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ladylooch · 6 months ago

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Farmer Spa - [Mack x David]

The request: Very pregnant Mack and David are on the farm and her bump hinders her ability to do some things. Like trim/shave down there, I imagine she'd usually get waxed every now and then but limited options out there. She's frustrated and feels she needs a lil clean up so asks David to help. At first he makes a few jokes and makes it very known that she doesn't need to clean up down there, especially not for him, encouraging her to embrace the growth and that he is starting to feel what she must when they kiss ☠️. Mack's not quite in the mood for jokes though and lectures him about how her grooming is a self care thing and goddammit she needs his help. He does so and gets a reward afterwards 😉

Word Count: 1.5k

Mackenzie Hischier lays flat on her back in the middle of the bed, spread eagle, naked with her feet resting against the headboard of her and David’s bed. She attempts to gather up the energy for her second shower of the day. Being pregnant in the unrelenting July, Iowa heat has proved to be too much for any type of deodorant she can find at Hy-Vee. She has this distinct unease of smelling awful anytime someone gets near her, including her husband. David insists he doesn’t smell anything, but that isn’t encouraging coming from someone who deals with farm animals and sweaty hockey players all day. He’s likely nose blind to everything after breathing in manure his whole life.

Dragging her big toe across the indents of the plush, cream headboard, Mack huffs out a sigh. Her whole body has a sense of wet, including the forest between her legs that she cannot reach no matter what awkward angles she bends her body in. This tangle of a situation is what makes her feel so unkept these days. She is used to regularly scheduled bikini waxes. Yes, that requires a certain length of hair, but nothing like what she is currently rocking. When she thinks of giving birth in such disarray, she is embarrassed and uncomfortable. However, she has no waxer worthy of seeing her bare crotch within 50 miles of this place. Last summer, it was fine because she could reach. Now, it’s not fine.

“Babe?” She hears David call from the hallway. It must already be lunch time, which means Mack has been laying here for over an hour.

“I’m in here.” She lazily responds. David creeks the door open, getting an eyeful of her naked tits.

“Good gravy, baby. How long have you been like this?” He asks, shutting the door and sneaking in like he’s getting away with something. It is lunch. Mack is sure Felix and the boys are expecting him back relatively quickly. They have a lot to get done this week. “And why didn’t you tell me?” He pouts above her. His large hands settle over her breasts, holding them in place gently. They have been sore this week, so he is careful not to squeeze or pinch anything without her clear approval.

“I’ve been trying to take a shower for an hour.”

“A shower?” He asks, tilting his head down. “We took one this morning.”

“I know. But I’m already stinky.”

“All I smell is your shampoo, baby.” He assures her. He is used to this by now. Mack sighs. “Oh boy.” David murmurs sympathetically. He leans down to smooch her lips. Mack barely puckers hers in response. “Hey, love on me.” He quietly asks.

“I’m not feeling like any of this right now.” She swirls her hand around the room. She moves to get up. David steps back from the bed, releasing her breasts so they fall back into melting mounds. She keeps her back to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Honey, what can I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nah, you have been feeling like this for days. What can I do? I need some way I can support you.”

Silence stretches between them. Mack stares down at her hot pink toes, the ones her husband painted for her last weekend while they were having a lazy day on the front porch, during a stretch of cooler weather. He does things for her. Maybe he would…

“Will you shave me?” Mack blurts.

“Sure, where?” Mack instantly blushes at his agreement. Ope, she didn’t expect him to be so gung-ho immediately.

“Um…” She trails off. “Like.. my um.” David raises an eyebrow at her stammering.

“The place my tongue was earlier?”

“God, David, yes.” She grumbles. He cannot help but laugh at her.

“You’ve got no problem shoving my face deeper into your pussy, but you’re worried about me shaving it?”

“I! Don’t!.. Um. Well that is different.” She huffs.

“Why?” He sits next to her, dragging his finger tips across her bump. They continue down her back, sliding onto her hip to pull her into his body.

“It’s like too intimate.”

“We made a baby together and are married and fuck each other often, so I think it’s okay we have some intimacy.” Mack just stares at him. “What? Unless this is some test and I’m supposed to say you don’t need to shave? Because you know I do not care at all about what you’re sporting down here, baby. I’m gonna eat it. Fur and all.” He quips at the end making Mack want to quite literally die on that bed of embarrassment. Maybe she shouldn’t be, but pregnancy has made her confidence slip a bit and she’s much more self-conscious than she can every remember being. “Just think of if like your equivalent of a mustache.” He throws in as a joke.

“You don’t get it.” Mack snips at him, pushing out of his arms. She scoots across to the other side of the bed, achingly rising to her feet. David watches silently as she heads into their adjoining bathroom. It isn’t long before he joins her.

“We aren’t up for jokes?”

“No.”

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t read the room right.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” She sighs, putting her hair up in a claw clip so she can keep it out of the water spray. David is patient, keeping his hands to himself as she speaks, impressive considering how much her breasts bounce as she moves about. He does bite the corner of his bottom lip for a moment, looking concentrated as his eyes meet hers in the mirror. “I don’t feel like myself at all right now.” She shakes her head, feeling her throat swell with a lump. Stupid hormones! She does not want to cry! “And, I just hate how it looks down there. Like it’s bad enough you see it, but soon so many strangers will too! That makes me want to like.. give birth here and never come back. How am I gonna face the nurses and doctors at the grocery store, knowing what they have seen?”

“Baby, they have seen worse.” He laughs. “I guarantee it. You are hygienic and clean.” She stares at him. “But if this is what you want my help with. I will help you.” Her eyes slide away, bottom lip stuck between her two rows of teeth while deciding.

“How would we do it?”

“A lot like making this baby.” He jokes, shaking her belly slightly. Mack start to laugh and David joins in. “Go lay back on the bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” He leans down to kiss her, then pats her naked butt to encourage her back to bed.

It’s a few minutes before he comes into the bedroom. He has a towel, unscented shaving cream, a razor and an electric trimmer. He glides the towel under Mack’s hips, then kisses her raised knees before heading out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. He comes back with a bowl of warm water and Mack’s cold eye mask.

“Welcome to the Farmer Spa. Please rate us 5 stars on Yelp when your visit is finished. 10% off for you next time.” He drawls in a quiet and serene voice. Mack snorts, laughing so hard her belly tenses and the baby begins to flail around inside of her. She puts a steadying hand on her bump, then watches as David disappears between her legs.

“Do you provide a happy ending here?” She murmurs. David starts to laugh so hard he wheezes. He buries his nose into her calf for a second, then gently works it over his shoulder so he can get in closer to the apex of her thighs.

First up in the trimmer. He carefully combs through, taking down the forest as much as he can to see what he is doing with the razor. He pulls back enough to look at his work, then nods, reaching for something else Mack can’t see.

“Cold.” He warns her after squirting some shaving cream on his fingers. He carefully and meticulously covers the most intimate parts of her.

Mack works her head to the side so she can watch him in the mirror above their dresser. It’s quite the look, David with his head buried between her thighs. She’s seen it before from this angle, but this is so different. She smiles at her reflection, knowing exactly how lucky she is to have this man as her husband and soon-to-be daddy to their son. David turns to the water, shaking off the hair and shaving cream into it. His eyes lift. He meets her gaze and smiles softly.

“Thank you.” She says to their reflection.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for ya, honey.”

In a few short weeks, he will show Mack how sincerely and eternally he means those words.

#mackdavid au #NHL imagine #hockey writing #hockey fan fiction

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judacris · 2 years ago

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Oh dear. I never talked about it on here, did I? Bluey made an appearance at the Singapore Comic Con last month! And I had to go see it.

The arts & crafts activity booth was a brand-awareness plug by BBC Studios, and Bluey was there to take photos with her fans!

Anyone present who has a photo taken could bring home an 8-inch plush of their choosing. No better way to build brand awareness than that, I'd say!

Naturally, I adopted my son on the spot. But then I suppose the staff felt having Mackenzie alone was sad, so they handed me Bluey as well!

And that's how I spent my first Heeler Christmas.

#bluey #bluey heeler #mackenzie #mackenzie border collie #singapore comic con #bbc studios #for real life

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pxnsneverland · 8 months ago

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Autumn Roses | Young Ian x OC (part 2)

plot summary: As a half black half white slave in colonial North Carolina, Rose has struggled with her place in the world. After her mother's death in childbirth and finding out that the recently deceased River Run plantation master was her father, the mistress of River Run, Jocasta Cameron, took her in treating her as more of a daughter than a slave. Jocasta educated and raised Rose with no one outside the house ever being the wiser. But the arrival of Jocasta's nephew Jamie Fraser and his wife Clare threaten to turn Rose's world upside down especially when they bring along their bright haired, blue eyed nephew Ian Murray.

Part 1

pairings: Young Ian x OC

fandom: Outlander

word count: 1426

warnings/notes: Hey guys! I know it's been forever since updating this fanfic and I almost shelved it but I decided to write a few more parts and see how it goes. Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 2

We all sat in the parlor in silence after Mistress Cameron explained everything to her family. I held my breath waiting for the storm I was sure was about to come. Mistress Cameron guided us to a sitting room adorned with plush velvet chairs and intricately woven tapestries that told stories of battles fought and loves lost. We gathered around a crackling fire, its flames casting a comforting warmth upon us all.

Seated in a high-backed chair, Mistress Jocasta fixed her gaze upon each of us in turn, her expression grave yet resolute. "There are secrets buried deep within these walls," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "Secrets I’ve been keeping for decades, I’m afraid. Rose is my late husband’s bastard.” She stole a glance at me as if it pained her to say the word. “I was furious at first, ashamed even. But her mother died and she was such a sweet child and I had lost my own daughter years ago, ye see…” Mistress Jocasta swallowed the clear lump in her throat. She dabbed unshed tears from her glassy eyes.

Claire put a hand on Jocasta’s shoulder bending down so she could smile at her with the sweetest expression. “It’s very admirable what you have done for Rose.”

“And never mind nothin’, Auntie.” Jamie tipped his head towards her. “We will keep your secret during our time at River Run. After all, Rose is family.” He smiled at me and I felt a warmth in my heart I didn’t quite know what to make of.

To not have to hide and duck around corners for the months Jamie, Claire and Ian were visiting was a relief. I watched the scene unfold before me, a whirlwind of emotions churning within my chest. My mind struggled to process the weight of it all. Jamie and Claire's unwavering support only added to the mix of gratitude and confusion swirling inside me.

As the fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows around the room, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn't experienced before. To be acknowledged and accepted by these newfound relatives was both overwhelming and comforting in equal measure. Ian, ever the kind soul, reached out a hand to squeeze mine in silent solidarity. His gesture left me blushing and I quickly pulled my hand away from his. I tried to smile to show him I was grateful, just hesitant, but I don’t know how well I did. Even as I tried not to look at him, I could feel his eyes still on me. My heart was beating so loud I was sure the whole room could hear it.

“Ye’re a true Mackenzie no doubt,” he said with a slight smile, “Always gettin’ into trouble for the sake of others.”

Claire placed a hand over her heart, seeming warmed by the news. “In this day and age, with how people feel about slaves, especially the mixed children being produced…I admire you.”

Mistress Cameron let out a relieved sigh. “Well, I am glad of that. I would much rather have ye sayin’ here without lookin’ at me with contempt everyday.”

“We’re in no place to judge, Auntie,” Ian said, “What people around here think about slaves and the Indians are no different than what the English think about Scots. After all, look at what happened on the river wit’ us bein’ mugged.”

Jocasta smiled, nodding her approval of the young lad. Even I had to crack a smile. When the mugging was mentioned I was suddenly over concerned. “Mugged.”

“Aye,” Jamie confirmed from his place by the window, a china tea cup in his hands. “Mugged by a criminal I helped escape the noose. Thought I was doin’ him a kindness, trustin’ my gut. They stole our coin and gem stone. Left us with little more than the clothes on our back.”

Jocasta huffed. “Wicked! Just wicked. To repay your kindness in such fashion. Bonnet and his men should be hangit.”

“He woulda been were it not for me.”

“You sought the goodness in him, and there was none to be found.” I felt bad for Jamie for I could see the turmoil in his eyes from his decision. Regardless, I admired him for it. Being able to see the good where others saw none was a habit of mine as well. And I had equal reason as Jamie not to trust the masses.

“Pray think on it no more,” Jocasta continued in her quest to calm Jamie’s worries, “Ye’re welcome to stay here as long as ye need.”

I felt Ian’s eyes on me at Mistress Cameron’s invitation. I allowed myself to glance at him as well and our eyes met making my chest flutter once again. He smiled brightly as if just getting me to look at him was the highlight of his day. I looked away feeling myself blush. As curious as I was to learn more about Ian, it was dangerous territory to walk into.

“I’ll not be a burden to you,” Jamie continued, taking a seat next to Jocasta.

“No, we don’t intend to stay that long,” Claire said.

Mistress Cameron just gave them a warm smile. “Bless ye, dears, ye’re kin. Twill not be a burden to have a man of such strength and mind for business at my disposal. Why the good women and men of Cape Fear will be clamorin’ to engage with ye, especially once they’ve had the pleasure of making yer acquaintance at a wee gatherin’ I intend to hold in yer honor.”

A breathy laugh came out of Jamie’s mouth followed by a crooked smile. “Ye’re familiar wi’ my business dealings.”

“Mistress Cameron has kept up wi’ ye over the years, Master Fraser,” I said, finding some confidence amidst the casual atmosphere. I had rarely ever talked to anyone outside River Run, but Jamie and Claire made everything seem so comfortable and approachable. “She’s had me read her resources for her, letters and such. Like when you were in Paris and Edinburgh.”

“Ye flatter me, Rose. And call me Jamie, please.”

Jocasta sighed with amusement on her lips. “You’re no fond of flattery. Well, ‘tis her right to do so as well as mine. I have no sons of my own. Besides Rose, who else am I to lavish my attentions upon?”

Jamie smiled so appreciatively at her I wished she could have seen it. It was clear that no matter how long it had been, he still loved his aunt just as much as he did when they were both back in Scotland. I felt a little envious. I longed for a family such as that, a place to belong, a place where I didn’t have to hide in fear. I sipped my tea hoping no one noticed the slight disappointment on my face. Thankfully, I was saved by Rollo barging into the room through the front door. Immediately, a foul stench filled up the room forcing me to use my skirts to cover my nose.

Ian walked over to his dog who was whining terribly. “Dear God, Rollo, what happened to ye?”

The slave attendant holding onto Rollo’s tether dipped his head. “I’m sorry, Mistress Cameron. The beast ran after a skunk and got sprayed in the process.”

“What in the devil is a skunk?”

Claire sat her tea cup down on a nearby table using her now free hand to cover her nose. “It’s an animal quite common around here. It sprays a foul liquid when it gets scared to ward off predators.”

Jamie looked as if he were about to gag. “Is it venomous?”

“No. Just malodorous.” Claire started to shoo Ian and Rollo out of the room.

Mistress Cameron composed herself long enough to say, “It just so happens that my friend John Quincy Myers is visiting. He’s a man of the wild who can rid your mongrel of the stench.”

Ian sighed in relief. “Thank you, great-aunt.”

“Rose, why don’t you go show Ian the way? I’m such John Quincy is where he always is, by the riverbank.”

I nodded feeling my heart drop into my stomach. Standing near Ian had been enough to send my breathing into a panic. Now I was going to practically be alone with him. I wanted to reject her request, but I knew how impolite that would be. It would also spark many questions that I was not even sure how to answer. So I stood up from the couch and followed Ian and Rollo out the door.

#outlander #outlander series #jamie fraser #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #outlander fandom #outlander fanfic #outlander fanart #young ian #ian murray #outlander starz #outlander season 4 #outlander season 7 #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #outlander spoilers

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megatraven · 3 months ago

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Orange, green and pink

(Hands over a plush version of Alex)

THAMK U VERY MUCH MY FRIEND!!!! we're going to picnic and eat so much pb&j and we Will hug and [hands you a mackenzie plush] :] love u thank u

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scrapsovereign · 3 months ago

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That One Time I Got Kidnapped By An Evil Vampire Lord Ch. 4

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57838303/chapters/147743656

Summary:

Rion successfully helps distract Mackenzie from her panic attack.

Pairings: past Ascended Astarion x Evil male!Tav, Ascended Astarion x Original Female Character

Trigger warnings/Tags: cheating, intimate partner violence, abusive relationships, medical settings, body shaming, internalized fatphobia, referenced sexual assault, panic attacks/PTSD episode

Downtown Seattle, Washington

The Fairmont Olympic Hotel

Thursday, August 24th

7:30 PM

Mackenzie’s breathing is the only thing that she can feel her body doing at first. Then it’s the strong arms that wrap around her, the warmth of someone’s lithe, toned chest that presses against her shoulder. The fingers that grip hers. The upwards lurch of the elevator, the sensation of her leg muscles propelling her forward as she is guided down the quiet hallway.

The quiet feels comforting. Nice.

So does the embrace of the man who fumbles around in his pockets, searching for the key to open the door in front of him.

Mackenzie scowls. What is she doing here with this guy? Who is he again? While his name is on the tip of her tongue, just barely out of reach, she knows for certain that’s not Ari. He’s too pretty and well-dressed. He smells too good to be Ari..

Mackenzie feels a tugging at her brain. The man she’s with- his name was pretty weird, but he goes by something that sounds normal when you say it. Does it start with an A? Or maybe it was a R?

He holds the door open for her and she feels as if she is almost fully back in her body, but she needs an anchor. She needs to stop the emotional escalation before she is a quivering, sobbing mess on this man’s hotel room floor.

The gorgeous man cups his elegant hands gently beneath her face, looking down into her eyes to search them for answers.

“What is it that you need most?” He asks gently, like he’s in love with her. Like how she wishes Ari would speak to her.

“Cold water,” Mac hears herself say. She’s not sure why, but she knows it’ll help.

He raises a perfect silver eyebrow. “As in…to drink?”

“Shower,” Mackenzie says robotically, walking towards the bathroom. She places her palm face down on the countertop for support as she leans to the side. An arm that doesn’t feel like her own un-does the buckles on the ankle straps of her shoes and slips them off.

She steps into the combined shower and bathtub, fully clothed, staring blankly ahead at the chrome fixtures. Her hands hover above the knobs, trying to comprehend how to turn the thing on. The man steps in with her as she fiddles with the knobs- is his name Aaron? No, that’s not right…

“Are you quite sure you want to- GAH!” He yelps, his body tensing in shock at the cold water that rains down upon them. He clutches onto Mackenzie reflexively, looking up at the shower head in terror.

The contrast of the cool water tracing rivers between warmth of their wet bodies pressed together brings Mackenzie back within herself.

“S-shit, that’s cold,” she complains, her hands frantically turning and twisting the knobs to turn the shower off. It takes a few seconds too long, but she accomplishes it.

Her eyes flicker up with hesitation at the man whose name sounds-like-but-isn’t-actually Aaron, his perfectly styled silver curls slicked straight back, his carefully applied eye makeup running slightly down his cheeks.

She isn’t sure how to read the expression on his face, which is something she’s usually amazing at. Mackenzie can look into anyone’s eyes and know exactly what’s there, but this man’s walls are up high and tight, guarded with the utmost vigilance. Despite that, she can at least tell that whatever he’s feeling, it’s intense. His ruby irises form a thin band around his blown out pupils, his gaze half-lidded, darkened, and dangerous. His plush, flushed lips are slightly parted, his sweet, cool breath escaping him with an audible pant.

Is he mad at her? Mackenzie scrunches her eyes closed. She could kick herself. He’s probably not too happy about how she got him and their expensive clothing wet, Ari would have been pissed…

Mackenzie cringes, bracing herself to receive his well- deserved ire. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

He closes the small gap between them and cages her fully against the marble of the bathroom walls, pressing his lips firmly to hers.

Mackenzie tenses, frozen as he kisses her.

Oh.

Well…maybe he’s not mad at her, then?

His lips move against hers, teasing her, tempting her to play along. She briefly considers allowing him the chance to do so. Nobody’s ever kissed her like this before, with so much skill or passion. She’s intrigued by this display of his talents, but it’s not enough to quiet the demands of her conscience to resist.

When that doesn’t make her yield to him, he groans sinfully in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips roll forward. She feels something hard in his pants poke into her groin and audibly gasps. Her open mouth is not an invitation but he interprets it as such, plunging his tongue between her lips. He makes a noise that Mackenzie can only describe as obscene as her body goes slack and surrenders to him.

This is wrong, so, so wrong. She should tell him to stop.

She is scandalized by her lack of self-control when she finds she cannot.

Their tongues glide together fervently now, Mackenzie enthusiastically kissing him back. He draws her tongue into his mouth and fellates it, using the lewdness of his actions to distract her from the hand gliding slowly up her thigh.

Rion (that’s his name!) swiftly rucks the hem of her dress up around her waist with a practiced hand, roughly yanking her exposed thigh towards him, her ankle hooking around the small of his back. His hips snap forward as she opens for him, grinding his fully erect, rock hard length against the sweet spot between her legs. She cries out, her blunt nails clawing at the cool marble behind her, desperate to find a surface on which she can steady herself.

“Rion,” she exhales as he kisses a searing trail along the hinge of her jaw. “We need to…we need,” she stutters breathily, the word ‘stop’ never reaching her lips as she imagines it flashing in bold, bright red letters.

“To get out of these wet clothes? What a splendid idea, my treasure…that is, after I taste your divine nectar. You’ll allow me this treat, won’t you?” he purrs sensually, his soft lips ghosting the words into the supple curve of her neck. Mackenzie nods eagerly as she huffs out her consent, feeling her sex flutter in anticipation of his filthy promise. It’s been ages since anyone’s gone down on her, and if how he kisses is any indication of what else that tongue of his can do…

Her thoughts are arrested as he licks a broad, diagonal line up from her throat to her jaw, drawing out a pathetic mewl from her. He huffs a hungry, shuddering breath when she tilts her head back, allowing him greater access to the fluttering of her pulse that thrums so deliciously for him.

Mackenzie feels the prick of two sharp points against her skin as his mouth opens wide.

An unexpected, jarring series of knocks is heard at the hotel room’s door, breaking the spell of his seduction.

Rion snaps his mouth shut and clenches his jaw, growling in irritation at the interruption. He takes a moment to cool his temper, mumbling a series of strange words to himself as he swiftly exits the bathroom, closing the door with care behind him.

Mackenzie heaves out a sigh of relief. She clings to the shower walls, overcome with gratitude…and disappointment. Partially from her inability to resist his temptations, but mostly that she didn’t want him to stop.

How in the hell had he aroused her nearly to ruin after being on the verge of a meltdown?! Aside from the fact that her dear husband was usually the cause of her anxiety episodes, after one of these she doesn’t want Ari to touch or perceive her, sometimes for days .

With Rion? She was ready to go in less than 60 seconds.

Her blood runs cold and her stomach turns as she realizes what would have happened if they had not been interrupted, it was too close of a call.

She knew she was nearing the point of no return when he turned his attention to her neck, hovering over her pulse like a sexy vampire. However, any and all willpower she possessed to resist him had abandoned her when the vibrations of his irritated growl sent a ripple of pleasure throughout her body. Slick warmth pooled low in her abdomen, her core aching to be filled with the velvety hardness confined within his trousers.

Had someone not come to the door, Mackenzie is certain beyond the shadow of a doubt they would have fucked right there and then, their wet clothes halfway peeled off in the shower stall.

And again in the shower, hot water running over them with Mackenzie lifted up against the marble shower walls, in the bathroom with her bent over the counter as he pounds into her from behind, her legs thrown over his shoulders while he takes her on the nearest flat surface in the hotel room, and finally with her knees pressed up to her ears when they make it to the bed…

It can’t happen. She won’t let it.

Mackenzie sees two clean, white robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door, hung invitingly on display. She slips one on as she hears Rion make polite small talk with the hotel staff person in their room. She takes a moment to examine herself in the mirror, comb fingers through her frizzy hair in an attempt to look presentable.

She's glad she didn’t wear more than a drop of foundation mixed into her sunscreen and some concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She would have been a complete mess if she’d applied the amount of makeup Ari was always pressuring her to put on. She would often hold back from rolling her eyes when he would tell her she needed to be cuter, always hold her tongue when she wanted to reply ‘With what time and whose money?!’.

She cracks the door open when their visitor leaves, getting a better look at her surroundings.

Mackenzie’s mouth falls open in disbelief. Holy hotel suites, Batman. She knows what room they’re in and how much it comps for- it was just barely in budget for the anime convention’s guest hospitality room. What she doesn’t want to know is how much he paid the hotel staff to bring the dinner they’d ordered up to where he was staying.

Her heart flutters watching Rion busying himself while he waits for her to join him. He pops the cork on a bottle that is real champagne (not just sparkling wine), pulls out a chair for her to sit in, and places the extra tableware on an accent table to make room for the feast he’d had brought up to the room.

There’s one detail that’s out of place - how did he get dry and clean his makeup off so quickly? His clothes are clean and pressed, his gorgeous face clean of the heavy eye makeup that ran in the shower, the long, silver curls that he tucks behind his ear cascading over his shoulders in perfectly styled waves.

A flag of skepticism starts to nag Mackenzie. Curly hair takes so much longer than a few minutes to dry and style. She knows it personally, having abandoned her formerly copper waves that she used to wear naturally with pride. For the last year or two she’s fried her hair to Jesus with bleaching, toning, and straightening it into the long ash blonde that Ari prefers.

He spots her spying on him from around the corner, smiling at her softly as she steps out from behind the wall and makes her way over to him.

“Normally they don’t do...this,” Mackenzie says, inclining her head towards the meal laid out before them. “I’m shocked they didn’t have you order from the room service menu.”

Rion’s soft smile turns to a satisfied grin as he takes a seat, placing a white napkin atop his lap. “There’s benefits to being observant of the small print. A large amount of coin doesn’t hurt, either.”

Mackenzie joins him, mimicking his table manners. She stops mid-napkin placement when she sees the folded up note placed between them. She reaches for it, stopping before she touches it, looking up to Rion for permission to read it. He smiles warmly with a nod.

The contents read: “Thank you for getting my pronouns right. You’re the only guest who’s done that for the last month. The dysphoria has been real lately, and you’ve helped me find some joy today. Hope the meal is to your satisfaction. Enjoy! - R.H., Assistant Manager. PS - Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable! Ext #4928”.

“The only person? What the hell?” Mackenzie exclaims as she looks over at Rion, who seems extremely pleased with himself.

“I’m as shocked as you are. It’s basic, darling. And they made it painfully obvious, what, with that little gold pin they had,” He says as he leans in as if to divulge a secret. He takes a sip of the bubbly, the drink getting caught in his throat as he motions before him. “Please, eat.”

Mackenzie was waiting for him to see how he does things, but she complies with his wishes, picking up her fork and knife, cutting into her scallops.

She spears a portion of the seafood on her fork, mulling over her current circumstances. She furrows her brow, taking a deep breath as she stares down at the impeccable searing on it.

“This is a date, isn’t it?” Mackenzie asks flatly, her eyes flicking up to Rion, catching him mid-bite. He sets the fork down soundlessly on his plate, his lips twisting into a smirk.

“Oh my, it seems the beautiful heroine has uncovered my wicked plans,” he drawls, ruby eyes sparkling with mischief at her from across the table.

“I do hope this doesn’t cause any issues between you and your…’ room-mate ’,” he enunciates the last word of his sentence in mockery of how the other server described the relationship between Mackenzie and Ari.

Mackenzie grimaces, feeling her appetite leave her. “The reason Ari’s given me for calling me his roommate is that he wants to appear single, so his streaming career isn’t impacted negatively.”

Rion huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes. “You must know that’s an excuse, and a poor one at that. One’s relationship status does not dissuade the other party from finding them entertaining.”

“And while we’re on the topic of the ridiculous. Streaming? What in the nine hells is that? Does he dance around with a ribbon for people’s enjoyment like a circus animal? Spend his days wading through rivers and creeks looking for the sense he’s lost?” He scrutinizes, making a sour face when he bites down upon the meat in his mouth.

“He streams video games on Twitch, and he’s done some consulting work for game companies, some play testing. He’s got a huge following with the 14-24 year old crowd doing Minecraft speed runs, but lately he’s trying to branch out into other things.” Mackenzie explains, twirling her fork with the scallop bit impaled on it in the air.

“This weekend he’d planned to start a playthrough of a game that he’d previously been under an NDA with for Larian Studios. I hadn’t heard of them before I met him,” She elaborates before she finally takes a bite of her entree, feeling her gag reflex kick in when the flavor of the food graces her tongue.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, rising abruptly, looking for a place to spit the seafood out. She makes her way to the kitchenette and returns to see Rion looking down at his meal like it was crawling with bugs.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it should be the chef,” Rion sneers. “I’ve suffered much worse at a far greater price.”

“Now, where were we…ah, yes. Your useless roommate-slash-husband and his job sitting around playing games while you’re on your feet all day, slaving away at the physician’s office. Is his occupation at least fairly lucrative? Does he contribute any coin to your household?” Rion arches an eyebrow, drumming his fingers expectantly on the table.

Mackenzie sinks down into her chair. “So…that’s a sore spot between us. I pay rent, most of the utilities, my own cell phone, groceries, and the car stuff. He pays the internet bill- well, he doesn’t pay much, he has a sponsorship deal- and he pays for his own phone, the things he wants to buy. He said he’s saving up for his own car, but I’m not sure if that’s really true.”

Rion leans back with an unreadable expression, crossing his ankle over his thigh. “And what of the division of labor?”

“If I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done,” Mackenzie sighs out, sagging her shoulders.

Rion licks his lips, unimpressed. His next question would have been if Ari’s good in bed, but little does Mackenzie know that’s an answer he already has.

He rises, champagne glass in hand, the sudden movement startling Mackenzie. He drags a dining chair directly next to her, sits too close with their shoulders overlapping, his lean and strong legs entwining with hers.

“And then there’s the matter of how horrid he’s been to you,” He murmurs, lifting her left hand to scrutinize the ring that encircles the fourth digit.

Mackenzie’s throat tightens, the sting of tears filling her eyes.

“What did you mean earlier when you said he’s going to kill me?” She looks up at him, her eyes sparkling in the dwindling light of the evening.

Rion pauses, rubbing his thumb overtop the softness of the back of her hands.

“It wasn’t your exact situation, but I’ve been hi- with men like him. I too have been stuck in the cycle of heartbreak, promises made, and promises broken. The lies and the abuse only escalate. One day he’s upset because you’re not standing up straight enough, and then the next he’s trafficking-” Rion pauses mid-sentence when his voice gives out. His eyes shut tightly in pain for only a moment, his fingers interlacing with Mackenzie’s.

He sits up straight and sniffles, draining the champagne in his glass. He transforms then, his princely airs returning as he looks out over their barely eaten meal with contempt.

“You’re staying here tonight, with me. I won’t take no for an answer,” He commands, his furious eyes snapping up to meet Mackenzie’s.

Mackenzie gulps audibly as she feels his hand grip hers with calculated pressure, considering her options.

Option number one. Politely excuse herself to the bathroom, call Amanda to come pick her up and drive her back to her car. It’ll take awhile from Amanda to get in from where she lives in the middle of nowhere AKA Hobart, but she knows Amanda’s good for it. She can pretend she’s going to get ice when she slips out right as Amanda’s pulling up, jump into her car, and never see this man again. She’ll probably have to help clear a pile of half-finished SCA garb off the bed, but she’ll have a bed to sleep in, at least.

Option number two. Slip away using the same ice excuse, walk back to her car, drive to the parking garage at work. Sleep in her car, use the shower in the combination storage room/staff poop bathroom to get cleaned up before her shift starts, and go about whatever fresh hell her work day brings.

Option number three. Stay.

Normally, she would select option two, not wanting to inconvenience anyone.

Her mind drifts back to the latter. It’s definitely not the smart choice. If her current circumstances were part of a show she was watching, she’d be on the edge of her seat calling out, “Run, bitch, run!”. However. She really, really wants to see what happens with option three. Even if it’s the stupidest one.

Mackenzie nods stiffly. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” she admits, her voice cracking as she speaks.

The look of approval on Rion’s face both scares and arouses her.

“Excellent. I knew it was an offer you couldn’t refuse,” he purrs, massaging comforting circles into the palm he had gripped so tightly.

Mackenzie feels her pocket inside the silk dress vibrate- she thought she turned that off?

She leans into Rion unintentionally as she reaches for her phone, which he takes as an excuse to haul her up to sit in his lap. Her ears turn hot. She could swear to God the butterflies in her stomach are actually the two bites of seafood she’s had, coming back with a vengeance.

The notification is from…Microsoft Teams?

Oh, it’s Rob!

“CHEEZY MY DUDE. Guess who has two thumbs and has more lumpia and pancit AND LECHON than they could eat????”

Mackenzie feels her mouth water at the mention of lechon, typing out a reply when his next message pops up.

“THIS GUY!!!!! /airhorn noises. Marisol really loaded me up. I got three huge takeout containers and it’s going to go bad before I eat it all. Do you want sum? I herd you liek Filipino foodz…” he types, following up with a picture of an animated Mudkip.

Rion snorts at the strange blue creature wiggling on the screen as he reads the messages with her. “Cute. An inside joke between you two, I assume?” he sighs, nuzzling his head against her shoulder like an overgrown cat.

Mackenzie could be shocked that Rion’s only five years older than her and doesn’t get the reference to the old memes, but with his refined manners and posh British accent she isn’t. Not everyone grew up and remains chronically online like her tiny circle of friends.

Her stomach grumbles loudly, protesting the excess of everything she’s imbibed this evening that isn’t a solid meal.

“More or less. Hey, are you hungry?” She cranes her head to look down at him.

“I could…go for a nibble,” Rion flirts, displaying a set of long canines that Mackenzie hadn’t noticed before. “A little something to whet my appetite for later. Any local delicacies you can recommend? Aside from yourself, of course.”

Rion smugly peers up at Mackenzie, flushed and uncomfortably squirming in his lap.

“Hmm. Perhaps a dish that isn’t also local to the Gate?” he offers without thinking about the context of his words.

“The Bay Area, huh?” Mackenzie muses, leaning away to get a better look at the mortified look on Rion’s face. Her Instagram feed is sometimes full of suggestions of all the delicious food available further down the west coast. She doesn’t know what else he could get in Seattle that he couldn’t get there…aside from the renowned Marisol’s home kitchen.

“I’m downtown right now at the Fairmont. Should I come to you? When’s your breaks/lunch?” she types back, hoping he doesn’t have anything to say about her current location.

“...Fairmont? Did you win the lottery and not tell me?!???! RUDE,” Rob messages. “Nah, the ole battleaxe canceled me and forgot to tell me and isn’t floating me anywhere else tonight THANK GOD. So I’m chillaxin here, collecting the fruits of last nights….shall we say…….deeiiirtay deeds.” Rob sends a message with a GIF from the movie “Joe Dirt”, immediately sending another GIF of chocolate soft serve being squeezed out of a tube.

“Gods, eugh! Is that what I think it is?” Rion angles Mackenzie’s phone towards him in disgust and fascination, Mackenzie lifting it above her head and out of his reach.

Mac’s backside starts to get that pins-and-needles feeling and she re-adjusts herself on Rion’s lap.

“I don’t wanna be that person who just invites other people over to a two-person party, but Marisol’s cookin’ is a local legend up the hill, and I’d love for you to meet Rob. You up for some company?”

Rion chuckles, a villainous sound that sends shivers up Mackenzie’s spine. “In the presence of a delightful treat such as yourself? It’s difficult to be anything else.”

#astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #ascended astarion #astarion x oc #bg3 isekai fic #bg3 isekai #isekai tav #isekai

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codecraftr · 1 year ago

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After nearly 3 months of searching, I got my hands on a Mackenzie plush. AT LAST YOU ARE MINE!!!

#bluey #bluey plush #bluey mackenzie #plushies

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fourohfourrealitynotfound · 1 year ago

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Family Business

For @flashfictionfridayofficial #FFF225 - I Can't Tell

617 words

"So what's this about you and Matt not being available on weekend nights?" Evan asked. He had been waving his pencil in his hand but it was still now, held ready to write.

"Uh, yeah," I stammered. "We aren't." My shoulders were tense now, hands planted in the plush carpet on either side of my laptop.

"But why?" He was using the same tone on me that I had heard him use with tricky interview subjects, the ones who were a pain to get good quotes from.

I chewed at my lips. What was the cover story here? I hadn't bothered to remember that lie as much, since I never really hung out with people outside of school in the first place. "What did Matt tell you?"

Evan shrugged. "MacKenzie just said he couldn't hang out on Friday and Saturday nights, and that it was a family thing."

"Family thing," I said. "Yeah, family game night. Very exclusive. Very mandatory. Helena and Kath want us to have bonding time, so we can feel like a 'normal' family."

"Really?" Evan's voice had an uptick I didn't like. "Because Matt said it was family dinner, not a game night."

I tilted my head, right then left. "Dinner with games. Same thing." I squinted at him, inspecting his face: careful neutrality. "You said he said it was just a 'family thing.' Why the interrogation?"

"Why did you ask me what he said before you answered?" he countered.

I stood my ground, peering at him over the lip of my laptop screen. The pencil picked up its beat again, and Evan finally crumpled a few moments later. He threw it down onto his textbook to mark his place and shut it, shoving it aside. Evan prodded at my laptop, and I saved my work and shut the screen too. I sat up so our eyes were even.

"You—well, you and Matt and everyone—there's just something missing about you all. Like they're something you're leaving out." Evan kept staring off into the air, like he was searching for the right words to say.

I huffed. "We're adopted, Evan. We're not going to be the most open about our childhoods or family situations or whatever."

"No, it's not that. It's not about your past. It's about your present. Like you're withholding something about you now. What are you hiding?"

He looked me in the eyes now, his gaze piercing straight through my skin. I feel like he was peeling back my forehead to read "has secret superpowers and a superhero alternate identity" engraved on my skull. It was unnerving.

What lie was there to tell? He knew there was a secret, but I didn't have any bones to throw him to keep him satisfied. Evan had the makings of a fantastic investigative reporter: he wouldn't stop pulling at the threads until they were unraveled in front of him.

"I . . . I can't tell you." I said, my walls crumbling. His face twisted for a moment—shock? Hurt?-- before he smoothed it back into something more neutral. "I know that's hard to hear, and it's not that I don't trust you. I just . . . I can't tell you, for reasons. It's nothing bad, just family business that I can't really share."

Evan nodded, chewing at his lip. I could tell that he wanted to ask me more, but he was holding himself back, respecting my boundaries.

"I'm sorry for lying to you before," I said.

"It's okay, I understand. Thank you for telling me the truth—or some of it, now." He held his hand out for a fistbump. "Friends, still?"

I smiled and reached out to brush my knuckles against his. "Yeah. Friends."

#fff225 #flash fiction friday #my writing #supersomething #narrator is Danica. she and Matt and their other two adopted siblings are superheros with superpowers #they spend weekend nights fighting crime #and school nights doing homework haha

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singdreamchild · 1 year ago

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Roses on Gravestones

Timing: Early August

Location: Eluria Cemetery

Parties: Cassius @singdreamchild & Xochitl @vanishingreyes

Summary: Cassius goes to leave the crypt, only to run into Xochitl visiting her friend's final resting space. An introspective conversation takes place.

Content warning: Topics of death and grieving

By all accounts, she should have hated graveyards, and she did. Usually. She hated the idea that Mackenzie had been alone for so long, even though Xóchitl was fairly certain she didn’t believe in life after death. There was no way her friend was still walking around anywhere.

Still, there was a weird sort of comfort to cemeteries, and at least there, people weren’t likely to bother her too much. It was a welcome antidote to the sheer amount of talking and solving of others’ problems that she had to do all day.

She’d found that sometimes bringing flowers to often-left-alone graves, since returning to town. Xóchitl figured it had to have been because she hoped that after everything, after two decades (plus), people still treated Mackenzie’s grave with respect. That maybe her favorite duck plush was still there, or had been replaced with a newer version.

She heard a crunch as she was laying down the flowers of the day (carnations), and Xóchitl turned around to see who was behind her, far too much of a part of her longing for it to somehow be her friend, claiming that everything had all been a joke.

This was the second time that Cassius had found someone too close for comfort at the crypt he spent his time in. At least this time it wasn’t a student, right? Before he gave himself away, he had noticed the woman laying flowers at a grave of someone who had passed away long ago. The crunch of the branch under his foot gave him away before he could leave without being detected. Damn, he really had to get better at his sneaking abilities. Cursing under his breath, he gave a polite smile to the woman. “Apologies, I did not mean to distract you from your mourning.” He spoke in a soft tone, smile going from polite to awkward in a few short moments.

He wanted to keep walking, but something rooted him in place. He didn’t know what to say, to ask who they were to them, but that felt too personal. “I often come here to read. I find that the dead still deserve to have company.” He found himself saying instead, shifting his feet slightly so he didn’t appear so stock-still. Sometimes it was hard to remember to look as though he were alive.

Cassius then looked to the flowers, nodding slightly. “Red carnations. They symbolize love and affection.” He noted, remembering the period in his life when he had fixated on flowers and their meanings. His sire had gone through a lot of bouquets of flowers in that time period, he wondered if he had ever appreciated it. Unsure if the woman intended the meaning behind them, he realized it was a rather odd thing to bring up. “I uh, used to study flower meanings when I was younger.” He then explained with a brief smile.

“Oh - no, not mourning. I was merely visiting a grave to ensure that whomever is buried here does not feel alone. Which may sound silly, but it is what I have chosen to do, and so I’d prefer to not hear ridicule.” Xóchitl knew logically that she shouldn’t lie, and yet it felt all too easy to do so. Better than having someone ask questions about why she was visiting the grave of a child, twenty years after the date marked on the stone.

“I find the same. Besides, there is something comforting about cemeteries. It makes the dead feel as though they aren’t as far away as we might think they are.” It sounded like something she’d heard manman’s mom say, once, about someone in her running club. Either way, Xóchitl was still hesitant to let her guard down, but there was something that she could do, and that was offer the stranger a smile, and a gesture to join her, if he so wished.

“That they do - did you really? Can I ask what your favorite flower and meaning is? Or top five, if choosing one is too difficult to do?”

Cassius nodded his head in understanding as the woman explained herself. “A kindred spirit then,” he said in response. “I often find that there are people here who never have flowers, some stones are more worse for wear than the others, those are the ones I choose to visit.” He explained as he put a hand onto the stone of the individual she had chosen to visit.

“I am Cassius,” he introduced with a soft bow of his head. “I often find comfort in a quote from Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughter-House Five.” He spoke, eyes distant as he began to recite a passage. “When a person dies he only appears to die. He is still very much alive in the past, so it is very silly for people to die at his funeral. All moments past, present, and future, always have existed, always will exist.” He gave a sad smile for a moment, remembering all the people he had met in his life that got to die when he was stuck in a state of undeath.

He took her invitation and sat down beside her. “I like the Forget-me-not.” He began with a nod. “It symbolizes true love and memories.” He explained with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “There is also the Greek story behind the hyacinth flower.” He spoke, pressing a finger to his chin as he recalled the tale. “A young Spartan prince that was loved by the Greek god Apollo was struck down by Zephyrus of the West Winds in jealousy. Unable to heal him, Apollo instead turned his body into the hyacinth flower, inscribing the petals with his love for him.” He shook his head, realizing he was rambling on about flowers. “Apologies, I tend to get lost in thought when I talk about things I find passion in.”

“Kindred spirit indeed,” she gave a slight nod of her head. “Yes, I find it sad if a stone is left to get too dirty, or if it looks neglected, though I suppose there comes the chance of a time when no one who knew the person is still around.” Which wasn’t such a pleasant thought at all, and one that Xóchitl did her best to rid herself of the first chance she had.

“I’m Xóchitl,” she responded in turn, “pleasure to meet you, even if it’s not in the most standard of ways.” There was something immediately comforting about his presence, despite him being a complete stranger. “That is a good quote – and — well, I’m sorry to have not been entirely truthful before. I do visit graves of those I don’t know but I - I did know her.” She looked down. “She was my best friend.” Her shoulders dropped, her typical sure sort of stance gone. “I am sorry for not telling you the truth. You are just so kind, so I couldn’t keep lying to you, even if it was only a small lie.”

He claimed apologies for getting lost in his passions, and Xóchitl only shook her head. “That is hardly something to apologize for, I think. I love hearing about what others are passionate about. Are you a florist, or is this simply a passion project of yours?”

His face fell as she spoke about the grave in particular. That she was important to this woman he now knew to be Xóchitl. “I am sorry for your loss.” He spoke, laying a hand down on the top of the stone, as if comforting it. “You have no reason to be sorry,” he began as he looked over to her. “Death is a personal thing. Sometimes it feels too vulnerable to admit the truth. As if speaking it aloud makes it more real.” He gave a sad smile, something he knew from personal experience with living as long as he had.

“Simply a passion of mine from younger years.” He explained with a shrug of his left shoulder. “The information stuck and never truly left my mind.” He explained with a roll of his eyes at himself. He didn’t share that he had learned this in, quite literally, a different lifetime. Back in a world that no longer existed, where technology wasn’t even thought of, and people communicated their feelings in terms of flowers and hand-written notes.

“I am still sorry, but thank you – for your kindness, and for everything else.” Because he hadn’t had to say any of that, and yet he had, yet he’d stayed so kind, so giving, and just pleasant to talk to. Which wasn’t something Xóchitl always found around here. Or around anywhere, were she honest. “I would’ve thought I’d be used to it by now, but yes, I think you are right.” She offered him a cautious, sad smile back.

“A very neat sort of passion, if I might say so myself.” She nodded. “I think it’s kind of lovely, to be able to tell emotions or stories or any such thing without using spoken words, or even written words. Without words at all.” Xóchitl ran her fingertips along the top of Mackenzie’s grave. “Would a bouquet then show a whole range of things to say? If each flower means something different.”

Cassius felt a pang of sadness for the woman. He remembered when he had lost his mother, the last of his family to pass away and finally leaving him truly alone with no one but his sire to call family. He had gone back to England to check on her every now and again, and the last time he went, he had found that the house they had lived in was then occupied by someone else. He had went to the cemetery where his father was buried, only to find her tombstone next to his. He had never gotten to say goodbye. He frowned, a wave of understanding washing over him. “We live in a culture that does not talk about death. I find it rather normal to not get used to it. Such is the nature of grief.”

He thought for a moment, the idea of a bouquet of flowers portraying all the things that he couldn’t say out loud, all hidden into different meanings. “I would imagine it would be a beautiful message to send, even if the recipient didn’t fully understand its meaning.” He had given flowers before, only for the message to be lost on deaf ears. He gave a sad smile to the woman. “I apologize for interrupting your mourning.” Cassius then said, taking a step away, not wanting to overstep.

“You make a very good point,” she began, “but still. It happened when I was little. It shouldn’t still impact me so much now.” Even though Xóchitl knew that that wasn’t entirely true. It just somehow, for some reason, felt better to say, even if it was a lie. Which was probably not great, but she’d gotten so used to telling white lies at this point that she was able to shrug it off perhaps more easily than she should have been able to.

“Oh, that does sound lovely, though I suppose I might only want to give them if someone knew the meaning. Otherwise I would just send a bouquet of their favorites.” Xóchitl shook her head, “not interrupting at all. It is rather nice to not be alone, but I am sorry if I’ve interrupted yours.”

Cassius shook his head at the woman’s notion of getting over it. “Please. I’ve lost people many years ago that still effect me to this day.” He insisted, waving a hand through the air. “Just because they left us, doesn’t mean the pain goes away as time goes on. You just learn how to cope with it better. That doesn’t mean there are times when the grief doesn’t take its hold.” He thought back to his family, he had lost them in the 1800s, now it was the 21st century but he still thought about it from time to time.

“You have not. I simply go for a stroll through the cemetery.” At night. And he doesn’t leave. Oh yes, and he happens to live in the nearby crypt. All things he was thinking about burt didn’t dare to say aloud. “I come rather often,” Cassius confessed, shrugging his shoulders. “I shall bring her flowers from time to time, now that I know she’s here.” He then spoke, a soft smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I shall let you be. I should get back home.” He spoke, gesturing towards the exit of the cemetery, pretending as if he didn’t live in the cemetery. “We shall see each other again, I’m sure.” He spoke, tilting his head to the side with a sly smile. “After all, it’s a smaller town than we give it credit for.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” she offered, genuine. “That’s true – I suppose, or I’ve heard that said enough times that I think it must be.” Or at least, for the time being, Xóchitl could believe it. Even if a good part of her didn’t want to, or fought back and refused to. “You grow around your grief, not away from it.” That was something that some therapist had said to her at one point or another. Probably while they asked her to draw some picture and she drew one of what had to have been hundreds of her and Mackenzie, or her, alone.

None of those had ever ended up on her parents’ fridge. She’d torn them up, many times, crying and screaming about it all. Because the pictures were just a wish, they weren’t real, and it wasn’t good to stare at them all the time. She did that enough with the actual photos she had of her and her best friend. “Okay, it is a beautiful place to stroll through.” Even if Xóchitl was a bit curious about why someone would so willingly and easily go on a stroll through this place. “Thank you. She’s not picky, but she also loves colors and just anything pretty. Even dandelions.” She worried her lip for a moment, desperately wanting her friend back, desperately doing all she could to not cry. “Yes, I’ll – we’ll be – I’ll see you again, I’m sure.” Even if his knowing anything about Mackenzie made part of her never want to see him again.

But maybe it could be something of some sort of comfort, somehow. “I’m glad she’ll have someone else looking after her, too.”

#threads #Roses on Gravestones #t;vanishingreyes #t;

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madaboutmunson · 2 years ago

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Future Steddie snippet.

So this would be set in Steve and Eddie's future but our past.

Anyway here is a snippet. It's still very much a WIP. It doesnt even have a title yet.

Hope you like it :)

Mackenzie is clutching her books to herself. There was room in her backpack for them, but Steve wondered if she was using it as some kind of shield or line of defence. He wants to say, don't worry honey, I'm right here, but he knows how well that goes down, so he lets her take the lead, "Just let me know what you need me to do, honey." He gives her a small smile as she turns to talk to the woman at the counter, who seems to be directing her elsewhere.

Books held firmly against her like some kind of magically imbued chest plate and her eyes boring into the floor, she speed walks past Steve towards the front door, "Hey!! Where are you going??" He yells, running after her while making a mental note of Corey's location. As he should have suspected, he is safely in a chair, thumbs clicking away.

"Mackenzie Robin Harrington!!" He shouts, and she stops in her tracks. He's glad to see at least one thing still works. He bends down to look her in the face, "Honey, what is going on?"

Her face is bright red with embarrassment, and Steve remembers the kind of parent he wants to be, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you by shouting your name like that. I just wanted you to stop walking, so I could talk with you and understand what's going on, ok? That's all. We don't have to stay if you don't want to. I just want to make sure you aren't missing out. Please?" Steve tries his best. He sees her swallow, and her eyes flick up to his for a moment, "I got the time wrong. We're late, like nearly a whole hour late."

"I thought this was just a workshop for character creation type thing today, not an actual game session? I'm sure it won't matter. Do you wanna try at least?" Steve is amazed he's retained any of this information.

"I just…I wanted to get here before everyone else…so when other people turned up, it looked like…it looked like I belonged…because I was here first," She says, eyes blinking at the ground.

"I tell you what. I'll go in first, check it out, and then relay the info to you, and then you make the call, huh? How about that?" He says excitedly, like he's in a timeout huddle. She looks up, and her shiny eyes meet his with a nod and didn't his heart just explode into a million tiny cute plush toys when that happened. Dad mode engaged. "Ok, let's get your half-electronic game system of a brother and point me at the target, honey."

"It's a Gameboy…" Corey starts to correct him, and honestly, Steve could be mad about the attitude, but it's the most he's said to him all day so far.

"...Advance, I know I paid through the nose to get it on release day for you, Cor," Steve says, hand on hip pointing at the little plastic attention black hole.

"Er, no. I've actually completed all the games I had for that one, so I'm back on the Colour. They look completely different! Urgh," Corey almost peels his eyes from it to target Steve with his disdain. Almost.

Time was of the essence, so rather than try to engage verbally, Steve lifted Corey out of his chair and gently pulled him along with them.

Steve opens the door to the side room and can see a bunch of kids of all different ages at tables, happily scribbling away and talking. He does note the distinct lack of girls in the kids he can see. Some of the older kids have polo shirts with something printed on them. They must be like the instructors or what was it, Masters…Dungeon Masters, that was it.

Then Steve hears some booming footsteps and an almighty roar. His spirit nearly leaves him until he hears a ripple of laughter after it and sees one of the polo shirt wearers sporting a paper mache dragon head stomping around the tables.

The dragon…locks eyes with him…and runs over.

Everything in Steve says run, but he's here for Mackenzie. So he pretends he isn't alarmed in the slightest. The dragon extends their hand, and when Steve accepts the handshake, he is engulfed in a hug, the dragon head bumping him several times before it finds its way over his shoulder. Steve grimaces with something between disgust and horror. What kind of weird place was this? He's glad they were late; if this had happened to Mackenzie, this dragon's head would have been punched somewhere into next year. The dragon is gesticulating, and Steve's hearing isn't the best. He knows they're talking, but all he can hear are mumbles, and he has no mouth to read for assistance.

"I'm sorry. Can you speak up? I can't hear you."

The dragon puts its hands to its head and laughs before revealing itself.

"Shit! Long time no see, Harrington!!" The familiar voice says.

Steve takes a moment to process, The big smile and eyes, the dark wavy hair that reached his jawline, the ringed hands, and the scars. Steve knows those scars and instinctively reaches for his side. He holds up the dragon head, "Sorry about that, um, the kids find me less scary if I scare them with the dragon head first," he says quietly.

Steve laughs, "Eddie?"

"In the flesh!" He gestures at his whole self, with a flourish, and the hugest smile, that Steve can tell he's trying hard to turn down a little from max wattage.

"Wow, I mean. I know you loved this game, but it's like huge, and we're nowhere near Hawkins. I'm just surprised, is all. Pleasantly, obviously. It's just…wow…" Steve says a little nervously. It was a little guilt for not keeping in touch, mostly surprise, but also, Eddie looked different, even though the trademarks were all there. His hair was less frizzy and more defined, and his face had aged a little. He looked more manly.

"Ah, don't get all flustered over little ol' me now", he laughs, and Steve feels comforted by his teasing. It was the Eddie he remembered.

"Er…listen so. I'm not here for me."

"Well, I could have guessed that", Eddie snorts out a laugh.

"My kid wants to join."

"Ok, we'll circle back to the fact you have a kid but do continue."

"Well, I have two, but anyway, the point being she really wants to join in and was worried it would be a problem because we're late. My fault, you know. She wanted to get here first, so it looked like she belonged here, and she was just worried it would be full of assholes that might give her a hard time about it, you know."

Eddie looks at him, confused, "About being late?"

"Er..yes…but because she's a girl."

Eddie's eyebrows furrow, "Well, thankfully, for everyone concerned, a penis is not a required piece of starting equipment."

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