#like in my family we do the who stole the cookies math one. “was it u no1?” “no its not! was it u no2?” etc etc

[thepandalion]

having hot syntax takes in the house today

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 4

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.3k

Warnings • mentions of drug use and unsettling text messages

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

In the following weeks you noticed Eric’s drive to make your life extra hard, by going against your opinions, decreased. You got along. Occasionally, your thoughts drifted back to that weird moment in the furniture store. Holding hands. And his fingers trying to intertwine with yours. If that was a deliberate action or an automatic reaction – you couldn’t say. All you knew was that the memory of it made your stomach twist and you didn’t like that.

The number of folded papers in your pockets had increased immensely. They were pulled out under the dinner table when you couldn’t endure Eric’s stares anymore. Or while waiting for the shower to be free. Or right after the ‚GN‘ knock at night when that stupid smile on your lips didn’t want to leave.

It was Friday. Friday was the weekly grocery haul day. It was your second time having to fulfil that task. The first time it had been with Tris who patiently showed you what everyone’s favorite snack was – Eric’s were those little pretzels covered in chocolate – and what kind of vegetables were an ultimate must buy.

It was Friday. And this time you had to go shopping with Eric. In the morning he told you to get read for noon. At noon he told you to get ready for five. At five he tried to push it back once more but you grew impatient.

„If we don’t go now, we don’t have to go at all today. All the fresh stuff will be gone,“ you pointed out, grabbed your backpack and didn’t leave him a choice anymore really. You put on your shoes and left the apartment. Eric was rambling something as he came rushing down the stairs after you.

„Where did you park?“

„Left.“

You walked ahead and tried to spot his car without being able. Further down the road you started to cross a street and suddenly felt a hand around your wrist. Eric nodded behind his back. „This way.“

His hand was immediately gone after telling you to change directions. Still, the spots where his fingertips had touched your skin was burning as if they had left marks. I don’t like that at all.

You were well prepared. After all you had the complete day to brace yourself for the struggle you expected. The shopping list was in your pocket, though not the only paper in there, the community money was in your backpack and you took a drag, or five, of Will’s joint earlier.

The store wasn’t that filled as you thought it would be on a Friday. Good. A lot of people made you nervous.

Eric pushed the cart and already at the first stop, fruit section, he remembered that your last discussion had been a few days ago. Too long. Time to settle for a new one.

„Take the blueberries.“ He pointed to the little containers as if you didn’t know what blueberries were.

„I want apples so I’m getting apples,“ you stated.

„Blueberries are super high on antioxidants, you know.“

„Cool but I don’t want to eat thirty tiny things. I want to eat one thing.“

„Fine. But I want blueberries.“

„Then take them yourself. You’re not decoration, Eric. You have hands to use them.“ You shook your head at how ridiculous he was. You weren’t his personal shopping assistant, this was a team work thing.

The veggie section wasn’t any better. You just tried to work your way through the shopping list and directed Eric on what else to pick. Admittedly, since living with your roommates, your eating got a lot healthier because they actually knew how to cook.

You completed the booze area, cheese heaven and dairy aisle without any further debates and turned into a new aisle. Then took a step back out of it again to look down the hallway.

„What now?“ Eric stopped the cart in time before running you over.

„I thought I saw someone I know.“ No one was there though. And if that person, you that had been there, really was there, you were glad they disappeared. Meeting ghosts from the past was under no circumstances something you wanted to happen while Eric was around.

Snack aisle. You grabbed some nuts for you and also the chocolate pretzels without thinking twice. Which caused another awkward moment when you placed them in the cart. Was life to be full of awkward moments now?

Eric looked at you bluntly, then forced a smile on his lips. You picked out the favorite snacks of your other roommates as well to show that his wasn’t the only one you remembered.

Whenever you turned into a new aisle you nervously checked if there was a ghost from the past. You never found one and were incredibly relieved when you made it through check out and had stored all the groceries in Eric’s trunk. And the backseat.

„Smartie waved at me yesterday,“ Eric said as the car rolled from the parking lot onto the street.

„Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?“

„It was close enough to be counted as a wave,“ he admitted. Though, talking about penguins broke the tense atmosphere. You hadn’t even been on the road for a minute and Eric pulled into another parking lot. He stopped at a diner drive thru window. „Milkshake?“

„Doesn’t look like I can say no now that we’re here.“

He rolled down his window and you were greeted by a waitress. She asked what she could serve you.

„Two milkshakes,“ Eric turned to you. „What flavour do you want?“

You leaned over to the window. „Strawberry, please,“ you smiled at the waitress and found yourself – too close to Eric’s face. Half leaning on his chest he mumbled a ‚for me too‘. Yep. Life would be full of awkward moments from now on.

You saved yourself to the passenger side and tried to hide the heat rising in your face by looking out the window. In fact you rolled it down to get a cool breeze. No chance, though. Chicago didn’t want to help you with that today.

„There you go!“ The waitress handed your milkshakes to Eric and you carefully made sure that this time your fingers wouldn’t touch. You sipped on your milkshake all the way back to the apartment.

The more often you took the way up and down the three flights of stairs, the more your muscles grew used to it. On moving day your legs had trembled so bad. Now, that all the groceries were up in the apartment you didn’t notice a single muscle being impressed by the stairs anymore.

Eric kneeled at the fridge, you handed him all the groceries that had to go in there. When you fished his blueberries out of the bag you couldn’t bite back a remark.

„Here, Eric. May they taste as good as my apples.“

He just shook his head and put them away. Once all the food that had to be cooled was put away, you stole away to sit on the balcony and finish your milkshake. He actually joined you.

„Why do you want to become a doctor?“ That question slipped faster than you had thought it to an end in your head.

„The obvious reason. To help people.“ He sipped as loudly on his milkshake as you did. „Why are you studying math out of all terrible things?“

„Same reason as yours,“ you bluntly stated.

„Yeah?“ Eric had stared at you ever since you sat down on the balcony. You had noticed that out of the corner of your eye. Now you looked at him as well.

„Yes.“ A smile grew on your lips. That was what you hoped you would be able to do one day.

/////

The evening atmosphere on the balcony was relaxing. Will came and joined Eric and you at some point. Then Christina got back home as well. One after the other found a spot on the balcony floor to squeeze in and contributed to a growing conversation.

It was warm instead of hot and Four provided everyone with beer. Tris suggested to head out to the beach all together soon. Everyone was all hyped for her plan and you hoped they wouldn’t notice that your excitement for that was just nonexistent. Nevertheless you enjoyed them making plans for everyone together. Christina didn’t exaggerate when she said, all those weeks ago when she suggested for you to move in, that all the roommates were like family.

Eric got out of one of the two lounge chairs. „Who wants pizza?“ And that question was the most rhetorical question he could’ve asked his roommates. Because everyone wanted pizza.

In this house pizza was made all by hand. So far the only pizza you had eaten here were takeouts someone brought home. The thought of completely self-made pizza sounded too good to be true.

Eric navigated his kitchen ‚staff‘. It seemed that when it came to pizza, he was the chef.

„Tris and Chris, you’re slicing the veggies. The guys can prep the tomato sauce.“ You waited to get a task too but so far he didn’t trust you with anything.

Eric grabbed flour from the shelf, oil and some water and yeast from the fridge. He placed it all in front of you on the countertop and fetched a bowl out of the cupboard. Balancing some sugar and salt down from the shelf, he came to stand right next to you.

„Did you ever make pizza dough yourself?“ He lowered his head a little for you to understand him better with the loud bantering about the vegetables that was going on behind your backs.

„Not really.“ You were a little overwhelmed. Not even cookie dough was within the realm of possibility for you.

„Wanna try?“ Eric’s voice sounded encouraging. He must’ve noticed the look of horror on your face.

„Don’t blame me if it’s gonna be a total mess.“

„No worries,“ he stated and he lowered his face a little more. „I’ll teach you step by step.“ His body came closer as well. It actually closed that little gap between your sides as he reached for the yeast. He crumbled it into lukewarm water and told you to add some salt and sugar. It had to set for ten minutes until you could continue with the flour. And during those ten minutes you realised that his body didn’t accidentally close that gap between your sides. Eric did it on purpose and he held it there. You sensed he gave you the chance to bring some space between you again but… you didn’t want to. You physically couldn’t, just couldn’t break the contact. It was way too intriguing, almost electrifying. And for ten minutes straight, he lowered his upper body to shield your nonchalant conversation about penguins – of course – from the others.

When the yeast-water-mix was ready, his following instructions were only whispers, so you had to keep close to him. Why was he doing that?

He added the mix to the flour, along with some oil, and dug his hands in to start kneading. The way his hands applied pressure, provided by his arms, made you… look. To say the least. To be honest, it turned into a very distracting sight. Eric kneading pizza dough? Come on. You had to give in and admit to yourself that this was something you couldn’t deny being totally sexy. The arm muscle escalation, whenever he flipped the dough and kneaded in once again set off a chain of thoughts you really didn’t want to have in a kitchen full of roommates.

„Wanna try?“ Eric asked with a brief glance in your direction, luckily unaware of your current admiration for his arms.

„Nah,“ you mumbled. In hopes to keep watching his arms. You were able to do so for a few more minutes. And were entirely embarrassed when you turned around to find Christina and Tris look at you with a mischievous grin on their lips. You deserved that.

From then on you kept a good distance between Eric and you. While the dough had to rest some. Later during making the pizzas and baking them. Only twice you met eyes with him during dinner. He probably didn’t even notice. After all, why did your brain make such a big deal about it? You were certainly not playing in Eric’s league nor was there even profound reason to think about that.

You were just roommates. Former enemies going onto maybe being some sort of friends.

And then there was a knocking on your wall again. Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. You turned to your wall and foolishly smiled at it. When you didn’t respond right away, the knocking was repeated.

Just as you wanted to knock good night as well your phone buzzed. For a second your pulse quickened, wondered if it was Eric because you didn’t respond soon enough.

You fished for your phone and unlocked it. It wasn’t Eric.

you were seen today

Your heart stopped for a second and then started beating in light speed all of a sudden. You opened the chat.

was that your new lover? already got someone new whose life you can fuck up?

or did you break up because of him?

The text messages didn’t end. Peter still understood very well how to provoke and intimidate you.

ANSWER ME

Do you think I’m just gonna let that sit???

You left the chat and threw it into your sheets. It bounced with a thud up and against the wall but you didn’t care. You searched hectically for a paper but all the clothes you grabbed were empty. The phone buzzed again. First you didn’t pick it up, scared it was Peter again. Then you rummaged around your sheets to find it because maybe it was Eric this time asking what that sound was. It wasn’t Eric. Again.

you’ll regret it. believe me y/n

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

[marauders-map-irl]

this is Not An Accident (written very poorly by me)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: R*PE, M*RD*R, SELF-HATE, R*CISM, H*MOPH*BIA

Living here, in this small, ignorant town, going to my small, ignorant high school, looking like I do, loving who I do, sucks. And that’s to say the least. For some background, I live in a small town in the countryside of Tennessee, called Greenton. I go to a high school called Cookie-Cutter, which is pretty ironic because it is much like a high school you would see on tv.

Everyone pretty much hates us here. I can’t say that I blame them, though. I hate me too. My family is the only strange family here; everyone else is pretty normal (extremely so). Everyone mocks us and bullies us. My mum is African American and my father is Irish. They both joke that we’re the 21st century version of the Brady Bunch.

There’s 7 of us, including my parents and I. I’m right in the middle of my brothers and sisters, and perhaps the most normal, but that doesn’t say much. My eldest brother is John (20), and he’s the oldest of us all. He’s mixed like the rest of us, he’s cisgender male and gay. Then comes my eldest sister, Moira (19), who’s non-binary and pansexual. There’s me next (16), and I’m cisgender female, asexual, and aromantic. After me came my trans (female-male) brother (12), Mikey, and he’s heterosexual. Lastly came my sister, Brittany (9), who’s showing signs of being demiromantic.

We’re the only people that aren’t white in the entire town, and we only came here to help dad’s parents in retirement. The town is extremely ignorant, and it doesn’t help that we came from a big city either. In school, I’m an outcast, though I suppose it’s better than being constantly bullied still. They’ve stopped all contact with me completely, deeming my lack of wanting any sexual activities at my age strange. The teachers even think I’m weird too, and as such have either called on me excessively or just stick to grading my perfect papers and not making any conversation with me if unnecessary. I tend to get perfect grades, what with having absolutely no platonic ties to anyone outside family.

That brings me to where we are currently. In math class, staring out of a window I’m somehow always seated by. The teacher, whatever her name is, is droning on and on about a group project worth half of our final grade for the year. Three people just either groaned or were making tiny grunts of displeasure, meaning I was in a group this time. This project must actually be important. I look up about 4 minutes later, when someone sits next to me and taps my shoulder. Looking up, it’s the very person that continues to poke fun at me, Jessica Kaileia. Well, Jessica, 1 of her most loyal cronies, and another nerd. Sam, I think his name is, and I recall he always eats a slice or two of pie everyday at lunch.

“Do you need something?” I ask Jessica coldly, averting my eyes quickly from her makeup-caked face.

“We’re project partners, Mckinlay. Otherwise I wouldn’t risk my wellbeing talking to you, trust me,” she smirks slightly and her cronie sniggers, but I just roll my eyes and Sam snorts.

“So we’re using last names? Didn’t think you liked your last name anymore, what with your father being a serial killer, Kaileia,” Sam says, making me hold in my giggles as Jessica shrieks.

“You forgot the part where her mum left her for a woman,” her cronie says in disgust, clearly trying and failing to conceal her own laughter.

“Mackenzie!!” Jessica says in a shriek that would rival that of Petunia Dursley.

“Watch your volume, Ms. Kaileia,” the teacher says in her monotone voice, barely glancing up from her issue of The Quibbler.

“Yes, Ms. Binns. Sorry, Ms. Binns,” Jessica says, rolling her eyes before returning to glare at Sam and I respectfully.

“What was the assignment?” I ask, wanting to rid myself of these potentially cruel people as quickly as possible.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it done by tomorrow and put your names on it. I am second in our year. Of course, I will need your first and last names, well, not yours Kaileia,” Sam states, staring at the packet of instructions and not looking up at us once.

“Yes, well I’m first so I’d actually like to do the work, if you don’t mind. Not that princess Allura and her bestie Romelle here would appreciate getting a fair share of the project,” I say, snatching the packet gently and looking it over.

“Who are they?” the cronie asks, making both Sam and I snort.

“Homewreckers one and two,” Sam says as I divide the instructions in half and give the easy half to Sam.

“Language, Mr. Avery,” the teacher’s monotone voice rings throughout the classroom and Sam apologizes half-heartedly.

“Wait, why do I get the easy part of the assignment?” he asks me offrontedly.

“Because I’m the first in our class,” I answer easily in a ‘duh’ tone, to which he nods with a slight frown.

The assignment was straightforward and easy, although to Jessica and her friend, it would be like rocket science to a 3 year old. I set to work, knowing that if I start now, my half would be done by the end of lunch hour. I didn’t pay much attention to my bullies, though them being in my peripheral didn’t support the cause at all. They were seemingly doing their nails (more like the minion doing Jessica’s nails) and talking about stereotypical popular girl things. The tiny bits that I actually heard made me roll my eyes so hard and so often I was worried they might actually get stuck.

“What’s your name? I need to know for the project,” I ask the she-devil’s minion, but she looks to Jessica for confirmation before speaking.

“Clara Maythers,” she mutters, as though the mere thought of speaking to someone as ‘abnormal’ as me scared her very being.

I nod half-heartedly before adding her name to the list and continuing the project, trying once again to ignore the ignorant bastards behind me. I turn slightly when I see Jessica forcing Clara to hold up a magazine for her to read while she blows her wet nails dry, making sure I couldn’t see them at all. When I was looking over what I had, the intercom came on and the principal spoke. Her voice shook with laughter and I’m sure her face was turned up in a smirk. It was probably another prank. This is Cookie-Cutter, after all. We’re a very stereotypical high school and I’m a very… let’s just say mold-breaking student.

“Could Ms. Alessia Mckinlay come to the front desk to be collected. There has been a family emergency,” she says family as if she doesn’t believe my strange family is one, and I’m sure she doesn’t. There’s incoherent words being said to the principal and she grudgingly continues. “Please,” and after that, the intercom cuts off and all heads turn my way.

I make my way to the front office, as asked, and am hit with sneers, sympathetic looks, and pretty much everything between hate and loathing. I’m not even able to make my way to the front office before my parents steer me away from looking in the lobby. I look at them with a mix of skepticism and worry. Principal Maera did say there was a family emergency, after all.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to look over my parents’ shoulders and failing, due to them forming a wall in front of whatever they were hiding.

“Your sister… There was an accident and…” mum cuts herself off there with a choked sob, making me look to my father for the remaining explanation.

“They…” my father then stops himself, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, either searching for the right words or not wanting to say them aloud (although in retrospect, it’s probably a mix of both).

At this point, I’m worried for all of my sisters, frustrated with my parents for not telling me what’s wrong, and attempting to stay positive and force all the negative thoughts from my head. I manage to shove through the human wall before me and my body freezes at the sight. Laying in front of my eyes is my little sister, Brittany, battered, bruised, broken, and lifeless. Her pants are down to her ankles, her rainbow underwear just past her knees, and blood is drying and caking around her…

I tear my eyes away, but they somehow end up right back at her. This time, though, I’m studying her face. It’s frozen in pain, but there’s also an air of peacefulness present. There’s bruises forming around her neck and littering her face, but I try not to focus on that. I try to focus on all her happy memories. I try to focus on her laughing as mum caught her cheating in Monopoly. I try to focus on dad hiding a grin as she stole a bit of the cake batter for my birthday last year. I try to focus on Brit. But it’s so hard. I try to focus on her happy times. But I always end up looking into her wide, horrified eyes.

My body’s seemingly on autopilot now, because I somehow make it over to my 9 year old sibling to shut her eyes properly, but I didn’t think about it. I thought about how someone could do this to a child. I thought about who could do this to a child. I thought about why someone would do this to a child.

But soon enough, a camera flashes, and then 2, then 5, and then I’m surrounded not only by my baby sister’s blood, but light from what seems like millions of phones. Soon enough, I feel like I’m under a microscope, and viscous scientists are picking apart my every move. Soon enough, I’m back to the main lobby of Cookie-Cutter High School in Greenton, Tennessee. And soon enough, the laughing, mocking, sneering, jeering students return full force.

I hear my mum crying in the background and muttering something about this being an accident. About it having to be an accident. That just makes me mad. Does she not see the freshman taking pictures of her youngest child’s corpse? Does she not see the sophomores laughing mercilessly at her and my tears alike? Does she not hear the juniors yelling at us that our whole family is a disgrace to human-kind? Does she not hear the seniors telling us that we all deserve the same fate? Does she not see my principal’s smug smirk as she watches the whole event and does absolutely nothing?

“This wasn’t an accident. How can you beat someone up on accident? How can you rape someone on accident? How can you murder an innocent child ON ACCIDENT? I get that you’re in shock or whatever, I really do. BUT HOW THE HELL COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK THIS WAS AN ACCIDENT? PEOPLE HAVE BULLIED US EVER SINCE WE MOVED HERE! THEY MOCK, TEASE, PUNCH, BUT NOW THEY’VE GONE TOO FAR!” my father is telling me to stop yelling, but I don’t hear him. All I know is that I see red, whether that be from the blood pooling at my feet or rage, I have no clue. “DON’T YOU SEE THEM LAUGHING, RECORDING, YELLING AT US?! DON’T YOU SEE HOW THIS COULD NOT HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN AN ACCIDENT?!” and by now, I’m crying, but she has to know. She has to become aware. She has to stop this. She has to. “Please,” I say to no one in particular, taking my sister’s dead body in my arms and sinking down to sit on the floor.

I can’t do anything but hug my now limp sister and pray that this is just another practical joke. Hope that she’s not really gone. Wish that I could have been a good big sister and protected her.

She had so much life left to live. She was only NINE, for god’s sake! She was going to grow up! She was going to make it past the fourth grade! She was going to do well in school and get into the college she wanted to go to! She was going to be successful in her career and her life! She was going to die when she was old and senile and only after beating a terminal disease like cancer, because that’s the stubborn bastard she is. Was.

This wasn’t an accident.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Run. (Pt. 5)

Part One /Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Words: 1266 Pairing: Tony Stark & Reader   Timeline: The Avengers [2012]   Other Info: Run AU   Summary: It’s four years later and the morning that the Avengers are supposed to unite for the first time. What starts out as a casual discussion between Tony and Reader about whether or not she gets to meet the Avengers, turns into a family moment about Serina’s place in the middle of two joint families.  A/N:  This is two days late, but hopefully it’s worth the wait. 

May 2012

It was the morning of the Big Day. You and Tony had been working with SHIELD for years to help Director Fury assemble the team that would as of today be known as The Avengers. Today the others would finally meet for the first time. You woke up early, got dressed and cooked breakfast for your family. You got the kids ready for school and woke Tony.

He grumbled and groaned as he got dressed. He tugged on his old Black Sabbath t-shirt. He’d had it as long as you could remember. The original black of the material had faded to a greyish and you were surprised the shirt still fit. Truthfully the arms fit too tight, but they showed off his biceps. You supposed he’d chosen this shirt on purpose. He pulled on a pair of jeans he found on the floor and crossed the room to kiss you.

“Run?” He suggested hopefully, raising a playful eyebrow at you.

“You have to go Tony.” You said, lovingly adjusting the out of shape collar of his t-shirt. “And I think it’s time to retire this shirt.”

“But Mom what if the other kids make fun of me? Or they want to play with my expensive toys?” He complained, swooping in for another kiss.

“Now we know where Eddie gets his whining from.” You rolled your eyes at your husband’s dramatics. “C’mon, I’ve got breakfast ready and the kids dressed. We’ve gotta hurry if we want to get there before everyone else.” You stepped out into the hall and started walking towards the kitchen.

“We? No, no, you’re not coming today.” Tony insisted following after you.  We’re dropping the kids off at school and daycare, you’re dropping me off at…work.” He added vaguely as you stepped into the kitchen and within earshot of the children. “And then you’re coming home, here. Where it’s safe.”

“Since when is working in your office dangerous?” Twelve-year-old Serina snorted.

“Since, none of your business.” Tony quipped sticking his tongue out at her. “Did you finish all your homework?”

“Yes.” She answered looking down at her food.

“You finished your reading for English, and lab report for Science?” He probed her. Tony reached across the counter island and stole a frozen waffle from the serving plate. He leaned against the back counter and waited for an answer.

“Yes.” Serina snapped, slightly annoyed.

“And what about your Math homework?” Tony bit into his waffle.

“Yes. I did all my stupid homework.” Serina huffed. “You know when I stay with Dad he doesn’t care if I do my homework.”

“Well that’s why you’re going to thank me in your Valedictorian speech in six years and not him.” Tony waved his waffle at his step-daughter as he talked.

“Whatever, you’re so weird.” Serina shoved her half-eaten breakfast away from her. She jumped down from her stool. “I’m going to get my backpack.” She explained as she left the room.

“And how about you little guy?” Tony tossed his waffle aside and crouched slightly so that he was eye to eye with his four-year-old son. “Any big plans today? Blocks maybe? Coloring?”

“I love you, Dada.” Eddie proclaimed with a large smile.

“Well at least someone in this family does. I love you too, Eddie!” Tony walked around the counter island and scooped his son into his arms. “Mommy won’t let me skip work today, because she doesn’t want Dada to be happy!” Tony threw a playful smirk in your direction.

“Don’t tell him things like that.” You sighed. “Dada is just teasing Mommy.” You told Eddie, brushing some strands of hair from his eyes.

“Hey uh,” You and Tony both looked to the doorway where Serina was standing with her backpack and a piece of paper held in her hands. “I forgot about this slip and it’s due today. We’re supposed to ask at least one of our parents to fill it out and come in for a career day.” She rolled her eyes.

“It’s super lame or whatever,” she mumbled walking closer. “but I wanted to know if you could come in and tell that story you told me before about how you changed Stark Industries? You know the time you saw the missile with your name on it and how you knew you didn’t want to make weapons anymore? I think it’s really cool how you know, you’re like a big CEO who actually cares about people, and I know you’re not technically my dad, but you’re right. You’re the one who brings me to school every day and makes sure my homework gets done. You’re the one who knows all my friends’ names. You know I hate pineapples on my pizza. You’re kind of my Dad, Uncle Tony.”

“What about The Architect?” Tony asked, already motioning for her to hand over the form. He always talked about Michael like that. He never referred to him by his name or as you ex. He only ever called him The Architect or on a rare occasion “Your Dad” to Serina, but almost exclusively The Architect. It made him sound like a comic book villain.

“The last time I asked him to help me with something for school, he said that he only gets three days twice a month to see me. He wasn’t going to let my schoolwork get in the way of us spending time together. He said…Well he said you and mom had enough money you could probably just pay my teachers to give me good grades.”

“Rina why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” You asked. “When did this happen?”

“Last month, when I had that big science project.” Serina said. “I didn’t tell you then because I didn’t want you to get upset. He was just mad at me because I told him I didn’t want to visit him anymore.”

“Well why did you tell him that?” Tony questions looking up form.

“Because it’s true, I don’t!” She huffed. “I’m sorry, I know you guys have to get to work or whatever. We can talk about this later.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked out of the kitchen. You and Tony followed after her without a second of hesitation.

“I think we should finish this conversation now, Rina.” You insisted. “Why don’t you want to see your dad anymore.”

“Because I hate it there!” Serina burst. “He has his new wife and this whole second family. And they’re like the Von Trapps! Like they’re all so cookie cutter perfect and annoying and they all play instruments and they’re good at school without trying. And his wife makes me feel like I’m not good enough to be around them. Sure, you and Uncle Tony had Eddie, but Uncle Tony doesn’t make me feel like he loves me any less than he loves Eddie.” Tears were welling up in your daughter’s eyes.

“I should stay home today.” Tony decided.

“You’re going.” You disagreed. “You have to go. Now you just have one more important reason to come home to us safely.”

“Tell you what, Rina, how about we take a Mental Health Day?” You kissed Tony on the cheek and motioned for him to hand Eddie off to you. “Uncle Tony is going to fill out your form and bring it to the school on his way to work. He’ll tell them you’re sick. I’m going to stay here with you and Eddie. We’ll hang out and watch movies and eat junk food, okay?”

“I don’t want you to rearrange your whole day for me.” Serina shook her head.

“Nah, I need a day off myself and it’ll be good for us to hang out. Go change into something more comfortable. I’ll warm up the DVD player.” You kissed Serina on the head. Serina started to walk down the hall, but she turned and tossed herself at you and Tony, holding as much of both of you as she possibly could.

“Have good day with Momma.” Tony instructed his kids as he kissed them both good-bye. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Save some popcorn for me.” He saved a kiss for you for last.

[frangipanidownunder]

Twas the night before Christmas: fic

A/N This is for my anon who sent a prompt ‘M&S debate the existence of Santa Claus’. This is set now, post season 11, no baby. 

It turned into something a little sexier and longer than I expected. And, it references How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, so posting it today on its 20th anniversary seems fitting.

A little NSFW so there’s cut. Happy Holidays, all.

He’s hanging his stocking from the hook in the mantelpiece. There’s a warm glow from the fairy lights on the overly grand tree in the corner; they blaze and fade, highlighting Scully’s precision-positioned decorations.

              “Is there some kind of mathematical equation for hanging baubles that I have been ignorant of all my life?” he asks as she hands him a mulled wine.

The warm smell of cinnamon hangs in the air. She snuffs a laugh from her pink-tipped nose and he picks up the poker to stoke the flames. The fire crackles and spits and he steps back, slotting an arm around her waist.

“Have you been naughty or nice this year, Mulder?” Her upturned mouth shimmers in the light, too pretty not to kiss.

              She tastes of spice and citrus. “The year’s not out yet. Why don’t you let me know next week?” He burrows his chin into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and he can feel her breasts move against him as she laughs.

              “Well,” she says, shouldering him away with a slow smile. “Let’s see what Santa puts in your stocking tonight.”

              He looks down at her, cheeks wine-warmed, hair aflame like the fire, lips plump. She’s amazing, his Scully. Age hasn’t dulled his passion for everything about her. She still intrigues and mystifies him. Still keeps him guessing.

              “I’d tell you that you would be the best stocking filler a boy could wish for, if it weren’t for respect and boundaries.” Her hair tickles the underside of his chin as they sway, watching the orange glow. “So, I’ll leave out carrots and a glass of the finest malt whisky and hope Saint Nick looks upon the new, grown up version of me proudly.”

              She chinks her glass against his and swallows some more wine. “There are thousands of churches in Europe dedicated to St Nicholas, did you know that? Legend has it that he paid the dowries of three young girls to stop them from being sold into prostitution. Charity and kindness. We could use more men like him in our current climate.”

              “Santa for president in 2020.” He drops a kiss on her head. “I didn’t think you believed?”

              She snuggles closer to him, practically burrowing under his arm. He doesn’t mind. Her cheek presses against his pec and he flexes it just to get a reaction. She giggles. “Mulder, there’s a vast difference between the red-suited, white-bearded Coca-Cola brand we’re all used to seeing and the real Saint Nicholas, who lived in 4th Century Turkey and is the patron saint of sailors and ships.”

              Her arm curls around his waist and he pulls her towards the couch where she lands half on him, half on the seat. Her legs drape over his knees and he tucks her feet down under his hand. She’s wearing knitted socks decorated with whimsical snowmen sporting top hats and button eyes and noses.  How had he not noticed before? He snaps one against her ankle and she kicks his hands away.

              “Bill sent them. We used to do this present exchange, you know, see who could give the tackiest gifts.”

              “I can’t imagine that you, Dr Dana Scully, would indulge in a gaudy gift competition.”

              She twists and plumps up a cushion. “I once sent him a toilet roll holder shaped like Polaroid camera. And another time, a yodelling pickle.”

Mulder sniggers and strokes her soles. She wriggles her toes and lays her head back. He watches her as her face relaxes, shadows playing over the perfect creaminess of her cheeks and neck. “Did you know that St Nicholas is also the patron saint of pawnbrokers and pirating and thievery. It’s amazing how a well-targeted marketing campaign can lift one’s image.

“Look at Kersh,” she says and they both laugh.

The fairy lights twinkle like the frost on the windows. The cabin was a perfect find, nestled in the hills. The forecast is for a white Christmas. There’ll be nothing to do but stay inside. The fridge is stocked - smoked salmon, Champagne, a Turducken and organic vegetables, a blueberry cheesecake in the shape of a love-heart, a seasonal special from the local patisserie.

              “So, did you believe, as a child, Scully? Or did big brother Bill spoil the surprise?”

              “Oh, it wasn’t Bill. It was Melissa.”

              His eyebrows shoot up. “She of the harmonic conversions and mystical auras?”

              Scully sniffs quietly, tucking her chin to her chest. “One Christmas, when she was about 12, Missy wanted a portable cassette player. You know the ones with the chunky white and red buttons? We shared a room and she wouldn’t settle, just kept sitting up and all I could hear was the rustling of her covers. I told her Santa wouldn’t visit if she didn’t go to sleep and she got out of her bed, sat on mine and laughed.”

              “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Dana, it’s time to face facts.’ The evidence is staring you in the face, yet you choose not to see it.” She looks at him and waits for a reaction. He nods for her to carry on. He loves it when she shares these memories, moments in her life that have stayed within. Whenever she tells them her breathing quickens and her eyes dart about, like she’s pulling images from her mind, sorting through the catalogue of conversations.

She sits up higher, heels digging into his thigh. “She said, with this real smug look on her face, ‘you do know that old Saint Nick is really Dad dressed up in some flea-bitten suit that Mom got from Goodwill and the sack is just an old hessian potato bag that lives at the bottom of their wardrobe all year.’

“I was devastated, but I tried so hard no to show it. I pulled the covers over my head and balled into my pillow. I cried myself to sleep, missed Santa’s arrival.”

“Did Missy get her cassette player?”

“That was the funny thing. She didn’t. She got a Barbie camper van and she launched it across the living room, yelling at Mom and Dad that she was too old for dolls and if Santa were real, he wouldn’t have delivered such a baby’s present. She yelled at Dad, ‘you never want me to grow up.’”

Scully leans her lips into her finger and thumb, rubbing gently and shaking her head. “Bill told her she was a spoilt brat and spent the morning trying to fix up the camper van. Missy spent the morning in our room and Mom carried on serving food like nothing had happened.”

He chuckles softly, imagining young Dana’s eyes widen and wet. “Was that the moment you decided on science as a career path?”

“God, no!” she says. “It just made me more determined to prove her wrong. My ten-year-old self reasoned that Santa must have been real because the gift was a reminder to Missy that she was still too young for grown up gifts and that her tantrum just served to prove that.”

              “Santa always knows best.”

              “Pretty silly, wasn’t it?” She lets out a soft flutter of giggles and slides closer, kissing him deeply.

              Her head drops onto his shoulder and they watch the flames a little longer. “Did you know there’s a town in Alaska called North Pole? And that a man who changed his name to Santa Claus was elected to the city council there?”

              “I did not,” she says, peppering his jawline with kisses. “But if we’re exchanging fun facts, have you ever wondered how many calories Santa consumes on his amazing trip around the world?”

              “Not as many as your mother serves at a Scully family Christmas, I would imagine.”

              “Assuming each household in the world left out two chocolate chip cookies he would consume something like 374 billion calories.”

Mulder whistles. “That’s quite a feat of endurance. I wonder how much his dental plan costs?”

She grins and he sees the fire reflected in her eyes. “If he could run an eight-minute mile, he would have to run for 109 centuries to burn off all those treats.”

“Nobody likes a math geek, Scully.”

There’s a rumbling noise from her throat as she leans in to kiss him. There’s a matching rumbling noise from his as she lifts herself across his lap, knees tucked either side of his thighs.

“You do, Mulder.” She says it as she grinds against his lap. “You love this math geek.”

He does. He really does. There is no formula to calculate the length and breadth of his love. It’s infinity times infinity. She’s latched onto the sweet spot under his ear. This will all be over too soon, if he doesn’t slow it down. He takes a slow breath in. Rummages through the stored trivia he’s collected over the years. The stuff most people would roll their eyes at. The stuff Dana Scully seems to find an aphrodisiac, when she’s in the mood. And as she rocks back and forward on him, arms anchored on his shoulders, it’s a fair bet to assume she’s in the mood.

“Did you know that pre red and jolly Santa Claus, hardened arteries and all, Scandinavian countries believed in a magical Yule goat.

“A goat?” Her voice hits the part of his brain that has control of his cock, ratcheting up a gear. She notices, it’s all in her little whimper.

“The goat would wander around to ensure families were preparing for Yule and demand gifts on the side.”

“A Mafia goat?”

He chuckles and bucks up under her movement. She moans into his mouth. “Ready for more math, Mulder?”

“I’m always ready for more math with you, Dr Scully.” Math and science, morality and scepticism

“To reach everybody on Christmas Eve, Santa has to cover 218 million miles which means he must travel 1,280 miles per second.”

“He must have the elite model alien-technology-built engine on that sleigh.” His fingers work on unbuttoning her top as she rolls her pelvis.

“I concede that unnatural forces are at play at this time of the year, Mulder.” He tries to nod but there’s something more than natural happening down below so he lets her talk as he works his hands around her back to unclip her bra. His fingers brush the knots of her spine and he wonders at her delicate framework, wonders how calcium and collagen and marrow could be so utterly sexy.

“Santa's sleigh would weigh more than 400,000 tons with all those toys so he would need more than 360,000 reindeer to do that.” 

Her breasts fall and his palms flatten over them. Her nipples are already hard and he muses that biology is the best science. The human form offers such comfort. Such diversity in texture. He marvels at the gentle weight of her breasts, the peaked points pushing at his skin. The sensual warmth of her mouth, the softness of her against the hardness of his body.

“So Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph need some more friends?”

“Uh-huh,” she says and it’s just the sexiest noise.

She’s grappling with his belt buckle and he doesn’t mind. He loves her grappling. She’s always been deft with her hands so it’s a pleasure of a different nature to see her working so hard, tongue kept neatly in the corner of her mouth, fingers white at the knuckle. He shifts up, allowing her room to do her work.

His belt slithers from its loops and she utters a small whoop of success. He captures the end of the noise in his mouth and pushes her blouse from her shoulders, along with her bra. There’s a stippling of gooseflesh over her exposed midriff. He runs his hands over her ribcage, counting each groove as his straining erection pulses between them.

There’s a smoky flavour to her skin, her nipples, the knobbly joint between her breasts. She’s woodfire and spice, naked on the couch beneath him. Laid out as a gift that he’s blessed to receive. His cock is throbbing with anticipation and she’s open-mouthed and flushed with need too. Her heat wraps around the tip, spreads up his shaft and burns in his throat, his mouth, his brain.

There are sounds all around, the reverberations of his own deep breathing, Scully’s soft moans, the snap of flames, the heartbeat-tick of the old-fashioned mantel clock keeping time above their stockings as though they might be in need of it. Time has never been less important. Time could just disappear and he doubts even Scully would care.

Each stroke fills him with such deep joy that he is sure there is nothing else in the world. She arches her back and in turn he pumps harder, understanding the clues that point to her building climax. Hot breaths under his ear, fingernails scraping the planes of his shoulders, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Fuck, Mulder.”

That’s the most overt sign and he slides a hand under her ass closing whatever gap there had been, pinning her to him so that he can feel her implode. When she does, she cries out and her voice hits his own release button and he surges into her with a shuddering sigh.

She’s boneless underneath him, pulsing faintly, shimmering. He’s unwilling to move. Their hearts beat as one. When he does shift, it’s because the fire spits and smoke fills his nasal passages. He presses his lips to hers and she tugs at the ends of his hair.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He sits up and chuffs. “What for?”

“For loving me again.”

Her skin is hot as he sets his palm on her bent knees. Her hair is stuck to the side of her face. There are crease marks on her cheek where his weight had pushed her against the couch cushions. She’s still wearing her socks. How could he not love her?

“I never stopped,” he says, handing her the discarded underwear. “You’re pretty hard to let go, Scully.”

She swings herself round and up and slips her panties back on. “I’m old, still sceptical, I’m getting more and more cranky, I have zero patience for anything. I just seem to look at life and think how inefficient it is. I mean, what do you see in someone like that? Someone so bitter?”

He stands behind her, massaging her shoulders, kissing the scar of her chip. “You know how many reindeer Santa needs to pull his sleigh.”

She giggles softly into his clasped hands around her neck. “And that’s the criteria you use as a guide to loving someone?”

“What can I say, Scully. I’m a simple man, with simple needs.”

She laughs harder this time. “You are the most complex man I’ve ever met, Fox William Mulder.”

“No, no, no, Miss Scully. I think you’re confusing me with the other Fox William Mulder. This one here just wants to spend every waking hour loving you and every sleeping hour dreaming about loving you. As efficiently as possible.”

Her stocking moves on an updraft from the fire and she reaches out to still it. “I used to have strict rules about love, Mulder.”

He’s by her side now, holding her hand. “I can’t believe Dr Dana Scully ever had any rules in her life. Sounds fake.”

“When I was a teenager, watching Missy have her heart broken or breaking hearts. I imagined how my future relationships would be. Should be. I’ve broken all the rules over the years, of course. Older men, married men.” She turns her face up to him. “Women.”

The flush on her skin deepens. “You do keep me guessing, Scully.”

“But you rewrote the rule book entirely. You made me see what love was really about. You’ve loved me so openly and honestly that it hurt sometimes. It was too much. But this time round, it’s like I’ve grown to fit the size of your love. Does that make sense?”

It makes perfect sense. So much sense that a tear slips down his cheek. “There’s a reason why some things cannot be explained away by science, don’t you think? There are reasons why some ideals become so embedded in a society that you can’t tell where the line between fantasy and reality lies any more. Santa Claus, St Nicholas he was real. And now he’s a secret magical sleigh-speeding reindeer-riding dream figure. He personifies the clash between the commercial and the sacred. Love is no different, is it?”

“So true love has become Hallmark sentiment, and we don’t know the difference any more?”

Their bodies press together and they’re almost swaying in rhythm to the dancing flames. Heat washes over them. Their stockings are flat, expectant. “If saying I love you in 14 point Edwardian Script is what it takes then so be it, Scully.”

Her hair tickles the skin of his upper arm and he lifts it, allowing her under, so her cheek rests on his pecs. His cock is still half-mast and twitches as her breast squash against his ribs. “I had you pegged as a 48 point, bold Chiller font kind of guy, Mulder.” She makes a breathy ‘wooooohhhh’ noise, like a ghost.

“Who would you haunt, Scully? If you could?”

“Kersh,” she fires off, no hesitation.

He barks out a laugh.  “I think I’ll join you. Imagine the pair of us tormenting him in his dotage. Floating around his place, leaving all the evidence of ghostly activity behind, and he wouldn’t be able to prove a goddamned thing. He’d sound like a lunatic. Such sweet revenge.”

She shivers as she laughs with him and he pulls her in for a full embrace. “I wonder what Maurice and Lyda are doing now?”

“Probably not cuddling naked in front of a fire in a cabin in the mountains.”

“More fool them. This is the only place to be on Christmas Eve.”

“We’re not going to shoot each other, are we?”

She chuckles, but it’s low and throaty and his cock twitches. “Lucky we left our weapons at home.”

“Maybe we should just exchange gifts instead?”

“As long as mine’s not an umbrella with alien faces on it this year. I’ll get dressed and go get yours.”

He pulls a face, hanging on to her arm. “Don’t.”

“Get your gift?” she asks, chin tilted up to him. “It might be better than an Italian leather Filofax, Mulder.”

He chuckles, but shakes his head. “Don’t get dressed.”

She looks at her nipples, tight peaks and grins at him.

He shrugs. “Best present ever.”

She looks at his cock and arches her eyebrow. “Ditto.”

The fire snaps and flickers and the stockings waft back and forth. The couch is draped in soft amber light. He takes her hand in his and leads her back there.

“There is a school of thought, Scully, that suggests that believing in Santa Claus cultivates the imagination and the ability to think of possibilities and potentialities. He buries his face in the warm valley between her breasts and she strokes his hair.

“And I know how much you want to believe.”

 As the clock sounds a soft chime for the turn of midnight, he stirs, half-opens an eye. There’s a shadow stretching from the open door of the bedroom to the fire, now just ashes in the hearth. It’s large and round. There’s a cool draft and Scully shivers in her sleep. He pulls the blanket higher over them as she snuggles closer. There’s a scraping noise and a soft jingle of bells. He sinks back down against the pillow and smiles as he drifts back to sleep.

[cameronspecial]

The Spider-Man Who Stole My Heart (Ch.11)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Mom!Reader

Summary: When Tom helps a lost little boy, he did not expect his mom to be so young. Once they get to talking, Tom realizes she may be the girl of his dreams, but what happens when she is not ready for a relationship.

Word Count: 1 556

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 |

“Tom, can you please help August with picking out his clothes? I am scared he’s going to pick something not appropriate for the weather,” I ask Tom whilst I put on my earrings. He gives me a kiss on the cheek before he goes to help August, “Yeah, of course.” I exam myself in the mirror making sure that I liked how it looked. I was nervous about tonight because I was meeting Tom’s family today and he was mine. I have never been so nervous to meet a boyfriend’s family before and it doesn’t help that I was debating whether or not I let Daryl meet August. I was thinking about letting him only if August wanted to. I didn’t want my son growing up without knowing who his biological parent is even with what Daryl did to me. I know that deep down Daryl had a good heart and he is good with kids, at least when we were longer. My son deserves to know where he came from, but what Daryl did to me was holding me back. I wanted to let him into August’s life, however, I didn’t want him back into my life.

I was taken out of my thoughts when August came running into the room wearing a button up shirt and jeans just like Tom. “I see you are twinning with daddy,” I comment as I pick him up. “Yeah! Can we go meet my new grandparents, now,” he exclaims with excitement. Tom walks in with a big smile on his face when he heard what Tom had said. “Yes, we can. They are very excited to meet you too,” Tom informs August. August reaches for Tom and I give him over to Tom. I collected everything we might need for tonight then we head over to Tom’s car. The only sound in the car was August singing the nursery rhyme Tom had taught him. “One, two, three, four, five. Once I caught a fish alive. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Then I let it go again,” he sings whilst making his Spider-Man action figure dance. Tom looks at August through the rearview mirror. He gives a small smile then looks back at the road.

Once we arrived at the restaurant, August impatiently waited to be released for his car seat. We walk into the restaurant and the host greets us with a warm smile. After telling him our reservation, he brings us to our table, but not without being stopped by a few fans. We walk over to a table, which was already filled with our family members and the only people missing was us. We greet and introduce ourselves to everyone. When August sees Nikki and Dom, his mouth turns into a big smile and he runs over to them. “Hi, I am August. Daddy said I can call you Nana and Papa. Can I?” he questions with a look of concern on his face. They both smile down at him and Nikki replies, “Of course, you can sweetie. We’ve always wanted a grandson.” August gives them both a hug and then runs to go meet his uncles. He was so happy to have more people to call his family, it was like Christmas morning for him.

He goes to say hello to his family from my side, afterwards he comes to sit in between Tom and I. When we finished eating we said goodbye to everyone and made our way to Tom’s car. August was holding Paddy’s hand whilst we cross. Paddy was going to sleep over at Tom’s house with us because he missed his big brother. “Uncle Paddy, how old are you?” August asks he looks up at his uncle with wonder in his eyes. Paddy smiles down at him, “I am 13 years old.” August thinks for a little bit with his face showing that he was deep in thought, then his face lights up like a Christmas tree. “That means you are 11 years older than me!” I assume Tom had not told his family how smart August was because Paddy’s face shows a little shock. “That’s right, buddy. You’re quite smart, aren’t you? Tom said you are, but I guess it’s hard to believe unless you actually see it. Tom told us you like linear systems, so solve for x and y for these equations 3x-y=7 and 2x+3y=1.” Paddy challenges. I could tell that he was not expecting August to know the answer, but I knew August could do it. He just needs some time.

When August doesn’t answer right away, Paddy doesn’t think anything of it and just gets into the back seats of the car while Tom buckles August into his car seat. The car ride was silent until August disrupts the silence, “x=2 and y=-1.” Tom just smiles and Paddy looks at the two-year-old boy with shock written all over his face. My son just did grade 9 math. “That’s correct, you really are smart. Mum and Dad are really never going to stop talking about how proud they are of their grandson,” Paddy says. We get to Tom’s apartment and August runs inside with Paddy while Tom and I take our time with our hands intertwined. “What do you want to do tonight, Paddy?” Tom asks his younger brother. “Can we make cookies?” Paddy answerers. Tom nods his head and we go to the kitchen to start making cookies.

“What if we make this a competition? Tom and August against Paddy and I. Let’s see who can make the best cookies?” I suggest feeling my competitive side coming out. “You are so going down, darlin’. August, huddle. We got to figure out what type of cookies we will make,” Tom exclaim as he picks August up and cares him to the other side of the small kitchen while making airplane sounds and caring him in a way that it was like he was flying. I give Paddy the ‘your brother is crazy look’ and he just laughs. “We should make snickerdoodles. They are one of Tom’s favourite cookies,” Paddy informs me. “Okay, we are so going to crush them,” I declare while I do a little dance. I get the ingredients, but not without gently shoving Tom out of my way with my hips in a joking manner. I let Paddy dumped the ingredients in the bowl and I mix it while Tom let August mix their bowl. I see August stop mix and takes a bit to eat. “Hey, don’t eat the batter, baby. You can get sick,” I scold, I accidental flick the spoon I was using towards Tom and a little bit of the batter lands on his face.

“Oh, you are going to regret that, love,” Tom jokingly threatens. He grabs an egg and comes around the table looking at me with an evil look. I start walking back with a big smile on my face, “No, no, no, no. Don’t you dare, baby! Just put down the egg and go back to making your cookie.” Tom doesn’t listen, so I pick up the bag of flour as my own weapon. I run around the table, but unfortunately, he catches up to me. He grabs me around the waist and cracks the egg on my head. I can see Paddy and August laughing through the liquid egg wall dripping from my head. I decide that we’ll give them a little show (not in a sexual way get, your mind out of the gutter). I take some floor and rub it into his hair. I slip because of my socks and Tom falls right on top of me. While we fell the flour gets everywhere on top of us so we were completely covered in flour. We both laugh at each other and our situation. Tom stops laughing and gives me a kiss on the lips. “Even covered in flour you are so beautiful. Let’s go get cleaned up, so I can make the best cookies ever and kick your cookies asses,” he whispers before helping me up off of the floor.

We got cleaned up and clean up the floor, then we go back to making the cookies. Once we get the cookies out of the oven, we watched some T.V. while we waited for the cookies to cool. “You made my favourite,” Tom gushes as he goes to take one of our cookies with his other hand wrapped around my waist. I gently smack his hand away, “We have to try yours first.” Tom sighs and gives each of us a cookie. We count to three then bite into the cookie, but it did not taste pleasant. Their chocolate chip cookies were so salty. “I think you used salt confused with sugar,” I cough because of how dry my mouth suddenly got. “Yeah, I think so,” Tom agrees.  Paddy gets us all water then it was time to try our snickerdoodles. Tom takes a bite and makes a moaning sound with a pleased look on his face. “These are so good, mommy! I think they are my new favourite, just like daddy,” August praises. Paddy can only nod in agreement whilst he gets another cookie to eat. For the rest of the night, we watched T.V together and ate the snickerdoodle cookies.  

Tag List: @embrace-themagic@whereartthouwakanda@tmrhollandkay @ i-aint-nobodys–bitch@emmaelizabeth2014@padackles2010 @electraheart-3174@torontomaplefucks@smexylemony @ let-me-luve-you @ameeravioli

[jevilowo]

Hey guys read this edgy fucking story i wrote when i was 12

---line break---

"Write About Secrets". Ha. I'm willing to bet that the entire class will write some ridiculous story about their cutesy "I stole a cookie out of the cookie jar" experiences. As will I, obviously. If anyone knew my real secret...

On the outside, I look sweet and innocent with chocolatey curls, frilly socks, a frilly dress and a huge pink and yellow bow perched on the top of my head, no matter what else I'm wearing.

My father, a rich businessman, nicknamed me Angel, as did my Mother. So did my finicky Grandmama, although she would frequently announce that I would "Look cuter blonde". The last time we went to stay with her, she dyed my hair platinum blonde as I slept. It looked ridiculous.

A week later, she sadly passed away. Dysentery, the doctors said. No one noticed the now empty bottle of rat poison in the back of the cupboard. Grandmama's house always had a rodent problem. Luckily, I took care of the biggest rat. Her.

My father is, as I already mentioned, a rich businessman. Well, he was before he was arrested. My mother never liked him much. She said he was a conning badword badword. I quite agreed.

He was boisterous, loud and never let Mother and I do anything remotely fun. Our holidays were spent cooped up in beach villas, never allowed to leave. And although mother denies it, I am almost entirely sure that he was cheating on her to a famous supermodel lady.

Father's main weakness was his tendency to throttle people who called him or his business idiotic. I learned this when I was two, when one of his his co-workers told him that his plan to expand the business was idiotic. Not bad for an earliest memory.

One night I said: "Daddy, dearest?" (Father likes me to call him that) "please could you explain this maths homework to me?" (It was "advanced" algebra I swiped from someone's backpack. Wasn't even remotely difficult.) "Unless, of course, you're to busy working on that IDIOTIC business of yours".

Predictibly, Father lunged across the table and tried to strangle me, à la Homer Simpson. For a second I thought: "Is this going too far?" But then I thought: "Nah". I squealed girlishly, and mother came rushing in. She took one look at what was happening, grabbed her phone and dialed 999.

A week and an overcomplicated court case later, Father was in jail for child abuse, and it was discovered Mother was right about the whole "conning badword badword" thing. The judge found out that he was conning his clients. I'll spare you the details. Mother remarried, and now I have a rich, handsome lawyer as a stepfather.

9 months later, I had a new baby brother. "Oh look at cute little baby Bobby!", the neighbours gushed. "Oh, isn't he adorable? I heard he has a sister? Eh, who cares. Ain't he the sweetest?" It was sickening, I tell you. Sadly, he died a month later.

They think him rolled over in his sleep and got his head stuck between two pillows and suffocated. "Did you hear what happened with little baby Bobby? The poor little mite! Not to mention his sister. She's wept buckets, apparently. Oh, the poor little girl!"

Buckets? More like teaspoons. Crocodile tears. Like the cartoon crocodile on the pillow I used to smother him. Dead babies tell no lies. Or truths, for that matter.

Rich handsome lawyer stepfather man had a ridiculously large family. Which can only mean one thing: ridiculously large family gatherings. Roughly once a month, sometimes more, the whole family got together and do foolish things, such as singing competitions.

His sister, my new Aunt Ruth was especially obsessed with these. Every single time, she did about five diffent song and dance routines and expected the rest of the family to adore them. Well, they may have, but I never did. A few months after the death of my baby stepbrother, she decided it would be a "wonderful idea" to make all of us do a musical together, namely Annie. And guess who had to play the titular character?

She had cast herself as one of the main adult parts, Miss Hannigan, which meant she had a melodramatic solo song. It was during this that fortunately, I mean sadly, her routine was interrupted when she got hit by a stray falling light.

Little Orphan Annie was luckily in the bathroom during this, so she didn't witness this happening. It was lucky everyone forgot the "don't leave the wings during performances" rule. It was luckier that I cut the right rope. I can never tell stage left from stage right...

These "little accidents" probably would have continued, but I read mother's diary. She thinks she's cursed, so I decided no more "accidents". At least in the (step) family...

School was, and still is the worst. I have to deal with ditsy cutesy little girls who actually want to be my friend. The worst of these was the dreaded Anastasia Bettina Cordelia Daye. She wanted to be my "bestie" and it is sickening how hard she tried. I swear, she once filled my lunch box with glitter and ruined my cavier! What a waste of perfectly decent fish eggs.

One day I pulled a risky move and while we were all crashing down the school steps (very undignified) I crept behind Phillipa Nevaeh and shoved. Guess who she collided with and sent flying down the steps?

Anastasia Bettina Cordelia Daye died from blood loss due to the huge crack in her head in the hospital a while later. They were too late to save her. Her last words, croaked in the hospital bed were: "tell...... bestie........." She never finished the sentence. Everyone assumed she meant me, so I had to act twice as sad, which is harder than it looks.

Did I regret a thing? Well to that I say:

is glitter poured all over one's cavier forgivable? In case you are a complete and utter imbocile (likely), the answer is no.

My teacher, Mr. Dickory was especially miserable about this. Mainly because

Anastasia Bettina Cordelia Daye was his favourite student, hands down. He kept trying to "talk to me" about her death and how we were dealing with it.

He also complained about my bow and told me to politely remove it every time we made eye contact. This was excessively annoying as I need it for my "sweet and innocent" ploy.

Also, he made me do art which is a complete and utter wate of time, although every single time I brought that up he would say: "you cannae be gud at eve' thing, lass" (by the way, he was Scottish). I took offense at that because that is definitely not the reason I hate art so much.

Mr. Dickory had motorbike, of which he was extremely proud, mainly because it was Scottish, like him. One sad, fateful day he crashed the blasted thing into a wall, when he was driving home from the school.

He was sadly paralysed from the waist down. He will never walk again, let alone teach seven year old girls. No one seemed to notice the torn up engine wires. Everyone seemed to believe that my blackened hands were the product of a leaky pen.

After these incidents, mother insisted on pulling me out of school. She believed that the school was jinxed. I pitied her rather, and resolved to stop the...ah, accidents. For real this time. Never again.

Not long after this incident, rich handsome lawyer stepfather man dragged us off to another family gathering. Personally, I'm surprised it went ahead after what happened to Aunt Ruth. Now would be a good time to mention my cousins.

Due to the whole "large family" thing, I now have fifty-six cousins, plus the one or two on my biological father's side. Some of them, I must admit, aren't too bad. Others are pains in the derriére. Some of them are just plain weird. But none are as bad as the Twins of Terror. (By the way, I did NOT come up with the name "Twins of Terror". It is a TERRIBLE name.)

The twins, Darren and James, were, and still remain, the absolute WORST people I have ever had the "pleasure" of meeting. They lied, they bullied, they stole... and don't get me started on the swearing. Worst of all, they decided that I -out of all the slightly insane people in the family- was a good target for all of this. Something about my "18th Century Lingo" and my "Like, Super Lame Outfit". Offence is taken.

Alas, nothing could be done as all the adults believed that "Darren, Darling" and "Jamie-Wamie" were nothing but kind, sweet, innocent and pure twelve year boys. And I SWORE to never again... you know. So nothing happened to the twins. Life continued.

The final straw came at the earlier mentioned family gathering. It was 20% quieter without Aunt Ruth. Slightly less chance of my eardrums bleeding.

To my dismay, the twins hadn't spontaneously combusted on the long journey to Step-Grandmama's mansion. They cornered me on my way back from the bathroom, going on about my "conning badword badword jailbird badword" father. I pretended to actually care, in the hope they would get bored and leave.

But then they started on Mother. .

They called her many, many unspeakable things, even stooping so low as to accuse her of the death of Grandmama and Aunt Ruth and the arrest of Father! How dare they?! She was my only solace in this crazy world! I could NOT let them get away with this.

That night, I staged my most elaborate scheme yet. I knew they would enter the huge kitchens, searching for a midnight feast at around two a.m. because I knew for a fact that they did that every night. I lay in wait under a table, with two knives, an onion and a scrap of paper.

Sure enough, my prediction was correct. The twins entered at 2:06 a.m., and started rooting around in the one of the many cupboards.

I pounced.

Darren. And then James. Two clean strikes of the knives, and my job was done.

I sliced the onions under their eyes, so their dying breaths were mingled with tears. Also to make the scene more realistic.

I gently pushed the first knife into the gaping hole in Darren's chest, and did the same with the second knife and James. I positioned their hands on their respective knives, so it looked like they were each stabbing themselves.

As if they were both committing suicide.

I left the scrap of paper- a fake suicide note- lying between their lifeless bodies and slipped back upstairs to my guest bedroom.

I was awoken three hours later, by a scream. I assumed this meant that the bodies were found. I pulled on my dressing gown and ran out, pretending to be confused and scared as the entire family barrelled downstairs like a herd of wild buffalos (except me. I trotted daintily).

The scream had come from an obviously terrified kitchen maid (yes, Step-Grandmama had kitchen maids). The maid silently pointed at the bodies, which by now were starting to smell a bit. Everyone was silent for a second. Then there was UPROAR.

I don't exactly remember what happened next. There was a lot of screaming and crying. I think I pretended to faint because the next thing I knew, I was sitting up on a couch, being gently told that my cousins were dead.

The suicide note must have not been convincing enough, as the police were called in that afternoon. Luckily, they didn't think to interview me. But they suspected Mother.

Why? Because APPARENTLY my (step) Aunt Janice (the twins' mother) had heard the twins accuse Mother of murder, and decided that Mother killed the "Little Darlings" either to silence them, or for revenge in suspecting her.

I think I pretended to faint again. When I woke up on the couch (again) I decided that I absolutely had to do something. Mother doesn't deserve punishment for my crimes! She is probably the only person in the entire universe who doesn't. That night I came up with a plan, which I went downstairs to carry out at 4 a.m.

The next morning, I scribbled up a confession, shoved some chocolate and a knife into my pocket and went downstairs, praying my plan would work. I requested an audience with the police officers and my (step) family in one of the many living rooms.

I confessed to my crimes.

Just kidding!

I announced that I had found one of the kitchen maids, dead on the kitchen floor next to a note confessing to killing the twins. There was a bullet hole in her chest, and a gun clasped loosely in her hands. Everyone rushed to the kitchens, to see if this was true.

In the confusion, I darted up to mother and rich handsome lawyer stepfather man's guest room. I tucked the confession note into Mother's diary and threw myself out of the window. I landed softly in a bush and ran away.

I ran because I knew that the Police would start to get suspicious of me when they heard of the incedents that had happened in my school. I was almost sad that I had put mother through so much, but hopefully she would have another child with rich handsome lawyer stepfather man and forget about me. Sadly, I never found out if this was true.

I escaped to the docks and smuggled myself onto a ferry. Where I ended up, I'm not telling you. I will tell you, however, that I cut off most of my hair with the knife, stained my pink frilly dress with mud and abandoned my socks, shoes and bow. Some orphanage people found me and took me in. A year and a half later, I was adopted.

I was adopted exactly three years and two murders ago and I am writing this, aged eleven in a stuffy classroom. If any of this information ever got out, God knows what could happen.

But before I go and write about stealing cookies from the jar, here's a warning: I could be anyone.

Your neighbour, your cousin, even your best friend.

Be careful what you do.

Be careful what you say.

You never know.

You could be my next victim...

FIN

[crashing-into-the-sun]

good things grow here

When Simon moves in next door to Baz, they become fast friends. As the years pass, Baz's feelings develop into something more. Falling in love in four parts. 

Word Count: 6742 My fic for the spring @snowbazextravaganza

Thanks to @infinityonhighvevo for betaing for me! part one. daffodil. new beginnings.

There was a boy in the house next door, dancing in the window.

His curtains were ajar, sunlight streaming in and setting his bronze curls alight. They gleamed as he shook them about foolishly, as if each curl was a bit of gold. From his place on the lawn, Baz could just hear the undercurrent of a bass rhythm, coming from the boy’s room. He smiled to himself without thinking about it, surprised and endeared by the boy’s uninhibited joy.

The family who lived there now– the Salisburys– had moved in just three days before. Baz hadn’t been home at the time, but he heard his father making a racket about how disorganized those people were. The mother, Malcolm had said in shock, came out of the vehicle barefoot and in pajamas. As though it were the worst type of travesty to travel in comfort. To Malcolm’s great chagrin, there was no father in sight.

Now wouldn’t it be funny, Baz thought as he tore another weed from the dirt, if Malcolm were to find Baz fraternizing with that neighbor boy? He stole another glance toward the window, and laughed aloud when he saw the boy brandishing a kitchen ladle as a makeshift microphone. That, he thought, would really set his father off. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his hands onto his jeans. Daphne wouldn’t be pleased with the stains, but they were ruined already. He’d been kneeling on the wet grass for so long that the knees were soaked and green.

There was no car in the other driveway. The boy in the window was, it seemed, home alone. Baz shucked his shoes for no other reason than to spite his father, and made his way to the other lawn. He knelt down to pick up a small pebble and threw it up toward the boy’s window.

Baz was a terrible shot. It bounced off the house three feet left of the window and far too low. He tried again, this time, succeeding in hitting the glass. The boy jumped and dropped his ladle, clamoring to shut off his music. He threw open his window and poked his head out.

“What d’you want?” he shouted at Baz, cheeks red from exertion and embarrassment.

Baz looked up, suddenly bashful. Closer now, he could see the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of the boy’s nose, could see how plump and red his lips were, and the bright, laser blue focus of his eyes. “I live next door,” Baz responded, conscious now of how disheveled he was in his dirty jeans and old, too-small t-shirt. “Would you like to come help me with my garden? I could use some company.”

The boy ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. “What do you need help with?”

“I’m just watering and weeding, then I’ve got to do a bit of fertilizer. The daffodils are looking sort of limp.” It didn’t sound incredibly exciting, now that he’d said it out loud. Baz frowned. “I thought you might want to get out of the house. You could pick a bouquet for your mum, if you wanted.” Now, why had he offered that? Nobody was allowed to cut his flowers. Baz’s frown deepened, but the curly-haired boy just grinned.

“Sure! Mum’d love a bouquet. Down in a minute.” The window slammed, giving Baz a start, and in a flash the boy was whirling out the door and down the porch stairs.

“I’m Simon,” he said, holding out his hand to Baz. He smelled of sweat and mint. In his other hand were two chocolate chip cookies. “Would you like one?”

Baz shook Simon’s hand and introduced himself, biting down gratefully into the soft cookie. “These are good,” he said through a full mouth, and Simon beamed.

“I made them,” he boasted, following Baz over to the garden. “They’re a day old, but my secret to keeping them soft is putting some white bread in with them in the container.” He paused to gulp down the last bit of the sweet before continuing. “I know a little about baking, but nothing about gardening. You’ll have to give me a hand with that.”

“It’s nothing hard that we’ve got to do. Not like transplanting or cross pollination.  I’ve just got a simple garden. It started out as a school project last year for my Botany class, but I’ve grown to quite like it.”

“You talk so posh,” he commented, kneeling down like Baz and watching, then copying, as he pulled the weeds. “I doubt you’ve ever said a cuss word in your life.”

Baz spluttered. “I’ve said a cuss word. I’m not a baby, I’m fourteen. Of course I’ve said a cuss word. I just know how to speak properly. There’s no shame in that.”

“‘Course not,” Simon said teasingly, glancing up through his eyelashes at Baz. “Nothing wrong with being a goody-goody.”

Baz turned up his chin, defiant, but a smile played at his lips nevertheless. “I’m not a goody-goody. I speak the Queen’s English.”

“I speak the Queen’s English,” Simon mimicked, puffing out his chest. He tugged a weed out from the dirt and balled it up in his fist, torpedoing it toward Baz’s chest. The dirt exploded on impact, clinging in bits to his t-shirt.

Baz’s jaw gaped open. “You did not just do that,” he said. He felt his face go hot, looking at the devilish smirk on Simon’s face. Simon’s curls blew gently in the breeze, and his fingers drummed impatient patterns on his leg. Baz reached toward the garden.

Weeds and grass flew through the air, haphazard, a storm of green, and a symphony of laughter echoed from Simon and Baz. It felt warmer, Baz noticed, warmer and happier, like they’d been covered by a blanket of goodness. Simon grabbed Baz by the arm and shoved and handful of greens down the back of his t-shirt. Everything was yellow-sunshine-daisies-pure-fucking-glee, everything was heat on the back of Baz’s neck where Simon’s fingers lingered for a second too long, everything was blades of grass floating all around them like fairies before fluttering lightly to the ground.

Everything was Simon. Everything was good.

part two. ivy. friendship.

The leaves were just beginning to turn in the fall after Simon’s fifteenth birthday before Baz brought Simon back to the garden. “Come and buy wood and nails and things with me,” he said as they exited the school building. It was still hot and muggy, and bugs still buzzed through the air. The straps on Simon’s backpack were getting too tight on his ever-broadening shoulders, the sleeves of his hand-me-down tees stretching over his arms where they had been loose a year before. “I want to make a little fence.”

“What for?” Simon asked, looking back over his shoulder at Baz. His trademark curls were gone except for a swath of the on the top, which bounced as he walked. He’d cropped his hair close at the beginning of the year-- something about Agatha saying he looked like a mop. Baz didn’t like it, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m planting ivy in the garden and I don’t know how to work a hammer. You should help.” It sounded dumb, ‘don’t know how to work a hammer’, but it was true. As Simon grew stronger and broader and bigger, Baz grew lanky and delicate. He was the taller of the two, but his fingers were knobbly and thin like a skeleton and his wrists were as big around as most of the girls’. His growth spurt had hit him hard the month after he’d first met Simon, but rather than becoming gangly and clumsy, Baz had transformed into something lithe and dainty. His skinny fingers couldn’t use a work tool, but they could fly over the strings of a violin with unimaginable grace.

Baz couldn’t tell if he was jealous of Simon’s physique or simply entranced by it. Jealous, he figured. The muscles in Simon’s back were apparent through the thin, worn t-shirt in a way Baz’s would never be as he swung the backpack off his shoulders and began searching through it for his cell phone. “I’ll ask Mum,” he told Baz, already so sure his mother would say yes that he was headed in the direction of town instead of home. Lucy was rather fond of the Pitch children, though not so fond of their parentage.

“I can help you with your maths after we’re finished if you still need it,” Baz said, shuffling quicker to catch up to Simon. They fell into step as Simon talked with Lucy.

“Can I head out with- yes, with Baz. No, just to town. We’re making something for the garden. Yes. Yes. Love you!” Simon hung up the phone and tucked it into his pants pocket, then put the backpack on again. “Where are we headed?”

“I dunno, you’re the tool guy. Do I look like I know where to buy a hammer?”

“Oh, stop it with the hammers. You know what a hardware store is,” Simon chastised, rifling his hand through Baz’s hair teasingly. “Anyway, you don’t have to buy a hammer. I own a hammer. And I assure you they’re not hard to use.”

Baz fixed his hair, feigning annoyance. “Whatever you say, Salisbury.”

“You know I hate that,” Simon said, pushing into Baz with his shoulder. Baz pushed back. “Call me by my name.”

“Salisbury is your name,” Baz said with a smirk. They’d had this conversation, word for word, millions of times. He could mouth along with what Simon was going to say next.

“My first name, you dolt.” It was an unspoken agreement that the conversation went this way exactly and then they changed the subject.

“So, how are things with Agatha?” Baz asked, sorry the moment it came out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant the words to come out with such sharp edges, but they’d done so anyway. It was too venomous, too harsh, too little like he actually wanted to know, so he adjusted and continued, softer. “Did you ask her on that date after all?”

“No,” Simon confessed, sheepish. “I chickened out. But she’s been texting me all week. I think I’ll see if she wants to study on Saturday.”

“I thought we were going to go on a hike on Saturday,” Baz said, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady. It wasn’t that he was jealous, he thought, he just missed having Simon’s attention. Okay, so that sounded jealous. Baz furrowed his eyebrows.

“You didn’t even want to go,” Simon said, and Baz hated how apologetic he sounded. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. I can change it to Sunday, if you want, but she goes to church so I thought-”

“Don’t worry,” Baz interrupted. He smiled at Simon. “More Netflix time for me. Have fun. ‘Study’.” He air-quoted around the word study, and Simon sputtered.

“We will study,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think anything will happen.”

Something about the phrasing made Baz’s skin itch. He waited for a few seconds in silence, listening to their footsteps in synch, crunching over the dirt on the sidewalk. “Do you want something to happen?”

Simon looked at the ground, and Baz watched a flush creep over his cheeks. “I dunno, maybe. I mean, no. Well…” he trailed off, then flicked his eyes up to meet Baz’s. Baz looked away.

“I- I see why you would,” he stuttered, speaking too quick. “She’s hot.” He knew the words were false coming out of his mouth, but he hoped Simon wouldn’t pick up on his hesitance.

“Yeah, she is,” Simon grinned. Baz let out a breath. “But I don’t think I want to hook up with her, at least not yet. We’re barely even friends.”

“Is being friends a prerequisite?” Baz asked as they turned into the parking lot of the hardware store. The building smelled strongly of wood chips and sawdust, and the lettering of the sign was fading. Baz had been inside only once, with Mordelia, to pick up supplies for a birdhouse she wanted to build with Daphne.

Bells tinkled as Simon swung the door open. “Yeah, definitely,” he responded as Baz caught the door with his hand and entered the building. It was colder inside than it was outside, and Baz felt goosebumps prick his arms. “I wouldn’t hook up with someone I didn’t like.”

“Me neither. I’d…” Baz reached out and brushed his finger against the wind chimes hanging by the cash register. “I’d want it to be a good friend.”

-

Sweat trickled down Simon’s forehead as they stood looking at the finished fence. It was huge, taking up the entire side of the garden, which was the length of Baz’s larger-than-average house. Baz reached up and wiped the sweat off of Simon’s face, then wiped it on his pants.

Simon’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows knitted together. “What?” Baz asked, defensive, tucking his hands in his pockets and taking a step away. “Was that weird?”

“Nah,” Simon said after a minute, his cheeks pink from embarrassment or exertion. Baz couldn’t tell which. He looked down at his shoes, then bent down to readjust the loose laces. “It looks good!” Simon interjected, too loud, waving an arm in the direction of the fence. He was right. It did look good, and they’d done it together. He swallowed his pride and let himself smile.

“Thanks for the help,” he said. He ran one finger across the smooth wood of the fence, then turned back and faced Simon fully. Simon’s light blue tank top had pit stains and a spaghetti stain on the front, and the boy himself smelled like fresh-cut grass and a high school locker room. Baz felt his eyes dragging down to Simon’s neck, to his Adam’s apple, and he shot them back up toward Simon’s face with a frightening urgency. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Sure,” Simon replied, a look Baz couldn’t place crossing his face. “I’ve, uh… gotta get home. For dinner.”

“It’s only five o’clock,” Baz said quietly, but Simon had already turned his back. Baz stared at the fence. The sound of Simon’s retreating footsteps left him feeling empty and alone. Long after the sound had subsided, he stood there, alone, empty, empty, alone. Baz flung the hammer clenched in his fist to the ground, digging the back deep into the grass, and tore into the house.

Tears blurred his vision as he stormed up the porch stairs and flung the door open, not caring if it closed behind him. No one was home, and he was thankful for that as choked sobs escaped unbidden from his throat. He crashed through the halls, knocking down a laundry basket and kicking off one shoe, before reaching the bathroom and locking himself inside before even turning on the light. Simon thought he was a freak. He was a freak.

It was no longer something Baz could ignore, the way he looked at Simon, the way he felt about Simon. He plugged the drain and turned the faucet on as hot as it would go. Steam rose out of the tub. Baz pulled his shirt off by the back of the neck and threw it into a ball in the corner, soon followed by his pants. His reflection mocked him in the mirror. It showed him a sad boy, waifish and dark, greasy-haired and made of sharp pieces. Sharp bones, sharp features, sharp shards of shame burying themselves deep in his skin. His skin was cold. His hands were shaking. He sank into the scalding water, curled up, and cried.

He could do better. He would do better. For Simon– if Baz lost Simon, he’d have nothing left.

part three. sunflower. adoration

The tile of Simon’s bedroom floor was cold. He and Baz sat close, knee to knee, as the movie played in the background. Neither boy paid much attention to the screen. It was The Fox and The Hound, a movie they’d both seen (and cried over) too many times to count.

“If I make more popcorn, will you eat some?” Simon asked, breaking the silence. He shook the empty popcorn bowl in his hand.

“Probably not,” Baz responded, tapping the cool blue glass of the bowl with one finger.

“I’m doing it anyway,” Simon announced, not surprisingly. He got up and exited, leaving the door ajar.

Baz relaxed onto the foot of Simon’s bed, letting his head sag against his chest and his eyes fall shut. He clasped his hands in his lap. This room smelled just like Simon, like cinnamon and boyhood. The edge of a sweatshirt lazily draped over the bed frame tickled the side of Baz’s face. It was homier in here than anywhere in Baz’s whole house.

Baz heard the happy noises of Simon bumbling around in the kitchen just a few rooms over, and he smiled to himself. Simon had never been a graceful person. Baz reached for the remote and turned the volume down so he could hear Simon hum off-key. “Hello my baby, hello my honey…” Simon mumbled, audible in between the crashes and clanks of him moving around.

“Wanna spend the night?” Simon asked when he came back in. The smell of popcorn drifted in with him, and Baz decided he would take a handful or two.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

Simon groaned and sat down on the floor next to Baz, their legs touching from hip to knee. He set the bowl of popcorn on Baz’s lap. The bottom was almost uncomfortably hot, but Baz let him do it anyway. “I don’t understand why you’ve gotta be there at 7 in the goddamn morning anyway.”

“The growing plants all need to be watered very early, and the cut ones need to be misted. I’ve only explained this ten billion times.” Baz let himself enjoy the closeness of Simon’s leg on his for one second more before he shifted away, setting the snack bowl between them. Simon looked at him, then cocked his head.

“Is everything alright, Basil? You’ve been….” he trailed off, then stuck his hand into the bowl. “Nevermind,” he said through a mouthful of popcorn.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve been what?”

“Just distant, I guess.” Simon said after a pause, then swallowed. “Is all the touching weirding you out? My family is just really affectionate. I can stop. I don’t want to freak you out. It’s not like that, I swear.”

“Oh.” Not like that. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind it. Actually, I thought maybe you did.” Baz forced a laugh.

“Really?” Simon asked. His face relaxed. “No, I totally don’t. I.. I like being close to you. You know. I like being close to people.” They looked at each other for a minute. Baz cleared his throat.

“I could hang out after work tomorrow. I’ve been meaning to add something to the garden, and we have these little sunflowers that are begging to be replanted. I thought they’d love the fence we did for the ivy.”

“Oh!” Simon squealed like a child, shooting up and clapping his hands together. Baz laughed aloud at the exaggerated response. “Sunflowers are my absolute favorite. You know flower meanings and stuff, right? From doing bouquets? What do they mean?”

Baz smiled. Simon’s eagerness was contagious. “You actually don’t really need to know flower meanings to put together bouquets. Just what’s appropriate for what occasion. I do happen to know what sunflowers mean from my own personal research, though.”

“What are they?”

“Well,” Baz said, uncrossing his legs and stretching them out, “they have a few meanings. One of them is joy. Loyalty, hope.”

Unnoticed, the movie ended. Simon set the snack bowl down near Baz’s feet and scooted closer to him once again. This time Baz didn’t move. “You’re my best friend, Baz,” Simon whispered, looking at the dirt stains on his jeans.

Baz grabbed Simon’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re mine, too.” Simon looked up at Baz, a small smile on his face.

“Sunflowers have another meaning, you know,” Baz said after a minute, removing his hand from Simon’s shoulder and putting it in his own lap.

“What’s that?”

“Adoration.”

-

Simon was having another nightmare. Baz could tell.

Summer was coming to a close, things were dying all around them. The sunflowers were taller than both of them now, but the petals were falling fast. This was Simon’s least favorite time of year. Deterioration seeped through the air and into his bones.

He twitched and jerked, wrapping the sheets around himself. Sweat soaked his forehead, tears streamed from his sleeping eyes. He made no sounds. Simon had told Baz before not to worry about his nightmares. Not to wake him up. That he didn’t need comfort.

“Simon,” Baz whispered, sitting up further from where he’d been sleeping on the floor next to the bed. “Simon!” Baz stopped, waited, then sat on the edge of the bed. “Si, you gotta.. You gotta wake up. Come on, it’s alright.” He shook Simon’s shoulder, softly at first, then harder when he got no response.

“Wha-” Simon shot up as quick as a bullet, eyes wild and bloodshot. He grabbed Baz’s wrist, grip tight, and sniffled.

“I’m here, don’t worry. Just a dream. Just a dream.” Baz murmured. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Baz?” Simon asked, his voice cracking. Baz nodded. “Oh. Oh. Don’t, um. Don’t worry. I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

“No, you’re not. I’m going to make you some tea.” Baz moved to get up, but before he could turn his back, Simon’s hand grasped the back of his shirt.

“Don’t wanna be alone,” Simon said, his breath still coming fast and heavy. “Don’t leave.”

“Come with me, then,” Baz replied, leaning down toward Simon and wrapping an arm around his waist. Simon was shirtless, his bare skin sticky and hot. Baz wasn’t the strong one. Simon was always the strong one. Now, though, Simon was as fragile and vulnerable as a child. He leaned into Baz’s touch and sagged like a rag doll. Baz flicked on the bedroom light, but kept the hall light off. “Quiet,” he told Simon. “Let’s not wake up Lucy.”

Simon sat down at the kitchen table while Baz started up the tea kettle at the stove. It was a cute little kettle, green and blue with flowers, that Baz had given Simon and Lucy after theirs broke last year. Daphne had said that it didn’t ‘fit the kitchen theme’. Baz whirled around and grabbed two mugs from the top shelf of the cupboard, then reached in the cupboard above the fridge and retrieved Simon’s favorite tea. He knew this kitchen.

“Honey spoon or sugar?” Baz asked Simon, gesturing toward the wrapped wooden spoons Lucy had picked up at the farmer’s market a while ago. They were covered in honey which melted as you stirred and tied shut with brown ribbon. Simon and Baz sometimes snuck them down and ate them like lollipops.

“Sugar,” Simon responded, his voice thin and weak and tired. Baz got down a honey spoon for himself and finished preparing the tea, taking the kettle off right before it started whistling.

The clink of the glasses on the table seemed to snap Simon out of whatever trance he’d been in. His eyes left the floor and flittled between the tea and Baz. Baz pushed one of the mugs toward him, and he took it gratefully, lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply. The steam felt nice and comforting. “Thank you,” he said, giving Baz a smile.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Baz said, stirring his tea. He shifted a chair so it was facing Simon and sat down. “What was it about?”

“Dad.” Simon said, and that was enough. Davy had been a bad, bad man, and he’d left a long time ago. That was all Baz knew. The look in Simon’s eyes when he was mentioned, the anger in Lucy’s voice, the tension and fear that permeated their house at the slightest thought of him, was all the information Baz needed. Baz put a tentative hand on Simon’s knee.

“He’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Simon murmured. “But he’s always gonna be here. He’s half of me.” An unbidden tear slipped down the side of Simon’s nose, and he brushed it away angrily.

“He is none of you,” Baz said, standing up and wrapping Simon in his arms in one fluid motion. Simon melted into Baz’s touch without a second thought, and he cried. “You’re so good, Simon. He is none of you.”

-

part four. tulip. declaration of love

That winter brought cold winds and cold hearts. Simon’s hair was long, brushing his shoulders, a halfhearted rebellion against Agatha for breaking his heart. He and Baz shared sweaters. They studied together. They prepared the garden for winter. They sipped hot cocoa on Simon’s porch. Simon came to all of Baz’s football games. Baz ached.

When Baz was little, he’d always dressed up for dinner, but in the years since Malcolm and Daphne had married, the household had softened, bit by bit. He came downstairs now in pajamas. The rest of the Grimm children filed down the stairs behind him and took their places at the table.

“I’ve got something to tell you all,” Baz said, and it was met with blank stares from the kids, and a smile from Daphne. Staring at the empty plate in front of him, Baz said the words he’d never said out loud to anyone but the dark, alone in his room at night. “I’m gay.”

There were questions and there was confusion, but there was still food on the table. Still a kiss on the head from Daphne as she walked around the table to collect plates. A stiff but sweet smile from Malcolm at the end of the night. And when Mordelia came into his room like usual for homework help, she put her papers aside and curled up in Baz’s lap like she was nine rather than thirteen, like she used to a very long time ago.

“Baz?” she asked. Her hair was wet and smelled of green apple shampoo. She wore one of his t-shirts and it drooped almost to her knees. Baz suddenly felt very young. “Are you in love with Simon?”

Baz didn’t flinch at the question. “Yeah,” he said, confiding to his little sister what he could never confide to himself. “I think I am.”

“Thought so,” she said, wriggling off of his lap and giving him a pat on the hand. “I’ve got Algebra tonight, and I sort of want to die.”

“Don’t say that,” Baz laughed, patting the bed beside him. “I know how to do Algebra.”

-

The bark of the tree in the school’s courtyard was rough on Baz’s back. He had his Botany notes open in front of him and a ham sandwich, half finished, off to his right. Simon was out fake-sick and so he was eating lunch outside, trying to catch up on some missing homework. The day had been uneventful so far, but that changed when he saw Agatha Wellbelove sauntering up toward him.

It was a chilly March day, overcast, and her thin frame was wrapped in a soft-looking white woolen sweater and a chunky blue scarf. She walked with confidence-- she knew how gorgeous she was-- but a sort of meekness, too. Agatha was stunning, but approachable. There was true kindness in her heart. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, gesturing toward the ground next to Baz.

“Go ahead,” he said, moving his backpack over. She sat down cross-legged and leaned her hands on her chin. A strand of blonde hair blew across her face, and she let it stay there.

“You and Simon are together now, no?” she asked. Baz’s pencil slipped from between his fingers.

He cleared his throat. “N- um, no. We aren’t. Why would you ask?”

Agatha tilted her head. “Oh, well. I just thought you might be. You give off a vibe.”

“A vibe?” Baz stammered, more annoyed now than confused. What did she mean a vibe?

“A gay vibe. Are you gay? You’re gay. Am I wrong?”

“Well… no. But it’s none of your goddamn business, and I want nothing to do with your fake gaydar readings of me and Simon. We’re friends, okay? Is that illegal?”

“Of course not,” Agatha laughed, fishing her phone from the pocket of her jeans and typing without looking at the screen. “I’m queer, too, you know. I’m aroace. That’s why I broke up with Simon.”

“Oh.” Baz replied.

“You don’t know what it means, do you?” Baz shook his head, and Agatha smiled. “It means I don’t like anyone romantically or sexually. I do love Simon, though. I was hoping you two were together. He really loves you. I want him to be happy.”

Baz could feel the blush on his cheeks, and he was hoping Agatha wouldn’t notice. “I want him to be happy, too.”

“He always thought you were way prettier than me, by the way. You were all he ever talked about. Baz this, Baz that. It was sort of sweet.” She made a move to stand up, but then turned back. “Listen, Baz.” Now she sounded less forward. “I think… I think that you would have a chance with Simon. If that’s what you wanted.” She put her phone back in her pocket, then stood up. “I just don’t want to see you guys miss out on the romance of the century. We’re all rooting for you.”

-

The knock on the door startled Baz out of his sleep. “Come in,” he called, confused, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and pulling the covers up to his chin. Who the hell was knocking on his door at- he checked his phone- 6:03 in the morning? The door swung open, and the hallway light was blinding. It took Baz a minute before he made out that it was Simon at the door. In a party hat?

“Happy birthday!” he cried, and only then did Baz remember. He was turning seventeen today. April 19. The sudden sound of a kazoo and a party popper made Baz cover his ears. “You’re seventeen, practically an old man!” Simon plopped down on the bed and sat on Baz’s leg. He didn’t bother to move.

“But I thought you said you’d be out of town?” Baz asked. He shifted so he was sitting up, hyper-aware of the covers falling down to expose his bare shoulders and chest. He didn’t like being shirtless around Simon.

“Of course I did, you dolt,” Simon said with a grin, hooking a finger into the string of the party hat that was wrapped around his chin. “Wouldn’t be much of a surprise party if you were in on it.”

“Surprise party? What about school?”

“Yes, surprise party,” Simon confirmed. He ignored the second question. “So you’d better get dressed. I’ve got things planned. Bring good shoes for walking.” He tossed Baz a matching hat and winked. “Meet you downstairs in five.”

Baz blinked, hard, and struggled to extract himself from the cocoon of blankets he’d made. Good walking shoes? Surprise party? Things planned? He rifled through his closet before slipping on a t-shirt and a red flannel. Did he even have good walking shoes? He sighed and went downstairs.

Simon had gotten a car the month prior, a beat up Ford Focus, and he dragged Baz by the hand across the lawn toward it. “Get in,” he said, hopping into the drivers’ seat and buckling up.

“Where are we going?” Baz asked as Simon pulled out of the driveway. He took a left turn, the way opposite the school. “Don’t you have a Trig test?”

“We’re skipping, duh,” Simon retorted, glancing from the road toward Baz for a minute. His eyes danced with mischief. “And obviously it’s a surprise. Oh, but there’s something for you in the backseat.”

In the backseat of Simon’s dirty, cluttered car sat a delicate looking, pale blue box tied with black ribbon. It was about small, about the size of Baz’s hand. He reached for it, holding it gingerly, and brought it onto his lap. He noticed the lace details etched into the sides of the box. It was so elegant and beautiful that he couldn’t believe Simon had picked it. “Is this from Lucy?”

Simon feigned offense. “Um, no, dumbass. It’s from me. Go on, open it.”

Baz untied the ribbon and tucked it into the front of his shirt, then lifted the top off the box. There was a mess of tissue paper, and then a tiny wooden carving. It was intricate and beautiful, showing two boys-- them, Baz realized-- standing in front of a fence. The wooden Baz held a trowel and the wooden Simon had a hand on his shoulder. The ground underneath them was painted green with dots of blue, yellow, and red flowers. There were even small freckles painted onto Simon’s face. Baz felt tears prick at his eyes. “Did you… did you make this?”

“Not to brag, but it took months. Literal months. I took a wood carving class on Tuesdays in the basement of the university to make this for you. I was surrounded by sixty year old sweaty men. I toiled and sweat over the stripes in that sweater you’re wearing.” Simon’s face was bright red when he turned to Baz. “I’m so, so glad you like it.” Then, in the spur of the moment, he reached over and squeezed Baz’s leg.

Baz’s hand found Simon’s, rested tentatively on top of it, before Simon turned his hand palm-up and laced his fingers in between Baz’s. They fit together so nicely. They shared a smile before Baz, red-cheeked and shaky, took his hand away. “Thank you,” he said, holding in a sob. “Thank you so much.”

-

It was a long drive. They rolled down the windows and blasted bad pop music, the wind tousling their hair and livening their spirits. Underneath them, the road got worse and worse until the car was bumping along more often than it was going smoothly. The forest got dense and the traffic grew sparse. Baz sang along to Kelly Clarkson until his voice was hoarse, and Simon mimed Bruno Mars impeccably. Finally, the car came to a stop.

The air smelled fresher here. No longer was the sky the dim violet of early morning. Instead, in between branches, it burned bright blue and cloudless. “This is it,” Simon exclaimed, stepping out of the car and stretching his arms above his head. A sliver of his stomach was visible at the bottom of his t-shirt, a tiny pudge and a smattering of freckles. Baz felt his face go hot once again.

“What are we here for?” He asked, following as Simon started up a path that Baz hadn’t noticed before. Everything around them was lush and green. The rocks were covered in soft cushions of moss and overhead was a thick canopy of trees, swaying softly in the breeze, whispering secrets into the air.

“I’m going to take you somewhere my mom took me when I was really little, right after Dad left,” Simon said. “It was the happiest day of my life. And I’ve brought a picnic.” He patted his backpack. “I really think you’ll love it.”

“Is it a far walk?” Baz asked, quickening his pace. He was taller, but he moved languidly, and Simon was already several steps ahead of him.

“Not too far. Two miles, maybe. You’ll be fine. I’ve got waters.” Above them birds chirped, a sweet and happy sound. Baz smiled without realizing it.

-

A huge clearing stretched out in front of them, covered in thick green grasses and tiny white mayflowers. In the middle was a small, clear pond, fluffy clouds reflected in the gently swirling surface. There was a small bunch of bright-colored tulips on the edge of the pond closest to them. Simon walked toward the tulips and swung his backpack off his shoulder, tugging out a blue blanket that Baz recognized as his comforter. He held back a laugh as Simon spread it down over the ground. “You really brought everything, didn’t you?”

“Did you expect anything less?” Baz sat on the blanket and crossed his legs out in front of him. A lazy bee tumbled out of the tallest tulip and bumbled along for a minute before disappearing into the grass. Simon pulled sodas and sandwiches from his bag, along with a tupperware container of Lucy’s homemade chocolate oatmeal cookies-- Baz’s favorite. Baz popped off the top and took one.

“It’s really lovely here,” he told Simon, brushing the crumbs off his lap. Baz shrugged his flannel off, feeling the sunlight on the back of his neck and his arms.

“It definitely is,” Simon agreed. “We planted those tulips, you know. Me and Mum. And I was thinking about being happy, and thinking about gardens-- of course that sounds just like you.” He snapped the top off a piece of grass and fiddled around with it. “Mom said she wanted to start a new life, right? And what better way to do that than to literally start new life. With the flowers, I mean. And she thought they might die, you know, with us not coming back every day to take care of them. But we came back and they’d grown. And every year they grew back, bigger and bigger, and more and more of them. When we planted them, I ran around in the field and I tried to catch frogs. I was a muddy mess and I ruined the seat of the car. We were both covered in dirt. But Mum was laughing.”

“Thanks for tak-” Baz started, but Simon held up a finger.

“I’m- I’ve gotta. Um. Let me finish. Can you? Sorry.”

“No, no, go ahead. I thought you were done.”

Simon drummed his fingers on his knee. He didn’t meet Baz’s gaze. “That was rude, sorry.”

“It wasn’t,” Baz assured. Simon nodded, head still down.

“I wasn’t that happy again for a while. ‘Til we moved in next door, and I had no friends at this school, and barely any friends at my old school anyway, and I was sure it was going to be just as bad here as it was there. And suddenly this scrawny boy is throwing rocks at my window and he asks me to plant a garden. A new start. Just like here, just like with Mom. And I knew we were going to be close. I knew because I was so happy.” Simon glanced up at Baz through his eyelashes.

“And I was right. And our garden got bigger, just like the tulips.” He reached out brushed his fingers against one of the petals. “It got bigger, and I got happier, and it was all because of you. Because of Mom, too, and because of you. You’re the two people I love most in the world.” Simon looked out toward the lake. His fingers clenched in a fist. “And I do. Love you. I love you. I mean, I love being your friend. I don’t want this to make things weird, you know, if you don’t feel the same way or anything. But… I love you as more than a friend. You’re so funny, and kind, and you’re always there for me. You’re so beautiful, and so smart, and so…. so….” He paused, then swallowed. “You’re everything, Baz. You’re everything to me.”

Baz reached out his hand and touched Simon’s cheek. They met eyes, and Baz felt a beaming smile coming across his face. “I love you too, Simon. I have forever.”

Simon smiled back, blinking away tears, and grabbed onto Baz’s knee, hard, steeling himself. He pressed a kiss to Baz’s forehead, then his cheek. They sat nose to nose, forehead to forehead, eyes closed, just listening to the sounds of spring around them, the scent of tulips blowing freely in the breeze, life flourishing and moving everywhere. Baz leaned forward and kissed Simon, tender and sweet, tucking a strand of curly hair behind Simon’s ear. He smiled into the kiss. This was the way things were supposed to be.

[danyka-fendyr]

Scar Tissue Chapter 2: Dynamic Du-OH- A Sudden Realization

A/N: I’m posting this without editing because I hate myself. I will eventually come back and fix my many sins. Tagging @writingtheworks the works again. Do I think that Bruce Wayne invites his butler to family dinners? Yes, yes I do, and Gotham’s snooty societal standards can’t stop me or him. Take that you elitists. Rorie was exhausted. You really couldn’t blame her. She’d been listening to Jason monologue Romeo and Juliet repeatedly for about an hour now. She loved her best friend, but she was ready to stab Shakespeare. She understood this was his masterpiece, but did he have to do this to her?

“Jay, I promise you, you will get the part. The first 5 times, heck, the first 10 times, this was the most beautiful performance I had ever seen in my life,” I told him.

Jason broke character, collapsing out of a dramatic pose, arm extended, head held up, looking to an imaginary balcony.

“You cried the first time,” he said, grinning.

Rorie had never seen someone so pleased over her tears. ...Well, okay, that wasn’t necessarily completely true, but she’d fought the Joker, alright? He was pretty sick, and not in the good way.

“Yes, because it was amazing. We’ve been over this. You are amazing,” she said.

Jason blushed under the praise, his neck, cheeks and ears tinting pink. When Jason blushed, he blushed with his whole head. It was sort of cute. Or at least, Rorie assumed it would be cute if you were like, into that kind of stuff. Rorie, of course, was not.

“Anyway, you should try to get some sleep. We have patrol tonight. Plus, you wouldn’t want to look burned out for your audition. It’s no good having a Romeo who looks sleep deprived,” Rorie tried to reason with him.

“What if he’s sleep deprived because he’s been up all night thinking about his Juliet, and how she refuses to audition, despite Alfred’s best efforts,” Jason teased.

“And you. Don’t forget you,” Rorie sighed. 

Alfred and Jason hadn’t gotten off her back about this since they first started holding auditions for Romeo and Juliet. Rorie refused on the principle that the characters made a long series of stupid decisions ending in a tragedy that could have been completely avoidable. Jason had countered with the fact that he had caught her reading it out loud, rather passionately, mind you, when they had been assigned the story for English class. It wasn’t Rorie’s fault that the story was still emotionally compelling, despite entirely lacking logic. Juliet admittedly had some pretty lines.

“This is too cliché. Why couldn’t the school play be something prettier, like Wuthering Heights?” Rorie objected.

“Your obsession with Wuthering Heights will never end, will it?” Jason asked.

“The writing is beautiful Jason!” Rorie cried, more passionate even then when she was playing the part of Juliet.

“Maybe if you get the lead role this year they’ll choose it next year. You could get friendly with the Mrs. Dowly, convince her it would be a good idea.” Jason carefully dangled the carrot in front of his prey’s face.

There was a pregnant pause while Rorie considered.

“You really think so?” she questioned, shooting him an uncertain, slightly untrusting look.

Jason nodded, his enthusiasm making the gesture comical so that he resembled a bobble-head. “Absolutely! Mrs. Dowly always considers how her leads feel.” 

Jason would know. He was the theater teacher’s pet, and had been the lead many, many times. All the other theater nerds were jealous of him, if they didn’t absolutely hero worship him (something Rorie found ironically humorous, considering their nightlife).

Rorie sighed, the sound deeply resigned. In contrast, Jason whooped.

“I will only be auditioning,” she warned him.

“Absolutely,” Jason said.

“You will in no way try to convince Mrs. Dowly to show me any kind of special favor.”

“Of course not.” More bobble-headedness, this time a vigorous shake, like he was a wet dog.

“If I do, by some miracle, get the part, you will not gloat, tell me you knew it, or anything of the sort.”

At this, Jason pouted. Rorie glared.

“Can’t I be proud?” He gave her the puppy dog eyes.

He gave her the puppy dog eyes. Jason knew she couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. A little pride. But none while we’re in school!” Rorie caved.

“Yay!” Jason chirped, wrapping his arms around her, trapping hers by her side.

Rorie pouted, and Jason celebrated. It was at this moment that Bruce walked in, Alfred following closely behind with a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on here?” There was a tone of deep, rich amusement to Bruce’s voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in what was usually about as close as he came to a smile (unless he was playing the role of ‘Brucie Wayne’).

“Rorie’s going to audition for the school play!” Jason cheered.

“With conditions!” Rorie added, seeing the look of excited shock on Alfred’s face and the knowing approval on Bruce’s.

“Well, miss, I suppose we’ll have to get you in shape!” Alfred declared.

“Oh no.”

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Wonderful, miss! The way you sigh it out is beautiful. Very wistful. Now if you could just make it a little bit less breathy,” Alfred instructed.

Rorie puffed a sigh, and Jason tried not to laugh at her. She looked frustrated. Not as frustrated as she could be, since she wasn’t doing math, but her hair was messy and her posture slumped, face red from trying to hold back an oncoming temper tantrum. Alfred had this tendency to sometimes work out the details a little too much when it came to Shakespeare, or really any kind of play or production. He was a man of the theater indeed. 

Jason decided Rorie might need a rescue.

“Maybe I could work with her for a bit Alfred. You could take a break, maybe make some snacks?” he suggested, knowing Alfred would never leave drama without a specific task and purpose.

“Cookies?” Rorie asked, a forlorn hope swimming in her eyes.

“Ah! Of course! You lot do look as though you could use something to munch on. It will raise the spirits!” Alfred clapped his hands, looking as invigorated as he always did when he was allowed within range of fine art. “I’ll prepare some fruit, and perhaps some cookies if I feel it is warranted.”

By that Jason was pretty sure Alfred meant that Rorie ate too many cookies and that she was going to get cavities. He was trying to be nice right now though, since it was obvious that Rorie was seriously considering dropping out of the school play.When she got the part, the entire household had been elated. Well, Jason and Alfred had been elated, and Bruce had been smugly pleased. Emphasis on smug. That was his adopted daughter, after all.Jason was pretty sure that if ‘Brucie Wayne’ wasn’t supposed to be keeping up his eligible bachelor status, Bruce would have posted his pride all over ever social media platform he knew how to work. Jason’s phone pinged, and he checked his notifications.

Scratch that. Bruce wasn’t able to keep it in anymore now that he had not one, but two children in theater. He had just made the dorkiest post Jason had ever seen in his life on Twitter. 

“So proud of @jtodd and @roreo for scoring roles in the school play! I look forward to seeing them play Romeo and Juliet, respectively. If you have the time, come down to @gothamacademy and watch. #Illbesittingfrontrow”

Jason hoped none of the other kids at school saw that. Jason knew every one of the other kids at school had seen that, even the ones who weren’t theater geeks. Jason was pretty sure any kind of a reputation he had was gone now.

“Oh no,” Rorie groaned.

“Oh no what, Miss?” Alfred said, poking his head into the room at the first sound of oncoming disaster.

Rorie extended her phone to him, letting him see the tweet Jason himself had just been looking at.

“All the kids at school will see this, Alfred! We’re done for.” Rorie exchanged a look of horror with Jason.

Alfred looked thoughtful.“We shall see, miss.”

And see they did. 

Arriving at school the next day, Rorie did her utmost to go incognito. Sunglasses and a dark hoodie obscured her figure, and she kept her head bowed as she walked through the halls. Jason didn’t bother with this. His strategy was to not show any kind of weakness.

He strutted down the halls, trying to appear more confident than ever before, his hair slicked back with gel he had stolen from Bruce a while back and his favorite leather jacket on. He would have been wearing sunglasses, but Rorie stole his coolest pair.

As it turned out, Jason’s strategy worked better, unfortunately for Rorie. Some of the boys tried to pick on him, it was true, but he just ignored them. If you looked closely enough, you might be able to see that he was riled up, but only if you knew him well. He kept his anger close and in check. He could always exact revenge later if he still thought they were worth it.

Rorie was taunted mercilessly though, since she reacted a little volatiley to the whole thing. The second someone had insinuated that her rich daddy bought her spot, she was spitting words that were dangerously close to obscenities, a seething pot ready to boil over. Jason had swept in several times that day to save her when it looked like she might not be able to control herself. In thanks, she gave him his sunglasses back.

Now, Rorie was sitting in the library, the only place where people would leave her alone, it seemed. She was reading through Jane Eyre again, trying to distract herself from the snake’s nest of anxiety, self-doubt, and bitter, petty rage boiling in her head. It wasn’t working that well.

It worked less well when Amanda Bixby sat next to her. Rorie didn’t dislike Amanda particularly, but she also didn’t particularly like her. Amanda was...Well, Amanda was a bit of an airhead. She didn’t mean to be, but she just happened to be that one girl that never thought about anything but makeup and boys. There was nothing particularly wrong with this mindset, but it simply didn’t mesh with Rorie’s more practical attitude. 

“So, Jason’s like, your brother, right?” Amanda said, her tone friendly yet suspiciously slimy sounding to Rorie.

“Yeah, I guess. More of a best friend, really.” Rorie shrugged.

“But you’re super close, yeah?” Amanda confirmed.

“Well yeah. We live in the same house.” Rorie didn’t feel it necessary to mention that they had shared a bathroom until last year when she had demanded Bruce let her have her own. 

Rorie was prepared for a plethora of things. Amanda was into theater, so it was entirely possible that she was hoping Rorie would be able to share some of Jason’s acting secrets with her. Or, it could be that she needed help with her English homework, something Jason also excelled in. As it turned out, Rorie was woefully unprepared for what actually happened.

“So what kind of girl does he usually go for?” Amanda asked.

Rorie choked a little bit. “What?”

“Like, does he have a type?” She twirled a strand of long brown hair around her finger.

“Umm….I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk to me about girls,” Rorie said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but I mean, you’ve got to know something about his girlfriends. Are they tall? Short? Blondes, brunettes? C’mon, gimme something here,” Amanda said.

In truth, Rorie was unsure that Jason had ever even had a girlfriend. He was only 15 after all. 15 was a bit young for a girlfriend, wasn’t it? Rorie felt like 15 was young.

“Why do you ask? I mean, it’s not like Jason’s particularly attractive or anything.” Rorie laughed nervously.

“Are you kidding me? He’s a total dreamboat. All the girls know it. Plus, have you ever seen his arms when he takes off that leather jacket?” Amanda bit her lip in a way that Rorie definitely did not like. “I bet he’s ripped. Not to mention that he’s tall. And he’s only going to get taller you know.”

Amanda was clearly not in the building anymore. Her eyes had glazed over dreamily, and Rorie took that as her cue to be anywhere but where she presently was. Sneakily, she made her escape, mumbling under her breath about some urgent play preparation she had to do.

Rorie raced out of the library so fast it was almost superhuman, forgetting to put her sunglasses back on as she went. They were perched on top of her head when she crashed into someone, causing them to clatter to the floor, and her to nearly follow. Fortunately for her, someone had good reflexes and caught her, a warm, firm hand holding her back and pressing her against a lean, muscular torso.

“I am so sorry, you have no idea how mortified I am, rea-” Rorie stopped short when she realized that the person who was holding her was rather familiar.

She pulled back, peering into their face to find none other than Jason Todd himself. Rorie wanted to say “speak of the devil,” but she was a bit distracted at the moment, because at it turned out, it would seem that Amanda Bixby was right. Jason Todd was a dreamboat.Rorie was unsure how she hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed between now and an hour again, when Rorie had last seen Jason. However, now that it had been mentioned to her, he had very nice, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, incredibly long black lashes, and the prettiest pair of blue eyes Rorie had ever seen in her life. She swallowed heavily as she realized that, prior to knowing who was holding her up, she had been appreciating their toned body structure as well.

“Careful there, Rorie. You’ll get hurt.” Jason smiled at her, revealing a blinding white set of perfectly straight teeth that seemed intent on sinking themselves into Rorie’s heart.

Oh no. Oh no.

Opening night had finally come, and Jason was bouncing around with excitement. He had no reason to worry. He had done this dozens of times before, and he had every confidence in his leading lady.

He was watching her right now, mumbling her lines under her breath and coughing as hairspray was applied rigorously to her carefully created Shakespearean hair. 

“Oh, Romeo, oh Romeo,” Rorie said, rocking back and forth slightly, to the deep consternation of the girl working on her hair.

“Actually,” Jason said, watching himself appear in the mirror behind her, already in full costume, hair done, “it’s ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo’.”

“I’m gonna fail. I’m gonna fail in front of everyone, and they’ll all laugh, and this will be the end of my acting career, and I’ll have to switch schools.” Her eyes, previously closed, snapped open. “I’ll have to switch schools Jason. I’ll have to go to a boarding school in Scandinavia where nobody knows my name.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jason reassured her, placing both his hands on her shoulders and shooing the irate amateur hairdresser off.

“But what if I’m not?” Rorie asked desperately.

“Then I’ll fail even more epically. I’ll say lines from Napoleon Dynamite instead, and then I’ll trip and fall on my face, and then I’ll roll over and start making snow angels, except there will be no snow, at which point I will have made my first mistake as it is obvious that one cannot make snow angels without no snow.”

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rorie dead-panned.

“See! It works!” Jason grinned broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rorie, on her part, tried to look slightly less miserable.

“You’re on in 5,” someone informed him as they passed by.

Rorie gave him an unsure look, seeking a few last moments of reassurance.

Jason walked around until he was facing her, crouching so he could look her right in the eye. “You’re gonna be great, don’t worry.”

He smoothed down a few stray pieces of her hair, giving her one last strong, certain smile before heading to the wings. It was showtime.

Acts 1-4 went flawlessly. Despite her nerves, Rorie was a natural on stage. She sounded like Shakespeare had written her himself, and Jason was matching her ever move. They were a perfect pair, naturally, and they had the kind of trust most lead actors could probably only wish for. This came as a package deal with the many shared near-death experiences.

It was Act 5 where things began to get sticky. Specifically, the death scene. Everything had been going fun. They had rehearsed this scene in bits and pieces plenty of times before, and everything was timed perfectly. The grief they portrayed was stunningly believable, the laboured breaths and the hasty tears working together to paint a picture of gut-wrenching agony. Jason had caught a glimpse of Dick crying in the audience.

Specifically, it was Act 5, scene 3, line 125 that was giving Jason a good deal of trouble. He had said all the lines leading up to it, and now he found himself agonizingly close to a “dead” Rorie with the task of kissing her.

He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would have to kiss her for this performance. Maybe some tiny part of him had even looked forward to it, entirely without his knowledge or consent. They hadn’t practiced this particular scene, however, and Jason had conveniently forgotten about it until now. Or rather, he had been making a conscious effort not to think about it at all.

He hovered over her, his mouth inches away from hers. She was so warm underneath him, hair splayed out and hands neatly folded over her stomach, eyes lightly shut. Jason tried to steady his heart rate, failing miserably, and after running through a plethora of alternative scenarios in his mind, each more wild than the last, he determined that he would just have to do it. If she hated him afterwards, there was nothing he could do about it.

Gently, he connected their lips. It was like a revival. Her lips were soft and warm against his, and she tasted like oranges and cinnamon. Her body, almost unconsciously, craned into him, kissing back so softly and subtly that the audience couldn’t have noticed, but Jason most definitely did. Without thinking, one hand reached into her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her like Romeo would kiss Juliet, like a man would kiss his lover with his last dying breath, slightly clumsy, but intimate and gentle, with a fervor Mrs. Dowly had probably not foreseen.

He broke away, rushing through his poison scene and dying as quickly as possible. It felt fitting, since he was pretty sure he was already dead. Then, it was Rorie’s turn. What she did next was not entirely expected.

She worked her way through her lines with an untold urgency, weeping at the sight of her Romeo lying dead below her. Her performance was like nothing Gotham Academy had ever seen before, as emotionally charged as it was. And then, he broke from script. She kissed Jason.

It was similar to the first time, but less clumsy, and Jason nearly broke character out of sheer shock. He didn’t have the time though, with the brevity of the kiss. It was hard and fast, and then she stabbing herself with a fake knife as ripples of surprise waved through the audience.

The last few scenes were played out, and everyone took their final bows. Jason could see Dick sobbing at this point, overcome by emotion. Jason felt similarly overcome, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He rushed his way backstage, finding Rorie in the mess that was the closing of opening night. He grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

“Rorie,” he breathed out her name, still stunned even now.

She turned pink, staring at her feet as she answered. “Yes.”

“You kissed me,” he stated.

“You kissed me first.”

“On script,” he said.

“Are you mad?” Now she looked up at him, twinges of hurt flecking her eyes and accenting an ocean of bright green worry and fear.

“Am I mad? No, I’m definitely no mad.” Now, Jason grinned. He grinned like a fool. “Just wondering if you’ll do it again.”

Rorie smiled shyly, starting to look as giddy as Jason now felt.“At least buy me dinner first,” she said, mischief in her eyes and tugging at her mouth as she shrugged in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m pretty sure dinner is on Bruce tonight, but if you think I’m not going to buy you dinner at the next available opportunity then you are very, very wrong,” Jason said.

Rorie laughed, reaching up to hug him in his favorite way, the only way he ever wanted to be hugged by her ever again.

“Deal, boy wonder,” she whispered in his ear.

Dinner was awkward. Dinner way very, very awkward.

It wasn’t that Bruce disapproved, after the two stumbled through an explanation of their budding relationship. It wasn’t that Alfred disapproved, or Dick, even. No. Horrifyingly, they were all delighted.

“What do you mean you knew?” Jason and Rorie shrieked in unison.

Bruce tried to bring the table back to some form of decorum, since Dick’s exclamation of, “I knew it!” and small victory dance coupled with Rorie and Jason’s indignant screams was slightly out of place in one of Gotham’s nicest restaurants.

 “I mean, it was obvious. You two are always all blushy and cutesy around each other whenever I come over,” Dick explained, cutting into his steak.

“We are not!” Rorie protested, burying her face into her bouquet of brilliant red roses, of which it had turned the same hue.

Jason in turn felt like burying his face into the orchids he was currently holding for her, a gift from Dick. The roses were from Bruce, of course. Alfred had simply baked cookies back at home.

“I’m afraid you are, miss. It’s rather endearing, if it’s any comfort to you,” Alfred reassured.

“This is so embarrassing. You all knew?” Rorie said.

“And now the whole school knows, after that display.” Dick grinned. “You two got so lucky Mrs. Dowly didn’t tear you to pieces.”

As it happened, Mrs. Dowly had rather liked the show. She said that Rorie’s improv had been so impassioned Shakespeare should have written it into the original. Rorie had wilted into the very bottoms of her shoes, looking as though she were trying her best to melt into the floor.

A waiter came by to check on them as they were finishing up, Dick shoveling the last bites of his steak into his mouth. 

“Any dessert?” he asked politely, no doubt with good intentions.

“No!” Jason and Rorie shouted.

The last thing they wanted was more awkward dinner conversation.

“It would seem not,” Bruce said, smiling his, “people are watching,” smile. “We’ll just have the bill.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter ran off to retrieve the bill, leaving Jason and Rorie to suffer once more.

“So how long had you been thinking about that kiss scene, huh Jay?” Dick asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jason groaned, his face turning red in that full-flush way that he had about him. Rorie, on the other hand, decided to change tactics. If you can’t beat’em, join’em.

“You know, it’s kind of cute when you do that,” she said.

“What?” Jason asked, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Blush. You do it with your whole head. Neck, face, ears. It’s cute.” Rorie shrugged, trying to hide her own blush.

“Ewww, this is officially too sweet for me now,” Dick said, feigning a gag.

“Please Dick, try to behave like an adult,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The waiter came by and Bruce quickly paid in cash, clearly having come prepared for an outing with his children. Rorie could only guess how enormous the tip was.

“Alfred?” Bruce said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the man.

“I have already informed the valet that the car is to be brought around, sir,” Alfred said.

“Thank goodness, because I could use a good night’s sleep,” Bruce said.

Rorie and Jason grinned at each other. Bruce Wayne might get 8 hours, but his alter ego never did. It was time for the Bat to roam the streets of Gotham, Robin and Batgirl at his side. It was time to be a hero. 

[smilesthroughfandoms]

Star vs. the Forces of Evil episodes in One Sentence (Season 3 edition)

Star Comes to Earth: Princess Cinnamon Roll that Could Kill you comes to earth and meets Misunderstood safe kid.

Party With a Pony: Spoopy Wardens hunt for the glitter pony while Star gets ice for Marco’s sweaty back.

Matchmaker: In which we learn it was probably a bad idea to give Star the wand in the first place.

School Spirit: Star misunderstands football and Marco tries to get Ferguson to blow his whistle not in that way.

Monster Arm: “Not my bowels! I love my bowels!”

The Other Exchange Student: Star is jealous of the meatball man from Bakersfieldville.

Cheer Up Star: “It’s supposed to be ironic!”

Quest Buy: Very accurate depiction of what it is like to work in retail.

Diaz Family Vacation: Both Marco and Star see new sides of their dads but that’s not necessarily a good thing

Brittney’s Party: Star and Marco party with someone who hates them while Ludo hijacks a bus

Mewberty: Star gets horny and snares boys in her web but not in that way

Pixtopia: Marco messed up and Alfonso marries Ferguson’s rebound

Lobster Claws: “… You can’t eat children.” “Really? Not even the annoying ones?”

Sleep Spell: “Camera Phooone!”

Blood Moon Ball: We’re suppose to ship them now, right?

Fortune Cookies: Love is never the answer kids

Freeze Day: Father Time offers Star and Marco some mud before riding away on his wheel-mobile pulled by giant time-hamsters I am not making this up.

Royal Pain: King Santa Claus destroy mini-golf

St. Olga’s Reform School for Wayward Princesses: Princess Prison sure is a nightma–OH MY GOD ARE THOSE CLUBS?!

Mewnipendence Day: No wonder monsters hate Mewmans so much.

The Banagic Wand: Star still doesn’t get Earth and like all of us, Marco is always hungry.

Interdemensional Field Trip: Miss Skullnick fears the “Big Change” while Marco sends Jackie cat memes

Marco Grows a Beard: Ludo is out, Toffee is in, and Marco will probbaly be terrified of beards forever

Storm the Castle: “SURPRISE!”

My New Wand!: DIP DOOOWN

Ludo in the Wild: Wait, since when did Ludo become badass?

Mr. Candle Cares: “Star and I have recently become smooch buddies… On the lips.”

Red Belt: Marco searches for a meaning in life and Star searches for hammer.

Star on Wheels: *epic remix of Marco saying Star is in trouble*

Fetch: Marco can’t open juice and Star runs away from her problems and sending thank you cards

Star vs. Echo Creek: Star gets high and destroys a police car

Wand to Wand: Both Ludo and Star are terrible at magic also major ship tease

Starstruck: Star and her idol Sailor Super Saiyan destroy a park and Marco is 100002% done with this shit

Camping Trip: King Butterfly has a mid-life crisis and tries to control an eagle

Starsitting: They’re gonna be great parents some day.

On the Job: Buff Dad is best dad and buff babies are adorable

Goblin Dogs: “You might think this line is long, but listen to my goblin song!~”

By the Book: Ludo and Star still suck at magic and Glossaryck is a bigger troll than Alex Hirsch

Game of Flags: Queen has no patience and legs.

Girls’ Day Out: Janna is back and is still awesome btw

Sleepover: “TRUTH! STAR HAS A CRUSH ON MA–” *cube gets crushed*

Gift of the Card: R.I.P.  Rasticore Chaosus Disastorvayne… He couldn’ get his fucking chainsaw to work

Friendenemies: Star becomes one with Christmas tree while Tom and Marco go on a date and sing a romantic pop ballad.

Is Mystery: Meatfork is apparently a family name and Ludo is really starting to freak me out tbh

Hungry Larry: “He’s still hungry…”

Spider with a Top Hat: He tries and he is awesome and that’s all that matters

Into the Wand: SPAAAAADESS!!!

Pizza Thing: Marco is OCD about mushroom and Pony Head buys skinny jeans

Page Turner: Glossaryck is awesome and how did Moon miss Lizard-Loki in the orb?!

Naysaya: Tomco friendship confirmed and Marco finally asks out Jackie while Star the supportive noodle armed friend cheers on

Bon Bon the Birthday Clown: Starco fans cry, Jarco fans rejoice, and Ludo now has the book god dammit Nefcy

Raid the Cave: Glossaryck is the true neutral asshole.

Trickstar: Weird Al is a treasure and I’ll mes up anyone who makes Marco cry!

Baby: *glances around nervously* So… Star is similar to Eclipsa, huh? *Nervous laughter* Great…

Running With Scissors: Marco gets a new edition to his shipping harem and she is so cute!!!!!!

Mathmagic: Don’t worry Star, I can’t math either.

The Bounce Lounge: Marco is definitely the mom friend.

Crystal Clear: The Chancellor guy is amazing and Rhombulus just needs a hug and wAS THAT ECLIPSA IN THE BACKGROUND?

The Hard Way: “SURPRISE!” 2.0

Heinous: Oh, so that’s how Marco got all that money.

All Belts Are Off: “Jermey is the biggest dick…. around!~”

Collateral Damage: Marco how do you not know what a possum is?

Just Friends: I’m fine! *blows up sign to prove just how fine I am*

Face the Music: Moon=Badass, Star=Why?, River=Loving Husband, Marco=Shocked, and we got to meet Ludo’s family so pretty cool episode overall.

Star Crushed: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH–remember when we though Bon Bon the Birthday Clown was the end of the world?–AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

BONUS ROUND! BATTLE FOR MEWNI EDITION!!!!!

Return to Mewni: This is… just an exposition filler. Not much else to say….

Moon the Undaunted: B4! B4! B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4 B4!

Book Be Gone: “I hate that fucking book!” -Ludo, at some point probably.

Marco and the King: *Party music intensifies… and then slowly dies down*

Puddle Defender: They’re bonding and getting so big and I am so proud–Star you idiot don’t go alone!!!!!!

King Ludo: The mime stole the show.

Toffee: I can’t…. I just… how do you want me to react?! To much happened and I mean…. what do you want me to say? I’m still processing just…. What do I say? *slowlys ponders how I will survive until November*

Scent of Hoodie: Huh, so Ponyhead can be written as likeable, who would’ve thought?

Rest in Pudding: Ish da Glossaryck! And he’s Globgoring all over da place!

Club Snubbed: I literally yelled “Phrasing!” whenever they dropped the title

Stranger Danger: "Something like that” whY WOULD YOU SAY THAT IF YOU WERE ON THE SIDE OF GOOD?!?! SERIOUSLY GUYS THIS BUGGED ME FOR WEEKS--

Demoncism: Tom is a wonderful baby boy and Ponyhead is written as likeable, part 2!

Sophmore Slump: *sobbing* Jackie deserved better, dang it!

Lint Catcher: Introducing a Lavaboe! He’s pure and wonderful and deserves a raise and did I mention I love him?

Trial by Squire: I think the writers were all like” You think these guys will ship anyone with Marco?” and decided to test that theory.

Princess Turdina: I got more lore out of this episode than I thought I would.

Starfari: Welp, she makes me uncomfortable.

Sweet Dreams: *Sailor Moon-ing intensifies*

Lava Lake Beack: Proof that this fandom will ship anyone with Marco at the slightest inclanation

Death Peck: Rich Pigeon is my new favorite birb and Ponyhead is written as likeable for the third time

Ponymonium: Well, it was nice while it lasted.

Night Life: The writers made so many new ships they had to get rid of an old one!

Deep Dive: “Chicken butt”

Monster Bash: ........ Well, that explains the cheekmarks. 

Stump Day: I think they just made an episode based around a picture from that bookcover, not that it was bad.

Holiday Special: *insert every cheesy Christmas/Holiday episode trope here*

The Bog Beast of Boggabah: The title is fun to say and the episode is average at best.

Total Eclipsa the Moon: Seriously, I’m supposed to think she’s an ultimate villain.

Butterfly Trap: In which we are all Sean, don’t lie we were all him at the end

Ludo, Where Art Thou?: Dennis is best brother, hands down.

Is Another Mystery: *sniff* I got more emotional over this episode than anyone else did and I’m not sure how I feel about that

Marco Jr.: I... I just... Why? What’s the point?

Skooled!: Epic advertisment fakeout combined with wonderful character development and lore with a shock ending makes a 10/10 episode.

Booth Buddies: Old Man McGucket ships Starco, proceed to react accordingly

Bam Ui Pati!: Ponyhead is kinda likeable in this episod--nevermind she’s back.

Tough Love: Oh man, it’s happening! It’s happening guys here we go!

Divide: We are going to war everybody--And they’re all dead. That was quick.

Conquer: So Glossaryck has upped his trolling antity and turns out Eclipsa’s probably evil, Meteora’s a baby again, and Globgor is her husband and imprisoned in crystal... Idk about you guys but I’m going to go scream into the void...

[frankpanioncube]

Fic: It’s Something You Earn

My gift for @ thesweetpianowritingdownmylife  for @undertalesecretsanta .  We have HAPPY! Papyrus and Flowey spending time together as friends. 

I have to admit I haven’t ever had to write Flowey when he wasn’t explicitly being a manipulative little git so I hope this is alright. 

Without further ado: Life on the surface is pretty great. Papryus has it all: Friends, family, a bright future ahead of him with plenty of opportunities, but someone’s missing....and oddly enough he seems to be the only one who knows it.  (Bonus points if you guess what show exactly Papyrus is paraphrasing.) 

The clock on the wall ticked into the two-o’clock position as the bored-looking grad student proctoring the exam at the front of the room practically leapt to their feet, subtracting another fifteen minutes from the countdown on the room's whiteboard before settling back into their seat at the front of the room. Only forty-five minutes remained and around Papyrus similar sounds of indecision were forthcoming from the students who remained, mixed with the frantic sounds of the desperate.

Papyrus was in fact on his third check through of his work. He knew he needn't have worried; he'd performed exceptionally well on the midterm and the case study and by his math already had secured the necessary minimum grade point requirement to advance in the program...if he chose to pick this as his major. He'd also learned long ago from one Captain Undyne never to give anything less than his absolute best...but surely three double checks was enough.

Having reached a decision, he folded his test booklet closed and brought it to the proctor who copied his student number off his ID card and wished him a ‘Happy Holidays’ under their breath..

After that, the door to the building soon clicked shut behind him, and he was free! Done! Well, that was, until next semester.

Papyrus allowed himself a short whoop, ignoring the stares, but was quick to move on. He was eager to get back to the house. Sans would be coming down today and he hadn't seen his brother in months. He didn't mind stopping at the coffee kiosk as an afterthought. He did after all have nearly 45 minutes, and when had his brother been early to anywhere?

The younger of the skeleton brothers had come to love University life. The Underground had been a little short on anyone in his age bracket and once the initial excitement of being above ground had worn off, he felt at a bit of a loss as to what to do with himself. Not because his options were limited but because suddenly there was a massive surplus of potential. Apparently, lots of humans felt the same way and University or College was one of the things the ones that most closely matched his own age did about it. He hadn't picked a major yet, but apparently most humans in their first year didn't either...and boy had this been a lot easier to get into than the guard. And then there was the Fraternity. Who knew that all this time that he'd thought Sans was just being annoying, he was actually secretly training him for his new brotherhood and friend-making experience! Why, hazing had been an absolute breeze compared to the quagmire that was his brother’s slovenly ways...

Speaking of whom, he picked out two frosted cookies as a ‘good to see you again’ gift and rushed through the holiday niceties with the cashier. Papyrus might be an independent academically minded, grown bones University student now, but he missed his big brother. Besides that, he knew he had the latest final time of any of the brothers and David, their chapter president couldn't leave himself until everyone else was finished and off to their homes for the holiday.

Moments later, he burst through the doors of the Beta Gamma Epsilon house to some very familiar laughter.

"Sans?"

If Sans was at least early, he probably wanted to get going home.

Papyrus ducked into the common room, to be greeted by the sight of David and Sans laughing, and, judging by the surrounding bottles, possibly more than a little drunk (but par the course for a Frat house, despite Papyrus' best efforts to keep the infernal empties confined to a recycle bin. They were worse than Sans’ socks.).

His brother seemed to have a few more worry lines around his sockets and his clothes seemed wrinklier than normal, but Papyrus was overwhelmingly glad to see him again. It had been too long.

"SANS!" he barked, only half meaning the admonishment. "You're drunk...and I have to drive!"

"That's...not how it works bro." Sans informed him, but he was laughing too.

"Here, I have cookies." Papyrus offered his bounty and a massive hug to Sans who accepted both gifts happily before Papyrus went to collect his packed suitcase from his room.

"Okay here you go." David had followed him, presenting him with an envelope. "Last one. Luckiest brother in the house."

The skeleton barked a laugh. "Nyeh heh! I am indeed a lucky brother!”

"Nah, guy in the envelope."

"Well I do suppose I am ALSO the coolest person to have as a secret santa!” Papyrus hefted his bags and took a harder glance over at the human. “Are you okay to drive?”

"Huh? Oh I’m going to my girlfriend’s before I go home. I’m not driving. And yeah, all the guys have been going on about which one of them is going to get to have some cool monster shit."

"Oh..."

"Damn, was that insensitive?"

"Well, the language was a little blue I suppose.”

David chucked a bit. “You’re a good guy, Papyrus. Have a happy holiday, dude.”

The older student was true to his word apparently, locking up the Beta house and marching out of the parking lot with only a slight waver to his step. Papyrus watched him go diligently (he was a good brother of course!), then loaded his suitcase into his car and Sans packed himself into the passenger side.

They drove in silence for awhile. Papyrus was just beginning to wonder if he should say something when Sans broke the silence, apparently feeling similarly.

Ya ain't worried about your test are ya bro?"

"The great Papyrus has no need to worry!"

“New roomies good?"

"Yeah!" He liked his other the other two pledges who shared his living quarters. “Mark and Derek are worthy human roommates!”  The latter of whom owned a fairly sizable action figure collection himself and had helped Papyrus to restore a few of the pieces he'd brought from his old home in Snowdin. “Well, ALL of the brothers are roommates you see! Although they are not brothers like you and I are, but brothers in SPIRIT!”

Apparently this was the correct response as Sans’ concerns slipped from Papyrus’ social life to more generic ‘older brother’ concerns

"What about your homework?"

"Brother, I am hardly a baby bones! I am already reading ahead for my next semester classes! I do not procrastinate like SOME skeletons!"

“Nothin’ wrong with a little procrastination.” Sans punctuated the remark with a stretch and raised a brow bone at the envelope. “That ain’t what I’m talkin’ about.”

"Oh That! It's a ‘Secret Santa'. It's a human thing. Everyone in the Fraternity gets someone's name who they have to buy a present for. Then we all have to try and guess who gave us what."

"Sounds right up your alley, bro. Bet you've got a real puzzle in mind."

"Naturally. I have to think of something excellent as my presents is required!”

“Good one, bro.”

“Only ten minutes with you and already I’m picking up on your bad pun habits.”

Papyrus stole a peek at Sans out of the corner of his eye who was presently leaning back in the seat, eye sockets closed. It seemed as though the pun deflection had worked the way he hoped it would.

Papyrus returned his eyes to the road, determined then and there that his little mission would remain a secret between he and himself. Papyrus knew it had been...less easy for Sans to adjust to life above ground. It was strange to think of his brother as the tightly wound, high strung one, but he finally started to be attempting to relax and Papyrus was not about to be the one to disturb that balance.

Everything surface-wise so far for Papyrus had been a joy to experience, but it felt odd. Like he alone was missing something...or more exactly; someone. It had become weirder still when it seemed he alone seemed to even notice. Papyrus knew his friends list wasn't exactly the biggest and longest in the underground, so he had never been dismissive of even the most distant acquaintances he did have. There was Sans and Undyne of course, and everyone knew them. There was the self-appointed President of his Fanclub, MK….and that right there was the thing. MK wasn't the president of his fanclub.

The present of his fanclub, or...the last president was...to put it frankly, missing. ...and no one seemed to know anything about him. He'd once in a fit of desperation even tried asking King Asgore who had only looked confused by the question and ended up bestowing on him about six tins of golden flower tea.  It was as if Papyrus was the only person who knew Flowey existed

Sans; the other person who knew everyone (or at least everyone who liked hot dogs, bad jokes and/or grease) had simply looked troubled when he was asked and mentioned something about having an imaginary friend as a Babybones he'd named Gaster...and dropped the subject shortly after. Papyrus had predictably insisted Flowey wasn’t his imaginary friend. Still Sans had simply apologized for the insinuation. That was odd too; his brother would normally never miss a chance to give his brother a little bit of the business for something as immature as clinging to a childhood imaginary playmate.  

It did however mark the last time he'd brought it up with other people, and he’d hoped to put it from his own mind now that he had studies and friends but somehow it kept creeping back in. In bed at night, During the lulls in conversation. In the middle of reading one of Sans’ or Frisk’s update e-mails about how life was at home. Now with an excuse to go to the Underground ready made, Papyrus had decided to personally put the issue to bed once and for all.

Whatever he was speculating he would find, there was little time to think about the plan further as the next few days flew by in a whirlwind of activity. Monsters were a bit behind on their Calendar due to the length of time spent in the Underground versus the actual advancements made in human understanding, and there had been a whole issue on when Gyftmas should be celebrated. The real thing by Monster Calendar fell mid-Hanukkah, but the traditions were evidently taken from Christmas. As it happened, Frisk had celebrated Hanukkah before they fell down, so Toriel had arranged for a gathering of course, the night Papyrus came home from school. It also worked out well for Sans’ Gyftmas present; a reservation for 'Christmas Day' at Grillby's newly instated surface version of his establishment.

He was a bit distracted that day by the time they got to the restaurant as inevitably the ‘plan’ as it was now officially titled in his mind and all that it entailed had crept into his thoughts once more. He wasn’t being deceitful, not really, but he wasn’t sure what the reaction would be if he did happen to casually mention it. As it happened, the person in the frat he was to buy a gift for was Brian, rather known for his legendary ability to drink someone under the table, not to mention being 'that one guy who would eat anything'. He was here, at a Monster Bar and he knew Grillby sold product that would go over well and fill the expectation to bring something ‘Monster-made’. He could just buy a small bottle of something or the other and forget the plan altogether. Being naturally honest by nature, it rankled with him that he felt he needed secrecy.

If he did that, it would be better for his brother’s SOUL.

And then he imagined Flowey, alone in the Underground, even though they were free, imagining Papyrus had forgotten him fore---.

"Hey, Bro...it’s your turn..."

With a gasp, Papyrus returned to reality, doing his best to refocus on the gift in front of him. Sans' gift too., no less.

"Uh, YES! THANK YOU BROTHER! I WAS JUST ...ADMIRING THE BEAUTIFUL WRAPPING JOB!"

Now THAT was a lie if there ever was one.

Fortunately, Toriel came to his rescue. "Oh that does remind me of when Asriel was small...I made him three whole boxes of his favourite cookies and knitted him a brand new jumper out of Spider silk. It really was darling, but of course, Asgore wound up eating the biscuits and those sharp little claws had pulled runs in the poor sweater by the next day." She chuckled, a touch sadly.

"Sounds a bit better than me." Grillby had finished clearing down and had joined the party, having kept the restaurant open for their group, which did after all did include his best mate and the Queen of all Monsters.  "My Niece Fuku used to eat the boxes. And the tissue paper."

Sans snorted with absolute delight. "Eating trash. A Monster after my own SOUL."

Papyrus put a hand on the wrapping paper and tore it off enthusiastically, and the evening proceeded.

He didn't think about the Plan again until two days later when all the excitement had officially wound down and he’d made his calls and wrote his thank you letters. Midway through comparing present notes, he was once more reminded he still had one present left to obtain.

>>oh and a gift certificate from Alphys and Undyne to a cosplay armour maker they found at a con they went to. They're going to make me a new Battle Body."

>>cool. Yeah dude, I'm going to bed. I'm super bombed right now. My Dad made Eggnog and it kinda makes the Betas look tame."

Papyrus bade his friend goodbye and flopped back on his bed. And that was that. Decisions made. Tomorrow...was the day.

He slept better than he thought he might.

As it happened, his excuse-which-wasn't -really-a-lie got out smoother than he thought it would.

"SANS?"

"Sup Bro?"

“I AM HEADING OUT TO PROCURE MY SECRET SANTA GIFT!"

"Have a good time." Sans called back from the kitchen.

"Bundle up warmly dear."  It is rather cold outside."

It eased Papyrus' nerves to know that Toriel was around to distract his brother. For her sake he added another scarf; the new one he'd received for Christmas and took his gloves with the peel-off mitten tops too.

He parked his car in the lot of a nearby grocery store that didn't have a time limit on how long people could spend in the space and walked to the chain coffee store at the end of the block. . Someone, he couldn't remember who, had given him a gift card for the place, which didn't have a shop on Campus.  He treated himself to something with god knew how much unhealthy sugar  and snapped a few photos of the monstrosity before he gathered his reserves of determination and began the true journey.

The nice, merchandise stores changed into gas stations and fast food joints, then into garages and the odd warehouse and then there was yet-untamed forest area that allowed him to know he was getting close. He finally spotted the turn he was after and veered off to the path they'd taken down the mountain A glance at his phone told him he was out of range of any human networks but a few steps later he had gotten onto what remained of the Undernet.

Some monsters still lived underground, like Gerson and those too old and unable or unwilling to make the journey.

He resolved to stay out of their way though. Undyne often visited the old turtle and something still niggled at him about this mission being ‘exposed’.

He consulted his clock. Even with his stopover at the coffee place, he'd made good time. He wouldn't risk the River Person.

Once Hotland had been cleared, it was much smoother sailing. He passed the dump, remembering when he and Sans used to come there for his Gyftmas gifts. He also picked some crab apples. In Snowdin he pottered around the old house, marvelling at the smell that had seeped in without anyone to clean it and let himself out (without discovering the long-molded spaghetti still in the fridge). He did however unstring the fairy lights from around the windows., winding them into a neat coil. Brian would appreciate the decorations for his room.

He hemmed about it for a while and finally let himself into Grillby's picking over the liquor that had been left. He selected one that was full and as an afterthought stuck some money under the register.  He could make sure the bartender knew about it later. After this was over.

Monster alcohol, monster food and a special decoration from his own home. Satisfied with the present, he sorted his finds into his inventory and sat himself down on the step of the old pub, leaning his chin in his glove with a quiet Nyeh.

He had been so sure that he would have attracted the attention of his old friend...that the flower would have followed him and popped up to scare him as he had the habit of doing, so many times during his youth.

There'd been no flash of gold in his periphery however though he'd spun to surprise CHECK many a time.

He pulled out his phone again.

Still...Papyrus was never one to do things halfway. He might be late to supper but...yet...

He moved deeper. Past Snowdin, into the forest...over the bridge and sparing a laugh at his embarrassing attempt at a 'gate'. Why, he'd taken Engineering 102 and he could build a gate twice as good.

He felt a little better for his self-congratulatory inner monologue and perhaps it was this that had given him the strength to march deeper into the ruins.

This was uncharted territory. His brother as he now knew had only knocked on the door and had been eager to leave without a backwards glance. Papyrus had never questioned that desire, nor thought about it.

It was peaceful there, at least and the puzzles were interesting, to be sure.

He found a mostly depleted bowl of Monster candy somewhere along the way and added a piece to his present for Brian, but was starting to grow somewhat hopeless about the status of the rest of his mission.

The doubts from earlier sprang to his mind., the odd conversations with Asgore, the reactions of Sans. He knew Sans didn't tell him everything, but perhaps it was true that there was nothing to  his behaviour after all.

Had he dreamed Flowey? It was...after all a childish name...They'd been 'presidents of eachothers fanclubs’, when Papyrus had no friends.

He was the Great Papyrus, and so must his imagination be very Great....but he was so...real.

"Ah?"

"Hello?"

Papyrus found himself talking to...a patch of flowers, but just now  had sure he'd seen white fur there too. The annoying Dog?

That might not surprise him; the puffball had followed them up to the surface and had become quite comfortable under Sans' care...it had only shown up twice at his Frat House, so he knew his brother was putting in effort.

He was this time however seeing things. The flowers were devoid of anything white...and what was more, this was it seemed, the end of his fruitless hunt, as there was a dead end and the hole through which Frisk had fallen down, just directly above him, bleeding in winter sun.

The Skeleton's shoulders slumped in spite of himself.

"Howdy."

Papyrus's eyes lit up. There was no mistaking that voice. He hadn't been crazy!

Taking sudden note of where he was standing, Papyrus skipped back off the edges of the flower patch.  

Sure enough, the little flower monster (Something in the back of Papyrus' mind told him that was wrong, that Flowey wasn't a monster...but then, what else would he be?) popped his head up through the blossoms, a full ‘head’ above the other flowers.

"Well well, the Great Papyrus is back to deign to pay little old me a visit..."

Papyrus knew Flowey well enough by now to ignore the edge to the flower's voice.

"Of course I did! I have been hoping to see my best friend for ages now!” Papyrus insiste sincerely.

"Ugh, you're so nice."

The initial shock and delight having passed, Papyrus  couldn't keep back the wave of confusion and hurt nor quite keep it out of his voice. "Why...why didn't you come to the surface? With all of us! You ....you could have stayed with us. Me and Sans...Or...Or Frisk. I know you were their friend too!"

For a brief second, Papyrus thought he saw something like sorrow flash across the flower's visage, before it was replaced by something else much nastier. "Because I just Love it down here sooo much Papyrus."

"Oh well then, I'll leave you to it, and you won't mind if I take a walk. It's a long trek back to the surface."

Flowey had been this way ever since the skeleton knew him. Sometimes the flower would say things that even Sans, an accomplished Physicist would have struggled to come up with, other times, he would be no more or less childish than the Snowdin kids who called HIM weird.

Predictably, Flowey shot down into the earth, just long enough  for Papyrus to decide maybe he had decided to go sulk after all, only to re-materialize right under his boot.

"Nyeh!" Papyrus was still Papyrus and though it was a narrow thing, his reflexes were still in good enough condition that he balanced back to avoid crushing his friend.

"Why must you always do that?" he admonished Flowey. "One of these days I will crush you into dust by accident!"

Flowey only giggled. "You must really hate me Papyrus, thinking to step on me with such LOVE that you'd dust me!"

"That's not what I meant!" Now Papyrus couldn't help but be offended by the insinuation.

"Oh, alright alright, don't cry." the flower groused.

Papyrus  hadn't been (really), but he brushed imaginary tears - it was most definitely just the falling snow!) from his eye sockets anyway.

"Come on, Climb up me!" the Skeleton insisted, holding out his arm for the flower.  "We cannot carry on a proper conversation as friends if you keep tunnelling underground like that."

Papyrus extended his arm and after a moment's deliberation, Flowey deigned to climb up., the flower's surprisingly extensive root system anchoring him to sit comfortably astride Papyrus' shoulder as the Skeleton's long strides took them swiftly back through the ruins.

"You might enjoy it you know." If you gave it a try."

"Gave what a try?"

"The surface of course." Papyrus repeated, knowing full well the flower knew exactly what he'd meant.

"I don't trust anything that walks on two legs."

Papyrus imperceptibly shook his head. It was classic Flowey, that much was a fact, but even he could tell that the jibes and jabs were falling a little flatter, that the old spark had been replaced by something that if the skeleton didn't know any better, he would have called resignation. As such, he responded in kind, merely inclining his head towards his passenger. "I walk on two legs." he reminded Flowey mildly.

A beat of silence reigned before a hint of the old spark came back into Flowey's face. "Yeah, but you're really bad at it!"

In a split second, a vine which had unfurled unnoticed behind Papyrus, bound his ankles loosely together and sent him tripping forward and frighteningly close to the edge of the bridge. The skeleton's hand shot forward instinctively, grasping to catch hold of the bar, but - in a flash of  further regret for his woefully terrible engineering skills from his formative years, the support was too far away.  His fingertips barely grazed it and the duo plummeted arse over teakettle down the steep slope, with Flowey clinging to his Papyrus-shaped toboggan.

The drop wasn't that far but the incline was steep and Papyrus immediately lifted his head out of the snow bank he'd ploughed face-first into to knock the grit and snow from his eye sockets.

The flower slithered off onto the snowbank to look down at him.

"Golly Papyrus, are you alright?"

"I..." and Papyrus cut himself off as he noticed the extent of the damage. Far from dusting, the impromptu spill down the hill had nevertheless twisted Papyrus' foot and ankle from it's socket.

"Oh...I'll never be able to climb back up like this..."

"Look at the bright side, pal." Flowey knotted his vines in a very good approximation of a nonchalant human shrug. "Now you can stay down here with me!"

Papyrus struggled himself into a sitting position, the injured leg stretched out in front of him. and gazed up into the grey haze of Snowdin's endless fall of magical snow. That grey would turn to navy soon, a sign that dusk was coming in the world above. He wondered how long it would take for Sans to panic over his lack of checking in. What would happen when the store he'd parked down shut its doors for the night and his car was still parked there. Would some random night security guard take down his licence plate call his house? Would  it be a tow company?

Would they figure it out that he'd gone to the Underground right away or would it take them days to come to that conclusion?

He fixed the flower with his steeliest gaze. "You kow my faamily's going to come looking fo r me."

"Of course they are."

Papyrus opened his mouth to protest that he had lots of friends now, dozens even. Dozens of dozens. More than Flowey...and it dawned on him that was, well...the whole issue. The crux of the problem. The missing piece of the puzzle.

"I can't fix you." the Flower sulked, looking at him askance like he was daring Papyrus to blame him outright.

"No?" Papyrus refused to take the bait and adjusted the way he’d propped himself against the side of the rock wall. "This isn't really going to change anything. Sans or someone will come for me...and I'll have to explain what I was doing down here."

"I..."

"Looking for a present to bring back to my assigned person for the gift exchange." Papyrus cut the flower off, freezing the onset of his scariest smile right off his face.

The manic fang-filled nightmare grin melted into something that Papyrus swore was familiar but somehow also could not remember seeing on the Flower's face at any point.  "You wouldn't tell them...about me?"

"No. I wouldn't." Papyrus said simply.

"Hee Hee, you're almost predictable Papyrus."  That translated in Flowey speak to 'Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Papyrus responded in kind."You're welcome."

"So what kind of crap did you get the humans anyway?"

Papyrus produced his inventory. Predictably the flower ignored the liquor with only a passing glance, but seemed intrigued by the choice of fairy lights "What are the lights for? It’s after Gyftmas, even I know that."

"I thought they could put them up in their room."

"Humans do that? Indoors?"

"Yeah Lots of them do that for decoration."

"Golly, that is cool!" You should have gotten something better than crab apples though, blegh."

"I got monster candy...and apples are at least a healthy snack!" Papyrus protested. "You and my brother both! There's nothing wrong with healthy food!"

"DON'T compare me to your brother!  Flowey screeched, but his outrage was genuinely false this time and the two of them fell about laughing a little bit.

"Just for that, I won't fix you."

Before Papyrus could react even the slightest; the flower's magic flared to life, the world melting away to the specific concentrated blackness and focus of an encounter. A dozen thoughts occured to Papyrus at once: to Check, to increase his defense, and even to attack, but  instead he focused on Flowey who apparently was not giving him a chance for any of it. The wave of green magic was knitting his bones together before he knew it,  and the snow and and magically replicated overcast atmosphere of Snowdin was shimmering back in.

Papyrus flexed his foot experimentally, finding to his delight that  the action caused him no more than the briefest of clicks as the magic that bound him finished knotting itself together.

"Thank you."  he hefted himself to his feet, with relief, wondering not for the first time  how Sans did it; sitting around like that all the time and doubly glad that the snow in question was mostly magic, or his trousers would have been feeling a lot more unpleasant...but it still left them at the bottom of a ravine.

"Well come on, let's see if becoming a school book nerd hasn't made you go soft."

Flowey's thick roots shot upwards and again, Papyrus found himself having little trouble questioning his innate knowledge that the vines would support him easily, despite being sure he had no frame of reference...maybe. Possibly.

"The Great Papyrus would never let something like books get in the way of his training!"

He used the wide, flat thorns and coils as foot holds to slowly but surely, hand over hand make his way back to the top..

It was hard work and by the time he finally managed to heft his arm over the foot path of the bridge, he was heaving with exhaustion. He leaned against the strut to catch his breath, and busied himself as Flowey wound himself cobra-like  up the same path, the long vines shrinking as though they'd never been and he was nothing more than a facsimile of a golden flower once more.

They were silent a moment.

"It's not going to go back to the way it was." The flower intoned at length, his usual bobbing slowing to an introspective sort of sway.

Papyrus privately agreed.. He had checked his friend and that was something he knew he wouldn't unsee.

"No..." he began.

Something seemed to resolve in Flowey and it sparked something in Papyrus as well. He got the drop on Flowey this time, opening his mouth and speaking before he overthought it too much.

“You know...there are many humans that say you aren’t born with a soul. You earn one through facing adversity and overcoming obstacles and the decisions you make in your life. Kind of like you, just now.”

“Did you hear that from your human school?” the flower scoffed, though from the lack of follow up disparaging comments Papyrus knew he was both considering the statement and not angry with Papyrus for acknowledging the situation.

“Actually I got that from a human television show. But yes, it’s taught. It’s called ‘philosophy’”

“Even though they must know now that souls are real?”

“...Yes. I think it’s like LOVE and love.”

Flowey was silent another beat. “If I don’t want to come back to the surface...ever, will you still come to visit me?”

“Of course! We’re friends. Best friends.”

“Even after…’

“Pushing me off a bridge?”

“Y...yeah. Pushing you off a bridge.”

“Or any of the other stuff.”

Flowey’s expression shifted briefly to one of shock before he recovered himself and started to laugh. “Papyrus, that’s why I like you!”

“Maybe you can give some pointers to the new President of my fanclub.”

“That los--”

Papyrus looked at him.

“He’s probably doing a great job.”

“Yeah.”

***

Two Years Later:

"BROOOO!"

Papyrus  looked up from the project he was working on grateful for the distraction. His nasal bone had been inches away from his drafting table  and the proximity to the table wasn't exactly helping him work out the kinks in the design.

"COME ON! TWO DOLLAR SHOTS NIGHT! PLEDGES ARE BUYINNNNNG!”

"Yeah! yeah! Take a break at least!"

Papyrus still wasn't exactly known for being the booziest guy in the house or the biggest advocate of the party time, but the idea of stepping away from this work for awhile was a very tempting offer.

"Um...Go ahead." he told the brothers. "I will be sure to grace you with my GLORIOUS presence shortly!"

In spite of his resolve to try to focus on his work for another hour yet, the Skeleton found himself putting away his books and rolling up his blueprints. almost immediately after he heard the large group 's multitude of voices muffled by the door shutting behind them. He made no move to run after them, drumming his fingers on the tabletop in an uncharacteristic display of stagnation.

"Hmph. I can see these lazy human slackers have rubbed off on you. Sitting here staring into space."

The burst of intuition that had him eager to push off the outing suddenly made sense, and Papyrus picked up on the usual banter without missing a beat as easily as if they spent everyday together. "I WAS MOST CERTAINLY NOT BOONDOGGLING!" he screeched in mock anger, stomping his foot...to give him a leveraging anchor to heft the immensely heavy old bedroom window up far enough to allow his friend access. As a third year he' was now eligible for a single private room in the house, but it hardly mattered now as the housemates were long on their way to their campus event by now and those that had not gone probably assumed he was chatting with Undyne again. The flower was contained to his windowsill fern it seemed with no magic soil to move in, but Papyrus had offered his arm as he had in the Underground years ago.

The vines coiled around him and the Skeleton felt something. Something more than determination, a small thing that was not quite magic, and more like a shadow than anything but still tangible and barely there but like a candle guttering doggedly away with the urge to grow stronger.

It was what had brought Papyrus back to see Flowey that first Gyftmas above ground and what had brought him back after that...and finally what had brought him above ground for the first time tonight.

And that was enough.

[stemgaysupreme]

What do you do when you have three midterms to study for? You do anything you can to avoid studying for them. For example: answer all of these questions in one sitting.

Yeah me and my mom have a great relationship for the most part. My dad and I have our ups and downs but we’re okay right now.

My mom

Oh hell yeah I do

About certain things yeah

Singler than single

I don’t care as long as it doesn’t hurt and I don’t really see it coming

The cookie on top of my Oreo shake from potbelly’s

Used to play basketball and I miss it like hell

When they get too long

Last night. I live with my younger brother

I guess so but like. It’s not gonna happen and I’m aware of that fact and have been for a long time so like???? Not really????

Hell no

I mean. Yeah. A couple people actually. A mother/daughter duo I used to know, and I kinda hate the girl that stole my best friend from me

Fuck yeah I miss somebody. I miss my best friend who’s in school out of state (but I’m gonna visit them soon!) and I miss my best friend who moved away with his gf awhile ago and basically cut off everyone from home, especially me

Bro I’ve got four cats. They are Dexter, Goober, Dash, and Mr. C

Like I’m gonna puke

I fuckin wish

Hell yeah! Love Spider-Man tho

Oh man would I

Their place

In theory, to study

I guess, not a lot

Nope.

Math and physics

Mostly I miss my cat Nyx who passed away in September 2018 but I miss my friend who moved. Haven’t talked to him since July 2018 and I hate it

I’m craving a vacation. Or a good cuddle session

Oh god I hope not. Not that I’m aware of

Not that I know of. But to be fair, last “relationship” I had I was 15 so like there wasn’t much room for cheating

Again, not that I know of

Having a bunch of stuff to do and a bunch of stuff I’d rather do at the same time

In a platonic/familial way? Hell yeah. Romantically? Highly doubtful

I honestly don’t have one. I like red and blue but mostly if black white or gray is an option, that’s what I pick

To an extent yes

Actually it was about my best friend when I was in elementary school. And that’s all I remember

My mom

Honestly. No. Ask my dad, he’ll tell you what’s up

Forgive

Hell the fuck no

15

Fuck no I’m not a monster

Ice cream.

No. Shit happens cuz infinite universes and we just happen to be in the one where the things that happen happen

I think I read a wayhaught fanfic. Yep. I definitely read a wayhaught fanfic

Is it okay to do? No. Is it something a couple can move past? Sometimes, yes.

Oh god yeah

Just my brother.

Ugh. Yeah. Unfortunately

Fall. No question. Football AND flannel season! It’s the best time to be a gay!

Fuck snow

Sure

I prefer babe. But I will accept it knowing that I’ll totally call them baby all the time

When all else fails? My cat Nyx used to do that. Now it’s my best friend. They’re the best person ever

Meh. I would if I needed to or wanted to. But I have no desire to do so, so I’m not going to

Nah. It was a hook up type deal so no weird feelings or anything

Tell him he’s an ass and he has a girlfriend and that’s not the way to reintroduce yourself to someone after months of silence

I used to. But now i have my non binary bud who is the best person ever

My brother

My best friend, the best person ever

Yeah. Especially in the platonic way. Me and my best friend are total soulmates.

Hell yeah. Gimme a few years and I’m sure I’ll say my brother but he doesn’t get to be on the list right now. But currently the list includes my mom and my best friend. Those are the only people I really feel close enough to to be able to say that I’d do literally anything in the whole world for them.

I’m so sorry to anyone that read that whole thing.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[glindalovesshoes]

Decluttering III

Day 1 of @oqpromptparty​

Read the previous two posts to this verse: Part I and Part II

Part III

Prompt: 91. Robin asks Henry to be his best man

                When school finishes, Henry is surprised to see none other than Robin waiting for him at the fence right next to the yellow school bus. It's not uncommon for his mom to send Robin to pick him up but usually she will tell him in advance. The man is dressed as always. Dark brown pants combined with the green jacket and a hoodie underneath.

“I thought you'd be taking the bus home with us, Henry!” Violet says surprised when she sees Robin. “Isn't that your… uh… Robin Hood?”

“It is. Perhaps something important came up and mom sent him to pick me up from school. I will see you tomorrow morning, Vi, right?”

The girl grins and nods. It looks like she wants to say something else, doesn't dare to, instead, she is fidgeting with the zipper of her backpack. Henry bites his lower lip, not ready to leave her standing like this even though he knows she won't be alone on the bus. Before he can think twice, he's pressing a quick kiss onto her cheek, mouthing a quick ‘bye’ and running off into Robin's direction, not daring to look back. He doesn't hear her gasp, nor does he see how she slightly blushes and presses her hand onto the spot where he just kissed her. Instead, Henry focuses on Robin, who looks rather nervously around until he finally spots him.

“Henry.”

“I didn’t know you were going to pick me up. Mom didn’t say anything this morning.” He lets his backpack dangle down from just one shoulder, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. Robin takes a moment to reply, seemingly looking for an answer before he lets out a sigh.

“It uh… was kind of last minute. I thought we could go and have lunch at Granny’s?” To Henry, all of this sounds more than suspicious, but who is he to turn down lunch at his favorite diner on the only day school’s out early for his grade. He and his mom used to do it on a regular basis before the curse broke and everything went downhill. Maybe he should ask her to consider making it a regular thing again. But first of all he has to find out what Robin wants.

“Burgers, milkshakes and a sundae for dessert?”

“Anything you like,” the archer answers and Henry wonders if his mom knows about this. Probably not. She’d never let him have all three and would insist on at least a side salad or a bunch of other greens. Ew. This must be something big. Robin either wants to bribe him or has done something he thinks needs bribing. Perhaps Roland stole one of his comics once again… Anyway, who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

They do small talk on the way to Granny's. Nothing big really, rather safe topics like 'How was school?' and 'How is Roland?' or 'Do you think you can finally teach me how to shoot an arrow any time soon?' Henry babbles a little, tells Robin about his day, about the good grade he received in a writing assignment, but somehow forgets to mention the math test he only passed because Violet let him copy her answers.

Granny's is busy as always, however when they enter, some of the dwarves are just leaving, so Henry quickly slides into the favored booth before anyone else can sneak it away from them. The moment Ruby gets to them to note down their order, he tries to push it by ordering a double cheeseburger with a side of fries, fried onion rings, extra ketchup and a large strawberry milkshake - his mom would have his head if she knew - while Robin sticks with the usual macaroni and cheese plus a small beer. The moment Henry sees him order alcohol; he just knows something is going on. Ruby just raises an eyebrow at both of them but doesn't say anything. They'll have to make it up to her with a hefty tip in the end in order to make sure she won't mention anything to his mom the next time.

Robin only picks at his food while Henry wolfs down everything just a little too fast. He's considering whether to ditch half of the onion rings for the sundae, but then again, he's a growing boy. Better eat it now than regret it later. So when Ruby clears their table, Henry orders a double chocolate sundae for dessert and the moment Robin doesn't say anything he feels like he just has to be the one to make the first step.

"So, Robin," he starts, taking a sip of his milkshake. "Will you finally tell me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Robin asks, but is given away by scratching his chin, a habit his mom once told him he only does when he's nervous.  

"Really? Picking me up from school, Granny's, letting me order everything I want… I might be a teenager but I'm not stupid. Mom would have my head if she knew I had all this for lunch plus a sundae."

"I should have said no to the sundae, should I?" the former thief chuckles before he takes a deep sigh. "You're very perceptive for your age."

"Not really. I just think it's funny adults still think they can bribe me with my favorite food and letting me have my way," the teenager smirks, finishing the last bit of his milkshake.

"It's working though, is it?"

"I won't tell if you won't," Henry grins with a wink, pushing the glass away from him. Okay. He's really full and maybe he shouldn't have gotten the sundae. But it's ice cream damn it, it'll fit into his stomach somehow.

"You're right. I wanted to talk to you, Henry. Maybe I should have made a better plan on how to do this…"

Henry's curious now. Whatever it is, it must be big because he's never seen Robin nervous like this. He, the legendary thief who steals from the rich to give to the poor has never been nervous in front of him. "I'm all ears. Shoot. Did Roland rip out a page from one of my comics?"

Robin's eyes shot up. "What? No! No, Roland has given every comic back he hoarded under his pillow. He practices reading with them, so… No. I wanted to talk to you about your mom... Regina."

"Is she okay?" is Henry's first question, because Robin wouldn't make such a drama if it weren't something serious.

"What? Oh, yes, she's fine; she's at the mayor's office. No, I want to talk to you about something that concerns all of us… and I thought of a million ways to say it, but I don't really know how right now." The young man waits, doesn't say anything just listens. It doesn't really seem to help Robin who takes a good long sip of his beer, closing his eyes before he pulls up his sleeve to uncover the lion tattoo. "You know what this is?"

"Yeah, it's the lion tattoo," Henry now answers, wondering where the archer is trying to go with this. He has an idea but doesn't say anything just yet. Perhaps he's completely wrong about it… he hopes not.

"That's right. It's a family crest and I got it on my sixteenth birthday by my father's request. To me, it stands for everything I am, or rather, everything I used to be before I took off and became a better person, the person I am today." He pauses, looking at Regina's son, considering how to go on. "There used to be a time I wished I could get it removed for any price. But then I met your mother."

"According to the tattoo, you're soul mates." Henry knows the story, he's read it a million times and every time he wishes he could just take his pen and change her fate, have them meet before Regina became evil.

"It's true. According to the tattoo and the pixie dust Tinkerbell scattered, we are soul mates. But you know what? I loved your mom before I knew we were soul mates and I think we are meant to be together. Not just by fate, but also by choice."

Henry bites his lip, almost ready to say something about the whole Marian or rather Zelena thing, but he keeps his mouth shut. He knows why Robin did it and his mom has forgiven him for it. That's all that counts.

"Henry, I know what you're thinking. That I hurt her, that I'm not worthy of her… And I agree. I'm not."

"I never said that," Henry protests. "I know you love my mom and she loves you back. You're fated to be together and you make her happy."

"I try to. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Henry… I very much would like to marry your mother, if you will give me your blessing."

The teenager looks up; surprised he would even be asked such a question. He likes Robin a lot, Roland is like a little brother to him and looking at it all, they're a family. His mother has been happy ever since they came back, she's smiling, laughing… who is he to stand in the way of her happiness? Realizing Robin is holding his breath, still waiting for an answer, he smiles.

"I think I like the idea very much. Do you have a ring yet?"

"No…" Robin admits, "I didn't want to jump in front of the wagon. I thought… maybe you and Roland could give me your input on the ring thing. If you can keep the whole proposal thing a secret."

"Talk to Roland, not me. He tells mom everything the moment she bribes him with cookies." Quite an annoying habit, but Henry had gotten around to it by promising him double the cookies if he resisted Regina. Robin chuckles at that, knows how much of a sucker his son is for Regina's baked goods. Like father like son… though he rather is a sucker for, well… other things.  

Ruby brings the sundae with two spoons and a grin on her face. Of course the wolf has overheard their conversation, but she doesn't say anything. Good.

Just a second before Henry digs his spoon into the sundae, Robin asks him to wait, well, because there is another thing he has to ask. "One more thing, Henry… Will you be my best man?"

This time the boy seems honestly surprised at the archer's choice. Robin has thought about it a lot, the first thought had gone to John or Tuck, men he's known forever, but on second thought, Henry would become his stepson. Nothing much would change, he already loves him like a son, but it's still a step up. So his decision has been made. The only other thing he needs is an answer.

Henry blinks, once, twice, before a sincere smile spreads over his face.

"I would love to. Cheers!" He digs his spoon into the ice cream, taking a mouthful. Today couldn't get any better. He got the greasiest lunch he's had in weeks and his mom is one step closer to the happy ending she finally deserves.

Xxxxx

Weeks later the day they let the wooden coffin down into the cold, dark earth, his mind wanders back to this day, thinking how wrong he'd been.

[narrator-scio-story]

What's Happening 8/22

I’ve been on a couple of awesome - if perhaps short - trips in the past week. A visit to California, and a separate trip to Nebraska. My mother tells me that I visited California once before, when I was a baby, because my parents went to a conference there. They got a rubbish babysitter while they were at the conference, who just sat in the hotel room and made me watch cartoons the whole time. I really hadn’t been a TV watcher prior to that, and my parents wanted me to be taken around outside in my pram but since the babysitter didn’t do that, I hated it. Well, this visit to California was at least better than that. Our main goal of the trip was to visit colleges - when we looked for tours at CalTech, Harvey Mudd and UC Berkeley earlier in the summer, UC Berkeley was already full so we just booked tours for the other two. I wasn’t especially excited about CalTech, I really just wanted to visit Berkeley and Harvey Mudd, but since we were going all the way there, it only made sense to visit at least two, and since Berkeley tours weren’t available, I visited Caltech and Harvey Mudd. The first day, though, we didn’t visit a college, we just visited JPL. It took a while to get the rental car - the plane landed at 2:45 and getting out of the airport, getting the shuttle to Budget, and waiting in line took us in total an entire hour. (We traveled with only bags small enough to fit under the seats in front of us so we didn’t have to pay the baggage fee. We flew Frontier, so yes, there would’ve been a baggage fee for overhead luggage.) Once we got the rental car we set Google maps up to take us to JPL. It was just about rush hour, and Google really didn’t want to put us on the highway. First it asked us to turn left at a no-left-turn intersection, then it tried to drive us through the airport and we were like no, so eventually we ended up getting all the way across LA on tiny side roads which involved way too many left turns. We were maybe an hour and a half later to JPL than we’d intended, and the visitor center has apparently closed but my mum’s friend who worked there had requested visitor access for us, and managed to give us a tour of the emptying campus. We saw the Mars yard, and some movies, and all sorts of models, but of course I was most excited about all the Earth observing satellites. I took photos of the diagrams of where the satellites were, I took selfies with posters about OCO-3, it was very exciting. Science Olympiad has done this to me I swear. Remote Sensing is literally the best event but that’s another discussion entirely. Another discussion I have a lot but won’t have here because it would get boring if I did it too many times. We stayed overnight with my mum’s friend and his family, who were very entertaining and had good discussions and told us all about their cats and chickens. Then the next morning it was time to visit the colleges - we’d signed up for the tours and so on at specific times - and despite Google Maps again giving somewhat odd instructions, we made it to CalTech on time. My tour guide was studying geochemistry, she said - she might have said she was the only one in her year? - but mostly during the tour it feels like I learnt about what was fun on campus. We heard a lot about their house system (similar to Hogwarts houses, they claimed), and their dinner rules and traditions, and the pranks, and the parties. It’s funny hearing the story of CalTech’s cannon from the perspectives of both MIT and Caltech, and Harvey Mudd too which I’ll get to later. I suppose CalTech is more fun than I’d imagined - for some reason in my head, it seemed very isolated in location, with people who all came out the same (aka not as the only geochemist they had). I understand the value of their core curriculum, I’m just worried that I might not find all of it interesting, and not end up working as hard as I should. Also, despite not being as physically isolated as I thought, the tour guides still told me that people don’t normally bike into town, it’s more public transport if not driving. And LA doesn’t seem to really have a center. I don’t know how happy I would be to live there. Plus, it sounded like the students were mentally inside their little bubble. Okay, Caltech’s a tech school rather than a liberal arts school, but the tour guide never said anything about politics or initiatives or really caring about issues in the world. I’m sure I could fit in as a techer and be happy there. But would I really become the type of person I hope to? Harvey Mudd, later that afternoon, left me much less on the fence. After a little bit of mess from my selecting the wrong town in California to drive to (we basically just got off the motorway too early, and we got back onto it having only lost a little time), we arrived from Caltech with enough time to grab something to eat before the information session. We actually got to the cafeteria just after it had closed, but the women working there nicely directed us toward the other cafe which was still open. We managed to get lost again on the way there, but another girl - I assumed she was a student - pointed us back where we should be. I actually saw her again through a glass door as all of us going to the information session were sent from the upstairs waiting room to the small auditorium downstairs. We smiled at each other so I think she recognized me. At that point, I was already like, I like this place, I’d be happy to come here. During the info session and tour, okay, I didn’t pick up the same dorm culture that Caltech has - part of the culture that makes me so much want to go to MIT - although the tour guide insisted they did have some. I didn’t feel like I asked as many questions, but I think that was because so many things I cared about were already addressed, rather than because I didn’t care as much. The tour guide also told us that they stole Caltech’s cannon first, that the MIT students had just copied them. And apparently some of their dorms about each other. It wouldn’t be boring, I’m sure, even if it’s not as big a thing? I guess? The reason I first heard about Harvey Mudd was that they have created a much better gender ratio in the computer science major than in most other places, and hearing about the core curriculum, I can really see how that would happen. Having special relativity as your first physics class - of course that would create an interest. Using programming in other math and science courses - obviously that would make people appreciate it better and understand its value. Plus, while I didn’t feel like Caltech’s campus was as small as I’d imagined it, at Harvey Mudd, with even fewer students, it felt like one UK-style college in a bigger university. All the Claremont colleges seemed so integrated together, it didn’t feel like you were going to run out of people to get to know it that all of your friends would be too similar to you for you to learn anything new. So I am still a bit on the fence about applying to Caltech, and unlike a lot of other colleges, there’s not some older South student I was amazing friends with to try to really understand what it’s like to be there. There were aspects of it that really made me happy though, so it’s tough to decide. I guess I’ll probably apply in the regular decision round if I do apply, so that does let me change my mind late in the game if I really need to. And applying of course doesn’t guarantee getting in or going. Harvey Mudd I wouldn’t have a role model either, but from just the little I know I feel like it’s a forward moving place which would push me in the right direction. I want to apply there. I don’t know if I’d go if it were a choice between Harvey Mudd and this college, or Harvey Mudd and that college. But it’s a place I want to try for. And then we got in the car and drove straight to the airport because apparently security lines are long at LAX. Our flight back actually ended up being delayed though. Oh well. And then the other trip! The eclipse! Yay! The original plan had been to wake up at like 5am and drive to Wyoming, inside the path of totality, to watch it. My dad has had the eclipse glasses for ages. But then somebody at work made this plan with him to go to Nebraska and camp for the night and then watch the eclipse there instead, and that’s what we ended up doing, 3 families. We camped in the Pawnee National Grasslands, managed by the National Forest Service (I don’t know why, there literally were no trees). It was technically still in Colorado, but just near the border with Nebraska, so we wouldn’t have as far to drive the day of the eclipse. What I don’t think anyone planned, but what made me super, super happy, was that we happened to be just across the road from loads and loads of wind turbines. It wasn’t a campsite or anything, just some grass and we did a fire pit because somebody forgot their grill and the website said no fire restrictions, but I swear it was the most beautiful place I’ve ever slept. We could watch the sun set brilliantly behind the wind turbines, there were a couple of hills to climb which gave you an amazing view across the plains, it very much avoided light pollution of the stars. And then the next morning around 8 we joined the long stream of traffic heading north, got stuck in the enormous lines at the first gas station in one of the towns there (we later saw that the town had a second gas station nobody at all was using but oh well), fought about whether it would’ve been a better idea to have gone with the original plan about Wyoming, tried to convert the eclipse start times from UTC to mountain time, and eventually made it to a spot on the side of the road - quite close to the center of totality for longitude - a few minutes before the partial eclipse started there. We watched with our glasses as the tiny wiggle in the edge of the sun grew to basically swallow it like a cookie (always less than 3 minutes at a time though, I read that instruction on the side of the glasses and everyone tried to follow it, while also questioning why, exactly, I had read something like that), and when there was just a sliver left and it seemed to be shrinking faster and faster - when the sky had gone dusk colored but with a rainbow, sunset-like thing all around the edge and we were wishing we’d stayed in long pants because it was suddenly a lot cooler - I ran further up the hill and everyone followed me and we put on our glasses again just to watch the last of it disappear. And then when we’d checked that it was really, truly gone, we took our glasses off and my dad set his 2 minute timer to tell us when to put our glasses back on. It was beautiful, you really could see the corona and it was huge and so much paler than any blurry photos on my phone make it seem like it was. We actually waited there on the side of the road until the very end of the partial eclipse, although we saw loads of cars driving back south from the moment totality had finished. We ate our lunch during the rest of the partial, the little girls in the group criticized my slowness and caution coming down the hill and made me do it again faster, we sat in our folding chairs in a row joking about this being like a very slow sporting event. The traffic was pretty bad when we finally left, and you knew it was all because of the eclipse because it was so, so much stronger going in the direction we were headed than the other direction. Even during rush hour, if it had been people coming home from work they should’ve been heading the other way, away from Denver. But overall it was a brilliant trip, there were some oil drilling things (which are depressing) at the beginning of the drive there but all the beautiful wind turbines in the middle made up for it. (I actually saw the oil things in California too, those ones didn’t have wind turbines to match them though.) So I’ve enjoyed my first visit to Nebraska and almost-first visit to California, and now it’s back to the normal day-to-day trips to the library to produce Science Olympiad tests because my laptop can’t connect to the apartment wifi!

[thetoxicstrawberry]

11 Questions

I was tagged by the super sweet and awesome captain @purple-possibilities. Thank you! And please forgive me, this is super long. I didn’t mean it to be. I guess I can ramble on.

1. What is your earliest memory?

Going to Disney World when I was 3. I wanted to go on the Dumbo ride, but the line was too long at the time and my parents told me we would go on it later, but we never did. And I got really sad.

2. If someone was standing on the street giving out high fives, would you high five that person or walk on by?

I would definitely high five them. I’m pretty sure I’ve high fived a few strangers in my life tbh. When I was a teenager, I used to walk up to random people and ask them for hugs just to see if they would. But I’m a strange cookie.

3. Would your rather go forwards or backwards in time?

I wouldn’t want to go forwards, because I don’t want to know what the future holds. The only way I would want to go into the past is just to relive moments. I don’t want the power to change things.

4. If you could go on a trip to space, and be guaranteed to  survive and live out the remainder of your natural life, but you could  never return to earth, would you go?

I am so introverted that I don’t like leaving my house. Just the thought of space freaks me out in all of its infiniteness.

5. Salty or sweet?

Sweet probably and only the last few years. Maybe my tastes have changed. I’m obsessed with Hi-Chews ever since I bought them on a trip to China. And I freak out every time I find them in a store.

6. Do you want to have children? You can say yes or no if you don’t want to go into why.

Working on having kids. Trying to get my husband to agree to name a son Naruto. More so since our kids have a high probability of being blond haired and blue eyed.

7. Why are you on/what made you join Tumblr?

As a distraction, mostly. I didn’t think I would get so into it though.

8. What inspires you?

People do. Their stories and perseverance.

When I was a case manager, I had a client who was around 60 years old and suffered from schizophrenia and mild brain damage. He was one of the kindest and gentlest people I’ve ever had the honor of knowing. The person he was living with (and managed his money) had kicked him out and stole his last SSI check, so here we were trying to keep a roof over his head, fed, and switch his SSI check over to a company instead of the payee that stole it.

So, we are sitting in the Social Security Office, and it is packed. And I’m looking around thinking about how sad everyone looked. Most of the people there looked sick and well below the poverty line.

While I’m thinking this, my client turns to me and he says, “Miss Mandi. I just can’t help looking at all these people here and thinkin that they have so much more than I do.”

I remember staring at him for a moment. Unable to find words. Because here I was looking at what the people around us didn’t have. But what he saw was people who came with family and friends (and not their case manager). People who drove. Who had homes to go back to. People who didn’t have to worry where their next meal was coming from.

Everything is a matter of perspective. And this man, who most people would just write off, gave me the most important lesson in my life. It truly humbled me.

9. If you had to convince me to believe/follow one thing,     what would it be and why would you want to?

I want people to research and question their beliefs…the things they were taught, the things that their parents and friends believe, even when it hurts. This is where prejudices and biases begin and it is only when we allow ourselves to admit that we might be wrong that we can finally start searching for truth. I think the beginning of wisdom begins when we realize we know nothing and allow ourselves to be taught.

And after that, always take what you’ve learned and filter it through a lens of compassion. Because knowledge will only take you so far. We have to accept that someone else’s experience is different than our own.

10. What is something you want people to know about you?

I really am a dork. I smile and I laugh a lot. I say the most random and sometimes inappropriate things. And I truly love people, even though they often disappoint me.

11. When faced with one of those games that asks “How many candies are in this container?“ Do you just guess a random number, or do the math?

Totally random. I don’t do the math thing. My brain starts to hurt when I try.

Now for tagging 11 People to pry information out of. I’m trying not to tag people who have already done this or who I’ve seen tagged. I might have missed it though. Do it if you want to, but I won’t be mad if you don’t.

Tagging: @falling-off-midgard @bakashi-rokudamn @purple--cactus @ladymikiri @roraewrites @natureslightflower @stabbie @kujyou12 @gyukashito @raikiri1 @mentally-unstable-like-a-fox

Now I have to think of questions. Dang, this is the hardest part.

My Questions:

1.      What is the strangest thing you believed as a child?

2.      If you were a super villain, what would be your power? And plan?

3.      Favorite baby animal?

4.      Talent you wish you had?

5.      If you could punch a fictional character, who would it be and why?

6.      Most dorky/shameful song you jam out to?

7.      Something people believe about you, but is wrong?

8.      If you could only wear clothes from one decade (60’s, 70’s, 80’s,etc), which would it be?

9.      One thing you would tell your younger self?

10.  Muffins or cupcakes?

11.  If a song played when you entered a room, what would it be?

[mymessedupfeelings1080]

Well.

Wild dream last night.

I didn’t even have my nicotine patch on.

Brandi was there. So was Liz and Brett and Elliott.

At one point I was at my old house and 2 cats got into the basement. I went to get them but they ran. I couldn’t get to them so I tried going up the stairs. But they broke half way. Somehow I tried to get up with the half but they fell. I was so worried about reactions that I ran away.

I feel like I was trying to get away from something else too in a school setting and kept trying to escape but couldn’t so I finally did and stole a bike and rode it until I ditched it and got into a ditch and crawled into it and that turned to water that lead to a lake. There’s all this “it’s a girl” debrie in the waters and I look over to see 2 houses that all had people sitting on the porch (one of the porches was just a big naked lady just chillin) so I over hear some of what they’re saying.

Somehow Mike finds me. I tell him I’m gonna sleep outside Bc I can’t face what I did, I can’t face my family. He says no and he takes me somewhere. I pay for a room. At some point someone knocks on the door. He tells me to run and hide like a good kitty. I ran into the bedroom and hid under a pillow in a closet Someone comes in to “clean” and sprayed air freshener then left. Mike made a comment about being worried I’d be caught. We laughed about it.

Then Brandi is there.... she’s convincing me to go home. I do. I want to redeem myself so I go to the basement and get the cats. We get into the kitchen and hear dad ask who was there and why we even came back. Brandi gave me a sympathetic look but I wasn’t having it so I went to the basement to run again.

So I guess I’m leaving and it’s Brandi and Brett and Elliott and Liz.

We talk, well Brett and I do. Elliott and I do. I walk away. I stop before I leave and consider turning around. It’s a message from Liz.

If I want to go and wonder and forever have floods of possibilities and maybes then fine but she has things she’d like to say. So I go in there again. Idr what she says. Something about not liking to be away from me or mad at me.

Then I’m in a classroom, we’re talking about something with a guest speaker. The person next to me gives a good example—something about a captain and a ship? Teacher is like yeah that’s probably all of our examples boil down to. Person says well here’s another good example and jesters in my direction. I tell him I had nothing to say and to not volunteer me for things. He clarified he meant the person next to me....

Then the talk is over and guest speaker asks a few ppl to help it’s sort of like a mission type thing? It’s a game.

Some king is sending another kingdom a cookie Bc hes pissed and that’s how he declares war. My job is to figure out a math problem to know how many people/types of people are going to get in the way of bringing the cookie.

The class is buzzing with chatter. I didn’t get a good look at the numbers I needed. I was told them quickly but didn’t get them all. I was told again but they seemed frustrated so I started hyperventilating and just couldn’t. I stared off into space trying to keep my eyes open while the one running the game was like hey what’s wrong what’s wrong I shook my head and said it was loud. That’s all I could say. I could barely move. I shut my eyes and I woke up.