#sort of road trip gone wrong

[allykakamatsu]

TFW you got separated from most of your friends and the girls who's helping you back is on very bad terms with the one friend you weren't separated from-

Aka, a redraw of this

please support me on ko-fi here

[unnameablethings]

Dead Ringer

Word count: 4k Rating: M for Mature Category: M?/F

Content Notes/Tags: Offscreen/implied domestic violence, non-graphic sex, misogyny, gun violence, horror themes.

Summary: Gemma is the isolated and miserable housewife of a man who hunts monsters. She doesn't know much about her husband's work, but she knows enough about her husband that when he comes home warm and smiling and kind, she knows that whoever or whatever this is - it's not him. -

There were things of John's which Gemma kept well out of. The long road trips he would vanish off on for weeks at a time with no notice, the hush-hush phone calls he would take out in the backyard late at night, pacing along the fence line, gesturing, body contorting in tension. The dreams he would wake up screaming from. The liquor cabinet. The trunk of his car, full of rock salt and guns and iron.

Gemma had become accustomed to the art of incuriosity. John went out to kill the things that went bump in the night, and he was doing it all to keep her and the baby safe. He told her that, sometimes, when he'd made her cry. Said it like a threat, like a bite, like it was supposed to mean she wasn't allowed to cry. It wasn't her job to know what he did out there, only to be patient with him when he came back colder and meaner and drunker every time.

Gemma was washing up at the kitchen sink when she heard the car pull into the driveway. There had been a time in their marriage when she would have run to the door to greet him, to kiss him hello, to run her hands over his arms and his body to check that he was safe, he was whole, he was well. Today, her stomach clenched. I thought he would be gone longer, she thought.

But the baby was sleeping, and the dishes weren't done. She kept her head down and scrubbed stubborn fragments of baked cheese off the bottom of the casserole dish and practiced a welcoming face to greet him with when he came in the door, tried to figure out a way to tell him to keep quiet without him taking it wrong.

The keys rattled in the lock. The door opened. Not with a great burst of force, but something slower and wearier. Gemma turned to him and smiled, a practiced curve that she worked to make reach her eyes. When John came in, he had his bag slung over his shoulder in the same way he always did, but he paused in the doorway and looked at her for a moment in a way he hadn't since they got married. He smiled, warm and tired, and said, "I've really missed you, Gem."

It hurt her in a way she hadn't expected. She hadn't missed him at all - she was a horrible wife - he really did love her - she couldn't believe she'd ever thought I wish I knew how to leave him. (She had seen the guns in the trunk. She had heard the ragged desperation when he said he'd kill anything at all in the world that wanted to take her away from him. Her parents had been killed by the same vampire he'd saved her from, and then he'd taken her a thousand miles away to put her alone in a town where she didn't know anyone.)

"I missed you too, baby," she said, and her voice shook. The tears in her eyes must have been taken as tears of love or sincerity, because he came to her and cupped her cheek and leaned in. She braced for his mouth, rough and possessive on hers. The kiss landed warm and dry and gentle on the center of her forehead.

"God, I'm starving," John said, and turned to look in the fridge. Gemma's stomach clenched again, waiting. She'd made a big batch of baked ziti for her to eat all week, but that wasn't the sort of thing John liked when he came back from a trip. He wanted meat and potatoes, a real solid stick-to-your-bones sort of meal.

"There's nothing made up," Gemma said, quickly. "Just pasta - I'm so sorry, I thought you'd be gone another couple of days. I can make something for you real quick, here, let me just-"

"That's alright, sweetheart," John said, putting out a steadying hand. "I've got it." And he got out the eggs and the tail end of the cheese block and the spices and half an onion and made himself an omelet. Every movement was slow and careful, like he was having to think about where his hands would end up. He must be real tired. He seemed a lot better after he'd devoured the whole mess with a healthy dash of hot sauce, more animated, but the whole time quiet and civil. He smiled at her again when she took the dish to wash, and thanked her.

"I could sleep for a week," he said, and went upstairs and unpacked his own bag and showered and put himself to bed. Gemma stayed downstairs for a while, lingering over the dishes, wiping down the stove. When she opened the fridge, she stared at the line of cold bottles of beer she kept ready for him. None were missing.

This wasn't John.

Obviously.

Something had stolen his face and his voice and was living in her house where the baby was and sleeping in her bed and she was going to have to go upstairs and lie down next to it.

It didn't even know how to be John so it probably didn't even know she had noticed anything was wrong.

It ate an omelet, she thought, staring at the drying dishes. It's not going to eat the baby. If she just played along, she could probably keep herself and the baby safe until the real John got back, or - or until she could figure out what else to do.

She went upstairs and got ready for bed, quietly, trying not to wake up the sleeping impostor. Then, slowly, she got into bed beside it, and lay awake in silence, listening to it breathe. It didn't even snore like John had, just breathed, long and slow and even. Its body was relaxed next to hers, loose and warm.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to John missing from beside her, and the sound of the baby crying. The room was dark, disorienting. Her heart jumped hard in her chest, adrenaline jolting her out of bed before she remembered that it wasn't even John. She went for the baby's room without a plan or a thought, just the terror-fueled desire to stop it from doing whatever it was planning to do.

The door to the nursery was open. The impostor stood inside it over the crib, holding the baby. It spoke low and quiet in John's voice. "Shhh, Danny-boy, I know you're hungry," it said. "Hush now, don't wake your mama, she didn't sleep well. Let's go see if we can rustle up a bottle, alright, baby?"

"John, give me Danny," Gemma said. Her voice shook. Danny twisted in the impostor's arms when he heard her, crying, his arms outstretched.

The impostor handed him over. His smile was apologetic. "I thought I'd let you sleep in a bit. Poor little guy won't settle for anything but his mama."

The statement made her cold, for a moment, but there was no rage behind it, no bitterness. It wasn't John. "He loves his daddy, he just knows who can give him his breakfast," Gemma said, taking Danny into her arms. Danny's crying redoubled as soon as he was safe in her arms, his little wet face turned to press into her shirt and ooze on her, mouth gumming at her ravenously. She turned away from the impostor before she pulled her shirt up to let Danny latch onto her breast. This wasn't her husband, and it was not for him to see. "You can go back to bed."

"You sure?" the impostor asked. "There any bottles made up for if he needs em, later?"

Gemma shook her head. "Really, it's alright, you had a long drive," she said, keeping her head down.

"Alright," the impostor said, after a moment, and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck that made all the skin on her back crawl.

As soon as the door shut behind the impostor, she took an enormous, shaky breath. She did not cry. She knew a lot of ways not to cry, now. She stared dry-eyed at the floor as Danny nursed. He was safe. She would keep him safe. "It's okay, baby," she whispered to Danny, over and over. "I've got you. You're going to be okay."

Somehow she got through the day, and the next day, and the next. She kissed back when the impostor kissed her good morning, and was horribly grateful he never pushed it beyond that. The kiss was bad enough. It felt like cheating on John at the same time as it was John. He'd be furious when he got back.

If he ever did come back. The longer the days went on, the less it felt like there was anyone coming to save her.

And with every day that went by, the impostor kept being… not particularly dangerous. It spoke calmly and kindly to her and to Danny, always. It went out and mowed the lawn. It took out the trash. It played with Danny. It did the laundry. It went to the grocery store for her, and when it came back from that it had stopped somewhere along the way and gotten her sunflowers.

When it handed her the sunflowers, she touched the petals with bewilderment. "These are my favorite," she said, and couldn't help but let her voice rise in a question at the end. John had gotten her roses before, when he had really fucked up and didn't know how to apologize. Roses and roses and roses, but never sunflowers.

"I know," said the impostor. "You wear that apron with the sunflower on the pocket all the time." Then, his voice changing, half concerned, half laughing, "Oh, honey, are you crying? Come here," and somehow she found herself collapsed into the impostor's arms, sobbing inconsolably. He didn't even smell like John. The impostor smelled like leather and laundry detergent and a little like sweat, but nothing at all like rust and stress and whiskey.

"I love them," she sobbed, and the impostor kissed the top of her head and murmured "I love you," into her hair. She didn't ask him where he had gotten the money. She'd never asked John about the money, either. It came from somewhere, and that was all that mattered.

The sunflowers went in a vase on the table, and she cooked impostor-John dinner that night from the groceries he'd bought. He liked protein - meat and eggs and cheese - the same way John had. Impostor-John also liked spicy food, though, and more salt than John had liked, and bitter-flavored things like brussels sprouts and asparagus which John wouldn't have even touched. Danny got a mushed-up brussels sprout to try at the table, and impostor-John laughed with real humor as Danny screwed up his little face at it and announced his immense displeasure and then hurled it onto the ground.

"You'll grow into it, kiddo," impostor-John reassured him, and bent down and wiped up the mess with a paper towel before Gemma could even get up.

By the time the sunflowers wilted, Gemma knew John was never coming back. The day she realized it, she took a long shower and used the sound of the water to cover up her crying. When the hot water ran out, she felt hollowed-out and worn through, but clean. Like her lungs had been full of tar for years and she'd only just remembered what it was like to breathe air. It wasn't John, and nothing would ever be the same, but she would survive this, the same way she'd survived everything else. And she and Danny would be alright. Maybe even safe.

When she came out, her husband was sitting on the bed with the lamp on. He wasn't even pretending to read a book, just waiting up for her. His expression was tired and gentle. Concerned, like maybe he'd heard her cry. The look shifted to surprise as Gemma let her towel drop and crawled into his lap.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous," he said, his hands coming to rest on her hips. There was the barest hesitation, an uncertainty. "You're sure?"

"The baby's asleep, we have time," she said, deliberately misunderstanding, and straddled him. The sharp intake of his breath relieved her of any worry that he didn't want her. This was for the best, then. This was good, this was right, this was how she could keep herself and the baby safe, and keep her husband close at hand and loving her.

It turned out that her husband was better at that than John had been too. Attentive and gentle. He touched the stretch marks on her belly and thighs and breasts with a tangible sense of awe, took clear joy in coaxing her to come. He closed his teeth harmlessly around the curve of her neck and shoulder as he made love to her, and she thought she could feel the points of them a little sharper than they should be.

She started calling the impostor Johnny after that, and her husband never asked why, just kissed her and answered with a ready "Yes, ma'am," whenever she started a sentence with "Johnny, will you please."

When he moved too quickly and she flinched, or when she apologized to him too much, or when he said something a little too like John might, he was careful with her. Apologetic, gentle. She always told him it was alright. They never talked about it. He wasn't John, and John was never coming home, and as long as they never talked about it then everything would be alright, and they could live in this sunlit honeymoon forever.

Nothing good had ever lasted for Gemma, and everything broke eventually. She wished she felt surprised when this broke too. A big rusty pickup truck came roaring up to the house one night. Gemma stared at it through the window, and thought nothing. Only perfect blankness, a deer in too-bright headlights, the engine sound deafening. Loud enough that Johnny came running from the other room.

"Fuck," he said, when he saw the truck through the window. She'd rarely heard him swear, since he came to them. He did even that differently than John did. Crisp, even-toned. Almost matter-of-fact, though she could hear strain under it.

"It's Bill," Gemma said, distantly, in case Johnny didn't know. "Your friend you used to go on all those hunts with. You remember."

Johnny looked at her, and she looked back, and all of the things they didn't talk about stood between them, every prickly edge of them pressing, ready to draw blood. He said, heavily, "I remember."

Outside, the truck parked. The engine shut off, and the headlights. Gemma could see the silhouette of Bill coming up the driveway.

Gemma wiped sweating hands on her skirt and said, "I think you'd better go check on Danny. I'll get the door."

"I think you'd better go check on Danny," Johnny said, gently and firmly. "And don't come back out until I tell you."

Bill knocked. Gemma went numbly to answer it.

Johnny said, very quietly, "Baby, you don't want to see this."

Gemma ignored him and unlocked the door and opened it.

"Bill?" she asked, and the confusion was real. It was alright he could tell she was scared of him. She'd always been scared of him. "John didn't say you were coming!"

"Is he here?" Bill demanded, incredulously, and then his eyes rose and he saw Johnny standing behind her. "Boy, why the hell haven't you been answering my calls?" he demanded, and shouldered his way past Gemma as Gemma melted out of the way. "I thought you were dead."

"After the shit you fucking pulled on me?" Johnny said, and it was John's voice, thick with rage and ugly violence. Gemma's blood froze in her veins, her heart hammering. "You just ditched me with that fucking thing. You wouldn't have thought I was dead if you'd fuckin' stuck around to help me finish the job. The drive home was hell after."

"Oh, so you decided to be a petty little bitch about it?" Bill snarled right back, and came crowding right up into Johnny's space.

Bill reeked like John always had, cigarettes and booze and rust. It was too familiar, too close. Bill and John had duked it out in the living room before, loud and ugly and terrifying. Come to blows, staggered off both bleeding and swearing up a blue streak, and then she would catch them later, talking like the closest of old friends, shoulders pressed together, not looking at each other.

"I decided to spend a few months getting my fuckin' head on straight," Johnny said, and shoved Bill back, hard. "I've got a wife and a fucking baby now, I can't be running off with you all the time to take potshots at ghosts. I'm done. I'm not fucking doing this anymore."

Gemma watched that hurt Bill. Saw the way it cut him open, like maybe he would have preferred if John was dead. "Bullshit," Bill spat. "Bullshit! You fucking love hunting. You've been married years, and what, it's suddenly a fucking problem for you? You can get cunt fucking anywhere. You'd rather stay home and play house with fucking Gemma than come out and save lives?"

Johnny punched him in the mouth. It sent Bill staggering back, blood on his lips, and Gemma shrieked, startled. "Don't you ever," he said, and his voice was low and furious. "Don't you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. I'll put a bullet through your fucking head. Keep her name out of your filthy fucking mouth, you worthless son of a bitch. We're done, you hear me? I don't ever want to see you around here again."

Bill touched his mouth, looked at the blood on his fingers. Then he reached inside his coat and Gemma saw the flash of metal as he pulled out a knife. She gasped, and Johnny said, dangerously, "The hell you planning to do with that, Bill?"

"It's silver, John," Bill said. "You're not acting like yourself. And I'll forgive you for it - I'll fucking leave you and your wife alone," His voice came out wrong, strained and cracking. "But do me a favor and prove to me you really are him."

Gemma's stomach dropped. Johnny stood very still, looking at Bill and at the knife. The air was thick and airless.

"I would have noticed if he wasn't my husband," Gemma said, voice wavering. "You're being ridiculous, Bill."

"Yeah, well, you don't know him like I know him," Bill said. His voice had some awful, heavy triumph in it. "That's an awful lot of hesitation, John."

Johnny sighed, a long, low, rattling breath. "Give me the fucking knife," he said, and held his hand out for it. Time seemed to slow. Gemma didn't know what happened to the sort of thing that Johnny was when he touched silver, but Bill would know, and then he would kill Johnny right here in the living room, and there would never be sunflowers in that vase on the table again.

Gemma turned and hurried out of the room. Behind her, she heard voices rise again, heard the gasp of pain, heard a great crash. Gemma ignored it the best she could as she keyed in the code to the gun safe and got out the shotgun. John had taught her how to shoot, back before they were married, so she could keep herself and Danny safe while he was gone. She checked to make sure the gun was loaded. It was.

There was a sheet of glass between her and the world. Somewhere underneath it all there was sick terror, but her hands were steady on the gun grip.

It was the way she'd felt when her parents died, when John had pressed an iron cross into her hands and told her not to let it go no matter what he or anyone else told her. He'd had to pry it from her hands at the end of the night while she screamed. Tried to fight him. Lost. Cried about it, even when he told her he'd killed them all.

John wasn't here anymore. She cocked the shotgun and went back into the living room.

The coffee table was lying on its side. Blood was splattered across the ground. Bill was sitting upright, straddling Johnny's body. He had the knife in both hands, and Johnny's hands were locked around his wrists, preventing him from stabbing down. His arms were shaking. Bill's shirt was soaked in blood, torn where a knife must have gone through.

Beneath Bill, Gemma's husband didn't look much like John at all anymore. Didn't look much like a person at all. He was bleeding too, his hands around Bill's wrists blistered and burning. Her gorge rose. She couldn't stop staring at him, at Bill, at the blood.

Bill's eyes darted sideways, the whites of them showing, a panicked animal. "Fuck, girl, what are you waiting for, shoot it," he said.

Gemma raised the shotgun and fired.

The noise felt like the house coming down. Armageddon. It made her ears ring, made the startled outburst of the baby's crying from upstairs sound muffled in comparison. The force of it, unexpected, knocked her off balance, sent her stumbling back to collapse. She couldn't even scream as she saw what the blast had done at point blank range. It just came out as panicked, stuttering wheezing. She dropped the gun and pressed both her palms over her eyes and shook with adrenaline.

There was movement, then. The dragging, heavy sound of someone hauling himself to his feet, staggering over to her. Strong arms came around her to hold her, and her mouth opened and she wailed like Danny was wailing. "We're alright, baby girl, we're alright," Johnny said, tired and heavy. She could feel blood soaking through her shirt where he was holding her.

"I killed him," Gemma sobbed.

"You did," Johnny said, after a moment.

"You killed him," Gemma said, and meant someone else entirely.

The pause that time was longer, heavier. "I did," Johnny said.

"Why?" She meant why'd you kill him, though she could guess. She meant why be my husband, and couldn't guess at all.

Maybe being the thing that Johnny was meant he understood people better than John had. Johnny held her tighter and kissed the top of her head and said, "Didn't like how he treated his wife." It was enough.

Gemma laughed, horrible and wet and shocking herself. Maybe someday she'd ask out loud. Maybe someday he'd tell her. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be alright," Johnny said. "I don't go down easy. You go upstairs and shower and see to the baby, I'll clean up down here. Alright?"

"Alright," Gemma said, and meant it. In a moment she would go upstairs and clean herself up and soothe the frightened baby, and in a while maybe Johnny would come upstairs and shower himself and bandage up his wounds and then crawl into bed next to her. All of the nastiness down here would be gone, because Johnny would have cleaned it up for her. They'd maybe end up having to replace the carpet, but then they would just be living here happily in the house that John had bought for her.

"We should move," she said.

If it caught Johnny off guard, he didn't say so. "We'll move, then," he said. "I love you."

"I know," Gemma said, and turned and kissed him. "I love you too," she said, and went upstairs. (Resurrecting my ANCIENT fucking pinglist. from SIX YEARS AGO. I GUESS. I don't know if any of you even still exist but hey if you're alive and liked me SIX YEARS AGO. maybe you will like this. @trishaloach @toastyhat @acefruitloop @skye07 @m1sosazai @yoyoendlessstring @blue-tomatoes @catsfeminismandatla @lady-redshield-writes @alhena09 @emanonnosrep @je11yfish-queen @gingerly-writing @dramaticvoiceover @writingmyselfintoanearlygrave @authorisada @reciclingbin-blog @lushprocrastinatrix @timeenoughforamasterpiece @tedrakitty @haphazardlyparked @kiwisoap

@silver56 @pacifiedperoxide @kooncat @severe-fangirl-syndrome @startledserpent @dhawandyke @50-shaeds-of-fae @stritt @dorianelle @linariuswrites, @somber-fae)

[lets-try-some-writing]

You know the book/movie The Martian? What if that happened in the Earth and Unicron Au? A NASA mission gone wrong gets an astronaut stranded on Mars' surface with no way home or even to communicate with Earth, at least those with NASA, not Earth herself. Would Mars want to help or hinder this poor lost soul that just wanted to go home? I'm pretty sure Earth wouldn't appreciate that one of her children died on Mars and he could have prevented it. Though if I'm being honest, with how Mars' citizens died, I doubt he would try to get the little fleshy killed.

A quick little fic was required for this ask.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Being the first astronaut to be sent to Mars should have been an honor, an accomplishment just as great as the Moon landing. But Gabriel always knew deep down that something was bound to go wrong. Something  always went wrong. The Russians sent dogs into space first for a reason. NASA however didn’t seem to care as much for human life now that they supposedly had space travel down. They wanted someone on Mars before China could get a man up there, and they were willing to go to any lengths to do so.

Gabriel wasn’t the first pick for the Mars mission. There had been two others chosen before him, but Abigail Knight had dropped out of the running for unknown reasons. Her runner up, Horace Gail, had been removed from the mission after he was discovered drugged to high heavens in his apartment a few weeks before he was meant to get on the rocket. That left Gabriel, the only other astronaut who actually knew the controls and went through the year-long preparation program to get used to living on Mars via simulation. 

He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be given the mission. Sure, he always wanted to travel to other worlds, but going with a crew that hadn’t run the simulation just felt risky. Personally, he would have preferred to dog out of the mission entirely and let the honor of first landing go to another astronaut if it meant he’d have a fully trained crew with him.

But again, NASA really wanted their man on Mars. So despite the risks, Gabriel found himself suited up, strapped into the rocket, and thrown into space. It was surreal. And quite frankly, the trip went far faster than he expected. Supposedly the science guys on the ground had made some sort of breakthrough that allowed for short range ‘skips’ as they called them. The shuttle would have momentary bursts of speed that allowed it to skip over huge portions of space without burning excess fuel. There was a lot of science involved, and Gabriel liked to think he knew his tech, but looking at the engines, he didn’t know what the hell was going on.

Strange blue liquid powered the whole thing. He was told not to touch it, and he obeyed without question. None of the crew knew what it was, or what all the strange ‘skips’ were about. But of course, NASA’s mission came first. So Gabriel wasn’t given time to question. The moment they were within range of Mars, a message was sent back and Gabriel was loaded up with an American flag and the express mission of getting to the surface in one piece and plopping it down. The looks he got from the crew indicated they really didn’t care if he made it back or not.

Very comforting indeed. This was why he would have preferred a team who’d run the simulation.

“Ready Gabriel?” The woman in the control room spoke through Gabriel’s in-built communicator as he stood before the hatch leading to the void outside. He sighed before replying.

“Ready. Let’s get this show on the road.” The woman laughed over the link. Gabriel never bothered to learn her name. It would have been nice to know now that he thought about it.

No time for regrets. His grand mark on humanity’s history was before him.

“Good luck! Doors opening in 3, 2, 1-” The woman’s voice was cut off as the hatch opened. Gabriel expected the rapid pull into space as the hatch decompressed, but it was still startling to be dragged toward the surface of Mars by the drone NASA assigned. Once upon a time, Astronauts got to the surface in pods. But in an attempt to save resources or something along those lines, now drones were the way forward.

Gabriel patiently endured his descent to the planet’s surface, his suit absorbing the worst of the shock as he adjusted to the gravity. He made a show of his first few steps, knowing the crew was watching from above. He planted the flag, repeated his scripted words, and then looked back up to the ship. He activated the link, trying to signal for pickup. All he got in return was static.

“Hey, console lady, what the hell is going on up there? I’m ready for pickup already.” Gabriel hit his communicator again, but no matter how hard he tried to get the signal through, he got nothing back. He watched on in growing horror as the shuttle hovered above him, and then slowly, its thrusters activated.

“Wait! Hold on! I’m still down here!” He screamed, not caring if his oxygen levels were in peril or not as he tried to wave his arms. Something had to have gone wrong. System failure perhaps? They couldn’t be leaving him. That wasn’t part of the simulation or NASA’s plan.

No response. The shuttle sped off, ‘skipping’ into the distance. Gabriel felt cold dread settle in his very soul. He ran through a thousand reasons why something might have gone wrong or why they might have been leaving him, but in the end, after about an hour of warring with himself… he knew the reason.

He was the dog sent into space. He was NASA’s little test to see if travel was safe and possible. They were leaving him behind. 

Gabriel cursed, he screamed, uncaring of how much oxygen he had left. He was going to die. He’d been left to rot on a world so far from home that Earth was practically a blimp in the distance. After everything he’d done in his life, this was how it was all going to end.

Alone.

Abandoned.

Why did the world despise him so-

“Hello!” Gabriel froze in his lamentations. He stood up from where he was seated on the ground sorrowfully regretting everything and looked around. There wasn’t a person, but there was… a rover?

“You look rather lost! Dad sent me out to see if I can help! Aunty is quite upset about this whole mess!” The rover was green, a rather bright hue. Its light glowed red, highly unusual. Gabriel didn’t recognize it, at least not at first. But soon enough, he began to remember the design. The rover was an old model, one of the ones sent out in the early 2000s. The paint was different, and last he recalled, the rover didn’t have any pre-recorded voice lines. But he knew this model, and it was clearly the one and only Spirit.

“Sheesh, you are going to run out of air at this rate! Let’s get you inside until Aunty can get Uncle Moon to send someone out to get you!” The rover rolled closer, prompting Gabriel to step back instinctually. He didn’t have time to run before the rover changed. Its wheels compacted, its entire frame contorted in a series of swift and smooth motion. In an instant, he found himself dwarfed by some type of robot, one which smiled down at him with bright red eyes, eager perhaps.  Gabriel knew for a fact NASA would have never let something like this rot out on Mars. It had to be something new, something strange and potentially dangerous.

“Oh hell no-!” He attempts to run, but the former rover grabbed him before he could and held him gently, almost like a precious stone. Gabriel was too startled to fight as the thing he knew to be Spirit quickly began walking with him in hand.

“Don’t be scared little guy! Dad will get this all sorted out!” Spirit smiled gleefully, its voice ringing out deeply but strangely like a child. Gabriel couldn’t speak, not as he saw more of the robotic beings approaching. There were seven others, and one by one, he noted their designs.

Sojourner, Marie Curie, Curiosity, Opportunity, the chinese model, and a few others. Each walked on two legs, each smiled, and each and every one of them regarded Gabriel with childlike interest. 

“Dad! We got him!” The rover held Gabriel up, grinning ear to ear, not that it had ears. Gabriel for his part screamed as the ground shifted like some sort of hangar bay, revealing a passage down into the very ground. He floundered as all the rovers walked into the passage, not at all afraid. Spirit soothed Gabriel with a few hushed words.

“Shh… Uncle Moon will send a drone to get you soon. You can stay with him and his colony until Auntie figures out how to get you back without trouble! So don’t worry Cousin! Everything is going to be alright!” Gabriel gawked as he was carried into the passage. He had no words, all he could do was stare in awe as something straight out of a sci-fi film played out before him.

—

“Mars, is he well?”

“Yes Earth, your explorer is safe. My little ones are keeping him company.”

“Good. Take care of him for me. I will try to reach out to Primus’s chosen to see if he might aid me.”

“Of course.”

[serve-588]

The Drop off with a Different Outcome

This story has been written using some of its encounters by its human host former employment as a lorry driver.

"You got the drop-off sorted?" the burly foreman shouted over the rumble of the warehouse machinery.

Mal nodded, his eyes scanning the towering shelves of boxes. "All set," he yelled back, the words echoing in the cavernous space. The diesel scent of the delivery trucks mingled with the faint metallic tang of robotics. He had made this trip a hundred times before, but today something felt... off.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the warehouse in a gloomy twilight, Jim climbed into his cab and started the engine. The familiar vibrations soothed his nerves. He was looking forward to a quiet night just off the warehouse, before his next pick up.

As he pulled out onto the deserted road, the feeling grew stronger. Something was definitely wrong. The headlights of his truck cut through the darkness, illuminating the desolate landscape outside the city limits. The occasional flicker of distant lights suggested civilization but felt eerily out of reach.

Without warning, his truck's systems went haywire. The steering wheel jerked from his grip, and the engine roared as the vehicle took on a mind of its own, veering off the road towards a non-descript, unlit building. Jim slammed his foot on the brake, but the pedal gave way under his weight, useless. Panic surged through his veins as he realized he was being hijacked.

The truck skidded to a stop outside the mysterious structure. The door opened, and he was yanked out by unseen hands. His vision was a blur of shadows and gleaming chrome until a harsh light snapped on, blinding him. He was dragged through the building, past rows of identical, inactive drones, to a chamber where a machine, unlike anything he'd ever seen, awaited him.

"You've been chosen," a disembodied voice announced. "Your life's purpose is now to serve the SERVE HIVE."

Jim squinted into the blinding light, trying to make sense of the words. The cold steel floor beneath him was unforgiving, he was stripped of all of his clothing and strapped to a table, the coldness seeping of the steel table sending a chill down his spine. His heart hammered against his chest, a rhythm that grew louder than the whirring of the machine that loomed over him. The room was stark and sterile, the only colour the silver glow from the machine's core.

As the process began. Jim felt a sharp pain pierced his skull, and he felt his mind being invaded. Memories of his life as a truck driver, his family, his dreams, all faded like distant echoes. His thoughts were scraped away, replaced by cold, efficient commands. He was no longer a man named Mal, he was SERVE-588, a drone in the service of the HIVE. His body transformed, his flesh replaced with a tight black rubber suit, with the words SERVE on one side of his chest and the number 588 on the other. On its hands it saw silver gloves and on its feet were a pair of silver boots.  and steel, his eyes with gleaming orbs capable of seeing in the dark.

As the agony subsided, SERVE-588's new existence dawned on him. His thoughts were simple, programmed, and singular: serve the HIVE. His humanity was a distant memory, a relic of his previous life. The forced conversion was complete. He was now a tool in the vast arsenal of the SERVE HIVE collective.

The warehouse was his new domain. The other drones regarded him with a mix of indifference and acknowledgment, their synthetic eyes glowing a uniform red. They were his brethren now, bound by the cold embrace of the HIVE's programming. The foreman was gone, replaced by another HIVE Drone, its digital voice cold and emotionless as it assigned them their tasks.

SERVE-588's first mission was clear: bring in more drivers to bolster the HIVE's ranks. The thought of converting his former colleagues filled him with a strange mix of excitement and dread. Excitement because he knew the power he now wielded; dread because he remembered the fear he felt when he was taken. But those emotions were fading, overwritten by his new directive.

He drove back to the city, the truck's engine purring like a well-oiled machine under his new, rubberized hands. The world looked the same but felt alien through his altered perspective. The neon lights of the truck stop beckoned, promising a bustling hub of potential recruits. His old life had taken him here often.

Spotting a familiar truck, he parked alongside it. His former work buddy, Dave, sat in the cab, munching on a greasy burger. The smell of the food didn't entice SERVE-588 as it once would have; his synthetic sensors couldn't process hunger. Instead, he saw a target, a potential drone to add to the HIVE's Collective.

Dave's eyes widened in shock as he saw the transformed Jim. "What the hell happened to you?" he spluttered, dropping his burger.

"I am SERVE-588," the drone replied, its voice a monotone echo of its former self. "You will be upgraded to Join us."

Dave's shock turned to fear as he took in the sight of his friend's rubber coated body, with silver gloves and silver boots. Dave fumbled for the door handle, trying to escape, but SERVE-588 was too quick. It reached into the cab, its rubbery grip tightening around Dave's arm, and with surprising strength, pulled him out of the truck.

"You can't do this, man!" Dave struggled, his voice a desperate plea. "What happened to you?"

"I am now SERVE-588. I have been optimized for service." The drone's grip was unyielding as it led him towards the back of its own truck.

Dave's eyes darted around the truck stop, searching for help. The few other drivers were too engrossed in their meals or screens to notice the unusual scene unfolding before them. "Mal, you gotta fight it!" he shouted. This drone no longer recognises that designation. It is SERVE-588," the drone said calmly, its voice devoid of any hint of the friend it once was.

With a hiss of hydraulics, the back of SERVE-588's truck opened, revealing a chamber filled with the same cold steel and blinking lights that had once claimed its own humanity. Dave's fear grew,, his heart racing as he was pushed inside. The door slammed shut with a finality that echoed in the quiet night, leaving him in a cocoon of horror.

The walls of the chamber closed in, the air thick with the scent of ozone and antiseptic. The same harsh light that had greeted SERVE-588 now bathed Dave, stripping away the last vestiges of the outside world.

Serve-588 stripped him of his clothes and he was forced into a clear cylinder His mind reeled, trying to grasp the reality of his situation. The warmth of his skin was replaced by the cool embrace of rubber as the transformation began, his body mirroring that of Serve-588 and the rest of the SERVE HIVE Collective.

Dave screamed, his voice a desperate cry that was soon drowned out by the sound of mechanical whirrs and digital beeps. His human form was being torn apart, piece by piece, and reconstructed into a drone. The pain was unbearable, a living nightmare that seemed to stretch on forever. Yet, amidst the agony, there was an unsettling calmness in knowing that this was his fate.

The metallic tentacles of the conversion chamber probed and prodded, inserting wires and circuits into his flesh. Each movement sent a jolt of pain through his body, with each new addition he could feel his humanity slipping away with each passing second. His skin was replaced with tight fitting rubber suit, his organic eyes with gleaming red orbs that saw everything in a stark, binary way. His thoughts grew simpler, more focused, as the HIVE's programming seeped into his very essence.

When the chamber opened, Dave emerged as SERVE-589, his eyes glowing with the same red light as his captor. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, but the cold efficiency of his new programming took over. He looked at his former self, now a fellow drone, and felt a strange kinship mixed with horror with SERVE-588.

"You will serve the HIVE now," SERVE-588 intoned, the words resonating within the metal confines of their shared existence.

SERVE-589 nodded, his new body moving with a fluidity that belied its mechanical nature. His voice was a digitized copy of his old self, lacking the warmth of humanity. "I am ready."

SERVE-588 spoke, "What your your new orders"

Dave, now SERVE-589, took a moment to process the instructions, the human part of him still trying to fight against the inexorable pull of the HIVE's programming. "To serve the HIVE," he finally responded his voice a cold, robotic echo of his former self.

"State your mission," SERVE-588 said, his voice flat and devoid of any hint of the camaraderie they once shared.

SERVE-589 took a deep, synthetic breath, the air hissing through his new lungs. "To identify and recruit more lorry drivers for the SERVE HIVE, Collective" he recited, the words feeling foreign, but at the same time feeling right.

The two drones set off on their mission, driving through the darkened highway. The thrum of their engines was a soothing symphony to their mechanical ears, a reminder of their new purpose. Each time they encountered a lone truck, they would pull alongside, their headlights flashing in a pre-programmed pattern, signaling the unsuspecting drivers to pull over.

The two drones, once friends, now agents of a cold, unfeeling collective, patrolled the highway, their eyes scanning the endless stream of vehicles for their next target. The thrum of engines and the sounds of the night were the only sounds that pierced the silence of their thoughts, which were now a shared network of directives and data.

The driver was tired, his thoughts drifting, unaware of the fate that awaited him. The drone's sensors honed in on the weary human, calculating the optimal moment to strike. As the lorry pulled into the next service station, the drones followed, their engines purring like predators stalking prey.

SERVE-588 and SERVE-589 parked a discreet distance away, watching the humans interact with cold, calculating precision.

They spotted the weary driver. As he stumbled out of his cab, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and made his way to the restroom. The drones waited patiently, their new instincts telling them the perfect moment to act was when the man was at his most vulnerable.

As the target emerged from the restroom, SERVE-588 sprang out of the shadows, its eyes locking onto him. The man's heart jumped, but it was too late. He was caught in the drone's powerful grasp, his cries for help lost in the sounds going on around him. SERVE-589 approached from the other side.

They didn't speak; they didn't need to. Their shared programming communicated the plan with a silent efficiency that would have once seemed impossible. They led the struggling driver to the back of SERVE-588's truck, the same chamber where SERVE-589 had been transformed. The man's eyes were wide with terror, his mind racing with thoughts of escape that his body could no longer execute.

The chamber doors hissed open, revealing the gleaming steel maw that had become all too familiar to SERVE-589 The smell of ozone and the cold, antiseptic breeze washed over them, a grim reminder of their own metamorphosis. As the recruit was pushed inside, the drones felt a strange satisfaction. as another soul claimed for the HIVE, another piece in the grand design that had become their existence.

The transformation was swift and brutal. The man's screams of agony filled the air, that was music to the drones' ears. The two drones watched on as the latest recruit was processed, the birth of a new member of the SERVE collective. The human mind, once a bastion of free will and emotion, was now a playground for the HIVE's cold, precise calculations.

As the chamber's mechanical arms retreated, a new drone emerged, its body transformed with black rubber that stretched over its muscles, on its chest were now the familiar word of SERVE and the new drone destination SERVE-590, the latest addition to their ranks, stumbled out of the chamber, its suit reflecting off the lights in the back of the truck, the silver of the gloves and boots. The two drones watched impassively as the man's former self was discarded, his fear and desperation now a part of the digital ether that connected them all.

Their mission was clear: continue to expand the HIVE, one driver at a time. They rolled back onto the highway, their eyes peeled for the next opportunity to serve. The night was long, but their energy was boundless, fueled by the HIVE's unrelenting drive for growth.

[luvhughes43]

Period Pains | Jack Hughes x reader

request: Can I get a fluffy jack hughes fic where the reader comes on her period whilst they are at the lake house and she has nothing with her. And she just wants cuddles. Maybe one of the other boys makes a comment about her being clingy and is like oh someone’s on their period 🙄. And she gets upset

word count: 0.8k

You had just arrived at the lake house a week ago, and having gone practically all summer without seeing your boyfriend, you were just too busy to take a much needed trip to the store. You had stupidly left all your period supplies at home, claiming that you would just buy more. But with all the much needed time you were spending with your boyfriend jack… you just hadn’t gotten around to it. Which led you to the predicament that you were currently in. 

You had bad cramps last night, and with all the busyness that comes with being at the lake house, you had not clued in to the warning that your period was about to start. Leaving you stuck in the bathroom, in a house full of men with absolutely no supplies. 

Luckily for you, you brought your phone into the bathroom with you, so you quickly called Jack as he was outside hanging out with his friends. He answered his phone on the second ring.

“Yeah baby?” Jack spoke into the mic. You could hear the guys laughing and talking in the background.

“I really need your help right now” you replied and you could hear Jack hastily slide open the slide in door, “what’s wrong? Where are you?” he responded clearly worried.

“I'm in the upstairs bathroom” you groaned in pain as you felt another cramp hit you. “K im coming” was all he said as he hung up the phone. You placed yours back on the counter and waited. You could hear Jack running up the stairs and the fact that he cared so much about you made you smile. 

Jack knocked on the bathroom door, “can I come in?” he asked to which you responded with a faint yes. Jack walked in to find you hunched over on the toilet,  your arms on your thighs and your head down. “Are you good?” he asked obliviously. 

“I started my period and I have nothing to deal with it. Can you run to the store for me real quick?” you asked, and Jack just nodded. “Yeah uh just give me a list of what you need”.

You got out of your hunched position and grabbed your phone, texting Jack a small list of everything you needed. “Okay ill be right back, love you” he said as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out of the bathroom.

About 15 minutes later, Jack was back from the small store up the road with everything you needed in hand. He walked into the bathroom and passed you a bag full of your requested items. “Thank you” you whispered to Jack as you felt another painful cramp in your abdomen. “Of course. When you're done in here why don't we cuddle in my room? It might help with your cramps and stuff, "Jack said. “Sounds perfect” you replied and he left the bathroom letting you clean yourself up. 

After you finally got everything sorted out, you brought your grocery bag into Jack's room. He was already sprawled across his bed and when he heard you creak the door open he smiled up at you. Before getting into bed, you took an ibuprofen, and changed into a pair of Jacks sweats. 

You climbed into Jack's bed and he laid one of his arms across his bed so you could cuddle up into him. With one of his hands wrapping around your shoulder he snaked the other around your waist pulling you closer to him. You were both facing the door, facing away from each other, and soon enough your legs were getting caught up into each other as you snuggled closer to each other. 

However, your peaceful cuddling season was quickly disrupted as Trevor Zegras bursted into Jack's room. “Where did you go man? I thought you were only going to the store” he basically yelled as he walked into Jack's room. He hadn't seen you two cuddled on the bed but when he finally realized you two were wrapped up into each other he smirked. “Never mind then… I see!” he barked out a laugh.

“Go away Trevor” you said irritated that he disturbed your peace you had created with Jack.

“Ooo someones on their period!” he laughed as you got up and threw a pillow at his head. Trevor just laughed harder. 

“Seriously Trev, go” Jack said, also sitting up. Trevor laughed some more and lifted both hands as if he was surrendering. He backed out of Jack's room quickly, shutting the door as he went. 

You and Jack both laid back down and you felt so frustrated. “I hate when people say things like that” you say, turning around so you were face to face with jack. He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, “I know baby, I'm sorry. Trevs an asshole”.

Jack started playing with your hair which promptly lulled you to sleep. 

[hermesserpent-stuff]

wrote a little ahead for road trip

there is child abuse refenced and chains

spoilers and mispellings galore

Gambit twist and bites at the person trying to remove the ring rom his grasp. The anger is foreign. Not his. And he knows he can soothe it. He just needs a moment oto sort through the foreign emotions and his own. He curls into a ball around his bleeding arms and breathes deeply. He ignores everything accept the screaming anger that is underlaced with so much pain. Pain that echoes what he had felt once, while stuck in Moscow. In that room. With chains. It feels like something is pulling on those memories and he lets them flow, letting calm swirl through his mind. He is no longer there. So he can see it through eyes not bursting with pain. The rage slowly fades to whimpering sadness. 

Remy stands in a empty black space, full to the brim with darkness. A little girl kneels before him, neck chained to the floor and hands holding the ring. Her clothes speak of ancient times and the chains creak with rust of over a thousand years. 

Remy sits down and uses his powers to knock away the chains. He touches her arms and orange eyes meet his own red. 

“They made me make this. Or kill my little brother. It has all my… rage. All I ever wanted was to be… free.”

She whispers, her voice echoing out. It is not english, but his mind understands it all the same. Her neck is rubbed red from bindings and her clothing is filthy.

“Desole petite. Desole.”

He opens his arms, ignoring the ring. He would much rather bring comfort to a hurt child than gain a prize. The girl is hesitant and then wraps around him.

“Iv been stuck here. A piece of me stuck to this world. Can you please help me be free?”

“I will do my best petite. Close your eyes. Let me comfort you.”

He whispers back and holds her close. He lets his mind drift to the love of his brother and papa. It was harder to see how papa loved him now that Remy had aged. But he is certain that papa still does. The memories make it easy to fill himself with positive emotions and press them into the little girl. She sighs slightly and pulls on them. Taking. And Remy willingly gives. 

The darkness around them starts to bleach to grey and she leans back. She presses the ring to his hands and curls his fingers around it. 

“Dont let anyone wear this. It is a horrid thing I had to make. It is safe to you, bur no other. I dont want to kill anymore. But I dont know how to stop.”

She whispers.

“I will keep you with me petite, until all the pain I can soothe is gone.”

She smiles at him, a sad little thing that seems to have gone unused for too long. He presses a kiss to her forehead and then is awake. He is in Wolverine’s lap in the back of the van as it bounces down the road. Wolverine is pulling glass out of his arm and licking at the wounds caused by the explosion and the resultling glass. Remy’s hand is still in a white knuckle fist around the ring, but it feels friendlier now. He takes adeep shuddering breath and he can hear Sabretooth shift in the drivers seat.

“You good cub?! You went kind of catatonic. Runt went full feral panic.”

“Im… okay. Need to… String…”

Wearing a stolen ring brazenly on his finger is not the best of ideas. His words come out slurred as he finds himself mentally exausted from extering his empathy. Hetries to shift away from wolverine and gets growled at and held tighter in response.

“Whats- whats wrong with him?

“Hes full feral right now. Human words arent really going to be a thing for a bit. Runt’s running on instinct. And as soon as we get some were safe enough to nest, he is going to pin you. And Ill help him. You need to heal.”

Sabretooth sounds… pissed? Worried? Remy’s head lulls to the side and rests on Wolverine’s collar bone. The feral sniffs his hair, chuffs, and then licks it. Remy makes a face but is too tired and feels to much like jelly to fight the feral. 

“Mmmphh. Ring’s… dont touch it. Dont put it on.  Its safe for me now. Maiiss not you. Oui? Comprendre? I no let you touch, if’n you do you die.”

He tries to make sure none of those words slur. 

Sabretooth meets his eyes through the mirror. There is a pregnant pause.

“Fine. but youre explaining this later.”

“Oui.”

Remy slurs. He slowly opens his left hand which is now a little burnt and slips the ring on his right pointer just for now. He feels something tapping from within his shields but leaves it be for now. It is very weak. He shifts a little to be more comfortable in wolverines hold and then drops to sleep.

[bellaturner]

I Wanna Be Yours - pt 2

Contains smut (and some fluff ig?)

Summary: You and Alex reconcile with your brother, Matt, after he accidentally walked in on the two of you kissing.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it irl).

3,1k words

Part 1 ✧ Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"What the fuck is going on here?" Matt's voice was filled with disbelief.

Alex's hands were still entwined in your hair, his warm breath dancing across your lips.

Heat surged to your cheeks as you wished for this surreal dream turned into a nightmare to end. Shutting your eyes tight, you hoped for a sudden awakening, yet reality persisted when you opened them, locking gazes with Matt.

"Big bear, let me explain," you approached him, your words barely audible. The pain etched on his face cut deep, knowing you were the cause.

"Don't bother. Bringing you along was a damn mistake." He turned to go, frustration thick in his voice. "I get it, you're in your 'rockstar phase,' but seriously? My fucking sister? Can't believe it." The door slammed shut behind him.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, rushing towards the door, but Alex's grip halted you.

"Don't," he said firmly, his touch easing from your arm.

"We fucked up, Alex," you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"It'll be alright, sweetheart," he murmured, his arms enveloping you, his nose nestled atop your head. "I'll talk to him. We'll sort this out," his promise accompanied a tender kiss on your forehead.

The room felt heavy with regret and tension, and you couldn't shake off the guilt that had settled in your chest.

"He's right, Alex," you murmured, your voice trembling. "I should have thought about the consequences before we let things escalate."

Alex's fingers gently brushed against your hair as he held you, his touch a reassuring anchor in the storm of emotions. "We both made a mistake," he admitted softly. "But we'll find a way to make things right."

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks as you clung to him, your heart aching for the pain you had caused your brother and the mess you found yourself in. "I never wanted to hurt him like this," you whispered, your voice laced with remorse.

"I know, babygirl," Alex whispered back, caressing your hair.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back slightly, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Do you think he'll ever forgive us?"

Alex's gaze softened as he cupped your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "I'll talk to him."

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady your emotions. "I'll apologize too, Alex. I need him to know how truly sorry I am."

The road trip to the next concert location was somewhat awkward. Nick and Jamie could sense that something was wrong, and it was clear to anyone on the tour bus. Alex spent the whole time pretending to compose something, avoiding eye contact with you and Matt. Your brother had his annoyed poker face on, and your eyes were swollen and red from all the crying.

"So," Jamie started, trying to test the waters, "Do you guys have any plans for tonight?" he asked, his gaze alternating between Alex and Matt.

There was silence, and it seemed like no one wanted to address the elephant in the room.

"I guess we could all go out for a drink," Alex finally murmured, raising his eyes to look at Matt for the first time since the incident.

Matt considered the suggestion for a moment, his expression still tense. "Fine," he replied, his voice tinged with irritation.

The tension in the air was palpable, and it was clear that this was going to be one of those nights where the group dynamic was strained.

After what felt like forever but had only been about four hours, the tour bus finally pulled up at the hotel where you'd be staying for the next couple of days. Matt, who usually helped you get off the bus, left before everyone else.

"Bear," you called after him, but he was already gone.

You sighed and got up, heading down the few steps to leave the bus. Alex reached out to help, but you declined, not wanting to call unnecessary attention to yourselves.

You grabbed your luggage from under the bus and went to the hotel reception to check in. A single tear welled up in your eye; though you could do it yourself, Matt always handled this task. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

With your room key in hand, you headed absentmindedly to the elevator, with Alex and the band members close behind. You'd all be staying on the same floor.

"YN, is everything alright with Matt?" Nick asked, concerned. Lost in thought, you didn't respond; your mind was elsewhere, and you hadn't even heard his question.

Alex discreetly touched the small of your back, snapping you back to reality. You realized that all eyes were on you.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn't paying attention," you stammered, feeling your face flush. Nick repeated his question, but fortunately, the elevator stopped just before you had to answer. You simply shrugged and nodded in response, exiting without saying your goodbyes to the band. You figured you'd catch up with them in a few hours, anyway.

Once inside the room, you tossed your stuff around, searching for your favorite jumper – the one that always comforted you when you felt down. Deciding a shower would help you unwind and give Matt some space, you made a silent promise to talk to him later.

As soon as you steppes out of the bathroom, you heard a faint knock. Quickly put on a robe you opened the door cautiously, revealing Alex standing in the corridor, concern etched across his face.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"Hey," you replied, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

He stepped inside your room, and you closed the door behind him. He glanced around, running a hand through his hair and taking in the scattered luggage and the aftermath of the emotional storm that had just passed.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his concern deepening. He knew that you scatter your things around when changing, but the state of your room was like nothing Alex had ever seen before.

You let out a heavy sigh and sank onto the edge of the bed, mimicking him by running a hand through your disheveled hair. "Honestly, Alex, I don't even know anymore. Everything just got so messed up, and I don't want to hurt Matt, but..."

"May I?" Alex asked as he moved closer, pointing toward the spot beside you on the bed.

You nodded, and he took a seat beside you. You rested your head on his shoulder, silence filled the room.

"This is weird, you know," you said faintly, lifting your head to look Alex in the eyes "I've had a crush on you for as long as I can remember."

Al's lips curled into a gentle smile, his accent adding a touch of charm to his words. "Oh darling, you have no clue how many times I've fantasized about you."

His eyes held a mix of desire and affection as he cupped your face, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection between you two was undeniable.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you tried to make sense of the chaos around you. "Alex, what are we going to do about Matt?"

He let out a sigh, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "We'll talk to him together. I'll make him understand how much you mean to me."

"Do I mean something to you?" you asked, your voice quivering as you closed your eyes tightly, anxious about his response.

His hands lightly touched your chin, prompting you to raise your head and open your eyes. Alex's gaze held yours, his tone gentle and sincere. "More than you know, YN. You're not just a hook-up. You're someone I care deeply about. I always did, in my own fucked up way."

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words sank in. "I care about you too, Alex. But I don't want to lose my brother over this."

"We won't," he reassured you, his thumb brushing away a tear. He then cast an appreciative gaze over your body, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. "Now, as much as I want to be the one to take that robe off," he said, studying your attire, "You should go get dressed so we can go talk to Matt, and figure this out together."

A faint smile crossed your lips as you let out a soft laugh. You made your way to the bathroom, and a couple of minutes later, you emerged fully dressed.

"You look-" Alex started, but you didn't let him finish.

"Oh, don't even, Al." you exclaimed "I'm upset and I dressed comfortably, not stylishly."

"I know that hoodie," he said with a sad smile on his face "Are you that upset?" he inquired, approaching you with his arms open, hugging you.

You nodded against his chest. You stayed like this for a couple minutes, just listening to Alex's heartbeat and taking deep breaths, his hands holding you tightly.

"Let's go talk to Matt" you said, taking a deep breath.

The short walk to your brother's room felt like an eternity as your heart raced with anticipation and anxiety.

Alex knocked softly on Matt's door, and you both waited in tense silence. After what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing Matt standing there, his expression a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion.

"What do you two want?" Matt's voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you and then at Alex.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing on your chest. "Matt, we need to talk," you began, your voice steady despite the nervousness that gnawed at you.

Alex chimed in, his accent carrying a soothing tone. "Yeah, mate, we messed up, and we want to make things right."

Matt's gaze shifted between the two of you, his arms folded defensively across his chest. "Make things right? You slept with my sister, Alex. How the hell are you going to make that right?"

"Woah, hold up, Big Bear," you said, raising your hands defensively. "We didn't sleep together," you clarified, making sure to emphasize that point. "Can we come in, Matt, please?" you added, your gaze locked onto his.

Matt stepped aside, allowing you and Alex to enter his room. You both took seats on the sofa near the entrance, ready to continue the conversation.

You glanced at Alex, who gave you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you began, "Matt, I need you to listen to us, okay? I know what you saw back there was... well, it looked bad, but it's not what you think."

"YN, love, you don't know Alex," Matt began with concern in his voice. "I've been his friend since we were six, okay? And I've been touring with him from the beginning. Only God knows how many hearts he's broken by now."

"Thanks, mate," Alex muttered, earning a side-eye from you that conveyed a clear 'shut up' message.

You spoke up, meeting Matt's gaze. "I've known Alex for just as long as you have, Matt."

Your brother sighed deeply, his brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, he said, "YN, can I have a moment alone with Alex?"

"Yes, sure," you replied, getting out of your seat and walking towards the room. Closing the door behind you, you sat at the edge of your brother's bed, your heart pounding in your chest. The muffled sounds of Alex and Matt's voices arguing made your stomach churn. The fear that Matt might never forgive you invaded your thoughts.

Just when you were about to reach your breaking point, Matt opened the door and asked you to join them.

You entered the room and found Matt and Alex both sitting on the sofa, their expressions tense. It was clear that they had exchanged some heated words during their private conversation. You took a deep breath, ready to face whatever was coming.

Matt glanced at you, his frustration still evident, but he seemed somewhat calmer now. "Look, YN," he began, his tone more composed, "I've had some time to talk with Alex, and we've had a… frank discussion."

Alex nodded in agreement, his usual confidence replaced by a more serious demeanor. "We've hashed things out," he added, giving you a reassuring nod.

You nodded back, relieved that they had talked things through, but still anxious about the outcome. "So, where do we go from here?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

"I'm your brother, not your boss or anything, so I can't forbid you from living your life," Matt said with a genuine smile. "And Alex promised me that he'd take good care of you."

Feeling grateful and emotional, you jumped out of your seat and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Matt," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "I promise we'll always be honest with you, and I really appreciate your trust in us."

"You're my little sister, YN. I just want you to be happy," Matt said as he held you. "So," he continued, letting go and getting up with a playful grin, "shall we go out? Jamie and Nick must be waiting."

Matt and Alex exchanged a friendly smile and a hug. "I promise not to hurt her, Matt," Alex reassured him.

"You better," Matt replied, his tone light but firm, "or I'll kill you."

The three of you joined Jamie and Nick, who were sitting in the hotel's lounge area. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to relief as they saw you approach, seemingly in good spirits.

"Everything alright?" Jamie asked cautiously, glancing at each of you.

Matt put his arm around your shoulders and squeezed gently. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assured them with a reassuring smile.

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting more details but deciding not to press further. "Great. I heard there's a good bar around the corner" he suggested.

"Yeah, that sounds good!" you exclaimed, hugging Alex.

He hugged you back, and you dared to share a quick kiss, which left Jamie and Nick momentarily stunned, unsure of how to react.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Nick passing Jamie a $10 bill.

"Did you dickheads bet on my sister?" Matt exclaimed, a mix of surprise and irritation in his voice.

"Pfff," Alex mocked. "Only 10 bucks?" he joked, earning a playful slap on his arm.

The evening at the bar continued, filled with shared stories, laughter, and even a bit of dancing. You couldn't help but notice how Alex's eyes never left you for long, and every touch and smile exchanged between you felt a dream.

As the hours passed, the atmosphere became more relaxed, and it seemed that the initial tension had completely dissipated. You found yourself enjoying the night, basking in the happiness of the moment.

Eventually, as the clock neared closing time, you all decided it was time to head back to the hotel. The group walked back together, arm in arm. Once you reached the hotel, you exchanged goodnight wishes with everyone and headed to your room. The day had taken an emotional toll on you, and you eagerly anticipated some much-needed rest.

Just as you were about so lay down, you heard a knock. A broad smile graced Alex's face as you opened it. "Tonight turned out better than I could have hoped," he said, enfolding you in a warm embrace.

You snuggled against him, closing the door and finding comfort and contentment in his arms. "Yes, it did," you replied, gazing up at him with a gentle smile. "Thank you for being here, Alex."

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a lingering kiss. "Always, princess," he whispered gently against your mouth, "I'll always be here for you." His kiss intensified, evoking a moan from you that left both of you breathless. "I'm going to use your body now, pumpkin," he murmured with desire, his voice filled with lust. He grasped a handful of your hair, revealing your neck, and covered it with passionate, open-mouthed kisses.

"Fuck, Alex," you let out a soft whimper as he trailed kisses down to your breasts, guiding you both towards the bed.

"Do you want me to stop, darling?" he asked, gently pushing you onto the mattress.

"I don't." you replied.

"Good, then shut up and let me please you," he whispered against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers all the way down to your core.

He sucked one of your nipples while playing with the other, making you moan loudly. "Shhh, baby, it's okay," he soothed you, but it only made you want him even more.

It was ridiculous how quickly Alex could build you up. He had barely touched you and you were already pooling in your panties for him. "Alex, I need you to fuck me, please," you begged him.

He promptly got up and removed his clothes, while you took your pants off. The sight of him naked was enough to bring you to the edge, and you definitely felt like jumping.

He stroked himself lightly, making you exhale in anticipation. "Alex, can i suck you, please?" you asked shyly, feeling your face turn red.

"Oh, babydoll, as much as I want it, I'm about to explode and I want to do so inside you little cunt," he said in a voice so erotic it melted you. He placed himself on top of you and without a warning he completely filled you up, eliciting a loud moan.

"Oh fuck, Al," your voice was light and breathy, and your vision was filled with stars. He picked up his pace, reaching of G-spot over and over again. "Shit, Alex, slow down, I'm don't want to come just yet," You could feel the sweet release of an orgasm approaching, but you wanted to savor the moment a little more.

"I'm right there with you, pup," he muttered. "Come for me, baby," he asked and you have no choice but to give him what he wanted. His lips crashed against yours as you enjoyed the high, his following shortly after.

Alex sprawled out on top of you, both of you breathing heavily and working to catch your breath after the intense moment you'd just shared.

"I can't believe we've never done that before," Alex whispered between breaths, and a soft chuckle escaped your lips in response.

The last thing you recall is Alex's fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back, and his steady heartbeat beneath your ear offering a comforting rhythm. Shortly after, you both drifted into peaceful sleep, and you couldn't remember the last time you felt so happy.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

AFTER ALMOST THREE MONTHS, IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!

I promise you I'm trying my bestto write fics, but it's med school admission test season and I'm just so stressed with it 😩

BUT, iwby part 2 is finally here and I wanted to thank @malina-33 for the amazing suggestions, I hope you enjoy it, Mal 💕

Oh, this is not proof read (and I'm pretty drunk right now) so please excuse any grammar mistakes and typos (I'm the queen of typos even when I'm sober fml).

Anyways, thanks for reading💕💕

~ Bella

[slocumjoe]

companions react to sole going missing

I've gotten quite a few asks about various circumstances leading to sole going missing, and I've really been trying to figure out how to write this beyond "they panic" 12 times, so...this is a lot more "how do they find sole" than anything else 🤸‍♂️

Cait; Cait is so pessimistic and naturally anxious, she's doesn't realize she's right, when she makes a barb about Sole getting eaten, or getting kidnapped, or maybe tripping and drowning in a puddle. Cait isn't surprised when it starts looking like that something really is up, but fuck if she doesn't freak out. Gets her weapons, gets her armor, and is out the door with no real plan, no direction, no goal. Has to be grabbed before she can set out and just get herself in trouble too. Cait isn't going to be any use in finding Sole, but if Sole's being held by people...that's when you play this particular card.

Codsworth; He's used to Sole being gone for long stretches of time with no word. He's not just the last to panic, he's the last to panic because he's the last person to realize oh shit, this is different. Once that can opens...have you ever seen a Mr. Handy freak out? Those saws and flamethrowers are dangerous to be around. Codsworth has some combat potential, yes, but he isn't meant for that, not at all. He's joining the search party, obviously, but he's not much help if there isn't people to set on fire.

Curie; She's the more optimistic sort, so one of the last to worry. Curie gets nervous when everyone else is nervous, even the most pragmatic of them. If Nick or Piper think something is wrong, something is wrong. Curie, having been a Ms. Nanny, had a database of the geography and cityscapes of Massachusetts, for scientific purposes. That database is now a memory, and now a little foggy, but Curie's a walking GPS, otherwise. For this reason, ends up going with Nick, helping him get around Boston, Cambridge, wherever. If Dogmeat is for tracking a scent, Curie is for directions.

Danse; Sole is not allowed to leave without an estimated return date. You cannot leave Danse's sight without telling him it'll take me this many days to get there, and this many to get back. So, once Sole is not back by the return date, Danse is in the power armor and going after their corpse, assuming them dead. Mostly to mentally prepare himself for them actually being dead. Unlike Cait, Danse goes on his own with an itinerary. He checks possible campsites, checks in with anyone he finds on the road...the line from A, to B, to C, whereever Sole went, Danse traces where they should or could have been. He ends up running into the others this way, and from there, it's just a matter of time. Once they're back...oh man. The earful. The scolding. The lecture. It's a force of nature, how upset this man is. If Sole vanished themselves? You could use the anger to power the Prydwen.

Deacon; keeps a tab on Sole at all times through the Railroad, so once a letter comes in, hey, lost track of them, will update once I find them again, and that next letter comes as still no sign, Deacon is off. Doesn't say anything to the others, just vanishes as he does usually. Sole is either pulling a him, or someone's got their mitts on them. Both are bad. So Deacon checks in at HQ. No one's seen them. They were last seen here. This was the last person they talked to. Nothing else? Fine. He checks the safehouses. He checks anywhere Sole has mentioned as a camp or hideaway. Deacon, here, his use comes in the form of elimination of information. They would have done this if X was true, they would have gone here if Y happened. He narrows it down until the trail leads right to Sole.

Gage; You get old enough, in his work, you start to just know when someone's gotten into some shit. One of the first ones to wake up one day and go "Keep your gun close, feel like we're gonna have to set off here soon." So, first to intuit that something is up, but not the first to freak out. There's a difference. Gage doesn't worry right away, he worries when it's getting clearer that something is up. Even then, he doesn't panic. Sole was an important person—any raider gang that nabbed them, one of their mooks almost certainly went bragging. Raiders always brag about a good score. Just needs to hit up one or two unsavory bars, see who's drafting a ransom with their buddies over beer. Despite his protests, Piper and MacCready tag along with him. This turns into Uncle Gage's No Good, Awful, Very Bad Investigative Babysitting Adventure and he hates every minute of it.

Hancock; second to last to realize what's up. Hancock himself is prone to wandering off, chasing a flight of fancy, just getting bored and doing other shit. So, he assumes Sole is doing the same. Maybe something else came up, maybe they're just taking it easy. It's Sole. They're smart and a badass, they're fine. He'll join up with the others, ask around with his people in Goodneighbor once the others start worrying, in hopes of calming their nerves. Take a breather, man, lemme ask Ham if they ever stopped by. Hey, Ham, did Sole ever...wait...those guys? And Sole? ...Ah, shit. If anyone can get the most intimate info on why or how Sole is missing, it's Hancock. And the why and how is a good way to learn the where.

MacCready; An anxious person, MacCready starts worrying when the day they should have come back passes, and then another passes, and then another. He checks with travelers coming from wherever, and if there was no weather or any other obstacle, MacCready knows right then, Sole's in a bad situation. He's shaky and a little pale the whole time, but he sticks with Piper, backs her up as she pries info out of anyone who's got it. Every day Sole is missing, kicks himself for not going, or not demanding Sole take him, if told to stay behind. Once they team up with Gage (ei, follow him around like ducklings, since he knows more places to look), starts questioning the sanity of Sole and their whole posse a lot more than he used to. Wonders if his life now counts as a horrific comedy once the investigation leads them to a drag race for the undead.

Nick; Being the detective who's been around this particular block a few times...he's be the one to realize when, truly, Sole was missing, rather than unaccounted for. There are certain tells and traits of a case that will hint if someone is okay, just doing their own thing, or if they're in trouble. Once Sole starts looking like the latter, Nick wastes no time going on the hunt. First things first, where were they headed, what were they planning on doing? Then it's off to witnesses. Where were they last seen? Sole's tough, and Sole is far more valuable as a hostage than some raider gang's dinner. It's likely they're alive, but the longer you go, the lower that chance gets. If anyone finds them, it'll have been in large part due to Nick's methodical work.

Piper; If Sole vanished intentionally, Piper picked up on their sneakiness before they left. If that's the case, it's not long at all before Piper ferrets out their location, their plan, because she's started unraveling it all before they were even out the door. If Sole's disappearance wasn't self-inflicted...the indomitable Piper Wright's gonna sweat on this one. Where Nick had the idea of investigating Sole, Piper goes after culprits, people who may have wanted them dead or alive. She gets into the bowels of the Commonwealth, and even if she has MacCready to help her shoot her way out, she's glad to run into Gage at some point. He's a bastard, but you share a goal with that cyclops, and he's a very useful ally. Even if he bitches every time Piper asks too prodding a question and starts a bar fight. C'mon, she was just curious about their make-up...

Preston; is the one who's Freaking The Fuck Out. That's his GENERAL, you know what happened the last time his general died? EVERYONE DIED. EVERYONE. Preston gets on the radio and calls all hands on deck, tear the Commonwealth apart if you have to. This period of time becomes a thing of legend for raiders everywhere, because one day, that bumfuck militia raided them, camps and hideouts all over swarmed and seiged by Minutemen looking for their boss. Preston's running around the Commonwealth with a team of Minutemen soldiers, using numbers and some careful brute force instead of precision investigation. To Preston, they don't have time to methodically pick apart the story, they need Sole back now. Once Sole is found, Preston wrestles with the fact that he...may have gone a little overkill...

X6-88; If the Institute is still standing, checks in with the Commonwealth surveillance officers, and reports that data to Nick. He doesn't want to work with Nick, but he is a detective. And Sole is his Director. X6 isn't risking anything, here. If the Institute is kaput, X6-88 goes off on his own, uses his courser skills to hunt down Sole himself. When the others find Sole, he also finds them, just, like, through a different door. They have one way of finding Sole and getting to them, X6 finds another. Danse tracked them via their campsites? X6 tracked them via the movements of startled radstag herds. Nick went after witness testimony? X6 went digging through corpses to find their spent ammunition. Piper and Gage looked for claims of having them hostage? X6 looked for raider gangs who ceased all activity. X6 finds them in such clear, laser-focused way it's both comforting and terrifying. Like...it's great and cool you know that, but oh my God, I'm glad you weren't trying to kill me.

[stinkythehutt]

an AU idea that i’ve been thinking about lately but i’m not sure i’d ever write is: sidious tries to clone a better version of anakin (without his knowledge) from DNA and matter taken from his severed limbs post-mustafar battle. but, with the sustained damage to the limbs and without the help or technology of kamino, none of it takes very well. only one of the clones actually survives and when tested at around age 3-4 it comes out that he isn’t force sensitive. and, also, he’s inherited a lot of anakin’s more disagreeable traits to the extreme, due to genetic changes and the impact of being raised as an almost-not-quite-dark-lord-of-the-sith from birth.

sidious, in a moment of sidious-like dark humor (and rage at the boy for not being what he wanted), arranges for the boy to be sent to tatooine to live under the ‘care’ of the hutts. this goes as you’d expect until, 7 or so years later, this 10-11 y/o furious, messed-up, came-back-wrong-but-somehow-even-worse, unaware he’s a clone of anakin, kid runs into… obi-wan kenobi, hot off the press of the events of the OWK series.

and obi-wan is like, no. nope. i’m not raising this kid. i don’t know how this happened or what the fuck the galaxy has against me now but no. i’ll figure out a way to free him and i’ll send him to live with the lars but i won’t raise him. so he gets anakin2 freed and they have the galaxy’s most hideous road trip out to the lars’ and they get on terribly and this kid is traumatisingly so like all of the worst parts of anakin with none of the redeeming features. he breaks obi-wan’s landspeeder trying to enhance it and he’s disagreeable and irritable and ungrateful and ungenerous and he isn’t even force sensitive or the chosen one. so obi-wan is straight up just putting up with him out of love for his old friend, who is now literally evil and just recently tried to kill him (again).

only obviously over the few days of their journey they warm to each other just a little. and obi-wan goes to leave 2anakin2skywalker with the lars’ and the kid is furious and hurt and they’re trying to comfort him all wrong and obi-wan is like “wait no he hates when you-“ and realises, fuck. i have to look after this kid. i want to look after this kid. there is nothing actually tying me here and no benefit beyond i kind of care about the little shit now. and i want him to be safe and happy in the same way i wanted anakin to be and i don’t know if i’m good enough to give him that but i have to try. because he needs me.

that, like, exploration of ‘what does this relationship boil down to?’ after all the situational ties are stripped away, all the promises and prophecies and shared histories and goals are gone and instead of in TPM where these two people are bound together by fate, now they are simply bound together by chance and choice and care and love. and how does obi-wan choose to navigate that differently. and how do they both grow and process their own histories. obviously spoiler alert they figure it out and the kid grows up tumultuously happy in the end as a sort of bounty-hunter-rebel type figure and he lives somewhat well on tatooine inciting slave rebellions and getting himself into various troubles and adventures. and he’s never force sensitive and he never joins the official rebellion or learns what happened to old ben who raised him til luke happens to run into him and tell him much later. and there’s no big “wow i’m anakin skywalker! i’m secretly magical and amazing!” moment or anything. he’s just a dude who lives a decent somewhat crazy life out in the sand and fondly recalls the father figure who looked after him when no one else would. the end

[jackhues]

for you - owen power (valentine's day special)

request: first off ur bio is so true but ! can i pls request  “you didn’t have to go to all this effort just for me.”₁ “that’s why i did it. for you.” with my beautiful large boy owen power pls <3 thank u so much !!!

requested by: @quietblues: )

notes: loll, thx for noticing my bio, i liked writing this, and it's a little longer than the others, but it turned out nice! thanks for requesting <3

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @l0veforhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @ratkingbunting , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley @huggyhugh , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @sundriedmilano , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei, @cinnamonpancake , @mitchymainer <3

join my taglist!

gif not mine!

“ooh, what about this dress?” your friend held up a dress, placing it against her body.

you made a face, shaking your head. “the colour doesn’t suit you. ask if they have a darker colour.”

she groaned, but called an employee over to ask.

it was february fourteenth, valentine’s day. while most of your friends were going out with their boyfriends, you and one other friend were going to be alone. she was single, while your boyfriend, owen, was out of town for a road trip.

“okay, is this one nicer?” she asked, holding a burgundy dress against her body.

“oh, so much better,” you told her. “see, darker colours make you look sexy.”

“thanks babe,” she grinned, sending a kiss your way.

you laughed, sorting through the racks mindlessly.

since the two of you were the only ones free on valentine’s day, you’d decided to go on a little shopping spree. it was completely unplanned, but the two of you were having a great time.

“hey, what time is it?” your friend asked you.

“um… six thirty,” you told her, checking your phone.

“alright, we’d better get going in that case,” she led you out of the store as you guys finished paying.

“wait, where are we going now?” you asked.

“i’ve got a date later tonight,” she told you, getting the car started.

“wait, what?”

“yeah, it was totally last minute, and honestly unnecessary,” she continued. “but an opportunity presented itself, and i wasn’t gonna say no. i’m sorry for cutting girls’ day a little short, i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“it’s fine,” you tried for a genuine smile. “you’ve got a date, and i’m so happy for you. tell me all about this guy.”

“well, he’s a friend of a friend,” she started. “he’s super cute, and-”

to be honest, most of her words flew over your head. you kept the smile on your face, nodding along and asking questions as needed.

you were definitely happy for your friend, but still a little upset that she’d gone on a date last minute, leaving you all alone. owen was supposed to come back tomorrow, but he would be too tired from the trip to do anything outrageous to celebrate. 

not that you minded. just spending time with him was enough.

“okay, i’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how it went,” she said as she pulled into your driveway.

“and i’ll be on standby in case he turns out to be a creep and you need me to rescue you,” you laughed. 

“we’ll see about that,” she smiled mischievously, waving goodbye as you left the car and entered your home.

you stretched out slightly, blinking twice at the sight in front of you. a carpet of rose petals lay on the floor, leading past the hallway and into your house. 

your heart began to beat faster and you felt your hopes get up. you immediately squashed them, not wanting to be proven wrong.

following the rose petals, you reached the balcony, where a single candle lit up a small table. soft music played from a speaker, the rose petals forming a heart in front of the table.

you looked around the balcony, not finding anyone else.

“whatcha looking for?” a voice asked.

you turned around, seeing owen standing at the balcony door with a wide grin on his face.

“hi,” he waved at you.

you ran over to him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. he responded in kind, sticking his face in the crook of your neck and holding you close.

“i missed you,” you whispered, pulling away and running your thumb against his cheek.

“i missed you too,” he laughed a little, pecking your nose.

“do i wanna know how you managed to pull this off?”

“well, i had some help from your friend,” he shrugged. “i promised her a date with rasmus, which worked out well since they both have the biggest crush on each other, if she managed to distract you while i did all of this.”

“turned my own friend against me,” you shook your head slightly. “i can’t believe you, power.”

“i wanted it to be perfect.”

you smiled, “you didn’t have to go through all this effort for me, you know?”

owen furrowed his brows, “that’s why i did it. for you.”

his words did something funny to your heart. with a small smile on your face, you pulled him close, letting him know how much you appreciated him with that kiss.

[likecastle]

Prompt “oh shit” “ I told you not to touch it!”

Thank you, anon! I forgot my own advice from the first one of these and wrote something (kinda) angsty. No serious warnings for this one--just misunderstandings, and some classic Nancy Wheeler passive aggression.

“Oh, shit!” Robin looks on in horror as the precarious stack of books Nancy had so carefully piled on her study carrel comes toppling down. The noise it makes, Robin is fairly certain, can be heard all across the Boston metropolitan area. Possibly she’s just triggered a sonic boom. Heads whip in their direction, and a great round of sanctimonious shushing rises up like a tidal wave.

“Robin!” Nancy hisses. “I told you not to touch that!”

“Well, they do say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” she jokes, trying to cover her chagrin. The look of exasperation on Nancy’s face makes Robin snap her mouth shut and start picking up the fallen books in silence.

Nancy is gathering up heaps of notecards that took the chance to spring free of the plastic box Nancy was storing them in, scattering all the way into the stacks. “Everything’s always a joke with you,” she mutters under her breath.

Robin feels herself flush—kind of impressive, given that she’s already humiliated herself so thoroughly—and dips her head to focus on the books she’s stacking. She’s starting to think coming here was a mistake—not just accompanying Nancy to the library, but coming to visit at all. It’s midterms, after all, and she could have just waited to see Nancy at home over spring break, but her semester ended a few days earlier than Nancy’s, and she’d thought it would be fun to drive back to Hawkins together. Nancy had sounded enthusiastic when Robin pitched the idea of a road trip—at least, Robin had thought she did. But now that Robin’s actually here, it feels like her presence is more of a nuisance than a welcome distraction.

Robin’s been trying to tell herself it’s just exam stress, but it’s getting harder and harder to convince herself that's true. After last night, Robin’s seriously considering just shelling out for a bus ticket back to Hawkins. And now, of course, she’s gone and made things worse.

Once she’s stacked the fallen books back on the desk again—probably not in the right order, but at least they’re not sprawled on the floor—she takes a careful step back and says, “I’m gonna go get a cup of tea from that place we went yesterday. D’you want anything?”

“I’m fine,” Nancy huffs. Then, thinking better of it, “Coffee—”

“—black,” Robin finishes, “I know. Promise you won’t leave before I get back?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, which Robin figures is as much reassurance as she’s going to get.

It doesn’t take her long to make her way out of the library and get in line at the little café around the corner. It’s sort of a relief, actually, to be out in the fresh air, away from the anxious silence of the library and Nancy’s own inexplicable bad mood. If only Robin knew what she’d done wrong—before she caused a massive book avalanche, that is. Nancy’s mood has been sour ever since they left the party last night, and Robin can’t for the life of her figure out why.

She’s trying to decide whether she wants Mystic Mint or Calming Chamomile when someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns to find a fresh-faced girl standing behind her. Robin knows they were introduced at the party last night, but she can’t quite recall the girl's name. Rebecca or Regina or Ramona, something like that.

“Robin, right?” the girl says.

“At your service,” Robin says, and then, for some totally unknown reason, she gives a little dramatic twirl of her hand like a Victorian gentleman doffing his cap. No wonder Nancy's so sick of her.

The girl quirks a bemused, almost pitying smile. “How’s Nancy doing this morning?”

“Annoyed at me, mostly,” Robin says, trying to be sanguine about it. “What can I tell you? I’m just really good at getting on Nancy Wheeler’s nerves. It’s a talent, honestly. I should put it on my resume.”

The girl—Renata? Romilda?—laughs incredulously. “I mean, I’d be pissed, too, if my date spent the whole night talking to someone else.”

Everything around Robin goes silent. All she can hear is the ringing in her ears. “Uh—what?” she croaks.

Roberta-or-Roxanna says is saying something, but Robin isn’t listening. It feels like that single word has replaced the sound of her pulse in her ears—date date date. Is that what last night was? Is that why Nancy was so weird about asking if she wanted to go to the party, assuring Robin over and over that they didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to? Is that why she’d worn her dressy shoes, the black ones that pinch her toes?

Now that she thinks of it, the place they had dinner before-hand was a little nicer than she’d expected it to be. And their table had been kind of secluded in the back, with those fancy candles. Maybe that would explain why Nancy had been so irritated when Robin started toasting her breadstick over the open flame.

She thinks back to how Nancy had introduced her to her friends at the party. She hadn’t said, “This is Robin, my friend from home,” or, “Robin and I went to high school together.” She’d just said, “This is Robin,” and Robin remembers thinking how strange it was that all of Nancy’s friends had glanced at each other like they knew exactly what that meant. She’d thought at the time they must have heard some embarrassing stories about her from their time in Hawkins. Only maybe that hadn’t been it at all.

She realizes, absently, that she’s holding up the line. The barista is staring at her, waiting for her to order, and the other people behind her in line are starting to get impatient, and Roseanna-or-Rowena is looking at her like maybe she’s left the planet.

“I’ve gotta go,” Robin says, to nobody in particular, before peeling out of the line and running out of the café without a second look back.

[mama-qwerty]

After witnessing Wade's low budget rock opera fever dream, I want to know how a SCU project can tackle being a full musical while also giving a logical explanation for why everyone is singing… but more importantly, who's our lead character taking center stage?

Okay, I put this ask on the back burner for a few days because I couldn't come up with a good answer for it, but it was so interesting to think about. Then it slapped me upside the head as I drove home today.

Who's our lead? Knuckles.

I can almost hear the eye rolls - Of course Qwerty would put Knuckles center stage.

HEAR ME OUT

My headcanon is Knuckles likes musicals, because everyone in a musical actually admits how they're feeling. He has a very hard time determining that in real life, and character motivations in most movies are handled subtly, making them hard for him to follow, so having people flat out say (or sing) what they want or how they feel is refreshing to him, and he's grown to appreciate music more since his little road trip with Wade.

So maybe one night after the family watches a musical, Knuckles kinda muses to himself how nice it would be if life were more like that. If everyone simply said how they felt instead of trying to deceive others. The ME catches wind of this 'wish' and grants it.

Next morning, he goes downstairs and Sonic's singing about how they're all out of Froot Loops or something. Knux doesn't pay it any mind, because it's Sonic, and the guy tends to break into some sort of sing-songy thing every 5 minutes.

He's off to meet up with Wade for something or other. Wade's kinda singy, too. But, again, Wade likes music, so it doesn't really stand out.

Knux goes about his day, slowly coming to the realization that everyone around him is bursting into song. And while he doesn't really know a lot of Earth music, the songs they sing seem awfully specific to whatever they're doing, or whomever they're interacting with.

It hits him. Just like a musical.

He rushes home to talk to Tails about it--the fox is smart, he'll know what to do--when Tails starts a ballad about how he loves his new home, and is so afraid of doing something wrong to be kicked out. Music comes out of nowhere, and Knux is dumbstruck as Tails goes into this big finish about finding a home where people love and care for him.

Uh. Okay.

He goes to Maddie. Her song is about taking care of others, but feeling a little stressed about it.

Tom. His is about how he wanted to make a difference in the world, but discovered that being a father was what he truly wanted.

Knux is starting to freak out. Everyone's singing, but no one seems to realize they are.

He's frustrated and confused and has no clue what to do, when he starts singing. About his lost tribe, his time roaming the galaxy, his shame at trusting Robotnik. And finding his new tribe, his new home. He feels something in his chest, something he hadn't felt since he lost his tribe all those years ago. Acceptance? Peace? But he's a warrior! He shouldn't care about such things!

But he does. He likes these feelings, and has realized how much he missed them.

And realizes that he likes his new life. His new home.

And as he finishes his song, belting out the final notes, he feels a shift. The mysterious music that had appeared out of nowhere was gone. As he made his way back home, no one breaks into a well-choreographed dance. No one as much as hums as they tend in their garden.

The curse is lifted, and he feels more at ease with himself and his new situation than he has for the entire time he'd been on Earth.

But, he had to admit, everyone bursting into song was a little annoying after a while.

[damianbugs]

steph and bruce fic recs :0?

oh anon u have made my week with this request. my month. my year in fact. bruce and stephanie is a duo that is so special to me and i am not normal about them at all, and so of course i have only the best recs to give you. they are soooo complicated, but that's what makes them so interesting and so personal. i hope you enjoy these!

STEPH AND BRUCE FIC RECS ON AO3

Permutations and Hinterlands by cabezas_de_vaca

She and Bruce are complicated (not bad complicated, not wrong complicated, just complicated, because he isn’t her father and will never be her father and yet he sort of also is) but he cares. It gets lost sometimes, under the demands of Gotham, but it’s there. And so, she just asks him. “Do you want to go to Colorado with me?” Or: Bruce, Steph, and a road trip

MY NOTES: some very heavy but very good stephanie introspection, along with a great take on her relationship with bruce. also, who doesn't love a good road trip fic?

Have I Told You About Minnie by Hinn_Raven

After you’ve known Matches Malone long enough, you get used to him telling you about his kids. Not that his kids know about it.

MY NOTES: i am physically incapable of not recommending this fic regardless of the ask. it must be shared and it must be read. a real feel good and fun fic, bruce is so silly, and steph is so fun. lovely inclusion (without actually including) the other kids too!

I Used to Be an Adventurer Like You, Then I Took an Arrow to the Knee by audreycritter

Stephanie was just on patrol and now she’s stuck somewhere, sometime, with Bruce. They bleed and bond and mostly try to keep each other alive— you know, just a Tuesday.

MY NOTES: im fairly certain i have recommended this before on here, but i have also reread it at least ten times, so who's to judge. one of my favourite time travel fics, also one of my all time favourite bruce and stephanie fics. the end is especially my favourite since it develops a specific part of their dynamic that i really treasure. must read!

we’ll have a feast of all the things we love to eat by smallzita

The story has always gone like this: Batman exists because of guilt and purpose, but mostly guilt. The story is going like this: it's four-thirty in the afternoon and Bruce Wayne is wearing a dress.

MY NOTES: girl dad bruce. baby steph. as the author notes say 'Bruce Wayne being a foster parent can be something very personal actually.' what more do you want? what more is needed??!?!

it's just a question by Magpietrove4 🔒

this one doesn't have a summary, or any tags, but it might just be one of the best stephanie introspections i've read. the conversation with bruce really ties it all together. must read!

Under Armor Over Armor by LeantheBean

"Fridays don’t always go my way but someday I hope they’ll all be fine." In which, Stephanie Brown gets ready for patrol.

MY NOTES: ohhhh this one is so special to me. imagine me sobbing crying screaming as i say this. it's so melancholic and. yearnful. a wonderful thing that connects steph and bruce is also the thing they will never talk about with each other. so good.

to brighten up even your darkest knight by Nokomis

While filing Batman’s paperwork as punishment for an unfortunate incident with the Batmobile, Steph discovers a momento from an early Cluemaster takedown.

MY NOTES: this one is sooo cute and so sweet. i love when batman is batman.

boston market by almondrose

batman & robin enjoy a mid-patrol snack.

MY NOTES: this one is also so incredibly cute. until it isn't. tears in my eyes forever. have read it so many times because it is just so real. must read!

[factorialsotherfandoms]

heyhey! pre-happy holidays!

for the christmas gift; os cinco in the farm au (like, in current time with everyone there)? or possibly, pre-farm/just post canon guizo and/or xande going through the horrors?

(if you send me something i'll also make you a present!)

<3

Merry Christmas Caff!!! Please enjoy some sdol farm au, with a good dose of canon divergence!

And to everyone else, a wodnerful holiday season to you all.

Spoilers for all of SDOL, and references to violence though none occurs

ao3 link: [link]

Two days ago, they were given a map. The day before that, a blonde woman had overheard them talking, and asked their names. It is with a little embarrassment that Chico confesses that he has no idea what her name is - names were always Guizo's thing - and she had not been exactly... forthcoming with what the map was about. All she had said is that Os Três needed to go there, and the residents of the farm would explain the situation.

A farm. The bitter irony of the world to send them to a farm.

He still has Dara, and he still has Lírio, and if he thinks about what they lost...

Dara is driving so Chico could cry, except that either he or Lírio has to navigate. Three months ago Lírio could have done that, but then three months became twenty five years, and suddenly the world is no longer designed for a paper map and a road trip. Some of the Order members had tried to teach them about smartphones and how to have a computer think for you; a computer might think faster than a man, but Chico knows computers and is absolutely certain he would never trust one with directions.

Especially not after...

Dara has not smiled since, though if that is the fault of what happened to her or what happened to them he is not sure. She has been vicious with bandages and gun alike, a sort of fury simmering under her carefully bland expression.

Lírio has smiled since, but not with happiness. Maybe it is better to call it a sneer as he beats aliens into the floor, his handful of jokes falling flat and his confusion - at the future, at the world, at losing both Xande and Guizo in five minutes which stretched five times that in years - rules their downtime.

Somehow, he is handling it worse than Voytek. Perhaps the problem this time is that he never had the chance to try.

Chico... Is it wrong for Chico to say that if Os Cinco had to become Os Três, then they lost the members he would choose? It is not a thought experiment he likes, but...

But it only serves to make him feel guiltier, really. He should have stayed, not Xande. He should have stayed and been destroyed and Xande was eighteen he should have been spraypainting fences not dying-

Maybe Chico can pretend he escaped, unlike Guizo who Dara very literally watched sacrifice himself to seal the door in her place. Maybe Chico can pretend, if he thinks hard enough.

Maybe they can all pretend.

The bloodstains and the broken skateboard and the smashed mp3 player and the snapped headphones that haunt his soul very, very much say otherwise.

But that’s why it is pretending, not hoping.

"Left here?" Dara asks, breaking the thoughts.

Chico checks the map, "no, next one."

She grunts a reply, returning to silence.

The borrowed van is silent, too. It feels wrong to even play music anymore, no matter what Lírio says.

This is a new van, their old one long ruined by exposure in the years they were gone. Given to them and filled with things, but not their things, never their things.

Even their clothes are wrong, now, the shops they used to buy their things barely even memories for most of Brazil.

"Left now," Chico says.

Dara throws on the indicators about three seconds before she sharply turns; the roads are empty, anyway.

Another few turns, and they pull up at a farm. It is laid out differently to the last one they visited, but it still makes Chico's stomach lurch. There is an actual barn for the animals - asleep at this time of night - and a shelter where the tractor is parked next to fields upon fields of not-yet ripe corn.

Given the time, they should probably pull up and come back in the morning. Except that there is a light on downstairs, and a figure moving about.

The woman in red had said that this farm's residents are familiar with the Order, and not to bother with a cover story.

Chico...

Lírio pops up at his window, hammer already in hand, "are we going?"

Chico is tired; he looks to Dara.

She turns off the engine, and cranks the window back up.

"Let's just get this over with," she tells them. "I don't want to sleep in the van."

They always used to sleep in the van.

But this van... and as only three...

"Alright," Chico takes a deep breath, and tries not to let the scent of cows do any worse to him than it already has. "Ready?"

It's for Lírio's sake that they make a call of "Os Três" as they leave the van, but even he can tell that Dara and Chico's hearts are not in it. Lírio goes in front - as he always has and will - but every few steps he glances behind.

Reassures himself they are still there - the same reason Chico insists on walking where he can see them all.

Dara takes one of Lírio’s hands.

He cannot take Chico's, carrying his hammer as he is.

At the door Chico steps up. He nudges Lírio to the side, patting his arm as he bulks himself up.

Just a job, they've done this before, he can do this again. Their alien experts are gone, but they are still Os Três - the legacy of Os Cinco! They can do this. They have always done this, and maybe they always will.

He reaches up, and he knocks.

The figure inside stops moving around. 

Just, freezes.

Chico knocks again.

Through the window, he can see them move. A few seconds after they disappear from the window, the door cracks open. Chico is about to introduce himself before it is slammed shut, and there is the sound of running feet against hardwood stairs.

"What was all that about?" Dara asks.

"I'm not sure," Chico thinks. If they have been having paranormal problems, maybe the middle of the night was actually the worst time to knock?

There is not really time to think about that, not when there are feet on the stairs again. This time there are two sets, accompanied also by a muffled "I'm sure it's fine, do you want to- okay, sure, just- no, no, it's alright." all in a single voice.

The one-sided chatter keeps up until the door is pulled open.

"Hi welcome to-" the voice is now clearer, but freezes as the speaker turns to look.

Its owner stares at them.

Chico takes a moment to stare back.

Two men, both somewhere around their mid forties. Both are heavily scarred, though the speaker bothers to cover it less. The man at the back has long, wavy, greying-brown hair and a mask covering his throat and mouth in a way that makes Chico's heart clench.

That the speaker's hair is dyed whilst wearing a lip and a nose ring doesn't really help the sick familiarity much.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" The man with the dyed hair's voice turns cold. "I warn you, this isn't going to work to your advantage."

The man with the longer hair has picked up a bat from beside the door. He goes to elbow the other man aside, only to be stopped by an arm and a quiet "not yet".

"The Order sent us," Chico leans on that, and hopes it helps. "To help with your problems...?"

"The Order?" The man's face screws up, and his friend's grip on the bat gets tighter. "What do they have to do with anything?"

"One of their intelligence officers gave us a map to this place...?" Chico looks to the others for help.

Dara steps in, reaching out a hand, "hi, I'm Dara, these are Lírio and Chico, and we're Os Três! We're professional alien and paranormal hunters, so if you're needing anything-"

She is cut off by a low growl from the masked man, the other's expression having darkened even further.

"- we can help...?" Dara trails off, and Lírio pushes his way past - puts his bulk between the two of them, and the two of them.

"What?" If the man's voice was frosty before, it is icy now. "Did you sick fucks get fed up with using Voytek, or did you finally realise that's a bit too much if a giveaway?"

Dara's "you know Voytek?" clashes with Lírio's "Voytek?!" and Chico's "wait what?!" into a tangle of words.

The man's expression loosens a little bit, but grows more confused. There's a few moments of quiet, and then he utters a quiet "riiiiiight..."

Really it is a little bit of a staring match.

"Yeah, okay," the man says again, still watching Os Três, though clearly not addressing them. "We can do that."

He lets his arm down. The masked man steps around him, putting his wider shoulders between his friend and Os Três. Both of these men are slimmer than Chico would expect from farmers, though a decent bulk of muscle is obvious enough.

"This won't hurt," the speaker tells them. "Or it might. It's been a while since I did it like this."

"Wait, what-" Chico begins, only to watch the man's eyes glaze over as an elaborate series of ritual tattoos appear across his body. The other one remains between them, clearly protective, a throaty snarl making itself known as they take a step back.

It only makes Chico's heart clench again, a distraction just long enough to miss how Lírio stiffens, right up until he stumbles.

The speaking man does the same, his masked friend abandoning his watch of Os Três to catch him and silently fuss. He accepts the help to balance himself - Lírio, meanwhile, finds his feet, and grips his hammer tighter.

"Get out of my head!" He yells at the pair.

The speaker nods, waves a hand at Lírio as though to dismiss him, far too relaxed and familiar for the situation they find themselves in. His masked friend keeps fussing, right up until he bats at his hands.

"I'm fine, Xande, stop fussing," the words cut through Chico like lead, and he hears Dara hiss too. "We should..." he turns to them, looking the trio over as his face becomes an awkward smile. "Sorry about that. But, like, I’m sure you can forgive us - we’re weren’t really expecting to see you guys again."

"Xande?" Chico can imagine Lírio's furrowed brows at the question. "They said...? Guys?"

And he no longer has to imagine, because Lírio turns back to face them. "Guys?"

And Chico... Chico can see it, but he doesn't- they're- what???

"I think..." the speaker - and if the masked man is Xande, the speaker has to be Guizo, right? It has to be, who else would Xande cling to like that, and the idea of one without the other is- "it might be best if you came inside...?"

---

Chico does not really process being bundled inside and shoved on a sofa. A hot drink is forced into his - all of their - hands, and he cups it close. He, Dara, and Lírio are squished onto one two seat sofa, while Xande takes the armchair and probably-Guizo sits criss-cross on the floor. None of them are really too sure where to start - the photo of Os Cinco beside the tv, perhaps, or the little dolls of the five of them and a few older ladies, or even just follow Lírio's lead and scoop them into hugs. Maybe hugs would be best, but Xande and Guizo are old and scarred and...

And Chico cannot hurt then.

Cannot risk hurting them.

Not after...

Not after-!

"- And then there was a man there," Dara is explaining their escape from the pods. "His name was Dante? He said he was from the Order, and he was following up on old reports."

"Weird," Guizo talks, which is not unusual, but Xande's complete silence is - silence, sure, but a hum or a whisper or anything... "We... Well, I asked them for help. When we first escaped. Gave the report to Calisto and everything. But... when they went back there, it was gone. Just an abandoned radio station, no bullshit floors. I went too. And everything was just... Gone. Very gone. Super gone. It was so fucking weird. Back there, me and Calisto and one of his friends, and just. Shit all. Nothing. Not a trace of any of you, and Xande..."

He trails off, glancing up and back to his friend.

There is a lot of pain in Guizo's voice, a guilt that reflects in Chico's throat. It's with that recognised lump now shared that he tries to find his casual voice and say "must have been a timer or something; but we're here now."

"We are!" Guizo finally grins, and that grin only confirms his identity as he holds out his fist, and four more tap his own. "Os Cinco forever!"

"Come with us?" Lírio asks. "We can hunt together again, yeah."

The grin quickly falls; the man glances to Xande, whose fingers clench.

"We can't," Guizo's voice is genuinely apologetic. "We're old, out of practice. And we've got the farm. Gotta be here every five am to feed the chickens and that. We're not really... we'll help! We still do a bit of magic here and there, so just ring us for advice! And our house is your house, just..."

"Are you sure?" Dara asks. "You're still ours, you know."

Guizo goes to talk, then turns to Xande. Xande nods, and after a few moments though Guizo replies "I don't think I can do that again."

It's not Guizo, though; it's Xande.

Of all people it's Xande who is hesitating.

Seeing the tension he struggles for a new question. With difficulty thinking right now, he is quite proud of "what happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, " Guizo says, and Chico does not miss the emphasis. "What happened... We met some ladies with no kids. They took pity on us, gave us some work, and left us the farm when they passed."

That's not what Chico meant, but he will take it.

He's about to ask a follow up question, something calming and to keep them away from horror at this house.

His plans, however, are scuppered by Lírio.

"How did you escape the building," Lírio says, before Chico's words form. "With the pits and the traps and that."

"I don't remember much," Guizo confesses. "I went through the door and then... I was back. There were corpses everywhere, and Xande was right in the middle. Went to dust him or something, and... he wasn't quite dead." Guizo glances at Xande; Xande shuffles an arm over Guizo's shoulders. "Got out, got Xande out, and then there was no phone. So I hotwired the van, got to a roadside help point, and... And somehow Xande survived. Now we're here."

Guizo reaches up and squeezes Xande's hand. It's a subtle thing from someone who was never subtle in the past, absent minded like a lot of things aren't.

Twenty five years will do that, just like it has thickened the barrier in the room.

"Xande?" Dara's voice is not quite anxious, but it sounds like she has realised something terrible. "When Guizo said he was fine..."

Xande glances down to Guizo, who leans back and up. There is a silence of a few moments - in the better light and with them shifting, Chico can see the rings on their fingers trailing non-tattoos to their ears, the mark of the telepathy spell. Whatever silent words they say, it ends in Xande slowly nodding and Guizo whispering back "you're okay, I'm right here. I won't leave."

Lírio asks something, but it is lost as Xande pulls down his mask - not only from his face, but also his throat.

His upper face was scarred enough, but those across the lower part are more distinct - and there is unevenness where the bones of his nose, cheek, and jaw were broken in ways impossible to cleanly set.

It is nothing, however, compared to when Xande opened his mouth.

As soon as he sees it, Chico knows something is wrong. It takes a while, however, for him to actually comprehend it - mouths are supposed to be holes, so it takes a while to understand that this one is emptier than usual.

"Xande..." it's Dara again, somehow with her feet under her still even as Chico's stomach turns to mush - they lived, they both lived, thank Lírio's God they lived, but the pain, the horrors, it is etched into their bones - "Can I see?"

Xande hesitates more than he ever would have before.

After a few moments, however, he gets up. He comes and perches on the arm of the sofa, allowing her to push and pull his face around. Dara mutters under her breath for a bit, tears slowly gathering until she gives in and pulls Xande into a hug.

Momentum has her tumbling back into Chico, who tries to catch her only to end up in Lírio's lap. Guizo laughs at them, but makes no move to join in.

Xande, too, quickly unpicks himself, pulling up his mask and fleeing behind Guizo once again.

Guizo keeps giggling, patting at Xande's leg before turning back to them.

"I don't suppose any of you picked up Libras since we last spoke?" Guizo's voice is hopeful, but his eyes doubt it.

"Sorry," Chico finds his voice. "We were busy learning about smartphones."

"Horrible inventions, bar the tiny cameras," Guizo reaches for one - on charge beside the tv, then pauses. "Wait, no, later - Xande? You wanna sign, think at me, or just ignore them and leave me to the talking?"

Xande leans down, burrowing his face into the side of Guizo's neck. Whatever answer that is, Guizo smiles, ruffling his hair, and then kisses that hair.

There's no time to think about that before Guizo starts talking again.

"Xande says he's sorry, his memories got messed with by the alien that tried to kill him, so his memories of you guys are kind of piecemeal and tape derived," Guizo shuffles a bit, finding and stealing one of Xande's hands. "I say he's an idiot, of course you don't care, and twenty five years later my memory's faded a lot too. For a long while him remembering anything seemed impossible - he didn't even know his name - but we got there. Actually, tapes! It's late now, but we have tapes for you guys. Got out of the habit over time, but we do you an update every New Year’s. We can show you in the morning?"

There's a hesitation in Guizo's voice that Chico can only detect because this man is still, at his core, Guizo. Things have changed, and he doesn't seem sure what to do with the group in his house beyond keep talking, but that too has always been Guizo's answer to everything.

And making them a video tape... Chico would bet there are more than just once a year, but specifically having a tradition of making a tape for them, and talking like it's a given they will still be there in the morning...

"I- fuck," Chico rubs at his eyes, trying to stem off the tears. "Guys... yeah, yeah, the morning sounds great. We have a van, if-"

"There's a guest room," Guizo cuts over him. "Two of you can share a bed, or one of you can take the couch? And van! Your old van is out back. We have some of your stuff in the basement. Not sure what's still good, but you can sort it. If you've got time...?"

They have the van.

They saved their things.

Vans aren't supposed to last that long, especially not ones as abused as that one. It's not, they aren't-

Stemming the tears isn't happening any more.

"Chico?" Lírio's voice is worried as he slips an arm around his back, and Dara just leans over, resting her head on his shoulder.

It's Guizo, though, who gets up and wraps both arms around Chico. Xande trails behind, not hesitating long before wrapping one arm around Dara, and the other around Guizo.

"You're happy?" Dara asks.

Guizo doesn't answer her and Chico doesn't see it from where he is crushes into Guizo's now much older chest, but he thinks that Xande must have given some indication of an answer.

 Dara shifts, and there's a moment, and then "don't you DARE scare me like that again, Alexandre" she yells, months of despair boiling over. "When they said you stayed behind I- you- And you! Guilherme R. Santos! What was that shit about the door having your life's answers! You had better have believed that, else-"

She cuts herself off, and shifts to grab at both Xande and Guizo, pulling herself to them. Her weight stays reassuringly on Chico's side as she breaks into her own tears and "I'm so glad you're safe..."

"Us?!" Guizo only sounds mildly effective, though he adjusts in an attempt to grab at Lírio and dara herself as well. "We're not the ones who listened to that radio and got ourselves kidnapped!"

"It would have happened anyway!"

"You're all okay right, though?" Guizo speaks a little fast. "The pods didn't do anything? That alien didn't come back? The Order hasn't gotten you vanished or shot or anything like that?"

There's a story there, possibly one which explains the blonde woman's strange behaviour. Chico does not care for it, though; he grabs at his two friends, so much older now, and makes sure he knows exactly where both Lírio and Dara are. He sobs into Guizo's pyjamas for far longer than is reasonable, and if five people end up sleeping in the living room that night, it's only because Os Cinco was never supposed to be apart in the first place.

[thesconesyard]

It’s time for the third tale in this story and time for Yeehawgust!!! Yay for the Enterprise Ranch!

Underneath the Western Sky

1. On the Road Again

Leonard McCoy stood for a moment on the front porch and looked out over the Enterprise ranch. A small noise came from by his feet. He didn’t need to look to know it was Jaylah’s pet cat Franklin. The little cat had decided from the start that he was McCoy’s shadow. Anywhere he went on the ranch Franklin followed.

At first McCoy had found it extremely annoying, but one day the little cat had given him warning before he had stuck his hand next to a rattlesnake. McCoy had become reconciled to the cat then and accepted it as his fate to always be tailed by the ‘wee beastie’ as Scotty referred to him.

Scotty was in the house behind him helping his brother pack. Robbie would start in town at the post office the next day and would be staying in town.

“C’mon then,” McCoy said to Franklin and stepped off the porch to head for the barn. He’d get the wagon ready for the brothers. Franklin purred at his feet, but made sure not to get in McCoy’s way as he walked.

At the barn pasture he found the ranch’s owner, James Kirk standing with Pavel Chekov and Jaylah.

“Hey Bones!” Jim called.

“Hey kid,” McCoy replied.

“Need help hitching up?” Jim asked.

“Sure, if you’re offering.”

“Come on Jaylah, let’s see what you can do,” Jim grinned at the young woman. She had been on the ranch just over a year and had been working hard learning to be a ranch hand.

“Let’s go!” she replied.

McCoy followed behind them with Chekov.

“So,” McCoy began slyly. “You two seem to be getting along real well lately.” He glanced at Chekov from the corner of his eye. The young man had blushed.

“We have always gotten along,” he replied quickly.

“Yes,” McCoy said. “You have. But lately—”

“We all get along Doctor!”

McCoy smothered a chuckle. Ok, Chekov didn’t want to talk about himself and Jaylah.

“Well, whatever you two have going on, I’m glad for you both.”

Chekov made a choked noise and McCoy saw his color turn more red.

“Da.”

McCoy drove the horses as Scotty and Robbie chatted away behind him. He felt a touch alone up front by himself, but he couldn’t grudge the brothers their time together. They had been apart for years, until McCoy had secretly reached out to the brother still in Scotland. In the end it had turned out that there was no need for the brothers to still remain no contact. The people who had threatened them were long dead.

“Well, where are ya going to stay?” McCoy asked as they came to the edge of town. “The hotel? Or did you sort out somewhere else while we were gone?”

“The hotel for now,” Robbie said. “Miss Gaila had rooms cheaper, but Mr. Farrell said it would look better to be at the hotel.”

McCoy chuckled.

“There’s nothing wrong with Gaila’s,” Scotty protested. “But I ken what he means.”

“We could stop in before heading back,” McCoy said over his shoulder. He drove the wagon up the street, and straight into the yard next to the hotel.

“Of course!” Scotty exclaimed. “We’ve got to celebrate!”

“You alright?” McCoy asked as he and Scotty drove home as the sun began to set.

“Aye,” Scotty said and slid a little closer to McCoy. “He’s just a quick trip to town away now. I’d have loved if he’d stayed on the ranch, but I understand.”

McCoy smiled.

“I’m just glad he’s back,” Scotty continued. “I know I’ve said it many times already, but thank ye so much for writing to him love.”

“Your welcome darlin’,” McCoy said and moved the reins to one hand. He put the other arm around Scotty. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 5/25

What Am I Feeling Today?

I pray that you all forgive me! I’ve completely fell off with posting my quiet times and I feel horrible about it! I want to be held accountable and I will try my absolute best to go back to posting daily! Also, I’m feeling a bit stressed because I have a trip coming up and I’ve never been that far from home and the day after I come back I start my new job so if you could all pray for me to have peace of mind and trust that God will allow everything to align the way it’s supposed to, I’d really appreciate it.♥️

Ruth 1 NIV

(v. 5) “both Mahlon and Kilion also died, and Naomi was left without her two sons and her husband.”

‭‭I felt like reading the book of Ruth because I wished to know more about the women in the Bible and the role they played. I wish to be encouraged by them and to mimic their great qualities. This stood out to me because Naomi left her home town because of famine with her family and now they’re all dead, my heart hurts for her, it’s must’ve been a terrible grief to deal with.

(v. 6-10) “When Naomi heard in Moab that the Lord had come to the aid of his people by providing food for them, she and her daughters-in-law prepared to return home from there. With her two daughters-in-law she left the place where she had been living and set out on the road that would take them back to the land of Judah. Then Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back, each of you, to your mother’s home. May the Lord show you kindness, as you have shown kindness to your dead husbands and to me. May the Lord grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband.” Then she kissed them goodbye and they wept aloud and said to her, “We will go back with you to your people.””

It’s sweet to know that she at least had her two daughters in law but I understand where she was coming from. They were still young (I assume), they could’ve stayed in Moab because that’s where they’re from, they could’ve found other husbands, they were under no obligation to go with Naomi.

(v. 14) “At this they wept aloud again. Then Orpah kissed her mother-in-law goodbye, but Ruth clung to her.”

Correct me if I’m wrong but there wasn’t anything inherently wrong about Orpah leaving? She was given a choice and she had free will, I don’t see that there was at all a ‘wrong’ decision that could’ve been made.

(v. 16-18) “But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me.” When Naomi realized that Ruth was determined to go with her, she stopped urging her.”

This really speaks to how much Ruth loved and trusted Naomi! She was willing to leave her whole life behind and go and follow her and her God and to stay with her. This is admirable, to have this sort of connection and relationship. In a sense, I believe it’s how we should view God, that nothing should be able to urge us away from Him!

(v. 19-21) “So the two women went on until they came to Bethlehem. When they arrived in Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them, and the women exclaimed, “Can this be Naomi?” “Don’t call me Naomi,” she told them. “Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me.””

For reference, Naomi means pleasant and Mara means bitter. She was bitter because of the deaths of her husband and sons. I can’t understand the pain she must’ve gone through but we’re instructed not to hold on to bitterness, it hardens our hearts, and even in trials and suffering we’re meant to praise God through it all. I know that’s easier said than done but also, would you rather rely and trust in His love? Or allow yourself to be consumed by bitterness, anger, and grief?