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celosiaa · 4 years ago

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Submission by @entitynumber5: Hi Connor, I hope you’re having a WONDERFUL birthday and that you get to take a break from studying to do the things you enjoy and just have the lovely day you deserve!!! For this morning’s “write what I like” sprint (trying a new method of getting it all out before I have to put the brain into study mode), I wrote a lil something about 🎃 spooky season birthdays 🎃set in the Emmaverse… which turned out kind of long and a bit sappy. So there is no pressure to read it! I just love these characters :’) the working title is “Martin and Jon get proven wrong by an adorable five year old”.

Content warnings: brief mentions of blood, alcohol and minor injury (in relation to Martin working a Halloween paramedic shift); food.

Emma is obsessed with birthdays. Just not her own.

She turned five in May, and no matter how special they tried to make the day—with rainbow layer cake and carefully-selected presents and a visit to the roller-skating rink with her best friends—she didn’t seem half as excited as when it was someone else’s birthday. She would hardly sleep the night before friends’ parties. She spent hours wrapping the presents she picked for them with ribbons and bows and even confetti stuffed inside the paper. The only time they could encourage her to practice the piano for her weekly lessons was when she played the Happy Birthday song over FaceTime for her friends’ birthdays that were during school holidays.

The only thing Emma seems to have held onto from her own birthday is the notebook given to her Georgie and Melanie. Martin seems to remember there being two: one with little cartoon ghost drawn in the front by Georgie and the other with a scribble of the Admiral by Melanie. But Emma only carries the one around with her everywhere, and Martin is starting to doubt his own memory about there being a duplicate.

She has it with her now, as they sit outside the lecture theatre where Jon is currently teaching. In the too-big chair beside the door, her legs swing as she holds the notebook very close, staring intently at its pages while she wriggles her fluffy purple pen in thought.

“Daddy,” Emma says, in that voice that means she has a Very Serious Question, “When is your birthday?”

Martin is still a little dazed from nearly a week of night shifts. It’s the first time in six days that he hasn’t been working or sleeping at this time in the afternoon, and while walking with Emma to Jon’s work to surprise him at the end of the day seemed like a nice idea in practice, he really wishes he was lying on the sofa. They could be watching Peppa Pig for the thousandth time. Or getting started on dinner, which he isn’t going to let Jon make after a long day of teaching. He’s been mentally calculating how many hours it is until he can go to bed, how many tasks he has to do before then.

This feels like a selfish thought, though, and he pushes it aside quickly in favour of smiling at Emma. “My birthday?”

“Yes,” Emma replies, still very grave, “That’s what I said. At school today, Miss Jones made us all put stickers on the big calendar on the wall for our birthdays. I wrote down all of my friends’ birthdays.”

“That’s nice.”

“And now I want to write down yours.”

“Okay, well, my birthday is next month.”

Emma frowns. “Next month. That’s…” she counts on her fingers until she seems to reach the answer she’s looking for. “October?”

“It is!” Martin grins. “Well done.”

Emma’s little frown doesn’t ease. “What day?”

“Well, do you know how many days are in October?”

Emma thinks. Shakes her head.

“There are thirty-one days in October,” Martin tells Emma, “And my birthday is on the very last day.”

Emma nods and returns to her notebook, slowly enunciating the words as she writes them down: “Oc-to-ber three-one.”

Martin wonders if Emma realises his birthday coincides with Halloween. Besides birthdays, she still doesn’t seem too interested in dates, no matter how many times her teacher makes her write them at the top of every page in her workbook. And during previous years, they celebrated Martin’s birthday the day before or after Halloween itself, so they can separate the two events, although perhaps she doesn’t remember.

Before Martin can ask, the door of the lecture theatre opens and students start filing out. Emma puts away her notebook and pen, her frown of concentration replaced by a glowing smile as she waits, bouncing excitedly in the chair, for her Baba to notice them waiting just outside.

“Jon,” Martin whisper-shouts as he tiptoes into the house after his shift, hoping he doesn’t wake Emma—but that his husband knows it’s urgent. “Jon, Jon, Jon.”

Jon emerges from the kitchen, wearing a pair of yellow washing up gloves dripping soap suds and a look of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Martin ushers him back into the kitchen and shuts the door as quietly as possible, hoping it won’t wake Emma—or, worse yet, the cats, who will sit outside any closed door and cry to be let inside no matter what activity they were engaged in before.

“Martin,” Jon says, “What’s going on?”

“They just released the shifts for the next few weeks,” Martin replies, “And I’m working.”

“Well, good. I should hope so.”

“On my birthday.”

Jon’s expression merges into one of comprehension: Emma. And her newfound obsession with birthdays. “Ah.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t suppose you could swap shifts with someone?” Jon asks.

Martin sits down at the table, lowering his head into his hands. He wants to shower, change out of his paramedic uniform, but he knows he won’t be able to focus on anything else until they’ve had this conversation. “No one’s going to willingly take a Halloween shift. For a start, Andrew is terrified of clowns. And people are usually drunk, and it’s actually really hard to tell the difference between real and fake blood.”

“We could celebrate the day after,” Jon says, taking off the washing up gloves and sitting opposite Martin. He reaches across the table to take Martin’s hand. “I mean, you were born five minutes before midnight. It wouldn’t be a lie so much as a… slight shifting of the truth.”

“Jonathan Sims.” Martin gapes across the table at him. “Are you suggesting we lie to our daughter?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No, Martin,” Jon says again, “I’m simply suggesting we separate your birthday from Halloween, as we have done every year, and not draw attention to the fact because our daughter is currently obsessed with other peoples’ birthdays.”

“And it might upset her if she knew we were actually celebrating on the wrong day.”

“Exactly.”

Martin sighs. “I don’t know. It feels… sort of wrong.”

“Apparently, children under the age of seven have no concept of the passing of time and—”

“Did Tim tell you that?”

“No.”

“Oh, god. It wasn’t Helen, was it? Please tell me you haven’t been having philosophical discussions about parenting with Helen again.”

“Martin,” Jon interrupts, “It was in the parenting book you gave me.”

“Huh. I don’t remember that chapter. Oh, god, maybe I should re-read it. The whole thing. Beginning to end. I—”

“Martin.” Jon squeezes his hand. “You deserve a day of your own. Tim and Sasha already agreed to take Emma trick-or-treating on Halloween. She will be focused on that for most of the day; she’s already talking about how excited she is. Let us spend the day after that treating you to all the wonderful things you deserve on your birthday—and every day.”

Martin manages a small smile, although every instinct inside of him is telling him not to accept Jon’s proposal. Not because he is worried about the ethics of manipulating their daughter’s concept of time—although this is a concern, too—but because he doesn’t want Jon to feel like he has to do any of this. To make a whole day about him, even if he takes great pleasure and care in doing the same for Jon on his birthday.

“Thanks, Jon,” Martin murmurs.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, why don’t you go and have a warm shower? I’ve put the hot water on so it shouldn’t run out while you’re in there this time.”

Martin smirks. “Are you saying I smell?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Martin presses, teasing now. “Because I did have to treat a farmer who’d been kicked by one of his cows this evening.”

“Okay, alright, yes. Yes, you smell. Please go and have a shower.”

Martin laughs and gets up from the table. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“That really is disgusting, Martin.”

“It’s actually a pretty funny story. About the farmer, I mean. He’s fine, by the way. I’ll tell you about it when I’m out of the shower.”

Jon shakes his head. “Why today, of all days, have you abandoned the notion of showering before you sit down at the dinner table?”

“I had something important to tell you!”

“Fine. Alright.” Jon shakes his head again. “Now please have a shower. For your sake as much as mine.”

“Love you,” Martin sing-songs as he exits the kitchen. He hears Jon’s gentle laugh chase him into the warmth of the bathroom, where Jon has put on the radiator and left him a fresh towel. He smiles, feeling his love for Jon balloon in his chest, and settles into the sensation being home.

Martin’s Halloween—and birthday—shift is so busy that he barely has time to check his phone. Tim has sent an album of photos of him, Sasha and Emma out trick-or-treating, dressed as Mike, Sulley and Boo from Monsters, Inc. Jon has been updating him on the number of trick-or-treaters who have visited their house (fifty-four, as of ten thirty p.m.), and how Iris and the cats are holding up with the constant ringing of the doorbell.

On his break, Martin quickly texts Tim to watch his glucose levels and not to forget his insulin (to which Tim replies yes, sir with a number of yellow heart emojis). He also texts Sasha to say she can take home any of the Skittles they get on their expedition, since they’re her favourite but Emma hates them. He tells Jon he loves him and to give Iris a pet on his behalf and that there’s some spare sweets under the sink, if they’re running low. Then it’s back to work.

The shift passes quickly, in the end. There is so much to do and no time to think about anything other than their patients. He does get given a toffee apple by someone dressed as a Minion at a student house party, and he narrowly avoids getting his face painted by twins who are the same age as Emma while his team are checking their mother’s twisted ankle after a fall trying to get to the door in time for a last-minute delivery of sweets. It’s not an awful shift, but it is, like always, exhausting and difficult in the same measure as it’s rewarding and hopeful.

By the time he gets home, all he wants to do is sleep. Emma is tucked into bed, fast asleep, while her nightlight projects solar systems onto the ceiling. Jon, too, is sleeping soundly with the cats for company. Iris barely looks up from her bed when he comes inside, but she gives a little wag of her tail each time he passes down the hallway to shower or get a drink of water. There’s a plastic pumpkin full of Emma’s sweets on the table, next to the empty bowl that had once been full of treats to hand out to their visitors.

Martin’s smiles—it looks like a night well-spent for his family—and this thought carries him through an exhausted shower before he crawls into bed next to Jon. Jon must be tired, too, because he doesn’t stir. Martin makes a mental note to check his joints aren’t playing up from all the getting up and down from the sofa during the trick-or-treat visits.

Sometime later, Martin wakes to the soft click of the door as it opens. He squints against the light bursting around the edges of the still-shut curtains, expecting to see Jon tiptoeing to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Instead, Emma is creeping inside, holding a tray of pancakes while Jon follows behind, balancing two cups of tea.

“Happy birthday!” Emma says, as she places the tray down on the bed next to Martin. “We made spooky pancakes!”

Martin rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up fully. He glances at the alarm clock next to the bed: 11:42 a.m. He’s been asleep for just over six hours, but it somehow feels longer and yet not enough. “It’s not—”

Jon clears his throat.

“Oh. Oh, thank you, Emma! These are wonderful.”

The pancakes are, indeed, spooky. Emma has used a pumpkin cookie cutter to shape them and then drawn on funny faces with fruit and syrup. No longer responsible for balancing the tray, Emma looks at Jon, a little uncertain, and Jon nods in encouragement as he places their cups of tea down on the bedside table.

“I made you a present,” Emma says almost shyly.

Martin smiles gently at her. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Emma.”

Emma pulls something off the tray. It’s the second notebook, the one Martin thought he’d imagined, wrapped in a glittery silver ribbon and some confetti streamers. She offers it to Martin, and he takes it carefully, holding it as if it might fall apart in his hands.

“You can open it,” Emma tells him seriously.

Martin unwraps the ribbon. Emma takes it from him, along with the confetti, perhaps to reuse for another present. Slowly, Martin cracks open the notebook to the first page. There is Georgie’s ghoulish sketch, alongside a new inscription in Emma’s handwriting: Sorted Poems By Emma K. Blackwood-Sims. For Daddy’s Birthday. October 31.

Martin feels something tender and soft unfurl in his chest, until he’s certain he is going to cry. He begins to flick through the pages, but Emma says: “Wait!”

Martin stops. “What is it?”

“Look.” Emma climbs on to the bed, elbowing her way into the space next to him, and reaches across Martin to open the notebook on the first page again, where her inscription is. She points at her name.

“It’s meant to say assorted poems,” Jon says, “But neither of us were sure how to spell it.”

Martin laughs, the sound a little wet and shaky with the tears he can feel building. Jon hates spelling. It’s his least favourite type of homework to help Emma with.

“Look,” Emma says again, “I wrote my name like yours!”

Martin smiles. “Blackwood-Sims? But that’s your name, too.”

“No,” Emma insists, “Emma K Blackwood-Sims. Like you! Like a proper poet.”

“Oh,” Martin murmurs, “Oh.”

He’s sure he and Jon will laugh about this later. Martin doesn’t actually have a middle name. Emma does, but it certainly doesn’t begin with K. But right now, he feels tears on his cheeks as he takes in his daughter’s hard work.

Emma reaches for his face, patting away his tears with the palms of her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise,” Martin replies, sniffling in an attempt to draw back the tears, “I’m happy. And I love you so, so much.”

Emma frowns. “Will pancakes make you feel better?”

“I’m alright, Emma. I promise. These are happy tears.”

“Pancakes always make me feel better,” Jon announces, climbing onto the other side of the bed and sliding back underneath the covers. He settles Emma down in the middle of them, handing her a mug full of juice. She doesn’t drink tea yet, but she doesn’t like to be left out when they do, so she has her own mug.

“These look wonderful,” Martin tells them, arranging the tray so they can all reach. Emma takes a plate and hands it to Jon, then does the same for Martin, before grabbing the final one for herself. “You’re getting very good at pancakes.”

“Baba said we can learn French toast next,” Emma says.

“Wow. That’s big.”

Emma nods. “It’s more difficult than normal toast.”

Martin chuckles. “It certainly is.”

They distribute the pumpkin-shaped pancakes between them. While they eat in bed, they tell each other stories about their Halloween night. Jon talks about the costumes of the people who visited their house, how many compliments they got on their pumpkin carving skills. Emma narrates her trick-or-treating adventure with Tim and Sasha. Martin shares the safest tales of his nightshift, the funny costumes he saw and the extravagant decorations at the parties they visited.

Martin is exhausted again by the time they’ve finished the pancakes. Jon insists on taking their empty plates back to the kitchen and making them another cup of tea, while Emma snuggles against Martin’s side. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“I know it’s not your birthday, Daddy,” Emma whispers.

Half-asleep until now, Martin grunts himself awake. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“I know it’s not really your birthday,” Emma tells him, not moving from where she’s clinging to his arm, “Your birthday was yesterday. On Halloween.”

“Oh, Emma, we—”

“It’s okay,” Emma says, “It’s like when we had a party on Saturday even though my birthday was on Wednesday because I had school.”

“Yeah.” Martin stokes his hand through Emma’s hair. “It is a bit like that.”

“I still get to say happy birthday.”

“You do.”

“But can we have a party on the right day next year?” Emma asks.

“For your birthday?”

“No, for your birthday.”

“Oh.” Martin laughs. “Yes. It might not be a party, if I have to work again, but we can do this. This is lovely. Thank you for being so thoughtful. And I’m excited to read your poems.”

“Baba said they were good.”

“Well, that’s high praise indeed.”

“It was fun.”

“That’s good. That’s what matters most when you make things.“

Emma wriggles around until she’s grinning up at him. “Can I read your poems now?”

Martin sighs, barely supressing a laugh. This isn’t the first time she’s asked. “Emma.”

She sticks her bottom lip out, pouting in a way that breaks Martin’s heart to the point where he can never turn her down when she’s looking at him like this. “Please.”

“Alright,” Martin gives in, “I’ll read you one tonight. Before bed.”

“Yay!” Emma’s grin grows even wider. "Thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank you. And I love you very, very much.”

“Love you, too.”

They settle back down. Martin dozes a little again, a smile on his face, as he thinks about telling Jon later that their daughter very much does understand the concept of time. There really are some things parenting books don’t prepare you for—like the way his love seems to grow with each day he gets with Emma and Jon, even when he thinks it’s impossible, that he already loves them more than any person can.

Some things are gifts even when they are not given as such, and Martin is beginning to allow himself to think of his life with his daughter and his husband as one. He didn’t ask for it with words or lists. He doesn’t know, even now, if he deserves it. But it’s his. And he will treasure it always.

Not featured: Martin realising what he’s agreed to and frantically trying to find a non-angsty poem he can read to his five-year-old daughter. Jon thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #emma #SDSFLSKFLKJFA AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #HANNAH HANNAH I LOVE THIS SOOOO MUCH #I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WROTE THIS OH MY GOD #this is so incredibly special to me I don't even know how to express it #oh my god this is so sweet and I loved every second of it #oh my friend #thank you so much #i love the way you write martin as ALWAYS #and Emma is so sweet here oh my goodness!!!!!#she takes after her dad by caring about other people's birthdays like that #i loved the way you talked about how exhausted he feels after working night shifts #and the lovely little moment where they're talking quietly in the kitchen #martin's musings about not deserving this #and feeling selfish for being so tired on jon's birthday #oh my god i can'ttttttt #i love this so much i'm gonna read it 8000 times #hannah you are fantastically talented #and such an incredibly kind soul #i truly wish we were not an ocean apart!!!#thank you for all the wonderful joy and kindness you bring to the world #you are so very loved #THANK YOU!!!!!!#<3 <3 <3 #submission

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awed-frog · 6 years ago

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Stuff I Never Learned In Uni and Now I’m Gonna Sue:

When he was young, Plato used to wear a ridiculous earring and everybody made fun of him behind his back. Also his original name was Aristocles: ‘Plato’ (= Broady) is a nickname his trainer gave him because he was so stupidly buff.

Aristotle was fond of flashy clothes and flashier rings and spent ages doing his hair.

Socrates used to turn a stick into a pretend horse to amuse his children.

Alcibiades and his friends once got high on stolen Pythia’s herbs and risked the death penalty.

Plutarch literally said “Sex is nice, but have you tried reading Aristobulos?” (his books are now lost, btw, and that goes on my list ‘things to be furious and sad about’)

Empedocles, a vegetarian who won the Olympics, made an ox out of frankincense and myrrh and sacrificed it as a tribute to the gods instead of a real animal. Pythagoras also sacrificed an ox-shaped cake to the gods when he discovered that hypotenuse thing.

Sophist Anchimolus happily survived on figs and water, but people avoided him at the baths because he just stank so much.

Philoxenus and Gnathon the Sicilian used to blow their noses over the best dishes of a buffet, so that other guests wouldn’t eat them first.

The philosopher Crates was called ‘the Door-Opener’ because he had this habit of randomly walk into people’s houses and offer them unwanted and unsolicited advice.

Alcibiades once sent Socrates a gigantic cake for sex-related reasons, and Socrates’ wife was so mad she threw it on the floor and trampled it.

(As a reminder, Alcibiades tried everything he knew to get into Socrates’ pants but the guy just. never. shut. up. and Alcibiades would usually fell into a stupor and sleep.)

Many statues had little umbrellas on their heads so birds wouldn’t poop on them.

A guy once invited King Philip (Alexander’s dad) for dinner, but forgot kings usually travel with dozens of people. When Philip realized his host was embarrassed because there wasn’t enough food for everyone, he discreetly told his companions to leave room for cake. People ate very little in expectation of a glorious dessert, and so there was enough for everyone.

“Dreaming about cakes without cheese is a good omen, but cheesecakes signify deceit and trickery.” (Artemidorus, who totally wasn’t pulling things out of his own ass)

Proving nothing ever really changes and time is an illusion, Plutarch complained that the guides at Delphi would bore everyone to death by reading every single inscription while their audience baked in the sun.

“If a cucumber is bitter, just throw it away...Don’t go and complain Why do such things exist in this world?” (Marcus Aurelius, unproblematic fave; also filed under ‘does it spark joy?’)

Wine jars had a piece of wood inside it, so the mice who fell in could climb back out (a Most Civilised custom imo).

“Those drunk on wine fall on their faces; those drunk on beer fall on their backs.” (this from Aristotle, I dare hope from personal experience)

Empedocles once attended a party where the host told his guests they could either drink or be drenched in wine. The next day, he had the man executed. “This was the beginning of his career in politics”.

Alexander put collars on a number of deer to determine how long they lived. When they were caught, more than a hundred years later, they had not aged a day. (*stanning intensifies*)

A good method to stop children from crying: fasten a sponge on a jar of honey and give it to them. Probably also doubles as a good method for making their teeth fall out.

Several people tried to pass laws against children’s tantrums.

A flying pig once devastated the Ionic city of Clazomenae.

Greek divers had snorkels so they could stay longer underwater.

“The students nod to each other about charioteers, or mime-actors, or horses, or dancers, or about some gladiatorial fight; some just stand there like a block of stone, others pick their noses...Anything is preferable to paying attention to their teacher.” (Libanius, #bless; he also complained that students would rather handle snakes than touch their textbooks)

Aristotle made fun of Herodotus for saying a black man’s semen must also be black.

When Gelon, the future tyrant of Syracuse, was a boy, a wolf came into his classroom and stole his writing tablet. Gelon ran after him, and as soon as he’d stepped outside the school there was an earthquake: all the other children and their teacher died.

Archimedes once built a big-ass ship for king Hieron of Syracuse. It had a gymnasium, gardens, a library, a seawater pond full of fish and mosaics detailing the entire Iliad.

There was a rumor Sophocles died when he tried to recite his Antigone and couldn’t stop for breath because he never used commas. (#KarmaIsABitch)

In Sparta, all the girls and young men who were unmarried were locked together in a dark room. The men then grabbed a girl, and whoever they grabbed, they had to marry. Lysander, the famous Spartan general, was fined for abandoning the girl he caught and scheming to marry a prettier one.

Crocodile dung was considered an essential ingredient in face masks, but dishonest sellers would often present starling dung as crocodile’s.

There were beauty contests in several cities, both for men and for women. Some cities also held modesty contests for women.

The only valid reasons for being late at the Olmypics were illness, shipwreck and capture by pirates.

Pythagoras was shocked by how women lend each other clothes and jewelry without paperwork or a witness to the transaction.

Demosthenes refused to pay the prostitute Lais (a man) half a million dollars to sleep with him, declaring “I don’t buy regret at such a high price”.

Bald men made money by allowing people to break pots over their heads for fun.

In Southern Italy there was a breed of sheep whose wool was so valuable, shepherds put leather jackets on them so it wouldn’t be ruined by bushes and thorns.

The Gauls used to throw letters on funeral pyres so the dead could read them in their next life.

In Sparta, every year boys were whipped for an entire day on the altar of Artemis. Some died, but the ones enduring it most gracefully received the highest honors.

Plato once gave a public reading of his treatise On the Soul and Aristotle was the only person who stayed until the end.

The statues of unpopular politicians were thrown in the sea or turned into chamber pots.

Apsethus the Libyan trained some parrots to say ‘Apsethus is a god’, and the Libyans, impressed by the miracle, started to worship him. Then a Greek came along and trained the parrots to say ‘Apsethus put me in a cage and forced me to say Apsethus is a god’ so when the Libyans heard that, they seized Apsethus and burned him to death.

An idiot named Marcus insisted in running a race in full armour. He was so slow, at midnight the stadium authorities locked everything up because they mistook him for one of the statues. When they opened up again in the morning, they found he’d finished his first lap.

Athens was plagued with gangs of rich kids running around and stealing the offerings left for the gods. One of them was called The Hard Dicks.

Some many men died in the Peloponnesian War the city of Athens made polygamy legal. Euripides thus had two wives, but wasn’t happy with either of them.

A character in one of Euripides’ plays argued that wealth matters more than morality and the audience got so mad Euripides had to come on stage and beg them to wait for the end of the play - promising the guy would be revealed as the villain and meet a dreadful end.

When Rhodopis, a beautiful prostitute, was taking a bath, an eagle stole her shoe. It carried it all the way to Memphis and dropped it on the lap of Pharaoh Psammetichus, who immediately ordered the whole country to be searched for the owner of such a beautiful and shapely shoe. When Rhodopis was found, he married her.

In Elysium, the fortunate dead enjoy checkers, horse riding, gymnastics and playing the lyre.

[Source: various Greek authors, collected by J.C. McKeown in A Cabinet of Greek Curiosities. Also available: Ancient Medical Curiosties and Roman Curiosities.]

#ancient greece #greece #history #classics #antiquity #til #trivia #philosophy #athens and sparta #cinderella #cheesecake #aristotle #plato #euripides #so this book was a nice find #i left out a couple of ghost stories #but #i'll try to make that post about magic #later today

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years ago

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Burned Chapter 13

As always, coffee is appreciated! https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

Edward sat rather sullenly in Roy's office the next day, a frown etched on his face.

"Edward. Quit sulking."

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. I just didn't see it for myself. I've imagined things when I was tired before."

"I'm not tired!" Ed banged both fists on his desk, causing everyone to pause and look up at him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I know what I saw."

The door to the office burst open, and Hughes stood there, looking out of breath.

"Hughes?" Roy cocked an eyebrow.

"We've got a severed arm found in an alley last night. It was a woman's."

"Just an arm? No body?"

Hughes frowned. "Just an arm. We... we're expecting to find more later. But the marks on the skin- it's our guy. It was about 6 blocks from here- it was right under our noses. We've got a few people nearby who were out late last night to come in to interview, but nobody's said anything that stands out..."

"It was the clown."

All eyes turned to Ed.

"What?"

"Mustang and I came back to the office late last night to grab some papers. Mustang went in and I stayed in the car and I saw him. Six feet tall, wearing a clown suit, painted face, red balloon. Smoking a cigarette beneath the street light. I was gonna trap him in the cement of the sidewalk and question him, but Mustang came back out and distracted me, so he got away."

Hughes frowned, turning to Mustang. "You saw him too?"

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I didn't. I saw a silhouette, maybe, but it might've been the light playing tricks on my mind. There was no sign of anyone when we got there..."

"I saw him."

"I'm not saying you didn't, Ed, but I didn't see him."

"I wanna sit in on the interviews with the people who were out last night." Ed said seriously, turning to Hughes.

Hughes looked uneasy.

"You're only to listen. You don't say a word, nothing to suggest anything to the witnesses. You're to report back to me immediately after." Roy said.

"That's fair. Let's get started. The sooner we get this creep off the streets, the better." Ed turned and strode briskly out of the room, with Hughes looking hesitant.

"You sure you want to let him in on this? It's a murder investigation..."

"I'm not letting him see the case files or the pictures. But he's convinced he saw something... and with how dead set he is on it, I'm not convinced he didn't."

"Alright. But just the interviews. After that he's done with this case."

"I agree."

Most of the people who were outside around midnight were doing pretty mundane things, it turned out. Stumbling home from a night out with friends, stopping to relieve themselves on a brick building. Walking to the corner store for late night cigarettes. The occasional college student walking home from a late night studying in the library.

Ed quickly grew bored, but Hughes never faltered, recording every detail like his life depended on it. Still, no one had seen anything unusual, until they got to the last man. Henry Johnson was unremarkable, about 5' 4", and he had to go to work early as a baker, so his morning was at midnight.

He'd been taking his dog outside to go to the bathroom at the park, and saw the call for people who'd been outside in the area in the newspaper, so he'd come in.

"What time were you out?"

"About quarter after midnight to twelve thirty. I was walking by Meadow and Broad street, taking my girlfriend's dog to the park to pee. I saw a guy on Broad out smoking a cigarette, but he's Frank and he's usually out there at that time so it didn't bother me. It wasn't til I was starting back home I saw the clown."

Hughes stopped taking his notes and looked up. "Clown?"

"Yeah. Big guy, at least six feet, dressed as a clown. Walking down the street with a red balloon."

"He was smoking a cigarette, wasn't he?" Ed spoke up from where he'd been sitting in the back corner.

The man nodded. "Yeah, yeah he was. Freaked me the hell out. Normal people don't do that crap. I just hurried up and went home locked my door. Didn't wanna be out with that."

"What time did you see the clown?"

"Oh, twenty after twelve I'd say..."

Ed had already stood and was heading for the door. Hughes didn't bother following him out.

"Someone else saw him. I was right."

"I never said you were wrong, Ed, it just seemed... Odd."

"Well chopping women up and leaving there body parts around the city isn't exactly normal either." Ed's eyes were stone.

Roy sighed. "You're getting too involved in this case."

"I'm getting too involved!? Without me you wouldn't have known about that creepy clown in the first place!"

"And now we do, and that's good. But Hughes and I both agreed you're getting too involved. I'm not even supposed to be on this case- I'm just helping as a favor to Hughes."

"I find the only damn lead and you tell me to quit it!?"

"Ed. Stop. Go home. Spend the day with Al. You have research to be doing, don't you? On the philosopher's stone?"

Ed's gaze softened slightly at the mention of his brother. "Yeah, I do. I have to finish those reports..." his eyes drifted to his desk.

"You can do them tomorrow. I'm your superior officer, and I'm telling you, go take a break."

"Fine. You coming home for dinner or am I eating by myself?"

"I'll be home by 5. If you wouldn't mind heating the oven up for me we'll have macaroni or something. Now go on."

1 week passed. 1 week of them finding a body part every day, until the entire woman had been assembled. Her name had been Patricia Matthews, a local prostitute.

Ed didn't say much about the case, though Roy caught him reading about it in the papers. Everything seemed fine. Ed's anxiety from his accident was well managed with his journaling and relaxation techniques, and while he was nearly completely healed by this point, he made no mention of moving back to the military dorms, and Mustang didn't bring it up either. Truth be told, he liked having the Elric boys around. He hadn't realized how quiet his residence was until the boys had moved in with him.

Still, Roy was pretty sure the kid was still having nightmares. He'd looked rather tired in the mornings for the past few days. He found himself palming open the door to the boy's room around one in the morning, checking to see if he was sleeping peacefully.

He didn't hear any breathing, and he stepped closer to the lump beneath the blankets, expecting to hear breathing and see pale locks of hair on the pillow... only to find a mass of pillows stuffed underneath the duvet to look like a sleeping form.

The wind blew the curtains to his right, and he realized with sharp alarm the bedroom window was wide open.

Edward was healed now, he'd clearly had no trouble climbing down from the second floor to the sidewalk below.

Roy's heart jumped to his threat, and for a brief moment he found it hard to stem the panic swelling within him.

Where the hell had Edward gone? He'd been a fool, thinking the kid was tired from nightmares, when really he'd been sneaking out...

And then he knew. Dread and certainty settled in his gut like a brick, and he calmly headed down the hall, almost robotically, to knock on the door.

"Alphonse, I'm going out for a little while. I should be back soon."

"Okay, Colonel." Alphonse didn't sleep, and he clearly hadn't noticed Edward was gone, or he'd be panicking too. Al was too sensible to let his brother go running off in the middle of the night alone...

He grabbed his keys and started his car, and ten minutes later his headlights were illuminating a small form in a red cloak sitting on the curb, just outside the office.

He threw the car into park, jumping out and slamming the door with much more force than necessary.

"Edward." He barked.

Ed jumped up from where he'd been sitting on the curb, surprised. "What!?"

"Just how, pray tell, do you explain sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night?"

"I needed fresh air." Ed said simply.

Roy looked down road at the streetlight, frowning. "You're looking for him."

"So?"

"You're looking for that clown, who may be a murderer, at one in the morning, every night, alone..." Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "You didn't even tell anyone where you were going! Do you know how stupid that is!?"

"Not as dumb as not looking for him at all! I've seen the papers, they keep finding pieces of that girl! I'm a state alchemist, I don't need you looking out for me all the time, I can handle myself!"

"Of course you can." Roy's vice was dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you moved in with me after you got burned, because you were so capable of changing your bandages and taking your medicine and handling your anxiety attacks..."

"You were the one who burned me."

Roy stopped dead in his tracks. Ed stood perfectly still, a slight breeze catching his cloak and rustling it in the wind.

Roy found himself unable to breathe for a brief moment as the world seemed to stop completely, before he took a breath, acknowledging just how much that hurt. He's right. YOU burned him. That little voice in his head spoke up. His insides were a rolling cocktail of emotions he couldn't deal with right now. Edward was strong, but he was over-confident, and over-tired, and a child. And Roy needed to be the adult here.

Be the adult.

"Ed, get in the car."

"Huh? Why?" Ed looked surprised Roy wasn't shouting back at him, getting into his war of words.

"It's one in the morning, and we should both be in bed. Especially you, considering how often you've been sneaking out. Get in the car. We'll talk about this later. Right now we both need to be at home, asleep."

Ed paused, looking across the road at the empty circle of light beneath the street light.

"Ed. Hughes and I will find the clown. But being exhausted and searching the street every night isn't gonna help anyone."

"There is a clown." even though he was exhausted, Ed looked vindicated, and a slight smile crept onto his face as he said it.

"Yeah, there is. And investigations will find him. Investigations. Not you, and not at one in the morning. Now get in the car."

Ed did as he was told, but he still had that little smirk on his face at being right.

You burned me... Roy's amusement faded as he recalled Ed's words and his steely expression minutes earlier.

Still, he parked the car and led Ed inside. He was the adult. He shut Ed's window and sternly told him to stay in bed, that they'd talk about this in the morning.

He was the adult until he got into his own bedroom and closed the door, and then he laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes and tried to unhear those words.

You burned me...

Normally, his room smelled like aftershave, but he couldn't shake the scent of burnt flesh. No matter how hard he buried his face in his pillow, he could smell it. It was too hot, and water leaked from his eyes slightly as he struggled to control his breathing...

It'd been awhile since he'd had a night this bad. Normally he'd have a glass or two of whiskey to pass out, but he couldn't bring himself to, not now...

Breathe. Just breathe... he told himself. And slowly, the bedsheets stopped suffocating him and he was able to lay, uncomfortable but not stifling hot, and the scent of burnt flesh faded to unwashed linen and waxy burning candles.

He just laid there, not asleep but not completely awake, tired by his own anxiety and mental ordeal. One hour passed, two... it was nearly three in the morning when the quiet was shattered by a scream.

He was on his feet before he knew it, sprinting down the hall.

"S-Stop, he's my brother! I-it burns! Stop!"

Strangled shouting as Edward struggled in the bedsheets.

"Edward! Ed!" he unraveled the cocoon of blankets the boy had wrapped him in, but Ed was still thrashing.

"Stop, stop, ah god why does it hurt!?"

Edward's eyes were half open and glassy. He hadn't had a night terror like this in weeks. Ed never let Alphonse near him when he was in this state, and by now the suit of armor knew to stay away.

Roy's own ills and fatigue were quickly forgotten, and he slipped back to what he'd done all those weeks ago when Ed had just been learning what nightmares and PTSD was, wrapping his arms around the flailing boy and holding him still, pulling him close to him and wrapping him in a tense hug.

"Fullmetal- Ed- Ed, it's a night terror. Shhh, shhh, it's alright, Ed, it's okay..."

Slowly but surely, the boy's struggles stopped and mellowed to harsh breathing. "R-roy..." his voice was hardly a harsh whisper. "I-it hurt so bad. I could feel it- heating my automail, burning my skin..."

"I know, I know, but it was just a bad dream. Breathe, breathe Edward, it's okay..."

Slowly, the boy's choked sobs evened out into shaky but steady breathing.

"It's alright, Edward..." the boy had sweat clean through his shirt, it'd been that anxiety provoking, and he ran his fingers through the sweaty locks of blond hair, trying to soothe the boy.

"I know, buddy, I know. Breathe for me..." Roy took deep breaths, demonstrating what to do as Edward mirrored him.

"I...I didn't mean it..."

"Didn't mean what?" Roy frowned, looking down at the tear-stained child's face. The moonlight made his golden locks look silver and his face even more pale.

"I...I said you burned me... I-it was an accident... I know that. Y-you took care of me... A-and you w-woke up and stayed with me all those nights I got scared, and you took me to the doctors... A-and I repayed you like a selfish brat. I...I know you didn't mean to... I don't deserve your help... S-sorry, I'm sorry..." Ed dissolved into quiet crying and buried his face in Roy's chest.

For the second time that night, Roy found himself speechless. Out of shock, and... gratitude? Ed's forgiveness seemed to have lifted a weight off his shoulders, his gratitude proved that despite all his mistakes, the accident, burning Edward... He'd done something right in taking the boy in and trying his best to care for him.

"Oh Ed... You're just a kid. It's alright..." He reached up and wove his fingers into the back of Ed's blonde locks, holding him steady and just being solid. His other hand rubbed soothing circles on his shuddering back, and gradually, the boys sobs quieted to cries, and whimpers, before he was finally still.

"A-are you mad?"

"No. How can I be mad? I'm just glad you've calmed down. You were tired, we all say things we don't mean..."

"You gonna kick me out?" Ed's voice was slightly muffled as he was still clinging to Roy for dear life.

Roy laughed. Ed flinched and peeled himself back, looking watery-eyed and exhausted and surprised.

"If I was going to kick you out, I wouldn't have bothered to come find you outside tonight. I'd have told you to pack up when you got home. I'm not sending you anywhere Edward. You are stubborn, and impossible, and headstrong, and I'm not going to make you stay if you don't want to, but you are ALWAYS welcome here. You can stay as long as you like. I... I like having you boys around."

"Really?" Ed sniffled, looking baffled.

Roy chuckled. "Yes, really, you loud-mouthed flea."

"Hey." Ed protested half-heartedly, and Roy ruffled his hair.

"But what you did was dangerous, Ed. Sneaking out without telling anyone where you were going, going after a killer- it was dumb, and stupid. And I'm not letting you off the hook for it. It was reckless, and you're grounded- not allowed to go anywhere without my permission- for a week. You understand? I think that's fair, considering the stunts you've pulled. And you're already a bit punished, your anxiety is thru the roof and you're exhausted... Get some sleep. Alright?"

Roy went to stand, but was held still when a hand grabbed his shirt.

Ed looked up at him with those pitiful golden eyes, looking afraid. "Stay?"

He and Ed hadn't slept in the same bed since the first few days after Edward had been burned, when he'd needed Roy to help talk him through the flashbacks.

But he laid back down anyways, and listened as the boy's breathing evened out beside him. His own breathing was calm and steady, as he watched Ed's sleeping face.

Was this what it was like to be a father, he wondered? Twice in one day, one moment in the worst possible anguish, the next with a heart so full it could burst...

I failed you once, Edward. But I will never give up on you. was his last thought, before he, too succumbed to a well-earned sleep.

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vore-scientist · 5 years ago

Text

The Panicking Prince

(A humorous little adventure containing Lots of GT interaction and some safe, soft, M/f GT vore, platonic and willing)

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Full title: In Which Prince Yonatan Does The Books

Summary: Prince Yonatan discovers some information that about the fate of the kingdom. This causes him to panic so he runs off to find his sister the Princess Sophia and the Giant Wizard, Yonah.

Warnings: No real warnings. I will mention that Yonatan is 16 years old but he’s NOT the one eaten (It’s Sophia as usual). There’s an almost minor vorish moment involving him, but it’s silly. It’s all silly actually.

---

In a well lit room in a high tower of the Castle in the City of Luster in the Kingdom of Orr sat a prince. A prince surrounded by scrolls, notebooks, files, boxes, and cabinets. This prince was almost 17 years old, which was unusually young to be handling the paperwork of an entire kingdom. Especially since the Kingdom Of Orr was not one kingdom, it was two, as many centuries ago the King of Orr was picked to be the King of the Mystic Woods. And ever since then the new Mystic King maintained the claim on Orr.

But Prince Yonatan was not a usual prince. He had been cursed at 8 days old, at his naming day, by the Ivory and Bronze Fairy Courts. They imbued him with intelligence and wisdom beyond his years. On the Prince’s 9th day of life he spoke in full sentences, the first of which he used to critique his feeding/sleeping schedule. And on the 10th day had set up a system that had him feeding, sleeping, and relieving himself on an extremely exact timetable. And it only got worse from there.

With a mind hungry for knowledge but so full of new thoughts, the poor prince was constantly in need of diversions. Play with his siblings could occupy his body well enough; wrestling, tag, hide and seek, sword fighting, and climbing through areas of the castle they had no business being in. But as conversationalists went, they weren’t engaging. He chatted with Royal Philosophers until he ran circles around their theories, and his father’s political advisors until he could contribute to their machinations, which he often put a stop to before some sort of scandal got out.

No advisor had successfully lead a power grab let alone a coup. but every time one got close it was a whole do-to. Now such things only happened Once in a while, when Yonatanlet one slip his notice, just to keep things lively.

A few years ago he’d taken up a new hobby.

The bookkeeping of Two Kingdoms was a daily task, one that Yonatan found extremely relaxing. With constant fresh information, it never got boring, and he could concentrate entirely on it. No more of his mind wandering and making him worry.

See. Yonatan has anxiety. Bad anxiety. For all his wisdom, his brain was constantly racing and all those thoughts were so overwhelming, especially ones about the probabilities of disasters, or outcomes of potential wars, or that he was a terrible brother because of his curse, or that the royal advisors secretly resented him and were planning his assassination, or maybe or that his brain might one day just pop, or perhaps...

You get the point.

When he did the kingdom’s books, he had no such thoughts. At least, not as many.

You might think such work is boring, and yes, stuff like guild dues and which portions could be taxed, or reviewing the fluctuations in prices of basic goods and preparing to subsidize things for winter are certainly borning. But tracking the latest dragon sightings and the current standings of registered and known unregistered heroes and villains was exciting.

Managing the FairyTales was an important job that Yonatan took great pleasure in. Reviewing and updating the current status of prophecies and their subjects, with calendars of known and calculated trigger dates and references of contingency plans for both disasters and celebrations. Following Long Lost (or recently lost) Heirs and their last known locations, with information on anyone noteworthy or particularly unnoteworthy having passed through them. Keeping logs of treasure hauls taken in and given out by heroes and villains, making note of any (interesting) magic items. The latest word on magic items of secret but great renown, and any rumors involving their being lost, stolen, or found.

And all of this and more! Organized so that the right information was disseminated to the right people. Information becoming instruction, and instruction becoming action. Many actions taken simply to influence others, in large and small ways. For example: Pushing people to influence some tale. Such people might never know they were part of a tale. They might have just been spurred on to tell a potential hero a small piece of information, or offer them a meal or place to stay for a night.

All this made sure that FairyTales continued to be Told.

You get the idea.

But the prince was also trusted with monitoring some of the more sensitive information. Of note in this instance: Anomalous magical spikes in the Mystic Woods.

The Mystic Woods was always shifting, but it was crucial to note where things were when interesting events occurred. Even if the event was merely a surge of forest magic, detected by a ranger or King Ben himself. Most of the time it was just a flare up as the mysterious currents of magic swirled around and collected. Or King Ben bit his tongue and for some reason the Mystic Woods reacted.

Lately, a lot of the flares had been accompanied by little bits of good fortune! A tree being cured by disease, a swarm of insects cleared away, a rare magical berry bush bearing fruit for the first time in decades. Or were in locations inhabited by many of the mystic woods communities. Villages of Elves or colonies of gnomes, all who benefited in small ways from the flares. What nice things! Knowing good things were happening made Yonatan feel very good!

Unfortunately, that mood was soon to be soured. As he reviewed the flares his super-fairy-magic-enhanced brain made some connections.

What had he been reading yesterday?

Though he wasn’t technically permitted to read the reports between King Ben and the Royal Wizard, and Evil Giant, known as Yonah HaEsh. Yonatan liked to know how his favorite sister was doing.

Even if Yonatan had trouble connecting to his siblings, he still loved them, and they loved him. But Sophia… She was special to him. Her carefree attitude taught him to act without thinking; With his brains and her wildness, they had been quite the pair of troublemakers. There was rarely a dull moment with her. And unlike his other siblings, who brushed off his anxiety attacks as just Yonatan’s Magic Brain Weirdness, she would help him. It was incredible how someone so unfettered could also be so steady.

Many a night he had run to her in tears over some fear, like how according to some calculations, the moon would crash down in a few hundred years, wiping out all life. She never got mad at him for waking her up, and she’d hold him as he cried himself to sleep.

Adjusting to her being officially “kidnapped” by an evil wizard had been difficult to say the least. That was almost 2 years ago. It made him feel better to know she was thriving under the care of her captor. Even if he missed her dearly.

Back to the reports.

There had been several odd happenstances while she was on patrols with Yonah. Patrols were something Yonah had been doing long before Sophia had been assigned to him, and it was mainly the half-giant’s way of not going stir crazy. Explorations out in the forest; limited by the 5km range that Yonah could go from his tower, usually just to see what was around, but also to hunt and collect spell components. Yonah had at some point noted that when he went out with Sophia, they would encounter more interesting places and situations.

A few of those places had surges of magic, mostly after, but sometimes before, Sophia encountered them. Many of these places had been having some sort of trouble, and it was clear from the ShiftLogs, that they shifted within a few hours of Sophia and Yonah’s patrol.

Yonah even noted, almost a year and a half ago, that the forest was easier to navigate when he took Sophia with him.

Almost as if…

Yonatan’s genius brain had made a connection but it was not letting him actually think it. But he knew what it was. And his heart started to pound loudly and painfully against his ribs. Sweat beaded on his brow and his hands felt clammy.

Oh no.

No no no no no.

Now he was panicking. Panic was bad! It hurt! No! He hated this!

He could be wrong. Easily! This kind of thing never happened. It was probably just coincidence. But no such thing existed in their world That had been proven long ago by some amazing sages. There was nothing he could do about it if he was right. He had to calm down. Once he was calm he could… right.

Nothing doing.

Just panic.

---

It had been a long while since he’d had an anxiety attack like this one. He couldn’t do any more work, instead he ran manic around the hallways until dinner time, where he ate barely anything and what he did he threw up shortly after. And sleep? Out of the question.

Unless.

What time even was it? About an hour till midnight? Didn’t really matter. Still in his pajamas Prince Yonatan used one of the secret passages to get out of the castle. One that led to the stables so he could take his horse. Otherwise the trip would take a day.

Still, he only rode Soos up to the Mystic Woods. Soos’ full name was Stubborn Old Ornery Stallion. Even though Soos wasn’t more than a few years old. Yonatan liked his horse and hoped he would live long enough to live up to name.

It was a smooth 3 hour ride out of the city and past the farms and rolling hills. There wasn’t a defined border but once the trees got decently thick yet still lacked magic, he had Soos stop. Soos whinnied and stomped his hooves a bit annoyed.

“Just checking,” Yonatan said, “You don’t have to come with me.” Even for a son of the Mystic King, the Woods was incredibly foreboding, especially at night.

Soos’ ears flicked as if to say ‘Excuse me? I was bred for use in this forest.’

“Alrighty then!”

Without another thought (which was a considerable feat), Yonatan spurred Soos back into a trot, and into the woods. There was no point in picking a direction, he had to trust the forest.

Back in the City of Luster there was panic. No one knew where Prince Yonatan was. Ben extended his awareness but sensed nothing. He wasn’t unduly worried since Yonatan was too clever for his own good, but that didn’t mean there was no reason for concern. And so he woke up the entire city, having his guards spread out to ask anyone if they’d seen or spoken to the prince.

That will have to be dealt with later, as by now Yonatan had made it to his destination.

No surprises here: it’s the Terrible Tower which conditionally belongs to the Great (and also) Terrible Yonah HaEsh. The current prison of Yonatan’s sister, the Princess Sophia. The tower sat to one side of a clearing which now held a mage’s garden. No matter how the forest shifted, Yonatan had never come into the clearing behind the tower, it was always on the side with the garden.

He had also never been here at night. There was very little moon, but there were a few plants that luminesced. Not very brightly; when he emerged into the clearing with his lantern the lights diminished. But he needed to see the path to the tower.

There was no way to get Soos up it, but Soos didn’t want to go inside, he’d much rather stay in the garden. He knew which plants were safe to eat, and was confident no monsters would come here, not ones looking to eat horses anyways. No, if a monster were to come they would be here for the wizard, probably after some potion or spell. Monsters, like humans, needed the services of mages, but were more comfortable dealing with other monsters.

Yonatan removed Soos’ saddle, leaning it up against the tower, and started climbing.

Not so easy in slippers… Thankfully the large thorns were just illusions. He made it up no problem, and keeping in mind the spacial dilation he hopped to the floor.

The workshop, which looked normal from where he’d sat on the windowsill, suddenly became nearly 4 times larger. Having expected this he rolled out of his fall. His slippers made soft pat pat pat noises as he walked briskly to the trap door which was unfortunately closed but for those in the know, and Yonatan was, there was a secret human sized door. That led to the conveniently human sized stairs that ran alongside the large ones. In fact, the only way to access those stairs was through that entrance.

From the workshop course. Once you were in the tower proper, as long as you knew the stairs existed, they would graciously appear for you. This was a feature that Yonah had added since Sophia’s arrival, as well as a few well placed and magically hidden ladders and ropes.

The desired room clear in Yonatan’s mind, it was only one flight down to the hallway that led to the bedroom. The massive door had a very much not hidden crack in the lower right corner, perfectly irresistible to any sneaking thief. Though these days it got more use by Princess Sophia when she needed the bathroom at night.

Ignoring the half-giant asleep in his bed, Yonatan made a beeline for the massive golden birdcage that rested next to the nightstand. Though he wasn’t checking on Sophia. To get up to the bed he had to climb on the outside of the cage up to the nightstand and jump the very safe distance from the nightstand to the bed. He still looked down and climbed carefully just in case.

The Princess Sophia was not in the bed which hung suspended off center in the cage. He continued to climb up as quietly as possible. Best not to make noises that would wake up the giant in an irritable manner.

Which is why he took a running leap off nightstand, landing with a soft PUFF on the pillow. Right next to the giant’s head. But Yonah did not stir.

The half-giant slept with his back to the wall, on his left side, angled downward. Left arm tucked under two pillows, right arm lazily hung around the pillow. If Sophia had been sleeping on Yonah’s person she would have been curled up in that right arm, against the giant’s face. She was not.

Well. Fine. That was her prerogative. Yonatan wasn’t here for her anyways. Well he was but not just yet. First he needed the half-giant. He knelt down Yonah’s face. Trickles of dim orange light escaped through the eyelids. The prince was a bit nervous about waking the wizard, but it had to be done. He experimented first by tapping the giant’s nose.

The deep breaths turned into stilted gasps and snuffles, the giant starting to become aware of a human guest.

“Uh, Mr Giant?”

One dimly glowing eye cracked open to look at him in confusion.

“Eh?” The giant grunted. Then the right arm lifted and before Yonatan could react he was slapped down under a massive palm. It had been a lazy move, so he wasn’t injured, rather he was gently pressed into the pillow. Yonatan didn’t resist.

After running all the way here Yonatan had escaped the majority of his anxiety, and the weight of the hand was pushing the rest away, and the warmth was extremely relaxing. Which, while part of his plan, this not exactly how he pictured spending the night. It was not comfortable.

After another minute he pushed the hand off and he sat in front of the Giant’s face. Yonah had started to fall asleep again.

“Where’s my sister?” Yonatan hissed.

It took a few seconds before the giant grunted out “Iher?”

“My sister. Sophia” Yonatan helped.

Yonah took a breath and with some effort said something in Implausible Giant and even though Yonatan was fluent it was garbled. But the giant had said it with a slight smile. The prince didn’t need to be a genius to know Yonah had eaten Sophia. As long as he didn't think about it too hard it shouldn’t be a problem. Of course Yonatan thought very hard about most things.

And if you’re wondering why Yonatan wasn’t concerned that his sister was eaten by a half giant, maybe you’re thinking Yonatan thought of her as being in his way? And having his sister eaten was one less person ahead of him in the line of succession. No. He knew his sister was safe and snug in her giant’s stomach. The half-giant had half-cursed her so that she couldn’t be digested and didn’t need to breathe.

But he could and he did!!! And the very sleepy giant’s hand got hold of him once more and shoved him towards the face. Without much trouble one of his legs was forced between the jaws! It was painful too, not because Yonah was biting him, just the contortion of his hips. His other leg was bent and his knee was against Yonah’s fangs. Yonatan yelled, quietly, and punched Yonah in the nose.

“No you stupid giant I’m not Sophia! You already ate her!”

That got Yonah’s attention. He released the human’s leg and smacked his lips as he blinked into almost full consciousness.

“That’s better!” Yonatan stroked Yonah’s nose, he knew the giant liked that a lot. “I Hope you enjoyed that little treat, but I’m not on the menu.”

The giant’s eyes flitted open, the soft orange light focusing on the prince. “You taste,” the giant breathed in and out, “like you sister.” He smiled a bit mischievously.

“I know I do, that’s why I’m not angry,” said Yonatan. “But don’t do that again unless I give you permission.”

“Hmf,” Yonah breathed sharply, “You never do.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

“And what?” he sighed, “Is yours?” Yonah genuinely wanted to know. He liked the prince. Yonatan might be pompous but he had a good heart.

Yonatan pouted and looked away, “I’m. Anxious.”

Yonah took the prince in his hand again, his palm against Yonatan’s back. Once Yonatan leaned into his hand he stroked and massaged the human. Using his knuckles against the prince’s back, taking his arms between fingers, squeezing and rubbing gently but firmly.

“You always are, I want to know why, Little Prince,” said Yonah with a little more sternness.

Yonatan linked an arm around Yonah’s fingers, squeezing them to get Yonah’s full attention. He looked right into the giant’s eyes, and even with the glow he could see his reflection.

“Can. I sleep first?” Yonatan yawned, “Here? With you?”

Yonah sighed, and gave the prince a squeeze back.

Back in school, his friends that knew he was half-giant were insistent that they sleep cuddled up to him before exams. All of them piled on top of him, in his arms, They would sleep so soundly even if they were terrified. It was a power he did not understand, but folks tended to sleep more soundly if he was holding them, or they were laying on him. Not that he minded, he absolutely loved being adorned in friends.

“Of course.”

He also knew Yonatan wasn’t above ordering him around, even if the prince didn’t technically have that authority. The kid, who was almost a young adult, was very commanding. Yonah angled himself a bit more towards the prince, hooking his arm around his face so the prince could crawl into his embrace, which Yonatan did without being prompted. Curling up with his back to the giant.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Yonah asked one more time.

“No.’

He wasn’t expecting that answer and expressed his surprise with a small snort of air at the prince’s back. The prince did not look at him.

“I’m too tired to deal with it, and can’t sleep because of it,” he said very quietly.

Yonah made a grunt of understanding. Whatever ‘it’ was, the prince would handle it better after a proper night’s sleep. Or at least some sleep. The prince had amazing timing, it was barely ten minutes since he and Sophia had woken up to the HourGlass’s alarm, and reset her curse. So the prince had at least 3 and half solid hours of sleep to look forward to.

Yonatan buried his face in the giant’s arm. It was so soft and warm, and friendly. That was what he needed after all, a friendly presence. Before that had always been Sophia, holding him tightly as he cried and shivered. But this was leagues beyond that;He could feel his mind and body calming down so rapidly it was almost alarming. And then he was asleep.

---

Yonah was thankful that Sophia woke up first, waking him so he could stop the HourGlass before it gave them all a painful headache.

He was a bit miffed when Sophia re-activated her curse, mumbling something about still needing sleep and ‘you can wait a few more hours for breakfast right?’ but not waiting for an answer before falling back asleep. He could of course wake her back up, but if Sophia didn’t want to be spat out there wasn’t much he could do without invasive magics.

“Morning already?”

Even trying hard not to disturb the prince, Yonah had to lean over to reach the HourGlass. Yonatan had still woken.

“Yes. you can sleep longer if you like,” Yonah said, “but I’m getting up.”

“No. no. I’m good,” Yonatan freed himself from Yonah’s arms, stumbling off the pillow and onto the nightstand. The prince didn’t look very rested, but Yonah didn't argue with him.

Yonatan’s head throbbed a bit, mostly from lack of sleep but also from his wild ride of mania last night. He made himself focus on the waking wizard. It did not escape his Attention that yonah was not spitting up his sister. The half-giant sat up and the bed sheet fell off of him, Yonatan could see the wizard’s slightly full midsection. No movement either, but it was hard to tell as Yonah yawned and stretched. To take his mind off that he looked at Yonah’s face.

His normally trim goatee was lost a bit in the surrounding beard, and Yonah’s wild hair had come out of it’s golden bands so it hung over his shoulders like a lion’s mane. He yawned again and Yonatan got a good view of the large fangs.

Yonatan wanted to say something now, but decided to wait until the wizard changed out of his pajamas. He used magic do it and Yonatan loved watching people use magic. And once Yonah was properly dressed Yonatan realized he was in PJs too. Ok, get dressed first, then talk.

“Is there a chance you have clothes that fit me?” Yonatan asked.

“Actually, yes,” Yonah said, in a soft voice, picking up the prince and placing him on top of the chest of drawers where he kept his clothes. There was a human sized wardrobe on top.

“It’s magic,” Yonah prompted.

Yonatan opened it and found a few simple clothes that were indeed his size, though it was mostly outfits that were clearly meant for Sophia. A green one stood out to him, green usually did. Must be something about being a royal of the Mystic Woods. You always looked your best in green.

“If you want privacy, step inside,” Yonah indicated the wardrobe.

Oh! Fascinating. Yonatan stepped through and found a small open circular dressing room, with a carpeted floor, racks of clothing all around, and a mirror. Brightly lit though no obvious light source; Yonatan decided that mystery could be dealt with later.

He walked out with purpose and Yonah put a hand on the dresser so Yonatan could walk across to his shoulder.

“Would you like breakfast, Your Highness?” Yonah said, still keeping his voice soft but managing to be snarky.

Yonatan elbowed the giant in and for his cheek.

“Yes,” he said.

Breakfast made him remember...

“So. Uh…. Sophia-“ Yonatan started to ask as Yonah headed towards the kitchen. From his bedroom to a short hallway to the stairs and up the stairs.

“She wanted to sleep more,” he said with a kind of wistful sigh.

The giant was walking with an incredibly smooth gate; gliding. He put a hand to his middle as he spoke, smiling. “We had a pretty intense evening on patrol.”

Yonatan nodded.

Accepting that Sophia’s captor/mentor/best friend regularly ate her was pretty easy. Once the curse was explained. Stupid, extremely unnerving, but not hard to understand. Giants ate people after all, at least evil ones did, and Yonah was an evil giant. What was difficult to wrap his mind around was that Sophia liked it. No. Loved it. She’d been in there for over 8 hours now. And what was he, her brother doing about it?

Sitting casually on Yonah’s shoulder like she was just asleep in her bed! But she was in Yonah’s stomach! That was so WEIRD! The more he thought about it the weirder it got! So he had to stop thinking about it. Not easy when he instinctively looked down from his perch and had a perfect view of the giant's gut. Pleasantly stuffed is how Yonatan might describe it, though it was even more disconcerting that his mind considered it at all pleasant.

He looked forward; They entered the kitchen. But he didn’t really want to think about food now. Of course he didn’t say so, because he knew Yonah would wonder if he was sick. Explaining was out of the question. That meant he would have to force himself to eat whatever the giant served him and hope he could hold it down.

Yonah put him down on the dining table, which had a smaller, human sized table placed on it, and began gathering his supplies.

“HEY! I WANT TO WATCH!” Yonatan shouted. He did not want to be left alone to his thoughts even for a moment.

Shhhh!

Yonah glared at him, pointing to his stomach then his ears “Please, you can be quiet, I can hear you just fine.” He put the prince back on his shoulder.

As soon as Yonah started cooking, all of Yonatan's previous queasiness went away. Sophia had expounded upon the giant’s prowess as a chef but hearing about it and smelling it were two different things.

And eating it was something else entirely.

As soon as everything was on the table Yonatan practically inhaled the food. It was really just scrambled eggs and some sautéed vegetables but the best he’d ever had in his life. Yonah really knew his spices and had precision timing to make the softest eggs. Also… he technically hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Having an anxiety attack takes a lot of energy, so the prince was ravenous.

Though Yonah had made more than enough for himself, he hadn’t gotten himself a plate. He’d turned the stove off and covered the pan with the eggs to keep them warm. What he did get was a cup of morning tea, and one for Yonatan as well, which he poured and cooled off with magic.

“I take it you wont eat-”

“Until your sister wakes? No. -” he chuckled and yet sounded a bit angry about that. He must be hungry too, and having an indigestible weight in his stomach didn’t change that.

“But- the tea?” He took a sip and was unsurprised to find it was unbelievably good. Probably made with magic leaves from the garden.

“She’s not awake to complain about it,” he grinned, taking another sip, as if he would still drink it even if she were.

It did not escape Yonatan’s notice that Yonah was watching him eat with hunger in his eyes. Thankfully his extreme wisdom let him know it was more jealousy, as he continued to shovel eggs into his princely mouth, than a desire to eat him. Though that was there. Maybe someday, but Yonatan was determined to deny the giant for as long as possible.

“So, little prince, what exactly prompted you to come running into my clutches last night?”

The prince swallowed his mouthful of food and took a long drink of chilled apple and blueberry juice which Yonah had gotten from his cold cellar.

“I- Kinda wanted Sophia to be around-” Yonatan looked away, and took another bite of food to stall for another half a minute. “Well- I- I was going through father’s notes and I found something. Something important, about the fate of the kingdom.”

“Now I’m worried I shouldn’t be hearing this,” Yonah said, “You were going through Ben’s notes?”

The prince’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, “HA!” quickly he quieted down remembering his sister- “I do father’s books all the time. He’s taken full advantage of my accursed brain.”

Was that pity in the giant’s face? “Yonah, I’m grateful for the work. It keeps my mind occupied, or I’d be having breakdowns every other day!”

After a moment's consideration Yonah nodded.

“I’m surprised Ben’s brain can’t hold it all, considering it’s got all the power of the Mystic Woods,” Yonah mused.

“The Mystic Woods, for all it is a large entity, doesn’t understand economics or politics, or even the intricacies of the FairyTales it hosts” Yonatan pointed out, again Yonah nodded.

“Anyways,” Yonatan pulled the conversation back on track, “I saw in his notes, some observations. Ones that correlated with Sophia’s escapades in the Woods.”

“And?” Yonah asked, but he had a feeling he knew what Yonatan was about to say.

“And- I could be wrong. But. The forest. It seems to like her, favor her.” He gulped, his voice getting higher and shaky, “Sophia- She. I think she’s already been chosen. As the next Mystic King.”

The wizard’s face darkened and he put a hand over his stomach again, while the other tightened around tea cup. Yonatan was sitting up straight, worried he’d made a terrible mistake. How would you react if you were told your best friend in the whole wide world was going to be someday joined in a magical hivemind, the other member of which was a mysterious and powerful gestalt entity. What if you were suddenly made aware that the next magical King of the kingdom you lived in, was sleeping in your stomach?

“Yonatan,” He growled, but it was breathy. “I am so very glad you did not wait.”

Yonatan refocused, “Wait for what?

“You are lucky Sophia is still asleep in my stomach.”

It was REALLY weird to hear him say it so casually, even if the moment wasn't so casual. Cold sweat beaded on Yonatan’s brow.

“We- Your father and I, we aren’t going to tell her,” he continued.

A million thoughts flooded Yonatan’s brain but one screamed to the surface.

“YOU KNOW?”

Yonah’s eyes shimmered behind his thick spectacles. “Yes. We suspected it almost half a year ago, but confirmed it a few months ago.”

A FEW MONTHS. Now Yonatan couldn’t believe he’d only found out last night. This had been deviously kept out of the reports. No. Wait. There had been changes, exactly 6 months ago, towards more patrols, more missions involving the forest and gauging the response. And more recently, a lot more lessons on the history of the woods and its communities, and how she applied them in her outings. Recently, she’d been learning spells and potions that relied on drawing magic from around her, seeing if the forest would allow its use. And she had no idea she was even doing it. Using magic like the King, but on a much smaller level.

“You’re…” Yonatan looked into Yonah’s eyes to see a few tears had escaped down his cheeks, “You’re training her. Without her knowledge.”

“You’re worried, too” he continued, “That she’s doing to end up like dad, that you’re going to lose her. And!” his mind hit one new thought, great thoughts. “You’re worried that all this work is going to make it worse. Like if only you sabotaged it, she’ll be rejected, or it won’t take as much of her. ”

Yonah stiffened. Right. Wisdom.

The prince stood up and walked over to the giant, and sat on his wrist, patting his arm. Now Yonah was the one shaking. His glasses fogged up, and he tightened his grip on his middle. Yonatan was processing this new information, gathering handfuls of the wizard’s arm hair.

“Yonah,” Yonatan breathed, his heart slowing but lifting considerably “I had no idea you were training her. I freaked out because I too saw Sophia being… taken by The Woods. But Father is... the way he is, well, because to become one with the forest, he had to sacrifice some of his personhood.”

Removing his hand from his stomach before he woke Sophia, he placed it over Yonatan’s knees, and the prince rested a hand over the fingers. A few drops of liquid hit the large knuckles. He must be crying too, but he was smiling so big it hurt.

“Damn my father.” Yonatan chuckled, “You’re training her so she can avoid that fate. She’s becoming part of the forest in advance to joining with its essence.”

He wiped his tears, “Yonah,” he said, and made sure the giant was looking at him through clear lenses, “If you do your job properly, Sophia will be the most powerful King in the history of the Woods. But we won't lose her.”

The giant was smiling too, “I was worried” he sniffed “you stupid perceptive smartass.”

“It’s a blessing. Sometimes,” Yonatan giggled and let the giant scoop him up into a hug.

The hug was a bit tighter than felt safe, but Yonatan didn’t protest. He was grateful the giant held him above his stomach. Beneath him he felt the beating of the giant’s heart. Noticeably quick but along with the prince’s was slowing down.

It had been the right decision to come here after all. Maybe the Woods had called to him somehow, when he figured it out, dragging him out here because he was needed. And he needed this too. If he hadn’t told Yonah, he wouldn’t have known Sophia was being trained, and wouldn’t have figured out what that meant. Yonah would have been left to believe he was training his best friend to become an emotionless vessel.

Then Yonah started and breathed in sharply. He dropped Yonatan onto the table.

“She’s awake. Excuse me,” he said and into the stairwell.

Yonatan couldnt imagine what floor Yonah had gone to but it was clearly nearby as he heard the muffled retching.

Ten minutes later Yonah returned with a smiling Sophia sitting on his shoulder. From Yonah’s now clean shaven goatee he deduced that Yonah had spit her up in the bathroom. Sophia was wearing her day clothes, which she must have slept in, but she was completely immaculate. Not even a hair out of place in her massive braid. She even had on her golden tiara.

“Yonatan!” she hopped off Yonah’s shoulder the moment he was near enough to the table.

She ran up to her brother and embraced him, “When did you get here?”

Yonatan tried very hard not to cry as he held his sister. Her energy was so infectious, her personality so forceful, there was no way she could end up like their dad even if the traininging did nothing. No way. He would not allow it.

“Last night- uh” he said, and opening his eyes he saw Yonah, standing behind Sophia, give him a warning hand motion.

Sophia pulled herself away from her brother but kept her hands on his shoulder, “last NIGHT? Hold on- Why-”

“I got, a bit anxious, you know how it is… And since you well, um- eaten... Yonah helped calm me down.”

Sophia scowled for a moment, not because Yonatan had cuddled up with her giant while she was in said giant's gut, but because Yonah had not woken her! He’d let her sleep without telling her that her brother had ran away from home in panic. Sure he’d been more than capable of handling it, but this was her brother!

“Yes, he is good for that,” she affirmed. Then got distracted as Yonah got out a second set of human sized eating utensils and a set for himself, loading his with the eggs and vegetables.

She let go of Yonatan to snatch her plate and fork from Yonah, and before he’d set his plate down started scooping off a massive but relatively negligible onto hers. He retaliated by eating before she had finished taking her portion. In particular he would scoop away the pieces of vegetables she was carving chunks out of, eating them all. Eventually she managed to get a decent helping of eggs and veggies.

“I'm starving and this smells amazing!” she said, also eating before she’d sat down at the smaller table. Yonatan was a bit impressed she could eat so soon and so easily after being eaten herself. “Ohhh did you roast these with scallops!?”

Mhm, Yonah said though his mouthful of food. “And I used goat’s milk for the eggs.”

“Oh! Why such a treat today?” she asked, taking another bite and savoring it but also eating it quickly because there was plenty more on her plate.

“Well, we have a prince in dining with us!” he said.

Still a little hungry, Yonatan, without asking, but with a bit of a side glance from Yonah, took a second serving of eggs off the giant’s plate. He sat down next to Sophia and poured her some of the apple blueberry juice. And another cup for himself, it was so delicious. Plus it had stayed chilled in the magic pitcher.

Princess Sophia snorted, “Well I'm not complaining!”

The rest of breakfast was pleasant. Yonatan updated Sophia on the goings on back in Orr, and Sophia told him all about her adventures and magic lessons. Sophia was excited to hear all the stupid gossip about the lower nobility. Yonatan had a million questions about each spell and potion she mentioned, which Yonah answered as best he could, going into enough detail for the prince but keeping it brief to not bore Sophia.

“I think I should probably check in with the castle…” Yonatan said a bit sheepishly.

Sophia’s eyes got wide, “Does anyone know where you are?”

Yonatan’s face grew hot, “N-no. I snuck out.”

“You’re going to be in so much trouble!” There was no pity in her voice.

“We can use my mirror,” Yonah said, clearing the table and taking the humans up to the workshop.

There was no need for any rhyme, as Yonatan touched the gold filigree and asked it plainly to connect to His Majesty King Ben. The mirror made a bit of a surprised noise but then turned foggy. It still took a few minutes to connect. Ben’s personal mirror would not show anything until he answered the call, to avoid anyone snooping.

While they were waiting Yonatan decided he didn’t want to face his father and had slowly been inching away. So that when Ben’s torso appeared in the mirror he only saw Sophia and Yonah behind her. Ben looked a little ragged and twitchy, his eyes brighter than normal, beard unshaven, his complexion a bit green, making him look like a tree with a bit of moss starting to grow on it.

“Sophia, darling, is this urgent? We have an emergency, your brother-” Then he stopped, narrowing his eyes.

“Uhuh” Sophia noticed her brother was out of view and motioned to Yonah, who pushed Yonatan to Sophia’s side, she took his shoulders and grinned at her father. “Guess who showed up last night?”

The King’s face was one of instant relief, smiling like he was about to cry. “Yonatan!”

Then his face hardened, his eyes pulsed with power. And Yonatan tensed in anticipation; Sophia squoze his shoulders, and Yonah backed up. They could hear the trees rustling outside. His Mystic Majesty was about to explode.

“YOUNG MAN DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE’VE BEEN! I WOKE THE WHOLE CITY! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!”

~At least it was through a mirror and not in person ~

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

#safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #extreme cuddling #nonfatal vore

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mst3kproject · 5 years ago

Photo

The Cape Canaveral Monsters

This movie was written and directed by Phil Tucker, who did the same for MST3K classic Robot Monster, and stars Katherine ‘Batwoman’ Victor. It was shot mostly in and around Bronson Canyon, because the desert rocks of California look exactly like the wetlands of Florida. I haven’t even pressed ‘play’ yet and I already need a drink.

A couple are driving home from the beach when they get into a car accident, and their bodies are taken over by a pair of aliens named Haran and Naja. Almost immediately, mysterious accidents start to plague rocket launches at Cape Canaveral. While the scientists try to figure out why their shit is blowing up, a bunch of supposedly-young folks on a double-date pick up some weird interference on their car radios. When they go looking for the source of this, the aliens capture them and inform them that they will be beamed back to the home planet as frozen specimens – or used as spare parts to upgrade the aliens’ undead bodies, which are slowly falling apart!

The Cape Canaveral Monsters is a better movie than Robot Monster, but honestly… what isn’t? Fuck’s sake, Battlefield Earth is a better movie than Robot Monster (though if I had to pick one to watch, I’d choose Robot Monster because it’s short). There was really nowhere for Tucker to go but up.

Sadly, the very fact that it is (slightly) better also makes it less interesting than Robot Monster. Robot Monster is a sixty-two minute parade of bad ideas, cheaply realized, so far off the deep end of terrible that it becomes mesmerizing. Cape Canaveral Monsters doesn’t have anything nearly so weird as aliens in gorilla suits who communicate by bubble machine, or nearly so cheap as visible strings holding up their space stations. It’s got actual sets instead of being filmed in some rubble and a field, and an attempt is made at a couple of special effects. There’s certainly nothing so jaw-droppingly incompetent as Ro-Man’s inept philosophizing, and there’s an identifiable hero in the form of Tom, the oldest and smartest of the four young people.

But that still leaves it a lot of latitude to suck, and Cape Canaveral Monsters sucks balls. The photography is awful, with a lot of shots noticeably over-exposed and some terrible framing and composition. The film stock was cheap to begin with and it doesn’t help at all that it was around fifty years old by the time somebody put it on DVD for 85¢. It’s nearly impossible to see anybody’s faces, although that’s kind of okay, because nobody here gives a performance worth watching. When the best actor in your movie is Batwoman, that’s sad.

You may have noticed that I said an attempt was made at special effects – this attempt is in no way successful. When not occupying human bodies, the aliens are literal white spots bobbing around in front of the camera (man, remember the good old days when alien invasions were just two people who could be taken out by some plucky teenagers and one redneck with a gun?). Rocket launches are of course all stock footage, but since they’re unsuccessful launches at least we get to see something besides the same five shots all the other 50’s rocket movies use. The aliens’ high tech lab consists mostly of dials and their communications antenna looks like it’s made out of lawn furniture.

My favourite bad effect in the film is any of the ones connected with Haran’s missing arm, which is sort of a running thing if not exactly a joke. When the previous incumbent of his host body was killed in the car wreck, his left arm was severed – Naja goes back to collect it, saying she’ll sew it back on. The arm she retrieves from the back of the car is very clearly still attached to somebody, who is not very good at keeping still. Later, a dog rips this arm back off and proudly presents it to the military types. It’s hard to judge how good this fake arm is because of the bad photography, but it is still in a sleeve – yet when we see Haran a moment later, his sleeve is bloodied but still very much intact. You can probably guess that the ‘missing’ arm is often clearly visible under the actor’s shirt.

Likewise, the sets. Haran and Naja’s base is in a cave, which is almost definitely the same cave inhabited by Ro-Man and the Parrot-Bear from Night of the Blood Beast. The inside of this cave is an empty room full of dials – the same dials, rearranged in the same empty room, form the NASA control room where the scientists are working. The Sheriff’s Office later in the film is literally a niche in a wall. I actually kind of admire their determination. It takes guts to try making a movie when you’ve got so little to work with.

The most interesting idea in the movie is one I don’t think it meant to include, and that is the inconvenient fact that the bodies the two aliens are occupying are dead. The Cape Canaveral Monsters never makes much of this except for Haran repeatedly needing replacement arms (and at one point a chin). We never go into whether they still need to do things like eat, sleep, and pee. It’s kind of a shame, because there’s potential here for both horror and comedy. The aliens don’t appear to feel pain, so that Haran can lose his arm and only be mildly annoyed by it… this, and the repeatedly sewing new ones on, could have been funny if handled right (the bit where he awkwardly fires a giant ray gun using only one arm is kinda funny, but not on purpose). If they’d met anybody the couple used to know, that could have been creepy. Sadly, the whole plot point is only present to keep the budget down, since they don’t need costumes for the aliens.

Another thing that could have been used to better effect is the tense relationship between the two aliens. Haran and Naja don’t like one another, and spend a fair amount of time bickering like an unhappily married couple. Naja seems to be in charge, while Haran is some kind of technician who resents her trying to micromanage him. None of this, unfortunately, is ever explored. The arguments are used to provide exposition. Why they don’t get along, and why they were sent on this mission together regardless, we never find out. You’d think their disagreements would be key to their defeat, but instead the scientists build a bomb out of salt, hydrogen, and everybody’s belt buckles.

(This is one of several stars The Cape Canaveral Monsters earns for bullshit Movie Science. Not only do we have this bit, there’s also the part where Haran tells his captives that the bubbling liquid involved in beaming human specimens home is ‘like your hydrogen’ but with a ‘much greater’ atomic weight. At least they got the chemical name of salt right, although I can’t imagine in what universe scientists actually ask their families to pass the sodium chloride at dinner.)

Besides obtaining specimens, the other reason Haran and Naja are on earth is to keep our space program stalled until the aliens’ invasion fleet arrives. Exactly what good it would do us to be able to launch a capsule with one guy in it (which was what we were working up to at the time this movie was made) is not explained… maybe it’s gonna take hundreds of years for the rest of the aliens to get here and they’re afraid we’ll develop warp drives and photon torpedoes before they make it? The pair identify themselves as Earth Expedition Two, which naturally makes the viewer wonder what happened to Earth Expedition One. Are they in Russia, trying to keep Yuri Gagarin on the ground? Or was 1 just a complete failure and now we’re on Plan 2 From Outer Space?

At the end, the humans have blown up the aliens’ cave and they leave laughing. “I don’t think we’ll see them again!” Tom declares. This seems overly optimistic, as there is at least that one other Earth Expedition, and sure enough, the ‘gotcha’ ending immediately proves him wrong.

Thinking about Robot Monster and The Cape Canaveral Monsters, it seems to me that Phil Tucker really wanted to do some epic storytelling. In the former we have the tragic tale of an alien discovering human love and beauty, only to be destroyed before he can fully come to terms with them. In the latter we have advance scouts preparing Earth for invasion, who seem to be easily defeated but actually have us right where they want us. In both, all humanity’s efforts to resist come to naught and we are doomed to conquest or extinction. This is hefty stuff, contrasting human arrogance with how insignificant we really are in the face of this vast, empty, hostile universe. The ambition was certainly present. The money and talent were not.

The Cape Canaveral Monsters is terrible. I don’t recommend it to anybody. It’s the kind of bad movie that you go into hoping it’ll be fun and then end up getting fed off and turning it off ten minutes in… and yet, I’m curious now. As well as this, Robot Monster, and previous EtNW Dance Hall Racket, Phil Tucker wrote and directed a couple of other films in the 50’s and 60’s. These have titles like Tijuana After Midnight and Broadway Jungle that sound like they’re probably softcore titty movies, but the masochist in me kind of wants to watch them. When your career includes Robot Monster and The Cape Canaveral Monsters, can I really take it for granted that’s as bad as you could get?

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the cape canaveral monsters #60s

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ladyreapermc · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 5/?

Author’s notes: I have a confession to make: I do show The Matrix whenever I have to explain Descartes to my students and it never fails to be hilarious! As usual, feedback and comments are welcomed and appreciated!

Wordcount: 2722

Warnings: dorks being adorably clueless!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

When Lilah arrived to teach her class on Wednesday and set her things at her desk, she had the biggest grin across her face because this was probably her favorite subject of the entire term. She moved to the center of the classroom, rubbing her hands together and making eye contact with the group of first-year students in front of her.

“Hope you all are ready to watch the best movie ever made,” she declared, making a few of them chuckle. “I’m talking action, I’m talking romance, I’m talking the best metaphor for Descartian dualism you’ve ever seen!”

Lilah glanced at her T.A. who already had everything cued up and gave her a quick nod. The younger woman turned on the projector, washing the semi-dark room with the green glow of the DVD's main menu.

“Welcome to the Matrix!” she said dragging yet another round of chuckles from her students before Lilah settled at one of the chairs at the front and the movie started rolling.

It turned out as a very productive morning of entertainment and philosophical discussion and when Lilah walked out of the classroom, still discussing the topic with a couple of students that had lingered and her TA, her grin hadn’t wavered. She waved them goodbye as they headed to the cafeteria while she made her way to the office she shared with three other Ph.D. candidates, finding the place empty.

As she set her backpack and books on her desk, her phone started vibrating in her pocket and if it was possible, her grin became even bigger. Lilah knew exactly who was calling.

The entire thing started when she jokingly texted Keanu a picture of herself and her brand-new copy of Scanner Darkly, which she got it as soon as he left. The perks of living above a bookstore. Lilah wasn’t expecting him to call or to spend the next hour chatting like they hadn’t just seen each other earlier that night.

And she certainly wasn’t expecting Keanu to do it again the next day when she texted a quick comment during her lunch break. From that, it just happened again and again and it was becoming a routine.

Could you call it a routine after just two days? Lilah wasn’t sure, but it was nice and her heart was starting to speed up everything her phone rang.

“Hi!” she greeted not even bothering to check caller ID. “I just spent the morning watching you.”

“You did?” Keanu asked, his voice half confused, half amused and Lilah winced.

“I mean, I watched The Matrix in class,” she explained dropping on her chair and squeezing the bridge of her nose. “I’m not stalking you or anything.”

“I didn’t think you were,” he replied with a chuckle. “So, were you discussing Descartes or Plato today?”

It was funny how a simple question could make Lilah so happy. Anyone else would ask her why she was showing sci-fi movies in a philosophy class. Not Keanu. He knew exactly what was behind his own movie.

“Descartes,” she replied pulling out her lunch from her backpack, along with her copy of Scanner Darkly. “It went great. Now I’m enjoying some peace and quiet with only Phil as my company. How about you?”

“Phil is a lucky guy,” Keanu said, and butterflies fluttered in her chest. That sounded a little flirty on his part. “I’m hanging out with Andy today, so we have good chemistry when we shoot together next week.”

“Oh! I need pictures!” she asked giddily. Keanu had told her yesterday about his dog co-star and Lilah made him promise to send pictures whenever Andy was in the set.

“Just a sec,” he said with a huff of laughter and Lilah heard noises in the background before her phone beeped with a new message.

She pulled away long enough to check it. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard at the sight of Keanu and the puppy beagle on his arms. The dog was licking his chin and he was laughing.

“Awww! Looks to me like you two have great chemistry already!”

“That’s what his trainer says,” Keanu commented with a chuckle. “So are you enjoying Scanner Darkly?”

“I’m loving it!” Lilah exclaimed unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “I can’t believe it took me so long to read anything by Phillip when two of my favorite sci-fi movies are based on his stories.”

“Blade Runner and what else?” Keanu asked and Lilah snorted.

“Total Recall and Minority Report. Blade Runner is boring!” Lilah could only imagine what she looked like grinning like an idiot and she was glad the office was empty.

“You obviously watched it wrong!” Keanu accused and she laughed. What did it say about the two of them the fact that they had inside jokes now?

“Did I? maybe you should show me the right way, then,” she challenged, her palms suddenly clammy because that was definitely flirty.

“Your place or mine?” Keanu asked not even missing a beat and Lilah froze, stunned.

Was Keanu inviting her to his apartment? For some reason that felt more intimate than hanging out in her living room. Maybe because there was no chance of someone walking in on them… Which shouldn’t matter because they were friends and there was nothing to walk in on.

“Yours,” Lilah finally replied, because now she was curious to see what his place looked like and also to prove to herself it wouldn’t matter. “Six’s ok?”

“Perfect,” he said, and she could picture him smiling. “I’m off this afternoon since we’re shooting some night scenes at midnight. I can get something ready by the time you get there if you don’t mind an early dinner. How do you feel about Italian?”

“You don’t have to,” she hurried to say because it was one thing meeting for coffee. Dinner felt too much like a date and that was dangerous territory.

“I want to,” Keanu said, his voice soft and breathy and a shivered ran down her spine. “Really.”

“Then I love Italian.”

“Good. See you at six.”

Lilah was still grinning when she hung up the phone, her hands shaking, and her heart seemed to be doing acrobatic flips. She really thought she had somehow ruined everything that day in the park, even if she didn’t know what had gone wrong exactly. But apparently, she had been mistaken. Keanu was happy to meet her again and they had so much fun together that it was getting harder for Lilah to remind herself that they were just friends and all the reasons why they could only be just friends.

For the rest of the day, Lilah had to fight to stay focused on her work, but her thoughts kept drifting to Keanu and their… meeting? Get together? Hangout? She just didn’t want to call it a date, even though she was mentally running through her wardrobe to decide for an outfit for the evening.

She had decided on the red dress she had been saving for Thanksgiving dinner, but when Lilah was about to head home, her advisor caught her on the way out, wanting to discuss new modifications on her paper before submission and it wasn’t like Lilah could say no to the other woman.

By the time her advisor finally finished asking for changes that had already been made – proving she had read the wrong version once again – it was after five and Lilah would have time to head home to change.

She stopped by the restroom to at least pull her hair out of the ponytail she usually wore, brush her teeth and check to see if her jeans and sweater were ok, before heading out, taking a train to the address Keanu had sent her.

She arrived at a restored pre-war apartment building at East Central Park. It was gorgeous and she couldn’t even imagine how much this place cost. She stepped into the entry hall, looking around and feeling out of place, catching sight of a doorman dressed in a perfectly ironed uniform.

“Hi,” she started as he looked her up and down, his an arched eyebrow.

“May I help you?”

“Yes. I’m visiting a friend,” Lilah said and before she could give the man the right apartment number, Keanu stepped inside the foyer helmet in one hand, takeout bag on the other, hair messy and falling over his eyes.

“Hey! Perfect timing!” he grinned at her. “I got stuck in a meeting with Chad and David and I’m running a little late.”

“No problem,” Lilah replied with a smile her heart doing that silly flip again.

For a moment, they just stood there, staring and smiling at each other, until the doorman cleared his throat and Keanu turned to look at him.

“Carl, could you please add Lilah to my list of visitors please?”

“Right away, Mr. Reeves,” the man replied. “ID please.”

Lilah stepped closer, handing her driver’s license and waiting for him to copy the information.

“All done Mrs. Bennett.”

“Thanks,” she took the document back, pocketing it before letting Keanu lead the way to the wall of elevators. He pushed his helmet up to his elbow and led Lilah with a hand on the small of her back. He wasn’t actually touching her, but she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

The elevator opened into a small hall, which had only one door. Keanu unlocked, leading the way into his apartment and the lights must have been on sensors as they flickered to life as soon as they stepped in. Lilah was greeted by the sight of an ample space that was at the same time nothing like she expected, but exactly what she should’ve known. It was modern and elegant, designed for comfort and commodity, but not flashy or opulent.

What caught her attention the most though was the ceiling to floor window panels facing Central Park. The view was breathtaking and before Lilah could even realize it, her feet had already taken her closer so she could take a better look.

“This view is amazing,” she commented as Keanu came to stand behind her. She could see his smile reflected on the glass.

“It was one of the reasons I bought it,” he replied, gesturing at her coat and Lilah shrugged it off, handing it to him. “Remind me to show you the balcony later.”

She nodded distractedly, still fascinated by the view. Was that the MET to her left?

“Hope you hungry,” Keanu said at the kitchen unpacking their food and making Lilah look his way. “I didn’t have time to cook, but this is the best pasta in New York.”

“I told you didn’t have to,” Lilah said moving to the kitchen. “ I’m perfectly fine with takeout. Even if it isn’t the best in New York. But anyway, let me help. Where are the plates?”

“The second cabinet to your right,” he said over his shoulder, distracted.

Lilah opened the right cabinet and snorted as she noticed the pile of plates on the top shelf and out of her reach.

“Do you have a stool or something?”

Keanu glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. He set the wine bottle he had just picked up on the counter, before retrieving the plates himself and handing it to her with a smirk.

“I hate all tall people,” Lilah declared with a mock glare that had Keanu chuckling again and she smiled because this felt comfortable, almost domestic.

They settled at the kitchen counter to eat, talking about their day like they hadn’t spoken just a couple of hours ago. Keanu had been right; it was one of the best pasta Lilah had eaten in her life. Almost enough to cover the taste of the red wine which she hated but once again hadn’t had the heart to tell Keanu.

As Keanu described some fight scene he had to do that day, Lilah sipped her drink, too distracted to hide the small grimace of distaste. Keanu paused mid-sentence, giving her an amused smile that was a little too knowingly.

“You don’t like wine, do you?”

“Not red,” she replied with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Keanu said, getting up to grab another bottle. “But I hope you know you don’t have to say yes to things you don’t like or aren’t comfortable with on my behalf.”

“I know, I know,” Lilah replied with a chagrin grimace. Sometimes she didn’t even realize she did it, say yes to certain things to avoid upsetting people or causing conflict. It was such an ingrained habit. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize either,” he assured, bringing her a glass of white wine, his fingers brushing against hers and he settled the glass by her hand.

Lilah couldn’t help the bright smile that tugged her lips at the way he was so thoughtful. Her heart thundered in her chest as she met Keanu’s eyes and she might have seen something in them that she wasn’t quite sure how to name, but it made look away, warm affection spreading in her chest.

“Thank you,” she said instead, catching his hand and squeezing it. Keanu smiled at her, ducking his head until his hair fell over his face, but Lilah thought she saw a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they finished their meal and despite Keanu’s protests, Lilah helped him clean up, before moving to the TV room, where Keanu had a huge flat screen and home theater system. Lilah took a seat on the comfortable leather couch with her refilled wine glass while Keanu got everything ready, dimmed the lights and joined her.

She sipped her drink as Harrison Ford hunted replicants on a dystopian future on the screen. Once in a while, Keanu would add a comment about how he interpreted this or that action from a character or how a certain scene was different from the short story the movie originated from.

It was nice and comfortable, and Lilah was really enjoying herself, but she had worked the entire day. She was tired and full and maybe slightly tipsy, so she took advantage of the way Keanu had his arm over the back of the couch to lean against his side, resting her head on his chest and letting her eyes drift shut. His warmth and the soft scent of cologne and cigarettes lulled her to sleep, probably dreaming the way his arm pulled her even closer or the soft brush of lips against her forehead that made her smile against his shirt.

Lilah woke up with a start when Keanu shook her shoulder gently. She looked around confused, noticing the film credits rolling on the screen and the way he was smiling indulgently at him.

“I fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, turning off the TV. “About 30 minutes in.”

“Sorry,” she gave him a sheepish smile and checked the time. It was late. Really, really late. “Guess we’re gonna have to try it another time when I’m not exhausted.”

“I guess so,” Keanu said, standing up and pulling her up with him. “I called for a car service to drive you home. I’d take you myself, but I gotta get to the set.”

“You didn’t have…”

“I’m not letting you take the subway home at this hour, Lilah,” he cut her off gently, but with a frown. “I want you home safe.”

“Thanks,” Lilah smiled, feeling her cheeks warm and there it was again, that warmth in her chest. “And thanks for dinner.”

“My pleasure.”

Keanu waited with her until a sleek black sedan parked on the curb. He greeted the driver with a quick nod before opening the door for her.

“When do I see you again?” he asked so suddenly that Lilah had to take a moment to reply.

“Well, I have to watch this movie for my dissertation tomorrow, so if you don’t mind me pausing it a couple of hundred times…” Lilah trailed off with a shrug, praying he would say yes.

“Let me just check my shooting schedule, but I think I can make it,” Keanu grinned and bent closer, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” Lilah replied with a matching grin as she got into the car.

xxx (tbc)

Go to part 6

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#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x ofc #keanu reeves x original character #this isn't a rom-com #fanfic #series #original character

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newathens · 5 years ago

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sally and amphitrite ii. i still don’t know why this is what is getting me through writer’s block just know i am mad at my writing skill here but hey it’s free content and this is the sally jackson agenda, falling in love with greek sea deities—

Amphitrite came and went, much like a cat.

They did small things together, regular things. Human things. She seemed to hate all of them. Sally couldn’t help but wonder if it was the things Amphitrite hated or her.

She hated that that’s what she thought of.

It wasn’t her place to be presumptuous—you’d think committing adultery would humble a person—but Amphitrite rarely made things clear, and there were only so many times you could be courted by a god before picking up their signals.

If it wasn’t the hand-holding, it was her absent-minded staring. If not the patience for human necessities, it was the presents. So many presents. All of which she kept giving back, which made Amphitrite a particularly specific type of irritated angry. One day, she was dragged to a high-end store and made to wear dress after dress. Amphitrite stood behind her, smoothed the skin-tight fabric over her hips, and watched her in the mirror’s reflection.

She had thought then—there in the mirror, in her eyes, there had been something.

But nothing came.

Then there was the simple matter of Amphitrite’s hatred for everything else. Well, not hate. Dislike. Strong resentment. All it took was one call on the phone and a narrow, sidewards glance in her direction to think that, yes, her death was being planned at that very moment.

Not that she tried to find out. Poseidon still hadn’t shown and her worry had set in days ago. She’d told Percy a thousand times growing up, you don’t poke the bear. You never poke the bear. Why pry into the secretive habits of her lover’s wife?

A question for the Ancient Greek philosophers.

Despite it all, answers were received.

“I suppose this is it,” Amphitrite said one Friday night. They were outside her apartment building, returning from dinner. Well, she had dinner. Amphitrite watched.

“What is?” she asked. “My apartment?”

Amphitrite had her arms crossed, body encased in a sleek black coat. It was snowing, light flurries. Snowflakes caught themselves in fly-away strands of hair and gathered there as if the water refused to melt on her. She rolled her eyes, “No, this is it for me. I’m leaving, for good. This doesn’t work.”

Sally blinked, chest filling in anticipation. “What doesn’t work?”

“You and I. We’re not compatible. It’s gone nowhere. Pity. Don’t tell him I’ve been around and I won’t smite you, alright?”

Sally grabbed her arm before she could go; the first touch she initiated herself. Amphitrite started at it, then her. “I knew it,” Sally said.

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“No! You sit around and stare at me.”

“But we hang out.”

“Half of what you say is rude.”

“But it’s not about you.”

“We don’t talk.”

“But I buy you things,” Amphitrite gestured in front of her like it explained everything. Sally huffed and pulled her in closer. The goddess was taken aback, stuck between leaning away and wanting to stand her ground.

“Do you like me?” Sally asked, keeping her gaze. “Truly like me? Independently.”

Amphitrite hesitated, “I have curiosities.”

It took everything in her to keep a neutral face. “Good enough for me. Come on upstairs. We’re going to have a real date. One that involves talking, preferably about personal things.”

Without much fuss, Amphitrite conceded. “I’m not telling you personal things,” she said.

“Do you have any pets?”

“A sea monster I domesticated.”

“That’s personal!”

From the moment her hand closed on the brass knob, something was different. Like glass had shattered. Solid, but gentle. She made tea, out of habit, but set a second cup on the counter. Amphitrite’s roll of the eye was nowhere near as harsh as the dozen that had come before it—she walked from the kitchen, mug untouched, but stayed.

Fell into her couch and stayed.

You’d think being trapped in a small Manhattan apartment with your godly lover’s godly wife would stop you from smiling, but Sally did it anyway.

They talked. She made them talk.

Questions about the week, work, the weather, the world, her favorite color—it was green. Sally laughed. “Of course it’s green.”

Amphitrite shrugged, “It looks good everywhere, on everything.”

“That’s his favorite color, too,” she said and the goddess narrowed her eyes, smiling.

“Well, when you’re stuck together for more than a millennia.”

Sally talked about her life, about her family, the same stories she’d given to Poseidon, all over again. It wasn’t all that grand, she didn’t need the head tilt of empathy Amphitrite gave, she shouldn’t have even gone that deep in the first place—

but she wanted Amphitrite to trust her, even though she was boarded up like a ten-level prison. Seriously. Any moment. There could be a trident at her neck.

Hot air was blasting from the heater at the end of the hall, invading the space, warming her from head to toe. It was well past midnight and the television was thrumming in the background, volume low, celebrities forgotten. Outside it was blue, dark, frigid. Inside was soft and red—auburn red.

Sally was stretched across the couch, her head in the lap of a sea goddess. Don’t ask her how it happened; she couldn’t answer, sleep ate at her.

Amphitrite carded gentle fingers through her hair, absentmindedly.

“. . .so you taste mint, but you aren’t actually eating mint,” she said.

“Yes,” Sally hummed, “There’s no way you don’t know what ice cream is.”

“I know what it is, I just don’t know why humans bother. You can eat mint leaves.”

“I’m not sure mint leaves taste good.”

“Well, peppermint candy.”

“But it’s ice cream.”

“You do not need multiple variations of the same food,” she declared and Sally laughed. A sleepy silence swept over them and for a moment, she was gone, then the next, there came a caress of the cheek.

A fingertip, tracing her nose, jaw, eyebrow, her lips—

“What are you doing?”

Amphitrite was quiet, reserved. “I’m not around humans much.”

“Of course.”

“Out of choice.”

“Of course.”

“ . . .Where did you go?”

“I was right here.”

“While you slept.”

“I don’t remember. I don’t think I went anywhere.”

“Humans always go somewhere when they sleep.”

“Not always. . .don’t you sleep?”

“It’s different. Your body is but a vessel. When you sleep, you leave. . .you dream. When we sleep, we stay.”

“Oh the dream man whisks us away against our free will?”

“Yes,” Amphitrite laughed. “A funny thing to call him.”

“Percy called him that once. . .should you be telling a human this?”

A long, long pause. “No. I’ve gotten in trouble for it before.”

“Risking it all for me?”

“Just trying to scare you.”

Sally turned her head skyward and opened her eyes. Amphitrite’s face hovered above hers; her body shimmered, like a pearl. Trying to scare me, she thought, Can I scare her?

“Would you like to go on a date next week?” Sally asked.

The sea queen rolled her eyes, but blushed oyster pink. “Alright.”

#my fics #percy jackson #the way i cringe with every. single. word. i type.#when did i start hating my writing this much it was never this bad can someone teach me how to write again

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mymindsmadness · 5 years ago

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Dear Mum and Dad,

Happy Fanfic!Friday!!

So I’ve decided to do a whole ‘Dear Series’. Since everyone seemed to like my Dear Mrs. Maloy piece, and I really enjoyed writing it, I figured why not!? I already have another one in the works, but I got the idea for this one and had to jump on it.

Harry never knew his parents, but he liked to talk to them sometimes. Whenever things got too hard, he wrote them a letter.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, Sexuality (Drarry centric), Canon divergence,

Dear Mrs. Malfoy ||

Age 9

Dear Mum and Dad,

Aunt Petunia doesn’t know that I stole this pencil from Dudley’s school things. He wouldn’t miss it much either way. He’s not very good in school. Were you good in school, Mum? Aunt Petunia says you weren’t, but I don’t trust anything she says anymore.

Sometimes, when I’m alone in my cupboard and I can hear them eating dinner, I like to close my eyes and pretend that you’re in the kitchen. You’re making my favorite – roast beef. You’re trying to make it a surprise for my birthday, but you’re both laughing so loud I can hear you all the way up in my room. I have a room in this world too. A big room with an equally big window. In the summer, dad lets me open it and I can see all the way to the lake.

Usually, my stomach is what pulls me away from the fantasy. You wouldn’t have starved me, would you? You would have baked me cookies and dad would have snuck me midnight snacks. We would have been happy. Properly happy… wouldn’t we?

I think we would,

Harry

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 10

Dear Mum and Dad,

You wouldn’t have been very proud of me today. I accidentally set a snake on Dudley at the zoo. I didn’t mean to, honestly I didn’t. He might have been horrible to me, but I would never do anything to hurt him. Besides, it just makes Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia cross.

I wondered what it would be like to go with you both, as a family. Would you have been afraid of me when I told you I could understand the snake? Would you have locked me in the cupboard just the same?

He wasn’t a horrible snake. He just wanted to get out of his enclosure. I can understand what that feels like.

I wish you were really here... I wish I was anywhere but here.

Maybe one day someone will set me free too,

Harry

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 11

Dear Mum and Dad,

A wizard!? A wizard?? How could I have not known? Hagrid says you were a wizard too dad, and you mum! You were both Gryffindor’s too! I know it might be silly, but I feel proud to be in the same house. Maybe I’ve got your old bed dad? Maybe I’ve taken mum’s old seat at the Gryffindor table? And there’s food! So much food! I’m wondering how much of it I can sneak back to the Dursley’s come summer. Ron – he’s my new friend, can you believe I’ve got a friend? – said I could possibly stay at his, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

I was almost sorted into Slythern. I thought it might not have been so bad, but that Malfoy kid made it clear what sorts are in that house. I thought that maybe his attitude in Madam Mulkin’s was all for show, but maybe some people just aren’t anything more than what they appear.

I’m going to make you both proud. I don’t care if I’m some kind of savior that defeated Voldemort. I care that I’m your son. I’m going to live up to both of your memories, you’ll see.

Love,

Harry

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 12

Dear Mum and Dad,

They’re saying I’m the heir of Slytherin. That can’t be true, can it? Apparently, talking to snakes isn’t normal, even for wizards. Hermione looked worried when I told her, and she’s never worried (unless we have an exam).

I think it’s Draco Malfoy. I told you more about him over the summer. Or maybe it’s Snape. I don’t trust him much either, even if he didn’t have the philosopher’s stone. I wish you were both here to give me advice, or at the very least, tell me I’m not the heir of an evil man.

Ron and Hermione want to make a Polyjuice potion to trick Maloy into admitting that he’s the heir, but I think I’m just going to confront him after classes. It would be the Gryffindor thing to do, wouldn’t it? To confront someone head on? At the very least, I might get an excuse to punch him.

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 13

Dear Mum and Dad,

I met my godfather today. I didn’t realize that he… that he was your friend. Like a proper friend! This is a man that knew you both. He probably hugged you. He might have kissed mum’s cheek. Lupin might have done the same. Having them… it feels like for the first time in my life I’m close to having a family. Ron and Hermione are great, but they have their own families. Draco has become a friend over the last year, but that’s still shaky. No one in our houses could know, you see. Lupin and Sirius were my family before I was even born.

I’m sorry about Pettigrew. I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to take revenge when I was given the opportunity. I don’t think you would mind, though. I don’t think you’d want his blood on my hands. It wouldn’t make me much better than him, would it?

Things might just start looking up,

Harry

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 14

Dear Mum and Dad,

I think I’ve officially hit those troublesome teen years everyone talks about. And you’re not even here to tell me it’s going to be alright or to send me to my room when I get out of sorts. There were deatheaters at the world cup, you know. But I’d almost forgotten about them. It seems I’m a Tri-Wizard Champion. I’m not even sure how that’s allowed. The first task went well enough. Did you know they make students fight dragons? I imagined mum’s cross look when they told us about it. Or at least, what I assumed her cross look would be.

That should be enough, shouldn’t it? But I’ve got more on my mind. Besides the fact that I’m expected to dance at the Yule Ball… I just…

The thing is… I’ve been thinking about this… more so as of late. I…

Well, you know how Draco and I have become friends, yeah? Well, last night… he kissed me. And I… I kissed him too. I know Uncle Vernon would skin me, and Aunt Petunia would probably faint… but Draco said it’s not a big deal in the wizarding world. Is that true?

Would you… would you hate me? If I were gay? I don’t think I am, not really. I fancied Cho for a while, but I… I like Draco. I really like him. His hair is soft now that he’s stopped gelling it back. And his eyes… they’re the brightest shade of silver I’ve ever seen. And I like the way he makes me feel. He doesn’t care that I’m Harry Potter. He’s just as much of a git to me as he’s always been. It might seem odd to like that, but it makes me feel real. Not like some icon everyone thinks I am.

Merlin, I’m already mad about him, aren’t I?

We might have been hiding our friendship, but I think I’m done being what everyone wants me to be. I’m just… me.

I think I’ll ask him to the ball,

Harry

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 15

Dear Mum and Dad,

I tried… I tried so hard. I wanted to save him! I did everything! I couldn’t even hurt the woman that killed him! Bellatrix deserved it, she deserved far worse. The ministry believes me now. Everyone does. It doesn’t matter. The Prophet hardly gave a nod to Sirius’ death, but still somehow managed to write a half page about how Draco must have used me for inside information. He hasn’t even been living at the manor for the last six months. Him and Narcissa left long before Voldemort made his appearance.

And Sirius… he’s just gone. His name hardly in ink. After everything he did for you; for me. I’ve been staying in his old room. I couldn’t bring myself to let any of the order or Narcissa have it. Sometimes Draco spends the night in there. We don’t talk and we hardly move. We just lay there and soak in the room. Even Hermione and Ron won’t come in. I think I prefer it that way. It’s become my happy place. Just me, Draco, and remnants of the family I’ve never had.

Sometimes, late at night, I get angry at you. Angry that you didn’t get out of the country. Angry that you fought Voldemort in the first place. More times than not, I get angry that you’re not around for me to get angry at.

You didn’t have any right to die and leave me all alone!

HARRY

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 16

Dear Mum and Dad,

Is it possible to become numb to death? It’s all I can feel now. We just laid Dumbledore to rest. I should feel something, shouldn’t I? Draco didn’t cry either, but everyone else… It was a mess. All I can think about now is how much there is to do. I want to tell you about it – about everything… but I can’t if something were to happen to me and these letters were found, the last thing I would want was for someone to find out what I have to do.

This might be the last time I write in a while… I don’t think I’ll have time. You see… the war’s begun, officially it seems. Draco, Hermione, Ron and I… we have some things to take care of. You were brave enough to fight the first time around. You were both so brilliant. I want to finish it. I want to end all the suffering and pain. I never want to be numb to death again.

Wish me luck. If things go poorly… well, at least I’ll be able to finally give you these letters,

Harry

✍ ✍ ✍ ✍

Age 18

Dear Mum and Dad,

I feel like I’ve lived a whole lifetime. I’m only eighteen. You weren’t much older when you were killed. Did you feel this old? I managed to do it… in a way. Either way, Voldemort is dead… so are many others. I have a godson of my own now. Teddy Lupin. I’m sure you know that he was orphaned by the war. You were there with me, in the end. I got to hear your voices. If I wasn’t so preoccupied with, well, dying, I might have remembered all the things I’ve wanted to say.

You weren’t with Dumbledore, when I was dead. It’s still hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy of all people was the one to lie to Voldemort and turn the war. He looked tired. Given the way he looked at Draco and Narcissa at his trial, I think he did it more for them. I know what it’s like to want your family back. It’s a look that’s universal.

I feel like everyone is moving on. Ron accepted a job with the Aurors, but I… I’m tired. I’m tired of running for my life and dodging curses. I’m tired of being tired. McGonagall offered me a job as the new DADA teacher, assuming my NEWTs are good enough. Apparently, some of the D.A. members spoke highly of my teaching skills. She offered Draco the potions position after Slughorn retires next year.

I think it’s time for me to move on too…

I don’t want to stop writing you… if I do, it means you’re really gone.

But I have to, don’t I? I can hold onto your memories, but this isn’t a memory, it’s a crutch… a safety blanket.

I love you both, though I don’t really know you. It’s time for me to let go.

Always your son,

Harry.

“What have you got there?” Draco’s voice made Harry jump, the old papers and parchments crinkling between his fingers before he loosened his grip.

“Nothing.” Harry shook his head at Draco’s suspicious look. To his credit, he simply pushed off the doorway and raised an eyebrow. “Just some old letters. I’m feeling nostalgic.”

“Well, as much as a Malfoy loves being fashionably late, it’s simply tacky when it’s to one’s own wedding.” His face smoothed out into a familiar smile Harry loved. “Come on, love. They’re not going to wait forever.”

Folding the letters, Harry tucked them into the inner pocket of his dress robes. “No. Certainly can’t have that.” Standing, he moved to Draco, pressing a kiss to his lips. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #fic #mine #headcanons #I made myself sad #what have I done #it all comes back to drarry #lily potter #james potter

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angelguk · 6 years ago

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royal au!bangtan

i gave this idea away a while ago but the account never did anything with it nor did they post it so imma just leave this here for anyone who wants to use it as prompt/idea starter

this has nothing to do w/ the fae!au btw

endgame was meant to be either jungkook or taehyung but do what you want! :)

it was roughly based off moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo minus the time travel and ten times the betrayal

prompt includes: brief plot outline, character outline and first potential chapter (but everything can change pretty easily)

leavin it under here

potential title: affinity meaning a binding by mutual attraction

BANGTAN – TAEHYUNG (Duke), JUNGKOOK (General) NAMJOON (Philosopher/Astronomer) YOONGI (Advisor to King) JIMIN (Duke) HOSEOK (Duke) JIN (Stable Boy)

BRIEF PLOT OUTLINE – Reader is part of a country which is been invaded by the Emperor of the boys Kingdom. (Places need names). During an attack of a village that the reader lives in she is captured. Jungkook was leading that attack and found her hiding in the stables. Reader is the daughter of the leader of that region. Reader is known to have helped her father in many excursions. They capture her and bring her for questioning in the castle. Reader is tortured hoping that information could be taken from her. Reader knows nothing. King orders her execution but Namjoon defies it saying the stars have something in plan for her and they may use her as bait to draw in her father (who fled before the attack or wasn’t there). Yoongi is completely against this. But reader is now sentenced to do stable work / slavery where she meets Jin. They befriend each other quickly – Jin does not know where reader comes from. One day Jungkook needs service on his horse and Reader has to do it. Jungkook causes trouble and his friend, Taehyung (the Duke of some Court/place) is there with him as well as Jimin and Hoseok. Jimin takes the reader’s side while Jungkook and Taehyung are assholes (Only Jungkook knows where she is from). Later that day a maid is dismissed from work (reason unknown yet) and there’s a bit of chaos as they need servers since the main dukes and general are here celebrating a holiday with the King. Reader is randomly chosen by the Chef and is forced to serve. At dinner Jungkook, Yoongi and Namjoon are shocked. King pays little attention to her. Crown Prince keeps on staring at Reader. That dinner is more of a conference meeting event and the Reader hears everything. Start’s to think on how to destroy the King so she can revive her Kingdom. Leads to Yoongi finding her in the Accords (place where important documents about the King and his kingdom are kept) but Namjoon comes to her rescue. Jungkook is also suspicious of her but Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin take her side. She begins to build a relationship with those three but she finds one of the King’s men (along with the Second Queen) planning an assassination of the Crown Prince. Reader happens to help prevent the death of the crown prince. Jungkook and Yoongi even more suspicious of her. Reader builds relationship with Namjoon and relationship with Taehyung turns romantic. (Now she is a permanent server no longer a stable girl). Not sure where it goes from there.

End Game: Unknown (Either Taehyung or Jungkook – so either the boy who’s been by her side forever or the asshole who became her lover after they stopped being enemies)

Relationships

- Deep friendship w/ Jin

- One way w/ Jimin (Jimin loves her)

- Mutual love/hate Jungkook

- Mutual love Taehyung

- Friendship w/ Namjoon

- Friendship turned romantic/ sexual w/Yoongi (MAYBE?)

- Deep Friendship w/ Hoseok

Names/Places:

· Ennia READERS Kingdom

· Ardeland BANTANS Kingdom

Characters:

- Reader

- Bangtan Members

- Queen Min Soonja (1st Queen)

- Queen Hae Jisoo (2nd Queen)

- Consort Ro Soo Ah (1st Consort)

- Consort Mo Suelgi (3rd Consort)

- Crown Prince Ryo Minho

- King Ryo Gyeong Su

- Prince Young Jae (Son of 2nd Queen)

- Princess Yoona (Daughter of 2nd Queen)

- Princess Hyo Rin (Daughter 1st Queen)

Note: Gardenia is where the Reader was placed for safe keeping while her Father vanished + Jungkook became a General after his father died.

CHAPTER ONE – NO MAN UNDER THE SKY LIVES TWICE

The air carries the pungent stench of death, within it lies the tired breathe of horses, the echoes of metal meeting metal in furious clashs and the faint glimmer of metallic blood. Dust dances in the air he breathes, coating his lungs in a thick layer of earth and smoke. Catani sits beside him, glistening sliver in the harsh sunlight of the Ennia lands. Her sliver body is caked in scarlet blood, slipping slowly off the sharp tip that’d been driven into the bodies of thousands. Her owner glances down, dark hair soaked in sweat clinging onto his forehead. His face is young but time and fighting has begun to show themselves in the deep chocolate eyes he possesses. His gaze stayed on the sword, ignoring the moving world around. The voices of his men chattering and bickering away as they assembled sticks and logs to create a fire fell on his deaf ears. He didn’t hear the crunch of dry grass as a man cloaked in midnight blue dashed towards his huddled figure. Until the man stood before him, panting heavily as sweat dripped from his sliver beard.

“General Jeon, there has been a message for you. From the capital.” The man says the word capital in a hushed whisper, as if the word alone could get him killed.

“What is it.” The boy doesn’t ask, his tone is a clear and solid command. His gaze doesn’t shift from the bloodied weapon either. Instead fingers painted in blue bruises and ivory scars find themselves twisting idly around a tall piece of grass.

The man tuts, lifting his hands to rip the head wrap from his sweltering skull. Hair the colour of moonlight tumbles from the intricate wrap design, falling like a waterfall down his back. “You’re not even going to look at me huh. Little rapscallion.”

The boy laughs. It’s short and brief and it comes out his throat like a cough instead.

“I didn’t need to look at you,” His fingers rise and point idly to the shoes the man was wearing. Curved pointed tips which reach for the skies. Capital shoes – not army boots. “Nobody else wears those bothersome things, Mordecai.”

The man huffs in reply, flopping down beside the boy. His heavy navy cloak hits the ground with a thud, spreading itself around the man’s frail body.

“Alright then Jungkook. But I wasn’t lying when I said there was a message from the capital.”

“What is it.” There’s a slight twinge of impatience in his voice. Reasonable because his arms and legs ached with pain. Tearing through bodies with a sword as heavy as Catani was wasn’t not as easy as he made it seem.

“His Majesty wants you to go forward into Gardenia tomorrow. It’s one of the last few villages we haven’t conquered yet. His Majesty is certain that the princess is there.”

Jungkook sighs, ripping the leaf of grass from its roots and tossing it into the heavy air, now tainted with smoke and fiery orange hue of the setting sun.

“My men haven’t rested for three days. Last night we had to deal with a rabid Kroni attacking our horses. We’re not at all ready for a new advancement. We need at least a day’s rest Mordecai.”

His eyes are on the elderly man, laced with lassitude and dispiritedness. His whole body sagged underneath the heavy armour, almost like he was caving in. Mordecai looked at the boy, yes he was a boy; more the half the men he controlled were his seniors. But he was a boy nonetheless. A boy who’d seen blood and fire. A boy who’d narrowly escaped death and swiftly handed out ones. He may have had the body of an adolescent man but his mind was as old as his father’s once before he’d passed away.

Jungkook always reminded Mordecai of his father.

The older man turned away, fixing his gaze on the blazing fire that’d been erected before them. The heat from the flames combined with Ennia’s natural furnace the sun (which refused to stop giving heat even after it went down) the world was an incinerator.

“You speak to me as if I was the King. I cannot change orders Jungkook. I can only deliver them.”

“I wish you hadn’t delivered this one then.” He’s up, black boots crunching leaves into dust beneath them. His strides are lengthy. His lean tall stature is covered in a black coat, the golden intricate insignia of a King’s General engraved on the back. Dry wind rips at his clothing, ruffling the brown mane his possess. He looks exactly like his father in Mordecai’s eyes.

“Jungkook-ah,” Mordecai says to no one. “There are many messages I wish I hadn’t delivered.” His sigh is carried by the wind to the ears of the young General. “So many.”

You can’t sleep. The night air surrounding you is abuzz with the sounds of glowing dragonflies skittering over the slumbering river beneath your feet. The water is cold to touch, slipping over your nimble fingertips like velveteen. The world is silver and gold; cool moonlight meeting the warmth of the lanterns scattered carelessly around the pathway.

The calm breeze whispers stories in your ears, ruffling the flimsy white nightgown you’d adorned when you’d slipped into the warmth of the blanket back in your room. It hadn’t occurred to you that a jacket would be necessary when the night had called you awake.

The fabric is rough beneath your fingertips, completely unlike the smooth satin dresses that’d your wear in the palace. Here, satin was a thing of treasure. Not one person wore it.

You’re kicking the ground beneath absently, the familiar knot of resent and anger towards your father forming in the pit of your stomach. Why did he have to leave you here? Of all places this tiny village couldn’t have been the best choice. He could have sent his men to collect you when that bastard Ryo attacked. He could have – but he didn’t.

A sigh slips out of your mouth and you spin around, trying in vain to get rid of that feeling that’s been building up in your bones and blood since the attack. The world was a kaleidoscope of grey and black and silver and gold. Glistening rocks surrounded you, shimmering under the glow of the moon. Your shoes skidded across the wet surface beneath, but because of the insane training you’d received from Myrna your balance didn’t falter.

Despite this attempt, the questions that drew you from sleep tumble in your head.

Why did he leave you?

Why didn’t he attack back?

Where did he go?

Is he even alive?

Why Gardenia?

Why?

“Y/N!”

The world is shook from you grasp and you come to a halt, frantically searching the dark trees for the voice which called your name.

“Y/N, why aren’t you in bed?” The voice come from behind you.

*prompt ends here*

#bts prompt #bts prompts #bts fic #bts imagines #bts #kpop scenarios

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watchingcutscene · 6 years ago

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No Man’s Sky

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan

Word Count: 2000+

Note: The nsfw ban has me pretty disappointed with tumblr tbh, but i guess that hasn’t really stopped me from posting my stuff (still, if you want more regular updates and most recent stuff, pls follow my DeviantArt or even AO3)....This was written before the game No Man’s Sky actually came out, and we were all excited for it (before it actually came out and proved to be much less exciting than anticipated)

---

She was an unpredictable summer thunderstorm. He was a constant light drizzle. She was an editor, a challenger, a ghost of wilderness that haunted the urban scene. He was an executive director, a nine-to-five worker, a man with a suit and tie constantly crisp and fresh and clean. She liked playing video games after half a bottle of Jack Daniels. He liked seeing his username ranked first on the score board.

They met through her forgetfulness. When Levi returned home nearly 10pm, he found a girl slouched against the apartment door next to his. Her hair was hastily put up in a messy knot. She had on a white button-up, tucked into a dark grey pencil skirt, all wrinkled between her back and her apartment door. She sat cross-legged with her worn out Chucks. The combination of Converse and business attire was what made his gaze linger. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up, her (e/c) eyes vibrant against his grey ones. She had a can of beer in her hand. “Hey,” she greeted him as she got up on her feet. Her voice was light and cheerful. “Hey…” Levi reluctantly replied, having not the slightest clue who this woman was. “I live next door,” she explained, flashing a flawless smile while dusting off her butt, “and I forgot my keys.” Levi’s suspicion eased, he shifted his bag of store-bought premade food to his left hand as he reached for his keys in his pocket. “Do you mind if I climb over your balcony?” He froze for a second, the sound of metal echoed through the hallway as the keys dangled in his hand. He met her gaze a second time. “You can,” his said, voice unintentionally impassive, though his usual deadpan of a face softened, “but isn’t that a little dangerous?” “I’ll be fine,” she replied, her voice trailing off on a high note. He nodded as he opened the door. She marched into his apartment after him, following him to his balcony. “Thanks,” she mumbled with one foot on the railing of the veranda. He watched her back intently, muscles tense, ready to launch himself at her should she falter the slightest. But she was more than graceful when she hurled herself over the railing, landing accurately onto her own property. When she stood up, the now empty can of beer still in hand, she turned and waved at him before heading through the sliding doors and disappearing out of sight. Levi stood there, staring after her, until many seconds had passed and the light in her apartment flickered on. She was pretty, quirky, and a little strange. Also, he noted after replaying the scene of her launching over the balcony, her underwear was black. The same evening a week later, he had begun to wonder when he’d run into his neighbour again, when he heard a knock on his door. He had changed out of his work clothes, and was sporting some grey sweatpants and a black V-neck. Off course, she was there when he answered, this time, she had her hair done up neatly, the bags under her eyes covered by the perfect shade of concealer, and her lips were graced with a wine coloured lipstick. Below her silky blouse and navy trousers, she still had on her old Converse. “Hello,” she smiled, lips curling perfectly, to which he replied with a small smile of his own, “have you had dinner yet?” It was past midnight. Levi leaned himself against his doorway. The distance between him and his visitor drawing a little closer than he had intended. She didn’t falter the slightest, her (e/c) orbs vibrant and unyielding. Seeing the plastic bag in her hand, he lied, “No, I haven’t.” “Good,” she replied, delighted, “I bought some sushi and liquor, and also the new game No Man’s Sky, care to join me?” Her toothy smile was dazzling. Levi felt compelled to smile back, it was contagious. “Um,” the man let out a low chuckle. Laughter was a thing his body was not accustomed to. “Sure”. She stepped back and toward her own apartment, keys already in hand. He followed suit. “Just think of this as a token of my gratitude,” she said as she fumbled with the lock, and when it clicked, added “I cleaned my room, don’t worry.” The apartment was smaller than his, and while it did look like she gave some last-ditched effort to organize the piles of magazines and video games scattered about the living room floor, it was not clean. At least not compared to his anyway. Levi wondered about the room gingerly, afraid to disturbed the organized mess. She was behind the kitchen counter, freeing the boxes of low quality sushi from the plastic bag. She also pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. While she was reaching for beer from the fridge, he remarked, “you have a lot of magazines”, notably a lot of issues of the same magazine. “I’m an editor,” she responded as she placed the various kinds of alcohol and plastic containers of sushi on the coffee table, along with two shot glasses. “Are you a gamer?” she asked half-heartedly, turning on the PS4 that was placed on the floor under her flat screen. “Yeah,” he admitted, picking up the DVD case labeled “No Man’s Sky”, the art was quite impressive. “But I haven’t played this one,” he added. “Hmmm..” she turned back to face him, opening a can of beer and bringing it to her lips before mumbling, “What do you play?” Levi got a can of his own, chugged half of it, and answered half-heartedly, “I don’t know.” She chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t know? Like what, FPS?” He nodded. She giggled to herself and shook her head, mumbling something under her breath he could not hear. They spent the night getting tipsy and exploring the universe. He named planets after people and places, and she named them after the underdogs of the material world. It was easy to distinguish, his were planets called “Zeus” or “Nagoya”, and hers were planets named “Fish Tacos” or “Toe Nail Clippings”. Alcohol really did stimulate creativity. Normally, games like No Man’s Sky would not be Levi’s cup of tea. There was no defined objective, no competition, and therefore no sense of accomplishment. Though he hated to admit it, he liked the gamer clichés: Counter Strike, Call of Duty, and the new Star Wars. He was pretty much a stereotype. She was all that he was not. She didn’t need to vent her stress through virtual reality violence. Game art and animation were the most important. She never paid attention to score boards or kill streaks. She played all her games tipsy. Despite that, Levi still went out and bought himself No Man’s Sky the next day on his way home from work. In fact, he had to visit three different shops to find one that wasn’t sold out. He almost pulled an all-nighter trying to fulfill his purpose as a hitchhiker in the galaxy that first night. He popped open a bottle of whisky that had been collecting dust in his cabinet since the dawn of time, and named his first planet after the girl next door. He told her about his purchase over dinner, which he had invited her to when they ran into each other again one morning before work. His coworkers (namely Hanji) would go nuts if they ever found out Levi asked a girl to dinner. She was wearing a black jump suit with heels and bright red lipstick, looking fierce and powerful and oh-so-beautiful. She was delighted. “I didn’t think you were the type to play those games,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “What did you name your first planet?” Levi was not prepared for that. The tips of his ears flushed pink. “Um,” he must have looked surprised, “I named it…Chuck Taylor”. She frowned in bemusement, “What?” “Oh, you know,” he looked down at his plate, desperately trying to keep his cool, “it’s just…a thing,” he failed. She laughed it off, not pressing him any further. They bonded, for the first time, over things beyond video games. Her favourite flavour of ice cream. His collection of cufflinks. Existential despair. Childhood memories. Allergies. His feelings of tender curiosity found its shoring and morphed, without warning, into a heat wave, a revelation. He fell in love. That was a first too. One night she called him out of the blue just to ask what he was doing. “I’m playing No Man’s Sky,” he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up his visage. It was a good feeling to have someone call just to ask what you were doing. “Hey what a coincidence!” her voice was very high pitched, “me too!” Levi hesitated before asking, “are you tipsy again?” “Uh-huh,” she didn’t even bother to hide it. “Why do you always play while intoxicated?” he finally thought to ask. “Well,” she began, he could hear the background music from the game playing through the phone, “reality is really demoralizing when you’re sober.” “What does that mean?” She paused to think, “It’s that kind of thing you know. Apparently, there are 18 quintillion planets you can explore in this game.” “Okay…” he ensured her he was still listening. “That’s already such an unfathomable number, but in reality, there’s probably more planets out there,” she continued. “We spend our entire lives being indoctrinated with the brilliance of humanity, but that brilliance is actually nothing but a speck of dust”. Levi paused, processing. “You are very well-articulated for a drunk person,” was his reply. She giggled, “well I’ll have you know that I have a master’s degree in English lit and culture”. He let out an exhale of laughter, “impressive.” The line fell silent. Neither of them knew what to say. “Sometimes I think people are like that too,” it was she who broke the silence, continuing with her drunken philosophical generalizations about human existence, “do you know the book Kafka on the Shore?” Her brain made pretty big leaps when she was drunk. “No,” he replied simply. The background music from the game was no longer echoing through the phone, replacing it were the low hum of traffic and voices of urban life. “Well, it’s by this Japanese author – Murakami,�� she continued, “he wrote about this myth, where humans used to have two heads and two hearts, but because the gods feared our strength and power, they cut us in half, so now we have to spend our entire lives searching for our other half.” “That’s very poetic,” Levi stood up to stretch. “But according to No Man’s Sky,” her voice sounded a little distant, muffled by background noises and blurred by wires transmitting telephone signals, “you will never find your other half. Because it’s simply statistically impossible. They say it’ll take 5 billion years to explore every planet in the game, that’s simply too many life times. We can’t afford that.” “But it’s happened,” Levi interrupted, remembering the Google headline, “on the first day of its release, in fact. One player landed on another player’s planet. They contacted each other to meet up at the same location in the game,” he seemed so eager to prove something. She became interested, “did they?” “Yeah,” Levi switched the phone to his left hand, “but apparently they couldn’t see or interact with each other. The game didn’t support multiplayer I guess.” She took some time to think, "well, at least our world supports multiplayer." "What?" "Cause I can see and interact with you." "Well, if you put it that way, I guess..." There was a long pause. Levi became distracted by the background noise on her end. “Hello? Where are you?” he was a little concerned. She was drunk after all. She didn’t reply for a while. “On my balcony.” He was slightly taken aback. Without a word, Levi pulled open the glass doors beside his living room and stepped out into the chilly evening air. “Hey,” her voice synced with the copy of it echoing through his phone. She waved. Her hair was down and flowing through the breeze. It was a mirrored image of the night many days before, she had one foot over the railing. Without warning, she made a leap, the light from her phone screen illuminating Levi’s visage as she landed on his balcony and stumbled into his arms. A moment of silence passed before he sighed in relief, “we have to stop meeting like this,” he chuckled, “what were you doing out here?” “Looking for my other half,” she mumbled sleepily, wrapping her arms around him, head resting on his chest. “I found you.”

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years ago

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Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye

Jim needs help - and the gang get another possible idea about where they’ll be heading next.

Since Sir Stephen had put the chair down, Jim pulled it over and sat on it – backwards, leaning his elbows on the back of it.

“I don’t know my name,” he said. “You asked and I said it was Jim, but I didn’t know it – when I try to remember it, there’s nothing there. I know I’m an art student, and I’m here to see the museums, but I don’t know what school I go to, or what airline I took to get here, or where I live. I know I was following you around because Mr. Neustadt told me he’d pay me to, but if you asked me about anything else I’d have to make something up.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know my parents’ names, or whether I have any siblings. You don’t think about this stuff minute-by-minute, especially when you’re focused on something else, but now that I do think about it, it’s not there.”

Like Barnes on the train, Natasha thought. Allen had asked him where he was from and he’d said Brooklyn, but he’d had to think about it. Had he had a moment of crisis like the one Jim seemed to be having now? Or had he simply dismissed it and moved on?

“I asked Mr. Neustadt if it were true that he’d, uh, made me,” he went on, “and he said yes… that they’ve got these bacteria, I guess, that take up traits from other living things instead of having their own DNA. They can make a person, but they don’t live very long. I didn’t believe him, and he said if I didn’t then I could test it, and he gave me this.”

Jim took out a pocket knife and unfolded a blade from it. “It took me a while to get up my nerve to do it, but…” He put the blade against his palm, gritted his teeth, and prepared to drive it in.

Sir Stephen stepped in and took the knife from him. “There’s no need to do that,” he said.

Startled, Jim reached to get it back. “It goes right in and it seals back up!” he said.

“We will take your word for it,” said Sir Stephen, folding the knife back up. He handed it back to Jim with a warning look.

Nat cocked her head. Sir Stephen was a warrior – he’d killed people, up close and persona, using a sword or a spear. She knew he wasn’t squeamish. Was it just because Jim looked so much like his old friend?

Jim put it away. “So… yeah. Apparently I’m not human, and I’m going to die in a week or so. And you guys have met other… ones… of me… before?” He was dreading the answer.

“We have met other men who looked like you,” said Sir Stephen. “Upon their death they vanished into piles of ash.”

Jim shivered. “Right. So… I don’t want that to happen, obviously,” he said awkwardly. “Mr. Neustadt said he can’t help me live longer, although I don’t know if he meant it or if he just doesn’t care. At dinner, though he said something about Perenelle being more into biology than he is?” He looked up hopefully.

“We don’t know,” said Nat honestly. “We only just learned that any of this is possible at all.”

Sir Stephen, however, got down on one knee to be on eye level with Jim, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Your name,” he said, “is James. It has always been James. Your family called you Buckeye, as did I. You were the son of a Cornish knight, a thousand years ago, and you died in battle with Count John the Red Death, a treacherous ally of William of Normandy. Your body fell into a crevasse, and it was there that this Neustadt found it and used it to make homunculi to do his bidding.” He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I am Sir Stephen of Rogsey, and you are my friend. You have been my dearest friend for a very long time, and never failed to help me when I needed it. Now I will help you.”

He stood up again, and turned to look at Natasha.

“Neustadt spoke of the Philosopher’s Stone as an engine that can transmute matter into other forms,” he said. “Do you think it could transmute this elixir into human flesh?”

Natasha hadn’t thought of that, and she had no idea whether it was possible or not. “I don’t know why you keep asking me. I don’t know,” she said. She was unavoidably reminded, though, of how she’d worried that both Allen Jones and Sir Stephen himself would disappear when the group got rid of the Holy Grail that had created them. Jim had it even worse, in that he’d come with a ticking clock already hanging over his head.

“Madame Desrosiers must know,” Sir Stephen decided.

“Doesn’t mean she’ll actually do anything about it,” Natasha noted – Neustadt had said she was selfish, and they knew she’d healed Clint only because he got hurt trying to help her. “We’re waiting for her,” she told Jim, “but if she hasn’t turned up by the morning, we’ll have to go. We need to figure out which of these two alchemists is the one who destroyed that mummy, and have him or her taken back to the UK to face charges.”

Jim nodded, disappointed. “Can I wait with you?” he asked.

That would allow them to keep an eye on him, at least. “I guess,” said Nat. “We don’t know for sure she’ll turn up, though.”

“That’s fine,” said Jim. “Thank you. Even if you can’t do anything, thank you anyway for trying. I don’t want to die.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I really want to live when I don’t even know who I am and it sounds like I’m not anybody but… but I know I don’t want to die, and that only leaves so many options.”

“To live is always better,” said Sir Stephen. “But if you must die, die gloriously, and not ignominiously falling apart.”

Jim raised his head and gave Sir Stephen a sideways look. “Do you always talk like that?” he asked.

“He does,” said Natasha. “He’s a knight from a medieval poem, brought to life by the Holy Grail, so he hasn’t quite caught up on the twenty-first century yet.”

“Oh,” said Jim, unsure what to do with this information.

“I’m a former Russian spy,” Nat added with a smile. She wondered if he believed her. “Now I teach archaeology at a university in Scotland.”

He just blinked at her.

“We’re weird people,” she said.

“I can kinda tell,” Jim said carefully. “What about this Buckeye guy? What was he like?” He turned back to Sir Stephen.

Sir Stephen’s face lit up in a smile – he loved to talk about his old life, and particularly about the people he had known then. “Buckeye was my friend from when I was very small,” he said. “I Still have a lock of his hair that I keep.” He’d once had it in a medieval pendant, but had since bought a modern locket. He pulled it out of his shirt and opened it to show Jim the curl of hair inside. “You see, I grew up in an Abbey. My mother had fled her husband and put out to sea, hoping to reach Wales…”

Nat shook her head. Sir Stephen would be going on half the night now, but it would make him happy, and Jim was already nodding eagerly, hoping to find something he could latch onto as an identity of his own. For however long this lasted, Nat’s own presence would be irrelevant.

“I’m gonna get us a pizza,” she decided. “I’ll be back in maybe twenty minutes.”

When she came back, Sir Stephen was telling Jim about a time Buckeye had carried him back to the Abbey after Stephen had stepped in a rabbit hole and twisted his ankle.

“He joked that were I to wax any heavier, he would have to set me down and cut my throat as he’d do for an injured horse,” Sir Stephen said. Nat noticed that his grammar had gotten a little more formal again, the way it had been when he’d first showed up.

Jim was startled. “That’s a horrible thing to say to your friend,” he said.

“It was a longstanding jest between us,” said Sir Stephen. “I knew he would never have proposed it seriously, unlike some of the crueler boys.”

Jim shrugged one shoulder. “Go on,” he said.

Sir Stephen talked until long past midnight, when the pizza was gone and several bottles of sparkling water had chased it down while they waited for the evening to cool – which it never did. While the men talked in the bedroom, Natasha went and sat in the living room, waiting for Desrosiers, or whoever else Neustadt had been expecting, to arrive. Time passed. Nat could go a long time without sleep if she had to, but she was out of training. Besides the murmur of voices in the bedroom, the only sound in the apartment was that of traffic on the streets outside, which was a noise she’d always found soothing.

If anyone had tried to come into the room during the night, they would have woken her – but Natasha slept curled on the floor until she woke in the morning to her phone telling her she had a text message. She opened it, and found it was from Sharon.

Our stuff is here, it said.

A moment later, a second line appeared. Some of it. Apparently what are referred to as Newton’s ‘apocalyptic’ writings were bought by a Polish guy named Maslanka who has spent the last ten years or so in Santorini. You know, the island with the blue domes.

Natasha did know the name. Santorini, or Thira, was the Greek island that appeared on all the postcards and calendars. She texted back.

Sounds nicer than Kotor. We’ll head back and take a look.

Having learned their lesson yesterday, Nat, Jim, and Sir Stephen took the bus back to the hotel. They arrived to find the rest of the group having breakfast in the dining room, and passing around several books. One was a modern, softcover-bound facsimile of the Voynich Manuscript. The others were a biography of Sir Isaac Newton, and one called Alchemy According to Newton, a summary of his magical and alchemical beliefs.

“Hi, guys,” said Nat, sitting down next to Allen.

“Morning,” said Allen.

Sam swallowed his mouthful of ham and cucumber sandwich and pointed at Jim. “What’s he doing here?” he asked.

“He is a man in need of help,” said Sir Stephen. “He came to us in the hope that we can provide it. I will not turn him away.”

“Because it’s not like the last two or three of him tried to kill us or anything,” Sam observed.

“Actually, the ones on the train only fought back when we tried to stop them,” Nat pointed out, “and Neustadt said the one at Guedelon was only after Desrosiers, and attacked us when it thought we were protecting her.”

“I’m not going to hurt anybody,” Jim said. “At least, I don’t feel like I am. I don’t want to.” He looked worried. It seemed to have occurred to him that maybe Neustadt could control him from a distance, or had perhaps implanted some kind of hypnotic suggestion.

“We won’t let you,” Nat told him. She noticed Clint rubbing his side again. “If you try, Neustadt did tell us how to stop you.” Pressure on the hyoid bone, she thought, could inhibit the vagus nerves, stopping the heart. It wasn’t reliable in most people, though… apparently it was in the homunculi.

“If you’re a product of alchemy, yourself, maybe you can shed some light on this.” Sharon handed him a packet of the papers Fury had sent them. “Whether we’re going to Kotor or Santorini or somewhere else, we need to do some research first.”

#fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanov #bucky barnes #sharon carter #clint barton #sam wilson

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tae-taae · 7 years ago

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bts reactions | you confess

BTS Reactions ⇢ you confess

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Jin

He helped you up the stairs to your apartment as you drunkenly rambled on and on about how unfair life was sometimes. He enjoyed hearing you talk, he loved your voice but his main concern at the moment was to get you home safely. He managed to unlock your front door while holding you up before he took you inside. “Ah~ y/n, I need you to stay still” he whined as he tried to take your shoes off. He laid you in your bed and carried on with his mission. The sudden silence startled him. “y/n?” he asked as he looked up. He was met with your glazed eyes staring back at him. You rested your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “I love you” you smiled before you yawned and fell asleep.

A smile made its way to his face. “I love you too y/n” he sighed as he tucked you in and placed a kiss on your temple. “Let’s see if you remember any of this tomorrow morning” he laughed to himself as he made his way to the couch to make sure you don’t wake up alone the next morning.

Yoongi

He regretted his decision to invite you out for drinks because he did not realize how drunk your planned to get. It was already pretty late so Yoongi decided to take you home. Surprisingly enough, you both got caught in traffic due to an accident up ahead. He turned up the radio to fill the silence, assuming you were asleep, and began humming to the tune. “Yoongi? Am I pretty/handsome?” you asked him, startling him a bit, causing him to briefly look at you. “Uh- yes you are y/n” he answered, looking at the traffic ahead. “Why don’t you like me then?” you pouted. “What? Of course I like you y/n, you’re my best friend” he said, pausing to place his hand on your arm in comfort.

You threw his arm away, “No, not like that Min Yoongi, I love you, so much, and it hurts to know you don’t feel the same way” you confessed. Yoongi smiled, making you more insecure about your confession. “I love you too y/n, I didn’t know you felt this way” he said softly before he leaned in to give you a quick kiss. “We’ll talk about this when you’re sober okay?” he said and continued to make his way through traffic.

Hoseok

Hobi had managed to drain the energy out of you after a whole day of adventures with him. As best friends taking a vacation away from the rest of the boys, you both shared a hotel for a night to be able to go out the next day without disruption. It was past midnight when you both finally made it to the room. You both took turns in the restroom to change into your night clothes, before you laid in your beds. Hobi turned to you with a big smile. “Thank you for today” he said before turning to fall asleep.

After struggling to sleep for an hour, you turned to face his sleeping form. “I love you” you confessed, smiling at the ray of sunshine. He turned to face you, making you quickly regret your confession. “It only took you ages to finally admit it y/n. Ah~ I love you too” he confessed and laid beside you to cuddle you.

Namjoon

He loved having deep conversations with you because he got to see your philosophical ideology and beliefs. He got to know you better as a person. This was one of those nights, where the both of you were sitting in his truck, parked outside of your favorite fast food restaurant, talking about anything that came to mind. “I have a question” he said, “why do you never talk about your love life? I’m simply curious” he asked, looking at you momentarily before looking away again. You sighed and decided against your better judgement. “The man I love is unaware of it, and I don’t like talking about it cause, it hurts to know he doesn’t feel the same way” you said.

His heart broke at the thought of you so in love with another man. “Who, if you don’t mind my asking?” he asked, trying to be supportive but also informed. “You... I love you Joon” you sighed and covered your face. His heart began to race and he removed your hands, pressing his lips to yours. “I love you too y/n, don’t ever think otherwise” he confessed, pressing his lips to yours again.

Jimin

Jimin was out with a friend all day when he promised to take you to dinner for a celebration over your new promotion.They were clear about their intentions to date Jimin and it made you jealous. Jimin got back to your shared apartment late, with a gift bag in his hand and a smile on his face. “Finally you decide to show up Park Jimin. God, next time be considerate and at least send me a text that you can’t come to dinner with me” you exclaimed before turning to head into your bedroom.

“I’m sorry y/n! I forgot” he explained, worried now. You ignored him. “y/n please don’t be mad” he tried but you just turned around and faced him. “I’m pissed that you ditched me for your friend! Jesus Jimin! I try so hard to show you that I’m into you, that- well- that I love you, but you ditch me for them?!” you cried out in frustration. “y/n- I love you too. Believe me I do. I left them earlier and spent the entire day looking for the perfect gift for you. I love you and I’m sorry” he explained and reached into the gift bag to pull out a ring with your birthstone on it. “I love you y/n” he said.

Taehyung

“What the hell Taehyung?!” you shouted as you walked into your shared apartment. He was close behind you, equally annoyed as you. “What?! What?!” he yelled back, shutting the door and shrugging his jacket off. “You were the one that ruined my date y/n so you don’t get to complain!” he argued. “I don’t say anything when you leave with another person! Why did you have to make a scene?” he asked you angrily as he sat on the couch, rubbing his face. “I-I” you struggled to justify yourself. “I love you dammit!” you shouted and tried to stop the tears that were falling down your cheeks.

He quickly got up, looking at you closely before he closed the gap between the both of you and pressed his lips to yours. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked as his thumb wiped a tear away. “I was scared” you admitted and he kissed you again. “I love you too y/n, so much” he sighed against your lips.

Jungkook

He enjoyed the lively and fun drunk y/n because it was a rare occurrence. But tonight he was not having it. He dealt with you following him around like a lost puppy but the last straw was when you shoved a girl away from him, and lied about being his significant other. “Okay let’s go” he said in frustration and pulled you out of the club and to the car. “Kookie are you mad?” you asked him, following him in the direction he was pulling you. “Mad? y/n I’m livid, what the hell was that?” he groaned. You stopped in your tracks, causing him to turn around at your sudden action.

Your eyes glazed up and looked up at him. “I-I’m sorry Kookie, I just got so jealous, I want you to myself because I love you” you whined and looked away. “I got carried aw-” his lips cut you off, his hands cupping your face as he deepened the kiss. “Oh god you don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that” he smiled against your lips. “I love you too baby”.

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ricketyjukeboxer · 7 years ago

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Shameless Thanksgiving Fluff

1568 words. By Jody’s design, Thanksgiving dinner.

It can be said that there is no arguing with a stern mom voice.

"It's not an invitation, Winchester, it's a summons." Jody does not expect to be disobeyed: not by Sam, not by Dean, and not by any degree of angel (half or full, of God or of Satan himself).

"Jody, we have Jack," Sam says.

"So bring him!"

"He's..."

"The Son of Satan? Yeah, well, with some of the boyfriends Alex brings home for dinner, I think we're equipped to handle it. He'll be fine."

So it goes that Team Free Will 2.0 piles into the Impala and finds themselves making the drive to Jody's house for Thanksgiving weekend, by Jody's design, because she knows the boys need it.

"Claire is your daughter..." Jack ventures, leaning forward to address Cas who is riding in the front seat. Sam sleeps soundly in the back and Jack keeps his voice low so as not to disturb him.

"Not exactly," Cas hems. "My vessel was her father and--"

"Claire's family," Dean interrupts and seems to think that should be enough by way of explanation, but Jack is not quite satisfied.

"And Thanksgiving is about family and being thankful for them?" Since Dean got himself into this conversation, Jack is happy to grill him as well. Dean knew he should have kept his mouth shut. Cas turns to him, the slightest curl of a smirk ghosting the edges of his mouth, waiting to see how Dean will handle this.

"And turkey and pie," Dean shrugs.

"Very philosophical." Cas leans his head back on the seat.

"Also the theft of native land and disrespect of hospitality," Jack adds, leaning his elbow on the front seat thoughtfully.

"Someone's been on the internet. Gotta complicate everything. Thanksgiving is about family, all right? And food. Maybe the history of it is pretty bloody, but what part of human history isn't?" As soon as he says it, Dean wishes he hadn't. Jack looks at him in the rearview mirror with the kind of look that says those words are going to fester in Jack's active mind. "Don't think too much about it," he adds and Jack settles back into the seat to do exactly that.

Cas can feel it emanating into the front seat, that turmoil and confusion over the human race in general, the violence along with the ache for connection. He wishes he could explain it better to him, but he realizes he still doesn't quite understand it himself.

-----

"It's going to be a bit of a tight squeeze, but from what I've heard, you don't need a bed, Castiel?" Jody stands with her hands on her hips before a couch made up with sheets and soft blankets. "Jack? What about you? Half-angels sleep?" She does not hesitate to ask the practical questions and Jack immediately appreciates it. He looks at her with some degree of awe that Sam recognizes as respect and fascination.

"I don't sleep much, but the couch looks very nice, thank you."

Jody gives Jack's politeness an approving nod before gesturing him to follow her. "Can I put you to work? Alex took off on me and Claire is vindictive in the kitchen. I could use an extra pair of hands to get ready for tomorrow."

"I have hands," Jack says before realizing it sounds stupid and he shoots a look at Claire because already he can tell that if anyone will judge him here, it's her.

Claire is standing silently, shoulder to shoulder with Cas and hardly notices the flub. She's said nothing about his death and resurrection, but Dean can see the same tension in her body that he'd felt upon seeing him again, like she doesn't quite want to let him out of her sight. He reckons that losing him makes her realize just how much he means (a feeling that Dean understands all too well).

"Lots to do before tomorrow," Jody interjects and presses a hand to Jack's back to usher him into the kitchen.

"I'll make the pie," Dean offers.

"I'll put together a salad," from Sam.

"That's my boys, " Jody hums and they all beam.

Claire and Cas are left alone in the living room by Jody's design because she knows they both need it.

----

The rest of the night is spent in bustling preparation for tomorrow's big dinner, interspersed with delivered pizza, Alex's arrival home, and one small food processing explosion when Dean doesn't secure the lid.

It finds him in the bathroom sponging pumpkin puree out of his hair. When Cas appears behind him in the mirror, Dean smiles instead of jumps.

"Jody told me to bring you a clean shirt," he offers by way of explanation.

They've long since had their reunion moment, their kiss, their confessions. Now it is a matter of relearning what it means to be alone. They still hesitate, stutter start, but they find their way eventually. Dean likes it. He likes the way Cas' hands--an angel of the lord--shake a little just before they make a connection with his skin. And Cas likes the way Dean still tries to look cool even when he can feel the tremble in his lips before they crush together.

Dean's ass is hitched up on the sink and Cas can taste the molecules in the pumpkin, still clinging to Dean's chin as he drags his mouth down his jaw.

"They're gonna eat all the Hawaiian pizza before I can get any," Dean grouses.

"But you're getting some right now..." Cas murmurs and Dean can't complain anymore because it's all hands and Cas and the feeling of falling completely.

They get their moment alone, by Jody's design, because she knows they need it.

----

The light's on in the kitchen and when Jody pads around the corner, she isn't surprised to see Sam leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of water.

"Sorry," he says. "Did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet. Jack is actually sleeping for once."

Jody holds up a hand and shakes her head, stopping his apologies in their tracks. Quietly, she flips on the stove and sets the kettle on it. "Hot chocolate?"

Looking relieved, Sam nods and goes to the fridge to get the milk out. They move together silently for awhile, barely having to speak to get the job done. Soon, they both have large mugs of warm liquid cradled in their hands.

"Thanks for doing this, for inviting us. Jack needs examples of family. You know, reasons humanity is good."

Jody gives him a look, peering over the edge of her mug. She calls bullshit. "One," she starts. "You boys are fine enough examples of why humanity is good. Two, I did this for all of you. I'm going to do it more often too. I don't care if you are fighting an apocalypse at the time. More family dinners. Because you are, you know, my family."

It's so simple, so safe, to be told what to do by Jody. A whuff of laughter escapes Sam's nose, grateful, fond. In that moment, he misses his mom so badly he has to swallow hard. He misses everything they could have had, midnight talks, feeling safe, gratitude.

Setting her cup down, Jody gathers Sam up in a hug. "You'll find her," because she knows, just by looking at him, what's troubling him. He presses his nose down to her shoulder, curling around her and yet still feeling enveloped by her. They stay that way for a long time because she knows Sam needs it.

----

Musical education. Alex and Claire argue over the playlist while Jack looks on with eager anticipation.

"I can only imagine what the hell ancient crap you've been listening to with Dean in charge. Or worse, Sam's glam rock," Claire says that last part loud enough for the adults in the living room to hear.

"It's legitimate hard rock!" Sam calls from his spot on the couch, but everyone ignores him.

Donna arrived that morning and now she's sitting next to Dean on the couch, both leaned forward with a beer in their respective hands hanging down between their knees. Both are glued to the screen. Cas is pouting.

"It's the Vikings, Castiel. I'm real sorry you're missing the parade but if you've seen one giant turkey float, you've seen 'em all," Donna offers. Sure, it's the first time she's met a real live angel, but this is her team, after all.

Cas is about to argue, but Stefon Diggs makes an incredible catch and Dean and Donna go wild, high fiving with a united, loud: Heyooo! Cas decides that this is much more entertaining and watches the two of them instead.

By Jody's design, they all have the space to be themselves, to be together, because she knows they all need it.

----

Hours later when everyone gathers at the table, Jody is almost too tired to eat anything herself. Almost. As Dean dishes her up a plate, he gives her a smile, like he knows what it means to take care of other people and have that be what you need at the time.

"Thank you," he mouths at her silently. She digs into the food that they all helped make and looks out over the gathering. She is well and truly happy. She did this for herself too, because she knows she needs it.

#spn fanfic #spn fluff #dean winchester #jack winchester #sam winchester #castiel #donna hanscum #jody mills #claire novak #alex jones

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