Oh sure,” Chibs piped up as he drove, “But I’m the one who was makin’ her talk.”

You smiled and Juice chuckled quietly. Both of you did fall into a comfortable silence after that, though. You listened to Chibs’ half of the conversation as he called to get medical help ready for you back at the clubhouse. You were just ready to get cleaned up. You could deal with the bandages and the stitches as long as you were able to take a shower and get the blood and grime off of you.

“I love you,” Juice’s voice was soft, “And I’m sor—”

You cut him off, “Just leave it at I love you.”

He smiled and you could see a little bit of the light return to his eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[purple-goo-writes]

The Shadows Watching Gotham

Or Watcher as most knows them,is a popular YouTuber and Podcaster and is the outside world's only reliable source of information about the on goings of the Mask Community within the crime ridden city known as Gotham. Aka the No Man's Land and the Crime Capital of the World.

Rumor has it that Watcher is the only way an outsider can contact the Bats. If this is true or not, Superman is about the find out.

Chapter 1: A rattle of bones

The Justice League of America and their younger counterparts watched the monitor in their meeting hall with rapt attention. On it, Barry had pulled up the channel of a popular youtuber, The Shadows Watching Gotham, hoping to get some more intel on the situation on Gotham and the vigilantes that the JLA wished to recruit. Though while the older members were listening with only half an ear, the younger ones were entranced with the hypnotizing and haunting narrative as Watcher spoke. His soft, raspy voice wrapping around them like an intoxicating perfume leaving the Young Justice Members wanting to hear more. Perhaps it was the strange ambient music playing in the background that added to the mystery surrounding Watcher that had them so entranced.

"...Just a friendly reminder for all my Gothamites listening in, Dr. Crane, otherwise known as The Scarecrow, escaped Arkham during last months breakout. Please do not forget your gas masks at home as he is still at large."

Watcher sat at an old and cluttered desk, the only light from an offscreen lamp, possibly a gaslamp, which bathed the teen and his surroundings in a soft golden glow. Though the JL couldn't see anything behind the teen except for pitch blackness, possibly the result of a backdrop. They couldn't see much of the Watcher as his face was blocked by the arm, the pop filter and mic of the studio microphone the teen was using. The teen was wearing a white long sleeved shirt which was rolled up to his elbows, showing off wiry, yet muscular arms covered in an odd variety of scars most Gothamites had littering parts of them, and a pressed red vest with black embroidery swirling across it, a gold tie could be seen just below the arm of the mic. Over all, the Watcher was just as mysterious and cryptic as the vigilantes he talked about.

"Now as the sun rises upon the decrepit bones of our fair city, I must bid you all a fair the well and a hopefully Good Morning. This is Watcher signing off."

And with that the screen went dark, snapping many out of the trance they had fallen into whilst listening to the Watcher speak.

Superman cleared his throat, before standing, "As I was saying. In order to hopefully meet with these vigilantes, I have managed to establish contact with The Watcher, as he is so far our only reliable source on the vigilantes that are not simply rumors spread by the Gotham Gazette or hearsay spread about through the villain network."

Hal frowned, leaning back in his chair rocking it back on two legs, "Yet isn't he just as hard to get a hold of?"

"Which is why I am going to meet him as Clark Kent with Kon acting as my back up in the form of my son shadowing me at work," the man of steel replied, ignoring how his clone/son rolled his eyes and muttered, "Isn't that what I normally fucking do?"

Their relationship was still rocky at time, but Ma Kent was determined to get Clark to do right by the boy. After all they were only on good terms due to Ma Kent. But, Kon was going through what Ma called his rebellious stage and trying to break out of his father's shadow as most teenage sons do. Which lead to snippy comments during meetings and Clark wondering just how Kon managed to get another new piercing, personally he blamed Lex for those because of course the man would figure out how to give a Kryptonian piercings just to piss Superman off.

Clark simply sighed and went back to addressing the others, “The Watcher agreed to meet with us tomorrow evening after I explained that I was writing an article about Gotham and it’s rumored vigilantes and found that he was the only reliable source I could find with recent information. And that I learned about him thanks to my son, Conner.”

“Meaning, I have to watch over fifty videos on Youtube so not to sound stupid when I talk to the dude,” Kon muttered to his best friend, Bart, who giggled softly into his hands. Both ignoring the looks their mentors gave them, though Barry’s was more fond then reprimanding like Clark’s.

“Exactly how will you know if it is this Watcher that you are meeting?” Wonder Woman inquired, a frown settling on her face in contemplation, “After all we do not know what this mysterious Watcher looks like…”

“We will be meeting him at the abandoned opera house within Central Gotham. He said he would know it is him by the red feathers he wears,” Clark sounded confused at this but only shrugged, “It’s the best I could get, he wouldn’t agree to meet outside of Gotham. Due to Gotham being declared No Man’s Land still by the President, even with the major rebuilding done by the Waynes… Most Gothamites don’t leave now.”

He sighed at the confused looks he was getting from the other members, “That was how Watcher explained it to me after I asked.”

The next evening…

Gotham was just as gloomy and foreboding as it was described in all the forums Kon had schemed the night before. What they had failed to mention was the literal stench of despair and fear that hung in the air. Or how Kon felt like the shadows were closing in slowly around him and his sorta-dad/Genetic donor as they hung outside the desolate opera house. Really the building was something out of a horror movie, and that was saying something considering this was Fucking Gotham and most places were probably used as references for horror movie scenery. It was huge and probably had been grand looking back in its prime with its gothic architecture and scale...though now the huge dome of the building was crumbling, slowly caving into itself and the once bright walls of it’s outer shell were now grey and covered in graffiti with most of the stained panels of it’s windows busted out from various villain attacks, bullet holes littered the siding and the once bright letters announcing the next play were broken and mostly missing. Honestly, Kon expected either a ghastly apparition from Hamlet to start monologuing or a serial killer to leap from the crawling shadows of the building looming over them.

He was not expecting someone to fucking sneak up on them out of the shadows and nearly scare Kon into fucking space!

“For an investigative reporter, you aren’t very observant, Mr. Kent,” came a soft, yet raspy voice like smoke behind them, causing both Kents to nearly break cover and leap on top of the building they were standing in front of. A smoky chuckle greeted them as both Kents whirled around just shy of inhuman speeds, “Really, I’ve been standing here watching you two nervously pace for about an hour now.”

An hour?

But how did they not hear him?

Kon was distracted from his thoughts as he took in just who was standing before them. The other teen, as their voice sounded young and didn’t yet have the full changes that signaled adulthood, only came up to Kon’s chin making him around five foot something compared to Kon’s near six feet. (He was so glad they fixed the aging and growing thing. He did not want to be stuck at the height of a thirteen year old forever.) They looked possibly male, but Kon wasn’t going to assign pronouns until they properly introduced themselves it was only polite according to Ma. Kon was still surprised that they managed to sneak up on the two Kents. They were wiry, yet muscular, built mainly for running from what Kon could tell, it was hard to tell with them still somehow blending in with the shadows despite how they were dressed. A white button down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, with a bright red vest with black embroidery, a golden tie tucked into the vest, black dress slacks and slightly scuffed yet still shiny red loafers. A black trench coat was slung over one shoulder as the person watched them with amused blue eyes, the only part of their face they could see thanks to the bulky, yet futuristic looking, black gas mask with red lights. Kon could only see the person’s eyes thanks to the clear face shield protecting their eyes from foreign objects. Shaggy and long black hair framed the person’s face, the inky blackness of their hair almost blending into the Gotham night if it wasn’t for the bright red feathers tied throughout the inky mass.

Bright red feathers…

Feathers!

“Oh you’re Watcher!” Kon exclaimed being the first to recover, causing the podcaster to chuckle, “Oooh? I see you actually did remember. I was beginning to think that staring was just what Metropolians did.”

[emergingsentiments]

Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha: Episode 8 (Repost)

If Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha’s Episode 8 is a body part, it would be the heart. Yes, we’re just halfway through the series and Dusik and Hyejin aren’t officially a couple yet. But this chapter of the show reveals a lot more about Mr. Hong and Dr. Yoon than any of the other episodes. It also lays bare the inner workings of Gongjin’s most prominent characters, deepening our understanding of the town’s sense of community and in the process the whys behind Dusik and Hyejin, too.

See, Gongjin’s greatest import is not its wealth of seafood. It's her stories. Every person in the village — both resident and visitor — has a history. Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen how this personal history has unfolded to define the present life of the characters. Many of them remain tethered to the past, not necessarily as some form of attachment, but most commonly to honor the people they’ve become. Infused into the salted air that breezes through Gonjin are struggles, victories, hurts, tragedies, silences, and mysteries. Weaved like a colorful fabric, they form the wisdom and home the town offers.

Namsook’s story is aptly tackled in this chapter of the heart. After all, Gongjin’s resident loudmouth seems to have none of it. Ruthlessly tactless, she appears incapable of living a day without prying into the lives of others or spreading rumors across town. For all her pomp, however, are weaknesses. She is, for one, quick to give in to Juri’s requests. Our rebellious teenager seems to have struck a chord — maybe even an alliance — with Namsook. So our gossip queen holds nothing when spoiling the girl. Her second fault is being naive about the stealth of today’s crimes. She is confidently naive, so almost loses her bucketload of cash to a phishing scam.

Fortunately, our lead love triangle of Hyejin, Dusik, and Seonghyun are in the right place and time. Who would have thought that, after their skirmishes, it would be Hyejin helping out the woman damaging her reputation? But Gonjin is full of surprises—and secrets. And Hwajung, too, is interested in filling in Hyejin about Namsook. After all, our dentist is practically a resident now.

To Hyejin, Hwajung explains what Namsook has been through. The lady lost a daughter to sickness. She was about Juri’s age, which explains Namsook’s affections for the teen. For one year after her daughter’s death, she withdrew to herself, lonely and voiceless. It’s a painful past that stands in stark contrast to the gossip-monger we know now. For the people of Gongjin, however, the insufferably loud Namsook is better than the alternative — a grief-soaked woman. It’s a moment telling about the townsfolk. These are people willing to understand because they know the other side of the story.  

Hwajung, too, has her side. She’s still mum about it. While it’s clear her divorce revolved around a complicated relationship between Chohui and the increasingly annoying Yongguk, questions still linger. Why does she drive Chohui away when the homeroom teacher visits her? Why is she so afraid of Chohui’s kindness? Why doesn’t she approve of Chohui’s request that all three of them will be the same again? These are the questions I’m sure will be answered soon enough, much like the lingering mystery of who is the sexual predator prowling around town.

It’s this imminent threat that leads us to what Episode 8 wants to drive home. The heart has its stories but it’s also plagued by fears.

We see this in Dusik, most of all. With Seonghyun around, their brotherly dynamic has turned into a competition. Our variety show director, after all, has clearly expressed interest in his old friend, Hyejin. It’s an honesty that irks Dusik because it’s something he cannot do. Seonghyun’s gregarious demeanor also attracts Gongjin’s people. He seems just as capable as Dusik. He’s as polite and as strong. He even does the usual tasks for free, unlike Mr. Hong. For Dusik, Seonghyun’s movements encroach on the comfortable bed he sleeps on as Gongjin’s favorite handyman. Is he, after all, that replaceable? Beyond tasks, however, Dusik’s great fear now is if he’s also dispensable in the eyes of Hyejin.

Episode 8 plays around this fear in the form of jealousy. Here, Kim Seon Ho got the assignment down pat. In his portrayal of Mr. Hong, the insecurities show in petty retaliation and even pettier victories over Seonghyun. He acts unperturbed by Seonghyun’s moves towards Hyejin but is quick to interfere with the two’s intimacy. At one point in the episode, Dusik declines the umbrella offered by Hyejin and Seonghyun, acting like his usual independent self and then going through the pouring rain. His face, however, tells a different story, and you can sense in his nuanced gaze that Mr. Hong is gripped by the fear of losing to Seonghyun and thus losing Hyejin. Seonho demands that sympathy for Mr. Hong.

But what is Dusik’s claim over Hyejin anyway? He’s the one who proposed they stay as friends, which was more an attempt to mask his truest feelings. He acts cavalier but is the one most deeply affected. Because from the start, Dusik already saw Hyejin in a different light. She was the lamp that brought an unexpected light to the hidden darkness of his soul. But because of his past, Dusik knows pursuing anything deeper will have its risks. Considering his losses, was it worth it to take that step? It’s what drives him crazy. It’s that fear knowing he is already in love and he must make a choice soon.

And what about Hyejin? Does she know, too? Is she aware of what burns inside her — that it isn’t just the heat and headiness from the alcohol? If Dusik knows and hesitates, then Hyejin is the one still learning but who rushes forward. She doesn’t waver in asking Dusik to look for her missing shoe. She follows Mr. Hong’s lead about where to stay and what to do in Gongjin. She lets herself be pulled from her slumber to help clean the town. She yields to Dusik’s request to drive him and three old ladies to Seoul. She agrees to meet the townsfolk halfway. She sits next to him like it's second nature to be beside him. She plays with Dusik in the rain. She lunges forward to give him a kiss. And she almost steals another in Dusik’s sleep.

What is wrong with her, she asks? Nothing. It’s not what’s wrong. It’s what is right with her. Hyejin recognizes that while she and Dusik didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, he’s been that one person in this previously unfamiliar town who had put up with her early pretensions. In hindsight, those were defenses. Losing her mother and having been disdained by a former lover, Hyejin had to put up her hedgehog spines — impossible standards, superficial fronts, defense mechanisms. Meeting Dusik — who perhaps unbeknownst to both have crossed paths before — has assured Hyejin to be herself, to let down her guard.

Mr. Hong’s lived wisdom speaks to Dr. Yoon’s soft interior. Like the cha cha cha, they’re dancing to a beat only they hear — forward and backward, side steps and then together, missteps and miscues — and figuring it out. Dusik and Hyejin are trying to understand each other because the alternative no longer makes sense.

They say the opposite of love isn’t hatred but fear. Dislike doesn’t discourage us from loving. Fear does. We fear rejection, like Hwajung. We fear failing to meet the expectations of our partners, like Chohui. We fear being alone, like Gamri. We fear, most of all, losses, like Namsook. But if sacred scripture can be accommodated to speak its truth, we know in love there is no fear. And if the people of Gongjin are tasked to offer advice, it is to at the very least, try. That's the best way to become certain about what you're meant to do.

It’s only apt then that, faced with lurking danger in town, it is Dusik who welcomes Hyejin like a safe harbor for a ship to anchor from the storm. It’s only apt that it’s Hyejin who lunges towards Dusik, and that it is Dusik who, initially prepared to close himself off from anything that would risk breaking his heart again, opens his arms. But he doesn’t just let her in. He holds her, too. Hyejin escapes her fear while Dusik overcomes it.

Dusik, the man who wouldn’t deal with anything alive at home, has taken in something more than a hedgehog. He’s taken someone with a beating heart, more alive than anything he’s held for as long as he could remember. But Dusik takes one more step forward. He returns the favor, puts his arm around Hyejin in awe and surrender.

Maybe she remembers now that second drunken night outside Dusik’s home. And maybe Hyejin mutters to herself as Dusik did, don’t go.

The opposite of love is not, as we many times or almost always think, hatred, but the fear to love, and fear to love is the fear of being free. – Paulo Freire

[that-scouse-wizard]

A Half-Demon’s Kiss

A/N: Hello everyone, welcome to my latest love in the HP fandom, the HPHL OC community, specifically, the relationship between Reuben Willows and Leila Hellebore that I and @whatwouldvalerydo have discussed. So here it is, I hope you all enjoy!

Word count: 1442

MC friends: Leila Hellebore (@whatwouldvalerydo)

Daniel Gibson (@catohphm) (mentioned)

Siobhan Llwelyn (@kc-needs-coffee) (mentioned)

Marigold Sterling (mine) (mentioned).

Fifth year, September

There was a mild chill in the air on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hardly a cloud in the sky as the sun shone brightly. Many fifth year students would be dreading the times to come for their O.W.L exams. However, one student sitting along the shore of the Black Lake held no such concerns for the moment. No, Leila Hellebore was on her own personal mission.

Teenage rebellion.

Growing up, she and her sister had been subject to their mother’s teachings. For Leila, she had been taught blood magic, that humans would not understand her demonic heritage, and that the only suitable partner was a full-blooded demon, lest her goals be out of her reach. 

Yet, she had come to realise her mother’s teachings were not entirely true. Over her time at Hogwarts, she made many friends amongst the humans here.

Firstly, there was Marigold Sterling, a fellow Slytherin who she had formed a bond with through their shared love of music. Her cello matching Leila’s piano in perfect harmony.

Secondly, Daniel or ‘Danny’ Gibson as he liked to be known. It was only the occasional good morning or hello from him at first but he had always been friendly towards her despite her aloofness. At last, she reciprocated his greetings and was now a trusted friend.

Thirdly, Siobhan Llwelyn, an enabler of her rebellious side. Oh the two had tried to keep to the lady-like roles they were assigned by society but the whole thing was so ridiculous both would now burst into fits of laughter at the very thought.

Lastly, there was Reuben Willows...

Oh Reuben, though he played the position of beater in the Quidditch matches they faced off against one another in, he was such a gentle giant. He had always goaded her in a friendly manner during Quidditch being on opposite teams, her much smaller height of four-foot-nine compared to his still-growing frame amusing him greatly. She had returned the banter gleefully and he became a friend.

He had been the first she had trusted with the secret of her half-demon nature in her third year. At the same time, had laid bare her feelings of fear on not being able to have a normal life. While surprised, in stark contrast to her mother’s belief, he had not judged her for it. If anything, showing such vulnerability had brought the two closer.

Then, he had confessed to having feelings for her in fourth year. On this very lakeshore no less...

She had panicked, pushed him away, yelled at him in an effort to convince him that she wasn’t good for him. That she was bad, tainted and how could a human like him find feelings for someone like her? She still felt a pang of guilt when she remembered the hurt in his expression that day. Regardless, he had respected her wishes and left her alone.

They had spent a couple of months not speaking to each other, maybe the occasional nod of acknowledgement but no words. The guilt and grief had eaten her up inside, she had missed their banter, missed their friendship, missed... him. 

At last, she had approached him, wanting to talk in private. Apologising for what she had said, and just wishing to going back to being friends. He had tearfully, but gratefully accepted her apology, both had cried with relief in the other’s arms from the months of not interacting finally being ended.

Everything had begun looking up.. until she had received word from her mother, she was looking for a worthy suitor for her. Without Leila’s input of course. Though, it wasn’t just that, her mother attempting to micromanage her life, “Show her the right path.” as she had put it. That involved severing ties with her friends and Leila would not allow that to happen, they were far too important for her to lose.

But Reuben was a slightly different case, the summer had given her plenty of time to mull over his confession. The more she thought about it, the more she realised she had developed feelings for her Quidditch rival as well. There was no denying he was handsome and strong, in more ways than one from what he had told her about his troubled home life.

But she admired his loyalty to his loved ones, his enthusiasm when he taught her about dragons, how he pushed her to be her best and so much more. She wanted to be with him, the fact that it would spit in the face of her family’s ideals was only an added bonus. She hoped he would still feel the same way...

Her enhanced hearing picked up footsteps on the sand a ways off behind her, breaking her from her thoughts. She turned to the source, unable to help her face curling into a smile that revealed her fangs. That got the expected reaction out of the Ravenclaw, smiling at her warmly a feeling of joy spreading through her. Though he looked confused, at the fact that she was sitting down on a chequered blanket with a picnic hamper at her side.

“Lei, what’s all this?” He asked, his brow furrowing. Wordlessly, Leila got up, taking his hands in in her own as her green eyes darted between his face and feet. She tugged lightly, attempting to get him to come with her, he didn’t budge.

“What are you playing at Lei?” He questioned, his tone still steady and calm but clearly trying to wrap his head around his friend’s odd behaviour.

“Come and sit.” She responded vaguely, pulling just a bit harder. In response Reuben pulled his hands from her grip.

“No.” He said succinctly, crossing his arms to stop his hands being taken again.

“Please.” She said, hoping that would get him. Though seeing how obstinate he was being was admittedly starting to grate on her nerves.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” He retorted, Leila grumbled at that. She couldn’t exactly come out and say she wanted to kiss the fool now could she?

“Reuben,” She spoke firmly, “If you don’t sit down with me, I’m going to jump you and still have my way.” Her serious tone left no room for argument.

Reuben took just the slightest step closer, towering over her, “Try it.” He challenged. Unfortunately, Reuben had forgotten one crucial detail until it was too late.

Leila’s half-demon strength meant she could easily match him in raw power despite what her slim, petite appearance would suggest. He was knocked over flat on his back in his lack of preparation to brace as Leila lunged for him. He landed without injury, his fall cushioned by the soft sand, but now pinned beneath Leila. Her arms were locked straight, keeping his shoulders down as she straddled his waist. She lowered herself down towards him, causing her grey blonde hair to fall and brush lightly against his cheeks.

He couldn’t deny, the feeling excited him, his heart beginning to race as his steely grey eyes stared into the captivating forest green of Leila’s. Ones that he wanted to get lost in forever. Feelings that he’d sought to bury for the sake of preserving their friendship came roaring back to the surface as he felt his face flush red.

Leila smirked at his flustered but hypnotised reaction, lowering herself down even further, turning her head to kiss him. Reuben didn’t resist as her lips captured his own, in response, his began to to move in tandem with hers. His previously tense muscles relaxing as Leila’s hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his neck, pulling herself closer to him. His arms now free, Reuben placed his hands on her waist but dared not explore for fear of pushing things too far.

At last, they needed the air, Leila breaking their kiss. A gleeful smile making its way across her features, Reuben smiling warmly at the sight of her fangs.

“Are you willing to listen to me now? I really owe you an explanation, about this and... last year.” She stated, her face still inches from his and longing to kiss him again but knew it would have to wait for the moment.

Reuben nodded, “Yeah, I’ll listen.” Leila finally stood back up again, offering her hand to him. Clasping it tightly, she lifted him up effortlessly and without another word for the moment, Reuben let Leila lead him over to the picnic.

If this was why she had called him out here, they truly had a lot to discuss and Reuben was eager to hear every word.

[yandere-sins]

Omggg i just had a dream about denki being a ghost inthe forest in the back of my house and bening really yandere towards me and being my friend so wanna write this bb🥺🥺

Wow, dude, that’s... tough? Let me know if you ever get someone to interpret this dream, I’d love to know what it meant!! But until then, hope you can enjoy this here ^^

I suppose, warning for body horror. It's a ghost story after all!

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««     

You couldn’t hold back the heavy breaths falling off your lips as you collected yourself. Running parkour through the forest wasn’t something you had done in what felt like forever. As a child, you had spent much more hours in between trees and thicket, but having grown up, it seemed more rational not to go out into the forest anymore.

With an uneasy feeling in your tummy, you looked around. The sun was setting slowly, and though - had you started tracking back the way you came from now - you might have made it back before night fell, you couldn’t help but worry. Cellphone signal was sparse around these parts, and you didn’t exactly enjoy camping out in the wild anymore. Back home, they’d surely start to wonder where you ran off to too.

“What are you looking at?” he asked. No leaves were rustling under his steps, but you weren’t exactly afraid of his presence. “The sun is going down,” you noted before looking back at him, standing in the shadow of a tree, shrugging. “What’s the big deal, you’ve been out here before in the dark.”

“Yeah, well, but I was a teenager back then. You know, rebellious phase?”

A burst of light laughter fell off his lips, as you passed him by, his presence trotting after you. Denki was unlike any other friend you had, honestly, unlike any person you knew too. Neither was he exactly alive nor something you could really explain. Often had you thought he might just be an illusion, an imaginary friend you made up when you were little. But everything pointed against this, as he was still here, even though you were of age now.

“Is it still far?” you asked him. It was his idea to go deeper into this forest after all. You were just visiting your family when you saw him stand at the farthest end of your parent’s property, which switched into forest instead of a plain grass field. It hadn’t been your intention to go hiking, but you couldn’t exactly just ignore him.

Not after all you’ve been through together.

Following him through another bush, you wiped your face, feeling like a million bugs just sailed down on you. “Do you remember this place?” he asked, and you opened up your eyes again to see, a big lake spreading out in front of you. At the sight of it, you had to admit feeling warmth spreading through you, fond memories of your childhood resurfacing.

“That’s where I met you first,” you admitted, and he hummed in approval, you two standing on the edge to the water, looking out into the lake. “You were so tiny back then, I still remember it! Didn’t even reach my hips yet!”

“Stop teasing me!” you laughed along as Denki grinned at you, gesturing your height. “You didn’t change at all!” you chuckled, shaking your head. “You always teased me back then too.”

“Just because you were crying and asking for your mommy! You’d get lost a lot the first few times you came into the forest after you moved here!”

“Well-” you chuckled, hesitating before you could admit defeat. “I guess I did.”

Denki nodded, his eyes sliding over you as he took you in. It’s been a while since the last time he saw you. Life had certainly changed for you, school, work, relationships - they all changed. “You changed a lot,” he mumbled after a while, brows furrowed, though you weren’t sure if it was disappointment or disapproval in his slightly translucent eyes.

“You’ve grown - a lot. You’re bigger now than me.”

As a matter of fact, his hand reached up, gesturing between you and him, showing you overtook him by almost half a head now. Kaminari Denki - his name was one of the few things you knew for sure - had always looked the same to you. Always the same height, the same blonde hair, and toothy grin. He told you once that ghosts don’t really change anymore. That’s at least, what he said. Even if you had your doubts, he called himself a ghost of something long gone, leaving you to wonder what he meant.

“Well, life goes on,” you sighed.

“For you,” he noted, a grin on his face that didn’t exactly match his rather sad expression.

“Yeah... I... I don’t think we’ll see each other much more in the future.”

“What?” he retorted. Standing a bit closer to you now, you averted your face. It felt like you were breaking up with him when he looked at you with those big, puppy-eyes, and you couldn’t exactly bear to tell him the news. “Yeah, I decided to move to a different city. I might be back once or twice a year, but well, that’s it.”

“Oh.” The way he said this, made you feel guilty for no certain reason. You two hadn’t been as close as you were when you were younger, especially after you distanced yourself from him and the forest for the sake of hanging out with other friends - real friends - and having to study hard for your exams. True, he had been there in really tough times for you. In times where you had no one, and your parents didn’t make your life easier either. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to ‘formally’ tell him you two would have to go separate ways.

Somehow, you could understand the sadness in his eyes, making it incredibly awkward for you to stand so close next to him. Kicking some loose stones into the lake, you nodded before taking a deep breath. “Yep, so that’s how it is. I better get back before it gets too late-”

“Can I show you one last thing then?” he interrupted you, and you began to stutter, unsure what to say. Something inside of you told you to not go with him. To turn on your heels and get back to your home. This forest had nothing you didn’t know about already, and the most exciting things here were mushrooms. But at the same time, you felt like you owed him this. One last favor. One last adventure with him.

His eyes sparkled up hopefully when you nodded, and he swiftly surrounded you, non-existing feet hastily climbing back into the thicket. With a sigh and the thought of ‘what did I get myself into’ you followed. It became hard for you to keep up with him, more than once losing sight of his luminescent ghost-form, but his voice led you back on track and after him. It got harder and harder to see properly as the rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, and you took out your phone camera to light your way and not stumble over too many roots.

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked, much too late, this question should have been one of the first you should have asked.

“Somewhere special!” he called back, and again, you felt the tug in your stomach to leave. It was getting late, and you had strayed far beyond the forest you knew as well as your pocket. “You have to see this!” he announced, and once again, against the better judgment of your gut, you complied, following him deeper in.

“We’re there!” Denki finally announced when you were already beyond out of breath and nerves to continue. A clearance opened up in front of you, moonlight shining down at the singular tree trunk in the middle of it. “So... what is it?”

“Well, come look!” he urged you, his form now much whiter and visible since it had become night. Hesitantly, you approached the trunk, exchanging more than once glances with Kaminari, who was snickering and grinning excitedly.

“I thought it was only appropriated to show you. I wanted you to know all about me before you decide to go.” His words were but a murmur over your shoulder, making you flinch by how close they sounded suddenly. It got abundantly clear that whatever he wanted to show you couldn’t be good, and you acted carefully as you shone your own light on your surroundings additionally.

Another careful step before you felt a hard resistance under your foot, crunching under the pressure of your weight. “Ouch!” he fake cried out before chuckling, and you shone your light upwards to the trunk, a truly horrifying sight being revealed.

Stumbling back, your hand began to shake uncontrollably. You had to grip it with your other hand before you could even control it, tearing yourself away from the sight. Unfortunately, Kaminari decided to sit on the trunk, making it hard to have a conversation with him without having the remains of a body in the corner of your eyes.

“Yep, that’s me,” he introduced almost nonchalantly, knocking against the skull of the skeleton. “Lost my way out here. Every time I decided to just go in one direction, I would accidentally sidetrack and end up back here. My phone had no connection, and no one knew where I was. I guess... it was just meant to happen.”

“Why...” you muttered, shielding your eyes from the sight. “Why would you show me this?”

“Hm?” he finally looked up at you again. Even for a ghost, he was awfully calm, showing you his remains. “Because you are all grown up now, Dummy! Couldn’t have shown you this when you were still so small, could I?”

“N-No! But I still don’t want to see it now!”

“Bummer,” he admitted, truly sounding disappointed about your reaction. “I was so happy when I met you. Finally, someone that could see me, who I could talk to! I’ve been dwelling in this forest for many years before you came around. I was so lonely, [Name].”

That’s enough, you thought. On his sob story you would gladly miss out, considering you were standing in front of his skeleton remains, talking to his ghost. If that alone didn’t make you crazy, you’d rather be cold-hearted than endure the sight anymore. Turning on your heels, you walked back to where you had come from.

“Don’t leave me, [Name],” you heard from behind you, soft and scared.

“I can’t stay, I’m sorry. I will send someone to bring back your remains and bury them, I promise! I just- I just have to go.”

“But you will get lost if you leave now. Stay with me.”

“No!” you said firmly, immediately feeling bad for being so harsh. Fighting your way back out of the clearance, you looked around, phone light in hand as you moved towards where you thought you had come from. The next ten minutes were spent stumbling over roots and vines before you shoved aside another bush, your eyes widening at the sight of Denki, sitting on the tree trunk you had tried to leave, staring at the sky.

“It’s no good. It’s dark, and you don’t have a compass either, right?”

“No, I have one,” you hissed back, opening up your phone to change to the compass app on it. “Wait!” he called out, immediately by your side with his translucent fingers slipping right through the phone. A spark threw both of you back, and you let go of the machine, the ungodly sound of it cracking reaching your ears.

“Fuck,” you whispered, panicked by now. Moving to pick it up, you saw it fell right on a root, cracking your display into two. “Stay, [Name],” he tried again, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked you. “You’re all I have. We always had so much fun, did we not?”

Shaking your head at him as you gave him a flabbergasted look, you quickly turned around, running this time. You had to get back. You couldn’t stay there. Not after knowing... what happened to him.

Out of breath and with tears in your eyes, you broke your way through the thicket, getting stuck on a root sticking out from the ground and falling right into his non-existing arms again. You were out of the clearance again before Denki could even say another word. You didn’t know how long it took for you until your legs finally gave out, tears falling from your eyes as he sat down in front of you.

With his hands on your shoulders, it wasn’t like he touched you, but you were able to imagine what it felt like, slightly comforted by the feeling, even if it was a placebo. “My family... I’m sure they are looking for me.”

“Yeah, of course. Just stay here for the night, we can try to find a way back in the morning.”

It took you another few shaky breaths before you slowly agreed, even though you didn’t get an inch closer to the skeleton that sat farther away, watching you with a crooked neck. “It’ll be alright. I’m here,” he assured you, while you pulled your hoodie over your head, laying down on what you assumed was a good place to lie in the grass. “We went through much worse than this, remember?”

His cheering up wasn’t half bad, at least your thoughts changed from the feeling of panic to the nicer memories. “I’ll always be your friend, you know? Even if you were far away, I’d still be your friend, but I like it much better when you are here. I’m glad you’re staying the night, [Name], it’s been forever since we had a sleepover!”

Denki chuckled, as his translucent body settled down next to you. “I got you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Just sleep, and tomorrow we’ll find a way back, I promise.”

“Okay,” you whispered, exhaustion falling over you as he managed to calm you down. “Goodnight, Denki.”

“Goodnight, [Name]. I am so glad you’re staying.”

[sugarandsoft]

Mother Duck

request: Can I request for a fluffy uraraka x male child reader oneshot ? The reader is a 6 years old homeless orphan who is saved by uravity, and he likes being carried in her arms. She will bring him at ua to take care of him like her little brother and he is clingy to her because she was the first person to ever care for him.

It’s been over a month since I’ve written, I’ve just become busy with school and once I established a routine I realized that I didn’t give myself time to write! This is the first time I’ve ever written for a male reader, so hopefully I can meet your expectations. Please let me know if anything should be changed. Thank you so much for waiting! Feel free to comment, I love getting feedback :) 

 Requester further asked to name the reader, so this is more of an OC oneshot. 

pairing: Uraraka x male!oc

word count: 1.4k

Hikaru didn’t really remember what happened earlier in the afternoon. He just knew he was trying to find a kind-looking person to spare him some food or change, until suddenly some sort of earthquake hit the town and he was knocked to the ground. There was one thing that was engraved into his mind, however.

Through the pounding pain in the back of his skull (which was probably bleeding, but Hikaru couldn’t bring himself to move any of his limbs), he felt someone pick him up. It was the warmth of someone kind and heroic. As the last of his strength left his fluttering eyelids, Hikaru briefly saw the round, concerned face of a teenage girl.

He woke up in an unfamiliar room, in a white bed with clean sheets. Hikaru immediately sat up, but the throbbing in his head stopped him from moving any further. There was a loud beeping machine next to the bed, and the young boy realized that it’s noises had only increased in speed when he sat up. A man wearing a white coat burst into the room. Hikaru flinched, but then recognized the man’s attire.

A doctor.

The doctor sat in the chair next to the bed and smiled. “Hello, kid. I’m glad to see you’re awake already. We thought you may have had some brain damage, but it appears to only be a concussion.” Most of the vocabulary was medical stuff that Hikaru didn’t understand. How could he? He was a six-year-old boy living on the streets of Mustafu. He’d never had anyone tend to his cuts or bruises, let alone a doctor to give him a physical checkup.

The doctor, who introduced himself as Dr. Yamamoto, continued to ramble on and even prodded Hikaru’s body with some strange looking instruments. He reassured the boy that nothing was going to hurt, but to let him know if anything felt strange. After a few minutes of confusing examination, Dr. Yamamoto left the room. 

A sudden thought flew into Hikaru’s mind. Money. Everything in the world costs money. Food, clothes, school, medicine. Who was going to pay for this? A fear spread throughout his body, and he fought the urge to sprint out of bed and back out into the streets. Then, a small noise caught his attention. It sounded like several people were talking outside of his hospital room. 

From what he could hear, there were two women and one man, probably Dr. Yamamoto. Hikaru couldn’t make out that many words, though. He was only able to grasp bits and pieces. 

“Parents--- him up?”

“No…. street -- ward of..”

“... few nights,”

“Part--- internship..”

Eventually, the voices drifted away into nothing. The door opened again, and this time there were two new people. One of them was a taller blonde woman, with short hair and a strange looking headpiece that covered part of her face. Hikaru’s eyes shifted to the person next to her and gasped. It was the pretty lady who saved her! She was much shorter, with the same round cheeks and short brown hair. Her outfit was mostly pink with some dark accents. They must be heroes, Hikaru deduced. That’s why the chubby cheeks girl had saved him.

“Hey, kid, you feeling alright I’m Ryukyu, what’s your name?” The older woman asked him. She was kind of intimidating, but Hikaru felt safe in her presence. 

“I’m H-Hikaru,” he stuttered out. “When can I leave?”

“Well, since there’s no one listed to contact you, we’re going to have to wait a little longer to make sure no adults come by to claim you first,” she told him.

“I don’t have parents. It’s just me.” 

Ryukyu frowned. “Don’t worry, Hikaru, we’ll be taking care of you for a little while and we’ll find you somewhere to stay.”

-------

As Hikaru suspected, no one came by to ask for him during the rest of the day. As the sun started to set, Ryukyu returned again with the girl who saved him. He learned that her hero name was Uravity. 

“Hikaru, the hospital’s visiting hours are going to end soon. You can stay here if you’d like, but we think it’s probably better for you to be able to walk around and sleep in a more comfortable place. How does that sound?” He nodded, unable to find the words to convey how he was feeling. They were just going to take him in? Just like that? 

As if she could read his mind, Uravity smiled and added, “As heroes, it’s our duty to protect people and take care of them! You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

So it was decided that Uraraka would take care of Hikaru until the weekend, when the city got back on its feet after the damage from the disaster. By then, there’d be a social worker available to take on Hikaru’s case. 

Ryukyu went back to her own office, and Uraraka was dismissed for the day. She picked Hikaru up and carried him during the whole walk to Heights Alliance, the dorms at U.A. Hikaru decided that this felt nice. It’d been forever since he felt warmth and love from somebody. He never would’ve thought that a complete stranger could show him so much kindness.

Upon their arrival U.A, Hikaru started complaining because the chubby-cheeked girl had to put him down. “Urara-nee, pleaaaaase,” he whined. He made grabby fists in attempt to sway her, but Uraraka thought it’d be better for Hikaru to introduce himself to the rest of Class 1-A before she carried him up to her room.

The reaction of the class was pretty even across the board. The girls, of course, gushed over the cute little boy who was in their care for the next few days. They did everything they could to get his attention, but Hikaru only had eyes for his savior. No matter how many snacks they offered or attempts, none of the girls could stop him from hanging onto Uraraka’s legs. 

“Aw, he’s so cute! Like a baby duck following its mom,” gushed Mina. Even when Uraraka had to finish up the classwork she missed for her internship, Hikaru insisted on sitting on her lap. He wrapped his arms around her neck like a monkey, embracing her warmth as if she were his actual mom. 

On the other hand, the boys were pretty nonchalant about it. Bakugou wasn’t impressed at all by the little pipsqueak, and Todoroki simply greeted him before retreating back to his room. Iida first asked Uraraka if it was even okay to have a non-student at their dorm, and was pretty intimidating until she reassured him that it was approved by Ryukyu and principal Nezu. 

Deku was nice to Hikaru as he reminded him a lot of Kota, the boy he had saved during their class’s summer training camp. Luckily, Hikaru didn’t have nearly as big of a rebellious streak as the other little boy. From what Hikaru saw, the way Deku and Uraraka talked to each other reminded him of the couples he saw on TV. When he blurted that out, the girl immediately turned a bright red, stuttering out that it was time for Hikaru to go to bed and say goodbye. 

For a kid who’d just been through hell and back in one day, Hikaru was pretty wiped out. He offered little resistance when Uraraka took him to the bath and gently washed him off. When she washed his hair, Hikaru started nodding off. It was nice, having someone look after him for once. When Uraraka noticed that the little boy’s eyes were now closed, she picked him up, dressed him in some clothes the hospital gave her, and tucked him into her bed. Before she could walk back down to the living area, she felt a tug on her sleeve. It was Hikaru, subconsciously gripping onto the warmth he’d become attached to. It was as if he was saying, please stay with me.

She smiled and tucked herself into bed with him, holding him closely against her body. Even if she couldn’t give him a family, Uraraka knew she wanted to make him remember what the love of one felt like. 

_____________________

And that’s a wrap! Wow, it was longer than I expected. You might tell that it’s a little rushed from the middle to the end. I really need to improve on that. Once again, please let me know if you want anything changed! I’m still accepting requests. Hope you all have an amazing, spectacular, fantastic day!

[klbwriting]

The Sparrow and The Rogue - Part 2

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves/female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, once again fighting

Summary: The Umbrella siblings learn about what’s been going on in this timeline, One lives a day in his life, and has a pretty fun date trying to kill his wannabe girlfriend

              Even though the Umbrella siblings were promised an explanation that evening they never got one.  At least most of them didn’t.  There was a debrief to the small group of powered adults by Lila and Eight and then Diego and Lila disappeared somewhere while the rest of the group had dinner with what they discovered were a team called the ‘Rogues’ and they were kidnapped from directly under Reginald’s nose.  Most of them had chosen names while a couple stayed with their numbers, liking the way they sounded.  Eleven was very happy now that they kept their named now that Stranger Things was popular and they had the same powers as the character in the show.  They were giving rooms in the hideout, having to double up with the Rogues already there.  It was a surprise to no one that Diego was just fine sharing with Lila and Allison was almost a little nervous to share with Eight not knowing what her power was.

              “You look happy,” she said, trying to break the ice with the girl who was texting and had a smile on her face.  Eight looked over as if she forgot Allison was there and blushed, putting the phone under her pillow quick.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

              “Its no big deal, just don’t tell Lila about it ok?” she said. Allison nodded with a smile.  “She would be very annoyed if she found out I was texting with someone inside the Sparrows.”

              “Ben?” Allison asked, sitting up now, full ready to have some girl time.  Eight considered this, then finally sat up herself.  She never got to talk to anyone about One and how confusing things were between them.  

              “Ya, he’s One here, he was your brother?” she asked. Allison nodded.

              “Ya, he was killed on a mission when we were teenagers. Klaus could still see him, he communes with the dead, but the rest of us weren’t so lucky,” she said.  

              “What was he like in your time?”  Allison considered how to answer.

              “We weren’t super close, he was always close with Vanya and Diego, he was so kind to everyone, especially the ones dad was hardest on.  I remember one time I was walking by Diego’s room while he was practicing his speech and Ben was in there, they had to have been 7 maybe, and he was just sitting there listening and encouraging him.  Diego was crying after a bit of not being able to get a word out and Ben just took his hand and said ‘don’t think about dad, just think about talking to me, you know you can take your time with me’.  That’s who Ben was, just the best,” she said, getting a little teary thinking about her lost brother.  Eight smiled and moved to sit next to Allison, a comforting arm going around her shoulders.

              “That version is still here.  I have seen moments of that person in One, that kindness,” she said. “My first memory is with One, when I think we were 4, its really simple, I had fallen and scraped up my knee during a morning run and dad was livid at me, even at 4 I was always too big and slow for him to tolerate so he made me do extra laps and One was there with me the whole time, ran every single one next to me even though he was faster and could have been done, he stayed with me.”  

              “That sounds like Ben,” Allison agreed.  “I hope maybe we can get past this, I don’t know what dad is planning but I’m so tired of running around and being chased, just so tired.”  Eight nodded.

              “Get some sleep, no one will wake you up tomorrow so you can get a good rest,” she said, moving back to her bed and laying down. Allison followed suit and she closed her eyes, drifting off to a music box playing now in the room.  She hadn’t noticed one being around before but Eight must have had next to her somewhere.  Once she was sleeping Eight lifted a hand and the music box across the room stopped playing, letting her fall asleep also.  

 -------------------------

             Number One was going through the motions today. He had woken up early as usual and went to the kitchen to help mom make breakfast.  He knew she couldn’t really appreciate it like a person, but he thought she enjoyed spending time with him anyway.  He could feel his father’s present before he saw him, entering the kitchen and giving him a disproving look, still angry about dinner no doubt.

              “Good morning Number One, feeling a little less rebellious today?” he said, sitting at the breakfast table and looking through a morning paper.  One glared at the eggs he was plating and set the plate down in front of Reginald a little harder than he meant.  “Ah, I see you are still in a mood.  Very well, you will be in charge of leading drills this morning, now eat your eggs.” One didn’t say anything but internally he groaned, drills made everyone hate him for days.  He ate in silence with the rest of his siblings before standing and telling them to get up and get to the yard.  They shot him death glares before doing as asked, knowing the punishment was worse than the drills.

              Two hours later and his siblings were off again, probably meeting in one of their rooms to talk about how much they hated him and his kiss ass ways.  One however, had more work to do, heading out to do his first patrol of the day.  He had no idea why dad sent him to do patrols instead of waiting for something to happen, especially now that the Umbrella siblings had shown up.  First the patrols were for them, then they became patrols for general crime, but now that the word of the Horror had spread no one would dare commit a crime in the city limits unless they wanted to die a horrible death over 30$ in some purse.

              This time out in the city gave him a chance to release some stress that he needed.  He found a park nearby and soon was casually swinging watching the kids around him and reminding himself of why he dealt with everything.  Without the Sparrow Academy the apocalypse would have happened two days ago.  They had saved history, keeping the timeline on track after something called ‘The Commission’ went belly up in the 60s due to some kind of explosion.  Where they had left off Reginald had picked it up, first on his own, and then when the 43 were born, with the 15 he had been able to get his hands on.  They had been whittled down to 6 humans and a box that told them where to go and got them in and out.  Ben may have hated his father but he would protect these people, always.  

              One patrolled until lunch, stopping at the kitchen table to eat alone before going to his room and checking his messages on his secret phone.  Before he could open it he had to hide it under his pillow as his door was shoved open and Number Two walked in.  Two stood silent for a second, seemingly realizing that he had caught One doing something he shouldn’t.

              “You alright One?” he asked suspiciously.  One stood up, facing off against his sibling, mustering up his bravado.

              “Ya, what do you want number Two?” he emphasized the word two just to irritate them.  They growled, glaring.

              “Dad wanted to have us trade patrols tonight, I’ll take 9th to 15th, you take the old trainyards,” Two said.  “Starting now, I’m supposed to watch you leave.” One gritted his teeth, anger seething through him.  

              “Let me get ready, I need to get my shoes,” he said. Two just stood in the doorway watching as One went back to his bed, sitting down and tying his shoes extra slow, hoping something would happen to make Two glance away.  Someone must have heard his silent plea because something clunked in the hall making Two look around for a fight.  One grabbed the phone and shoved it in his pocket before standing up.  “Alright, you want to walk me to the front door too?”  Two glared and let him pass by, closing his door behind him.

              After he was outside and a couple blocks away he texted Eight, letting her know of the change of plans, before heading down to the trainyards, thinking about maybe doing some sprints while he waited for her.

 -----------------------

              The Umbrella siblings sat in the main room of the hideout with Lila and Eight, Lila explaining what had happened to the Commission and what the Sparrow Academy had been up to.  They knew that after the Commission was taken down those in the ‘Resistance’ had taken up control of the timeline under rule of Lila and the kids she had collected from over time, starting with Eight.  

              “We developed the traveling technology by stealing what Reginald had already figured out.  The briefcases were big and too easy to lose, too much of a hassle, so instead Reginald created watches capable of the travel,” she explained.

              “How did he figure that out?  I watched the Commission try for decades to create that kind of technology,” Five cut in.  Lila glared at him, still not exactly happy that he was alive after killing her parents, no matter who had ordered the hit.

              “I don’t know, took a few tests to figure out how to use the watches, but now we can track where the Sparrows go and then fix whatever they mess up in history, keep the timeline on track,” Lila explained. Confusion rippled through the room.

              “What do you mean you fix the Sparrows messes?” Luther asked, sitting forward, the chair creaking loudly.  He made a face and waited for someone to say something just so he could hit them.  

              “The Sparrows travel around on orders from dad to ‘fix’ history, ya know, kill Steve Jobs before the iPhone, assassinate Abe Lincoln when he’s running for president, take out Thomas Jefferson, although that last one I really hated to fix,” Eight said.  “Such a brilliant mind, such a shit fucking person.”  She stood up and went to stand by the open door, Lila looking over at her.

              “What’s wrong with you?” Lila asked.  

              “I’m warm, there’s a draft over here,” Eight explained, leaning on the wall, hand in her jacket pocket.  

              “Why don’t you just take off the jacket?” Klaus asked, getting elbowed by Allison.  “What?”

              “I like this jacket,” was her answer before she looked out the doorway.  Lila rolled her eyes and returned to the original conversation.

              “So after we fix their messes, they make more messes.  We’re not sure what exactly Reggie is trying to do but either way, we know we have to make sure history happens as expected.  Except for the apocalypse, none of us could really muster the desire to stop fixing that,” she said.

              “So now we’re in no mans land?” Vayna asked, getting a little nervous about bringing about another end of the world scenario. Lila nodded.

              “Honestly, only Five has lived past the apocalypse and now that it didn’t happen I don’t know what the game plan from here is, I just know what happens in actual history to keep that on track, what those changes bring in the future is a crap shoot,” she said.  “Isn’t that right Eight?  Eight?”  She turned to see the doorway empty, no trace of Eight left in the hide out anymore. Allison sat in her seat and smiled softly, having an inkling where she was going, hoping that maybe she could turn Ben back to their side.  

 ----------------------

              Eight had gotten One’s message and headed towards the trainyards.  She passed by Number Four along the way and realized quick that One was being followed. She acted like she was patrolling, hoping to not have to fight Four but knowing it was a possibility.  Four however, let her pass, clearly just being around to watch their brother and what he was doing.  Once at the trainyards Eight dipped through old train cars, running up and down tracks until she saw One.  She approached him slowly.

              “You have a friend around,” she said.  One’s eyes flashed the area and he caught a quick glance of crimson ducking behind a car nearby.  “So I guess this is another fight to the death?”

              “Guess so,” he said with a smirk.  Eight smiled back sweetly.  “No powers?”

              “No powers, pinky promise,” she said before diving towards him, fist raised.  

              One easily blocked the shot, moving around to fire back with his own fist.  Eight easily dodged and punched his stomach, pulling the hit so it didn’t actually hurt. One doubled over anyways, spearing her around the waist and taking her to ground, just out of view of Four.

              “So, ready to play dead?” he asked, holding her shoulders down as she laid under him, watching him closely before nodding.  He smiled down at her before standing up and walking around the car, hands raised above his head as in victory.  He knew once Four saw this they would call out to him.

              “Hey Number One!” Four called as expected, walking over the tracks.  One hurried to meet them, not wanting them to actually see that Eight was alive.  “You finally got the bitch!”

              “Yup, finally caught her by surprise, she said no powers like an idiot,” he said, chuckling darkly.  Four nodded and laughed.  “Well I’m going to finish my patrol and head home, but ya know, gotta get rid of the body first.”  Four nodded.

              “Need help?” they asked.  One shook his head.

              “Nah, I got it, just going to shove her under the traincar, no one will find her and if they do animals will do the job first,” he said.  Four nodded, turning and walking away without another word.  Four was easiest to trick and One was glad dad hadn’t sent Two or Six after him.

              Once he was sure Four was gone he headed back to the traincar to find Eight sitting against the wheel, having been listening. He took a seat next to her, close enough that their shoulders were touching, hand gently finding its way over to hers on her leg.  He linked their fingers and sighed.

              “Well, that’ll lighten things up for a bit, dad will think you’re dead for awhile,” he said, looking at her.  She nodded and looked at him.

              “You know we can’t do this forever, one day we have to either tell all the truth or run away,” she said.  “We could go to the 90’s, relive our childhood but ya know as adults.  I’ll be old enough to buy myself Backstreet Boys tickets.”  One laughed and shook his head.

              “Someday, but I can’t leave this behind, I mean we’re fixing history, making sure everything keeps on track,” he said. Eight sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, you guys think we mess it up, but we don’t, we help, we save people, you guys are the ones who come around messing it up again.”  

              “We honestly don’t know who is fixing what,” she said.  “I just wish I knew what dad was planning for, why he’s doing all this.”  

              “He’ll tell me when I’m ready,” One said indignantly, trying to justify why he was so readily going along with Reginald.  

              “I hope he does, I’m curious which side I’m on,” Eight said.  She looked at him.  “Enough talk, I don’t think we really came here to talk.”  One nodded, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, kissing her until he ran out of air, then taking a breath, and going right back in.

[smallheathgangsters]

The Life He Deserved | J.S.

A/N: I’m sorry this one turned out angsty. I just had an idea and couldn’t get it out of my head. I still hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome and thank you for all your lovely support so far!

Request: “Prompt list 25 with John? Please?” by Anon

Pairing: John Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1708

Type: angst

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

John grabbed you by your hand and pulled you through the streets of Birmingham. Your feet hurried over the wet ground while you were trying to keep up with his fast pace.

“Come on, Y/N! You’re so slow!” He said, picking up the speed.

You laughed. “Stop it, John! My legs are way shorter than yours!” You said, defending yourself. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to you. A grin was spread over his face. “That’s just a lame excuse.”

“Oh, shut up!”

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen and he kept on dragging you along. “We’re almost there.” He announced.

Suddenly he turned right into a tight gap in between two houses. You moved yourself sideways along the dirty walls. “Where the hell are you taking me, John Shelby?” You giggled but right when you said that, he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shush! You need to keep quiet.” He whispered to you.

John took a few more steps and then stopped in front of a door. “This is my little secret.”

“Your secret?” You asked him confused and studied the creepy door that had showed up in the dark space he had made you follow him into. “I don’t trust you.” You said and gave him a cautious look.

John replied with a little wink. Even though there was barely any light coming through, you could see the mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes. What was he up to?

He grabbed the door handle, pushed it down and let the door swing open. It made a creaking sound. John stepped into the darkness of what was behind it. You followed closely behind him, not wanting to be left outside alone. You could see the outlines of bottles, brooms and buckets. “Are you taking me to clean?” You joked, scanning the small room. He didn’t react to your remark. Instead, John opened another door at the other end. He stepped through the doorframe and held it open for you. He smiled at you widely. “You just sneaked into the Garrison with me.” He announced proudly.

“John!” You exclaimed, walking passed him into the open space of the familiar pub. At least from the outside for you.

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal.” You said and turned back to John after taking a look around. You both were only sixteen and absolutely not allowed inside the bar.

John shrugged. “Would hanging out with John be anywhere near fun if we only did legal things?”

You chuckled. “I guess not.”

John closed the door and jogged behind the bar, looking at the selection of bottles of alcoholic beverages. “What would the lady like to drink?”

You blushed. You literally had no clue about liquor. Compared to John you lived a rather innocent life and your parents were very strict about underage drinking and any other foolish things teenagers came up with behind their backs. John noticed the awkward expression on your face and grinned. “Let me give you a little degustation.”

Only just half an hour later you had tried yourself through all kinds of dark and light liquor while John pretended to be an expert and rambled on about the different liquids. He made you laugh until your stomach ached. Times like this made you appreciate your best friend so much. He had always been there for you and spiced up the boring life you were living at home. Your parents always expected you to be proper, good at school and housework. They wanted you to marry a decent man as soon as you were of age and have as many children as he desired. They also didn’t care about your wish to become a nurse and earn your own money. John was the boy who made you forget about all of that. He reminded you that life could be fun. He reminded you that life wasn’t all about being a wife and mother. That life was about not caring what other people thought, taking risks and following your gut, sometimes even your heart.

“John, I think I’m drunk.” You slurred. You were shocked at how you weren’t able to think about the words that came out of your mouth anymore and how hard it was to form them. “I’m not sure I like this feeling.”

John, who had clearly sneaked into the Garrison quite a few times on his own wasn’t feeling the liquor hit him just yet. “You’ll get used to it. We’ll come back next week and you’ll be used to it in no time.”

“I feel like I need to sleep a week until all this poison is out of my body.” You told him. You watched him throw his head back and laugh heartily. “It’ll be fine, Y/N.”

You were sitting next to each other on a bench, the table in front of you had all kinds of bottles on it. John filled up his glass once again and downed the content in one go. “I couldn’t imagine doing shit like this with anyone else.” He admitted, wrapping his arm around you. “I really love hanging out with you.” He paused and a smirk danced at the corners of his mouth. “Even though you used to be such a bore.”

You slapped his chest after his comment. “I didn’t choose to be born in the family I am in!”

“I know, that’s why I’m glad I met you.” He said, looking down at you. “Imagine how dull your life would be without me.”

You giggled at him complimenting himself. “I really don’t want to think about it.”

John had another drink and that’s when he started feeling the alcohol running in his bloodstream as well. “I agree.” He said. “We did have a lot to drink.”

You laughed again and tried to get up. “I think it’s time we headed home. We probably need to clean this mess up so that nobody suspects two kids rummaging through the drinks.”

But before you had shuffled away from him and got to your feet, John grabbed your wrist. “How about one last rebellious thing tonight?”

You cocked your eyebrow at his suggestion. “Like what?”

Then he pulled you down without a warning and crashed his lips on yours. “Like this.” He answered.

 ***

 The wind was cold. You had forgotten to put on a coat and as a result of that you were shivering and had to wrap your arms around your body. The tall grass was caressing your dress and the smell of smoke filled the air. You looked over to the large fire, about hundred yards away from you.

After John had his first child with Martha, you almost immediately stopped seeing each other. Even though you had stayed friends when he started going out with her, you knew it was time to move on from John. It wasn’t your place to be anymore and you both knew it. Shortly after that, you yourself got married to a handsome, hardworking and kind man. Your parents were proud of you for making the first steps towards a family of yourself. But you never got pregnant and instead had completed your training to be a nurse at the local hospital. That was also the time you stopped thinking about John on a daily basis. And soon the men had to leave to fight in the war. While the women in town took over the men’s businesses, you had even less time to spend thinking about the Shelby man. Especially since you had a husband to worry about.

Your husband eventually returned. In a wooden box.

You had tried to restart your life after his death, but it had been tough. You had a hard time regaining strength and optimism. You didn’t know where to go from there and for the next two years the feeling of overwhelming loneliness took over your life.

You started taking on extra shifts to distract yourself from feeling useless. You wanted to matter. So, you made saving lives and helping people the content of your everyday life. And it had helped.

You were thirty-one now. You never married again. And you were sure you never would get married again from this day on. Whenever you couldn’t sleep after losing your husband, you had reminisced about the days you had spent with John. It wasn’t about the feeling of love you had felt as a young woman towards him. The reason you kept thinking back to those moments was because you wished he was there to get you out of this dark place you were in. You wished he was there to make you smile again and forget every bad thing in your life for just a second.

But you would never get the chance to experience that feeling again. You would never even get the chance to talk to him again.

Because you were standing at his funeral, just far enough away that his family wouldn’t spot you. The gypsy caravan was ablaze, and the flames were dancing around it. But you couldn’t cry. You heart wasn’t aching because you had lost him. He was never yours. What hurt you most was life not giving him a chance. You knew about his seven children. You even knew about his marriage to Esme. Never once were you jealous of her. You always wanted John to have the most wonderful life, the one he deserved.

You clenched your fist and took a deep breath. Then your eyes scanned the field. Suddenly you saw a woman dressed in black walking over to you in a steady pace. Polly.

You knew she wanted to talk to you about John and what had happened to him. Polly had always cared for you, even when it had been clear you and John would never end up together. But you just couldn’t bear the conversation. You turned on your heel and hurried over the fields, leaving the funeral and Polly behind you. And you realized, you had to start removing everything about John and everything that was connected to him out of your head. You knew, that was the only way you were able to survive. The only way your mind would survive.

[wendip-week]

What If: Love Potion

The annual Gravity Falls musical-event known as Woodstick had finally come. Tourists, young-and-old (but mostly young), repressed and/or rebellious, would flock to the Oregon town that wasn’t on any map to witness an all day-and-night concert of indie-bands in a hippie-themed get-together. One such band was led by the odd singer and aspiring matchmaker, Love God, who was busy spreading the love as he blew into town.

As Mabel Pines had discovered, the Cupid-motif wasn’t for show; he was a real-life cherub with a specially-made love-potion for greasing the wheels on promising-matches. Ignoring his warning that such a substance isn’t to be used by reckless pre-teens, Mabel Pines stole (or traded, if she were asked) his pink, powdery potion to salvage her attempt to hook up the recently-heartbroken Robbie Valentino and Wendy’s best friend Tambry, whose obsession with her phone seemed to interfere with her social-life in general.

Now it seemed that those two’s problems, and the ones they indirectly caused for the teen-gang they were part of, were over and done with. They were suddenly head-over-heels and apparently had no problems making a public show of their affection. Needless to say, Mabel was pleased with herself.

Not too long after the new couple stepped out of Greasy’s Diner, another familiar boy and girl appeared. The teenage-girl was sporting a hippie-ish look of short-shorts, a fuzzy crop-top, a bandana, and a headband. The preteen boy, on the other hand, was sporting a sleeveless jacket over a v-neck shirt (which Mabel thought was not a good look for him), with a pair of sunglasses. They were Dipper Pines and Wendy Corduroy, Mabel’s brother and friend, respectively. Mabel was still hiding behind the counter as the two approached.

“Hey, Susan,” Wendy greeted one of the diner’s senior-waitresses.

“Well hello, Wendy!” replied Lazy Susan, the waitress with the paralyzed eyelid. “My, don’t you two look snazzy!”

“Thanks,” said Dipper. “We’re going to Woodstick later.”

“How nice! So, what can I get you?”

“Can we get two large shakes to go, please?” Wendy asked. “Usual for us.”

“A chocolate-strawberry and a chocolate peanut-butter. Coming right up.” Susan headed towards the kitchen, ignoring one of the waitresses making out with a male-customer on the other side of the counter.

“Man, this is gonna be sick!” shouted Wendy.

“I know, right?” Dipper said with a grin. He looked over at the small crowd on the other side of the restaurant. “Hey, what’s that?”

Wendy turned her eyes in that direction. “Oh, cool. Looks like Love God made it here.”

“Huh,” Dipper thought out loud. “Looks kind of like Thompson, except louder and with blonde hair.”

Wendy laughed. “Oh-ho! You’re totally right! I’m so gonna remember that one!”

Dipper laughed along with her. It was moments like these that made him really admire her, even if she didn’t feel the same way… Mabel, who was watching them, thought the exchange was cute in an awkward way.

As they chatted, they didn’t notice another new couple spinning across the diner’s floor, only to fall on top of a table where a certain helping of chili-cheese fries lay almost untouched. The carton went flying… only to hit Dipper square in the face, leaving it a mess.

Wendy chuckled at her pal. “Dude, I guess lunch is on you…? Eh, that was lame. Mind if I…?” Wendy reached over and grabbed a few fries off of Dipper’s face before shoving them in her mouth. “Mmmm… Not as warm as I like, but still good.” She smiled at Dipper, only for her face to turn to mild-shock, her eyes widening and taking on a slight pinkish-tint for a moment.

Dipper wiped some of the food off of his face, licking some of it off his mouth. “You’re right about tha- Whoa!” Dipper’s eyes, too, had become like Wendy’s as he got a good look at the girl. He had always thought she was good-looking, but right now there was just something about her… “Uh, sorry if this sounds weird, but did you get a little more attractive all of a sudden?” he asked.

Wendy blushed. “Don’t know, but I’m glad that you think so. I will say this: you look really good in that v-neck.”

“Thanks, Wendy.” Dipper, too, was red in the face with that compliment.

They had been staring at each other for about half-a-minute when Lazy Susan returned with their milkshakes and a towel. They almost hadn’t noticed.

“Thanks, Susan.” Dipper wiped his faced with the damp cloth.

“No problem, dear. Anyway, have these shakes on the house. That little stunt with the fries didn’t need to happen.”

“Wow! Even bigger-thanks,” Wendy said. “Come on, Handsome. Let’s go to Woodstick.”

“Right now?” Dipper asked. “Shouldn’t we meet the guys first?”

“Nah! They won’t mind… probably. Let’s go.” She smiled warmly at the boy she wanted to squeeze like a stuffed-animal.

Well, how could Dipper say no to that face, especially as she batted her eyelashes? Dipper offered his arm, which she gladly took, and the new couple walked out of Greasy’s Diner (right after grabbing their shakes, of course).

Mabel almost couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. And honestly, she was beside herself with joy! She had mildly pro DipperxWendy when her brother first started crushing on the tall redhead and had offered encouragement or assistance here-and-there to help. Of course, her actions had also put the two of them in danger days ago, and inadvertently led to Dipper getting let down gently. This was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, turn of events. She had just delivered on two happy couples in a matter of minutes (and she thought she had outdone herself with Waddles and Gompers).

“Another match made!” Mabel shouted. “Yay, Domino-Effect!”

  //

  Well, Mabel might have been happy with these new developments. That didn’t mean everyone else necessarily agreed. Mabel found that out the hard way. She had just met Nate, Lee, and Thompson in the latter’s garage to let them know they could get going and told them the news about Robbie and Tambry. Their reactions were not what she had been expecting.

“He knew I liked her!” Nate shouted in dismay.

Lee, looking betrayed, confronted his best friend. “You told Robbie but not me?! Not cool!” He slapped Nate upside the head.

“You always make fun of my crushes!” Nate replied angrily.

“Guys! Come on!” Mabel said. “Can’t you just be happy for them? I haven’t even gotten to the other good news!”

“What?” Thompson reluctantly asked.

“My brother and Wendy just got together, too!”

Suddenly, Nate and Lee stopped bickering, looking at Mabel with interest.

“Dr. Funtimes is on a date… with Wendy… at Woodstick?” Lee asked.

“Yep!” Mabel grinned, pulling out a smartphone. “Check out Tambry’s blog. Apparently, both couples are official!”

For a moment everyone was silent. Then panic erupted.

“Oh, crud!” cried Nate.

“This is bad!” Lee shouted.

“What?! What’s going on?!” Mabel asked, now rather afraid.

“Manly Dan follows Tambry on Tweezer! That’s the problem!” Lee yelled.

“If he sees this, he’s going after your brother and his daughter. And he’ll tear apart anything and anyone that gets in his way,” Nate added. He looked at Lee. “Dude; my basement! Now! It’s got a low-ceiling. He’ll never be able to get to us.”

Lee nodded. “Got it. Come on, Thompson!”

“But guys, what about Woodstick?” the group’s punching-bag tried to reason. “I already bought tic-Whoa!” His two friends yanked him by the shirt and hurried out of his garage, leaving a freaked-out Mabel all by herself.

“Oh no…” she thought.

  //

  Dipper and Wendy stood in line for Woodstick for about an hour, but to them, it might as well have been five minutes. They were together, after all. And there was no shortage of cutesy, cliché acts that they could do to pass the time (Wendy was especially fond of Dipper walking his fingers up and down her arm). Once they got inside, they almost immediately had their lips locked and didn’t want to separate. They were like that even approaching one of the food trucks. Fortunately, the man taking their order could still make out the word “churro” amongst the face-sucking. They were also like that eating said churro.

“Oh, Dipper!” Wendy said between smooches. “I so regret ever rejecting you after the Bunker-Incident…! You’re nothing like any of the other guys I’ve dated!”

“Mmm… Wendy!” Dipper replied passionately. “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than you! I’d even trade these adventures in Gravity Falls!”

“Dipper!”

“Wendy!”

Robbie and Tambry, who had been nearby, heard everything.

Robbie let out a low-whistle. “Smooth. Corny, but smooth.”

Tambry nodded. “Come on. Let’s leave them to their business. We’ve got selfies to take and people to make uncomfortable with our own overt-affection.”

“Sounds like a plan, babe.”

Robbie and Tambry blissfully walked off to be alone together. Mabel stuck her head out of a bush. She had no time to admire her handywork. She had to save Dipper and Wendy before they get killed. She pulled out a flask with a spray-attachment containing a black fluid. This was an anti-love potion: another something she had just procured from Love God. It would supposedly break the spell she had inadvertently put over those two.

“Just need a clear shot…” she whispered.

She didn’t get a chance. At that instance, she and everyone within a hundred feet of her, heard thunderous stomping and yelling, putting a number of attendees in a panic. Even Dipper and Wendy looked afraid as what could only be described as a tank of a man hailing from a long line of lumberjacks charged into the area in the direction of the couple Mabel was targeting.

“Oh, man! I’m too late…!” Mabel cried out.

Wendy’s father immediately spotted Dipper and Wendy and rushed over to them, and he looked ticked! People around him were smart enough to get out of his way.

“YOU TWO!!!” he shouted upon reaching them.

“Sir, please!” said a security guard who had been following at a reasonable distance. “You need to have a ticket to enter!” Dan didn’t even look at the man. He just picked him by the collar and threw him. He probably landed somewhere in the crowd surrounding the main stage.

The middle-aged giant growled and glared down at the two youths whom he towered over. Even Wendy, who was rather rebellious most of the time, was afraid. She didn’t see this side of father very often, and she tried hard not to.

“M-Mr. Corduroy-” Dipper tried to say.

“SHUT UP! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU!”

Wendy spoke up. “Come on, Dad! Don’t-!”

The man turned to his daughter. “WENDY, GO TO THE TRUCK!”

“But Dad-”

“I SAID GO TO THE TRUCK!” he shouted.

Wendy, looking completely dejected, reluctantly complied. “Yes, Dad…” She gave a sorry-look to her new-boyfriend before slowly walking out the gate.

“AND YOU, BOY!” Dan picked up Dipper by the arm (as there wasn’t much of a collar on Dipper’s shirt to grab) and brought him to eye-level. “YOU AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE A SERIOUS TALK!” Still holding onto the twelve-year-old, he marched off to find some place relatively-private.

A terrified-Mabel was now going over what she should do now. Things were really starting to escalate.

The girl snapped her fingers. “New plan: damage-control! First, I gotta find Wendy in the parking lot, spray her a little, then find Dipper. Hopefully, Manly Dan will be done with him. I’ll get Dipper and outside of a little trauma, it’ll be like none of this ever happened!”

“Here’s another one: you give me back that anti-love potion and face the consequences,” said a voice from behind Mabel.

Mabel turned to see the sour expression of Love God looming over her. “Uh, hi again, Love God…”

“Save it!” he said firmly. “You’re the type who never learns, aren’t you?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean…! Look, it was an accident, okay? Some of the love-potion got on some people who weren’t supposed to be affected, but maybe were meant for each other… It was all so great, but then got bad real fast and I-!”

“-Am about to make it worse by trying a quick-fix! Am I right?” Mabel looked shocked. Her lip started to quiver as she realized that she couldn’t do anything to fix things.

Love God pinched the bridge of his nose. Love comes in many forms, and compassion is just one of them. As such, he was kind of a sucker for people in trouble. “Listen: if something is meant to be, sometimes it’ll work itself out, alright? Heck, you could say my marriage was a happy-accident.”

“You’re married?” Mabel asked.

“Don’t look so surprised, kid,” Love God muttered. He pulled out a flask with yellowish-orange substance. “Now, I believe I mentioned consequences…”

  //

  A depressed-Wendy stood by her father’s pick-up truck. This was supposed to be a perfect day: first, Woodstick had finally come, so she had been excited about that. Then, all of a sudden, she got the unexpected-bonus of finding her “Mr. Right”; and in the form of her best guy-friend, no less. “Darn it, Dad!” she thought. “As if you don’t make things hard enough at home! Now, I’m single again and I’m not cool with it!”

She looked out in the direction of the festivities (which was a way’s away). She was waiting for her Manly Dan to return and either berate her or take her home. Maybe both, depending on the mood he was in. The man was somewhat old-fashioned and was often critical of who Wendy dated. Typically, she tried to keep it on the downlow. The only reason she got away with dating Robbie was because she had known him since they were kids (and probably because he knew she’d try to dump him before anything too serious had happened).

After a while, she saw a familiar figure in the distance, but it was not who she was expecting. Dipper was walking in her direction, which shocked Wendy quite a bit. She’d have thought he’d have either taken off or gotten walloped. As the young-adventurer approached, Wendy rushed over to meet him.

“Dipper! What happened? Are you okay?” she cried out.

“I think so,” he replied, looking somewhat shocked himself.

“What did my dad do to you? I heard him shout as I left?”

Dipper looked a little nervous. “He, uh, grabbed me, took me to the side, and laid down the law…”

“Oh no…” Wendy said, worried. “Did he, you know, end it? I don’t want this to end, Dipper!”

“Actually, Wendy, he gave me permission to date you,” he said, looking like he almost didn’t believe it.

Wendy looked confused. “What? But that doesn’t sound like him.”

“Well, there are some conditions, though. A lot of them if you don’t mind my saying…”

Wendy looked nonplussed. “Okay, that sounds a little more like him.”

“See, I guess he was a little move when I told him how I feel about you. He said it reminded him of brief time as a wimp, before he started liking your, uh, mom.”

“Mom…” Wendy thought somberly. She sighed. “Go on…”

“So, these conditions… Doors open at all times for starters… No going out together without permission. No going out where no adults are present… No Lookout Point.” Dipper looked nervous as he was saying all of this.

“What?!” Wendy exclaimed. “That sucks!”

“It gets better,” Dipper said. “I have to get a gym-membership. Your dad’s gonna coach me…”

Wendy cringed. “Ooohhh!!! I don’t envy you there.”

“Tell me about it… You know, there’s a whole list of this stuff. I’ve got it written down.” Dipper reached into his pocket and unfolded a rather long piece of paper with an extensive amount of written-conditions.

Wendy looked at what had all been written. “’Dining with my family once a week…’ Ouch. ‘Six inches apart unless you’re displaying affection’?”

“And I gotta do it right.”

“Dang. ‘Showering every day’? Okay, that I can sort of live with. No offense,” she told her dork.

Dipper nodded. “None taken.”

“And you’re on call whenever my dad needs an extra hand logging?”

“Pretty much. Oh, I’m also apparently not allowed to kiss you without his pre-written permission.”

“Drat! And that’s not even half of it, either.”

“Pretty much…” Dipper said, shrugging.

“Dude, this is a lot to ask for. I know I’m willing, but are you sure you want to go through this? I know I’m not really that awesome…”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m going to go through it all. To me, you’re more than worth it.”

“Oh, Dipper!” Wendy pulled the boy she fallen in love with tight. He returned the sentiment for a moment, but then reluctantly pushed her away.

“Boundaries, remember?” he said awkwardly.

“Right…” she replied, clearly not too happy about this arrangement. “So, you want to go back to Woodstick?”

“Sure!” Dipper replied enthusiastically. “Oh, and FYI, your dad says we’re allowed one kiss here.”

Wendy gave him a small-smile. “Well, guess we better make it count. We just gotta choose the right moment.”

And so, the young couple enjoyed their date at Woodstick together, being careful not to do anything to provoke Manly Dan (who was still around). They had some nice festival-food. They danced to some of the catchier songs on stage. They laughed at some of the antics of some of the more serious attendees. And when Stan Pines’ malformed, blazing hot-air balloon crashed in the middle of the festivities, the two of them decided that was a perfect time to have that kiss.

Meanwhile, as people gawked at the flaming balloon being put out by the fire-department, Mabel, clad in a cowboy hat and boots, sang a fun country-tune with the local minstrel, Toot-Toot McBumbersnazzle, briefly entertaining them and the firefighters as the flames went out.

Of course, most everyone took off as soon as they saw Stan approach…

  //

  Ten years later, at one of Gravity Falls’ fancy restaurants full of dinner, dancing, and live-music, a married-couple were dancing closely to the nice, slow, jazzy beat. One was a tall, fetching redhead in a shimmering, sleeveless gown. The other was a tall, muscular man in a custom-made tuxedo that probably wouldn’t tear when he flexed. It was easy to tell how blissfully enamored they both were.

“Oh, Mason!” the woman exclaimed. “I’m so glad we decided to stay together that summer!” Her husband gently dipped her low. “You’re so devoted. Show me that list of conditions again!”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, worn out slice of paper with faded-writing. His wife swooned in response.

“You’re never going to let me live that old fantasy down, are you?” he said with a chuckle.

“Not a chance, Mister!” Wendy smiled as he pulled her back to eye-level. “Not a chance.”

[cecilspeaks]

167 - Echo

Spring reveals nature’s secret That death is reversible. Welcome to Night Vale.

The worst part is not the tall plumes of smoke. Nor the destroyed cars and buildings, nor the armed desert cult marching through the streets. It is the silence. The absence of sirens echoing across the valley. The absence of help. the absence of hope that help will happen. And now the absence even of screams.

The clan of passengers of Delta flight 18713 prowls the streets of our town, seeking those who hide, those who resist. They know there are few of us left who have not been subsumed by their leader’s commands. And those of us who do remain will be captured and eventually killed. They must know I am here, hiding, talking, resisting. They must see our radio antenna, our station sign, hear our broadcasts.

The pilot knows who I am, delights in having inhabited my mind a couple weeks go to speak his foul truth. He holds out some hope that he can re-enter my brain, squeeze it tight with his calm convincing voice. I remain alive because the pilot wants me in my job. Wants me on his side.

I hope for solution. I hope my own voice empowers those who are still free to rise up, to fight back, but so far – nothing. I no longer hope to find Amelia Anna Alfaro who was always the best at everything and who disappeared eight years ago to loo for Delta flight 18713. I no longer hope that Amelia Anna Alfaro will be found or that she will save us because she is found. She will not save us.

Amelia stands at the top step of the Night Vale City Hall. Behind her is the multi-headed, single-bodied entity that is City Council. Amelia and the City Council are both fully under the control of the pilot. Amelia Anna Alfaro found the missing passengers of flight 18713, and then was enjoined by the pilot to join them.

When the pilot makes contact with your brain, he does not speak to you at first. He does not begin with a plea, with a mission, with a request or command. He first forces you to hear the lives of his passengers, innocents who boarded Delta flight 18713 from Detroit to Albany on June 15, 2012. You hear a mother calming her child, you hear giggling teenage boys, you hear middle-aged men telling each other the same stories they have told each other for years on end. You hear about vacations and jobs and families and favorite books and unrealized dreams, you hear it all until you accept the mundane comfort and intimacy of community, until you are lulled into a willingness to hear anything – and then you hear the pilot. And you hear his message. The words of his message are about nature’s beauty. The words express loving respect that all nature is beautiful. But the message is not the words. It’s what’s encoded within them, the message is that all who are not beautiful are an affront to nature.

His power of unspoken oration, of invisible influence, allows his hatred to metastasize, to become an active assault rather than an idle grumble. It is difficult to stop his voice from entering your head. Nearly impossible. I am not able to do it on my own. Carlos sits with me still in my studio. When I talk to Carlos, I do not hear the voice of the pilot nor his passengers. Charles Rainier, the former warden of the Night Vale Asylum, went fishing to keep his mind clear. Tamika Flynn has taken to listening to the audio book of Emily St. John Mandel’s bestselling novel “Station 11”, which is narrated by Night Vale’s own Lee Marvin who, by the way, turns 32 next month. Happy early birthday, Lee, if you can hear me.

I have found that Carlos calms me, centers me, silences the echoes of 100 different people, 100 different thoughts in my head, none of which are my own. If you know what centers you, do that immediately.

The streets are quiet, Night Vale. I hope some of you can hear me. I hope some of you are staying out of sight, out of reach. If you can, come together, find each other. Perhaps we can overpower these invaders of our peace, but the pilot hides from any potential counterattack, and if we can’t stop him, can’t cut out the brain of his insurgency… I believe our hopes are lost. Our end is near.

The last hope I had stands on the top step of City Hall rallying her mindless clan on a ruthless scouring of our city. Amelia Anna Alfaro was always the best at everything, and the pilot knows that. It is why he chose her as his chief strategist, his general, his right hand.

They will push beyond Night Vale soon. To Red Mesa and Pine Cliff, and to the rest of the state, and beyond.

More people are brought to City Hall as I speak, and Amelia flanked by Doug Biondi delivers their sentence, their punishment for resistance. Their fate for lacking beauty in the eyes of a truly hateful man. Their sentence is to be tied together and held in the rock garden lining the outer lawn of City Hall. Once every person in Night Vale has been gathered in one place, the pilot will make one last attempt to overtake our minds as a group, to grow his army tenfold. He may succeed with some and the remainder – will be executed.

The pilot believes in his own specific definition of beauty. He believes those who fail to be good enough specimens of nature, of humanity, must be removed from the genetic pool. Every few hours, another group of prisoners crouches before Amelia, and another group receives immediate conviction.

As Amelia stands in judgment before the most recently indicted, she pauses. One of the captured is standing in defiance. In response to this rebellious act, Doug Biondi, still wearing his asylum-issued coveralls, raises a handmade curved blade, but Amelia stops him. The one standing is Yvette Alfaro. It is Amelia’s mother. She begs Amelia to recognize her own family and to have mercy. But Amelia’s eyes show no hint of relenting. Yvette tells Amelia she always loved her, was always proud of her, but that her motherly pride was sometimes a selfish price. “You were a story I wrote for myself to tell my friends,” Yvette says contritely. “I did not let you tell your own story. I should have been proud of you for what you achieved, for yourself. Happy for your happiness. But I saw you as a way to better me. I’m sorry, Amelia,” Yvette tells her only child, and then hands Amelia a note. “Please read this. It’s all I ask that you do for your mother. Read what I wrote,” Yvette says. Without even glancing at the paper, Amelia crumples it into a ball, her face reddens, and her eyes blacken, as she pushes her mother back down to her knees. With a nod of Amelia’s head, the brainwashed and ever growing clan of flight 18713 ties up the new prisoners and pushes them into the rock garden, until every remaining person in town has been drawn together for the pilot. And the last who resist his voice will be destroyed. A rotten harvest to be composted for a more promising crop.

If you can hear my voice, you are one of the last left. We cannot see the pilot, but he can see us, and it is not long until his minions are here with me, or there with you, Night Vale. We are the last to be reaped, the last to be gathered.

They stalk outside my studio now! Climbing the walls, smashing in windows, knocking down doors. I-I can hear them in the hallways behind me. Carlos is barring the door to the studio, but I know it will not hold! Carlos, do as you promised and run! I will stay focused, I will keep my head safe, I will take us all To the weather!

[“The Stolen Century” by Ellen Beizer: http://ellenclairebeizer.com]

I am captured, Night Vale. So is Carlos. I can’t see where they took him, so I keep my eyes closed and imagine Carlos’ face.  I keep talking to this image of Carlos to protect my thoughts from the pilot’s voice. The ragged, empty-minded clan of flight 18713 pushes me into a larger group of captives. I still do not see Carlos, but I see the violent hungry faces of those under the pilot’s control. I see two teenage boys who are secretly mad for each other. I see a middle-aged man who either went to New Orleans or heard about New Orleans so much that he might as well have gone. I see the people who inhabited my mind. Whose voices were used to hypnotize me, to lay the psychological groundwork for the pilot. And I hear them. I hear their voices coming from their mouths, live, in real time. But I hear them in my head too! Separate from their bodies. And I think of Carlos again, trying to stop the echoes, [very quietly] return to silence and clarity.

They lead our group. I with my head down, eyes closed, quietly conversing with an imaginary Carlos, to the steps of City Hall. To the feet of the ruthless Amelia Anna Alfaro. Ohh, [quietly] but she’s not ruthless. She is compromised. I do not know how to convince her of this, if her own mother could not. Even still immediately we are denounced as resistors and tied up with the other uncooperative prisoners, wriggling uselessly in their bindings along the rock garden. The last of those who refused to join the 18713 have been gathered together. Amelia knows she has quickly and thoroughly sorted out entire town into the recruited and the renounced. She was always the best at everything.

At this moment, the pilot emerges from the front doors of City Hall. Amelia and the rest of the 18713 look on him with awe. And it occurs to me they have never seen him in person. Only heard his voice. The enormity of his legend is evidence in the gaping maw and sparkling dark eyes of Amelia Anna Alfaro. The pilot does not visibly speak, yet I can hear him in my head. Each of us can her a personalized appeal from him in our minds.

[deep creepy voice] “Cecillll,” he says to me. “You have a beautiful voice. Think of how much beauty we can share together. Think of your voice, carried miles through the air like dandelion seeds. Spreading our message of nature’s true beauty to everyone in the desert. To everyone beyonddd the desert. You are chosennn Cecillllll. Beeeeeee. My. Voiccccce.”

I think of Carlos’ face. I say aloud to my imagined Carlos: the first time you called me, I knew you liked me. Even though you avoided my flirting. I thought you were trying to be professional, Carlos, playing ignorant, but you weren’t. you were shy. You didn’t know how to ask. And I knew I loved you.

My mind remains clear as I talk, but I see several of the remainders sturgling to ignore the pilot’s voice permeating their every thought. A few lose the fight and join his clan. He is too far from me, too far from any o the rest of us to reach him, to subdue him, to kill him, to get back my mind, to get back my town, to get back my Carlos.

When the pilot’s final pleas and patience expire, he walks down the paved path and stands next to Amelia Anna Alfaro. Then he says, for the first time using his mouth: “None of them are beautiful! None of them are nature! None of them can live!” Amelia stares at him like a star struck fan in the presence of a Hollywood celebrity. Doug Biondi, next to her, holds up his crooked blade. The angel of death wears electric blue coveralls, and the 18713 raise their weapons too, glaring at the last of us tied up a the rock garden. I search in vain for Carlos one last time, battling the sick truth that we are born and we will die alone. And Amelia Anna Alfaro raises her hand. Inside her hand is a ball of paper. Seeming confused about how it got there, she unfurls it. Smoothing out the wrinkles with her fingers, she examines the paper. There is a long silence. “Should I do it or what? Amelia?” Doug Biondi asks, anxious to get to the killing part. I now see what Amelia sees. I cannot read what is written on the paper, but I know what is there. They’re words from her mother, written in code. In a puzzle. The one place Amelia’s mind can hide from the voices, from the voice of the pilot, is in puzzles. Amelia says: “It is my responsibility to destroy that which is not beautiful. Give me the blade, Doug.” Doug, reluctantly, does so. Still staring at the paper, she pulls the blade behind her shoulder and says: ���You come from nowhere, and that is where you shall return.” She splashes the blade into the pilot’s throat. I see his hands clutch at his neck. I see Doug Biondi lunge for Amelia, to protect his beloved leader, but as his arms crash down onto her shoulders, he relents. Doug’s mind is free now too.

I see the pilot convulse one final time. I see the emancipated Amelia run toward her mother. Other members of the 18713 surrounding us drop their weapons, their eyes vacant and lips white. The rush of mental agency is blinding them, staggering them. One of them cuts the ropes from my hands. I help free the others, one by one, still searching for Carlos and then – I find him. He is in the very back, the last of the last of Night Vale. Those who are free are running or embracing or helping those who are still bound or drunk with confusion, and on the ground where Amelia stood moments before, I find the wrinkled note from mother to daughter. It is a series of numbers, not words. I show it to Carlos. “A cryptogram puzzle,” he says. “I love those.” I ask him if he can solve it. He screws up his face. “We should get out of here first,” he says. “Please,” I say. He looks at it for a couple of minutes, until finally he says: “It’s a basic alphanumeric code. It reads: Amelia, I am proud of you, no. matter. what.”

Carlos and I hold each other through the town. Passing two teenage boys dressed in scraps of airplane upholstery, gripping tightly each other’s faces. We help a lost toddler find his parents. We clear broken glass from streets. We walk home.

We shade our eyes from the setting sunset, which kindles through a hilltop cliff. We talk nonstop about today, about tomorrow, about yesterday, about every possible moment, just talking and talking, because we almost lost our talk forever. We do not hear the returning echo of sirens across the valley. We do not hear anything but ourselves.

Stay tuned. Next. For a silence that is all your own.

Good night, Night Vale … Good night.  

Today’s proverb: Did you know the Germans have 31 different words for beer? Well they don’t, that’s wrong, you’re wrong