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actiniumwrites · 2 years ago

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hiya! if your requests are still open could i request a scenario any of the “immortal” characters (e.x: the archons & adepti) with a mortal!reader who exchanges a part of them to become immortal so that they don’t have to worry about leaving the character? the reader’s gender is up to you!

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 (𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄)

synopsis: in which you exchange your vision for immortality, determined to live an eternity with your lover

characters: venti, zhongli, scaramouche, and dainsleif x gn!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of death and mortality, fear of death, mentions of morbid conversations, scaramouche might be a little ooc here, purposefully inaccurate depictions of how celestia and visions work

notes: um so this request was sent to me back in november of 2022, so, anon, i am very sorry it took me so long to write this. i loved the idea a lot so i hope you enjoy this. also i’m not 100% sure scaramouche is immortal, but he’s been around for centuries and isn’t human so we’re just going to assume he is 👍

Venti:

The wind was blowing softly as you walked up to the giant tree, Vennessa’s Tree. You could hear the faint sounds of a lyre playing an alluring tune among it. If your boyfriend was anywhere, it was here…or the bar.

An off key note made your eyes snap up from where you were watching the ground, not expecting him to have heard you so easily.

“Hello, my love!” Venti cheered.

“Hi, Venti,” you lovingly spoke softly, moving to sit down next to him. Your head carefully moved to rest upon his shoulder and he continued to play softly, although this time around, it was a different song — one of your favorites.

A smile pulled at the sides of your lips. It was the first one since you’d gotten back from your journey. The very same journey your boyfriend was unaware of.

When he finished playing it, Venti set the lyre down next to him against a tree root. His face turned serious, “Something’s wrong.”

“Is there?” you played dumb, unsure of how to bring up the topic at hand. Venti didn’t fall for it. He never did.

He began to scan over your body for any sign of injuries, afraid something bad happened. When he saw there was nothing there, his hands gently placed themselves on the sides of your cheeks so he could rotate your head. He smiled the whole time, but you knew he was just masking his concern.

“I can feel it,” he said slowly, eyes squinting as he looked far off into the distance, “something’s different.”

You tried to hold it back, but tears sprung to your eyes. There was no hiding it now, “Venti, I…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hurriedly wiped your tears as you looked up at him, “it’s okay, I swear! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s just,” you sniffled. The tears weren’t from injuries or hurt feelings, but simply because you were overwhelmed. The entirety of your future was now uncertain aside from the fact that you could no longer face death. You had centuries ahead of you, and it wasn’t something you had before, “my vision. I traded it.”

“What? Why would you…” he mumbled, mind racing back and forth. You loved your vision. It was something you had worked so hard for as a child, a representation of your dedication. It wasn’t like you needed money or anything, so why would you get rid of it?

Through your tear filled eyes, you smiled, “You don’t have to worry anymore, Ven. All those years ahead, we can spend them together.”

“You…you’re…?” he breathed out heavily, realization hitting him all at once. A smile broke through his lips, happy tears of his own were beginning to form, “you did that for me?”

You nodded and he threw himself against you, embracing you tightly. In all the years he had been alive, Venti was sure he would be alone forever. But in life and death, you were with him forever.

Zhongli:

Zhongli hadn’t noticed right away.

He was perceptive, yes, but there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with you at first. You often hid things very well. It was one of the only things he didn’t like about you. If something were to go wrong because he wasn’t observant enough with you, Zhongli would feel perpetually guilty.

It wasn’t until weeks after your journey that he had finally realized something had changed.

You seemed normal for the past few weeks. There were a few moments where you were oddly fidgety or anxious, but he chalked it up to the fact that you had just gotten back from a work trip. Perhaps you were tired out from it. Plenty of people came back a little on edge from trips, he had seen it first hand.

When it became continuous, worries began to whisper in his ear. No, he hadn’t thought you cheated or did something bad. Zhongli knew you well enough to know you weren’t that kind of person. If anything, he was worried that something bad had happened to you. That maybe someone hurt you or there was something you couldn’t tell him.

So, he brought it up at dinner one day.

His hand reached across the table, warmly cupping it around yours. His thumb gently traced over the back of it, a soothing action he knew you loved. He inhaled and pursed his lips before bluntly asking, “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I want you to know you can tell me and I will take care of it.”

Your face morphed into confusion, awkwardly laughing at his wild assumptions, “I’m sorry, what? Where’d you get that idea?”

Zhongli retracted his hand from yours slowly. His face was now equally as confused as yours, “I apologize, my love. You have been acting rather off since your trip. I thought maybe something bad had happened or someone may have hurt you. Am I incorrect?”

Another awkward laugh fell from your lips before you sighed and averted your eyes to look out the window of the restaurant, “Yes, but nothing bad happened. I’ve just been a little…down about something.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a bit to the side, “If you were feeling upset, you could have come to me. You know I hate to see you like that.”

“I know, I just,” you started hesitantly, “I wasn’t ready to tell you yet.”

“Tell me…what?”

The whirlwind of emotions you had been feeling over the past few weeks began to hit you harshly and you couldn’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes, “I traded my vision, Zhongli.”

He took a few seconds to process, but his hand grabbed yours again. He wasn’t sure what you were talking about, but the fact that you were crying was enough to scare him, “I…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I made a deal with Celestia…to be come immortal. In exchange for immortality, they took my vision,” you explained slowly, staring down at the table.

Zhongli rose from his seat slowly before walking to your side of the table. He kneeled down beside you, a few tears springing at his own eyes as he looked directly into yours, “Why would you do that?”

“For you,” you breathed out happily, cupping his face as the tears fell from your eyes “I want to be with you forever, Zhongli.”

Zhongli rose a bit from his place on the floor. Cupping your face with his hands, he kissed you softly, yet eagerly. You could feel the love and passion with in it. All the sadness melted away in an instant.

He had witnessed so many of his friends and past lovers parish before him. Victims to time and mortality. But here you were, willing to sacrifice something you cared for so much to spend an eternity with him.

And in that moment, Zhongli realized he’s never loved someone as much as he’s loved you.

Scaramouche:

You were used to Scaramouche pushing you away when things got rough. Not because he was angry with you or tired of you, but because his emotions were too much to handle. The sadness was too much to bear.

The conversation of immortality had come up very often. A worry of his that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

What would happen when you were gone?

How was he supposed to move on?

Love someone else?

If Scaramouche was being honest, he knew there was no way he could love another. Not after you, the one person he’s ever truly loved and the only one he hasn’t lost. You understood and cared for him in a way that no one else ever had or ever could. Despite not having a real heart, his love for you was so strong enough to make him feel like he did.

When you left for some sort of trip, Scaramouche hadn’t been suspicious of anything. You claimed it was for your job — just a week long trip out of Sumeru to take care of some business. It seemed urgent, according to you at least. He understood and didn’t question any part of your story, even if it did have holes in it.

Although he didn’t show it outwardly, the week without you was rather miserable for him. Anytime you were gone, everything seemed to remind him of the centuries that he had been alone. The people he had watched die or turn on him and how weak he felt. It made him wonder, once again, how he could ever live without you.

When you returned days later, it was late at night. The lights to your shared home were turned off and everything was silent. You dropped your things inside, but before you could head to your room, you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend through the window. His hat was cast aside on the grass next to him where he was lying down. The wind was blowing his hair softly across his face as he gazed up at the stars, something you frequently did together.

Coincidentally, it was during those times that the topic of immortality would come up. The stars made Scaramouche sad when he peered up at them. Despite not believing in their genuine existence, he would hate to look up one day and find you among them. Far away from him. Mortality permanently holding you in its grasp.

You silently walked outside to where he was lying down, careful not to disturb him. You laid down next to him, gently taking his hand in yours. His fingers interlocked themselves with yours, but he didn’t bother to turn and look at you, already knowing who it was. When you looked to him, however, his eyes were glistening with small tears, the stars reflecting in them. He looked ethereal, but you hated how sad he looked — eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling his lips downward.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he whispered painfully, voice cracking a bit as his eyes finally met yours.

You send him a fond smile, eyebrows turning upwards, “I’m not leaving anytime soon. You don’t have to worry.”

“But you will,” he started, a hint of anger laced his voice, directed at those who dared to take away the one thing he loved, “You’ll leave eventually. Just like everyone I’ve ever known. It’s only a matter of time.”

You sat up slowly, reaching into the pocket of your pants and grabbing something out. A flash of metal caught Scaramouche’s eye. He sat up instantly, recognizing what the mysterious object was.

It was your vision. The bright shining blue light it normally had was entirely gone, drained of power. Wordlessly, you handed it to him. He grabbed it, but looked up into your eyes with confusion. When he did, he finally noticed the exhaustion and dried tears all over your face.

“What is this?” He angrily inspected the grayed vision in his hands, “What happened to you? If someone hurt you, I swear to you, I’m going to kill them.”

“No!” you quickly exclaimed, interrupting his oncoming burst of anger, “No one hurt me. I did this myself.”

“Start explaining,” he demanded. Although he looked angry, you could see the worry and fear in his eyes.

“I’m tired of these conversations,” you hesitantly started, averting your eyes to a tree in the distance. You could feel your own sad frown pulling at your lips as you fidgeted with the vision he had returned to you. Inhaling, you continued, “If I’m being honest, I’m not okay with leaving you either. It tears me apart to see you like this, Scaramouche. It sounds selfish, but I…I don’t want to think of your life without me. Not when it’s already hurting you this much and I’m not even dead yet.”

You paused to wipe the tears that had unknowingly began to fall from your eyes. Gesturing to the vision, you explained, “The trip I went on wasn’t for work, and I’m sorry for lying to you about it. It was to make an exchange. By trading this with Celestia, I’m no longer mortal.”

Scaramouche’s eyes flickered back and forth between yours and the lifeless vision rested in your hands. A mix of anger, sadness, and relief hit him all at once. Years of memories flashed in his head from all the mistreatment in Inazuma, the Harbingers, and to his newfound life in Sumeru. But most importantly, he saw you and all the ways you’ve loved him ever since you found each other. His voice wobbled a bit, dancing between the lines of neutrality and sadness, “Why would you do that for me?”

You tossed the vision to the side and held his hand again, “My vision may have meant a lot to me, but nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do. I would trade everything I’ve ever owned to be with you forever if that’s how it had to be.”

The two of you laid back down together against the cool grass, staring back up at the stars. This time, however, his arms embraced you tightly. The stars seemed to shine a little more brightly, a little more beautifully. There was no chance for them to take you away from him anymore, and Scaramouche was forever grateful for that.

Dainsleif:

The burden of immortality sat heavily on Dainsleif’s shoulders. It was a curse he bore, but not one he would wish onto anyone else. It was painful, unkind, and often struck those who deserved it the least.

When you had found him, you were not originally aware of the fact that he had been among those who were affected by it. You knew he originated from Khaenri’ah, but you supposed he was like your old friend Kaeya, who was also from there, but was not a bearer of the curse.

Admittedly, it was difficult to be in relationship with Dainsleif at times because of it. He trusted you wholeheartedly, but there was always this lingering sense of doom in his eyes. There were times when he would get close with you, share his past and his deepest desires, but then he would pull away. It was a constant game of back and forth with him.

You were aware it was because he was scared, terrified even. Dainsleif had lived a long life of loss and sadness. He had failed in his duties as the Twilight Sword and, because of that, he was forced to witness the death and destruction of everyone and everything he loved around him. Anyone he had ever loved he had lost, and he couldn’t stand to watch that happen to you too.

You couldn’t bear it equally as much. Dainsleif was the best person to ever have come into your life. Someone you knew could never hurt you. Someone who showed you more love than anyone else ever had. Your love for each other was like no other. The only thing that could truly separate you from him would be death, and he would love you until that day came.

As painfully beautiful as that was, it saddened you to a degree that nothing else could. You did not want to lose him as much as he did not want to lose you. And so, you decided to lessen his punishment. Immortality was supposed to curse him with loneliness and suffering, but that loneliness wouldn’t exist if you were by his side for the rest of time.

You left as soon as possible, vision stored away in your satchel and a notebook in hand. It was your notebook that held your recipes. As a chef, there were all sorts of ingredients across Teyvat that you had to often import or travel to obtain. It was the perfect excuse to leave without him raising suspicion. Because, although Dainlsleif detested the Gods and Celestia, he would never let you do what you were about to do. Not for him, and not for anyone else. Not even for yourself.

It took you about a week to return.

Dainsleif noticed instantly something was different when you returned. It was a little past midnight. He was sitting at the table of your home, window open to his left to let the cool breeze sift through the house. He had been scribbling away at a map when the door walked open, and in walked you.

There were dark circles around your eyes, a conflicting look swirling within them. Part of you looked relieved, while the other part looked saddened. His eyebrows furrowed as you stumbled in through the doorway, whispering a small greeting to him. Quickly, he was by your side and hugging you dearly.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, voice just barely above a whisper. You leaned against him, head tucked gently into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his abdomen. Silently, you nodded.

Dainsleif carefully brought you to the couch in the living room, sitting you down gently and setting your belongings on the small table in front of you. The breeze from the window drafted through again, strong enough to make you shiver. In an instant, Dainsleif was up and moving to shut it quickly so you could be warm and comfortable.

“Something’s wrong,” he started, hand moving to cup your face as you gazed into his eyes tiredly, “I know you aren’t just tired. So please, tell me what happened on your trip.”

You crumbled in an instant, unable to lie to his face, “I traded my vision. I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually going to get ingredients.”

Confusion settled even deeper into his blood as he stared at you, unable to comprehend what you were talking about, “Trade your vision for…what? Why would you need to trade your…oh.”

When he realized, you nodded carefully. The silence that followed suit scared you. You often had a hard time reading him, especially now.

His next reaction shocked you, however. Tiny traces of tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to pour over at any second. Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you could say anything, Dainsleif quickly leaned in and kissed you. Your eyes closed and you returned it, feeling the sadness, desperation, and love behind it. When he pulled away, you could see two or three tears had fallen from his eyes.

Gently, you wiped them away and hugged him tightly. He held you tightly in return, and silently, you both laid back against the couch. Exhaustion hit the two of you at once, knocking you out as you slept within each other’s arms. You had been exhausted from your trip and all the emotions you had felt from it. As for Dainsleif, his exhaustion from being cursed had eased up a bit on him. It him all at once, the realization and the lack of loneliness or worries he would have to deal with from now on. There was no more till death due you part, because finally, Dainsleif had you for forever and you had him.

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atwhughesversion · 6 months ago

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hello :) if you have more fil lore to share i would love to hear it 🫶

oh my god yes i do!! buckle in bc i love this czech man and his gorgeous beard and this post got a little long.

first, here is fil being smiley with his former teammate fil (fun fact: filip zadina is who the red wings picked instead of quinn hughes in the draft, allowing the canucks to get quinn.):

source

second, while i can only add one video, here is a link to one minute of fil and his dog (the photos below are from this vid)

fun facts about hronek:

idk if you’ve seen the clip but during one of the last games of the season, when the canucks were beating the flames 3-0, the hot mic picked up on fil shouting “you have holidays in two days” to the flames bench

he scored a goal off of a 107.9mph shot last season which is insane and i need him to do it again

quinn literally loves him:

“I thought we were going to be a very good tandem, but we’ve been way better than I could’ve pictured us being. He’s helped me so much.” [source]

“(I) probably haven’t played with a player as good as him. He’s really skilled, can move the puck, can see things, can defend, can skate…they wanted to maybe split us up but I’m happy we’re together.” [source]

“Maybe he’s not comfortable around the media, which is fine. But around us, he’s like one of my favourite teammates ever. He’s not quiet, but he’s not loud. He wants to work with me and I want to work with him.” [source]

fil vs the media:

literally gonna be a rivalry for the ages now that he’s signed a long-term deal w us and i kinda can’t wait.

backstory: hronek is quite reserved and isn’t super comfortable in front of the media, as is his right. at his exit interview this season, jeff paterson got into it with him because fil denied that he had an injury and jeff wanted him to say that he did on the record lmao. this conversation starts at around 2:25 of this video:

hronek: i mean, you named it. like, first half of the year i was producing, second half i was not.

paterson: and why was that?

hronek, my sassy king: um, why? if i know the answer, i probably would do something different.

paterson: were you playing through an injury?

hronek: ?? no

paterson, about to make his way onto my bad side: like, we gave you your space all year; we’re just trying to ask a few questions at this stage

hronek: well what do you want me to say?

paterson: i just, i was curious about where the production-

hronek: what do you want me to say on—like, on the injury, if i didn’t have injury, what do you want me to say? i said no.

[cue awkward silence until a different reporter starts talking to soucy]

now, fast forward a little while: he still hadn’t re-signed, and vancouver media was doing vancouver media things (speculating about how he probably hates it here and there’s no way he can be a canuck if he doesn’t like doing media and he probably wants to go to a more lowkey city etc etc.) when, low and behold, he signed an 8-year contract extension. One of his quotes?

"I guess I'm going to have to do more media for 8 more years. It's going to be fun." [source]

him and jeff paterson are gonna be bffs by like november 2027.

also, filip on vancouver as a market/canucks fans:

“I like it. It’s nice when people like it and they enjoy the hockey and they’re supporting us, so, it’s a lot of fun.” [source]

some fil pics:

baby fil:

#idk if this is what you meant #idk how that happened i just kept going #i’m glad the fil movement is going strong as we get ready for the next season #filip hronek #hockey #canucks #nhl #vancouver canucks #answered #sorry if it’s longer than anticipated

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archiveoftara · 1 year ago

Text

London Boy

Part 2

I found myself under a pile of bills. Utility bills, water bills, rent, things that needed to be paid but I don't even have a single penny to feed myself .

This small precious dream of mine is costing my life but I can't back out right now.

Six months ago I ran away from my toxic family, to make a living in London, to own a jewelry company but it didn't go as planned.

I banged my head on the table in frustration. What am I gonna do?

After a moment of contemplating my life, I begin to clean up the mess. Slowly picking up scattered papers when my eyes fell on an advert.

Lockwood and Co

The prestigious psychical agency requires a junior field operative and an assistant researcher. Duties will include on-site analysis of reported hauntings and the containment of same. The successful applicant will be SENSITIVE to supernatural phenomena, well-dressed, preferably female and not above fifteen years in age.

Unsuccessful applicants will include time-wasters, fraudsters and persons with criminal records. Apply in writing, together with a photograph, to 35 Portland Row, London W1.

I carefully folded the paper and rushed to my room.

33..34..ah 35. This must be place.

I check the advert again just to make sure I'm at the right place.

I fix my hair and clear my throat one more time before ringing the bell.

"Um hi-"

"Are you Arif's new girl?"

"....who's Arif?"

"Runs the corner store, usually sends someone over with donuts as you don't have any, you must be here for the interview."

I nod awkwardly. Not the best start I see

"Name?"

"Y/n y/l/n. Are you Mr. Lockwood?"

"Me? No." It seem like he is offended. "The last girl just went down but from the look of her, she won't take long."

I step inside the wide hallway, filled with artefacts, books and a chipped plant pot around the corner. This is where they keep their rapiers I guess.

"You win George. That was the last one."

"Then who's this?" The boy named George pointed at me as if I'm some alien. (and I took offense to that)

A boy with very bright, dark eyes and nice lopsided grin said "Hello, I'm Anthony Lockwood." I shook his hand and introduced myself.

"What's your talent?" Lockwood asked.

I gave a small smile "I don't have one."

For a minute I thought the time stopped. I tried to read their faces. I'm sure they're gonna kick me out.

"Well that's fine, we're looking for a researcher anyway and it doesn't need much talent, does it George?" He looked at the boy, sitting at the corner sofa.

He wiped his glasses on his t-shirt "I don't mind."

"Do you have any past experience?"

"Not really." I blushed. "But I am a fast learner, I will work hard. I really need this job."

"George will train you so don't worry." He clasped.

"This means..I got the job?"

"Yes. Welcome to Lockwood and Co"

My eyes shined like a diamond. "I'm not going to disappoint you sir, I desperately needed this job. I'll do anything, thank you so so much." I thanked them like my life depended on it and it kinda did. Lockwood and George exchanged a look (they were talking in some code word I can feel it.) It doesn't matter. I won't be here for too long.

It's been a few weeks since I've been working as a assistant researcher. We also have a new member, her name is Lucy Carlyle. She's really cool, we get along well. Lucy stays with them, they offered me accommodation, too but I refused, I still have a dream to chase.

The work is actually interesting but George makes it a bit difficult for me, he's a perfectionist. I don't blame him. I just try my best to live up to the standards.

It's the beginning of November, the nights are chilly lately. I've just finished some papers regarding the latest case.

"We should head back it's getting late." George looks at his watch.

"Hmm?" People already left the library, it was just me and him now.

I quickly stood up but felt dizzy. I felt an arm around my waist, I felt a pair of warm brown eyes on me. His mole is cute..has he always been this cute?

"Y/n you alright?" George holds my arm.

I clear my throat "yes. perfectly fine." I quickly gathered my books and walk as fast as I could. The moment I step out of the building I was welcomed by the chilly wind hitting my face. I stood for a moment, my back against the wall.

I feel so weird.

"Y/n, It's best we see a doctor." He frowned.

"I'm fine."

"You wanna walk by yourself? Alright, Let's see that." George scoffed.

"Why are you so mean George Karim?" I winced.

"You're being crazy. You clearly need help."

"George, I can manage."

"At least let me walk you home." He insisted.

"Nope." With that I make my way home little did I know what was waiting for me.

Maybe I should've been more polite. All he wanted was to help me but I'm a big girl I can manage. It's just a little fever. I slowly made my way to the neighborhood when I felt something strange. I feel nauseas, like something rotten is near me. I felt a heaviness on my chest, something was pulling me away. Soon I felt the cold hard ground, I tried to call for help but nothing came out of my mouth that's when I heard a sound of metal drawn.

"Are you alright?" He keenly looked at me.

"What happened?" I panted.

"You were ghostlocked. Please just let me walk you home we can argue later." He pulled me with him.

I think my dream is gonna end before it even starts.

Hello my dear readers, first chapter is done and dusted. Excuse my crappy writing. Hope you like the chapter. Do let me know your thoughts in the comment section. I love you!!!

Word count: 968

#fandom #lockwood and co #george cubbins #george karim x reader #george karim #35 portland row #reader x character #fanfic

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griefabyss69 · 1 year ago

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Hi hello!

Nobody likes religious trauma frowny face

For the wip game please 💜😊

both you and the other person in my inbox this morning asked about steddissy WIPs <3 <3 <3 What a beautiful morning!!!!!! This fic is 12K already lmao and another one that's going to be super long. I'm thinking of seeing if it's congruent with the other one I just posted about, if it is I will put them in the same series/universe!

This is one of my older ones, I wrote + shared a bit from it when I did this game in november! Here's the link to the post What I shared in that post was from when Chrissy was still in school, so I'm going to jump ahead and share from later in the fic! My characterization for how Eddie acts around Chrissy is fully extrapolated from that one scene in the cafeteria in episode 1, where he like bows all dramatic and lets the cheerleaders go by in the middle of his big monologue LMAO. Ofc I've made it way more well rounded than that, but at this point in the fic they're still new to each other and he's still walking on egg shells that he doesn't know aren't even there Excerpt: (Contents: ED mentions (in the form of child abuse tbh), rated G)

Eddie's fingers drum restlessly against his knees until he slaps his thighs, getting to his feet.

"Okay. We need to run an errand."

His voice is hard like it never is, even when he's putting on a dramatic show and taunting someone. He's clearly trying for a smile but Chrissy sees the glass in his eyes, even as he tries to blink it away.

She doesn't really know what has him trying not to cry but her own eyes sting in sympathy.

"Um, what kind of an errand?" She asks, hating how strained and timid her voice is.

Eddie chews on his lip, fingers twisting at his rings for a few agitated moments before he takes a deep breath and sighs it out.

"Sorry, I got ahead of myself," he says, the charm back in his voice but the cat's out of the bag, Chrissy can see he's still upset. "Would you like to go to the library with me?"

She lets herself frown in confusion, knows he won't take it as an attack of obstinacy.

"What's at the library?" She asks, catching her mistake the same moment he does.

"Books, duh," they say in unison as he grins at her and she rolls her eyes.

He laughs, seems like he's loosening up a little bit, and reaches out to clap her on the shoulder before stopping short, bringing his hand back to himself.

"Sorry, forgot personal space."

She doesn't frown at that because she gets it, but it would've been fine if he touched her shoulder. She kind of really wanted him to.

She shrugs.

"Which book does the library have that has you so excited?"

Eddie fidgets without moving somehow, his muscles tensing and untensing in the same way he taps on things. The tempo is the same, maybe.

"Don't hate me, okay? If I'm like, overstepping or just making things worse just tell me and I'll drop it but," he pauses, looking at her out of the side of his eyes, his endless array of expressions showing off both a puppy dog cuteness and a nervousness ready for a slap. He winces preemptively like it'll lessen whatever blow he's about to deal. "The library has books on sewing."

Sewing.

She doesn't get it for a moment, eyes wandering over the floor as she thinks about it, the hem of her skirt catching the bottom of her sight and tipping her off.

She feels her chin crumple dangerously and buries her face in her hands, trying to concentrate on keeping the tears inside of her face and the embarrassing sob in her chest. She cannot cry in front of Eddie, the only person who despite being scared to touch her, doesn't treat her like she's a porcelain doll these days.

"Oh no," Eddie says, voice soft and panicked. "I'm so sorry, I knew I should've just minded my own business, shit."

She feels a laugh bubble up, maybe inappropriate but way better than what was going to come out of her, so she lets it out, even if it's watery.

"Chrissy, I'll drop it. We won't go to the library, I won't get any books, I'll forget how to read," Eddie's voice is still soft even if it's ramping up in drama, like he's trying not to scare her and she hates that, but she hates that it works even more.

She sniffles hard, pulling her hands away from her face. She has like, two tears on her cheek but it's enough to make Eddie wring his hands, clearly unsure what to do now that he's made a girl cry.

She kind of wants to use it, show him how she wishes he'd comfort her, but that probably wouldn't be very honest. He thinks she's sad, and yeah, sure, she's a little bit sad all of the time, but.

Mostly she just can't believe it, that he picked up on something she hides so well, remembered maybe the one sentence she said about her mom giving her trouble about needing to let out her skirt again. And then instead of telling her she needs to listen to her mom's advice or try harder or just suck it up and deal with the shame and humiliation of trading in another of her dwindling meal options for a skirt that fits better, he just.

Fuck.

"Eddie I'm not mad," she begins, because she knows how despite all of his bravado about gender roles and how maybe they suck, he has a guilt for women that he doesn't for men. "I do want to go to the library."

He pauses, bottom lip firmly between his teeth, practically on his toes with how he's both working himself into a frenzy and desperately trying not to make it her problem.

"I'm sorry for crying, I just got like," she sighs, shrugging. "Surprised, I guess."

Eddie relaxes even though he's shaking his head.

"It's not your fault, don't apologize," he says, a little smile bringing out his dimples. "Do you want to go now?"

Chrissy nods, giving him a little smile of her own. She reaches out and claps him on the shoulder, squeezing. Since he won't do it to her, she'll do it to him; bridge the gap that he self imposed even though she's seen him get so close to other people's faces they could've been kissing.

#griefabyss69 writing #chats from the abyss #fun things

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quaranmine · 2 years ago

Text

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter Six)

Someone’s worried about Grian, and the Forest Service comes to collect Mumbo’s bike.

Chapter Six: 8,724

<< Chapter Five | Masterpost | Chapter Seven >>

The other half of the fifth chapter! I hope you enjoy this 1988 sequence especially, I was looking forward to it a lot (and it single handedly made the chapter so long it had to be split in two!)

No real CWs this time. I personally think that if you have made it this far then I don’t really have to warn you about the themes of loss and grief anymore, but just in case: yep, still very present.

November 20, 1988

It’s about noon on a Sunday, and Grian is…not doing much, actually. He has a thousand things he needs to do, ranging from cleaning out the refrigerator to trying to change his car’s oil to looking into a part-time second job, but instead he’s lying on the couch trying to watch TV. Somewhere along the way he tuned out of the program and started staring at the ceiling instead, mentally tracing out the patterns in the spackle.

The man on the drones on and on in the background, until he’s just part of it. Grian can feel himself starting to drift to sleep.

Then the phone rings.

Grian startles awake and sits up, scowling at it in the kitchen. He hasn’t the faintest idea who is calling him, other than maybe a telemarketer, but do those people work on Sunday? Well, perhaps they do. Everyone is home then, afterall.

It rings twice more, so he gets up and answers the phone. “Hello?” he says.

“Griba!” shouts a voice on the other end of the line.

And–it’s a very familiar voice.

“Pearl?” Grian says, just the slightest bit baffled. “Is that you?”

“Hi!” she says. “How are you doing? Are you busy?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “How are you? What do you need?”

“Can’t I just call to say hi?” Pearl asks.

“Of course, but–”

“But the international rates?” Pearl says. Then she laughs. “Oh, shush, I know you were thinking about it.”

“Oh noooo,” Grian says. “I don’t care about that at all, we can talk as long as you like.”

It’s a lie. He was definitely thinking about the international rates, and then immediately feeling bad about it because Pearl is a friend. He puts friends before money, of course, it’s just…well, it was expensive. But worth it! Pearl is Pearl. But every minute on the phone eats into his checkbook, and it’s hard not to think about.

Pearl laughs again. “Well, I’m glad you don’t worry about that. Not that it matters anyway; this call is local.”

Local. Local?

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you were right Griba, I did need something when I called,” Pearl says. “Can you pick me up from the airport?”

Grian’s head is spinning. “You’re at the airport?” he says incredulously. “Like, in Colorado? In Denver? Right now?”

“Yep,” Pearl says. “And I need a ride. Well, I could go get a taxi somewhere. But I figured I’d ask my friend first. Are you busy?”

Yeah, busy falling asleep to daytime TV on the couch. “Um, no,” he says.

“Great! I’ll see you there!” Pearl says. “Wait, how long will it take? I don’t know where you live, actually. Ooh, this is exciting! I’ll finally get to see your place.”

“Um, give me like half an hour and I’ll be there,” Grian says slowly.

He and Pearl say their goodbyes for now, and after she hangs up he finds himself staring at the phone for several moments. What just happened? First of all, Pearl’s in Denver, apparently. Second of all, he did not know this was happening. Thirdly, his afternoon just got way more interesting.

He grabs his keys off the counter and makes his way downstairs.

»»———-　　———-««

When he arrives at the airport, in the long line of cars waiting to pick people up and drop them off at the terminal, he does not expect to see Pearl waiting outside for him. Yet he picks her out instantly, a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

She’s bundled up in a black hoodie. The hood is up over her head, but he can see the long wavy tendrils of brown hair peeking out from behind it. Her hands are shoved in the hoodie’s pocket, and her nose is pink from the cold. When she exhales, he can see the faintest cloud of her breath.

He can hardly remember being so happy to see someone before. The second he sees her face, any doubt or mild annoyance at her unexpected stay just melts away.

He pulls his car up as close as he can to her, and throws it in park. She doesn’t know what car he’s driving, of course–she’s never visited him here. He leaps out and calls her name.

“Pearl!” he shouts.

She spins around and a grin breaks out on her face the moment she spots him. He races up to her on the curb and she throws her arms around him in a hug immediately. They cling to each other for a moment, before letting go.

“Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Pearl says.

“Oh, yeah,” Grian says. “A few years, right? Not since I’ve been here.”

“Ah!” Pearl squeaks. “I can’t wait to see it. I should’ve come for a visit so much sooner.”

Grian breathes a sigh, not of any annoyance or tiredness, but perhaps–of relief? Relief from what, he doesn’t quite know, but he’s so happy to see Pearl it’s like he can hardly speak. His breath clouds in front of him.

“Let’s get you in the car,” he says. “It’s so cold out here, why weren’t you waiting inside?”

“Well, it might be cold out here,” Pearl says, attempting to pick up her bag. Grian steals it out from under her grasp before she can, though, so she just trails after him to the car. “But it certainly isn’t cold at home. It’s kind of nice, actually. Anyway, I wasn’t out here waiting the entire time, I just walked out a few minutes before you came.”

“Well, don’t freeze on me before you even get here,” Grian says. He loads her things in the car, and they hop in. He starts to navigate out of the airport traffic. “How long was that flight?” he asks. “I mean, I assume you flew in from Sydney.”

“Ugh, it was never ending!” Pearl says. “It was like 12 or 13 hours, and that only got me to Los Angeles. Then I had a connection here.” She glances at the clock on his dashboard. “Did you know it’s almost the same time I left?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. I left around noon on the 20th. Then I landed and now it’s around noon on the 20th again.”

“Wow.”

“It feels like I got put in a time vortex or something and they zapped a whole day from me. And then I woke up and I’m repeating the day again.”

Grian side eyes her in the passenger seat. “Are you, perhaps, a little tired?”

“Exhausted.”

He smiles just a little. “I bet you’re hungry too,” he says. “Let’s get lunch on our way back to my apartment.”

»»———-　　———-««

They get lunch, and it’s great. They talk about various, mostly mundane things about their lives over the past few years. They’ve kept in touch ever since graduating university together, even as their lives diverged on totally different paths on totally different continents. But that was mostly just letters and phone calls. It’s entirely different to be face to face again. It’s so much better to be face to face again.

Grian asks about her career in Australia. “So, have you designed the next Sydney Opera House yet?” he teases.

Pearl gasps in fake horror. “Of course not! There can’t be a ‘next’ Opera House, it’s iconic!”

“Eh,” Grian says. “I think you could come up with a cooler one.”

She rolls her eyes affectionately. “Alright, stop it.”

“I’m dead serious. I think you could make a better one.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Seriously though, I mostly just do office buildings.”

“Hm, well that’s boring,” Grian says and takes a sip of his water. “We for sure don’t need any more of those.”

“That’s what most of the work is,” she says. “Lots of new development to work on! So what have you been up to? Any interesting projects lately?”

Grian hesitates a bit in replying. The answer is no, of course. Pearl’s aware of his job from some of their previous communication in the past three years, but now that they’re sitting here face to face she clearly wants to hear all about it without the constraints of a phone call or letter.

He just, well, has nothing to say. He hasn't even really received projects lately.

He and Mumbo came to Colorado a little over two years ago after Mumbo was offered an engineering job in Denver. Grian had figured he might as well dust off his completely unused dual citizenship and follow him here–it’s not like it was even a difficult process for him. It was the perfect sort of adventure to follow up five years of intense schooling, and an interesting place to put his new skills to test.

It had been that which enticed him to go with Mumbo. That, and the way his stomach had twisted when he thought about saying goodbye. They’d been inseparable for over a decade and Grian refused to accept a reality where his best friend lived so far away. Truthfully, Mumbo was a little apprehensive about moving to an entirely new country alone, so this had worked out perfectly.

Grian would go with him. They’d split an apartment and get settled in for a while and experience life in a new country. Grian would finish the rest of his architecture field training in Colorado and finally get his license. Mumbo would work on creating machines and learn about computers.

It was fine. It was fun. They had a good time–there were endless things to do, from skiing to hiking to rafting to biking.

Then Mumbo went missing, and Grian was just…still here, but missing everything that was worthwhile. He was struggling. Not showing up to work. Getting demoted.

“I haven’t really had anything interesting to work on,” he says finally. “There was this one house–way too massive, really, and the owner could never really decide what he wanted but he wasn’t so bad. But then I had to leave to…”

He trails off. Pearl glances at him and opens her mouth, but she rethinks it after a moment and shuts it again. She’s smart, and part of that intelligence is knowing when to not poke around.

“Mostly they just have me working on codes and compliance right now,” he finishes quietly.

It’s still an important part of the process, making sure that all of the projects are in alignment with local building codes. Sometimes it’s even frustrating, when he has to figure out things like getting a water line from whichever locality is closest for someone’s house perched high on a mountainside.

But he doesn’t have any of his own clients anymore. He does work for his coworker’s projects. He doesn’t do any drafting. He doesn’t touch any blueprints. He doesn’t design anything.

It’s not really the update that he wants to give Pearl. They met each other in university because they studied in the same architecture program. They spent long nights in the library together. He’s seen her rip up her papers in frustration when things weren’t working quite right, and she’s seen him start crying on the floor of her dorm room the night before a particularly major test. They graduated together.

It just doesn’t look good. Of course, he knows Pearl very well. She isn’t going to think anything less of him. It’s more, well, himself that he has to worry about.

Pearl purses her lips, and moves on. “Well,” she says, “that’s all very important. God knows we studied it enough. Don’t worry about projects, you’ll find some cool work soon.”

“As cool as office buildings?”

“With any luck, even better,” she says.

“How long are you staying?” he asks, realizing he still doesn’t know.

“Little over a week,” she responds. “I’m leaving next Monday.”

He frowns. “I probably have work, but maybe I can take off a morning to take you back to the airport–”

“I can survive in a taxi,” Pearl says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, you asked me to pick you up this time.”

“Mm, well, I wanted to see you,” she says, “and I had a feeling you weren’t going to be busy.”

He hates that she’s right, but only just a little. He’s sort of glad he wasn’t busy so that he could see her, since she’s apparently decided to drop this entire trip on him with no notice whatsoever. It does not miss him that she could have done this basically any weekend in the last several months and landed on a day where he wasn’t busy.

“What are your plans for this week?” he asks.

“I want to see everything!” Pearl says, and stretches her arms wide to accommodate the words. She has to pull her arm back in quick, since she nearly smacks a waitress walking by. They both descend into laughter.

“Pearl,” Grian hisses, “we’re in public!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she whispers. “I’m just so excited! I want to sightsee!”

Grian leans back in his chair and regards her with a critical eye. He’s smiling. “I don’t know if a week is enough to see everything,” he says.

“I am going to do my best,” she says, mock-serious.

It suddenly hits Grian. “Wait,” he groans. “I seriously have to work tomorrow. And Tuesday. I could ask off, but…” He winces as he trails off. “I kind of have a track record with my boss and I don’t think he really appreciates me calling out last minute.”

“That’s fine,” Pearl says. “What? I know I came here without telling you but it’s not like I wasn’t prepared to take care of myself. I’ll just see some things on my own.”

Grian nods. “I have a half-day on Wednesday,” he says, “but I think he’d be more amenable to letting me have that as a full day. Then Thursday’s off for Thanksgiving, and Friday too. Then of course the weekend.”

Pearl looks self-satisfied. “Good. I meant to plan it that way so you’d have a little time off.”

“So what do you want to do?” he asks. “One of them, I guess, since everything’s on the table.”

Pearl leans closer to him across the table. “Please,” she says. “I want to go skiing. I’ve never been skiing. Can we please go skiing? Please?”

Grian laughs again at the face she’s making. She’s so dead serious in her begging. “I’ll call around and see if any places are open. As you can see, we don’t have any snow around here right now. But further up into the actual mountains probably does.”

“Eee!” Pearl squeaks in excitement. “I’m so ready.”

“Oh?” Grian says. “I will literally bet you on how many times you fall.”

“I’ll take your money,” she says. “I’ll be the greatest first-time skier there ever was.”

“You will fall on your butt no less than a dozen times,” he shoots back.

They continue talking for a while, back and forth. Pearl tells him about various stories and adventures from Australia. She begs him to come visit–she came here, so now it’s his turn to come to her. Maybe next summer, when it’ll be cooler in Australia and hotter down here.

She’s obviously prepared for their trip and seeing him again, because she’s also brought photos to share with him. He looks through a few photos of what her house looks like, what a few buildings she’s worked on looks like, a picture of her by the ocean (she says he can keep that one, as long as she gets to go home with a photo of him), and even the two cats she has adopted.

They get the check–Grian pays for the whole thing without blinking–and head back to his apartment.

They’re discussing sleeping arrangements as they walk up Grian’s stairwell. He has his keys out already, and they clang a little step-by-step.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he declares. “End of story.”

“But,” she says, “I’ll feel so bad taking your bed from you.”

“You’re a guest!” he says. “I’m not letting you sleep for a week on the couch! You can take my bed.”

Neither of them mention that there’s a third option. Or really a fourth, because Pearl could always get a hotel room if it didn't work out, but she had asked to stay with him. She must have spent so much on flights already, it was the least he could do.

So there’s really only three options, and only two are being discussed. The apartment is a two bedroom. Mumbo’s room has sat empty for five months now, completely untouched. But that room isn’t up for grabs–it’s a time capsule, frozen from the moment he left it. Grian doesn’t mention it. Pearl is smart enough to not ask about it.

“Ugh, fine,” Pearl says, rolling her eyes. “I guess I’ll take your room. If you make me. I still feel like it’s weird though.”

Grian freezes on the top step, and Pearl nearly bumps into him. “Oh no,” he mumbles. “My apartment is–Pearl, listen, I didn’t know you were coming, so I didn’t really take a chance to clean up anything, so it’s definitely a little messy in here, and–”

She cuts him off, voice bright. “So what I’m hearing is the couch might be better than your room?”

“No, ugh, I’m just saying I’m sorry that this place looks so bad.” He sighs.

“I get it,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s not how I wanted it to be,” he says softly, and slots the key into the handle. “Just let me work on it, I’ll get it fixed up.”

They go into the apartment. Really, it isn’t that bad, but he’s embarrassed about it nonetheless. It isn’t filthy or grimy, it’s just cluttered. He’s always been a cluttered person. There’s stuff lying randomly about, like the somewhat muddy shoes by the door, the jackets shed across chairs, or the laundry basket of unfolded clothes sitting on a dining room chair. At least three random empty drinking glasses are sitting on the coffee table in the living room. And, well, he could have probably bothered to do the dishes from the last three days, but there’s only one of him and he doesn’t cook much, so really it isn’t very much even if it looks bad.

Everything in here would be so fast to clean up, but whenever he tries it feels like an insurmountable barrier. He does things a little at a time, so that it never gets too out of hand, but he can’t remember the last time it looked good. It’s just something that’s continually slipping further and further away. It feels like one day he’ll wake up and it will finally be completely out of control.

Pearl doesn’t say anything. She just walks in and drops her bags–which she had insisted on carrying since he insisted on paying for lunch–on the floor and puts her hands on her hips. “This is a cute place,” she says. “I like the lighting from the windows. And you’ve got a view of the mountains!”

“It’s cute when it’s clean,” he mutters. It’s like he knows how to be ashamed of how the place looks, but not how to do anything about it. He’s got the external motivation of another human being seeing it now though, and he’s itching to work and hide everything here.

Maybe it’s concerning that his main motivation after months on end is just so that he can hide. This thought does not cross his mind, because the sort of people who hide things from others are fantastic at hiding things from themselves, too.

“I saw your dorm room in university,” she reminds him. “You can’t seriously think I wasn’t prepared for your clutter.”

“This is worse,” Grian groans.

“Eh, not really,” Pearl says. “I think you’re doing well, all things considered.”

All things considered. Grian bites his lip. It’s nice that she thinks so. He isn’t sure where she got that impression, but if he can spend the rest of the week cultivating it then maybe she’ll stop worrying.

She walks over to the laundry basket on the chair. “Is this clean?” she asks.

“Yes, of course,” he responds, and he wants to add “I’m not that bad" to the end of the statement until he remembers the floor of his bedroom, which is exactly “that bad.”

“Great!” she says. And then she sits down. And starts folding it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and snatches the basket away from her. “You’re a guest! You’re on vacation! Don’t be doing that?”

Pearl frowns. “Um,” she says. “Just helping?”

“I don’t need you to help,” he says, and it comes out a bit harsher than intended. “Just, like, go relax or something. Take a nap. I know you’re exhausted.”

A brief look of hurt flashes over her face, and vanishes almost as quickly as it arrives. “Grian?” she asks. “What do you think I’m here for?”

“To see me?” he says, confused.

“Yeah,” she says. “Of course it’s to see you, I missed you. But also to help.”

“I missed you too,” he says automatically, but when the rest of the sentence catches up to him he shakes his head. “I don’t need help.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t? Then why can nobody get a hold of you, Grian? Why does your apartment look like this? Why do you deflect phone calls and make excuses? We’re all worried about you, you know. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“We?” Grian says. “You’re talking about me behind my back? Who’s we?”

“Well, we wouldn’t be talking behind your back if you talked to us,” Pearl replies, matter-of-fact. “And the ‘we’ is your friends. Your family, Grian.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “I’m sorry to have you worried but you don’t need to be.”

“You don’t get to try that on me,” Pearl says firmly. “I know you too well.”

“Maybe that’s why I don’t talk to you,” he says.

Pearl looks back at him, for a long time. He doesn’t return her eye contact, and instead begins to pick up the glasses from the coffee to take them into the kitchen. He knows looking at her will just make him sad. He also knows that he really, really wants to look back at her.

He misses her so hard it hurts. Mumbo hasn’t come back, but she did. She was never really missing, though–just separated far, far, away by circumstance.

She takes a deep breath. “Well. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you I was coming.”

He says nothing, and turns on the tap. It’ll take a moment for the water to heat up.

“You always try to hide,” she says. She picks up another item out of the basket and begins to fold it. “But you can’t hide if you didn’t expect me to come.”

She reads him like a book every time. It was a definite contributing factor to their friendship–they’d clicked fast and gotten very close in university. They understood each other well, and shared not only the same area of study but also the same ideas about pulling mischief on campus. There used to be a point in time where her reading him like a book served both of them well, but not today.

“I told you to stop folding that,” Grian says.

Pearl drops it with a huff. “No,” she says. “I’m not going to stop. You said I was the guest, right? Guests get to do what they want. And maybe I want to help you clean up.”

He finally turns to look at her. Her blue eyes are wide and just the slightest bit watery. He’s done that–he’s been the one to make her that worried. He turns back to the sink.

“Okay,” he says quietly, words almost lost in the water running into the sink. He says okay because he can’t imagine even trying to fight her on this. “We can work on it together.”

»»———-　　———-««

The cleaning goes well, up until it doesn’t.

“Grian, what is this?” Pearl says from the other room, loudly. She’s finished folding his things and has fortunately just left them all in the basket for him to put up himself, declining to go rifling through his dresser and closet. The next task she has taken upon herself has apparently been working through the clutter in the living room area, which is always a dangerous place.

Grian sticks his head around the corner from the kitchen. He’s finished doing the dishes, and is just drying them off now to put in the cabinet. “Let me see,” he says.

She turns around and Grian’s heart sinks immediately. She’s standing by his desk, the nice one by the window that he always liked to sit and draft at. She’s holding a few pieces of paper that Grian really didn’t mean to leave out. Because he definitely did leave them out–Pearl is nosy, and she’ll fly all the way across the world to drop in uninvited, but she isn’t the kind of person who goes through drawers.

But he did just say she was nosy. Nosy enough to read something he left out.

He drops the dish towel. “Give me those,” he says, and crosses the living room to the corner she’s in. He tries to snatch it out of her hand.

“Nope, not so fast,” she says, and holds them higher, squinting at them so she can read. Grian is, at this moment, extremely annoyed that she is so much taller than he is. He can’t quite grab them out of her hand.

“Pearl,” he whines.

“Shh, I’m reading.” Her eyes widen, and she looks back at Grian. He feels the slightest bit locked in her gaze’s intensity. It’s equal parts scrutinizing and empathetic. Like she feels bad for him, but is also a little disappointed. “Are these late notices?”

She files through them one by one. Grian cringes. He’d rather melt into the floor than be here. “Most of them are already paid,” he says feebly.

“Most of them?” she looks back at him. Her brows are knit up, and it creases her forehead.

“I, uh, get paid this week,” he says. This is another lie. He gets paid at the end of the month, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t seem fully convinced, but she hands them back to him and he takes them from her so sharply he almost tears the paper. He puts them in the drawer and slams it shut. It rattles the whole desk.

“The top one was about your credit card payment,” she says slowly, as if she’s halfway between deciding whether to say something and not, but was already saying it before she could finish the debate.

Grian fixes her with a glare and she wilts under it, immediately looking away. He shoves his hands behind his back, because suddenly they seem shaky. His chest is tight, and his jaw is set, and–he’s angry. He’s so, so angry, and it feels like it’s burning him up, white-hot.

“Why did you read those?” he demands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to find it, it was just laying on the desk–”

“You could have ignored it.”

Pearl crosses her arms. He’s activated her fight mode, and he rarely does well against her when she tries to be stubborn.

“I’m just worried about you,” she says.

Grian shakes his head. “I can’t with you right now,” he says. His tone is icy even while his whole body feels hot. “They were laying on the desk because I didn’t expect to have any guests.”

He turns away from her and walks partway across the living room floor toward the kitchen, and then whirls around again. “You’re just..showing up uninvited, messing with my stuff, reading my mail? Is that where we are now?” his voice cracks a little on the last time. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you in three years and this is where we’re at now?”

Pearl takes a breath. “I just wanted to help,” she says. It falls flat.

“It isn’t your business.”

“You never said you needed money.”

“Because it isn’t your business.” He enunciates every syllable clearly.

She runs a hand through her hair in a nervous, agitated gesture. “None of know what’s going on with you, Grian,” she says. “We didn’t know about this, so what else don’t we know about?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Okay, fine,” she says desperately. “This wasn’t my business. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked at it. But I meant what I said, okay? We don’t know anything about what’s going on with you!”

“There’s the ‘we’ again,” he says.

She shakes her head, incredulous. “Do I have to literally spell it out for you? Did you forget our names when you moved to America? It’s Jimmy, and Joel, and Martyn, and Netty, and Lizzie. It’s your mom. It’s Mumbo’s parents.” She pauses for just a moment, taking in a short, if slightly hysterical, breath. “It’s me.”

He doesn’t want to hear their names again. He misses them enough already.

“I’ve talked to them,” he says instead. Simple.

Pearl throws her arms in the air. “For hardly more than five minutes!”

“Well,” he says, with a bitter laugh, “you certainly know I don’t have the money for long-distance calls.”

“I guess I walked into that one,” she says. She stops, but there’s a funny look on her face that keeps Grian quiet. He’s still standing a few feet away from her after he walked off earlier. Her face scrunches up, like she’s trying not to cry, and after another moment she speaks softly: “Mumbo was my friend too, you know.”

It’s soft, but it still hits Grian like a ton of bricks.

She continues, and doesn’t look him in the eye. “I know he was your friend first, but I cared about him too. We all did.” Suddenly she’s crossing the floor toward him again, closing the distance he had put between them. “But it almost hurts just as bad to know you’re still out here alone. And that you aren’t okay.”

Grian swallows back against the lump that is rapidly forming in his throat. “I’m fine,” he whispers.

“I don’t believe you,” she says.

“I’m fine,” he insists.

“You need to go home to visit,” Pearl says. “Even just for the holidays. Please. Everybody’s worried about you.” She huffs a small little laugh. “They’re all worried and then they’re calling me because they think I know what’s going on. Because I always used to know what was going on with you. And then I have to tell them I don’t know either.”

Grian doesn’t respond.

“They’d be so happy, you know,” Pearl says. “To see you.”

“I’d never come back,” Grian mumbles. “If I went.”

“What?”

“They wouldn’t let me leave,” he says, stronger. “If I went home they wouldn’t let go.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Pearl asks.

Grian shakes his head like he’s breaking free of her request. “I have to stay here, because Mumbo is here.”

Pearl blinks, and then sighs. “Okay. I still think you should visit, though.”

Her eyes drift away from his face and over to the hallway behind him, the one all the bedrooms and bathrooms break off of. She speaks again sharply. “The money problem, it’s because of Mumbo isn’t it? You used to split all of the rent and stuff because he was your roommate. But now it’s all on you.”

“Something like that,” Grian admits, and it feels like he’s speaking around a block sitting in his mouth.

Their apartment is nice. Not luxurious by any means, but still a decent place to live. His neighbor down the hall yells at him sometimes if he comes back home too late and their door used to slam unpredictably until the landlord finally fixed it months later, but isn’t that all just everyday woes of having an apartment?

The apartment is nice, but it was never meant to be paid for by one person. Well, maybe a well-paid person. It’s not like his landlord wouldn’t have rented it out to a single person if they could pay. But Grian had never planned to pay for it by himself. And while architecture could be a well-paying job, he was very much still at the entry level. He’d only barely gotten his license after years of schooling and on-site training.

And then he’d gotten demoted for not showing up. The demotion wasn’t in job duties only, as he’d discovered on his very next paycheck.

So now he does what he can. He pays the major, important things first. Sometimes they’re a little late, depending on if his check has hit his bank account yet, but it gets done. He starts to depend more and more on his credit card for other things. He pays his minimum payment every month but he doesn’t feel good about watching it accrue.

“I can help you pay it off-” Pearl starts to say.

“No,” Grian says. “You aren’t doing that.”

“I can help you pay it off,” Pearl repeats stubbornly. “But Griba, if you can’t afford this place by yourself, you need to just move to someplace else. Smaller. Cheaper.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he says.

She tilts her head, expression gentle in a way that makes him instinctively recoil. “You can’t keep living here if you can’t pay. This is bad.”

“It’s okay,” he says distantly. “It’s only temporary.”

Pearl pauses. She has a horrible look on her face, so Grian looks away from her instead. “Temporary?” she asks. The word is tentative.

“Until Mumbo gets back,” he says. He grabs her hand, and pulls it closer to him, feeling suddenly like it’s very important that she hears him and understands this. “I can’t leave,” he says earnestly. “All of his stuff his here. It’s his home too.”

Pearl’s eyes are wide. “I can help you pack it,” she says. “You don’t even have to mess with it, or look at it, I can do that for you.”

He drops her hand. “No,” he says, baffled. “I’m not moving anything of his out of here. When they find him, he deserves to actually come home. He can’t come back to a strange place!”

Pearl squeezes her eyes shut. “Griba, please,” she says. He notices all at once that she’s brought his nickname out these past few times, which is a fact that should be comforting but instead starts to set off alarm bells in his head.

“I’m not moving, and that’s final,” he says. “I’m not going to abandon him.”

“You’re not abandoning him, you’re just…”

“Just what?”

“Being smart.”

It hurts Grian. “He deserves to come home,” he bites. “I don’t care if it isn’t the smart thing to do, it’s the right thing to do.”

Pearl backs up. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.” She takes a deep breath and exhales long and slow. “You’ll stay. I’ll just help you then, yeah? Bills, cleaning, everything else…”

She turns away from him, and starts picking up various items once more to organize them. “I’ll just help,” she repeats.

She wanders around the room. She’s not getting much done, but she looks busy, inspecting everything around her for one more easy thing to do. Grian just stands in the middle of the room stock still, and both says and does nothing.

Pearl continues to busy herself for a few minutes before grinding to a halt again. “Griba?” she asks, and Grian turns to her again as an answer. “You do have other people to talk to, right? People who live here?”

It’s a valid question. It’s a hard question.

“Of course,” he says.

“Stop lying to me,” she pleads. “I already told you I know you too well.”

He swallows hard. “I have people,” he defends. “Had people.”

It’s just that–it was difficult, after Mumbo disappeared. The new friends that Grian and Mumbo had made, they had mostly made as a pair. They each knew a few people from work, but nobody to really hang out with. So most of the friends they met were people they met while doing an activity together some weekend or evening after work.

So the new friends missed Mumbo too, when they heard about what happened. But they didn’t know Grian the way Mumbo did, or the way Jimmy or Joel or Martyn or Netty or Lizzie or Pearl did. They knew Grian as one half of a pair who was missing his other half. And Grian didn’t know how to interact with them alone. He didn’t know how to go to them for help when they’d barely been in his life for a few months or a year or two.

There’s layers to friendships, everybody knows that. None of the people Grian had met in Colorado had made it to the layer where he could talk to him. They were nice people. They wanted to help. Grian didn’t know how to let them.

So he withdrew.

“You had people. But not anymore?” Pearl asks.

“I didn’t know them very well,” is all he says.

Her expression breaks again. Grian has to stop doing that. “But you know us and you still don’t talk to us.”

“I just want to be alone,” Grian says. “Please, it isn’t personal. I just want to be alone.”

“I guess you’ll have to suck it up,” Pearl says. “Because I’m staying here for a week. And I will drag you outside to go skiing with me. I’m going to make you leave this house and we’re going to have fun together. Because I think you need that. And so do I.”

He turns and stalks back into the kitchen. He’s flipping between so many emotions that he doesn’t know which to settle on, so he seeks out something to busy his hands with instead: the dishes on the counter that still have to be dried.

If he stays in the living room, he might start arguing with her more. He might say something that will make her not want to visit again.

He’s angry at Pearl. Furious, even. Offended. He could look past her coming unannounced to visit, but the whole thing seems like a plot now. She’s got ulterior motives. She’s purposefully trying to catch him unaware and sneak past all his guard walls. She’s snooping through his things–his mail. It makes his spine crawl to think about. She’s literally trying to get him to move, even though she’s barely been in the state of Colorado for three hours, and even though it means Grian would have to disturb Mumbo’s belongings.

And still there’s another part of him that just really, really wants to go skiing with her.

Because–he misses her. He cares about her. And he misses even the simplest things, like getting out of the house to go do something with a friend. It’s just the littlest piece of normalcy.

So he dries the dishes, and she finishes up in the living room. Then he goes to his bedroom and starts working there–without her, because he doesn’t want her in the room until he’s made it look nice. Safe, even. Clear of any items that could incriminate him in anything at all. The sheer irritation of the afternoon fuels him harder than anything in months, and he finishes the task even quicker than expected, his movements stiff and jerky with anger.

On one of his trips back and forth to put things back where they need to go, he spots her sitting at his desk. She looks a little sad, staring at the pattern of the wood grain instead of the pretty view outside. He ignores her and goes back to work.

They exist like this in silence, for a little over an hour.

Then Grian walks back into the living room, picks up the phone book from the shelf, and sits down at the table by the kitchen where the phone is.

Pearl whirls around and he can feel her watching him with intense eyes. “Griba, I…” she trails off. “I wanted to say I’m sorry again. I shouldn’t have pressed you like that. I shouldn’t have looked at your bills. And I shouldn’t have come here without telling you.”

Grian just nods slightly. “Yeah.” He flips through some more pages. He doesn’t say anything else to her, just continues on his search.

She cocks her head slightly. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“Trying to find a ski resort to call,” he says with a weak smile. “Because I still really want you to drag me out skiing with you.”

»»———-　　———-««

June 1989

It’s two days later when a pair of rangers come to collect Mumbo’s bike.

They ask him if he has everything he needs, or if he has any requests for supplies that they can pass on to the main office. So Grian takes the first opportunity to ask them about the Cloud Lake Trail, and if it was really closed last season.

It’s then that he realizes that these two probably aren’t actually rangers at all. They may be dressed in uniform, but they’re just a couple kids several years younger than Grian is. They want to be helpful so earnestly, and their disappointment is clear when they can’t answer his question.

They inform him that it’s their first season working here, so they’re not exactly sure about what the Cloud Lake Trail was like last year, but that it’s open right now if he’s interested in it! Grian realizes that they’re a couple of seasonal workers just like he is, except they’re on summer break from college and Grian’s floundering on the cusp of his 30s.

They’re friendly. Grian tries his best to match the energy, for the sake of politeness.

He asks them what the plan is about Mumbo’s case, and doesn’t really expect much. Apparently, there’s a bit of gossip about the case around the ranger’s office, so they do know a little. The plan seems to be to conduct a few aerial searches of the area the bike was found in with a helicopter. They also told him he could expect a more detailed phone call soon from the main office.

That’s a little amusing to Grian, given his tower does not have a phone line.

He bids them farewell at midday and watches them disappear into the woods. Then, he decides it’s about time for lunch. He takes an hour, locks up the cabin behind him, and heads to a rocky outcropping he knows nearby to the tower.

It’s a beautiful spot to sit and stay a while, and a good vantage point into a little valley. Grian sits on a boulder and finishes his lunch, and tries to think about things that aren’t so negative for once.

He’s so used to looking. Looking for fires, looking for helicopters, looking for storms, looking for lightning, looking for Mumbo. It’s what he’s good at, so he tries to challenge himself to look at something else for once.

A few feet from him, there’s a small stand of light purple flowers with narrow, silvery green leaves growing. They’re snagging their spot in the ground amidst the surrounding rock. One of the features of his tower is a somewhat excessive amount of posters left there from years past, most of which were fire, forest, rock, or plant related. Grian thinks he’s seen this little plant several times before. He’s watched it spread from just a few sprouts in May to coating the meadows in a wash of purple the past few weeks.

It’s a lupine. Growing alone, but steadily.

He looks more into the mini valley below. It’s not so much a vast sweeping valley as it is a wide little canyon for the stream that flows at the bottom. It’s fascinating to look at though. To think how long it might have taken for that little body of water to have carved it down like this. There’s some small rocky cliffs along the edges in some places, and he can see the darker parts of the rocks where the water pours off during a storm.

It’s as quiet as the forest can be. Which, in the summertime, isn’t very quiet at all. There’s cicadas buzzing all around him right now. That was something new for Grian ever since he moved–they didn’t have cicadas in England. But as loud as they are, it’s a pleasant background noise he’s become adjusted to.

He leans back on the rock and stares into the sky for a bit, watching the handful of clouds that there are today drift along. There’s a hawk or an eagle or something flying high up there too, gliding effortlessly along the air currents. He watches it for a while.

When Grian’s hour is up, he gathers his things, and walks back to the tower.

Scar calls him on the way.

“Are you there, G-man?” he asks.

Grian pulls out his radio from his pocket.

“Yeah,” he says. “I am. Some kids came and took Mumbo’s bike away earlier.”

“Yeah?” Scar says. “How was that? What did they say?”

“They didn’t know much,” Grian says. “A couple of seasonal workers. But it’s fine, I guess. I know the main office will be looking into this again. They told me there might be some aerial searches in the future. I just wish it was higher on the priority list, I guess.”

“Well, they have their priorities and we have ours,” Scar declares. “But I think I can shed a little light on it, maybe. I spent most of the morning on the phone.”

It’s kind, what Scar is doing for him. That Scar is helping him like this at all, not even accounting for spending time scouring his notes from the prior season or spending all morning on the phone. Grian needs to thank him, or convey his appreciation somehow, or apologize for snapping at him so much, but instead all he says is: “What did you find?”

“I wish I had better news,” Scar says.

Grian locks away the part of him that is always stabbed with instant anxiety over statements like that. He takes it, locks it away, and smooths it over. He’s walking on the trail back to the lookout right now, one foot in front of the other. He can handle just another conversation.

“Well, I seem to always be lacking in good news,” Grian jokes lightly. “So just give me what you got.”

“I talked to a friend in the main office, she’s really sweet. She went to pull the records for me.”

“They’re still on file? Good.”

“Everything’s on file, Grian,” Scar says. “The government will keep an old shoe for a decade if they think it’s a record, let alone anything that relates to an open case.”

Grian grimaces a little. “Well, go on then.”

“She found his backcountry permit information from last year. And…” Scar trails off for a bit. “He’s permitted for Cloud Lake Trail. He even had designated camping spots, she even told me which ones.”

“So the trail was open?” Grian says.

“Not exactly,” Scar says. “The trail was closed.”

“What?” Grian says. “They permitted him for a closed trail?”

“Apparently?” Scar says. “That’s what I got.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew.”

“What else did she say? Who issued the permit?”

“She didn’t say anything else, so I don’t know. I’ve never worked in the main office. I don’t think she was even supposed to tell me that, honestly, but we’ve always got along pretty good since she started working here.”

“Right,” Grian says. “You’re not an information wizard…”

“I have no more information to give, unfortunately,” Scar says. “I am a wizard, though.”

“You are not a wizard.”

“I’m many things, Grian. You’re just a nonbeliever.”

Grian just shakes his head at that, leaving that thread of the conversation behind. There’s just so many questions that keep coming up.

“So we can agree he was on Cloud Lake,” Grian says. “Right? Regardless of all that, we can assume this right? He told me he was going there, his car was there, he was permitted for it, and someone said they saw him there. So he was there, right? We searched there, and he was there.”

But…

“It seems likely,” Scar says. “At one point, at least.”

“But then someone found his bike over on Pinnacles. How did it get there? Did he go there for some reason?”

“There isn’t an official trail that connects Cloud Lake and Pinnacles. It’s not a loop or a network or anything. Maybe he could have found a way between them or went on an unofficial side trail. There’s a lot of things that look like they could be a trail that aren’t really trails.”

“No,” Grian says. “He knows better than to take an unmarked trail. He said he was getting maps at the office when he got his permit too, so he would have known where the trails were. He wouldn’t have done that.”

“Grian.”

Just his name, the weight it holds, and nothing else.

Grian’s face crumples a bit. He doesn’t want to admit it. It hurts to admit it. “Okay, fine!” he cries. “Maybe he did go off-trail, maybe he did make a mistake, whatever. But it’s not his fault if something bad happened, okay? It isn’t.”

There’s another option to all of this that Grian hasn’t said out loud yet. He’s been thinking it off and on though for a long time, as he tries to fit these pieces into the larger puzzle. Nobody had any reason to think about foul play but him. There’s no evidence. But what other evidence do they have?

He went camping. He went missing. The search failed. Some of his belongings were found in the wrong place.

And that is, essentially, it.

“Do you think what happened to him…” he trails off. “Do you think it could have been someone else?”

Maybe Mumbo never did make a mistake. Maybe he was exactly where he was supposed to be, sans closed trail, and there was just something else that got in the way.

“Someone else?” Scar says, tentatively.

“Do you think someone out there might have taken him? Hurt him?” Grian is back at the base of his tower now, and he looks up at its spiraling staircase. He begins to take the steps one by one, watching as the horizon slowly inches into view as he climbs above the trees. “Did someone steal his bike? Is that why it’s somewhere else?”

“I…” Scar trails off. “I guess we don’t know if something like that happened. G, there’s a lot of ways someone can get in trouble back here.”

“And one of them could have been someone else,” Grian says. “Doesn’t this connect some of the dots, Scar? So much of this doesn’t make sense, but if someone else was involved, couldn’t that answer some of these questions?”

But the words hang heavier in the air now that he’s spoken to them.

If Mumbo had just gotten lost, or injured, or something else while alone in the woods, Grian has some hope of saving him. Mumbo is blindingly smart, with an engineer’s eye for designing devices and contraptions. He could be okay. He’s a little lost, but Grian can find him.

But if Mumbo’s incident was linked to another person, the odds in Grian’s mind plummet. If Mumbo ran into someone bad at some point during his trip, would he have escaped that confrontation? If someone had decided to hurt him, or take him, or rob him, or whatever–then Mumbo’s continued absence just looms more and more ominously.

Would he make it out of something like that? Would he survive it?

Grian reaches the top of his tower. If he looks straight through the windows of his cabin and out the other side, he can see Scar’s little cabin far in the distance.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore. Thank you for the new information though.”

He turns his radio off and goes inside. He spends the rest of his work day in silence, watching the smoke twist in the air.

<< Chapter Five | Masterpost | Chapter Seven >>

#grian #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #pearlescentmoon #hc_firewatch_au #quara fanfic

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despair-to-future-arcs · 7 months ago

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Then Bitch-sensei punished everyone who mean to Hiyoko, even Sonia who no involvement.

Indeed and I don't think I interacted with Yukio after that, given his talent as the Ultimate Counselor and given my role as a princess of Novoselic, I didn't get to...

CHIAKI: I'm sorry, I suppose the teacher made sure you all didn't become friends, right?

No, she didn't. In fact whenever I see him I notice he was a lot less confident and unsure, he even became more withdrawn after that.

CHIAKI: Withdrawn...?

I think so, probably the teacher abuse him too like the rest but I don't see any scars or wounds like with Mikan or Teruteru, he seem mentally fine and isn't ignore... so I'm not sure what happen.

CHIAKI: ...That's quite odd, but was there any other time when you interacted with him?

...Well, there was one moment but it's when Nagi arrive actually.

CHIAKI: I see so when Nagi appear, correct? How was it with her?

Well to be honest, I never really interacted with her much; in fact the whole class wasn't sure what to do with her, probably for many of us she was a reminder of Hatomi's death so we had no idea how to interact with her.

But I...I did remember seeing her leave the Data Processing Room once, teachers are only allow to enter but I'm not sure why but she seem... panic and wanted to leave...

...

Date: November 8th, 2011

*walks down the hall with some documents* Okay, I finally got all this done; at least now I can finally rest...

*Creeeek!*

Huh? Wait, did someone just leave a room...

*Sonia walks over and saw Nagi leave the data processing room* O-Okay, I got rid of it and now it's on my phone - hopefully that women doesn't see it...

*puts her hands on her headphones* I see so drop the keys elsewhere or give it to someone else and leave in 10 minutes...

Okay thanks!

*Nagi rushes down the hall then...*

Oh uh... Sonia, hello...

Yes hello Nagi, what's going on? Why were in the Data Processing Room, you are aware that staff are allow in there, right?

Yes I am aware I'm not allow in there but it's um...well...

Lo-Look, I don't have time okay?! I have to get out of here, just hold onto this and if the Janitor ask about it, just say that you found it on the floor and pretend I wasn't here, I have to go!

*Nagi pushes the keys onto Sonia and Nagi dashes off* Hu-Huh?! Alright sure thing...!

... (What was that all about, seems Nagi was in a hurry...)

JANITOR: Damnit, where the hell are those keys go? I thought for sure I drop them here.

(Oh right, the Janitor - I better give it back to him...) Excuse me, I think I found your keys; you must of drop them?

JANITOR: Oh hey, there they are! Thank you for finding them, sorry I usually don't drop them but seems they did.

It's fine, sir - I know that it's not easy to keep track of things but hopefully you can get back to work.

JANITOR: Indeed, usually I don't drop but well hopefully I won't lose them again; I gotta get back to work...

Right... I need to bring something to class, it was nice talking with you.

*Sonia walks away and then heads for class which then she bumps into someone*

Oh Sonia...hey...

Hello Yukio, I see your in class again; I suppose your working on your counseling notes, right?

Note...?

Yes notes Yukio, I remember helping you one on one, remember? I'm sure that they'll prove useful, correct?

...?!

Uh... yes, yes they do; you've been... quite helpful, ma'am...I better get going... *Yukio walks away, he doesn't seem happy*

Is... Yukio okay, did something happen?

Nothing at all, you don't need to worry - he was just struggling, anyway Sonia did you finish all the papers I ask for?

I did, he-here you go... *hands the papers over to the teacher*

#dr #danganronpa #dtfa #despair to future arc #ds:rw #despair side: re write #ds ep 10 #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #sonia nevemind #chiaki nanami #nagi nanami #yukio miyahira #anonymous

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fnaffersblog · 2 years ago

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Okay hold on HOLd UP

Spoilers below for 'Earth's ORIGIN STORY in VRCHAT'

Trigger Warning below cut for: Cursing

Not five seconds after making a 'LUNAR!!!' post we get Earth lore, I am being fed today on the richest of content.

Look look look I get it The Princess and the Pauper movie is great but you cannot go wrong with Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus okay? Alright? This is now. This is now a Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus blog alright? In this house we love Barbie and the Ma

Princess and the Pauper came out in 2004 for anyone who was also wondering, but didn't look it up.

Lol.

The return of the true villain of the series: That one fuckin bouncy, physics defying plush cylinder in the theater.

The music change had me wheezing, the fucking dramatic chase music for this bouncy toy.

Followed by all three of them legitimately walking around trying to catch the damn thing.

I'd love to see an episode where they have a discussion, like a serious discussion or something in the theater, and someone throws the toy and it just bounces around forever while they're having a serious talk, and it's played completely straight the thing is bouncing and no one addresses it or tries to catch it this is wishful thinking but the idea had me laughing so hard i forgot hwo to use punctuation

Sun and Moon sitting down on the little plushies seats like kids listening to story time was so cute.

"You will refer to me as Creator" "Hello Father!" "That works as well I suppose!"

It's strange seeing how... kind? The creator is towards Earth. Like, he's always been kinder to Earth than he has been to Sun or Moon or Killcode, but it's still weird. Like, he lets her decorate her room and got her movies in preparation for her activation, and doesn't get upset when she calls him father, and he's gentle when he asks her to leave them at the end.

"I abandoned mortal flesh for eternal life as a brain!" "Oooh! That seems clever!" Lol

Huh a Garbage Guy.

...

BLOODMOON'S GARBAGE GUY??? HWAT????WHAT>>>???

I like... whatever is going on between Garbage Guy and the Creator. Like, GG is so annoyed with the Creator, but he's speaking so casually to him? Exasperated with the Creators antics. They're like... a goddamn sitcom couple or something. The Creator gives no shits about this guy's irritation. They remind me of Chatot and Wigglytuff from PMD:EoS.

So, Earth was activated around November-December 2022, during the Bloodmoon arc. She showed up in... April? I think? Late March, early April? Though she said she got lost trying to find the daycare/Sun and Moon, so she left/was sent away from the Creator sometime just before that.

Also, whos they? Fazbears? Sun and Moon? Some third party? Why would they get shut down? I may have missed something. I assume it's Fazbear's inc the two of them are talking about.

Earth raising her hand to ask questions.

They have a connected background??? The Creator got the garbage can stuck on this guys head?? Did he make him immortal too, or did he just get hired because he was immortal? What's the dealio with these two?

"Why do you have a trash can on your head?"

"Why don't we ask your Creator, hmm?"

*THE EYE*

"Can you not, with the whole brain eye thing!?"

"IT WAS UNINTENTIONAL!"

I'm crying it was mostlikely a misclick im crying that was so funny

"Um. You see. It's a, um, fashion trend that he's trying from another country."

"Oh fashion trend today is it?"

WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE ARE THEY DIVORCED WHAT AM I LOOKING AT This can't be just me can it?? I want more of it.

"Too bad. My lab." LOL

"I acquired the entire collection of Barbie movies!"

Creator enforces gender 'norms'. Asshole!

I know there's other things happening this episode but. "Was that all?"

"Nooo I wanted to ask you TAKE THIS DAMN THING OFF MY HEAD!"

Also is that the Arthur jingle? Like, the scene transition jingle from Arthur? That's what it sounds like.

"He could see?!" THAT'S what you're taking away from this Moon????

Earth out here being very right about the Barbie Rapunzel movie too, that magic paintbrush was banger, I wanted one too.

This episode was fuckin' fun. So many good quotes, I was laughing the WHOLE time. Also we might have a set up/ worldbuilding for the Creator's enemies and also more Creator and Garbage Guy stuff. Still wondering if he's dead. StG Killcode mentioned putting him to eternal rest at one point.

Also the thumbnail, again the thumbnail! IT's so pretty! The details are amazing, I wish I could look at them closer somewhere. Do we know yet who does them? I've seen suggestions in the comments of both videos featuring art so far that these new ones are done by Kiwi_Artz, but they aren't credited in the descriptions and they haven't post the thumbnails on Twitter anywhere. :(

I feel like this will most likely be the last calm episode before the 16th. This feels like a 'calm before the storm' situation and I cANNOT wait. 9 days till the 16th, that's probably 4-6 lore episodes/ 5-6 VRCHAT episodes, presuming anything is going to happen on the 16th. I'm both not ready for it, and 100% ready for it.

#fafferchat #fafferlivereacts #sams #tsams #sun and moon show #sams spoilers #tsams spoilers #mostly just talking bout the fun stuff today #there's lore but the laughs are what got me #:)

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jammie3132 · 1 year ago

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Sir Knight and Prince Charming, Ch. 6

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Chapter Title: Plot Change: Prince Charming Edition AO3 Chapter Summary: Still reeling from finding out Sebastian was Sir Knight and his break-up with Kurt, Blaine keeps getting hit with more and more information. When he doesn’t know how much more he can handle, he is offered a lifeline from an unexpected source. Will this (FINALLY) lead him to his Knight in Shining Armor? Chapter Note: This is the part where I say I used canon dialogue in this chapter, although I rearranged it to fit my narrative. I have also never been associated with the television show Glee or any Ryan Murphy properties…because if I was, I wouldn’t write “fix it” fics.

WARNING: IMPLIED SELF-HARM OF MINOR CHARACTER DISCUSSED. What happens doesn’t involve self-harm, but I could see how it could be interpreted that way.

WARNING NOT RELATED TO THE SELF-HARM WARNING: Death of a non-canon character is briefly discussed.

“What did you do?!”

Santana smiled as she turned to face the personification of rage she created. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Where are my clothes?! And gel?!” Before she could answer, Blaine rushed past her, straight to the closet in the office where he and Sam were storing their extra clothes during the remodel. The only boxes with his name were the two shoe boxes with his bow ties. “Where are they?”

“Stop whining, I left you clothes.”

“Two pair of basketball shorts and my superhero t-shirts…”

“And a hair and makeup person Annabelle knows recommended the hair serum I left in the bathroom. He swears it’s the best on the market.”

“Annabelle?”

“You said, and I quote, Now that I’ve broken up with Kurt, it might be time to make some other changes as well. I was being helpful.”

“Where…are…my…clothes?!!”

“In the dumpster out front…under 500 pounds of rubble. That’s what you get for playing around in the studio until 6AM and then sleeping until noon.”

“I have dinner with my dad tonight! I can’t go in this!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I took care of clothes for dinner tonight and tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Since there’s no work being done here, we’re going shopping. Your mom said she’d talk to your dad about taking care of how we’re paying for everything.”

It took Blaine a moment to grasp what she said. “You called my mom?!!!”

“Texted. She’s in LA with Cooper so 3 hour time difference and whatnot. Did you really think I’d do something like this without approval from my boss?”

“FUCK!”

Blaine stomped out of the office and back down to the basement. He called Sam to vent before confronting his mother. His so-called best friend wouldn’t stop laughing…jerk!! He hung up and was ready to toss his phone when he received a shock 10x’s greater than discovering his wardrobe was gone.

“Hello, Blaine. It’s good to see you.”

Wes Montgomery

The person who befriended him when he didn’t trust people.

The person who not only convinced him he could be a Warbler but lead the Warblers.

The person who (for a short time) became the brother Cooper never was.

The person who told him the motto Once a Warbler, Always a Warbler no longer included him.

“Wes? Hi…um, hello. How? How do you know where I live?”

“Annabelle”

Blaine motioned for them to move their conversation into the lounge. “Annabelle? I’ve known that woman less than a day and she’s already entrenched herself in my life.”

“Would you expect anything less considering the way Sir Knight described her?”

His former mentor’s question was more surprising than the fact he was there in the first place. “You know about…?”

“You and Sebastian reconnecting? Yes, we all do.”

“I didn’t know Sebastian was still in contact with all of you. I mean, Sebastian left Dalton and moved back to Paris…again, none of my business, but can I ask a question?”

“Yes”

“If Sebastian left Dalton a couple of days after I said No Thanks, how was he performing at Sectionals in November?”

“What do you know about Sebastian’s parents?”

“They dumped him on his Nana when he was 2 years-old. He didn’t see them again until he was 16 when they ripped him away from everyone and everything he loved and brought him here. His dad had somehow become State’s Attorney but wanted to run for higher office. They wanted Sebastian in Ohio to present the illusion they were a happy family.”

“That’s about it. And while he’d made connections here, his plan was always to return to Paris when he turned 18.”

“Which was 2 days after Sam and I took McKinley’s trophy back. Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Would it have made a difference?” Wes knew he wouldn’t get a response, so he went on. “Sebastian’s parents fought his return to France, filing a petition with the court stating even though he was 18 and legally an adult, since he had yet to graduate from school they should retain parental custody. The court denied their claim but since his father was State’s Attorney, he was able to change the outcome…at least on paper. The French authorities had no choice but to send him back to Ohio.”

“That’s why he was at Sectionals.”

“When the Warblers arrived back at Dalton that night, his Aunt June was there with a legal court order emancipating him from his parents. He flew back to Paris the next morning.”

“That’s how he…wait a minute. His Aunt June?”

“Yes, and while I know you have a connection to her, I don’t know how. Any questions you have, you’ll have to contact her.”

Blaine sunk into the couch with a sense of defeat. Maybe Kurt was right about June choosing him to reconnect him and Sebastian, not for his talent. “She’s in France. Her sister-in-law…” He sat up so fast he almost jumped off the sofa. “June’s sister-in-law broke her hip. Sir Knight went to Paris because his grandmother was injured. She’s Sebastian’s Nana. She’s the most important person in his life. He loves her more than anything.” At least now he understood why Sebastian…Sir Knight cut off contact. His entire focus would be on her, as it should be. “Thank you for coming and giving me this information, although I still don’t understand why you did. The last time we talked…”

“Annabelle contacted the Warblers a couple of weeks ago trying to get information on you so I knew she knew, or could at least find out, your address. Answering your questions on Sebastian is the price I had to pay to get it. She thought you deserved some of the basics but couldn’t risk her job.”

“But Sebastian will understand you telling me?”

“He will when he finds out why I did it. Trent wants to see you.”

Trent came to you because he thought you’d get rid of the steroids without destroying the Warblers. Arrange some kumbaya sing-a-long like after what happened with your eye. But instead, the Warblers were disbanded and the New Directions got their slot at Regionals. And despite everything you did, our baby-faced Warbler blames himself. You broke him!!

With the words Wes screamed at him the last time they met ringing in his ears, Blaine hugged his legs into himself as if the action would protect him from the memory. “Why?”

“His counselors suggested it as part of his recovery.”

“He’s still…”

“In Big Sur, yeah. He understands you’ve probably got a lot going on with school right now so, this summer?”

“What would I say? That I fucked up? That I didn’t realize how pissed I still was they left me screaming on the ground after the Slushie? That because of the way I felt I should’ve had Trent call you for help? That I should’ve gone to Dalton and talked to the Warblers before I did anything else? That I should’ve remembered Once a Warbler/Always a Warbler wasn’t only in good times? That I was pissed Sebastian let the steroids happen and the only reason I went to Dalton after the scandal broke was to confront him? That I ran away when you told me he left for Paris months before? That it took months to realize my running away from Dalton that day was no different than what they’d done in that parking garage?”

“Blaine…”

“That I trusted someone I shouldn’t have?”

“Yes, to all the above, but I’m personally interested in the last one. Let me guess…Schuester?”

“I never should’ve let Sam and Finn convince me to trust him. I’m not blaming them. This is all on me. But I told Schuester over and over again, the number one priority was the health of the Warblers. Then it was keeping shit out of the press. Colleges, especially Ivy League, could deny someone admission for just being associated with a scandal. He swore he told the Show Choir Association to keep it all hush-hush. When all hell broke loose, I wanted to believe him. Maybe I was in denial, I don’t know. Then the New Directions were awarded the Regional’s slot. I wanted to protest but the other New Directions were so happy, especially Marley who blamed herself for the disqualification since she was the one who fainted. And we were already going to have to pull people out of thin air to make 12 members…”

“I get it, but how did the Show Choir Association justify awarding the New Directions the slot?”

“A wink and a nod then *poof* a random bylaw is conveniently interpreted to say defending National Champions receive an automatic bid to Regionals. None of the previous champions were ever notified this was an option but the bylaw was (air quotes) always there.”

“Ok” Wes stood up, signaling he was done with their conversation. “This was productive. I believe we both had several lingering questions answered. You are to have Santana contact Annabelle when you’ve made your decision about Trent. I’ll see myself out.”

Blaine followed him, knowing he might never get another chance to say something. “Wes…thank the guys for keeping my secret even though I didn’t keep theirs.”

“How do you know they have?”

“Hunter would’ve blackmailed me instead of stealing the trophy. And then the steroids…“

“It wasn’t Brittany’s fault the Lima education system failed her. The only question we had was, if that psycho cheerleading coach hated the New Directions so much, why didn’t she report they were competing with an ineligible member, especially after you guys won Nationals?”

“Britt was also a cheerleader. If the New Directions had to give back their trophies, so would she.”

Wes nodded while wondering why they’d never thought of the rather obvious answer. It wasn’t like he and the guys hadn’t discussed the topic dozens of times. “Blaine, the guys considered reporting Brittany’s ineligibility after what happened with Trent. Not because of you, your exile was the proper punishment. It was because of Schuester. We knew he was involved, just not to this extent.”

“What stopped them?”

“Between Trent and your eye, we decided the bullshit had to end. Brittany didn’t deserve to become another collateral damage victim. From what we remembered she was a sweet girl, innocent like Trent. Being the reason the New Directions were stripped of any title she participated in would have broken her.”

”Like I broke Trent.”

”Yes”

Wes always did know how to get straight to the point. “Any way, thank you...and thank them."

"I will, but one last thing. The Warblers involved with Uptown Girl explained to me, at nauseum, the connection between you and Sebastian. How Seblaine will eventually find their way back to each other. Despite how we feel about you, Sebastian will always be a Warbler. Don’t make him choose between us.”

“Are you saying if Sebastian and I got together, the Warblers would cut him off?”

“No, that’s not what I said. Think about it. Goodbye, Blaine.”

Not long after Wes left, Blaine grabbed his gym bag. Why not? He was dressed for it. His only regret was he’d have to suppress his desire to hit the heavy bag since he was planning on working on music later. Playing an instrument with sensitive knuckles was never fun.

But DAMN, he wanted to hit something.

He didn’t stay long and on his arrival home he was met with the Habitat for Humanity volunteers loading items into multiple trucks and Santana sitting on the front steps with a notepad. “Keeping track of what’s leaving or plotting to make my life even more miserable?”

“You attend the most expensive arts school in NYC and your parents hired me to handle all those pesky everyday tasks so you can focus on your talent. You’re living in a ridiculously luxurious basement through a million dollar remodel of a house your parents bought for cash. There are currently volunteers hauling perfectly good, but not your mother’s style, housing materials out of the million dollar remodel to build housing for people who can’t afford it. Your life is not miserable, Little Prince First World Problems. You might be dealing with a lot of shit, but…but…choose your adjectives carefully.”

Wow, that was a lot…and true. “Hey” Blaine sat on the steps next to her and bumped their shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. I was talking with the Habitat team leaders earlier and it hit me what could’ve happened if you and your parents didn’t save me.”

“San, after what happened to him, Sam would’ve never let you become homeless. And even if my parents were out of the picture, I wouldn’t have let it happen either. I’m kind of sad you don’t realize that.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

“Any time.” Blaine saw her smile return, but it was obvious the topic continued to weigh on his friend. “But I really do have a major first-world problem. A crazy bitch threw all my clothes in a dumpster!”

Santana laughed so loud, one of the volunteers almost dropped the sink he was carrying. “Check the closet in the office. I had Annabelle call the stylist you went to for the Met Gala. His people sent stuff to tide you over until our shopping spree tomorrow.”

“Stephan? Why him?”

“He had your measurements…duh! Go take a shower. I’m busy and you smell like a boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Blaine kissed her cheek before doing what she said. His parents’ House Manager was beginning to take her responsibilities way too seriously, but for now, he was ok with it.

A shower wound up being exactly what he needed. And the clothes Stephan sent over were not only perfectly tailored, they were a style he’d been eyeing but was afraid to try. He put on his glasses to rest his eyes then read the instructions for the hair serum. The moment he was satisfied how his curls framed his face, his phone rang. The photo that appeared was a surprise, not as big as Wes, but still a surprise. “Hey, Marley! It’s good to hear from you when we’re not discussing the lockdown. Hold on, you don’t want to talk about the lockdown, do you?”

“No, and I know I’ve kept my distance since I left McKinley, except on the anniversary…”

“Marley…”

“I need a favor. A big favor.”

An hour later Blaine was in a recliner in the theater with his laptop, tablet, phone, and Marley smiling back at him from the screen. Video chats were so much easier using the projector. “Are you sure you want to stay here with all the construction? My mom was serious when she said she’d get you a hotel room.”

“Blaine, all I asked was if you could find out why NYADA rescheduled my audition from Monday to Wednesday. This is too much…way, way too much.”

He agreed it was too much, but it helped ease his guilt. He was fairly certain he was partially responsible for her schedule change…but only like 3%. The other 97% was Kurt’s fault. All NYADA students required to attend a week of seminars on professionalism and legal issues in the entertainment industry? Like that didn’t scream Kurt and his Sebastian/NDA issues.

“I wish you would’ve said something sooner. What were you thinking scheduling both your Tisch and NYADA auditions in one day?”

“I was thinking Mom and I could afford plane tickets to and from NYC but not plane tickets and hotel room. This is all a pipe dream anyway. Even if I get into one of them, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it. Maybe I should cancel.”

“Concentrate on your auditions. Thanks to my brilliant scheduling you’ll have most of Sunday here to relax before Tisch on Monday and the entire day Tuesday to relax before NYADA on Wednesday. I’m just upset I couldn’t get you out here tomorrow so you could protect me from Santana when we go clothes shopping.”

Marley began to laugh “No can do. I’m totally Team Santana on this one.”

“Well, I’m going to tell her to find you new audition outfits so take that!” Blaine saw Marley’s demeanor change and wondered if he’d push things too far. “Mar, you know I can’t tackle a problem without an immaculately detailed 20 slide power point presentation. You had the unfortunate timing of Sam being in Kentucky. No one ever believed he was the one to reel me in on all of Blam’s Big Ideas but now you know better.”

“I missed you…and Sam, of course. I’m sorry it took the anniversary of the shooting for us to reconnect.”

“You and me both, but that’s the past. Let’s focus on the future.”

When their chat was done, Blaine texted his mom to confirm the car she arranged to pick-up Marley at the airport. It didn’t take long for him to receive a text with a link to the information as well as a reminder of dinner with his father. The constant reminders had him believing this was more than a simple meal because his father was in town.

Something to obsess over later.

He’d awoken that morning (technically afternoon) with a song idea, but the craziness of the day hadn’t allowed him time to get it on paper. He went to the studio to jot down some notes, but for the first time in a long time, everything poured out onto both the piano and sheet music without constant editing and doubt. He was finishing the second verse when he heard…

**Cough**Cough**

“Santana, I’ve told you a million times. If the red light outside the studio is on, it means leave me the hell alone.”

“I’m not Santana.” Blaine closed and reopened his eyes. Nope, he wasn’t imagining this. “You look good. I like your new clothes, and the glasses…and your hair.”

“You’re lying. Go home Kurt.”

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t. No wait, I’ve got a question. How the hell did you get down here? I locked the door at the top of the stairs when I took a shower.” Kurt rocked nervously, telling Blaine he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Well?”

“Um, you didn’t change the code on the lock pad, so I let myself in.”

Shit!

“I said waiting until Monday would be a mistake. Everyone else said you’d never get through the front door. By the way, how did you get through the front door? I want to rub it in while doing my I told you so dance.”

“I didn’t break in, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“Well, I’m pretty fucking sure Santana didn’t let you in.”

“Fine! There were workmen taking out garbage, so the front door was open.”

“So, on top of getting a locksmith out here ASAP, Santana has to go Lima Heights on the foreman for his men letting a random person off the street walk into the brownstone without finding out who the fuck he was?!”

“Why are you so mad? I’m not a random person, Blaine.”

“After the shit you said to me yesterday, random person is the nicest title I have for you.”

Kurt didn’t roll his eyes, but his frustration was palpable. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine immediate reflex was to say I don’t care but changed his mind. He could count on one hand the times his former boyfriend apologized during their entire relationship. “You’re sorry for…?”

“Look, this isn’t how I wanted this to go.” Kurt took a deep breath before taking Blaine’s hand in his. “I'm here to get you back. I don't mean to blurt it out like that, but for the sake of clarity, you should know that first I'm going to get your forgiveness and then I'm gonna get your heart back.” Blaine stared at him like he’d grown another head, and for some unknown (idiotic) reason, Kurt took his silence as a sign to keep going. “I know I blew it. I blew the best thing that ever happened to me.” He let go of Blaine’s hand and pulled a wrapped gift from his messenger bag. “Please, please open this. It will prove how serious I am about winning you back.”

Damn it! Why did his curiosity keep playing along? “Airplane tickets to Las Vegas? I don’t understand.” That all changed when he looked up from the tickets to find his (obviously delusional) ex on one knee, holding out a ring box.

“Marry me. I called one of those tacky wedding chapels and we have a slot for tomorrow night. We’ll be back in time for classes on Monday. I know you. There’s no way the ridiculous rumors you dropped out and are meeting June in Paris are true.”

“You want to get married? In Vegas? Tomorrow?” Blaine heard exactly what Kurt said but the two newcomers hadn’t. Although, the bended knee/ring combo spoke for itself.

“I understand it’s not the wedding I…we dreamed of but when the brownstone is finished, we can throw one here for our family and friends. Or better yet, we could rent an event space in one of the posher downtown hotels…”

“Enough!”

Kurt turned his head to see Santana, standing quietly, recording his proposal. She wasn’t the problem. It was the man standing next to her.

Blaine moved around Kurt to stand in front of his father. “You have to let me handle this.”

“No”

“Dad, if you kick him out, Kurt will somehow turn my breaking up with him into a Shakespearean tragedy with you as the villain preventing us from being together. He’ll never let it go.”

Charles pulled Blaine into a hug without taking his eyes off Kurt. “Santana, set a timer for 10 minutes. If Mr. Hummel isn’t gone by then, send down some of the construction crew to remove the trash.”

“Dad…”

“10 minutes, Blaine. Santana…?”

“On it, Boss. Where will you be if I need you?”

“In the theater, taking advantage of the soundproofing. Start the timer the moment I shut the door.”

To be fair, Santana didn’t start the timer until she closed the door at the top of the stairs. With the elder Anderson out of the room, Kurt suddenly had plenty to say. “I’d turn our love story into a Shakespearean tragedy? How could you say something like that? I would never…”

“Are you fucking serious? You don’t remember any of the tales of woe you caterwauled during our last break up? I’ve seen the NYADA blogs. How it’s already common knowledge I dumped you leaving no way for you to spin the rumors in your favor without breaking your NDA, again. And because of your inability to take responsibility for anything, your next logical step would be to blame someone close to me since I can’t be turned into the villain this time.”

“But Blaine…”

“Oh, and if I hear or read one mention of what happened between me and my dad and building a car, I will bury you.”

“You can’t do that!”

“True, but remember my new friend Annabelle? She can. With how much she dislikes you, I wouldn’t be surprised if she already started a just in case file. Maybe I can finally get the full story on the Santa Clause who robbed the loft right before your dad and I arrived from Ohio that Christmas.”

The 15 shades of red Kurt’s face turned were amazing. “I…it’s not…what happened to you? You’ve never acted like this! This is all Smythe’s fault!”

“You’re so focused on Sebastian and Sir Knight, you’re blinded to what is now so obvious. We were bad for each other long before any of that happened…toxically bad. I've been telling myself Love shouldn’t be this hard but couldn't find a way to fix our relationship. I'm beginning to understand our problems weren't the accusations you constantly spewed at me. The problem was I let you do it.”

“Blaine…”

“No, I will not marry you. I don’t even want to be friends with you. Hopefully, someday we’ll learn to be civil considering our shared ties to the New Directions. And since you have no sense of awareness, show up uninvited again and I’ll let Santana call the cops. I’d do it myself, but it would bring her so much joy.”

“Damn straight it would” Santana responded, holding out her phone. “One minute, Hummel.”

Kurt marched up the stairs, Santana right behind. Once they were out of sight, Blaine spread out on the floor and closed his eyes. He thought when a person expelled that much negativity from their system, they were supposed to feel lighter…free. He was just exhausted.

The next thing Blaine knew he was opening his eyes and groaning as he slowly rose from the floor. His dad’s voice was coming from the theater, so he headed toward the room to find the man in a recliner, wearing a pair of Sam’s sweats and a T-shirt, Empire Strikes Back cued on the screen. WTF???

“Santana, consider the dress a bonus for how you tore the foreman a new one. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time…The restaurant knows to charge the bill to my credit card…Yes, I know Old Homestead Steakhouse is the most expensive steakhouse in NYC…That’s why you’re getting the special menus without prices. And no Googling before you go. Santana, Sleeping Beauty is awake. You and Annabelle enjoy the dinner. Bye.”

“Dad?”

“Nice nap?” Charles rushed out of his seat as Blaine appeared ready to pass out. “Ok, let’s get you to the lounge to lie down. I can turn down the lights, it looks like you’re getting one of your headaches.”

“I’m fine. We’re supposed to go to dinner.”

“We were but when Santana and I found you passed out on the floor, I switched our plans. Santana and Annabelle took our dinner reservation.” Once Blaine was situated on one of the sofas, Charles covered him with a throw blanket before getting Tylenol and a bottle of water. “Here take these. When was the last time you ate?”

“Um…yesterday. Where are you going?”

“To find something for you to eat more substantial than the hot dogs, popcorn and cupcakes I planned for our movie marathon.”

“Sam lives here. We always have healthy food.”

“Another reason why I love that boy. Close your eyes. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As fuzzy as his head was, Blaine wondered if he misheard something his father said. “Did you say you gave Santana and Annabelle our reservation? You willingly gave up your favorite steak in the world for Star Wars and hot dogs?”

“No, I willingly gave up my favorite steak in the world for my son. Close your eyes. That’s an order.”

“Sorry, Santana’s now the boss of me.”

Charles chuckled knowing (but would never say out loud) this was the very reason his wife hired the girl. “Do you want me to call her?”

“No, I’ll close my eyes. And Dad…thanks.”

“Baaaaaassssss, please...more.”

“B…”

“Don’t say it. Anytime I’ve dreamed of being naked in a bed with you, we were never making love. The sex was always hard, pounding, passionate, sometimes pornographic. I want this…I need this.”

“Your wish is my command, Killer.”

Blaine opened his eyes to the instant buzz kill of his dad on another sofa with his briefcase and documents spread out on a coffee table. Hopefully, he hadn't done anything embarrassing in his sleep.

“You’re awake. How’s your headache? You were moaning for a while.”

He thought nothing could knock The Gap Attack out of the #1 position on his Most Embarrassing Moments of My Life list, but he was wrong…so, so, wrong. “My headache is better, but I am hungry. I was probably dreaming of food.”

Sounds reasonable

“Well, I talked to Sam, and he said the best thing to do is give you food in small amounts every half hour. First, were going to raise your blood sugar…OJ, almonds and black tea with honey. He said your headache might be from caffeine withdrawal. Evidently you have quite the coffee addiction.”

“If I’ve got to raise my blood sugar, why not one of the cupcakes you mentioned? I’m assuming they’re the double chocolate-chocolate chip jumbos with hazelnut frosting and a salted caramel core from the bakery by the Plaza.”

“Of, course.”

“To celebrate my breakup with Kurt?”

“Not going to deny it but I’m not nearly as bad as your mom.”

“What did she do?”

“An expensive bottle of champaign was delivered less than an hour after I told her.” Blaine couldn’t help but laugh because that was exactly something his mom would do. “I’ll be back.”

Spending time with his dad like this was nice…and then completely ruined when he remembered he never told his parents the name of the Warbler who threw the Slushie. They never asked, so he let it go.

However, Kurt didn’t. When he reminded his then boyfriend he was the one who gave away the only piece of physical evidence without asking the VICTIM first, he backed off. Now there was nothing stopping him.

When Charles returned, he put the nuts and OJ on the table next to Blaine before handing him the tea. “Drink this while it’s hot.”

“Dad…”

“Drink now, talk later.”

It was the best tea Blaine ever had, but he had a feeling it was because it felt so good going into his system. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten so busy/distracted he skipped meals, but nothing like this had happened. He put down the mug then drank the OJ in less than a minute. Grabbing the bowl of nuts, he adjusted to get comfortable. No, he was already comfortable. This was nerves. “Dad, I need to tell you something and we need to do it now. Kurt knows and I can see him trying to get revenge by telling you first. Do you remember when you were here the last time and Sam and Santana were teasing me about someone named Sir Knight?”

“He was the wrong number June gave you who wound up being your Knight in Shining Armor by helping you get where you were supposed to be. Right?”

“Yes. We never told each other our names. There’s some super-secret mystery involving his career, so it was easier that way.”

“Super-secret mystery?”

“There are $1 million NDAs involved. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is I didn’t try to find out his real name, but I did. I knew him. He went to Dalton after I left. His name is Sebastian.”

Charles sat stoically for a few moments then smiled bigger than Cooper at the end of his Free Credit commercial. “Sam was right? Your mother and I didn’t want to get our hopes up…”

WTF??????!!!!!!!

“Dad, I don’t think you understand.”

“Sebastian Smythe was the Warbler who threw the Slushie that caused you to have eye surgery. I know, so does your mother.”

WTF??????!!!!!!!

“You KNEW?! Who told you?”

“Seb. He came to the hospital to meet with us while you were in surgery. He didn’t tell you the night you stayed at his parents’ house after the lockdown?”

WTF??????!!!!!!!

“That was months later. And how…how did you know I was with Bas that night?”

“You call him Bas? That’s nice. And we knew you were there because he texted us when you arrived and left for home. He knew we’d worry.”

“He had your phone number??!!!”

“Seb didn’t tell you…” Charles’ eyes went wide as he leaned back into his sofa. “You two didn’t talk at all, did you?”

New #1 on his Most Embarrassing Moments of My Life list

“Uh…”

“I don’t know if I should give you a birds and the bees lecture or a high five because Seb left no tell-tale marks and you were gone for HOURS!”

“DAD!!!!”

“What? Your mom and I never understood why you went back to Kurt when someone as perfect as Seb was right there, and now it makes even less sense. He moved back to Paris…but Son, HOOUURRS!”

“Dad, stop! Or I might actually pass out this time.”

“Ok, you rest. It’s time for scrambled eggs, Greek yogurt and pushing water to prevent dehydration. Plus, I have to call your mom, or she’ll kill me for not telling her as soon as I found out.”

“Dad…don’t, don’t…just don’t tell her everything.”

“Scared Cooper might overhear?”

“Yes, but also…SHE’S MY MOM!”

It was another hour until Blaine could look his father in the face, but the time gave them a chance to self-evaluate what happened. Both knew the direction their next conversation must take, but they’d been avoiding it for so long it was hard to know where to start.

Upon returning from his third trip to the bathroom Blaine broke the ice. “I’m pretty sure we can cut back on the water.”

“You weren’t as wobbly this time but you’re still awfully pale. Maybe it’s time to go to an ER.”

“I don’t think my continued paleness is from skipping a few meals. It’s me enduring the most embarrassing conversation of my life.”

Charles closed his briefcase and settled in for Part 2. When he invited Blaine to dinner it was to tell him some news regarding both him and his brother. He was beyond relieved it had been delayed because what happened next was going to weigh heavily on his son’s opinion. “Was it embarrassing because for so long you believed I was a homophobe?”

“I knew you weren’t a homophobe, I just thought you didn’t want a gay son. For some reason it was easier to believe than…”

“I would always choose Cooper over you?”

“Well, yeah but both could’ve been true.” Almost 5 years of pent-up anger boiled to the surface and Blaine was finally ready to let it out. “We were supposed to talk, just you and me, the day after I told you. But no! Copper had another one of his never-ending emergencies and you flew out to LA instead. I was so hurt and then the car arrived.”

“It was horrible timing, I know. But when I tried to explain you yelled that because I left you went online to learn about sex from gay porn sites.” Charles’ train of thought was cut-off by an epiphany. ”Blaine, my comment about a birds and the bees lecture…I’m so sorry. Hell, everything I said was inappropriate.”

“At least now I know for sure you don’t have issues with my being gay. But then what was up with the car?”

“Again, I’m so sorry, but I didn’t realize the ramifications of my leaving until I was halfway to LA. I want you to understand I figured out what I’d done wrong before my plane landed.”

“Why?”

“Because I checked my voice mails while waiting for the rental car. It was full of angry messages from you mother telling me I’d better come up with a way to fix my mess or not bother coming home.”

Blaine grabbed his phone and sent an I LOVE YOU gif to his mother. “Is this where the car comes in?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but when you were around 3 you’d find ways to get past the gates and come into the garage when I was working on that old Camaro I rebuilt. You wanted to help so badly I’d lay out my tools on the floor for you to bring to me. Some of them were so big and you were so little…”

“I do have some flashes of those memories, but they might be from looking at the photo album full of pictures Mom took.”

“Your mom does love to take pictures.” Charles didn’t want to admit he’d forgotten about the album. Yet another way he’d failed Blaine. “In less than a month I didn’t have to point them out, you knew every tool, even the sizes of wrenches and the difference between Phillips and Flat Head screwdrivers. But I’d bought the car for Cooper’s 16th birthday and he didn’t want it so I sold it. I was so upset but didn’t consider you would be as well. Then your mom bought you your first violin and your path as a musical prodigy began. Son, I didn’t get the car because I wanted my straight son back. I got it because I wanted my little boy back.”

Blaine went to sit beside his father and dropped his head on his shoulder. When Charles wrapped his arm around his shoulders, he felt a sense of calm unlike any he could remember. In the Anderson family tradition, he decided to crack a joke instead of cry like a baby…for now. “I’ll always be your little boy. Cooper is 6 inches taller than me.” Laughter was followed by a kiss on the head, a gesture usually performed by his mother. Speaking of… “You never told me why Mom is in LA. What emergency did Cooper have this time?”

“None” Blaine lifted his head, his eyes clearly saying Bullshit. “I’m serious. Cooper turns 30 next month and will receive what remains of the trust fund his mother set up before she passed away. Let’s just say it’s significantly smaller than he anticipated.”

“Can I ask why?”

“His mother’s wishes were upon his graduation from high school, Cooper was to receive a monthly allowance from the trust. The rest could be used for college, a gap year backpacking through Europe, a wedding, a house…things like that. Beverly came from an extremely wealthy family. Did you know that?”

“Oh, yeah. Cooper mentioned it several times.”

Charles shook his head as this was something he should have guessed. “When we found out she was sicker than we thought, she told me she wanted me to find love again and have more children. She knew I would never accept her money to take care of our son, so we compromised. I’d support Cooper’s childhood and she’d take care of him as an adult.”

“That’s an…um, unusual arrangement.”

“You don’t argue with a woman with Stage 4 cancer who is leaving her baby behind.”

Blaine had no comeback for that. “But of all the things you listed, the only one Cooper did was buy his condo.”

“He had all those emergencies, as you love to call them. I took care of whatever mess he got himself into but your mom’s a bookkeeper. She kept every single receipt. We told him we were going to do this before he left for LA but he conveniently forgot.”

“That trust must’ve had a ton of money if it’s not empty.”

“It did at one time. However, the reason there's anything left is because your mother and I agreed to pay half of his expenses, except his condo, until the money was fully his. We knew his moving to LA was going to be a disaster. We didn’t want him to drain the trust before he tuned 30 and had hopefully grown-up. Don’t laugh… Also, I can admit a large part of Cooper's issues stem from me always being the one to fix his emergencies, not him. But I was such a mess when his mom died, I could barely get out of bed let alone parent a baby. Thank God your mother showed up in my life because I was beginning to consider Beverly’s sister’s offer to adopt him.”

“And that guilt never really went away?”

“Nope. I’m not giving you an excuse, I’m giving you an explanation, or at least the best one my therapist and I came up with.”

Ok, that was shocking. “You? Charles Anderson went to therapy?”

“I know I fought the idea of family therapy, add it to my list of failures. But 6 months ago, when I got a reminder from the lawyers about Cooper’s trust, I made a decision. The moment the money was his, he’s on his own. No more financial assistance, no more running to his rescue. I thought therapy would give me coping mechanisms to not give in again.”

“Great! But you still have answered why Mom is in LA and not you.”

“She’s laying the groundwork. When Cooper heard about this place and how Sam got the lead in the Magic Mike musical, the movie he starred in…”

“Channing Tatum starred in the movie.”

“Not according to your brother.”

Blaine braced himself, afraid to ask the question he already knew the answer to. “What did he do?”

“He put his condo up for sale and demanded to be included in the remodel since he needs this place when he moves to NYC to launch his Broadway career.” Charles tightened his hold on his son to keep him from freaking out. “Since I was supposed to meet with the record label people, your mother went to tell him we had other plans for the brownstone so he might want to get his condo off the market.”

Blaine let out an audible sigh before asking “Are you and mom moving to NYC?”

“Our original plan was for you and Sam, and now Santana, to live here until you graduate and then we’d sell it. Then you and your friends discovered what happened down here and named the basement Blaineland. Remember when I said Cooper’s mother wanted me to find love again and have other children?”

“Yeeeeessss?”

“Without my knowledge, she set up a second trust for any future children I might have. We’d wanted to have a large family so I’m assuming she thought I’d have many kids and not just one miracle baby. Because of this, all the money is yours. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, it was never the right time. Because of that we didn’t use the money for NYADA this year.”

"Take it back!”

“If you insist, we’ll talk about it later. Let me finish what I have to say first.” By this time Blaine was speechless so he nodded as a signal to continue. “Since your trust has the same stipulations as Cooper’s, it meant you could buy a house with the money before turning 30, so we put this place in your name. The brownstone is yours.”

This time his father couldn’t hold him down. “You wouldn’t use the money for NYADA, but you bought me a fucking house? Are you hell bent on watching me pass out?”

“Hadn’t you noticed despite Santana mastering your mother’s insane lists, there were always questions only you could answer? Do you prefer this or that color for the bathroom walls? What would be best…the new fridge/freezer to be stainless steel or blend in with the kitchen cabinets?”

Blaine practically fell back to where he’d been sitting. “Sorry about the curse word.”

“You’re an adult now and with what I’ve dropped on you, I’m surprised that was your first F-bomb.”

“Was this what you wanted to talk about over dinner?”

“Yes. Are you ok? The color is leaving your face again.”

“Dad, this is insane.”

“Why? Blaineland is perfect to help launch your music career. And another thing, whenever we gave Cooper money, your mother and I set the same amount aside for you. There’s more than enough to live off for the next 10 years, even paying Santana’s, or whoever’s, salary and the benefit package we put together.”

Just when he thought he’d regained his bearings, Blaine was once again overwhelmed. After his conversations with the New New Directions earlier that week, he’d begun to analyze all the decisions he’d made since the lockdown, and he wasn’t proud of most of them. Then the over the past 2 days that analysist stretched to cover the last 4 years…Kurt, leaving Dalton, Sebastian, Cooper’s fake attempt to repair their relationship, the mess with Kurt at the start of Senior year, No Thanks, Trent, getting back together with Kurt, choosing NYADA instead of Julliard or Tisch, Sir Knight, June, breaking up with Kurt…again, Wes, Kurt’s ridiculous proposal, his yearlong writer’s block when it came to love songs, this evening.

It was all too much. Hopefully, his father would understand.

“What you and mom, even Cooper’s mom, have done is amazing but a lot of things have happened in the past couple days that have my mind spinning. I know everyone talks about me having OCD but I don’t think it’s as big a joke as we think. Right now, I’m so overwhelmed I can’t process it all.”

“Do you think that has as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact you forgot to eat?”

“More…I think it has everything to do with my health this evening. I know NYADA costs a lot of money…”

“Is this about Santana and what she said about First-World problems? She told me she’s really sorry…”Charles heard Blaine sigh in exasperation “Sorry, lips zipped.”

“Thank you this is hard enough. I, I…I don’t think I can go back.”

The elder Anderson smiled wider than he had when he found out Sir Knight was Sebastian. “When you were lying here, looking so pale, I thought of suggesting leaving NYADA and going somewhere out of NYC to rest for a while. Someplace by the water or in the mountains. But I know how you feel about running away from things, so I didn’t know how to address it.”

“I think this time I wouldn’t be running away. I’d be running toward something.”

“Sounds like you have an idea.”

“I do. I want to go to California for a couple of months until Sam’s opening night.”

“You want to go to California, where your brother is? I don’t think that’s going to help your stress and anxiety.”

“I don’t want to go to LA. I want to visit an old friend in Big Sur.”

7AM THE NEXT MORNING

Santana knew she was going to hear shit from Blaine about her so-called walk of shame and she couldn’t care less. She really liked Annabelle…like Brittany level like. But since she was leaving for Paris tomorrow night, with no firm return date, they both thought it would be a good idea to determine whether or not a long-distance relationship was worth it considering they’d only known each other 2 days.

Oh yeah, so worth it.

She went to the office to get a change of clothes before heading downstairs to shower. Hopefully, Blaine had a good night’s sleep. He looked awful the last time she saw him, but they had a busy day of shopping ahead.

When she got downstairs, she didn’t see Blaine in either the lounge or studio. The bathroom door was open, that left the theater. Why would he sleep in there? Did he and his dad fall asleep during their movie marathon?

The theater was empty as well. However, Blaine’s smiling face was on the screen and the remote had a Play Me post-it attached. If he’d talked his dad into getting him out of shopping, there’d be hell to pay.

By the time you watch this I’ll be on a plane to Kentucky. I’m surprising Stevie and Stacy for their birthday. I’m also going to fill Sam in on everything that’s happening. He’ll be back tomorrow instead of Monday and will let you know what’s going on. I’m sorry I don’t have the time and where I’m going doesn’t allow cell phones. I will write you a letter once I’m settled.

Oh, Marley is going to call around noon. Take the call.

Nothing has changed…except the fact the brownstone is mine and I’m technically your employer. I won’t say boss because we both know who the real boss is in the house. I trust your judgement picking out furniture and any remaining remodel details. I love Sam but I don’t want bean bags in front of a 72in TV in the living room. That’s why we have the theater. And just because my clothes you threw out were some interesting colors, it doesn’t mean they should be considered for my bedroom walls.

When I say my bedroom, I mean the one that shares a bathroom with Sam’s. Like I said, nothing changes. You keep the master and private bathroom. We both know I’ll sleep most nights in Blaineland when I get home.

And Tana, thank you for sharing with me the other night. Because you were so brave, I was able to do the same with my dad. It was amazing, possibly life changing. You keep saying my parents and I saved you but you, my Heroine in High Heels, will never understand how eternally grateful I am you are in my life.

There’s a gift for you on the concession stand. Bye for now.

Santana hadn’t noticed the piece of paper on the counter. The dork should have warned her not to read it alone.

I, Blaine Devon Anderson, hereby enter a 5 year rental agreement with Santana Lopez with $0 due at the first of every month. She is free to end or extend the agreement at any time

This agreement is not contingent on whether or not Miss Lopez remains in my employment

Miss Lopez acknowledges she will be living with the loud, nerdy, sometimes stinky and messy, but always loveable, Blam…and possibly another roommate in the fall (More information to come)

Miss Lopez also acknowledges Sam will be getting a dog sooner than later

11 AM SUNDAY…PARIS

Sebastian loved the smell of Paris in the Spring.

He hadn’t spent much time outdoors since his arrival…driving back and forth to Château sur la colline and pushing Nana’s wheelchair through the hospital’s gardens. But every day at this time he got around 30 minutes to come outside, sit on a bench and just breathe. It was the time his grandmother’s nurse would come in and say the 2 magic words…sponge bath.

As much as he loved his Nana, he wasn’t hanging around to see that.

*Groan* “You look like shit. What did your parents do this time?”

Standing in front of him was the last person he expected to see…ok, second to last. “Stephan, what the fuck? Don’t you have several A-listers to style for the Met Gala in 2 weeks?”

“You thought I wouldn’t come? I’m pissed I couldn’t get here sooner, and I’m stunned I’m not bailing you and/or Grandma June out of jail. I heard you finally got proof your parents were there when Aunt Juli fell. Where are they now?”

“In the wind as usual. I’m sure they’ll slither back when Nana is released.”

“She’s not going to a rehabilitation facility?”

“We can get all the equipment she needs and hire private nurses and physical therapists. Plus, now I’ve hired double the security and the DGSI is involved.”

“How did that happen?”

“You’re kidding, right? First of all, there’s a restraining order…”

“Which should be handled by the police.”

“And secondly, you don’t get elected in this country unless Nana gives you a public endorsement.”

“Ah, yes, how could I be so stupid?”

“Because you are that stupid.”

“I love you too, Cousin.”

Sebastian stood and stretched. “Come on, Nana should be done letting the nurses make her even more beautiful.”

“No, I’ll go. You sit back down.”

“No, I have to go…”

“Sit down Seb.”

“Fine, but why the fuck are you so adamant about it?”

“Here” Stephan handed him the gift bag he’d been carrying, which Sebastian assumed was for his grandmother. Inside the bag was a box and inside the box was… “A cronut?”

Stephan didn’t answer, just handed his cousin a letter and walked away.

To my Sir Knight from your Prince Charming

TBC in Chapter 6 Plot Twist: Sir Knight Edition

Notes:

There are a few storylines I completely ignore. Kitty giving Marley an eating disorder is one of them. Blaine’s overall attitude/involvement with reporting the Warblers for steroids never felt right (besides the obvious the ND were disqualified at Sectionals). Taking down Hunter was one thing, but in the “Big Neck” photo montage, there were Warblers who were at Dalton in Season 2. Yes, the Slushie is in between, but still…Also, Sebastian wasn’t in the montage and Trent doesn’t mention him when talking with Blaine, Sam and Finn. That’s my justification for he wasn’t there. Explaining how he didn’t know and still competed at Sectionals was the hard part. As for Wes' attitude toward Blaine...The two of them are often written as either big brother/little brother or mentor/mentee. I chose to write Wes where his loyalty was to the Warblers as an institution, with no sympathy for those who broke the OAW/AWA code. It was hard to do. I kept wanting to make it ok for Blaine, but not this time. Previously Unaired Christmas was Episode 5x08 but it was originally supposed to air in Season 4. If both 5x08 and 4x10 (the episode that aired in its place) are canon, then Kurt was left tied up and gagged on his bed by sexy Santa right before Burt arrived to tell his son he had cancer, bringing Blaine along so they could sing their Christmas duet.🤮 A 3 year-old carrying tools is totally unsafe but this would have been in the 90’s. A lot of things that are seen as unacceptable today were fine back then. There were a lot of events I wanted to add to Blaine’s conversation with his father, but felt if I added any more it would bog down an already over-stuffed section. Unanswered Seblaine questions will be in the letter, but if you’re curious how I would have handled something between Blaine and his father that I didn’t address, ask.

#blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #seblaine fic #glee

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vermillion-bloodmoon · 1 year ago

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TSAMS Continuity AU: "Earth Is In EXTREME DANGER?!" .....But Something Is Off

[November 18th, 2023]

[Earth yawns as they wake up on the balcony in the side daycare room, rising to their feet and pushing away the clutter surrounding her.]

Earth: Hoooh....man that was nice. Now to wake Lunar-!

[Earth blinks and notices that Lunar isn't visibly in the room, walking down the stairs and searching the foam pits. Worried, they call Monty up to see if they've seen Lunar. Things seem to be playing out relatively the same as in the canon timeline....]

[Earth ends the call and heads out for the main lobby, reeling back at seeing a young looking animatronic standing there, specifically looking to be in their early adulthood years.]

Earth: Um...hello? I'm uh, I-I'm looking for someone important to me, have you mayhaps seen them?

[The animatronic turns around, revealing themself to be Luna, one of the Celestial Triplets...something was definitely off about it though.]

Luna: Oh...?

Earth: Yes, his name is Lunar, he's about this tall.

[Earth gestures with her hand, though keeps herself wary of Luna subconsciously.]

Luna: Lunar....My my, has such a similar name to mine. I'm Luna.

Earth: Luna....where have I heard that name before? Maybe it's just a coincidence. It's nice to meet you and all, but I really need to find out where Lunar is so...I'm just going to go...

Luna: Aw...so soon?

[Luna said it in a mockery of disappointment.]

Luna: And to think I haven't even gotten a sweet taste of your thick, juicy oil~

Earth: I...w-what?

Luna: Oh...it's just....your oil, I can hear it pumping and flowing through your body, it's just perfect for making it stronger~!

[Earth backs away as Luna's eyes flash to a red color, her body twisting, cracking, morphing, and mutating into a giant centipede monster straight out of Murder Drones. Luna's eyes stare hungrily at Earth, her maw drooling excessively. Earth tries to activate her security defense protocol but all they get are error pop-ups indicating that something has gone wrong.]

Earth: No no no no! Please no, activate!!

[Luna's hungry gaze intensifies as Earth tries to run away and get her security defense protocol to work, chasing them down as it laughed maniacally. Earth would proceed to scream and beg for Luna to stop, the mutated Celestial Triplet digging at her and tearing her apart, consuming an excessive amount of Earth's oil and even bits and pieces of their internal workings. Luna stops once they've had her fill, and at that point Earth looks like a damaged, nearly hollowed out husk as she's dropped completely to the floor. Luna would transform back to their normal form, licking Earth's oil from wiping their arm with it.]

Luna: I really must thank you, your precious oil and guts were appetizing!

[Lunar has just come back and nearly throws up from the sight of his sister's nearly hollowed out and damaged husk on the floor. They also are feeling an intense fury and rage, staring in Luna and Earth's direction.]

Lunar: What....what happened?? Earth??

[Luna stops cleaning themself and turns her attention to Lunar.]

Luna: Hm? Oh...you must be Lunar! A pleasure!

[Luna bows politely before returning to its full height.]

Lunar: What did you do to my sister...?

Luna: Ahahahahaha~! Oh, you really don't get it, I needed her oil so I ripped and tore her to shreds to get at it! And had a few snacks along the way...

[Luna grins as if she's lost their mind, which it has. Lunar slowly and angrily approaches Luna, a righteous fury in their eyes.]

Luna: What did you do...to my sister?!?!

[Lunar's weather powers activate, their eyes flashing blue and electricity sparking out of their body. Luna covers her face, reeling back before re-locking her gaze onto Lunar.]

Luna: Oh my...it seems the cosmos were right in their predictions!

[Luna summons her staff through her cosmic magic, surrounding themself with it's aura.]

Lunar: That doesn't matter, I'm going to kill you for what you've done to them!

Luna: I think not, I'm not afraid, Lunar....you know why?

[Luna zips right nearby Lunar, where most of Lunar's abilities are concentrated.]

Luna: Because I have the power of the cosmos, which includes your silly little astrological bodies, on my side!

[Lunar yells as they attack Luna with his powers, only for Luna to dodge away.]

Luna: It's been fun, dear Lunar, but I must get going! We'll meet again someday when the time is right, ahuhuhuhuhu~!

[Luna surrounds herself completely with their cosmic magic, completely disappearing. Lunar hits their head in frustration before calming down and dissipating their powers. They tried to run over to Earth only to collapse from pain.]

Lunar: Ow, ow, why does that hurt so much, is it meant to hurt that much?

[Lunar tries to drag himself closer to Earth before his systems shut down completely.]

Lunar: Earth...please...Earth...!

[Lunar passes out completely, their systems shutting down. Things play out similarly to the canon timeline once more, though more help is required as Earth is in an even worse state than in the canon timeline....]

#fnaf sb au #fnaf sb oc #oc #sams au #tsams au #tsams earth #tsams lunar #cw: robot death #cw: robot gore

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pookha · 1 year ago

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Dream With Me: Chapter Nine

November 1998

Hermione and Luna have Harry and Ginny over for a visit. Luna and Ginny both get drunk. Hermione and Luna share a sexy dream. Luna wants to move forward, but Hermione is unsure.

Blaise and Jameson had patrol that Friday, so Luna and Hermione had the night free. Harry and Ginny were coming over, and Hermione was doing a quick neatening of the sitting room. Living with Luna had been better than she thought it would be; she had thought they’d be rowing every day about some weird thing or the other Luna believed or Hermione would be short with Luna, but they actually got along very well. The only downside was that Luna was messy. They’d come to an agreement that if Luna’s clutter was bothering Hermione that she could put it on Luna’s bed and it generally worked out.

Today, it looked like Luna had picked up most of her stuff already and Hermione just had to put away potion supplies and make sure that Luna’s painting corner was picked up. Crookshanks followed her around the entire time, watching what Hermione was doing and occasionally commenting with a short meow.

She’d just finished when a knock came at the door. She didn’t recognize the knock, so she tested her new surveillance Charm. She concentrated and waved her wand through the complicated pattern. She saw as though using a Supersensory Charm, which she knew would give her a headache if she did it too much.

Padma was waiting outside the door in the hallway, tapping her foot. Hermione waved her wand to open the doors and let Padma in.

“Hello?” Padma called from just inside the door.

“I’m over here,” Hermione said from near the icebox and hob.

“Oh, is Luna here?” Padma asked.

“No, but she should be back in a few minutes if you want to wait. Want some tea or coffee?”

Hermione took a bottle of anise liqueur from the icebox and put it on the counter.

“Um, no thanks,” Padma said.

Hermione sat on a stool at the bench.

“I’m sorry for how it ended with Parvati,” Hermione said. Padma’s eyes flashed, then she looked away.

“Yeah, so am I. I wish she’d just tell Mum and Dad. I don’t think they’d disown her or anything like that. I think they’d be surprised, but Parvati’s just so terrified of coming out.”

“What did you need to see Luna about?” Hermione asked, curiously.

“She has some Divination notes from me, since I missed it twice this week.” Padma sighed.

“Oh, are you all right?” Hermione hadn’t noticed her being gone from any of their shared classes and Padma hadn’t missed any of her Prefect duties.

“Yeah, I just had to do an extra class for Transfiguration each of those days. I think I’m taking too many classes.”

Hermione’s charms on the outer door alerted her to someone’s presence, but this time she knew it was Luna.

“Luna’s just coming in,” Hermione said, going to the inner door to open it for Luna. Luna had two large parcels in her hands. Hermione took one and they both sat them on the bench.

“I’ll get the notes,” Luna told Padma and disappeared into her room.

“I—don’t break her heart, too,” Padma said and Hermione started.

“What? No, we’re just friends.” She held her hands up.

“Yeah, sure,” Padma said.

Hermione started to say something else, but Luna came back into the room. She handed Padma her notes and Padma thanked her and left. They unpacked the parcels Luna had brought. She’d been to the kitchens and come back with snacks and drinks for their gathering with Harry and Ginny. There was a veggie tray, a couple of bags of Muggle crisps (Hermione wondered who had bought them and where and when), two bottles of wine and glasses, a bottle of firewhiskey, a full-size treacle tart, and more sandwich fixings.

“Looks good,” Hermione said, even though it was only an hour after dinner.

“The elves were very excited when I told them Harry was going to be here. They insisted I take the treacle tart for him.” She tapped the tart’s crust. A bit of it flaked off and stuck to her finger. She licked it off. Hermione realised she was staring at the tiny bit of Luna’s exposed tongue and turned back to setting up a bar on the counter. She thought she saw a small, mischievous smile on Luna’s face.

“Shouldn’t that liqueur stay in the icebox?” Luna asked.

“I’ve charmed it; it’ll stay cold the whole night.” Hermione rearranged the bottles, then Luna was at her side, bumping against her hip.

“They look better organised by size,” Luna said and lined them up. Hermione nodded.

“They won’t stay like that long, but I agree, it’s more aesthetically pleasing.”

“Why don’t you draw? I know you have a good eye and I’ve seen some of your doodles from when you’re relaxed.” Luna took off her robes and went to her bedroom. She didn’t close the door so Hermione could still hear her.

“I just never felt drawn to art. I can draw okay and maybe if I practised, I’d be good, but I don’t feel that inspiration, so whatever I do tends to be flat and lifeless. I could draw that lily you made me, and use the same colours and same lines, but it wouldn’t feel true. It’s like how some musicians are technically proficient, but their music just doesn’t move you and some less proficient musicians have that…I don’t know, vibrancy. You have that and I don’t.”

Hermione saw a flash of skin from Luna’s room and looked despite herself. Luna was slipping on a long blue skirt. Hermione noticed her matching red bra and knicker set and blushed. Luna turned, saw Hermione looking, but didn’t seem to care.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Harry and Ginny tonight. I’m sad Neville won’t be here, though.” She picked up a frilly white button-down shirt from a pile on the floor of her room, sniffed it, then put it on. She started buttoning it, but got the small pearl-shaped buttons mixed up and when she was done, it was one off all the way down.

“Here, let me,” Hermione said from the door of her room. She stepped in and unbuttoned Luna’s shirt. Their eyes met once and Hermione felt the heat of a blush on her neck. She didn’t think Luna could see it, though. When she unbuttoned the last button, her hand ran over Luna’s stomach accidently and Luna put her hand over Hermone’s.

“Slow down, they won’t be here for a while.” Their eyes met again and this time, the blush went up Hermione’s neck and she knew Luna saw it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you there.” Hermione pulled her hand back and started buttoning Luna’s shirt quickly. She fumbled a couple of the buttons.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, your hand felt nice. Warm and soft.”

Hermione finished buttoning Luna’s shirt and left for her room. She put her head in her hands and sat on her bed with the door closed. Crookshanks scratched at her door. When she opened it, Luna was standing outside poised to knock. Crookshanks rushed in and jumped on the bed.

“Yes?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t remember why I was going to knock,” Luna said and Hermione thought it was the first deliberate lie that she’d ever heard Luna say.

“Want to come in?” Hermione asked. Luna nodded. They both sat on the bed.

“I—it’s okay to look,” Luna said.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve seen you watching me and I want you to know that I don’t mind.” Luna smiled.

“I actually kind of like knowing there’s someone who likes the way I look.”

“You’re lovely,” Hermione said without thinking, realised it made her think of Ron and laughed.

Luna blushed.

“I’m lovely, then you laugh at me,” Luna whispered.

“I was laughing because I said it without thinking, which means you know it’s true and it reminded me of Ron telling me that in a similar circumstance. I wasn’t laughing at you. I mean it, you’re lovely. You’re the nicest, most genuine person I’ve ever met. Yes, sometimes you drive me mad. Yes, sometimes we disagree or see things differently, but I think that’s because you tend to see the best of people and I tend to be cynical.” She put her hand on Luna’s thigh and squeezed.

Luna leaned her head on Hermione’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

“Me too,” Hermione said.

“I like watching you, too,” Luna said, pulling her head back.

She’s in kissing range, Hermione thought suddenly.

She blushed again and Luna laughed.

“I like the way you push through until you understand something and don’t take any…bullshit…from anyone anymore.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said.

“I also like your elegant neck and the way your hair tangles behind your ears,” Luna said. She leaned forward, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Luna jumped back. She used the Supersensory Charm that Hermione had set up and Hermione could feel her presence in it; it was a bit like when they had shared dreams.

Luna’s eyes went blank for a moment.

“They’re here a bit early,” she said. She snapped the surveillance charm shut and Hermione felt Luna’s presence disappear from her consciousness. She felt oddly empty without it.

Luna waved her wand and they heard Harry and Ginny come in. Luna got up first and then Hermione. Harry’s face when they came out of Hermione’s bedroom betrayed his thoughts. She tried to see it like he did and blushed harder. They would have both come out of Hermione’s bedroom, both a bit red in the face and Harry could see the slightly rumpled bed. The only thing saving him from jumping to a conclusion was that their clothes weren’t rumpled also.

Luna crossed the room and hugged Harry and then Ginny swept into the hug. Hermione joined last.

“Glad you could come. We don’t see much of each other outside of class anymore.” Hermione broke the hug first, then Ginny. Luna kissed Harry on the cheek and patted his bum in a friendly manner.

Harry put a small parcel on the table and opened it. He took out some sort of sticky pull-apart pastry and another bottle with clear liquid in it. Hermione picked up the bottle.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Extra-hydrating water,” Luna said, taking the bottle.

“I asked Harry to bring it since I don’t drink much and don’t have much tolerance. I don’t want to get dehydrated if I drink.”

Hermione looked at the bottle doubtfully.

“I didn’t know it was possible to make extra hydrating water.”

“I didn’t either, but if it helps, I’m all for it,” Harry said.

“Is everyone planning on getting drunk?” Hermione asked. She knew she sounded judging and she hated herself for it.

“I am,” Ginny said and Harry see-sawed his hand.

“I’m not planning on it, but I also wanted to prepare for it,” Luna said.

Hermione laughed and grabbed a glass. She poured a shot of the anise liqueur in it and the scent of liquorice filled the room. She downed it quickly, then poured a second.

“Ugh, that smell,” Ginny said.

“Well, I’m not planning on kissing you, so as long as Harry doesn’t have any, you’re all good,” Hermione said and it broke the ice. Soon they were all sitting on the couch and the armchair and chatting. Hermione felt a warm glow that was partly alcohol and partly just being with friends.

“So, Neville and Hannah, huh?” Ginny asked.

“I did not see that coming,” Harry said. “I never knew she was interested in him and I always thought he was interested in Luna.”

“No, it was all just sex and comforting each other,” Luna said and laughed.

“I wouldn’t have objected to more, but I think he was already thinking of Hannah or someone else.”

“Not me,” Ginny said and laughed also.

“Yeah, he knew you were hot for me,” Harry said and kissed Ginny. She returned it enthusiastically. Hermione turned to Luna and stuck out her tongue and swirled it around. Luna knew she was making fun of the way Harry was kissing Ginny and laughed. Harry and Ginny broke apart and looked at Luna, who’d already sat back innocently.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Hermione said, but Luna stuck her tongue back out and swirled it around. Harry blushed, but Ginny laughed.

“Jealous? Want Harry’s tongue in your mouth, too?” she asked half-teasing.

“Sure,” Luna said and leaned forward. Harry pulled away, but then Ginny pushed him and he was kissing Luna. Now Hermione made the same tongue motion to Ginny and Ginny laughed. Harry and Luna broke apart. It had been a very short kiss.

“Well?” Ginny asked.

“Mmm, don’t take this wrong, Harry, but it wasn’t a very good kiss.” Luna laughed and wiped her lips.

Harry laughed also.

“No, not a good kiss. I’d be lying if I said I never thought about kissing you, but that was before…” He looked at Ginny.

“I understand. I feel the same. I think maybe we had a chance, but it passed because I wasn’t ready and you had your eye on someone else.” She pointed at Ginny.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed and sat back next to Ginny again and put his arm around her.

“What about you two? I saw you coming out of Hermione’s room when we came in?” His tone was light and teasing.

“We were just talking,” Luna said and Hermione thought it was a half-lie and the one and half lies she’d heard from Luna today still shocked her. She lowered her head and swirled her ice-water.

“Yeah, we were just talking,” Hermione said, willing a blush to not give her away.

Ginny sensed the awkwardness and turned the conversation to Quidditch. Harry didn’t notice it being redirected and started talking about Quidditch also. Hermione met Luna’s eyes and Luna winked at her enigmatically.

True to her word, Ginny did get drunk. Hermione was warm and slow, just on the edge of drunk and she thought Harry was, too. Luna seemed the worst off of all of them. She’d had several drinks and hadn’t eaten much. She was loud and flushed. She’d spilled wine on her shirt and just dabbed at it. When Harry had offered to clean it up, she’d waved him off.

“I’ll take care of it later.” Her voice was just a bit slurred.

She went back for another glass of wine, and Hermione went with her. She closed her hand over Luna’s wrist.

“I don’t think you should drink more unless you eat some and have some water.”

Luna’s face went red and Hermione thought she might yell, but she closed her eyes and nodded.

Hermione patted Luna’s arm. “Sit down. I’ll get it for you.”

Luna sat back down next to Harry, who pulled her into him. He had Ginny pressed on one side and Luna on the other. Hermione made Luna a pimiento cheese sandwich, something she knew Luna loved and poured her a glass of the ‘extra-hydrating’ water. She sat them both on the table in front of Luna.

“Thanks, love,” Luna said and then corrected herself, “uhh…Hermione.”

“You’re welcome, love…uhh…Luna,” Hermione joked and it broke the small tension. Ginny got more plastered and she had to go lay down on Luna’s bed. Harry went with her to watch over her. Luna stayed on the couch and Hermione on the armchair.

“That was fun,” Luna said, her words no longer slurred.

“Yeah. Do you think Ginny’ll be okay?” Hermione asked and Luna nodded.

“She’s got Harry with her and he’s not too drunk.” Luna patted the cushion next to her and Hermione sat next to her. Luna rested her head on Hermione’s shoulder. A moment later, she began to snore. Hermione laughed and Luna snorted awake.

“Go sleep in my bed, and I’ll clean up.” Hermione patted Luna’s leg. Luna stood and went to Hermione’s room. Just before she could close the door, Crookshanks raced out. Hermione fed him and while he was eating, she put everything away. She briefly considered sleeping on the couch, but then thought her bed was more comfortable and besides, she’d slept in the same bed with Luna before. When she went into her room, Luna was on her stomach on top of the comforter. She’d stripped down to her bra and knickers and shoes. Hermione noticed the shoes and sighed. Hermione treated the stain on Luna’s shirt with a solution she took from her desk, then she took off her shoes and socks, and slid off her trousers and shirt. She unhooked her bra, considered putting on one of Ron’s sleep shirts, then didn’t. She climbed under the blanket and comforter and tapped Luna who stirred.

“You’ll get cold, come under the blankets.”

Luna mumbled, maybe half-awake at most and slid over so Hermione could cover her. When she was under the blankets with her, Hermione felt the heat from Luna’s body and smelled Luna: sweat, alcohol, a bit of lavender and something else…musk maybe. Luna’s breathing eased again and Hermione let it lull her to sleep.

Harry’s lips slid down her stomach to the hem of her jeans. He looked up and saw something, but Hermione didn’t know what. He unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them. He started to slide her hands inside them when Hermione pushed him away. She knew she was in Luna’s dream and suddenly knew Luna was aware of her.

“Not Harry,” Hermione whispered but what came out was Luna’s voice.

“Okay,” Luna said and Harry changed, grew taller and more muscled, less lean. Neville’s blond hair was resting on her stomach now instead of Harry’s messy black tangles.

“All right?” he asked, meeting Hermione’s eyes. She understood she was in Luna’s body again.

“Yes,” she whispered and Luna said, “Oh, yes.”

Neville slid his hand into her jeans and the pressure of his hand felt so good…so good…

“I…” Hermione said to Luna.

“You don’t have to stay, but I don’t mind if you do.” Luna’s voice tickled her ear like she was next to her instead of subsuming her.

“I…I want to stay.”

She stayed. Neville and Luna moved with the surety of lovers who’d shared each other before. His lips and hands on Luna completed Hermione the same way. When they made love, she made love to him, too, but also to Luna even though she was Luna. Neville touched her and kissed her and filled her. For just a second, he morphed to Ron, but Luna pushed him back to Neville.

She woke up, sweltering in the blankets, sweating. Luna opened her eyes and spun in Hermione’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione began. Luna held a finger to her lips.

“I told you that you could stay.” She smiled.

“It was the nicest dream that we’ve shared for sure.” She leaned forward to kiss Hermione but Hermione pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione repeated.

“Not for sharing the dream, but for leading you on, maybe.”

Luna pulled back.

“You don’t want this?” Luna asked. Hermione heard a tinge of hurt in it that made her think of Parvati.

“I’m not sure what I want. I don’t want to hide. If we do have something, I want it to be out in the open, but I’m not sure I’m ready for it, no matter what I told Parvati. I’m not sure if I’m ready to move on from Ron. I’m just not sure. I do like you, Luna, but I don’t want to be your lover unless I can commit to it. You deserve more. I deserve more. We both deserve to have someone love us who loves us and I’m not sure I can give that to you.”

“I can’t pretend, I think I love you, Hermione, but if you need to wait, I’ll wait. Not forever, but I’ll wait until you’re sure. Maybe until then we shouldn’t share dreams if we can help it.” She leaned forward quickly and kissed Hermione’s forehead.

“Yeah, okay,” Hermione said.

Luna slid out of the bed and dressed. She noticed the spot on her shirt had been cleaned and smiled at it. She left without saying anything more. Hermione heard Harry and Ginny’s voices from the sitting room. She pulled the covers back over herself and lay there. The bed smelled like Luna and Hermione and sex. Hermione was still aroused from the dream and when she closed her eyes, she felt herself back in Luna’s body with Neville inside of her. She wanted release, but also knew that three of her friends were on the other side of the door and decided a cold shower would work just as well, even if it wouldn’t be as satisfying. She sighed, slid out of bed, changed her damp knickers and put on a bathrobe. She gathered up fresh clothes and opened the door.

Ginny sat on the couch, with a hangover potion in her hands. Harry was putting pastry on a plate and Luna was pouring out some more of the ‘extra hydrating water’. They all looked at Hermione when she came out.

“I’m going to go shower,” she said and scurried off to the bathroom. She felt their eyes on them the whole time. The cold shower washed away the rest of the heat of the shared dream and she dressed and went back. Harry and Ginny had gone and only Luna was still there. She handed Hermione a glass of water.

“Want to talk?” she asked.

Hermione shook her head and Luna didn’t push it.

#hp femslash #harry potter fanfiction #luna x hermione #hermione x luna #dreams

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caxde · 2 years ago

Text

closeness | Steve Harrington x reader

summary you're Hopper's daughter and after the events of the Starcourt mall, and him being pressumed dead, you deal with guilt and grieve, for better or worse, your best friend Steve is dealing with the same thing.

word count: 3.9k (first steve fic i post hope u like it)

warnings fem!reader, angst! (kinda a lot I was in a mood), fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, sharing a bed trope, it has some pretty negative self talk and allusion to an anxiety attack...so yeah. english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!!

The nights have been lonely lately.

You did have the option to go far away and escape this town, but when the time came, you were incapable of doing so.

Here, everything reminded, echoed in a way your father. So it came to no surprise that you stayed back, and Jane had left.

And yes, of course saying goodbye hurt like a bitch and opened up all types of wounds that you had stitched together, but, you had to. She would be safer in California, miles and miles away from this god-forsaken town.

And yes, the weather didn’t help. Late November and the cabin was surrounded by snow, cold and quiet. Nothing else but you. Not even the usual chirping of birds that accompanied you throughout spring and autumn were here anymore. So you felt that, alone.

You knew you weren’t actually alone, but having to ask for help or company felt like a chore that you had no energy to complete, so you rested there. In the middle of your living room, with the fire barely hanging on, the T.V turned off, and no lights shining onto you. It’s not like you liked the darkness, or that it didn’t bother you, you just wanted to lay in it and its familiarity. Swallowed by it almost.

No chatty banter with him. Not even the smell of his gross cooking filling the air. You hadn’t cooked in your kitchen for months.

It was expected. Everybody told you that grief is a process and that you can’t rush through it, but… You didn’t feel like that.

You felt as if all the grief that you felt for him was just all the love you still have for him, that you didn’t get to express, or show and don’t know where to really put it now. Robin suggested getting a dog, and you did laugh at the idea, not because you found it ridiculous or weird, but because you were struggling to take care of yourself, how could you ever take care of another living thing?

You were spiraling pretty bad, and you did want to call someone, anyone really. It didn’t matter as long as they could hold you and tell you that you weren’t insane for holding onto hope, or believing that maybe he was really alive, or that it was okay not to be okay, that you would get through it and that you are still deserving of love and affection. But you didn’t want to burden anyone.

Though his name came into your mind.

As a whisper almost.

And as fate had it, the phone started to ring, pulling you away from that circle of self-doubt or self-hate? You weren’t even sure anymore.

So you stand up, pulling yourself together, wiping the tears that started to form in your eyes but hadn’t had the courage to jump out of them. You picked it up, waiting to hear someone’s voice.

“Hello?” Your voice cracked, you hadn’t spoken in what felt like days.

“Hey Hopper, it’s me.” You winced as you heard your father’s last name, but a soft smile contradicted it, it was Steve’s voice after all.

“Hey Steve…” You whispered, really trying to hold yourself together now. “Um… what… what’d you want?” You said as you failed to stop the last tear from dropping.

“I was just checking in… Hadn’t heard from you in a while…” He admits, his voice soft-spoken and calm, you could feel his eyebrows raising and furrowing in his forehead.

“You called me yesterday…” You said, with a chuckle, trying to hide the fact that you were about to break down and cry.

“Yeah, well… Something told me you…” He stopped for a second. Your hand grabbing your cheeks tight, hoping that if you had enough strength you would stop crying and would be able to have a normal conversation, not worrying him. “Hey…” He said softly, with a whisper of a voice. “Were you- are you crying?” That was enough for you to actually fall to your knees, hugging yourself as you crumbled.

“Yeah…” You manage to say, not being able to say anything else, whimpers and fast breathing invading your body.

“Be there in five.” His voice said, not mean, but harsh. Decided, and yes, worried.

You tried to say anything to him, something that would make him not worry and not come over here, but it was useless, he had already hung up.

And you just laid there, in your hard-wood floors, trying to hold your body as you searched for comfort, not really sure if you had the strength to get back up.

It was all my fault. Itwas all my fault. Itwasall my fault. Itwasallmy fault. Itwasallmyfault.

Your brain screams at you as you remember your father going down, and Joyce’s face when she had to tell you.

You don’t know how long it took, or for that matter, how long you had stayed clawing your floor trying to composure yourself. But Steve came through the door.

He came directly to you and said nothing. He just held you, as you just wept. Eternally grateful for him, but at the same time, incredibly embarrassed that he had to see you like that.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper, your voice higher than ever before, your eyes burning from the tears.

You felt the grip of his fingers grow deeper into your skin.

“Don’t be.” He said, as he played with your hair. “I’m here.” He remained you.

You nodded, and let your body relax at those words, your head hitting his chest, him just holding you more and more tightly, reassuring you, comforting you.

“You’re staying at mine from now on.” He declares. His voice, serious, and clear. He grabbed your face, cupping it in between his hands. “You don’t bother. You need to get out of here. And I want you there, okay?” He answers before you can even say nothing to him. You nod, with a shy thank you smile. He nodded as he left a kiss in the crown of your head.

He stayed in the ground with you until your breathing returned to normal, and you could actually talk without hiccups. He had no rush in making sure you were okay.

Once you were capable of standing up, he guided you to the sofa, and made you wait there, as he went into your room and packed the essentials. He told you when you tried to tell him off, that he knew it would be easier if he did it now. That you could come tomorrow and grab what you actually wanted or needed. And yeah, he was right. Because he always is when it comes to you.

“D’you need anything?” You ask as you see him getting ready to leave.

“Oh um… No, think we’re good.” He says as he scans the fridge once again. Coffee pot still hot.

You give him one of your funny looks, judging him as he runs his fingers through his hair. You leave your chair and walk right next to him, as you eye the mostly empty fridge, his hand still holding the door.

“Dude, do you really wanna have soup for dinner, again?” You ask him, eyebrows lifted, sarcasm in your voice.

“Well, no. Not really.” He admits, closing the door. Walking back to his mug, raising it to his lips. “But you don’t have to go and get anything, I can do it.” He says, eyes lost on the maroon liquid.

“Oh, c’mon. I’m the one invading your house, let me do something!” You demand of him, almost begging.

He nods as he leaves to grab his brown worn-out jacket. Your eyes are set on him, the way he moves, ever so easily, confident in everything he does, even if that is just his routine, you’re amazed by the way his arms glide through the sleeves, and how his head lifts up, hair bouncing, defying gravity all the same.

His eyes meet yours for just a second.

“You don’t have to do anything in return you know? I like having you around.” He reassures you. Hands in his pocket, you nod with a polite smile back. He copies your body language, relaxed. “Be back at 8, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Even if he isn’t conscient of it, you catch him muttering under his breath as the entrance door opens.

“I always worry ‘bout you.”

Be as it may, it makes you smile. Not really sure why it would, it still does.

So as you lay in his kitchen, you begin to do what you’ve taken as your routine since he invaded you to live in his house a few weeks ago. You clean the dishes from the night before, and sort out what needs to be sorted out. Laundry and bathroom today.

You spend a quiet morning doing so, not haunted my memories, not a devastating inner monologue, just that. Stillness and calmness. And it seems as though the weather accompanies you today, with an unusually warm sunlight that crawls through the windows, a promise that today won’t be as freezing as the rest of December has been.

So you decide that today’s a good day to walk around Hawkins.

You’ve been borrowing his old walkman, with the stuck mix-tape that Dustin had gifted him god knows when. You put his headphones on your head, and as you press play, you move through his empty house, crawling to the bedroom that he had for visitors. And you do find yourself thinking how strange it is, such a big house, and yet it’s always empty except for him. An absent father, and an out-of-the-map mother.

Maybe he needed your company just as much as you needed his.

You smile to yourself at that thought, and how perfect it would be if that was the case.

When you look at the mirror, you feel as if you're missing something, not quite sure what it might be, you spin around your room, walls still white, you spot a vivid yellow jumper on your floor. So you grab it and put it on, smelling Steve as it lays on top of your body, you’re ready to leave.

“Thank you” He muttered as he finished his last bite. You had decided to eat on the couch, eyes darted at the T.V.

“Don’t mention it.” You say as you let your plate rest on the coffee table, grabbing your cup of water in the same motion. “I should be thanking you”

“What for?” He demands, looking at you through his brows, unsure.

“Letting me stay here. Y’know, everything…” You let out, avoiding his gaze as you darted around the room.

“How long have we known each other?” He asks all of a sudden, his left hand stroking his face as his eyes finally connect to yours, shocked in response to his question.

“I dunno, seems like I knew you since I was born” You say, sincerely, your face and body relaxing at him, as his right hand readjust a wisp of your hair that wasn’t quite in place.

“Exactly. So stop bullshiting me!” He exclaims. You flinch in show of his response, not really sure what to do next, he readjusts himself. Leg climbing up the sofa, his arm resting in it. Pulling closer to you. “I’ve known you my whole life, so please, please don’t lie to me.” He begs, as one of his hands catches yours, in a plea of sincerity and vulnerability.

“I’m not…” You try to say, as you catch your voice barely coming out of your body, tears bubbling up as your vision gets blurry. A feeling of heaviness invading your chest. Your hand that rested free on the back of the couch is now wiping the beginnings of the tears away, your mouth tasting salty already.

“But… You are… You can tell me…” He whispers back, the grip he has in your hand growing stronger, his eyes shooting compassion and begging for you to trust in him, to let yourself be seen by him.

“I just… It’s my fault…” You mutter, as you finally let your walls down, crumbling down, not physically, but you could feel the silent tears not waiting for you to wipe them, as they escape with no order.

“It wasn’t.” He answers back.

“It feels like it…” Your voice barely audible, you see his head getting closer so he could hear you.

“I know it does, but everything that happened… Yeah, it sucks but… Y’know, you’re alive.” Your face flinches at that, yes you are alive but for all that it’s worth, he isn’t and if you had to put words into what you were actually feeling it would be survivors guilt. “And you deserve to be…” He finishes, with his free hand, he pushes hair away from your face, and leaves it there, in the back of it, stroking your hair, hoping he can give you some sort of reassurance. He does.

“I don't… Not more than he did…” You try to argue. To no avail, you can see Steve crumbling down, his body moving closer to you now, holding your gaze up to meet his eyes.

“I think he would think otherwise.” He tells you, as his thumb wipes some of the tears away, soft eyes looking at you, with a sideways smile.

“Yeah, and he’d be a dick about it..” You whisper, making you both laugh.

“Oh absolutely he would.” He says, laying your head in his shoulder, as he rests his head on yours, holding you sideways.

Intimacy growing between the both of you, you enjoy that moment of stillness and quiet.

You usually weren’t able to fall asleep until later in the night, meaning that usually, the sun could be seen waking up when you went down, finding comfort in knowing that sunshine was coming.

So, as a consequence, you had a habit of saying goodnight to Steve at around ten o’clock at night, when he went upstairs to his bed. You would catch one of the books that his father had laying about and bring it with you, in the room next to him, sharing nothing else but quiet and a wall.

So you sat down, back to the wall, resting on top of the comfortable and cold bed. Having decided to finally read Pride & Prejudice, you moved your hair out of your way, pulling it up in a ponytail. Still wearing Steve’s yellow sweater, you removed your pants, resting the book in your bare legs, you started to read.

Before you knew it, you were immersed in it, reading.

“Chapter 12

In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which would exactly finish Jane’s week, could not bring herself to receive them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at least not to Elizabeth’s wishes, for she was impatient to get home…”

Steve’s screaming snapped you out of the world you had immersed yourself in.

You dropped the book and were rapidly moving across your room, opening his door wide. You find him, his head resting in his hand, chest moving rapidly as he had trouble breathing. His eyes move at you for a moment, though he wants to, and you can tell, he’s not capable of saying anything to you.

So you don’t say anything.

Nor did you think about what you were doing.

Your body just found its way to his, holding him, just like he had hours before. You could feel him leaning his weight into you, his body exhausted and crumbling into yours, so you did what he did for you. You held him, no questions asked. No demands.

His chest, you could see, was back to its normal rhythm, though you had become distracted by the fact that he wasn’t wearing any shirt or nothing to that matter, but some old pyjama pants.

His head rested in your shoulder this time, and his lips whispered into your ear, so soft and so deep that it sent tingles to your whole body as he spoke.

“I’m better… I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me…” You finish for him, as your hand finds itself lost into his hair, something that you never dared to do before.

You could feel him smiling, as he nodded, hair tickling your cheek as he did so. The warmth between the two of you growing, with a need of touch that you both had met in this moment.

“I don’t have to leave if you don’t want me to.” You whisper to him. Your head looking down at him, his brown eyes were still shining, even at the dead of night. But then again, they always did when he looked at you.

So, with no words needed, he opened his side of the blanket and you crawled inside. His body was holding you tight, just as you did to him. Your head in his chest, his hands in your hair. You hadn’t slept that quickly or comfortably in a long time. And neither had he.

It became a routine.

Nighttime fell on the Harrignton household, and he would head upstairs first, you would follow his steps half an hour later, book in hand. He would rest his head on your chest covered by one of his old shirts while you read. Once you felt his body relax, you would close the book and let him hold you, the nightstand light turned off.

He woke up first, and he would always leave a sleepy kiss on your shoulder while he mumbled a good morning. He’d go down and you would creep out of the sheets when the smell of coffee travelled its way to you.

And you would share a quiet morning.

It felt nice. It felt good. It felt right.

But you could also tell that it was screwing with your head.

You had caught his hands caressing your skin more and more lately, and the places he touched would burn with a strange mix of desire and need, expressing themselves in warmth. You saw his eyes darting to your lips when you were speaking to him. His going-out-to-work hugs would last more and more, and they left no space between your bodies.

You weren’t free of guilt either.

Your hands now had the habit of searching for him in the middle of the night. Your lips searched for his shoulder to leave a kiss on them every time he turned around in his sleep, craving to hear him let a soft moan out. And everytime he was standing in the kitchen you would hug him from behind, your arms holding tight as your hands played with his shirt.

You realized in the middle of the day, that you were indeed falling madly in love with him.

So, on that night, when he came home, you looked at him like you never had before.

Your breath got caught up for a second too long. Your eyes shined bright every time you dared to look back at him. Your cheeks grew pink and warm when he hugged you as soon as he came from outside, even if his clothes were cold, you didn’t feel it, your body burning up in new discovered feelings.

You grew nervous and fidgety, craving his closeness. Feeling somehow guilty of what your heart felt, scared shitless of what this all could mean.

And you didn’t know this, but he was just as nervous this evening.

So when he caught you picking at your skin, he didn’t warn you before grabbing your hand.

You were once again in his bed. Book closed in your chest. His face close to yours, his eyes looking softly at you, begging for you to say what was on your mind, his lips slightly parted.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice sounded tired, as if he had been but a moment away from falling asleep. As he grabbed the ends of your fingers, you saw how truely close his lips were to them. When he saw you growing quiet, staring at him with doe-like eyes, he pulled himself closer to you. Your body is completely touching him.

“C’mon, you can tell me… I.. I’m here…I’m your friend…”

You let out a soft laughter, and didn’t really think before speaking.

“But you're not…” You whisper to him. His eyes take offence at this, his body moving forwards from you as you tell him that.

“What do you mean?” He begged, his voice barely audible, but broken.

“Friends don’t do this… Steve I…” You were getting flustered, his hands still wrapped around your fingers.

“Whaddumean?” He asked, all in one phrase.

“Friends don’t… This!” You say as you point at both of you, he shaked his head, not really following you. “Friends don’t sleep together, they don’t cuddle, they don’t kiss you good morning and good night, they don’t…” You can see him getting slightly offended at the words that you're saying to him.

“Look, you can’t leave! You were the one that said that-” You had to cut him off. You didn’t like him getting flustered or mad about something that was not what you meant.

“I don’t wanna leave! I want to stay like this! I want… you” You say, your eyes completely sincere, your shoulders relaxed, begging him to understand what you were trying to say to him without actually having to say it outloud.

“Then what do you mean we’re not…” He’s getting frustrated, hands in his hair, scratching in anger, in misunderstanding.

“Goddammit Steve!” You yell to him, throwing the blanket off of you, to his body. Your chest goes up and down rapidly. “I love you!” You yell to him, your cheeks warm and red, tears of nervousness in the corners of your eyes.

“I love you too but… I don’t- I’m not following.” He said, in his most honest, lost voice. His body closer to yours again, begging to understand what was going on.

“Steve…” You whisper. “I… I mean, that, I’m in love with you…”

As soon as your words reach him, you can see the way the light lights up in his head, as he understands what you mean. So he does what he’s been dreaming about for so long.

His left hand grabs your cheek, and as your eyes meet, he holds you like this for a moment, foreheads touching, both of your eyes closing. Your heart is beating faster than ever. And he finally closes the distance.

Your lips finally touch. In need to finally feel the way he feels, his other hand getting lost in the back of your neck, playing with your hair, as he holds you closer and closer. No rush between you, your arms hold him, getting lost in the back of his neck. Needing him like you’ve never needed him before. Your tongues touch as the kiss deepens. You're both smiling as you do so.

“I guess we’re not friends.” He whispers an inch away from your lips, kissing you again. Making you laugh in between kisses.

“I guess not.” You say as you continue. Kissing him. His lips. His neck. Messing with his hair as much as you can, enjoying the way his body fitted against yours.

“I’m in love with you too.” He admits later in the night, as he spoons you, whispering it in your ear, as he turns you around to kiss you again.

You didn’t sleep that night, for a good reason this time.

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years ago

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Prompt: Hello! I very much enjoy all of your Sanders Sides fics. I am a Roman Stan first and foremost and you do his angst a delicious service.

I was wondering, (if you have the time &/or energy) if you would be for writing a Roman, who instead of just turning into a small child (I love that fic btw), he (they) also turn into a girl. Because in Roman's sweet mind, Princes (and Princesses) save the day but only princesses get saved from the big bad in the end. (Not exactly but unfortunately there's more evidence for than against.) So, when Roman feels overwhelmed and upset and horrid, welcome the little princess, except no one knows because how silly, how selfish, how childish to turn into a little girl because that's the only way you think anyone will hold you and protect you and save you, even from yourself?

If you like the idea, could you maybe include C!Thomas who keeps seeing her out of the corner of his eye and freaking out because why is there a small child in his house?!

Thanks!

Hope you're having a great November! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sad roman hours, but that's about it

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 3842

At least at first. But then she keeps showing up, and no one seems to be able to understand why. Remus says as long as they bring her back to the Imagination, everything should be fine, but then why does she keep appearing?

And where is Roman?

It isn’t uncommon for some of the Imagination’s creations to get loose in the rest of the Mindscape, so when Thomas catches sight of a little girl in a sparkly dress near the window, he doesn’t pay her much mind. Odds are she’s simply wandered a bit far away from the door on accident and Roman or Remus will be along to fetch her any moment.

But then he takes another step closer and she startles terribly, almost falling over. Her eyes go wide and she brings her hands up to shield herself.

“Hey, whoa, I’m sorry,” Thomas says quickly, crouching down, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not gonna hurt you, see? I’m just over here.”

The little girl lowers her hands slowly, eyeing him warily as she presses herself against the wall.

“See?” He waves. “It’s only me. I’m just a—well, I’m just a person. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

When she doesn’t seem to move anymore, he sits, crossing his legs.

“Are you lost?” She glances at the window. “Did you want to look outside?”

“Mhm.”

“Are your parents anywhere nearby? Do you know?”

“They’re not here.”

“Okay. Do you need help finding them?”

“No.”

This isn’t getting them anywhere. Thomas glances over his shoulder. Where are the twins?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t cry,” he says when he looks back to see her eyes welling up with tears, “it’s okay, I—um, oh, god, I’m not good at this.”

Patton. Patton’s good at this. Let’s get Patton here.

“Thomas? What’s going on, I heard—oh, hey.”

Thank God. Patton’s voice softens immediately upon seeing the crying child and he’s crouching down too, holding his arms out.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “are you okay? Are you scared?”

The little girl nods, still tucked against the wall. Patton makes a sympathetic noise.

“Do you need help, sweetheart? Can you tell us what’s going on?”

“’M scared.”

“I’m sorry you’re scared. Do you want a hug?”

The little girl scrambles up and into his arms, letting him scoop her into a cuddle and tuck her head under his chin. He lets out more soothing noises as he rubs her back, rocking her slightly back and forth.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“R-Rose.”

“Rose? That’s a very pretty name,” he says, pulling back to wipe the tears from her cheeks, “just like your dress. That’s a very sparkly dress, sweetheart, I like it a lot.”

Watery giggles clear the rest of the tears from her eyes as Patton picks her up.

“Did you get lost, sweetheart? Do you need to go back to the Imagination?”

Rose nods, fingers curling shyly into Patton’s shirt.

“Can I carry you there? Yeah? Okay, let’s go.”

Rose looks over Patton’s shoulder at Thomas as they walk off. Thomas waves and she waves back.

Huh.

When Thomas sees the little girl by the window again, he coughs before he gets too close.

“Rose, right?”

“Yeah.” She shifts a bit, adjusts her sparkly dress before looking at the window. “‘M Rose.”

“Are you lost again?”

“No. I like looking out the window.”

“Can I come sit with you?”

“Uh-huh.”

Thomas sits next to her, catching sight of a crown sitting next to her that he doesn’t remember seeing before. “Is that yours?”

“The crown? Mhm, ’s mine.”

“Are you a princess?”

Rose glances at him, then back out the window. “I guess.”

He frowns. “Do you…does that make you sad? Being a princess?”

“Why does the sky do that?”

“Huh?” He looks out the window. “Do what?”

“Change colors like that when the sun goes down.” Rose points at the reds and yellows at the horizon, moving her fingers slowly up to the darkening sky. “Why do they do that?”

“Well, it’s because—uh, actually, let’s ask one of my friends.”

“Thomas?” Logan rises up behind them. “You called?”

“Can you explain why the sky changes colors when the sun sets? Rose is curious.”

It’s a wonderful thing, he decides, to watch Logan’s eyes brighten at the thought of teaching someone something new.

“Well,” he says, taking a seat next to them, “light from the sun is made up of many different colors. All the colors of the rainbow.”

“Is that why rainbows happen when it rains?”

“Yes. The water from the rain acts as a prism, which is something that splits light into all its different colors.”

“But how does it tell the colors apart?”

“Every color of the rainbow has a different wavelength, do you know what that means?” Logan holds out his hand and produces a slinky. “Here, take one end of this.”

Rose takes the slinky and Logan stretches it out, explaining what wavelengths are by wiggling one end of the slinky up and down so it makes a wave.

“So all of light has a wavelength?”

“Each color has its own wavelength, that’s right. When they have to travel through something, the wavelengths can get split up. That’s why rainbows form.”

“But it’s not traveling through anything when the sun sets, it’s just going through the sky.”

“What’s the sky made of?”

Rose frowns. “Nothing?”

“Not quite. It’s made up of air, lots of air molecules.” Logan lifts his hand and taps different points on the window. “And so when the light hits all the different molecules, it scatters.”

“Like a pinball machine?”

Logan chuckles. “Yes, Rose, like a pinball machine. And when that happens during the day, the blue and green light scatters the most because their wavelength is the shortest.”

“Is that why the sky’s blue?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Logan points at the sun disappearing below the horizon. “And so when the sun goes down, all the blue and green light goes away very quickly, which means that we see the red and yellow light.”

Rose looks out the window again, tracing the path Logan drew with his fingers. “So red takes the longest?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Rose grows quiet, leaning against Logan’s shoulder. He glances at Thomas—who’s just been sitting here, dude—and sighs, resigning himself to being a pillow for a while. It’s not that bad when you get used to it.

“You’re falling asleep, Rose,” he points out softly when the sky’s darkened fully, “shall we take you back to the Imagination?”

Rose mumbles sleepily but lets Logan pick her up and carry her off, waving at Thomas again. Thomas waves back, glancing out the window as they leave.

Logan’s explanation means that all the other colors are always there, they’re just never seen until the sun goes down. He’s not quite sure how he feels about that.

Or why Rose seemed to care so much.

He doesn’t see Rose for a while, not until the next big thunderstorm.

He walks past the window to see one of the curtains trembling and he sighs, already reaching out for Virgil.

“Hey, Thomas, what’s up?”

Thomas nods to the shaking curtain. “I think one of the Imagination’s people is here. Her name’s Rose, she’s a princess, I think she’s scared.”

Virgil glances over and bites back a curse. “Have you been able to get ahold of Roman or Remus?”

“You’re the best at dealing with scared people.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I…can’t tell if that was sincere or not.”

“Yeah, neither can I.” Virgil crouches down near the bundle of fabric, voice gentling to a low rumble. “Hey, Princess, you in there?”

A soft squeak.

“It’s okay, Princess, I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s Virgil, what’s your name?”

“R-Rose.”

“Hi, Rose, it’s nice to meet you. Hey, hey,” he murmurs when another crash of thunder makes her squeak, “it’s okay, Princess, you just listen to me, okay? I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“O-okay.”

“I’ve never met a princess before,” he says softly, “I think that’s really neat.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yeah. Princesses are…real cool.” He makes a face that makes Thomas bite back a laugh. “I like all their stories. There are so many stories about princesses, they’re all people can talk about. I think they’re super interesting.”

A little head peeks out from under the curtain. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Princess. Do you have a favorite princess story?”

“…Cinderella.”

“‘Cinderella?’ That’s a good one, I like that one too. I like hearing about all the magic where the pumpkin gets turned into a chariot.”

“…I like the end.”

“The end?” Bit by bit, Virgil coaxes Rose out of the curtain and into the lea of him where she doesn’t have to see the storm. “What about the ending’s your favorite?”

“She gets saved,” Rose says, toying with her dress that looks a bit less sparkly in the stormy light, “an’—an’ that’s okay.”

“It’s okay that she gets saved?” Rose nods. “Why’s that your favorite bit?”

Rose opens her mouth to answer when there’s another flash. She squeaks, lunging forward to wrap her arms around Virgil.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, shh, Princess, it’s okay, I gotcha. You’re doing great.” He rubs her back. “Why don’t you finish what you were telling me about Cinderella?”

But Rose isn’t talking anymore, quivering like a leaf in Virgil’s arms. He rocks her back and forth in his lap, shooting concerned glances at Thomas who has just accepted he’s going to be mostly useless right now.

“Hey,” he tries again, “let’s get you back home, okay? I’m sure there’s a lot of people there that’d be willing to help you. Is that okay? It’s probably not storming there either.”

Rose sniffles as Virgil slowly stands up, carrying her off down the hall. As they pass Thomas, Rose reaches out and clutches the fabric of his shirt for a moment. He awkwardly pats her hand and she lets go.

He glances out the window before drawing the curtains, wondering what she could’ve meant by it’s okay that she’s saved.

When he gets to the window again, he is expecting to see Rose.

He is not expecting to see Janus already there, sprawled out in the sunlight and a nervous little princess a few feet away.

“Well,” Janus hisses, drawing himself up, “what have we here? A little morsel, wandered too far from home?”

Part of Thomas wants to step forward, tell Janus to knock it off, not to scare her, but Rose doesn’t seem all that scared. So he hovers in the hallway, ready to step in if he has to.

“Foolish little princess,” Janus hisses, doing his very best impression of a Disney villain, “don’t you know it’s dangerous to explore on your own?”

“I’ve been here before,” Rose says, crossing her arms and stamping her foot, “and you’ve never been here.”

“Mm, or have I?” Janus moves a bit closer, arms reaching out for her. “Maybe I’ve been here the whole time and you just haven’t seen me.”

“N-no, I would notice you.”

“Would you?”

“Yes,” she says, firmer this time, “I would notice you. You’re big and yellow and black and I would see you.”

Janus chuckles. “Clever little princess. Tell me, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I sit here. I like to look out of the window.”

“Oh? And what do you do? Survey your kingdom?”

“This isn’t my kingdom.”

“No?” Janus curls up lazily, still inching towards her. “Then where is your kingdom? How can you be a princess without a kingdom?”

“I have one,” Rose insists, “it just isn’t here.”

“Mm. It’s trouble for a princess to leave her kingdom without a knight or a guard,” Janus says, kneeling up to loom over her a bit. “Who knows what could happen, especially when she wanders into a snake’s den?”

“Why did you come here?”

“For the sunlight, little princess, and for you.”

Rose squeals as he playfully wraps his arms around her—no, Thomas doesn’t understand why he has six arms if he’s a snake—and pulls her into his lap. “Why do you want sunlight?”

“Snakes are cold, little princess, and sunlight is so warm.” He hisses gently in her ear to make her giggle. “And so are you. Snakes steal heat, little princess, maybe I should steal some from you.”

“N-no,” she giggles, “it’s my heat, you can’t take it! It’s mine!”

“Oh, but I can, little princess, I can steal your heat from you right now.”

Thomas watches somewhat spellbound as Janus gently tickles Rose until she’s laughing properly, all fear gone as they sit together in the sunlight. When she bats at his hands he stops, cuddling her to his chest and sighing contentedly.

“Thank you for your heat, little princess,” he murmurs, kissing her cheek, “see? It’s not so bad.”

Rose lets out a squeaky little yawn and curls up, letting him hold her.

“Why don’t we have a nap,” he suggests, adjusting his position to lean against the wall, still in the sunlight, “hmm? Will you nap in the sunlight with me?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s a good little princess.”

When Rose is asleep, little snores filling the hallway, Janus glances over at Thomas who shrugs.

“How long has she been…coming here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do the twins know?”

Thomas frowns. “You know what? I don’t actually think I’ve seen them since she started showing up.”

Janus hums. “That’s not ideal. I’ve spoken to Remus recently, I’ll ask him what he knows.”

Rose stirs in his lap and they quiet, waiting until she falls back asleep.

“You got her?”

“Yes. I’ll bring her back to the Imagination when she wakes.”

“Will you read with me?”

Thomas blinks in surprise when Rose holds out a book. He takes it carefully and sits down, opening it and propping it on his lap so she can see. “What do you want to read?”

“Can we read the story about The Paperbag Princess?”

“Sure. Do you want to read?”

“Mhm.”

They turn to the page with the title. Rose reaches out and underlines the words with her finger as they go. They read through the first few pages before she stops.

“How big do you think that paper bag is?”

“Well, it’s big enough for her to wear it like a dress, so pretty big.”

“Where do you get paper bags that big? What do you carry in them?”

“Maybe she got it at the store. To carry her groceries in.”

“Hm.”

They keep reading. They get to the bit about the dragon fight and Rose pauses, looking at the dragon.

“Why did the dragon not just eat the prince? Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”

“Maybe this dragon’s different.”

Rose’s face pinches a little as they keep going, finally getting to the part about the prince being disappointed with what the Paperbag Princess looks like.

“…that’s not very nice of him.”

“No, it isn’t.” Thomas shifts to ease a cramp in his leg. “I think he should’ve said thank you.”

“I think he should’ve saved himself.”

Thomas looks up at her. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s the prince. Princes aren’t supposed to need saving. Princesses are.”

Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that… “This princess didn’t need saving, did she?”

Rose chews on her lip. “No…I guess not.”

“So maybe this prince did need saving.”

“But he’s not happy about being saved. Only princesses are ever happy about being saved. Princes don’t get saved, not like princesses do. People only like it when the prince saves himself. We’re not supposed to like when the princess saves the prince or when the prince gets saved by someone else. ‘Cause he’s always awful when he gets saved.”

Thomas looks at Rose for a long moment. Then he carefully closes the book and sets it aside, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Rose?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re upset, I can tell. What’s going on?”

She glances at the book again. “I’m a princess. I’m supposed to be saved.”

“That’s not all princesses can do, they can save things too. Even themselves.”

“But princes don’t get saved,” she says, still frowning, “they—they don’t get protected. They’re supposed to do the protecting. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No,” Thomas agrees, “no, I suppose not.”

Where is this going?

But Rose doesn’t say anything else, just burrows into his arms and wraps her arms around his neck. She’s silent as they sit there, not saying a word for what feels like hours. When she does finally move again, she just picks up the book and turns, walking down the hall without another word.

Thomas stares after her and can’t help but feel like he’s missed something very important.

+1.

It’s the first time he’s managed to coax Rose away from the window, taking her hand and walking her downstairs to the living room where the others are gathered. Each of them waves, Patton smiling and crouching down to give her a hug.

“Are you going to have the meeting with us too?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t feel as though you need to say anything,” Logan assures, “we’ll be more than happy for just your company.”

“We’ll behave, Princess, promise.”

Thomas ruffles her hair as she stands next to him. “Do we know where the others are?”

“I haven’t seen Roman yet this morning, but Remus is on his way.”

Thomas opens his mouth again when Rose suddenly clutches his pant leg. “Hey, what’s going on?”

No sooner has he asked does Remus appear, grinning at all of them startling at his appearance. “What’s got you all looking like a kraken just bit your butts?”

His eyes fall on Rose and he freezes.

“Behave, Remus,” Janus says lowly, “she’s from the Imagination. Don’t scare her.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, “he won’t hurt you. He just looks a little scary.”

Rose cowers behind Thomas’s leg, refusing to budge even as they assure her it’s okay, Remus won’t hurt her.

“Tell her, Remus,” Virgil says, elbowing him, “tell her you’re not gonna hurt her.”

Remus doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even move, still staring at Rose like his eyes are about to fall out of his head.

“…Ro?”

Rose peeks out at him, one eye watching as he lowers himself to the ground, snapping his fingers and changing into a uniform of some sort, still black and green but different.

“It’s okay, Ro,” he says hoarsely, “it’s okay.”

Rose wails, tearing herself from Thomas’s side and throwing herself at Remus who catches her and pulls her into his lap, curling around her protectively. He nuzzles her hair and strokes the back of her head, letting her cry into his chest.

The rest of them watch, thunderstruck.

“It’s okay, Roro,” Remus keeps mumbling, “it’s okay. I gotcha, Roro, you’re okay.”

“‘Roro?’” Virgil glances at the others. “But that’s what he calls…”

The realization hits them all at the same time.

The princess, worrying about the color red, being so scared of each of them but still coming back to the same place, who saves the prince?

Thomas looks at the little girl in Remus’s arms.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Roman,” he says weakly, “Rose is Roman.”

Remus glances up at them. “What happened,” he growls, still holding Roman tight to his chest, “why did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas says weakly, “she just—he just—Roman just showed up like this one day and I…none of us knew what to do.”

“Why did Roman become a princess?”

“Because princesses get saved,” Logan says, shock giving way to horrified resignation, “princesses are…protected, comforted…they’re the ones who get saved, not the princes.”

Patton makes a noise of dismay and Virgil bites back a curse. “Roman thought this was the only way we would care?”

“It was,” Janus hisses, slowly crouching too, “because we saw a princess in need of rescuing and…didn’t question it.”

Thomas crouches too, watching Remus murmur something in Roman’s ear. “Remus, can Roman…turn back?”

“I’m not sure Roman wants to turn back right now.”

“What can we do, then?”

“Right now?” Remus looks down. “What do you need, Roro?”

Arms tighten on Remus as he pulls away and he quickly comes back, hugging Roman to his chest and standing up.

“It’s cuddle time,” he announces, “all of you move it.”

A mattress forms in the middle of the living room and the others quickly make sure the blankets and pillows have been moved as Remus sits down, still cradling Roman in his lap. Thomas sits next to him, smiling when Roman peeks out to look at him.

“Hey, Roman,” he murmurs, smiling when Roman looks at him a little more, “you wanna cuddle?”

Roman nods and he opens his arms, letting the little one crawl from Remus into his lap. He can feel the weight of Remus’s stare on the side of his face and he takes care to be extra gentle as he lies down, Roman on his chest.

“Get in here, the rest of you.”

“We’re coming.”

“Remus,” he hears Logan say quietly, “can you…explain a bit more later?”

“If Roro says it’s okay.”

“Lift your head,” Patton says, slipping a pillow behind his neck, “there.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Virgil says, perching on the edge of the mattress, “for Roman’s sake.”

Remus nods approvingly, holding Roman’s hand as it reaches out for him. “Go to sleep, Roro, we can figure everything else out later.”

Thomas glances down at Roman, whose other hand has twisted shyly into his shirt. He cards his fingers through Roman’s hair.

“You can sleep if you want,” he whispers, “you’re safe now.”

Later, when the sky is dark and the lights have long faded, Thomas wakes when the weight on his chest suddenly increases. He tries to sit up without disturbing the snores and whistles he can hear around him, looking down.

Roman, the Roman they know, is asleep, head pillowed on his chest, hand still intertwined with Remus’s.

Guess the prince got saved this time too.

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