#its like having imaginary kids and then dumping them and then picking them up and so on-

[confused-ginsougou173]

A pikakami(@pikasso ) found me so I'm gonna make my OC now! (✧ω✧)

The stoic flowery one: Sairai(Samurai of Hyuga). The smirking "OwO" dumbass: Sorin Galahad(Jolly Good). The unamused gamer: Emi Christopher (Fallen Hero). And the Mary Sue(derogatory): Elara Ethereal/Frostfall(HPHM)

[the-dream-team]

Chlorine

A fluffy little one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week two prompt: swimming with friends // Today we're younger than we're ever gonna be <3

“What in Merlin’s name is that smell?” gagged Sirius, bringing his towel up to cover his nose.

Mary swotted him with a bright green foam noodle. “That’s just the chlorine, you knob. It’s a chemical Muggles use to keep the water clean.”

“The water’s not clean?” squeaked Peter, his beady eyes widening.

“Take a look around Pettigrew,” laughed Mary, gesturing wildly. “There are about a trillion little kids running around with saggy trunks and juice-stained mouths, it’s not exactly the Prefect’s bathroom here.”

The group of teenagers took a moment to survey their surroundings. Sirius was right, the thick summer air reeked of chlorine wafting from unnaturally electric blue swimming pools, packed with screaming children, brightly colored floaties, and haggard parents. Behind the main pool, reaching up to the sky, stood two impressive slides, winding and bending in every direction before opening up into a smaller basin. Once every minute, the slide discarded a new, squealing child into the water with an eruptive splash.

Lily eyed the Muggle kids with some trepidation. “Are we too old to be here?” she asked, eyes shifting as she clutched her copy of Herbology for Potioneers a little closer to her chest. “It feels like everyone else is about a decade younger than us.”

“Don’t worry too much about that, Evans,” said James, a bright smile aimed in her direction. “Today we’re younger than we’re ever going to be, anyway!” He nudged her affectionately, resulting in a rosy hue that spread across her cheeks as their bare shoulders made contact.

“Alright,” announced Remus after barely dodging a rogue beach ball, “let’s find a place to put our towels before these buggers realize we’re easy targets.”

They managed to snag a row of plastic lounge chairs beside the wave pool to dump their belongings on before Sirius set his sights on the towering waterslides across the park.

“You said these slides were crazy fast, right MacDonald?” Sirius asked, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“They’re the fastest in Britain,” grinned Mary, tossing her sunnies aside. “And you get some serious air on your way out, it’s the closest thing Muggles have to flying, I’d argue.”

Lily tensed and quickly diverted her attention to her book, though her eyes remained still as she stared at the pages. Almost no one noticed her sudden discomfort.

“That’s bloody brilliant,” grinned Sirius. “Last one to the top has to buy us a round of those mushie drinks.”

“They’re called slushies, Padfoot.”

“Call them whatever you want, Moony, but I want a blue one.” Sirius discarded his t-shirt onto a chair and kicked off his sandals in preperation. “Prongs, do you think we could convince the lifeguards to let us go down the slides together?”

But James wasn’t paying attention to Sirius. “Nah, go ahead without me,” he said, eyes trained on Lily as she continued intently staring at her book. “I think I’m gonna start out a little slower with the lazy river. Evans, care to keep me company?”

Lily’s eyes snapped up to see Sirius’ dropped jaw, Mary’s raised eyebrows, and James’ steady smile.

“Oh,” she said, her voice finding a higher octave than usual, “sure, I could join you.”

“Fine,” grumbled Sirius, pulling the others along with him, “but I’m coming to find you at that dopey river after our first round on the slides. I won’t let you be boring all day, Prongs.”

James shrugged, barely paying the others any mind as he extended a hand to Lily. She watched their friends saunter off before accepting his help to stand up.

“Hold on there, Evans,” said James, plucking her book from her hands and tossing it back onto their pile of towels, “I can’t have you doing homework; today is all about having fun!”

“Then why aren’t you going with the others to the slides?”

He paused, considering her question with a smile. “Because you’re way more fun than a couple of waterslides.”

Before she had a chance to respond, James pulled her away from the chairs and towards the center of the park, their bare feet slapping against sizzling cement as they navigated around young children and indifferent lifeguards.

The lazy river lived directly across from the concession stand, perfectly situated for parents who wanted to keep an eye on their floating kids while they enjoyed a cool beer and a basket of hot chips. The river wound itself around an impressive structure resembling a fairytale castle, complete with canons that sprayed water onto passerbys and waterfalls that poured over plastered mountainsides and into its surrounding moat.

At the water’s edge sat a pile of tubes, growing hot under the unrelenting midday sun. James released Lily’s hand to secure them two floats, missing her subtle disappointed huff at the loss of his grip when he turned his back on her. But by the time he handed over her tube, she’d managed to rearrange her face into a neutral smile.

“After you, Evans,” he said with a little bow, extending an arm towards the gently rolling river.

She rolled her eyes at the exaggerated chivalry, but stepped forward nonetheless, carefully placing her tube in the water and lowering herself into the center. The water, cool and refreshing, lapped against her backside and kissed her heels as she hung her legs over the tempered rubber.

James took a different approach, choosing to throw his own tube unceremoniously into the water before giving himself a running start to cannonball onto it. Lily screeched as he nearly jumped directly on top of her.

“You prat!” she laughed, splashing water on his face, covering his glasses in little droplets.

“You know you love me,” he teased, a glint in his eye.

The pink glow that spread across her cheeks could have passed as a light sunburn, but the way James’ eyes flashed suggested he’d picked up on the truth. His dimples appeared despite the attempt to keep his grin at bay.

“So, Potter,” she started, choosing to change the subject, “what drew you to the lazy river, other than the obvious similarities you share?”

James drove an imaginary dagger into his chest. “You wound me, Evans! But if you must know, I thought it’d be the perfect place to chat with you.”

If the river’s current hadn’t continued pulling them along, Lily might have thought time had stood still. “To chat?”

“Yeah,” he responded as though it were obvious, “the playground would be too noisy with all the kids running around, it seems like we would’ve spent more time underwater than above it at the wave pool, and the hot tubs are simply not weather appropriate.”

“With me?”

It was finally James’ turn to look surprised. “Of course! I’ve spent my whole summer mucking about with the boys, but I’ve hardly seen you since Peter’s party and I missed talking with you.”

Lily tried passing off her pleased burst of laughter as a scoff. “I always forget how forthright you are.”

“I’m an open book,” he replied, sticking her with a pointed stare she couldn’t see as she averted her own gaze, attempting to hide her growing blush he had already clocked.

“I wish I could be more like that,” she spoke to the distance, to the cloudless expanse of sky, hoping it would relay the message to the boy whose intertube continued bouncing rhythmically against her own as they traveled in endless circles.

“As a kid,” she continued, “I loved playgrounds. Gravity melted away when I sailed off swings and soared through slides, when my magic took over before I even knew what I was. But the uncontrollable flying always scared my parents, so when my family visited parks, I’d be kept on the sidelines, hidden away to avoid causing a scene. I guess I got pretty good at hiding.”

“Do you want help practicing?”

Lily jerked her attention back to James and his easy eyes, his ruffled hair. “What?”

“Do you want help practicing being an open book?” he repeated simply. “I happen to be an expert and I’d be happy to lend my talents.”

His cheeky grin earned him a light splashing and an only-slightly-exasperated huff. “You know what, fine. Teach me your ways, Potter.”

“Alright,” he said, eyes brightening as he adjusted his position on his tube to face her more fully, “we’ll start with easy questions and then get gradually harder from there. The only rule is that you have to answer honestly.”

Lily sunk slightly into the hole of her intertube, but nodded, resting her chin on her folded arms, fingers mindlessly dipping in and out of the passing water below.

“First off, who is your best friend?”

“That’s your easy question?” Lily guffawed.

“What?” asked James, watching her curiously. “I already know the basics. Your favourite colour is forest green, you like chocolate biscuits best, and your sister is a piece of work. Now, who is your best friend?”

“Mary, I guess?” said Lily, brows furrowed slightly. “We immediately clicked since we first met, what with us both being Muggleborn, and after Sev was out of the picture…”

“I’m familiar with this part,” James grimaced, his focus shifting to his fingernails. “So, next question. If you had to be sorted into a different house, which one would you choose?”

“Hufflepuff,” she responded without blinking. “Closest to the kitchens, obviously. Next question.”

“Respectable,” he chuckled. “How about… do you prefer Butterbeer or Firewhiskey?”

She paused, catching his eye for longer than she’d planned. “You probably already know the answer.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards with a jolt of hope. “Butterbeer spiked with Firewhiskey?”

“Butterbeer spiked with Firewhiskey.”

James leaned forward slightly, his arm extending absentmindedly to reach for the cloth handles on Lily’s tube to pull her closer. “Like the ones we made at Peter’s birthday party last month?”

Their hands mingled together in the water between their tubes, pruned fingers brushing against each other as the current pushed them together. “Exactly like the ones from Peter’s birthday.”

He was near enough to count every sunkissed freckle spattered across her nose. She could practically fall into his growing dimples.

“Oi, Prongs!” came the disappointing voice of Sirius Black from the concession stand’s picnic tables. “You can’t hide from us all day, mate!”

“Maybe not,” James called back, a lopsided smirk sliding across his face, “but I can try!”

Before Sirius had a chance to respond, James sunk through the center of his intertube and disappeared under the water’s surface. Lily peered into the river, wondering if he could have possibly brought his Invisibility Cloak with him to the park, but her thoughts were quickly interrupted when a hand grabbed her ankle under the water. It tugged lightly, willing her out of her tube and into the depths of the lazy river.

Once fully submerged in the water, Lily squinted her eyes open to see her new surroundings, blue like the sky with ripples of sunlight refracting through the flowing stream, circular shadows overhead from the tubes they left on the surface, roaming away like drifting clouds searching for different horizons. A hand found her arm and spun her around, bringing her face to face with James, his glasses attempting an escape into the river’s flow, tiny air bubbles escaping through his nose and growing smile.

He pulled her across the width of the river, through a shower of bubbles from the underside of a waterfall, and into still water again before finally leading them both to the surface. They broke back into the world with gasping breaths and laughter, finding themselves in a dark, quiet alcove behind one of the castle’s waterfall features. The lazy river continued on as they stood together in their hidden cave, separated only by a wall of tumbling water. Despite no longer being pulled by the river’s current, the two found themselves drifting closer and closer to one another.

“Do you have any more questions?” asked Lily, her whisper echoing around and joining in with the soft roar of the waterfall.

James tried to control the beating of his heart, which must have been reverberating all around their little retreat based on how loudly he heard it pounding in his ears.

He cleared his throat. “Did you want me to kiss you that night at Peter’s party?”

She inhaled sharply. “Yes. Next question.”

“Do you want me to kiss you now?”

“Yes.”

She barely got the word out before James’ lips found hers, crashing down like a wave against the shore, pulling them into a riptide of racing hearts, fluttering eyelashes, and sighing breaths. They kissed and kissed and kissed until their heads spun, either drunk off the thrill of new beginnings or thoughts of Firewhiskey-spiked Butterbeer. Or possibly it was the intoxicating combination of magic mixed with chlorine.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Pack Tactics (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Couple, Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2896 words

Summary: You are in a wonderful relationship with your sweet partner, Gray. But this far into the relationship, you’ve yet to tell him you have no intentions ever of having kids. You can’t help but wonder, how will your child-loving werewolf boyfriend will react?

Request: I live for very specific comfort! No pressure if this doesn’t inspire you or if you just don’t want to write it obvi.... but could I have a f!reader x m!werewolf where the reader is 100% sure she doesn’t want to have kids ever never ever in any capacity and is worried about how her werewolf bf is going to react, worried she’ll be dumped or something (ya know cause idk I feel like werewolves are built with a breeding kink and like into the whole having a lot of pups) there can be smut if you want!! I love me some dramatic angst comfort :)))))))

A/N: Sorry this took so long y’all, school and stuff has been kicking my ass. But writing this sweet little fic has been a nice reprieve from my work. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, I’ll get the chicken, the asparagus, and the pasta. You’ve got the wine and the dessert?”

“Sure thing.”

The two of you nod, Gray stepping away from the grocery cart before you call out to him.

“And not one of those huge tubs of ice cream.”

Gray emits a dramatic whine, pouting.

“But the big one is 25 cents cheaper than those little pints. It’s practically free!”

You furrow your brow and pat him on the shoulder.

“Not if we don’t finish them, they aren’t. Now go.” Gray rolls his eyes, clutching his heart and throwing his head back. You playfully push him, walking away with the grocery cart and towards the deli section. You can see the top of Gray’s wild brown hair as he moves into the next aisle, his 6’5” form towering over all the little old ladies who usually crowd the store.

You’re browsing the chicken, trying to decide between 2 breasts or a full rotisserie, when a familiar sound reaches you.

“Oh! If it isn’t ____.” You forcibly paint a smile, fingers automatically clenched around the stellafoam package as you turn to see your next door neighbor Mrs. Star. Her teased, bleached blonde hair teeters on top of her head, bobbing back and forth with the clack of her neon blue heels. While you can respect the 60-year old for digging her feet in and refusing to update her wardrobe from the 80’s, her pension for gossip is a little less admirable. “Shocked to see you out and about, what with that big ol boyfriend of yours.” She says, blue eyeshadow crinkling into a wink and nudging you with your elbow. You wheeze a bit, quickly covering it with a laugh. “Back in our honeymoon phase, Richard and I barely left the bedroom. And he was half-way balding back then, not the babe-a-rama you got going over there.” Mrs. Star’s laugh reaches a pitch almost too high for your human ears to pick up, maybe even giving Gray 2 aisles over a headache.

“Well, y’know, gotta keep our energy up.” You wince, immediately berating yourself for that comment. Mrs. Star throws her hand up in a “oh, you” gesture, letting out another half-whistle half-screeching chuckle.

“Oh I do, honey, I do.” She sends you another dramatic wink, which you return with a shaky smile. The corner of your cart bumps into hers as you begin walking along the meat aisle, trying to forcibly end this interaction. But Mrs. Star pulls off an impressive turn with her cart and strolls alongside you. She does little to hide her wandering eyes, trying to piece together any juicy info from your groceries. “So, are you two trying for kids yet?”

The wheels squeal to a sudden stop, forcing you to choke on your saliva as the shopping cart’s handle digs into your stomach. You keep your gaze locked on the frozen steaks  and turkeys, already way past the chicken you meant to grab.

“Uhhh, no. We’re not really in the phase of our relationship yet.”

Mrs. Star clicks her tongue, pressing her hand to her chest in a show of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, dearie. Old habits you see, whenever a new couple moves in together I assume they’re halfway to the wedding already. You young kids like to take it slow, huh?”

You nod, hastily grabbing a package of buffalo wings, hoping for an excuse to escape this conversation.

Mrs. Star continues to walk by you, her cart blocking off any convenient means to leave unless you significantly pick up her speed. Her eyes glance over the sweats sat in a display in the center of the aisle, humming a small tune.

The end of the aisle is approaching, you’re almost home free! You ready your feet to book it with an excuse, but Mrs. Star clears her throat and begins to speak.

“Now dearie, I don’t mean to pry-”

What do you call these last 3 minutes, Star?

“But I’d at least pop on a ring on that finger soon. Someday someone’s going to snatch that boy up like a piece of meat, saying all the right things. Men got all those suspicions about over-the-hill pregnancies, his eyes might start wandering. That’s how my first divorce went, so I should know.”

You pull your cart to a stop, breathe catching as you look at Mrs. Star, shocked. You can handle some inappropriate questions, but to question your boyfriend’s loyalty and insulting your relationship is crossing another line. Your brows furrow with a simmering anger, your cheeks heating up as you're ready to let loose.

“Well, Mrs. Star, if you must know I have the most wonderful boyfriend on this side of the planet, and unlike your deadbeat first husband, he’s as loyal as they can be.” Mrs. Star looks at you, eyes widened and right hand halfway to grab a pack of oreos. You huff, pushing your cart away from hers and towards the cash register. Right before you leave her sight, you turn back to her with a simpering smirk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Star!”

Your heart is heaving with anger, prepping a rant to Gray about the horrible interaction you just had. On the other side of the store, you spot Gray, his curly hair all tussled, holding a large Rosé and a package of ice cream sandwiches. Just the sight of his back calms you a bit, excited for some delicious food and late-night cuddles. You jog a little towards him, but slow down when you see him crouch down, looking at something hidden from your sight.

You turn your shopping cart slightly, trying to peer behind his massive form, and freeze.

Gray’s sticking out his tongue, pushing up his nose, and making many more silly gestures to a baby in a stroller. The baby laughs, it’s chubby cheeks bright red as Gray blows another raspberry, thrashing its arms up and down with joy. The dad is laughing at Gray’s antics, leaning down and patting his kid on the head.

Gray promptly stands up, sending another big smile to the kid, before waving goodbye. The six-month-old waves back, uncoordinated and decidedly adorable. Gray laughs, turning away and walking towards you.

Your feet feel cemented to the floor, heart down in your stomach.

He’s a natural, you think, nausea building up in your throat.

Gray was the oldest of eight, not a large number for a werewolf family. You adored them, and they you, but Gray had a way of dealing with his youngest siblings. Whether it was letting them climb all over him like a jungle gym, or attending imaginary tea parties, Gray was a pro. He was the guy to cram himself into a tiny chair at the kids table, eating tiny cookies and cracking jokes. ‘Dad’ seemed to be stamped into his very being, the cuddly werewolf with a love of children. He’s any mother-in-law’s dream.

But all those sweet things turn sour when you think about what Mrs. Star said. Gray, moving on without you.

Gray’s eyes light up when he sees your cart, jogging over and holding up the bottle of wine like a prize.

“Hey!” He says, quickly sliding an arm around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek. “I got your favorite, and those delicious mint-chocolate sandwiches.”

His happy voice and comforting touch help abate whatever it is your feeling, but the way Gray’s brow furrows tells you your  discomfort is present in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” His large hand comes up and rubs your shoulder. You give him a shaky smile, fighting away negative thoughts with a bat.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

---------

Wet fur presses up against your bare neck as you lazily stir the boiling water, Gray’s shifted muzzle now snug in the crook of your shoulder, the white flecks across his dark fur peeking into your periphery. Your free hand instinctively goes back to scratch between his ears, causing him to let out a satisfied huff, hot air blowing across your chest.

“That smells good baby.”

“It’s just salt and water Gray. The pasta’s barely al dente.”

Gray laughs, turning his head  slightly so he can press a small kiss onto your cheek.

“You could make even that taste delicious, ____”

You dramatically roll your eyes, pushing away his chin as he continues to peck and nip at your neck. After showering Gray always made sure to rub in some cherry-blossom leave-in conditioner into his fur. The artificial perfumes just lightly touch your senses, but the mental connection they have to Gray make them smell that much sweeter. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the lips, patting his shoulder once more.

“Do you mind setting the table? Maybe get started on those messy dishes?”

“No problem.” Gray mumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and tugging up the towel that hangs loose on his hips. He barely needs to reach for your fancy plates on the top shelf, his chest muscles flexing and bicep taut. Even with his thick fur, you can see the bone of his clavicle which accentuates his long neck.

God, he’s so hot.

You think, smirking a bit as you continue stirring.

And all mine.

You hum, but the cheery mood you’re in quickly sours once you remember your conversation with Mrs. Star. That small seed of doubt seems to grow and leech from your chest.

2 years into this relationship and the two of you have only danced around the conversation of the future. You of course had agreed on living together, what your career paths looked like, even the potential of getting married in a couple years, but never kids. As two 20-somethings, you felt like you had all the time in the world.

But the thing was, you didn’t really need all the time in the world.

You didn't want kids. Even with your family or your neighbors needing that your opinion “might change some day,” you were confident in that decision. Not that you hated them, you just could never picture yourself being a mom. A fun aunt, maybe, but never a mom. It wasn’t even a point of contention in your own mind; The picture of you, your partner, and maybe a couple of pets thriving into your elders was bliss enough.

You sneak a glance to Gray, now clothed and back turned to you as he sets the table. He’s diligently folding the napkins into  fun shapes, a ritual he does every date night. From the hole in his jeans you can see his tail wagging, content as he hums to the low radio playing on the window sill.

A smile crawls onto your face, a small giggle escaping you as you watch Gray’s hips bob to the beat, silently mouthing the words. You snort as he does a dramatic little shoulder shift, Gray’s head whipping back towards the kitchen as you throw your hand over your mouth.

“What, don't you like my moves?” Gray says, shimmering his shoulders again, a large grin across his face.

“They could use some work, Kevin Bacon.” Gray clutches his chest, throwing his head back in mock pain.

“You wound me. After all these years, you would cut me so deep?”

“Sure would.” You turn back towards the simmering pasta, setting the wooden spoon on the rim and brushing your hands on your jeans. “Oof!” You squeak as you yanked away, Gray wrapping his arms around your waist, twirling you in a stumbling circle.

“And how ‘bout now, m’lady?” Gray simpers, eyebrow cocked. Your hands slap his chest as you laugh. He lets your feet back down on the floor, but keeps his arms locked around your waist. The two of you slow dance to the beat, and when the chorus hits, Gray gives his worst rendition possible. You bemoan and feign plugging your ears, but find yourself singing along anyway.

Everything about Gray is warm and bright, from his goofy grin to his excitable tail to his two left feet. He adds that pep of energy to your daily routine, pulling you out of an exhausting cycle for a quick jog to the beach or an episode of your favorite drama. Gray fills out all of those little spaces, makes them a little less gray.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the fur through the fabric of his t-shirt as the two of you sway back and forth.

You want it to stay this way.

But that pestering weed squeezes your heart again, forcing images of Gray with a kid on his shoulders. Showing up to little-league football games with a big cooler and a “#1 dad” T-shirt. All those little moments, all without you.

You can’t fight the deep sigh, pressing your face even deeper into Gray.

Just let me have this. Just this moment, just for now.

-------

“Ugh, I think my stomach is going to explode from excess-pasta.”

Gray huffs, laying his head on your lap as the two of you slump onto the couch. His tail wags lazily, flickering back and forth as his legs swing over the coach's side, his long torso bunched up as he curls into you. The fur of his head is soft as you twist your fingers into it. “But I gotta say, what a way to go out.”

You giggle, losing your thoughts in his soft fur. Gray lets out another deep breath, nuzzling his face into your hand. You brush over his cheek with your  thumb, admiring the cheekbone you feel just underneath.

But that burning question refuses to leave your mind, and you ask it without even thinking.

“Do you want kids, Gray?”

Gray’s eye’s stay closes, his posture relaxed as he sinks into your massaging fingers.

“Hmmm, maybe. Never really thought too much about it. Why?”

Your throat dries up, mind reeling. It wasn’t even a definitive yes, but your heart is still reeling. Your fingers pause and Gray's eyes open. He shifts his head when he sees the look on your face, concerned. “Babe?”

You nod, eyes still wide, trying to fight off the inklings of a panic attack. Gray pushes himself up on his elbows, paw quickly coming to caress your cheek. “Baby, is everything alright?”

You find the energy to breathe, and suck in deeply. Your heart begins to slow down as you look into Gray’s yellow wolf eyes. You dig your cheek into his large palm, smelling the perfume of his conditioner.

“Yes, sorry, I just-” You pause, taking another deep breath. “I ran into Mrs. Star in the grocery store, and-I’m sorry I’m overthinking things.” You mutter, patting yourself  on the cheek as to snap yourself out of your mood. Grays other hand rubs the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Did she say something?”

“No-Well, yes. It’s silly, typical Star things. She just brought up how ‘ought to get started having kids, and it just-” You let out a shaky sigh, pulling away Gray’s hand with your own and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to have kids, ever.”

In Gray’s eyes, you expect to….something. Confusion, disappointment, maybe? But instead, all you see is relief. Gray rests his paw on your thigh, squeezing it.

“_____, is that what you’ve been worrying about?” You nod, throwing your eyes back down, but Gray tilts your chin towards him. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids. Simple as that.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your face back.

“Seriously? But-what if-”

“____, I grew up with eight siblings. I’m going to have to deal with more nieces and nephews then I can count on my fingers and my toes, I think I can handle not having kids.”

A weight lifts off of your chest and you slump forward into Gray, pressing your forehead against his clavicles as you let out a long, relieved sigh. He laughs, patting your back and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this all day, I didn’t even realize you were so upset.”

You slap his chest, letting out another frustrated sigh. With him? No, but yourself, and Mrs. Star, for stirring up nightmares for no damn good reason.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine for being so paranoid.” You press your chin up, pouty lips admiring your boyfriend's face. “I’m sorry for freaking out. She really got me into my own head.”

“No apologies needed baby.” Gray says, giving you a small peck. You send him a cheesy smile, chasing after his lips with a couple of small kisses. A low rumble growls out from his chest as you nip at his jawline. Behind him, you hear his tail begin to hump on the floor.

“Hmm, does that mean you feel better?” You nod, pressing another kiss into his pulse point.

“Yes, thank you for letting me get that out.” Another kiss, now on his Adam’s apple.

“Welp,” Gray says, quickly adjusting himself. In another second, you yelp as he picks you up by your butt, legs quickly wrapping around his waist, “Let’s give Mrs. Star something to talk about, hmm?”

You throw your head back with a laugh, clinging tight to his chest as Gray blows a raspberry into your neck. “That good with you, my lady?”

You nod, giving him another kiss on the lips as he carries you off into the bedroom.

Yeah, you have it good.

[hockeyboysiguess]

eight maids a-milking -> eight pucks a-slinging | j. debrusk

a/n: a christmas fic at 10 am? sure. there are no rules about time in 2020. rest of the series linked here. 

word count: 3,046

warnings: none. pure christmas fluff

You sighed as you slammed your car door closed with your hip, your movement jostling the box you were carrying, causing the bells inside to ring among the garland. Luckily, the contents of the slightly overfilled box stayed inside. You let out a sigh of relief and headed inside the arena, box in tow. The Bruins were doing some charity thing that involved decorating a tree and Jake forgot his box of decorations at home this morning, so he asked you to bring it by on your way home. It was just one more thing to do in your already incredibly busy day. Jake was always forgetting things, his wallet, his phone, his keys, his coat, everything, constantly. You frequently had to drive to the airport, ten minutes behind him, hot on his heels, with his passport in your passenger seat, so he could actually get into Canada for a game. Picking up Jake’s forgotten things was something you were used to now. It had become a habit, part of your daily activities.

It was something you did for him, because of the thousands of things he did for you. Jake was the one who told you when you were trying to carry too many things, when you were stretching yourself too thin, he always noticed before anyone else and shifted weight to himself to lessen your burden. He never let you push yourself too far, to the point of fully expending yourself to exhaustion, something you did far too often before him and something that was so easy to do this time of year. Work piled up, tasks upon tasks to finish before the end of December to be completed, along with pressing from yours and Jake’s family with activities and travel and gifts to buy, it was all too easy a time to forget to put some things in Jake’s lap to take care of. He might be a tad forgetful, but he never failed to step up to the plate if it made you happy. If there was nothing he could take on, no burden he could share, then he used every ounce of him to try and be a bright spot in your day. Jake was positive in the face of anything, incapable of holding a grudge or letting negativity rest on his mind for more than a fleeting second. He was a forever kid at Christmas, loving each present more than the last, no matter the cost or its contents. His love of it came from love for the person who bought it for him and in the intent of giving it, not in the material item.

That purity of the way he loved, as fresh as snow that has just fallen, was why you didn’t mind coming to the arena after a long day at work with a box of Christmas decorations. Because Jake would do the same for you, with an even bigger smile on his face than the one he gave you when he saw you coming down the hallway with that box in hand. He looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in ages, even though he’d kissed you goodbye hours ago when you left for work. He scooped the box out of your hands while placing a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Thank you, as always,” Jake told you, relief evident in his voice. 

You never felt underappreciated with Jake, even if part of the reason he appreciated you so openly is because you were always the one tying his ties and making sure the back of his dress shirt was tucked in properly. Jake didn’t have much polish about him but you had plenty to spare and didn’t mind sharing. Relationships were a series of compromises. You tucked in shirt tails and Jake made sure you took breaks, used your paid time off from work, and always threw your towels in the dryer in the last ten minutes of your shower so he could wrap you up in a warm one when you were done, even if he forgot until you shouted his name in search of your towel. You missed the warm towels and your far too warm boyfriend when he was away. 

“No problem. Happy to do it.” 

And you were. You were genuinely happy to do it for him. Anyone else, and you couldn’t stand the forgetfulness of the small things, but it was Jake’s biggest fault. If your partner’s biggest fault was forgetting their wallet, you were pretty sure you’d won the lottery. 

“So,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you did, “where is this tree we’re decorating?” 

“We?”

He raised his eyebrows at you in a challenge, but Jake could only hold an expression that wasn’t a smile for so long. It fell apart and gave way to that smile you saw across the table during your first date and realized you wanted to see it for the rest of your life if you could, if he allowed you to. 

You rolled your eyes, which only spurred a small laugh from him, “Yes, DeBrusk. We. I didn’t come this far out of my way during rush hour to not decorate a Christmas tree.” 

Jake smiled at you broadly, then nodded softly, “Okay, okay. We’ll do the tree then. Come on.” He turned away from you, sticking his hand out behind him for you to take, “Follow me to your Christmas tree.” 

You followed Jake through the arena, hand in his leading the way. You waved to a few familiar faces as you passed, who waved back more excitedly than usual. You attributed to a large majority of people’s favorite holiday being right around the corner, and the annual Christmas party tomorrow where the champagne would be flowing tomorrow night. Jake gave your hand a tug when you fell behind trying to wave to one of his teammates and you took a few long steps to catch up to him. 

“You’re eager,” you pointed out as you had to practically jog every few steps to keep up with his ungodly pace. 

“Always eager to do things with you,” Jake replied smoothly, but he ruined any ounce of smooth he might have had with a giggle after. 

You loved that he couldn’t keep up a straight face, or really any sort of false face. What he felt and his intentions were drawn perfectly on his face every single moment of every single day. You never had to question what he was feeling. It was another reason among the many as to why you loved him. 

He pushed open a door with the box on his hip and guided you in, dropping your hand to put his entire self into his best impression of a doorman. You thanked him with a tip of an imaginary hat and that smile you loved more than Christmas morning spread across his face. Jake dropped the box onto a nearby table next to a lit, but undecorated Christmas tree you assumed would be your joint task together. The room was set up for the annual Christmas charity event they did with local kids. There were different game stations set up around the large foyer of the arena, some you recognized from last year and others that were new. The largest addition was on a wall covered in netting and trimmed with red piping designed to look like a hockey net with balloons taped to it in a grid, each balloon red or green or white with a different letter printed on the latex. 

“That one’s new from last year,” you noticed. 

Jake smiled one of the widest you’d seen from him in a while, a smile that seemed to tell you something had just fallen perfectly into place for him. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how Jake’s mind worked, so you let what you thought his smile might have meant pass without comment. You could spend your time and energy trying to figure Jake out, or you could spend your time and energy being with him and enjoying him and the results of his less than linear thoughts. You chose the latter as Jake dumped a crate of pucks out onto the ground. 

“It’s for the kids,” Jake told you as he grabbed a stick leaning against a nearby wall, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if I show you, as long as we fix it after.” 

He separated one puck from the rest, handling it back and forth across the floor effortlessly. He jerked his head, motioning for you to come over and join him. A bright smile came across his face when you moved to comply with his silent request. 

“So the whole point for them,” his hands continued to mindlessly shift the puck back and forth across the floor as he talked, “is to spell words by popping the balloons. There’s glitter and candy and stuff instead for them if they can do it.”

“Ah yes, the herpes of crafts,” you noted in response to the word glitter. 

Jake’s ever familiar laughter rang out through the lobby in response to your statement, bringing you right along with him. No one made you feel brighter and lighter than he did, even on your heaviest, darkest days. 

“God, I love you,” he breathed out as his laughter slowly came to a close. “Anyway, so it’s just like this.”

Effortless, Jake pulled a puck back with his stick on the floor, then sent it sailing forward effortlessly. The puck collided and popped a red balloon with the letter “B” printed on it, causing glitter and candy to rain down onto the previously spotless floor below. Jake didn’t hesitate before repeating his actions, targeting and successfully popping a green balloon with the letter “E” emblazoned on it. Jake paused, leaning onto the stick and gesturing for you to go retrieve your candy. He’d seen the look on your face when one of your holiday favorites had dropped to the floor with the second balloon he popped. You pressed a quick, grazing kiss to his lips before shuffling to retrieve the candy he’d freed for you, happily opening your favorite immediately and sighing with relief when the taste hit your tongue. 

“Hey, get out of the way!” Jake teased you when you didn’t return to him, too focused on your candy to realize you were in his way. 

“Oh, you’re still going?” you asked him as you headed back over to join him, candy in your mouth muffling your words a little. 

He nodded to you as you returned to your place beside him, “And you better be paying attention to what I’m spelling. There’s a quiz at the end.” 

“A quiz? After my long day of work? With your spelling skills?” You were smiling as you teased him, and he was smiling back. You were allowed to tease him whenever you wanted because he knew it came from a place of absolute and complete love. “Seems like cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“It’s not too long, promise,” he informed you. “Also, it’s three words, just to help with your spelling a little bit.” 

“Three whole words?” you gasped, words heavily coated in sarcasm. “However will I manage to keep track?” 

Jake didn’t answer. He just laughed lightly before, just as easily as the first two, slinging a third puck against the wall, popping a balloon with the letter “M” on its surface, showering the floor below it with glitter and candy. He followed it up quickly by popping his first white balloon with a “Y” on it, more candy and glitter joining the rest on the floor. You mentally tallied up the letters so far. B, E, M, and Y. You decided it was most likely as simple as it looked, just “be my.” Jake’s hands slipped on the fifth puck, sending it wide of whatever balloon was his target, leaving a black mark on the wall instead. 

“Whoopsie,” he giggled a little. “Nerves are getting to me I guess.” 

“What are you even nervous about?” You laughed a little as you talked, hands fussing with your second candy wrapper that was putting up a hell of a blockade between you and Jake’s favorite Christmas candy, which had become your second favorite after all this time with him. “It’s just me.” 

“Have you ever seen you?” he joked, glancing back at you so you could see his eyebrows raise. “You’re always going to make me just a little nervous, baby.”

You rolled your eyes at him as your cheeks heated up a little in response to his words. With a wave of your hand, encouraged him to get back to spelling whatever he was so insistent on spelling for you. You figured it was probably, knowing Jake as well as you did, something incredibly cheesy and Christmasy, so sickeningly sweet you’d definitely roll your eyes again when he finally got to the end. You knew his intentions were nothing but pure, just him trying to bring a smile to your face. He didn’t need to go to all this trouble to do it though. His smile did the trick itself. 

Jake separated another few pucks from the pile, setting himself up for his remaining word. He took a deep breath and bounced on his heels, spinning the stick in his hands as he did. He settled down and set himself up for the next shot in one motion, letting the puck fly forward. Another balloon, this time with a “W” detailed on it, burst on the impact from the puck. You suspected it had something to do with winter, a suspicion further upheld with the next green balloon to fall victim to one of his pucks with a spray of its contents to the floor had the letter “I” drawn on it. He took a pause with the next puck, spending a little extra time lining himself up, stick swinging back and forth for a moment in the motion of his shot, but not actually letting it content with the puck. Jake took a deep breath before letting it go. You were expecting an “N” to continue with your winter theory, but the puck made contact with and bursted a red balloon with an “F” on its surface, the now familiar sound of candy hitting the floor rang through the foyer after. Now, all of your theories were thrown out the window. Whatever he was spelling, you were done guessing because you weren’t going to be able to align your thoughts with his. 

Jake hesitated another moment, as if waiting for you to have put the pieces together already, but when you didn’t respond, he lined up another puck. His hands shifted on the stick for a moment, finding the perfect positioning again before pulling his stick back, then letting it snap forward to send the puck toward the wall. You watched as another balloon burst, no candy or glitter raining down this time, no newly familiar pings of candy hitting the floor following it. Instead, all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears and your body forcibly pulling air in and pushing it back out of your lungs. It was an “E”, the final balloon. B, E, M, Y, W, I, F, and E. Be my wife. 

“Jake…” 

He set the stick down before turning to you, dropping to one knee as he did. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth as he opened the box in his hands. He was breathing as hard as you as he watched you take in the ring he had been agonizing over, designing and redesigning, for months. Jake’s hands were shaking, the box shaking a little along with it, and he didn’t even notice because it felt like his entire body was shaking as nerves ravaged him. All you had said was his name.

“It was, um-” He paused to clear his throat because the first two words had come out choked. Jake took a deep, centering breath before trying again, “It was, ‘be my wife,’ in case you missed a letter or something. I don’t know. I didn’t actually get to do a practice run of this or anything. But, baby, I love you. You’re the most patient and incredible person I’ve ever met. I- I feel like sometimes I annoy everyone else on the planet, but I’ve never felt like that with you. You make me feel so loved and appreciated for being me, exactly how I am, and I can only hope I make you feel the same way because how you make me feel is something I wish everyone could feel at some point in their lives because it’s the single most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. I want to spend my life trying to make you feel like you make me feel and you make me feel like I’m your favorite person and I feel like, maybe just me here, but you should probably try and marry your favorite person. You’re mine and I’d really love it if I got to remember Christmas for the rest of my life as the time when my favorite person said she’d be my wife. So, what do you say? Will you marry me?”  

You couldn’t speak with every possible emotion built up in your throat. You had to nod as your answer, and shakily extend your left hand to him. The smile that came across his face was the broadest and best you’d ever seen from him, and it warmed you from the inside out. The cool metal of the ring sliding onto your finger contrasted the warmth you felt inside and the warmth of his hands. It was yours now, the ring Jake agonized over for months, and he was yours now, soon-to-be forever yours. He stood on shaking legs to press a soft kiss to your lips. Forever was an odd concept at a time of year that was inherently limited, but the warmth of Christmas would hang in your heart forever, and on your left hand forever, and in the bed you shared with him forever. Christmas lasting forever, like Jake DeBrusk, was a dream come true.

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Fathers and Sons Part 1: A ROTTMNT Fantasy Fanfiction

Summary: When a old friend shows up, Leonard is forced to face a difficult past all while keeping Donnie safe. But will it be enough to escape unharmed?

Takes Place a bit after “The Thief and the Orphan”

Word Count:2478

Pairing: Ok if you ship ANYTHING in this I’m going to seriously have to reccomend you seek therapy. Or do a soul searching montage. Which ever your insurance will cover

Rating: PG for Mild Violence

“Ok hear me out-“

Len ,without looking away from the cabbage he was inspecting, says, “Danny I swear if I turn around and your’e holding a bag of onions bigger then Donnie I’m going to use your suits for my new quilt.”

Danny let out a small scoff (followed by the undeniable sound of someone setting down a giant bag of surplus). A small shoulder bumped his hip, drawing his attention down to the twelve year old soft shell at his side, giving him a sour look with puffed up cheeks, “Uh oh, I know that look. What did I do?” Len asks

“I am not a official unit of measurement Dad.”Donnie says in a way that supposed to indicate he was offended. But judging by the way he was pressing his mouth into a fine line he was trying hard not to smile. Len doesn’t share his attempt to hide a smile as he rubs Donnie’s scalp as though to ruffle his imaginary hair, “He tries to catch any sign that Donnie was upset ,he had a bad habit fo not always sharing his feelings, but the child seemed alright. Len, picks up a frost apple and turns it over to check for rotten spots. Danny snatches the apple out of his hand, Len looks to him and sees Danny giving him a questioning look before glancing at the child holding his fathers hand, leaning against him with a half bored expression on his face but also probably to give his braced leg a break, “Think we can afford a quick lesson?” Danny asks

A wave of uneasiness came over Len as he quickly glanced around the market. Thankfully the guards were too busy off getting bribes or drunk and the vendor is too busy having a staring contest with a spider on their stand. After a moment to think it over he nods to Danny though he unconsciously grips Don’s hand tighter in his. Danny’s crouches down to Don’s level, “What do you think kid? Ready for a lightning round?”

Don’s eyes widen for a moment before looking to Len. Despite the overprotective knot in his stomach he gives a nod. Don looks back to Danny with a look of determination. Danny gives a grin, pulling out the apple out from behind him and tosses it up into the air before snatching it and hiding it behind his back, barely keeping it in sight for more then a few seconds. “Alright, notice anything wrong with the apple?”

Don’s brow furrows in a way Len knew he was thinking about the brief time he had been allowed to see the apple. To a passerby it may have looked like a simply game a uncle was playing with his nephew but it was a good observation test to see how many defections Donnie could notice with as brief as window as possible. Which would prove useful if Donnie was ever staking out a score in the future. “It wasn’t fully blue yet, “ he says after a moment, “Which means it has plenty of time to ripe. And it didn’t have any bruising.”

“Almost right.” Danny drew the apple out again, angling the fruit so Donnie could see the top of it “The stem is twisted and withered a little which means the farmer who grew it took care to make sure it was stored properly.”

Don immediately frowns, “shoot.” He says tapping his foot against the ground angrily. Physically reprimanding himself for his mistake

“Hey now,” Danny rubs his scalp “you’re getting better. you’re catching on a lot faster then you Dad did.” Len made sure to cast the rat a sour look (mostly for the added insult in his direction)

Len can still feel Don’s disappointment as he leans against his Dad’s leg. Len didn’t always approve of doing tests like these in public. But he didn’t want Donnie to feel dishearten. HE hands the bag of groceries to Danny (who takes it with a soft grumble) and kneels down, a arm wrapped Dons shoulders, “Alright kiddo.” He says drawing Dons sad gaze to him, “Let’s say you wanted to ‘befriend someone here. Do you see someone who ‘d make a good ‘friend?’”

Eager at a chance to redeem himself, Donnie’s eyes dart around at a speed that Len knows means he’s focusing too hard, “Take a deep breath,”he reminds squeezing his shoulders gently, “there’s no time limit. ‘Friends’ will come around again.” Without looking at him, Don nods before closing his eyes and doing as he was told. This time when he looks around its at a slower more manageable pace, ‘I’d befriend the man in a brown cloak.”

Len looks at where Don’s looking at sees who he’s talking about, whose standing net in the shadow of another giant bull yokai, “Are you sure?” he asks, “Why not the two over there?” he says nodding towards the two squirrel yokai in bright clothes, “They look like they’d be good friends too.”

Donnie nods, “He’s a merchant pretending to be poorer then he is ,you can tell by his dragon scale gloves and glasses. And the guy with him is a body guard but the body guard looks tired like the merchant has been harassing him all night so even if I did.” Don pauses, “‘befriend him, the body guard probably wouldn’t try as hard to befriend me back.” Don’s eyes look to him for a moment as though to check his work, but Len just nods towards the squirrels, telling him to continue ,”They’re not actually rich, they look lost. The clothes are probably family heirlooms that they couldn’t bring themselves to sell, but they’re hands are really dirty which means they’re probably laborers. What ever they do have on them is probably a prized family possession. But it wouldn’t be right to befriend from them.” This time when Donnie looks at him Len gives him a smile and a nod, “good job baby boy, you got everything right.” He says gently pressing the corner of his mouth to Don’s forehead as he hugged him tightly around the shoulders. Even though Lens’ never been too sure about conducting these sort of tests in public, it’s worth it to see Don’s face blossom into a smile. Len rises back to a standing position. Mickey is already giving him a smile of approval as his flippers flutter happily, “Great job cookie!” he tells Donnie, squishing his cheek on Donnie’s scalp. Len takes the back of produce from Danny and returns to looking at the produce.

He had thought it was too soon to try and teach Don the skills he would need as a thief, and far too risky to do out in public, but luckily Danny always knew how to code the self titled “Thief Games” to make a observer think that , rather then teaching a child who to pick pocket and how to deduce a item worth stealing at a moments notice, that they were just teaching him how to make friends and playing games.

IT was inevitable, but that didn’t’ mean it didn’t make him anxious.

He was inspecting a group of half grown carrots when Donnie pulls on his arm to get his attention and immediately saw what had gotten Don so excited, a used book stand that had Don beaming up at him, “can I?” He asked , “Please? I have money.”

Uh oh. Len could feel his ‘overprotective dad’ instincts overwhelm his ‘dear moon Len the booth is literally a few feet away’ reasoning. He took a breath before he smiles, rubbing Dons’ scalp,” Ok take Mickey with you and do as he says. And here,” he reaches into his coin bag (thank the Mystic Moon for that extra good score they had hit before the snow had set in), he mentally counts up how much he’ll need for groceries before pulling out a few spare coins, “consider it a reward for doing so well,” Normally he didn’t like Donnie leaving his side in public, but it was worth it to see Don smile at him and take the coins, “Thanks Dad!” He says before hurrying over to the book vendor with Mickey trailing after him.

“Looks like you two are getting along again.” Danny says stepping by him. Picking through the produce,“I know things were hard there for a moment.”

“Yeah, we were training yesterday and he said,” Len pauses trying not to think about how the conversation had went, “some things that I know he felt bad about saying.” Len turns his attention to a giant bag of potato’s, when was the last time he had made fries? “Hes a great kid he just gets frustrated.”

“Hes at that age” Danny turns and leans at the stall, Len can tell he’s watching Donnie at the book stand. For someone who always claimed Len too overprotective, Danny was certainly a contender, “I can’t believe it was seven years ago you said you were going out to buy hair gel and you came back with a freaking kid.”

Len laughed, “Yeah,” it was weird how seven years could both feel like a lifetime and a blink of a eye. He could still remember when Donnie was too scared to leave his little corner of the house. He was so entrapped in those early memories that he almost jumped when Danny suddenly dumped his groceries into his arms causing Len to stumble for a moment, trying to keep from falling over, “Danny-“

“Mickeys started to look bored, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t start licking books-Mickey no! They’re covered in germs!” Danny said already hurrying over to where Donnie was desperately trying to pull a book away from Mickeys open mouth . It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t only left alone, but with bags of produce that even he was having a hard time balancing. He had thought is as overkill to bring the entire family along to of grocery shopping but the winter had been especially long. He didn’t blame any of them for running after him when he had went to get his cloak. He had actually been relieved to have help carrying the supplies back home but he should of known that was too good think their attention spans would hold out. With half humored grumbling he turns to the vendor,” Hey, can I leave this stuff behind with you until we leave?” Grateful when he nodded (before returning to his staring contest with the spider), Len somehow managed to shuffle behind the stand and drop off the bags food and the payment. He counted out his change again, they had ended up under budget (for once). Maybe he could go visit the sacred east booth, if they had rice flour he could make-“

“Hey babe”

Len drops the apple he had been looking at and grabbed at his knife when a another hand caught his and a arm wrapped around his chest, pinning his back against a chest. He wastes no time twisting to free himself before he feels the hand gripping his redirecting his knife holding hand so the sharp point was digging through the back of his shirt and over his kidneys under his coat so no one could see it. From a outside perspective someone might of thought that someone had jumped over to surprise a old friend. The person rests their cheek on his shoulder looking to him with a smirk “I can’t believe you actually let me do that Babe, how many times did you lecture Lief and Mickey for letting their guard down? oh how the mighty have fallen.”

Len grinds his teeth together, berating himself for a a few moments before forcing himself to calm down. The vendor hadn’t noticed what had happened, “What do you want Vito? I told you if i ever saw you again i’d skin you alive-“

“Ah you did didn’t you?” the silver yokai with a white mohawk and green markings around his eyes said as though just realizing he forgot his watch, or something trivial, “ But i just missed you so much i had to visit, babe. I must say, i’m digging the ponytail look you have going.” Vito used his hand to twirl his hair around for a moment ,”it really suits you.”

He’s too busy thinking of all the ways he wants to break Vitos army that he has to remind himself to stay calm. Despite how “attached” he claimed to be to Len, the Thief knew he had no problem shoving that knife between his ribs and leaving g him to bleed out “ I told you i hate it when you call me that Toe-“

“Ah but i think it’s cute, doesn’t it make you feel it make you feel special?” Vito presses his forehead uncomfortably close to Lens temple. Even after all the time Vito still smells like expensive cologne and candy, a sickly combination that makes his stomach twist,”How’s your boy doing? It’s been so long since i saw him-“

Len jerks around again “if you touch him-“

“I won’t i won’t. I happen to know he’s over book shopping with Danny and Mickey,” Vito let’s out a sigh “as much as i’d love to catch up with the boys, there’s someone who’s been dying to see you,” The hand on Lens chest rises up and plays with Lens bangs that slowly grow claws” and if you come quietly, you might live long enough to see your baby boy again,”

Len imagines catching his ankle around the back of Vitos ankle and getting them upper hand. But he looks to where the Mud Dogs are looking at books across the market. He watches Donnie look in his direction and his smile fade to terror. Of course he would understand what was going on, and in a way it makes Len hate Vito even more to make Donnie look so concerned for him. Donnie has already grabbed Danny’s hand but Danny is already looking like he’s about to charge across the market and kill Vito where he stands while Mickey grabs Donnies shoulders to keep him from running to him. But Len shakes his head at them as settle as he can. The pain swelling when Don’s eyes fill with tears. His natural instinct wants nothing more then to go to his child and comfort him. But HE knows he can’t do that if he makes the wrong move and ends up with a knife in his kidneys.

“Let’s just get this over with.” he growls at Vito as quietly as he can

“Aw that’s why i love you babe. You’re just so smart,” Vito twists the arm he has a grip on like someone would direct a horse and forces Len to walk ahead of them. The two of them disappearing into the crowd

Len didn’t care what happened to him

he just needs his son to be safe

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.7 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch knows he can't really depend on the kindness of strangers, but oh, sometimes he wishes he could.

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Read ‘The Kindness of Strangers’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was with a heavy, weird-ass book in hand that Stretch returned to the heat of the afternoon. This time he made haste getting back to the store while his knees were cooperating, almost jogging on the sidewalk and waving to any regular customers as he passed. The sun was on its downward path by now and the strollers were out in full force, the Human moms and pops pushing them hardly paying him any mind past a ‘good afternoon’ as he went by.

His knees were back to the wibble-wobbles when he slipped through the door, the bell announcing him with a muted clank. The first thing he noticed was that Red wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing at the back of the store, leaning on his cane and blocking off the hallway that led to both their living quarters. Yeah, that looked like insurance that Stretch couldn’t hurry on past him upstairs; Red wasn’t quick, but he also wasn’t stupid, and Stretch could feel his hard gaze scrutinizing him from across the store.

Wonderbar.

Stretch pasted on a grin and tried to act like someone who hadn’t been recently felt up by Red’s little brother in the public library. Not that Red said that he couldn’t, but some things, (for example, random groping) could probably be inferred.

“hey, what’s up?” Stretch said brightly.

“my bro called,” Red said bluntly, and Stretch’s feeble hopes deflated like yesterday’s party balloon. So much for discretion.

“i can explain,” Stretch blurted, “it wasn’t my idea, seriously, i was only—"

Red interrupted him with an amused snort. “easy, kid, don’t haul out your guilty conscience on my account. all he did was give me the gist of things, said you had yourself an unexpected adventure.” Red jerked his head towards the hallway. “g’wan, string bean, you can use my bathroom. take a shower and cool off.”

A cool shower pouring down on his dirty, sweaty bones sounded like Eden itself right about now, apple not included.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully. He skirted around Red, who didn’t move, only squatted there like a grouchy stump in the middle of the doorway while Stretch squeezed around him. Must be tempering his kindness with a little extra asshole to keep things even.

On his way to showerland, Stretch took a quick detour to leave the book on the coffee table amidst the clutter. Maybe he could ask Red about it, get the cliff notes version.

The shower in the downstairs bathroom was stuck with the same crappy water heater as upstairs, not that it mattered since Stretch was about ready to cuddle with an iceberg to cool off. Added bonus, the showerhead was a lot better and it managed to crank the feeble water pressure up to its max. There was a cheap plastic stool sitting in the tub, way too short for Stretch. He sat on it anyway, knees almost up to his chin as the cool water poured down on him and washed away the sweat and filth.

He was shivering a little by the time he was done, dragging a ratty towel over his dripping bones. The pile of his clothes was missing and there a new folded bundle sitting on the closed toilet lid. He must’ve been out of it more than he thought, he’d never even heard Red coming in. Unless laundry fairies were a thing and wasn’t that idea a lot more pertinent than it was yesterday.

Stretch picked up the bundle and part of it fell on the floor. Pajama pants, luckily not a pair of Red’s although it might’ve been hilarious to see Stretch wandering around like a scrawny hulk who sprouted upward out of his clothes instead of sideways. They were red plaid flannel and worn to the stage of being shiny at the knees and elbows. Probably an old pair of Edge’s, the fit was pretty close and not too many Humans wore their waistband quite as skinny as a guy without a waist.

(he was not getting a cheap thrill out of wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, no matter what his libido was trying to tell him)

He wandered out into Red’s living room, still squeegeeing his skull dry with the damp towel, and saw the sofa was made up with some blankets and a pillow, the television remote set helpfully in reach.

“you done?” Red’s voice echoed up from the store and his peculiar gait made its way down the hallway until he appeared again in the doorway. “then lay down and turn on the boob tube, zone out awhile. you’ll feel better.”

“what did your brother tell you?” Stretch asked. Not that he wasn’t willing to do what he was told. The couch was saggy in the middle, but the blankets were clean and smelling of laundry detergent. They felt blissfully cozy after the cold shower.

“said you met edgar allen,” Red said. “under less than stellar circumstances, i’m guessin’, since i don’t think ya got an invite for a meet and greet with the local scarecrow.”

This time his shiver had nothing to do with the temperature. Edgar Allen was an okay guy, (guy?) but Stretch was still on the fence about the corn’s attitude problems. “not exactly, no. thanks for the heads up, by the way.”

Red tilted his skull to one side, baffled, “heads up about what?”

“i dunno,” Stretch leaned up on an elbow to see him better and hopefully increase the effect of his dirty look, “maybe when you’re warning me off from the local landmarks, you could’ve touch on that fact that a stroll through the fields might involve the corn trying to hold me as a captive audience?”

“naaah,” Red scoffed. Stretch didn’t miss the way he absently started picking at his gold tooth; that was a nervous tell right there and maybe all this wasn’t just concern but dealing with a little guilt that Stretch’s latest town bonding experience was less than top notch. “that's why the damn scarecrow is there t'begin with. ‘sides, even without him you’d have gotten out before dark. anyway, never expected you to go tromping off into the corn in search of a maze, sorry i misgauged the direction of your dumbass.”

“no, i’m sorry, not your fault.” Stretch couldn’t hold back a yawn so wide it nearly split his skull, yeesh, it wasn’t even dinner time and he was ready to sleep for a week. The imaginary hamster running on the wheel in his head wasn’t quite as ready and it decided to race back to thoughts of Edge sitting in the library, alone. Researching he’d said, so intent on his books from the so-called restricted section, like a bargain basement Hogwarts. “hey, what does your brother do?”

“mostly he’s a pain in my ass.”

It was said with great feeling and Stretch snerked out a laugh. Yeah, kinda a universal trait with little brothers. “no, seriously, i mean, for a living, what does he do?”

Red shifted his feet, his cane scraping the floor. “why are ya askin’?”

“curious. bored,” Stretch shrugged, “take your pick.” He didn’t really want to explain to Red that his brother wasn’t just a sexy pair of legs in boots anymore, (but those hips would never be forgotten). He was interesting, no, fascinating. This whole town was turning out to be some kind of puzzle and it seemed to him that Edge might be a big piece. He’d said that figuring out Backwater was a fool’s errand, but he’d never met Stretch’s kind of fool before.

“kid—” Red sighed and that resigned tone snapped Stretch out of his whimsies. He cringed internally. What was he even trying to do here, he owed Red so much and not just for the job, and here he was digging for information about his bro after Red already warned him off, not once, but twice, so maybe what he was really digging was his own grave, if he didn’t knock it off.

“nevermind,” Stretch said hurriedly. “i shouldn’t’ve asked, none of my business, i get it.”

Red shook his head. “that ain’t it.”

Stretch tried on a little laugh, ha ha, see, it wasn’t that big a deal, right? “look, the state of your brother’s ass aside, i get it. that’s your little brother, and i didn’t forget what you said. we only bumped into each other at the library, i’m really not trying to get into his pants.”

He left off on making it a promise; he was telling the truth, but why take the chance on not keeping it.

He didn’t expected the hand that suddenly scruffed over his skull, like the noogies he used to give to Blue when he was little…well, okay, Blue was still little but noogieing was off the table since he’d started his guard training.

This wasn’t like that childish roughhousing, Red’s knuckles only scraped softly along his coronal sutures. “no, kid, you don’t get it. my bro can handle himself, it ain’t him i’m worried about. but you? don’t ya got the feeling you ain’t up to any new affairs of the soul right now? might want to take it easy awhile.”

That unexpectedly gruff kindness made tears sting in his sockets. Stretch guiltily leaned into that touch to absorb every drop, and how was it he could accept it from Red when he couldn’t take it from his own brother? “i don’t get you. you barely even know me. why are you so nice to me?”

Red huffed out a laugh. “you want i should be an asshole? okay, but i gotta warn ya, i’m a contender when it comes to dick moves.”

“thanks, but you can keep your dick in your pants.”

“your loss.”

“seriously, though, what i mean is. i just don’t get it. this place is so weird, but everyone is nice.” It didn’t exactly line up with Stretch’s view of the world. His brother was always nice sure and Snowdin hadn’t been too bad, if you didn’t count the fact that all his friends were from drinking his nights away at Muffet’s. The surface world ran about fifty-fifty with Monsters being on the kinder side of the scale…until he got dumped and found out he lost all his friends in the divorce, how was that for loyalty.

Red only chuckled. “now you’ve gone and cursed yourself. can’t say everyone is nice, you ain’t met everyone yet.”

That was true, fuck, he hoped the universe wasn’t listening and if it was, that it didn’t decide to drum up a little drama. “red?”

“yeah, kid?”

Stretch craned his head back on the pillow and met Red’s crimson gaze upside-down. “thank you for being nice.”

“don’t tell anyone. i’ll lose my resident asshole status.

“secret is safe with me, promise.” Stretch yawned again and the cow bell suddenly jangled loudly out front, startling them both.

Red shouted. “yeah, i’m coming!” He tossed over his shoulder back at Stretch, “take tomorrow off, sleep in, you ain’t had a day off since ya got here.”

“thanks, boss.”

Stretch started to settle in, nap ahoy, captain, hard to starboard and all that, and his eye lights snagged on the book. Shit, he forgot to ask Red about it. Probably didn’t matter, Red’s ingredient label kinda went equal parts of cryptic and cryptid, so he probably wasn’t gonna give the right answers even if Stretch figured out what to ask.

Wait.

If Red and Edge want to share the part of the local Obi-Wan with their mysterious ways, that was fine. He already had the perfect person lined up to ask about the town’s history. Well, part of a person, anyway, the most important part.

Plan formed, Stretch turned on the television and snuggled into the blankets, letting the dulcet tones of Pat Sajak lull him to sleep.

He didn’t dream.

~~*~~

The next day, Stretch headed over to the theater bright and early, still munching on the muffin Red handed off to him as he settled on the stool for the day with his latest book, this one with a bare-chested pirate embracing a busty Human woman as the ocean sprayed up over the hull over them. Seemed to Stretch that would be less smokin’ sexytimes and more cold and wet, but what did he know, his closest encounter with the ocean was extra salt on his Applebee’s margarita.

“thanks, mom,” Stretch said as he took the little paper lunch bag Red held out to him. Red only grunted and didn’t look up from his book. In the midst of rummaging for his tasty free breakfast, Stretch hesitated at the front door.

He felt a little guilty even though Red was the one who told him to take the day. Before he started working at the store, was Red really sitting there all day long, twelve hours of a cash register and customers while he drank beer and soaked up a little romance language in the form of a cheap paperback?

Not that Stretch was judging, hell, if that made Red happy, more power to him. Still, there had to be more to his life than that, didn’t there? Maybe he’d see if Mitch sold sudoku pads at the gas station, pick him up one along with a six-pack. Hard to guess if they carried that kind of entertainment; Mitch was either some kind of crossword grand champion or the kind of guy who ate ketchup on his cheerios and Stretch still wasn’t sure which.

The first movie showing wasn’t for another hour, but Igor didn’t make a fuss when Stretch asked him if he could go sit down early. (and holy shit, the proprietor’s name was actually Igor? He wasn’t sure if the guy’s parents hated him or if the universe sense of irony rolled a natural D20 when it hit this town.)

Igor only grunted and handed over two cups of popcorn without being asked, handing back a crumpled dollar in change. Aww, Stretch had a usual, see, he was settling into town just fine, suck it, Edge.

(don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…)

Stretch made his way to the theater to his regular seat, propping his sneakers up on the chair in front of him. The popcorn he set aside for now, it wasn’t exactly his idea of a breakfast treat and that muffin Red gave him was still settling into his magic. To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if Doris could show up very long before the movie. He was no expert, but he did know that ghosts could have some peculiar rules about manifesting. Hopefully this wouldn’t mess with her morning routine, whatever it was.

He didn’t have to wait long. Maybe Doris could sense him or maybe she could just feel it when a living person came into the theater. She slowly came into focus next to him, pale ectoplasm coalescing, and the already cool air chilled even further.

Doris happily sniffed at her popcorn as she said, whispery soft, “Good morning, Stretch, you’re here very early.”

“yeah, took the day off work,” Stretch said. His voice sounded too loud in the empty theater, not even the elevator music was playing yet. “i need your help with something.”

He might as well have flipped Doris’s switch to ‘on’. She lit up, a smile curving her pretty mouth and seeming more solid than ever. The seat behind her was barely visible through her pale pink dress as she said eagerly, “Of course, anything that I can do.”

So that was how Stretch came to tell her the story about Edgar Allen. He didn’t leave out any details, including the bit about the kids shouting at him not to go in the field, the corn closing in around him in a dizzying maze of green, Edgar Allen’s assistance, and Edge’s cryptic warning that the scarecrow would disappear with the harvest.

Doris listened to it all raptly, her eyes wide and startlingly blue, and she never flickered once the entire time. The only unsettling sight was a single trickle of blood running down the side of her face, gathering in a heavy droplet on her chin.

“My, that sounds terrifying,” Doris breathed, unaware of the irony of her saying that while a slender thread of ghostly blood ran down her cheek. The droplet swelled fatly, growing until it finally fell with a plip onto her dress, leaving behind a perfectly round spot that would slowly vanish, only to be replaced by the next drop.

It didn’t really bother Stretch much anymore; he was getting used to it and an old memory of blood was nothing compared to his recent woes. “yeah, it was spooky all right.”

“But I’m not sure I can help you,” Doris continued sadly, “There wasn’t a scarecrow in my day, not that I remember. But the corn. Yes. That I recall.” She shivered delicately and her chair let out a strange groan of springs. “A person could get lost for days in the corn. I remember…” Her already faint voice went softer and Stretch strained to hear her, her gaze distant. “I remember one year at harvest time, they found a skeleton in the field, it was awful. Oh!” She gasped and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, it was a dead person, not a skeleton like you!”

“no offense taken,” Stretch assured her. He slouched down in his seat even more and waggled his feet, his untied shoelaces laces bobbing against the seatback “huh. so at least one person died out in the corn.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about it,” Doris admitted. “whoever it was, they weren’t local.”

“uh huh.” An outsider, then, like him, getting munched up by the corn triffids. “who owns the corn fields, anyway?”

“I…” she hesitated, then apologetically. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’ve forgotten or if I never knew.”

Another mystery. If he was gonna play at Sherlock Holmes, he really needed to start taking notes. Maybe get a pipe.

“welp, either way, edgar allen bro out there saved my ass,” Stretch told her. He picked up a piece of popcorn and didn’t eat it, only crumpled it between his fingers and let the mangled bits fall to the floor, “and he’s gonna die come harvest time. i feel like i owe it to him to at least hear his story, you know? edge wouldn’t tell me much, just gave me that book and a scavenger hunt.”

“This Edge person doesn’t sound very nice,” Doris said disapprovingly. Her mouth pulled down into a frown that flashed briefly to a bloody smear. “Is he local?”

“kinda? he’s a monster like me, so he could only have been in town for a coupla years. since we came to the surface, anyway.”

Sudden relief washed over Doris’s pretty face. “He’s not a human, then.”

“nope, he’s another skeleton monster.” That seemed to satisfy her. Note to self, Doris wasn’t real keen on Humans, in a way that didn’t seem like it was only about the way they ran away when they got a good look at her. That mystery wasn’t all too mysterious, not with a big, bloody clue flickering in and out of view like a gory version of a kid’s flipbook. If that was a going away present from another Human, he didn’t blame her for being wary. He wondered if she’d met Edge before but Stretch hesitated to bring up that idea, or to mention Red; he didn’t want her to feel bad if she didn’t remember. “yep, another skeleton monster in town. he’s kinda rough around the edges, but he’s okay.”

“Okay, is that all?” Doris said with unexpected mischievousness, “he didn’t sound simply ‘okay’ when you were describing him.”

A blush flared hotly in his cheekbones and Stretch hunched down in his seat, weirdly embarrassed in a way he hadn’t been with Red. At least Red could see what he was staring at, Doris only had him waxing poetically about Edge’s hips to go by, and Shakespeare he wasn’t.

“yeah, yeah,” Stretch grumbled, and damn, he should’ve brought along his hoodie, at least he could’ve hidden from the laughter shining in her translucent eyes. She had a dimple in the cheek on her good side and it deepened as Stretch admitted, “could be that i enjoy the view. but that’s it, okay? just a little sightseeing, i don’t need any souvenirs.”

“Uh huh,” Doris clicked her tongue thoughtfully, “Stretch, my mama always told me you can’t hurry up a good time by waiting for it.”

Other people were starting to come into the theater now. One of them gave him a curious look, but they didn’t stop, only followed the others down to the front row.

“the only time i’m looking for is in the nick of,” Stretch sighed. “guess there’s no way around it, i’ll have to read the book.”

He should’ve known not to try to find an easy way out; seemed like all his shortcuts had abandoned him, lately.

Doris laid a hand on his arm and a sudden chill sank its teeth in deep enough for his bones to ache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” Doris said softly.

“nah, you helped plenty,” Stretch told her. She had. Now he knew that scarecrows were slightly more recent, at least within the past century and that maybe the cornfield wasn’t quiet as safe as it’d been played off to be. At least a cornfield without Edgar Allen in it.

The lights started dimming, the first credits beginning to roll. His popcorn was cold, the butter congealing it into clumps of greasy blobs that stuck to his fingers. Stretch ate it anyway, hey, it cost him a dollar, and laughed with Doris as Buster Keaton escaped from a bumbling crowd of cops by grabbing onto a passing car.

His phone was in his pocket, tucked in deep and only lightly pressing against his femur through the thin cloth of his shorts. It vibrated once in a quick, staccato burst while the movie was playing but Stretch ignored it.

That was one lesson he’d learned very well while they still lived under the mountain; if you focused on the task at hand, you didn’t have to think about the ones you left behind.

~~*~~

tbc

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 22

“Please please come in quickly,” the honorable wizard Yen Sid urged Uma, barely muffling his own coughs from the dusty air of Judge Frollo’s “house.” Quite ironically or perhaps more telling, Judge Frollo’s abode was the basement of a brothel. A cruel twist of temptation or perhaps a house of convenience since it was no secret that Frollo indulged in his hypocritical desires while preaching at his imaginary pulpit during the day.

But Uma wasn’t here to hear how she was destined for hell. It was night, the perfect time to meet the rest of the Anti-Villain Club while Frollo was away.

It felt like the situation was getting more dire the more time past. Amplified by the restlessness Uma felt because they weren’t getting anything done!

Sometimes Uma wanted to give in to her temptation to just dump the Auradonians for themselves. They didn’t really offer her any information or skills that she needed. Plus, they were slow at best. Uncaring and disobedient at worse, far more concerned with their own problems and feelings. They didn’t know how to work with a team or for a cause other than themselves.

Such royal behavior. Must be nice to put your moods first when your need for food, shelter and safety were never in question.

So it was a breath of fresh air to meet with the Anti Villains. Though they did not give her the assuring efficiency of her pirate crew, they were still Vks, her people. And she would need all the allies she could get if they were to stop the Coven.

Yen Sid gestured to the faded rug with, of course, an image of a man bleeding and crucified while a red devilish monster stabbed at his torso with a pitchfork.

Frollo’s erstwhile, rebellious daughter, Claudine took the head of the rug with Diego De’Vil and Yzla on both sides of her. Harold, Jason, Hadie, Big Murph, Hermie Bing, Eddie Balthazar, Celia and a blonde girl that Uma didn’t recognize rounded out the rest of the circle. Uma took place across from Claudine and Yen Sid stood by, pacing around.

“What news can you give us?” Yen Sid asked, starting the meeting abruptly.

Uma hadn’t noticed when Yen Sid signalled to her from the alleyways but the elder wizard looked even older. He was hunched over, not from age but like there was an invisible yoke on his shoulders. His face was riddled with new lines of wrinkles, stress and fatigue. And he was pale. So pale.

Uma had seen that sort of sickly paleness before. The sheen of sweat from a non-existent flu. He looked like death. The Isle after 20 years was starting to take its toll.

Though Uma had no personal attachment to the wizard nor did she care for his method of teaching goodness so Vks would be accepted in Auradon, when they should be accepted because they like any other person should have a home without abuse or poverty, she respected what he was trying to do. He didn’t see them all as one mass of worthless deviants to be scorned and ignored. He could have stayed in Auradon, doing nothing like all the rest of the so-called good guys, but he didn’t.

And this place was slowly killing him.

This place was going to be the death of all them if Uma’s revolution didn’t work.

Uma cracked her neck, inhaled and began to brief them, even though her report didn’t offer much encouragement that their plans were going to be successful.

“Our communications link with King Ben no longer works thanks to the Isle’s crappy service. However, we were able to inform him that the invasion is taking place in less than a week before we were cut off.” “Circe is officially on our side and will assist Yen Sid on more complex, powerful spells against Nerissa and the others.”

“The rest of the Coven-” “Believes.. Well actually tolerates the idea that you and Calix are still loyal. Lala still is on their side but Jade thinks she can convince her to switch again. Zevon and Ginny are lost causes. But you are going to round up your crew, and Harriet’s crew for extra manpower.” Yzla interrupted, and shrugged at Uma’s glare, “Jade told me.” “Ah yes.” Uma pursed her lips, shaking it off to not act too ruffled. She had been aware that Yzla and Jade were close but she didn’t particularly like that they were discussing things without her. That’s how plans got overturned. And people were overthrown.

Uma pushed that thought away as too paranoid. After all, they were all here for the same thing. Escape, not power.

“Yes, so you already know that. I do believe we will be able to persuade the rest of the Isle on our side.” “Wait the rest of the Isle. Like you mean some other kids right? Or the Hun gang. Not not the whole Isle?” Eddie asked. “I meant the rest of the Isle. The adult henchmen. The orphaned kids. The Huns, the mercenaries, the prostitutes. Anyone and everyone who has no power or big villain names.” The rest of the club looked at turns confused, intrigued and disbelieving at her.

“They are like us. They gain nothing from the Coven gaining more power. They get everything if they helped the revolution. No more oppressors. And a promise from King Ben to take all of us off the Isle to better housing, new jobs and actual food. A better life.”

“Whether Mal likes it or not.” Uma added internally. That had been the one thing she managed to speak to King Ben about, and surprisingluy he agreed wholeheartedly. He had seemed horrified when she described the living conditions that children dealt with. The way teens had turned to violence among other things to survive their abusive parents. He didn’t think he’d be able to convince Auradon should be abolished completely. Big villains would probably stay indefinitely. But he was welcome to her suggestions for programs to hep Vks.

“That’s why I need your input. King Ben is putting me in charge of VK Integration Programs and I want to know what we need.” “Uh, that’s nice. A truly Christian thing to do,” Claudine sneered saracastically, she had always been the most doubting of anyone having good intentions what with who she had for a father, “But shouldn’t we get out of here before we plan any VK Integration Programs?”

“This is part of how we are going to persuade the rest of the Isle to help us,” Uma smoothly bridged the two disparting ideas, “We need solid plans with how, what, when. Something solid and real that people can imagine and believe in. When the other Vks and adults hear of these programs, these programs that are as real as when King Ben invited the Core Four, they will be willing to fight for their chance to get in. They will rise up against the Coven so that they could be free.”

Claudine and Diego still looked suspicious, but Jason, Harold, and Big Murph practically had stars in their eyes. Hermie was smiling shyly and Hadie was tapping his chin thoughtfully. He was the first to pitch in.

“I think there should be something for the victims of Hans and Lars.” Everyone turned to look at him which caused the spiky-blue haired teen to flush and clam up. , Uma nodded empathetically, “Continue.” “Well, I mean-uh.Well we all had it bad. But Prince Hans is another level of bad. I went there once with dad for one of Staylan’s parties and I lurked around and man, that dude is nuts. He has photos of his “harem” all “sexy bruised” and stuff. And Lars…”

Uma narrowed her eyes. She didn’t need Hadie to elaborate on Lars. Gil had already told her everything she needed to know about the icy sadist. It was a term that was generally thrown around for an island full of villains with bloodlust, but Gil described the sickeningly calm way Lars acted. How Lars almost described it in seductive terms the way a whip would constrict a person’s throat until the breath left them. The calculating gaze he’d watch the ones he picked as “lovers.” Apparently a sadism that he picked up from his dad.

“Yeah, everyone knows Drizella is his favorite. Poor Dizzy.” Eddie shook his head.

Dizzy had always been left alone with her grandmother, Lady Tremine, but Uma had always assumed that Drizella, like almost all the parents on the Isle, was neglectful and uncaring. She hadn’t thought that Drizella may have been dealing with her own things.

And why wouldn’t she? That was Gil’s mother had to go through everyday with being Gaston’s unfavorite. While Uma was more concerned with the kids on the Isle, she could see now that some adults may need help too.

“Great. Center for sadist victims. What else have we got?”

“Do we have to go to school if we go to Auradon? I just don’t think I need it. My band is doing pretty well and I bet those royal dorks never heard music like mine.” Diego mock-shredded on his guitar

Uma cocked her head. She got his point. She didn’t think there was anything Auradon Prep had that could teach her anything useful. Like smizing as she heard from Celia Faciliar’s letters from Freddie. Plus there were some teens near adulthood like Harriet who probably wouldn’t want to be forced into classes when they could get jobs. Same with adults who never learned to read in their lives and still didnt want to.

“I’ll talk about it with King Ben. What else?” Uma said.

“Food that isn’t covered with flies. Fresh food, not trash.” Hermie said.

“Uh that’s just a given. None of their food is rotten.” Celia told the lithe brunette before Uma could clarify that good food comes with the territory.

Several ideas were thrown around, but the main ones came down to food, homes away from the possible revenge of their parents and others, and none of the Goodness 101 that Celia heard Freddie taking.

“Great. Now the important thing is that you spread the word of these programs to the other. You have to make people want this badly enough that they will fight. Act like its their only chance because it is. From there, I will send my crew to organize them to key points and learn some better and dirtier fight tactics.” Uma announced.

The rest of the Club nodded somberly at the announcement. There was not much emotion from Uma’s command. No relief, excitement or even nervousness. Just a numb sort of nod that they understood. But the words, “This is your only chance,” clearly rang in their heads.

It was now or never.

Everyone slowly got up to leave, thinking their own thoughts except the blonde who slipped to walk next to Uma, expertly slinking through the alleyways.

“Hi, um, I know we haven’t met before but um.. I’m Cosette.” The literally dirty blonde introduced in a fake high voice, clearly highlighting her nervousness, “I’m Gaston’s daughter. Gil’s half sister? You know Gil right? I mean, of course you do. I’ve seen him and everyone knows he hangs with you. I’m sorry I’m babbling. It’s just this is all so new-”

Uma stopped walking so she could give her her full attention. Yes, now that she stopped to actually look at Cosette, she could see a bit of the resemblance. The blonde hair, the high forehead and cheekbones. She looked older, maybe Harriet’s age, though her ample chest peeking from her corset gave the impression of a woman in her 20s. Unlike Gil, she didn’t have the usually confused look in her eyes. Just scared.

That look heightened Uma’s protective instincts. The helpless usually did that, as unvillainous as that was, plus the Gil resemblance.

“Why haven’t I heard of you before?” Uma asked skeptically even though she was pretty sure Cosette was honest.

“Um I’m a girl. Dad wouldn’t acknowledge me. Actually he tried to throw me away and try again which is why Mom left and… it seemed safer to avoid him. But- but I heard from Celia about this Anti-Villain Club when I went in for a reading, and Celia said you’d come so I thought I’d ask you. You know, for permission.” Uma thought. The story was realistic enough. But there was too much to do right now to focus on a family reunion. Unless…

“I will. You have my word. But first, how good would you say your fighting and/or spying skills?”

[xonxsm]

pastel || bnha x male!reader

---》 two 《---

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

class went on normally, with a few glances occasionally being thrown at the [h/c]-male, to which he never noticed- he was too busy daydreaming about kermit and pepe the frogs' forbidden love.

'mi amor,' [m/n] thought to himself with a weird voice, looking at the "man" he formed with his fingers, imagining it as kermit. setting his head on the desk he made kermit kneel in front of pepe, with kermit holding out imaginary flowers.

'i cannot hold this inside me anymore... my beautiful boyfriend, dear pepe, my love, will you marry and run away with me?'  pepe let out dramatic tears and nods aggressively, [m/n] about to make both hands 'kiss' before aizawa brought him to his attention.

"we will be choosing a class rep today."

almost everyone started talking at once, mostly about how much they wanted to be class rep and why them people should choose them; until iida shushed everyone by saying they should choose by voting. [m/n] looked lost.

bruh. i just started, like, two hours ago. i don't even know anything about them- wtf lol-

sighing, he doodled the poop emoji with hearts and flies surrounding it before folding it up and submitting his 'vote'.

midoriya and momo ended being chosen as class president and vice president respectively, while iida sulked in a corner. bakugo- an ash-blonde boy started shouting about the people that voted for broccoli while explosions went on around him.

:o boomboom be handsome tho, me hearteu umu

the bell rang right after that. [m/n] stretched, excited for food, but quickly slouched as he realised he had no idea where the canteen was. he decided to just follow the others, and grinned when he arrived, quickly running to the line to get food.

<<>><<>><<>>

PROBLEM, TwT.

holding his tray he walked around, hoping to spot an empty table. there were many empty seats, but [m/n] being the little antisocial bean he is he refused to walk up and ask if he could sit. he was about to leave the lunch room and go eat in the bathroom AlOnE before he spotted a pink-haired and skinned girl frantically waving him over to sit at her table.

grinning he strutted over with his tray, his tail flicking slightly as he sat down beside an electric blonde. "heyyyy-"

"hey! i'm mina. this is kaminari, bakugo, kirishima annnd sero." mina gave him a big smile while he munched on his sushi rolls.

"yoe." [m/n] mumbled with his mouth full of rice, waving. quickly finishing his rice balls he was about to reach for his banana milk when suddenly loud alarms started blaring. [m/n] let out a soft whimper as he massaged his ringing ears. confused voices and shuffling of students filled the lunch room.

"warning: there has been a level 3 security breach. this is not a drill." an upperclassmen stood up, screeching about how this hasn't happened in three years and everyone ran out of the lunch room, [m/n] somehow getting caught up in the crowd. he could feel tears building up, slowly getting harder and harder to breathe. just as he was about to collapse on the floor- a hand grabbed him and roughly pulled [m/n] to the side, slamming him against the wall.

waht. oh shiddy tiddies I'm being pinned against de wall. a flustered [m/n] looked up into curious red eyes. "uh- thankz."

kirishima only grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. [m/n] shyly fiddled with his tie, looking behind kirishima when he heard a familiar voice shout. he looked over to the floating dude shouting about the breach caused by the 'press'. everything was sorted out, everyone stopped running and went back to what they were doing before. [m/n] yeeted himself outta the corner, quickly walking back to the cafeteria with a still grinning kirishima in tow.

walking back to the table where he was sitting before the breach he dramatically dropped to his knees to where his fallen tray was, his food splattered on the ground. "Noooo... me love, me zalmon roll, me banana milk." clutching his chest with a sad look he picked up the fallen tray and food before casually dumping it in the trash can, a happy look immediately on his face as he let out a smol burp, setting his phat ass on his seat.

kirishima only stared at him like he was the most unmanly thing in the whole universe. BiPoLaR MuCh Ay-

"E." [m/n] stated as he stared at the approaching group he sat with before, munching on a bag of chips he pulled out of n o w h e r e.

realising he was probably blocking the standing group from getting into their seats he stood up in shy, his ears lowering as he stepped aside for them to pass and sit down. mina, sitting in the middle immediately pulled him down next to her, giving him a smol noogie before successfully stealing [m/n]'s last chip.

"beach." [m/n] sulked, throwing the empty potato chip bag in her face, to which she somehow dodged and it smacked bakugo square in the face.

"HEY YOU LITTLE-" [m/n] shrieked, quickly retrieving the empty bag, placing it on the side as he shifted away a little. bakugo only huffed and continued eating his food, while [m/n] sipped on a banana milk that magically appeared.

uncomfortable silence filled the table as [m/n] shifted awkwardly in his seat, feeling like he was the cause. he was about to get up, using "i wantz some more banana milk" as an excuse before mina pushed him back down.

"hey, are your ears and tail part of your quirk? ooo wait CAN I TOUCH THEM? THEY FLUFFY 🥺"

a certain green-haired boy across from them listened in, hearing the word 'quirk'.

"yez! me tail and earz are part of my quirk. i can alzo zhift into a wolf, and like, run really fast. and zure you can touch me earz," [m/n] replied, lifting his ears a little as mina pet his ears like how you would pet a dog- as he let out really soft purrs from his throat.

and scribbling intensifies for midoriya.

"you talk weird," kaminari blurted out, his ears immediately turning a little red. "not that its bad or anything-"

"yeh, itz juzt me long azz tongue, it makez it kinda hard to form wordz- zadly i can't control itz length."

but, i have good tongue technology. [m/n] let out a soft giggle before cringing at his own voice, pouting slightly as he felt mina stop petting his ears. IMMEDIATELY turning red when he felt something poking his tail.

"ZLKDFJNKZ WOMAN!" he quickly jumped up, shifting his tail to cover his growing um... area before shooting mina a glare. "DON'T TOUCH ME TAIL!"

then he dashi ran outta the lunch room to the bathroom, feeling his whole body turn hot as the others stared at his disappearing figure confused.

<<>><<>><<>>

[m/n] boredly stared on as midoriya decided to give iida his position of class rep. not even bothering to continue his story of pepe and kermit, he laid his head down on his desk again, yawning a little.

"psst!"

sero and kaminari poked his ears as he looked over. "dude, you ok? you just zoomed outta there."

[m/n] coughed, slightly embarrassed as he moved his tail closer. "yeah, totally finez."

totally did not get a boner because someone touched my tail. ahem. he was grateful for the fur on his ears, feeling them heat up as he buried his head between his arms.

[m/n] was still groaning internally as the others cheered for the new class president, the one and only iida tenya.

<<>><<>><<>>

"for today's hero training we will be having three different instructors; with them being me, all might and another person you will meet later." aizawa droned on about the training, holding out a card with the word 'rescue' with all caps written on it. he pointed to a rack full of suitcases where the costumes were put. [m/n] rushed over after aizawa told them to get ready- he was quite excited to put on his costume which was shipped to japan after it was completed in [your country]. grabbing a suitcase with his name he skipped to the changing rooms, humming.

[m/n]'s suit was rather child-like, but also kinda revealing. short-sleeved [h/c] shirt with a long v-neck that was tucked into a pair of black pants that folded in mid thigh- and of course a hole in the back so he could comfortably tuck his tail out. then some bandages that acted as gloves and socks, and black boots. to top it all off a [f/c] cloak that reached his knees.

he checked in the suitcase, hoping to find a collar but was disappointed to find nothing.

well i didn't order for one to be made, i guess-

he stuffed the suitcase and collar into his locker and quickly ran out to where the bus was, lining up as iida told.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

word count: 1536 words

ahem.. no, [m/n] isn't in heat.

from what i read from other uh more mature fanfics hybrids have sensitive ears and t a i l s. so yeah [m/n] isn't in heat. it's gonna be weird if he is already in heat after he joins yuuei for like five hours.

the pepe and kermit part gave me inspiration, so I'm going to be writing a whole book dedicated to their forbidden love.

. . .

just kidding lol no-

unless~ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[knybits]

Kimetsu Academy!!

Shoutout to @thunderandrainclouds​ for allowing me to use chiyo!! i tried to make her more of the focus for this chapter’s au bc my last kimetsu academy one focused on miyuki, but tbh its funnier when the whole gang is there :,) thanks to @kny-writings​ for letting me use miyuki!! 

There’s always one person that thanks Kimetsu Academy’s resident home EC teacher Takenaka Chiyo in their graduation speech. 

Why? 

Because she protects the students from the hard ass that is the PE teacher, Tomioka Giyuu. 

“I swear I’m going to get him fired if that’s the last thing I do at this school,” Akiko furiously washes the rice, and Tanjirou laughs weakly at his girlfriend. She hears him mutter a soft, “Please don’t” under his breath. 

She stops her scrubbing to look up at him, raising a brow before looking out the window and down to the school’s track. Giyuu is blowing his whistle as students run in the agonizing heat, some even collapsing from exhaustion. 

“Well, your mile time has gone down!” Tanjirou tries to look on the bright side of things, but Akiko isn’t having any of it. 

“He chased me with his shinai to get those results.” 

Tanjirou tries so… so hard to maintain his smile, but he knows that Giyuu would have hit Akiko if she didn’t start running. She always walks her mile, so she’s partly to blame. 

“He did what?!” Chiyo suddenly appears by the two teens, eyes wide as she wipes her hands on her apron. 

Hair as pure as fresh fallen snow and eyes so green they rival the baby ivy that crawls up the sides of the school’s greenhouse. She usually smiles with the tenderness of a mother, but she looks troubled by Akiko’s news. 

Honestly? This is nothing new. Akiko and her group of friends always get into trouble with Giyuu, but Akiko is the only one without any care that he’ll give her a detention. 

Luckily, Chiyo is always there to protect the gang, her arms outstretched in front of them and her cheeks puffed out in defiance in the face of her agitated lover. 

Akiko stabs a thumb over her shoulder to the window behind her, “I think he’s still doing it to other students.” 

Chiyo rushes to the window, pressing her face to the glass before seeing that her fool of a boyfriend is in fact chasing a student around the track. 

“Fuck,” the couple hears her mumble under her breath, and she turns around to wave her hands in the air and grab the class’s attention. 

“Everyone here knows what to do! So I’ll be out for a few minutes! Please don’t report that I wasn’t here to supervise you, and don’t set the class room on fire.” Everyone collectively looks at Inosuke and she nods her head with a huff. Then, the ever so soft Chiyo rushes out the door. 

Akiko looks at Nezuko, who works with Zenitsu on the other side of the room, and they raise brows at each other. 

Without even so much as a word, the two girls dash to open the window and lean their bodies out, waiting for the show to start. Akiko pulls her phone out to start recording, and others in the class gather around to watch. 

Chiyo takes a bit longer than they expected to get down to the tack, but that’s only because they see her lugging a crate of filled reusable water bottles she grabbed from the kitchen. 

Akiko can see that Chiyo isn’t struggling under the weight, a crate in each hand as she marches across the field. 

“One yakisoba bread that sensei dumps one of those water bottles onto him.” 

Tanjirou can only shake his head while Akiko looks to the person, smiling in such a sickly sweet way that they’re thrown off from their cocky declaration. 

“You must be new,” she coos, then turns her attention back to the show. 

Students flock to Chiyo, thanking her for the water and taking a break under the shade of some nearby trees. Giyuu looks like he’s about to yell at students for suddenly quitting, but he stops when he sees Chiyo. 

Then he smiles. 

Everyone in the classroom goes wild, Akiko zooming into the soft smile of Tomioka Giyuu. Chiyo has her hands on her hips as Giyuu approaches her, and everyone pushes Zenitsu up to the front to get him to hear the conversation. 

“Mmm she’s telling him to give everyone a break… Tomioka-sensei is saying something about cutting their mile times- oh wait nevermind he doesn’t want to risk the bento she made for him.” 

Chiyo smiles one last time at Giyuu before turning to make her way to the classroom; but when she looks up, she sees flocks of students leaning and sitting on top of each other just to grab a glance. 

“Quick! Scram!” Murata yells, and chaos ensues as students rush back to their stations and continue to make their rice balls. Akiko quickly uploads the video to the school’s private story with a giddy smile on her face. 

Tanjirou already has the rice balls shaped to perfection and Akiko gives him a quick peck on the cheek as thanks. Chiyo walks in right after, a light blush on her cheeks as she coughs into her fist. 

“I see the classroom is still intact…” 

Everyone bursts into a fit of giggles, and Makomo raises her hand to ask, “Sensei how buff are your arms?” 

As everyone debates the possible width of Chiyo’s arms, Chiyo offers her arm up for science and a couple kids run down to the fashion and design classroom to find a tape measure. Akiko observes with curious eyes, nestled into Tanjirou’s chest as she every so often raises her hand to feed him one of his rice balls. 

“Can you tell how big her arms are?” Tanjirou asks, and Akiko narrows her eyes a bit, taking a mental note in her head before nodding his head. 

She then looks over at “new kid” before saying, “One yakisoba bread says that her arms are 33 centimeters!“ 

Needless to say, Akiko has her beloved Home EC teacher’s nice arms to thank for today’s lunch. 

---

“Akiko, shouldn’t we call a teacher?!” 

“Tanjirou I love you but tHEY ARE THE TEACHERS!!” 

PE teacher Tomioka Giyuu and math teacher Shinazugawa Sanemi are fighting right out front of Akiko’s homeroom, and there’s a big crowd that’s gathered to watch the fighting go down. 

Already, Akiko’s phone blows up with people tagging each other, questions asked about what’s going on and some just wanting to know who has won. 

“Where did they even get the yard sticks?!” Zenitsu has his hands clasped over his ears, mainly due to the fact that everyone is screaming and shouting and his ears can’t handle all the immense noise. 

“Mhmhm!!” Nezuko points to the yard sticks that Rengoku-sensei left behind after the day’s history cavalry battle. Akiko sigh to herself, and Tanjirou slides a hand under Akiko’s face when she goes in to faceplant her desk. 

“At any rate, we should call Takenaka-sensei or Himi-sensei!” Tanjirou rushes out of the room before Akiko can call him back in, and she watches as he disappears into the wave of students. 

Akiko sighs to herself again before pulling out her phone and quickly calling Chiyo, keeping her on speaker phone to send a quick text to Miyuki too. Miyuki’s answer is instantaneous, a bunch of caps words and exclamation points with a couple emojis telling Akiko that she’s on her way and she’s ready to beat the shit out of her boyfriend. 

A few rings later and Chiyo picks up, sounding a bit frazzled as she’s down at the school’s daycare checking up on Ayame. 

“Hello? Akiko? Anything wrong? Did you forget your lunch again?? Giyuu didn’t show up to eat his lunch so I have a box left over- hey do you know where he is?” There’s the sound of a crying baby in  the background and Chiyo’s occasional cooing as she tries to get Ayame to calm down. 

Akiko almost feels bad that Ayame will be without her older sister thanks to the stupid fight between teachers, but with Zenitsu yelling in her ear and the occasional student shoving into Akiko, she’s had quite enough. 

“Uh, yeah, your boyfriend is fighting Sanemi. Again.” 

“Oh my gods WHAT?!” 

The call abruptly ends, and Akiko looks at the screen with a satisfied smile. 

“Are our goddesses coming to save us?” Zenitsu whimpers, and Nezuko pats his head in reassurance. Akiko makes a face of disgust when Zenitsu starts screaming over Nezuko again.

Speak of the devil, Miyuki shows up wearing one indoor slipper, the other one in her hand as she races towards Sanemi. Akiko even sees a microphone held within her grasp, and when Zenitsu takes notice he clasps his hands over his ears again. 

When the slipper knocks him in the head from behind, he turns around with the yardstick. 

“WHO THE HELL THREW THAT-?!” 

The hallway falls into an unnatural hush and Miyuki raises the megaphone to her lips before shouting. 

“SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!!” 

Akiko hears the loud wailing of a baby next, and Chiyo is seen barreling down the hallway with Ayame strapped across her chest. Giyuu pales at the sight of his usually soft looking girlfriend looking rather irritated instead. 

But when he finds himself with baby Ayame strapped across his chest instead, he can’t help but blink owlishly. 

“Why do I-?” 

“There! Now you and Sanemi can’t fight! Baby on board!” Chiyo wipes the imaginary sweat from her forehead, looking rather proud of herself with the way she handled the situation. 

Female and male students alike start taking pictures of the hilarious spectacle, because now Giyuu and Sanemi are sitting seiza style on the hard hallway floor. 

Giyuu actually looks guilty, but he’s at least bouncing Ayame on his lap to get her to stop crying. And every time Sanemi tries to protest, Miyuki clicks her megaphone on in preparation to yell at him. 

Even Kimetsu Gakuen’s fearsome math teacher is no match for a megaphone. 

Akiko starts to wave parts of the crowd away, yelling that there isn’t much else to see and that they can all up and leave for their own classrooms now. 

Chiyo smiles, nudging Akiko gently as Miyuki starts her onslaught of words unto Giyuu now. 

“As expected of the class president,” Chiyo laughs. Akiko can only slump, her eyebags looking even more distressing thanks to the fact that people that were dispersing have decided to come back to watch Miyuki tear through Giyuu. 

“If they keep fighting, I feel like you and Miyuki are gonna have to help them job hunt… Not that I would mind Giyuu leaving though.” 

Chiyo can’t help but laugh weakly at Akiko’s usual dislike towards Giyuu, watching the golden eyes class president cross her arms and furrow her brows. 

“Akiko!! I got help!” Tanjirou’s joyful voice rings out from the other end of the hall, and Akiko has to bat some of her hair out of her face when she turns her face a bit too quickly. 

But at the sight of the school’s principal, blood drains from Akiko’s body. 

“EVERYONE SCATTER!!” Zenitsu screeches, and mayhem ensues as every student breaks away from the scene like a pack of rats from Rat tat tooey. 

Right when Akiko is about to book it, Miyuki, Chiyo, Giyuu, and Sanemi rest a hand on her shoulders to hold her in place (or, well, Sanemi grabs her head and nearly breaks her skull but let’s save that for later.) 

Akiko sends out a quick prayer to whatever god or spirit will hear her, then quickly cries at the fact that she’s dating the most loveable but NAIVE boys of the school. 

“Oh? I thought Tanjirou told me of a fight going on?” Oyakata-sama’s stream like voice flows through everyone’s ears, but everyone knows more than to mess with him. 

“How about a talk in my office, hm?”    

[punkscowardschampions]

Buster & Rio

Buster: [details of some party that they can go to because it's not someone he knows its more like a friend of a friend of so they can do what they want] Buster: I'll pick you up when you're ready Rio: Oh, I'm with Nancy rn Rio: think I might be in it for the long haul over here Buster: You've been there ages Rio: I know Rio: been a while, lots she wants to catch up on Rio: I can probably make it though, if I start politely getting ready to leave soon Buster: Where are you? Rio: at mine Rio: we went out shopping for a bit but now we're just chilling Buster: I'll tell her mum or dad are on the warpath, either's believable Buster: She'll be back before she realises they're working Rio: That's not very friendly, is it Buster: She's my sister, not my friend Rio: yeah but won't she wonder why you've tricked her Buster: She'll think I got it wrong, a common enough thought for her to have about me Buster: Who cares? Rio: I don't wanna be mean Buster: Don't then Buster: To me Buster: I haven't seen you all day Rio: Baby Rio: you know I wanna be with you Rio: let me get out of this my way though Buster: Alright Rio: I promise, it won't take that long Buster: You do know that unless you appear right now it's too long, yeah? Rio: Of course Rio: you know I missed you as much Rio: more, I think Buster: So prove it by getting rid of her Rio: I will Rio: it would've looked so suspect if I didn't spend any time with her Buster: Or like you've outgrown her which everyone wanted us to do with each other, therefore they'd have to be thrilled Rio: If everyone weren't massively hypocritical Rio: or her social life was a bit more robust in general Buster: Her lack of a social life is her own problem, not yours, babe Rio: not if I ditch her at the drop of a hat Rio: but I've worked it out Buster: Tell her to ditch her fringe and you'll be doing her such a big favour it'll cancel out the abrupt goodbye Rio: Stop 🤫 Rio: I'd almost forgot how rude you can be 🙄😏 Rio: I'm gonna have a fake argument with Dan that I'll 'need' to go and sort out Buster: It sounds good in theory but she'll probably try and convince you not to 'cause he's a man Rio: She can text me the TLDR of the gay agenda Rio: it'll be fine, less of a 😱 when I dump him later too Buster: Surprised you ain't had a real argument by now Buster: He's even more of a pussy than I thought Rio: He knows I'm busy with family still Buster: And those papers don't deliver themselves Rio: You're SO funny, babe Buster: Yeah, I know Buster: One of many talents Rio: I might rank it lower than some of your others Rio: but I still like ya Buster: Don't force yourself, like Rio: Come on Rio: what have you been doing today anyway? Buster: As the twin with a social life in each of our postcodes, I've been busy fulfilling those obligations Rio: See, you've been keeping busy too Rio: not even missed me Buster: I can do both Buster: Multitasking is one of my aforementioned talents Rio: I can give you that one Buster: [a topless post football playing selfie like see busy and thinking about/missing you hence I took this for you] Buster: I'll give you this then Rio: 😍😍😍 Rio: I wanna come watch you play next time Buster: Yeah? Rio: you need to ask when you look like that? Rio: I could be there, right, at a proper match Buster: 'Course Buster: Probably don't tell the others though, it'd be hard to stop Billie and Edie from wanting to come with you Rio: True Rio: do your parents come? Rio: 'cos I'd rather not control my 😍😍😍 at all Buster: They'd have to not be working for there to be any danger of that Rio: I thought so Rio: I'll cheer you on Rio: bring the 🍊🍊 Buster: My dad watches me box more often, you wouldn't like that anyway Rio: not gonna encroach on your male bonding time, don't worry Buster: Hilarious Rio: I was being serious Buster: Me too, it's hilarious you reckon we have any kind of bond to encroach on Rio: you live together Rio: that's something, like Buster: Only 'cause they won't let me move out yet Rio: Well yeah Rio: you are only 14 Buster: And they were making such good choices when they were Rio: they didn't get to have their own place either Buster: They didn't need one, they were already living in the same house Rio: I doubt that argument will change their mind Buster: Whatever, I'm not trying to leave Ava with just Nance Buster: She'd make her well weird Rio: I don't think you can't make anyone anything Rio: least of all your sister Buster: You know what I mean Buster: And you don't have to jump to the other's defence, I ain't gonna send her this Rio: Whatever Rio: what are you gonna wear tonight then? Buster: Unlike you I haven't been shopping, maybe I'll go now while I'm waiting for you Rio: Just trying to work out the level of effort I need to put in Buster: What level of effort would you like to put in? Rio: I just don't want to look out of place Rio: why is that a problem? Buster: It's not a problem, why are you coming at me with an attitude? Rio: Sorry Rio: I think all this shit that's going on with Nance has got to me Buster: What's she said? Rio: Just all about those kids, what they say and do Rio: it's a shitty situation Buster: Stay with her if you want, I can take some of the lads with me Rio: If you'd rather Buster: I obviously wouldn't Buster: But if it'll make you feel better Rio: I don't know Rio: there's nothing I can do for her Buster: I'd say bring her but she'd never go Rio: I hardly blame her Buster: 'Course not, you never do Rio: Going to a party where she knows no one won't make her feel any better Buster: She doesn't wanna feel better, she'd rather wallow Buster: A party's as good a place as any for that Rio: You invite her then Rio: I'm not a middleman Buster: I don't actually want her there, unbelievable as that may sound, babe Rio: then we're agreed it's a bad idea Buster: I'll take us being in agreement about something as far as my fucking sister is concerned Rio: For God's sake Rio: let's drop this Buster: Don't for God's sake me Rio: This conversation is pointless Buster: That ain't stopped you keeping one going with Nance though Rio: Your sister has spent most of today telling me how hard she's struggling and how hard she gets bullied and you want me to just put that aside like it's nothing Buster: Would you like me to applaud you for having to hear a day's worth of it? Rio: Don't be a dick Buster: Don't tell me what it's like as if I don't go to the same school Rio: Don't make it about you Rio: it's happening to her Buster: Cheers for that, I had no idea Rio: Like I said, pointless Rio: have a good night with your friends Buster: I will Rio: 👍 Great Buster: It's no mansion but I'll make the best of it regardless Rio: Go away now Buster: Who do you think you're talking to? Buster: That hasn't worked on me a single time you've tried it Rio: You're just trying to annoy me now and I don't need it Buster: You wish Buster: She's annoying you and you don't wanna admit that to yourself or her Rio: No, you're being an asshole because you're mad Buster: I'll take all the blame, babe, what do I care? Buster: It's a well established role, I'm the asshole and she's the only one ever who suffers Rio: I haven't said that, no one's said that Buster: Chelsea's always been a picnic for me, like Buster: Not that anyone's ever asked Rio: I know that, why are you saying it like I don't Rio: and I can't do fuck all about that either Buster: 'Cause you're acting like you don't Rio: The ways you cope aren't the ways she does, or doesn't Rio: I just don't see the point of acting like that'll work Buster: Well, I don't see the point of you taking all her bullshit on as your own Buster: Or getting dragged down by it Rio: I can't just Rio: dismiss it that easily Rio: she's still here, like, can you just give me a moment Buster: Take loads of them Buster: I'll see you tomorrow Rio: Thanks so much Buster: You're so welcome Rio: Bye then Buster: Yeah Rio: if that's how you feel then just see me on easter Buster: If that's how you feel, then you might as well bring your boyfriend to celebrate with us all Rio: Fuck you Buster: No, fuck you Rio: I don't get why you're being like this Rio: explain it to me Buster: You don't get to hold Easter over me like an ultimatum when you know it won't be the same then Buster: We only get 7 days and you've already spent this one with her but I can't be upset about it 'cause she's more upset than me Buster: Fuck that Buster: And like I said, fuck you Rio: You're allowed but that ain't what you put out at all Rio: you're mad at her, I get it, but fuck taking that out on me Rio: she's my cousin, I have to see her when she comes over Rio: and nah, it isn't a fun time but you don't need to take my mood so personally Buster: Forget it Buster: You could just see her on Easter, but why would you when that threat works so much better on me Rio: It's not a threat Rio: if you reckon you're gonna have so much more fun with your friends then you may as well Buster: I reckon I'll have to try and have fun with them 'cause that's the only option you've given me Rio: I was actually coming 'til you told me not to Buster: I didn't tell you not to Rio: Yes you did Rio: you said see you tomorrow Buster: Don't put words in my mouth Buster: You already weren't coming by the time I said that Rio: Then why would I have left my house to go have an imaginary argument for you Buster: To have a real one with me, obviously Rio: Yeah, that's exactly how I wanted to spend my evening, you've got it Rio: never mind I can't friggin' go back five minutes later 'cos she's probably still there with Junior Buster: You and me both Buster: So don't go back yet Rio: Well where do you suggest I go Rio: seeing as you've uninvited me from the party 'cos I'm so shit Buster: Come on Rio: I'm not sorry I care about her Rio: and that isn't me saying you don't, or me saying I don't care about you either Rio: I clearly do Buster: I don't want you to be sorry Buster: I love that you care so much, you know that Rio: are you coming to pick me up then or what? Buster: I'm basically halfway to you already Buster: I wasn't gonna turn around, who am I? Buster: Not a cunt who gives up that easy, like Rio: Don't scare me like that Buster: I didn't mean to Buster: I'm sorry Rio: You wanted to make me feel how you did Rio: I get it Rio: I've missed you too today Buster: It just made me think about what it'll be like, I've been trying not to Rio: Yeah Rio: I know Rio: we'll have to work out how often we can Buster: I missed you so much Buster: I can't leave you Rio: but you have to Rio: there's no scenario where we can be together as much as we want Rio: even if we weren't having to hide it Buster: There has to be, there's always choices Buster: If you want something badly enough, you make it happen Buster: That's my life Rio: You can't leave school, I can't go to yours, I wouldn't get in Rio: and I can't just move myself to London with nowhere to live and no plan Buster: Then I'll move back here Buster: With Nan and Granddad Rio: Your parents won't want that Rio: even if they're barely about, they still want you around Buster: I don't give a shit what they want Rio: I know, but it means they've got enough say to stop you, at least for now Rio: in a few years, nah Rio: it's shit, I don't want that to be how it is any more than you do Rio: I wanna be with you always Buster: In a few years you could have a boyfriend that isn't a pussy with a paper round Rio: Do you actually think I'm going to get a new boyfriend? Buster: Not right now, obviously Rio: Not ever, if you still want me Rio: I've only got this one still because I don't want to waste our time together right now dealing with the logistics of formally dumping him Buster: Like you said, we can't be together as much as we want Rio: so that means, what, to you Rio: you need to keep this open Buster: It means you deserve better Rio: there isn't better Rio: you said that Rio: and I believe it Buster: Not than me, but than this bullshit scenario Buster: My mum and dad only got through uni 'cause they had us, everyone knows that Buster: They'd had years together by then Rio: Well, I believe in us Rio: I thought you did too Buster: I do Buster: I just can't fucking breathe when I think about going back Rio: it's the first time Rio: we'll get better at it Rio: we'll have to Buster: Yeah, I'll add it to the list of shit I have to do Buster: It'll be fine Rio: It won't Rio: it'll hurt like hell Rio: but we have to be okay with that Rio: if we want the good of it Buster: Don't Buster: You can't ask me to be okay with hurting you Rio: It hurt more Rio: being without you Rio: we'll have more than we did, no matter Buster: I know Rio: That's what love is, right Rio: no matter what Buster: If it ain't that, I don't know what else it would be Rio: I don't want anyone else Rio: even if it's painful Buster: Okay Buster: Me either, in case that wasn't painfully obvious Rio: You better not Rio: You're mine Rio: I can't share you Buster: I am yours Buster: I told you, nobody is gonna change my mind Buster: I probably should have said no obstacle though, 'cause distance won't either Rio: not even you Rio: you can't change your mind yet Rio: preferably ever but Rio: I won't say you can't there Buster: Especially not me, what the fuck do I know, I reckoned ignoring you for the rest of our lives would work Buster: I won't ever change my mind 'cause I can't Buster: That'd be a mistake and those aren't allowed Rio: I love you Rio: and I'll get better at listening Buster: I love you too, but I can't promise that I'll get better at staying calm Buster: You know my history Rio: I know you Rio: and I love you as you Rio: we'll make this work Rio: what else can we do, right Buster: She gets to me too, you know Buster: Or all of that bullshit at school does Rio: Of course it does Rio: no one wants to hear that about their family Rio: and not be able to stop it Rio: I know you care Buster: She doesn't understand Rio: She sees it like you're picking their side Rio: instead of trying to keep some of them vaguely on it in any way Buster: I'm not gonna take on the whole school for her Buster: It shouldn't have got that far Buster: She lets shit escalate and then expects me to fix it Rio: She's a good victim Rio: she rises it to it, you know Rio: if she could just laugh it off or let it go, it wouldn't be happening Buster: I don't know how the fuck she could have been raised the same way as me, with the parents we have, and become that Buster: Everything my mum went through, it's offensive Rio: She doesn't mean to be the way she is Rio: she needs to get to a place where she can help herself, or ask for help Buster: She doesn't try hard enough not to stand in her own way Buster: So she might as well mean it Rio: It's frustrating, I know Buster: Frustrating ain't the word Buster: But whatever Rio: You can't change her Rio: unfortunate or otherwise Rio: just how it is, babe Buster: At least she ain't Ro levels yet Rio: Is anyone Rio: now that's offensive Buster: Fair point Rio: swear she lowkey hates me Buster: She don't like anyone Rio: yeah but she liked my ma and me being born stole her attention Rio: gutted ever since, I'm so sorry Buster: Come on, be real, she liked your mum until Edie was born Rio: Too true Rio: 'course that had NOTHING to do with Drew 🙄 Buster: Maybe she only wants mixed race babies Buster: I'll ask her if she comes to Easter Rio: 😂 Rio: please do Rio: how did you stand to live with her for all those years Buster: They are cuter, like Buster: And I didn't have a choice Rio: You'll want to get with a darker girl than me then Rio: it's amazing your da didn't murder-suicide Buster: No, I won't Buster: Look no further for where I get my coping strategies from, bottle in hand literally as I type this Rio: That's just cultural, like Rio: and when your brother does what Joe did, who's checking Buster: Yeah Buster: At least you're not actually my sister Rio: again, don't think that's calming anyone Buster: When have I ever been a calming influence? Rio: I wish there was explaining it Rio: but nah Buster: Who do we owe an explanation to? Rio: I mean, if we could Rio: so we didn't have to hide it Buster: If we ever tell anyone I'm not explaining or grovelling, fuck that Buster: Only God can judge me and he don't exist, so Rio: Shh, my nan has spidey-sense for blasphemy Rio: I just wanna show everyone how much I love you Rio: I can at this party, yeah Buster: You can do whatever you want at this party, babe Rio: That like just what I need Buster: [a picture of a full crate/case of something expensive that he's bringing to this party] Buster: Nobody's gonna care what we do Rio: 🙌 Rio: you're the best Rio: I'm gonna need to get changed in the car Rio: 'cos not even me puts on a party dress to go have an argument, sadly Buster: Next time I won't tell you to fuck off for less than a tiara and ballgown, like Rio: I appreciate that Buster: I can wait, you know Buster: Without distracting you too much Rio: where Rio: I told you, I already left Buster: But you can go back, if you need to Rio: No I can't, 'cos I'm going to see Dan, remember Rio: not get ready to go out with you Rio: it doesn't matter Buster: You could be making yourself look beautiful for him Rio: Rude to suggest I'm not already Buster: I'm not suggesting that, just that I'm aware how arguments work Rio: That isn't the vibe Buster: You decide what the vibe is, and Nance doesn't need to know Rio: If you're saying I need to then just say it Buster: What? Rio: Put more effort in Rio: 'cos I'm clearly not bothered so Buster: I'm not saying that Buster: Why would I? Rio: I don't know Rio: you tell me Buster: Rio Rio: What? Buster: All I'm ever gonna tell you is how perfect you are Buster: Come on Rio: Do you think I'm going to embarrass you? Buster: No Buster: Don't be stupid Rio: Don't call me stupid Buster: I'm not, I'm saying the idea that I'd ever feel like that 'cause of you is stupid and you know it is Rio: I'm nervous Buster: Tell me Rio: What if someone there knows Rio: it's stupid Buster: We're going there 'cause they don't Buster: Trust me Rio: I do Rio: I just don't want this to end Buster: It won't Buster: No matter what, remember? Rio: Yeah Rio: I know, it'd just be nice if we didn't have to test that theory for a long time yet, wouldn't it Buster: We're not testing it tonight Buster: It's the opposite, a chance for us to be like any other couple Rio: Yeah Rio: okay, I'll stop freaking out now Buster: Freaking out isn't the vibe either, your worries aren't irrational, I wish I could say they are Buster: But like I said, I chose this party over any of the others happening this week for a good reason Buster: You're safe, and so is the secret Rio: You aren't stupid either, obviously Rio: I do know Rio: and I do wanna have a good time with you, so we will Buster: I just wanna give you everything that he can, especially bullshit that gets taken for granted Rio: You don't need to compete with him Rio: or anyone else Buster: There's no competition Buster: Like you said, I ain't stupid Rio: even if we could literally never leave the hotel, I'd be happy, you know Rio: I just like being with you Buster: Yeah, but you need to know that I'm not ashamed of you, I wasn't when we were kids and I'm not now Buster: Whether nobody or everybody knows Rio: I know what I am Rio: and what your friends are like Rio: and girls you're used to Rio: is different Buster: I know what you are Buster: And they're not my friends, you are Buster: As for any girl other than you, you know how I feel and how I don't Rio: I love you Buster: I'm sorry Rio: No, don't be Rio: you've done everything right Buster: I haven't though, it's my fault you feel like I could be anything but flattered that you wanna go anywhere with me Buster: I know what I am too, and what I've done Rio: It's more circumstance Rio: you just played into it Buster: I've been acting like it's Nance who's wrong, for not fitting in, maybe it's me Buster: Maybe I'm actually the weak one Rio: You did what you had to do Rio: I would've done the same Rio: I have Buster: You haven't been cruel, that's just me Rio: I'm no saint, babe Rio: no one is Buster: You're as close as it gets then Rio: You're good, Buster Rio: I know Rio: and I knew Buster: I'm whatever people need me to be Rio: You ain't what you do to survive Buster: That's exactly what I am Buster: Everyone is Rio: I don't think so Buster: 'Cause you want to think that I'm good Rio: No Rio: because that assumes it's never gonna be more than just surviving Rio: it's some lowest common denominator shit Rio: I'd rather look at potential over desperation Rio: any cunt who thinks they'd be a 👼 at their lowest, hasn't ever been that far down Buster: It's not gonna be more than just surviving any time soon Buster: So 'course you'd rather look at potential, who wouldn't? Rio: I'm not going to be defined by my worst Rio: that's not naive optimism Buster: Good, don't be Rio: Why are you then Buster: When you're the best, you're also the worst Rio: I'm not Rio: You can't have it all the ways Buster: You're better than me, that's no secret, babe Buster: I keep telling you Rio: Then I can be worse too Buster: No you can't Rio: Why don't you like yourself Buster: 'Cause you can't please everyone Rio: you should consider yourself Rio: fuck everyone else Buster: That would only get me so far Rio: You don't have to be a dick to get places Rio: I'm aware, it does work Rio: but it's also not a requirement Buster: It is where I live Buster: And as we've established, I won't be leaving for a while Rio: you don't want to end up there Rio: do you? Buster: No Rio: Good Buster: I wanna come home Rio: I like being here too Buster: Remember when I hid Rio: Yeah Rio: and we'd really plan like your parents would just leave without you eventually Buster: Home Alone and Parent Trap really made it seem plausible, to be fair Rio: You were lead well astray with the latter Rio: though you're not also a ginger so that revelation probably wouldn't have happened Buster: I'm not a girl, more importantly, I'm not exactly sure how that's escaped your notice lately Buster: And I've got more chance of becoming one than my parents have of getting divorced at this point Rio: This is true, I remember Rio: it has been a day, you know Rio: my memory fades so fast Buster: Just as well I took more pictures than just the topless ones earlier then, yeah? Buster: [dropping nudes casually] Rio: you're forgiven for holding out on me Rio: just so you know Rio: 🥴 Buster: I said I wouldn't distract you too much Buster: My memory never fades Rio: that's a shame Rio: 'cos there's loads of this convo I'd like you to forget Rio: but we can start with the no distracting rule Buster: I didn't say no, just that you've gotta put clothes on before I can take them off Rio: I suppose that's fair Buster: What are you wearing then? Rio: You can't rip it Rio: it's one of my best dresses Rio: [a picture of it in her bag] Rio: you want me to put it on? Buster: I'll do it Buster: I've stressed you out, it's only right that I calm you down before we get there Buster: Full 👸🏽 treatment Rio: It's not you Rio: but I'm not going to say no or turn that down ever so Buster: You've got the wrong twin if you want any makeup doing though Buster: I only know how to take it off Rio: 😏 I'll survive Rio: though I may put on some to have you do that again Rio: it was so nice Buster: Start with lipstick, I really wanna take that off Rio: ❤️ or 💗? Buster: You tell me Buster: [sends her a pic of his outfit like] Rio: Hmm Rio: You'll look better in pink Buster: Okay Rio: more subtle, I know Rio: but I can leave other marks Buster: Yeah, you can Buster: I'm almost there now Rio: Go faster Buster: I'm not driving Buster: But I'll insist he does Rio: Do Buster: Already done Rio: he must think you're such a twat now Rio: my bad Buster: You're worth getting a lower rating from him for Rio: That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me Rio: 😂 Buster: You're welcome Rio: You can say what you like about my standards on that one Buster: I don't dislike myself that much Rio: Good Rio: 'cos you're my favourite person Rio: and won't have nothing said about my taste Buster: You've got flawless taste, especially in dresses Rio: I knew you'd liked it Buster: I love it Rio: I'm gonna look good for you baby Buster: You do now Rio: but always Buster: You do always Rio: I'll get lazy if you make it this easy, like Buster: You'll still look good then Buster: And I'll still want you Rio: Buster Buster: Yeah? Rio: I'm going to miss you so much Buster: I'll do whatever I can to make sure you don't though Buster: Anything Rio: We both will Rio: people do it, don't they Rio: there must be tips to cope Buster: 'Course Buster: Loads of people meet online and live in different countries, loads further away from each other than we'll be Rio: Exactly Rio: it doesn't always fail, can't do Rio: it's just harder Buster: Even if it does for everyone else, we're not gonna let it for us Rio: No Rio: we can't Buster: We won't Rio: you're too good and no one else is going to look after you properly Buster: Nobody else is gonna look at me or touch me or know me Buster: Only you Rio: I'm yours, in every way a person can be Rio: and I need you, you know Buster: Well, I'm here, so you can have me Rio: here here? Buster: Close your eyes and open them again Buster: You'll see me Rio: [does] Buster: [opens the car door because gentleman] Rio: [the most extra greeting like it's been 1000 years] Buster: [we know he's being as extra it's fine] Rio: [lol at the day you ever get a chatty driver] Buster: [he'd just be rude cos 100% that bitch] Buster: [or they'd do that thing where you try and talk normally and act like nothing is happening even though you're being saucy af] Rio: [that is a mood tbf] Buster: [we should give them a chatty driver one day lol] Rio: [we'll let you live today 'cos you need to get changed so literally as much ignoring as possible tah] Buster: [get you a man who will undress and redress you like he literally is] Rio: [so about it, reckon we probably know how this party will play out now so wanna do easter?] Buster: [yeah we know it's their chance to be extra in front of everyone so I'm down to do easter]

[ivyfics]

With me - Chap 2

They’ve been here a while. Tetsurou says ‘we’ because—even if Blondie over there isn’t really aware of it—they are both in the room and involved in the same activity, so technically they’re hanging out. As uncaring as he might seem, All Leg has gone through maybe a third of his clothes trying to pick an outfit for what Tetsurou assumes is his first day of college.

Read on AO3

Pairing: KuroTsuki Rating: M Chaps: 2/? (May change in the future) Additional Tags: Ghost!Kuroo, Haunted!Tsukishima, Tiniest bit of crack, Future angst

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“You’re blonde and pale, can you please steer away from anything other than mustard? Yellow is the ugliest color, I swear,” Tetsurou huffs. Blond Beam stands in front of his open closet with a hand on his hip, the other holding a hanger. “You’ll never make friends wearing that color. This is why you’re a loner.”

They’ve been here a while. Tetsurou says ‘we’ because—even if Blondie over there isn’t really aware of it—they are both in the room and involved in the same activity, so technically they’re hanging out. As uncaring as he might seem, All Leg has gone through maybe a third of his clothes trying to pick an outfit for what Tetsurou assumes is his first day of college.

He does so neatly, pulling out and laying them out on the bed along with black denim and socks that have turtles on them.

Turtle socks.

Turtle. Socks.

It took Tetsurou a while to move past that in particular. He wants to wear turtle socks.

The latest item Legolas pulls out is this yellow flannel, and out of all the things that anyone in any corner of the universe should wear, yellow flannel is not it. “People who wear yellow are probably sociopaths or psychopaths or whatever is it that murder people, and you know why? Because they wear yellow.”

Yellow Monster glares at the shirt with intensity before sighing and putting it back. Tetsurou applauds. “Seen the error of your ways? The universe thanks you.”

Thranduil yanks a grey sweater and uses his pointy elbows to jam it on. Denim comes next, along with those turtle socks—and god, Tetsurou is going to have to find a way to steal them and wear those socks on his ghost feet—before the phone laying on the bed lights up in alarm.

Slenderman goes to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, Tetsurou trailing after him. He fidgets with his clothes, straightening non-existing wrinkles. “Nervous, huh? You’re hot enough, you’ll be fine.”

Chocobo moves on to fiddle with his hair, face going pink with agitation until he’s interrupted by a second alarm coming from the bedroom. Skinny Marilyn Monroe ( and that’s a reach so maybe it’s time Tetsurou quits the nicknames. He doesn’t need them anymore, so it’s time to say goodbye) makes a beeline for his boots by the foot the bed before marching down the living room, grabbing his bag along the way.

He’s already had breakfast, and double checked that the bag has everything he needs. Tsukki is an early riser which is nice, it means Tetsurou is left alone to entertain himself less. When he reaches for the doorknob Tetsurou settles on the couch, television cracking to life. “Have a nice day, don’t be a creep and sit in the back alone without talking to anyone and become that kid with no friends that no one would notice if they went missing!”

The door slams behind him.

“They grow up so fast,” Tetsurou mutters, wiping an imaginary tear.

It’s around mid-morning and Tetsurou is bored out of his mind. A lot of being dead is floating around doing nothing, waiting for things to happen. He knows he’s hit a new low when Maurice from the apartment downstairs starts his regular shower show, belting out show tunes and pop hits that go above and beyond the hiss of the shower and whatever the walls in the building are made of, and Tetsurou sighs in content that something is happening.

Perched on the window, there’s nothing but an overcast sky and Maurice’s janky voice filtering in. He’ll go on singing for at least the next hour, way past when the shower’s been shut off, or until the old lady from across the hall yells at him to shut up.

Everything playing on in the t.v is a rerun Tetsurou has seen at least thrice, so he sits there, making the curtain sway with a swing of his finger.

He lasts an hour before he has to do something. Anything. The Old Lady from Across the Hall—Tetsurou doesn’t know her name, the only reason he knows Maurice is named Maurice is because of the lady yelling it at him every other day, and while he could try and find out, leaving the apartment leaves him feeling strange and staticky like his tongue is made out of vibrating white noise—shut the concerto down twenty minutes in, leaving Tetsurou bereft of any entertainment.

He doesn’t know when Tsukki will return but he hopes it’s soon. Maybe Tetsurou can try to scare him again and redeem himself for the previous six times it hasn’t worked.

Living with Tsukki is nice. That’s what Tetsurou calls him. Tsukishima seems a little too distant now that they’re basically sharing an apartment, but Kei seems too informal when they haven’t had a proper conversation, y’know? Tetsurou sticks with Tsukki when his marvelous nicknaming skills fall short.

(Maybe his skills fall short more often than not but no one being around to see your fails and embarrassments is a perk of being not alive.)

It’s been a couple of weeks now, enough for him and Tetsurou to have established some sort of routine. Tsukki goes to class, loiters or whatever, comes back and keeps to himself until it’s time for dinner and the kitchen becomes his domain.

In the most superficial of ways, that boy does not belong in the same group as all the previous tenants. He’s organized and quiet. He likes to read. Two of the boxes were mostly books, now laying around the apartment against corners with the lack of a bookshelf.

He reads books bigger than Tetsurou’s head, putting them down faster and faster.

Keeps the apartment clean. Doesn’t let dishes pile up, takes out the trash on time. He cooks. Really cooks, chops and dices and does that fancy prep thing with a French name cooking shows always talk about. He’s the picture of a normal, level-headed dude.

At first glance.

What Tetsurou wants to know is who let this kid live by himself.

Who used to share a house with him and looked at him, fully knowing how his living habits are and said yeah, sure, go on.

The dude sees the t.v on after he shut everything off? Doesn’t blink.

Tetsurou forgets he’s not alone in the apartment because the dude is super quiet and maybe starts picking shit up and slamming it back down when he’s bored out of his mind? Doesn’t come to check what the noises are.

Walks in when Tetsurou is lifting shit in the air? Like nothing’s happening.

Leaves the door unlocked at night.

Doesn’t check that the windows are closed.

Goes to sleep with wet hair. Do you know how terrible that is? He could stretch or pull on the hair shaft and destroy those beautiful, blond locks with breakage and—

He forgets to turn on the heater until he wakes up at three in the morning, freezing to death.

Where is his head?

That boy is going to catch pneumonia and get fucking murdered.

Tetsurou gets his answer a couple of days later.

Tsukki is being weird. While he’s in no way a slob of any kind, and Tetsurou is eternally grateful about that, he’s not a neat freak either. There’s a healthy amount of cleaning and organizing going on in their apartment in general but today’s Tsukki gone off the rails. He’s been cleaning and dusting and moving stuff around all over for about an hour already, no sign of stopping in sight.

If the calendar Tsukki has taped to the wall by the window is right then today’s Sunday, the day of the Lord, and Tsukki spent the last 36 hours vegging out and reading this massive ass book until his alarm interrupted him early this morning. It’s what Tsukki does, he sets alarms for everything. Every little thing has an alarm, then two follow-ups.

There’s one for waking up, for when he has to shower, for when he has to leave. Tetsurou’s gotten pretty used to having some Marimba No.5 or whatever start playing in the background, shortly followed by Tsukki pacing.

The last alarm went off about thirty minutes ago but Tsukki paid it no mind, he kept moving and sweeping, and the windows—

He’s scrubbing their kitchen counter (again) with viciousness when the doorbell rings.

Tsukki responds to it the same way a dog perking his ears would, head snapping up to stare at the door with a tilted head. His glasses are askew and sliding down the bridge of his nose, Tsukki standing still. He tries pushing it back with his forearm since he’s wearing gloves, wet and sudsy from the soapy water he’s using to clean, but all he accomplishes is plastering a strand of his hair to his forehead and Tetsurou laughs. It bursts out of him, short and wheezing.

There’s just no explanation for whatever the hell is going on.

Tsukki dumps the sponge in the sink with a throw, gloves snapping off, and braces himself with a breath before heading to the door.

No sooner Tsukki opens it than he’s being crushed against a strangers chest. There’s a small oof from Tsukki but no attempt to break free of the embrace. Tetsurou is immediately hooked. He needs to know who this is. Its obvious Tsukki has been expecting them and the barrage of cleaning is finally explained.

Tetsurou floats over, hand on his chin, to take a closer look. There’s a Tsukishima in the doorway. So much is obvious by the height and frame, confirmed by blond locks the same shade as Tsukki’s. He hugs Tsukki with enthusiasm, hands encompassing him tightly. One of the hands on his back barely moves, laying a tad awkwardly and it takes Tetsurou a couple of seconds to recognize it as a prosthetic.

After one last squeeze, Tsukki pulls away softly.

The other Tsukishima is smiling and happy, hand curling around the top of Tsukki’s arm. “Kei! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, did you settle in okay?” His face falls minutely before he continues, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it, they sprung a late meeting with some investors that were visiting on us and I couldn’t slip out.”

“I told you it was alright already,” Tsukki rolls his eyes, stepping back. “Are you going to come in or are you planning on loitering around my entryway forever?”

“Shoot!” The other Tsukishima peels off with a laugh. They shuffle in, some of the tension that has been plaguing Tsukki's shoulders having melted in their embrace. It's the first time Tsukki's had anyone over in the short period of time he's been an official resident of the Ghostcrib™. Hell, it's the first time Tetsurou has seen him interact with something that's not made out of paper and ink.

Tsukki is a nerd that reads a lot is what he's trying to say.

The other Tsukishima takes off his coat and lays it on the back of the couch, then does that weird half-sit on the edge of it. He's taking a look around, eyes roaming over the still damp counter, the door to the bedroom, the window that's Tsukki's left open again. Weirdly, he frowns when he reaches the area where Tetsurou is floating.

Tetsurou slowly leans back, wary.

The moment doesn’t last long, brown eyes moving along with a tad of apprehension still in them and Tetsurou takes a deep metaphorical breath of relief. Some people are sensitive to things like Tetsurou. It’s happened before, mostly with people coming in to see the place when it’s in-between tenants. They walk in and start to look around, trying to figure out why the place feels off. Some take one step in and immediately back out, unnerved, but this is the first time he’s seen someone accurately pinpoint his location.

Good for the other Tsukishima, he has a good head on his shoulders unlike the clueless, oblivious mess Tsukki’s proven himself to be.

Older Tsukki’s eyes land on the pile of books stacked neatly in the corner and smiles, pleasant even when his eyes dart back to the stain on the wall next to Tetsurou every so often. Tsukki's been quiet the whole time, kind of zoning out and he's startled by Mr.Smiles voice when he speaks up. “Are you sure you’re done, is there anything I can help with?”

Tsukki rolls his eyes again. There’s a pattern here. “Aki, it’s been three weeks.”

Aki, huh? So this is Tsukki’s someone. He’s too young to be his father, so either a brother or a cousin of some sort.

Look at him, deducing shit. Tetsurou could be a detective if he wanted. And if he wasn’t dead.

Aki shakes his head, taking Tsukki’s antics at face value. “How has is it been, living on your own?”

“It’s been okay,” Tsukki shrugs.

Now it’s Tetsurou’s turn to laugh. “Sure, it’s been okay. Just fine. Leaving the door unlocked for anyone to break in and not noticing you’re sharing a living space with the literal undead. It must be nice to take things so easy,” Tetsurou mutters, eyebrows wiggling when Aki tries to sneak a glance in his direction again.

Aki nods. “That’s good. I can still ask for a transfer, you know. We could room together…”

“Absolutely not,” Tsukki straightens up, “stay exactly where you are.”

“Alright,” Akiteru laughs putting his up in a sign of peace. Is he always this peppy? “Are you ready?”At Tsukki’s blank stare he elaborates, “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“But I was going to cook—”

“Kei, live a little. I couldn’t be here to help you move in so I’m buying you dinner to help ease my conscience.”

“Fine,” Tsukki relents, fakely put out. No one’s put out by free food, not even book-munching nerds. “Let me change into something else. I didn’t think we were going out.”

Tsukki trods over to the room, the door closing with a click.

The change is immediate.

Aki’s relaxed posture stiffens. He starts walking around the room, trying to figure it out. Tetsurou’s sorry, he really is. He doesn’t mean to make people uncomfortable. It’s funny as shit watching them walk with their head whipping around as if the chick from the ring is about to pop out at any second but he doesn’t mean to.

Aki seems like a nice enough guy, so Tetsurou is going to leave and hang in Tsukki’s room for a while. He’s not even started to float his ghostly behind to the bedroom when Aki is blocking his way, hands on his hip and staring at the curtain behind him. Tetsurou swerves to the side, eyes wide.

What the hell?

This has never happened before.

Aki waves his hand right next to Tetsurou’s arm, eyes narrowed. Extra brownie points for accuracy but Tetsurou would enjoy not being almost smacked. Humans touching him feels icky.

If he really wants to scare someone Tetsurou just runs right through them. It feels like garbage to him but both times he’s done it the person stands there, horrified and catatonic until something snaps them out of it and they run away.

Instead, he topples one of the books by the corner with force, the sharp thud when it falls catching Aki unaware and making him jump about a foot in the air.

It gets a grin out of him. At least one Tsukishima can be spooked.

Aki seems to be going for another try when Tsukki comes back in the room, looking sharp and effectively diffusing Aki’s attempts at playing ghostbuster. Tetsurou whistles, dropping whatshisface and that entire situation in favor of trailing after Going Out Tsukki. He’s wearing a navy crew neck sweater and cuffed up blue denim, topped by an olive pea coat and Tetsurou is here for it. “Oooh, you look good.”

Tsukki is more of a comfort dresser than whatever this is but Tetsurou is not going to fight it. Tsukki should dress like this always. “I wish I could style your hair,” Tetsurou sighs.

Smart Casual does have wonderful hair, and if Tetsurou could style those soft curls with a little bit of a pomade, maybe something sleek and a little to the side—

Hold that thought.

Tsukki’s wearing squirrel socks. Light green squirrel socks with fluffy tails and acorns. Tetsurou halts and points to them,“There are so many questions and so little answers.”

Tsukki takes a while to come back from his dinner date, but when he does Tetsurou manages to catch the end-tail of his and Aki’s conversation before Tsukki is carefully shutting the door on him and power walking to his room.

If Tetsurou could sleep, he’d be having a hard time getting some shut-eye right about now.

The night is quiet, rays of silver and blue lighting the room where Tsukki sleeps, feet tangled in the sheets. He kicks around in his sleep, surprisingly.

Before you judge him on being a creepazoid and looking at Tsukki sleeping, Tetsurou would like to submit some evidence to the court of why he is not. He’s not sitting there in a corner watching Tsukki sleep and mumbling to himself like he’s the lead in a cold open of an SVU episode. Tetsurou’s restless, head going a mile an hour, and the soft sound of Tsukki snoring helps him think.

There’s something about Aki’s parting words earlier that week that keep throwing Tetsurou for a loop.

“Kei, there’s something weird about this place.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I don’t know, I just feel iffy about it! I still think I should request that transfer.”

“Aki, don’t. We’ve been over this, you’re not transferring.”

“I don’t want you living here by yourself, or at all. Just think it over, okay?”

He—

He doesn't want Tsukki to move. Not yet.

Tsukki is the least annoying person to live in this apartment, and Tetsurou is including himself because oh boy , Tetsurou has probably always been a handful.

Not to get absolutely real for a second here but the reality of being a ghost is monotonously dull and sad at its worst. And boring. God, is it boring. Tetsurou would willingly watch paint dry some days.

Having someone new move-in is fun. You get to see what makes them tick, what they like to do in their spare time. How you act when you think no one is looking is the truest version of you, unafraid and free of expectations. Tetsurou’s seen the truest version of a bunch of people, and while Tsukki isn’t the most fun person around, he’s decent. Sometimes he starts to hum out of the blue, the soft sound filling the walls of the apartment and breaking that oppressive silence Tetsurou’s come to accept as his reality.

He doesn’t immediately seek to shut off the strange voices filtering in from the living room when Tetsurou’s tired of listening to his own head and makes the screen flicker on just because. Tsukki lets them run through the night and while that’s maybe not the best habit—or aiding his utility bill—it’s nice to room with someone who doesn’t mind.

Someone who doesn’t spook easy (or at all.)

Someone who’s a little careless.

Someone Tetsurou can exist around.

Tetsurou’s taken to picking up the slack.

It’s not the most genius plan or anything, but if Tsukki is a little more comfortable here, he won’t wanna move. Also, those tiny details drive Tetsurou crazy so it’s a win-win.

He closes windows at night, uncaring if they slam down because it’s not like Head in the Clouds over there is going to check what the noise is anyway. Turns on the heater at night. Locks the door, randomly puts a towel on the bed when Tsukki is taking a shower before bed.

He’s got it down.

It becomes so normal that he starts not waiting until Tsukki is out of the room. Sees him pull out a hoodie and turns on the heating. Closes the window when Tsukki is reading on the beat-up couch and Tetsurou sees him shiver.

Another week passes. Two.

It’s almost the end of month three when it hits him. He got a teensy bit distracted by his novela and started floating a towel on the bed with Tsukki already sitting there.

He’s making a towel float. In plain sight.

Tsukki’s playing on his phone, rivulets of water dripping down his neck and staining the collar of the t-shirt he wears a darker shade of green, but even the most clueless person on the planet would notice if a towel with pink flowers suddenly happens to appear out of thin air.

Tetsurou hasn’t been discreet.

Tsukki probably knows the place is haunted.

No matter how oblivious a person might be, there’s no other way to interpret the situation.

This is it. All or nothing.

Tetsurou leaves the towel on Tsukki’s bent knees slowly and does nothing else. He stands by the end of the bed with (an emotional) baited breath. This could backfire in the worst ways and just like that Tetsurou’s days of peace will be gone—

“Thanks.”

Tetsurou chokes on nothing. Tsukki’s grabbed the towel and is now rubbing it on his hair in small circles which is so so bad for it, you have to pat—no matter that, Tsukki thanked him.

He.

He’s still in the same position on the bed, face buried on his phone, but Tetsurou did not imagine that. Tsukki thanked him.

No one’s ever thanked him for doing ghost things before. They freak out or look around to see if it’s a prank but he’s never been thanked. Granted, Tetsurou hasn’t ever used his spooky powers for useful things before, but that’s not the point.

Tetsurou’s chest swells, warm and dopey and good, syrupy giddiness holding him to rock on the spot where he hovers. He can’t remember the last time someone addressed him.

“You’re welcome.”

Things change after that.

Tetsurou’s presence, as open as it was before, becomes exceedingly obvious. He tries to tone it down a little, lest Tsukki freaks out after the fact, but life is good right now.

Things carry on the same in the way that Tsukki doesn’t care. Tetsurou’s free to do as he pleases without having to deal with a bunch of shrieking morons, calls to Karen, and that one time someone brought an exorcist to try and kick him out.

It was some dude baked out of his mind chanting some weird thing or the other scamming the one tenant out of fifty bucks so Tetsurou was all clear on that one, but what a waste of an afternoon.

“I can’t believe you even own those pants. Who has access to corduroy anymore? Next.”

Tetsurou floats upside down above the bed, Tsukki’s earbuds hovering with him by grace of his wiggling fingertips. Tsukki has study group today, or at least that what his phone said when Tetsurou looked.

They’re doing their usual bit, Tsukki trying to get dressed and Tetsurou stopping him from committing a fashion crime and melting someone’s eyeballs off. Sweatpants are off, Tsukki is in his underwear and Tetsurou keeps floating shirts away and towards him in a twisted version of dress-up.

The angle lets Tetsurou ogle Tsukki’s back, particularly that row of four moles just at the edge of his ribcage that’s kept Tetsurou’s attention since he floated up there. “I’ll give you seven million dollars if you have ever worn those pleather pants more than once. Outside. Where people can see you.”

Tsukki hangs his head in defeat when Tetsurou pulls another garment away from him. They come to an agreement, some black joggers—because Tetsurou can compromise— and a white shirt with a grey hoodie on top.

Tetsurou picks out the socks though, and the Pikachu ones are calling his name. Tsukki’s alarm goes off again, and Tetsurou glides across the living room to the door automatically. Tsukki grabs his stuff and stops by the shoe rack.

“Those shoes? With that outfit? No.” Tetsurou knocks the right pair into shins.

Ghosts don’t have a lot of base needs.

They don’t eat. They don’t breathe. Thirst is only of the metaphorical kind. Tetsurou doesn’t get horny. He gets restless. And bored. What do people do when they get bored?

They play with their bits.

It’s a slow build up. Tetsurou doesn’t do it often seeing as ghost climax is akin to setting an exposed wire on your tongue. It’s not the rapid firing of nerves that curls toes and jerks hips, nothing like that wave of pleasure that whites out vision and leaves you dumb and lax while you bask.

It’s energy vibrating, rapid explosions and waves, being electrocuted until you’re left phasing in and out of existence for a bit. Tetsurou is still not sure how he feels about it, but he does it anyway because it beats doing nothing and having his head replay that one Rihanna song Maurice was singing three days ago one more time.

Having some visual aid doesn’t help his case either.

Kei—Tetsurou calls him Kei now, seeing as they’ve had at least one conversation if by a conversation a ‘Thank you’ and ‘ You’re welcome ’ is accepted—is out of the shower and walking around half-naked. It’s his usual routine, Tsukki usually comes out of the bathroom fresh-faced and with a clean pair of undies on. Sometimes with socks (each and every pair more adorable than the last).

Tetsurou would be lying if he said that peek of skin every day didn’t intrigue him. That it didn’t make him curious. But, Tetsurou has boundaries and he’s not about to burst in on one of Tsukki’s showers so he can see how far the birthmark low on Tsukki hip extends.

Usually, that glimpse of skin isn’t enough to motivate him.

Today Tetsurou is restless. He’s bored.

Tsukki’s been out all week doing a thing or another so he’s been left to stew in the apartment all by himself with only Maurice and Federico for company, and then Kei forgets his underwear when he goes in to take a shower so Tetsurou gets enough to kick him into gear.

Kei is hot.

He really is, that’s fact.

Tetsurou has enough time to respectfully ogle him from where he’s flat against the wall above the closet and today is the day. Sticking a hand down his pants is odd. Clothes don’t feel like clothes, they feel like layers. Peeling back a thin sheet of the universe.

Tetsurou sends a quick apology Kei’s way for using him as part of the spank bank, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Tetsurou’s going to have some private alone time. Not that all time isn’t private alone time because, you know, he’s dea—

“You do know I can see you, right?” Tetsurou’s head whips up, and sure enough, there’s Tsukki staring not at his vicinity or whatever might be behind him, but right directly at him in nothing but his undies and baby blue cloud socks and Tetsurou can feel himself shrivel under the intensity of that glare.

Tsukki’s mouth twists. “You disgusting little man.”

PREVIOUS CHAP   - NEXT CHAP - INDEX

[diamondsareapearlsbestfriend]

Bonely This Gyftmas

finally posting my contribution to the @sorieldiscord​ (not so) Secret Santa for a Good Clown Pal, @purpleangrywitches !! belated Merry Gyftmas my dude, I hope you like it~~   shoutout to the wonderful @drawingwithgreen13​  for helping me out with some parts of this and of course @mintkupocream​ for organising this exchange for us!! ^w^;; FellSoriel is something I’ve wanted to try for a while now so hopefully this turned out okay! (basically “more cursing and everyone is tsundere” lmao - that’s how you Underfell, right?? anyway yeah feel free to lmk your thoughts etc!! <3)

on AO3

Another Gyftmas in Snowdin – not that it really meant anything, any more than any other “season” did in the Underground. Snow was a permanent fixture, and so was the threadbare pine tree in the centre of town, the only difference being the half-assed decorations and dimly flickering lights draped about its branches, and the kids still young or dumb enough to gather around it and casting hopeful glances at the parcels underneath. If Sans had it in him to care, he might even have felt bad for the little shits, watching the light die in their eyes year after year at the meagre offering, until that one bear who hung around the tree “arranging” the presents all day growled at them til and they beat it.

Other than that, it was same shit, different day – Papyrus didn’t believe in holidays, and as he never tired of harshly but not incorrectly pointing out, Sans did so little that his entire existence was basically one big break. He was more than happy to live up, or down, to his boss’ expectations, taking every opportunity to slip away from his post and deep into the forest where, at least, he had the promise of more interesting company.

“Yo, anyone alive in there?” he asked the door, rapping his phalanges against the ancient wood and sliding into the routine as easily as he did into the snow. “Why did Sally fall off the swing?”

“Oh, now you are here?” The response was curt, even for her. “How profoundly lucky am I to be graced with your presence.”

Sans scoffed, lifting a brow bone as he leaned back against the door; Door Lady was crankier than usual tonight. It was gonna be a fun one. “Geez, lady, someone rattle your chain or what? ‘Scuse me if I missed the memo on the fuckin’...school timetable or whatever this is.”

“Hardly. But you have been stopping by approximately the same time for the last three nights – it is called setting a precedent. And surely even you should know it is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

“Good job it’s just you, then, ain’t it?” Sans snickered as he could practically feel her unamused glare through the thick, battle-dented wood that separated them. “Now do you wanna hear about Sally or what?” (He was actually sorta proud of this one; he’d been saving it for a worthy audience, and those weren’t easy to come by.)

“I suppose,” the lady answered, the slightest hint of a pout in her voice. “Why did she fall off the swing?”

“‘Cause she had no arms.”

“Oh.” A beat went by. “Well, that was a little lacking, even for –“

“Knock knock.”

She huffed an irritable sigh. “Who is there?”

“Dunno, but it ain’t Sally.”

That finally got the reaction he wanted as a snort rumbled through the door, followed by her throaty cackle - long, low and filthy, it sent a shiver of satisfaction through Sans as he chuckled with her. Making her laugh always felt like a victory, somehow. “Oh, how unfortunate,” she drawled, sugary sweet and dripping with contempt for the imaginary kid. “She was one of the lucky ones.”

“Don’t sweat it, she’s totally armless.”

“I suppose that really put her out on a limb.”

“I’d say you gotta hand it to her, but…”

Their snorts and guffaws rang out through the barren forest, sounds it probably didn’t hear often and that definitely would have aroused suspicion, but not many monsters ever wandered this deep into the forest anyway. “All she wants for Gyftmas,” Sans continued, on a roll, “is a break.”

The lady still laughed, but a little less heartily this time. “Oh, is it that time of the year already? I would not know - such things tend to pass one by when every day is much the same as the last one. How nice for those of you with something to celebrate.”

“Yeah, right.” She had a point, Sans had to admit, with a dry, sarcastic snicker. “Don’t mean shit to me either, but I guess it’s somethin’ for the kiddos. ‘Least, til they get old enough to figure out there ain’t no miracle happening any time soon to get us out of this hellhole.”

Weird thing was, he couldn’t even remember being a kid like that himself, a time when he didn’t understand how the world worked - with his HP, he’d had to wise up pretty fast or he’d be long dusted. But he did remember walking hand in hand with Papyrus through the snow - way back  when he was still shorter than Sans and either of them might ever have considered such a display acceptable - and how his brother used  to getso excited he’d almost tripped over his boots until Sans yanked him upright, and let himself be dragged towards the presents at top speed before they all got snatched away. But before they started, Papyrus would always pause to look up at their pathetic excuse for a tree, his sockets sparkling with hope and wonder as if it was the most amazing thing he’d seen since - well, last Gyftmas, as astounding as the stars they’d never get to see.

Might’ve been the last time Gyftmas meant something.

“Yes, well.” Door Lady gave a dismissive snort, snapping him back to reality. “What use have I for such child’s play? The last few foolish enough to wander through my door...well, suffice to say they are long gone.”

That, somehow, didn’t surprise Sans, but noticing her slightly sharper tone, he decided against pointing it out. “Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe this year one of the suckers that throws themselves down here’ll get lucky enough not to make it, and you got you a real nice traditional Gyftmas dinner.”

She hummed, a long, low noise somewhere between intrigue and what almost sounded like desire. “Mmm, I do hope not. Fresh prey always tastes better when it puts up a little struggle, does it not?”

Not for the first time, Sans wasn’t totally sure whether she was kidding – and he kinda liked it. He was pretty good, usually, at reading people, picking up on the little pauses and stutters that most assumed he was too dumb and/or lazy to notice. It was a good way to survive, being able to see through the bullshit, but it also took some of the fun out of seeing how far he could push it when he knew to the second how close Papyrus was to throwing a steaming plate of lasagna in his face.

Door Lady was...different. Probably helped that he had no idea who or even what kind of monster she was, of course, but even though they’d fallen into a thing of telling jokes and talking shit to pass the time, her mood seemed to swing back and forth a hell of a lot more than the door ever did. Some days he just seemed to irritate her, and she’d snap that if he wasn’t going to entertain her, he might as well go off and not do his job elsewhere. Which, whatever - wasn’t like that was anything Sans didn’t hear on a daily basis anyway, but in a weird way her unpredictability was part of the thrill. Made it all the more satisfying when he did get to hear her laugh. And damn, her laugh...

True to form, she dismissed him not long after that, saying she had business to attend to and she was sure he must be terribly busy with Gyftmas preparations for his beloved brother. They shared a sarcastic chuckle at that, but hers had sounded a shade darker than usual - bitter, almost.

Maybe he’d said something to annoy her (unintentionally, mostly) or she was getting bored with him, or - well, whatever, wasn’t Sans’ problem. She was just a voice behind a door, a convenient distraction. None of it meant anything.

He was sharp enough to know by now that you didn’t survive long by imagining it did.

Days went by, and the pile of presents under Snowdin’s tree grew steadily bigger. How many of them would actually make it to Gyftmas unopened was another story, especially if there was anything that the thriftier locals might be able to sell on to Muffet or one of her goons, but whether it was the prospect of more gold or just the place looking a little less of a dump, people did seem happier, or at least less likely to metaphorically or literally snap your skull off for looking at them funny.

Sans had his own reasons for keeping a socket on the gyfts, his grin tugging a little wider when he spotted the telltale gleam of curiosity in his bro-slash-boss’ sockets as they passed the tree every day – not, of course, that the Great and Terrible Papyrus would ever admit to the slightest interest in such things. Gyftmas was for baby bones, Sans, he’d better not be thinking of wasting their hard-earned gold on such frivolous nonsense.

He said the same every year, and every year Sans ignored him, because he still couldn’t think of many better ways to spend his gold than adding to his brother’s now-substantial collection of action figures - if only to catch the briefest glimpse of surprise and excitement flicker across his features, just like when they were baby bones, before it hastily rearranged into his usual scowl. He’d sigh and roll his sockets and mutter something about how if Sans really wanted to help he’d buy him something actually useful, like that new stove they so desperately needed, while mysteriously never getting around to selling the figures that had stood artfully arranged on his desk for years. Sans would shrug and pretend to believe him, while slurping extra appreciatively and obnoxiously from the extra-large bottle of mustard that appeared under the tree for him every year from some mysterious benefactor.

It wasn’t much, but it was their thing – tradition, even, if you wanted to call it that –  and maybe about as close as he ever got to feeling...safe. Comfortable – not, obviously, that Sans or Papyrus or anyone in the Underground with half a brain cell would ever acknowledge it. You sure as shit didn’t survive long down here by laying your soft spots bare for anyone to rip into.

Sans might be a good-for-nothing lazy lump of bones and countless other more colourful terms, by his own admission, but he wasn’t stupid – and yet for some reason, he’d kinda thought that maybe it’d be cool to be able to tell someone about the time he’d had to shove that deluxe Mettaton action figure into his jacket before Papyrus got in (that ultra realistic chainsaw stung like a bitch) or the priceless look of pure terror on that one kid’s face when his mom told him Krampus would be coming for him if he didn’t quit tripping over his tail. Really, he probably should’ve known Door Lady wouldn’t wanna hear about that – or much of anything he had to say, lately. There’d definitely been laughter and a lot more snapping and sighing and the the glare of barely concealed irritation he could practically feel through the door.

If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect she had some kind of issue around the whole Gyftmas thing – bad memories, pretty much everyone was carrying something, or maybe she just hated the idea of other people having fun. But it was an even bigger waste of time than usual, and not the fun kind, to wonder about it – everyone knew you didn’t talk about these things, didn’t trust people outside your closest family (if you were lucky or unlucky, depending on your perspective, enough to have any) with anything the slightest bit personal, and you didn’t get involved with other people’s baggage unless you’d come prepared for a fight. Sans was too tired to start shit; he’d been too tired for most things for a long time, even if she kept wandering into his skull at the most inconvenient times, and he’d catch himself wondering what her deal was. What had happened to the lady with the dirtiest dead baby jokes and even dirtier laugh, the one who made sentry duty with the boss breathing down his clavicle sorta bearable, because – if he was dumb enough to consider being honest with himself or anyone else – he might have been starting to miss her.

The smart thing would’ve been to cut his losses and move on, since he’d obviously outlived his entertainment value and there were plenty other places in the Underground he could nap or jack up the price of hot dogs to a more appreciative (or nonexistent) audience.

Thing was, Sans wasn’t stupid, but he also was never big on doing whatever he was supposed to.

It was, by Toriel’s estimation, the night before Gyftmas. A fact she would not have known, nor would she have cared to know, had it not been for her...friend? It still seemed absurd to think of him as such, a disembodied voice with no face nor name, and yet he was probably the closest equivalent she had had for decades, perhaps centuries, or however long it had been since the term meant anything.

Perhaps visitor was more appropriate;  a moderately amusing, yet inevitably temporary distraction from the tedium of her day-to-day life. Toriel was not alone in the Ruins – she had seen the monsters scurry away into the shadows each day when she swept through the halls, her sharp eyes scanning every corner and crevice for anyone foolish enough to have fallen into her domain, but that was exactly how she wanted it, was it not? The last thing in the world she needed were these snivelling, pitiful little Froggits and Whimsuns getting attached to her in any way, getting under her feet and clutching at her paw. Heaven knew, her nurturing days were long behind her.

Fear was power – as the former queen of the Underground surely knew better than anyone – and having vacated her throne, it was the only sort of power she could hope to yield these days. Yet, she could not quite put her paw on when it had all started to feel...empty. As empty as the Ruins, for all their inhabitants, might well have been when she was around, and empty as the many rooms she no longer had any use for, sitting untouched gathering dust for years. Though she did not care to admit it, her visitor had reminded her of that; of just how good it felt to laugh again, even playfully trading insults. His lack of fear, casual disregard for the authority she would never disclose to him – she could not help but welcome the change, and occasionally found herself anticipating her daily surveillance more than she ever imagined she would, her ears pricking up almost without her permission at those first few raps on the old forest door.

He had been reminding her of many things, as of late, and there were many, many things Toriel did not care to remember, this and any other time of year. At first, she had tried to find it endearing, in a simple-minded way, listening to him prattle on about Snowdin’s Gyftmas preparations with a unmistakable note of fondness that belied his professions of indifference. Yet it was much more difficult to conceal her disgust, much less pretend to be as amused as her visitor was when he turned to stories of the “Krampus” Snowdin residents, in particular, seemed to take such delight in threatening their children with. Of course, she thought bitterly, paying the least amount of attention possible as her visitor recounted the story of one little brat who had seen his presents dissolve into fire magic before his ungrateful eyes, the fool would persist in playing ridiculous games instead of attempting to restore the smallest modicum of hope to his people that no doubt still suffered and squabbled and tore each other apart every day, as they had for centuries.

Pathetic, utterly pathetic – well, let them suffer. Toriel had abdicated her part in the whole sorry charade long ago, and she certainly had not returned to the Ruins to discuss her former husband. She could never be so careless as to let the slightest hint of her true identity slip through the door, of course; any sentry worth his salt would immediately run off with such sensitive information, throwing it out for as much gold as they could get to the many Royal Guards out for her head. As much as she sometimes welcomed the idea of a fight – an opportunity to unleash centuries’ worth of anger and frustration by turning all Asgore’s lackeys to dust – preserving the relative peace and safety she had here was her best hope, if she imagined she would feel such a thing again.

Peace she certainly had, as her visitor had not stopped by for the last two days. Toriel had wondered idly whether he was busy, although she had gathered that his interpretation of “busy” was most often not having time for a nap and drinking copious amounts of mustard on one of his many lunch breaks. Regardless, it was no business of hers; they had no formal obligations to one another, although she had briefly toyed with enlisting him as her eyes on the outside, but that idea now held little appeal. In truth, she could not claim to be surprised if he had finally tired of her pointed remarks and taken his business – or lack thereof – elsewhere, just like the rest of them.

Good riddance, she ought to have thought, for it could have been nothing more than habit that carried her back to the halls, vanquishing the cobwebs with her broom and taking small satisfaction in the startled squeaks of the gold-grubbing spiders dangling from the ceiling, until she reached the familiar, well-worn door. Toriel sighed, shaking her head at the now futile, yet automatic stirring of anticipation in her soul as she nonetheless tapped her claws half-heartedly against the old wood. There was no reason for him to come by tonight, she had not even bothered to suggest it last time they’d talked, so she did not know why...

“Who’s there?”

“...Oh.” Toriel faltered for a moment, blinking foolishly at the door; having not actually anticipated a response, she had not come prepared with a suitable joke. “Old – old lady.”

“No shit. Old lady who?”

“I did not know you could yodel.”

The joke was much more innocent than their usual exchanges - and ancient, almost as much as Toriel herself, but when it elicited a familiar gravelly chuckle she felt herself relax a little, her own muzzle curling into a smile. “Lady, there’s a lotta things you don’t know about me.”

Well, that was certainly true for the both of them, and yet she felt a peculiar kind of relief, a warmth settling over her like an old, scratchy but nevertheless comforting blanket as she sank into a sitting position, leaning back against the door with her paws clasped around her knees as she awaited his response.

“‘Kay, I got one. Why didn’t the skeleton go to the Gyftmas party?”

“I cannot imagine why.”

“He had nobody to go with.”

“Oh, that is truly dreadful,” Toriel snorted, her braying laugh echoing through the empty Ruins - so dreadful it was genius, and actually her favourite kind of joke since she was a young girl, like a distant whisper of simpler times. She would not tell her fr - visitor that, though, for he was surely smug enough as it is.

“C’mon, it’s a bone-cold classic. Hey, uh, speaking of...” As their laughter slowly died away, she heard him scuffling about in the snow, followed by what sounded like the crinkling of paper, “don’t get mushy on me or nothing, but I found this lyin’ around and I thought maybe - uh - here, just take it…”

An even louder snort escaped her at that, though more of disbelief than anything. “My goodness. You have not brought me a gyft?”

She was waiting for some punchline or other, but instead a rectangular object, crudely covered by a few sheets of old newspaper, poked its way through the small space under the door before jamming halfway through, causing the old wood to give an almighty creak. Toriel simply scoffed and rolled her eyes at the soft grunt of exertion and his poor attempt to shove it through the space, a little sorry he could not witness the full effect of her disdain.

“A flawlessly executed delivery,” she observed, deadpan. “Here, just let me -"

She grasped the sides of the package and tugged, and after a moment’s struggle it slid free and her fingertips brushed against something else. Slight and bony, yet surprisingly warm, they were unmistakably fingers - his fingers, and that briefest of contact sent an unexpected jolt of electricity up Toriel’s arm and through her magic as she immediately pulled her paw away as though she had burned herself on the stove.

Hurriedly, she turned her attention to the object in hand, her claws making short work of the wrapping (if one could call it that) to reveal its contents.

“Human Hunting with Fluffy Bunny,” she read, arching an eyebrow in bemusement at the sight of a simplistic cartoon rabbit, proudly bearing an axe in its teeth while holding up a distressed-looking head. “...What? Why in the world are you giving me this?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” her visitor retorted, effortlessly bouncing back her own sarcasm in a way she could not help but smirk a little at. “It’s the boss’ fave, y’know. Swiped it fresh from the librarby.”

She was about to correct his abysmal pronunciation, but as she idly drummed her claws over the bunny’s face, Toriel felt a few joints slide into place in her mind, and the revelation hit her: “Wait a moment. It is you. You are the skeleton.”

There was a long, protracted silence, more than enough to confirm her suspicions. “...Heh. Welp, congrats, lady. Finally saw through me, huh?”

His tone remained flippant as ever, but having many centuries’ experience of keeping and guarding secrets, Toriel easily detected the tremor in his voice, that potentially fatal moment of hesitation as he waited to see how she might leverage this new-found information against him. Though, honestly, it ought to have been of no interest to her whatsoever - the species of a lowly sentry mattered not in the slightest. It was her identity that may have been compromised by that...moment of contact, her hand reflexively curling into a fist as she recalled how very tiny and fragile his fingers - phalanges - felt against her own; to her simultaneous embarrassment and immense relief that the man on the other side could not see her, Toriel became aware that the warmth was rising to her cheeks as well. This was ridiculous - had it truly been so long since she had touched another monster, however briefly or inadvertently, that it should affect her this much?

“Hmmm. How very interesting,” she mused, elongating the vowels to regain most of her composure through drawing out the wait, and rather wishing she might be able to see him squirm. “It has been such a long time since I have seen one of your kind. Why, I would not have been surprised to hear you had all died out some decades ago.”

He let out a gruff chuckle, perhaps just a touch more defensive than usual. “Well, maybe there ain’t too many of us left, but lemme assure ya, lady: calcium’s tough stuff.”

“Now that I think about it, it does explain a lot. Of course, only a genuine bonehead could consider this an appropriate gift for a fully grown woman.” Fully grown and considerably larger than him, as she now understood, although it did not explain quite why that thought lingered in her mind as it did.

He laughed more fully at that, a sound she had come to savour; it sounded a little like he was gargling rocks. For all Toriel knew, he may have been. Perhaps it was a common skeleton practice.

“Okay, geez - you don’t want it? Just slide it on back to me and -”

“No,” Toriel protested, a little more forcefully than she’d intended as she protectively clasped Fluffy Bunny to her chest - it was absurd, she knew, but any book she had not read a hundred times over was indeed a rare and precious commodity. Plus...it was a gyft. However unsatisfactory, one did not simply throw such things back in someone’s face...or under the door, as the case may be. “I mean, I...I want to know what happens.”

She did not need to see her visitor to be absolutely certain that his grin was now at its smuggest. Even more curiously, she was discovering, it was infectious. “Gotcha. No spoilers. Lucky we already got, like, five copies back home - trust me, you do not wanna try sending Boss to bed without his bun. Huh, right, guess I should…” Toriel heard the creak of the door as he got up, followed by a barely audible popping noise and a soft, satisfied sigh; stretching out his bones, she supposed, now more curious as to what it might look like than she ever imagined being. “G’night, lady. And, uh...happy -“

“Do not,” Toriel interrupted, before he could say it, but she could summon no sincere vitriol in her voice and he simply chuckled knowingly.

“See ya ‘round.”

Neither of them had any need for such sentiment, and Toriel carried no more affection for the season back to her empty house than she had left with.

But perhaps, she reflected, walking briskly back through the Ruins with her first real gyft in centuries carefully tucked under her arm and the remnants of a smile lingering on her lips - of all the Gyftmases she had still to endure, some of them might be a little less...bonely.

[arcanistouroboros]

TIL the crypto-fascists or identitarians or whatever they call themselves now have turned from Holocaust Denial to calling the Great Party Switch of the mid-20th Century “historical revisionism” perpetrated by the Democrats. 

(Admittedly the claim’s probably been going on a while and I’ve just been under a rock.)

Because apparently, it's harder to believe that the racists who were once Democrats are now racist Republicans supporting candidates from Nixon to the incumbent Cheeto-in-Chief who openly bank on their racism to earn support, than it is to believe in a conspiracy in which accredited political historians are attempting to cover up events from less than a century ago while people from that era still yet live.

I suppose this isn't surprising, fresh off that “Nazis were socialists” crap they’ve been spreading, as if there's no such thing as a separation of name from policy.

Look, if you're on the fence, I ain't saying Democrats are perfect. Fact is every political party has its downsides and hypocrites, every president has blood on their hands, and every elected official has lied and will continue to lie, because manipulating the public perception to market their ideology until it becomes all-encompassing is their literal day job, and the tug-of-war for power will continue long after we're all dead.

But there are such things as “lesser” and “greater” evils. This isn’t up for debate; our entire system of criminal law banks on the idea that some crimes are deserving of greater punishment than others, and even that some acts that could normally be considered criminal have mitigating factors. You can’t equate someone who had to steal food for their family to someone who committed literal genocide.

And the fact is, fascism is a greater evil. There is no compromise with someone whose entire motivation, ideology and endgame is to see you and yours wiped from the face of the earth. They made the choice to be a fascist and can choose not to be at any time, whereas you didn’t make the choice to be born “different” from the cis-het white men who have run the country since its inception, nor the countless European empires run by the same types for centuries before it. For those of us born “different”, our only goal is to coexist, yet for the fascist, it's to make sure only they exist -- by any means necessary.

If you don't want to support a Democrat candidate because you're afraid Bernie will instate national socialism or AOC will, I dunno, take your guns or whatever, fine. That’s your right.

But know this: our current president is a man-child who has separated kids from families and put them in cages on our soil, many here legally seeking asylum, and many of whom have been “lost in the system” or died in captivity. He's openly praised dictators, defended terrorists, confessed to multiple instances of sexual assault, threatened nuclear war to defend his own ego, lined his Cabinet with people whose portraits you would find under the dictionary definition of “conflicts of interest,” and is this close to being impeached on who knows how many treasonous acts for selling himself and the country out to foreign powers -- including for interference with his election! -- the progress of which was stalled because he openly abused presidential power to fire the guy in charge of investigating the President, who has since confirmed evidence of criminal acts. To continue to support the Republicans is to support the people who not only put the Obnoxious Orange in power but are the last obstructions to his removal, who are willing to let billions die just to stuff their own pockets. The only metric by which the economy is “thriving” is that the rich are getting richer faster than everyone under them is losing.

We use Hitler and the Nazi regime as a metric for evil. The Orange Creamsicle keeps Hitler's speeches by his bedstand, is literally backed by Neo-Nazis, and even his own party knows he cannot be reasoned with. I don't give a flying fuck what you think about Hillary's goddamn emails if you think this man isn't a bigger security risk than she ever was.

“Okay, well then I'll just vote third-party.” Ah, yeah, see, here's the thing: look at the grand succession of presidents since the adoption of the party system, and you’ll notice a dearth of third-party winners. Virtually every instance where third party candidates made a difference in the elections isn't because they won in some upset due to everyone else being awful, it's because the vote was split for the major parties, usually because of them. It's not that the vote is thrown away, it's that the demographic is diluted.

Imagine you're back in school and there's a big ice cream party, but the entire school has to vote on one flavor, majority wins. Now imagine that there is one box of votes for “vanilla” and two boxes for different flavors of essentially “chocolate”. It's not that a vote for either flavor of chocolate is thrown out outright; it's that “not vanilla” is split between two boxes, which are not assured to have equal votes by the end, and as long as vanilla has at least half the support of “any flavor of chocolate”, it's competitive with two other flavors as a result when it be wouldn’t against just one, because all the chocolate-lovers have to choose, the vanilla-lovers don’t, and vanilla can win in a 40/30/30 split.

It's all about flavor, honey. From Kindergarten to Capitol Hill.

Now, if you're the usual Conservative demographic and decide to dump your vote in a third party, that's almost as good for the Democrats as it would be if you voted Democrat, because that's one less voter backing a Republican who wasn’t expected to vote Democrat anyway -- but that works both ways, because if you’re in any way supportive of things like basic human rights and vote third party, that’s a vote taken from a Liberal candidate that wasn’t expected to back Conservatives in the first place. Same if you don't vote at all.

So no, it's not a game of “I hate both parties so I'll pick something else.” It's a matter of not hating the greater evil enough to back something with the power to actually put up a fight against it, and thinking your cardboard box imaginary spaceship is gonna do jack in its place.

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing... or at least, not enough to matter.

[pheuthe]

25 or 38, coldflash, please

((Thanks for the prompt(s) :) sorry I took so long - and I’m picking 38. “Nevermind, the moment’s gone.” because I could only come up with angst and death for the first one and I’m not certain you’d appreciate that, nonnie :’D I’m probably gonna write it later anyway, I just didn’t wanna dump tragedy on you :’D))Finding a five-star restaurant that will both accommodate a speedster’s appetite and admit an ex-con is not easy, but Len manages, with some charm and persuasion. Fortunately, he does not have to resort to threats... and Barry doesn’t need to know about the bribery.

Barry’s been pre-fed with ten pizzas before they left for the dinner, and Len’s having a really good time watching the kid savor the tiny courses in a way he can’t often repeat. The slow eating might also be the result of the hand-holding, but Len finds himself enjoying the physical contact, especially as nerves start twisting his stomach halfway through dinner. Barry’s touch has always had that weird effect on him where it would rile him up and calm him down at the same time, pull him back from any imaginary ledge and then force him to do stuff he never thought he would.

Like having a small velvet box in his pocket, aware of its near-imperceptible weight against his hip all through their meal. 

Everything’s perfect - just as Len has planned, for two weeks, thank you very much. There’s candlelight and roses and a string quartet plays in the background, all that sappy shit that Len used to hate and Barry always claimed he didn’t want, but Len’s seen him go misty-eyed over enough chick flicks to know the kid’s been lying his pretty ass off. Len finds the set-up less distasteful than he thought he would, but that might be the effect of Barry’s bright smile, more than the decor.  

Barry, bless his unassuming heart, doesn’t seem to suspect anything. Len squeezes his boyfriend’s hand, trying to draw courage for something that should come easy after having died and come back to life and saved the world five times over with Barry. But the words still get stuck in his throat a bit, and he has to cough and take another sip (gulp) of the champagne to dislodge the beginning of what has been carefully written as the most perfect propos-

And of course that’s when Barry’s phone rings. Or rather, when the ‘Flash emergency’ ringtone screeches over the sweet tones of the string quartet. Some of the other guests at the restaurant glare Barry’s way, and the kid blushes and fumbles his phone, nearly dropping it into the remains of his crème brûlée. 

“I’m really sorry,” he gives Len the usual apologetic smile, and Len nods and waves him off without a word: he understands that Barry is, and always will be, first and foremost a hero. It doesn’t have anything to do with his powers - although they do make it all more difficult - it’s who Barry is, by nature, always helping, always ready to risk his neck for someone else. It’s who Len fell for, suddenly and inevitably, all those years ago.

But he still wants to cry a little bit as he watches Barry nearly run out of the restaurant. 

Of course, he returns fifteen minutes later, flushed and beaming, which tells Len that the heroing was successful. His tie is crooked - he could never tie a proper knot for the life of him - and Len’s heart warms impossibly at the sight. He doesn’t hesitate to capture Barry’s hand in his own when Barry reaches over the table, almost a subconscious gesture. Barry’s the more tactile of the two of them, but Len would be lying if he said he minded.

“What were you saying?” Barry smiles, no hesitation, no guilt, not anymore. Sometimes Len still wonders how come that a fuck-up like him has made enough right choices to make Barry Allen trust him so much, to lift that shadow of self-doubt and paranoia that was lodged in those pretty eyes when Len came back. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue, so simple, so quick, and for a second, Len teeters on the verge of just blurting it out, asking outright. But his gaze catches on that crooked tie and he’s reminded, once again, just how much Barry’s still trying, for Len, for them. 

And he knows then that he wants to try his absolute best, too. No... Barry will get that sappy, grand-gesture proposal even if it’s the last thing Len does.

It might very well be; this is the fourth time they’ve been interrupted by some impending catastrophe that only the Flash could avert.

At least it wasn’t dinosaurs, this time.

“Nevermind,” Len shakes his head and brings Barry’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to the slightly scraped-up knuckles. “The moment’s gone.”

“What moment?” Barry blinks, confused, and that tiny crease between his eyebrows makes an appearance, as always when he’s trying to puzzle out something he probably should’ve realized a long time ago, but fails to see it anyway. 

Len loves him so much it’s a steady thrum of ache and excitement and warmth right behind his breastbone. 

“There will be others,” he promises. Barry beams at him and surreptitiously glances around. His stomach, bottomless pit that it is, squeaks.

“Um. Can we get Big Belly Burgers on our way home?”

Len’s mind conjures a ridiculous image of sticking the simple titanium band into a burger, and he laughs as he pulls Barry out of his chair, more than ready to leave the perfect disaster of a non-proposal behind.

“Anything you want, Scarlet.”

(Four moths and three more attempts at ‘perfect’ later, Len pops the question in the rubble of a building that’s just been destroyed by hostile aliens, brushing concrete dust off his head. Barry cries anyway, and almost cracks Len’s ribs with the bear hug. And Len thinks that maybe, their brand of ‘perfect’ might be a little fucked-up, but at least, it’s theirs.)

[skywalkerchick1138]

Across the Stars - Chapter 1

AO3

Prologue

Yay! It finally got done! This chapter went through a ridiculous amount of drafts and rewrites because I was so unsure of what would happen to certain characters in the long run. 

Reminder that this whole AU was inspired by the wonderful @kerbabbles and you should definitely check out her art in the The Ford Awakens AU tag! Thanks again to my lovely friend and beta readers @curls-and-cats! Lola, you’re an angel and without you this chapter would’ve been a goddamned mess. 

One last note: just to clear up any confusion beforehand, yes the twins are aged up to 19, but Wendy is also aged up in this fic to about 23 or 24.

Stanley Pines glanced out the viewport at the dusty planet below. All he could see was the entire surface covered in tans and browns, not a smidge of hospitable life visible, and he knew this was the place.

Jakku.

He pitied whoever called the miserable dustball home…

“Yeesh, what a dump,” he muttered.

“Isn’t that the reason we’re here?” a young voice spoke from behind.

He jumped, eyes darting quickly back to the doorway of the cockpit. A brunet of 19 stared back him with hazel eyes, his gaze being uncomfortably familiar as always.

“Kid, what’d I tell ya about sneakin’ up on me?” he asked the young man.

“Sorry, Grunkle Stan.”

Dipper Pines, as the young man was named, might not have been as gifted as a certain other someone he’d known (no, don’t think about that right now) but the kid sure knew how to be quiet when he wanted to be. Nevertheless, he was right.

Jakku was a vast junkyard and they were in need of some spare parts fast. Their cargo for this run had rather nasty tempers and their borrowed freighter could only handle so much. Probably should’ve known better than to buy one so cheap, but he wasn’t made out of credits.

Stan took one last look out at the planet below before rising from the pilot’s seat, his joints popping as he did so, and made his way out of the cockpit.

“Is Soos done warmin’ her up?”

“Yeah, he’s finishing the last pre-flight check now,” Dipper replied, falling into step next to him.

The plan was simple. The kid would take a transport ship down to the planet, find the nearest junk shop and pick up the parts they needed. Normally, Stan or Soos would accompany him, but again, real nasty tempers. It was gonna be at least a two-man job keeping an eye on the cargo, and the few spare crewman they’d hired on were long gone.

Besides, the kid was 19 years old now. It was high time he did a solo run.

Stan fished out his purse of credits and tossed it over to the young man. “You’re gonna need this.”

Dipper was silent for a moment while he checked the contents. “Are you sure this is going to be enough?”

“Yeesh, kid. I taught ya how to barter, didn’t I?”

“Oh, so that’s what you call it when you throw a flash bomb in their faces and run?” Dipper huffed. “Funny, I thought that was called swindling.”

“Thanks for remindin’ me.” Stan smirked and pulled a few flashes out of his pocket. “You’re gonna need these too.”

Dipper groaned but took the small bombs anyway. If only to appease his uncle, Stan would take what he could get.

“Relax, kid. Flash ‘em those pretty-boy eyes of yours and you won’t have a problem. Simple.”

Yeah, too bad ‘simple’ doesn’t always mean ‘easy’, his inner voice sneered. He soundly told his inner voice to shut the hell up.

The kid didn’t look all that convinced either. The sound of a primed engine greeted them when they entered the yawning hangar bay.

“Look, with all the holes they’ve been punchin’ in the walls, this ship ain’t gonna make it back without those parts. Our buyer has us on a tight schedule and we’re wastin’ time yammerin’ about it here.”

“I know that,” Dipper mumbled. His head was ducked down, not meeting Stan’s eyes as he picked imaginary lint from his tunic. “It’s just...”

“Just what?”

The young man continued avoiding his gaze. He mumbled something under his breath about the Kanji Klub and flushed. Stan sighed heavily before resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. The kid really needed to work on his self-esteem issues. And wasn’t that just the wookiee calling the bantha hairy, He thought to himself.

“Hey, none of that now,” Stan cut him off. “Let me worry about Rico’s goons and just focus on the job, okay? You’re gonna be fine out there.”

The soft growl of their wookiee first mate informed them that the transport was ready to go. Stan clapped his hand on the boy’s shoulder one more time, flashing him an easy smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes, and gently pushed him in the direction of the ship.

“Knock ‘em dead, kiddo,” he said, and that was that.

Before long, the transport was growing smaller in the distance and Stan could feel a twisting bout of anxiety pooling in his stomach. He’d already lost two from his family already, and he’d almost lost this kid once too, so maybe it was natural for that to settle in his gut, but this still felt different somehow…

He shook his head to clear those thoughts. This was stupid. The kid was going to be just fine. He was worrying over nothing.

The inhabitants of Tuanul were slowly starting to rise and prepare for the day ahead. Daybreak was still about an hour away, but it was prudent to get started now before the oppressive heat of Jakku’s day cycle arrived. The village was comprised of several different species, from humans to twi’leks to ithorians to togrutas. Some were more suited to the desert environment, but nevertheless they managed to thrive.

On the outskirts of the village stood a lone X-Wing class fighter ship. It was heavily modified, the least of which, not being that it was painted a dull black with a single red stripe running along its flank as opposed to most models sporting beige and orange. It was instantly recognizable, nonetheless.

Fiddleford McGucket found it somewhat irritating as that hardly made the Resistance contact’s presence subtle. No matter; time was of the essence and there was no use crying about it now. The hut was mostly silent save for the low hum of the dim lanterns around them.

By most outward appearances, the small maroon-and-gold cube he held in his hands was unassuming. It appeared to serve no functional purpose aside from decoration. It had no seams and no hinges, it held no energy input or output. The only defining feature of it was a six-fingered gold hand with a black number 3 etched into its face. Yes, to many it would appear to be a trinket of a time long past.

Fiddleford knew better though.

“What exactly does it do?”

He glanced back up to the woman sitting across from him. Pale freckled skin, long auburn hair, and a rigid posture trying perhaps a little too hard to disguise itself as relaxed. She was most definitely not from the desert wasteland.

And she was young. Very young. She probably wasn’t much older than 20. He wondered when exactly the Resistance had started sending children to fight their battles.

Perhaps, he mused, it was when old cowards like himself had run away.

“No one knows for certain,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Even I don’t quite know.”

“Weren’t you friends with him, though?” the girl – Wanda? No, Wendy. – responded with a tilting of her head and a skeptical eyebrow cocked.

Fiddleford chuckled, sounding somewhat ruefully.

“Oh, yes,” he said, “we were friends. Don’t mean I know everything about Jedi relics, though. There was a lot even he didn’t know about the Jedi. Y’have to understand, so much of their culture was lost to time, long before the First Order had any say in the matter.”

He paused once more, turning the cube over in his hands before continuing.

“This is a holocron. As I said, no one knows what exactly they used them for. They can only be accessed using the Force. But legends say the Jedi once used these to store ancient records. Histories, sciences, literature…”

He trailed off, reaching out to the girl. Wendy held her hand out and he gently placed the holocron in her palm, curling her fingers around it.

“…or perhaps in our case, a map.”

The ginger woman’s eyes widened fractionally as she met his gaze.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

Fiddleford shrugged his slumped shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But if there was one thing I know for certain about Stanford. It’s that he took note of everyone and everything he encountered. And I can’t blame him none for that. He had a near impossible task on his shoulders.”

Wendy nodded as she studied the holocron in her hands now. “Well, now I understand why the General’s been after this for so-”

The conversation was cut off then, just as an excitable droid burst into the hut and made Fiddleford jump in his seat. It was the droid his young contact had arrived with and it was a curious model. He had to wonder if it was somewhat modified itself. Most astromechs he’d seen only possessed one optic, whereas this one possessed two, as well as some sort of snout-like characteristic on the face of its dome. It rolled its spherical body in place as it warbled anxiously. Wendy’s eyes widened.

“We’ve got company,” the girl announced, grimly.

She swiftly rose to her feet and marched outside with Fiddleford and the droid at her heels. Two pinpricks of artificial light could be seen just above the navy-blue horizon. Wendy pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars and Fiddleford waited silently, anxious to know what she saw. Her shoulders tensed and Fiddleford’s heart sank. He knew what she saw without needing to ask.

“You have to hide,” she said, still facing the horizon.

“You need to leave,” he retorted.

Wendy turned back to face him, a vehement protest on her tongue. He already knew the argument that she would make, and he cut her off before she could even speak.

“Don’t worry about us here,” he said. “We know how to defend ourselves. Go.”

The girl grimaced and for a moment he was sure she was still going to argue with him. Instead, she nodded, gestured for the droid to follow her, and took off as fast as she could for her ship.

Fiddleford heaved a small sigh of relief. He’d been running for so long, but now he could face anything, perhaps, even death. With the knowledge that just once he’d stood up and done the right thing, a loud warning bell began to blare through the village.

The First Order transport ships touched down on the sand and within seconds the village erupted into chaos. Stormtroopers pooled out of the ships by the dozen, the floodlights gleaming off their pristine white armor, followed swiftly by the sounds of multiple blasters firing.

Wendy Corduroy cursed to herself as she saw the high-tech artillery the First Order troops were carrying, in stark contrast to the beaten-up, patched-together blasters the villagers were firing back. The old man had overestimated their chances of survival and it was going to get the whole village killed. That wasn’t something that was going to rest easily on her conscience, but the old man was right; she needed to get out of here as fast as possible.

Just for a moment a lone stormtrooper stepped in her path, attempting to cut her off. He soon found that was a bad decision; almost without thought she unsheathed the vibroblade strapped to her calf and buried it in her opponent’s heart. A blaster bolt went streaking past her head, close enough that she could feel the top of her hair singe a little. Quickly, she fired her own blast back and it hit her mark right through the knee.

Finally, her ship came within reach and Wendy nearly jumped the remaining distance up the ladder and into the cockpit. The instrumentation flared to life and her droid assumed his position in the co-pilot slot behind her.

Suddenly the ship around her gave a mighty shudder and warning alarms began blaring. Someone had hit her rear. She pulled up a rearview display. 3 stormies were behind her and closing in. Flipping a few switches, she flipped one of her cannons around fired. All three of the enemy troops fell to the sands.

Her feet made a gentle whumph! as she landed back in the sand and scrambled her way back to assess the damage on the engines.

Please, please, please, she pleaded silently, just let me get away one more time

She saw the smoking, blackened wreckage of what used to be her engines and cussed. She wasn’t going anywhere with this ship and she needed to get out of here fast.

“Aydee! I need you down here!”

The little droid, named AD-14, quickly complied and rolled up to his mistress. Ducking from a stray blaster bolt, Wendy pulled the holocron out of her pouch and placed in inside one of the droid’s several hidden compartments.

“I need you to take this and get as far away from here as you can! I’ll distract them.”

The droid trilled out a series of terrified arguments in its binary code as she stood back up.

“I promise I’ll come back for you! Now go! Get out of here!”

As the droid began rolling towards the west, a plan started to form in Wendy’s mind as she scanned her surroundings. All she would need… There!

Firing a few shots towards the enemy, she sprinted in the direction of a worn down speeder bike resting miraculously untouched by the carnage around it.

The battle was over before it ever truly began. The village was all but up in flames, their livestock was slaughtered and their precious water supply overturned into the sand. Several of his neighbors and close friends lay dead at his feet.

He had no time to mourn, however, as the stormtroopers flanking him pulled him roughly into the village center. The surviving villagers were gathered into the square and guarded, stripped of their weapons. A massive, jet-black transport ship was setting down in the sand before them. It’s giant, pointed wings made it look like a predatory bird.

The maw of the ship opened and extended its ramp, and Fiddleford saw three things. First, a new platoon of stormtroopers came pouring out and stood to attention in two-single file lines. Next, a massive figure in silver-chrome armor and a blood red cape marched down the ramp and the other troopers stood a little taller as they passed by. This, Fiddleford reasoned, must be their captain.

Finally, a figure clothed head-to-toe in rick black robes emerged, his gait far more fluid and almost predatory. He was tall, hooded, and broad-shouldered. His face was hidden by a skull-like mask decorated around the eye sockets with gold bands, and his gauntlets featured a singular slit-pupiled eye. He came to stand in front of Fiddleford.

“So,” said Fiddleford, “you’re the one they call Cipher.”

The taller man’s stance changed and without even seeing his face, Fiddleford could tell he must have been smirking. Cipher held his hands behind his back as he prowled in a circle around him.

“Well, well, well!” he cackled.

His voice was warbled and deep as if speaking through a vocoder, but at the same time still held something of a nasally quality to it. Fiddleford couldn’t suppress a shudder. He’d never met the mysterious Cipher before now, but he’d heard stories of his insane and erratic temperament. A hand gripped him by the jaw and the mask came uncomfortably close to his own face.

“You’ve gotten old,” he sneered.

Fiddleford just barely managed to keep his expression in a tight glare and said nothing. When exactly had this man known him enough to make remarks about his age?

“You’re aware of why I’m here. Where is it?”

If anything, Fiddleford clamped his lips shut a little tighter.

“Going to play the silent game, are we?”

The hand released him and Cipher resumed his pacing. A sort of tension was building in his shoulders, indicating he was becoming agitated. Fiddleford couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like a mocking, thoughtful hum escaped his mask.

“Perhaps you’ll loosen your lips if we -”

Whatever the man had been about to say, it was drowned out by the sound of a speederbike’s engine roaring to life. A series of blaster shots tore through the air, a few stormtroopers fell to the ground, and Fiddleford’s heart sank when he saw a flash of auburn hair. What in the blazes did she think she was doing?!

“HEY BUCKETHEADS!” Wendy called out. “THIS WAY!”

Wth that, she sped off to the east, and Cipher glanced back at his silver-plated captain but for a moment with a single nod. The captain turned to the squad of troopers that had accompanied them in the command ship.

“Squad 618, send a team after her.” As the troopers hustled to obey their commands, the captain turned back. “TK-938, FN-823, escort the prisoner onboard.”

His two stormtrooper escorts gripped his biceps tighter and began herding him roughly towards the ramp. As he passed by, he heard the captain speak once more with their commander.

“And the villagers?”

“Kill them all.”

NO! Fiddleford began struggling violently in his captors’ grip, fighting desperately for one last view of his home. The sound of screams graced the dawn-light air as the numerous blaster bolts found their marks.

“What’s the codeword I’m supposed to shout when I see a Star Destroyer again?”

Stan wasn’t always the best at translating wookiee-speak, but he was pretty sure that’s what Soos had said. His head snapped up and he shut off the small blowtorch in his hands.

“What?!”

He immediately dropped his tools, ripped the protective goggles away from his face, and ran for the nearest planet-side viewport. His eyes widened in horror. A massive, triangular navy ship was emerging from the far side of the planet.

No no no no NO! Not again!

His aging knees creaked as he sprinted for the cockpit.

“Soos!” he barked into the commlink at his wrist. “Patch me into the kid’s frequency!”

“You got it, boss!”

Stan felt like punching something when he deemed his first mate’s tone far too cheerful. He only just managed to avoid crashing into the pilot’s seat as the two ship’s commlinks made a connection.

“Kid! Get out of there now!” Stan yelled before Dipper had a chance to greet him.

“Grunkle Stan? But I haven’t even -”

“I SAID NOW!!” The Star Destroyer was getting closer and it wouldn’t be long at all before they picked him up on their scanners. “There’s a Star Destroyer in orbit, we can’t stick around!”

“What?! But what about our -” Dipper’s voice was cut off with a crackle and a buzz.

“Kid?! KID!!” Stan swore up a storm and punched the console. The Destroyer was jamming their signals.

“Boss, we gotta go. They’re firing up their cannons.”

Stan’s breath hitched. Whatever the First Order was here for, they clearly didn’t want anyone knowing they were here at all. His hands flew over the controls, preparing the ship for hyperspace. He knew it was unlikely Dipper would hear him at all by now, but he still had to try.

“Dipper, we gotta go,” he echoed. “We’re gonna jump to the next system over, but I swear we’ll come back for you. Do you copy?”

Nothing but static.

“I swear we’ll come back.”

He pulled the lever and felt the familiar tug as the ship entered hyperspace and left the dusty planet behind.

[willfainder-a]

before reading this please consider that there will be massive spoilers from the last of us ( game ) so please if you still have to play it don’t read this ! that being said you can go & cry tears of blood for me because i worked hard on this & i’m a bit proud of this work so yep love me & this au & feel free to ask me about things if you didn’t understand something.

I. ALL MIGHT AS JOEL & DEKU AS ELLIE. // okay listen up now ( because i still think this is way too accurate for this au ) you can see exactly what i'm talking about ( if you played the game ), when i say that all might is joel & deku is ellie, though some of you may be of a different opinion since joel as personality ( especially from the start of the game, after losing his daughter ) is more like aizawa, tho i want to believe that his father's figure never left him & though he suffered from the loss of his only daughter, i think his overall personality is pretty similar to all might as cared & stubborn as both these characters are. also please don't forget the develop these 2 characters got in the game is very similar to all might & deku, — as, if you look at it, both started a journey with the main objective to reach a final destination / task. i want to headcanon all might just like joel who lost his own " son " / " daughter " ( that's depend from the all might rp partner who is gonna write this au with me ) because of military then i think he would become exactly like the joel we all know right now, maybe softer but i don't think so. / / & about ellie of course she swears a lot ( she is actually tiny female kacchan ) but remember she loves COMICS & she is curious & a free spirit like our boy izuku so please though izuku doesn’t swear at all, he still has some connections with ellie. 

II. ALL GONE / IZUKU’S PAST ( 15 years old ). // this is a backstory of izuku just to let everyone knows why he always acted so nicely with everyone & why he is so scared of killing people, even clickers or runners. / / izuku was born in a small town & stayed there with his mother for all his life. he never knew his father since in this universe his father abandoned his mother when he found out she was pregnant & although he offered to pay her monthly for foods & rant, he left with no words to the young kid who growth only with her mother who somehow tried to cope with the baby, her home & work all by herself. things were not better at school, especially during middle school where he was often targeted for his shy and taciturn nature & the fact that he had an unbridled passion for super-hero comics did’t help him sympathize with his peers. fortunately he managed to cope in some way with these suffering & abuse even though his monotonous life ceased its course when the parasitic fungal began to appear in his town, ending up infecting the people who lived there & forcing his mother to run away with the him. needless to say, their run was stopped before they could get away from the town by some infected who ended up biting izuku's mother, who tried to protect his son with her own life. scared & unable to observe while his mother was devoured by two infected, izuku tried to not puke as his heart reached the maximum speed’s level. the thing was made even more traumatic since izuku saw that scene without being able to do anything &, as if it was not enough, those two infected were shot down by some soldiers who came to clean the square. needless to say that izuku in his present state could only fall to the ground in front of his dying mother without being able to say anything since the military didn’t hesitate to shoot the woman right in her head. finally the militants took away izuku with force, although he protested for a few seconds before being hit at the head & brought in the quarantine zone, then transferred to a military area where he would be trained to fight against the enemies.

III. A1 CLASS MEETS IN THE MILITARY SCHOOL. // kids / children are put in that school & everyone live in the quarantine zone for protection ( of course ), yet don’t expect a good time in that military school because kids fight like HELL, sometimes killing the “ weak ” one of the group because in that school kids learn how to survive to CLICKERS / RUNNERS & FIREFLIES ( the latter is basically the military’s enemy ). so if you are weak you are usless besides you don’t have options; so you pretty much stay with the military group or you are kicked out with the rest of the population with runners & clickers ready to kill you at any second. that being said izuku is one of the " weakest " kid in there & it's not usual for him to be kicked / punched or injured for his personality & his " good " character. the only friends who would help him in this mess would probably be iida & uraraka & i think the one who would pick up on this boy would be katsuki since he thinks that deku is taking this whole situation as a game & way too lightly. after all, in the world they were living, a good & kind attitude like his would only bring to his own death & maybe this is why katsuki can't stand the kid at all & he thinks he should just die already since he doesn't deserve to waste some precious food & water.

IV. FINDING HOPE IN IMAGINARY SUPERHEROES. // even though the motivations here for izuku to behave in such way are mostly caused from the trauma of seeing his mother killed without being able to do anything to help her, he is actually good for nature, he is not strong both physically & psychologically, and even if he wanted to be better he couldn’t since his will his broken & those forced trainings & abuses in the military school don’t help him overcome his insecurities nor the internal drama he is fighting. he really hates the military school & if he could, he would leave already, however, the courage & the thought that a clicker or a runner might kill him scare him & this only creates more anxiety & fears in him. the only way he has to survive this is hoping that, sooner or later, things will change & that someone weaker than him would come to school however this never happened. for this reason he tried to find hope & strength in comics; in fact one of his greatest passions has not changed & still today he collects them, looking for these in dumps in the quarantine zone.

V. DEKU & THE FIREFLIEES. // izuku will meet the fireflies during a mission with some of the young guys in the school ( the reason why they are out is to look for supplies & medicines ). however the circumstances in which the fireflies are found by izuku are a bit messy since izuku’s team would be attacked by some clickers & runners. needless to say, izuku will try to escape from that attack, thanks to his stealth tactics he had learned & practiced alone. izuku will succeed in escaping from that group of enemies, but he would end up captured by a runner who was alone in a house. luckily in that moment, before izuku could do something to protect himself, the fireflies arrived, saving the teen’s life who will find himself again scared by what he had just experienced. marlene seeing him in those conditions will approach him making sure he wasn’t bitten or else; later she would explain who are the fireflies & why they were here, finally telling the boy to join their group & that he would be safe as long as he will stay with them. marlene then decides to give the boy a gun just for personal protection, he decides to take it in his trembling hands, making a small nod in approval of the woman's action & words. / / after that incident he wouldn’t talk for a few days ( 2 days exactly ) until he faces marlene that will help him overcome his fears & anxieties, teaching him how to fight & how to take care of himself. after a year he would learn basic fighting moves & how to distinguish the surroundings. his personality would change becoming secure & curious about the outside world. his shyess will in some way be replaced by determination, although a tiny bit of timidness will remain anyway.

VI. MY HERO. // izuku will overcome his trauma thanks to a mission with marlene & some other fireflies. although he was good in strategy & his physicality was now decent, the trauma still hunted his heart & mind, in fact he had not yet killed a clicker nor a runner on his own. in this mission by the way izuku has come to face an important choice, saving the life of kid who was in front of his eyes, ready to be killed by a clicker or seeing them dying like his own mother. would he choose to be a hero of those comics he loved or let his hopes down once again, living his weak life ? this time he didn’t think twice about it & with no hesitation he fired all his bullets against that clicker. the kid reached for him & he thanked him, calling him his hero. after that mission marlene decides to donate him a firefly’s tag as a symbol of his courage, saying that he now was a true hero & that he has nothing more to learn from her.

VII. I’LL SAVE THE WORLD NO MATTER WHAT. // izuku was bitten by a runner when he was trying to save a companion who eventually died slaughtered by a clicker. he found himself wandering for a week in the field outside the fireflies zone without answering their calls & without approaching them, since he didn’t know what to do & he was too afraid for killing himself or to commit suicide. after all that time, however, it seemed that his body had developed a sort of immunity against that fungus, so he decided to return to the base camp, calling for marlene & telling her about his bite. needless to say, the woman was surprised by this & she seemed at first reluctant about what to do even if in the end she seemed to believe izuku's words since the bite on his right arm seem to be healed & cicatrized. that is why she made an important decision : she entrusted to izuku the task of arriving in an big fireflies area where they could study izuku & the reason why he wasn’t turning. izuku will leave for this mission with some firefighter soldiers, but they will almost die, leaving him alone to reach the base of the fireflies & perhaps save the whole way just like a superhero ( this is the main verse but if an all might would roleplay with me i would change this piece & i would go like the game’s flow since as i said before i really like the idea of all might as joel & ellie as deku ).

VIII. BATTLE SCARS & WEAPONS. // izuku has a lot of scars, firstly the bite one on his right arm & small scars on his left arm, hands, legs, shoulders & long & disgusting scars on his back. he has a small cut on his lower lip that has never been healed & a scar on his left cheek. he has a decent body & he is very agile & he is fastest runners due to his skilled parkour abilites. / / about wapons he likes to use guns, mostly revolvers, tiny knives & bow, snipers. he would avoid a 1 vs 1 fight because though he knows how to fight those he is still too disadvantage in those fights. he is also skilled in making tools & traps for his enemies & he prefers a stealth tactic & long raged attacks.