#she was the first of the easter kittens to open her eyes

[oediex]

Day 75 of posting a kitten until I can foster again

Maddy opening her eyes to the world for the first time.

[flyboytracy]

It’s easter! It’s the final day of Earth and Sky week! It’s Scott Tracy’s birthday! and this lil fic is about none of the above because Scott wouldn’t shut up 👌 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

It’s three in the morning when Thunderbird One begins her final approach to Tracy Island. She always lands a lot more quietly than when she launches but her pilot takes extra care to settle her back onto her launchpad beneath the pool with as little noise as possible when the world outside is dark and most of the bedroom lights are out.

Of course he knows which bedroom light belongs to whom. One room in particular is almost always dark because its occupant lives in space and Scott has to tilt his head back to say goodnight to a tiny little pinprick of light as it blinks in the skies above instead...

Another room is glowing brightly but Scott’s not too concerned because the middle of the night for them is the afternoon for a certain agent of International Rescue and he’s got no desire to walk into another conversation between the lovebirds. He’d stuck his head ‘round the door the last time he’d landed to find Gordon awake at two am and really, really wished he hadn’t. Tonight he’ll brush his fingers over that door on his way past and wonder again what happened to the little kid he used to take to the pool every weekend when dad wasn’t home. When did that tiny brown-eyed boy turn into a man ready to be a family with the woman he loves?

It was probably around the time that their dad went missing, only Scott was too occupied with trying to fill in that bottomless hole that dad left behind to notice all the tiny little cracks and crevasses that opened up too.

Thankfully Virg had always been Scott’s man on the ground since the moment Scott’s feet first left it, and he’d been there to stabilise and fill in those little fractures when Scott was too deep in his own hole to notice that others had opened up. Then he’d toss down a rope and haul Scott out before the sides could cave in and bury him forever like their m…

It’s been a long, long day. Scott’s glad to see that dad’s bedroom light is out, as is grandma’s. It hasn’t been easy for dad to readjust to life on a full sized planet but he’s making excellent progress because he wishes to be the one to walk a Lady down an aisle – if they have an aisle and either of them actually ask the other because the whole marriage and babies thing isn’t something everyone wants these days. Either way, Scott had accidentally overheard a snatch of conversation by the pool last month that’d made his eyes weirdly hot and he’d had to retreat to Thunderbird Two’s hangar to get a grip on himself.

Virg had been there but he hadn’t said a word because he hadn’t needed to. He’d drawn his big brother into a one-armed hug before pushing him in the direction of the giant vats of grease and they’d had a very calming afternoon oiling anything that squeaked on Thunderbird Two.

Scott’s surprised to see his brother’s still awake because Thunderbird Two had her own mission today which Scott wasn’t involved in but kept an eye on nonetheless. Virg was in the exo-suit for hours thus Scott’s surprised to see his room’s still aglow despite the late hour. He’ll check on his best friend after making one other stop first. Alan’s lights are on and if he’s old enough to pilot a rocket then he’s too old for a bedtime, but Scott worries anyway. Troubles weigh more in the dark and his youngest brother carries more than most teenagers his age. Dad coming back into their lives has rocked Alan’s world more than most because the rest of them are old enough to remember Kansas and the man their dad used to be before International Rescue took him from them twice.

Scott can remember when dad was just dad; that giant fella who gave him a ride to Rescue Scouts every weekend and took him to GDF airbases even when it wasn’t a bring your kids to work day. He knew the person dad was before they lost mom, whereas Alan’s far too young to remember their dad as anyone other than the Commander of International Rescue and it shows. Alan never got to lay on the roof of the jet with him as stars wheeled overhead and they talked about anything his boy had on his chest.

Instead Alan spent his formative years hearing about the legend of Jeff Tracy and Scott knows he’s kinda to blame for some of that. He built their dad up to be this unstoppable, undefeatable force inside his own mind and Alan picked up on it, as kids do. Scott didn’t even realise how tall he’d built that statue of their dad until the day after they brought him home and the reality of the situation kicked in. Scott wasn’t even sure what he’d expected; part of him had expected to be too late because who the hell could survive eight years in deep space on a ship vastly understocked for such a voyage?

Of course Jeff Tracy had survived, but the reality of that was a father who’d left his children behind and returned to find they’d grown up with Scott instead of him. It made things awkward sometimes, like when Al’ went to his oldest brother instead of their dad for advice. Whatever advice Scott gave him wouldn’t be the same advice dad gave him because Scott’s advice was based on the young man he’d raised but dad’s advice was for the little blue-eyed boy he’d left asleep in his bed on the fateful day he disappeared. Then there was the issue that his advice was based on his experiences with his four oldest boys, but out of the five of them, Alan had the most freedom to follow his own dreams and didn’t need to be told what to do with his future. He just needed to know that he’d got the support of his family behind him no matter what.

Scott might not be a fan of all of his little brother’s decisions. His friendship with a certain Mr Berrenger gives him hives, not to mention the way Alan’s newest desire to race cars across unfriendly terrain littered with hazards makes his eye twitch. However he’ll defend Alan’s right to make those decisions, and then go bother Virgil until the big guy installs VTOLs or something in Alan’s car that’ll keep him out of danger.

In the mean time, Scott treads heavily down the corridor, smiling to himself when Gordon’s light briefly flickers out. Alan’s light remains on, which surprises big brother until he looks round the door to find a couple of bodies on the floor. Virgil’s sprawled on a throne of blankets with a little brother asleep on top of him just like the old days when Al’ refused to go to sleep in case one of them went away again and never came back. For a moment he thought they’d both fallen asleep in front of the TV, but then Virgil yawned like a bear and a little figure dressed in green armour went sideways off a cliff and died in Alan’s game. Big brother couldn’t help chuckling at the bewildered “Ah,” and the slightly later “….oh.” when the game over screen appeared.

“Hey, short stuff.” Scott kept his voice down low to avoid disturbing their youngest brother as he crouched, sliding an arm beneath Alan’s bony knees and the other went around his ribs before scooping him up effortlessly. Virgil could’ve done the same anytime he wanted but he’d chosen to remain on the floor. It reminded Scott of someone perching on the very edge of their bed to avoid disturbing a kitten fast asleep in the middle of it. “I think it’s bedtime for both of you. Need a hand?”

“No. Maybe.” Virg conceded when he tried to get off the floor only to find his tired muscles wouldn’t bend far enough, “Just leave me here, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Scott just smiled and dealt with his youngest brother first, pulling off his socks and t-shirt so he wouldn’t overheat before tucking him into his actual bed. He pressed a quick kiss to that golden hair just because Alan was asleep enough for him to get away with it, and then turned his attention to the rather bigger little brother on the floor.

“C’mon, HeavyLifter2, I gotcha. Up you get.” Scott reached down for those big hands and hauled him up, not quite as easily as he could move Alan out of the way, but he’d had a lot of practise at shifting brothers over the years. Giving Gordon piggy-backs home from school when it’d been a long day and they weren’t gonna make it back before dad got in. Lifting Al’ up onto his shoulders so he could get a good view of the air displays they used to go to before International Rescue made regular things feel mundane. He’d even carried Virg home one time after he’d taken a tumble climbing down from their tree house and it’d damn near killed him to carry his not-so-little brother all the way back to the farmhouse, but there was no way he’d have ever left Virg behind, even if it was just to get help.

He’ll never leave a brother behind. Dad left them behind and it wasn’t exactly intentional but they’ll be dealing with the repercussions of that for the rest of their lives. He might be home now but it’s not easy to let go of the past eight years. It’s not easy to step back from his brothers to let their dad back in. It’s not easy to just stop worrying when it’s all Scott’s ever known.

“Hey.” Virg rumbles sleepily, all slow and soft like thunder in the distance as they trudge to his bedroom, “Stand down, Scotty. Everything’s okay.”

And Scott believes him.

[bettycooperoutfitwatch]

4x15 Chapter Seventy-Two: To Die For

Jughead died as he lived:

The world’s most dramatic bitch.

But that’s okay, because his plan hinges on everyone else in Riverdale being just as messy—and it works!

We finally reach the flash forward we witnessed in 410: the cropped red trousers, the stripe-y Juliet puff shoulders.

I’m not even gonna get into the waste of public resources (search parties, forensics, all of this costs money), I’m just gonna wave my hands and shrug, it’s Riverdale, etc. 

One, this shot is really well set-up (the mirror fracture? Nice), and two, appears to have been filmed on a potato.

Two potatoes. 

Three if you include Kevin, whose exposition-delivery work in this episode is especially thankless.

One of Betty’s two most-utilized purses this season, which are actually the same purse with slightly different stylings. This one is the simpler of the two.

The peacoat we’ve also seen a few times. 

Cousin Cheryl puts Cousin Betty on suicide watch. It’s a lot. 

So much of the core four’s plan hinges on other people. This is pure Scooby Doo logic. Let’s not dwell.

I repeat, for like the 89th time, this show hasn’t taken set dec photos since season one. 

The raccoon eyes!

We’ve literally seen all of this before, so I won’t repeat myself.

Well, spoke too soon.

This sweater-of-much-debate first popped up in a flash forward at the end of 405 and then once more in 408. We’re really getting to the end of these flash forwards now, it would seem. 

...

Do you think Betty and Jug got into some felon role-play after all this was over?

You know what, never mind, never mind. 

🙃

This shirt looks a lot like one Betty wore in 105. Maybe they’re the same, maybe they’re not. There’s a lot of season one touches in this ep. 

Well.

Initiate phase 2 of the plan, I guess: let’s plan a funeral. 

Stripe-y ribbed turtleneck and a suede mini. This outfit will come up again, we’ll talk about it then. 

Throughout this episode, we see a lot of different characters wear touches of tartan. It’s not the first time we’ve seen most of these people wear tartan or some kind of check print detail (yes, even Hiram)—but here it sort of reads as their tribute to Jughead. 

Veronica’s collar.

Hiram’s shirt.

Archie’s tie.

FP goes for a glen plaid suit and a windowpane tie, the extra is clearly genetic.

Betty’s funeral attire is very classically Betty—sheer, swiss-dot puff sleeves, and A-line cut to the dress. Her hair is notably down, like the first time we saw her at a funeral. 

A lot of people argue that Betty wears what looks like a J+B necklace in Jug’s dream opening to 222. I always thought that was her B pendant necklace, but idk anymore—I could be convinced given its showing here. 

(Jellybean’s tights.) 

Peep Betty’s pointy-toe kitten heels, with the little metallic embellishments. 

Does Riverdale have a very active amateur theatrical society? Everyone’s really bringing their A game here.

Betty reads an excerpt from Arthur Conan Doyle’s story “The Final Problem,” which...girl.

To keep it brief (ha), Conan Doyle intended “The Final Problem” to be the last Sherlock Holmes story—which he tried to ensure by killing off his hero. 

But then fans got mad at him and after a while of that, his hero rose from the dead in “The Adventure of the Empty House.”

What a way to telegraph, Elizabeth. 

(Jellybean’s jellybean necklace!!)

(There’s nothing so enjoyable as hearing Ms. Reinhart call someone a bitch in that Midwestern twang. Truly, a delight.) 

Anyway. People still have doubts about Jug’s life-status. 

Initiate phase 3: the nuclear option. 

I really can’t tell if this ribbed long-sleeve turtleneck is a pale pink or an oatmeal, and that frustrates me. If it’s pink, well then Betty’s wearing pink and a rusty red-ish color—meaning the next phase of this master plan is underway, and it involves Cheryl being Riverdale’s other resident chief messy bitch:

Pink and red—as we’ve discussed several times before—are Betty’s Archie colors. 

They’re not always a symbol of a romantic connection, but that’s defo the weight costuming is trying to impart here. 

At this point, we (technically) don’t know that Jughead isn’t dead. Using this motif in this moment is just another way of trying to convince the audience that the act everyone is putting on here is real—both the internal audience within the show (RHS, the town-at-large, but more specifically the Stonewall group), and the external one (us).

Visually there’s also almost too much going on with this shirt. Contrasting patterns, contrast v-neck, Juliet puffs on the sleeves. It’s a lot, it’s visually confusing in a way that mirrors the actual plot machinations of the story. Her mental state is stressed. 

I include it for the boots and the skinny jeans, which are very season one-esque. Don’t @ me. 

A moment for Veronica’s knit. 

Betty wore this very shirt, in another coloring, in 318! I like to think of this as another little costuming easter egg, that it suggests B & V are secretly on the same team here—and after all, they are. 

Same purse from earlier in the ep, and a jacket that first debuted in season 3. 

That’s the face of a girl on a mission.

Listen.

We know. 

Boyfriend’s S shirt. 

...consider how tame that fake kiss above is in light of this message.

Anyway: 

Pour one out for the sex bunker of death!! 

What favor did Betty do for Archie such that she is owed a milkshake? Give me friendship shit!!!

Visually, this is an intentional throwback to episode 102, in which Archie tries to apologetically text Betty after telling her he’ll never love her, only to be shut down.

The yellow shirt, the ballet bun, the shorts, the same gd teal phone case. It’s all intentional.

415: 

102: 

We haven’t seen Betty and Archie interact much this season between the time Fred died and...basically this plot. So these itty bitty crumbs are what’s supposed to make us believe all the shit that goes down several eps from now, but we’ll cross that (very dumb) bridge when we get to it. 

The cable-knit is kind of season one throwback, too.

On the right her earring looks like a heart with an arrow through it, but idk idk. 

Her kicks are the same she wore in 403. 

I could say I’m including this here because she’s wearing plaid, it’s in honor of Jug, blah blah—but honestly it’s just cause she looks gorg here. That’s all.

Summary: T e n outfits, ten. That includes two we’ve seen previously in flash forwards, two sets of pajamas, and one instance of boyfriend-wear. 

Is Betty a River Vixen??: ...only in Jug’s Stonewall spank bank. Also, isn’t the season over? Football ended. It’s fake murder season now. 

Backpack 2.0?: Mhm.

The floggingink Memorial Peter Pan Collar Count: with all the season 1 shit being thrown at us, you’d expect it, wouldn’t you? But no. 

Best outfit: I’m into the funeral look I think! 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Big Damn Heroes

A Supernatural / Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover! 

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Charlie, Buffy, Willow, Spike, Xander, Giles, Anya, Faith

Word Count: ~4930

Warnings: Flirting, play-fighting... it’s sexy but not smutty. 75% banter, 20% geeky references. (No, seriously, SO MANY. If anyone can spot all the easter eggs/quotes from Supernatural, the Whedonverse, and beyond, I’ll give you a cookie.) 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer​ and @deanwanddamons​, and the I Do Understand That Reference Challenge! I’ve been wanting to write a SPN/BtVS crossover since I first started watching Supernatural; I’ve been imagining some of these character interactions for a while. Thanks for giving me an excuse to finally do it! 

Major thanks to @stunudo​ and @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for the reading and cheerleading. This was the most excited I’ve been about writing in a hot minute and I was so happy that you guys were excited to read it. 

This bears very little resemblance to either show’s canon/timeline. No Dawn, no Tara. Just go with it. 

“Okay, stand super still for me?” Charlie asks apprehensively. She twiddles a few knobs on the gadget she’d built, and a little fan of laser beams shoots out one end. She points it at Dean, who grimaces and shields his junk protectively as the lights sweep up and down his body. 

Sam rubs at the tension headache that’s developing between his eyes. “You sure about this?” 

“No?” Charlie says, voice squeaking slightly, and Sam’s headache throbs again. “But… I think so. It should work. I don’t think you understand how ridiculously complicated this whole thing is.” 

“You are bringing their alternate selves here from an entirely different universe,” Cas says skeptically, arms crossed as he looks critically at the scene. “There are a lot of variables at work.” 

Charlie points the device at Sam and scans him as she nods firmly. “Yes. Thank you. What Cas said. What’s the worst that can happen, right?” 

Sam raises his eyebrows and sees Dean and Cas making near-identical expressions of disbelief. 

“Right. Probably not a good thing to ask around here, huh? You guys are like the living embodiment of Murphy’s Law. I don’t think I’m gonna, like, blow anything up though, so that’s something!” Charlie cuts off her own nervous babbling and takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” 

Sam's ears start to ring, and he feels a tug somewhere in his chest. The bunker fuzzes and fades around them. 

The last thing Sam hears is Cas saying flatly, “Well that can’t be good.” 

***

Dean’s drawing his gun before the room even comes into focus, fighting a dizzying surge of nausea. He looks around wildly, turning to scan his surroundings. There’s a redhead in an eye-poppingly colorful sweater sitting on the couch, looking at him open-mouthed; a cute, tiny blonde at her side; a cozy, utterly suburban living room; and most importantly, a total lack of Sam, as far as he can see, and that’s a problem. 

“Whoa, hey, take it easy,” the blonde says sharply. “Drop the gun.” She’s standing, coming toward him with her hands raised, and she’s clearly not a threat, but Dean’s not letting his guard down yet. He eases his finger off the safety but keeps it pointed at her. 

“Where’s my brother?” Dean snaps. 

“You just Apparated into the middle of my house, buddy, how ‘bout I ask the questions?” she says, unfazed. Which. Fair. Dean lowers the gun slightly. 

The second he starts to relax, the blonde is whipping around like a goddamn ninja and kicking the gun out of his hand. She settles back into a fighting stance, looking way more serious than anyone wearing sparkly lip gloss has any right to look. Dean’s so stunned he doesn’t even try to fight back; he stares for a second, torn between the urge to pull his other gun out of the back of his pants, just to make a point, and the urge to propose on the spot, because wow. 

“Um, hi, answers now?” the redhead says, still sitting on the couch, staring incredulously. 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m pretty sure this was a fuckup of gigantic proportions. Where am I? Who are you? How did you…” 

“Sunnydale, Buffy, and mystical forces-of-evil-fighting Slayer powers,” she rattles off, with a little smile at the look of astonishment on his face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

“Buffy?” Dean says, smirking, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s really not the part most people fixate on,” she says bemusedly. There’s a phone ringing somewhere in the next room, and Buffy shouts without taking her eyes off Dean: “Xander? Would you get that?” 

“I’m not most people.” 

***

“Yes, quite. We’ll be right over,” Giles says, and he hangs up before turning back to Sam with a long-suffering expression. “Your brother is safe and sound. I’ll take you to him and we can try to sort this mess out.” 

Sam lets out a long sigh of relief, following Giles to the door. He looks down at his phone again as Giles locks up, but it still displays “no signal.” Sam frowns. 

“Where are we?” he asks. 

“Sunnydale, California.” Giles leads the way to a tiny European car. Sam has to fold up like a pretzel to get in the passenger seat. 

He watches out the window as Giles drives, frowning to himself as he tries to figure out why they’re here of all places. He’d been so busy with the whole Apparition thing that he didn’t question Giles’s initial reaction to a stranger materializing in the middle of his living room, but his expression had definitely been more resigned and exasperated than astonished, like maybe this sort of thing happened to him a little too often. 

“Is there such a thing as magic in this world?” Sam says, with a sneaking suspicion that he already knows the answer. “Or… ghosts? Demons?” 

Giles blinks a few times. “Magic, yes. Demons, quite. Ghosts… not that I’m aware of, but stranger things have happened on a Hellmouth, I’m sure.” 

“A what?” 

“Hellmouth. Sunnydale sits on top of a literal gate to hell, and as such, there is a convergence of mystical energy here. It tends to draw monsters and… well, general disaster.” Giles sounds like he’s repeated this little speech a few times before. 

“Averted any apocalypses lately?” Sam asks wryly, and that does get him a very polite, British expression of surprise. 

“Well, yes. A few, as a matter of fact. Buffy does stay busy.” 

“Buffy?” 

“Yes, the friend I called when you arrived. The Slayer. Do they have one of those in whatever world you’re from?” 

“In my world, Slayer is a band,” Sam says with a shrug. “So… you’ve never heard of me? Or my brother? Dean Winchester?” 

Giles gives him a skeptical sideways look. “Should I have?” 

“I think I have a theory.” 

“It’s not bunnies.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind. Go on.” 

***

“This is where you live?” Dean asks, looking around at the big windows and unlocked door. “Are there protective spells or anything, at least?” 

“No. And thus, the neverending construction,” Xander says mournfully, nodding toward an unfinished window frame. 

Dean’s still processing how normal it is. They’re all sitting around in the incredibly ordinary living room on comfortably mismatched couches, and the coffee table in front of him has a copy of Cosmo on it, for fuck’s sake. He’s never met a hunter of any kind who’d be reading about “Why Wet Kisses Make Men Horny.” 

He looks up hopefully when he hears the door, but it’s not Sam; there’s a bleach-blonde guy coming in, shaking off the ratty blanket he’d been wearing like a cape. 

“Oh, great, you’re back,” Willow grumbles. 

Buffy gives him a look that’s borderline murderous, which would be about as threatening as a newborn kitten if Dean didn’t know what she’s capable of. “Why, exactly, are you back?” 

“Bored. Not much to do in a crypt.” The guy shrugs, looking Dean up and down with an appraising gleam in his eye. “Who’s the pretty boy?” 

Dean’s still processing “crypt.” Before he can decide how he feels about the flirtatious tone, Buffy answers for him: “Spike, this is Dean. Dean, this is Spike. Spike, you can fuck right off now. Dean, you want a glass of water or something? Sorry, all the alternate universe talk made me forget my manners.” 

“Got anything stronger?” 

“If by stronger you mean orange juice?” Buffy offers apologetically, but Spike pulls a flask out of the inside of his long coat and passes it to Dean with a smug half-smile. Then he makes himself at home in one of the armchairs, raising an eyebrow at Buffy as if to make it extra clear that he has no plans to “fuck right off” any time soon. 

“Cheers,” Dean says gratefully. 

Spike winks at him, obvious and shameless, and drawls, “You just let me know if you need anything else.” 

Buffy’s got her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Spike, and Dean can tell there’s something going on there, but he can’t really resist flashing his most charming grin in Spike’s direction.  

The front door opens again, and Dean breathes a long sigh of relief when he sees Sam. 

***

“What makes you think there’s a version of you in this universe, anyway?” Willow asks, and everybody pauses to think about that one for a second. “I mean, if there are all these different worlds, why are you guys the heroes in every single one?” 

“Bit bloody full of yourselves,” Spike says. There’s no reason for that sentence to sound as suggestive as it does, but that seems to be his default tone. Sam tries not to notice the way Spike’s staring at his brother. Not like Dean is aware of it; he’s too busy staring at Buffy. 

“There’s a world with nothing but shrimp,” Xander chips in unhelpfully. Sam shakes his head like that might clear his ears. 

“Chuck said -” Dean starts, and Sam cuts him off with a gesture before anyone can ask who “Chuck” is. That seems like a surefire way to derail this barely-coherent conversation, and Sam wants to figure out how to get the hell home. 

“It’s not a bad point,” he says. “So if Charlie programmed the thing -” Willow opens her mouth like she really wants to interrupt, but Sam plows on, “- to bring us from a world that didn’t have an us, maybe that’s what made it glitch. It couldn’t bring anyone to us, so it brought us here instead.” 

“But why would it drop you with us?” Buffy asks. 

“You guys seem to be the ones who deal with the apocalypses around here,” Dean says, shrugging. 

“We are the local experts at the saving people and the hunting things,” Buffy agrees. 

Spike smirks. “Big damn heroes, is what we are.” 

Buffy shoots him a withering glare. “You are not included in this.” 

“But why split us up?” Sam muses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His headache has not improved in the slightest. When he looks up, Dean’s eyes are darting between Sam and Giles, who has his glasses off and is pinching his own nose in the exact same spot. 

“Wow, Sammy,” Dean says, an infuriating grin spreading over his face. 

“What?”  

Dean turns to Buffy. “So this whole Slayer thing. Kind of a birthright? Destiny?” 

She shrugs. “I guess so. There was this whole group of old British guys with sticks up their asses, but... ” 

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to see where Dean’s heading with this, and asks Buffy, “Ever died, by any chance?” 

“Twice, actually,” she replies, without batting an eye. She looks back and forth between them. “Wait, have either of you -” 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Dean says ruefully. “Sacrificed yourself to save someone, I’m guessing?” 

“That’s me, self-sacrificey girl,” Buffy says, matter-of-fact and borderline chipper. “Kind of my specialty. That and the quipping.” 

“Let me guess, you handle the research,” Sam says to Giles. 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Although I’m not exactly helpless in a fight. I do know a bit of magic as well.”  

Sam buries his face in his hands for a second. 

“So when the program couldn’t find a match for either of us, it sent us to… someone as much like us as it could find,” Dean says. 

Willow jumps in quickly. “What sort of computer -” 

“What was that about shrimp?” Dean asks at the same time. Everybody starts talking at once, and Sam sighs heavily. He almost rubs his forehead again, but he stops himself when he notices Giles doing the same thing.

***

Dean’s trying to explain the whole Chuck situation when he sees the distortion in the middle of the room, and he trails off in the middle of the sentence, watching anxiously as Charlie blurs in and out a few times before solidifying in front of them. 

“Okay, weird,” she blurts out, looking around wide-eyed and overwhelmed. 

“Holy fuck am I glad to see you,” Dean says fervently. 

“Right back atcha,” Charlie says. “Somebody want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“Ooh, are you the one who beamed them up?” Willow asks excitedly. “Actually… you look weirdly familiar, have we met before?” 

Charlie blinks at her a few times, a smile spreading across her face, and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’d remember you.” 

“This is Charlie, she’s our resident computer genius,” Dean says, and they make the rounds of introductions yet again. 

Charlie gives everyone an awkward little wave. “Charlie. Um. I like LARPing, pretty women, and long walks on the beach.” 

Dean doesn’t miss the way Willow perks up at that, and he bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter. 

“Hey, where’s Cas?” Charlie asks, finally tearing her eyes away from Willow long enough to look around the room, as if Cas might’ve hid behind the bookshelf when he arrived. 

Dean’s stomach sinks. “He came with you?”

“Yeah, we -” Charlie starts, but she’s interrupted by the door opening, and much to Dean’s relief, Cas is walking through it next to a frazzled-looking girl. 

“I’m hoping one of you can explain why this man materialized in my car?” the girl asks irritably. “As if parallel parking wasn’t hard enough without surprises.” 

“Hi to you too, Anya,” Buffy chirps. “Glad everybody could join us for what was supposed to be my relaxing day of solitude.” 

“I’m not a man, exactly,” Cas interjects. 

Anya tilts her head to the side inquisitively, glancing very blatantly down at Cas’s crotch for a second, and Dean snorts. 

“Would it be rude if I asked -” Anya starts. 

Giles answers before she can finish: “Yes, it undoubtedly would be.” 

“I’m an angel,” Cas says nonchalantly. 

“Judging by everyone’s faces, Anya’s not an angel, then?” Sam asks, looking between the two of them. 

“Only that one time, for Xander’s birthday,” Anya volunteers, and Xander splutters an incoherent protest. “But that was a sexy angel, not a real angel. I don’t think we have those here.”  

“She used to be a revenge demon,” Buffy explains. 

“Used to be?” Cas asks. 

“Oh, I’m human now,” Anya reassures him.

Spike adds, “Not that you’d know it, talking to her.” 

“Considering how primitive and strange humans are considered to be by most of the known universe, I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Cas says mildly. “Some of your customs are utterly incomprehensible to an outsider.” 

“That’s what I keep saying!” Anya exclaims. “I mean, how am I supposed to know exactly which reproductive habits are acceptable for public discussion?” 

“They do have some very arbitrary rules about appropriate behavior,” Cas says. Dean notices Sam and Giles rubbing their foreheads in tandem again. 

***

By the time they finish asking all their questions and comparing apocalypses, Sam’s actually kind of having fun, but he knows it’s time to get back to work. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks Dean, during the next lull in the conversation. Dean looks more than a little put out as he sneaks a glance at Buffy, but he shrugs. 

“Probably should. Charlie? Hey, Earth to Charlie.” 

Charlie looks pretty dazed as she turns to face them. “Hmm?” 

“We should probably get home,” Sam says apologetically. 

Charlie’s face falls. “Really?” 

Dean gives her a sympathetic look. “Worlds to save, and stuff. Still need to find a way to warn all those other Sams and Deans. Sorry, kiddo.” 

“Maybe you can come back sometime, if you… y’know, survive the apocalypse?” Willow says, with a hopeful smile. Charlie grins at her. 

“We also have places to be,” Anya says cheerfully. “Very important things to do.” 

“Subtle,” Xander mutters. They wave their goodbyes and head for the door, followed by a somewhat sulky-looking Spike. Then again, that might just be Spike’s face; Sam can’t really tell. 

Cas, Charlie, Sam, and Dean huddle in the middle of the living room, and Charlie says resignedly, “Strap yourselves in, I’m gonna make the jump to lightspeed.” 

“You don’t have to scan us again, do you?” Dean asks, eyeing the gadget with some mistrust. 

“Nope. We’re all saved in the system. Ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dean says, with one last half-smile in Buffy’s direction. Charlie hits the button. 

Nothing happens. Charlie frowns and hits it again. 

“Charlie?” Sam says hesitantly. 

“No, obviously that’s not supposed to be happening,” she retorts. She fiddles with a couple knobs. “I think I know what it is, though. There are all sorts of parameters for, like, which Earth you’re coming from and which Earth you’re going to, and I think the weird glitchy thingy might’ve scrambled the algorithm.” 

Dean leans in to look. “Did you try hitting it?” 

“It’s quantum physics, Dean, you can’t just keymash until it works,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes and holding it away from him. “Unless you want to be stuck in shrimp-world or something.” 

“How long do you think it’ll take to fix it?” Sam asks. 

Charlie shrugs. “Could be a couple hours, could be a day or two.” 

“I could help you,” Willow offers. Charlie looks like Christmas came early. 

“You guys are welcome to stay, it’s no biggie,” Buffy offers. “Not like you’re the strangest thing that’s ended up in my living room.” 

“I’m flattered,” Dean says with a grin. 

Sam sighs, but he can think of worse worlds to be in for a day or two. At least they’re not surrounded by shrimp. 

***

“So this is what you do every night?” Dean asks, as Buffy hops the fence with zero visible effort. He might have actual hearts in his eyes. 

“Pretty much,” she says cheerfully. Dean follows her. He does okay, even if he doesn’t stick the landing like a Russian gymnast. 

Sam had stayed home, after some silent pleading in eyebrow-speak, so it’s just the two of them, and it’s nice, for a graveyard. There’s something about the idea of “patrolling” that Dean likes. He imagines coming here night after night, recognizing the mausoleums, getting familiar with all the paths. It sounds stable.

“Do you like it?” Dean asks. “The whole Slayer thing.” 

Buffy wrinkles her nose adorably at him. “I’m not sure like is the word I’d choose. What else would I do, though? Not like I could just walk away from it. I tried, once. The weird follows me wherever I go.” 

“Sorry, if you don’t want me to follow you any more I can just…” 

She laughs at that. Dean feels butterflies in his stomach, like he’s just a middle schooler with a crush. It’s been a minute since he put actual effort into flirting with somebody, beyond the easy one-liners. Dean fiddles with the stake she gave him, twirling it in his fingers, trying to keep an eye on his surroundings instead of just staring at Buffy. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” she says softly. “Y’know? Like, why me?” 

“You’re basically a superhero,” Dean says. She can probably tell how hard he’s geeking out about it. “That’s what heroes do.” 

“It’s not just that, though! Like… I was bored out of my mind trying to be normal.” 

Dean laughs. “Normal was a disaster.” 

“So even if the weird wasn’t following me, I’d go find the monsters myself. Who does that?” 

“Crazy people,” Dean agrees. “I can’t imagine doing anything else, though. Never gonna have a normal job, never gonna have a normal relationship, and yet.” 

“So you’re not - there’s no relationship?” she asks, exaggeratedly casual.  

“Nah.” Dean tries to hide his grin, and then he asks cautiously, “What’s up with you and Spike?” 

She stops dead, mouth open, staring at him. “Wait. Oh god. Please don’t tell me Faith is already running her mouth, I told her -” 

“No, it’s cool, I just… guessed, earlier,” Dean says sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody else noticed.” 

Buffy makes a face and rolls her eyes, and they start walking again. “It’s complicated, the… thing with Spike. It’s definitely not a relationship though.” She stresses that last bit, and Dean really shouldn’t feel relieved, at that, but he does. 

“Isn’t it always complicated?” 

Buffy sighs. “There’s the whole undead creature of the night thing, for starters, which. Oddly enough, seems to be a type for me?” 

“Yeah?” 

Something must show on his face, because Buffy frowns. “Oh, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re some sort of demon too.” 

“Would that help my chances?” Dean asks wryly. “Cause I kinda used to be.” 

She stares for a second. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Really not.” 

There’s a moment where she’s clearly deciding whether she wants to go there, but then a familiar voice rings out behind them and interrupts: “Thought you were heading home, pretty boy.” 

Dean turns, grinning in spite of himself. “Change of plans.”  

“Lucky us,” Spike drawls. “Mind if I join you for a walk, pet?” 

“No,” Dean answers, just as Buffy lets out a resigned, “Kinda.”  

Spike catches up to them and slings an arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him against his side. Buffy lets out a huff, but she’s laughing too. 

“Are you really trying to make me jealous?” she asks Spike.  

“Is it working?” 

Dean disentangles himself and looks back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah, this is obviously healthy.” 

Buffy laughs, but Spike just retorts, “Like you would know a healthy attachment pattern if it bit you in the ass.” 

Dean considers protesting, but he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on there. 

“Guess it’s in the job description. Are we gonna go fight some monsters, or what?” 

“Yeah, let’s go find the monsters,” Buffy says, grinning at Dean. “That’s what heroes do, right?”  

***

Sam zones out of the discussion around the time Cas and Giles start talking comparative theology through the millennia. He slouches back on the couch and watches them fondly as Cas answers question after question. His eyelids feel heavy and he’s comfortable, and even though he knows he should take the opportunity to learn more about this totally new Earth, all he really wants to do is sit, and breathe, and rest. 

Cas and Giles end up heading back to Giles’s house for tea and… something about an old book of etchings? Sam can’t really follow Giles’s breathless, excited rambling. He waves them off, thinking that he might actually go to sleep early, for once. 

Sam goes to the kitchen, chugs a glass of water and then fills another, and he just stands there for a moment, one hip leaning against the counter as he looks around. It’s such a normal house. Even on their most domestic days, they’re still in a bunker. Must be nice to have a little bit of normalcy, no matter how crazy life gets. There’s faint music and the occasional giggle from upstairs, but otherwise, the house is quiet. 

Of course, just as he has that thought, the front door slams open and someone shouts, “Yo, B! Ready to go?” 

“She went out already,” Sam says, bemused. 

He gets an impression of red lips, dark hair, and leather as the girl closes the door behind herself, moving whirlwind-quick. She plants her feet (loudly, in big stompy combat boots) and crosses her arms, looking at Sam suspiciously. Neither of them move for a second.  

“I’m Faith,” she announces eventually. “Who the fuck are you, why the fuck are you in B’s kitchen, and where the fuck is she?” 

“Sam, and… it’s a long story. She’s out patrolling with my brother, they left about an hour ago.” 

Faith seems to make some sort of decision about him, and suspicion turns to mischief as she gives him a broad grin. “If your brother looks anything like you, can’t blame the girl for ditchin’ me.” 

Sam’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back a smile, and he takes a sip of water to cover it. 

“Aww, you shy?” Faith teases. Her voice is low and raspy, kind of absurdly sexy, and she clearly knows it. “Must be one of those nice guys I’ve heard so much about.” 

Sam doesn’t answer. He watches Faith stalk toward him. 

She’s a fucking force of nature, Sam can already tell, all aggression and attitude as she comes at him with a challenge in her eyes. He doesn’t move when she gets up in his space, looking Sam up and down like she’s inspecting him. He has a feeling she’s used to people backing away before they let her get this close. 

“Sam, huh? What brings you to Sunnydale?” 

“Just passing through,” Sam says calmly. “What about you?” 

“How do you know I’m not from around here?” she asks, looking up at him coyly. 

Sam doesn’t dignify that with a response, just smirks and waits. She takes a step back and leans against the counter, mirroring his pose. Her eyes are sparkling. 

“Fair enough. I’m a Slayer, figured I’d stick around in Sunnydale and help B for a while. Always seems to be somethin’ around here that needs its ass kicked.” 

Sam cocks his head to the side, considering her. “So you fight vampires?” 

“And whatever else is askin’ for a fight,” she retorts. “Why, is your brother a vampire?” 

“What?” 

“Buffy’s got a type. A demonic kinda type, if you know what I’m sayin’. Don’t worry, I won’t stake him.” 

Sam laughs. Figures. “I wasn’t worried. Just curious if the superpowers are all they’re cracked up to be.” 

“You better believe it,” Faith says proudly. “Strength, speed… stamina.” She says the last with a sly, unsubtle smirk, watching Sam to gauge his reaction. 

“Show me,” he challenges. He doesn’t specify which one he means, and Faith raises one eyebrow. 

“Right here? I figured you’d be the candlelight and Al Green type.” 

Sam smiles. She’s not the first person to make that assumption. 

The first punch is light, and he lets her see it coming; she dodges it easily, without so much as blinking. Sam’s left hand snakes out, lightning-fast this time, and she sidesteps neatly, grabbing his wrist instead and holding his arm in place. She’s stronger than he expected, and she’s grinning like this is the most fun she’s had all week. 

“Sure about this? I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she says, sugary-sweet. 

The next punch is in earnest. She blocks it, throws one of her own, and then it’s a blur for a moment, a flurry of blows one after another, none of them landing. Neither of them are moving their feet much, trapped in the narrow space between the counter and the kitchen table; they’re just testing each other. 

“Not bad,” Sam admits. 

“Right back atcha.” 

She takes a couple steps backward, out into the open space, and Sam follows, watching closely. This time she lets loose with a flashy spin-jump-kick thing like something out of a cheesy action movie, and Sam’s laughing as he ducks. 

“Points for style, but not for substance,” he teases. 

She comes back at him twice as hard and almost gets him this time, but then he snatches her wrists and slams her back against the wall with a thunk that’s a whole lot louder than he expected. They both wince and freeze. 

“Everything okay?” Willow yells from upstairs.

Charlie’s pissy voice adds, “Please don’t tell me that was a monster.” 

“Just tripped,” Sam shouts back. He looks down at Faith, taking a half-step closer so that there’s maybe an inch of space between their bodies. He’s still got her wrists pinned over her head. She’s definitely not trying to get away. He has a feeling she could, easily, if she wanted to. 

“Not so nice after all, then,” she purrs, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Sam shakes his head slightly. “Not so much. You giving up, then?” 

“Not a fuckin’ chance. Just thinkin’ maybe we should have the rematch back at my place. You know, in case you ‘trip’ again.” 

“Sounds like a good idea.” 

***

Probably good they only stayed for a day, Dean thinks, looking around the room. Nobody, from either world, looks particularly happy about the departure, but they’ve all said goodbye often enough that they don’t draw it out. Charlie gives Willow one last little wave, and then she hits the button. Everything goes fuzzy. 

It’s disorienting, for a moment, but the bunker comes into focus around them. After the dizziness has passed, Dean gives Charlie a wordless hug. 

“I’m gonna go read a book with pictures in it,” she says glumly, and shuffles away. “And eat ice cream.” 

“Research time, I guess,” Sam says. “Back to work.” 

Cas heads to the kitchen to make some coffee as Sam starts flipping through his notes. Dean settles down at the table and looks at the nearest book without really seeing it. He feels fucking off, almost sad, as if he could’ve possibly gotten attached to that other world in less than twenty-four hours. 

“That was… kinda a nice universe, right?” he says. “I dunno. There was something about it.” 

Sam gives him a knowing look. “Yeah.” 

“Ever wish we could just… stay somewhere else?” Dean says, and he can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice. “I mean, why do we keep coming back to this world? What’s so great about it?” 

“It’s ours,” Sam says, with a shrug. “I mean, the other one wasn’t our responsibility, you know? Of course it was nice, not having to worry, but… this one’s ours. Gotta take care of it.” 

Dean twirls a pencil between his fingers and wishes it was a stake. He smiles, slightly, as he remembers. 

That’s what heroes do. 

.

.

.

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[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: You Can’t Kid a Kiddo

Intro: It’s April Fools’ Day…and Tony is out to play. Avengers, beware!

Warnings: Bad language, very mild smut...no one gets naked.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

A/N:This is written for @wkemeup​ ‘s  4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was dialogue- “I take zero responsibility for this…”

This takes place in the Stark Spangled Banner timeline in April 2015 just before the events of AOU. Steve and my OFC (Katie Stark- Tony’s sister) have been together for 2 years ish and are engaged at this point as well. There’s also another Easter Egg in here for me to set up another One Shot I’m working on...

You don’t have to have read SSB to understand or enjoy this but feel free to check them out if you so wish. Stark Spangled Banner, and the prequel Stark Spangled Man can both be found here on my Masterlist.

Please re-blog and send me comments/thoughts. That’s my jam!

Steve’s hands were hot on Katie’s hips, gently gripping her bare skin just above her underwear, the top she was wearing riding up slightly. Her bare thighs were straddling his as he gripped her neck, pulling her down for a searing kiss, grinding up against her, the TV programme was long forgotten.

“You know…” he said, pulling back slightly to look at her, one of his hands tangling in the hem of the plaid button down she’d stolen from him to sleep in, as usual “Captain America doesn’t approve of theft.” “Captain America is an ass hole.” she grinned back “Stevie is my favourite.”

He gave a chuckle and leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking at her for a second “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“What’s brought this on?” she asked, her hands sliding up his chest, resting on his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the collar of his polo shirt.

“Nothing.” he said, “Just seeing you before, today, with that reporter, just reminded me about how fierce...” he pressed a kiss to her lips “and loyal…” another kiss “and downright sexy you are when you’re angry…”

“He was a dick.” she mumbled, against his lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back to look at him, his fingers gently tracing the outside of her thighs “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already launched the publicity campaign already…”

“Well it’s big news.” he smiled up at her.

“Of course it will, it’s Harlan Thrombey…” she shrugged “His books are huge!”

“Did you ever get to the bottom of why he’s reached out to SIP to run the next one when he has his own publishing company?” “Oh something to do with his Son annoying him and needing to be taught not to take things for granted.” Katie shrugged “I can ask him that in October when we meet him to go over the final edit and discuss the covers and stuff… but that’s by the by. That ass-hat reporter should have been at the press launch like everyone else, not trying to accost us when we went out for lunch. And what the fuck has whether we’ve set a wedding date got to do with it anyway? Nosey bastard.”

Steve chuckled at her rant and looked at her, his eyes shining. “We haven’t set one though.”

“Yeah well, we’ve kinda had a bit going on.” she said, “Maybe once all this business with the sceptre is sorted we can think about it.” Steve sighed “I know, it’s taking a little longer than we hoped.”

“Well it’s only the end of March.” she shrugged “I’ve always wanted a summer wedding so it’s not…”

She trailed off and Steve saw her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. “Oh shit…”

“Kitten, what is it?” he frowned.

“It’s the 31st March…” she looked at him, swallowing. Steve felt the colour draining from his face "Crap." The reason for their horror was simple. Because, forget Christmas or Thanksgiving, April Fools’ Day was Tony Stark's favourite time of year, as his long suffering sister could testify. When she was a kid, Tony had done the usual stuff. Flour in her talc, washing up liquid in her shampoo, paper shapes of bugs (never spiders though, he wasn't that cruel) in lampshades so when she turned the lights on she'd think she had a huge cockroach in there, that type of stuff. But, as she matured so did the pranks. At one time whilst she had been at the tower for a meeting JARVIS sent her an alert that someone had slashed her tyres in the carpark. She had sprinted outside to see photos of Slash from Guns and Roses struck to the side of her tyres. Another year Tony had hacked her StarkPhone and Laptop and changed the language to Chinese. Of course she couldn't read fucking Chinese to change it back. When she found an agent in SHIELD who did and he reversed it for her, within 30 seconds it had flicked over to Russian. And when she fixed that it became Swedish and so on and so on... Steve had also been the butt of a few pranks since he had known Tony. In 2013 he had fallen for the old toothpaste Oreo trick when a box had arrived for him allegedly from the cookie company themselves after Steve had been papped eating a packet. That had nearly made him sick. And then last year there had been the none stop phone calls asking for Franklin. Every time it was someone different and Steve was getting more and more frustrated as to who exactly Franklin was and why people thought he was on his number. Then, as he and Katie had been on the sofa making out, he'd gotten one last call…

"Leave it..." she said, her hands in his face turning her back to look at him. He kissed her again, hands sliding up the side of her torso, grinding his crotch down onto hers making her purr with delight as her hands strayed to the buckle of his belt, soft fingers gently skimming his abs as she made to undo it, his tongue tangling ferociously with hers as he gave a soft moan of pleasure... But his phone was going again. Katie sighed as he dropped his head to her chest, mumbling a curse. "Unless that’s a Code Red, you can tell whoever it is to fuck off." she said with a frustrated growl, her head flopping back against the cushion as he reached over and answered it, still led over her. "Rogers..." he said sharply. It was another unknown number, but not an unknown voice. "Hi this is Frankin!" Tony greeted him Steve let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had been had. "Have there been..." pause as the inventor laughed "I'm sorry, have there been any calls for me?" "Tony I swear to god!" he spat through gritted teeth as the inventor cackled and hung up. "Your brother is a dick." he looked down at Katie, shaking his head. "Well yeah, I know that…" Katie looked up at her boyfriend "What did he just do?" "Those calls I’ve been getting all day. Asking for Franklin?" He looked at her and she nodded "it was him."

She paused and then let out a laugh “Ok, to be fair, that’s a pretty good one…” “I hate him.” he mumbled, dropping his head back to her chest.

She chuckled again, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, Stevie…wanna get him back?" “How?” Steve queried, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her.. “Call him...” she grinned, leaning up and nipping at his jaw line softly as he closed his eyes “Leave the phone on the table...” she bucked up under him, wriggling her hips, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight  again “and let him listen to us make out”

Steve hadn’t done that, because, well frankly the thought of anyone listening to them wasn’t a great turn on in his books so Tony had gone another year of getting away with it.

Simply put, Tony was king of the pranks, and this year he had the entire team at the tower to torment. 

“We should warn the others…” Steve looked at her, and with a sigh she nodded. She untangled herself from him and straightened the legs on her denim shorts.

“JARVIS?” she asked.

“Yes Miss Stark…” “Where are the rest of the team?”

“Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the Common Room.” he spoke “Thor is in his quarters as is Mr Stark and Dr Banner is in the Lab…”

“I’ll text Nat, Clint and Banner.” she said, nodding “Can you go see Thor…he doesn’t have a phone and I’m not asking JARVIS to do it in case Tony catches on…” Steve nodded “Yeah, I’ll pop down and see him now.” Giving her a quick kiss he straightened his pants slightly and headed towards the hidden elevator, selecting the right floor. Thor and Clint shared one of the highest floors in the tower, both preferring to be higher up, closer to the roof but it was still below their’s. Exiting the elevator, he turned left and knocked on the door.

“Captain?” Thor answered and stepped back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “It’s not strictly pleasure I’m afraid Thor…” Steve sighed “I’m hear with a warning.” “A warning?” he frowned.

“Yeah, you got five minutes? It’s gonna take some explanation.”

***** Tony was giggling to himself as he put the final touches to the last of his pranks, before closing the door to the Lab and heading back to his floor. None of the team were up yet, it was ridiculously early, but the early bird catches the worm and all that. Fuck Killian and his second mouse bullshit. He had been toying with setting it all up the previous evening but he didn’t trust Kiddo and Spangles not to do some kind of recon mission before they went to bed. 

“What have you been doing?” Pepper mumbled to him as he walked back into their dark bedroom.

“Nothing…” he said, with a grin, leaning down to give her a peck.

“Bullshit.” Pepper mumbled against his lips. “It’s April Fools Day…” “Is it?” he said, innocently and she rolled her eyes “JARVIS?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Hey buddy, I need you to set up an alert for me for today. If anyone goes into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my equipment I wanna know about it.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony grinned as he headed into the bathroom for a shower. “Game on, Avengers...” 

Prank 1.

Steve was the first victim. He and Katie were making their way, cautiously, down to the large meeting room where they were all due to congregate to look over the plans of an abandoned British prison they suspected of being a Hydra base. They made sure to check round each corner before they walked round it, checking up high, low, everywhere.

But there was no avoiding this prank.

Steve pressed his palm to the Biometric Pad on the meeting room door and the pair of them gave a loud yell and a jump as their ears were assaulted by a sudden chorus.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Steve groaned as he pulled open the door, the song echoing through the PA system.

“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Clint and Natasha were stood, poised at the table, both wearing identical looks of astonishment on their faces. They turned to Katie and Steve as they walked into the room, the song still playing.

“We can't ignore there's a threat and a war we must win! Who'll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin?”

“I’m assuming this means Cap is the first of us to fall victim to Stark?” Clint asked, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America?”

“Please tell me it isn’t going to go through a full rendition…” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

“Who's here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Silence. The 4 of them waited with bated breath, but thankfully it had stopped.

“Just the first two verses…” Katie said, sitting next to him. “Suppose we should be grateful.” “Kiddo, you’re as much of a sneak as Tony…” Clint looked at her, as Thor walked into the room. “How come you’ve never managed to get him back?”

“He’s too smart.” she sighed, “I’ve tried and tried before. It doesn’t help that he has JARVIS either, watch this…JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Has my brother got an alert going for you to warn him if we try and prank him?” “I couldn’t possibly comment Miss Stark, on whether or not your brother has an alert set up to warn him if you attempt to tamper with any of his equipment…”

Normally she would chuckle at the AIs tone but she was too frustrated with her brother and the seeming lack of loopholes in any of his instructions she could exploit. She leaned back in her chair and gave a huff “See?”

“I could just shock him with some lightning?” Thor suggested

“Think that’s a little harsh.” Steve sighed. 

“See if you still think that by the end of the day when every time you open a door that song starts.” Natasha looked at him.

“What, you think…” Steve looked at her and then gave a groan. “It’s not just gonna be the one door is it?”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Of course it isn’t just one door…” _______

Prank 2.

Bruce was sincerely hoping that whatever inevitable prank Tony was going to pull on him that the Billionaire had been sensible enough not to shock him so far that the Hulk erupted. Bruce had a pretty good hold on him, so he wasn’t too worried but still, you never know.

He made it to his lab in one piece, opened the door and stopped dead.

In front of him on the floor, for about 2 metres square were cups of water. And they were positioned hat close together that there was no space for him to step over in any direction without them spilling all over the floor. Which meant he couldn’t get into the room. Had it been anyone else, they would probably have simply kicked them over, but not Bruce. He was always paranoid about the liquid seeping through the floors and down onto the machinery which looked after the Iron Legion. 

So if he was going to get into the lab, he was going to have to move them one cup at a time. 

“Damned you Tony!” he said with a loud, exasperated sigh “JARVIS? I need a bucket…”

_______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Good luck finding one Brucey…”

_______

Prank 3.

“I don’t think there’s much else to go on…” Steve sighed as the rest of the team finished looking over the plans “We need to get out there and do a recon really.“

“We prepping for another mission then, Cap?” Clint looked at him. Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“I don’t think we have an alternative.” 

“Ok, well, if we get everything ready we can go at first light tomorrow.” Natasha suggested “I’ll get onto the British Authorities, let them know we’re planning on coming.” “Get Hill onto it” Katie suggested “She’ll go through the UN.”

With that an alert sounded on her phone and she looked down at it. “I gotta go take a conference call but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve nodded to her as she stood up and left the room. She made it to her office, safely and swung the door open, pausing just to make sure nothing fell from the door frame. She darted through, took a look round and everything seemed to be in order.

Suspecting Tony of most likely sabotaging her computer or screen, she sat down on her chair and a loud horn sounded causing her to scream and involuntarily he entire body jumped, and her chair toppled backwards. She went with it, arms and legs flailing and she hit the floor with a crash.

After taking a moment to sort herself out she stood up, and looked at the bottom of her chair. There was an Airhorn strapped to the main leg which mean as soon as she had sat down, it would push the handle causing it to sound.

“I know you’re watching this you fucker!” she yelled, spinning round to the CCTV camera and flicking it off “I hate you!”

_____ Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Nice fall Kiddo…”

_______

Prank 4.

Given that there was nothing else to do, Natasha decided to head to the gym, as she did every Tuesday morning, to practice Pilates. It was a routine she tried not to break as it helped her keep supple and relax. Katie sometimes joined her, and surprisingly so did Steve. He said it helped keep his mind clear. 

She knew that the routine made her an easy target for one of Stark’s pranks, but she was damned if he was going to catch her out. She was one of the world’s best spies, no way was he going to get her with some stupid, childish trick.

She entered the room and glanced up and around, checking the corners, you name it. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out at her, and even if they did, she’d floor them- more fool you, Stark, she leaned up against the bench and stretched her legs out.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

She spun to see Steve shaking his head as he made his way into the room in his gym gear

“You joining me or hitting the bag?” she asked as they both tried to ignore the song as it continued ringing from the speakers.

“Joining you if that’s ok?” he said, “I went for a run this morning so…” “Sure.” she nodded, and as the song finally stopped they made their way to the store cupboards, picking out their mats. Natasha picked her favoured one, and lay it down on the floor.

As soon as she stepped on it there was a loud popping noise, like a gun going off, and she jumped backwards, dropping to the floor by instinct. 

“Nat…” Steve said, a smile tugging at his lips “It’s ok, it’s not a gun.” Angrily she stood up, stalked over to the mat and pulled it up off the floor. She examined it a little before she gave a snort.

“Bastard!” she exclaimed, slipping her hand into a small, almost invisible hole on the underside. She pulled out a tiny little firecracker, the type that kids used to throw on the floor in front of someone to make a loud bag. “He’s filled my mat with these!” 

______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Even Super Spies get fooled, Romanoff…”

_______

Prank 5 and 6.

Later that day the team met in the common room for lunch. Steve already had a headache from that damned song following him every time he opened a door, Katie was sporting quite a sore elbow after falling harshly on the floor, Bruce was pissed as it had taken him a good hour to get rid of the cups of water, and Natasha was seething at the fact she’d been caught out too.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for your entire life.” Clint said to Katie as he opened the fridge, pulling out a can of his favoured Dr Pepper. He grabbed a glass and a few ice cubes, the way he always like his soda and walked over to where they were all sat on the sofas with various lunch items on the coffee table. He poured the soda into the glass and set it on the table.

“Yeah well, you better be careful.” Katie said “You too Thor, there’s no way he hasn’t set one up for you both.” “I am mighty Little Stark.” Thor grinned, nursing a plate of his favoured chocolate and sugar covered strawberries he had snaffled from a tray in the fridge “it will take more than…” “SHIT!” Clint exclaimed, and with a loud yell they all jumped back as the soda in his glass was exploding over the top with such veracity it was showering them all in the sticky drink. As Steve and Natasha headed to grab some paper towels, Katie marched over to the freezer and yanked out the ice dispenser tray.

“He’s put fucking Mentos in the ice cubes!” she said with a shake of her head. “Jesus Christ…” “You gotta hand it to him.” Bruce sighed, wiping his glasses off on his shirt 

“I’d like to hand it to him.” she mumbled, “with my fist closed.” Thor gave a chuckle and popped a strawberry in his mouth, before he gave a grimace, gagged and spat it back out onto the plate.

“That’s…” he stood up, nearly pushing Steve over in his attempt to get to the sink. 

Katie watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and filled it from the tap. 

“What...” Natasha looked at Bruce who was examining a piece of the fruit, holding it in front of his nose.

“Salt…” Thor mumbled as he rinsed his mouth out “It isn’t sugar, its salt. He put salt on my Chocolate Sugar Fruit!”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Ice Ice baby... not so mighty after all Thunder God.”

_______

*******

“We have to get him back…” Natasha grumbled as they all sat in Katie and Steve’s apartment, having retreated to the relative safety as their living quarters were the one place there was no CCTV, and Katie had the authority to banish JARVIS from earwigging. (Tony had learnt that lesson one day after hearing something he really didn’t want to hear…)

“Believe me I’ve tried.” Katie sighed “And you heard J before, anyone tampers with his equipment and…” She stopped dead. That was it. That was the loophole. With a smirk she looked round the assembled faces. Steve arched an eyebrow at her, he knew that look very well.

“What you thinking?” he asked and she grinned at them all.

“Ok, listen up.” she said, leaning forward. “I have an idea...”

They listened attentively, Clint and Natasha sharing a grin as she outlined her plan whilst Thor slapped his thigh with glee. Steve leaned back in his chair and looked at Banner who was also smiling ear to ear.

“That might just work.” The Doctor said “It’s a pretty good loophole, and we have the stuff in the lab so…” “I’ll need a distraction.” Katie said, “something that’s gonna draw Tony out of his office for long enough for me to do it but…” “That’s easy.” Thor said, “I’m sure I can cause a good deal of noise in the Training Facility, break a few things with my hammer…”

“Fry something.” Steve said, looking round “If you do that then JARVIS won’t be able to fix it remotely, Tony’s gonna have to get his hands dirty.”

“You all know what you’re doing?” Katie grinned as everyone nodded. “Ok, Avengers, let’s do this…“

Operation Payback.

Tony heard the bang seconds before JARVIS spoke

“Mr Stark…”

“What the hell was that?”

“There’s been an incident in the Training Suite.”

“Course there has…” Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation at how stupid they thought he was. He wasn’t falling for a distraction like that. “Where is everyone?” “Miss Stark, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the shooting range.” Jarvis informed them. Doctor Banner was in his lab, although it appears he is now making his way down to the Training Facility to find out what’s going on. Captain Rogers is already there as is Thor.”

“What’s the incident?”

“It appears Thor has struck the speakers and the access pad with a bolt of lightning.” JARVIS replied “I’m currently assessing the damage but as a result he is locked in. And he isn’t happy.” Tony gave an exasperated groan and pushed his chair from his desk. “Suppose I best go see if I can help…remember what I said, anyone comes in here and tampers with my equipment…” “Of course, Sir…”

When Tony arrived Thor was kicking the door to the training facility, waving his hammer irately.

“Thor!” Steve was stood by the glass, attempting to calm him down. “Don’t buddy, we’ll get you out of there…” “I can get myself out…” Thor blazed, raising his hand and Tony blanched at the fact Thor was threatening to send his hammer straight through the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the walls and glass to get damaged but they’d only just had it replaced after Steve and Thor had been practicing using Steve’s shield and Mjolnir to cause an outwards blasting shockwave. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, and Steve spun to him shooting him a glare.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Thor roared “That infernal song…”

His hammer crackled ominously again and Tony looked back to Steve.

“He was fed up of hearing Star Spangled Man With A Plan ringing out every goddamned time I opened a door.” Steve folded his arms “So he lost his temper. And I can’t say I blame him.” “We’ve talked about this.” Tony looked at Thor “You need to use your words buddy…” “Words, I’ll give you more than words, Stark!” Thor roared “Now get me out of here!”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, looking at the pad on the door. “Damage report?”

“The Circuit is completely fried Sir.” JARVIS said “I cannot access or override, you will need to do it manually.”

“Great…” Tony mumbled “Let me just go get my tools from the lab.” Mumbling to himself he set off down the corridor and once he was gone, Thor grinned and tossed his hammer in the air as he gave Steve and Banner the thumbs up before he caught it expertly again in his right hand.

“Good job!” Steve nodded with a smile as he pulled his phone out and dialled Katie quickly. “You’re up.” 

****

It took Tony roughly 30 minutes to replace the wires and unlock the door. Thor stormed out, pushed him harshly in the chest before he left down the corridor.

“Guess they don’t have April Fools’ day on Asgard.” Tony mumbled, rubbing at the front of his shirt.

“To be honest Tony, it’s pretty annoying.” Bruce sighed “Can you at least turn it off now, I mean its almost 2 in the afternoon.” “Yeah I suppose…” Tony sighed, before he grinned “it was a pretty good one though, right.” “Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, his hands falling to his belt buckle. Tony flashed him a grin and a shrug before he gathered up his tools and made his way back down the corridor.

“JAR?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Turn off Prank Spangles will you, before anyone else breaks more of my tower.”

“Right away Sir.” “And I’m assuming from the lack of contact no one’s been in my office tampering with my equipment?” “That’s correct sir.” “Today has been a good day.” Tony grinned to himself.

Once he was back in his office he sat down at his chair, and went through his emails quickly. He absentmindedly scratched at his beard, which felt a little dry to be honest. But he hadn’t oiled it since that morning. Reaching into his drawer he grabbed the small bottle, tipped a good amount onto his hand and spread it across the expertly groomed whiskers before he continued with his work. It took him a few hours but he cleared his inbox and then decided it was time to face the music. Heading down to the common room he found the rest of the team lounging in front of the TV. They were watching Kitchen Nightmares. 

“S’up Kids?” he asked and none of them looked at him. “Ok, alright, I know…sorry if I pranked you but if I buy takeout will that make you forgive me?”

No answer.

“Oh come on!” Tony said, crossing the room, sinking into a spare arm chair. “I’ll get Thai…"

The team exchanged glances before Bruce gave a sigh. He was always the one to cave first, the mild mannered Scientist found it hard to stay outwardly angry, which was ironic when anyone thought about it.

“To be fair, that trick with the water was pretty clever.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, and I suppose the salt strawberries were a little amusing.” Thor said, looking at Katie.

She shrugged, her feet resting in Steve’s lap as he was gently running his fingers up and down her calf.

“Oh come on Kiddo…”  Tony sighed, flopping onto an arm chair.  

“Payback’s a bitch…and so are you.”  she said simply, still not looking at him.

“You’ve never managed to get me back yet.” Tony snorted.

At that point he noticed that Natasha and Clint exchanging smirks. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clint said, shaking his head.

“I like your beard” Thor said, grinning “I have always admired how you keep it so neat and groomed. Maybe I should trim mine the same way.” Tony frowned. “Oh is this the part where you pin me down and shave it?” he rolled his eyes “You know I can call my suit to me in like 5 seconds flat.” “We know.” Steve said simply, looking at him. Tony’s frown deepened. The way the Captain’s blue eyes were shining with mirth made him uncomfortable.

He looked round as 6 pairs of eyes were all completely focussed on him now before Katie cracked up laughing.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t hold…” her laughter grew more and more as she threw her head back against the arm of the sofa “You look ridiculous…” Tony frowned and without a word stood up from the chair and made his way to the bar to glance in the mirrored surface between the shelves.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

His goatee. His beautiful goatee...was blonde.

He spun round and the rest of the guys in the room cracked up laughing. Steve had his head thrown back, right hand clutching at his chest as Katie wiped tears from her face whilst Natasha doubled over on her seat. Besides her Clint slapped his thigh, his chuckles loud.

“What…how…” Tony spluttered, looking again at his reflection, before he glared back at the group.

“Slipped a little peroxide in your beard oil…” Katie managed to stutter between laughs, Thor’s loud rumbles continued, punctuated every now and then by a snort from Banner.

“JARVIS!” Tony roared “I told you to tell me if anyone went into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my stuff…” "I take zero responsibility for this...sir” The AI responded “And I believe your instruction was to alert you if anyone entered your office or the garage or anywhere in the tower and messed with your equipment. Technically Miss Stark didn't touch your equipment, only your Male grooming product. I believe they exploited a loophole.” That made the group laugh even harder as Tony went bright red, spluttering obscenities at JARVIS. Eventually he calmed down and sighed, before he glanced at his sister.

“You know I’m almost proud…” he said, shaking his head. “Almost…”

Katie gave him a wink in response. “You know what they say…you can’t kid a kidder, or in this case Kiddo…”

Tony gave a groan which turned into a resigned chuckle. He could always dye it back...

Yes, April Fools’ day was still Tony Stark’s favourite time of year.

@the-omni-princess​  @momobaby227​ @geekofmanythings16​ @angelofhell-666​ @thewackywriter​ @marvelfansworld​​  @cobalt-gear​  @asgardlover75​ @jennmurawski13​​​  @jtargaryen18​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​  @navispalace​​ @patzammit​​  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​​  @icanfeelastormbrewing​​ @djeniiscorner​​  @ayamenimthiriel​​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​​  @disneylovingal​​ @madzmilllz​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​

[polymathart]

Cassarian Dump #3

(Platonic, Varian is still 14) Between “Great Expotations” and “Queen for a Day,” Cassandra gives Varian lessons on how to ride on horseback. Varian is cautious around Fidella. He fumbles awkwardly trying to put the saddle on her back. Cass does so with ease. Varian gets his hands tangled in the reigns. Cass rolls her eyes and mounts behind Varian while taking the reigns in her hands. She slowly demonstrates to Varian how to control the reigns. Eventually the two of them make progress. Varian starts to blush because Cass is holding his hands. Seeing that Varian is getting the hang of things, Cass jumps off while Varian keeps riding. When his little test ride is over, she helps him carefully dismount. “Thank you, m’lady,” he says with a slight bow. “Don’t thank me.” She points to Fidella who nudges Varian’s shoulder. He chuckles and shyly pets her head. He grows fond of her, noting the beautiful braids of her mane. “Th-thank you, Fidella.” Cass offers to give Varian another lesson next week. “It’s a date, then!” laughs Varian. “It’s a what?” Cass asks. “I’ll, uh, save the date! I’ll save the date on my schedule! That’s what I said.”

“Varian,” Cass asks sadly, “why are you always so patient with me? Even when I lose my temper?” “It’s simple,” Varian answers with loving eyes, “you’re completely worth it all.”

While Rapunzel and Eugene paint Easter Eggs, Cass and Varian celebrate by just throwing normal eggs at each other.

Cassandra is pregnant. While reading in bed, Varian comes in with an armful of plush animals. Cass is flattered but says it isn’t necessary, only to be cut off by Varian calling in Lance and Eugene to haul in the rest of the plushies. Eugene is very unenthusiastic about it.

Pregnant Cass lying down in bed with Varian gently brushing his hand along her baby bump. He starts singing lullabies as “practice.”

Cass cuts herself on some alchemy glassware. Varian dashes to her side and tends to her wound. While she sits down to rest, Varian makes her feel-better cookies. He then covers her in a blanket and fluffs her pillow and everything to help her relax. Ruddiger curls up on her lap like a cat.

Cass not so secretly loves to give their kids baby talk and funny faces. She tries to cover it up but Varian knows

Cassandra just gives birth. Rapunzel is first to hold the baby. “Congratulations, guys! It’s a boy. Cmon,” Rapunzel softly cheers, “let’s go meet Mom and Dad!” Rapunzel hands the newborn to Cass and Varian. “...hi,” Cass whispers. Baby opens eyes and makes little noises. Cass laughs and begins to cry. Varian holds her. “You did it, Cassie.” “No, Varian. We did.” She kisses him on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder.

Cass is always on her guard right? Even when she sleeps. So she sleeps pretty tensely. But when she feels safe and comfortable, she relaxes. And that’s how she sleeps when she’s near Varian. Soundly. Happily. Probably even sores and drools a bit. Only when she’s with her VariBear.

Varian trips while serving Cass the wedding cake. It lands on her face. “Cassie! I’m so so—” Cass holds her hand up and removes the cake from her face with a scowl. Suddenly she smiles and pulls her arm back before chucking the cake back at Varian. Varian ducks and it hits Eugene. Varian throws cake and it hits Rapunzel. “Alright!” Rapunzel yells. “The Queen’s in on this!” And the whole reception becomes a food fight. During the fight, Varian feeds a bit of cake to Cass before throwing it over her.

The Assassin’s shoots his bow at Eugene and Rapunzel’s daughter. Varian throws himself in line to shield her. He collapses. Lance disarms and pins the Assassin while Cass runs to Varian. “C-Cass-an-dra,” Varian groans, “You’re my hero...” Cass presses his hand to her lips. “And you’re my hero, Varian.” There’s no healing incantation. Varian’s eyes close. Varian breathes his last. Cass gives him one last kiss. She weeps into his chest. Rapunzel, Eugene, Lance, Angry, and Catalina and all the animals arrive too. Cass slowly looks up. Filled with fury, she rises up, wrenches the elixir from the shooter, and pours it down Varian’s throat. “Please bring my hero back,” she whimpers. Varian coughs.

New Dream: Watching the sunset on the beach. / Cassarian: Sword fighting on the beach.

Varian checking up on Cass resting in bed after getting injured. Her back is turned so he thinks she’s fast asleep. He whispers that he loves her. Camera pans down to reveal that Cass was awake.

“Cass!” Varian calls, “guess how many kittens I can hold at once!” Cass shrugs. “I don’t know. Three?” “Varian, covered in kittens, responds, “Fifteen! I would say sixteen but I can’t lift you up like this.” Cass blushes.

(Platonic, Varian is around 20) While listening to Cassandra’s recollections of all her daring adventures, Varian’s eyes light up. “Cassie! You’re like a real life Flynn Rider!” “Don’t liken me to that fictional crook!” Varian nods. “You’re right... you’re definitely way cooler!” “I,” Cass stutters. She pouts, reluctantly flattered by the compliment.

Angst where one of Varian’s inventions seriously hurts Cass—a cut or a burn or something—and Cass is livid. At first she tells Varian off and not to try to help. She calls his inventions stupid and and dangerous and him inconsiderate and oblivious to just how much danger he keeps putting everyone into for his own success. Varian makes an antidote nevertheless. He gives it to Rapunzel to hand to Cass. Cass wants nothing to do with any more of Varian’s inventions. But eventually she has no other choice but to try the antidote and it heals her. Cass realizes just how much Varian cares about her even after what she said. She finds Varian the next day tearing down his invention solemnly. He admits that she was right and that maybe it was time he took a break from his work. It’d be safer for everyone. Cass apologizes for insulting Varian. And she says that, yes, maybe he should take a break, it doesn’t mean he should give up entirely. And that it’s okay for him to keep doing what he loves so long as he exercises more caution. Varian thanks Cass and puts away his equipment. Now that he is on “vacation,” he wants something new to do. Next day he arrives to Cass while she is training and he shyly asks if he could join her in training...

Hi, everyone! It’s me, Rapunzel. Eugene and I just wanted to take this time to say a few words for the newly weds. Varian, when we first met you, you were a short, clumsy, excited ball of curiosity. Cass, when we first met, you were stubborn, quick-tongued, and just roaring to fight. I know in the past we’ve had our differences. I know that there were times that really tested our friendships. But even then we were so happy to have you back. You’ve both become such a big part of our lives. You are both courageous, sincere, and total inspirations to everyone you meet. You’ve both grown so much as people that we love, respect, and cherish. You two complete each other. You’ve both experienced similar struggles and pains before and have come out on top. Your cleverness and fearlessness go unmatched. We believe that you two are capable of so many great things. You two were made for each other. We are so proud you, Cass and Varian, and love you more than you can ever imagine.

Varian begging Cass to trust him when he wants her to take a flight with him in his new flying machine. How to Train Your Dragon style.

For Cass’ birthday, Varian will make her a sword. Like his nerdy Flynn Rider sword. Because you know there’s no way he just bought that from somewhere.

“I would never date anyone who is loud, obnoxious, and annoying,” Cass proclaims. “So,” asks Rapunzel, “who would you date?” “Gosh, I don’t know. Probably someone soft spoken and patient, I guess.” Varian runs in with a smile on his face. “Guys! I just found a whole litter of kittens under my house! Come on! They’re so fuzzy and small! “Like him?” Rapunzel teases Cass. Cass blushes. “Shut it.”

Varian runs up to Cass with one of the kittens. “Cass, look! This one is all dark and grumpy! Just like you!” Varian proceeds to play with the kitten before Cass, imitating Cass and making the kitten play-sword fight. “...I don’t sound like that,” she blushes. “You do,” cuts Eugene. “Get out, Fitzherbert.”

Cass chilling with her hand on the table. Varian walks up and just puts his hand on hers like a cat. No exchanges. Just bap.

AU where Cass is foreign and Varian has trouble communicating his love to Cass since she doesn’t speak English. Rapunzel translates. And Eugene who speaks many languages casually talks to her.

BoxingAU. Cass is a boxer Varian meets and has a crush on during a match. He’s a nerdy dorky guy who’s never been in a fight. But one day Cass is jumped by a gang of crooks and Varian KOs one of them.

Hacksaw Ridge AU where Varian is a conscientious objector and Cass is his rough and tough fiancé waiting for him to come back. Eugene is the top dog in his platoon and constantly berates Varian. Quirin is Varian’s WWI veteran father. Ulla has long since passed away.

Angst AU where Varian is smitten over Cass and isn’t afraid to show it. Cass is aware of it but is herself not sure if she’s ready to enter a relationship with him. And at some point Cass begs Varian to quit loving her because she feels guilty for repeatedly rejecting him.

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

My Easter - Removing The Mask

Easter 2020 will forever remain in my memory as the one that hit me like a truck; an invitation I answered body and soul; the Easter where I fully allowed myself to ‘go there’, to pass through the impossible threshold of the crucifixtion and come out the other side. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened at the heart of the Covid-19 lockdown; Easter-time this year felt like a glaring luminous invitation to journey inwards. Besides, what else was there to do?! I couldn’t meet with friends, go to cafes or pubs. I was forbidden even to drive to the woods and romp in the leaves. All of sudden the world had stopped, there was no running away this time. I was called, finally, to confront myself with eyes wide open. It’s Holy Week, and I’m being given some very clear marching orders: “its safe to come out now. Its time to remove the mask.”

I can’t recall which particular day it was; perhaps Palm Sunday or Holy Monday, but I received a very clear instruction to write a full, unfiltered confession to myself of the real conditions of my life so far. Somehow it felt entirely correct that I would undertake this task whilst journeying with Christ through his betrayal and crucifixion, for I knew that in order to do this I would be visiting the blackest times of my life; times of pounding lovelessness and cruelty, impossible violence and running blood. I knew that I would need to visit the desolate landscape of my youth, to pull off the grim mask of civilization I’d worn all these years and fully encounter the betrayals by those who were supposed to love me. Hardest of all, I knew at the core of my confession was a fully sighted look at the violent, disconnected person those early losses had turned me into; I would have to gaze up at the sky-scraping height of the walls of defense I’d built around myself; wall that had at times fully eclipsed the sun. I would need to meet all the gentle souls I’d hurt betrayed since that time, believing so wholeheartedly that I was full of stinking rot and no consequence on this earth. 

Somehow I knew I wasn’t alone. The deal seemed to be that if I fully surrendered to this, as much as my consciousness would allow, that I would be fully met and held every step of the way. ‘Don’t worry’ a voice said, a deep silent voice inside, ‘it’s safe. I’m here. I won’t leave you..even when it might feel like I have, when things get sticky, I haven’t. I’m always here.’

I was being invited to set myself free and even though there was some trepidation, as with all big journeys into the unknown, there was also a deep excitement, for I knew that if I could come thorugh this portal, there would be a whole new world waiting; a new beginning.

So I jumped out of the plane without a parachute.  Upon guidance from The Christian Comunity Church I set up a small shrine on a chest of drawers in my bedroom. It consists of an alabaster statue of Mother Mary cradling a baby Jesus, three candle holders and a clay heart, un-painted and hastily sculptured by my daughter. This was a pilgrimage man must undertake alone; but the world was allowing me a luxurious amount of personal space – the only visitors would be delivery men (!) and my daughter was staying with her father just down the road. I didn’t know at the beginning that my confessions would take nine days, or that some days the words would come in such a torrent. My writing life has always been a response to a physical impulse, a ‘pull’ for something to come out, but never before had I been tugged like this, a fish on a hook. Some days I typed four or five hours straight.  

Each morning I breakfasted and went to my little church, dead on ten o’clock. I followed the service advised by the church. I turned off my phone, lit seven candles, read the Gospel aloud, attempted to clear my mind, and said the Lords Prayer – the first time, in forty five years living on this earth, that the words resonated within me with meaning. Every time I said ‘Thy will be done’ I was reminded that this was a task of surrendering to something far bigger than me, not something to ‘push ahead with’ in my head. Those days of intellectual figuring out were no help here. Often on those Easter mornings I asked for strength to keep going. I asked for my faith to be renewed when I felt lost. At the moment of Consecration, in my imagination I feasted hungrily on the bread and drank thirstily from the cup, in fact, it’s more truthful to say I gulped on the life force of Christ. I needed His strength for the day ahead; I needed to be lit up with his light.

Nights I slept in my daughter’s bedroom, waking up each morning of Holy Week to her glorious pictures of elves and sprites; her display of animals photos torn from magazines; a penguin she’d adorned with a speech bubble with the words ‘I’m cold’ scribbled in biro and a baby seal, that she’d adorned with a bow on its head. I woke up to her letter from Santa Claus tacked to the wall and her kitten calendar.  It gave me great comfort to sleep in an eight year old’s world, for I knew that my journey required me to be as vulnerable and awe-struck as a child; to recall what it was like to reveal my heart without any thought or consequence.   

My appetite lessened; I ate a lot of toast and drank gallons of tea. I typed sitting on the floor with my computer on an upturned crate. Often I wouldn’t dress until late afternoon. After writing I would reward myself with a walk out into the lanes and woodland tracks of Ashurst Wood. 

It seemed hugely significant that although I would be plummeting to my death, in the background there was an abundance of fuzzy life; Laura, our tortoise-shell cat had given birth to six kittens on  April 4th. They were still limp and blind, but fattening with each second in a cardboard den. As I typed in my daughter’s room, a dark beginning of life resounded silently from the kitten corner. 

I gave my confession the title Turning Point. One of the central themes of my Easter 2020 undertaking, if not its core, was letting my sister, Sally Ann, die. But to do this, to grant her her final wish, I knew I needed to tell her story as honestly as I could; to bear witness to her suffering and reveal it to the world; to not conjoin with the world we’d both been born into and ‘cover her up’. Only then would she rest in heaven; only then could I live on earth in freedom. Sally, my dark mysterious sister, ahead of me in the world by three years, committed suicide at our family home in January 1990. She was nineteen years old and I was sixteen at the time. 

Somehow I knew that journeying back to the hell of that that time, almost thirty years ago, back to her trimester of suffering when each day felt like a crucifixtion, would lead me into heaven. At some point during these days I experienced a powerful shift in my thinking; a revelation. I realised that for thirty years I’d been living with a fundamental ‘untruth’ - a lie that had at times proved almost fatal. This lie was two-fold and lay at the core of my heart, and in lifting the lid on it, I experienced such a physical release that I was able to kneel down and weep at my little church. I could begin to let go. 

The first lie was that I’d thought that I’d had to stop loving my sister because she was no longer here; because of the shame that society places on suicide; because there was no adequate help in the suburbs of Bedfordshire in the early 90s for such an act of self-murder in a three bed semi, because our relationship had been so difficult; because nothing I did seemed to make her happy; because it had all been so hopeless; because my father had told me to buck up two weeks after her death - ‘life goes on Christine’ - all of that meant that I’d detached myself from all the love I felt for my sister, I’d erased it all; I’d cut myself off from my history in shame, forgotten all the nights we’d shared sleeping in the same room; all the good times and laughter we shared,  despite her cruelty, despite the confusion. This Easter I was given the gift of remembering myself as a loving child; I recalled; I felt viscerally, in my body, that despite everything, I had loved her. Now wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that a miracle? And then the impossible happened; she took herself out of the game and left me here on earth in devastation. This Easter I needed to reclaimed my heart somehow. ‘It’s ok’ the voice said, ‘speak out. You have nothing to be ashamed of’. 

The second lie that I began to put to bed was that somehow my heart was ‘malformed’ or ‘useless’ in some way, because the love I sent forth hadn’t been able to save Sally. For the two months leading up to her suicide, every day when I returned from school, she only got worse, not better.  Somehow, and somehow I could offer this up this Easter, I had thought myself a ‘murderer’.

And underneath the civilized mask I wore, the truth was that I’d treated myself often as one would treat a murderous child; I’d kept her locked away, persecuted myself, let people and things I adored fall by the wayside, abandoning myself and my fellow man over and over. 

Somehow the grim violence of Christ’s death, the humiliation, the heart-breaking conversation he has with God before-hand ‘isn’t there another way we can do this?!’ rang out to me this year. I finally accepted the devastation of his death. I had to allowed the tsunami of grief and I sat at his feet through-out; I sat at the feet of my dying self in full compassion for her helplessness Only in opening myself to my full vulnerability would I get to the green pasture on the other side. Only by allowing the truth of the world of violence I’d been born into would I undergo the glorious transformations of those violences. Christ’s death reversed a big lie I’d been imprisoned by; that our shadow life is best kept quiet – ‘oh no, don’t you understand?’ he says, ‘the blackness is the very place from which light is born; the point where everything can change; the place where you’ll learn to love. But – and I know this is a bummer - you have to die first.’ If I truly wanted to continue living in my body then it needed to be with wounds revealed. It was so wholly, genetically, biologically different in every way to the life of appearance I’d been forging ahead with. 

On the evening of Easter Saturday I drank a small measure of gin for courage and sent Turning Point out into the atmosphere, emailing to my dear friend and writing partner Matilda Leyser. I hung in the balance, waiting for the world to change – daring to believe the unbelievable. Then things got weird; at almost exactly the same time of clicking send and removing my armour, I got attacked. I received a long email, aggressive in tone, from my neighbour informing me that my tom-cat, George, had got in to her house and urinated on her bed. “Please be a responsible pet owner”, she said. “and keep your cats locked in your house from now on.” Isn’t the world like that? I thought. We take the ultimate leap to freedom, and someone, someone you least expect, will swipe you with a long diatribe about cat wee. 

But I knew that this was a good sign; a sign that just in me trying to be real, the world had shifted. Wasn’t it time for me to confront the possibility that a good life was waiting for me? Wasn’t it time to forgive my neighbour her trespasses and move on -  to a place where I could play the piano without being told to shush? Wasn’t it time to stop communing with misery and take responsibility for my happiness? Doesn’t the resurrection tell us that there’s a chance; that we’re meant to live in abundance? 

Easter Monday I thought I’d be overwhelmed with joy but that came later – in fact, in took a couple of weeks of disorientation and yet more grief before I could begin to grasp the sheer revolutionary, upturning power of Jesus’s resurrected body. I read St Luke 24: 39 over and over; “Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself; hand me, and see;” He was back, wounds and all. He was eating with his friends and rejoicing. Their hearts were singing. The old dark world was gone and things could only get better. 

A week after Easter my daughter returned home and reclaimed her room. Like every human being on the earth at this time, we have no idea what is going to happen next. 

* * * **

A couple of days ago I watched the Billy Wilder classic The Apartment. It’s a simple tale of love and redemption in 50s New York,  but there’s a darkness at the centre of the film that surprised me. Fran Kubelik, a central character and love interest played (Shirley MacClaine) is ‘brought back to life’ after attempting suicide on Christmas Eve by the man who loves her, Bud Baxter (Jack Lemmon) and a doctor. and his neighbour. It’s a disturbing scene because she doesn’t want to revive; she’s injected, slapped, given smelling salts, extra strong coffee and finally walked up and down the apartment by the two men like a rag doll to keep her awake. Bud cares for her over the next forty eight hours, hiding his shaving razors for fear she’ll try again; just as my parents hid dangerous implements in high cupboards as my sister’s death wish intensified. 

She recovers, and in the glorious ending of the film, Fran has a sudden epiphany. Sitting in the restaurant with her cruel lover, she sits bolt upright, the camera focuses on her widening eyes: she realises that she’s in love with Mr Baxter, the kind man who saved her life. Perhaps she realises that she’s loved him all along. Choosing love, she leaves her old life behind, and sprints through the streets of New York to Bud’s apartment. Her high heels clack up the stairs to his apartment like rapid gun fire.  He’s packing up his apartment;  he wants something better than loaning out his home as a glorified knocking shop to his bosses and their mistresses. “What are you doing?” Fran asks him.

“I don’t know, …….I just gotta get out of this place’. 

They sit with glasses of champagne and prepare to play Gin Rummy: 

‘I love you Ms Kubelik. Did you hear what I said? I absolutely adore you.’ 

“Shut up and deal.’ 

And so, upon reflection I would say that my Easter has been a bit like those final scenes of The Apartment.  I’ve heard love calling, I’ve got up from the table and am running towards it. I’m moving quickly, with the chance at being human, allowing the wounds and scars of the old world to propel me into the new; coming alive from the inside.

I’m ready to drink champagne with friends and play with a whole new hand. 

In gratitude to Luke and the priests at the CCC for the milk and honey they provided this Easter: their correspondence, insights and guidance through this Easter-time.

May 2020                                                                  Copyright Christine Rose

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Love and Death

Author: Kahvi

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Moss/Richmond, Moss/Roy

In the darkness of the server room, Richmond leaned against the wall in quiet satisfaction. He liked watching the little lights on the routers as they blinked on and off, red against black. It was like a dance, he thought. A dance macabre? No; he shook his head, that didn't work at all. He really wasn't very good at poetry at all. No wonder they had laughed at him when he went to that open-mike recital last week. Richmond was happy in the server room. Some people might have been surprised to hear a goth admit to happiness, but as Richmond would have reminded them, had they spoken to him on the matter, which they hadn't, that wasn't the way it worked at all. Goths weren't gloomy or depressed, not really. They just liked darkness. And the server room was very dark indeed. Although, in thinking that, it struck Richmond that it was, perhaps, a little too dark tonight. Darker than usual, certainly. A cursory examination of the room – he looked around briefly – revealed the explanation; the lights had been turned off. Richmond frowned. How very odd indeed! Tip-toeing carefully, Richmond made his way to the red door that separated him from the rest of the Reynholm Industries. With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated, biting his lip. It was so much safer here, in the dark. Leaving the server room meant relating to people; perhaps even talking to them. And while he did enjoy that, really, he had found through bitter experience that it tended to be something of a one-sided affair. It had been so much easier when he'd had a girlfriend – at least he thought that's what she had been. She'd made socializing easy. Before anyone could even attempt to initiate conversation, she would pull him off into the nearest enclosed space and shag his brains out. He hadn't seen her for a while though. In retrospect, he really should have gotten her phone number. Well, there was nothing for it, he supposed. With a slight, nervous cough, Richmond grasped the knob firmly, and twisted it. A little too forcefully as it turned out; his wrist protested in agony, and he grabbed it with his left hand, falling through the doorway with nothing of his accustomed elegance. Thus he emerged into the outer basement, blinking. The lights were off here too; the dull glow of a computer screen the only illumination. It was obscured by something, though... a large, person-shaped sort of... Richmond gasped as he realized that there was someone else in the room. Familiar panic gripped him in its icy claws (icy claws, he thought, that was a good one; he would have to remember that), and he fell back against the door, pressing up against it. For a brief, panicked moment, he considered going back inside, then slapped himself mentally. Then, when that didn't help, he slapped himself physically, yelping as his hand connected painfully with his cheek. The shadow in front of the computer turned, pale light illuminating a face with frowning eyes behind thick glasses. There was a second or two of confused silence, after which the eyes rolled. “Richmond!” Startled to hear his name, Richmond pawed at the door like a frightened animal, until the contours of the shadowy face slowly materialized into something familiar. A name ghosted at the edges of his memory. “Moss?” Moss – yes, that was it, definitely – shook his head in irritation. “My goodness gracious, how you startled me!” He took his glasses off, and pinched the bridge of his nose in what seemed almost a symbolic gesture. Promptly, he replaced the glasses, and folded his arms. “What are you doing here?” Somewhat reassured, Richmond took at tentative step forwards, then shrugged. “Working, I suppose.” He walked a further few steps, inching closer to Moss's desk. The glow of the computer screen was almost like moonlight, or at least how moonlight was supposed to be in old horror films, which Richmond quite enjoyed watching; pale, soft, and blueish tinted. Somehow, it made the room seem more inviting. “Why are the lights all out?” Moss rolled his eyes again, chuckling. “Don't you know what day it is?” Richmond searched his memory. “Monday?” “Easter Monday!” Moss waved a finger in triumph, enunciating each word carefully. “Oh, my sides are splitting! You came into work on a bank holiday, and you didn't even notice that no one was around! that's how pathetic you are.” He kept on chuckling, swiveling back and forth in his chair a little with the momentum. “I can't argue with you there. I didn't see anyone when I got in, but then again, most people try to avoid me, anyway.” Attracted by that lovely glow, Richmond walked all the way over to the desk, and sat down on the edge of it. Moss didn't seem to mind. It was rather nice this. Perhaps he was starting to get a hang of this social interaction thing? He'd known how to do it once, after all. That seemed so long ago now though and, well, things had changed. Moss turned his attention back to the screen, adjusting his glasses. Richmond tried to peek over his shoulder, but all he could see was more of that glow. “Why are you here then?” “I...” Moss swiveled around again, almost colliding with Richmond, who was leaning in close. They both retreated, hurriedly avoiding eye-contact. “Erm... I am on vacation.” “On vacation?” Richmond tried to make himself as small as possible, sitting on the very edge of the desk's corner. “Yes. I was getting a little bored with the routine on my social networking site, so I decided to visit another social networking site. I didn't want to make the move permanently; I'm quite happy where I am, actually; I just felt like a change of scenery for a while. So, I'm spending the weekend...” He angled the screen so that Richmond could see. “Here.” “Oh.” Richmond looked at the site, trying to form an opinion. It would probably help, he thought, if he'd had any sort of idea what a 'social networking site' was. “The colors are nice,” he offered. “All pale and washed out. Like a little kitten, lost in the rain.” Moss turned the screen back, and began to type something. “It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there!” He shuddered a little, as though the thought horrified him. “Why aren't you doing this from home, though?” “I already told you,” Moss said, his eyes not leaving the screen. “No, but...” Richmond frowned. He didn't know a lot about computers, it was true, but he was almost entirely sure about some things. “You could access that just as easily at...” “My mother kicked me out, OK?” The sheer force of the words was enough to knock Richmond off the desk, and onto the floor. When he got to his feet, Moss was standing, his fists clenched, his teeth grit. With the light from the monitor, he made rather an impressive figure. Richmond now noticed the toothbrush that had been stuck into Moss's favorite cup, and the sleeping bag neatly stashed beneath the desk, up against the bin. Not knowing what to say, Richmond blurted out the first words that came into his mind. “You're welcome to stay with me, if you like.” Richmond had moved out of his old flat even before he'd lost his management position, and had to worry about a lower income. It had been far too open and well-lit, with windows everywhere. The memory almost made him a little queasy now. As it turned out, Denholm never did dock his pay. Richmond had no idea why, but it did mean he always had plenty of money left over for importing proper absinthe, which had proved surprisingly expensive. At any rate, he was glad to have his cozy little basement hideaway. “Make yourself at home,” he told Moss, as the latter halted in the doorway, dropping his bags where he stood. Richmond shimmied past him, and headed into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “I don't want any tea,” Moss yelled from the hallway, and Richmond shrugged, adjusting the amount of leaves he was about to put into the pot. “My mother always brings me tea,” he elaborated, when Richmond came back into the front room, where Moss was now seated uneasily on the black imitation-leather couch. “I can't stand it.” “I'm rather partial myself,” Richmond said, noncommittally. “Well, I'm not. It seems to me that a man should have some say in the choice of hot beverages he consumes. It seems to me, there are some things that makes a man a man, and one of them is deciding whether he flipping well wants a cup of earl gray!” “I quite agree,” Richmond mumbled, seating himself on the far edge of the sofa. “Well,” said Moss, somewhat deflated now, “it was about time for me to move out anyway. High time, I'd say.” Richmond crossed one leg carefully over the other, keeping his attention on them. Now and again he threw a wary glance in Moss's direction. He had always been rather good at math, and it seemed to him that Moss was part of an equation that was just not adding up. A variable was missing. “What about...” he concentrated. It was really not so hard to remember names when you spent some time talking to people. Was that how it had used to be? “Roy?” Moss turned his head, sharply. “What about Roy?” “Well, I...” In the kitchen, the kettle sang out in warning, and Richmond excused himself. When he returned, idly worried that the scent from his cup would provoke some violent reaction, Moss's eyes were still on him, silently demanding an explanation. “I... just assumed you were living with him.” “Why would I be living with him?” Richmond looked at the tea. It had nothing to offer in terms of support, but at least the smell of it was somewhat calming. “I just assumed... being a couple...” The cup fell to the floor, and it took Richmond a few seconds to realize why; Moss had pulled his legs up towards him in a jolt that had shaken the entire sofa. He was hugging himself with a terrified expression, pointing an accusing finger in Richmond's general direction. “We're not a couple!” “I'm terribly sorry,” Richmond hastened, wishing, not for the first time, that he still remembered how to handle situations like these, “when did you break up?” “We've never been a couple!” “I'm s...” “I keep telling him he's my wife, but we're not a couple; we've never been a couple – we just spend all our time together, there's no reason we should ever be a couple, whydidyouthinkwe'reacouple?” “I'll get you some absinthe,” Richmond said, firmly. Halfway through his second glass, Moss revealed that Roy was spending Easter in Aspen with his girlfriend, a word pronounced as though it were a virulent new strain of SARS he had just contracted. Apparently, the two had met on some overclocking discussion forum, and Moss seemed to be as perturbed, if not more, that Roy had not invited him to join the forum in question. The girl, it transpired, came from money, and had flown Roy over the moment he could get off work, which was this Friday. The first Moss had heard about it was when he'd shown up at Roy's flat to watch their traditional Good Friday zombie movie, a film which, he explained, getting into his third glass, was still in his jacket pocket. There had been a note on the door, which was now extracted from Moss's trouser pocket for inspection. Richmond picked it up between thumb and forefinger, squinting at it. “'Gone to Aspen, see you later', signed...” Richmond turned the paper over. “He didn't sign it. Perhaps it's not from him?” Moss shook his head. “I called him. He went mental on me, and started rambling on about call charges, and told me not to phone him ever again.” Richmond put the paper down, and started biting a nail. This was definitely beyond the scope of anything he had ever been able to advise people on. Too late, he remembered the polish, swearing under his breath as he extracted the finger from his mouth. Well, he would just have to tell people it was part of his look. Gingerly, he began to scrape a little of the edges of each of his other nails. “That was rather rude of him, I think.” There was no reply. When Richmond looked back over, Moss had picked up a bat-shaped pillow, and was hugging it tightly. Never afraid to state the obvious, Richmond gently took the green-tinted glass from Moss's hand, and put it on the table, before asking; “you're quite upset, aren't you?” “I'm terribly upset.” Moss pounded the pillow impotently. “My whole world is falling apart!” Finishing his own drink, Richmond set it down next to Moss's, then clambered a little closer. Here, in the safety of Richmond's own, comfortably dark flat, hugging a bat, Moss wasn't nearly so intimidating. “It's not as bad as all that, surely. Roy will be back soon, and until he does, you can stay with me.” Moss looked about to reply, staring into Richmond's eyes quizzically. Then he seemed to change his mind, and looked away instead, stubbornly. “I'm not gay, you know.” “So what if you were?” “I've had sex with ladies. Lots of them. Several.” The bat's wings seemed to flutter as Moss shifted his grip on it. Richmond didn't really see what sex had to do with anything, but decided against commenting. Things were clearly going on here that were slightly beyond him. “I've had sex with Jen, even,” Moss lowered his voice, “but we're not supposed to talk about that ever, because it never actually happened.” That, at least, sounded like familiar ground. “I know what that's like,” Richmond sighed. “Anyway, it's not about that. Where am I supposed to live? Who am I supposed to watch zombie films with? Who's going to be my wife?” Richmond watched him fidget for a while, then mumbled, “I'm rather fond of zombie films.” Moss blinked, leaning back a little. “You are?” Richmond nodded. He didn't have a television, but that seemed beside the point. Suddenly exited, Moss scrambled out of the sofa. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Later, Richmond would blame the absinthe, or perhaps wanting to save himself the embarrassment of having Moss find out he didn't have a television set, or even a DVD-player. Not that he was embarrassed about that, but he assumed people generally were supposed to be, and it made for a good excuse for what he did next, which was to grab Moss by his tie and pull him onto his lap. “I'm not sure why I'm doing this,” he explained, feeling it was the polite thing, before dragging Moss's unresisting face even closer, until their lips met. Richmond closed his eyes to avoid Moss's terrified stare, and began to move his lips, softly. It was like trying to kiss a sheet of foam rubber; pliant, but unmoving, and to all appearances non-sentient. With a sigh, Richmond let go. “Look. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...” But then Moss kissed him back. Though abrupt, it was hesitant, at first. Like the wings of a moth, Richmond noted, adding it to his poetic vocabulary. When Richmond opened his eyes again he saw that Moss's were closed now, in apparent concentration. Presently, a tongue prodded questioningly at Richmond's lips, as if knocking politely. Richmond let it in – he couldn't not, really - and let it explore within at its leisure. Used to his girlfriend's (was she still? He shouldn't be doing this if they were still a couple. Perhaps he could google her, but of course, he never got her full name) frantic pace, this slow deliberation took Richmond's breath away. He breathed noisily thorough his nose as Moss kept at it, and then, feeling something within letting go, Richmond let his own tongue caress Moss's, the two organs entwining like dueling adders. (Adders, Richmond noted, must remember that; they won't laugh at me next week!) Dun-dun-DUN! The dramatic fanfare snapped Richmond back into reality, and Moss off his lap. “Oh my goodness; are you all right?” Richmond fumbled for Moss's flailing hand, and was surprised when, instead, he found himself holding a flat, plastic box. “You idiot,” Moss wailed, “you pressed the speaker button!” “Moss? The voice was so high pitched and exasperated that it took Richmond a moment to realize that it was Roy's. “You've got to help me – I think she followed me!” Scrambling for the phone, which was now in Richmond's confused hands, Moss held his head up to the receiver. “Roy? Roy, is that you? Are you in Aspen?” “No, I'm not in bloody Aspen, I'm at Heathrow!” “What?” “She was sitxy five and completely bonkers; she wanted to strip me down and keep me in a cage!” “What...” Moss snatched the phone away, and Richmond retreated to the relative safety of the end of the sofa. “What are you saying? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?” There came a burst of static from the phone, followed by what sounded like a sniffle. “I'm at the airport, Moss; I spent all my money on the ticket home. I need you to come get me.” Working one foot into a shoe that had come off somewhere along the way, Moss scrambled to his feet. “I can't hear you Roy; I'm coming to get you. Stay where you are!” Picking up his bags that were still by the door he stopped, suddenly, and straightened, turning towards Richmond. “Thank you for a lovely evening.” “Oh, I'm... it was nothing...” The door slammed shut. Richmond sat in the darkness of his front room, leaning back against the couch. From the other side, the tossed-aside bat pillow gazed at him with red sequined eyes. “Oh, don't look at me like that,” Richmond snapped. He watched the wall for a while, then picked up Moss's unfinished drink, downing it. Then, eventually, he reached for the pillow, pulling it close into a hug. Love was a little like death, he thought. Now there was a line for his poem.

"O! Love! O! Dance Macabre! You steal away fear's icy claw With your adder's kiss I am a kitten In the rain - won't you let Me in? In soft, blue-tinted moonlight You taunt me, Like the wings of a moth Then leave me, Like a blinded bat Helpless On the floor. O! Death! O! Love! I raise my glass to Thee." Heart fluttering, head pounding, Richmond hung his head, then slowly opened his eyes. At first, he didn't think he'd really opened them; the room was so dark. But no; there were the flickers of candlelight at the edge of his vision. He looked up, warily. It was a little... too quiet. The audience looked back at him, expectantly. There were one or two polite almost-coughs. “Erm... that's it.” There came an almost-cough again, followed by scattered outbreaks of half-hearted clapping. Only a charitable optimist would be bold enough to classify it as 'applause', but Richmond was only barely one of those things, and took what he could get. “Thank you,” he mumbled, taking a bow. He and the audience seemed to be caught in an impasse; they didn't quite know how to react, and Richmond didn't quite know how to get off the stage. Only when the next performer came up the side-steps and nudged him gently, did he wake from the trance-like state he'd fallen into. He nodded at the man – long-haired and shifty-eyed, dressed all in black, and stumbled away, ending up in a dark corner at the side of the stage, from the safety of which he watched the polo-necked man clear his throat, nervously. Just for a moment, the man looked right back into Richmond's eyes, as though he recognized him, then shook his head, and held out an arm, dramatically. “Oh, pale, dark-haired, Milky white beauty! Your bright blue eyes, Your hands; like clotted cream...” Richmond sighed, shook his head, and started making his way towards the door. Amateurs!

[shogetsus]

Stripes of Auburn, Eye of Sapphire

10. Mai

Read on Ao3 | Read on FFN |  Masterlist

Summary:  "Soooo, anytime you want to let go of my hand, I can—" She adds with a hint of sarcasm, although doesn't truly mean that, deep down.

"Don't be shy, kitten. Come on!" His bright grin breaks all possible attempts for a negative, "I promise I don't bite… unless asked for, sure thing,"

Mai snorts, shaking her head as to try hiding the amused smile in her face. Somehow and for all intents and purposes, that hurricane of a man manages to draw her in every single time, as if they're bound by invisible handcuffs or another power in the universe.

Spoiler alert! - Mitsunari and Shingen's route.  (I'm smooching and giving a golden star to the one who figures out the sort of easter egg here (?))

Mai

“Hey, settle down, you. We’re about to meet your ‘dad’, don’t be impatient,” The rowdy tiger in her arms meows longingly, refusing to stay still, making her flinch in pain as he claws on her shoulder. “Ow, ow! That hurts, boy!”

Coming to a stop, Mai first works on detaching the cub off her kimono, bringing him to her eye level and shooting a stern glare, straight into his yellowish eyes. “Alright, let’s make this straight. I want no clawing and no biting. Otherwise I’ll have to punish you and believe me, neither of us wants that. Are we clear?” As she formerly predicted, the little tiger doesn’t hold her gaze for much longer, rumbling softly and casting his eyes down to the floor, pretty much getting her warning.

“That’s a good boy,” Mai flashes a big smile and readjusts her grip on him, scratching the back of his ear as to reward that improved behavior. She gets a delighted purr in response. “Ah, you like this, don’t you? Aw, seems you do, yes you do!”

It’s a stroke of luck the ear scratching gesture appears to be generally accepted by all felines. And with the tiger quite more at ease—still squirming a little, yet at least not as desperate as he seemed to be put down after coming to a mutual understanding—by the time she reaches the northern side of Azuchi castle and Masamune’s manor comes to sight, Mai once again almost forgets why she was coming over there in the first place.

A pair of men clad in blue robes is stationed by the entrance, chatting idly. One of them, who she can only guess to be Masamune’s chief vassal, merely judging by the clothing, acknowledges her with a once over as she approaches.

“Excuse me. I’m the new chatelaine, Mai, and I’ve come on Lord Nobunaga’s orders,” It’s hard to put up a sort of business stance with a playful tiger cub in her arms, but apparently she doesn’t have to as the Date vassal bows down to the waist.

“Oh, greetings, Princess Mai. We were expecting you,” The man says with an inviting smile, stepping aside for her to pass with a respectful flourish. “Lord Masamune awaits you inside.”

“Thank you. Um, huh?”

Two rows of vassals come into view, all standing in attention and lining either side of the hallway to the main entrance. Moving forward, each pair she passes bow down in sync with her steps, looking pretty much like a royal reception… or walking into a haunted house, it’s hard to tell.

She does her best with keeping a straight face as she goes, struggling not to squirm. What’s the guy really up to? First I’m a poison tester, then a sword fighter, next an animal tamer, and now I’m treated like a princess? What the heck?

As she reaches the end of the hall, the door opens before her.

“Welcome, Mai…”

A warm and refreshing as spring voice drifts to her, the ears of the cub in her arms tilting up in recognition. As if a spell would be, Mai’s drawn inside by Masamune Date’s quite distractingly charismatic smile, finding him sitting with his legs folded before a small desk. And if she’s a Princess, there’s no doubt in her eyes he could absolutely be the charming Prince from tell-tales of old.

But he most certainly knows that, judging by the amused glint in his beautiful eye. “Looks like Shogetsu’s found a friend. He doesn’t usually let people hold him. Scratches and bites are all he does, the imprudent kit…” He mentions, appearing satisfied.

Huh, so, Shogetsu, written like “bright moon”, she guesses. Right, it takes merely one look at Masamune and she can tell he has a moon theme going. Yet even when both owner and pet are making it terribly hard for her to make a solid stand on her next reasoning, Mai knows in her heart someone at least has to.

It may as well be her. “And that’s even the more reason you can’t keep him!” Her lips purse tight, determined to stand her ground—even if the little cub may or may not already have been growing on her.

The sheer confused look in his face wasn’t entirely expected. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s a tiger! And he may be a baby now, but that won’t be for long! He knocked the wind out of me. What if he hurts or kills someone?” Stalking over to his working desk, she unceremoniously drops Shogetsu into Masamune’s lap. “Tigers aren’t pets!” She remarks with the best stern look she can manage.

However, Masamune looks all the more stunned for it and doesn’t say anything; his one gorgeous sapphire eye wide open, dangerously threatening to break her resolve just as simple as with a look. What!? You have no call to look at me that way! I haven’t held a sword to your throat or kept a lethal pet!

But then, he looks genuinely shocked. And to add up to the torture, Shogetsu joins his owner and casts his big and bright yellow eyes towards her, meowing ever so softly. “… Mraow?”

Her heart all but melts at that. Oh, fine!

Huffing in defeat, Mai pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, as chatelaine, we can’t have any ‘imprudent kits’ on the loose.” She remarks sternly, “Just… make sure your kitten doesn’t stray,”

She’s about to turn on her heels before recalling that’s actually not everything she has to say to him. At her flourish, Masamune snaps out of his daze. “I see…”

“Well, that’s good, milord.” Even sitting cross-legged, he appears taller than life, his single eye intensely fixed on her, idly scratching Shogetsu’s cheek.

Slowly, he breaks out into another of those delightful smiles of his, the sort of one that spreads all over his face. “You surprise me again. I knew I wasn’t wrong about you!” He grins like a child after getting his birthday present, “And it’s just Masamune,”

“O… kay?”

“You scolded me before even saying hello!” A wholehearted cackle bursts out of him, his gaze full of mirth. “I like that boldness! Although… it’s not the only thing I like about you…”

Her treacherous heart comes back to life at his honeyed tone, skipping a couple of beats. “Um, okay, alright,” As hardened as Mai considers herself to be with shameless flirts such as him, a faint blush creeps up her cheeks nonetheless. “That was rude of me, I’ll admit that. So… hello, Masamune,” She remarks the informal usage of his name with a sheepish smile, “But listen, we need to—“

Completely out of the blue, Masamune snatches her wrist with fast reflexes that can only be compared with the feline currently squirming out of his lap, dragging her down next to him. That crescent smile and so vivid eye—that mysterious eyepatch—surrounds her entire line of sight. Leaning even closer, his warm breath fanning her face and a very alluring glint in his gaze, Mai’s conscious there’s no such force in the universe that would help her look away from the rapturing spell in that single eye; her brain sending her signals completely not related to work whatsoever.

“It’s alright, kitten. I won’t let you stray… again,”

Mai’s head tilts to the side just slightly as if hypnotized, feeling wrapped by an ocean of sapphire she’s almost too willing to sink and drown into. And his hand affectionately cradling hers is the precise amount of warm, a strong part of her very inclined to admit how appropriate of a time it is to start meowing.

And yet, that spell he just cast on her comes to an abrupt stop once Shogetsu prowls about, surely becoming bored and lonely, before exiting through the door she’d come in from.

Snapping her mouth shut—and for how long has she been staring at him slack-jawed!?—and shyly clearing her throat, she recovers some of her composure by attempting to give him a small piece of his own medicine.

“You say that… while your tiger just ran off again,” Mai says sultrily, conveying the same honeyed tone he used on her, playfully tugging at the black straps of his cape. “Maybe reconsider your caretaking ways. Leashing him could do, for starters,”

Masamune’s charming smile falters, yet only briefly, going wider as he can’t seem to help to laugh out loud. “I’m not the kind of man who’d turn someone against their nature. He’s free to roam where he pleases,”

That admission is certainly something she appreciates, but at the same time Masamune’s acquiescing ways can’t help but feel a tad bit problematic, at least in the long run. Or, for starters, just in that moment; as she considers about ditching the whole situation herself, yet it’s equally oh so tempting to stay right there with him, having a presumably very easy conversation.

Taking a defeated sigh, Mai opts out for spill out her concerns before anything else. “We need to talk about this morning, by the way. What the heck was all that about, honestly?”  

“Before I answer that, am I your last stop for today?” She nods, not giving it too much thought. “Perfect! That should give us enough time. Let me walk you back and I’ll tell you on the way,”

Tenderly squeezing her hand, Masamune rises to his feet, prompting her to do the same and walking her out. “Kojuro! I’m going out! You and the guys watch the place while I’m gone.” The vassal named Kojuro who’d led her in and the two rows of the other guys in the hall all answer enthusiastically in the affirmative. “And remember this will be our place for a while, so suit yourselves…” He reminds them, speaking past his shoulder as they turn on the corner.

“You don’t have to walk me anywhere, Masamune. I’m comfortable with the castle now, I can get back on my own just fine,” Mai can’t help but say, not wanting to be a bother. “Soooo, anytime you want to let go of my hand, I can—“ She adds with a hint of sarcasm, although doesn’t truly mean that, deep down.

For some reason her comment does nothing but goad Masamune on, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow instead. “Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on!” His bright grin breaks all possible attempts for a negative, “I promise I don’t bite… unless asked for, sure thing,”

Mai snorts, shaking her head as to try hiding the amused smile in her face. Somehow and for all intents and purposes, that hurricane of a man manages to draw her in every single time, as if they’re bound by invisible handcuffs or another power in the universe.

And as he takes her through downtown Azuchi, she resorts to stop swimming against the tides for once—knowing deep in her heart it’s becoming almost impossible to stay away from the force that is Masamune Date. 

“Would you look at that sky, kitten…”

Mai follows Masamune’s eyes, both humming in appreciation at the clear sky above, a pretty much tolerable cold breeze brushing past as they stroll together throughout town. As for having already given up on her hand, still tucked in his elbow, she allows herself to enjoy their idle walk.

“By the way, I have all I need at my manor,” Masamune points out, dropping the subject entirely before it even began.

“Right. Crap, I was about to ask you that,” She mentally slaps herself—leave it to him to make her completely forget about her job, and on her first day, no less. “But wait. You knew why I was coming to see you?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, “I’m the one who told Nobunaga to give you this task in the first place…”

“Really? Huh. And why is that?”

Shrugging as if not considering it a big deal, his eye returns to their surroundings. “You looked apprehensive about the size of the castle and the people in it. Now you’ve got some faces to put to all the manors…”

Idly stroking her fingers with his free hand before going chilly from the breeze, they briefly fall into a companionable silence, leaving Mai to ponder. In truth, she did think it was a good way to spend her first day on the job.

Quite at ease with each other, her eyes wander as they stroll past a tight row of merchant stalls, displaying multiple sources of shopping—from fabrics, housing adornments, to jewelry for women. Sadly so, the latter stall seems particularly packed up for her to take a better look at, the broad back of a tall man in earthen-colored robes covering half the shiny merchandise on display.

It’s not like they were out for shopping either way. “So, let me guess. Were all those tricks a way to make sure I remember everyone?” Mai wonders, shooting Masamune a questioning look.

He cackles loudly, as free and careless as the breeze brushing past them. “Ha! No, I set those up so you wouldn’t get bored, of course!” Why, how nice of him. Mai can’t help but snort, not truly mad at the fact yet not appreciating it either. “Did you enjoy them? I wanted gifts that would make you feel welcomed,”

She tugs scornfully at his blue sleeve with her free hand. “Those weren’t ‘gifts’ per say, Masamune. They were more like pranks!”

The glare she sends his way doesn’t make him flinch in the slightest. On the contrary, his smirk turns smugger, “You could just admit you had a fun time, you know…”

“No, I really didn’t!” She rolls her eyes, huffing exaggeratedly. “But maybe Mitsuhide did, though…”

Either way, they could keep that circular argument going all day to no avail. Whatever complaints she lodged with Masamune, so far it looks like it’d run off him like water off a duck’s back. I should probably take a page out of his book. Though that reminds me of my poor sketchbook!

As they turn on another row of stalls, presumably about to make their way back to the castle, people seem to recognize him—or most precisely, the female audience.

“Look, it’s Lord Masamune!” A woman nudges her lady friend’s side, happily waving their way. “Oh, is that the beautiful Princess everyone’s talking about?”

What? They know about me already? But I’ve barely spent less than a week here!

“Aaw, they make a lovely couple!” The second woman appears to squeal in delight.

Masamune’s smirk turns into a full impish grin, tilting his head politely in greeting at the onlookers, but otherwise looking so blatantly full of himself to correct the women—his chin a little straighter, shoulders more squared, clearly appearing to show off. A couple, huh? Oh, if only they knew.

To their credit, walking arm in arm probably made it look like a couple. Romance and dating, especially the latter, must be another one of those things that’s changed drastically in 500 years. Regardless, she’s quite honestly the last person to talk about on the matter.

Well, for better or worse, at least it looks like I’ve made a friend here—if I can call him that.

Testing the waters on that tidbit, she gives Masamune a friendly nudge with her elbow. “Didn’t take you for showing off,” She says low, only for him to hear.

“I’m not hearing you complain about it, kitten…”

The so charming smile he sends her way makes her flush all in a sudden, prompting her to change the subject before making an embarrassment of herself. “So, um,” Mai coughs awkwardly, “That was a pretty short answer to my former question, by the way. It certainly didn’t require a whole walk. Why didn’t you just tell me at your place?”

Masamune quirks a curious brow, “For all that questioning, I thought I’d already answered that as well,”

“Um, no? I’m pretty sure you didn’t?”

“Oh, so, when you want to know something in your future time, you just stand there and talk about it?” He wonders, hinting some disbelief in that fact alone.

“Well, generally, yes…” Mai is inclined to admit.

He shrugs at that, also seeming inclined to accept that. “To me, action is a more reliable way to get an honest answer out of someone.” Right, that brings her back to the events of last night with the sword display. Honestly, I’d rather talk. “Also it’s a lovely day out, don’t you think? Good for exercise,”

On that, she can wholeheartedly agree with, giving him an appreciative smile before falling into another comfortable silence. On their way back to Azuchi Castle, Mai can’t help glancing at him from time to time, watching the way the midday sun takes on the best of his handsome features. Drifting onto her thoughts, she sizes up how best to handle a man like him from there on. Is he just optimistic? Sure that he knows best and can’t possibly be inconveniencing other people?

One thing’s for sure, and that’s Masamune seems to be permanently set at high speed, although it isn’t precisely a bad thing. To be fair, she should have figured that out from their horse ride on their first encounter. And yet, for how slow everything seems to work in that past time, Mai won’t deny it’s a nice change of pace.

“You’re a very different kind of man.” There’s no real judgment in her musing, merely stating out a fact.

However, Mai doesn’t realize she’d been voicing her thoughts until Masamune turns another curious brow back at her. “That’s a compliment, right?”

The subtle doubt in his voice tempts her to tease him a little for a hot second, but opts out of it a moment later. It feels somewhat rude, after all, and he did just take her out for a walk. “Just in this case, yes.”

Mai allows herself a genuine smile and he returns it with a dashing one of his own, about to approach the main gates of Azuchi Castle. All in all, Masamune Date seems to get a lot of pleasure out of life while blithely ignoring the rules and to be quite honest, she finds that admirable—if not also partially relatable.

“You haven’t slept in three days!?”

Her breakfast tray almost falls off her hands, gaping at the relaxed figure of Mitsunari Ishida like a fish out of the water. Being that involved in a book is certainly a skill, but as impressive as it is, seems it’s also dangerous.

“It’s not that unusual, and I probably won’t pass out,” The young strategist is quick to come up with an excuse, appearing fairly used to do such a thing. “Although I typically only do that when we’re busy,”

As he sets his reading glasses aside, she begins to come to the realization of what everyone was trying to warn her about. I think I understand why he walked into that pillar now…

“Those glasses look cool. I didn’t know they had been invented yet…” Mai is inclined to admit as he sets the tray between the two of them on a spare table. It would’ve been truly sad if a bookworm like Mitsunari seems to be couldn’t be able to read properly. Plus, they seem to look very nice on him, and the thin silver frames set his amethyst eyes off in a really pretty way.

“Invented… yet?” At that, her eyes go wide.

“I-I meant, um, I haven’t seen people use glasses around here, um—“ She stammers, cursing her stupid tongue inwardly. This is totally my fault for spending too much time with Masamune. Seven hells! “Soooo, just tell me, is the rice of your liking, Mitsunari?”

Hoping he’d forget about her slip, turns out he does so more easily than what she’d have expected. “I don’t know if I have a preference for any particular food,” He admits with a shrug while folding his legs and taking a seat before her on the table. “I’ve always eaten these because it’s convenient,”

Almost as if to prove a point, Mitsunari hurries through his tray of breakfast in the same way he did the other morning with Masamune’s zunda-mochi, as if the act of having a meal is an obstacle. “The sooner I finish eating, the faster I can get back to reading. The last time I ate I had dried rice too...” ‘The last time I ate?’ Why don’t I like the sound of that? “That’s it. It was the day before yesterday.”

“The day before yesterday?" Astounded, all she could do is repeat what he’d said.

“I had so many good books arrive yesterday morning that I couldn’t wait to start reading them. Luckily, that one I just finished was the last.” Mitsunari quirks a sheepish smile before wolfing down another piece of rice in a mere second.

… How are you alive?

Sure thing, her own lifestyle couldn’t be considered the healthiest in the world—not even to her modern age standards—but Mitsunari’s case sounds practically inconceivable. “That’s… that’s—“ Mai struggles to come up with real words, all but astonished. “That’s not good at all, Mitsunari. You can’t keep living that way,”

She’s not truly the type of scolding people on their preferred routines, but as far as it goes, Mai’s pretty much obliged to do so. Besides, his health is actually one of the perks of her current job.

For the matter, whatever retort he might have had, he doesn’t seem to have it at all, flashing another of his terribly endearing smiles. “I didn’t expect you to care so much about me. I’ve never met someone as thoughtful as you before, Lady Mai!”

That’s definitely not the reaction she was expecting in the first place, looking away sheepishly when his amethyst eyes twinkle happily, just like she might from looking at so bright sunlight. For reasons partially unbeknownst to her, he seems truly pleased.

And that’s not bad per say, but why is he so pleased to begin with? “I just want to see you healthy and happy, Mitsunari,” All she feels about doing with that is shrug it off a little, “Take it from me, but living this way may hurt you in the long run…”

Setting his cup of tea aside, he reaches for her hand. “Thank you for your concerns, that means so much to me,” The blinding smile in his face falters just slightly, yet he sounds genuinely grateful all the same. “And since it matters to you, I’ll put in the effort. On that, I promise,”

Mai tilts her head in partial surprise until a grateful smile of her own reaches her lips. That’s a wonderful start! Finally there’s someone willing to work with me!

It’s been scarcely a week and a half since her arrival to that detached, dangerous time in the past, but it’s thanks to Mitsunari Ishida’s sunny smile that she feels truly welcomed among the people she met there, her mood improving drastically. Getting news of Sasuke’s whereabouts would certainly make it all the better, but making another friend in the young strategist feels quite comforting as it is.

And so, while watching him finish breakfast and more at ease than in the past days, Mai settles for facing the rest of the day ahead much more positively. 

… And to her disgrace, her bright mood only lasts for so long.

Humming low in partial concern and anticipation, she stumbles upon no one else than Mitsuhide Akechi on the dim-lighted hallways, appearing to be returning to his quarters with a pile of books in his hands. “Oh, hello, Mitsuhide. Still working this late?”

Quirking up one of his mobile brows, he looks down at her, “I’m afraid some of us cannot afford a good night’s rest,” Mitsuhide excuses himself with ease, his golden eyes appearing to come alive with a gleam of curiosity, “But I could ask the same of you, dear chatelaine,”

“Well, Nobunaga has just summoned me to his tenshu…” She shrugs, hoping that to be enough detailing, not truly looking forward to being the subject of his scrutiny, of all people in the castle.

If he has any reaction whatsoever, Mitsuhide seems quite the master in hiding it. “My, my, has he already?” He just says, a very impish smirk creeping up to his elegant lips. However, he doesn’t lean her in whatever off-putting thoughts he may be having, stepping aside for her to pass. “Why, don’t let me keep you then, milady,”

Mai shoots a skeptical look at that, but the mysterious warlord is quick to be out of her hair to notice, disappearing past a corner without further ado. Determined to not let that ruin her nice mood, she pulls Mitsuhide’s vague commenting out of her mind and goes on her current matters at hand, walking the stairs up to Nobunaga’s tenshu.

Out of politeness, she knocks on the door before seeing herself in. “Excuse me,” The Lord of Azuchi Castle meets her on his working desk, barely bothering himself to acknowledge her. “I’ve been told you wanted to see me, Nobunaga,”

“Yes.” More than at ease for her personal liking, Nobunaga carefully sets his writing brush aside before meeting her eyes. “Tonight, I shall bed you.”

WHAT IN ALL HELLS AND HEAVENS!?

Tenshu: An architectural typology found in Japanese castle complexes. They are easily identifiable as the highest tower within the castle. 

[nighthowlers8795]

Dreams Come True / Part 3 (Liam x MC) NSFW

Pairing Liam x Annie

Part 1

Part 2

Before reading this story, here are some need to know facts. This story is a loose follow up of my “Happy Easter”. Nine months after Annie announced her pregnancy, she gave birth to a beautiful princess. They named their first born Caroline. She is 3 years old now.

This was definitely some random headcannon just hit me. In general, I’m really bad at getting inspiration and my goodness this just hit me out of nowhere in the middle of the day.

Tag list: @pens-girl-87 @captainkingliam @theroyalweisme @boneandfur @blackcatkita @madaraism @viktoriapetit @decisso @trianiasti@topsyturvy-dream @alicars @laniquelove @callmetippytumbles 

Summary: When the day comes to an end, what other adventures await for the royal couple?

The princess was in a deep sleep when the entire family made back to their hotel. Annie puts her in bed as quietly as possible, she doesn’t want to make any sound that will interrupt her baby’s sweet dream.

Quickly changes into what the queen has prepared for the night, Annie walks through the living area back to the master bedroom located on the other side of the suite.

Liam has his breath taken away when Annie enters the room. She has a white sheer lace bra top on, the lace was thin he can easily make out the pink of her cute nipples. Tracing down Annie’s body, he finds her in a matching strappy gather panty and straps hooking on a pair of white lace stockings.

The king can hear himself gulps hard, he is speechless for a complete 5 seconds. Annie nervously tugs a flock of hair back,” So what do you think?”

Liam jumps off the bed and closing on their distance,” I think it is time for Daddy to have some fun.”

Before Annie knows, Liam’s hands are on the back of her head, keeping her from pulling away His mouth crashes against hers and the intense emotions that comes along with it makes Annie lose her breath. Liam pushes against her until she bumps into a wall. She clenches on his polo shirt as his tongue finds hers, dancing and twisting. He kisses her intensely like she is the last bit of oxygen on the planet he depends on to survive.

Liam moves his hands to Annie’s backside and picking her up.”Wrap your legs around me, my love.” Annie’s arms warps around his neck tightly.

“Crotchless, my queen??? You have been very naughty. But today I want to take my time with you.” He unhooks his bra, and covers her left breast. With one hand holding on to Annie’s ass, Liam squeezes it hard until his fingers bite into the flesh. The misture of pain and pleasure drawn a small whimper out of her.

He sucks on her right side, flicking the tit with his tongue. Annie arches her body towards his, quivers with needs and want.

Annie trails one hand down her body and starts to rub her clit. “No, no, no. You are not allowed to touch yourself tonight, my sweet kitty.” He grabs her hand and bends it behind her back. “I want to hear you tonight, my name on your lips, your passion. Show me how badly you want me and you will be rewarded.”

Liam pushes her body up against the wall, lifts her legs on his shoulders and buries his head between her thighs.”You are so wet, my sweet kitty, Have you been thinking about been eaten up by Daddy all day?”

He kisses her inner thigh before staring licking her sex up and down. Annie can’t control herself flooding her husband’s mouth. She holds on to Liam’s head and fingers clenching to his hair. “Oh, yes, Daddy, yes.”

Her legs starts to shake, Liam knows she is getting close. He pulls away right before Annie was going to come.

She opens her eyes with frustration, looks at Liam with confusion. “Now, you will have to beg for the rest. What do you want, kitty?” A grin on his face, he blows out a breath on her swollen nub.

“I want your big thick wand, please.” She screams out her plea.

“Not so fast, I thought I told you I want it slow with you today.” His hand found her core, circling out side of her lips.

Annie bites her lower lips,” Can I have the magic fingers, then?”

“Yes, kitty, if you behavior.” He pushes two fingers inside her, in and out fast. Annie starts to grind against him before too long.

“I’m cumming.” The kitten throws her head back against the wall and yelling comes undone.

Liam puts Annie back on the floor, she is struggling to stand on her jello like legs. He quickly shoves his pants down and picks her up again.

“Open your legs for me, kitty, wide open.” He orders, rubbing the tip of his shaft between her legs. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

Annie blinks her eyes,”Yes, please fuck me with that royal dick.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” His hand pulls her cheeks apart, opening her as wide as she can go.Then thrusts into her with force.

She cries out his name instantly as her skin stretches tight over his manhood.”God, Liam.”

He shifts his angle to hit her G spot.”What about this, huh, kitty?”

“Yes, fuck me big Daddy.”

He moves faster and faster, shoving Annie’s body against the wall, each time she jerks making the sound of a banging door.

“Ring ring, ring ring, ring...”The room phone starts to ring and startles the couple at first.

“Liam, the phone.” “Don’t worry about it, wrong number probably.” He picks up his pace and grinds his pelvis against her sensitive clit.

Annie can feel every inch of him, merciless and forceful as he strokes her inner walls until she reaches for her orgasm.

A few more pounds Liam spills his seed inside her. He carries her to the bed and cleans her thighs with a warm towel.

“Ring ring, ring ring.” The phone rings again, Liam clears his throat before he picks it up.” Hello?”

“Hi, this is Sarah calling from the front desk. How are you doing tonight?”

“Ahem, very well. Thank you.”

“We received a complain from the room next to you. The parents said their kids can hear banging noises and woman screaming, we figured you are probably watching TV. Could you tune it down a little bit, we will really appreciate that.” Liam’s face is all flushed. “Of course, we apologize, and we will shut off the TV.”

Annie bursts into laughter after Liam hangs up the phone.” Wow, she really made us embarrassed without calling out on us having sex too loud. I’m sure the parents next room will have some explaining to do with their kids. Now I feel bad.”

“Next time we will book a presidential suite, so nobody’s room will be on the same floor as ours.” Liam runs his fingers through his hair.

Annie giggles,”Yes, my king.”

“I have a surprise for you too, my love.” He gently rubs her back. “I want to take you and Caroline to the Eiffel Tower tomorrow and we can look for our lock on the bridge together.”

“I love you so much, Liam.” Annie kisses him on the cheek.

“Tu es l’amour de ma vie, Annie.”

 The End

[kerriescreativecorner]

Ya Now i get

Modern day UA with Masamune and Summer as the MC

Just a little fluff and my first ever Fanfic thanks to Ikesen

Modern-day UA with Masamune and Summer as the MC Just a little fluff and my first ever Fanfic thanks to Ikesen

It was a little coffee shop in a small town in northern ID,  nothing much really no way where near the place he owned in Seattle but it was still his.  Masamune smile to himself as he watched his assent Jess and her friend Summer finishes up wiping down the last of the tables.

He himself was leasing agents the counter watching the pair.  Or more like he was watching Summer. Man, she was beautiful in all of her five foot three glory. Full lips he longed to kiss, an eye color that he could never nail down there true shade of blue or maybe there were blue/green.  seeing as from what he could tell they ran the gamut of both shades and normally where a mix of both colors.   Her cheeks were not too high and softly rounded with just a touch of pink flush to theme.her skin was a smooth creamy alabaster that still held some of the tan she had gotten that summer.   Oh and her soft brown hair which she normally had pulled up and into a messy bun held with a clip was down today. He didn’t know it was that long he hand assumed at most it came to her shoulder blades, but he was wrong it came almost to her waist. And oh man it accentuates her every curve,  from her full chest to her rounded hips and backside. Summer hand that perfect rounded hourglass curve to her petite frame that he so longed to hold agents him.   Masamune bit his lip softly and took his eye off of Summer, but it was too late she had caught him looking at her. Summers cheeks where now flushed a little and a part of him died right there. She knew he had been checking her out. At least he had the decency to blush himself. he reached behind him for the thermos of hot chocolate he made at Hideyoshi request to try and cover the rosy color that hand come to his cheeks. “Jess  Hideyoshi request this for your guys trip “ he held out the thermos to his assent and gave her a wicked bad boy smile “it’s not  going to get much warmer today, “ he said when Jesus took the thermos “ I know it’s only going to get colder and soon we’ll have snow, “ Jess said  as she flounced to the front door of the coffee shop “I'm locking this on my way out  “ she called over her shoulder “Ya, I know  Kenshin said it’s already snowing in st marys”  Masamune held up his phone with the text he had just got from Kenshin saying as much. He then pushed himself from the counter and turned his eye once more to Summer, who just blurted out in her normal teasing tone “what. “ as soon as his eye fell on her. With a soft chuckle on his lips, he closed the few feet that separated him from her. he  leaned into Summers' ear to whisper “do you think she has any ideas what's in store for this weekend.” Summers' lips pulled in to a sly playful bow and oh man did he want to kiss those lips right now but she spoke before he could even follow through with that thought “ not a clue” came the words that showed she found the whole thing as amusing as he did. “Summer way is Hide driving Betsy “ Jess called her head poking from the front door a look of perplexed curiosity all over her face. “I told him he could brow her for your guys weekend date “ her words showed her amusement if that eyebrow wiggle she did was not enough to say she found this all too amusing. “by Jess and you two don’t anything I wouldn’t do “ Summer waved to her friend as she spoke and her tone definitely hand that undertone hinting at something more lustful and passion filed. “” ya Summer that's not a lot ya know, “ Jesus said before closing the door fully and locking her boss and friend in. Summer just giggled softly to herself “oh man is she going to be surprised when he pops the question “ her words carried her mirth as she spoke. Masamune turned to look at Summer her one eye raised in question “ and what did Jess mean by that “ he asked That sly impish smile  he so loved played over Summers' lips as she spoke “oh wouldn’t you like to know Masamune Date”  came to her taunting words Masamune lend in face closer to hers. his nose lightly brushing hers before he said in a soft lightly husky voice “maybe I would Kitten “ Summers went red in the face before she pulled back and darted around him to get some space. She made it as far as the order counter where she placed herself in that little space between the cash register and the baked goods case. Give her small size she just barely fit. Summer just eyed him she looked frustrated and annoyed for some reason and Masamune knew he should have just kissed her already. But he didn’t he just hand to open his mouth and say something. “Aww what's wrong Kitten, “ he asked as  he looked her over Summer just looked at him as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Time seemed to slow to a stop at that moment before she spoke. “I think we been over this before Masamune after the last time “ “and I think I told ya, Kitten, I can't lie when I'm drunk “ Masamune shot back at her. his one good eye caressing over her from. all the while he was cursing his luck and his low tolerances to alcohol. “So you said last weekend” she shot back and it was clear in her voice something was bothering her. she lifted her right hand and showed three fingers. “ wan for the third time that I know of  Mitsuhide swapped your water out for saki “ yep she was still mad about that “and you professed some undying love for me “ she actually managed an ironic chuckle. her eyes, however, were shooting daggers at him. “And is that so hard to believe Kitten “ Masamune drew the words out as he spoke. His one blue eye pinning her where she sat. “Oh ya I believe that  Masamune Date” there was a true genuine skeptical note to her words as she spoke “just like I believe I have a hole in my head “ without  taking a breath she went on “ or  that the tooth fairy and easter bunny are real “ Her choice of wording got him to laugh and it showed as he spoke “well in that case sweetheart both are real” he had moved to the counter as he spoke and was now leaning into her once more. Summer wiggled her way back on the counter her but almost to the back edge now. She put her hands up to try and push him away “Oh ya a player like you “  there was some slat in her words as she spoke theme “ interest in a plain jane like me “ she gave a somewhat bitter laugh. A sly smile that played over Masamune lips at the same time his left arm wrapped about Summers waste. He pulled her tight to his chest trapping her there. With two fingers from his right hand, he took her chin and lifted her face up. he dipped his head bring his lips to hers. And Oh man did he lay an ever so sweet kiss on her lips that conveyed his true feelings for her. He didn’t pull away even when she tried to pull back.  His left hand just slowly sailed up to her back to her neck to hold her in place, as he ravished her lips with soft nips and a light flick of his tongue. Wan he did finally pull back from her he left his lips just a hair's breadth from hers, so that wan he spoke they light feather agents hers “now do get it Summer” he said his voice slightly hoarse and  husky with lust “ I don’t find you as plain Jane as you think “     Summer just looked up to his eye and that eye patch through her lashes and whispered hoarsely “ya now I get it “

[gravitysanchez-blog]

TOURIST RICK-ED - a sanchez falls au fic

It’s finally done! I admit, I took way too long on this (since, like...last year. lol) but I’m really happy the way it turned out and how I established the base dynamics in this. 

If you’ve never heard of the Sanchez Falls AU, I can’t blame you: check it out here. If you don’t want to deal with the overdescriptive, kind of cringy description, it’s basically a Rick and Morty and Gravity Falls mashup, based off the “Dipper and Mabel” Morty and Morticia easter egg. Enjoy.

Ah, summer break. A time for leisure, relaxation, and new memories. And while I can’t say much for the former two, I can say that speeding down Oregon wilderness driving a golf cart with a puking sister and a mountain of gnomes chasing me definitely applies to new memories. Now, I know at this point you have a lot of questions. I would too, so let me go back a little bit - rest assured, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for this. 

This entire mess began up in Washington, when my mom and dad finally decided to get divorced after seventeen years of arguing. Mom, trying to readjust to a life without my dad, decided we could use some fresh air and time apart from the city. So she sent me, Morty Smith, and my twin sister Morticia down to Oregon to stay with our Great-Uncle Ricardo Sanchez, in a sleepy little town called Gravity Falls. While her and our big sister Summer try to get adjusted in Seattle, me and my sister are going to try to turn our lives around here and have a good time. Oh, and one more thing. There’s a goat on my bed.

“This attic is amazing!” Morticia, in the span of three seconds that we’ve been in the room, is already busy putting up kitten posters on one wall, taking the rickety bed on the right and spilling her yellow and pink clothes all over it. She turns to me while she’s sorting out her dresses and grins. “Although I’m not sure how I feel sharing a room with a dork like you.” She stick her tongue out at me. “Funny, ‘Tish.” Fun fact: one of our many running jokes between us is how much of losers we are. Our only friends are pretty much each other. Morbid, I know.

“So, uh, there’s a goat on my bed,” I said, changing the subject. “Are we not going to address this?”

We both looked over at the goat. It stared back at us with its yellow, beady eyes, sprawled on the comforters as it nibbled on what I supposed was my pillow. We were silent.

“I mean, it’s a little cute,” Tish murmured, sliding off her bed. “Hi, goat friend,” she sung as she wrapped her arms around her neck. It started chomping on her pink sweater. She looked at it. “Uh, okay. You do you, goat friend.” She turned to me. “He’s soft.”

“H-hey kids, what the fuck are you doing up there?”

And that’s my Great-Uncle Ricardo Sanchez. We call him Rick for short. What a guy. He was to transform his house into some tourist trap that he called “The Mystery Shack”. The real mystery was why anybody wanted to come to a tourist attraction in a town with a population of 300 people. But they did, and guess who had to work there.

Tish looked over at the doorway, still hugging the goat. She was a little scared of Rick, I could tell. We both were. He was loud, rude, vulgar, and most of the time drunk. Why my mother had the bright idea that he would be a good guardian for the summer was beyond both of us.

His feet clanked up the stairs, and as he appeared in the doorway with his tie loose, he stared at both of us. “Kids, aren’t you supposed to be taking care of the gift shop?”

“T-t-there’s a goat on my bed.”

He stared down at me, and I swallowed.

“What, Gompers? He’s fine. Fuckin goat does what it wants. Doesn’t hurt anybody.” He pulled a flask from his suit and took a swig. “I’ll take him down if you stop giving me that pathetic look, though. God.”  

I shifted my eyes to the ground. This summer was supposed to be all about good vibes, but what good vibes were we going to get working in a gift shop for an alcoholic uncle?

Tish got up, patting her knees. “I think Gompers likes me.”

“Gompers likes anyone that has something he can eat. W-w-why don’t you take him down, if you like him so much. Your brother can go down and work the gift shop until you’re done. Cuz you know what I like? Money.”

Tish sighed, getting up. “You’re no fun,” she said, but Rick had already stumbled downstairs. I groaned as I got up and followed him. Both of us had been hoping that maybe we could get away from the wreck that was our lives in a completely new place, and actually make something of an awesome summer. So far we’ve got a random goat on my bed and an alcoholic, rude uncle who uses his relatives for free labor. Not adding up very well.

Then, something happened.

It didn’t start off very exciting. Kind of boring.

I was cleaning the gift shop while my sister Tish hid behind the merch shelf, having a mental breakdown peeping at some guy. “He’s so cute! Gosh, I should talk to him, shouldn’t I? Wait, but what if I do something, Morty? What if I mess up an-and trip and he thinks I’m a klutz? What if he thinks my socks are stupid? Oh, jeez, why did I only bring my blue socks this is a disaster, why couldn’t I just have brought white socks like a normal person-”

“Tish, I know you’re going th-through your boy-crazy, teenage-hormones phase, but you’re going a little too far on the crazy part. Calm down. Jeez.” “What?” She rolled her eyes and turned to me. “Come on, Morty, this is our first summer away from home! If I’m going to make this summer worth something, I have to at least have one sweet summer romance.”

Girls. “Yeah, but do you need to obsess over every guy you meet?” Just a couple days ago, she hid behind a huddle of balloons and crushed on the mattress-sale guy. If that wasn’t borderline crazy, I didn’t know what was.

She shrugged. “Mock all you want, Morty, but I got a good feeling about this summer. Great things are going to happen!” She turned to me with a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy of my dreams walked through that door right-”

“Morty, Girl Morty!” Rick stomped in, wiping the drool from his chin and adjusting his hat. Trying to look professional, I guess. That’s how he got people. He was incredible at playing the mystic Mr. Mystery and the humble Uncle Rick to our mom. Live with him, and you see his true colors.

Tish slid back over to the counter, watching him as he crossed his arms in the doorway. “Alright, kids, look alive! I need-” he belched “-I need someone to hammer these signs, hammer ‘em in the woods up there. It’ll be great, get in business or whatever.”

“Not it!”

“Not it!” my sister almost shrieked.

“Not it!” Rick’s handyman, Soos, stood up on a ladder behind us hammering in a shelf.

“Soos, nobody-nobody fuckin’ asked you.” He turned away. “Jessica! I need you to put  up these signs.”

Our red-headed cashier of the shack groaned, shifting her feet on the counter. “I mean, I would, Mr. Sanchez, but you know, I’m a small, fragile woman. I can’t handle the woods, I might eaten by a scary bear.”

“J-j-jessica, your family are literally all loggers.”

“Yeah, but I’m a woman-”

“Okay, okay, shut up. Jesus Christ, I would literally, fucking, fire all of you if I could,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. He turned to me suddenly. “Alright, Morty, go put up these signs. You’re, uh, you’re a man. I think.”

“Aw, I’m a man too!” Soos grumbled from his ladder. I wholeheartedly agreed with him. Rick decided to ignore Soos, and shoved the signs into my arms. “Chop-chop, Morty.”

“Oh-oh jeez, Rick, seriously? Those woods are creepy! Every time-every time I go in them, I feel like I’m being, I don’t know, watched, or something.” I almost cringed at Rick’s gaze glaring down at me. I probably did.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Ugh, this again. Look, Morty, I know you’re an anxious, whiny little teenager, but seriously. There’s no monsters or anything “paranormal” in this town. For god’s sake, it’s a bunch of rednecks and-and...country people out here.”

“H-hey, just today, my mosquito bites spelled out ‘Beware’! You...you can’t deny that, Rick!” I put my arm up so he could see, and he squinted down at the words.

“You know, to be fair, I am incredibly drunk right now, but I’m pretty sure that says Bewarb.” I looked down, and to be honest he was right. “You need to calm your tits, Morty.” He straightened up, almost falling backwards. “Li-listen, this whole ‘monsters in the forest’ thing is just local legend, made up so that your Great-Uncle Rick can make a shit ton of money and pay off the mortgage of this dump, alright? So quit being a pussy and put up those goddamn signs.” On that note, he walked out of the shop.

Joy.

“Great-Uncle Rick never takes anything I say seriously,” I grumbled, hammering sings on various trees. Nobody was going to see this stupid things, anyway, and even if someone did, they’d probably be too creeped out to be interested. I swear, sometimes Rick just makes us do these things to be an asshole for fun-

CLANG

Struck out of my thoughts, I stared at the tree in front of me, the nail between my fingers. Cautiously, I took the hammer and struck the nail again, pressing my ear to the bark this time.

CLANG. CLANG.

“...what the hell?”

On the side of my arm, I suddenly noticed a groove in the bark. I dropped my hammer and nail, shoving my fingers into the groove and started wrenching it back. The metal dug into my fingers as I pried it away, falling to the ground with a thud.

There was a mechanical box sitting inside the tree, dials and tubes and switches, all covered in dust and cobwebs in the opening. I sat there for a moment in shock. This was real. Not like the Bewarb thing, not like Rick’s stupid mystery shack. This was something mysterious, something weird.

I flipped a dial. Nothing happened. I flipped it again. Still, nothing happened, I flipped another one. Nothing happened-

“MAAA!”

I jumped, whipping around. Behind me, Gompers the Goat, sweater-and-bed-muncher, jumped away from me and into the woods. I stared at him for a second, before looking where he once was to find a large, gaping hole had appeared.

“What the hell?” I walked up to it, kneeling down and peering inside. I was met with dirt and cobwebs, slinging around the walls leading into an underground box. Inside, there was a large book, covered with more dirt and spiderwebs.

Well, wasn’t that just mysterious.

I dug my hands under the book, cobwebs sticking to my arms, and pulled it out, getting more cobwebs and grime off the book and onto my shirt. It was made of some sort of dyed blue leather, a six fingered hand on the cover with a 3 written in the middle. The whole thing reeked of some fantastical mystery - and mold.

I flipped open the book on the ground, peeling away the rough pages. The title page was torn, “Property of” on the top middle, but cut off. Mysterious. I picked the book up closer to my face and turned the page.

June 18 - it’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I started investigating the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls - I looked back up. This had to be a joke, right? I mean, yeah, the bewarb thing was a little weird, and certainly a mechanical tree isn’t normal at all, but seriously? This was too unreal. Great-Uncle Rick just said it was all a scam. Rick also might have been too drunk to really notice anything substantial, though.

I couldn’t stop flipping through the book, my mind nearly blown with drawings and descriptions of cool and creepy monsters - Floating Eyeballs, Giant Vampire Bats (fun!), gnomes, cursed doors. Each page was a whole new crazy thing.

I kept mindlessly flipping, taking it all in. It had to be true, I thought. Why would someone go out of their way to hide all of this? Not to mention write it. I kept flipping, until my eyes caught something large and bolded, scratched in the middle of a page. TRUST NO ONE “Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I’m being watched by that son of a bitch! I have to hide this book before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust.” What? “No one you can trust?” Absently, I closed the book. What did he mean, he was being watched? Who was “he”? At first, this seemed cool, but everything was starting to get a little more scarier…

“Morty! There you are!”

“Ah!” I dropped the book, whipping around to see Tish right behind me, leaning on a stump. “Thank god, I just escaped Rick and was looking for you. So what about this “no one you can trust” thing you said to yourself in the middle of the woods?”

“Uh…” I shoved the book with my foot under a log. “Ah, i-i-i-it’s nothing! D-d-do-don’t worry about it. Just, you know. Uh. Me.” I grinned.

She folded her arms, looking over my shoulder. “Wow, didn’t expect you to take that so seriously. Did you just push a book under that log? What are you hiding?”

“Tish!” I looked around. The goat was back, and had pulled the book under the log. He was chewing happily on the cover. “I’ll...I’ll show you. Can we go somewhere private?”

Back in the shack, I paced the living room. “Tish, it’s insane! Rick said I was being paranoid, but according to this book I found in the woods, Gravity Falls has this totally cool, awesome, kind of scary dark side!” I flipped to the Floating Eyes page, showing it to her. “Look at this, Tish!”

“What? You’re kidding me, right? This is a joke.”

I paced around again. “No, I’m not joking. But get this, Tish. At some point, the pages just, like, stop. Like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared. There’s even this page where the author says something about someone watching him and having to hide the books, and it’s just all...crazy!” This was not what I was expecting this summer, but even though it was pretty scary this was much better than any boring summer working for an alcoholic great uncle.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, loud and clear. “Who is that?” Who would be visiting Rick? The bartender? Who could even stand to be around him and know him personally for even five minutes? “Well,” Tish looked down, wringing her hands and grinning. “I might...I might have got a date.”

What.

“Let me get this straight. You, the other socially awkward half of me,who has no friends and can barely talk to a guy without tripping over her own shoes, and is worried about the color of her socks got a boyfriend in the half-hour that I was gone? You’ve never had a boyfriend in your life!”

Tish fell back on Rick’s easy chair. “What can I say, brother? I guess it’s just...summer lovin’ up in the air!”

“Tish, please never say that again.”

The doorbell rang again, and Tish sprang up, running a hand over her hair. Flashes of anxiety and excitement were clear on her face. “Uh, c-c-coming!”

Joy. I sat up on the couch, crouching over the book. Honestly, who cared about Tish’s new boyfriend? And her expanding social life that apparently was going a lot better than mine? Because of this book, I was having one of the most exciting days of my life. Eye-bats!

“W-w-what’cha reading there, buddy?”

Quickly, I shoved the book out of site. “Uhh, just, uh, just, ca-catching up on-” I grabbed a magazine from the side table and read the cover - “uh, Playboy for Silver Foxes?” Immediately, I regretted being born as my eyes hit a forty year old woman strip teasing on the cover. I wanted to drench my face in bleach.

His unibrow raised up at me in suspicion, but he shrugged it off as he pulled his flask out of his back pocket and took a swig. “Although I’d like to know how those got out of my room.”

Oh, jeez. “H-hey, I-”

“Hi, Grunkle - uh, Great-Uncle Rick, Morty. This is-this is my new boyfriend!” Mabel popped in the doorway, discreetly trying to hide the sweat coming down her forehead, grinning widely as she pulled someone’s arm from the hallway. The guy that immediately popped in looked like some of the emo kids from school - dark hoodie, crazy eyeliner, creepy glare.

“Sup,” said the emo dude.

“Uh, hi.”

“We met at a graveyard, and omigosh he was so poetic and deep it was so beautiful-” Tish started gushing as she clung onto his arm, looking up at him. “Is...is that muscle?” She looked back at me with a grin.

Rick stared back at the guy, his unibrow raised. “So, uh...how you doing?”

The guy’s eyes seized up as they started darting around the room. “Uh...uh...norm-normal!” he nearly shrieked. “Normal...man!” Rick stayed silent as he stared at the guy, taking another swig from his flask.

“Good for you, buddy.”

“H-h-he means Norman,” Tish said dreamily, leaning into him. “That’s his name.”

Rick looked at me. For once, I had to agree with the crazy son of a bitch - this was weird.

“So...uh,” Norman took a step back, and Tish nearly stumbled. “Do you, uh, wanna, go and uh, hold hands or something?”

“Oh, that would be amazing,” Tish murmured, leaning into him more than I thought possible and dreamily taking his hand.

Rick rolled his eyes, flopping next to me on the couch. “Oh my god, shut up already. Jesus Christ, you’re going to make me sick.” He picked up the remote and started flipping channels. “Don’t you two have a date or something?”

“Oh, silly me!” Tish started dragging Norman out of the hallway. “I’ll see you guys tonight!”

As they left, Rick leaned over to me. “Morty, if you take anything from me, do yourself a favor and don’t get wrapped up in that shit. Focus on money. It’ll get you a lot farther than that pointless, annoying crap.”

Says the man with Playboy for Silver Foxes, I though. I decided to ignore that, though. Norman was the main thing on my mind right now, and he was just way too creepy and weird for me to get my mind off of him. No wonder Tish got a boyfriend, if that was the selection. “So, uh, Rick, w-what did you think of Norman.”

“Morty, do you honestly think I actually give a shit?” He straightened up, flipping channels again. “All that shit is to me is annoying garbage that never did anyone any good. Now, what isn’t garbage,” he turned and grinned to me, putting down the remote, “is reality television, Morty. At least it gives you pleasure in your day with no bullshit.”

The TV, in front of me, was portraying an episode of National Geographic, far from reality TV. A mother tiger was taking care of her young.

I got up, discreetly hiding the journal under my shirt and shuffling to the other room. “Uh, okay, Rick. You do that”

“Damn right I will, Morty!” he shouted out before I left.

In the other attic, I curled up on the corner of the wall, flipping through pages. “More eye-bats, gnomes, gnomes…” Suddenly, my eye caught on a page. “Zombies? Those actually exist?” I curled up tighter, hunching over and bringing my eyes to the page.

Known for their pale skin and bad attitudes these creatures are often mistaken for…”Teenagers?” I looked down at the illustration, and the eyes of the creature bored into me as Norman’s did, and I swore I could hear Norman’s voice come out of the drawing.

Norman was a zombie! It all made sense!

It was then that I realized Norman’s voice wasn’t coming from the illustration - it was coming from outside.

I scrambled to the window, hanging on the sill and watching in horror as Tish sat on the bench outside, giggling. Before her, Norman was stumbling towards her, arms outstretched, ready to take my sister in his jaws and rip apart her brains, and my sister was unaware that she was about to die by a zombie, and I had to do something, I had to warn her before it was too late-

“Mabel, watch out!” I shrieked, slamming my palm again the window. He put his hands on her neck. “Mabel, NO-”

He took his hands away, revealing a new daisy chain around her neck. I could see her face light up as she giggled away, batting her eyelashes at him. Okay, so he didn’t eat her brains. Zombies weren’t even real! I looked down at the book. This stupid thing was probably written as a joke or a prank.

But was it?

“Is my sister dating a zombie, or am I just going crazy?” I asked myself.

Behind me, a voice rang out. “It sure is a dilemma.”

I turned around, greeted by a familiar face. “Soos? What are you doing here?”

Soos was on a ladder again, screwing in a lightbulb. “Avoiding Rick. He’s in a bad mood right now, dude. Probably because of your sister’s date. He has a bad history with women. Anyway, I couldn’t help but overhear you talkin’ to yourself in this empty room while I was here.”

I turned my back against the window. “Honestly, Soos, how do you even stand Rick?”

Soos shrugged, getting off the ladder. “Rick’s not a totally bad guy. He’s a jerk, but not a bad guy. We have a little bit of history together, I guess. It’s a long story, dude.”

“It’s going to take a while before I believe that.” I looked back down at the book. “But, Soos, do you think Tish’s new boyfriend might be a zombie?”

Soos shrugged. “I don’t know, dude, but there’s a lot of weird things in this town. I wouldn’t doubt it. I mean, dude, the mailman has got to be a werewolf with how hairy he is. I’d say you should follow the guy and see if he eats any brains.”

For someone who says “dude” a lot more than ever should be used, he had a point. I got up. “Good point, Soos. Time to go investigating, I guess.”

So that’s how I spent my afternoon - creeping in the shadows and watching my sister go on her date with Norman. I know, I know it sounds weird and creepy, but I needed to see if this guy was really a zombie. This book might be just a prank, but it also might not. I mean, what if he did eventually try to eat my sister’s brains? That would so ruin my summer.

However, at the end of the day, I just felt stupid. I had found absolutely nothing to prove that Norman was a zombie, though I had taken ten thousand photos and videos of them. Sitting in the other attic, watching the video of them watching the sun, I groaned. I was a stupid, nervous wreck. Why did I even believe anything from some stupid book, I wondered, as I watched Norman reattach his fallen-off arm and readjust it around my sister’s shoulders.

Wait, what?

Quickly, I rewound the video. Sure enough, I witnessed my sister’s boyfriend’s arm fall off his shoulder, him look around warily before he reattached it before my sister noticed.

I was right. Norman was a zombie. Cold dread sunk into my chest. I had to do something, save her before it was too late.

“So, uh...now that we’ve been together for so long, and uh...got to know each other, there’s something I should tell you.”

Morticia and Norman were enjoying the view of the valley when Norman spoke. The girl, shook out of her love-stricken daydreams, turned towards him. A guy with secrets? That was hot. And a guy who trusted her with these secrets? This was turning out way better than she expected. She better not mess this up.

Morticia leaned towards him. “Y-y-you can tell me any-anything, Norman.” As soon as the words left her, she cringed. She hated it when her stuttering took over, and hated the fact that it usually came up the worst around someone that wasn’t her family. She was perfectly fine around Morty and her sister Summer - hell, even Rick sometimes, but one stranger could leave her a mess. She probably looked like an idiot, Norman would see she was just some loser-

“You see, I’m uh, not who you think I am,: he said, turning his head away as he stood up, fiddling with his jacket zipper. “Do you think you would still like me if, I, uh, was...different?”

Oh, jeez. THis was the part where he revealed his dark yet romantic secrets to her. Morticia was almost frozen by everything writhing through her head. Out of all the misery she faced with guys at school, this was her breakthrough, she had done it, now all she had to do was not fuck this up, she could shove his beautiful face into those cheerleading girls who called her an ugly loser-

“Morticia?”

She was struck out of her thoughts as she noticed Norman staring intently at her, his hair blowing slightly in the breeze. Shit, she had zoned out. “Y-y-yeah, sorry, sorry!” she sputtered, scrambling up. “Of course, you-you can tell me anything, Norman!”

He stared at her for what seemed like an hour. She had begun to sweat again. Oh, she had really done it this time, fucking hell-

He shrugged, and with a quick motion he unzipped his jacket to reveal...what?

She stared as his body came apart as his jacket fell off his shoulder, disassembling to reveal five or six stacked little men, with flannel and lumberjack beards and pointy hats, all grinning up at her, and she was face-to-face with them. “Surprise, we’re gnomes!” The top one cheered up at her.

Well, this certainly wasn’t the twist she was expecting, and this certainly wasn’t romantic or hot. What the hell kind of prank was this?

She sat there, frozen yet again, as the top gnome jumped down onto a log and looked up at her. “Look, here’s the thing. Our gnome queen just died, and we need a new one. You’re the perfect woman, Morticia, and we all love you. So what do you say, babe? Do you wanna marry this hot hunk and become the new gnome queen, loved by all?” As he said this, he nudged her with his elbow, tapping her hip.

All of a sudden, she wanted to run and hide in her room under her pile of sweaters and blankets. She started to back away, rubbing her arms. “LIsten, t-that’s really sweet, sweet of you guys, but, uh, I should...get back home. I don’t think this is going to work.” She turned away.

A sigh came from behind her. “I thought you might say that,” the gnome said from behind her. “Which is why we’re going to kidnap you.”

Wait, what, no-

“TISH!”

The forest around me was a blur as I bounced over logs and sticks and shrubs in the Mystery Shack golf cart, I had to find Tish, god knows what could have happened by now, she could have already been eaten, her guts spread out over a rock and Norman hunched over eating her brains, I could already be too late- “TISH! TISH!”

“MORTY!”

I stopped. “TISH, WHERE ARE YOU?” I screamed out. God, I wasn’t too late, hopefully, she hadn’t had her brains eaten yet, maybe Norman was about to crack her skull before she heard me-

“MORTY, HELP! OVER HERE!”

The yell came from my right, behind a clump of bushes and trees. I slammed on the gas pedal and shot forward, breaking sticks and branches. “Tish!” All around me, fir branches were splitting cuts into my face and arms, the cart bouncing over the debri-

As I came into a clearing, bursting out of a bush, I suddenly had to stop. When I was driving in, I had expected to see a brain-hungry Norman chasing after Tish. Instead...she was tied up and pinned to the ground with a wedding tiara on, surrounding by a crowd of tiny lumberjack men filling up the clearing. One was next to my sister Tish with a wedding ring on. “We’re trying to have a ceremony here, excuse you!” he shouted angrily at me.

I got out of the cart. “Uh, Tish, what’s going on?”

She shifted her eyes away. “Apparently Norman just ended up being a bunch of gnome jerks. They kidnapped me to enslave me as their queen or something.”

The gnome with the wedding ring in his hand laughed. “Darling, sweetie pie, don’t be so dramatic. You’re not in danger or anything, you’re just going to marry all one thousand of us for all eternity! Is that really that terrible?” Gnomes? All this time I thought Norman was a zombie, but all this time he was actually a bunch of gnomes? I grabbed the journal from my vest and flipped through it. I still didn’t understand how Norman was a bunch of gnomes, but on the plus side gnomes shouldn’t be that dangerous, right? I landed on the gnome page I saw earlier, my eyes skimming the text. “Weaknesses…”

Weaknesses: NONE

They were two feet tall, and they had no weaknesses? I looked up and stared at them. No way. There was no freaking way they were indestructible. “L-listen, you-you jerks! Let my sister go!”

The gnome laughed again, his hands on his hips. “Listen, listen, kid. We’re not going to do that. We need a queen, boy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us! We’re a powerful race, what do you think you could do-”

CLUNK

He flopped over as I slammed the back of a shovel against his head. Thank god it had been in the back of the golf cart. I raised my weapon up, kneeling towards Tish and pulling up the ties. “Anyone wanna piece of this?”

As she scrambled up and we raced towards the cart, the gnomes started chasing towards us, waving sticks and fists. “That’s our queen! You can’t get away with her!” Tish looked back at me with a terrified look. She threw herself in the passenger seat, pulling me up to the drivers as they clambered towards us. “Go, go, Morty!”

I slammed on the gas, and we speeded off to leave the crowd of two-feet tall men in the dust. Weakness: speed. “Later, suckers!” I yelled, a rush of adrenaline going through me.

I refocused back towards the road. “I knew something was up with those guys! There was just no way you could have gotten a boyfriend that fast. I went and looked it up in the journal, and I thought he was a zombie at first, but dang, gnomes-”

“Yeah, I get it!” Tish shrieked. “Just drive!” She was turned around facing the back of the cart, and I noticed the terrified look on her face. “Shit, Morty, ju-just drive! I think they did a Voltron and made one huge, giant gnome!”

I slammed on the gas, taking a quick look behind me and she was right - I watched in horror as the gnomes climbed upon themselves in the thousands until they blocked the sun, am menacing, horrifying mass of gnomes. The thing started running towards us, the vibrations rattling the cart, getting closer and closer shit shit shit holy fuck oh jeez we’re going to die - Tish grabbed my arm. “Morty, they’re-they’re getting closer!”

I turned back towards the road. “I know!”

She was silent for a second, then “Morty-”

“I know-!”

“-MORTY, behind you!”

I got thrown against the steering wheel as a huge weight fell on my back, almost slamming my head against the dashboard. “They’re catapulting the gnomes, you idiot!” she screeched.

I reached behind me and grabbed the gnome off my back, throwing him and whacked him against the horn as he latched onto my arm, his grimy teeth chewing on my skin - jeez get off my goddamn body what the hell - until with a final smack he screeched and tumbled out of the cart, rolling in the dust like a rock. Suddenly, I couldn’t see as a gnome head took over my vision, his little gnome claws scratching my cheeks - “TISH!” - my head was thrown back into the seat with a forceful thwack. The gnome fell off, bouncing off my lap, Tish’s fists balled.

“Tish, did you just punch my face?”

“How else am I going to get the thing off?” she yelled, fingers gripping the seat as she looked behind her. Suddenly, her face went white. “Morty, look!”

I looked behind me again - at this point, if the forces that be seemed to want to obstruct my view of driving with all their power, then so be it. The monster had its hands - or gnome clusters, whatever - gripped onto a pine tree, and throwing itself back I heard the roots snap as the tree was yanked out of the ground. “He’s going to throw it at us!” Tish shrieked, ducking.

I watched, frozen in fear, as the gnome monster threw his arm back, slamming his foot against the ground and flung his arm forward. The tree was coming towards us like a rocket, my heart jumped as I saw the thing fly over us - it was going to hit the ground and block the road in front of us, we would be trapped -

I gripped the steering wheel. “Hold on!” I twisted the wheel to the right and slammed my body against Tish’s to the edge. She screamed in my ear when, with one hand holding her and the other holding the steering wheel, we flipped sideways under the falling tree. I could hear the branches slapping the side of the cart, one poking my leg as we sailed under the hulking mass plummeting on us. The bark caught on the end of the cart as we slid through, an awful SCREECH filling the air. My heart hurt as it pounded against my chest, jumping off my ribcage as the tree THWOMPED to the ground three feet behind us.

The side of the car slammed on the ground, and me and Tish collapsed on the dirt. “Oh my god,” breathed Tish.

We stilled as the vibrations of the monster got closer, rumbling. I looked up, and there it was - the completely terrifying, towering, giant pile of gnomes, the sun blaring behind its head. Tish shoved me off of her. “I’ll deal with this. Just stay here,” she muttered, hoisting herself over the side of the cart.

I climbed out after her. “Tish, you’re not going to handle it by yourself!”

She kept walking towards the monster, her fists clenched. “Go away, Morty!” “What the hell, Tish?” I got up and brushed the front of my jeans. “I get it, I imagine the whole gnome thing was pretty traumatizing, but I just saved your life. Why are you acting all pissy at me?”

“I’m fine, Morty!”

“Don’t give me that, Tish! What the hell is going on?”

Tish turned around and looked at me, her eyes glittering as she bit her lip. “You want to know what’s going on, Morty? You just saved me from the big bad monster, you’re right! All because your sister Tish-” her shoulders started shaking “is too god-goddamn of a loser to ever find anyone decent! I get it, whenever I even try I’ll just get punished for, for stepping out my boundaries.” She looked down. “I get it. My first boyfriend, and he’s a clan of gnomes. That’s what people like me deserve. I get it. Y-you don’t need to rub it in.”

“Tish-”

She started walking away again. “Morty, just leave me alone!”

I ran up to her and grabbed her shoulder. “Tish, if you think you deserve that you’re an idiot. Just because the cheer team and the jocks think we’re losers-”

“-and the whole school.”

“So? Who cares what a bunch of stupid teenagers think about us, Tish? You’re not a loser. You’re like, the most pure-hearted and good person I know. God, Tish, the only way I’m dealing with this divorce is because I have you. You deserve so much better than anyone at our stupid mess of a school, and certainly a lot better than that…” I looked back up at the lumbering giant gnome-pile lumbering towards us, “...thing.” That was going to have be dealt with soon.

Tish looked at me, her eyes narrowed. She wiped her cheek. ‘“Y-you’re not just saying that, because I’m your sister?”

I hugged her. “W-well, of course I am. but anyone who doesn’t realize the same thing is an idiot, Tish. You’re great.”

Tish looked back up at the monster, coming closer. “Thanks, Morty. But, uh, what are we going to do about that?”

“What, didn’t you have a plan?”

Tish looked at me. “No, of course not. I’m a teenage girl being angsty, I’m not thinking about how to stop a monster. I have like, self esteem issues.”

I looked behind us, separating the hug. The monster was still pounding towards us, the gnome components screaming in battle fury. “I’ve got you kids now!” one of them shrieked. The shrieker held the ring in his tiny fist, waving it in the air. “My beautiful bride, you will finally be back with us in your rightful place…” his voice dropped suddenly.

“Oh, shit-sHIT GUYS RUN BACK RUN BACK-”

A white light exploded from underneath the gnome monster, throwing the gnomes into the air. Me and Tish winced as we heard their shrieks and various thumps on the ground. Suddenly, another BOOM ricocheted through the air, and we ran back as fire and brimstone ripped in a neat circle around the property.

I grabbed Tish’s hand and started backing off. She turned to me. “What the hell?”

“Hey, dumbasses! Be careful of the mines, goddammit!” A slurred yell came from the shack.

Tish turned to me. “Did….”

I stared out at the scattered, fleeing crowd of gnomes. “I can’t believe Rick put a line of mines around the Shack.”

Tish snorted. “This is Rick we’re talking about here. Are you really that surprised?”

“Honestly, however Mom decided that this man was good enough to take of two teenagers is beyond me.”

Later, Tish and I were strolling the gift shop, Rick counting the money in the cash register. “Sorry for-for setting off your, uh, mines, Grunkle Rick.”

He looked at her. “What did you call me?”

Tish glanced over at me, and I was surprised to see a glint in her eye. “Grunkle Rick. It’s like Great Uncle mashed together. Grunkle. He stared at her for a second with a expression mixed with either confusion or disdain - I couldn’t tell. After a few seconds, he shrugged and looked back down to counting money. “Whatever. Mines were set there to blow up anyway.” He looked back up at us. “You know, if you want something from the gift shop, you can have it, right?”

Tish, who looked to be holding something in her hands, looked over. “Wait, really?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

She looked over at me, a confused expression at me. I put my hands up. Why Rick was deciding to be nice was beyond me. Maybe somewhere in that skinny, old bastard, there really is someone decent.

She grinned, spinning around. “Uh, Gru-Grunkle Rick, I found this, I found this grappling hook!”

He sighed, leaning into his hand. “Fine. Don’t break anything.”

I looked down at my right. Beside me were a set of baseball caps with pine trees on them - Oregon sure puts a lot of pride in their trees. On my other side, Tish was sliding herself against one of the shelfs, grinning as she held her grappling hook. It seemed maybe the gnome experience made her feel a little more confident about this place. That it wasn’t going to turn into a giant shithole, that maybe we could have one good summer.

I looked back down at the caps.

Well, Oregon, with your gnomes and your pine trees, show me what you got.

[ickaimp]

[RotG Fic] Made of Light

We needed FrostBunnny fluff. Rise of the Guardians/His Dark Materials AU. Never read the books, so *hand wave*. 1480 words. 

"Whoops, gotcha now." Bunny casually reached for Jack's daemon, scooping her up in one large furry paw, keeping her from crashing face first into the grass of the Warren, tripping over her long legs.

Jack yelped, eyes scrunching shut as he braced himself for the pain, for the awful soul tearing feeling that happened whenever a someone walked through either himself or Aesina.

Only... It didn't happen. He felt kind of warm, but a good kind of warm, like being engulfed in a heartfelt hug. Jack peeked one eye open to find Aesina changed from a half grown deer into a fuzzy kitten, staring at him with eyes wide in surprise.

"... ‘Sina?" Jack ventured. His daemon, his soul, Bunny was just cradling her in his hand against his chest, like he cradled other people's daemons on a daily basis. As if Jack's world wasn't turning on it's head.

Granted, if anyone was going to touch Jack’s daemon, he’d choose it to be Bunny, but still….

Aesina blinked, then shifted into a white fluffy bunny. "Jack?" She said, sounding awestruck.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not moving." Aesina wiggled around, making herself comfortable where she was, almost hiding against the longer hair of Bunny's ruff.

Bunny made a questioning noise, almost a honk, and Jack glanced up at him. Bunny looked torn between guilt and surprise, eyes wide but his ears pressed up against his back.

"What." Jack managed to say intelligently. Touching someone else's daemon was bad. Was supposed to be bad, anyway. Unless you were lovers, and even then it was still taboo. A least that's what he'd heard over and over again throughout the centuries, for humans and spirits alike.

Yet, it didn't seem bad. It felt like basking in a comfortable sunbeam instead.

"I'm staying right here." Aesina said devoutly. "You can't make me move. He's mine now. I claim him."

Jack snickered. "Traitor." He said fondly, and Aesina chortled in response, looking like she'd figure out a way to shank anyone who tried to budge her from her chosen perch. Not that Jack was arguing, she could stay there as long as she wanted to, and that was fine by him.

Bunny made a odd noise in the back of his throat. "Don't I get a say in this?" He inquired.

Aesina looked up at him with her blue eyes, the same colour of Jack's. White fur and blue eyes, the only things about her that stayed constant. She’d never settled into any one shape, and given that Jack didn’t age, she wasn’t likely to. "No."

"Oi." Bunny frowned.

"Okay, but seriously though." Jack said, drawing Bunny's attention away from Aesina before he got the idea of making her move before she was ready to. "I thought other people couldn't touch daemons without hurting them. And I know I saw North pick you up earlier, so you can't be a daemon either."

North, with his giant white reindeer, one of the largest daemons Jack had ever seen, had picked up all six feet of Bunny with one hand and dropped him into the sleigh as if it was nothing.

Seriously, the company Jack was keeping since meeting the Guardians was insane.

"Yeah, well." Bunny shrugged, shifting nervously. "I'm kinda... Both?"

"Both." Jack repeated. Well, that might explain why Bunny was the only person Jack had ever met that didn't have a daemon. Even Sandy had one, a tiny little hermit crab, tucked away in his nest of dream sand.

… Or maybe he didn’t. It could be made out of dream sand too, for all Jack and Aesina knew.

He still had no idea how Toothiana managed to split her daemon into so many tiny fairies, she had an army for a daemon.

"Yanno I'm from space, right?" Bunny inquired, quirking one eyebrow up at Jack, who nodded. Giant shapeshifting space alien who was older than the planet. Who chose to look like a giant rabbit that didn't wear pants."Well, Pooka don't have daemons."

Jack straightened in shock. No daemons?! Where did he keep his soul instead?!

Bunny tapped at his chest. "It's all merged together. Body and spirit."

That sounded strange, but okay.

…. Seriously insane company. In more ways than one.

Jack nodded, motioning for Bunny to continue. Bunny nodded back, looking slightly relieved. Aesina made a happy little rumbling noise, and Bunny ran one finger over the top of her head, looking fond.

Jack nearly closed his eyes in bliss. He just wanted to bottle this feeling up and hold on to it for ever and ever.

"'Bout the time humanity was dragging itself upright. I got a mighty lonely, with just the First Light fer company." Bunny said quietly, and Jack forced himself to concentrate. "Next thing I knew, the Light was gone, and humans had daemons made of light, that shapeshifted while young, just like Pooka kits, until they settled into their adult forms."

"You made spirit pooka with humans?" Jack sounded out.

Bunny shrugged, looking guilty, the warm happy fuzzy glow fading slightly. Aesina gave Jack a scolding look for making it stop.

"So..." Jack rubbed the back of his head. "Does this mean I can touch you too?"

"Won't harm me none." Bunny shrugged a shoulder. "Nor you. Why?"

Cause Bunny looked so soft and fluffy, and Jack had been wanting to touch for decades.

'68 had been an eyeopener of a year. In a lot of ways.

Jack nearly dropped his staff as he lunged forward, nearly tackling Bunny as he wrapped his arms around Bunny's arm and impossibly thin waist , barely missing Aesina.

"Oh." Jack sighed, nuzzling the silken fur of Bunny's shoulder, the feeling of being bathed in light intensifying, as if feeling it both inside and out. "I'm not moving. You can't make me. I'm staying right here." He said, echoing his daemon. “I’m claiming you. You’re mine now.”

Bunny made that strange honking sound again, wiggling until he got his arm free, then hesitantly draped it over Jack's back. "I gotta move sometime." He grumbled, but it sounded half hearted at best. Mostly just kind of awestruck.

"Nope." Jack sighed, running his hands through the luxuriously fluffy strands on Bunny's back.

"Nah-uh." Aesina seconded.

“Well. Maybe for Easter.” Jack amended.

Aesina nodded. “Easter’s nice.” They had free reign of the Warren then, as long as they didn’t interfere with the googies, and occasionally tricked Bunny into eating and sleeping.

Bunny made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, then seemed to to slump. He slowly fell backwards, giving both Jack and Aesida plenty of time to adjust and following him down into the plush grass. The warm feeling seemed to intensify, with echoes of quiet joy.

"Better." Jack murmured, tangling one of his leg’s with Bunny’s, keeping him there. "Besides, it's a good deal, isn't it?"

"... Wot?" Bunny demanded, sounding both cranky and sleepy.

"Well. You're both." Aesida yawned and stretched, turning into her favourite form when the two of them had a bit of quiet time, a bipedal fluffy fox kit. She sprawled out over as much of Bunny as she could reach. Which was a lot, given her comparably small size.

"So one human spirit-" Jack grinned, reaching over and scratching the back of Aesida's head

"-And one shapeshifting daemon." Aesida grinned, full of needle sharp teeth.

"Seems like a fair trade, doesn't it?" Jack finished.

Bunny made a questioning noise, clearly confused.

Aesida reach up, putting a paw on Bunny's nose. Jack lifted his head from the junction of Bunny's chest and shoulder to watch the Pooka go cross-eyed, trying to stare at the small paw on his nose.

"Told you." Aesida said, tail slowly wagging in smug vulpine amusement. "You're ours now."

"Which means we’re yours too." Jack seconded, then leaned his head back down, deciding a nap sounded good right now. It at least gave an excuse to cuddle for a while.

And Bunny was so warm...

Bunny seemed lonely a lot. Jack and Aesida were lonely a lot too. And they both really liked Bunny’s company, and if the invitations to spend time with Bunny were any indication, Bunny liked their company too.

They loved to make each other laugh.

And if being with Bunny made them happy, and being with them made Bunny happy, it just made sense.

He could feel Aesida get comfortable as well, making a pleased sound like a cross between a trill and a purr. Jack sighed happily to himself, feeling an echo of his own pleasure in hers, the warm light feeling amplifying as well.

It took a long time for Bunny to finally speak, fingertips just brushing the top of Jack’s head as if afraid Jack was going to vanish, his voice thick with emotion.

"Reckon that's fair."

-finis-

Daemon name gotten here, it was ‘Adara’ for Jack Frost, ‘Aesina’ for Jackson Overland, and we went with the latter because of reasons. 

[hiverforesteevee]

:D Surprise :D

General Audiences

TW: Len being a jerk until Mick sets him straight

AO3 link

❄️🔥

Lisa brings home a boy.  Len and Mick ain’t happy, but Lisa gets whatever she wants, and what she wants is a nephew.

❄️🔥

Super awesome grateful thanks to LadyErin for correcting my ignorance regarding human temperatures.

❄️🔥

Len understood that Lisa might arrive a couple minutes late at safe house #2—a two-bedroom apartment with barely enough room for a coffee table, couch, and plasma screen in their dual kitchen/living area—yet at the ten-minute marker, he shoved his feet into his boots.  He was halfway into his parka when his sister finally deigned to appear… with a kid next to her.  Len stared at the stranger: a runt with hair and eyes darker than dirt that had never seen sunlight, over half Lisa’s size, and wearing a hoodie that might as well be a trench coat with how large it was on him.  He ducked away from Len’s slate lasers.

Lisa flung her brunette bangs out of her face before she grinned up at her brother and flared her hands at the runt as if he was a game show prize, “This is Lowell!  Grownups claim he’s unadoptable—but there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just quieter than most kids his age, which is perfect for our family cuz you gotta be quiet on heists.” She then faced Lowell, who looked up at her olive-gingerbread eyes, “This is your daddy.  Your papa’s not here yet; he’s coming on Friday.” She took his sleeve-hidden hand, “C’mere, I gotta game you’ll love.  It’s old, but it’s cute and artsy like you!”

Len didn’t get a word in before Lisa spirited Lowell into her room.  It hosted Tangled-themed bedding, Rachel Platten posters, and a violin.  Lisa filched her 3DS from her desk and swapped cartridges.  She sunk into her duvet when she plopped onto her bed.  She patted a spot next to her and helped Lowell skitter onto it.  She gave him custody of an extra save file before handing her sticker-plastered device over to him.

“It says you need a ‘basic reading ability to fully enjoy this game’, but you got way better than that, so you’re all set!” Lisa ruffled his hair as she peeked over his shoulder at his sketch of a Raposa.  Within minutes, chirps of “Rapo” and rings of collected Rapo-Coins fluttered throughout the room.  Lisa hung their snow-smeared outerwear in her closet and strolled into the kitchen.

Len groaned and tried to write his sister a reality check, “Social workers call some kids unadoptable because they pick fights and cause trouble.”

“He doesn’t go causing trouble, trouble goes causing him; and he doesn’t pick fights, fights pick him,” Lisa refused to cash it. “Lowell’s just like you in juvie, except he didn’t have a Mick to keep him safe until I came along.  He needs a home and a family, so I gave him mine.  He’s got the same name as Dedushka, Lenny; he’s like, reincarnated and stuff!”

“Take him back, Lise,” Len twitched at her. “Mick and I’ll get charged with abduction at the drop of a hat!”

Lisa folded her arms and hmphed at him, “Not if nobody reports ‘im missing.”

“Somebody’s bound to,” he shot back.

“No, they won’t.”

“Will.”

“Won’t!” Lisa hmphed at him again. “If you and Mick don’t love him if and when CCPD puts out an AMBER Alert for him, you two can take him back, because I won’t.  He’s my nephew, and I love him.”

Len took that bet and awaited his inevitable victory.  What 22-year-old loses to a 10-year-old in an argument?  In the meantime, Len begrudgingly fed this intruder leftovers and leased out the couch.

Mick shouldered the door open one-tripping groceries on Friday, as promised.  A slug wriggled out from under a towel upon sight of the clock on the DVR.  It read 9:13, thirteen minutes after he should’ve vacated.  Mick didn’t sense Lowell’s presence until the latter refolded the towel and snuck it back into the closet.

Sage met dirt.  Lowell gasped out a hiss at Mick like an asthmatic kitten in a chokehold and twitched at the titanic 25-year-old.  Mick blinked at him.  Lowell shivered with his arms tucked at his sides.  Lowell’s head snapped from side to side, ready to flee, when Mick plodded over and pinned a thermometer in the former’s mouth.

Lowell flopped onto the carpeted floor stomach-first and scrunched up when Len entered, freshly showered and shaved and dressed in a gray-black, ribbed turtleneck along with nondescript socks and slacks.  He greeted Mick with a peck before huffing at Lowell.

“Lenny, who is this?” Mick flicked his head at the boy.

“According to your sister-in-law,” Len sneered at the trespasser, “he’s our son.”

Mick figured she’d make a friend while she was in transit from Lewis’s custody to theirs.  Mick retrieved the thermometer when it beeped and gathered Lowell into his woolly arms, “Now I know Lewis gave you some strange ideas of how to parent, but when your kid’s temp” Mick did a double-take at its report “oughtta be a radio station, you cuddle ‘im.  The only reason I ain’t is cuz I’m gonna fix up somethin’ that’ll warm his tummy.”

Lisa interrupted them by kicking down the door, “Mick! Hooray! I see you’ve met—what’s wrong with Lowell!?”

“He can’t do anything on time and now he’s infected,” Len didn’t hesitate to mumble.

“Lowell’s low,” Mick corrected.  His gaze landed on her bundle, “Whatchoo got there, Lise?”

Lisa groaned as she set it on the couch and Len’s credit card on the coffee table, “I’ve been telling Lenny to go out and grab Dedushka Junior at least a blanket, yet all he’s done all week is sit on his butt, so I went out and grabbed one—and a pillow!  Now he doesn’t have to sleep with a towel anymore!”

Mick never understood the phenomenon of falling in love with babies because newborn humans look like naked mole rats: flabbier than seniors in a hot tub with twice as many wrinkles.  However, at 4 years old, Lowell was far beyond infancy, meaning Mick had half a mind to make Len sleep on the couch with a towel tonight.

Mick nudged Lowell into Len’s arms and rifled through the fridge.  Mick growled at Len when the latter merely stood there contemptuously.  Len muttered like a dragon and lugged Lowell onto Mick’s side of the bed.  A pillow could’ve fit between them.  Len returned to reading, not even bothering to tuck Lowell in under the covers.

Lowell cringed at Len with sclera blued like an unpeeled Easter egg.  Len snapped a scowl at him when his teeth clattered loud enough to disturb his novel.  Lowell bolted under the bed.  Len rolled his eyes and left him there.

Earthen chowder and herbal chicken perfumed the room from a bowl of Mama Rory’s Cure for Everything by Dinnertime.  Mick set it on the nightstand and scanned for Lowell.

“All he does is run and hide,” Len scoffed after pointing his pupils downward.

“I’d run and hide too if I was living witchoo,” Mick retorted as he snatched Len’s book out of his grasp and chucked it backwards.  It smacked against the wall and bent some pages when it landed. “I know we didn’t plan on him, but you know what else we didn’t plan on? Meeting our soulmate in juvie.  If you dare call either of those invalid, I got a knuckle sandwich with your name on it.  Lowell ain’t a second-class citizen, he’s our son; and so far, Lisa’s been a better parent to him than you, and she ain’t old enough to be anybody’s parent.” Len slumped against the headboard, stunned, while Mick crouched onto his belly and reached out palm-up to Lowell, who twitched and inched away.  Mick lulled him with assurances, “Hi, Lowell, I’m your papa; I ain’t gonna hurtcha, and if your daddy has a licka sense in him, he won’t either.”

Lowell crept over to Mick, curled into his grasp, and buried his face in the crook of Mick’s neck when Mick shifted them under a quilt and a comforter.  Len pushed up on his forearms and exhaled remorse.  Lowell squeaked when Len reached out to him.

“Now I know you’re not stupid enough to raise a hand to ‘im,” Mick rumbled at Len, “yet just cuz you ain’t treating him bad doesn’t mean you’re treating him well.  You better watch and learn how to treat ‘im well, cuz he stays.”

Mick spoon-fed Lowell once the latter trusted Mick enough to protect him from Len—who didn’t plan on attacking him, but it was a matter of too little, too late to convince him otherwise.  Lowell finished his chowder, taking special care not to make a mess.

“Lenny hates messes,” Lisa rolled her eyes while twirling a lock of her shoulder-grazing hair one afternoon.  They were sitting under a tree and reading one of the few books in the building: an anthology of dead old white dudes’ literature. “I swear, if a drop of milk spills onto the floor, he becomes a volcano; and heaven help anybody who’s dumb enough to stain his room, cuz he will send you to hell.”

She meant it as a joke, yet the damage was done.  And honestly, how was a four-year-old supposed to figure that out anyway???  What Lowell had figured out by now was that some foster families sent kids back for both minor and major infractions, and so far, Len provided no evidence of planning to act otherwise.  Yes, Lowell was still the smallest and the youngest, but Lisa kept him from becoming prey, and this was Lisa’s territory; therefore, this was the safest place on Earth.

Speaking of Lisa, she let herself in and presented Lowell four flossy, lap-sized plushies, “I saw these and thought of you!”

Three of them were wolves and one was a fox.  One wolf was wintery, one was sunny, and one was glittery; the fox was dark.  Lowell took the wintery wolf and manipulated it so it head-butted the fox onto the floor.  Len frowned, sensing impending doom.  Lisa and Mick frowned curiously.  Lisa asked Lowell about it.

Lowell gulped, “Zvezdo wants Zvezdochko to leave cuz foxes are too small and weird to love.”

Mick and Lisa snapped lasers at Len.  Lisa picked up Zvezdochko and assured Lowell, “Nobody’s too weird to love, especially not Zvezdochko.”

“And I like small,” Mick snorted with his arm around his son, who clutched Zvezdochko close to his chest and watched Zvezdo as if Zvezdo would crunch Zvezdochko’s neck. “Smaller makes Zvezdochko easier to hug.”

Len surrendered, his guilt tripling the weight of his words, “....Zvezdo doesn’t hate Zvezdochko; Zvezdo hates surprises.  Zvezdo’s just getting used to Zvezdochko, that’s all.”

Lowell wiggled closer to Mick and flinched when Len thumbed Lowell’s cheek.  Lowell didn’t relax into the gesture today, tomorrow, or even next week, yet he did by Christmas.  It was the best surprise Len had ever received.

[ramajmedia]

Taylor Swift's Lover Music Video Easter Eggs | Screen Rant

Taylor Swift's music video for "Lover," the title track of her new album, tells a heartwarming love story - but it's also contains a fun set of Easter eggs for the most hardcore of Taylor Swift fans. The video sees Taylor going through the romance and angst of a long-term relationship with her "lover" (played by dancer Christian Owens), in a beautiful house with brightly-colored rooms. There's even a fishbowl in the bathroom!

Like other Taylor Swift music videos, "Lover" features a cameo by one of her pet cats. Not just any cat, but a cat that she adopted after meeting him on the set of another music video. Benjamin Button, a ragdoll cat, first appeared when he was still a kitten in Swift's music video for "ME!" - another track from the Lover album. Swift fell in love with him and took him home, and Benjamin Button appears in a portrait in the green room, and also in the flesh (and fur) when Taylor and Christian are hanging out on the ceiling at the 0:35 mark in the video.

Related: Every Movie & Cameo in Ariana Grande's Thank U, Next Video

The fishbowl in the bathroom has a hidden meaning as well. Fans have suggested that the fishbowl refers to Swift's life in the public eye and her feeling of being constantly watched and judged, and her "lover" diving in with her represents a willingness to embrace that lifestyle. Swift responded to the theory on Tumblr with, "THAT WAS THE POINT THANK YOU SINCERELY THANK YOU FOR GETTING IT."

The fishbowl room isn't the only room with a double meaning, though. You might notice that the seven rooms in the house correspond to the number of albums that Swift has released, including Lover, and that each of the rooms has a strong color scheme and theme. Fans quickly began matching the rooms in the album to her albums, and one theory seems to be the winner, based on the fact that Swift shared it on her Tumblr page. For example, the green room that marks the start of their relationship represents Swift's debut album, and the red room represents her 2012 album Red.

Other details that stand out as obvious Easter eggs in the video are the board games. For example, a Scrabble-like game called "King of Hearts" not only references "King of My Heart," from the Reputation album, but also spells out the words "After Glow" in letters that add up to 15 - "Afterglow" being the fifteenth track on Lover. Meanwhile, "Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll Their Eyes" and "Breakable Heaven" are both lyrics from the second track on the album, "Cruel Summer." Beyond the board games, the Happy New Year party in the red room and the aftermath is a reference to the Reputation track "New Year's Day," which opens with the lyric, "There's glitter on the floor after the party."

The music video references not only other Taylor Swift songs, but also other Taylor Swift music videos. Obviously Benjamin Button the cat is a link to the music video for "ME!", but at the 3:15 mark Taylor can be seen blowing out the candles on a cake that also appeared in the music video for "You Need to Calm Down." Even the attic room features the same projector set-up as the lyric video for "Lover."

Whether you love her or are one of her haters, it's hard to deny that Taylor Swift always has memorable music videos, and "Lover" is another addition to that collection. These are all the Easter eggs we found, but eagle-eyed fans are sure to spot more as they rewatch the video in the coming days.

More: Cats Movie Cast Guide: What The Actors Look Like In Digital Fur Technology

source https://screenrant.com/taylor-swift-lover-music-video-easter-eggs/

[skybournerp]

"I long for the raised voice, the howl of rage or love!”

A B O U T

Name: Stella Walsh Nickname: Stel Hero Name: Up to Player Age: Twenty-Two Date & Place of Birth: February 15th, 1995 & Melbourne, Australia Sexuality: Pansexual Pronouns: She/Her Faceclaim: Andreja Pejić  Alternate FCs: Michelle Hendley Status: OPEN

M O R E

Major & Minor: Major in Photography & Minor in Criminal Justice  Classification: Junior Occupation: Student Rank: Hero Power: Siren Song Limitations: The power only works if the target is within earshot/can hear her. It is also harder to keep people under her song as she asks them to do more difficult tasks.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

+ flirty, gregarious, artistic - manipulative, conceited, insecure

B I O G R A P H Y (tw: transphobia)

Stella remembered the first time she saw her mom Kendall Walsh cry. Stella was seven years old, wearing one of her mom’s Easter dresses and a pair of kitten heels with bright red lipstick and a floppy sunhat. At that time, she was known as Tyler, the only child of Kendall and Markus Walsh. Her mom had just come home from running an errand that summer afternoon, her father unaware of his “son’s” activities as he worked in his home office. Stella remembered her mom’s bag dropping to the floor, the sobbing, the way her mom had scrubbed at the makeup on her mouth in the bathroom with a bar of soap; the way the soap tasted in her mouth like disgust and disappointment, and the hushed arguing between her parents from behind their bedroom door. From a young age, she so desperately wished to be a girl, with that one idea sticking out most in the maelstrom of her thoughts about who she was. But after the repercussions of that one afternoon dress-up, she decided to never bring it up in front of her parents.

Life was uneventful after that until her father’s job offered him a position in the United States in a city on the west coast, moving the three of them from Melbourne, Australia to Portland, Oregon. It was total culture shock for 12-year-old Stella. Having grown up under strict, conservative parents, Portland offered her a world that her parents would have tried their hardest to shelter her from. But it wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that Stella found a supportive group of classmates she could trust and call friends. From then on, Ethan, Logan and Stella were thick as thieves, rarely found apart from one another at any given time. They were the ones she could finally open up to about her feelings and her confusion about her sexuality and gender identity.

After her friend Logan began his transition, Stella found the courage to start her own. She approached her parents, feeling more confident about who she was after all these years, only for her words to be rejected and unaccepted. Devastated, she waited a few weeks until the day she turned 18 (when she would officially be an adult and could make her own choices) to leave the house and move in with Logan. The next several months were rocky, even with Logan and Ethan’s support, as Stella began transitioning and living on her own, while navigating strained conversations through texts with her parents. As if all that wasn’t enough to juggle, Stella soon found herself with a superpower, to Logan and Ethan’s delight. It seemed she had inherited more than just her mother’s singing voice. She could use her own voice to lure others to her and get them to do whatever she wished. She never took it all too seriously, however, mainly using it to get into bars underage or scoring free drinks and food, without exploring further what her powers held.

By the following fall, Stella found herself at Skybourne, determined to learn more of herself and her power. Originally undecided with her major, she soon began modeling part-time after starting off as a subject of Logan’s art, thus beginning a love affair with her and photography. Currently, Stella is a junior at Skybourne, still very much close to Ethan and Logan. Recently transferred to the Hero program, Stella is struggling to come to grips with her powers, and the potential to use them further and farther than she has before. 

F A M I L Y

Markus Walsh (father - estranged) Kendall Walsh (mother - estranged)

C O N N E C T I O N S

Logan Reynolds: Stella always viewed him as an older brother. She always admired his courage and he was a huge part of her decision to finally transition. He stood by her through it all, along with Ethan, and even offered up his couch to her when her parents rejected her.

Phoenix Tseng: Their partnership first began when Stella took some photos of some of his models for a photography class. Phoenix was impressed with her artist eye and has since asked for her help outside of class projects.