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the-night-writer1 · 1 year ago

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Son of golden shadows

This takes places in the cubhood au. Has nothing to do with the current pole. This is a one shot that takes places before lmk starts and is most likely an event that be seen by mk and Mac in season four.

The mountain was eerily quiet as macaque pulled mk into a bush. He had no idea what this memory was. They'd just seen the last argument him and Wukong had before his death so why were they back on flower fruit mountain. He kept the kid quiet as the looked around.

His eyes widened as he recognized the area. This was Cubs cove. It was so well unkempt he barely recognized it.

To be fair Shanyao would have been a small child when he died. Even being the oldest Shan wasn't taught how to take care of their lil slice of the island until he was much older. It seems it fell apart under Wukong's care. There was moss and algae in the small pool him and Azure took hours creating. The treehouse was falling apart and most of the cubs entertainment was destroyed or grown over. It hurt him to see it but why were they here.

"hey look it's Shanyao" Mk said in a soft whisper as he brought Mac's attention to his cub. Though it wasn't current Shan clearly. Shan wasn't in modern clothing and seemed younger. Mac gestured for Mk to be quiet. Trying to piece together what was going on.

Shan looked at the Cubs cove and sat beside the pond. Running his fingers through water. It was filthy and he didn't know how to clean it. Baba and Uncle Azure never got the chance to teach him. Goldie would be distracted by the task Shan gave him for a while. The lion cub didn't need to be here when the monkey king supposedly returned.

The bitterness he felt came off him in waves, how dare Wukong come back after all this time. After everything he done. Shanyao however would wait for him. They were packed and the plan was to find PJ before going to Fensui's. First however Shanyao was giving Wukong a piece of his mind.

He didn't have to wait long, as he recognized his father's footsteps approaching him from behind," wow this place looks really bad, we got some work to do don't we kiddo? Where's Goldie bud?"

Wukong's voice was cheerful as he ruffled the Cub's hair. He lacked any grace with what he'd done which angered Shanyao and annoyed Macaque who was watching from the bushes with MK. Maybe this was the last conversation Shan had Wukong before mk came around. None of Wukong's cubs were on speaking terms with him when Macaque got back in contact.

"you're surprisingly cheerful" Shan said as he got up and pushed Wukong's hand away. Wukong looked at him with confusion.

"why wouldn't I be bud?" Wukong asked playfully for who knows why. He put his hands on his hips as he tilted his head in confusion.

"a lot of reasons" Shan said as he looked away from Wukong, that bitterness coming off not seeming to hit Wukong's skull.

"still didn't answer my question bud where's your lil brother bud?" Wukong asked as he looked around," he planning a sneak attack or something"

" he's scouting" Shanyao said as he started walking towards the treehouse. They'd been planning to leave for awhile now. They only had bitter memories on this mountain now, no use staying. In reality Shan sent his little brother to check on some traps set up for hunters far away from this side of the mountain. Just so Goldie wouldn't be around for this talk.

"Scouting? Scouting for what kiddo" Wukong asked as he followed his oldest to the warn down treehouse. He was going to need to repair it before the boys started playing in it again. Maybe Goldie was scouting for wood, the kids didn't know it was made with wood they couldn't find on the island.

"don't worry about it. It doesn't involve you" Shan said as he climbed in to the old treehouse and Wukong looked a bit concerned.

"Shanny kiddo Goldie shouldn't be wondering the island by himself he's not as nimble as we are!" Wukong softly scolded as he stood there a bit nervous now that he said it. It just became a thought in his head.

"Oh really" Shan said bitterly as he shoved the immortal peaches he taken in a bag," really you're concerned now?"

"what's that supposed to mean?" Wukong asked with a huff," and what with the attitude!"

"What, I just figured you didn't care" Shan hissed as he threw his arms out spun around," because you did just abandon us after all"

"Shanyao I did not abandon you if that's what mac-" Wukong tried rebuttal but Shanyao cut him off.

"Don't you dare say my baba's name. He never said a bad thing about you even when you broke his heart!" Shanyao bitterly hissed as he bared his teeth aggressively. Mk looked at macaque confused as he looked away from the scene as Shan continued," Would you care? No! You wouldn't even listen to him, for fucks sake you KILLED HIM"

"Shanyao you got to understand I-" Wukong said his voice softer as he tried to touch Shan who slapped his hand away.

"I don't have understand shit Wukong" Shan said with bitter hate in his voice," You get yourself imprisoned for five hundred years, go on a forced quest by Buddha meanwhile killing the other parents of your children!"

"Shanyao I am your father you will listen to me!" Wukong yelled more trying to gain control of the conversation as he tried to reach Shan again.

"Or what you'll kill me too?" Shan hissed as he turned away from Wukong as Mac covered his own mouth," as far as I'm concerned my fuqin died the day he didn't come back from heaven or the day I found my baba's corpse with wounds only one person could give him."

"Shanyao , Sunshine please, just let me explain" Wukong pleaded as he managed to grabbed shan's shoulder," please just let me explain what happened.."

"how would it fix anything?You murdered Goldie's fuqin, you murdered baba, which left Goldie and I all alone for years. Even if your explanation magically fixed anything Goldie doesn't remember you, neither does Fensui! How would it fix the fact that we weren't even an after thought to you when you decided to attack heaven or the fact you thought we'd just be sitting waiting for a father we barely remember " Shan said as he pulled Wukong's hand away again refusing to look at him. MK and Macaque could see the tears in Wukong's eyes as he tried desperately to pull his oldest into a hug. Mac remembered how much Wukong wanted Shan. They'd planned for so long, he'd been so attentive with Shan as a baby. This had to have destroyed him.

"Sunshine" Wukong gently pleaded Shanyao pulled away from him. Wukong could see Shan was crying at this point.

"Don't come after us we're leaving this mountain" Shan said as he wiped his eyes, before Wukong could continue to plead Shan disappeared in the shadows. Just like Macaque could.

Mk looked at Mac as the shadow pulled them away from the scene. He didn't want to see anymore.

----

"How ...how are they?" Wukong asked as he sat next to Shanyao. They both were looking up at the cracked sky.

"I... They're doing good I hope" Shan spoke softly as Wukong plucked out a hair. He turned it in to a first aid kit to treat Shan's injuries.

"Does Goldie still try to hang upside from his tail?" Wukong spoke gently as Shan took his torn up jacket off so Wukong could get to the wounds easier.

"nah... But he does still claw walls instead of the scratching posts. So now at our place there's just the scratching room" Shan said with a soft chuckle before slightly hissing at the disinfectant stinging.

"sorry, can't not clean this one" Wukong said trying to be quick with cleaning the gash,"what about Fensui does he still think headbutts are the only way to say I love you?"

"actually him and Red son stopped doing that after Red son cracked one of Fensui's horns.You can't see it now because they trimmed the crack off" Shan explained softly as Wukong began to wrap his arm," You don't think Goldie and Mk be stupid enough to fight Azure without us right?"

"nah I'm sure they'll come get us first kiddo." Wukong said reassuringly as he felt some scars on Shanyao's arm,"did you?"

"no...I don't have your invincibility... and Goldie used to have nightmares while we were looking for PJ. I had to stop him from hurting himself" Shan said as he looked at the ground. He was tired, so was Wukong, but he worried his brothers and PJ were hurt. He knew they were going to charge into battle at some point if they hadn't already. Shan was only hoping they followed his last instructions when he tried to fight Azure long enough for them to escape. Which was to stay with MK and the others and come up with a plan.

Goldie didn't like listening, Fensui would follow Goldie's lead and PJ be dragged along.

"I'm sorry... about what happened to you Sunshine" Wukong admitted pulling Shan out of his thoughts," I know it doesn't change what happened to you and the others but I honestly just...just wanted a better world for you guys. Especially you, the world always seemed to be harder on you. Goldie and Fensui were born healthy while you weren't. It wasn't fair."

"It's funny.. Azure said that too" Shan said softly as Wukong pulled the other monkey's shirt up to check his side, bones bruised ribs for sure," but I guess he did know the original goal and thought we'd get in the way."

"he loves you cubs as much as I do. He was there when you were born you know " Wukong said as he put shan's shirt down and checked shan's leg," he wasn't excited with your birth but that was because you were early. He fainted when Goldie was born."

"I wanted to ask how did I come to be? All I really know is I was plan- ow ow" Shan mumbled as Wukong touched the injured leg. Wukong pulled back and plucked a few hairs out to make a boot. Like hospital boot.

"it's gonna hurt for a bit bud. But you'll be able to walk on it" Wukong said as he quickly put the boot on before saying," well your baba and I had been trying for a while. Didn't really know what we were doing until one day your baba heard your heartbeat. Uncle Dbk told me later he'd spilled a fertility potion in to my drink. Macaque was so excited he started crying."

"ah... Explains why Goldie and Fensui happened so close together. Fertility potion effects linger for years"

"eup. Especially if you're a magic monkey so I recommend if you want kids and are struggling. Try modern stuff" Wukong said as he closed the first aid kit and put his hands in his lap. Enjoying the soft casual conversation as his cub snorted.

"I don't think I'll have cubs any time soon no one is interested in the sassy sick monkey" Shanyao said with a chuckle as he pulled his jacket on.

"well you don't need a partner to be a parent. Id give an example but Pengs horrible at parenting" Wukong said as as Shan started laughing harder. He missed that laugh it hadn't changed much.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid #lmk mk #lmk shanyao #lmk #lmk oc #lmk macaque #lmk wukong #the cubhood au

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litgwritersroom · 3 years ago

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SUMMER LOVE (But It's Golden)

Bobby McKenzie attends a wedding.

Bobby/MC - 3900+ words - i-boop-you

🎵 and i can still see it all in my mind, all of you, all of me, intertwined. i once believed love would be black and white but it's golden 🎵

The church bells were ringing; a piano was playing softly within. The sky was clear blue, like even the weather couldn’t find a reason not to celebrate today. The day was as full of sunshine as the faces of the welcoming party outside the church.

How was that for a Thursday in November.

Bobby rode up with Noah and a few other of the lads from the show. The whole group had been invited. Bobby had apparently been extremely close to being shafted off the guest list, and he wasn’t all that surprised. Not when he and the bride had spent the entire summer in the Villa together, even exchanging the ‘I love you’. At the time, Bobby could see them exchanging a different set of vows; vows she’ll now be exchanging with someone else.

If it wasn’t for the guys, Bobby might never have come. He had half a mind to run still, to escape the church grounds, never looking back, as he dashed between the rose bushes. Long before he’d first dropped those three little words he knew he felt them, and even now, long after he had first let them fall from his lips, he knew he still felt them. He was as certain now as he had been back then.

The unnatural heat of today was almost as strong as it had been back on that challenge platform; the sound of the distant birds chirping away in the background; the smell of the breeze carrying warmth and fresh country air. He closed his eyes and it was like he was back there, back before everything fell apart.

Neither of them had known her ex boyfriend had been waiting for her to come out. He laid it on thick, never letting up, a never-ending train of apologies as he begged for forgiveness. No doubt she had never looked as good as she had winning Love Island.

Bobby had seen it coming before it happened. Just a month after they left the Villa, she sat him down and ended things, saying she was going to give things another go with Levi. They had history, a past, all this time invested in each other already. From what Bobby knew of their past relationship, that history was full of Levi cheating on her with some cherry lips and a mountain of shining red hair.

From the moment Levi appeared back in her life, Bobby knew she would leave to go back to him, giving Levi the chance and the ammunition to hurt her again. Bobby wasn’t bitter, and he wasn’t hanging about waiting with an ‘I told you so’, and nor was he hanging on to welcome her back sobbing into his open arms. It just was. This was reality and he wasn’t spending forever imagining the different realities where she ran back to him. For all Bobby knew, she might even end up forgiving Levi again if - when? - if - he cheated on her once more.

But all that breaking up was just five months ago. She had come to him a month after the split to tell him Levi had proposed, and she had said yes, and that it was happening soon. Bobby was still adjusting to it until the very morning the day came.

And that day was today.

Bobby woke up; the fog that had sat in his head in the months building up to today was dissipating, clearing the way to really think straight; his bad mood, his sullen air, was all blowing away like the clouds in the sky, leaving his sights clear.

His stomach was still in knots, but he was entering a church to watch the woman he loved get married to some douchebag who never treated her right. Was he going to say anything? Was he going to rudely barge in, find her, tell her what a mistake she was making, that if she did this she could be regretting it for the rest of her life? Surely, if he did that, made her call the whole thing off, that could be what she regrets for the rest of her life.

His heart lost speed as they made their way under the arched doorway of the church. The white ribbons adorned the length of the room, going from pew to pew, tying together the small bouquets of flowers at each end. White, silver, and blue, so very elegant, but he always knew her as golden.

She was the bright day; the colour of sunshine; sweet like honey, as lovely as a daffodil. She was the representation of joy, and if laughter was a person, it would have been her. She was Summer; the air, the breeze, the daze.

At least, that’s how he knew her in the Villa. That’s how she looked in the dozens of photos that were constantly splashed across hers and Levi’s socials. Every time he had seen her since the break-up, she looked more like a painting of her old self. Or had the cracks always been there, and Bobby had been too stunned to see?

No.

No. She had always been enough. She had always been true. She had always been honest.

Maybe he was just fooling himself, talking himself into seeing her unhappiness because he wanted it, selfishly so. Maybe he was waiting for her to wake up and realise she wanted him instead. Maybe he was holding out for her to call off the wedding. Maybe he was hoping that she would spot him in the crowd and the whole façade would crumble, the show would stop, and she would come back to him.

He knew she wouldn’t. She couldn't. Nothing like that happens for real; it’s too selfish, too inconsiderate, the exact opposite of her.

It would have been easy to hate her. He had every justification. He had read the tabloids, seen the theories. She had always meant to run back to Levi. They only broke up so she could go on the show and get famous herself. She only accepted the slot on the show to make him crawl back in the first place.

Everyone had a theory, and Bobby had read them all, but they didn’t know her like he knew her. They didn’t see her like he saw her. That was not her.

She had come onto the show a heartbroken girl, and built herself back up again in Bobby’s arms. He would do it again, even if it ended with them exactly where they were now, just so he could have that time with her. He would always have the Summer. Summer would always have them. They had been in love.

Blazing and true, it had been honest and heartfelt. It was what they both needed at the time; they were who each other needed. Never had anything felt so right in Bobby’s life, and he thought that she had felt it all too.

He’d never forget her face when Levi showed up at her door just two weeks after the show ended. The shock, the hurt; it was genuine, because she was genuine. The only fake thing about her had been those nails. Oh, and the hair extensions.

Still. Bobby took a deep breath as they found their seats. This was it. This was the new reality. She was getting married. She knew what she was doing. It wasn’t like she had been held at gunpoint for the past five months, forced to smile as she picked colour schemes, floral arrangements, and how many entrees they were going to serve.

That yes had come from her own lips.

Bobby couldn’t help but wonder how gleeful it might have been, how happy in that moment she had really been. She must have been happy enough. She must be the happiest she’s ever been. He had to accept that, he had to accept that he needed to move on.

This was going to be the first step, the lads assured him. They were rallied around, hands on his shoulders, patting him reassuringly at every moment, making sure he was watched at all times lest he run away sobbing.

Well, Bobby had no plans to do anything like that. He was going to sit in his seat and be happy for her. If anyone asked why he looked so uncomfortable, he’d blame it on the pew.

Actually, he did need to take a leak.

He patted Noah on the thigh, leant in, to whisper, “I need to pee.”

“Did you not go before we left?” Noah asked, frowning at him like Bobby was his kid brother or something.

“No, I forgot.”

“I told you to go before we left the house -”

“Well, I forgot. Jeez, you wouldn’t think I had other things on my mind -”

“I’m not letting you go on your own.”

“What? What do you think I’m going to do? Go hunt her down and -”

“She’s not here yet,” Lucas butted in, turning to lean over the back of his pew from the seat in front of them. “Chelsea just updated the group chat that she’s just getting her rollers out.”

Bobby raised his brows at Noah. “See. I’m literally just going to be a second.”

“Yeah, he’s got the kilt on, so he can just whip it up over one of those rose bushes outside,” Gary said, joining in with a grin.

“Okay, you are not peeing in the church flowers,” Noah said, shaking his head at Bobby like it was his idea.

“I wasn’t going to! God, why are you guys acting like I don’t know how to behave? My plan was always, always to find the toilets, believe it or not,” Bobby said exasperatedly.

“Should someone still go with him?” Ibrahim offered. “Just in case.”

“In case what?” Bobby asked, now flummoxed. It was like he had a history of being a mental case. What did they think he would do?

Ibrahim shrugged. “I dunno, like hide in a cupboard to jump out at the bridal party or something?”

“Why would I do that?”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did something like that,” Henrik added, turning into the conversation with Lucas’ other side.

Bobby shook his head. “You guys really think I would do anything to try and ruin her day?”

“I mean, I don’t think it would be intentional -” Lucas begins, but Bobby cut him off by slicing his hand through the air. He cut them all off.

“I’m going before I wet myself in church,” he says, getting up.

“Again?” Gary offers, eyebrow raised.

“Again?” Bobby repeats, voice pitched. This one made him pause.

“Didn’t you tell us a story about you wetting yourself at -”

“That was at a sleepover. And also, I was six. I have more restraint these days.”

“We’ll see.”

Bobby got up and went. He found the toilets easy enough, down a hall just off the front door. There was a cue already, showing he wasn’t the only one without foresight to go before they got there. He would rub that in Noah’s face when he got back.

Bobby took out his phone while he waited. The group chat was exploding; the girls were keeping them constantly updated on their every move, updating the bride's every move.

Bobby felt still again as he imagined her in her white dress, getting her make-up done, holding a bouquet that matched the ones dotted around the church. He was about to watch her gliding up the aisle, eyes adoringly on the only man that mattered to her today, and he was going to watch it from the side-line.

He closed his eyes again, seeing her not from the side, not from one amongst the crowd, but centre stage, above everyone else, just him and her.

His eyes shut tighter as he saw her giving him the look she had the first time they exchanged those words. He swapped the ‘I love you’ for ‘I do’. She didn’t need to say I love you because it was all over her face, the look of love clear as the day they’d woken up to.

And the best part, the very best part - it was only for him.

Bobby and her, and they were in love, and it was just them, living in the sunshine. And if the rain did come, well, he didn’t mind living in rainbows.

One message popped up in the chat, stuck out like a daisy among weeds. It wasn’t from her, none of them were, though they were all about her.

Lottie: Is Bobby there? The bride doesn’t believe us that he’s shown up!

Chels: BOBBY, IF YOU’RE THERE GIVE US A SIGN!!! WAVE!! AN EMOJI! ANYTHING!!

… Was she worried he wasn’t going to be here? She really, really wanted him to come along? After everything?

More importantly, was the thought that he wasn’t going to go upsetting her? Why would it matter so much? They were ‘old flames’ now. Though, she had apparently really, really fought to get him invited at all. So he knew there was something.

His heart was racing still when he got back to his seat. The guys congratulated him for not running away and not doing anything daft. Bobby just pushed a stupid grin on his face and got quiet.

“Hey, the girls are leaving the hotel,” Henrik said, voice laced with excitement.

“Finally,” Gary said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Show.

It was all a show.

For months, Bobby had been putting it on, pretending he wasn’t seeing the whole world putting it on, too. It was all a show.

He loved her. He loved her and he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to watch her marry the wrong guy. Even if she didn’t want to be with Bobby, she could do better than someone who had cheated on her. Even if it wasn’t with him. She could do better.

Everyone deserves someone who’s willing to give them their whole heart. You can’t do better than that, and Bobby doesn’t want to watch anyone - let alone the bride of the day - be with anyone less than they deserve.

Everything feels like it’s all happening at once. The place goes quiet, but it’s buzzing with noise.

The piano is playing; louder and quieter at the same time. The groom and all his men lead their way to the front of the room where the priest is waiting.

Bobby could not dispute how happy Levi looked right then. He was suddenly buried by an avalanche of guilt for wanting to rob Levi of the joy and happiness that she brought into the world. Maybe Levi had changed, maybe he was better now, and maybe he wouldn’t break her heart again. Bobby had to believe it. He had to.

Even as his heart was pounding, longing for her - for him - for anyone to do something. Don’t say yes, don’t say yes, please, please, don’t let anyone say ‘I do’.

The room went quiet. Everyone was hushed, the world was as still as it ever was going to get. The anticipation filled the room, everyone wanting to see the bride in all her beautiful glory, all eyes on her as they should be, the most beautiful woman in the world.

Bobby got to his feet like everyone else. He saw over the heads of everyone who was sitting behind them. Each hammer of the piano keys felt like someone was inside his head, knocking their fists against his skull. Was this ‘Here Comes the Bride’ or a death march?

His eyes were glistening already, just a moment before she stepped foot inside the old building, the sun at her back, making her glow like an idol handpicked by the angels themselves.

She was beauty, she was elegance, she was the stars that shined in the night and the sun that lit up the day; she was the air he breathed, she was life, she was everything.

And she was waltzing up the aisle to someone else.

Bobby couldn’t even take his eyes off of her to make sure Levi was appreciating the sight before him properly. How could he not? How could he ever imagine hurting someone so wonderful? How could Levi live with himself knowing that he hadn’t done everything he could to keep her happy?

Is that what Bobby was guilty of now? As he watched her making her way to the front of the church where Levi was waiting, expectant smile all over his undeserving face, is that what Bobby was allowing?

Could Bobby live with himself knowing he hadn’t done everything he could to keep her happy?

She stood before them all, facing Levi, and reached for his hand. Was she smiling? Was she happy? She should be, she would be - but how long would it last? How long until that smile and the sunshine within her faded out?

Bobby’s ears were ringing; he could hear the church bells again despite their stillness. He watched Levi’s and the priest's lips moving, not catching a word, could see her jaw from the side, going up and down as she recited the well-rehearsed vows along with them.

Was his heart beating, thumping with the force of a hammer, or was it still, dead as if he was flat-lining?

And then he heard it, chorusing out among the choir of chaos in his head.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now…”

… or forever hold your peace.

The words hadn’t been spoken yet. The world truly had gone still.

Hand balling into his fist, Bobby reached out to Noah, placing his fist on the other man’s thigh.

The wisp of a smile that had been on Noah’s face quickly dissipated into worry, no doubt figuring that this moment was all too much for Bobby. And it was, but not for the reason Noah probably assumed.

Looking Noah dead in the eye, Bobby said, “Should I do something really stupid?”

Eyes wide; face long; Noah paled.

He reached back for Bobby, but Bobby was already moving. All Noah could do was scramble, whispering out the most hushed, “ No - !”

Gasps rang up all around the room as Bobby got to his feet, standing as bold as brass in the middle of the aisle, all eyes on him.

He was only looking at her.

“Summer.”

Summer looked at him, eyes wide, but soft. Her lips were parted, like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. If she was stunned, at a loss for words, he couldn’t blame her. He was stunned at his own boldness, already feeling the weight of standing up so suddenly pressing him down.

“Don’t do this,” he said, blinking back any potential tears. His heart was back and it was going so fast he thought it might be trying to kill him. “Don’t say ‘I do’, please. I should have spoken up sooner, and I’m sorry for doing this now…”

He took a step forward, and that seemed to break the spell. Mutterings broke out across the room, there was some movement from those sitting around him like they were thinking of physically stopping him should he try to take another step towards the happy couple.

“Don’t marry him. He’s already proven he doesn’t deserve you, Summer. I’m not saying run away with me, but I’m asking you not to throw your life away for some guy who doesn’t even respect you enough to stay faithful.”

Jaws were dropping all around after already being picked back up. Not a soul in the place looked like they knew what do to.

But there was only face, one person, Bobby cared about now.

*****

Summer didn’t know how to feel. She stood in front of all her friends and family, in front of her fiancé's friends and family, being asked not to do the very thing everyone was planning for over the last five months.

It had all been such a rush, she hadn’t even thought much about it beyond picking out the details. The last few months had been like living in a dream, and she had sensed that reality was about to burst her bubble. But not like this.

Bobby stood, so sorrowful, full of regret and pleading. So blue. He shut his eyes tight. She saw it in him; whatever gusto had build up that led to him standing, finally speaking out, she saw it all leave him.

He opened his eyes. Once more, they were only on her. It always felt like he never saw the world around her when she was there, that his eyes were well and truly only for her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. He stepped back. “I’ll go.”

Noah stood, going straight to Bobby, putting his hand on Bobby’s chest. “Come on,” he said, speaking soft, “let’s go.”

Her eyes flickered around their friends; seeing the shock, the horror, the hands held to their mouths, eyes wide in disbelief.

Bobby was half way down the aisle when Summer turned back to Levi finally.

His face was a picture of fury. He had to yet to tear his eyes off the back of Bobby’s head.

Summer understood. Of course he would be furious. He should be. And after arguing with her about him even getting invited, he was right…

Or was he?

Summer looked at him. Really, really looked at him. All of a sudden it was like she was seeing him for the first time, seeing him through the eyes of everyone else, of those not blinded by the love she felt for him once.

Her heart sank.

On her wedding day, before all of her guests, looking at her future husband. Her heart sank at the sight of him. All that happiness was turning in her stomach, but she knew what she needed to do.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling it come out of her mouth like a ghost was speaking through her. She hardly believed she had said it, but she had. And it wasn’t because of the interruption. “I’m sorry, Levi. He’s right. I can’t - I should - we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

His face fell and her own matched it. She felt that loss, that sorrow, but there was something else, too… something stronger.

“Bobby…”

“Summer -” Levi tried to reach out of her, but she was already stepping back.

Summer turned to the crowd, one foot already heading down the short set of steps. “BOBBY!”

Everyone stared, the shocking just kept piling on and on. But Summer could only see him. He was under the arch, framed by the unnaturally beautiful day, like the world had come together to make her see everything so clearly that she couldn’t believe she had ever seen anything different. What was was blue had turned golden.

He turned, looking back at her like he couldn’t believe it. She felt like she had on that first day they met; the sun enveloped him that day too, like summer was trying to hug him.

Summer blew down the aisle, heart beating harder than it had on her way up, hair blowing behind her, not a care in the world how the man at the other end saw her, knowing he wouldn’t care because she was coming to him.

“Bobby.”

It came out as a gasp, a cry, as she threw her arms around him. He held her back tight, holding her like he was afraid of ever letting her go again.

"Summer."

“Come on,” she said, breaking off the hug, but not breaking from him. Not again. Never again.

She took his hand, and he took hers, and they ran down the church steps into the glory of the bright, new day.

When those church doors shut heavily behind them, Summer stopped them again, throwing her arms around his neck once more, but this time, without the eyes of the world on them, she kissed him.

In that moment, the world was theirs. It was peace.

It was golden.

#litg #litg fanfic #litg writers room #writers room #litg bobby #bobby mckenzie #i-boop-you #character spotlight #litg character spotlight #litg season 2

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badapricot · 4 years ago

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Lovely Writer: Special 1

This is a rough translation of the first Lovely Writer special. There are 8 in total and other side stories that the author compiled. I’ll try to post 1 a week since they do vary in length, and some are a lot lengthier than this one.

This special is from Nubsib’s POV and it’s about Nubsib remembering his feelings for Gene after seeing him on Facebook, and becoming fixated. Nubsib is 15 at the time and Gene is 20.

At that time, I was in the ninth grade.

Since middle school, my parents had sent me to study abroad with my brother. Because of the wealth of my family, this was never an inconvenience. But living alone in a place that wasn’t your home country required a lot of adjustment, mainly doing everything on your own. You had to learn things that you’ve never seen and known.

This was one of the methods of teaching the sons of the Thanakitpaisan family.

It was their luck to have a son who was mature since childhood. It didn't take long for me to get used to the culture there, where I went to parties, attended sports clubs, worked a part-time job, and even had typical American teen sex. Being Asian did give me some advantages, when it came to distinguishing myself from the others.

I could only smile when talking to the many blonde women who bragged about our experiences in bed, amongst their group of friends. After some time, I felt differently about it.

"Sib.”

"Yes?" I leaned back on the sofa, and raised my head from his screen when I heard my name.

Neung came downstairs. He was wearing a thick gray cardigan with a scarf. "I’m going to go meet a friend. You're not going anywhere today, right? "

"Hmm."

"Okay, I might be coming back late. Please get my package when it arrives. You’re not going out with your girlfriend, right?”

"We broke up.”

"Huh?” Neung frowned. "You dumped another one? Again? You know, you don’t have the face of a womanizer.”

"…"

Neung opened the door of the house. For a moment, the cool outside air blew in, until the hot air from the heater disappeared. I didn’t care much about either, and stayed looking at my phone screen.

I’m not a womanizer.

It’s just that every time I got together with a girlfriend, something felt wrong. I knew I wasn’t in love with the first girl. The others, I didn’t like particularly much. Sometimes the girls didn’t like me much either, and only wanted a partner themselves, so we’d eventually separate.

It was true, that I was only in the ninth grade. But sex here was too normalized. It had become so normal that I’d become bored. When sex became so commonplace, all excitement was lost.

Mom: (send picture)

Mom: I’ve sent you Thai ingredients that should be delivered soon. They’ll be waiting for you.

Mom: Today, I went to see Aunt Run, do you still remember the house next door? Today is the Aunt's birthday. All of her sons have come home.

Mom: I saw it and I missed you and Neung.

I looked at the message that popped up, from the other side of the world. It was dark here, but over there it was probably in the middle of the day. It was time for them to eat.

Mom: Do you remember Gene? Gene and Jap are all grown up.

Gene?

After reading my mother’s message, it was natural to think of the past. I missed it. During my childhood I would run and play with him everyday, and just the same, Gene would play with me almost every day.

I still remembered “P’Gene” clearly after all these years.

We were five years apart. But we somehow became closer than me and my own brother. Since I moved out of the house, we never saw each other again. We didn’t have any more contact with each other.

When my mother talked about that time, I felt nostalgic.

I moved my finger to type to ask for a picture from my mother. In the end, I sent a simple sticker. I sat on the sofa in the living room for awhile before retiring to my bedroom to shower.

In my warm bedroom, so different from the night air outside, I picked up my phone again. I went to Facebook to catch up with everything back home. My finger kept scrolling through my news feed, my face blank. I started to feel sleepy, but before I could fall asleep I saw a status.

I wasn’t friends with the person who posted. But I was friends with his mother, who was tagged in the photo.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture.

This year, my mother has lost another year, haha.

In the picture was a group of six people. The background was a wide garden and a long table. Both of my parents, and Auntie Run and Uncle Teep were there. But the one that most caught the eye was the man in the lower right corner.

The other person grinned until his eyes were crescents. His hands were raised, flashing a peace sign. His hand held a cake tray with a delicious golden egg. The corner of the mouth was stained with white cream, like he was teasing someone. He was smiling, which made his cheeks round and full.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. For a second, there was a strange numbness in my fingertips and toes.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who that was.

P’Gene.

He was still wearing a white uniform shirt. It had been many years since we’d met, if counted by age. Gene would have been in university for three years.

Usually, I was the kind of person who didn’t care about the people around me, or anyone else. But this time, I couldn't control my fingertips. I clicked onto Jap’s Facebook page.

Chasing him down, I found a status posted with the person I was looking for tagged.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture

My brother brought me to the movies. What kind of crazy alien movie is this? I might puke, but maybe you guys on Facebook will like it.

The post was from three days ago. One was a picture of a cinema ticket on the top floor of a department store in the heart of Bangkok and the other was of P’Gene in a T-shirt and jeans. He hugged a bucket of popcorn. His hand was holding a large glass of water, lifting it up to his lips and sucking. It was a funny candid photo that many of his friends on Facebook commented on to make fun of him.

...but for me, the only word that came to mind was “lovely”.

I didn’t know why I was doing this but I pressed “save that image”.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture

My stupid little brother, you make the whole house look bad.

They were in a garden in the corner of the house that felt familiar to me, but was a little fuzzy. They were in front of a flower bush that had been trimmed into a square. Gene was sitting down, with his butt on the ground. A blue hose fell next to him, the hose spraying in another direction. It made him wet all over soaking his shirt, the thin material clinging to his body.

Both of his arms were behind him, to support his body. Therefore, his shirt and body were stretched, so I could see two small nubs contrasted and poking through his white shirt.

My eyebrows furrowed together, and I frowned.

I cursed when my body immediately had a strong reaction, just from the one picture.

I pressed the comment section, when I saw the high number of comments.

Jiranon Jarernpipat: Jap stop posting pictures of other people.

(Reply) Jap Jarernpipat attached video clip.

I clicked play immediately.

"Ow, P’Jap!”

“Hahaha, why would you say you’ll help me water the plants? You can help if the grass is dead.”

“Can you turn off the water for me first? Why are you recording?”

P’Gene raised his white hand. He wiped the water from his face, and pushed himself off the ground. His shirt clung to his body, so I could see everything. He had the voice of a man, but he was still so cute.

Finally, the clip ended.

There were still a lot of other videos that Jap posted pranking Gene, all of which stopped me from becoming bored. I saved all of them to my phone and computer. In the end, when more and more accumulated, I created a whole separate folder.

That night when I fell asleep, my brain was filled with pictures of the boy next door, who I hadn’t seen in years.

Another morning, days later, I woke up frowning, and I had to gently breathe out. I’d dreamt of P’Gene again. Since seeing that picture that night, there hadn’t been a day where I could go without seeing his face.

I knew Gene’s Facebook. But he didn’t update much, except to change his avatar or cover photo. But Jap’s Facebook page had tons of pictures of Gene. So I was still able to look at Gene’s pictures and progress in life everyday, like some kind of psychopath.

Even when I closed my eyes to sleep sometimes, I still saw his pictures.

I didn’t want to be this way, but I couldn’t control my subconscious.

I always saw Gene lying in my wide bed. He would smile at me, his cheeks soft and reddish. His hands would hold on to me, and his mouth would gently say, “Sib.”

It was a fantasy that any teenage boy would have. But it wasn’t a woman. Instead, it was the boy next door, who always loved and saw me as a brother.

I circled back to look at his pictures every day. In the end, the feeling accumulated like a huge mountain of snow.

I want to meet him in real life.

I want to hug him.

I want to smell him.

I want to kiss his mouth. I want to do to him what I do in my dreams.

Since the day I saw his picture and until today, my thoughts and feelings had become more and more intense. So intense, that sometimes I was afraid of myself.

I’d already decided how I’d deal with this.

“Will you finish school here?” Neung had packed all his bags and was ready to go because he finished his studies. I leaned against the door frame, looking into his room.

“Actually, it’s nice here too, you know.”

"No, I'm going home."

“So you’ve changed your mind then?”

I nodded.

“Well, our house is nice and of course, our parents miss you too.”

"…"

"I'm not going to be here anymore, don't bring any women into the house...but you're not dating any girls lately. So it's fine."

I sent off my brother, who took a taxi straight to the airport to go back home to Thailand. Personally, I still had a year to complete my studies.

In the past, I had never thought or worried about how fast or slow time would pass. But now, I felt jealous of my brother.

Back at the house, I picked up the phone. I was still for a while. Maybe it was because Neung had returned to Thailand, but I felt like chasing pictures wasn’t enough anymore. My fingers moved before I could decide to send a message to someone.

Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: P'Jap.

Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: Do you remember me?

I wanted to talk to someone who could tell me everything about P’Gene.

I wanted to learn everything about him.

#lovely writer #lovely writer the series #lovely writer spoilers #gene x nubsib #text

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killian-spey · 4 years ago

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Death Would Be Kinder [Ch. 2]

Prev. Ch.

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 2276

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad. This chapter takes place during [BtVS S2:E15]

TW/CW: violence, kidnapping, chains?

AN: Idea came from @prose-for-hire ‘s submission to the fic title game. Taglist is at the bottom, let me know if you want to be added!

You’d been sitting silently, watching Spike wheel himself back and forth across the factory. If you didn’t know better he looked like he was pacing. In reality, he was probably checking behind the pillars and corners of the factory for any sign of your friends. It seems the vampires were expecting Buffy to come looking for you. As the time dragged on, your suspicions became reality; Buffy had prioritized the threat of the Judge over saving you. You had to admit, it stung a little, but it was only logical.

Spike peeked his head into each doorway adjoining the main factory floor. You could tell he was getting restless. You contemplated your odds carefully before you decided on taking a calculated risk.

“You lose a sock?” you yelled.

“Did I what?” Spike wheeled back into the room, an odd expression on his face.

“I asked if you lost a sock.” You paused, his intense glare caught you off-guard. “You know… Because of all the pacing. And popping your head in and out of every room in the place. Somebody’s going to think you lost a sock.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He chuckled a bit before going quiet again and stalking around the factory in his wheelchair. You nodded to yourself, deciding to quit while you were ahead. After that, the only sounds left in the factory were the spinning of wheels and an occasional bumping of door frames and frustrated curses.

It had only been a couple hours of his pseudo-pacing before Angelus and Drusilla stumbled their way into the factory. Spike took one look at the state Angelus was in and hid a smirk under his hand by scratching his nose.

“Well, you’re home early. Slayer hasn’t even tried swiping the girl yet.”

Spike’s good mood vanished as he watched them come down the steps. Drusilla was beside herself, and for a moment you found yourself feeling bad for her. Then Angelus opened his big fat mouth and you remembered who these people were.

“Yeah, well things didn’t go exactly according to plan, Spikey.” He prowled the room, circling like a big cat before he gravitated towards you. Your nerves peaked and you swear you saw a glint of pride behind Angelus’ eyes as he heard your heart pick up. He stepped within arms’ reach of you and sneered.

“What I can’t figure out is, why would she abandon you like this?”

“Where’s your big blue friend?” You swallowed your anxiety and stared up at him in challenge, you weren’t going to tell him a goddamn thing. Might as well give yourself a fighting chance. If he figured it out, you were dead already. You were going to be careful, of course, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him win.

Angelus roared, grabbing your face by the jaw. He was suddenly wearing his game face front and center. ‘Buffy really rattled him, huh?’ You remained stoic, as statuesque as you could muster. If you had misjudged his mood, this might be one of your last moments alive.

Drusilla had floated her way over, leaning into Angelus and hugging his arm to her side. Your staring contest interrupted, Angelus pulled away from you. You took the free moment away from the spotlight to run your fingers against the grain of the armrests, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of the wood underneath you. Your panic was bubbling to the surface, tension and pressure building in your ribcage. You caught Spike’s knowing glance towards you as your eyes flickered between the vampires. You dropped your eyes to the floor, frozen as Drusilla subtly coaxed Angelus away from you. Before long, Angelus had stormed out of the factory again, mumbling about sending Buffy a message.

You were grateful and more than a little stunned. Drusilla saved your life. In her own, subtle way she’d dismantled Angelus’ rage and directed it somewhere else. She’d spun him out of the factory towards Buffy with little more than a subtle flirtatious gesture. You practically gawked at her as she made her way into Spike’s lap. She had these men wrapped around her finger and they didn’t even know it.

Well, maybe Spike knew, but he certainly didn’t mind. He was running his fingers through Drusilla’s hair, comforting her as he spoke.

“If you like the hostage so much, maybe you should have a little fun, Ducks.” He wrapped an arm around Drusilla’s waist to steady her as he wheeled towards you, continuing. “She was supposed to be the distraction for the Slayer, after all. That is what went wrong with the plan, wasn’t it?”

Drusilla lifted her head, gears turning as she looked between Spike and you. Your mind rushed with your fears of what she was contemplating. You didn’t put it past them for ‘playing’ to mean something rather unpleasant for you. Drusilla hummed under her breath excitedly, springing from Spike’s lap and practically skipping out of the room. Spike nodded at you, raising his eyebrows as if to say “Hey look, I fixed it!” and wheeled himself into a good position to watch from, a smug grin on his face.

Drusilla returned with two fistfuls of chains and your heart dropped. She fussed with them somewhere behind you and left the rest in a pile as she ducked off again to the other room. Spike flicked his eyes between the chains and his girl curiously, but said nothing as she flurried about the factory. When she returned, she was holding a long carrying case and a small over-the-shoulder bookbag. She dropped them beside the chains and left again without a word.

“Ducks, what is all this stuff?”

Spike called out to her and wheeled over to the bags. He unzipped one when she didn’t answer. You couldn’t see into the bag from your position and Spike’s exasperated reaction didn’t help you either.

Drusilla returned one final time, holding a large blank canvas in each hand. The left was maybe a 20”x24” and the right was maybe a 24” square. (50cmx60cm or 60cm square).

“Which one does the artist like best?”

You paused, unsure if there was a right answer. After a couple moments you pointed weakly to the left canvas. Drusilla smiled at you and put the square canvas down. Spike scoffed as Drusilla set up an easel from the carrying case and put the bookbag on a table beside it.

She dragged the chains over to your chair and kneeled, carefully untying the knots around your right leg. You studied her face; she bit her tongue lightly as she worked, pulling at the ropes with deft, perfectly manicured fingers. After she’d untied your legs and shackled them, she let your arms off the armrests.

She took your hands in hers and pulled you up to stand for the first time in almost a day. You scanned her expression and glanced backwards towards the easel, then back to her with trepidation. She glided you in front of the daunting white canvas and left you, sinking backwards and sitting in Spike’s lap.

You stood, dumbfounded at the prospect of Drusilla wanting you to paint, of all things. She seemed unimpressed by your inaction after a few moments, and had begun whispering into Spike's ear. He'd leaned into her, pulling her closer and snickered at what must have been a rather amusing comment. He flicked his eyes at you through his lashes, a predatory glint flashing behind his eyes as his smirk grew. He straightened in his seat with satisfaction, head held high.

“Paint for the lady or get eaten. Your choice.”

Drusilla’s eyes wandered back to you and provided no comfort, but then again, why should it? You turned back to the canvas, feeling both their eyes staring at you. A calming breath later, you assessed the materials on the table.

The canvas bag she'd brought had a full set of oil paints- far nicer than you'd ever been able to afford. You didn't dare think of the poor shopkeeper she'd probably killed for them. A person just like your Uncle. He was just another obstacle in these people’s way, and for that he was murdered. You shoved the paints to one side of the small table and began assessing the tools. A somewhat rudimentary selection of spatulas and brushes. You could make do just fine with these.

You set up a palette with some blue, red, white, and black to start. A color palette often was the first thought you gave to a painting. This painting would be mostly blues, purples, and grays. Without turning your head, your eyes flicked towards the vampires just off your left shoulder in the periphery. You had never really let anyone sit and watch you paint. It was hard enough showing a finished piece to someone other than family.

You mixed a deep lilac and raised a palette knife to the canvas. You paused, unsure where to place the landscape. The creeping feeling of being watched was throwing you. The white snow canvas was taunting you, paralyzing you. But you weren't about to let it win. Any of them. You closed your eyes and just swiped the palette knife confidently in a bold first stroke. Now you had a puzzle. How does this fit into a landscape? There was no going back now, it had to work.

It was a mountain slope. The hue you used was suitable for a distant fixture seen from a twilit glade. You could lean into that, thinking on how to keep the morbid whimsy of the piece consistent as a theme. You blocked out the clearing and plotted out the forest behind and around it. It fell silent in the factory as you worked, only the scraping of palette knives and brush strokes echoing in the room. Pieces fell in place as you added gnarled willows at the tree line, white ghost pipes and fungi crawling on the foliage, and sickly green fireflies in the weeping branches and crooked thorn bushes. You didn't like how the overall feel of the piece was so damp and dreary. It felt too muted, too blue for what you'd envisioned. You added nettles to the glade in a redder purple, almost magenta, to tie the piece back into the mystical tone you wanted. A few more touches, a ray of silver moonlight here or there, and you stepped back. You contemplated the piece, for some reason feeling unfinished. The glade felt completely untouched, too alone by itself.

You almost jumped when you heard Drusilla shift off Spike’s lap behind you. You froze, dropping your gaze to the floor, unsure of her intentions. With three clicks of her heels against the concrete flooring, she stopped just behind you. So close you would have felt her breath on your neck if she were human. She leaned forward and pulled your hair behind your ear. She placed one hand on your shoulder and raised your head with a finger under your chin, guiding your eyes back to your work.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s not bad, actually.” Spike wheeled forward a pace or so to take a closer look at it. Drusilla still seemed to be waiting for your own answer. You studied it again silently.

It did feel telling, in an odd sort of way. It was invisibly and indescribably alive, despite the darkness and isolation. Could be a good metaphor for vampires... Alive and free only after their own deaths. Sure, they may not exactly live up to society’s expectation of a good neighbor, but you couldn’t say they let being dead keep them from living.

Still, the painting felt unsatisfactory, felt incomplete. You shook your head and pondered. You drew up a couple new colors, a ghostly blue and a red-brown clay. You loaded a palette knife with the clay tone and hovered over the painting, indecisive. The central piece as of now was a large, twisting willow on a small inclined mound of earth. The whole painting felt like background to an invisible subject. Nothing tied the eye to the painting, there was nothing to follow. No movement in a living place.

Drusilla took the palette knife from your hand and set it down. She pulled you lightly to step away from the painting, lightly petting your hair.

“Let it rest, you’ll do more later. With a clear mind,”

You let a heavy sigh escape your lungs. She was right. If you kept going now, at the end of your rope, you’d risk doing something that detracted from the painting entirely. You jerked your head up at a loud scraping sound from above you. Angelus had swung the door open on the mezzanine of the factory. He had a vicious grin and a playful look in his eyes, leaning on the guardrail and looking down at the three of you.

“Did you have fun with the Slayer, then?” Spike called up to him.

“Oh, she makes it so easy!” Angelus threw himself at the spiral staircase and rushed down them with glee.

“I barely had to lift a finger to throw a wrench in her little puppy problem.”

Drusilla twitched her head and glided towards him. She was staring at his face, fixated on something you didn’t pick up on. She swiped her thumb across the corner of his mouth and brought it to her own lips.

“Did you bring any home, Angel? I taste a young one on you.”

“Not today, darlin’. Besides, you have that one.” Angelus gestured to you and sauntered off, calling back as he left. “She wasn’t really any use anyway.”

[Next Chapter Soon!]

Tags: @prose-for-hire @soggy-enchilada @misselsbells06

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piratewithvigor · 4 years ago

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My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously.

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged.

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

#I made this instead of doing homework #Classic Rock #Meme

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cuuno-moved · 3 years ago

Text

after it all (or: boomer fucking dies)

inspired by @sleepsart's incredible comic

tws for: a very graphic car wreck and death (but it gets a semi-happy ending)

They woke up in a dark room.

That’s it. That’s all they knew. It was dark, and they were cold. Not cold in a ‘freeze to death’ cold, but in a ‘put on an extra sweater before you go out’ cold.

They didn’t have an extra sweater. They didn’t even have a sweater. They stood there in their baggy white t-shirt and light grey sweatpants, and they shivered.

They missed their hat.

They didn’t even know what their hat looked like, only that they didn’t have it, only that they missed it.

They called out, a few times. A plaintive little cry for help, met with an echoing silent indifference.

It was quiet in a way nothing was quiet.

Not even their footsteps against the ground filled the silence, the quiet thunks hardly doing anything to fill the sickening empty void.

Finally, there was light, and they could breathe.

It was still dark, of course, it wasn’t that kind of light, but there was light.

It was a woman.

It was a giant woman, nearly too tall to take in one look, with a long black veil, and a long red dress. A ring shone on her hand, a diamond the size of their head.

She was watching them.

They weren’t sure how they could tell, but they could.

“Hello.” They murmured, although they were still far enough away that she couldn’t possibly hear them.

“Hello, my child,” She responded, calmly and beautifully, and she knelt. “I’m sorry you ended up here when you did.”

“Where am I?” They asked.

“You’re safe. You’re home.”

“I’m cold,” They said, pulling at their tshirt. “Why am I cold?”

“It’s often cold here,” She said, apologetically. “Sometimes it’s not, but often it is.”

“Ah,” They said, understandingly, although they didn’t understand at all. “Who are you?”

They felt the woman smile, although they couldn’t see it. “I am the lady of the crows, I am the final hope, I am the mother of night, Angelwife.”

“Trixtin,” They murmured, reverently. “Goddess of Death.”

She nodded, and they sank to their knees.

“Who am I?”

“Remember.” Trixtin said, gently.

“I can’t,” They moaned, tugging at their shirt. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Yes you can.” She said. “Now remember.”

And they did.

It was a beautiful day, the day they died, and not just because they were finally going to be free. The sun was a beautiful shade of blue, the sun was shining and there was just a hint of a breeze. It was beautiful. It was freedom.

Hannah had turned on the radio in the car, and as some generic pop song played, she tapped her fingers against the wheel, bobbing her head. Her little pink sunglasses sat on the tip of her nose and she took a sip of her cherry soda as they raced down the road.

They were almost like any other friends on vacation, any other young adults, fresh out of high school, exploring the world.

For a moment, they tried to pretend they were, that they were sat beside Hannah on a road trip across the country or whatever, instead of running from a fighting ring, desperately searching for her brothers, who may or may not have found some sort of paradise-

“Boomer.” She said, sharply. “I can hear you overthinking from here.”

“I just… I’ve been in there for years,” They said, tiredly. “I’m not even sure where we’re going.”

“I told you,” She said, laughing. “Punz sent me a letter. There’s an SMP, it’s safe. He’s on good terms with the admin, we’ve got special permission to enter.”

Boomer hummed, pulling their knees up to their chest. “I miss him.”

“So do I,” She said. “So do I…”

It was quiet for a bit, before they spoke again, quieter this time. “Do you think they’ll send anyone after us?”

Hannah sighed, running her fingertips over the leather stitching of the wheel. “No. Hypixel has so many players, we’re hardly a drop in the bucket. Us leaving is like… it’d make it worse if they admitted that they let us get away. Pretend they’re in control. Pretend we’re not a threat on the outside.”

“Are we?”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. They weren’t going to do anything to try to stop Hypixel. They weren’t going back. They weren’t going to try to help anyone else escape.

When Technoblade finally got out, when he was released, he told the news he would never go back. For months, the news proclaimed in big letters: ‘Hypixel legend Technoblade swears to never return.’ The players cursed his name. They told each other that if they ever excaped, they would help each other.

They wouldn’t though.

They weren’t revolution leaders.

They were kids and teens and tired gladiators, sick of fighting, sick of the pain of death and respawning and despairing.

Boomer let their head rest against the window, bouncing off the glass. “You know where we’re going, right?”

Hannah tapped the GPS with one long, acryllic nail. “Yeah, baby. Only two more hours.”

Boomer nodded, smiling. “Okay. Okay, good, that’s alright then. We’re good.”

“Take a nap, Boom,” Hannah said, reaching over to grab their hand. “I’ll take care of us, don’t worry.”

Boomer chuckled. “I know. Night, Rose. Wake me up when we get there.”

They woke up two hours later to Hannah cheering.

“We’re there!” She cried, beaming at them. “We’re safe!”

They stretched their arms up, cracking their back. It was getting dark out, but it looked like rain was on the horizon. It was still beautiful, trees and valleys and beautiful mountains.

They felt their heart swell.

They weren’t sure what happened next.

One moment, they were watching the clouds brush across the sky.

The next, a cow was in the road and Hannah yanked the wheel to the side.

The car went off the road.

Their head slammed back, then forward, and then, suddenly, they were upside down.

Their chest hurt.

Their stomach hurt.

They were bleeding.

They couldn’t breathe.

“Hannah?” They rasped, craning their neck.

She was still in her seat, at least, her eyes unfocused and wide. There was a cut on her forehead, and the blood ran into her hair, turning the brown curls rusty. As soon as they choked out her name, she seemed to snap to attention.

“Boomer?” She murmured. “Oh- oh god.”

She reached down to her seatbelt, rattling it, and finally, it unlatched, releasing her, and she fell hard.

“My seatbelt is stuck,” Boomer choked out. “I can’t… I can’t move.”

“No-” Hannah gasped, and crawled closer. “No, no it can’t be.”

She pressed the latch, then tugged, then yanked, then she let out a scream, ripping at the belt itself.

“Hannah,” Boomer said, grabbing at her hand. “Hannah get out. Go. Save yourself.”

“No,” She hissed, almost ferally. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you.”

“What more can you do?” They murmured. They were losing blood fast.

“...I’m going to get help,” She promised, pressing her lips together. “Just… stay here. Don’t die on me.”

“Okay,” They lied. “Okay.”

She wriggled her way out of the car though the shattered windshield.

They blinked.

It was raining.

They were bleeding.

It hurt.

There were footsteps.

They blinked.

Two pairs of hands were tugging on them.

They opened their eyes.

They were being held.

A man stared down at them.

He was talking in a soft humming tone, his hands pressed against their neck.

They couldn’t feel their legs.

They blinked.

It was all so dark.

They couldn’t see.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Punz laughed, flicking at their forehead. “Open your eyes!”

They did.

They were alone.

No, Hannah was here.

The man was here, too, his voice still deep and reassuring.

His solid black eyes shone with tears.

He was crying for them.

He didn’t even know them.

They were so tired.

They pressed their hands to the ground.

They were laying on the grass.

Hannah was carrying them.

They were falling.

They were in a car.

They were in a tournament.

They were alone.

It was cold.

Trixtin watched them.

They stared back.

“My name is Boomer,” They said, quietly. “I’m Boomer.”

“Yes you are,” She agreed. “You are Boomer.”

“...I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Who was that man?” They asked. “The one who held me, in the end.”

“His name is Sam, he will look after Hannah as long as he can. They buried you, in her garden, by the rose bushes.”

“Will they be okay? Hannah and Punz and Purpled?”

“... I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Can I go back? Please? I don’t- I have to help them. I’m too young-”

“You can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

At that, she hesitated, thought it through. “It isn’t your turn.”

“That’s bullshit.” They spat, even though they knew cursing at a goddess was ill advised in every way that counts.

“Oh?” She sounded almost laughing, like a mother who’d caught her child with his mouth full of chalk. “Why is that?”

“I didn’t get to fucking live, man. I didn’t get to stop all that bad shit from hurting them.”

She seemed to blink. “Oh…”

“Can I at least have my hat?”

There was a pause, then, before she sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” They said. “Thank you so much.”

Death hummed, standing slowly. She towered into the misty darkness above them, and for just a moment, Boomer saw under her veil, saw her skeletal face and shining ruby eyes, and then she turned, and walked away, and they were alone.

Alone.

#boomerna #mcyt #dream smp #toby writes shit #misstrixtin #mumza #hannahxxrose #who else is relavent here...#idk #death tw #car wreck tw

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guardianofrivendell · 4 years ago

Text

Stalker

Kíli x reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: mentions of a fight, stalker things, bad writing because I was rushing

A/N: I don’t know what I was thinking... but here is a silly Kíli fic. I reposted this a couple of times because it didn’t show up in the tags at first. I apologize to my followers for the “Stalker”-spamming (although it fits the theme, doesn’t it :))

"You did not!" you gasped, looking up from your book and staring at your other half. Kíli just stood there, silently pleading with his eyes for you to let this go but you weren’t going to. Not this time. He couldn’t say he didn’t expect this reaction.

"Kíli, you already had a council meeting today and every day for the last three weeks! Can't you sit this one out? You promised!" you complained. You had every reason to complain; he and his brother, uncle and some members of the company had been trying to renew trade agreements and other important things with nearby kingdoms for the last couple of weeks. They weren’t going according to plan and he spent more time in the royal halls than he did with you. You understood how important this was for him, and that he had to be there as the Prince of Erebor but weren’t you important too?

To make it up to you, Kíli promised you’d have a quiet evening tonight, just the two of you. But you guessed those plans were cancelled now... "I know, amrâlimê. Trust me, I know and I’m truly sorry… But you know how uncle gets when these things don’t go as planned. Dain isn’t cooperating at all, they’re both so stubborn! Fíli is trying really hard to compromise but you know he can’t do anything without me there," he smiled trying to lighten the mood.

You huffed. You knew you were acting a little childish, but you had been looking forward to a night to yourselves. "It's just... I stayed in Erebor so I could be with you but you're never here. I think I spent more time in these chambers by myself than I got to spend time with you!" Your eyes traveled back to the pages of your book.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you are avoiding me…" Now it was Kíli’s turn to scoff, and he went through his hair with both hands. An obvious sign he was starting to get frustrated. "Now you are overreacting, Y/N. You know I love you more than anything and I love spending time with you. But we had some problems with the numbers and stocks, so uncle and Dain wanted to do another run through tonight. Just to make sure," he explained. "You can come if you want?" You shook your head. "No, thank you. I'll only be in your way and I wouldn't want them to think I am the controlling type." He snorted. "Oh, don't worry, they already think that." When he saw your eyes widen, he raised his hands. "I'm joking! I'm joking! But I do have to go, amrâlimê. I really am sorry for tonight,” he said. He kissed your head and brushed his hand over your cheek. “I promise I will make it up to you." Before he closed the door to your chambers he said, "Don't wait up!" Great... home alone. Again.

You looked outside the window into the dark night and sighed. It was well past midnight and still no Kíli. Your thoughts began to take a turn for the worst and you started to feel a little homesick. You left everyone in your hometown when you joined the quest all those months ago. Your friends, your family, ... back home you didn't have time to spare, you were always busy. But here in Erebor you had way too much time on your hands. Especially since you were by yourself most of the time. Getting betrothed to a prince didn’t help either. You weren’t allowed to go out by yourself – for your own safety according to Thorin – and everything was done for you by the maids. You tried to help them at first by making the bed or doing the laundry yourself, but Kíli had explained to you that the maids considered this to be an insult. It gave them the idea you weren’t happy with how they handled everything. So you had apologized profusely and let them do everything for you. Even though it went against everything you believed in.

If you were in your hometown right now, you’d probably go for your nightly walk. You found walking at night to be relaxing, almost comforting. No sounds, no people, ... just you and your thoughts and nature. But you couldn't do that here, could you? You thought about it for a moment. And why shouldn’t you? You didn't know your way around Erebor and Dale that well, but you recalled a little path not far from the main gates that led to the Dale lands and forests. You went there once with Kíli so you could probably find it on your own, and get some much needed fresh air. When you get back, Kíli might have returned from his meeting.

You pulled on a coat and heavy boots and headed out the door. It was fairly easy to get out of Erebor without being seen. The guards at the front kept an eye on people trying to get in, not the other way around. When you walked in the direction you thought the path was, an uneasy feeling came over you. As if someone was watching you.

You shrugged your shoulders, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you but you picked up your pace nonetheless. Now where was that path again...? Just when you were about to give up, you spotted a small path that led you away from the Lonely Mountain, to a small forest. It wasn't the path you were looking for, but it would have to do.

A sudden noise made you turn. You saw a silhouette walking a couple of feet behind you; dark clothes, hood, ... Everything about this figure screamed danger. You quickly ran over the path and disappeared between the trees. Why did you always have to do these things? What were you thinking going out alone? You ran your hands through your hair and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. But the noise of someone walking on the stone path made your head snap up.vYou cursed under your breath. The hooded figure walked over the path in front of you and headed straight towards you.

You started running deeper into the forest and you heard their pace quicken as well. Your daggers! You started tapping your thighs and chest before you realized you left them in your chambers in your rush to get out. "Alright, Y/N, it's up to you then," you whispered. You could easily defend yourself, you’d fought in many wars before. But that was different, you had your weapons back then. Now it was dark and if they were armed, you had no chance.

You hid yourself behind some bushes and waited. As soon as you got sight of your stalker, you flexed your muscles and got ready to jump out. They halted not far from you, close enough to hear a male voice say, "Where did she go?" "Right here!" you yelled while launching yourself at him. Although he was much heavier than you, he fell to the ground immediately. You climbed on top of him and started punching with everything you got. He tried to get you off of him, but you gave him no chance.

"Stop it!" he yelled. "Y/N, it's me!" At the sound of your name, you froze. You quickly stood up and took a few steps away from him. Your 'stalker' held a hand over his eye as he slowly stood up. "Mahal, Y/N, you got a good right hand!" "Kíli?!" you gasped. He threw his hood back and started laughing. Now you could see his face and you felt instant relief and regret. "Oh no, I am so sorry!" you said and you hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you and chuckled. "Well, I can say I am feeling a little better now knowing that you can defend yourself when you’re unarmed."

You looked at his face and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. "It is already starting to swell. We should go back, I need to take care of this," you said.

By the time you got back to Erebor, his eye and a part of his left cheek was starting to bruise. "I hope they're not going to be mad at me..." you said, scared of the reaction of Thorin and his brother. "Nah, they wouldn't do that to you. What I'm afraid of is that they wouldn't let me hear the end of this. I got beat up by my own girl who is not much taller than a hobbit!" You slapped his shoulder in protest.

"Then why did you follow me in the first place?" you asked. "Are you kidding me? I was on my way back to you and I saw you leaving in the middle of the night! Of course I would follow you, something could've happened to you!" "You worry about me?" you whispered. You weren't used to this kind of affection. Long story. "Of course I do. Y/N, I love you! I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you!" Kíli said while he started stroking your hair. "We should get some sleep, you probably have another meeting tomorrow..." you sighed.

He picked you up and walked through the silent hallways to your chambers. You looked at his face and started laughing. "What?" he asked. "You look like one of those pirates from Bilbo’s stories!" you giggled when you looked at him and his black eye. "Oh, I'll show you what this pirate can do, kurduwê!" he growled while kicking the door open with his foot.

A/N: I’ll leave the rest to your imagination...

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings

#lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lotr fanfiction #kili x reader #kili durin #kili x you #the hobbit imagine

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boymeetsweevil · 3 years ago

Text

SS7 - KTH, FANTASY!AU, 3623w

The sun was high in the sky when Taehyung met her for the first time. He was feeling the effects of the heat under his cloak and took some time to squat under the shade of a large, drooping tree.

Losing his chaperone was starting to seem like a bad decision as he rubbed at his growling stomach. He wasn’t certain that he could remember the last time he was hungry for this long. Normally, in the palace, he would have eaten at least a snack by now while the kitchen staff prepared lunch for him and his mother. But with only the palace towers visible against the northern mountains, he knew he wouldn’t get back until at least dinner time. Maybe longer.

He dozed off to fight the hunger pangs briefly only to be woken by the sound rustling. The stories about ferocious wolves he sometimes read from his chaperone's library came flooding back to him. He still wasn’t old enough or far enough in training to carry a sword like the knights at the palace did, so there was no way to defend himself against an attack. Did wolves even like the taste of princes, he wondered with watery eyes.

The rustling grew louder and he began to cry in earnest. He didn’t know much about wolves, but he did know that at some point his chaperone tried to teach him about the wildlife in the kingdom’s terrain. If only he’d listened instead of doodling on the margins of his parchment. Taehyung dropped his head to whisper a silent prayer to the gods like he sometimes heard the maids do over his bed when he got chills in the winter.

If he made it out of this, he promised to study harder, stay with his chaperone, and stop playing tricks on the palace seamstress.

A twig snapped and he screamed a high and childish sound. Then from the bushes emerged not a wolf, but another child.

Instantly he could tell the child was clearly not from any of the allying kingdoms. There was no gold woven into her cloak or lacework on the bodice of her gown, nor were there any pearls or smaller jewels sewn into the hem of her skirts. Instead the girl before him stood with a dirty face and a thin, greying frock with a dusty looking apron tied to her front. It reminded him of something some of the servant girls in the palace might wear. And then he thought of home and how far he was from it.

And then he started to cry again.

“You’ve got some funny clothes,” the girl mumbled almost to herself as she approached. “What you cryin' for?”

Taehyung couldn’t do much else but give a wet cough and keep crying in response.

“M’hungryyy,” he managed between heaving sobs.

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?”

The girl reached out and grabbed at Taehyung’s arm, quickly at first and then softer a second time to marvel at the smooth silk of his sleeve. He would have balked at the sudden intrusion, but the crying made his throat sore and he was still whimpering too much to say anything.

He let the other child pull him down some invisible path, ducking under low hanging branches and pushing through high weeds until they reached a small clearing with a gently babbling brook running through it.

“Water!”

Taehyung chucked himself to the ground and pulled off his leather gloves to cup the cool water in his hands. The girl watched off to the side as he drank until he was no longer feeling like he was being baked alive in his velvet trousers. When he stood, she stared at the dirt clinging to the knees of his pants.

“Wait here,” she said before turning on her heel and disappearing further into the surrounding shrubbery.

Taehyung almost panicked but she returned not a few minutes later with her apron gathered awkwardly in her two hands.

“Why are you holding it like that?”

“I’ve got you something.” The smile she gave him was so large it made her eyes small. She was missing a front tooth, just like him. She must have 7 birthdays as well.

Taehyung found himself trying to peek into the makeshift basket of her apron.

“No peeking! Sit first, then I’ll show you.”

Taehyung bristled. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m the prin—”

“Are you hungry or not?”

With that, he pursed his lips and mulled over his options before settling back down on the ground. Once he was seated, the girl sat down as well. As soon as she was low enough, Taehyung could see exactly what she was hiding. In her apron lay dozens of wild strawberries, each one glistening like a large ruby in the afternoon sun. He realized then that the material of her apron was darkened with what must be water from the brook that she used to wash the berries first.

“These are my favorite,” he looked back up at her in shock. “How did you know,” he asked sincerely.

“I dunno. I just knew they were there. Sometimes I eat them when I’m out here and we've no bread in the house.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you have any bread?” Taehyung chuckles at the ridiculous thought and scoops up a handful of berries. “Just ask the cook to bake you some.”

“What cook? You mean my Ma?”

“Why on earth would your mother make the bread?”

“Well, who else is gonna make it? She says I’m too young yet to put the loaf the fire by myself.”

Taehyung couldn’t find fault with the girl’s logic when she put it that way, though he also couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of his own mother in the kitchen. The few times she’d tried to go in, the cooks promptly chased her out. He’d have to ask when he got home.

“Oh!" He chirped, cheeks slightly grubby with berries. "Do you know how to get back to the palace?”

“The palace,” the girl asked while chewing on a strawberry of her own. “I don’t think so. I’ve never been there, I thought only adults went to the palace.”

“I live there.”

“No, you don’t! Only the king and his family live at the palace.”

“The king is my father, so of course I live there.”

The girl was silent again. She stared for a long time at Taehyung’s clean, neat brown hair, his un-tattered clothes, his delicate beaded shoes. She still wasn't sure he was telling the truth until she saw his hands.

“Woah! You really are from the palace!”

She reached out for the hand nearest to her but he yanked it back fearfully.

“Just let me see your hand. I want to see something.”

“No!”

Taehyung gulped and brough his hand to his chest. He knew he wasn’t supposed to take his gloves off outside of the palace, but he was so excited to see fresh water and food that he took them off and forgot to put them back on. The girl stood up and let the remaining berries fall to the ground, leaving small blood-red stains on her apron. If he didn’t fend her off, he’d have to deal with the burning and the splotches again.

“I just want to see really quick. I won’t do anything bad.”

“If you touch me, my skin will get sick,” he parroted the dialogue he heard from the town herbalist told him, nearly 3 suns ago.

“Really?”

He was about to explain more but the girl ambushed him by tackling him to the ground. The air in his lungs was knocked out and he could only lay there at first to get his bearings back. With the sleeve of his silk shirt rucked up, the girl grabbed his bare wrist delicately and peered at his hand. The skin of his palm was free of calluses or scars, smooth and soft. His nails were clean with no soot or soil wedged underneath. Just like her Ma had told her. He truly was a prince.

Taehyung yanked his wrist back and clutched it once more, waiting for the pain to start. But as the seconds passed, his skin remained free of the prickly fire that would raise underneath when his mother used to stroke his cheek or the herbalist would check his pulse.

“What are you,” he breathed with wide eyes up her.

“What?”

“I mean, why doesn’t my skin burn?”

“Does it really burn? I thought you were just pretending,” she blinked in surprise.

Taehyung was about to grab at the girl himself this time, but a call rang through the forest.

“Your Majesty! Taehyung, your grace! Are you here?”

The voice of his chaperone, Namjoon, should have been a welcome sound. But now that he was no longer tired, overheated, or hungry, Taehyung didn’t really feel like going home as badly as he had. In fact, he wanted to spend more time with his new friend. Happiness bubbled inside him at the thought. He could finally have a friend to play with now that he was cured. He could finally get rid of his stuffy gloves and hooded cloaks and go on adventures with someone.

“Who’s Taehyung?”

“Me! I’m Taehyung.” He puffed out his chest proudly. “I’m the first in line to the throne. So I’ll be king one day.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Taehyung pointed a chubby finger in the direction of the sound. “That’s my chaperone, Namjoon. Come on, I’ll let you meet him. He’s nice and he knows everything.”

He grabbed at the girl’s hand first this time. He marveled at the simple warmth he felt, a sensation he hadn’t felt for years without a fiery blaze accompanying it soon after. He smiled down at his fingers intertwined with hers.

“Namjoon, I’m here!”

“Don’t move,” Namjoon's disembodied voice called.

The sound of twigs snapping and flora brushing continued for a few more minutes before a young man of 21 came stumbling through. He nearly fell over a distended tree root while making his way over, but as soon as he righted himself he came charging at Taehyung. Realizing that he had sent his chaperone into a rage, Taehyung ran to hide behind his new friend, still clutching her hand.

“I’ve been looking for you for hours, Kim Taehyung. Do you hear me? Hours!”

“I’m sorry!”

“And now I see that you’ve managed to drag some poor child into your mischief as well.” Namjoon peered down his nose at the two children in front of him when he saw Taehyung’s bare hand nestled in the little girl’s hand.

“What are you doing—where are your gloves?”

Namjoon turned to search the forest floor for the handcrafted leather gloves that always traveled with the prince when he left his chambers or received company. He spotted the deep red garments strewn about nearby and dove for them.

“Put these back on,” he hissed before reaching out and yanking the young prince over to his side. Taehyung whined a little but let Namjoon mandhandle him away from his friend.

“How long have you been touching? Do you feel fit to ride on my horse?”

“Namjoon—”

“I’m afraid we’re too far from the palace to prevent the sickness this time, your majesty. You may faint on the ride back.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you need to keep your gloves if you’re going to be free of the sickness?”

Namjoon looked into Taehyung’s face openly, clearly dreading seeing the little prince in pain.

“But I’m cured, Namjoon! We touched hands before—a long time ago—and I didn’t feel a thing. Look!”

Taehyung held out his arm and showed the smooth, clear skin there. Namjoon looked angry still but turned to the little girl.

“Is this true?”

She averted her eyes and curtsied like her mother had shown her to do in front of important people. Judging by this chaperone Namjoon’s clothing, he might be a prince as well.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Huh?” Taehyung looked up at his guardian before letting a giggle spill from between his lips. “He’s not royal, he’s just my chaperone.”

“What’s a chaperone?”

“It’s the person that follows you around when you leave the grounds or when you have to visit another palace’s prince or princess. Don’t you have one?”

Namjoon shushed Taehyung before the small girl could answer. Of course she didn’t have a chaperone, but Taehyung wouldn't have known that.

“Taehyung, your Majesty, we really must be going back to the palace. I fear that the queen may worry herself ill if we do not return soon.”

“And what of my friend?”

Namjoon didn’t have the heart to tell Taehyung that there was no way he could bring a common child back to the palace to play. Nor did he have the heart to explain why in front of the common child herself.

“There...is no room on my horse this time. Perhaps you’ll meet again when you finally make your debut in the village.”

Taehyung’s eyes grew wide at what was supposed to be Namjoon’s reassuring statement. He’d heard from his advisors enough times that he wouldn’t be debuting in the town until his 18th birthday, nearly Namjoon’s age. That would be ages from now, he knew. Which meant that he’d have to endure playing alone and wearing itchy layers and gloves and cloaks for another 11 birthdays.

“But—but I don’t want to leave her,” Taehyung sniffled as Namjoon hefted him up onto his hip. Namjoon ignored the beginning of the tears in favor of looking back down at the girl in front of him.

“Do you know how to get home from here, child?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Good.” He reached for a small animal skin pouch tied to his opposite hip and untied its leather drawstrings. The pouched jingled when he passed it to her and weighed heavy in her hands. “Hide this in your apron and don’t take it out until you get inside your home. Understood?”

The small girl chanced a look at Taehyung, whose lip was quivering with the silent dribble of frustrated tears, before nodding.

Namjoon turned and began making his way back to the horse he had tied nearby. Taehyung whipped his head around and dug his little hands into the hood of Namjoon’s deep blue cloak.

“I don’t want to leave, Namjoon.” Taehyung’s voice was watery but rang loud through the trees. “I want to stay with my friend. I’m going to stay with my friend!”

It was an empty promise, but the young girl still locked eyes with him and even gave a little wave as she watched the prince and his chaperone disappear into the tree line.

3 weeks later you woke from your slumber to the grey-blue of early morning. Judging by the sky’s hue, you were certain you should be allowed at least a few more hours of sleep. But, at your mother’s request, you rose from your bed.

You wanted to complain about it not being fair, but you were too sleepy to think up a good complaint. So you let your mother drag a wet rag along your face and hands, and silently marveled when she put you in your good dress. You watched with sleepy eyes as she pocketed the small bag of gold coins you brought home nearly a month ago.

“Where we goin', Ma?” You asked after leaving the baker’s with a warm chunk of fresh bread in one hand and a hunk of cheese your mother bought in the other.

“To the palace,” she replied with furrowed brows. Almost like she couldn't believe it herself.

“Why?”

“The King has asked for all the families with daughters to pay him a visit.”

The King was a mysterious entity to you. You knew that you were supposed to be grateful to him, according to your mother. But you also knew that every year your mother would become frantic and take on as many jobs as she could to pay taxes to that same King. Without a father to help earn money for the household, you were convinced your mother worked harder than anyone in the town. Your hand found a nearby pleat in her long skirt when you were done eating and you walked a bit closer to her.

When you reached the castle, there was a long line. There hadn’t been many people in town earlier in the morning when you left home but you understood why then. Every family with a daughter was lined up before the palace doors. You didn’t even realize there were so many people in the kingdom.

Your mother stood in line while you stepped to the side to get a better view of all the daughters being escorted. Some girls you recognized as girls you played with on days when you finished your chores early. Other girls you’d never seen before. You weren’t sure what you were all there for, but you knew it must have been serious.

Despite the winding line ahead of you, it still wasn't noon when there were only a few families left between you and the palace entrance. Whatever the King wanted you there for, it was quick. Families that were ahead of you entered in, ushered by stern looking guards, and left almost as quickly as they came. Some parents left looking deeply relieved but others looked disgruntled at having to spend so much of the day in line only to be dismissed by the King so quickly.

Your mother stroked your hair gently as you neared the palace gates. It was something she did to calm herself down. Knowing that much, your heartbeat jumped into your throat when the guards finally ushered you in.

The palace’s high stone walls seemed to swallow you up as the daylight left and only torches lit the way down a long passage. The first hall you entered was much brighter than the hallway thanks to the windows lining the walls that looked onto the mountains. Two families ahead of you stood before a group of palace staff and a man in a large, ornate chair. The King, you realized. To his right, in a smaller chair, sat a young boy. He looked familiar and as you moved up in line, you recalled the prince you ran into weeks before. The hand you had bunched in your mother’s skirts tightened when you realized he was telling the truth and you had tackled a real prince.

“Come forward and let his Majesty see the girl,” called one of the guards.

Your mother bowed deeply before the King before pulling you forward and pushing you into a similar bow. The two of you stepped forward with your heads lowered. The same guard stepped forward then and laid a heavy hand between your shoulder blades to bring your closer to the King.

“Father’s name?” The King addressed you, eyes bored and looking through you. You turned back to your mother with nervous eyes.

“Her father fell ill when she was only a few moons old, your Majesty,” your mother called.

“They reside in the Western quadrant, your Majesty. Near the grain fields.” Another guard off to the side read off a long scroll. “The woman does sartorial tasks for coin.”

“I see.” The King then turned to his son beside him. “Taehyung, my boy. Is this she?”

The boy hopped off his perch and approached the place where you stood. Your mother had drawn your cloak's hood up to protect you from the early morning chill, but you kept it up because it felt safer while entering the palace. Taehyung didn’t make any move to pull the hood back, but crouched low enough to peer at you with a discerning look pinching his small features. As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up.

“It’s you! It’s really you!”

“Thank the gods,” the King sighed. “Send the rest back, then. Let us finish this.”

At once the guards not holding you and your mother in place moved from their posts to guide the two families behind you back through the hallway. There was a low murmur running through the adults of the retreating families and some of the lingering court members.

“Do you know how to read?” Taehyung turned to you suddenly as the palace staff began milling around busily.

“N-no. Ma says it costs too much to attend the school for girls in the South.”

“That’s okay. You can come to my lessons with me.”

He reached out a gloved hand and tried to pull you away, but a guard leaned down to let him know that the King still had some words to exchange with you and your mother. You tried to stay quiet while the adults discussed something about you and your mother becoming part of the palace staff and moving into a house behind the palace. At some point your mother cried a little bit, but it didn’t seem like the times when she cried because you had to skip supper multiple days in a row.

Eventually Taehyung managed to get the guards to let you go outside. In a secluded part of the palace gardens he threw off his stuffy extra layers and gloves and took you by the hand with a gigantic grin. You quickly forgot about the heavy mood that radiated off your mother from earlier and made you match her quick breathing. Taehyung scooped up a tiny frog from a pond he led you to and deposited the creature into your hands, palms brushing and bell-like giggles leaving him.

And so it began.

A/N: I really want to continue this, but idk if i will/how so this is being put in the SS collection until further notice.

#networkbangtan #btscreatorscorner #bts scenarios #taehyung fanfic #95line.net #kimtaehyung.net #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bangtan scenarios #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine

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daraanna · 3 years ago

Text

Plica Borusaranica

As long as he could remember his life was limited to this tower. Every day was the same: cleaning, cooking, combing your hair, reading, painting, combing your hair, sewing, combing your hair ... His only companion in misery was a fox. A fox who wasn't very good at playing hide and seek. It wasn't even 5 minutes before he found it’s red fluffy tail sticking out between his white hair.

“It is 20 to zero for me. What do you think about another round, Kurama?“ Animal just snorted in response. “Then what would you like to do?”

His pet hurriedly ran to the window and began to scratch its frame.

“ Oh no, my dear, I stay here and you too.” he replied, taking his little friend in his arms.

"Boruto, let your hair down here!" He heard his father's voice.

"Come on, hide," he whispered to Kurama, putting him beside the curtain, and then he threw his twenty-meter long hair out the window. Soon after, the white-eyed man was in the room with him.

"Darling, How you manage to drag me here like this day after day, it must be terribly tiring!" Pale and slender fingers embraced his face.

“Ah, Daddy is so whining today …”

“Whining or not, you could do it faster!”laughed Momoshiki as he approached the mirror to comb his long, white hair. ”Oh, I'm only teasing you!

The smile faded from his lips when he noticed the wrinkles on his face.

“Dad, I'd like to talk to you about an important topic …” Boruto started, but his father quickly interrupted him.

"My sweet flower I'm falling off my feet ... could you sing for me?" Before he finished his question, his son had already prepared the chair and brush.

“FlowergleamandglowLetyourpowersshineMaketheclockreverseBringbackwhatoncewas mineHealwhathasbeenhurtChangethefatesdesignSavewhathasbeenlostbringbackwhatonce wasmineWhatoncewasmine…”pale eyes widened in shock as the power of his son’s hair burst into his face, rejuvenating it for a decade of life.

“Boruto !!!”

“Tomorrow is my birthday!”The boy shouted, hugging his shoulder ”And the most in the world I would like to see flying lights …”

"Flying lights?" Momoshiki repeated in confusion.

“The ones that will appear in the sky tomorrow,” the blue-eyed excited, revealed a ugly drawing on one of the walls.

“You mean the stars …”

“Well.. no. The stars don't move, and these lights appear every year on my birthday and I'd love to see them, but not looking out the window. I want to be there…”

“So you want to go outside? Oh honey, you know why that's not possible.” His voice sounded calm, but there was an ominous tone in it “ The world is dangerous and cruel place…”

“But it's only one day ”boy asked, but his father only silenced him by putting a finger to his mouth.

“Oh no dear daddy knows best ~ “he stroked his head and ran his fingers through his long hair.

“Why do you think I wouldn't survive outside?”

“I know you can't survive outside!”

“Don’t be like this!”

“ENOUGH! YOU WILL NEVER EVER LEAVE THIS TOWER !!!” Momoshiki shouted so loud that Boruto jumped scared ”So I'm the bad guy again …”

The blue-eyed immediately felt guilty. His father worked hard to keep them safe. However, this time he couldn't let go, but there was no way Momo would agree to go with him. He had to ... run away from home ...

“Maybe hot sauce,” he croaked. Pale eyes pierced him with an irritated look “Maybe I could get the hot sauce from Jalapeno peppers for my birthday…”

“I can get them only at the market in the port, it is a 5-day journey one way!”

"I know, but I thought it was a better idea than these ... stars ..."

Otsutsuki sighed, getting up from the chair to hug his son. ”Daddy loves you very much…”

"And I love him more..." he replied, cuddling up to him.

“But he loves you the most ~”

................................................

It was supposed to be an easy job. Stealing the crown went surprisingly smoothly. Outsmarting two idiots, Delta and Code, was a nice addition. After all, she knew better than them how to use the money from selling this crown. Everything worked out perfectly... So how on earth was she running away from the mad horse through the woods now ?! The red-haired beast belonging to the captain of the castle guard proved to be smarter than any soldier. In addition, the horse was terrifying, its mane was almost red and it's right eye was scratched. Despite this, he maneuvered through the trees without any problem. Her desperate escape ended in tall bushes growing around a huge mountain. But she was still able to hear the distant neigh of the horse chasing her.

Accidently she found a hole in the rock covered with moss and lianas. Without thinking, she moved to the cave which led her to a small clearing. In its center was a tall snow-white tower. No matter how strange such a structure in the middle of the forest would look, it was a perfect shelter from an angry horse. Taking two kunai out of her bag, she started to climb to the top. When she reached the chamber, she could for the first time look at the crown she got.

"Finally" she sighed with relief, but at that moment she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and she saw darkness in front of her eyes.

......................................

Boruto, shocked, pressed the pan to his chest. The last thing he expected today was that someone would break into his tower. He looked at the body of the man he had knocked down. He defeated the thief ...

“I defeated the villain!”He exclaimed happily”And what do you think now, dad !? Ha!”

Kurama on the other hand, sniffed the robber.. The fox joyfully waved his tail.

“Kurama! Watch out he can have fangs or claws!” However, the animal just shook its head. Long-haired man approached the unconscious person. Despite his short hair and masculine attire, his face was girlish.

"He's a girl?" He asked, surprised. "Girls are not dangerous, aren't they?"

The fox shrugged his paws.

“What if she's a witch? Or a siren? What am I supposed to do? I can't leave her here! What about the lights !? Aaaaaaa! “ The boy started pacing around the room panicking until he tripped over the bag on the floor. A golden crown with glistening jewels fell out of it. The curious boy picked up the item. For the first time in his life he had seen something like this. He tried to put it on his hand, but it fell of, which Kurama commented with a laugh. Then he put it on his head. He studied his reflection in the mirror. He had the impression of a strange deja vu ... Whatever the purpose of this item was, it was beautiful and undoubtedly very valuable ...

................................................

She woke up with a terrible headache and a feeling of something wet on cheek. When she opened her eyes, she saw a fox head too close to her face. Frightened, she screamed and flinched, almost losing her balance. Only then did she realize she was tied to the chair. Her arms and legs were bound with white ... hair?

"Struggling is pointless!" She heard a rather squeaky but undoubtedly male voice.

In the shadowed corner of the room was a person, who pointed the pan towards her, slowly getting closer into light.

“Who are you? And how did you find me?” He was a boy about her age, with ridiculously long hair.

“Eeeeeeee Scarlet… Scarlet Spring” she started not very intelligently, but the situation in which she found herself was too crazy”

“What did you want to do with my hair? To cut it? To sell it!?” the stranger suddenly became more aggressive, dancing with the pan around her head. So this is how she will die, stabbed with a frying pan by some weirdo with a hair fetish ...

“I don’t care about your hair! Listen, the only thing that I want to do is to get out of it. Literally!” She replied irritated.

"Wait, you didn't come here for my hair?" He asked, surprised.

“What do I need your hair for !? Understand they were chasing me, I saw a tower so I climbed it. End of story ... Hey! Where's my satchel!?”

“Hidden. And there’s no way you're gonna find it on your own “ the boy smirked. He was so… annoying!

"What do you want from me?" She sighed.

"Do you know what these lights are?" He asked, pointing at really bad doodles on the wall with the pan. There was a drawing of a stick man with long hair, and above it was a navy blue stain with yellow dots. The brunette blinked in confusion.

“Uuuuhhhh, these lights appear once a year! It will be tomorrow!

"Are you talking about the lanterns thing they do for the prince?" She asked, turning her head towards him so abruptly that her bangs fell over her eyes.

“These are lanterns, not stars!”he sighed excitedly, completely ignoring his prisoner's desperate attempts to brush her hair away.

“Let's make a deal, you will lead me to where they release these lanterns, and I will give you your satchel back!”

“No can do… Unfortunately kingdom and I aren’t exactly sympatico at this moment, so I won’t be taking you anywhere…” she finally managed to reveal her eyes with a loud snort.

“Something brought you here Miss Scarlet. Call it what you will Fate? Destiny?

“A stupid horse …”

“But I decided to trust you …” he continued as he got closer to her chair.

“Horrible decision if you asked me”

"But you can trust me in one thing!" The white-haired boy pulled his hair, knocking over the chair, so that only his arm supporting the backrest protected her from falling down. Their faces were much too close to each other then she found comfortable. “You can tear this tower apart, stone by stone, but without my help, you won't ever find your precious satchel!”

“Let me just get it straight, I will take you to see the lanterns and bring you back home. Will you give me back what you stole?

“I promise”the brunette looked at him without conviction.”And when I promise something I never, ever break that promise’dattebasa!”

Two of them looked at each other for a long time, before the girl sighed resignedly “Okay, I'll go with you on this date…”

“Really!?” The boy squealed happily, clapping his hands and at the same time letting go of the chair, which immediately fell down.

"But please be gentle," groaned the young thief after her too-close encounter with the ground.

..............................................................................

#borusara #boruto uzumaki #uchiha sarada #tangled #tangled au #momoshiki

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

To Thaw Her Frozen Heart (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali and Rosé are childhood best friends who love playing with Denali’s ice powers at night. After an accident, Rosé leaves and Denali learns to live without her. When they’re suddenly reunited, will they be able to recover what they lost, or will fate tear them apart again?

(A Frozen AU).

A/N: So I originally had an to do a Frozen AU with Branjie–but I came up with the idea while I was writing Royals, and the overall vibes were so similar that I buried it in my docs and never went back to it. I recently had the idea to do it with Rosnali instead, and I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much to Writ for encouraging me to do this, helping me brainstorm, and betaing! I couldn’t have done this without them.

Please leave feedback if you’d like!

Title from Frozen Heart from Frozen.

—

“Nali, do you wanna build a snowman?”

Denali jumps out of bed at Rosie’s knock. She throws open the door and grins at her best friend. “Let’s go!”

They keep their voices down as they scamper over the polished floors. They should be in bed, but the portrait room has been their spot since forever, luring them in with high ceilings and big windows that are swallowed by moonlight.

Of all the things her and Rosie do together—chasing each other through the castle for a game of tag; picking fresh berries from the castle bushes and passing them back and forth until they both had purple lips; laughing and spinning around in dresses too big for them as they play dress-up with old clothes in the attic—this is their favorite. A winter wonderland just for them.

The doors open and Denali covers the floor in a blanket of snow. Denali’s parents don’t want her using her powers at all, and these nights are their secret. Denali knows Rosie will never tell, just like she’ll never tell that Denali broke the vase in the entrance hall and still sleeps with her stuffed wolf. Just like Denali will never tell that Rosie is the one who sneaks chocolates from the kitchen and checks under her bed for monsters. There was something sacred in their friendship, something they understood but couldn’t explain, a sense that they knew each other as well as themselves, and always would.

Tonight’s snowman smiles over them as they make snow angels, giggling and staring up at the paintings of kings and queens and explorers on the walls.

“Maybe when we’re grown-ups we can go on adventures and stuff,” Rosie says excitedly. “We can ride horses and fight monsters and—“

“And climb mountains! And swim in the oceans!” Maybe someone would make a painting of them. Denali would definitely smile for it, unlike the mean faces frowning around them.

“Yes!”

“What if you can climb a mountain now?” Denali asks. “I’ll make little ice mountains for you.”

Rosie jumps up and brushes the snow off her, her grin brighter than the moon as Denali lifts her off the ground with a small ice column. She makes another, a little taller, and Rosie leaps onto it. She jumps on them all, higher and higher, a brave adventurer.

“Rosie, slow down!” Denali shoots ice columns as fast as she can, but Rosie leaps for the next one just after her feet touch the last.

“Look how high I can jump!”

“Wait!”

Rosie jumps higher and farther than her other jumps—far past the column Denali had ready for her. Denali desperately shoots another ice blast, hoping it lands under Rosie’s feet–

But it doesn’t.

It hits Rosie instead, and she crashes to the floor with a thud that echoes through the room and every part of Denali’s heart.

Denali doesn’t breathe as she runs to where Rosie is crumpled on the floor, not moving.

“Rosie?” Denali shakes her shoulder gently, but she doesn’t wake up.

The snow had cushioned some of her fall, and Rosie doesn’t look hurt, not like that time she fell outside and scraped both her legs. But Rosie was so brave that she didn’t even cry that time, just sniffled a little when her mom cleaned her up.

She’s not crying now, but she’s not waking up or moving either, when she’s normally always in motion, laughing or dancing or singing. She looks so small. She’s a year older and a little taller than Denali, but now she looks tiny, like she’s always been the smaller one.

Her head slumps back, and Denali stares in shock. In Rosie’s soft red hair, there’s a streak of white. Denali’s never seen hair turn a different color like this, and it can’t be good.

“Hang on, Rosie. I’ll get my mom and dad.”

Slippers are pulled on and doors are slammed as Denali wakes her parents, then Rosie’s, since they’re the royal advisers and sleep next door.

Rosie is blinking awake when Denali leads them back in, her teeth chattering as she shivers in the snow. The snow. Denali’s heart sinks. Now her parents know what they’ve been doing, and she and Rosie will be in so much trouble, and what if they can’t be friends anymore? What if something bad happens to Rosie? Denali forces back the tears in her eyes.

“Rosé!” Rosie’s parents run to her, and Denali runs too, only to be held back by a hand on her shoulder.

“We talked about this, Denali,” her mother hisses. “These powers aren’t something you can play with. Rosie needs a healer, or she’ll freeze solid.”

Denali wants to protest, tell her mom that she’s careful and tonight was an accident, that she would never hurt Rosie on purpose, but she hears the echo of her mother’s words, hears Rosie’s parents whispering about how cold she is, and knows tonight is all her fault. Hot tears flood the collar of her pajamas.

“There’s a healer up north who can fix her,” Denali’s mom says to Rosie’s parents, calm and cool like the queen she is.

The whispers continue, too hushed for Denali to hear, but she knows they’re taking Rosie from her.

“What healer? Can I come?” Denali asks.

“No, Denali.”

“But—“

Her mother flashes her a stern look, and Denali quiets.

Rosie’s parents scoop her up and carry her out, and that’s the last time Denali sees her.

—

Denali watches the following years from her bedroom window.

Rosie and her parents move to another castle. Denali writes her letters, but she never gets a reply back, not a single word in Rosie’s loopy handwriting. Without Rosie, her powers fade for a while, tiny pricks of ice when she once made mountains, but when they return, it’s with the ferocity of an ice storm. She knows it’s worse when she’s missing Rosie, like when her birthday passes without their tradition of having tea in the rose garden, or when the lake freezes over and there’s no one to skate on it with. At those times, the ice digs into Denali’s heart and flows outward, tears freezing on her cheeks as everything around her frosts over.

She stays in her room all day, even takes meals there when she can’t stop freezing the table because a laughing redhead should be beside her, and ice covers her room like dust of a life unlived.

The castle remains shut, just Denali and her parents inside, so there’s no chance of her hurting someone while she spends her days inside, working on control.

Don’t miss her so much. You can visit her when you can control your powers, her parents instruct, slipping thick white gloves over her hands. Conceal it, don’t feel it.

So Denali conceals it. She takes all the memories with Rosie–the time she was stuck in bed with a cold and Denali read to her all day; snowy mornings warmed by hot chocolate and smiles; golden autumn days shining with leaves–buries them inside her heart, and lets it freeze over like the lake. She is the lake now, and everything she wants to feel is pushed underneath, sinking to the earth. A polished surface is all they’ll see of her.

By 18, she’s given up on the letters. By 19, she can spend a few hours outside her room without freezing everything.

By 21, the lakes of her heart are beyond thawing.

—

Denali can’t remember the last time so many people were in the castle. She hears the crowd’s distant hum, ecstatic voices streaming to the grand hall for her birthday feast, where she’s expected in five minutes. But she can’t go with her gloves on, and every time she peels them off her shaking hands, her fingertips freeze.

She takes a deep breath. She can do this. The gloves come off, and she’s normal. Just a normal princess about to see hundreds of people for the first time in fifteen years. The castle already feels too small, too crowded, too loud, with everyone inside, disturbing the silence that normally consumes things. She’s not even inside yet and she can see them staring at her, judging her, wondering why the castle was locked all these years. If she can’t control her powers, they’ll know why.

She strides out, icy blue dress rippling like water around her. There was a time when this was all she wanted. All those hours with Rosie, trying on dresses and imagining wearing them to balls, Denali glowing with the confidence of a princess and Rosie glowing with confidence that was all her own, title or not. Now, all Denali wants is to hide in her room.

The air flies out of Denali’s lungs when she sees a redhead in the crowd. It could be anyone in the world, she tells herself. She’s just seeing things because she’s stressed, and the ice pricking at her fingers proves it.

Though she used to dream of feasts and has missed countless ones over the years, this one is nothing special, nothing to make her regret missing the others. There are food and drinks, nobles and leaders, handshakes and small talk. Her parents do the talking; Denali just has to smile on occasion, a perfect princess, and even smiling is hard enough when she’s done so little of it the past years, her face a frozen mask. Not like the days when all it took was a smile from Rosie to make Denali smile too.

The dishes are cleared, and everyone walks to the ballroom for a night of dancing. Denali’s wondering if she can duck out early when there’s a tap on her shoulder.

“It’s really you,” the person says, and Denali turns and looks into eyes she’s never forgotten.

Rosie.

Denali doesn’t believe it at first. Maybe she doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to believe that her childhood best friend is a grown-up too. That their world of tea parties and dress-up and games is truly gone. Maybe it would be easier to believe if she and Rosie had grown up together like they should have, if she had watched Rosie grow taller, seen her face change into the person looking at her now.

And the person looking at her, though older, is completely, unmistakably Rosie. Denali would know her anywhere, even after all this time with Rosie only existing in her memory. The same soft, coppery hair with its streak of white, the same warm eyes that would light up in mischief, the same blinding smile unleashed without hesitation around Denali.

Denali falters. She doesn’t know how many times she imagined seeing Rosie again, rehearsing her words, but now she’s speechless. Where does she start? How did the healer fix her? Why didn’t she answer Denali’s letters? Does she hate Denali? Is Rosie still the same person who dreamt of adventure and liked honey on her bread?

“Rosie,” Denali breathes, and it’s somehow everything at once.

—

Denali takes Rosie to the portrait room. The faces on the wall are old friends, more welcoming than the ballroom crowd they’re avoiding.

They sit on the floor like they used to, and it’s so familiar that Denali can almost pretend the past 15 years didn’t happen. That they’ve never been apart.

“We used to come here all the time,” Rosie says. “I swear I’ve had dreams about this room.”

“You probably have. We basically lived in here,” Denali says. “Do you remember that time it rained all day and we had a picnic in here?”

“And we tried to make sandwiches but you dropped the stuff all over the kitchen–”

“And you tried to cook an apple over the fireplace and almost burned your arm,” Denali says, and then they’re both laughing, a sound that makes everything seem more real, less like a dream. She has Rosie back, and her heart is lighter than it’s been in years, beating strong with a new joy.

But then there’s a pause, and as much as Denali wants to tell stories all night, she needs to know what happened after Rosie left.

“How come you’re at the ball?” Denali asks.

“I was invited,” Rosie says. “I wouldn’t crash a party.”

“You would and you know it, Rosie,” Denali says.

“I always liked how you called me Rosie,” she says, eyes on the floor. “Everyone else calls me Rosé. That’s all I ever go by now.”

Denali swallows, wondering how else Rosie–Rosé–has changed, if there’s only a little of Rosie left in her. “Where do you live now? What happened after …” she can’t bring up the accident yet.

“What do you mean?” Rosé asks. “My parents got hired as advisers to the lord of Riverton, and that’s why we left. Your parents recommended them for it.”

Denali shakes her head. “You left because there was an accident. We were playing, and I hurt you by mistake, and I’m so sorry–”

“Accident?” Rosé bites her lip in confusion. “There wasn’t an accident.”

“Yes there was.”

“I don’t—I don’t remember that, Denali. I swear I don’t.” Her voice is sincere, and Denali already knows she’s telling the truth, because Rosé rubs her neck when she lies.

But how can she not remember? Denali can’t forget the sound of Rosé falling, how limp she was as Denali tried to wake her, how she was carried away without a goodbye. How it was all Denali’s fault.

“I wrote you letters,” Denali says, changing gears. “You never wrote back.”

“I never got letters from you!” Rosé’s eyes are wide. “I wrote you dozens of letters and never got anything back. Something’s wrong here.” She wrings her hands together, clearly stressed; Denali remembers how, anytime she was in a bad mood, Rosé would always ask how she was feeling and what she needed, a great communicator. This confusion must be eating her up, and Denali needs to fix it.

Clarity hits her like ice, and Denali knows who she needs to talk to.

Her parents.

—

In the ballroom, Denali’s parents are talking and laughing like nothing is wrong. Like they haven’t lied to Denali for most of her life. She doesn’t have an ounce of guilt as she pulls them into the hall, mind spinning with what to call them out on first.

“What’s this about, Denali?” her mother asks. “We’re in the middle of a ball for your birthday, if you didn’t notice–”

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time! You made Rosé and her parents leave, and you never sent my letters! And Rosé—she has no idea the accident happened! Did you block her memory or something?”

The queen sighs, sensing Denali’s anger too much to deny her. “We didn’t do it. Her parents did.”

“But how?” Denali knows it wasn’t a normal healer they took Rosé to, but could you really erase a memory?

“After the healer fixed her, Rosé was … upset. She was worried about you, kept yelling and asking for you. Nothing could calm her down. Her parents asked the healer to erase her memory of the accident and convince her that your powers were all her imagination. That way, she was calm, and she couldn’t tell anyone about your powers.” The queen’s voice is as calm as always, like she’s discussing business plans and not a lie that was kept from her daughter for fifteen years.

Rage and power rise in Denali’s chest, bumping against the layers of ice that always tamp her feelings down. She can’t imagine how scared Rosé must have been, waking up in some strange healer’s place, how her first instinct—look for Denali—couldn’t help her. Of course she was upset, and yet the main concern wasn’t how to help her, but how to keep her quiet. “They had no right to do that to her!”

“They really did think it would help her, Denali. They didn’t want her suffering from the memory her whole life.”

For a second, Denali wonders if it’s worse to take someone’s memory away, or let them suffer from it. Rosé’s parents thought they were helping her. Had Denali’s parents considered offering her that same mercy? Or did they think suffering would turn her into the princess she needed to be?

“And the letters? You never sent them, did you?”

“No,” her mother says. “We worried you would be in danger if word of your powers got out. We all decided it was best to separate you two. Then you could control yourself without her to distract you, and Rosé could go on thinking she imagined your powers. No one would know or get hurt. We invited her today since you’re in control.”

“You lied to me! My whole life, you lied to me. You took my best friend away and just left me in my room!” Denali shakes with rage, the heat of her anger blocking out the dull coldness tingling in her hands. For the past fifteen years, she’s blamed herself. Blamed herself for missing with her ice, for hurting Rosé, for being the reason she had to leave. But now it’s different. She and Rosé didn’t just lose years of friendship and memories—it was stolen from them.

“Denali.”

The words are a warning, one Denali can’t listen to. Not when everything was taken from her, when she spent so long locked inside this castle, blame and anger and loneliness heaped on shoulders too young to bear it, while the people with the power to ease the burden looked the other way.

Power courses through her, and the first ice blast destroys the ballroom doors. The second freezes the walls and sends people running, screaming and shoving others out of the way. Denali hears her parents warning her to stop, but it’s so far beyond her control that her hands don’t feel like they belong to her. Her heart pounds so fast it hurts, the ache growing sharper with her gasps for breath. She can’t stop the ice from pouring out of her hands, creeping along walls and floors while people run—

“Hey, Denali, it’s all right.”

It’s Rosé, of course, fearless and calming as ever. Denali’s port in a storm, helping her even when others ran. Denali sees the shape of her, the pink dress trailing down her body, but everything else is blurred. She faintly hears people calling for her arrest, calling her a monster.

Monster.

It rings through her ears, sharp as a knife. She has a sudden view of the people huddled in the corners, terror on their faces, and she falters. This isn’t what she wanted.

“I–I’m not a monster, I—“ Denali tries to breathe, to stop shaking. It’s all too much–the mass of people, the ear-splitting shouts, the burning stares. Everything’s closing in, and the ice around her isn’t an attack anymore. It’s protection.

“Breathe, Denali,” Rosé soothes.

She tries, but the royal guard is approaching as the crowd shouts for them to take her away. One raises his sword, dangerously close to Rosé. If he swings at Denali, Rosé will be in the crossfire, and Denali doesn’t hesitate to send an ice blast to stop him. Only—

Only he pushes Rosé in front of him, and the blast hits her in the chest.

Denali is six years old again, watching helplessly as Rosé gasps. Ice explodes around her, driving back the crowd and giving Denali space to finally breathe. By the time her vision clears, another streak of Rosé’s hair is snowy white, and her knees are wobbling. “Rosie? Are you—“

“I knew your powers were real,” Rosé says weakly, and she faints into Denali’s arms.

—-

Denali doesn’t hesitate. She changes her clothes, packs a bag, and slings Rosé into the carriage with her.

She escapes the crowd calling her a monster, leaves her parents to smooth things over, and sets off with a rumpled map of the north, grateful to have Wintervale behind her. The world outside is cold and crisp, wind biting at the carriage, and Denali sucks in every bit of air she can get, savoring the freedom despite the worry of Rosé’s shivering body beside her. Everything is swirling like a blizzard inside her–the anger, the worry, the fear, the determination. It’s more than she’s felt since she was six, more than she’s had reason to feel since she was six, and each emotion strains against a chest that doesn’t know how to hold so much.

She doesn’t know what will happen now that her secret is out, now that half the kingdom is afraid of her, but she doesn’t care. She can’t care, because she has to get Rosé to the healer. She can’t allow herself to feel anything else until Rosé is healed, shoving away emotions she doesn’t have room for. Despite how fast the horses are going, the north is so vast it feels like they’re barely moving.

“Are you warm enough?” Denali asks, biting her lip in stress. She had wrapped Rosé in two blankets and slipped extra thick gloves over her own hands, for protection as much as for warmth. Each layer is a barrier between them, another thing preventing Denali’s touch from freezing Rosé, because Denali can’t trust herself.

“Yes.” Rosé looks at her, bright eyes sizing her up. “Don’t make that face, Denali. I know that face. This isn’t your fault.”

“But I hurt you!”

“It was an accident. Please don’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you at all. I mean it.”

Denali doesn’t have it in her to argue. It wasn’t that her parents explicitly blamed her for everything; they just didn’t stop her from blaming herself. Never granted her the gentle kindness that comes through in every word Rosé says. Rosé is not only stopping Denali from blaming herself, but giving her the grace and permission to forgive herself too. And maybe Denali can.

“Denali?”

“Yes?”

“This happened before. That’s what you said in the portrait room.” It’s not a question, and Denali wonders if her powers jogged something in Rosé’s memory.

“It did,” Denali says. The lie ends with her. “One time when we were kids, I was making ice mountains for you to climb. You jumped too far, though, and I tried–I tried to catch you, but I hit you instead. My parents and your parents took you to this healer–the one we’re going to now–and they stopped the ice from hurting you. But my mother said you were upset and your parents had the healer erase the accident from your memory.”

Rosé nods. There’s only a little recognition in her face, and Denali wonders what it’s like to not remember such a big event in your life, to just have it erased. To have to trust that what Denali is telling her is true. “I remember some parts,” Rosé says. “I remember the healer’s cabin, how you could see the mountains from her window. I wanted to show you, but you weren’t there and I started crying. I … I remember asking to see you, but everyone said no. I thought you might be in trouble so I told them it wasn’t your fault, that it was an accident, but no one would listen. The healer did some spell, and I fell asleep, and when I woke up, we were in Riverton.” Rosé shakes her head bitterly. “I’d have dreams about your powers, and they felt so real, but I thought I made it up—“

“It’s okay.” Denali wants to pat her knee, soothe her the way Rosé would if the positions were reversed, but she can’t. Not with the danger her hands carry.

Rosé just nods.

“I’m sorry,” Denali says. “I’m sorry about then and I’m sorry about now.”

“Well, I forgive you. Then and now.” Despite the slight pain clouding her eyes, despite the wind whipping around, Rosé flashes her brilliant smile. “Hey, it looks like we got our adventure after all.”

Denali smiles too.

—

They stop for the night when the snow hits. Huge snowflakes flutter down like pieces of clouds, stark against the pitch-black sky. Denali can’t see well between the snow and the dark, and even though she wants to push on, Rosé has been silent and half-asleep the past hour, the ice undoubtedly weakening her joyful, talkative self, and Denali knows she needs to rest.

She pulls the carriage into a valley of pine trees.

“Rosie, we’re stopping for the night,” she says softly.

Rosé nods faintly, and Denali looks at her with a pang of guilt. More white streaks through her hair like a mountain pass and her face is just as pale, each movement stiff and wracked with shivers. She reaches out to help Rosé into the back of the carriage, then stops abruptly, frozen with fear.

“You can touch me,” Rosé says.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Again, Denali thinks but doesn’t add.

“You won’t hurt me,” Rosé says. But she climbs out herself.

The back of the carriage is just big enough to sleep in, and Denali presses herself against the side, leaving as much room as possible between them.

“T–take one of my blankets,” Rosé says. She’s curled up as tight as she can to stay warm, and Denali curses herself for not grabbing more blankets in her rush.

“Don’t need it.” Denali’s barely noticed the cold. Her heart’s already frozen anyway, how much colder could she get?

“Tell me if you do,” Rosé says quietly.

Denali nods, but she knows she won’t, just like she won’t sleep tonight. She can’t trust herself with the release of sleep, can’t risk bumping into Rosé and hurting her.

Rosé blinks sluggishly, trying to ward off the sleep fogging her eyes.

“Rosie, get some sleep,” Denali says.

“I’m not leaving you alone. Not like last time.” There’s a firmness in her voice Denali wouldn’t have thought possible, and she doesn’t argue.

“I almost forgot,” Rosé continues. “I have a present for you.”

“You didn’t have to—“

“I missed all your birthdays, Denali.”

“I missed all yours, too.”

“Well, I guess I have a bunch of presents from you to look forward to,” Rosé teases cheerfully. “You know I love presents.”

Denali smirks. “You do.”

“Anyway, here’s yours.” Rosé removes one arm from her blankets, hissing when the cold hits, and extends a box to Denali.

Inside is a necklace with a tiny snowflake charm, and Denali immediately clasps it around her neck.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Rosie. Thank you.”

Rosé coughs. “Denali, I know you might not like your powers, but they’re–they’re beautiful. Like–”

“Like me?” Denali interrupts, cutting off the swell of her heart before it grows too big, breaks through the ice.

“I would’ve said like me.” Rosé laughs. “But like you too.”

Denali smiles, grateful it’s too dark for Rosé to see her blushing cheeks.

“Do you–do you remember that night it was raining?” Rosé asks with a yawn. “And we looked at the stars?”

“Of course I do.” Denali knows Rosé should sleep, but she’s doing this to spare Denali from being alone, and it’s the most kindness she’s been shown in over a decade. So Denali plays along, retracing the night rain lashed at the windows and kept her awake, how she went to Rosé’s room and found her awake too, and they sat by the window while Rosé told stories about the stars until they fell asleep tangled together on the window seat.

“I used to look at the stars in Riverton. They were never as pretty as they were from Wintervale. But I always hoped you were looking at them too.” Rosé smiles, and Denali thinks some of her heart melts.

“I was.” Even if they were apart, Denali knows they were at least seeing the same stars, like their souls were calling out to each other. Denali tells Rosé the stories Rosé once told her, soothing her with tales of heroes earning their places in the sky, of the beauty in each star, until Rosé finally gives into her exhaustion and falls asleep.

Denali pulls off her long coat and throws it over Rosé, sleep allowing Rosé to take a favor she would never accept if she was awake.

Rosé seems so much younger in her sleep; looking at her now, the world silent except for her gentle breathing, Denali feels like she’s coming apart at the seams, because right now, she’s not seeing Rosé; she’s seeing Rosie, the girl she cared for more than anything else. And just like that, everything she’s kept inside all day–all her life–is rising to the surface, and the ice isn’t enough to contain it anymore.

It was easier to control things when they were apart, when Denali was alone in her room with no one to talk to. She learned to be comfortable with solitude, with the cold. At first, she childishly believed the promise her parents kept stringing along, fantasizing about visiting Rosé one day and striking up a game of tag even if they were too old. But as she got older, she knew it was just a fantasy, and it made things easier. She could control her feelings when there was nothing to cause them, dry tinders without a spark. There was no Rosé to tell jokes and burst into song and make Denali smile and laugh. Denali only had as much joy as she could bring herself, and staring at the same walls every day didn’t bring much. There was nothing to make her lose control.

But now Rosé is back, when Denali never thought she would be, and so are the feelings Denali pushed down so deep she thought they were beyond recovering. She was barely prepared to see people in the castle today, and ending the night with Rosé was the last thing she expected. Her heart is wrung out like a sponge, unused to such feeling after years of faintly beating–the joy of seeing Rosé’s smile again, the familiarity of the freckles dusting her shoulders, the relief of knowing Rosé still understands her, is still her friend. The hope that after all this, Rosé can stay for good.

If Denali doesn’t lose her first.

She knows it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to do it. But it still happened, and Denali provided the weapon. The old ache rises in her, the pain attached to the memory of hurting someone as good and kind as Rosé, someone so close to her, practically part of her. She’s more than Denali’s best friend—she’s a tie to her past, a time before the sadness. Proof and hope that the happiness that painted their days can color the world again.

She touches the necklace at her throat. Your powers are beautiful, Rosé said. Maybe she’s right. Maybe just because her powers are cold and sharp at times doesn’t mean they always have to be. When they were kids, Denali’s powers brought them such joy. Maybe she can have that again. With Rosé. Because she’s going to make it, and they’ll be friends after this. Denali knows it.

Rosé sighs in her sleep, and it sounds like Nali, Denali’s heart tugging again as she pretends it’s the wind. A piece of hair falls over Rosé’s face, and as much as Denali wants to tuck it behind her ear, she resists. Once Rosé is healed and Denali is in control, not shaken with both the joy of getting Rosé back and the fear of losing her all over again, then Denali can touch her. She hides her hands behind her back and watches over Rosé until the morning sun sets her hair alight and shines through the cracks in Denali’s heart.

—

Rosé can barely move the next morning. Denali catches her tiny winces, likely from how sore and stiff she is after all the shivering and clenching of her muscles. Denali’s hands hover behind her, a silent offer of help that she’s afraid to give and that Rosé probably won’t ask for, not wanting Denali to worry about her. Rosé only manages a few bites of the apple Denali packed, offering the rest to Denali, and, after Denali refuses, to the horses, who gobble it up.

“We’ll be there soon, I promise,” Denali says.

Rosé nods, and Denali convinces herself the bluish tinge to Rosé’s lips is just a trick of the light, nudging the horses to go faster. They move through blinding snow and towering mountains, the whole world a page from the storybooks they used to read. She’ll be okay, Denali tells herself. Because if this is a story, it deserves a happy ending.

The horses dip into a valley, a small cottage tucked between the trees. Mountains loom in the background, and Denali knows this is the place. She feels at peace here somehow. Like the mountains will keep her safe, a cocoon around her.

“I kn–knew you you’d like it here,” Rosé says.

“I really do.”

“Shall we?” Rosé offers a shaky arm to Denali, and Denali pretends not to see how hurt Rosé is when she won’t take it. She knows how important touch is to Rosé, their childhood painted with Rosé grabbing her hand as they ran across the land, arms wrapping around her in a hug, all Rosé’s way of showing she was there. A language the two of them spoke that Denali no longer knows the words to.

The cabin door swings open after Denali knocks, and her heart soars at the fire crackling in the fireplace. Rosé collapses in front of it, soaking up the first warmth she’s had in a day, the warmth any human besides Denali could give her.

“You again.” A person emerges from the corner of the cottage, and for all the old healers in the stories, this woman is young, with pale skin and blonde hair.

“You remember her?” Denali asks.

“I do.” The blonde nods severely. “My name is Brooke, by the way.” She bustles about and wraps another blanket around Rosé, and Denali burns with jealousy at someone who can touch so easily, so mindlessly.

“Can you help her?” Denali asks desperately.

Brooke shakes her head.

“You didn’t even try!”

“I can sense what’s wrong with her, and I can’t fix it. I’m sorry.”

“But you fixed her before!”

Brooke sighs. “I was only fixing her head back then. But now the ice is too close to her heart, and that’s much harder to fix. The only thing that can save her is an act of true love.”

Denali shakes her head frantically. She can’t have come all this way just to be told the answer is unobtainable. “Isn’t there anything else that can fix her? Something I can actually find? I mean, I can’t just buy true love! What about a potion or something–”

“There’s nothing else. I’m sorry.” Brooke pauses. “I can tell you two things. The first is that you won’t have to look far to help her. The second is that you shouldn’t run from your feelings.”

Denali clenches her jaw. She came here to help Rosé, not have some woman she’s known for three minutes tell her what to do. “And if I don’t find it, she’ll–” Denali knows, because her mother had told her what would happen all those years ago. But knowing and accepting are two different things.

“She’ll freeze solid,” Brooke confirms, and Denali thinks maybe this won’t have a happy ending after all.

—

“W–what do we do now?” Rosé asks, hands on her knees. The walk to the carriage winded her, and each wheezing breath pierces Denali’s heart.

“I don’t know.” Denali doesn’t even know what to say. All this time she had a plan that couldn’t go wrong, a purpose to push her along and keep her focused. Now the plan is shot and her purpose has nothing to direct it. She can barely look away from how pale Rosé is, the blue of her lips unable to be explained away anymore, ice crystals clinging to her hair. “I guess … I guess we go back to the castle. See if someone there can help.” It sounds good, but it’s just an empty promise. Denali knows there won’t be any cure beyond what Brooke told her, and the lie is just as much for her benefit as Rosé’s.

Rosé nods, like she knows it’s a lie but doesn’t want to call Denali a liar. “Do you think we have time to do something first?”

Denali doesn’t, but Rosé smiles hopefully, and Denali can’t deny her anything. “What is it?”

“Do you want to build a snowman?”

—

Denali looks down at her gloves. This whole time, they’ve been her armor, but in reverse–not to protect her, but to protect Rosé. Rosé can’t really be in worse shape than she’s in, but what if Denali accidentally speeds up the freezing, takes away whatever Rosé has left?

“You don’t have to use your powers,” Rosé says, like she’s reading her mind. “We’ll do it by hand. Not all of us are magic, you know.” Rosé laughs, and Denali knows she’s using every ounce of strength she has to do this, to be cheerful and have fun with Denali, and she won’t let her down.

“Let’s do it,” Denali says.

They build up the snow like they’re kids again, and Denali wants to stay inside this moment forever, a living snow globe, reliving it again and again with every shake. The snow clinging to Rosé’s eyelashes catching the sun and bathing her whole face in golden light. The smiles and laughs that come so easily Denali doesn’t have to think about them. The snow soft and bright and beautiful around them, an old friend welcoming them home.

But the snowglobe shatters when Rosé is hit with a burst of cold so bad it makes her whimper and curl into herself, and Denali knows they don’t have any time to waste in getting to the carriage.

“Denali?” Rosé’s voice is almost enough to stop Denali’s heart. “Denali, I can’t feel my legs.”

Denali turns around. A layer of solid ice covers Rosé’s boots and creeps toward her knees.

“No!” No, no, no. Denali runs to her, and before she stops herself, Rosé is in her arms. Denali holds her tight, squeezing her waist and lowering her gently to the ground. Denali curses herself and her stupid powers, wishing so badly she could take the ice away, take the pain away. All she can do is create more ice, create more cold and pain. “No, no, Rosie, please.”

“Shhh,” Rosè whispers, one shaking hand resting on Denali’s arm. “It’s okay.”

Denali lets out a strangled laugh, because Rosé is the one freezing over and Denali should be comforting her, not the other way around, but Rosé just can’t bear to see anyone hurting.

Rosé strokes Denali’s arm with her thumb, and this, more than anything, makes Denali truly sob. Because all this time, Denali’s been afraid to touch Rosé, been afraid of herself, but Rosé has never been afraid of her, not once in her life, and the gentle touch is a reminder that she never will be. A reminder that Denali doesn’t have to be afraid of herself either.

“I’m sorry, Rosie, I’m so sorry. Pl–please don’t go, please.”

Rosé hisses in a shaky breath as the ice hits her thighs. “Nali …”

“I just got you back, I can’t lose you again.” Denali can barely get the words past the lump in her throat. Hot tears roll down to her jacket, the only bit of warmth she’ll probably have again. She can feel how cold Rosé is even through their layers, but she doesn’t let go. She can’t let go. She couldn’t give Rosé the touch she desperately wanted all this time, but she’s giving it to her now, and nothing can make her stop.

“Denali.” Rosé coughs sharply, looking up at Denali with glassy eyes. “Denali, I–I love you. I love you so much. Is it okay if I kiss you before–”

Denali leans down and presses their lips together. Rosé is shaking uncontrollably but Denali holds her steady, keeps her together. Her own heart is pounding and she can feel Rosé’s through her lips, a sign that she’s still alive, still has some warmth coursing through her. Her lips carry the chill of a blizzard but are still soft beneath Denali’s, soft and loving and caressing her own the gentle way Rosé herself would.

When the lips beneath hers harden, Denali knows Rosie is gone.

She pulls herself away, forcing herself to look down at the woman in her arms. Rosé is frozen solid, an ice sculpture so real, so beautiful, that no human would ever be able to recreate it. Denali won’t let go of her, because beneath the ice is someone who was kissing her, breathing, living, just seconds ago, and to let her go would be to abandon her, to prove that Rosé really is gone.

“I’m sorry, Rosie.” Denali’s tears trail down over them both. “I’m sorry. You were–you were the best friend I ever had, and you make me–you make me so happy. Rosie, I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry I told you too late.”

The words feel right after she says them, like they’ve been looming beneath her ice for years, waiting to be let out. Denali’s loved her for a while, she realizes. Some part of her had always known, the part that would forever treasure Rosé and call out to her. Denali just had to let herself feel it. Every ounce of those feelings swell in her now, the love and devotion and affection she denied herself for so long. All she can do is hold Rosé and cry, wishing she had told her sooner, so that Rosé would have known she was loved before she was gone.

It takes Denali a while to notice that her cheeks are dry. Her mind struggles to process it, because she’s still crying, but she can’t feel the dampness on her cheeks.

She takes a breath, and she realizes Rosé is wiping her tears away.

“Please don’t cry,” Rosé whispers. “Look.” She carefully tips Denali’s head down to look at her, and instead of the frozen woman she expects to see, the ice is melting into the snow underneath.

Rosé is melting.

Her hair has returned to its brilliant soft red, even the old streak gone, like the wounds from their past have fully healed. The color is coming back to her cheeks, a smile coming with it.

“How are you–” She lowers a hand to Rosé’s face to test that she’s really here, but stops halfway. Rosé grabs her hand and rests it there herself, and Denali gives in, cupping Rosé’s cheek and feeling her warmth.

“I told you you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I love you,” Denali says.

“I love you too.”

An act of true love, Denali realizes. Just as her ice had frozen Rosé, it was her love that thawed her.

Denali leans down to kiss her again, and even though she knows they have to return home, that she has to fix the mess she left behind, she has Rosé in her arms, now and forever, and she’s never going to let go.

#rpdr fanfiction #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #lesbian au #frozen au #fluff #hurt/comfort #mild angst #s13 #athena2 #tw mild injury #concrit welcome #submission

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atinytokki · 4 years ago

Text

Distant Daylight

vii. On the Streets

Harsh winds gusted down from the mountains and Yunho could feel them in his bones.

Everything was sore from walking and carrying his entire life with him, but his numb fingers were locked around Gunho, even as his weight seemed to grow more and more with every step.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew which path led back to town so he pushed forward with everything inside him. The night was deepening and the winds were growing colder, and even the claw-like branches of empty trees against the pale moon did their best to stop Yunho in his tracks.

“I’m freezing,” Gunho sniffled pathetically into his shoulder. He sounded much younger than he was and the sickness had ruined his voice, making him difficult to hear.

“I know,” Yunho told him, lying easily just to help him hold on a bit longer. “We’re almost there.”

He had no idea how close they were.

Eventually, the trees surrounding them became more familiar and an identifiable landmark appeared on the horizon.

A marking stone, one that indicated an intersection.

“Home is this way,” Yunho said aloud, hoping for a response to let him know Gunho was awake, but nothing came.

Unsure where else to go, he made his way across the fields to the street where he knew their old estate still stood, owned by the King and repurposed as whatever he used it for.

The town was quiet, even more hushed and closed down than it usually was at night, but a few lights were on in the windows, including the window Yunho used to gaze out of in his bedroom.

Clearly the house was bigger now and more ornate, with a scary looking gate in front. Sighing and redistributing Gunho’s weight, he walked through it and up to the door and knocked.

A frazzled looking woman opened the doors a few moments later and blinked at them in surprise. “Children?” She remarked, glancing past them down the street. “Where are your parents?”

“We need help,” Yunho said quickly, veering away from that question. If he answered honestly, they’d end up right back at the orphanage. “It’s very cold, could we come in and speak to whoever is in charge?”

Convinced by his professionalism beyond his years and the little boy passed out on his back, the woman let Yunho through and instructed him to sit on some floor cushions in the waiting area, where he lay Gunho down next to him.

The interior of the house was completely different. It seemed like everything homey and warm had been replaced from the floors to the colour of the walls to the furniture to the layout of the rooms.

With surprise, as Yunho read the signs above the doors, he began to realise what the place had become.

“They turned our house into a government building?” Gunho’s voice cracked as he turned his head around and squinted at their surroundings.

“You’re awake!” Yunho gasped, a bit too loudly for the formal space and sleepy adults scattered throughout various rooms.

“Excuse me,” a man’s sharp voice reached them from the end of the hall where he and the woman from before stood, staring at them. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My brother is sick,” Yunho began to explain, getting to his feet and bowing respectfully though Gunho was still too drowsy to follow his lead.

This man was a council official of some kind and it would be a bad idea to offend him.

“We just need somewhere to stay while he recovers, and there was a maid here once named Jaein who promised to help us, so I was wondering if—”

“Don’t come any closer!” The man cautioned with an outstretched hand. “You say the boy is ill? What are his symptoms? I’m sure you’re aware that disease is spreading like wildfire through So-ai.”

“Well, yes,” Yunho stuttered nervously. “He caught some type of sickness and he’s feverish, but no one else will help him...”

“I’m sorry, but you must leave at once,” the official told him immediately. “We will not risk the plague’s spread in the magistrate’s office.”

Yunho’s frustration doubled and he walked closer, appealing to the woman who had been sympathetic earlier. “Please, we don’t know where else to go, can’t you at least tell us where Jaein went?”

“Visit the medicine man in upper Hagilsan,” she sighed, glancing at the apprehensive official as if communicating silently. “He has herbs that may help your brother.”

“And Jaein, I believe, moved to the archipelago,” the man followed up briskly. “Now, you have your answers, please vacate the premises. Without touching anything.”

Yunho obeyed after several bows of thanks and scooped up a drifting Gunho as well as the single bag they’d brought with them, venturing out into the cold again and looking for somewhere to regroup.

The best they could do was an alleyway behind a teahouse where the greenery at least provided some shelter from the winds.

“Remember that time we came here with Mother and Father?” Yunho asked, trying to keep Gunho awake and aware. “And you got lost in the topiary garden?”

Gunho hummed in acknowledgement, eyes cracked just enough to take in his surroundings.

“I need to find the medicine man first, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring you along,” Yunho finally sighed, laying out the single blanket he’d stolen when he stole his sick brother from the orphanage and lowering Gunho onto it.

“But I—”

“You’ll be just fine, I promise,” Yunho insisted through the huskiness in his voice. “Just stay here and stay warm, alright?”

Gunho’s eyes shone with fear for himself and his brother, but he nodded regretfully and curled up into a ball. The steam coming through the window eased his tension, and his eyes began to drift shut again.

Knowing it would tempt him to stay the longer he lingered, Yunho made his way back out through the alley and turned northwest to the hills.

Dawn was streaking the sky with greyish strands by the time he reached the hut, exhausted and shivering uncontrollably.

The “closed for business, out of medicine” sign on the door made Yunho’s heart stop for a moment but a candle was on inside and he knew the man could hear him.

“Please, I need help!” He screamed, pounding his fists on the rickety door. “I know you’re in there, please let me in and listen to me!”

The attempts went on for some time before Yunho stepped back and peered into the covered window where the light of the candle was leaking out.

Sure enough, a doctor was there at the table, an empty plate in front of him and his head in his hands.

Angrily, Yunho knocked on the glass and repeated his pleas to no avail. It was if the medicine man simply did not want to hear.

Just like the caretakers at the orphanage and the adults at the office, they would rather allow children to die en masse than put themselves at risk.

A wave of hopelessness crashed over him and he could only stumble away, outraged, and look for something to break in with.

As Yunho’s eyes fell on a large rock in the man’s extensive garden, he noticed a few other items of interest as well.

“Herbs...”

They were the type that could heal if mixed correctly, and while Yunho didn’t know the first thing about herbal remedies, Gunho had always been interested in plants.

Climbing over the fence and hurriedly pocketing two of every type of plant he found, Yunho worked quickly and turned back to the mountain path, aiming to arrive at the teahouse before the sun broke through the bushes and woke Gunho.

The sky was lighter on his return, but thankfully Gunho was breathing and mercifully asleep. Yunho gently rubbed his back until he came to, not saying a word as his brother first fed him some bread and then pulled bunches of herbs and roots out of his pockets and held them out.

“Gunho, do you recognise any of these? Do you think any could bring down your fever?”

The younger boy frowned in thought and looked more closely before gasping and taking a few in his own hands. “This ginger... you could make a tea out of it and some honeysuckle and perhaps elderflower... or you could try a soup of the garlic and coriander seeds. If only we had bone broth or cinnamon bark.”

“Just tell me what to do,” Yunho said with a comforting smile, immediately grateful they had chosen to seek shelter behind a teahouse of all places. Gunho didn’t chide him as he broke in through the window and snatched a few more supplies and key ingredients.

Gunho was growing tired again, instructing Yunho how to make remedies and drinking them despite the bitter taste.

“It’s alright, just sleep,” his older brother soothed, placing a towel soaked in rice water on his forehead. There were signs of activity in the rooms above the teahouse, so it would be best to stay quiet for awhile and hope they weren’t discovered and sent away.

Yunho had no more faith in the adults of So-ai.

He slept on and off that first day, eating no more than a few nibbles of bread smeared with a paste he made from the herbs Gunho didn’t need. All he could do was wait for the fever to break and hope the shop owner wouldn’t notice a few missing bowls and his pestle.

The second day, Gunho seemed to be doing better, but the unbridled cold was taking its toll on both of them and Yunho began to feel under the weather.

While Gunho focused on making more medicine, Yunho took to the streets to busy himself, digging through the garbage collected behind houses and shops, picking up the spare ratty blanket previously belonging to a sick person and any food that wasn’t spoiled.

On the third day, Gunho could walk and move around with some support, and it was time for the two of them to embrace the street life or make a plan.

There was one place the military hadn’t touched, where access was still available to all, so the brothers took the familiar walk to the university library, ducking their heads so the attendant wouldn’t recognise them, and holed up in the map section to find the archipelago.

“Remember when Father taught here?” Yunho commented quietly as he pulled atlases off a shelf, trying to cheer Gunho up. “He would let us play in his office as long as we didn’t break anything, and you always liked watching the students in the courtyard.”

Gunho nodded absently and flipped pages until reaching the eastern coast.

“Look how far away it is!” He groaned, falling back onto the carpet and covering his face with his hands. “We’ll never be able to walk there.”

Yunho took a closer look at all the marked routes and scratched his head. “I imagine most people ride horseback or drive carriages. If we want to take the safer main roads we’ll have to travel east to this city, Panhang, and from there follow the shoreline south until we can take a boat from Kon to the islands.”

He was very proud of his correct interpretation of the map, but his brother immediately started poking holes in his suggestion.

“But that doesn’t even tell us where Miss Jaein is,” Gunho whined from the floor. “It could be any of the nine islands with villages.”

“One problem a time,” Yunho said firmly, sitting back on his heels and formulating a plan. “We need money to travel. Even if we sneak into a caravan, we’ll have to pay for the boat and our food will run out soon. I hate to say it, but I don’t think we’re leaving So-ai for some time.”

Gunho lifted his head and eyed him carefully before sitting up and hugging his legs.

“I don’t want to steal,” he whispered, avoiding his gaze and staring intently at the map. “I know that’s the fastest way to get money, but I just can’t do it.”

He was still pure and untainted despite everything he had been through, and Yunho wanted to continue to protect him, to shelter him from those deeds.

“We’re too young to work for pay,” Yunho reminded him gently. “One of us has to steal.”

Suddenly, he remembered Sangwoo’s words back at the orphanage. Gunho had a baby face, he could use that to his advantage.

“How about this,” Yunho lowered his voice and moved closer. “You can take up a street corner and ask passersby for food and coins. There aren’t many beggars here, which means less competition, so I’m willing to bet it will work.”

“But I’m just a child,” Gunho pointed out. “What if they try to take me to the orphanage?”

“Tell them your parents are sick and unable to work,” Yunho supplied quickly, taking Gunho’s face in his hands and running a thumb over the lingering rash wounds on his cheeks. “Show them these scars and emphasise the fact that you recovered and are now the sole breadwinner, and it will work, I’m sure if it.”

Before Gunho could answer, the library attendant approached them, hands folded and eyes vacant behind his spectacles.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closing. All visitors must exit.”

Yunho drew back and held up the atlas. “Can we take this map?”

The man sighed and reached out to take it from him. “No, I’m sorry, without proof of enrolment in the university—”

“But our father used to work here!” Gunho interrupted before the attendant could get his hands on the book. “I’m sure you recognise us, we used to be here all the time!”

The man hesitated and then relaxed.

Already Gunho’s charms were paying off.

“Very well, I’ll loan it to you until next week, but a class comes in during the mornings so I’ll need it returned. Understood?”

Like perfect little angels, they nodded and skipped out of the library, taking the atlas with no intention of giving it back.

Without the warmth of the building protecting them, they could only leech off any steam that escaped the teahouse and attempt to make small fires of their own.

They snuggled up and shared body heat through the night, but while Gunho’s lingering exhaustion granted him sleep, Yunho could only lay awake and watch the stars, worrying that an early winter would put a damper on their progress.

There was no time to lose, so as soon as the birds were stirring Yunho shook his brother awake and prepared a quick meal of broth for both of them, hiding the bowls and any remains of the fire in the garden with their blanket and setting up shop near the treasury.

“Let’s hope several sympathetic rich people come by today,” Yunho tried to joke, rubbing Gunho’s arms comfortingly when he shivered and rubbed his nose. “I’ll be out looking for food and things to sell, alright? If anything goes wrong, meet me at the teahouse.”

And quickly, they eased into a routine. Gunho would change spots every few days, begging outside the government building and the university during the week and then moving to the town square in the busy mealtime hours. He was reluctant but smart about his tactics, unafraid to put on a show and act younger than he was.

Steadily but slowly, he collected coins for their travel fund, while Yunho watched the street like a hawk, memorising the residents’ schedules and sneaking in when their houses were empty. He tried to steal food from those with excess who wouldn’t notice anything was missing, but two weeks into his new day job, it was becoming difficult to find enough to provide for them.

Dinner was a measly slice of bread, torn in half and shared between them, and partially rotten fruit Yunho gave to Gunho.

“Is it enough yet?” Gunho asked hopefully as he handed over the day’s earnings.

“No,” Yunho told him honestly. “But we’re getting closer,” he encouraged quickly, trying to boost morale. Gunho didn’t need to know how far they still were from their goal.

“I’m still hungry.”

“Well, this is all we have today,” Yunho sighed. “It’s more important that we find water, so I wasn’t able to get much food.”

Gunho shivered again and nodded, laying down without another word and stroking the music box longingly. They couldn’t play it or the teahouse owner might hear.

The crunchy leaves they used as pillows were crumbling into dust, and Yunho knew what that meant.

We have to get out of here before the snows arrive.

Yunho had hit almost every house on the street before realising his method wasn’t sustainable. Sooner or later they would be discovered and blamed for the disappearance of certain foods and valuable items, even if they stayed away during the daytime.

Even the gracious gentlemen Gunho typically swindled would wonder why his worn nightgown still hadn’t been replaced with a shirt and trousers and where his supposedly sick parents were, since by now they should be dead or recovered.

While at the pawn shop selling a nice watch he had pickpocketed, another idea dawned on Yunho.

A faded deck of cards was tucked away into a corner with some other game pieces and before he handed over his goods, he pointed to it and asked how much it was worth.

“Five silvers,” the shopkeeper decided after humming in thought for a moment.

“I’ll trade three for it,” Yunho bartered back, and the man gave in quickly, not really desiring to hold on to the shrivelled deck.

Excited, Yunho passed over the coins and saved the watch for the card tables. He needed to learn every possible gamble and learn it well if he wanted his income to double— maybe even triple— without losing any money or valuables.

He sat in the tavern by the fire for as long as he could before the bar maid sent him away, observing the games that went on there and catching every trick the locals used.

He may not have paid much attention in school, but he was clever when his situation drove him to adapt, and by the arrival of the first snow he was ready to play.

Yunho approached a table of slightly inebriated university students and joined the game, putting the watch and a good chunk of the week’s silver into the pot.

In a scam he formulated by watching the rice field workers, he feigned defeat and got all three of his opponents to bet a significant amount before losing it all the moment he revealed his trump.

The students were shocked, but Yunho made off with their money before they could question it.

Feeling bad that he played games in the tavern while his brother begged in the snow, he hurried back to the teahouse and proudly displayed his earnings, handing over his coat and extra blanket and rubbing feeling back into Gunho’s limbs. His brother needed them more than he did.

“And it’s not even stealing!” He whispered excitedly. “They willingly handed it all over because they knew they’d been beat. You should come to the tavern tomorrow, I’ll show you some tricks and then we can both be making ludicrous amounts of money!”

Shyly, Gunho nodded before snuggling up as usual and watching the fire die down.

He’d been quieter than usual the past few weeks, and Yunho thought he knew why.

At least in the orphanage they’d been fed and clothed and sheltered from the cold. Now they could only dig holes in the snow and hope against hope that someone out there actually wanted them.

If Jaein said no, everything was pointless.

Yunho fought back tears and pulled his brother close. It was like hugging a sniffling ice block.

“We’ll be out of here soon, I promise.”

And Yunho didn’t break his promises.

When the weekend arrived, so did the wealthy customers, looking to unwind in the tavern and maybe bring home a few extra silvers.

For Yunho, the matter was a bit more life and death.

He managed to slip into a seat at a table of store owners, one of whom he recognised to be the teahouse owner. The man didn’t seem to know him, so he exhaled in relief before gambling away money he’d earned by selling some of the man’s own items.

Yunho put almost everything he had in the pot. If he lost, it would set them back until mid-spring, he knew, but if he won...

If he won, they could be out of there by tonight.

Anticipating his opponents’ moves and carefully calculating his own, Yunho again let them think they were winning before falling back on his favourite trick only to discover he’d been beaten at his own game.

The teahouse owner took the pot.

Yunho froze in his seat. It couldn’t end like this, he couldn’t let the man leave with all that money, everything he and Gunho worked for.

How could he face Gunho if he lost?

When the man finished the last drops of his drink and rose to return home, Yunho excused himself and made for the exit.

He knew the path the man would take and he knew a better shortcut.

Enraged, with hunger in his sunken eyes and hands itching for silver, Yunho waited in the shadows with a rock clutched in his sullied hand.

He was taking it all back.

The man didn’t know what hit him, slumping to the ground with a minor head wound and staying there while Yunho collected the entire bag of gold and rushed to the teahouse to collect Gunho.

While he shoved blankets and food into their shared bag, Yunho mapped out the fastest way to the coast and tried to consolidate their meagre belongings.

Gunho insisted on returning the cups and bowls to the teahouse owner, making him a pot of headache healing tea for good measure, and joined him as they sprinted through the night to the outpost at the main road.

It took until the moon was high, but a cart on its way to Panhang finally ambled down from the town in time for them to board it.

As he lifted Gunho up into the hay, Yunho caught sight of the beaming smile on his face and felt his own heart soar.

They were finally leaving So-ai, and soon the snow blowing through their hair would be far behind them.

It was a moment worth reliving.

And for one hopeful second, he had completely forgotten they were orphans.

...

A/N: Well it’s been awhile but coincidentally you get a super long chapter to make up for it, since there wasn’t really a good place to split it. Let me know your comments/ predictions and have a great day!

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c4pricornc4ts · 4 years ago

Text

"April Fool's bitch! Also can I move in with you?" - OriginsSMP one-shot

Happy April Fools! - Read it on ao3 here!

Words: 2k Characters: Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Wilbur

“It’s April Fools Day, I’m pranking him.” He points to his chest with his thumb proudly. “So he needs to borrow some of your lake. Just till he wakes up.”

Niki laughs, she had forgotten about April fools day. It wasn’t really something she ever did. Or cared to do. But this seemed harmless enough. So she nods and goes to guide his float all the way back to the middle of the river before the sun rises any more.

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

Niki wakes up and immediately notices something very different. There was a large object floating on the surface, and it definitely wasn’t a mob she knew. Unless Minecraft had updated? Surely she would have known. She stares up at it from her ocean bed for another minute, working up the courage to swim up to it.

Well, it didn’t seem hostile. It didn’t really seem like a fish at all, but it was so early in the morning there wasn’t really a lot of light to tell by. So, at four in the morning, Niki finds herself swimming up to the surface.

She breaks through the water and takes a minute to adjust to the land. Her eyesight was worse up here. But it wasn’t so bad. Tubbo was working on some glasses for her, but apparently, the whole ‘needing to be waterproof’ thing is giving him some trouble. She didn’t blame him, it was a little troublesome.

Niki gasps when she realizes it isn’t an animal but rather a certain very loud, very not into sleeping at low altitudes, Tommy. She immediately grabs the air mattress he’s somehow still asleep on and slowly pulls him over to land. She’s about to wake him up when someone starts talking.

“Hey! Niki!” It’s a hushed voice, with a hint of excitement in it. Niki jumps a little but tries to stay quiet as well.

“Hello? Who are you?”

“It’s me, Niki! Your best pal. Duh.” Sure enough, Tubbo with his brown hair and signature oversized green shirt struggles to get out of the bush he was hiding in.

“Well I don’t know about ‘best.’”

He sits down in front of her and pushes a still sleeping Tommy back into the river. “You wound me, Niki.”

“Why did you just push him back?” She tilts her head at him, bracing for some sort of overly complicated answer. It was a coin toss whether she’d understand a single thing in Tubbo’s explanations.

“It’s April Fools Day, I’m pranking him.” He points to his chest with his thumb proudly. “So he needs to borrow some of your lake. Just till he wakes up.”

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

Tommy wakes up to the sun in his eyes and a pounding headache. He looks around, confused when he sees trees instead of the usual mountain peaks. And more confused by the fact his hands are sinking into something that is definitely not his bed.

“JACK FUCKIN’ MANIFOLD, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” He carefully gets on his knees, not sure how stable afloat in the middle of a lake is.

It surprises him when Jack doesn’t appear, but Niki does. Which really shouldn’t surprise him at all, because, well, he’s kinda sleeping in her house.

“This one wasn’t Jack, unfortunately. But it wasn’t me either before you get mad at the person who is about to rescue you.”

Tommy narrows his eyes at her. “So you know who did it then?”

Both of their attentions shift to Tubbo, who just fell out of the bush he was hiding in. Clutching his stomach in laughter.

“Oh, you shulk! Just wait till I get over there I’ll-” He looks around him and realizes there's really no way for him to get over to the shore. Well besides swimming and he doesn’t want to be wet and have a migraine this early in the morning. “Niki, if you will.”

She nods, trying not to laugh at him which the avian appreciates.

Once they finally reach the grass, Tubbo helps him off the bed, and the three talk.

“Now how the hell did you manage to get me out there and what the hell are you gonna do to fix this headache I have from sleeping so low?” He rubs his head to make a point, now that he’s not so focused on getting out of the water it hurts a lot more.

“One question at a time sheesh Tommy. I got Philza to help me. Not sure how you slept through that.”

“Tommy’s just used to flying I think, Philza has carried him a lot.” Niki joins from the water.

“So you’re telling me I have to go get mad at him too?” Tommy turns to Niki very seriously. “Tell me you weren’t in on this too.”

“Oh don’t worry Tommy, I was just as confused why you were in the middle of the river.”

“Well, I’m just glad someone likes me and doesn’t want me dead!” He turns back to Tubbo and crosses his arms.

“Oh come on you didn’t die!” Tubbo is laughing at his dramatics, and Tommy can’t deny he wants to laugh too. It’s a good prank, at least all he got was a headache. If this had happened to Ranboo…

“Yeah, and that’s a bad thing for you, I’ll get revenge Tubbo.” He gets up, waving bye to Niki before heading to someone who he knows would help him get revenge.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. See you later Toms! Bye Niki!” Tommy doesn’t say anything back, just focusing on getting to Wilbur’s house.

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

He doesn’t bother to knock, knowing Wilbur is probably asleep. He usually was during the day, being a phantom and all. He does knock on the bedroom door once however, he’s not completely rude.

“Wilbur, I need your help, it's an emergency.”

Wilbur gets up hearing that, feeling around his bedside table for his glasses. He almost knocks over a cup of water in the process which Tommy catches.

“Wh-what’s wrong Tommy?” He finally puts his glasses on and looks up at him. “You seem too happy to have a real emergency. God damnit Toms what did I say about-”

“Nope, no, save the lecture for after I tell you what I woke you up for.”

“Alright.” The phantom sits back down. “Tell me your ‘emergency.’”

“Tubbo and Philza pranked me and I need your help getting him back.”

“You wake me up, and scare the shit out of me for a prank war?” Wilbur’s looking up at him with an unimpressed face, waiting for a real answer.

Tommy plays with his hands and smiles nervously. “Um… yes?”

Wilbur sighs and falls back on his bed. “I’m in. What’s your plan?”

“So glad you asked. It’s simple really.” Tommy sits down on the bed as well, grabbing a notepad and pen off the dresser and tearing off the top page that was full of what looked like song lyrics. “Wilbur are you sad again?”

“What? No. That has nothing to do with your prank anyway.”

“Okay, sure.” Tommy writes ‘bring up another time’ on the top of the notepad. Wilbur laughs and slaps the whole thing out of his hands.

“Just tell me the plan, you fuckin’ vegan.”

“Alright, so I was thinking I just toss a glass of water at his face.”

“That’s kinda lame compared to what he pulled off.” Wilbur laughs.

“So? He had time, probably planned that stupid prank for months! I have hours. And he hates getting surprised so it’s perfect really.”

“Look, I have some bubble wrap. We’ll put that under his rug and you can still do your stupid water shit when he’s still figuring out why his rug sounds like fireworks.”

“Okay weird plan but sure. Where is the bubble wrap? I’ll speed walk it to Tubbo’s treehouse.” He gets up off the bed, waiting for the phantom to do the same.

“It’s in the living room, go ahead and go over. I’ll have to be invisible.” He leaves Wilbur and starts the walk to Tubbo’s house, careful not to run into anyone on the way.

He likes Tubbo’s treehouse, it always felt so personal. Almost everything Tubbo had in it was handmade. Tommy had even reluctantly helped with some things. Like the rug in the entrance. They had lined it with thin pieces of oak and carved their initials into it.

He climbs up the ladder into the trees and lets himself into a thankfully empty treehouse. When he lifts up the rug to place the bubble wrap under, he smiles when he sees their initials and stupid little drawings were still scratched into it. He never checks it when Tubbo is around, always insisting it was dumb of them to have done.

He goes to the kitchen and is looking for a cup when Wilbur appears behind him.

“How’s it going?”

Tommy yelps and turns around, hand on his chest. “Wilbur! Don’t scare me like that damnit!”

“Ah, yes. My bad. Forgot that avians were fragile.” Wilbur retorts, causing Tommy to just roll his eyes.

“Well, at least I don’t need to wear a stupid hat in the sun.” The hat was oversized and very floppy but for some reason, Wilbur insisted it was stylish. Tommy didn’t know when blue sun hats with red ribbons came into style, but whatever kept his friend from dying in the sun was okay in his book.

“It not stupid it’s-”

“-Stylish, I know. Keep lying to yourself, Wilby.”

They both pause, Tommy turns back and picks a cup. Wilbur sits on the counter, swinging his legs.

“Sometimes I wish I just accepted his offer to live here. It’s kinda… lonely at night.” He regrets it as soon as he says it, but looking at all the art and knickknacks Tubbo has scattered around his kitchen just makes Tommy feel at home. More than his own house.

“I can’t believe you didn’t. Were you hoping Philza would take you?”

“Yeah. I suppose I was. God, how stupid am I?”

“Stupid enough to choose avian as your class.” Wilbur jokes and hops off the counter before continuing. “You know, Tubbo’s a good kid. Betcha if you told him you changed your mind he’d let you.”

They both look at the cup of water Tommy just filled, planning to throw at Tubbo. “Then maybe we shouldn’t prank him back…”

Tommy goes to pour out the water, Wilbur stops him. “We absolutely should prank him back! He’s a strange kid, he’ll appreciate it.”

“I thought he was a good kid.”

“He’s both. He’s also a fuckin shulker.”

Tommy laughs. “Like if true!”

They hear the door creak open and Tommy flattens himself against the kitchen wall, gripping the cup of water so tight his fingers are turning white. Wilbur quickly makes himself invisible.

Tommy hears the popping, flinching from how loud it is. Wilbur was right, it did sound like fireworks. He hears Tubbo yelp before throwing the water at his face as he runs into the kitchen.

Tubbo trips on seemingly nothing and falls. “Oh my god, Tommy!”

He starts to get actually concerned for the shulker so he kneels down to check on him. Tubbo flicks water onto his face and laughs.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to.”

“My damn headache didn’t let me forget.”

“Well, I think that fall gave me one too, or maybe a concussion.”

“April fools bitch! Also can I please move in with you?”

“Haha- Wait what?” Tubbo gets up. “Oh come on now Tommy you already pranked me once this joke is actually cruel.”

“No it’s not a joke, I promise. It’s just- you live up high and we could split the chores you know…?”

“Sure, chores are what made you want to live with me.”

“Yep! Chores. So can I?” He gets up and then reaches his hand towards Tubbo to help him up. He notices the window is open, Wilbur must’ve left.

“... Clean the puddle on my floor and we’ll talk.”

#minecraft fanfiction #c4pricornc4ts #fanfic

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ephemeralstark · 4 years ago

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Out of the Woods

Part 1 of 3

Summary: “What?” Peter asked, “what’s wrong?” “I think…” Mr. Stark paused as he pulled himself into a sitting position and pulled up his trouser leg and pushed down his sock, “I hope it’s just a sprain.” “Did we bring a first aid kit?” Peter asked. “Do you know first aid?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised eyebrow. - Peter and Tony end up in serious trouble when a simple mission goes horribly wrong and Tony ends up being kidnapped by the bad guys. The only problem is, Peter wasn't exactly told what the mission entailed and now he's blindly trying to rescue his mentor and complete whatever the heck he's meant to complete.

AN: I’m super behind with whumptober but here is day 7 - support!!

Read on AO3

“Come on, Underoos,” Mr. Stark shouted backward towards Peter as he trudged up the beaten track a couple of hundred feet behind his mentor.

‘We have some recon to do for a mission’ Mr. Stark had said, ‘I was wondering if you’d want to tag along?’ he said, ‘it’ll be a really good experience for you if you’re wanting, that is’ he’d said.

Peter remembered the conversation well, and at no point had the man said ‘do you want to spend your Friday night - when the crime in Queens is most active -trekking up a hell mountain in the middle of nowhere while carrying a night’s worth of supplies and a ridiculously oversized two-person tent on your back?’

Peter wouldn't have been as eager to join if he’d heard all of that, but he’d thought that it would be an important mission. He’d thought he would be out with the Avengers, he’d thought that they would be sneaking around a laboratory somewhere, or planning an entrance into a high-security facility.

He didn't think he would be listening to Mr. Stark loudly play Led Zeppelin while he chatted about business statistics mixed with Iron Man suit design information - although Peter wasn't so mad about the last part, it was interesting to hear.

He was just a little worried that Mr. Stark didn't think he was ready for the serious stuff, was this all an attempt to keep him out of the way of the real action?

“If you fall behind, I leave you,” Mr. Stark called in an annoying sing-song voice that made Peter’s eyes narrow.

With a disgruntled sigh, Peter forced himself to jog forward, ignoring the burn in his calves as his body protested the fact he was jogging up a steep hill.

“You wouldn't really leave me,” Peter declared as he fell into step beside Mr. Stark, “I know you wouldn't.”

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“Well, May would kill you for one,” Peter said, “and for two, you seem to forget that I met Miss. Potts last week and she’s smitten with me.”

“She thinks you’re adorable,” Mr. Stark agreed, his face twisting in disbelief, “I can’t believe she actually said that, hasn’t she seen you scoff three large margarita pizzas in ten minutes?”

“No,” Peter said as though that should have been obvious, “of course she hasn’t, we only get pizza on workshop nights when we forget to actually go eat, and ever since she realised that she’s been having F.R.I.D.A.Y. remind us periodically to eat and drink.”

“I mean that is probably a good thing,” Mr. Stark admitted, “you’re a growing kid and I’m a growing disaster, we need all the help we can get.”

“True,” Peter mumbled, before looking around, swearing that the trees were moving ominously around them due to the low light of the evening, “what are we actually doing?”

“Hiking,” Mr. Stark said brightly.

“But I thought-” Peter started but was instantly cut off.

“Your Aunt was very happy about us getting out you know,” Mr. Stark said in a forced conversational tone, “I think she was just really glad that we’re doing something that doesn't mean we spend the day cooped up in the workshop.”

“Mr. Sta-”

“Of course, Pepper was more anxious about it,” Mr. Stark continued as though Peter hadn't attempted to interrupt, “apparently she doesn't think we’re capable of climbing a mountain, camping for one night, and then making our way home tomorrow.”

“Really?” Peter wondered, giving up on questioning the man who was obviously not willing to answer any questions.

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark said, “jokes on her though, we’ll prove her wrong when we make it home tomorrow.”

“If we make it home,” Peter mumbled.

“That’s the spirit.”

Peter frowned to himself, why was Mr. Stark acting so… weird? They were meant to be on a mission, and yet, here they were hiking with the intention of also camping - it didn't seem very mission like and from the way Mr. Stark was talking, there wasn't much for them to investigate.

But… just because he wasn't giving away that there was something going on, didn't mean Peter was at ease. His Spidey-Sense was thrumming away in the background as he tried to rethink everything they’d been saying in order to try and pick up on clues about what was happening because it was obvious that something was.

So they kept walking, and Peter’s calves kept burning, and the bag on his shoulders kept digging in like it was making a permanent home on his back. He supposed that if Mr. Stark wasn't going to tell him what was going on, he would just have to trust him.

So that’s what Peter decided to do, and it wasn't going too terribly until Mr. Stark fell.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense called out in alarm quickly and he reached out to try and catch the older man but was unfortunately unsuccessful - he watched with horror as Mr. Stark hit the ground with a dull thud and a groan of pain.

“Fuck,” came the muffled groan, which made Peter jump into action.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked quickly, squatting down beside the man and waving his hands above him frantically, looking for a way to pull him up or move him without hurting him, but unfortunately he didn't know what was sore.

“Ah ya fucker,” Mr. Stark moaned as he rolled onto his back, face contorted with pain.

“What is it?” Peter asked, face pinched with concern.

“Shit,” Mr. Stark muttered, “this wasn't meant to happen.”

“What?” Peter asked, “what’s wrong?”

“I think…” Mr. Stark paused as he pulled himself into a sitting position and pulled up his trouser leg and pushed down his sock, “I hope it’s just a sprain.”

“Did we bring a first aid kit?” Peter asked.

“Do you know first aid?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, well, no, not really,” Peter admitted, “but we could wrap it or something, I guess?”

“You guess?” Mr. Stark questioned.

“Do you have any better suggestions?” Peter wondered.

“Well, no, but I don't care about wrapping it,” Mr. Stark said gruffly, obviously trying to put on a tough exterior to prevent Peter from seeing him in pain but he wasn't fooling anyone, much less the young hero, “come on, pull me up.”

“Should you really be standing on it?” Peter asked.

“Does it look like I care?” Mr. Stark asked, “besides, when did you get your medical degree?”

“Touché,” Peter mumbled as he gripped Mr. Stark’s forearm and helped to pull him off the ground, the man stumbled with the pain and Peter was quick to pull his arm around his shoulders to prevent him from tumbling back to the ground. “You can hold onto me, I’m strong enough, I promise.”

“I think we should head home, Pete,” Mr. Stark said, tension in his voice, “we can’t do this if I can’t walk.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Peter said, wasn't that obvious? Why would they continue to hike when Mr. Stark was so obviously in pain?

That was when he heard something that sounded promising; the rumbling of an engine and the crunching of rocks and dirt beneath tyres was approaching.

“Hey, Mr. Stark I think there’s a car coming this way,” Peter said, “maybe it’s some kind of ranger or rescue team patrolling.”

“You’re certain it's a car?” Mr. Stark asked with a frown.

“Positive,” Peter said surely, the engine was getting closer and closer.

“We need to hide,” Mr. Stark said, “now!”

“Wait, why?” Peter asked, “we’re just hiking, and you’re hurt! They could help, maybe they could drive us back to the bottom?”

“Peter, you need to get into the trees, now,” Mr. Stark said seriously, all traces of light hearted joking gone from his face.

“We can't,” Peter said seriously as he looked at the extremely uneven ground that lay to their sides, it was littered with rocks and tree branches and roots, there was no way they would make it, not with Mr. Stark’s ankle.

“Not we,” Mr. Stark said, “you.”

“Me?”

“On your own.”

“What?” Peter asked, freezing in place, “no!”

“Kid, you can’t pick now to argue,” the engine was even louder, Peter half expected it to appear around the corner at any moment.

“I’m not leaving you,” Peter said.

“I’m not asking.”

“You can’t-”

“Now, Peter!” Mr. Stark whisper-shouted, Peter was taken aback. The last time Mr. Stark had actually yelled at him had been when he’d fucked up with the ferry, so to see such a level of anger coming from him now made him concerned.

There was definitely something more going on.

Feeling as though he would regret his actions, Peter carefully let go of Mr. Stark, making sure the man didn't just immediately fall to the ground before hesitantly walking over to the trees that surrounded him.

“Faster, please, kid,” Mr. Stark said quickly, “trust me.”

Despite his fear, Peter did, so he moved further into the trees, thankful for the darkness that surrounded him and meant that he wouldn't actually have to hide so much. No one would see him in the night time, not surrounded by trees and bushes, he was safely hidden.

It seemed as though he had followed Mr. Stark’s instructions just in time as a pair of headlights immediately came around the curve in the tracks, illuminating Peter’s mentor who raised a hand to protect his eyes from the beam, the vehicle stopped in the middle of the tracks, but the driver didn't turn the engine off or make any moves to get out.

“This is private property, identify yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I was hiking,” Mr. Stark said, not answering the demand, “and I think I sprained my ankle on a rock or something.”

“How did you get in here?” The person in the car shouted, “you shouldn't be here!”

“I shouldn’t?” Mr. Stark asked, and Peter could hear the lie in his question, the falsities that were slipping from him, “I’m terribly sorry, I was just trying to hike and camp you know? I saw this girl do it on YouTube and my fiancee wasn't interested in trying it, so I thought I’d give it a go by lonesome, ‘what could go wrong?’ I asked myself, and well, I found out.”

“We’re going to have to search you,” the person said, ignoring Mr. Stark’s fake story as someone got out the passenger side of the car.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Mr. Stark said shaking his head, “I promise you the worst thing I have is a pretty solid granola bar.”

“Hands up and don’t move,” a woman said, approaching Mr. Stark with a gun raised and aimed towards him.

“Alright, alright,” Mr. Stark said, “no need to be hasty, I’m not doing anything wrong here.”

“Holy shit, Ronnie, it’s Tony Stark!” the woman shouted.

“Hiking my ass,” Peter heard the man mutter to himself as he climbed out the car, “shoot him.”

“No,” Peter whispered, the word came out strangled, he just couldn't build up enough volume to shout it, not when he was so afraid for the other man’s life.

Mr. Stark let out a strangled scream and Peter watched him start to convulse - he was slightly relieved to see that it was merely a taser gun, but still, watching Mr. Stark collapse to the ground like that was horrifying. He didn't realise that he needed to move and help until they were lifting him off the ground.

He pushed himself forward, only for a tree root to catch his foot sending him careering towards a large rock sticking out of the ground, he was knocked out before he could try and change the course of his fall, he didn't even have a chance to scream.

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @spidey-reids-2003 @clover-roseee @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty @ormbunkar @justme--emily @pookiethefrickinbunn @pillowspace @dumbofassbi @kiki44430

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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The Legend of the Three Caballeros: World Tree Caballeros and No Man is an Easter Island aka Whelp, Xandra Sucks Now.

Salduos Amigos! We’re back.. and today we have two Cabs episodes.. because the top 20 of 2020 list last week took a day longer than expected, so that meant I had a day of my schedule go thbbt and thus had to compress a bit, like the darkwing reviews i’ve done but not NEARLY as much. And if this works out I intend to do more cabs 2 or evne 3 in ones in the future to help speed along the finale. Still giving Kev his 55 bucks worth mind you, just speeding it up a bit in case anything comes back, and because I have a lot of double and triple reviews coming in Feburary due to a very tight schedule, so might as well train for it now.So with that in mind, WELCOME BACK TO THE RIDE OF THE THREE CABLLEROS, and the legend of the three cablleros. I can fit in what little exposition there is on the way, so on with the show after the cut!

World-Tree Caballeros: We pick up where we left off last time: Sheldgoose and co are returning to earth, and it’s been a few weeks, in story time, with Sheldgoose exausted and hungry and Feldrake.. not exactly getting that minons need food to live and wanting to jump right into destroying the Caballeros since their right next door. And while ignoring his minon’s basic needs is just.. dumb, I do appricate that Felldrake is the kind of villian who dosen’t stupidly not attack the heroes if he knows where they are and does try blasting them, with Sheldgoose in his cloak of course to avoid any deniablility. I mean Sheldgoose is impossibly wealthy and in disguise here. No court is going to convict him. But there is a reasonable explination why they can’t do that: since Clinton wasn’t stupid he put up magical protections over the Cabana and while Feldrake COULD break them.. he can’t do it with as little power as he currently has in the staff and has an idea where to get it. But Leopold’s bushed from taking them all the way back from space, to Feldrake’s disapointment so Sheldgoose.. simply offers up his private plane, then uses his mass wealth to get them all the way to their destination the World Tree... yes the NORSE World Tree... in italy.

Yeah you can probably tell there were some rewrites here. This ep, given it features Yddrasil, was SUPPOSED to be about the Norse gods.. but Marvel didn’t want “brand confusion” with THE MIGHTY THOR!

Which originally I scoffed at a bit. Mostly because why would you, Disney, one of the biggest brands in the world NOT want a potetinal crossover with your other properties? I mean .. is this why we haven’t had mickey and friends in avengers costumes yet? If so... BOOOO. Why would you buy Marvel without this ever happening? You put fucking light sabers in kickin it, one of your lesser live action shows though olivia holt is neat and Rudy was alright, but... you won’t put MIGHTY THOR, in a donald duck series? Especially since you already used marvel in one of your shows?

The cat is out of the bag.. just let crossovers happen dude. Your not giving us any decent marvel animated series, and only What If is on the docket for now the future. WHy not? I wasn’t the fondest of the idea at first but then I realized “Wait this could be awesome and rediculous”. And again you’ve already hit a low bar for using this stuff.. just use it. That being said, while we’ll get to it in a moment.. I do get WHY they didn’t let them use the norse gods... possibly.. but it does seem like they really dot’ like crossing the streams character wise and that bothers me it bothers me a lot.

So yeah the world tree is in the snow capped mountains of italy.. which they might have so touche, and the montage of Sheldgoose getting there is great as is Feldrake’s reaction of “Eh i’ts no leopold”. Aw he loves his monkeybatdonkeyrat. So they open the entrance and prepare to go up the massive flight of stairs... only for Sheldgoose to point out the elevator. Which they take instead. I will say Feldrake’s characteriztation.. slipped a bit in these two. It’ snot bad, he’s by now supposed to be someone who WAS so powerful, they don’t get the concept of finesse and it works better next episode.. but hear a good chunk of the episode is just Feldrake shoutng at Sheldgoose and complaning a lot and even at one point tripping over himself with his own stupidity. We’ll get to that. Point is it’s a bit of a step down from last episode but as a result Sheldgoose gets to shine a bit more with Wayne Knight getting more lines to really go full newman and become a smug yet clever jackass. SO it’s a trade off I guess and it does ballance out next time.

So back at the Cabs Cabana, our heroes are having pop corn fights, which Xandra joins in on... this was the intro but I put it here...

Point is next time we see them our heroes are all cataloging everything with the girls help, including a positivity totem, this generation’s talky toster. Xandra gets enraptured with a phone but gets defensive when being called out of date and mocked by the girls. This is SUPPPOSED to set up a character arc for her and I was excited for Xandra to get an episode but we’ll get to that disappointment soon enough. The point is our team gets the call to adventure. And Xandra’s excited because the roman gods, old friends of hers are at the world tree. The Roman Gods are what the planets are named after and are mushed together with the greek gods for reasons I didn’t have time to look into. This review is late as is. Point is they don’t get used as much likely because of the planet thing and the greek gods having a wider range of gods at that with better names. I mean Hades just.. sounds more godly than Pluto. Posiden sounds just as badass as Neptune if not more and Jupiter just dosen’t have hte same wring Zeus was. But for today the only Roman Gods present are Jupiter, Venus and Mars, stand ins for Odin, Frigg and THE MIGHTY THOR respectively in this case but still drawn uniquely. She’s excited to show the boys them and ports them. THIS TIME, the port isn’t you know, stupidly placed and the desert thing seems to have been a one off fluke, and easily could’ve been where a city WAS, but again that could’ve been mentioned. Here it’s just at the foot of the stairs which while inconvient, as Xandra didn’t know about the elvator and Panchito gets on it without thinking to tell the other two who are forced to climb, makes sense: it’s risky to have a direct port to a giant tree that grows planets. Which is also awesome. In the wrong hands the raw power of a tiny planet could be devistating, or someone could make their own galaxy with them as god emeprror if given enough time. Which if you know about the world tree and somehow manage to steal enough planets to make a galaxy of your own without getting caught, you clearly will surivive the eons needed for it.. or could just time speed it up. Point is this place is out of the way for a reason this time, elevator or no. So then we meet the ROMAN GODS... and they’ve not only clearly aged, but have given up fighting for gardening, with Mars being a decript old man who can’t remember xandra’s name, which given she heavily implies they were a thing is not great, and goes on and on about Tubers. Yeahhhh... I can’t exactly blame marvel for NOT wanting one of their biggest characters depiected as a doddering old man obssed with potatoes. LIke the brand confusion thing is still stupid, I want MIckey, Donald and Goofy as Cap, Iron Man and Hulk yesterday you cowards..., but thinking this would be confusing for kids or would hurt the character a bit? yeah fair enough, a bit paranoid but understandable given Marvel is the backbone of the company these days and at this point, had been massively sucessful with avengers and everything. So I do get it even if I don’t get shifting the setting from the world tree, and suspect there they had to rework the episode during production.

So we not only meet our gods.. and the reason this isn’t the best episode. It’s not the worst, we’ll get there in a moment, but it’s not very good. And the reason... is Xandra. Her reaction to the gods being out of shape and old and retired, tending to the tree and not really fighting or doing hero stuff anymore is to get upset and wonder how her friends and as we learn later inspiration fell this low. That’d be fine and somewhat intresting. Problem is.. the Gods explain they quit after the titan wars which gave Mars some VERY obvious PTSD tha’ts VERY uncomfortably played for laughs. Look in comedy you can joke about just about anything, that’s the nature of it. But there are some things you REALLY need to tread carefully with. Now Family Guy, and this is late seasons “race jokes and shock humor” family guy mind you, somehow got this with Quagmire having ptsd in one episode where the show was set in diffrent time periods... due to hearing fortunate son over and over in vietnam.

youtube

This is actually funny, parodies something else, paticually overblown namsplotation in media and overuse of a great song that really dosen’t need to be used ALL the time in everything. This.. is just “HA he’s rattled because he was in a presumibly bloody war wand given ther’es only four gods left, we see one next episode, they probably all died.. and if they are still alive reincarnated.”. It’s just.. uncomfortable and if this bit was taken out, the episode wouldn’t be great, but it wouldn’t be as odious and Xandra HORRIBLY unsympathetic. It’s not helped by the fact that even without the ptsd.. the gods just watn’t to semi retire. They haven’t given up their duty, their still tending to the world tree.. they just dont’ want to fight or quest anymore because they were in a possibly centuries long bloody war that dwinlded their numbers and clearly left mental scars. Xandra comes off like an insenstive ass for putting her old version of them over the new and while the moral’s SUPPOSED TO BE that she shouldn’t cling to the past and had it simply beeen about her realizing she has to let them be who they are now, it would’ve worked.. instead it’s just “You guys suck because you won’t traumatize yourself more. “. The worst they do is hide under a table instead of fight and again, it’s very clear at least one of them if not all have PTSD. The only thing that keeps this from being truly awful is I genuinely don’t think the writers thought out the implicatoins of Mars line, which while still not a great train of thought to have modern writers not get that, it’s better than nothing. It just sinks the entire episode as i’ts emotional core.. comes off as a snotty teenager forcing some old people into combat and getting rewarded for it. The other side of the plot is not half bad though. The boys catch Feldrake and Sheldgoose trying to steal the planet, with Feldrake enlarging a bunch of termites we’ve been seeing so far in the episode to attack the cabs. But what really shines is the Cabs. They work well as a team, have camradere, face Sheldgoose with no fear and while they do run from the termites, which look HORRIFYING by the way, and then come up with the hairbrained but still not half bad scheme of covering donald and wood and using him as bait. This ends up working since Xandra rallies/guilttrips the gods into ignoring their ptsd and fighting anyway. I mean “Heroically helping them realize they stil have fight and fighting like the heroes she looked up to”... and then we get the climax which is just awesome. Sheldgoose and Feldrake get the planet afterall raining metors down so while the Roman gods take those out, Xandra calls on the guys to distfract Sheldgoose and Feldrake so she can snipe the planet out of his hands. How do they do this? Juipiter fast ball specials them up to the asteroid he’s on! If your wondering what a Fast Ball special is.. you’ve certianly seen it but here’s a practical demonstration.

So yeah that. OUr heroes take it in stride though and awesomely use how much Sheldgoose is irritate dby them to distract him by basically playing whack a mole, so he slowly destroys the ground bellow him, and Xandra snipes him, sapping him of his new god-tier power up and causing his platform to crumble, with the boys escaping falling to earth like the two of them thanks to jose hooking the tree with his cain. As I said this episode shows how far the boys have come: from greedy idiots who were scared.. to true heroes ready to step up, running away when tactically advantageous and easily taking on the main villians and coming up with a plan to beat them on the fly. That.. is what I wanted going into the show and if nothing else this episode gives me that. Also the girls talked to xandra earlier and I missed it. Eh. We do get a nice moment though of the boys telling Xandra she does fit in.. with them. And really as far as i’m concerned she’s one of the cabs, so I like this moment a lot.. I just wish it didn’t ring so hollow with everything else going on. Overall this ep is okay.. it has it’s moments but the Xandra side of thing just.. drains a lot of the life out of it. What COULD’VE been a solid character building episode makes her come off as a selfish, impatient insenstive asshole who’s trying to crowbar the past in instead of accepting her friends as who they’ve become in the centuries she’s been gone, though Sheldgoose and the boys do keep this from being awful. SPEAKING OF AWFUL.

No Man is an Easter Island:

This.. was a rough one. Not going to sugarcoat it. This episode was not very good despite some good segments and despite not mocking a serious mental issue, it’s somehow more obnoxious. The PTSD thing was clearly a mistake.. this.. this was intentional. Let’s tear this one apart shall we? So we open with Sheldgoose and Feldrake where they were last time, Easter Island. It turns out in this unvierse hte moai are actually giant stone men and their heads are the only things visable because the rest of hteir body is undreground, stomping out surfer dude lava lizards who want to come to the surface and burn it. Feldrake.. decides this is a great idea and agrees to help, as does sheldgoose.

Seriously Feldrake wants to CONQUER the world. In fact he did it once already. We’re not talking about someone like say Negaduck, who I talked about earlier this week: while he MIGHT conquer, he gets just as much joy out of mindless violence and would gladly blow up the world him and all just for the hell of it. Feldrake is your classic evil overloard and wants to RULE the world not destroy it and wouldn’t be happy without something to lord over and terrorize. And Sheldgoose wants the same and is presumibly sticking around to backstab his ancestor at the first opportunity to steal his power for his own. How does setting the world on fire, literally, benefit either of them? Sure they COULD take over int he aftermath, but that’s after the lizards have likely destroyed most of the world, not even taking into account the vast amount of water and infastructure and the size of their home means they’ll run out of troops to use as a living bridge, cool as that is, eventually. Humans would have to invent ways to transport them and given as far as I know we have a through understnading of lava and magma, we’d instead be working on weapons. The lizards woul dmake a good army under the right leadership to sidestep this.. but as a world ending threat while they’d still cause untold damage in lives and suffering, I just don’t see them being enough to conquer the world. It just makes no sense. The one thing that salvages it and this episode is what happens next, which i’m skipping ahead to because it’s my blog and I do this how I want: Feldrake TRIES just shooting the moai with his magic.. but the one he tries it on just has it harmlessly bounce off.. which given their dealing with magical fire creatures makes sense. So Sheldgoose instead steps in to Feldrake’s reluctance.. and shows his own talents. As a university head and professional asshole, he can manipulate with the best and talks the moai’s into taking a vacatoin, using the staff to hyponotize them so they don’t think about the downsides. It’s.. really fucking awesome honestly, and shows off that Sheldgoose is like the boys: a comical moron yes.. but VERY dangerous in the right cirucmastances. While he did use his great great great grampa’s magic for this a bit with the hypnosis, it’s his manpulations that MAADE the hypnosis work: by giving the moai something they WANT, a vacatoin and a break from a thankfless job, it means they aren’t acitvely trying to break his control no matter what happens and he and Feldrake can focus on freeing the lizards. And on top of that.. Wayne Knight gets one HELL of a musical number, sing talking to the beat as he manipulates and hypnotizes the moai and encourages their partying. While the main plan is dumb the plan to get there is just glorious to watch and Sheldgoose’s finest hour thus far and again we get to hear wayne knight SING. Kinda. And I will not trade that for anything.

So what are the Cabs up during this? hanging out, playing cards and doing friend stuff like Panchito doing a dive and them catching him. Jose claims nothing could split us up.. and cue Daisy.

It.. it’d been so nice without her. And you may recall last time she showed up while I didn’t like her or her actions or how it was written.. she was at least KINDA tolerable. Still a total bitch but you know she MIGHT have had a point and we might learn more about her history with donald.

Yeah this episode cements that this Daisy is awful and Donald is better off without her. She shows up because the girls talked Donald up, beause their angels.. and also because they apparently live with him now? Like.. don’t Daisy, who dosen’t think Donald’s responsible or their parents, whoever the hell they are, have.. issues with them suddenly living with three 30 something men and an xty hear old Goddess. I mean.. that sould raise a few thousand flags, but frankly at this point if your wondering why a child is living iwth a disney character instead of your parents their probably dead or on the moon. That’s not the problem here. No the problem her is again, somehow twice in a row, Xandra. After great introductions to both the boys to daisy, Jose flirts and Panchito shakes her hand a bit too hard, same as it ever was, Donald TRIES to bring up being a cabllero.. and Xandra prevents him then explains outside after the girls smooth things over why: telling daisy would bring her into his world and all the dangers with it.....

I HATE this trope. I hate it so fucking much. See i’m a superhero guy. I’ve made no attempt to hide this. So you can imagine the number of times i’ve seen a hero hide their ID and use this fucking excuse “They’ll get hurt if they know” or “it’s too much of a risk” or “blah blah blah bullshit reason for not telling my partner the truth”. Now i’m not saying the secret idtentity or having some sort of secret world saving thing are bad tropes. They are valid stories for a reason. Sometimes you CAN’T: Peter Parker didn’t tell Aunt May because she had a weak heart, Thor dind’t tell jane foster because his dad was a dick who’d go after her any time he tried and when he finally did.. still did shit to break them up. Because Odin is an asshole. Ms. Marvel didn’t tell her parents because she thought they’d stop her and when her dad found out, if sadly breifly, you can guess what happen. Miles Morales didn’t because he was terrified he’d be homeless as his dad HATED mutants, which he thought he was and wasn’t fond of viglantes, and to make matters worse his mother later DIED, she got better as of secret wars, in a spider-man fight, if not thanks to him obviously, so when Miles DID tell him Jefferson abandoned him for months. He’s gotten FAR better since then and really grown as a person, but my point stands: I’ts okay to hide your id at first to protect yourself as a hero: it’s okay to want to make sure a partner dosen’t out you to the press or something and is stable and loving enough before you tell htem. And it’s okay to not tell them something if htey probably wont’ belivie it or might not be prepared just yet. Now if they have some reason to hate the other you you should probably either tell them and see what happens or explain things, like Peter should’ve tried explaning what happened with Gwen’s dad to her, or break it off for their own good, which will devistate them, but is better than lying to them. And that’s the problem: As Wonder WOman said in a shockingly obnoxious movie, “Nothing good comes from lies”.. and while groosly oversimplified.. is not wrong here. Nothing good comes from lying to your partner day in and day out. I’ts why more modern works have deconscruted it: Miles, again, had a girlfriend named Barbra, but the recent run broke them up.. however they did so cleverly by having Miles refuse to tell her his id despite her having figured it out and her leaving him for hiding stuff from her. That’s what would REALLY happen. A long term partner isn’t going to tolerate you LYING to them and ducking out constnatly to save the world. Eventually you either have to let them go or try and tell them. I’ve been in barely any relationships but I was ALWAYS honest because again, nothing good comes from lying to your partner. Nothing good comes from deciving them and basically gaslighting them for “their own good”. If their with you and your an adventuer, super hero or what have you.. their in danger. So either don’t date them and find someone your speed like another hero or some mythical being, or TELL THEM and let THEM decide if it’s too much. This kind of bullshit is manipulative, cruel and selfish and I thought we’d settled it.

And while Donald was intending to tell Daisy to impress her, a bad reason i’ll admit... he was trying to be honest. But the EPISODE tries to portray it as a good thing and as him being noble. It isn’t. He’s listneing to a bad person, who has to EARN my good will back after this, whose only in it for herself. No really she only has the two go out because she’s tired of donald pining for daisy.

I mean i’ts been a month, and the girls are around but she hasn’t come up once during the last few episodes. So this comes out of nowhere and makes Xandra into a selfish jackass who is willing to send her friend off to lie to his partner with NO cover story for his actions to make him look good just to shut him up. This is someone who need I remind you can travel the world in an instant and knows a lot of magical beings who’d understand donald’s line of work. Instead of setting him up with one of them and abandoning daisy she sets up a doomed relationship. Oh and she and the boys whine about being bored without donald. Fuck off.. not you josea nd panchito, while extra dumb this episode the boys just genuinely miss their best friend and it’s endearing. Xandra though.. she can fuck off. As mentioned Daisy is not much better, and spends the date grilling donald about what he does , as AGAIN, XANDRA GAVE HIM NO COVER STORY OR JOB OR ANYTHING. Now granted she’s hundreds of years old, so she probably wouldn’t have a good one anyway... but she’s the one who INSISTs ON IT BEING A SECRET. And as the girls have shown, again knowing that secret does not hurt. Their mission control, Daisy could be too. Worst she could want is to JOIN them and given the boys started with no experince and are now certified ass kickers... why can’t she be one too? It feels less like Xandra looking out for Daisy and more that Xandra just dosen’t wnat her in her club.. which fair but still. The point is Daisy still treats donald as shifty and worthless, despite no evidence to this as whiel he has his faults doing nothing is not worth them and even says when he tries to spin it as “helping those in need” “How can you help other people if you can’t help yourself?”

I mean it’d be something to ponder and a great thesis statment.. in another story. Or even in this one.. if it’d been set up that Donald had been irresponsible. Someone willing to abandon others, prone to anger and a bit of a goofus, all true. But it really says how little you think of him Daisy that you can’t even picture him helping people and assume it’s some excuse. That you clearly hate your ex so much, clearly think of him as so much less than you that youc an’t FATHOM he’s doing good stuff and only think he’s gottne better when he pampers you with fizzy water, though it nicely has scrogoe on the bottle so good little nod there, and lobster. Seriously she dosen’t turn around till the girls, dressing up as a waiter , offer that. I..can’t fathom why we’re supposed to root for this relationship between a flawed but hardworking person.. and his ex partner who STILL never apologized for the brithday thing despite his FUCKING HOUSE BURNING DOWN, i.e. e the THING HE WAS TRYING TO EXPLAIN, and then spends dinner doubting he’s doing anything with his life, distruting both him and his nieces.

And.. it gets worse. Yes.. yes it somehow gets worse. No foolin. So the bell is sound and Xandra FORCIBLY ABDUCTS DONALD FROM THE DATE SHE TOLD HIM TO GO ON. And both come out really bad, if worse on Xandra’s end by a mile. Donald is refusing to go help save the world or whatever for a date with someone that DOES NOT appricate him and only accepts bribes. Tha’ts a dick move even if he dosen’t realize he’s in an abusive relationship to put getting laid over the world’s saftey. That being said.. Xandra STILL comes off worse. Despite having the moral high ground.. Xandra dosen’t KNOW what the threat is, or if they really need him, drags him out, dosne’t let him explain to daisy, and then barely lets him go back when it seems it’s just a party. Then drags him back AGAIN when their backs are against the wall without feeding daisy an explination or really caring she broke things up just halfheartdly saying she’ll forgive him and Donald saying “You don’t know daisy”. None of them come off well. Again the boys only aren’t loathsomebecause their oblivoius and just want their best friend back. If the other episode hadn’t already damaged Xandra enough i’m DEEPLY worried she won’t be able to walk this one back. Daisy certainly fucking won’t.

So yeah our heros deal with the moai and the lava lizards, as the boys fail to get the moai to go back to their job and the lizards unleash their wonderfuly weird queen who rides a bridge of them to the mainland.. fucking love that. When things get dire Xandra does aformentioned forcing donald to come back without actually helping him with daisy or just TELLING HER AND OH MY GOD LET’S JUST MOVE ON. Fuck this episode is aggravating me.

We do get a nice bit where donald’s angry dance inspires the moai to imitate it.. and thus stomps out the laval lizards and gives our heroes an opening, and Donald DOES prove his worth by having the moai do the belly flop from earlier to stop the queen, causing the rest of the lizards to flee and our heroes to win. Yay.. I guess. Donald goes back to find Daisy gone.

He dosen’t see it that way and the girls say while he’s still a mess, what he did was noble. that sucks, and they leave him a massive bill instead of paying for it with their tips because their the ones who brought in the fancy food to ply their aunt. Fuck. this. episode. Final Thoughts for This one: I belivie I said FUCK THIS EPISODE. It had it’s moments, the musical number, the moai beach party, my boys.. but the sheer obnoxiousness, cliche plot that has been throughly shredded for good reason and isn’t in use anymore about secret lives, and Daisy, Xandra and to a very lesser Extent Donald all being deeply unlikable. This episode is just REALLY fucking bad. HOpefully the series gets back on it’s feet next time. Until the next rainbow.. I really need a frigging gatorade. I.. I don’t drink booze. This is one of those times I wish I did. Goodnight everybody.

#the legend of the three caballeros #the three caballeros #ride of the three caballeros #donald duck #panchito romero miguel junipero francisco quintero gonzalez #panchito pistoles #Jose Carioca #daisy duck #april duck #may duck #june duck #lord feldrake #baron von sheldgoose #xandra #reviews #comissions

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